Hello I have no idea for a plot I just need Clay smut 😇😇
𝑺𝒆𝒙 𝑬𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ꨄ︎ (Clay Jensen X FemReader)
Content: Smut, Virgin Clay, Justin cameo as the best wingman ever, Mr Porter cameo, practical lesson lol,
A/N: after this I'm really feeling the intrusive thoughts of doing a Nsfw headcanon ABC for 13 reasons why boys
Clay’s bedroom door was half-open when Justin strolled in without knocking, like he owned the place—which, technically, he kind of did now that he was living here. He flopped onto the edge of Clay’s unmade bed, arms crossed behind his head, wearing that shit-eating grin that always meant trouble.
“Dude,” Justin said, kicking his shoes off and letting one dangle off the mattress. “You’ve been weird all week. Like, more weird than usual. What’s up? You relapse into listening to too much Radiohead or something?”
Clay didn’t look up from his desk. He was pretending to organize his biology notes, but really he was just shuffling the same three pages back and forth. His face was already heating up, and Justin hadn’t even started yet.
“I’m fine,” Clay muttered.
“Bullshit.” Justin sat up, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been smiling at your phone like an idiot in the hallway. And don’t think I didn’t see you staring at Y/N in the cafeteria yesterday. Like, full-on heart-eyes, man. It was pathetic.”
Clay’s head snapped up. “I wasn’t—”
“You were. You looked like you were about to write her a fucking poem.” Justin laughed, but there was no real malice in it—just the kind of big-brother teasing he’d gotten way too good at since moving in. “Come on, Helmet. Spill. You’ve got a crush on her, don’t you?”
Clay opened his mouth to deny it, but the words died somewhere between his brain and his tongue. Because yeah. Obviously. He’d had a crush on you for months—maybe longer—and Justin had apparently been watching it happen in real time.
He dropped his pen and rubbed a hand over his face. “Is it that obvious?”
“To everyone except her, probably,” Justin said, grinning wider. “You turn into a complete spaz whenever she’s around. It’s kinda cute, actually. In a nerdy, virgin-forever kind of way.”
“Shut up,” Clay groaned, throwing a crumpled worksheet at him. Justin caught it one-handed and tossed it back.
“Hey, I’m not judging. I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long without imploding.” Justin paused, studying Clay’s face like he was reading something written there. “You really like her, huh? Like, not just wanna hook up. Actual feelings.”
Clay didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the poster of The Smiths on his wall like it might save him. Finally, he nodded. Once. Small.
Justin let out a low whistle. “Damn. Little brother’s in love.”
“I’m not—” Clay started, then stopped. Because maybe he was. Or close enough that it didn’t matter.
Justin leaned back again, looking way too pleased with himself. “Alright. Fair trade.”
Clay frowned. “What?”
“You helped me get clean, man. Like, actually saved my life. Multiple times.” Justin’s voice went quieter for a second, serious in a way it rarely did. Then the smirk came back. “So I’m gonna return the favor. I’m getting you at least a kiss with Y/N. Minimum.”
Clay’s eyes went wide. “You’re—what? No. Justin, don’t—”
“Too late. Deal’s sealed.” Justin stood up, stretching. “I’ve got connections. I know things. And you, my friend, are finally gonna get some action.”
Clay buried his face in his hands. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” Justin called over his shoulder as he headed for the door. “And soon, Y/N’s gonna love you too. Or at least make out with you. We’ll start small.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Clay sat there for a long time, heart racing, staring at nothing.
He had no idea what was coming.
The next day in biology class, Mr. Porter was pacing at the front of the room, holding his clipboard like it was a sacred scroll. The projector screen behind him displayed the words: SEXUAL EDUCATION CAMPAIGN PROJECT – PARTNERS ASSIGNED.
Everyone was buzzing. Half the class was praying not to get stuck with someone who’d do zero work; the other half was praying not to get stuck with someone who’d make it painfully awkward.
“Alright, settle down,” Mr. Porter said, adjusting his glasses. “This is a two-person project. You’ll create a presentation aimed at freshmen—safe sex, consent, healthy relationships, STI prevention. Keep it educational, keep it mature. No memes, no jokes that cross the line.”
Clay sat in the middle row, notebook open, pen tapping nervously against the page. His stomach had been in knots since last night’s conversation with Justin. He still couldn’t believe his adoptive brother had basically declared war on his virginity.
Mr. Porter started reading names.
“Jessica Davis and Alex Standall…”
“Zach Dempsey and Tyler Down…”
Clay barely heard the rest. His heart was pounding too loud.
“Justin Foley and Clay Jensen…”
Clay’s head jerked up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.
Across the room, Justin caught his eye and smirked—like he’d planned this. Like this was step one of his ridiculous “get Clay laid” master plan.
Clay felt his face go hot. No. No way. Working on a sex ed project with Justin? The guy who once ranked the entire cheer squad in the locker room? This was a disaster waiting to happen.
Justin raised his hand immediately, that cocky grin still plastered on his face.
“Uh, Mr. Porter?” he called out. “Can I say something?”
The teacher sighed. “Make it quick, Foley.”
Justin leaned back in his chair, totally casual. “Look, I get that random pairs are supposed to build character or whatever, but putting me and Clay together on this specific project? Come on. That’s just cruel.”
A few people snickered. Clay wanted to disappear into the floor.
Justin kept going. “I mean, he’s basically my brother now. Talking about sex stuff with family? Super weird. Like, I guarantee this presentation would just turn into a TED Talk on masturbation techniques and my personal ranking of top Pornhub videos.”
The class erupted in laughter. Someone in the back yelled, “Yo, Foley, chill!”
Clay’s face was now the color of a stop sign. He sank lower in his seat, staring at his desk like it might swallow him whole.
“And honestly,” Justin continued, completely unbothered, “I suck at biology. Like, epically. Clay’s got a 4.0. He doesn’t deserve me tanking his grade just because I can’t spell ‘chlamydia’ without Googling it.”
Mr. Porter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Foley—”
“But also,” Justin said, cutting him off with a dramatic pause, “Clay literally jerks off like three times a day. Putting him with a guy partner? Bad idea. He needs to be paired with a girl who’ll actually keep him focused instead of letting him turn this into a PowerPoint called ‘13 Reasons Why Porn Is Better Than Real Life.’”
The entire class lost it. Someone shouted, “Damn, Justin!” Girls were covering their mouths, laughing. Guys were howling.
Clay thought he might actually die. He couldn’t even look up. His ears were burning so bad he was surprised they didn’t catch fire.
You were sitting two rows over, trying not to laugh too hard, but your eyes flicked to Clay—and you saw how mortified he was. Poor guy looked like he wanted the earth to open up and take him.
Mr. Porter finally raised his voice. “Enough! Foley, sit down.”
But Justin wasn’t done. He shrugged, all innocent. “I’m just saying, sir. For the sake of education. Put Clay with Y/N. They’ve got the same GPA, they’re both smart, responsible… and she’s way less likely to let him derail the project into a wanking seminar.”
The class roared again.
You felt your own cheeks heat up at suddenly being named.
Mr. Porter looked exhausted. “Fine. Whatever. Jensen and Y/N. Foley, you’re with Montgomery.”
Justin gave a triumphant fist pump, mouthing “You’re welcome” across the room to Clay.
Clay finally dared to glance up. His eyes met yours for a split second—just long enough for you to give him a small, sympathetic smile.
He looked away fast, heart racing.
Holy shit.
This was actually happening.
You were going to be his partner.
And thanks to Justin’s completely over-the-top, humiliating speech… you now knew way more about Clay Jensen’s alleged habits than anyone ever should.
But somehow, through the embarrassment, Clay felt something else spark in his chest.
Hope.
The laughter from Justin’s stunt had barely died down when Mr. Porter clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention again.
“Okay, okay, enough chaos,” he said, flipping to the next page on his clipboard. “Now that partners are finalized, I’m assigning each pair a specific sub-topic for the campaign. These are non-negotiable. You’ll focus your presentation around it, but you can still touch on the broader themes of safety and consent.”
Clay’s stomach twisted. He glanced at you quickly—you were already packing up your notebook, looking calm and focused, like you hadn’t just been dragged into the most embarrassing moment of his life. You caught his eye and gave him a little shrug, as if to say, We got this.
He tried to smile back. It probably looked more like a grimace.
Mr. Porter started rattling off topics.
“Davis and Standall—consent and communication.”
“Dempsey and Down—STI prevention and testing.”
“Foley and Montgomery—contraception methods.”
Justin fake-groaned dramatically from his new seat, but Clay could see he was secretly relieved.
Mr. Porter’s eyes scanned the list. “Jensen and Y/N…”
Clay held his breath. Please be something normal. Please be something normal.
“…Pleasure in partnered sex.”
The room went dead silent for half a second—and then a wave of muffled snickers and “ooohs” rippled through the class.
Clay felt every drop of blood in his body rush straight to his face.
Pleasure. In partnered sex.
He stared at the desk like it had personally betrayed him. His mind was screaming. Someone needed to shoot him. Right now. In the temple. Mercy kill.
Across from him, you let out a soft, surprised laugh—not mocking, just… taken aback. You looked over at him, eyebrows raised, cheeks a little pink now too.
“Seriously?” you whispered, half to yourself.
Mr. Porter didn’t even blink. “Yes, seriously. It’s an important part of comprehensive sex education. Mutual pleasure, anatomy, dispelling myths, body positivity—all of it. Make it respectful, make it informative. You two are both mature students; I trust you’ll handle it well. You two are my best students”
A few people were still giggling. Someone in the back whispered, “Poor Clay’s gonna combust.”
Justin, now partnered with Monty, turned around in his seat and shot Clay the world’s biggest shit-eating grin, mouthing: “You’re. So. Fucking. Welcome.”
Clay wanted to flip him off. He wanted to run out of the room. He wanted to transfer schools. Countries. Planets.
Instead, he just sat there, rigid, praying the bell would ring.
You leaned over slightly, voice low so only he could hear. “Hey. It’s okay. We’ll make it educational. Like… super clinical. Diagrams and stuff. No big deal.”
Your tone was kind, reassuring. Not teasing.
Clay finally dared to meet your eyes. You were smiling—small, genuine, not at all freaked out.
He managed a weak nod. “Y-yeah. Totally. Clinical. Diagrams. Great.”
Inside, his brain was short-circuiting.
He was going to have to talk to you—you, the girl he’d been crushing on for months—about pleasure. In partnered sex.
Out loud.
For a grade.
The bell rang.
Everyone started packing up, but Clay didn’t move. He just sat there, staring at his hands, wondering how his life had come to this.
You stood up, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. Before you walked away, you paused by his desk.
“Hey, Clay? Want to work on it at your place tomorrow after school? We can get a head start.”
His heart stopped.
“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “Sure. My place. Tomorrow.”
“Cool.” You smiled again, softer this time. “See you then.”
You walked out.
Clay stayed seated for another minute, trying to breathe.
Tomorrow.
In his bedroom.
Talking about pleasure.
With you.
He was so screwed.
The next afternoon, Clay’s bedroom looked like it had been hit by a Category 5 cleaning hurricane.
He was on his knees scrubbing the baseboards with a damp rag—baseboards that hadn’t been touched since his parents moved in years ago. The floor was vacuumed to the point where the carpet lines looked like a freshly mowed lawn. Every poster on the wall had been straightened with a level. His desk was organized by color and size. Even his vinyl collection was alphabetized, then re-alphabetized by release date, then switched back because he panicked.
He’d changed the sheets twice. Once because the first set “smelled like old laundry,” and the second time because he wasn’t sure if the new ones were soft enough.
He was currently on a step stool, dusting the top of his bookshelf, when Justin pushed the door open with his foot, holding a bag of chips.
