#dennis baker fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boxofbonesfic · 2 years

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Title: Baby Luv

Pairing: Dennis Baker x Reader

Word Count: 5,436

Summary: After a divorce and many, many unsuccessful hook-ups, Dennis Baker has finally reached rock bottom. Out of options and desperate for connection, he creates an account on Searching Arrangement, where the only thing stopping women from spending time with him is his bank account.

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Fucking Dennis is it’s own warning quite frankly, Sub-Dennis, Praise kink, Unprotected sex, fluff

A/N: so uh, this is my entry for my own Triple D challenge, lmao. tagging @darkficsyouneveraskedfor in my new Dennis the menace obsession lmao. i thought of a sweet, subby Dennis who probably hasn’t been having the best of luck since his divorce. i really hope everyone enjoys and doesn’t hate me too much for this haha. i think it ended up being pretty fun! divider by @whimsicalrogers!

This is a work of FICTION, and there will be ADULT themes and content included therein, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk! MINORS, DNI!

💋

Gorgeous.

Dennis suddenly feels inadequate in his pink polo and khakis, and he grips the bouquet tighter as you approach. Your dress looks so lovely on you, and your eyes light up when you see him. You give a shy little wave as you stop in front of the table, and he scrambles to his feet.

“Dennis?” You ask, and he nods quickly.

“N-nice to meet you.” He holds out the flowers. Your smile is dazzling, and he’s star struck for a moment as you take the bouquet gingerly from his hands.

“These are lovely! Are they for me?” You say, holding the flowers up to your nose as you peek at him over the top of it. “You didn’t have to do that.” Your delight at the small gesture seems real, and you place them carefully down on the table so the rose petals won’t bruise.

“I-I wanted to.” He says, and a beat of silence passes between you.

“Should we sit?” You ask, and he nods, dropping back down into his seat. You slide into the booth across from him, and you give him another sweet smile. It makes his chest ache.

“You…you look just like your pictures.” He blurts the words out clumsily, and you raise a hand to your mouth to stifle the sound of your laughter. You do, though—the same beautiful face, and the curves of your body which your dress does little to hide. He’d liked your profile as soon as he’d come across it. You weren’t vapid and greedy like so many of the other women he’d spoken to, you took time to describe your interests as well as listen to his.

You were the whole package.

“Thanks,” you say, your eyes bright. “I’m not very good at photo editing,” You take a sip of your water, your perfectly manicured nails clinking against the glass. “You don’t look like yours.” Dennis’ stomach drops, and he opens his mouth to protest, but you speak again before he has the chance to. “You’re even more handsome in person.” You wink at him. His chest tightens, and Dennis feels his face go hot.

“T-thank you.” He looks down at his hands. This is always where it goes wrong. He hadn’t had much trouble talking to you through a screen, but sitting in front of you in person was… intimidating. He gestures around a little awkwardly. “I, um. I remembered you liked sushi, so…”

“Thank you, I noticed that! I’ve been dying to come here and haven’t had the opportunity,” your voice turns a little mournful. “I’m so happy you invited me!”

On your profile, you’d listed several of your interests, your likes, your dislikes. Even that you wanted kids one day. He’d wanted to sigh at your perfection. He supposed the only real drawback was that he would have to pay you four thousand dollars a month to spend even a few minutes of your time with him.

“I’m sure you’ve been to way nicer places,” Dennis laments. “I hope it’s okay.”

“It’s wonderful.” You reach across the table to stroke the back of his hand comfortingly with your fingers, and it feels so genuine that his chest goes tight again. “Seriously, I’ve heard amazing things.” You lean back in your seat. “So… what kind of things do you like to do when you’re not programming robots?”

His cheeks burn. “I d-don’t program robots, exactly. Just software, and—” The tinkle of your laughter makes him stop.

“I know you don’t program robots, silly.”

He adjusts his glasses nervously before continuing. “But I like, um. Video games, you know, we talked about that.” Your eyes light up in recognition.

“Oh yeah! You couldn’t pick your favorite.” You tease. “I stand firm in my opinion that Portal 2 is the best shooter ever made.” You cross your arms under your breasts and fix him with a coy smile. “And no, you can’t change my mind.” He laughs in spite of his nerves.

“I’m a, um, a DOOM fan,” he replies. “Love the, the classics.” A waiter comes by, and Dennis manages not to fumble the order. He can’t stop staring at you as you brush a perfectly coiled lock of hair behind your shoulder. His heart is practically beating out of his chest. You’re so funny and easy to talk to, but he keeps screwing up the words, overthinking them.

“You look beautiful,” the words come up like vomit, unstoppable as he tastes them on his tongue. “Your dress is really really pretty.” Your eyes brighten as you smile. The way you preen under his praise is cute, endearing.

“Thank you, Dennis. I bought it for tonight.” You don’t say you bought it for him, but the slight, saucy little lilt your voice takes on implies it. His neck prickles as he briefly wonders what you’re wearing underneath it, and if he’ll get to see.

How much it’ll cost.

“Y-you did?”

“Mmhmm.” You nod. “I wanted it to be…” you pause, as if looking for the right word. “Special.” Oh fuck.

“It feels special. With you,” he adds. You giggle, and raise a hand to your cheek as you look away bashfully. He wants this to be real so badly.

“You’re sweet.”

The appetizers come out along with the sake, and after a cup or two, he’s feeling a little more confident. He asks you about work, and you say you’re employed at a little mom and pop shop on the other side of town. The conversation peters out as the entrees come.

“So, um. I…” He gathers his courage as you expertly break apart your chopsticks. “I wanted to um, maybe talk business?” Dennis doesn’t mean to phrase it as a question, but that’s how it comes out. He almost apologizes for it, but your little laugh cuts him short.

“Of course,” you say, cocking your head at him as you fix him with a small smile. “Business before pleasure, right?” You clack your chopsticks together expertly before popping a piece of a roll into your mouth.

“R-right.” He looks down at his hands and then back up to your expectant face. “You’ve, um, you’ve done this, uh… before?” Dennis asks, leaning in a little conspiratorially. “Had a, um…” He trails off. Sugar daddy seems like such a crass thing to call himself, and unlike so many of the other men on the website, he’s not twenty years your senior.

You nod, patting your lips with a napkin to catch any stray crumbs. “I’ve had patrons before, yes.” You answer honestly. “I think it would help if maybe you told me a little more about, you know, what you’re looking for.” Dennis must look as lost as he feels because you reach across the table to squeeze his hand with a comforting smile. “Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite.” You wink. “That costs extra.”

He chokes out a laugh. “I, well… my wife, I had a wife,” he corrects himself, his throat tightening at the memory. “But it ended, um. A year ago.” He only just stopped wearing his ring when he started talking to you—but he leaves that part out. Your eyes stray to the empty skin of his left ring finger anyway, and Dennis self-consciously covers the fading indent.

“I see. I’m really sorry to hear that, Dennis.”

“A-and I’ve never done anything l-like this before,” he mumbles, twisting his napkin in his lap. “But I’m trying to, um, get back out there.” He peeks up at you, terrified he’ll see how bored you are, but instead you look… interested. You’re nodding and actively listening, and it isn’t like with Kate at all where he had to fight for every iota of attention she deigned to give him—no, you look like you actually want to be there.

Yeah, stupid, you’re paying her for it, Dennis thinks to himself hurriedly.

“Are you looking for something long term? Or do you just need a date to a few events?” You ask gently, and his face reddens.

“I, er, I mean, I had hoped long term,” he stammers, adjusting his glasses nervously. “U-unless that’s not something you, uh, offer?”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head. “I prefer it, actually. And exclusivity?” It seems like such a simple question, but it makes his head spin. “As in, would you like to be my only patron at this time?”

“Yes!” He knows he says it too fast, too harsh, but he doesn’t want to share, even if it means extra money. “Yes,” he repeats, his face hot with embarrassment. “I want it to be exclusive.” He doesn’t want to think about you leaving his apartment only to whisper the exact same sweet nothings in another man’s ear. At least if he has to pay for the privilege of your time, he doesn’t want to have to share it with someone else.

“Okay, then,” you say, nodding. “Then I guess all that’s left is the nitty gritty,” you toy with a strand of your hair. “In my past… relationships,” you emphasize the word, “I had a firm monthly allowance of five grand a month, but neither of those was exclusive,” you explain. “I think six thousand is fair, don’t you?” When you fix him with those wide, bright eyes, that small sweet little smile on your plump lips, Dennis nods without thinking, his lips slightly parted as he watches you place another bite of sushi into your pert mouth.

He makes good money at the IT company, probably a little more than his fair share—it’s not like he can’t afford it, right?

“O-okay,” he agrees, his heart leaping as you smile again. “So that, um, that means, we can go out? Like on dates, and stuff,” he fumbles the words again, looking down at his own untouched plates. Your laugh makes his already warm cheeks even hotter.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing right now, Dennis?” You tease, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. His palms are sweaty as he rubs them against the crisp, starched material of his khakis. “Going out on a date?” Your sweet smile turns a little sly as the tip of your pump grazes his calf. “And stuff?” He nearly chokes on his drink as he downs it in a single gulp, the alcohol burning warmly in his throat.

“Y-yes, I mean, m-more. Dates.”

You giggle. “Of course, silly.” You take a sip of your own. “Have you been on many dates since…?” you take a sip of your martini, and gesture to the waiter to bring him another, too.

“N-no,” he shakes his head, his lips pressing into a grim, dissatisfied line. “I, uh…I don’t have good luck with um, with women.” The frames of his glasses click as he adjusts them again, fidgeting.

“What? That can’t be true,” you scoff. “I bet women are lining up around the block for you.” You squeeze his muscular bicep, and he gives you a furious shake of his head. Women have never lined up for anything he has to offer.

“No, not really…” Maybe it’s the alcohol making him brave—or stupid—but he bites his lip. “My wife, she said, well…” He leans closer, not wanting anyone to overhear his shame. “I have, um… you know, a bad penis.”

Your eyebrows rocket up your face, and you cover your mouth to try and stifle the ungainly snort that erupts from you. His head snaps up, and you give him an apologetic little grin.

“Sorry, I… I’ve never heard that one before,” you admit. “A… bad penis?” You look confused, your eyes narrowed and your pretty mouth drawn into a pout. Dennis nods, to embarrassed to say anything. “Dennis, I’m sorry she said that to you,” you say, but he only shakes his head again. “I’m sure nothing’s wrong with your equipment,” you add, flashing him a reassuring smile and a wink.

The server comes back to clear the table, and Dennis asks for the check. He wants to ask you back to his place for drinks—he won’t hope for more than that, not tonight. He places his card down into the little foldable book containing the bill while you watch, your chin resting daintily in the palm of your hand. He glances up at you, and you flutter thick lashes at him.

“Um, I was thinking, maybe you would like to get a, um, a drink. With me.” He almost drops the book as he places it face up on the table. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I understand—”

“I would love to get a nightcap with you, Dennis.”

Your heels click against the pavement as he walks you to his car, his hand shoved awkwardly into his pockets. He’s not sure if it’s too familiar to drape his arm across your shoulder or around your hips. When he offers you his hand to help you down into the passenger seat you accept it, and he can’t help but marvel at how butter soft your skin is.

Dennis almost drops the keys as he tries to slide effortlessly into the driver’s seat but you don’t make fun of his nervousness or drop any snide comments, not the way Kate would have. He still lives in the house they shared, though most anything that reminds him of her is already gone. It’s fairly sparsely decorated, but you find something nice to say anyway as he takes your coat.

“I know it’s a lot of, um, you know, white walls,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s okay,” you reply brightly. “Lots of space for new things, right?” He leads you down the hall to the kitchen, and pauses in front of the liquor cabinet. Dennis isn’t much of a drinker, and most of what’s there has been since before Kate left. He isn’t expecting the warm pass of your hand over his back as you lean in next to him. You’re so close, and you smell so good he has to stop himself from leaning in to get another lungful.

“Hmm,” you run your fingers lightly over the bottles, before selecting one, holding it up for him to see. “I love a good whiskey, myself,” you say, fixing him with a sly smile. “What about you?”

“Whiskey’s good,” he says quickly, nodding. “I have… ice? Do you want ice?” He fishes out a couple of glasses, and then goes to the fridge for ice. When he turns back around, you’ve already filled them halfway. You drop the ice carefully into both tumblers, swirling it around a little before handing it to him. “T-thank you.” You drink in silence for a few minutes, before you put your glass down with a sharp clink against the table.

“I um, I had a good time tonight,” Dennis says shyly, draining his own glass with a grimace. You’re sitting next to him at the island, so close he can feel the heat of your thigh against his own.

“I did too,” you say, reaching over to squeeze his hand. You trail your fingers up and down the exposed flesh of his forearm, and even that small touch is enough to send blood rushing down to his cock. Dennis drains the rest of his whiskey in a thirsty gulp. He doesn’t know what to do next, what to say.

“I can, um, I can take you home when you’re—when you’re ready,” he mumbles. You cock your head at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to go home, Dennis?” You ask innocently, and he almost drops the tumbler from his suddenly shaking fingers. He doesn’t, God, he really fucking doesn’t—“Because I’ll go home if you want.”

“What happens if you go home?” His question floats quietly in the air between you, and you smile.

“I call an uber. I text you when I get home. You pay my allowance, we set up another date, and we go from there.” You say simply. “if you choose not to pay it, we don’t see each other again.” Dennis likes how decisive you are, how you lay things out calmly, simply. “You want to know what happens if I stay?” He licks his lips.

“Yes.” The hand you’re resting on his arm drags up his chest and you cup his chin.

“I know you do.” Your thumb traces over his bottom lip. “If I stay, you pay my allowance…” you trail off, waiting for him to take the bait, which he does without hesitation.

“A-and?”

“And then you get to see what your money pays for.” Your perfume is soft with a citrus-y, floral tint, and it fills his nostrils when you lean closer. Dennis is hypnotized, and he knows he couldn’t move even if his life depended on it as you brush your silk-soft lips against his own. He moans against your mouth, and you giggle, your hand softly stroking his chest through his polo. When you pull away his breath hitches as your fingers tickle beneath his chin.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“God yes,” he breathes. “Yes please.” Dennis reaches clumsily for his phone, going straight to his banking app to initiate the transfer. All the while, he’s acutely aware of the heat of your palm through his khakis, and the little shapes you draw on the naked skin of his arm. He glances up at you nervously, and you give him a reassuring smile.

“C-can I see you, now?” He asks shyly, his half-hard cock throbbing in his pants as your smile turns lascivious. You don’t answer, instead you stand up straight, your hands plucking at the stringy bow holding the top of your dress shut. Slowly, teasingly, you pull the halves of your dress apart, exposing inch after luscious inch of smooth skin. He doesn’t realize he’s gripping the sides of his stool hard enough to bruise until the wood squeaks in his grasp and he releases it.

The fabric falls with a whisper to the tile floor, leaving you bare except for the lacy black thong adorning your hips, and the suede pumps on your feet. Dennis’ mouth goes dry as he watches you trace circles around your swelling nipples while you cup your breasts.

“Is this what you wanted?” His mouth won’t cooperate to form an answer, so he just nods. He reaches a hesitant hand toward you, and when you don’t stop him, he cups your breast, running the rough pad of his thumb reverently over your nipple. Your teeth sink beautifully into the plump weight of your lower lip when he does it again. Your skin is so soft and supple beneath his hands, Dennis doesn’t want to stop touching you.

He lets out a surprised moan as you palm his cock though his pants, his hips bucking toward your hand. He squeezes the flesh of your hip, and you let out a breathy laugh. You hook a finger underneath the thin strap of your panties, snapping it against your skin.

“You want to take these off?” You ask, and Dennis nods hurriedly. You lift yourself onto the island behind you, and he stands between your thighs, watching as you inch the fabric down them.

“I want to touch you,” he says softly, his hands flexing on your thighs as he tries hard to wait for your permission. You reach up, carding your hand through his soft blond hair as you bring his face close to yours. Your breath ghosts gently across his face as you whisper—

“Say please.”

“Please.” The plea leaves his lips, and for a moment he thinks you’re going to say no—

“Good boy.”

Dennis presses himself between your thighs until the counter forces him to stop, his hands tracing greedily over every bit of you he can reach as he pushes his face into the side of your throat mumbling how gorgeous you are, how perfect, how much he wants you. He can feel your fingers deftly undoing the button on his pants, and Dennis moans raggedly as you wrap soft fingers around his cock, swiping your thumb across his leaking tip through the cotton of his underwear.

“You want me, don’t you Dennis?” You coo, and he nods desperately. “Show me.” He wants to worship you—and maybe that’s too much too soon, but fuck it he does. Dennis trails reverent kisses down your throat, between the valley of your breasts. You lean back as he goes, resting on your elbows as his tongue dips into your belly button.

You’re spread out in front of him so deliciously, your soft thighs laying open to expose the soft, slick petals of your pussy. He runs an admiring finger up your damp slit, and your answering moan makes his cock throb hotly. He repeats the motion, before leaning down to lave his tongue against your folds. Your fingers tangle in his hair as your hips buck forward to meet his face.

Fuck, you taste good—peach sweet, warm and sticky. Dennis is lapping at you like a man possessed, and fuck, maybe he is, because he’s never felt like this before, wanted to please someone else so much.

“Mmm, fuck,” you hiss, tugging on his hair as you grind your pussy against his face. His tongue finds the swollen pearl of your clit, and you gasp. “You’re so good at this,” you praise, and Dennis feels pleasurable warmth gather in his chest. “Fuck, fuck, shit—” He presses at your tight entrance with one finger, circling it before sinking it in to the knuckle. You keen, your thighs trembling.

“M’so close,” your whiny little moan almost makes him bust right there in his khakis. “Fu-ck, good boy, Dennis, so good—ah—” He can feel the slick, velvet walls of your cunt squeezing around his finger like a vice as the evidence of your release coats his chin. You release his hair, your nails scratching pleasantly against his scalp.

He’s so hard it hurts, his cock rock hard and leaking as it throbs against his stomach. Dennis wipes at his mouth as you sit up, drawing one finger down the side of his face.

“You made me feel so good, sweetheart,” you praise, and he finds it hard not to preen at your softly uttered words. With a gentle tug on his chin, you drag Dennis’ face back up to yours, moaning when you taste yourself on his lips. He whimpers into your mouth as your knee grazes his cock, and you giggle. “You want to cum, don’t you Dennis?” You ask innocently, reaching into his briefs to finally touch his cock. You drag your hand up and down his length, already soaked with precum.

“Fuck, yes, God, please,” he moans. He knows he should be embarrassed by his own neediness, but he can’t think about that now, not when you’re stroking his cock confidently in one hand, looking at him like you own him. Shit, maybe you do.

“Go sit down on the couch.”

He practically throws himself down onto the cushions, and watches from across the room as you slide down from the island, your heels clicking against the tile. He watches you gather up your dress, dust it off and lay it over the island, before you turn and slowly make your way over to him. Your stride is slow and confident, like you know he’d wait for you for as long as it takes—and you’re not wrong.

Your hips sway as you approach him, and the only sound louder than the echo of your footfalls has to be his heartbeat. You come to a full stop in front of him, and his breath hitches as you kneel between his legs. He fights the anxious urge to cover his cock, to hide it from you.

“You know, Dennis,” you say, dragging one finger up the throbbing vein that runs along his shaft. “I don’t see anything wrong with your penis.”

“I-it’s not bad?” He asks, his brows knitted together like he’s waiting for the bomb to drop. You wrap your fingers around him, pumping his cock a few times as he shudders. You lean forward to lave a wet, sloppy kiss against his head that leaves him shaking and moaning. Your mouth is so hot and wet, Dennis swears he’s seeing stars.

“No, baby,” you murmur, and he cries out as your lips close around the oversensitive head of his cock. “Not bad.” A hoarse whine escapes his throat when you pull away, a shiny string of your saliva still connecting your full lips to his cock. He reaches for you in a vain attempt to force your head back, but you frown, batting his hands away.

“No touching, Dennis.” You reply sternly, and he drops his hands to his thighs, his fingers digging into the taut muscle. You sigh as if disappointed and lean forward, your breasts rubbing sinfully sweet against his cock. “You want to cum, don’t you?” You repeat the question playfully.

“Yes, so bad—” his admission is cut off by another swipe of your tongue, his head falling back against the pillows as a harsh breath forces itself out between his lips.

You pull away, your grip on his cock loosening until you’re barely touching him as you stroke lazily up and down his shaft. “Beg, then.” Your delivery isn’t cruel or mocking—just matter of fact, like it’s a thing that simply has to happen for you to fulfill your end of the deal. It’s humiliating, having to plead with you to let him cum, but Dennis has never been this hard, or this willing. “Be a good boy and beg.”

“P-please,” he breathes, unable to look away from your hand on his cock. “Please, please let me cum. I-I want you so much!” It all comes tumbling out, desperate pleas sounding more and more like a prayer every minute. You increase your pace, tightening your fist just a little, enough to make him pant.

“Why, Dennis?” You say, cocking your head at him. “Why do you want me?”

“Y-you’re beautiful,” Dennis admits it without hesitation. “a-and you’re—fuck oh fuck—smart, and I w-wanna make you feel good, like you deserve.” You swipe your thumb across the head of his cock to smear the growing trickle of precum around it. He isn’t expecting you to let go, and he can’t help the pained expression that crosses his face when you do.

You stand up from the carpet only to swing one leg across his lap, resting your knee on the cushions.

“That was good, Dennis,” You say, fixing him with a sweet smile. “You really think I’m beautiful?” You rest your other knee on the opposite side, hovering over him. He can feel the heat from your pussy just over his cock, and he knows that if he just grabbed onto your hips and thrusts home, he could be inside you—but he also knows it isn’t allowed. That there’s a line there, one he can’t see but one who’s existence he’s explicitly sure of. And if he crosses it, he knows you’ll get up and walk out, and it won’t matter that he’s just deposited seven grand into your bank account.

“I do,” he answers honestly. The kiss you gift him with is honey sweet and so butter soft it makes his toes curl, and he knows he’d do anything to get another one just like it.

“You did so good, Dennis.” Your voice goes husky, and you drop your hips just low enough to graze the tip of his cock with your soaked cunt. He moans loudly, and barely manages to keep himself still. “So good I’m gonna let you fuck my pussy.” God, he could cry. “And,” you lean down to brush your lips against the shell of his ear. “I won’t even make you use a condom.”

He doesn’t know what he would have said—his mind is blessedly blank—but any words that would have come out are lost in the strangled groan that he releases against your throat as you start to sink down. Your fingers dig into his shoulders and you mewl.

“Oh fuck,” your voice comes out in a breathy whine. He wants to move, wants to force his cock into you with everything he has—but you haven’t told him he could, yet, haven’t told him it’s okay, so all he does is rest his hands on your hips, helping guide you down. You cup his chin with one hand and drag your tongue against his lips. “You’re so thick,” you murmur, and his cock throbs in response.

You draw up and then sink lower, drawing a hiss from him as you repeat it over and over again until you’re seated firmly in his lap, with Dennis’ cock fully inside you. You fit him like a glove—tighter, maybe. Fuck, it’s like he can feel you squeezing around him as you shift, moaning.

“Feel good?” You ask, rocking in his lap. It’s all he can do to stare at you openmouthed and nod.

“U-uh-huh.”

You lean up, your velvet walls dragging along his cock like a fist. He murmurs a curse and then a prayer—you feel so good. He doesn’t even really realize he’s spoken until you respond.

“How good, Dennis?” Your teeth drag along his throat. “Tell me.”

“So good, l-like wet velvet, a-and so tight—f-fuck!” His hands flex on your hips with the desire to move, and he throws his head back, almost sobbing. You suck so hard on his pulse he knows there’ll be a mark there when you’re done.

“If you can make me cum again, Dennis I’ll let you finish in my pussy.” You say, smiling down at him when you lean away. It already feels like he’s about to fucking bust right then, but he holds off, trying to think of anything but the way your cunt feels wrapped around him right now.

Finally, finally he grasps your hips and drives up into you with a wheezy moan. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” He forces his cock in and out of you in a dizzying rhythm that has him pressing his face into your breasts as you tangle your fingers in his hair. It’s addictive—you’re addictive.

“Mm, so good,” your praise only makes him fuck up into you harder, which is apparently what you want because your pussy clamps down around him like a vice. “See, Dennis? Nothing wrong with your cock. You just need someone to tell you how to use it, don’t you babe?”

“Yes—fuck—yes!” He snaps his hips into yours, and you let out a shuddering moan, throwing your head back. You’re close, he can feel it in the fluttering of your walls around him. You have to cum first, you have to cum first, fuck—he chants it like a mantra, his teeth sinking into his lip as he tries to hold off.

You cum with a sharp keen, your back arching as you somehow tighten around him even further. The measured throbbing of your cunt and the murmured whispers of your praise send him careening over into bliss, and Dennis’ arms loop under your shoulders to hold you still and steady as he presses his hips to yours. He can’t see, can’t think, can’t do anything but pant against your chest and bask in the aftermath.

He doesn’t know how long it is that you two sit there on his couch, his cum leaking slowly out of you and back onto him, but it feels like it’s been a while when he can form a coherent thought again. You’re rubbing soothing circles on his back, telling him quietly what a good job he did, how good he made you feel, how much you liked it.

“Hey,” you say, kissing his cheek. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Dennis reaches up to fix his glasses, knocked askew at some point. You ease yourself off of him, and he shoots up to lend you a hand when your knees wobble a little. You giggle.

“Thanks. We should, um. You know, shower, probably.” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And then I can get an uber home, if you like.” You say it nonchalantly, but Dennis shakes his head, his face heating.

“No, I, um. You should stay. It’s no trouble.” Your kiss reminds him of the one you gave him earlier, and he swoons.

“Okay.” You elbow him, winking. “But breakfast’s extra.”

Fin

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littlelioncub-library · 2 years

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Strong Connection Detected

Summary: You and Dennis have been friends for quite some time now. When you invite him over to help set up your new router, you can’t help but notice how hot your shy little friend is.

Pairing: Dennis Baker x Female!Reader

Warnings: Soft dom!Reader, sub!Dennis, pet names (Angel, sweetheart, Den, etc.), Dennis is touch starved, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, premature ejaculation, dirty talk, mentions of titty fucking, Reader likes Dennis with his glasses on, Dennis gets pussy whipped instantly.

Word count: 3,830

A/N: I am in a mood for Dennis, so I think the next few fics I write will be ones for him. Or Jefferson. Or Justin Capshaw. We’ll see! Hehe I feel pretty good about this one, I wasn’t while I was starting it, but after looking it over and editing it a bit, I really like it. The world needs more Dennis Baker smut. He’s pathetic and needs a good, solid fucking. I no longer do a tag list! If you want to be notified when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library and turn on the notifications. I love you all!

Kisses 💋

—K

“How’s it going, Den?” You ask from your spot on the couch.

“Almost done,” Dennis mumbles in concentration. He’d been saying the same thing for over half an hour.

You sigh and watch as Dennis pieces your new internet router together. The new machine was far too complex for you to figure out yourself, but when you told Dennis about it he insisted he set it up for you. “Those guys overcharge for installation anyway.” You’d been friends with Dennis for nearly 2 years now, you met at work shortly after his wife left him. He was friendly, a bit on the shy side but always had a nice thing to say, if he ever spoke at all. It took you about 6 months to get him to say more than 15 words to you at the office, but you were nothing if not a patient woman.

Dennis liked that about you; everyone was always trying to rush him; to speak, to get things done, to get out of their way, to sign the divorce papers—but not you. You let him take his time, hell, you even smiled at him when he took more than 40 seconds to stutter out a simple ‘good morning.’ Thankfully as the years rolled on, he got more comfortable with you. Sure, he still stutters like crazy when you stand a little too close or caress his arm while you talk, but, hey, it’s an improvement.

You watch as his large hands skillfully piece together the black box, and you can’t help but admire the thick arms he hides underneath gaudy polo shirts. Your eyes flicker up to his face, his glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, his eyes steely as he focuses, his tongue peeking out. It should be illegal to be this buff and this cute. You bite your lip softly as your thighs begin to rub together, your skin beginning to heat underneath your short floral dress (Dennis’ favorite). You let your eyes continue to wander his body, his thick, muscular thighs are spread as he sits comfortably next to you, and you can’t help but wonder what they would feel like against your naked pus—

“Are you ok?” His concerned words bring you out of your filthy thoughts.

“Hm? Yeah, why?” You swallow thickly as the tingling between your legs gets stronger. He watches with a slightly nervous gaze as you slowly shift closer to him, your legs pressed against his.

“You were just…” he trails off when your hand curls around his bicep, your hands were always so soft, he swallows thickly.

“I was what, Den?” Your voice drops into a huskier tone almost on its own, the way he reacts to the lightest touches makes you want to tease him more—so you do. Your hand pulls away from his bicep to rest innocently on his inner thigh, the muscle jumping underneath the beige khakis he wore.

“A-Ah!” He squeaks, his eyes wide in shock, he didn’t know what you were doing but he was certain he was going to snap the plastic he held in his hands if you kept going. You smirk at his little noise and bring your other hand to rub his back soothingly.

“Are you ok?” You repeat his words in that sultry tone and Dennis is surprised he hasn’t cum in his pants yet. Your eyes catch sight of the sizable tent straining at his zipper and fight off a moan of your own. As soon as Dennis realizes you see his not-so-little problem, he immediately goes to cover himself with both hands, his face as red as a tomato.

“I-I, I’m sorry!” He rushes out, ready to hear you make fun of him or call him a pervert or kick him out, but instead he feels your gentle hand cover his own, tenderly rubbing backs of his hands and slowly peeling them away from his crotch.

“You don’t have to apologize, Den,” your voice is calm and soothing, as soon as you rest his hands on his knees, you gently hook your finger under his chin, turning him to face you. As frightened and embarrassed as he is, Dennis does as you want him to. The moment your eyes lock, his breathing begins to deepen; there was a lustful darkness taking over your gorgeous eyes, it made the fire in his belly burn even hotter.

“Is this ok?” You ask as your hand returns to his inner thigh, this time stroking the length of his knee, inching closer and closer to the aching bulge between his legs. He almost chokes on his words when he feels you rub his thigh, your question nearly going over his head completely.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he repeats breathlessly as he nods dumbly, his eyes stuck on yours. You smile softly at his consent and finally cup him through his pants, the hardness beneath your palm had you biting your lip. “O-Oh god!” He whimpers under his breath, his pretty eyes fluttering shut as you hold him in your hand.

Finally, your hand begins to move, the grind of your palm into his cock sends Dennis’ mind spinning. It’s been so long since someone touched him, he’s been single ever since his divorce and even before then his ex-wife hardly looked at him let alone touched him. He’d grown so accustomed to the feeling of his own hand that he forgot how good it felt to be touched by someone else.

“Dennis,” you repeat again softly, he let himself get so carried away in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear you call his name. He opens his eyes again, desperation and worry written all over his face. The way he got so caught up in the pleasure just your hand gave him made you hungry for more. Your nose brushes against his as you lean in closer. “Can I kiss you?”

“Fuck, p-please,” he whimpers again, his eyes sliding shut again as you kiss him. You sigh happily against his lips, the way he immediately submitted to you was everything you dreamed of. His lips were soft and shy, afraid to go too far but still hungry for any shred of kindness you offered. When your tongue licked at the seam of his lips, his hips surged forward into your hand on instinct. Your grip on his cock tightened ever so slightly, pulling a sharp gasp from the timid man next to you. Sliding your tongue into his parted mouth, you moaned at the taste of him; mint toothpaste and the chocolate muffin you gave him as a snack an hour before.