“Dude,” Justin said, mouth full, eyes sweeping the room. “What the hell happened in here? Did you hire a cleaning service, or are you prepping for a health inspection?”
Clay didn’t stop dusting. “It was messy.”
“It was fine yesterday.” Justin stepped inside, crunching loudly. “Now it looks like a fucking Airbnb listing. ‘Cozy teen room, recently sanitized, perfect for… what exactly?’”
Clay shot him a glare. “Shut up.”
Justin flopped onto the freshly made bed—earning an immediate horrified gasp from Clay—and grinned up at the ceiling.
“Oh my God,” he said, realization dawning. “This is about Y/N coming over, isn’t it? You’re trying to make the room sexy.”
“It’s not—” Clay started, then gave up. He climbed down from the stool, face already red. “I just want it to look nice.”
“Nice?” Justin sat up, brushing crumbs onto the comforter just to be an asshole. Clay winced. “Bro, you dusted your ceiling fan. Nobody dusts their ceiling fan unless they’re expecting someone to be staring up at it for an extended period of time.”
Clay froze.
Justin’s grin turned demonic. “Holy shit. You’re hoping she gives you a hands-on demonstration of the project topic, aren’t you? A fucking Sex Education Practical lesson”
“Justin—”
“‘Pleasure in partnered sex: A Practical Guide by Y/N.’” Justin made dramatic air quotes. “You’re out here Febreezing your pillows like she’s gonna be rolling around on them by the end of the study session.”
“I am not—” Clay’s voice cracked. He grabbed the pillow Justin was lying on and yanked it out from under him. “I’m just cleaning. Normal cleaning. For a school project.”
“Uh-huh.” Justin stood up, brushing more crumbs off deliberately. “Tell me, Helmet—did you change your sheets to the soft ones? The gray ones Lainie got you for Christmas?”
Clay didn’t answer. He was aggressively fluffing the pillow.
“You did,” Justin cackled. “You absolute horndog. You’re setting the mood. Candles next? Mood lighting? A little Lana Del Rey on the speakers?”
“Get out,” Clay hissed, throwing the pillow at him.
Justin caught it and hugged it to his chest. “Come on, man. It’s cute. You’re finally shooting your shot. Or at least hoping she shoots hers.”
“I’m not hoping for anything,” Clay muttered, but his voice was way too high-pitched to be convincing. “We’re just working on the project.”
“Sure. That’s why you’re wearing cologne at three in the afternoon.” Justin leaned in and sniffed dramatically. “Is that… Axe? No, wait. You upgraded. That’s the good stuff. The one you save for concerts.”
Clay shoved him toward the door. “Out.”
Justin backed up, hands raised, still laughing. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to your seduction lair. But hey—if things go well and you need tips, you know where to find me.”
“I will never ask you for tips.”
“Your loss.” Justin paused in the doorway. “But seriously, bro. Relax. She already likes you enough to come over. You don’t need to disinfect the room like she’s royalty.”
Clay slammed the door in his face.
From the hallway, Justin’s voice echoed: “Don’t forget protection! We’ve got a whole project on it!”
Clay leaned against the door, heart hammering, and looked around at his spotless room.
He had maybe thirty minutes before you arrived.
He grabbed the Febreze again.
Just in case.
The doorbell rang at exactly 3:47 p.m.—thirteen minutes early, because of course you were the kind of person who showed up a little early instead of fashionably late.
Clay nearly tripped over his own feet rushing down the stairs. He’d been pacing in his room for the last twenty minutes, rehearsing casual greetings in his head like an idiot.
Hey, good to see you.
Hi, come on in.
You look… nice—no, don’t say that, too weird.
He opened the door mid-deep-breath.
And then his brain short-circuited.
You were standing on the porch in the late afternoon light, wearing a simple sundress—soft blue, thin straps, the kind that made you look effortlessly pretty. Your hair was down, a little wavy from the breeze, and you had a backpack slung over one shoulder, notebook peeking out the top. You smiled when you saw him—warm, easy, like you weren’t about to spend the next few hours discussing pleasure in partnered sex with the guy who’d been secretly in love with you since Junior year.
“Hey, Clay,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Hope it’s okay I’m a little early. Traffic was light.”
“Y-yeah! No, totally fine. Great, actually. Early is… good.” He stepped aside quickly, holding the door open wider than necessary. “Come in. Please.”
You stepped past him, and he caught the faint scent of your shampoo—something clean and sweet, like vanilla and citrus. His heart did an embarrassing flip.
“Thanks,” you said, looking around the living room curiously. “Your house is really nice.”
“Oh, uh, thanks. My parents are both at work, so it’s just… us.” He winced internally. Smooth, Jensen. Real smooth
You didn’t seem to mind. You turned back to him with that same easy smile. “Cool. Less embarrassing, right?”
“Right. Yeah.” He gestured awkwardly toward the stairs. “My room’s upstairs. We can work there. I mean—if that’s okay? There’s more space on my desk. And, uh, snacks. I have snacks.”
You laughed softly. “Snacks are always a yes. Lead the way.”
He started up the stairs, hyper-aware of you behind him. He’d never been more grateful that he’d vacuumed the steps this morning.
When you stepped into his room, you paused in the doorway, taking it in. The posters The Smiths, Radiohead, a vintage Star Wars one, the neatly made bed, the organized desk with two chairs pulled up side by side, a bowl of chips and some drinks already set out.
“Wow,” you said, genuinely impressed. “Your room is so clean. And cozy.”
Clay rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks warm. “I, uh… tidied up a little.”
“A little?” You grinned, setting your backpack down. “This is like… museum-level tidy.”
He laughed nervously. “Yeah, well… didn’t want you thinking I was a slob.”
You looked at him then—really looked—and your expression softened. “I wouldn’t have thought that anyway.”
He swallowed hard.
You moved to one of the chairs, sitting down and pulling out your notebook. “So. Pleasure in partnered sex. Where do you wanna start?”
Clay sat beside you close, but not too close trying to keep his hands from shaking as he opened his laptop.
“Uh… maybe with an outline?” he suggested, voice a little higher than usual. “Like… anatomy basics? Or myths? Or… communication?”
You nodded, leaning in slightly to look at his screen. Your arm brushed his for a second, and he nearly forgot how to breathe.
“Communication’s good,” you said, completely unaware of the chaos you were causing. “That’s kind of the foundation of everything, right? Making sure both people feel good.”
Clay nodded way too enthusiastically. “Exactly. Totally. Foundation.”
You smiled again, flipping open your notebook. “Okay, Mr. Jensen. Let’s make the best damn sex ed campaign Liberty High has ever seen.”
He laughed actually laughed, the tension easing just a fraction.
“Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes. “Let’s do it.”
And for the first time since this whole thing started, he thought:bMaybe I won’t die today after all.
You’d been working for about forty-five minutes—outlines, bullet points, googling “female anatomy” with SafeSearch on, obviously and the initial awkwardness had mostly melted away. You two had found a rhythm: you typed up notes on your laptop, Clay scribbled ideas on paper, and you bounced thoughts back and forth like it was any other project.
But the topic was… the topic.
At some point, you leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head with a little laugh.
“Okay, wait,” you said, shaking your head like you couldn’t believe it. “Mr. Porter literally just handed us a free pass to make a presentation about how people like to fuck. Like… are we allowed to say that in school?”
Clay choked on his sip of soda, coughing hard enough that you had to pat him on the back a couple times.
“Jesus—sorry,” you said, still laughing. “But seriously. This is wild.”
He cleared his throat, face pink but smiling despite himself. “Yeah. It’s… definitely not what I expected when I signed up for biology.”
You spun your chair to face him fully, tucking one leg under yourself. The vibe had shifted—still focused, but way more relaxed. Like you’d crossed some invisible line into actual trust.
“Okay, but real talk,” you said, lowering your voice a little, eyes playful. “If we’re gonna make this good, we have to be honest, right? Like… we can’t just copy Wikipedia. We need to talk about what actually feels good. Otherwise the freshmen are gonna tune out in five seconds.”
You bit your lip, thinking for a second, then just went for it.
“So, for me—girls’ side—foreplay is everything. Like, everything. Kissing down the neck, slow teasing, fingers first… not just jumping straight to the main event.” You gestured vaguely, totally casual, like you were talking about pizza toppings. “And oral? Game-changer. When someone actually takes their time and pays attention to the clit—like circles, not just random stabbing with the tongue—that’s when it’s fucking mind-blowing.”
Clay’s eyes were wide, but he wasn’t looking away. His face was red, sure, but he was listening. Intently.
You kept going, warming up to it. “Also, being on top? Love that. Feeling in control, setting the pace… and when a guy grabs your hips or plays with your tits at the same time? Yeah. Instant favorite.”
You paused, tilting your head at him with a teasing smile. “Your turn, Jensen. Fair’s fair. What do you like? Or… what do boys really like?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
His hands were fidgeting in his lap, and he couldn’t quite meet your eyes anymore.
“I, uh…” He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I actually… don’t really know. From experience, I mean.”
You blinked, waiting for him to elaborate.
He took a shaky breath, staring at his knees.
“Because… I’m, um… I’m still a virgin.”
The room went quiet for a beat just the low hum of his computer fan and the distant sound of a car passing outside.
You didn’t laugh. You didn’t look shocked or pitying. You just softened, leaning forward a little.
“Hey,” you said gently. “That’s totally okay.”
He risked a glance up at you. You were smiling—small, kind, zero judgment.
“Really,” you added. “It’s not a big deal. And honestly? It makes you the perfect person for this project. You’re not gonna bullshit your way through it. You actually want it to be real.”
Clay exhaled, tension easing out of his shoulders. “Yeah. I just… didn’t want you to think I was, like… clueless or something.”
“You’re not clueless,” you said firmly. “You’re listening. That’s more than most guys ever do.”
He smiled then—shy, but real.
You nudged his knee with yours. “So… even if you haven’t done it yet, you’ve thought about it, right? Everyone has fantasies.”
His blush came back full force, but he didn’t deny it.
You grinned. “Tell me one. Just one. For research.”
Clay laughed under his breath, covering his face with his hands for a second.
“…Slow kissing,” he mumbled finally, voice muffled behind his fingers. “Like… a lot of it. And someone who actually wants to be there. With me.”
Your expression softened even more.
“That’s a good one,” you said quietly.
And for the first time all afternoon, the air between you felt different.
Not just educational.
Something else.
The room felt smaller after Clay’s confession. The air was thicker, charged with something neither of you had named yet. You were still turned toward him in your chair, knees almost touching, both of you pretending to look at the open laptop but not really seeing the screen anymore.
You broke the silence first, voice soft and teasing, but warm.
“That’s cute,” you said, smiling at him. “Like… really cute.”
Clay let out a breathy laugh, still embarrassed. “Cute. Right. That’s me. Cute virgin Clay Jensen.”
You shook your head. “No, seriously. Justin already screamed to the entire class that you basically live for your alone time. And honestly? I respect that.”
He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the punchline.
You shrugged, completely sincere. “Most guys our age treat girls like walking fleshlights. Like we’re just… there for them to use and brag about later. But you? You actually take care of yourself. You’re not desperate or gross about it. You’re patient. That’s hot, Clay.”
His mouth parted slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“You think that’s… hot?”
You nodded, biting your lip to keep from grinning too wide. “Yeah. I do.”
He looked at you for a long second, eyes searching your face. Then, quietly:
“Why are you so interested in my lack of a sex life, anyway?”
You didn’t hesitate. You leaned in just a little closer, voice dropping.
“Because that way… I get to change that.”
And then you kissed him.
It was soft at first just a press of your lips against his, testing. His breath caught, hands freezing in his lap. For a split second he was completely still, like his brain had blue-screened.