You both lose yourselves in the kiss, each one intensifying with each passing moment. You sink your teeth into his swollen bottom lip, drawing a shaky moan from the back of his throat. Suddenly you slide from your spot next to him, making him pout, his lips ready to begin pouring pleas and apologies. When you settle yourself on the floor in between his spread thighs, Dennis couldn’t help but curse. He wanted to commit the scene before him to memory: your beautiful eyes looking up at him while you kneel for him.

“Now, Den,” you speak softly, you were just as breathless as he was, except you were half drunk with power, you trail both hands up his inner thighs, sending shivers through his body, “tell me what you want me to do.”

“Fuck,” he curses again as he tries to find the words but his brain is damn near useless right now. You smirk as you watch him scramble to speak, you knew he was shy, so you relished in his reactions. “I want… I want you…”

“You want me to what, Dennis?” Your tone is encouraging and reassuring, that alone is enough to make Dennis’ heart beat erratically. He let out a frustrated noise as he tried to regain some composure. “Want me to touch you?”

“Whatever you want,” he whispers, “I want-want you to do whatever you want…”

His cute answer makes you smile at him, you bring your lips to his again, rewarding him for his good answer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, chasing your sweet lips.

“You wanna know what I wanna do to you, Dennis?” You ask slowly in between sweet kisses, “I wanna suck your cock,” he moans at your words, “and then ride you nice and hard, make you feel so fucking good, until you cum inside me… you want that?”

“Yes! Yes—fuck!—yes!” He gushes out as you begin to unbutton his pants, eager to get your mouth on him. The sound of his zipper being pulled down suddenly snapped him out of his desperate haze. “Wait!” He called, his hands holding your wrists still. You look up at him, your hands stopped in their tracks.

“Something wrong, Den?” You ask as he licks his lips, you could tell he was looking for the right words to say, “Do you want me to stop? We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” you say sincerely with a sweet, soft smile. When he didn’t say anything for a few moments, you smiled a little wider and started to get up from your spot between his knees, “we could jus—“

“No!” He exclaims a little louder than he intended, a sheepish, apologetic smile gracing his lips, “sorry, no, please, I-I don’t want you to stop. It’s just,” He took a deep breath, his eyes looking down at the floor, “I haven’t been w-with anyone since my div-divorce and, uh, my ex-wife, she said that my, um, my penis was… was bad…” He waited for the cruel laughter, the mocking words, a scoff—something. But instead, you tilted his chin up to look at you, he found your gentle expression and a warmth in your eyes that he’s never seen before.

“I’m sure she said many other cruel, untrue things to you, Dennis,” you push a hand through his hair, caressing the side of his face as you speak, “things you didn’t deserve. Let me show you what you deserve, Angel. Hm?”

Dennis gives you a shy nod and you all but devour his lips, your movements are strong and determined, it leaves him scrambling to take it all yet yearning for more. This time he doesn’t stop you when you pull his zipper down, your hands pulling down his pants and boxers to his mid thigh in one go. With your tongue sliding sensually against his, you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, your fingers hardly able to touch. Dennis whimpers loudly into the kiss, his mouth hanging open as you massage his shaft. You sigh at the weight of him in your palm and pull back to look at him. You drool when you see the monster between his thighs; a wide, angry red tip atop a long veiny shaft that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

“Holy shit, Den,” you moan in awe and give his cock a stroke, licking your lips as a bead of precum coats your fingers, “you’ve got such a big cock, can’t fucking wait to feel you splitting me open,” you ramble, your feral gaze locked on his tip, watching as more precum oozes from his hole. “Fucking hell…”

“Oh! Oh fuck!” He cries out, his head falling back against the couch as your lips wrap around his tip, your tongue greedily lapping up the salty precum as your hand jerks him off. You moan around him as you begin to move, taking more and more of him into your mouth with each eager bob of your head. Dennis’ thighs shake beside your head, his whole body strumming and thrashing with pleasure. He’s never had anyone go down on him before so this was a whole new experience to him. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

Large hands grip the back of your head, guiding you lower and lower down his length each time. You take a deep breath through your nose, relax your throat and take him as deep as you possibly can. His toes curl in his socks when he feels himself breech your throat, his length suddenly disappearing into your hot, wet mouth. A confused but wanton moan flying from his mouth as you swallow him down, the grip in your hair tightening to the point of pain. You manage to fit most of him down your throat, your hand jerking the last inch or two that can’t fit in your throat yet.

The noises Dennis makes leaves you absolutely dripping, your hips grinding into nothing with need, your panties were definitely ruined. Your eyes sting with tears and drool coats your chin, but you love it too much to care. He looks the part of a debauched mess; his skin dewey with sweat, his lips parted and red from your sloppy kisses, and his face contorted as the painful bliss that he’s never known before overwhelms him. It’s doing wonders for your confidence.

“I-I, I’m gonna cum!” He sobs between the fat tears that roll down his face, your mouth suddenly pulling off of him with a wet pop. A heartbroken whine of your name leaves his lips but your spit covered mouth silences him with a sloppy kiss. He tastes himself on your tongue as you shut him up in the best way possible.

“I want you to cum in my pussy, Den, not my mouth,” you mumble against him lips, gripping the collar of his pink polo shirt, you tug him to his feet. He sways a bit, the edging making it hard for him to stand straight as you lead him to your bedroom. Wasting no time, you shut the door and push him to the neatly made bed and crawl up the length of his body, settling in his lap. “Undress me, Dennis, please?”

You didn’t need to ask him again. He sits up quickly, his shaky but eager hands are quick to unzip your dress and yank it over your head, tossing it to the floor behind you. Dennis never thought he would ever be here, laying on your bed with you in his lap, begging him to strip you naked. Yet here he was, staring at your bare breasts; he was positive he was drooling but he couldn’t think hard enough to care. “You’re so…beautiful…”

Your shy giggle made him smile softly. “Touch me, Den,” You guide his hands to the swell of your chest, and Dennis is sure that he’ll never be able to go a day without feeling your pillowy soft tits in his hand. He moans and massages the tender flesh passionately, leaning down to suck on your hard nipples, your hand gripping the back of his head.

“So soft,” he mutters in amazement against your sensitive nipple.

“O-Oh fuck, yes, that’s it, so fucking good…” Your soft moans and praises leave Dennis ravenous, he switches between your breasts, making sure to give each one equal attention. He feels your hand tug at his polo and he reluctantly pulls back to help you take it off, pushing his pants and boxers off completely too. You sit back and shimmy out of your ruined panties, giving Dennis a show as you slowly peel the wet fabric from the juncture of your thighs. He whimpers with need and a drooling mouth when he sees a string of your arousal cling to your underwear before breaking and coating your thighs. But before he could get his mouth on you, you push him on his back. A grin finds a way across your face, the sight had Dennis’ stomach doing flips and his own shy smile tugging at his lips. He’s about to take his glasses off but you’re not having it.

“No, leave them on,” You grin as he nods and lowers his hands, “you’re always so cute, Den,” you muse as you crawl over him once more, slowly lowering your naked pussy to his cock.

“Ah-haaaah!” He groans, his eyes open wide to watch as your lips drape around his girth. You moan at his noises and begin to rock back and forth, letting your slick leak down his shaft. “Please, please, Sweetheart, please,” he gasps, his hands on your hips to help you grind on him.

“Please, what, Den?” You smirk and run your hands across his chest teasingly. He shivers violently, his eyes falling shut for a moment before pleading up at you.

“Need to be inside you, please— o-or I’m gonna cum like this,” he begged. He sounded so sweet when he begged for you like this, you ‘ll have to be sure to make him do it more often. You listen to him chant ‘please’ under his breath as he fights off his high, your grinding was quickly unravelling him.

“You wanna be inside me, Den?” You lift up on your knees, rubbing his tip through your soft petals. He nods frantically, muttering ‘yes’ over and over, his eyes glued to the spot between your legs. “You’ve been so good for me, always been so good… I think you deserve it, don’t you?”

“Yes, please!” He sobs, his hands now balling up your bedsheets, he’d say anything to get you to sit on his cock right now. Thankfully, he said the magic words. You slowly let gravity pull you down, your tight little hole stretching around him perfectly. Inch by inch you take him in, the hot, wet feeling of your walls finally wrapped around his cock has Dennis speechless, he can’t breathe, he can’t think, he’s certain that his heart stopped beating. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” He moans wantonly.

“Ohhh fuck, yes, Dennis!” You gasp as you finally take the last inch, your bodies finally connected. Another wave of pride washes over you when you see the fucked out expression on Dennis’ face. The way his eyes crossed before closing made you feel like a fucking Goddess. You give yourself a moment to relish the burning stretch of his cock nestled deep in your cunt. You’re about to start riding him when his large, surprisingly strong hands grip your waist in a bruising hold, keeping you still.

“Not yet, not yet, please, God, not yet,” he babbles on in a strained voice, his whole body tense and trembling with pleasure as he forces himself back from the edge. You pout but stay still until the rapid rise and fall of his chest calmed down a bit. This time when he tries to hold you in place, you swat his hands away and begin to bounce in his lap. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Oh my God, Den, I can feel you in my fucking stomach,” you moan and speed up, the pleasure his cock provides was quickly becoming addictive and you were jonesing for more. At your words he lets out a high pitched whimper, his eyes wanting to fall shut but he fights to keep them open. He was mesmerized by your body, how his cock seemed to just barely fit inside you, and then your tits—he could watch them bounce in time with your filthy movements for the rest of his life and never get bored. You catch him staring and smirk, bringing his hands to your chest again. Dennis feels how the supple flesh jiggles each time you throw yourself down on his cock. “You like my tits, baby?” You moan when his thumbs rub circles over your nipples.

“Yes, holy fuck, I love them, they’re fucking perfect, so fucking perfect,” he whines as you lean into him, smothering his face in your chest. He’s quick to latch on to your nipple, his arms wound tightly around your middle and his mouth sinful and dirty, his body reacting on pure instinct now. Your pace quickens as he sucks harshly at your tit, his hips rising to meet yours.

“Next time, I’ll let you fuck them,” you whisper huskily in his ear, his body tensing and a loud sob leaving his swollen lips at the thought, “you like that? You imagining fucking my tits, Den? Putting your fat cock between ‘em, pushing them together, and fucking them until you’re coming all over me?”

You knew what your dirty talk was doing to him, each word pushed him closer and closer to his high, which he was desperately trying to postpone. He wanted this to last forever, he wasn’t sure if this was just a one time thing but at the mention of there being a ‘next time,’ Dennis can’t help but fuck into you faster and harder, his hands crawling at your skin with blunt nails. The feeling of your tight cunt milking him for all he’s worth is addictive, then your filthy words and sinful promises only bring him right to the edge. It was all building, and soon it was too much for him to stand.

“Ahh! Oh my God, I’m coming! I’m coming!” He suddenly cries, his eyes wide in shock as he empties himself inside you, those strong thigh muscles tense and shake in time with his short, panicked thrusts. You moan as you feel the heat of his seed fill your womb, the seemingly endless ropes of cum keep coming and coming until he drips out of you. The strangled cries and moans of the man beneath you tell you that you’ve done your job— Dennis Baker was completely ruined. You smirk as he comes down, his hips stalling out as he goes lax under you. “Holy fuuuuuck!” He groaned in a trembling voice, his chest heaving. You chuckle at his fucked out voice.

“How are you feeling, Den? Feelin’ good?” You ask while you catch your own breath, petting his messy hair. He hums and nods, his eyes heavy and he relaxes.

“I feel… God, I-I never felt this way before,” he slurs, and looks up at you with a dopey love-sick smile, one that you can’t help but return. His smile drops as his face twists in worry, “you didn’t finish,” you can see the disappointment in his eyes, “I’m sorry, you just—I just, I couldn’t stop it, I—“

“Shhh, it’s ok, Den,” you soothe with a mischievous smile and wink. Dennis looks up at you in awe, thanking whatever higher power made him the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet. When you started to grind on his hypersensitive cock, his whole body jolted at the sharp sting of sensitivity that shot through him, his back bowing off the bed as he groans, his hands trying to hold you still again.

“Aaaaah! Fuck!” He shouts as you give him gentle little bounces. You lower your mouth to his neck, softly kissing and biting the exposed skin there.

“You can make it up to me this round.”

Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated 💖

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#dennis baker #dennis x female!reader #dennis baker x fem!reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans x female reader #little lion literature #little lion library

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flannelfiction · 6 years

Text

Remember Your Breathing

Chapter One Part Two

You can totes read this on my AO3 @ jenkinzram

"Owner of a green '99 neon?" Dean calls out. An alpha with a small rut scent like he just finished stands, he's immediately flaring his nose slightly. He's probably nineteen or twenty given his looks and has a black dress shirt with dark jeans and black tennis shoes on. This should be fun. Dean thinks as the guy approaches him. "You have an issue with your wheel bearing and tire rod on your back right tire and -"

"Get me someone who knows what they're doing," the man cuts Dean off. "How is an omega supposed to know how to fix anything. All I've seen you do is run around and talk to some other guy working on the Impala." He starts to get up in his face as Dean towers over him.

"Sir," the malice in Dean's voice makes the man back up a step and let out a fear scent as though a top alpha challenged him. "That man is being taught by me on how to properly take apart and clean every piece of an engine, he'd be nowhere without me there. Other than the owner, I'm the most qualified here to work on your car. I assure you, I know what I'm doing. I'm Dean Winchester from the article framed next to the service counter who won a country wide contest for people ages eighteen to thirty for classic car restoration last year. Back the fuck off.

"Now listen to me this time, alright?" Dean quit standing as tall so the guy would know he wouldn't be attacked just yet. "Wheel bearing and tie rod on your rear right tire are going, and you have a leak of oil somewhere in your car that I haven't looked that much into yet."

Bobby approaches the man from the door to the main entrance, "And I suggest you get that fixed some where after we finish your oil change. Don't you ever come back here."

"You guys won't fix it?" The man looked to Bobby now. "Y'all are the best mechanics this side of town." He looked genuinely worried now, realizing he picked a fight with someone he really shouldn't of. "You have to, I have money."

"And?" Bobby looked to Dean now. "Do you want to work on this fool's car?"

"He backed off," Dean shrugs. "Calm down, Bobby. Money is money, and he can come back tomorrow when we have time. Today is no good since there's other people who made appointments." He looks pointedly at the alpha, "I suggest you wise up and don't make a fool out of yourself anymore. Car will be down for you in ten, I have an opening to work on a car at one thirty and five tomorrow."

"Five works best for me," the defeated alpha answers, no longer scenting of anything as he controls himself. His gaze averted submissively from Dean.

"Cool, go wait outside for your car. I'll have Jo bring it around for you." Dean dismisses him with a wave of his hand while going back into the shop. Ash was at the door, looking worried. "Hey, you ain't done yet," Dean smirks, "Go back to work, everything's fine."

The rest of the day went by smoothly. Dean managed to hit all green lights on his way back and arrived at the house at the same time as the guy who lived next to him. They often talked out on the communal balcony while Dean ate something that the fella wanted him to try. "Hey Dean," the slightly shorter man waved as he hopped out of his old Jeep.

"Hey, uh, Benny?" Dean waves while hoping he got the nice guy's name right. By the smile the bulky alpha had, the name was right. Benny was different, most alphas in the house had already made a weird pass at him just to test Dean's waters. Benny never did that, just treated him like he was any other person. He figured the alpha in him made it so Dean was always Benny's taste tester. But maybe Benny was just that way; the man oozed southern hospitality.

"Doing anything tonight?" Benny yawns slightly. "I finally don't have to work tonight and wanted to see if you wanted to try the new rendition of seafood gumbo I made yesterday." His blue eyes are accented by sleep deprived bags under his eyes. Unusual for Dean, but something about Benny had him already worrying over him like a close friend.