Then he melted into it.
His hand came up slowly, carefully, cupping your cheek like you were something fragile and priceless. He kissed you back—tentative, sweet, a little clumsy in the best way. Like he’d been thinking about this for months which, let’s be real, he had.
You tilted your head, deepening it just slightly, your fingers brushing the collar of his t-shirt. He made a quiet sound—almost a whimper—and it sent heat straight through you.
When you finally pulled back, just an inch, your foreheads still touching, his eyes were wide and dazed.
“Holy shit,” he whispered.
You smiled against his lips. “Yeah. Holy shit.”
He was breathing hard, thumb still stroking your cheek.
“So… uh,” he said, voice shaky. “Was that… for research?”
You laughed quietly, nudging his nose with yours.
“No, dummy. That was because I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”
Clay blinked, like he was trying to process the words.
“You… have?”
“Yeah,” you whispered. “I have.”
He stared at you, lips parted, completely speechless.
You leaned in and kissed him again—just once more, quick and soft.
“Now,” you said, pulling back with a grin, “let’s get back to this project before I decide to give you some real hands-on education.”
Clay let out a strangled laugh, face bright red, but his hand was still on your cheek.
He didn’t move it for a long time.
He swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper.
“So… uh… it wouldn’t bother you if I asked for… the practical lesson?”
His eyes flicked up to yours, nervous but hopeful, like he couldn’t believe he’d actually said it out loud.
You felt your heart slam against your ribs. A slow, wicked smile spread across your face.
“Bother me?” you repeated, voice low and teasing. “Clay, I’ve literally dreamed about this since the second Porter put us together in this stupid class.”
His breath hitched. Visibly.
Before he could respond, you moved—swinging one leg over his lap and straddling him in the desk chair. The sudden warmth of you settling against him made his hands fly to your hips on instinct, gripping lightly like he was afraid you’d vanish if he held too tight.
You cupped his face with both hands and kissed him again.
This time it wasn’t soft or tentative.
It was hungry.
Your lips parted against his, tongue brushing his bottom lip until he opened for you with a shaky exhale. He tasted like the soda he’d been drinking and something uniquely Clay—nervous and sweet and completely overwhelming.
His fingers tightened on your hips as you rolled them slowly, just once, feeling him harden beneath you instantly. A soft, involuntary groan escaped him into your mouth.
You pulled back just enough to look at him—his pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and wet.
“Still want that lesson?” you whispered against his mouth.
Clay nodded frantically, words failing him.
“Good,” you said, grinning as you kissed him again, deeper this time. “Because I’m an excellent teacher.”
His hands slid up your sides, tentative but eager, like he was finally letting himself touch what he’d only ever imagined.
And just like that, the project notes on the desk were completely forgotten.
Clay’s hands were trembling against your hips, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as you hovered over him in the chair. The kiss had left you both dizzy, lips brushing as you pulled back just enough to look at him.
His eyes were dark, pupils blown, voice barely a whisper.
“Teach me how,” he said, raw and pleading. “Please.”
You smiled, soft and filthy at the same time, threading your fingers through his hair.
“Okay, baby,” you murmured. “Start slow.”
You tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.
“Kiss me here,” you guided, tapping just below your ear. “Soft at first. Lips… then tongue if you want.”
Clay leaned in like he was afraid to break you, pressing a tentative, open-mouthed kiss to the spot you’d shown him. His lips were warm, unsure, but so fucking eager. You let out a quiet hum of approval, and he did it again—bolder this time, a little suck that made your breath catch.
“Good,” you whispered. “Just like that. Lower… yeah, there.”
He trailed down the column of your throat, kissing and licking, finding the places that made you arch into him. Every time you sighed or moaned softly, he grew braver, hands starting to move.
You took one of his wrists and guided his hand up your side, over the thin fabric of your sundress, until his palm cupped your breast.
“Touch me,” you said against his ear. “Over the dress is perfect. Feel me.”
His thumb brushed over your nipple—hesitant, then firmer when you pushed into his hand. You could feel how hard he was beneath you now, the heat of him pressing up through his jeans, and when you rolled your hips just slightly, a shaky groan escaped him.
You glanced down and saw the small wet spot forming at the front of his jeans, precum leaking through the denim.
Clay noticed too and froze, face flaming with embarrassment.
“Oh shit—sorry, I—”
You silenced him with a soft laugh, cupping his face and making him look at you.
“That’s okay, baby,” you whispered, stroking his hair gently, fingers combing through the soft strands. “That’s so fucking okay.”
You kissed him slow and deep, rocking against him again just to feel him twitch.
“It means you want me,” you continued, voice low and soothing. “It means you feel good. I love it.”
He exhaled shakily, forehead dropping to your shoulder as you kept petting his hair.
“You’re doing so well, Clay,” you praised, guiding his hand to your other breast. “Keep going. I’ll tell you exactly what I want.”
His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, like he never wanted to let go.
And you had no intention of making him.
The kisses had turned messy—deep, desperate, hands everywhere but still somehow not enough. You shifted in Clay’s lap, the chair creaking under both of you, and reached under your sundress.
Clay felt the movement and broke the kiss just enough to look down, confused for a second—until you hooked your thumbs into the sides of your panties and slowly slid them down your thighs, letting them drop to the floor around the chair legs.
His eyes went huge.
You took his hand without a word and guided it between your legs, pressing his fingers against you.
Clay’s breath stopped completely.
“You’re…” he whispered, voice cracking, fingers trembling as he felt how wet you were—slick, swollen, completely soaked for him. “Holy shit, you’re so wet.”
You smiled against his lips, rocking into his touch. “All for you, baby.”
He groaned, low and wrecked, fingers sliding experimentally through your folds, careful but curious. You moaned softly into his mouth, encouraging him, and he kissed you harder—like he was trying to pour every month of wanting you into it.
While his fingers explored hesitant circles on your clit that made your hips buck, you reached down between you and popped the button on his jeans.
Clay pulled back just an inch, eyes wide again. “Wait—are we—?”
“We are,” you whispered, kissing him quiet. “I want to feel you.”
You tugged the zipper down slowly, your hand brushing over the bulge straining against his boxers. He hissed, hips jerking up involuntarily.
Without breaking the kiss, you slipped your hand inside and wrapped your fingers around him—hot, hard, leaking at the tip. You freed him completely, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough.
Clay broke the kiss with a shaky gasp, forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing hard.
You stroked him once, slow and firm, thumb swiping over the head, and he whimpered—actually whimpered—into your mouth.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “This is really happening.”
“Yeah,” you murmured, guiding his hand back between your legs while you kept stroking him. “It really is.”
You shifted up slightly in his lap, guiding his hand exactly where you wanted it.
“Here,” you whispered against his lips, pressing two of his fingers inside you slowly. You were so wet they slid in easily, and Clay’s eyes fluttered shut at the tight heat enveloping him.
“Fuck,” he breathed, voice trembling. “You feel…”
You rocked down onto his fingers, showing him the rhythm. “Curl them up—just like that. Right there.”
He followed your instructions perfectly, crooking his fingers and stroking that spot inside you that made your breath hitch. You moaned softly, rolling your hips to meet each thrust of his hand.
“Good boy,” you praised, threading your fingers through his hair. “Keep going. Add your thumb—on my clit, circles, yeah—”
The second his thumb brushed over your swollen clit, you gasped, grinding harder against his palm. Clay watched your face like he was memorizing every reaction, completely mesmerized.
While he worked you with his fingers—steady, deep strokes that had you dripping down his hand—you felt his other hand tug impatiently at the thin straps of your sundress.
He didn’t pull it all the way off. Just down—exposing your breasts, the fabric bunching at your waist as he freed them.
Clay groaned at the sight, leaning in immediately. His mouth closed over one nipple, hot and eager, sucking gently at first, then harder when you arched into him with a loud moan.
“Yes—fuck, Clay—”
He left the dress on, the soft blue fabric still hugging your hips and waist while your top half was bare to him. Something about it—the contrast, the way it framed you—made it ten times hotter. He switched to the other breast, licking and sucking like he was starving, all while his fingers kept pumping inside you, thumb relentless on your clit.
You were loud now—whimpering, moaning his name, hips grinding shamelessly against his hand. The chair creaked under the movement, but neither of you cared.
“Clay—oh god, don’t stop—”
He didn’t. If anything, he went harder—sucking marks into your chest, fingers curling deeper, like he was determined to make you fall apart right there in his lap.
And you were so fucking close already.
Clay’s fingers were relentless now—curling deep inside you, thumb circling your clit exactly how you’d shown him, his mouth hot and greedy on your breasts. The sundress was still bunched around your waist, straps hanging off your shoulders, and the sight of you like that—half-dressed, completely undone—had him throbbing painfully against your thigh.
Your moans were getting louder, breathier, turning into broken whimpers as the pressure built fast and overwhelming.
“Clay—fuck, baby, right there—don’t stop—”
He didn’t. He couldn’t. He was watching you fall apart with wide, desperate eyes, sucking harder on your nipple every time you gasped his name.
Your hips started grinding erratically against his hand, chasing the edge. One of your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to your chest; the other stroked through his curls gently, lovingly, even as your body started to shake.
“I’m—oh god, Clay, I’m gonna—”
You came hard.
A choked cry tore from your throat as your walls clenched around his fingers, pulsing over and over. Your whole body trembled in his lap, thighs squeezing his hips, back arching so beautifully he thought he might pass out. You were a moaning mess—whimpering his name, gasping, riding his hand through every wave while you petted his hair like he was the most precious thing in the world.
“Clay… baby… fuck, you’re so good—”
That was it for him.
He didn’t even need you to touch him again.
Just hearing you—your voice breaking on his name, the wet sounds of his fingers still inside you, the way you trembled and praised him—sent him over.
Clay groaned deep against your chest, hips jerking up once, twice. Hot stripes of cum spilled across his own abdomen, soaking into his shirt, pulsing out of him in thick waves as he came untouched, just from the sound and feel of you coming apart on his lap.
His forehead dropped to your shoulder, breathing ragged, body shaking with aftershocks.
You kept stroking his hair, soft and soothing, peppering little kisses to his temple as you both came down.
“Good boy,” you whispered, voice hoarse and affectionate. “So fucking good for me.”
Clay let out a weak, incredulous laugh against your skin, arms wrapping tight around your waist like he never wanted to let go.
He was completely, utterly wrecked.
And it was perfect.
You were both still catching your breath, bodies pressed close, the air thick with the scent of sex and the soft sounds of your breathing. Clay’s shirt was ruined, sticky across his stomach, but he didn’t care—he was too busy staring at you like you were a miracle.
You shifted in his lap, reaching down between you. Your fingers wrapped around his cock—still hard, slick from his release, twitching at your touch.
Clay gasped, hips bucking up into your hand involuntarily.
You stroked him slowly, base to tip, thumb circling the head just to watch him shudder.
“Look at you,” you whispered, voice low and filthy-sweet. “Still so ready for me.”
His head fell back against the chair, eyes half-lidded. “Fuck…”
You lifted your hips slightly, positioning yourself over him, the head of his cock brushing against your soaked entrance.
You paused, looking down at him—flushed, wrecked, beautiful.
“Are you ready, baby?” you asked softly, squeezing him gently.
Clay’s hands flew to your waist, gripping tight. His voice came out desperate, almost broken.
“Yes—please, yes.”
You started to sink down, just the tip pressing in—and then he froze, eyes snapping open wide.
“Wait—” he breathed, panic flashing across his face. “We’re… we’re going raw?”
You stilled immediately, hovering over him, hand still wrapped around his base.