"You got a night off, why don't you sleep and I try it in the morning before work? Or later on tonight after you at least take a nap?" Dean raises his eyebrows slightly in worry while he smiles at Benny. "Or if you want, you could nap at my apartment for an hour or two so I can wake you up?" They've done that before when Benny wanted to make dinner for Dean on one of his days off.

Somehow in the small amount of time that Dean has known Benny (only about three months) he's already comfortable around the southern man. "That sounds good." Benny smiles and yawns widely as he starts to follow Dean up the stairs along the side of the building to their communal balcony. The stairs were the private entrance to both of their apartments since the large balcony was really just the roof of the owner's sunroom. There was another balcony above theirs where the studio apartment residents shared a slightly smaller balcony. But it made the balcony Dean and Benny shared the perfect space to garden on. Perfect sun exposure but cover from heavy rains that could flood the pots.

Once in Dean's apartment, Benny sat down in his usual recliner. Almost instantly, he was out like a light. Inwardly laughing to himself as he grabbed the crochet blanket Ellen gave him off the back of the couch and covered Benny with it. Must've been a bakery day of work since Benny is this tired. Benny has two jobs, fitness trainer at a gym and working at a bakery. They work him like a slave at the bakery, making him lift all the heavy stuff and stock.

Deciding to take a shower, Dean walks over to his room and grabs a clean set of clothes before going into the shower. It works like a charm to soothe his muscles that were aching from working from seven in the morning to nine at night. Thankfully, he doesn't go into work until noon tomorrow. Which means he'll probably be entertaining Benny until he leaves for work.

As he works a small amount of conditioner into his hair, he debates asking Bobby for tomorrow off. He really hasn't taken a day off since January because he's been working on cars. Ash can catch the guy's appointment at five or Dean could just come in and do that one. He doesn't have any other appointments that day, just said it to piss the alpha off a bit. Plus, the owner of the '64 doesn't know his car could be ready by Friday. He still has until April first since its only the middle of March...

He decides to text Bobby after his shower for the day off.

#remember your breathing #denny #benny x dean #benny lafitte #dean winchester #bobby singer #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #fanfiction #alpha beta omega #soulmate!au #soulmates #true love #love #mechanic!bobby #mechanic!dean #baker!benny

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ao3feed-13reasonswhy · 5 years

Text

GOODBYE ▹ thirteen reasons why

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2P3ziYv

by fandomlover727

𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿𝘽𝙔𝙀 | ❝ how the hell am i supposed to move on? i was barely dealing with jeff's death and now hannah's gone too! ❞

𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥.

【 thirteen reasons why seasons 1 - 3 】【 format by @NASASTAN 】

Words: 804, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 13 Reasons Why (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other

Characters: Original Characters, Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Clay Jensen, Clay Jensen's Parents, Hannah Baker, Andy Baker, Olivia Baker (13 Reasons Why), Jessica Davis, Jeff Atkins, Justin Foley, Justin Foley's Parents, Bryce Walker, Nora Walker, Alex Standall, Alex Standall's Parents, Zach Dempsey, Tyler Down, Kevin Porter (13 Reasons Why), Montgomery de la Cruz, Lainie Jensen, Matt Jensen, Courtney Crimsen, Ryan Shaver, Sheri Holland, Marcus Cole (13 Reasons Why), Tony Padilla, Skye Miller, Gary Bolan, Kat (13 Reasons Why), Dennis Vasquez, Barry Walker, Chloe Rice, Cyrus (13 Reasons Why TV), Mackenzie (13 Reasons Why), Sonya Struhl, Caleb (13 Reasons Why TV), Scott Reed, Priya Singh, Amorowat "Ani" Achola, Charlie St. George, Casey Ford, Luke Holliday, Winston Williams, Sheriff Diaz

Relationships: Jeff Atkins/Original Female Character(s), The Jensens (13 Reasons Why) & Original Female Character(s), Hannah Baker & Original Female Character(s), Justin Foley & Original Female Character(s), Justin Foley & Clay Jensen & Original Female Character(s), Hannah Baker/Clay Jensen, Amorowat "Ani" Achola/Clay Jensen, Jessica Davis/Justin Foley, Jessica Davis/Alex Standall, Hannah Baker/Justin Foley, Hannah Baker/Zach Dempsey, Caleb/Tony Padilla, Justin Foley & The Jensens, Hannah Baker/Bryce Walker, Jessica Davis/Bryce Walker, Zach Dempsey/Chloe Rice, Chloe Rice/Bryce Walker, Tyler Down/Mackenzie, Montgomery de la Cruz/Winston Williams, Montgomery de la Cruz/Tyler Down, Clay Jensen/Skye Miller, Brad/Tony Padilla, Tony Padilla/Ryan Shaver

Additional Tags: Car Accidents, Abuse, Adoption, Drug Use, Rape, Rape Recovery, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Underage Drinking, Angst, Suicide Attempt, Suicide, Suicide Notes, High School, Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Major Original Character(s), Depression, Mental Health Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Grief/Mourning, Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Murder, Bullying, Confessions, Secret Crush, Sad, Crimes & Criminals, Dreams and Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Education, Triggers, Warnings May Change, Family, Foster Care, Feels, Male-Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Female Character of Color, Brother-Sister Relationships, Past Sexual Abuse, Attempted Sexual Assault, Past Abuse, Friendship, Platonic Relationships, Mystery, Enemies to Friends, Hurt/Comfort, Fights, Weapons, LGBTQ Themes, Loss, Non-Consensual, Party, School Shootings, Protectiveness, Protective Clay Jensen, Clay Jensen Needs a Hug, Oblivious Clay Jensen, Hannah Baker is Dead, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Justin Foley Needs a Hug, Protective Justin Foley, Hurt Justin Foley, Creepy Bryce Walker, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Fanfiction, Wakes & Funerals, Teenagers, Teenage Drama, Protective Tony Padilla

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2P3ziYv

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #13 reasons why

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

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Take Me Home - Part 14

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

SUMMARY: It’s been nearly a year since your ex-boyfriend dumped you and left you with a laundry list of insecurities, and you haven’t been able to really put yourself out there since. But when Dennis shows up at the adoption fair you’re running for your job at the animal shelter, there’s just something about him that makes you feel like you’re ready to try again.

WORD COUNT: 9.9K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Explicit Sex (O&V), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering, Sexting/Nudes/FaceTime sex, Mutual Masturbation. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @whatinthestyles, @filthy-gorgeous, @justile, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy, @ronearoundblindly, @in-umbra-gratia, @vayollie, @whiskeytangofoxtrot555, @terry2227, @thornsnvultures

*Taglist is open to 18+ readers (no blank blogs) who comment, reblog, and/or chat with me via asks. If you just want to read lowkey, that’s cool and you do you, but the taglist is reserved for the lovely people who want to interact with me and my story :)

Series Masterlist

Part Fourteen

Your alarm goes off Friday morning early enough for you to catch the sunrise. You’re still buzzing from last night—from Dennis finally saying those words you’ve been longing to hear from him. It had seemed so effortless, like he wasn’t even nervous at all to say them, which made it that much easier for you to say them back. Sitting at your kitchen island, contentedly sipping your coffee, you wonder how you could have ever been afraid that this man didn’t love you.

You pack up all of Badger’s things for the long weekend at your parents’ house. You also pack a bag for yourself—for your overnight with your mom and dad and, more importantly, your overnight with Dennis. You know you’ll be staying Saturday night but you pack enough stuff for a week because it’s very early and your brain isn’t quite functional yet and you can’t decide what to wear. You like to have options, and the thought that you might end up staying with him until your parents drop Badger home Monday evening isn’t far from your mind either.

You rifle through your underwear drawer trying to decide whether or not to pack something extra sexy. Part of you feels like it’s a jinx—that if you pack the cute little pink set he likes or the burgundy one you know he’ll also like, that you’re setting yourself up for failure. Maybe it’s overkill. Maybe it will just make him more nervous than you know he already will be. You decide to pack them both. Nothing says you have to wear them, but you’d rather have the option than regret not bringing anything.

The trip to your parents' place is about 2 hours and you leave early enough to avoid most of the holiday traffic. Their housing development is decorated with red-white-and-blue everything: all very patriotic but tastefully so—the HOA doesn’t abide anything tacky. They even have rules about colored Christmas lights and the height of the residents’ grass. You couldn’t stand to live like that but it’s the type of thing your mother loves. She always has been a bit of a snob, forever trying to emulate the upper crust even though she grew up with nothing. You love your mother to death, but she’s just so judgmental sometimes—like she’s measuring you against some ideal of the perfect daughter and finding you seriously lacking.

Your parents come out to the driveway to meet you, your mom giving you double air kisses before your dad wraps you up in a big bear hug.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” he says. “How was the drive? Not too much traffic I hope.”

“A little bit towards the end,” you tell him, and you hear your mother tsk.

“I told you to leave early,” she says. “It’s a holiday weekend, darling.”

You swallow a sigh. “Yes, I’m aware of that, Mom. And I did leave early.”

“Leave her alone, Rosie,” your father says, grabbing your bag from the trunk. “Whoa, what’s in here, a dead body? I thought you were just staying the one night.”

“I… uh… I’m staying with a friend this weekend,” you tell him. “Don’t want to drink and drive, you know?”

Your mother’s ears perk up and she purses her lips. “Does this friend have a name?” she asks. “Perhaps a male name?”

Goddammit, Mom.

You’d planned on testing the waters a bit and telling your parents you’d started seeing someone, but you were not planning on telling them you’re at the sleepover stage.

“Let’s get Badger out back,” you say, dodging the question. “He’s been cooped up for hours.”

Your mother gives you that look and you know it’s not the last you’ll hear about this today but mercifully she decides to cut you a break—for now. Once the rosé starts flowing, you know she’ll be back at it with gusto.

Your mom prepares lunch in the kitchen while you and your dad toss the tennis ball with Badger in the backyard. Badger adores your dad. Until Dennis, your father was the only man he’d warmed up to fairly quickly. Of course, your dad is much smaller and much older than Dennis. You love him to pieces but a physical threat he is not nor has he ever been.

“So, Pumpkin, how’s work going?”

You wince, still thinking about poor Hope and her long road to recovery, but you try and get your face together and keep things light and breezy. Good news only: that’s been the rule of thumb with your parents for years.

“It’s pretty good,” you tell him.

“How’d your big event go?”

You smile wide at him as Badger drops the ball at your feet. “Really well, actually. We had almost 40 adoptions come out of it.”

“What about your little tripod buddy?” he asks and you smile.

“Yes! Jax finally found a home. I was so happy, Dad, I cried like an idiot at work when Dennis came to take him home.”

“Dennis?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Is this Dennis your new friend?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t you start, too.”

“I just want you to be happy, Pumpkin, but I’ll leave it alone. Can’t say the same for your mother, though.”

The both of you laugh as Badger makes his way back across the lawn with the ball in his mouth. You can tell that he’s tired and needs some water, so you and your dad head back inside.

“Lunch is almost ready!” your mom calls out. “Darling, will you do me a favor and make the salad?”

You start grabbing the salad components out of the crisper as Badger follows at your dad’s heel to the living room. Everything is washed and ready—your mother doesn’t put away dirty vegetables—so all you have to do is chop, dress, and toss. You grab the English cucumber and start to slice it when you hear that disgruntled sound come from the back of your mother’s throat.

You place the chef’s knife down and look up at her with a huff. “What?” you ask.

“You’re chopping them too big,” she says. “A bit thinner, please?”

You can feel the irritation start to gather at the back of your neck. It’s always like this with her: nothing you do is ever good enough, it’s never done “the right way,” which is usually the way she saw it done in a magazine or on TV or the way some famous lifestyle blogger says it should be done. It’s all very Emily Post with her, which is funny because your dad is the exact opposite. He’ll tuck his napkin into his collar at a 5-star restaurant, he’ll talk too loud and laugh too loud and tell a racy joke in mixed company. It’s what you love most about him: that he’s always unapologetically himself. He would never hurt a fly and he’s the most generous man you’ve ever met in your life but he doesn’t give a flying fuck what people think about him and he never has.

These peccadillos of his drive your mother crazy but, deep down, you know she finds them charming—that they are part of why she fell in love with him in the first place. Despite their many differences, your parents are more infatuated with each other today than they were when they married 33 years ago. They’re affectionate with each other (sometimes to the point of grossing you out), and they do everything together; they are the blueprint for you of what a loving relationship should be, although your ideal marriage is a bit lighter on the bickering (playful though it is).

But, give or take a few minor details, you want what they have, and you feel like you’re closer to it now than you’ve ever been.

You flash your mother a smile that barely conceals your annoyance. “OK,” you say. “Thinner cucumbers. Got it.”

“Thank you, darling,” she replies. At least she always remembers her manners.

You sit down to lunch and catch up a bit, asking how things are going with them at work and how their recent vacation was.

“We had a wonderful time,” she says, “but that rental house was a bit of a nightmare.”

Your dad rolls his eyes in that not this again way. “It was a perfectly nice house, Rose,” your father says, then turns to you. “Don’t listen to her. She just didn’t like the kitchen.”

“Bernie, the refrigerator was white.” She says it like it’s the most repulsive thing in the universe and you decide not to remind her that your refrigerator is white, too. “And that shower.”

Your mother visibly shudders and your dad starts to laugh. “The pressure wasn’t exactly the best,” he admits.

“It was filthy, Bernard.”

“A few of the tiles were cracked,” your dad tells you, “and there was a water stain on the ceiling.”

“Like I said,” your mother says, lifting her glass of wine, “nightmare. Last time I try to do something on the cheap.”

Your dad chuckles. “On the cheap, she says. If that was the cheap, I don’t want to know what the pricey is.”

“But you had fun, though?” you ask, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, yes,” your mother replies. “We went to the beach every day and the farmer’s market, and there are just such great restaurants there. Oh! And the cutest little stores, too, which reminds me, I brought something back for you. Bernie, will you go grab it? It’s on my vanity.”

You smile warmly at her as your dad rises to go get your present. She may be judgy and a little bit nuts, but you know she loves you and she’s always thinking of you. Your dad returns to the table, a small purse hooked around his elbow as he does his best model strut. Your mother rolls her eyes and you burst out laughing.

“I dunno, Pumpkin. I might keep it for myself.”

“Oh, will you stop,” your mother says, trying to hide her giggles behind her hands. “Give it to her already.”

Your father hands you a small kelly green leather hobo bag with a gold zipper. The leather feels supple and buttery as you run your fingers across it.

“I love it,” you say to your mother.

“Adorable, right? I saw it and thought of you.” You smile at her as she continues. “Now you can get rid of that big brown monstrosity you always wear and not walk around looking like a bag lady.”

There it is.

You sigh and look at your dad, who just shakes his head as he chuckles. You have to laugh, too, and you turn back to your mother.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

You spend most of the afternoon helping your dad with his pet project: restoring the 1969 Chevy Camaro he’d bought at auction. He’s always been a car guy, preferring the flashy, loud ones to the sleek, sophisticated luxury kind your mother prefers. She would have had a fit when he bought the thing except that he picked her up for their first date in an old Camaro—cherry red, with a white stripe on the hood, just like this one—and she’d told you that when he brought it home, he was just so excited to show her that she couldn’t possibly be mad.

You’re not so much helping as watching your dad and handing him things when he asks for them—generally the wrong thing because you’re hopeless with tools, much to your father’s dismay.

“Come on, Pumpkin,” he says. “You know what an Allen wrench looks like. I thought I taught you well.”

“You did your best,” you say, and it’s true; your father always tried to teach you how to fix things—how to change a tire, how to fix a leaky faucet—it just never stuck. “I’m hopeless when it comes to this stuff, Dad.”

“Well, I’m not worth a damn in the kitchen, not for lack of trying, so I suppose I can’t fault you too much. So,” he says, “while we’re on the subject of busted cars…”

“Not you too,” you say. “My car is fine.”

“It’s a piece of shit, Pumpkin,” he says, “and I don’t want you driving it. It’s not safe.”

“Now you sound like Dennis,” you say, not thinking about it until the words have already passed your lips.

Your father raises an eyebrow. “Do I now? Anything else you want to tell me about this Dennis?”

Your dad has a cheeky grin on his face and you can’t help but smile at him. “Fine,” you say. “We’re sort of dating.”

“Do I even want to know what sort of dating means these days?”

“Ew, Dad. No. Not like that. We… we are dating. He’s my boyfriend. It’s all very new. I only just met him at the adoption fair when he adopted Jax.”

Your father sets the Allen wrench down and wipes his hands on an old t-shirt repurposed as a rag before turning to you and crossing his arms.

“And he’s good to you?” he asks, watching your eyes for any sign of deception. He always knows when you’re lying so you never bother trying. “He treats you right?”

“Yeah,” you say, and then the floodgates open and you can’t stop yourself from singing Dennis’s praises. “He’s just the greatest. He’s so sweet and he’s kind and he’s generous. He’s not afraid to talk about his feelings or the future. He doesn’t play stupid mind games or any of that shit. He just loves me.”

“Love already, huh?” your father asks, looking slightly wary.

“I know it’s quick,” you say. “I know that. But it just feels like I’ve known him my whole life and I… I love him, too.”

Your father smiles kindly. “I’m happy for you, Pumpkin. After that last one…”

You give a dismissive wave of your hand. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Forget I said that. I’m just… I’m glad you found someone, and your mother will be, too.”

“Ugh, God. Do I have to tell her?”

Your dad pops his head back under the Camaro’s hood. “Yep,” he says, and you sigh. “Why, is there something about him you think she won’t approve of?”

“Are you joking?” you ask. “When has she ever approved of anyone, you and I included?”

You and your dad have a good laugh at that but you’re nervous, despite his insistence that your mother will be happy to see you happy. You know that’s partially true, but she’s not going to like that Dennis is older and she’s definitely not going to like that he’s divorced. It’s pointless to lie, though. Even if your father wouldn’t see right through it, if there’s really a future here they are going to find out eventually. Best to just rip off the Band-Aid and let her get all the judgmental comments out of her system before you actually introduce him to them.

You shudder as It occurs to you for the first time that, at some point, Dennis is going to have to meet your mother. The poor thing is going to need an extra session with Dr. Porter that week. But you’ve got time for that, you think. You haven’t even had sex yet. Meet the parents can wait a while.

***

Dennis is floating somewhere a few feet above his body as he cleans his house in preparation for the party. You love him. You really love him. And he was able to tell you that he loves you—he even said it first. It just sort of came out and he’s happy now that it did because not only did it bring you joy on one of the worst nights of your life, it came out so naturally. He’d thought he’d wanted to do a whole thing with it—some elaborate gesture to make it feel extra special to you, so you’d know he really meant it—but now he realizes that it was so much more special when spoken spontaneously, completely unplanned and from the heart. Thinking about it now, he can’t imagine it happening any other way.

And that’s one more nightmare-inducing fear he can check off the list, one less thing to worry about. There’s only one that remains, but of course it’s the deepest, darkest one: what if after all of this, he still can’t fuck you?

He’s only got one more day to get his shit together on that particular front, and it seems both like an eternity and not nearly enough time. He wants to see you again, to hold you and kiss you and touch you, but he’s torn between his need for you and his fear that, when he does see you again, he has to perform.

You’d never pressure him, of course, and he knows that if he told you he wanted to wait longer, you would be understanding and supportive. But he doesn’t want to wait any longer. He knows the only thing holding him back is his fear of inadequacy and that it’s never going to go away until he confronts it head-on.

There are so many things that could go wrong, so of course Dennis runs through all of them in his head in great detail. As he scrubs down the kitchen, getting it sparkling clean for you, he thinks about the many ways he could disappoint you. He’s not really concerned about not getting hard since his dick is drawn to you like a magnet, but what if he cums too quick and can’t get it up again? What if he cums too quick, gets it up, and then cums too quick again? What if he freaks out in the middle and loses his erection? What if he manages to keep it but whatever he’s doing doesn’t feel good to you? Would you fake it for him, thinking you’re helping? He wants you to tell him what to do, what you like, but what if you can’t? What if you’re afraid?

No, he knows you wouldn’t lie to him, that you’re comfortable with him and you’ll tell him what to do if he asks. You’re patient and you’re kind and you’ll work with him and teach him because you love him. But what if it can’t feel good? What if it really is too big and you can’t make it fit? What if he hurts you?

It makes Dennis physically ill to think about causing you any pain and he has to shake his head to try and knock those thoughts loose and send them away.

“It’ll be fine,” he says out loud to no one, but Jax is listening. He walks over and nuzzles Dennis’s thigh with his head, like he knows his dad needs a bit of soothing. “It’ll be ok, right, buddy? I can do good for mama, right?”

Jax barks twice before sitting and smiling up at Dennis.

“I hope you’re right,” Dennis says, tossing him a jerky treat from his pocket that Jax snatches out of the air. “Cause I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do if you’re not.”

***

You’re out to dinner at your mother’s favorite restaurant: some Italian place that was featured in Food & Wine a few years back. You’ve made it through your appetizers without bringing up Dennis, but as your mains come, your dad gives you a look that says it’s time. It doesn’t go unnoticed by your mother; he wasn’t trying to be subtle.

“What?” she asks. “What do you two know that I don’t?”

You take a sip of your water—no wine tonight, thank you very much—and a deep breath and you say, “I have a new boyfriend.”

“I knew it,” she says with a little twinkle in her eyes. “Tell me everything. But wait”—she turns to your dad—”how long have you known about this?”

“Like 2 hours, Rosie. Relax. Let the kid talk.”

“Sorry,” she says, turning back to you. “Spill it. How did you meet? What does he do? I want to know everything.”

“His name is Dennis,” you begin. “We met at the adoption fair when he started the process to adopt Jax.”

“That’s the three-legged one, right?”

“Yes,” you say, slightly irritated that she feels the need to point out even Jax’s shortcomings. “We went for coffee one day when he came to the shelter to take Jax for a walk, before he officially adopted him, and we’ve been on a few dates and… I just really like him and he really likes me.”

Your father looks at you, the slightest bit of irritation in his raised eyebrow; he knows you’re holding back and minimizing things but you just can’t bring yourself to tell your mother how hard you’ve fallen and how fast. She wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t approve. Your dad is a romantic through and through but your mother… she’s more logical and pragmatic.

“That’s wonderful, darling,” she says. “I’m so happy for you. So, how old is he? What does he look like? What does he do for a living? I need details here. Oh, do you have a picture? I want to see a picture.”

“Slow down,” your dad says. “Let the kid breathe.”

You scroll through your phone, looking for a parent-friendly picture to show them, and you choose one of you, Jax, and Dennis in his backyard. You hold it out to your father first and then your mother, but you keep a death grip on your phone. You do not need them poking around your camera roll, whether purposefully or accidentally.

Your mother leans forward and strains to see the picture, her lips forming a straight line as she examines it. “Well, he’s very handsome, darling, but he looks a bit… older than you.”

At this, your dad leans forward a bit. “How much older we talkin, Pumpkin?”

“It’s not that bad,” you say. “Just, like, 10 years.”

“You failed to mention that part earlier,” your dad says, his brow now knitted in fatherly concern. “10 years ain’t nothing. I mean, he’s not exactly robbing the cradle but-”

“Bernard!” your mother whisper-shouts. “We are in public! But your father is right,” she says to you. “That’s rather a large gap. Are you sure he’s interested in a long-term relationship?”

“Why would you even say that?” you ask.

“Just that a man that age, still single… he might not be interested in marriage or family. He might just be one of those overgrown playboy types.”

You scoff because that is about the farthest thing from Dennis you can picture. “For your information, he is very interested in marriage and family. If you must know, he was married but he’s divorced now.”

Your mother makes a high-pitched squeak when you say the D-word. “A divorcé, too. Oh, darling. You can do better than that.”

“You don’t even know him!” You can hear your volume going up and your skin start to crawl with anger and you try to rein it in. “And it wasn’t his fault. His ex-wife is a terrible person.”

“That’s what they all say,” your mother says. “It’s always the wife’s fault.”

You have no intention of telling your mother exactly how wrong she is in this particular instance—that would be a betrayal to Dennis and you don’t have to explain yourself or him to her anyway—but you can’t just let her think the worst.

“She cheated on him,” you say. “I promise you that, in this case, it was absolutely the wife’s fault.”

Your mother huffs and your dad steps in. “Alright, enough, Rosie,” he says, and he turns to you. “I’m sure he’s a good guy, Pumpkin, and you know that your mother and I just want the best for you. I just… you don’t think that maybe someone closer to your age with a little less baggage might be better? Easier?”

“Nothing that’s worth it is ever easy”—you parrot your father’s constant refrain growing up, the thing he’d say anytime you wanted to give up on something—”that was you who always said that, right, Dad?”

“Yes, but-”

“Well, you were right. It’s not easy with Dennis, but it’s worth it. Yeah, he has baggage. I have baggage, too. But we are good together and we love each other. Why can’t you ever just be happy for me? Why is it that I am always doing something wrong in your eyes? All I did was fall in love with someone who loves me back and it’s like I’ve committed some crime against humanity because he happens to be older than me and divorced.”

“We’re just concerned,” your mother says. “You don’t always make the best choices, darling.”

You hear your dad’s voice, low and cautionary. “Rose, don’t.”

“It’s ok, Dad,” you say, no longer able to keep your aggravation in. “Let her talk. Please, Mom, tell me about all of my bad choices. I would love to hear about them all, yet again.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says.

“You know what?” You make the decision as you speak it. “I think I’m gonna go back home tonight. I have to get an early start in the morning and I just-”

“Come on, Pumpkin,” your dad pleads. “Don’t go. We’re sorry.”

“I really am sorry, sweetheart,” your mom says, and you can see in her eyes that she means it—that she knows she went way too far. “I just love you.”

You sigh and release some of the tension you’re holding. You don’t want to be mad at them. You know they have your best interest at heart, even if they aren’t always the best at expressing that.

“I forgive you,” you say. “I know you’re just looking out for me. But I think I will get going tonight—and not because I’m mad. I really do have a lot of stuff to cook for the party tomorrow.”

“You’re throwing a party?” your mother says. “Not at your apartment, surely?”

“Rosie…”

“Sorry,” she says. “It’s just small, and that kitchen… how would you even-”

You have to laugh because the woman simply cannot help herself.

“It’s at Dennis’s house,” you tell her. “He has a big, beautiful house with a big, beautiful kitchen which—you’ll be happy to know—has stainless-steel appliances.”

Your mother’s face softens a bit as she quirks an eyebrow. “So he has money, then?”

“Oh, now you’re supportive? You are such a snob, Mom.”

“You’re not one of them sugar baby gals on the Instagram, are you, Pumpkin?”

“Jesus Christ, Dad. No!” you shout, and now your mother is castigating your father for his off-color comments and he’s laughing so hard that his neck is red and all you can do is just sit there and smile because, despite how difficult things can sometimes be, you just love them so damn much it hurts.

When you get back from dinner, you spend a little quality time with Badger before taking off for home. You’re cruising along, listening to one of your favorite playlists and mentally cataloging the many tasks you have tomorrow when you see a pair of eyes flashing green. You slam on your brakes as the deer prances across the road, but they aren’t catching. You pump them once, twice, three times but nothing’s happening; you’re still barreling down the road going 40 and you’ve completely lost control. You yank the emergency break up as hard as you can and the shrieking sound of metal and the smell of burning rubber and the pounding of your heart in your ears is all there is until you skid to a stop about two feet from a tree.

You sit there for a moment in shock, just breathing heavily and shaking. But you’re ok. The deer is ok. Everything is ok except for the fact that you know your car is fucked and you absolutely cannot afford to replace the brakes. That, and you’re a woman alone at night and stranded by the side of the road a few miles outside town. You grab your phone in trembling hands and call Dennis.

“Hey!” he says. “How’s it going with the parents?”

“Dennis,” you say, and you can hear the panic in your own voice. “Can you come get me? I got in an accident.”

“Are you ok?” he says, his voice gone from sweet to deadly serious with worry. “Where are you?”

“I’m fine. The brakes went but I didn’t hit anything. I’m on the county road about 4 miles outside town.”

“I’m coming right now,” he says, and you can hear the tinkling of his belt as he puts on his pants. “Lock your doors.”

He hangs up before you can tell him you already did.

***

Dennis has never moved faster than he is right now, throwing on his clothes and grabbing his keys and rushing towards the door. He decides to take Jax with him since he’s clearly sensed how agitated Dennis is and he doesn’t want to leave him alone in the house all worked up. With Jax in the back seat, his fuzzy chin resting on Dennis’s shoulder, he drives as quickly as he can while still remaining safe and sane. He reaches you in about 10 minutes and there’s a pit in his stomach when he sees how close you came to hitting a tree.

He throws his car in park and rushes over to your driver’s side door, pulling at the handle before you’ve even unlocked it. Once he hears the click, he throws it open and grabs you, pulling you up out of the car into a tight hug. He cradles your head in one hand and rubs your back with the other.

“It’s ok, Sweetheart. I’m here.”

He can feel you relax into his arms as you hug his waist, feel your breathing slow as you bury your face in his chest.

You speak muffled into his t-shirt, “God, you smell good.”

“What happened?”

“There was a deer.” You look up at him and even in the dark your eyes sparkle. “I hit the brakes and nothing happened. Had to pull the emergency. Please don’t say I told you so.”

“I won’t,” he says. “I would never do that. I’m just happy you’re ok.”

“I’m ok and the deer’s ok but my car is… not ok.”

“We’ll get it figured out,” he tells you. “Let me call a tow.”

“I already called them,” you say. “They should be here”—headlights pierce the darkness as the tow truck crests the hill—”uh, now, I guess.”

“Good,” Dennis says, “I want to get you home.”

You look up at him. “I- I’d rather stay with you tonight,” you say, the question in your eyes even though, to Dennis, it’s a foregone conclusion.

“My home is your home,” he replies, “if you want it to be,” and your smile brightens your entire face—like your skin is its own source of light.

The tow guys don’t take long getting your car up on the flatbed, and you sit in the backseat of Dennis’s car petting Jax while he sorts out the payment. He’d insisted and you’d had no choice but to agree because he knows you don’t have much cash to spare right now. The tow guy—whose name is Benny, if his embroidered uniform is to be believed—takes Dennis’s credit card information down on his intake form and hands the card back, tossing a glance over his shoulder at your car.

“You let your girl drive around in that thing?” Benny says, shaking his head. “Goddamn deathtrap, and I can tell you right now it’s not worth it to fix it.”

“I know,” Dennis replies. “I’m handling it.”

“Listen,” Benny says, “if you’re looking for a good deal on a used car, my cousin can hook you up.” He pulls a business card from his pocket and hands it to Dennis. “Tell him Benny sent ya.”

Dennis looks at the card and back up to Benny. “I might just do that,” he says. “Thanks.”

“No problem, pal. You all have a safe night.”

Dennis pockets the business card and walks back to his car. You’ve made your way to the front seat and when Dennis gets in, you ask him with a pained expression, “How much was it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says.

You sigh. “Thank you. I mean it. I’m gonna pay you back.”

“No, you’re absolutely not.”

“Dennis!”

“You heard me,” he says. “I’m not taking your money.”

“Well, if you won’t take money…” you say, flashing him a coy little smile. “Maybe there’s something else I can do to make it up to you.”

“Now you’re talking,” Dennis says, and he speeds you back to his place.