“Yeah,” you said calmly, brushing his hair back with your free hand. “I’m on the pill. And I’m clean—I got tested last month. Everything’s good.”
He searched your face, breathing hard, like he was waiting for the catch.
“You… you’re sure?”
You nodded, leaning down to kiss him slow and deep, letting him feel how much you wanted this.
“Completely sure,” you murmured against his lips. “I want to feel you. All of you. No barriers. I'll tell yo later why”
Clay exhaled shakily, forehead dropping to yours. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. I trust you.”
You smiled, kissing him once more—soft, reassuring.
“Then let me take care of you,” you said.
And with that, you started to sink down again—slowly, deliberately, taking him inch by inch.
The stretch was intense, perfect, overwhelming. He was big—bigger than you’d expected—long and so fucking thick that your breath caught halfway, walls fluttering around him as you adjusted.
Clay’s head fell back against the chair with a strangled groan, hands gripping your hips like anchors.
“Oh my god,” he rasped, eyes squeezed shut. “You feel… fuck, you feel unreal.”
When you finally bottomed out, seated fully in his lap with him buried to the hilt, you both stilled—just breathing, feeling each other. The sundress was still bunched around your waist, breasts bare and pressed to his chest, and the sight of you like that made him throb hard inside you.
You rolled your hips once, testing, and moaned at how perfectly he filled you—stretching you so good, hitting every spot like he was made for you.
“Clay,” you whispered, cupping his face and making him look at you. His eyes were glassy, lips parted. “You’re so big, baby. You fill me so fucking well. Feels perfect.”
He whimpered—actually whimpered—hips twitching up involuntarily, pushing even deeper. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Shit—sorry—” he panted, trying to hold still. His whole body was trembling with the effort of not thrusting up into you, not losing it right then and there.
You stroked his cheeks, his hair, kissing him soft and slow.
“You’re doing amazing,” you praised, voice low and soothing. “So thick inside me… stretching me just right. I love how you feel raw, baby. Nothing between us.”
Clay groaned again, forehead dropping to yours. His cock pulsed inside you, and you could tell he was already right on the edge—just from the heat, the tightness, the slick grip of you around him.
“I’m—fuck—I don’t wanna come yet,” he choked out, voice desperate. “I’m trying so hard—”
You smiled, rocking gently, clenching around him on purpose just to feel him jerk.
“Don’t worry, baby,” you murmured, kissing his jaw, his neck. “Let go. Come whenever you need to. That’s why I wanted it raw—because it’s your first time, and you’re gonna come a lot. Over and over. And that’s so fucking hot to me. It’s normal. It’s perfect.”
You started moving—slow, deliberate grinds at first, lifting just a little and sinking back down.
“Come for me, Clay,” you whispered against his ear. “Fill me up. I want it.”
That was all it took.
His hips snapped up hard, a broken cry tearing from his throat as he came—deep, pulsing, spilling hot inside you in thick waves. You moaned with him, feeling every spurt, every twitch, riding him gently through it.
“Good boy,” you praised, stroking his hair as he shook beneath you. “Just like that. So good for me.”
He was breathing like he’d run a marathon, arms wrapped tight around you, face buried in your neck.
And even as he softened slightly inside you, you could already feel him stirring again—still half-hard, ready for more.
Because you weren’t done.
Not even close.
You stayed still for a moment after his first orgasm, letting him pulse inside you, feeling every hot spurt coat your walls. Clay was trembling, arms locked around your waist, breathing like he’d just surfaced from deep water. You kissed his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth—soft, soothing, giving him time.
But he was still hard. Young, desperate, and already swelling thicker again inside you.
You smiled against his skin and started to move.
Slow.
Agonizingly slow.
You lifted your hips just a few inches and sank back down, taking him deep, rolling forward so your clit dragged against his pelvis. Again. And again. A lazy, filthy rhythm that had you both moaning low and constant.
Clay’s head fell back at first, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open.
“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Fuck, now I get it.”
You tilted your head, grinding down in a slow circle that made him throb hard inside you.
“Get what, baby?”
He opened his eyes—dark, glassy, completely fucked-out—and looked at you like you were everything.
“Why Scott used to call you his pretty cowgirl sometimes,” he panted. “Jesus Christ… you ride so good.”
You laughed, low and dirty, clenching around him deliberately so he jerked and groaned.
“You think that?” you teased, leaning in until your lips brushed his. “Lucky you, Clay. Scott only got pieces. Now you get all of me.”
His hands slid down to your ass, gripping hard, pulling you down harder onto him.
You took the cue.
The pace changed—still not fast, but deeper, harder, more deliberate. You rose higher each time, almost letting him slip out before slamming back down, taking him to the root. Every drop made wet, obscene sounds—his cum and your slick mixing, dripping down his balls, coating his thighs.
You kissed his neck, sucking marks into the pale skin, biting gently at his pulse point while you rode him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close so your bare breasts pressed to his chest, nipples dragging against his shirt.
Clay buried his face between them immediately—desperate, muffling his moans against your skin. He turned his head, mouth latching onto one nipple, sucking hard, tongue flicking while his hands kneaded your ass, spreading you, guiding your hips.
“God, your tits—” he groaned against you, switching to the other, leaving them shiny and swollen. “So perfect… fuck, I wanna live here.”
You moaned louder, riding him faster now, grinding your clit against him on every downstroke. The chair was creaking dangerously, but neither of you cared. Your thighs burned, but the stretch of him—so thick, hitting so deep—made you dizzy.
“You fill me so good, baby,” you gasped into his hair. “So fucking big—stretching me open every time I take you. You feel that? How deep you are?”
He whined—high, broken—thrusting up to meet you, sloppy and desperate.
“Yes—fuck, yes—”
You clenched around him hard, and he cried out, face pressed back between your breasts, breathing you in like he was drowning.
“I can feel you getting close again,” you whispered, licking the shell of his ear. “I want it. Want you to fill me up again. Come on, Clay—give it to me.”
He was babbling now—half-words, your name, curses muffled against your skin. His hips snapped up harder, erratic, chasing the edge.
You slammed down one more time, grinding slow and filthy, and he lost it.
Clay came with a choked shout, hips bucking wildly as he spilled inside you again—hotter, thicker than the first time, pulsing so hard you felt every jet. You kept riding him through it, milking him, drawing it out until he was shaking, oversensitive, whimpering into your chest.
You slowed, but didn’t stop—gentle rolls of your hips, keeping him buried deep while he softened just slightly, then hardened again almost immediately.
“Again,” you murmured, kissing his sweaty forehead. “I want you again.”
He looked up at you, eyes wet, lips swollen, utterly destroyed.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he rasped, but his hands were already pulling you down for more.
You smiled, wicked and sweet, and started moving—slow, deep, relentless.
The third time, he lasted longer—long enough for you to chase your own second orgasm, grinding hard on his cock while he sucked bruises into your chest, hands gripping your ass like he never wanted to let go.
You came clenching around him, moaning his name loud enough that you were glad his parents weren’t home, walls fluttering as you soaked him even more.
He followed seconds later—whimpering, thrusting up weak and shaky, spilling what felt like everything he had left, filling you so full it leaked out around him, dripping down your thighs.
You rode him softly through the aftershocks, both of you trembling, sweat-slick and breathless.
Finally, you stilled—him still inside you, softening slowly, your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, his face nestled between your breasts, breathing hard.
You stroked his hair, kissing the top of his head over and over.
“Good boy,” you whispered, voice hoarse. “So fucking perfect.”
Clay’s arms tightened around you, holding you like he’d never let go.
He was yours now.
Completely..
You stayed straddled in his lap long after the last waves had faded, bodies slick with sweat, hearts still hammering against each other. Clay’s arms were wrapped loosely around your waist, his face tucked into the crook of your neck, breathing slow and deep like he was trying to memorize the way you smelled.
Eventually, you lifted your hips just enough to let him slip out both of you hissing softly at the loss, then shifted forward to lie fully against his chest. Your sundress was still bunched around your waist, breasts pressed to his soaked shirt, thighs sticky with the mess you’d made together.
You rested your head over his heart, listening to it thunder, and started rocking again—tiny, gentle movements, barely more than a grind. He was soft now, but still half-buried inside you, and every little shift made you both shiver.
Clay’s hands stroked your back, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your bare skin.
“You okay?” he whispered, voice hoarse and small.
You smiled against his collarbone, pressing a soft kiss there.
“More than okay,” you murmured. “You feel so good, Clay… even like this. I don’t want you to ever leave me. I just wanna stay here, with you inside me, moving slow like this forever.”
He exhaled shakily, arms tightening around you. One hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.
You kept rocking—barely riding, just tiny circles, keeping him warm and close, feeling the slick slide of everything you’d done together.
For a long minute, neither of you spoke. Just breathing. Just holding.
Then Clay’s voice came out quiet, almost afraid.
“So… what was this?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “Today. Was it just… a one-time thing? Getting carried away with the project? Or…”
He trailed off, but you heard everything he wasn’t saying.
You lifted your head to look at him—his eyes were nervous again, searching yours, lips swollen, hair a mess from your fingers.
You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
“It can be whatever you want it to be, Clay,” you said softly, honestly. “If you want it to be just today… okay. If you want it to be more—dates, holding hands in the hallway, me riding you in this chair every time we ‘study’—I want that too.”
His eyes widened slightly, hope flickering bright.
“You… you’d want that? With me?”
You leaned in and kissed him—slow, deep, tender. The kind of kiss that promised things.
“I’ve wanted you for a long time, Clay Jensen,” you whispered against his lips. “Today wasn’t an accident. I just finally stopped pretending.”
He let out a shaky breath that sounded a lot like relief, and pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck again.
“I want more,” he mumbled into your skin. “I want you. All of it. All of you.”
You smiled, resting your cheek against his hair, still rocking gently—just enough to keep you connected.
“Then you have me,” you said simply.
Outside, the afternoon light was turning golden through his curtains. Inside, you stayed like that—wrapped around each other, hearts syncing up, the project long forgotten on the desk.
Whatever came next school gossip, Justin’s inevitable smugness, presentations, real dates, none of it mattered right now.
content: snow storm ruins plans for dylan’s bday but reader makes it up to him, nsfw, multiple orgasms, oral male receiving, oral female receiving, anal fingering, they both cum like a lot
word count: 3.8k
a/n: i didnt check this over fully bc i rushed to write it this evening to get it out in time lol anyway happy birthday dylan
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you wake up with white light filtering through the blinds, frost building on the outer side of the window, snow falling in huge flakes as the snow storm that started last night still raged on.
as you reached for your phone you saw that various people had already texted to say they wouldn’t be able to make it to dylan’s birthday meal this evening, the final nail in the coffin being an email from the fancy restaurant expressing their apologies at having to cancel your reservation due to the severe weather alert.
you sighed, wondering what you could now do to celebrate dylan’s 29th birthday with your main plan having been scuppered. as you reeled through ideas in your mind (all of which were not possible due to the 3ft of snow blanketing the city), dylan started to stir beside you, brown hair messy from sleep, eyes blinking blearily as he reached out for you, pulling you back under the covers and nuzzling his face into your shoulder blades.
after a few moments he breathes you in once more before flipping over and sitting up, reaching for his phone. you know what he’ll see before he does. it doesn’t make the sadness you hear in his voice sting any less.
“everyone’s cancelling…even cole and brae. fucking snow.”, dylan scoffs, tossing his phone onto the covers with a huff. your heart breaks slightly, knowing he’d been excited to finally catch up with his closest friends after the christmas period.
you slid closer to him, pulling him into you. despite the chill in the air curtesy of the snowstorm, he’s shirtless and your fingers absentmindedly trail the hair that leads down towards his pyjama bottoms.