Dennis had never really understood what Netflix and Chill meant until tonight. One minute, he’s bringing you a cup of tea and putting on Schitt’s Creek, and the next minute he’s on top of you, dry-humping you as he slides your shirt up over your head.

“I want you,” you whisper. “Fuck. I need you.”

“I want you, too, Sweetheart. So fucking bad.”

“You can have me,” you say, your chest heaving beneath him as your eyes lock onto his, asking the question without saying it aloud, “if you want to.”

“I want to,” Dennis replies, and you smile at him softly as you run your thumb across his cheek.

“Take me to bed, Dennis.”

He snatches you up with zero hesitation. His mind is racing but his body feels ready as he carries you, giggling and kicking your feet over his shoulder, up the stairs to his bedroom. It’s better this way, he thinks. Maybe a whole, long, action-packed day of anticipation before getting to this moment was never going to work out. Maybe he just needed to wait until the time felt right instead of deciding what the right time is.

Dennis lays you gently down on his bed and you shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in just a cute black-and-white polka-dot bra and panty set. He will never get tired of the sight of you half-naked and waiting for him as he strips down to his boxer briefs, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you sweep your eyes up and down his body. The way you look at him—that craving in your eyes—sets fire to his skin and makes him feel things he’s never felt before: sexy, powerful, wanted.

You sit forward and reach out to palm him through his briefs but he grabs your wrist lightly. “Not yet,” he says. “You first. You remember what I said I was gonna do to you?”

You nod your head. “Mhmm.”

“Then let me.”

Dennis hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties and peels them off you slowly as you remove your bra and toss it to the side. He stands back and savors the sight of you like this: completely naked on his bed, propped up on your elbows with your legs spread, your pretty pussy glistening in anticipation of him. He’s pictured it so many times, but now you’re really here, this is real, this is happening.

“Are you ok?” you ask.

He can feel his cock throbbing, the precum leaking through the gray fabric of his boxer briefs as he stares at you. “Yeah,” he replies. “You’re just… fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“Kiss me,” you beg.

Dennis crawls up your body and finds your lips, so warm and soft and ready for him. You reach up and thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as you pull him into a deep kiss, your other hand clutching his bicep as you sweep your tongue into his mouth. Dennis doesn’t want to rush; he doesn’t want to fumble around your body like he doesn’t know what to do with it. He kisses you slow and deep and you wrap your legs around the back of his thighs, urging him closer to you until his dick is hard against your center. He can feel the heat of you through the fabric of his underwear, feel you soaking through them as you grind yourself on him from below and moan into his mouth.

Dennis pulls out of the kiss. “Need to taste you,” he says, and he kisses and licks his way down your body just like he did the first time you gave him the great honor of eating you out.

And he remembers what to do—all the tips and tricks he studied and how your body responds to them. He remembers how you like him to start with slow, rhythmic drags of his tongue, flat and wide against your entrance, not too much pressure at first—a tease, almost. He remembers how you buck your hips and fist his hair when you want more, when you need the suction of his lips around your ciit and his tongue lapping at you. He remembers the sounds you make—those sweet, beautiful cries of pleasure—when he’s bringing you close, and how you grab at his hand on your thigh when you want him to start using his fingers.

“Stretch me out,” you tell him. “Get me ready for you.”

Dennis starts with two fingers and hooks them up into your g-spot as he sucks your clit into his mouth, staring up your beautiful body as he brings you closer. You’ve got your eyes closed and your brow knitted and your mouth open in an oval, your hands clutching your tits as you moan his name, telling him how good he’s making you feel. When he slips a third finger inside you, you arch your back and cry out, “Yes, fuck, I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t stop—not until you’re gripping the bedspread and digging your heels into the mattress as your toes curl, not until you’re shaking and crying out your pleasure as you soak his beard. Your body relaxes and Dennis starts to remove his fingers but you grab his wrist and hold them in place, your pussy still spasming around them.

“Not yet,” you say. “I- I’m… fuck… c- can’t stop cumming. K- keep going. P- please.”

Dennis dives back in, going hard and sloppy at your clit as your walls continue to pulse around his fingers. He hears sounds coming out of you that he’s only dreamt about and he doesn’t know if you’re still on your first orgasm or if this is a new one but it doesn’t matter because you taste so fucking good and you look so goddamn sexy when you cum. He wants it to last forever, but eventually your body goes limp and you sigh and tell him to stop with a little giggle that shoots straight to his already painfully hard dick.

“Holy shit,” you say, near breathless. “I’ve never cum like that in my life.”

Dennis can’t keep the smile off his face, soaked in you, as he looks up at you from between your thighs. “How many times did you-”

“I don’t even know. I don’t care. Come here.”

You reach down and grab at his shoulders as Dennis comes up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on him. He loses himself in the kiss for a moment until he realizes that this is it: his time has come. He can feel himself tense up under your fingertips and you pull out of the kiss, your concern written all over your face.

“Hey,” you say gently. “If you don’t want to-”

“I want to,” he says. “Believe me, it’s all that I want. I’m just… can you tell me what to do?”

You smile softly at him as you brush a piece of hair behind his ear. “Of course.”

“I, uh, I bought condoms. Th- they’re in the nightstand. And there’s, uh, you know… lube. If it doesn’t-”

“Relax.” You run your thumb across his bottom lip as you cup his face and his eyelids flutter at your touch. “It’s gonna be amazing, ok?”

He feels that familiar pinch in his tear ducts and fuck, Dennis, do not fucking cry but he can’t stop his eyes from watering a bit. “What if it’s not?”

“It will be,” you tell him, “because I love you so much and all I want is to feel you inside me, to be that close to you. I don’t care about anything else. I don’t care if I cum or not. I just want you.”

And just like that, Dennis feels a weight lift. You always know exactly what to do and exactly what to say to make him feel like everything is ok—better than ok, even. Perfect.

“I love you,” he tells you, and he means it with his whole heart.

He’s never loved anyone the way he loves you, and all he wants in the world is to be able to make love to you and show you with his body what he can’t put into words. Because there are no words strong enough or deep enough to describe the way he feels about you. I love you isn’t enough—not even close.

Dennis stands and removes his boxer briefs, his cock springing loose and slapping his stomach once it’s free. He feels a little dizzy on his feet because all his blood is in his dick and he’s watching you grab condoms out of his drawer and oh God this is really happening and now you’re giving him an amused little smile.

“Magnums, huh?”

He can feel his face go lobster red. “Yeah, uh… the other ones are too tight.”

You look at his dick and lick your lips. “I bet.”

“How do you want to-”

“Sit up against the headboard,” you tell him. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Once Dennis is in position, you tear open one of the foil wrappers and remove the condom. Your warm palm wrapped around his dick already has it jumping in your hand, and when you roll the condom down the length of him, he lets out a moan he just can’t hold. You smile and straddle him, hovering over him for a moment as you take his face in both your hands.

“Are you ready?’ you ask him, and when he swallows deep and nods, you give him the sweetest kiss on the lips.

You reach down in between your bodies and position him at your entrance, and when he feels your pussy against the tip of his dick—warm and wet even through the latex—a jolt of electricity shoots through his entire body. You lower yourself onto him slowly and the sound that comes out of you when he enters you for the first time is something he’ll never forget as long as he lives. Dennis thinks he blacks out for a moment once you have his tip inside you, and when he comes back to himself and looks at your gorgeous face as you take more of him, he can see that you’re struggling.

“Are you ok?” he asks, and part of him wants to stop and try to reset but you feel too fucking good around him, so goddamn warm and tight.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Just need to go slow. Fuck, Dennis, you’re so fucking big.”

“We can stop,” he says, but he really really doesn’t want to.

“No,” you say. “I want it. I want all of it.”

By the time you’re halfway there, Dennis’s cock is throbbing like it has its own heartbeat and he wants, he needs, to feel all of you. You grip his shoulders tight and take a breath and then you drop all your weight down until you’ve got every inch of him inside you. You hiss and let out a wanton moan as you take all of him, and Dennis holds on to your hips for dear life—the soft flesh at your waist like velvet under his fingers as he cries out and throws his head back hard against the headboard.

“You feel like fucking heaven. Oh my God.”

Dennis thinks to himself that he’s never felt anything better than this—the way your body is opening up for him, accepting him—and then you start to move and Dennis can no longer think at all. Just a few slow rolls of your hips, your breasts swaying as you place your hands on his chest for balance, has Dennis’s balls tightening. You speed up and now you're really fucking the life out of him and he tightens his grip on your waist. Dennis can’t stop the moans that come from somewhere deep in his chest as you ride him like one of those mechanical bulls at some cheesy Western-themed restaurant. He wants to feel like this forever, but he just can’t hold on.

“Fuck, baby. You feel too good. I’m gonna cum. Fuck.”

“It’s ok,” you say, riding him even faster and harder now that he’s said out loud what you probably already knew. “I want it. I wanna watch you cum for me.”

Dennis was already on the edge, but your words and the hungry look in your eyes when you say them have him totally gone. When his hips start to stutter, he holds you in place and fucks up into you as he spills into the condom. He can feel the vice grip your pussy has on him as he cums and the proud look in your eyes as you watch him lose himself inside of you. He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you down on top of him, chest to chest as he kisses your lips and your neck, tasting the sheen of sweat on your skin.

“I told you I’d make it fit,” you say, and then you both start to laugh.

You reach back and hold the base of the condom as you slide off of him with a tiny little whine.

“I’ll deal with that,” Dennis says.

“Such a gentleman,” you say, and Dennis walks to the bathroom on shaky legs to dispose of it.

When he comes back, you’re sprawled out on his bed with a dreamy smile on your face. The sight of you steals his breath; he’s never seen anything more beautiful. “Come back to bed,” you say, and Dennis crawls in behind you and pulls you against his chest.

“I’m sorry I-”

You cut him off. “Don’t,” you say. “It was perfect. I love you.”

Dennis buries his face against your hair and breathes in the scent of you. “I love you, too, but-”

“No buts,” you say. “Unless you didn’t enjoy that…”

“Oh, I did. Too much, I think. That’s the problem.”

“There’s no problem, Dennis.” You turn in his arms to face him. “You don’t have a problem. You don’t have a ‘bad penis’ or whatever the fuck. You have a very good, very big penis that I would very much like inside of me again, and we have lots of time for that. And I’m sure pretty soon I won’t even be that exciting to you so-”

“Ok, now you’re talking crazy,” Dennis says, because there’s no universe in which getting you in bed isn’t the most exciting thing in the entire world to him no matter how many times it happens. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are? God, Sweetheart, when you were on top of me? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Dennis runs a hand down the curve of your body and back to your ass, giving it a squeeze. The way your flesh jiggles in his hand is enough, and he feels the blood start to pump in his dick again. You can feel it, too, and you look down and then up at him with a smile.

“You wanna go again?” you ask.

“Fuck yes.”

***

You would’ve been happy with just the one time. Finally having Dennis inside of you after wanting him for so long—your whole life, if you’re honest—was enough for you. Just the look on his face when he was buried in you fully was enough. He’d already made you cum. You knew he was never going to last very long the first time. You just wanted to feel him and make him feel good and show him that he didn’t have to be scared with you. But once wasn’t enough for Dennis. He’d had a taste and now he’s positively ravenous.

You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of the feeling of Dennis’s cock stretching you out as he enters you, and you both moan as he slides home. You want it missionary this time, want to feel the sheer heft of him on top of you, and—now that you know it fits like a glove—you want to let him use your body however he wants it. And how he wants it at first is just so painfully sweet: long, slow strokes as he takes your face in his big hands and kisses all over it and down your neck and tells you how good you feel, how much he loves you.

You’ve always hated the term “making love” but that’s what he’s doing to you and it feels better than anything you’ve ever felt—so good that you feel like a fool for ever having rolled your eyes and fake gagged at the terminology. You've had great sex before, but you’ve never felt someone’s love for you fill you up from the inside. Dennis starts to move a little faster, moan a little louder, and you wrap your legs around his waist and angle your hips up to take him deeper.

“Oh, fuuuck. Stay like that. That feels amazing,” he tells you, and you feel the gravel in his voice absolutely everywhere. “Your pussy’s so fucking perfect, baby.”

“It’s yours,” you moan. “I’m yours. Oh God, Dennis, your cock feels so fucking good. Feels like it was made for me.”

You want to tell him to fuck you but you don’t. You’re torn because part of you wants to keep going like you are, with this sweet and gentle man giving it to you so sweetly and gently. But the other part of you—the part of you that’s going cockdrunk and greedy on the big, fat dick inside you—wants to see what else he’s got. You know he wants it; he’s told you in great detail exactly how he wants to really give it to you, but you don’t want to rush him. Maybe he’s not ready for that, maybe he just wants to take it nice and slow, maybe he-

“Tell me what you want, Sweetheart,” he says, peppering kisses across your shoulder. “I wanna make you cum. Wanna feel it from the inside.”

He looks into your eyes and he just looks so earnest and sweet, but you know underneath it all there’s an animal waiting to be let loose.

“Fuck me, Dennis,” you say. “Really fuck me.”

He grunts a little before sitting back on his knees and yanking you down by your waist. The sheer strength of him takes you by surprise and you gasp a little before you giggle.

“You wanna get fucked, baby?” he asks, and now all the sweetness is gone from those ocean-blue eyes, replaced by something darker and hungrier.

“Yes,” you moan. “Please.”

Dennis grips your hips tightly and draws his cock out so that just the tip is left inside, and when he snaps his hips and fills you all the way up, your eyes roll back in your head. A few more of those slow, hard, deep strokes and he’s lost all control. He’s fucking into you with a strength and a power that you’d never seen on him before, putting his fit, muscular body to work as he uses all that core strength to give it to you good. You watch him watching you—the way your tits bounce with each thrust, the way his cock punches the breath from your lungs every time he gets up in your guts. You cry out his name, tell him how good he feels and how good he fucks you. The way your body is responding to him should be enough but you want him to know, to hear from your lips that he’s got good dick and knows what to do with it.

“You like that?” he asks, but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows he’s giving it to you right.

“I fucking love it. Oh, fuck. Harder, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

Dennis grabs your legs and tosses them onto his broad shoulders before bending you in half, not losing a beat with his dick still inside you. He’s so goddamn deep in this position that he’s nailing your sweet spot with each thrust. You feel your walls start to pulse and he feels it, too, and you reach around and grab two handfuls of his ass to hold on to him.

“I’m cumming,” you cry. “Oh, fuck, Dennis. I’m cumming. I fucking love you.”

“And I love you,” he says, jaw clenched tight. “Now be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

That’s when you absolutely lose it, clawing at his ass and his back as your cunt starts to flutter around him. He drops your legs and changes his pace when he feels you start to cum, going slow and deep and moaning with you as he feels you clench down on him over and over again. He moans a deep fuuuuck in your ear as he rolls his hips, and he tells you, “That’s it, baby. That’s my girl,” and a part of you feels like you’re dying because your whole body is taut and then you just let go, and the only thing you can hear, the only thing you can feel, the only thought in your head is Dennis.

“You feel fucking perfect, baby. I wanna stay like this forever, you squeezing the fuck out of my dick. Fuck, I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Flip me over,” you tell him. “I know what you want.”

He keeps a slow grind as he looks down at you. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Mhmm,” you reply.

Dennis turns you over onto your stomach and pulls you up off the bed with one hand wrapped around your waist. Your muscles are like Jell-O but you manage to push yourself up onto your elbows as you feel one hand spread across the small of your back.

“Oh, fuck, baby. I stretched your pretty pussy out good,” he says, and you moan and clench around nothing when you hear his filthy praise.

He rubs the tip of his cock up and down your entrance and you can hear how wet you are before he pushes into you. You feel impossibly full in this new position and he’s not even all the way in but you’re already addicted to him, to those spots he can reach that no one else ever could. You make a mental note to tell Mal she was right about there being no such thing as too big, and then all thoughts leave your head as he starts to fuck you from behind.