“hey”, you whisper, a small smile playing on your lips as your fingers swirled small circles around his naval. “it’s not all bad…we’re snowed in with nowhere to be, i can think of a way to make your birthday memorable still”, a smile full of sin playing across your lips, your hands trailing down slowly, slowly, waiting for his permission.
dylan turns to you, smile overtaking his lips, “oh? like what?” he asks, feigning innocence whilst his guitar-calloused fingers grasp your hip and pulls you against him. instantly you can feel the growing heat between his legs pressing firmly into your thigh, his trousers posing no barrier in letting you feel how he feels.
rather than replying with words, you lean in and press your lips to his, catching him in a deep kiss, tongue hungry to taste him. dylan moans low into your mouth, sending a pulse straight to your core.
before you can fully react dylan has flipped you onto your back, bracketing himself above you with his arms either side of your head, leaning into your space as the kiss deepens further.
dylan breaks the kiss only to trail his lips hungrily down your neck, briefly sucking your collar bone causing your body to arch off the bed, desperate to feel his touch forever.
“mmmm….best gift ever” dylan mutters, breath fanning hot against your neck before continuing “better than some fancy meal”, punctuated by a sharp nip to the skin just below your collar bone, causing you to hiss in pleasure.
your hands reach up, roaming his back hungrily, mapping out the ridges and bumps of the vast muscles that make up your boyfriend’s body. dylan groans deep in his throat, fingers grappling at your tshirt pushing it up until your breasts meet the frigid air, nipples immediately hardening.
before you can even think, dylan’s mouth closes in on your left nipple, sucking hard as his tongue flicked the peak. you arched involuntarily beneath him, his name tumbling repeatedly off your tongue as heat continued to pool between your thighs, “dylan please-“, you whine pushing your chest out, chasing his mouth.
he grins up at you before switching to the other breast affording it the same attention as the other before his hand slowly trails down your body until he reaches the waist band of your pyjamas.
dylan pauses awaiting your approval. though words fail you, you lift your hips and allow him to slide your pyjamas down, a small breathe escaping him when he realises you have no underwear on.
his mouth returns to your nipple as his hand delicately reaches your folds. a small laugh of disbelief leaves his throat as he spreads your folds between his fingers gathering the wetness there.
“fuck…you’re so wet baby…this all for me?” he asks, lifting his lips back to yours and capturing you in a deep kiss. you can’t reply, simply groan into his mouth before attempting to push into his hand chasing his touch.
dylan chuckles and pulls back, removing his fingers. “uh uh baby, it’s my birthday remember? i call the shots and i want to drag this out as long as possible…we’ve nowhere to be”.
you let a frustrated whine leave your throat, pathetically trying to chase his hand with your lower body. dylan couldn’t resist and brought his hand back to yours throbbing heat, thumb circling your clit before dipping 2 of his digits inside your core before curling them with expert precision, a sharp pleasure shooting through you as you thrust up into his hand.
he keeps pumping his fingers, constantly hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. “that’s my girl, so wet for just my fingers” he grunts, lips finding yours to clash in a messy kiss full of teeth, saliva and whispered names.
you buck involuntarily against his hand, the pressure inside your core building until it reaches a crescendo, orgasm bursting through you as white hot pleasure courses through you as you shout dylan’s name.
dylan pulls away momentarily to pull down his own pyjama bottoms, revealing his thick cock, throbbing and hard, pre-cum already glistening at the tip.
he positions himself between your legs, running his head along your pussy gathering the wetness there before slowly pushing in.
you gasp at the contact, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist, pulling him in infinitely closer. he bottoms out with a grunt, holding you there for a moment relishing in the way your pussy clenches around him.
after a moment dylan started thrusting into you with a steady rhythm, hips snapping against yours with a wet slap. thw only sound besides your shared moans was the bed beneath you was creaking loudly, headboard steadily slamming into the dry wall sure to leave a dent, not that either of you cared.
your nails grasp his back, trailing down harshly with red marks, urging dylan on with your scratches and babbled moans.
“harder please-“ you gasp, body arching into his touch impossibly further. he obliges, of course he does. all dylan wants is to make you feel good.
the pace at which he pounds into you forces the air out your lungs and sends jolts of pleasure like lightning cracks through your body.
his overgrown fringe falls into his eyes as he watches you with absolute devotion falling apart below him.
“fuck- this is my favourite birthday ever” he gasps, hunger enveloping his expression as he snakes one of his hands down, a stinging slap reverberating off the walls as he slaps your clit, an inhumane noise shrieking from your mouth as your hips lifted further off the bed.
dylan grinned down at you, hand returning to your core as his thumb found your clit, rubbing short sharp circles in time with his thrusts.
you couldn’t help it, the second orgasm built up in an instant and washed over you without warning, the dual assault of his fingers on your clit and his cock pounding into you sent you flying over the edge, leaning forward to bite into his shoulder sure to leave a mark, his name leaving your throat in a broken scream.
your walls fluttered erratically around his throbbing dick as he milked your orgasm, never slowing the assault on your clit as you rode out your orgasm.
after a few more thrust he buries himself even deeper, groaning your name as he spilled himself inside you, hot cum filling up your pussy, thrusts gradually slowing as he road out the orgasm.
after a final slow thrust dylan drops his forehead to yours, deep breathe matching yours, the snow storm outside still raging , not that either of you would notice.
dylan slowly removed himself from you and collapsed beside you, pulling you into his embrace, inhaling deeply in contentment. “round one of my birthday is done, what’s next love?” he asks, half teasingly.
you let out a small laugh before shuffling back into his embrace, limbs entangling beneath your heavy breathes. “mmmm, breakfast is next, you can’t be left hungry on your big day” you tease, turning round to catch his lips in a kiss. dylan continues to deepen the kiss, hinting at a round two before you pull away, smile spreading on your lips.
“hold your horses minnette, how do you expect to fuck me into next week without replenishing your strength?” you giggle, leaning forward to brush his fringe out his eyes.
“i guess you’re right”, dylan sighs, rolling onto his back. you sit up, throwing the covers off yourself before heading to the en-suite shower. dylan tries to follow but you catch his hands on your hips and turn yourself around to stare into his eyes.
“nuh uh, i know what you’re gonna try in there, i meant it when i said you need to replenish yourself” you smirk before leaving a peck on his lips. you turn and rush into the bathroom, locking it swiftly behind you to stop him following though you know if he begged enough you’d let him in anyway.
after your shower you head to the kitchen whipping up a batch of pancake mixture in record time as dylan stands lazily against the kitchen table, arms crossed looking hotter than sin.
unlike you, dylan had decided to skip showering knowing he would need one later anyway and in turn, neglected to put back on his pyjama pants.
as you add the last remnants of pancake batter to the pan you feel dylan sidle up behind you, still naked, half hard cock brushing against you as you try vehemently to focus on the pancakes before you.
his hands grip your hips firmly but not hard enough to hurt, grinding his hips ever so slightly into you as if you could ignore the pressing of his ever hardening cock.
“you look so good cooking baby, out here in only my old tshirt, barely covering your ass” he says, nuzzling into your neck.
you try to stay focused on the pancake not wanting it to burn as dylan’s hand trails its way down your front until it lands between your legs again.
you hadn’t bothered to add shorts earlier, figuring just your panties would be fine as you’d assumed you’d be getting dressed soon after breakfast. you should have known dylan had other ideas.
his hand pulled the edge of your panties to the side gently, fingers slowly reaching to your core, daring you to decline his advances. despite your pussy being sensitive from his earlier endeavours his touch reignites that feeling inside you, burning into a sharp burst between your legs.
before things get too out of hand you have the foresight to turn the stove off before spinning a full 180°c to face him, dropping to your knees so his flushed cock is right in front of you.
you take him into your mouth without hesitation, swallowing when the tip reaches the back of your throat, your moan vibrating his shaft causing the hottest sound to leave his lips as his head fell back.
you hollowed your cheeks as dylan reached down to thread his fingers through your hair, tightening the grip to gently guide you back and forth as you bobbed your head, taking him fully on every thrust.
you pulled your mouth back and swirled your tongue across the slit gathering the pre cum whilst your hand comes up to firmly grip the base of his cock, squeezing every now and then to increase the pressure.
it doesn’t take long until dylan is a mess, repeating your name and ‘oh god’ religiously as you expertly swirl your tongue and hand in tandem, chasing his orgasm. his thighs tense, cock throbbing, “gonna cum” he gasps hoarsely, gripping your hair tighter.
instead of pulling away you double down, hollowing your cheeks further and sucking like your life depended on it. you let him thrust into your mouth, controlling your heads movements until he cums with a violent cry, his release spurting down your throat in thick rivulets.
you swallow greedily and lick your lips, swallowing obscenely before letting your tongue loll out your mouth to show you’ve swallowed all that he had to give.
afterwards you really did insist on breakfast and laid out a spread of pancakes, fruit, bacon, eggs and all the trimmings before dylan and instructed him to eat.
it doesn’t take long for him to gulp down a pile of pancakes and handful of fruit, stealing heated glances at you every few seconds throughout. you couldn’t help but feel your pussy throb every time he glanced at you, knowing his birthday wasn’t done yet.
after breakfast you simply cuddled on the couch as the snow continued to fall. there was no rush for round 3 as you both knew this blizzard meant you were stuck inside for at least the next 48 hours.
by lunchtime you’re still in the living room, dylan’s head now resting on your lap. neither of you were paying attention to the film playing on the tv anymore.
as always happened, it didn’t stay innocent. you lightly traced your hands thrkugh his hair before lightly running your hand down his body and lingering at the area where his chest hair stopped and his happy trail began. you teasingly run your finger in circles along the waistband of the joggers you’d tossed at him after breakfast.
after a few moments he caught your hand in his, vice like grip stopping you from contributing before flipping your bodies until you found yourself straddling his hips as he laid on the couch.
you grinded against him gently, feeling his cock harden with every movement of your hips against his. he quickly yanks up your shirt, exposing the lacy bra you’d thrown on after your shower.
dylan unceremoniously yanked the lacy fabric down and latched immediately onto your nipple, teeth grazing deliciously against the sensitive nub on your chest, sucking biting and moaning at the noises you made.
you pull against his joggers impatiently and help him guide the fabric down to free his throbbing cock before pulling your own underwear to the side deciding there was no time to take them off properly.
you lifted yourself up hastily and guided dylan’s cock to your slick entrance, relishing in the feeling of his thick cock teasing your folds.
once positioned you sank slowly down, taking him inch by gorgeous inch until he was fully inside you, your pussy walls clenching around him.
you ride him slowly, hands bracing his shoulders to steady yourself as you lifted up and dropped down relishing in the soft groans that rhythmically left his throat as his head fell back against the couch.
the rhymth you’d set had dylan gripping your hips so hard you were sure you would bruise which only spurred you on. dylan shifted and a new angle penetrated you, a sharp gasp leaving your mouth as he repeatedly thrust into you before dropping his hand to your clit, fingers expertly leading you to the edge.
“fuck baby so good baby, my good girl taking me so well” dylan gasped, hand pulling back to slap your clit, the sting sending a jolt through you, your release building.
you couldn’t do anything beside babbling nonsense along the lines of “dylan- please” on repeat.
“that’s it baby, you gonna cum on my cock?” he teases, thumb roughly circling your clit, he knows what he’s doing, knows you’re gonna fall apart on his cock.