He sounds like an animal behind you and you curl your toes at the feeling of his balls slapping your clit with each thrust. It’s a sticky mess down there but you don’t care; you wish he’d make a bigger mess of you, but that’s a conversation for another day. You’re more than happy with what he’s giving you now as he fucks you hard and deep with two handfuls of ass.

“‘M gonna cum,” he says and you can’t form words to answer him; you just spread your legs wider so you don’t miss one millimeter of dick as he fucks you through his orgasm, “S- so deep,” he stutters. “So fucking deep.”

It takes all the strength left in your body to clench down on him and milk his cock as he cums but you do it because you just want to hear what kind of sinful sounds your pussy can drag out of him. He’s fucking loud this time, and when he’s winding down, you give him a particularly hard squeeze. He hisses and gives your right ass cheek a smack and you giggle.

“You’re a menace,” he says, out of breath and panting. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

He pulls out of you gently and you collapse onto your stomach, only able to hear the sound of your own heartbeat and the ragged breaths you’re taking as Dennis goes to the bathroom to dispose of condom number two. When he comes back, he slides into bed next to you and you wrap yourself around him like a koala, your head against his chest so you can hear that his heart is beating just as fast as yours. You know you have to get up and pee. You know you do, but you can’t fucking move yet and you just want to hold him and have him hold you and just be present for this moment—this beautiful, perfect moment you know you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

“That was incredible,” you say.

“I, uh, I don’t know where that came from,” he says, the usual Dennis modesty back in his voice.

You look up at him. “It came from you,” you tell him, putting your hand over his heart. “That was all you, Dennis. You’re fucking amazing and one of these days I’ll actually get you to believe it.”

“Hope so,” he says sheepishly.

“I will,” you say, “but until then, just know that I love you and I have never, ever been fucked that good in my life. Like, I need to go pee so I don’t get a fucking UTI but I literally can’t walk—that kind of good.”

“Let me help you,” he says, and before you can tell him no, he’s got you in his arms and he’s carrying you bridal-style into the bathroom and setting you down next to the toilet. “Door to door service,” he says.

“I love you so much,” you say.

“I love you, too. I’ll… uh… give you some privacy.”

“Yeah, I’m a bathroom door always closed type of person, just so you know.”

“Noted,” he says, and he kisses you on the forehead and leaves you to it.

When you come out of the bathroom, you’re slightly confused and very disappointed to see Dennis is putting clothes on, but then you realize that it’s getting very late and Jax needs his nighttime walk.

“Get in bed,” he says. “We’ll be back soon.”

“No,” you say. “I want to come, too.”

You grab a sleep shirt and sweats from your bag as Dennis gets Jax harnessed up, and the three of you take a nice little stroll around the block. Dennis’s neighborhood is so quiet at night, so peaceful, and you feel like this is it—this is what you want to do every night for the rest of your life. Dennis can’t stop smiling at you and Jax looks happy as can be that his two favorite people are walking him together. When Jax is all set, you return to the house and the three of you crawl into bed—you and Dennis wrapped up in each other with Jax curled up at the foot.

Your happy little family, you think. Finally.

PART FIFTEEN >>>

#dennis baker fanfiction #dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker #chris evans #chris evans characters #take me home series

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

Text

Take Me Home - Part 11

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

WORD COUNT: 6K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M&F Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering, Sexting/Nudes/FaceTime sex, Mutual Masturbation. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @whatinthestyles, @filthy-gorgeous, @justile, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy, @ronearoundblindly, @in-umbra-gratia, @vayollie, @thornsnvultures

Series Masterlist

Part Eleven

This week is going to be absolute chaos. You’re working extra shifts to cover for Jack and Betsy, who are visiting her parents to give them the good news of their engagement in person, and you thought maybe you’d get at least one night with Dennis, but when he arrived at work this morning, he’d learned that one of his coworkers had quit and so his week has gone from normal to crazy as well. You’re more upset than you probably should be—after all, it’s only five days—but as Monday drags on, that feels like an eternity.

You try to focus on the fact that this weekend you’ll be having your first sleepover at Dennis’s place. You always take Badger out of town to your parents’ house over 4th of July weekend because fireworks give him horrible anxiety and your parents’ HOA strictly forbids them, so your plan is to drop him off with them on Friday, stay the night, and then head back bright and early Saturday to help Dennis get ready for the barbecue. You know he’s nervous about it—especially because he doesn’t really have close friends of his own to invite—but as he kissed you goodnight last night, he swore to you that he really does want to do something for the holiday.

“I can't remember the last time I even went to a party, nevermind had one of my own,” he’d said. “It’ll be fun. Everything is fun with you.”

If you can just get through this week, you know you’ll be rewarded handsomely, but you’re addicted to Dennis now and you don’t know how you’ll survive five whole days without him. You try to focus on work but you’ve been replaying last night in your head all day. You hadn’t expected that from him. You’d figured that Dennis’s first time going down on you would be awkward for both of you—you with your insecurities and him with his own, distracting the both of you and making it hard for you to finish. All that aside, he’d made it sound like you were going to have to teach him everything, and you absolutely would have (and done so with all the patience and kindness in the world), but turns out he didn’t need that much instruction at all. It makes you smile thinking about Dennis reading sex-tip articles, a look of deep concentration on his face as he committed everything to memory. Thinking about him watching videos, though… that makes you feel a different way entirely. The thought of Dennis watching porn and thinking about you—the things he wants to do to you, the way he wants to make you feel—has you clenching your legs under your desk.

Five fucking days. This is going to be hell.

You somehow manage to make it to your break in between your day and night shift, and you call Dennis to check in as you walk to the pizza place a few blocks away. He picks up on the second ring, like he’d been sitting there waiting for you to call.

“I was just thinking about you,” he says.

“Oh yeah?” you reply. “And what exactly were you thinking about?”

“How good you taste.”

His voice is low and gravelly and your whole body is buzzing with yearning.

“Dennis, you can’t say shit like that when you know I can’t see you,” you say. “You’re being so mean right now.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” You can tell by the gleeful tone of his voice that he isn’t. “I could come by for lunch tomorrow…”

A brief mental picture of Dennis sweeping all the shit off your desk, laying you down on it, and burying his head between your thighs flashes through your brain but you shake your head to get rid of it.

“I have a lunch meeting with the ASPCA rep tomorrow. And you’ve got your appointment with Dr. Porter on Wednesday night, right?”

“I could cancel,” he says.

“No,” you insist. “That’s important. And besides, I think the Doc would probably have something not so nice to say about me if I let you cancel your therapy session for a date.”

“He definitely would. And you’re working Thursday night again and then off to your parents’ place Friday, right? Fuck. I just… I really want to see you this week.”

“I do, too.” You can hear the whine creep into your voice but you can’t help it. You want to stomp your feet and throw a tantrum like a toddler. “This sucks.”

“It really does,” he replies, “but we can talk and text and maybe even…”

He trails off but you think you know where he was going. “Maybe even what, Dennis?”

“Nothing,” he says, coughing to clear his throat. “Nevermind. I gotta run. Boss just came by with another stack of Gary’s work for me to take home with me. Call me later?”

“Dennis…”

“Just… call me later, sweetheart. Bye.”

“OK, bye.”

You hang up and grab yourself two slices and a soda to bring back with you, and as you eat at your desk, all you can think about is that “maybe even…” and how much you want to hear him finish that sentence. You know exactly what he means, of course, and you’re completely down. After all, you and Dennis had exchanged a few racy texts before, and if you’re going to make it through five whole days, you’re going to need something to see you through.

By the time the overnight staff arrives, you’re practically asleep on your feet, and you shoot Dennis a text on your way out to your car.

Y: Leaving now. I’ll text you when I get home. Don’t want to wake you if you’re sleeping.

You get a response almost immediately.

D: I’ll be up. Call me when you get in.

The apartment is quiet when you get home; the only sounds are Badger snoring from your bedroom and Mal’s white-noise machine indicating that she is actually home and in bed early for once. You toe your shoes off at the door and read the note she left for you telling you that Badger is all set with his walk and nightly business, and when you get to your room you give Badger a scratch behind the ear (ignoring his grumpy Bitch I’m Sleeping growl) before changing into a tank top and clean underwear. You should shower the day off you but you’re just too fucking exhausted to do anything but crawl into bed and call Dennis to say goodnight.

“Hey,” he says.

“You didn’t have to stay up,” you reply. “It’s after midnight.”

“I wanted to hear your voice. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, but I’m so fucking tired.”

“That’s a shame,” he says, a hint of mischief in his voice.

You laugh. “I want to, but not tonight,” you say, and you hear him whine.

“Please?” he begs. “You’re gonna make me do this all by myself?”

“I’m sorry, baby,” you say, a big yawn hitting you mid-sentence. “I just can’t even keep my eyes open.”

“Alright,” he says, his voice soft and sweet. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. Call me in the morning.”

“I will.”

“Oh, I know you will.”

You don’t get a chance to question him before he hangs up, and you’re too exhausted to even think clearly, so you just put the TV on low, hit the pillow, and pass out. When you wake, it’s almost 9:30—way later than you usually sleep even on days after you pull a double. Badger is standing over you looking miffed that his morning piss and breakfast have been delayed.

“Sorry, buddy,” you tell him. “Mama was tired.” He nudges your arm with his snout and you laugh. “OK, OK, I’m up.”

You throw on some sweats and a t-shirt and take Badger for his morning stroll, and once he’s done with breakfast, you grab your phone to call Dennis. Before you have a chance to call, you see you have a text from him that wasn’t there before you left for Badger’s walk, and when you open your text chain, you see it’s not a message but a video; the thumbnail is R-rated and well on it’s way to X.

He didn’t. Oh my God… he did.

You throw the living room TV on for Badger and rush into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you, and then you hit play.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” you hear Dennis say, but all you can focus on is the tented sheet in his lap. He pushes it down his thighs, revealing his massive cock in his hand as he strokes it slowly. “I wish you were here with me. Miss you so fucking much. Miss having your pretty lips wrapped around my dick.”

“Holy shit,” you say out loud to no one.

Even though Mal is at work, you grab your headphones so you can hear the deep timbre of his voice as loud as possible in your ear. You lay back on your bed and crank the volume all the way up, and the rumble of his low moans has you spreading your legs and shoving one hand down your sweats and underneath your panties.

“Been thinking about your perfect little pussy all day, baby. Got so fucking hard at work.” He squeezes his bulbous tip and you watch the precum drip out before he gathers it between his thumb and forefinger and smears it all over his head. “I want you so bad, sweetheart. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum for me again.”

He grabs a bottle of lube from somewhere off-camera and squirts a generous amount on the tip of his cock, letting it drip down the length of him before grabbing himself by the base and stroking it up and down. His hand is a blur on the screen and the schlick schlick schlick of his lubed-up strokes has you rubbing your clit in quick circles. You don’t even know where to look: his thick, muscular thighs, his abs tensing and relaxing as he moans and groans, his pecs bouncing just a tiny bit in time with his strokes. His body is absolutely sinful and—as you can hear him telling you—it’s all yours to do with whatever you’d like.

He tugs and massages his balls as he licks his lips, his neck veins straining so hard you think they’ll burst as he throws his head back and moans, “God, I can’t wait to fuck you. Just want to be inside you, sweetheart. So fucking deep inside. Oh, fuck.”

Just thinking about having that big, beautiful cock in your guts is enough to bring you to the edge, and as Dennis strokes himself to completion, your name on his lips as white ropes of cum paint his abs, you speed up your own ministrations and cry out through gritted teeth. Your chest is heaving along with Dennis’s as he comes down, rubbing his spend into his skin. You wish you could lick him clean, wait the .5 seconds it would take for him to get hard again, and then ride his cock until your body breaks in half but you can’t.

Four fucking days.

“Talk to you in the morning, sweetheart,” he says, and then the video cuts.

As soon as you can get a grip on yourself, you call Dennis.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, and you can hear the amusement in his voice. “Did you get my present?”

“I honestly don’t even know what to say,” you reply.

You can feel his vibe shift through the phone. “Shit… should I not have-”

“No, no,” you tell him. “You definitely should have. That was so fucking hot. Like… do you have a secret OnlyFans that I don’t know about?”

Dennis laughs. “No. That was just for you. I don’t know what got into me last night. I’m sorry if it was too much, I just-”

“Dennis, stop. I loved it. I just came so hard watching it and I’m probably gonna watch it, like, 100 more times this week until I get to see you again.”

“I can make you another one. I mean, if you want…”

“Yes,” you say. “I want. I very much want.”

Dennis chuckles and you know that he’s blushing and you just feel so lucky to have found this sweet, sexy guy that can go from being the biggest dork to the sexiest hunk of man you’ve ever seen in your life and back again in seconds.

“Hey, Dennis?” you ask.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t care how tired I am after work tonight. You. Me. Facetime.”

***

Four days. Four more days before he can get his hands on you. Dennis had been a little nervous to send you that video, but if he can’t be with you, he wanted to show you exactly how much he wants to be with you. He’d never done anything like that before, but something about you just makes Dennis think things and do things he never would have dreamed about before you walked into his life and shattered the picture he’d had of himself. Dennis thought he knew who he was, and it was a person he didn’t particularly like: a weak man, afraid, powerless. Now, though, he isn’t so sure. It’s scary, this journey of discovering himself—at his age, a man should have a pretty good idea of who he is—but after meeting you, he realizes he has no idea who Dennis Baker actually is. He’s starting to see just how much outside influences have shaped his opinion of himself and the way he lives his life. It’s terrifying and exciting in equal measure to know that maybe he can be whoever he wants to be with you.

And he knows who he wants to be. He wants to be a strong, confident man who isn’t afraid to show you how much he wants you, who isn’t afraid to tell you how much he loves you—the type of man who would believe you if you say you love him, too. He wants to be the type of man you want to marry and start a family with, the type of man you would never get tired of loving. He wants to be the type of man who can tell you all these things—and he’s close now, he can feel it.

But this week isn’t the week. He isn’t about to tell you he loves you through a fucking text message or call or even FaceTime. No, he wants to tell you with your beautiful face just inches from his, because he knows you feel it, too. He knows you’ll say it back. He needed that bit of reassurance from Mal to fully know, but he knows now and it’s killing him to have to wait.

Four more days.

It’s about 5:30 and Dennis is wrapping up his day, packing up all of the extra work he’s got to take home with him since Gary’s abrupt departure. He liked Gary, too. He was one of only a few people at work he would consider anything close to a friend—not that they ever really hung out, but he was a nice guy, invited him into his Fantasy league (which for a long time has been his sole source of social interaction), and they could shoot the shit about baseball and the boss being a dick and all those surface, bullshit things that you talk about with a work friend. The extra work is just the icing on the cake of Gary leaving, but it isn’t anything he can’t handle. Putting in the extra hours this week wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest before he met you, but now every second he spends doing Gary’s job is a second away from you and it pisses Dennis off a little.

He’s about to text you to see how your lunch meeting went when his phone dings. He smiles because it’s you, but when he opens your text his smile fades and his mouth drops open as a deep guttural sound bubbles up from somewhere in his chest. You’ve sent him a series of pictures, each one more titillating than the last. He recognizes your office as the backdrop of all of them, and in the first, it’s you in just your bra and jeans. In the second one, the jeans are gone and you’ve got skimpy little panties on that match your bra. In the third one, the bra is gone, and the fourth…

“Fuck me,” he moans under his breath, taking in the sight of you bent over your desk, your gorgeous ass on display with just a sliver of pussy to tease him.

Dennis grabs his things and practically sprints to his car, holding his backpack in front of him as he goes so that none of his colleagues notice the growing tent in his khakis. The second he gets the door closed, he grabs his phone and pulls up that fourth picture, zooming in to get the best look he can at that heavenly place between your legs. There’s about a million things he wants to say to you right now—all of them absolutely filthy—and he doesn’t even know where to begin.