“such a good girl for me” he coaxes, thrusts intensifying as he pounds into you from below, “my perfect girl gonna cum on my cock for me yeah?” he continues.
you break, you don’t stand a chance against him calling you his girl, your orgasm rips through you with such force you’re worried you’ll hurt dylan. a scream of his name leaves your lips as you convulse above him, a slick gush leaving you as you continue to ride him through your orgasm, tears streaming down your cheeks before collapsing against his chest.
a few seconds later dylan is following you over the edge, frantically thrusting up into you before cumming in hot spurts within you, whispering filthy nothings into your collar bone.
soon after he pulls out slowly, rubbing your back as you lay upon him, whispering into your ear how good you did for him and how much he loved you.
you awoke a couple of hours later, your body strewn across dylan’s on the couch as he swirled small patterns into your thigh, sleepily smiling down at you before pressing a sweet kiss to your head.
the rest of the afternoon passes in a blur or love and bliss. the next time you fuck dylan takes you from behind, bent over the arm of the sofa, spitting his saliva onto your pussy as lube before slowly teasing his finger up, up, up, his finger teasing the entrance of your ass gently, waiting for you to push him away.
instead, you lean back, pushing your ass up into his hand, begging for more. dylan chuckles behind you before spitting a glob of makeshift lube over your asshole, teasing it with his finger, easing the tip in gently, gently, whilst slowly pounding into your pussy.
by the time dylan’s full finger is in your ass you’re a writhing mess beneath him, begging him to let you cum. he can’t deny you and he coaxes you into your umpteenth orgasm of the day with soft words, his cock in your pussy and finger in your ass.
the orgasm blasts through you with such force the sofa moves half a metre from your convulsing, a wet gush leaving you as the euphoria hit.
dylan followed close behind, sent over the edge by the view below him, watching his cock fit perfectly into your pussy whilst his finger played with your ass hole, both holes clenching deliciously around him. he came with a grunt of your name and his eyes rolling backwards into his head.
dylan guides you gently to the bathroom and joins you under the warm spray of shower water, gently massaging your muscles until you were once again putty in his hands.
when you were both clean and dried he guided you to bed, the clock reading 4:04pm, the sky outside already dark, an ashen gray taking over the sky as more snow continued to fall.
he lets you nap for a while, using the time to reply to the flood of birthday wishes hes received across the day. it’s hard to believe he was so downtrodden this morning when he looked back and thought about the incredibly sexy day he’d had.
the power seemed to flicker but didn’t go out, the bedside lamp only dimming slightly. nevertheless dylan made sure to plug both your phones in to charge, just in case the power fully dipped.
by 5:30pm he was bored and found himself in the kitchen preparing a simple meal of pasta with tomato sauce before enticing you out of bed with the promise of wine by candlelight (courtesy of the snow storm cutting out the main grid power supply).
despite the change in routine, the charged atmosphere remained. you weren’t done with dylan and he wasn’t done with you. having hastily finished your dinner, dylan carried you bride style to the bedroom and dropped you onto the bed before lighting the swathe of candles you had dotted about the room for ‘ambience’ as well as to make up for the missing mains lights.
despite having only just eaten dinner, dylan looks at you laid on the bed as if you were a feast, dropping down to start eating you out, his tongue dancing expertly within your folds, diving in to make you see stars before pulling back and paying all his attention on your clit, never staying in one area long enough to let your orgasm properly build.
after 15 minutes of alternating torture you can’t take it anymore and grab hold of dylan’s brown locks, holding his head in place to let him know he daren’t let his lips leave your clit.
he obliges happily and starts sucking rhythmically, teasing your clit with his tongue before enveloping it in his lips and sucking harshly, all the while his hand has sneaked between your folds as his fingers curl expertly inside you.
the orgasm hits shortly after, your whole body arching off the bed as a scream erupts from your throat, pussy convulsing against dylan’s mouth as he continues to suck and relish the fresh gush of liquid that encompasses his tongue, slurping like it’s the only thing sustaining him.
before you’ve fully come down from the orgasm dylan has already flipped you, knees bent as your ass sticks into the air before he thrusts into you in one go, expelling any breathe you had out of you in one thrust.
after a few erratic thrusts he regains control of himself and starts to pump into you slowly and rhythmically, savouring the feel of your oversensitive pussy clenching and unclenching around him as you pant his name mixed with garbled pleas into the mattress below you.
your orgasm builds silently this time, you’re so overstimulated your body can’t react outwardly, only feel as he plunges into you hard, thrusts growing more erratic as he nears his own finish. feeling dylan halt and spurt within you is all you need to send you toppling over the edge once again, your orgasm sending waves of pleasure throughout your body as you see stars.
you fall forward limply, absolutely boneless and in love as dylan slowly pulls out and admires his cum spilling out of your pussy.
dylan leaves the bed, much to your dismay before returning shortly with a damp washcloth to clean you up. once done he settles into bed and pulls you into the crook of his arm, pressing kisses to your hair and shoulders.
“happy birthday baby” you murmur, inhaling his intoxicating scent, never wanting this moment to end.
“best. birthday. ever.” he whispers in response after a few moments, pulling you somehow closer and wrapping his arms fully around you as though trying to morph you into one being.
you smile and lean your head back to catch his lips in a soft kiss. sure, the snow may have cancelled his original birthday plans but you’re pretty happy with how the day turned out. it would be a birthday to remember, that’s for sure.
author's note: my first time writing smut FUCK. please be kind, constructive criticism is welcome. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT <3 my inbox is open if you have a request or want to chat!
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a = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Dylan will take care of you always, during and after sex. He will pick you up and carry you to the shower, gently wash your hair making you feel comfortable and loved. He likes to make sure you’re okay.
b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
He LOVES your hips. He loves being able to grab them and pull you towards him to feel your bodies collide. He does it everywhere, in private, when you’re talking to someone, when you’re distracted. A discreet act but sexy enough to turn you both on. As for himself, he’s been working on his arms lately and is very comfortable with the results. He knows you like them, and he likes that.
c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
He loves to cum on your stomach, seeing you lying there, defeated and with your puppy eyes waiting for him makes him give himself to you with such fervor. Plus, he'll always make sure you cum before him.
d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
I dare say he's always had the fantasy of cuckolding. The idea of seeing you with another man turns him on a lot.
e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)
Experienced enough to know what he's doing, but he'll always ask you what you like and if you're comfortable with what he's doing.
f = favorite position (this goes without saying)
COWBOY. He really loves your hips, being able to hold you while watching you take control and make him cum is the best thing that can happen to him.
g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He'll make a few comments that will make you laugh so you don't lose track, but most of the time he'll focus on making you roll your eyes.
h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
As you like. He'll keep it the way you prefer it and makes it more comfortable for you.
i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Dylan won't get tired of giving you kisses on the neck, and whispering how much he loves you.
j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)
It's something he enjoys doing, whether you're there or not. It's something he does often and he loves doing it in places where he knows you'll catch him.
k = kink (one or more of their kinks)
Choking kink: He likes you to choke him, Dylan is a multi-dynamic person, be clear about that.
Daddy kink: When he's in control, he loves you calling him that, it makes him feel like he's doing a good job.
Threesomes: Not necessarily a fetish but it's definitely something he likes to experiment with you, of course, if you want.
Praise kink: He likes to flatter you, compliment your figure and tell you to say it by doing well, he likes to receive the same.
l = location (favorite places to do the do)
He is a very closed person when it comes to having sex: your bedroom, the shower or the living room.
m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Like I said before, your hips. God, he loves them so much. Also watching you wear his clothes or play his guitar.
n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turns offs)
Public sex. It’s a no, no negotiation.
o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He likes both. He loves feeling your legs getting stiffer and more stiffer around his neck, it gives him enormous satisfaction knowing that only his tongue can make you come that way. He loves tasting your juices. He also adores to see you on your knees ready to give it your all just to make him feel good, what can I say, he has a big ego.
p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He’s the sensual type, he likes to take his time with you and make you feel great, plus he doesn't want to hurt you.
q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Not a big fan.
r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
As I said before, he doesn't like to take risks when it comes to outsiders that you aren't sexually involved with at the time. Sex is an intimate experience and he believes it should be treated as one.
s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
3 on a good day, most of the time 2.
t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He really enjoys using them on you, especially vibrators, he feels it adds a little extra spark to the moment. On himself, he's not into it.
u = unfair (how much they like to tease)
He doesn't like to tease you too much, enough that you're already so down before you even start.
v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He's quite a talkative person during sex, he likes to whisper dirty words in your ear during the act, he'll let out a few little moans here and there.
w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He likes to use handcuffs sometimes, it doesn't matter on which one of you, he just enjoys using them. He enjoys having you on top of him while he's being subdued by you without being able to escape. He loves you doing whatever you want with him without him being able to interrupt. When he's in the mood, he'll return the favor.
x = x-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)
He's a little bit above average, kind of 6-6.5 inches, kind of thin but really good.
y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Pretty normal, he enjoys sex with you.
z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He would rather spend some time talking to you before going to sleep, he likes to take care of you afterwards and make sure you are okay.
hiii !! are you able to do just cute tour moments with dylan ?? either on stage or not ?? thank u sm for writing for the wallows cuz i swear no one writes for them 😭
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆tour moments ft. dylan｡˚🐻𖤐🧋
➤ during performances, you sang clairo’s part in “are you bored yet?” you’d usually sing from behind your keyboard until fans were making comments that you should be up front with dylan during the verse.
just as you were about to sing, dylan quickly raced to your side and offered his hand out. you laughed while singing.
“feels like I've known you my whole life, i can see right through your lies.” hands intertwined, dylan led you to the front as the crowd roared in excitement. “i don't know where we're going, but i'd like to be by your side.”
your cheeks began to hurt from smiling as he circled around, his eyes never leaving yours. the two of you harmonized. “if you could tell me how you're feelin', maybe we'd get through this undefeated. holdin' on for so long.”
instead of going back to the keyboard, the two of you jumped around stage until the song finished.
➤ fans also made the connection that you and dylan often shared clothing. there were countless photos online that showed side by side comparisons of him wearing a shirt/sweater and you wearing the same one. they thought it was sweet and you thought it was cute how people picked up on the little things.
one time, during a concert, dylan decided to tease the audience a bit.
it was after you performed a song and were about to do the talking portion when dylan leaned into the mic.
he called your name. “i really like your shirt. where’d you get it?”
you glanced down, giggling a bit. “thanks. i’m not sure, actually. just something i found from my closet.”
“i didn’t know my suitcase was considered your closet now.”
the crowd screamed as you rolled your eyes playfully, waving a hand at him dismissively.
of course, there was one memorable moment in particular that was a fan favorite.
“hi, guys,” you beamed into the mic. “do you guys like my outfit?” it was a sheer lace crop top with black lace trim and gothic-inspired lettering. the top was paired with a denim skirt with a ruffled hem, giving it a playful touch. “my boyfriend got it for me.” more cheers erupted. “can we say thank you dylan?”
you laughed at the boy’s red face as half of the audience just screamed while there were a mix of thank you’s thrown in. braeden and cole thought it would be funny to thank dylan as well as they said it into their microphones.
➤ a lot of behind the scenes moments were shared online, whether they were on tour or in the recording studio. if you focused hard enough and squinted your eyes, you and dylan would be spotted in the background of certain scenes.
during the beginning of your guys’ relationship, you tried not to show too much pda in front of the camera. now, the two of you could care less.
most of them consisted of the two of you close to each other. you sitting on his lap, him having one arm around you. there would be little snippets of the two of you messing around thrown in.
as you were doing your makeup, dylan approached you from behind with a camcorder. you flashed him a small smile before focusing back to your makeup. he zoomed in on you through the mirror.
“isn’t she gorgeous?”
you tried biting back a smile, attempting to glare at him.
“see? she’s cute even while trying to be mad at me.” you placed your palm over the lens, pushing away gently. “hey, don’t hate the camera man,” dylan defended.
“go bother braeden.” you breathed out a laugh.
“fine. only because i like bothering him.”
dylan peppered your cheek with kisses, the camera only getting a shot of your shoulder when he leaned in. but the audience knew what happened.
➤ have you guys seen that one clip of ross lynch and jaz sinclair (rip) at one of the driver era concerts and she’s dancing around while he just stares at her in full admiration? and when she goes to walk away, he’s just following her with his lips pressed against hers, not wanting her to go?
yeah, that was definitely you and dylan.
during your songs, you interacted with the crowd quite a bit and liked to dance around the stage. dylan always had heart-shaped eyes watching as you pulled the silliest moves just to see him laugh.
you both leaned in for a kiss, but he didn’t want to pull away. you attempted to walk back to your keyboard, but he was right behind you with his lips still against yours. eventually, you placed your hand on his chest to pull back, cheeks red and smile so wide that it hurt.
“love you,” he mouthed.
you blew him a kiss that he pretended to hit his heart.
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. at one of your mutual friends halloween party, you and an attractive man get to know each other … really well.
𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. could u write dylan minnette and reader meeting eachother at a halloween party and fucking afterwards 🙏🙏🙏 — anon
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. SMUT ! unprotected sex (don’t do this chat), slight oral f!recieving.
𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. again, sorry this took so long like i need to get back on my writing shit. i quite enjoyed writing this tho since halloween is coming up so thank you very much anon
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 2k
wear something sexy, she said. talking about your best friend of course.
out of all the costumes you could’ve chosen, you had you opted with the not that basic formula 1 driver. the costume showed off your figure extremely well, flattering you.
the process of getting ready wasn’t that long this time considering the costume didn’t need any fixing up. once you were ready you headed to the party and now you found yourself leaning against the counter of the house where the party was taking place.
a red solo cup in one hand and your phone in the other. your friend was somewhere among the crowd partying and having fun. you stood beside the counter scrolling through instagram until you felt another presence beside you.
you turned and met a pair of blue eyes. “i like your costume.” he complimented. the first thing you notice about this man is not only his bright eyes but also his bright pink hair.
it’s not every day you talk to someone with pink hair. “thank you.. i like your hair.” you smiled, sipping your drink.
the man squinted his eyes in suspicion. “do you mean that or are you just saying that because that’s the first thing you noticed about me.” he pressed his lips together to suppress his smile.
you rolled your eyes. oh this guy thinks he’s funny.. “no! i’m serious, i like your hair. it’s very unique.” you laughed, pulling out a big grin from him as well. he squinted his eyes as he laughed.
his mouth moved once again but this time you couldn’t hear him over the music. you let him know but he couldn’t hear you either. he then looked around and waved you over to follow him.
you both found yourself outside in the backyard under a gazebo that was decorated with colorful lights. “i said unique isn’t always a good thing.” he shrugged, getting closer toward you.
you tilted your head. “seems like someone’s said something about your hair in the past, huh? you’re very skeptical.” you raised a brow. he frowned and put his hands up in defense.
you both continued for what seemed like 30 minutes but when you checked the time on your phone it was nearly 1 and there were many more drunk people present than there were before.
“so i meant to ask, how did you find yourself here at this amazing party?” he spoke. you both were sat on a swinging bench.
“my friend invited me here.” you fiddled with the cup that once held your drink.
he hummed. “where are they now?” the way he was sitting back against the bench looking straight into your soul had you thinking.. things.
you shrugged your shoulders. “don’t know.. think she found some guy. i just let her do her thing. i’m not afraid to be alone.”
dylan admired you for that, for not being afraid of being alone. it was attractive to him. “well you’re not alone. you got me.” he grinned, his eyes low. you both looked at each other for a few seconds, your gaze talking amongst themselves. you looked down and blushed. dylan noticed and poked his cheek with his tongue. “you wanna go somewhere else?”
somewhere else? you knew where this was coming from but at this point, you didn’t care, you knew he found you as attractive as you found him — why not act on it?
you nodded before you both stood up and headed inside. “wanna go to mine?” he mentioned.
you thought about it before nodding once more. “yeah sure.” you smiled and he licked his bottom lip with a laugh. he made sure you walked in front of him through the crowd of people before you both walked to the front yard and toward his car.
he opened the door for you to climb in before closing it and crossing over to the driver's side. you pulled out your phone to text your friend.
to mya 👩❤️💋👩:
don’t wait up, i met a guy and he is super chill super nice, and yes im sober, love u!!
you drove for 10 minutes max before he pulled up to a condo complex. he parked in his garage and climbed out opening the door for you once more. “welcome to my humble home.” he chuckled offering you his hand. you took it happily and climbed out of the car.
he closed the door and placed his hand on your back guiding you to his door. you both stepped inside and you were met with his room.
hie bedroom had a door toward his own bathroom and then to the garage. he was clean and organized, with nothing on the floor and nothing that seemed dirty. a big turn-off for you was usually if someone was dirty and unorganized.
you set your bag down on the floor beside his bed. “very organized. i love.” you stated still looking around the room. he had a lot of posters and a few guitars strung up in the walls “do you play?” i pointed.
he looked toward his instruments. “yeah kinda, i’m part of a band, wallows. don’t know if you’ve ever heard of us.”
you tried to remember and realized you’d heard a song of theirs a while ago. are you bored yet?
“wait yeah i have heard you guys. never knew. so wait what’s your name, never got it.” you say on his bed.
he followed closely sitting closer than he was at the party. “dylan.” he offered his hand. you looked at him then at his hand and grinned. “and yours?”
you went ahead and shook his hand. “y/n..” he kept your hand in his grasp, refusing to let it go.
“you’re very beautiful y/n.” his voice sounded confident and sultry. the way he looked in his bedroom lighting had you clenching your thighs together.
“are you going to kiss me or what?” you shot at him. he smiled at your comment. it was like an eternity before his grasp on your hand tightened and pulled yours toward him to connect your lips with his. it was strong and coming as he placed hands on your face, one settled on the back of your head. your hands immediately went around his neck and your legs straddled his waist.
he gripped your hips with force opening his mouth into the kiss. you did the same feeling his tongue enter your mouth fighting for dominance. you easily gave it up moaning into his mouth.
you felt his hardness growing beneath you the more you both were locked in the heated kiss. he groaned when you over ever so slightly on top of him. “so beautiful.” he gasped as he pulled away. “can i make you feel good pretty girl?” he kissed your lips a few times.
you nodded, feeling entranced by the way he looked. his hair disheveled and lips an irritated red. he stood up with you as you clung to his waist and laid you down on the bed. he stood up and removed his shirt before hovering over you. he started off by kissing your lips then your cheek then trailed them to your neck. he licked and sucked love bites bringing up your blood to your skin.
he hummed against your skin. “gonna let me take this off you?” his hands smoothed up your body over the leather of your costume.
you bit your lip and laughed. “been thinking about it all night.” you said breathlessly. he chuckled before reaching in the back and unclasping what held the top part together. he then moved down to the zipper and pulled it down. you then helped him by removing it off the top of your body and he did the rest pulling it down and tossing it to the ground.
beneath your costume you wore a black lacy but dainty lingerie set, always wanting to feel sexy regardless if anyone was going to have the privilege of seeing it.
dylan knelt down and swiftly brought his fingers toward your panties. he pressed down in your clothes clit. “can feel how wet you are... need to taste you so bad.” he whispered through the dark, barely getting to see his face because of the small lamp that lit up the room.
he brought himself closer to your center pushing your panties to the side. you swear you heard a tiny whimper escape him as he took a kitten lick. you tried your best to keep your legs open for him as he began to take another lick.
he ended up pulling back and removing your underwear fully before settling down in between your thighs. you bit your lip when you felt his breath blow into your sex. he looked up at you through his lashes before latching his lips onto your pussy. your mouth opened up at the sensation letting out a sigh.
he sucked and made the most pornographic sounds. “god… taste so fuckin’ sweet. gonna give me a sugar high.” he groaned against your pussy, the vibrations sending a jolt through you. “didn’t even need to do all that trick or treating shit, got my sweet thing right in front of me.” he smirked, scanning your face for a reaction.
your hand connected with his hair tugging on it gently. the stimulation from dylan’s tongue was so anticipated it had brought you closer and closer to release faster than you thought.
the more dylan spent time eating you out the more your legs started to shake. “fuck — right there dylan, gonna make me come so fucking good.” you moaned throwing your head back against the duvet.
dylan didn’t want you to cum yet, he desperately needed you to cum around him so he sucked on your folds one last time before climbing up your body. he kissed you while your brain still had been fuzzy from the pleasure of his mouth.
you felt his body heat leave from on top of you then you proceeded to hear the clinks of his belt buckle. you heard him toss it to the ground before speaking up. “want me to wear a condom?” his voice was low and hoarse. you looked up and saw how hard this man was.
you shook your head. “no jus… just fuck me please.” you pleaded, needing him buried deep inside you.
he nodded grateful for your answer not thinking about any consequences that could come up in the future. he dropped his pants and boxers down before stepping out of them. he then removed his top and returned to his spot above you once again. he pumped himself a few times before nudging your entrance. “ready baby?” he questioned earning an eager nod. “c’mon, wanna hear your pretty voice say it.” he whispered kissing your neck.
your chest moved up and down as you muttered the words dylan was looking for. “mhm... i’m ready. please just need you inside me.”
that’s all he needed before he obliged and inched inside you. you felt yourself become full. he stretched you out so good. your hands gripped the bed sheets before holding onto his back. your nails dug into his skin as he pulled out then pushed back into you with slight force.
his tip nudged your g spot over and over causing your stomach to swirl and tighten with each push. his head fell into the crook of your neck, loving the way you wrapped around him so good. “fucking made for me.” he stated groaning in your ear.
the sounds he made just pushed you further and further toward your orgasm. your eyes squinted shut. “shit! so so good dylan. gonna cum soon.” you moaned threading your right hand in his hair. your legs wrapped around his own waist allowing dylan to hit deep inside you. the new angle bringing a new feel and sensation.
his thrusts began to move faster and harsher. “go ‘head, gonna cum too — fuck — cum all over my dick, yeah?” he rasped, his words were just what you needed to spasm and scream his name as you reached your release. your legs shook and your hands scraped up his back.
dylan followed, letting go fully wants he knew you had reached your high. his cum filled you up so good and dylan didn’t stop fucking it back into you. his hips faltered feeling the overstimulation and became sloppier but he pushed through regardless. as he slowed he saw his cum practically leaking out of your tight pussy with a smile plastered on his face.
you lay there as he surveyed the way you had been fucked dumb. he looked so good with the fucked-out look he had on and his disheveled pink hair. “nice to meet you dylan.” you wore a lazy smile.
he licked his top lip. “wanna get to know you more if that’s okay.” he smiled, laying beside you falling onto his back.
you pretended to think before looking toward him. “hmm, sure i guess.” you shrugged followed by a giggle.
headcanons — // cw ! : some swearing ,, nsfw at the bottom ,, mostly just fluff + im in denial ab his death
WES HICKS AS YOUR BOYFRIEND . . . is the exact definition of puppy love seen in teenagers.
he’s liked you for as long as he can remember and there isn’t a single unpleasant memory of you in his mind. he was always scared to make a move but that doesn’t mean the feelings weren’t there.
his body seemed to naturally tilt in your direction when you were in a room together, and his attention would dart entirely to you when you spoke up. he listened closely to everything you said, encouraging your stories, asking questions and overall being an avid listener.
he was your biggest supporter and number one fan. he always felt so tingly and had a light feeling in his heart when you would smile at him or even grace your knuckles against his skin.
that being said, the day he asked you out and you actually said yes, he was stunned. fully embracing for your rejection and the humiliation that comes afterwards, he thought for a moment he must be dreaming.
wes is the sweetest boy you’ve ever met and a natural gentleman. holding doors open for you, helping you carry your bags when shopping, braiding a section of your hair for you and planting kisses to the back of your hand.
he’s also extremely supportive and a well educated man. thanks to growing up in a household with just his mother he’s more in touch with his sensitive side and knows a great deal about the female body.
very well spoken. wes is great at expressing how he is feeling with his words, his struggle is when it comes to actually saying them. he gets nervous about speaking up about how he feels sometimes but when he does he’s very clear about it all.
hicks is more of a stay in and enjoy each others company kind of guy, he loves having alone time with you, but he’ll have fun anywhere so long as you’re next to him.
you guys have tons of random cute dates that are more like married couple activities. going grocery shopping, getting a car fixed together, going to the gym, heading to the pharmacist, etc. wes is just always there and you guys do solo activities as a duo.
of course that doesn’t mean you guys won’t go out on the normal cute coupley dates. wes loves to go to carnivals, fairs and the arcade and you often find yourself making frequent visits to similar settings.
there’s no honeymoon phase with wes because he acts exactly the same throughout the relationship as he treats you at the start. he opens doors for you, walks you to class, always pays the bill, surprises you with small gifts, and pretty much makes you his top priority.
he’s liked girls before and has been in talking stages but he’s never been in a serious relationship like the one you’re in now so he puts his absolute all into it. he loves spoiling you so much by doing things like making you a gift basket or doing your homework for you after you fall asleep, from things ranging to gifts to acts of service.
you can see the way he feels about you just by the look in his eyes. he always has a permanent toothless smile painted on his face when you’re around and his eyes glisten and practically sparkle when they look at you. you can very easily see the love in his eyes, especially when you start talking.
he can be pretty shy when it comes to pda but he won’t mind small things like holding hands or a quick peck to the lips. he doesn’t like to be too touchy when out in the open and prefers to keep the physical part of your relationship for behind closed doors when it’s just the two of you.
wes holds you to such a high pedestal. you are literally never incorrect in his mind. if someone tries to say otherwise he is fast to jump in and defend your name like you were actually about to get canceled online for something serious, even if it was just because you solved a math question wrong and someone corrected you. he would rediscover math in a way that would make you right.
i dont see him as using social media very much, he probably has your initial and a <3 next to it in his Instagram bio at the least though.
your protector. you will never find someone who genuinely cares about your mental and physical being so much. he is always looking after you, whether you’re having a bad day with thoughts or if your life is actively in danger, he’s the one to count on.
he is constantly asking if you’re okay. if he notices your vibe is just a little bit off he will text you a short paragraph later on asking what’s up even if nothing is wrong.
honestly very sensitive when it comes to you. you matter the most to him out of everyone and so he clings off every sentence you say. like if you compliment his appearance one day and then don’t the next, the next day all he’ll think about is how he probably looked ugly. or if you jokingly make fun of one of his shirts for being plain you will find that he never wears that shirt again. he just wants to impress you.
you have so much power over him because of how much effort he’s putting into the relationship. he genuinely sees his whole future with you and has pictured the wedding and everything.
everything reminds him of you. you will get texts throughout the day of pictures he took of something random or links to things with a ‘this made me think about you’ text.
he loves sending you pictures of the sky. i can imagine him snapping a photo almost every other day and sending it to you, talking about how pretty the sunrise or sunset looked that day.
he’s not a very jealous boyfriend but he is insecure. he doesn’t get upset over you or mad at the person he’s jealous about but rather becomes very critical of himself. thinking about how he’s not good enough for you, how you and whoever would look so much better together, that he’s too boring for you, wtv.
having your go-to artists together. you and wes definitely have picked at least 1-5 musicians and bands that you listen to everytime your together. or certain songs that makes you think of each other. does anyone else get the vibe he’d listen to tv girl?
you both have a ritualistic habit of texting goodnight and good morning. the good morning texts are usually never an issue, but there have been times he sleep deprives himself at night waiting on your response to his goodnight while you’re already sound asleep and just forgot to respond. he usually passes out early anyway though, i dont imagine wes to be the type to stay up super late normally. he probably has a normal sleeping schedule, like anywhere from 9 to 11 pm.
having your own shows and movies you watch together are a must. wes is a huge fan of all of the classic blockbusters, like star wars, the godfather, sappy shit like titanic or notebook, wizard of oz, et, groundhog day, etc.
studying together! both library dates and going over to each others houses. the thing with wes is that if you say you’re studying, you’re studying. he is actually a good student and tries very hard with schoolwork, taking it seriously. this is not to say that you being there won’t distract him on occasion, because it definitely will, and you definitely have the power to pull his mind away, but he will ultimately actually try to do work. and don’t expect anything besides maybe a 3 minute make out sesh before he’s working again.
every special occasion is spent together. all holidays you’re invited into his home with open arms, and if you’re not able to go over to his hes negotiating any way for him to be able to attend whatever you were doing. whether it’s for halloween or fourth of july, he wants to spend the day with you.
texting all the time. literally all the time; on top of hanging out all the time. you guys are always talking, and he loves to text you and be informed about gossip or anything going on in your day. he will grasp for any details he can get.
he is SO ATTENTIVE when you are upset, on your cycle, angry, having an episode, etc. like seriously, it’s like he always knows what to say or ask to make you feel better. and hes always more than prepared to make a quick trip to a nearby store for some snacks or a cheap card game or something to take your mind off things.
going over to each others houses even if the other wasn’t home yet. his mom even offered to just make you a spare key and has gotten used to you entering her house before her own son does to go lay in his bed till he got home. hes comfortable letting you just wait in his room for him, and you get the chance to be nosy and snoop if you want while also enjoying the coziness of your boyfriends room; so win win!!!!!
oh matching pajamas FOR SURE! hes definitely a sucker for having a shared fuzzy pjs set, especially when you get to wear them out or to college. and when you guys are matching you bet hes gonna want to hold your hand the entire day, just so that anyone who saw you guys in case they didn’t get the memo before that you were together would now…..
definitely much more talkative when it’s just the two of you. when you guys are out with other friends hes more reserved and will just stick to your side, only really talking to you and even then will be less vocal as you guys are out. but the moment it’s just the two of you he is so much more expressive and open.
hes got a photo album of you that he loves to look at; on top of having you as his homescreen, and probably a few polaroids up of the two of you on his bedroom walls.
NSFW !!
DUDE!!!! AFTERCARE GALORE!!!! THIS MAN HAS BEEN RAISED RIGHT AND PROPER!!!!
he is so attentive to your needs and what you want, and the whole experience he spends tending to you and making sure you feel comfortable.
puts a pillow under ur back ❤️.
loves to let you be a pillow princess. hes a soft dom for sure, though wouldn’t mind letting you take charge from time to time if that’s what you wanted. but he loves taking care of you and doing all of the work so he gets to see your every reaction
i see him as probably sort of whiney in bed. he’ll try to bury his head in a pillow or your neck while hes fucking you to stifle his noises
loves giving. like ofc he’ll happily receive, but he genuinely enjoys giving more than he does receiving. he loves giving you head and servicing you, knowing hes the one who’s making your body feel so good just drives him fucking wild
he could do it for the entire day if he could. just lapping you up for hours and hours while you beg for him to give you a break.
always prepared, always uses protection (unless you ask!), and always has the necessary materials nearby.
big cuddler after as well. he just wants to hold you and go the fuck to sleep once you guys are both taken care of
Hiii just read the fic you posted on your girlfriend's blog and is wonderful so I was wondering if you could write one more fluffy of Clay and reader waking up together lazy morning after sex cuddling and making breakfast naked
𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 ꨄ
Content: Fluff, smut hinted at beginning, cooking, idk just super cute
A/U: yes I’m lwk stealing my gf’s format what about it. ANYWAY FIRST FIC ON MY OWN BLOG I HOPE U LOVE IT
You wake up with a delicious ache between your legs. Then the memories from last night start flooding in: Clay fucking you hard, his beautiful sounds in your ear.
Then you feel it—his arms wrapped around your waist and his subtle breaths against your neck. It immediately brings a smile to your lips. “Clay, honey—time to wake up, baby.”
He stirs, then immediately nuzzles into your neck and whines, “But I’m comfy—five more minutes.” He looks up at you with the cutest puppy eyes you have ever seen in your life.
“You know I can’t resist those eyes. Fineee five more minutes.” You open your arms, and he immediately crawls into them and lays his head on your chest.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you speak up. “I’m hungryyy,” you whine, Clay lifts his head from his chest and just stares for a few seconds. “I’m hungry too,” he says, a smile slowly forming on his face.
You giggle and smirk too. “Should we go make breakfast together?” His eyes widen with excitement and he sits up. “Let’s go!”
Once you two make it to the kitchen, he starts exploring the fridge to find something for breakfast. “Well, we have milk — and I think we have pancake mix?” He turns to look at you. You were snacking on cheerios you found in the cupboard. “Sounds good to me.”
He pulls out the milk and eggs, putting them onto the counter. He walks over to where you are standing in front of the cupboard. He looks down at your bare ass and he just *can't* resist.
The next thing you know, you feel his hand slap your ass. “Clay! What was that for!” He giggles and rubs where he hit. “Couldn’t resist” he says smirking
“You are seriously going to pay for that Jensen. I mean it.” He smirks and nibbles on your shoulder. “OoOo I’m sooo scared.” He says sarcastically. You grab the pancake mix and put it on the counter, trying not to laugh. “You better be,” you bite your lip, trying to hold back a smile.
He grabs a bowl from the cupboard and puts it onto the counter with the rest of the ingredients. “So, are you going to help me or just stand there and look pretty?” You walk over to him and put your head on his shoulder.
“Though that does sound nice… I think I’ll help you,” you reach for the pancake mix box without even bothering to check how much you need. You just pour however much your heart desires into the bowl.
“You are very bold — love it,” he says, smirking while staring into your eyes. He grabs one of the two eggs. He hands one to you, and the other to himself. “3. 2. 1.”
Once he gets to one, you both crack the eggs at the same time and put them into the bowl. For absolutely no reason, you both just start giggling.
“You are so stupid,” you say, wiping your hands on a nearby towel. “I am stupidly in love with you, and you love me for it,” you blush and bite your lip while looking away from him.
“Hand me the box?” You do not and grab a pancake box, hand it to him. As you hand it to him, your fingers brush against his. “Thank you angel,” she says before pressing a soft kiss to your nose.
He looks at the box to see how much milk is required for the pancakes. He nods as he reads the instructions like it’s the most interesting book of his life. He reaches into the cupboard and grabs a measuring cup.
He pours the perfect amount of milk that is required for pancakes. “Wow. You should be a top-level chef.”
He hands you the whisk and offers for you to mix. “Want to do it?” you think for a few seconds before your eyes light up with an idea. “We both mix!” You say clearly, *very* excited.
He chuckles at your excitement, thinking it’s adorable. “Sure angel,” You grab the whisk, and he stands behind you wrapping his arms around your waist and also putting his hands on the whisk.
You both start to mix the batter slowly. He kisses your shoulders softly while his rough hands rest on yours. “Hey babe?” He speaks up.
You turn your head to the side slightly. “hm?” He giggles softly before speaking up again. “Why don’t we just eat the batter?” You pause for a second before giggling.
“Won’t we get salmonella?” he stopped and thought about it for a second and then shook his head. “Nahh, I’m sure we won’t.”
“Then sure. Let’s be lazy and just eat the batter,” he says while smirking and looking at his beautiful blue eyes. He reaches into the drawer and grabs two spoons, one for you, one for him.
You both stand at the counter, taking small bites of raw pancake batter. It’s dumb, it’s silly, but it’s perfect for you. And you wouldn’t want it any other way