D: Jesus Christ I almost just came in my pants in the middle of my office

Y: Poor baby. Just giving you a taste of your own medicine…

D: Why don’t you ditch work and come give me a taste of something else?

Y: Can’t. You’ll just have to make me another video…

D: You’re a real bad girl taking nudes at work

Y: Come punish me then

D: That why you bent yourself over the desk? You need a spanking?

Y: That’s exactly what I need. That and your big fat cock in my mouth.

D: How am I supposed to drive home like this, huh? You’re killing me, sweetheart. Please let me come see you.

Y: Can’t. FaceTime later. Gotta go xoxo

“Christ,” he says to himself. “Four more days. Four more days.”

He repeats it like a mantra, wiping his brow because he’s actually sweating now and he has no idea how he’s going to get home with the massive erection that’s threatening to tear through his pants. He’s trying to push all thoughts of you out of his head in the hopes it will settle down when he gets a call from the Boner Killer herself. In any other circumstance, he would have let it go to voicemail, but he decides to pick up, if only to rid himself of his increasingly painful erection.

“What do you want, Karen?”

“Listen,” she says, her faux-regretful tone an unpleasant reminder of just how many times this has played out before, “I want to apologize for the way I acted the other day. I was just angry and I didn’t expect you to have… company. So, yeah, I’m sorry, but we need to talk about this alimony situation like adults, Dennis. I know you’re mad at me, but that doesn’t give you the right to cut me off.”

Dennis sighs: another fake apology after another drunken outburst in a bid to get what she wants from him. Same shit, different day—but it’s not the same now. Now Dennis has a reason to push back, to fight for his own happiness.

“Look, Karen, I appreciate the apology and all but I’m not doing this anymore. We’re going to court and the judge is going to decide. If the court says I have to pay, I will, but I’m going to fight like hell not to because you don’t deserve another goddamn cent from me. I want you out of my life. For good.”

“This is about her, isn’t it?” she spits, voice dripping with malevolence—there she is, the real Karen, it never takes long. “You don’t actually think she likes you, do you? Please tell me you’re not that stupid.”

“No, Karen, I don’t think she likes me. I think she loves me, and I love her, and I’ll see you in court.”

Dennis hangs up, more determined than ever to tell you how he feels. If he could say it to his demon of an ex-wife and believe it, he knows he can say it to you. He shoots an email to his lawyer, asking after the court date, and heads towards home. All he wants in the world (besides for you) is to take Jax for a nice long after-dinner walk around the neighborhood and think about how exactly he’s going to tell you.

Work clothes exchanged for his sweats and a t-shirt, Dennis walks Jax around the neighborhood, taking the longer route and letting his pup sniff leisurely as he has a good think. He knows he wants to tell you on Saturday, after the 4th of July party is over and everyone has gone home and he finally finally has you alone. Dennis knows you’re staying over that night but he tries not to put any pressure on himself about what that might mean. Of course he wants to have sex with you and he’s pretty sure you want to have sex with him, but he has to give himself some grace—leave room for the possibility that it might not feel right, or he might not be ready, or you might not be. He doesn’t want to force it; he wants it to happen organically, to feel as natural as waking up in the morning, but he knows that’s impossible—that of course there are incredibly high expectations on both sides and the first time probably won’t be some sort of magical, soul-stirring experience. He can hope, though, and he can be prepared.

Even though you were candid about the fact that you’re on birth control for your cramps, he’d bought some condoms anyway. He’d got himself tested after Karen told him she’d been fucking around on him and his results were all negative (and he hasn’t been with anyone since) but he doesn’t know about you and he can’t bring himself to ask. It wouldn’t matter to him, of course, and he knows that he should just have the conversation ahead of time like adults and go from there, but he’s just got so many other things going against him when it comes to sex that he can’t add one more awkward conversation to the mix. He’s operating under the assumption that, when and if the time comes, he will use protection, and he’s more than happy to wrap it up if it means he gets to be inside of you. It’s not what he thinks about when he thinks about fucking you, though. He thinks about fucking you raw and pumping you full and watching you drip with him. It’s what he thought even before he knew you were on the pill, and if you’d let him, he would do it even if you weren’t. But that’s another conversation—one he knows he has to have with you but that he’s not ready for.

Because Dennis wants a family so desperately; he always has. Karen pretended to want the same thing but, like everything else, it was all bullshit. Once they got married, it was all “let’s wait a little while” and then a few years later it was “I never wanted kids—you knew that.” She actually managed to convince him that he’d misunderstood her, that she had always been honest with him about her lack of desire for motherhood. He understands now, thanks to Dr. Porter, that it was textbook gaslighting, but for a long time he thought it was his own fault he wasn’t a father.

Dennis doesn’t know what he’ll do if you don’t want to have children because it’s one of the few non-negotiable things he needs from a relationship. He doesn’t care in the slightest if he has a biological child or an adopted child; he just wants to be a dad. It’s one of the things he knows he needs to discuss with Dr. Porter tomorrow and he’s dreading it, but he feels in his heart that you want the same thing as he does. He’s never met someone with more love to give than you, never met someone so patient and kind and caring, but Dennis doesn’t want to make assumptions—not every woman wants to be a mom, and that’s perfectly ok. He just can’t put his heart and soul into one that doesn’t. Not again.

But he’s getting way ahead of himself—thinking about marriage and babies when he hasn’t even voiced his feelings for you. He has to tell you he loves you, but how? The over-the-top cheesy romantic in him thinks briefly about a fireworks display, but that would be a nightmare for Jax (who will probably already be freaked out by whatever the neighbors have going on) so Dennis quickly axes that idea. He wants to do something, though. He wants to make it special. He wants you to know that he’s felt it for a long time—that it’s not just something he spits out without thinking.

By the time he returns home with Jax, he’s still coming up empty, but if he has to wait four—well, basically three—more days to see you, at least that gives him time to come up with something perfect. Because it has to be perfect. It has to be, because you are and it’s what you deserve. He’s run out of time to focus on it now, though. He needs to get his/Gary’s work done so that he can cut out a little early for his appointment with Dr. Porter tomorrow. He fixes himself a little something to eat—the lemon spaghetti you’d taught him to make, which is his new favorite thing in the world because it’s delicious and reminds him of you—and then he gets to work with ESPN droning on in the background and Jax napping next to him on the couch.

He finishes up around 10 and takes Jax for a quick night walk before getting ready for bed. He knows he’s gonna have to wait for you a while—the overnight crew doesn’t start until 11:30 and you won’t be home before midnight—but even though he’s exhausted, all it takes is a few moments studying the pretty pictures you’d sent him earlier to have him wide awake. He lets Jax up on the bed and scrolls Netflix, deciding to start watching Schitt’s Creek because you’d told him it’s one of your comfort shows. He’s on the third episode when you finally call.

“Hey, baby,” you say, and Dennis doesn’t know what to focus on—all he ever wants to do is look in your eyes, but you’ve got your phone tilted so that your tits take centerstage, and he can see your nipples through the sheer baby-pink bra you’re wearing. “You have a good night?”

All Dennis can say is “Fuck me.”

“I’m trying to,” you reply, panning your phone down so he can see your matching panties—if you could even call that miniscule scrap of fabric that. “You like?”

“Sweetheart, I love. But you know you don’t have to dress up for me.”

“You want me to take them off?” you ask, and Dennis doesn’t know what to say—because of course he does, there’s nothing better than you totally naked—but also you look so fucking cute in this pretty pink set you’ve chosen to wear for him: it’s somehow innocent and sinfully sexy at the same time, just like you.

“Keep them on,” he says. “You look so fucking gorgeous, baby,” Dennis says.

The hand not holding his phone reaches down to pull his cock through the hole in his boxers, and you notice, because of course you do.

“Lemme see it,” you plead. “Please? You know how much I love it.”

“You really do, huh?” he responds, and you nod. “You really love my dick that much?”

“I’d do anything for your cock, baby. Anything. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Dennis takes a moment to think about it because there are various scenarios running through his mind right now and he doesn’t know which one to pick. He decides to have you recreate the position you were in earlier because oh did he like that.

“Turn around,” he says. “Shake your ass for me.”

“So you liked that last picture, huh?” Dennis watches as you get your phone into position on your nightstand before crawling back up on your bed and sitting back on your knees. “Thought you might.”

“It was a fucking tease is what it was.”

“You want more?” you ask, running your hands up your body.

“I want everything,” he replies. “Show me.”

You flash him a naughty little smile as you reach behind you and unclasp your bra, holding the cups (as if they really hid anything at all) before you slowly let the garment drop. Dennis groans as you roll your nipples between your fingers and take your bottom lip between your teeth. He’s got the base of his cock in a death grip and its already throbbing in his hand before you even turn around. When you do, you get on all fours and look over your shoulder as you wiggle your ass at the camera. Only the tiny fabric strip of your G-string is keeping Dennis from getting exactly what he wants.

“You like that, baby?” you ask.

“Fuck yes. Now take your panties off, sweetheart. Nice and slow for me.”

You rise up on your knees and slide them down slowly as requested, only it’s painfully slow and it seems like an eternity before you’ve got them down to your mid-thighs and you’re bent over again with your knees spread wide.

“God, I love your pussy. So fucking pretty. Spread it open for me.”

You press your face to the bed and reach around on either side of you, and Dennis moans as you spread your lips apart and start to throw it back and forth slowly. Dennis starts to stroke himself at the pace you’re setting, imagining himself behind you as you fuck yourself on his cock.

“I’m so fucking wet for you Dennis,” you moan.

“I see it. Fuck. I just wanna taste you, baby.”

“Soon,” you say. “Tell me what else you want.”

“Wanna watch my dick slide in and out of that gorgeous fucking pussy, all soaked in you. God, I need to fuck you, sweetheart.”

“I need it, too, Dennis. I need your cock so bad. I feel so fucking empty.”

“Turn around,” he says. “On your back. Wanna watch you play with that pretty little pussy until you cum.”

You grab two pillows and place them at the end of the bed, laying back against them and spreading your legs for him again.

“Lemme see your cock, Dennis. Please.”

Between the sight of you splayed out so beautifully for him and the urgent need in your voice, Dennis’s skin feels like it’s on fire he angles his phone down to give you the look you’ve been begging for. He grips the base and pushes it forward a little, and you make a hungry little mmmph sound when it twitches and jumps back a bit in his hand.

“You’re so fucking big and thick, baby,” you say as you start to circle your clit. “What if I can’t handle you?”

Dennis knows you’re just dirty talking him but he can’t say it isn’t a concern of his. He knows his dick is big, even if he doesn’t quite know what to do with it, and you were so tight around just his fingers that he’s legitimately scared he might hurt you. But he’s done his research—the importance of foreplay and lube, the best positions to make you comfortable and put you in charge of how deep he can go. The last thing in the world Dennis wants is to hurt you in any way, in the bedroom or out of it, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep from doing so.

“I’m gonna take good care of you, sweetheart,” Dennis promises. “Gonna go nice and slow, stretch you out with my fingers first, make you cum on my tongue, get you nice and juicy and ready for me.”

“I’m ready for you now,” you say, working your clit harder and faster as your hips start to jerk a bit. “God, I wish you were here.” You grip your breast in one hand as you move your other hand from your clit to your entrance, slowly sliding two of your fingers inside. “My fingers are so fucking small compared to yours. Fuck, I need you, Dennis. Please.”

Dennis strokes his cock faster as he watches you fuck yourself on your fingers. “You’re so fucking sexy, sweetheart. Keep going.”

“I don’t know if I can cum without you,” you whine. “I need more.”

“You got any toys?” Dennis asks, desperately hoping that you do because he would kill to watch you fuck yourself with something bigger than your fingers.

“I have a vibrator,” you reply.

“Get it.”

Dennis watches your breasts sway up close as you pull your vibrator out of the drawer in your nightstand. He’s slightly disappointed to discover that it’s something small and egg-shaped and not something he can watch you fuck yourself on—he doesn’t know much about the different types of sex toys except that, according to Karen, they were all better than him—but he’s still absolutely salivating at the thought of watching you use this thing on yourself.

You turn it on and the sound is surprisingly low as you tease your entrace with it. When you bring it to your clit, you throw your head back and curl your toes and shout, “Fuck.”

“That good, huh?” Dennis asks, his eyes locked on your face as it twists up in pleasure.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Oh, God, Dennis. I’m gonna cum soon. Talk to me. Tell me how you wanna fuck me. Please.”

Dennis decides that, for the purpose of talking you through your orgasm and because he is almost ready to bust himself, he’s just going to let his inhibitions go and tell you exactly what he wants to do to you. None of it is realistic, of course; he doesn’t know if he can do any of these things (and he certainly can’t do them yet), but when he fantasizes about the ways he wants to fuck you, he doesn’t have to be realistic.

“I wanna fuck you from behind,” he begins, “hard, and I wanna watch your pretty ass bounce as I give you those long, deep strokes that have you clawing at the fucking sheets and screaming my name. I want to fuck you so good you can’t think, can’t fucking breathe, and then I wanna flip you over and throw your legs over my shoulders and bend you in half and fuck my cum so deep into you that you’ll be leaking me for days.”

“Oh, fuck. Oh my God. Yes. Yes. Keep going. I’m so fucking close.”

“I’m not gonna stop, either,” he continues. “You know I’ll get hard again when I’m still inside you and I’ll just keep fucking you and fucking you until you can’t cum anymore, and then I’ll make you cum one more time just because I can.”

“FUCK.”

Dennis watches your thighs tremble as you cum on your toy, your eyes staring straight at the camera—at him—and your mouth open wide with the sweetest sounds coming out of it. That’s all it takes to finish Dennis off, and as he shoots a load onto his stomach he thinks to himself that he’ll never get tired of looking in your eyes when you cum.

“Jesus Christ,” you say, chest heaving as you pull yourself up onto your knees and then flop down on your stomach, grabbing the phone from the nightstand. “You’re, like, really good at this, you know that?”

“I’m discovering new talents with you,” he replies, feeling a little smug, if he’s honest with himself, because he really is kinda good at this, huh?

“Three more days, baby,” you say.

“Three more days,” he replies.

PART TWELVE >>>

#dennis baker fanfiction #dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker #chris evans #chris evans characters #take me home series

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

Text

Take Me Home - Part 10

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

WORD COUNT: 4.4K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M&F Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @whatinthestyles, @filthy-gorgeous, @justile, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy, @ronearoundblindly, @in-umbra-gratia, @vayollie, @thornsnvultures

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Part Ten

The drive back to your apartment is a quick one, but it feels eons long because Dennis is itching to get you in private. The kiss you gave him outside the restaurant was filled with promise and his body was already buzzing from the bit of PDA you’d engaged in during dinner. Dennis knows you want him and fuck does he want you, but the old insecurities are creeping back in the closer he gets to your door. He can’t help but wonder what exactly you’re expecting of him this night and while he knows what he wants to do, he still doesn’t know if he can.

He tries to hide it from you but the confidence he had throughout dinner has completely worn off by the time you unlock the door to your apartment and invite him inside. You walk in first so Badger sees you, and he gives Dennis a bit of side-eye from the couch where he was snoozing comfortably.

“I’m just gonna take him out real quick,” you say, slipping off your heels and sliding into a pair of flip-flops. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Dennis nods as he stands aside, allowing Badger some space as you put his harness and leash on. He’s so far from comfortable it’s almost laughable, though. He almost feels like he’s starting from scratch with you, and he doesn’t quite know why. Except that’s not entirely true; he does know why, but he doesn’t much care to think about it in detail. Seeing your ex was a reminder that there were men who came before him—men who could do things that he can’t do. Dennis tries to push away the thought of you being intimate with Brad but now that he’s seen him in the flesh, he’s got a mental picture playing in his head.

It’s not the fact that you’ve been with other people that bothers him—you’re a grown woman, of course you’ve slept with other people, and he doesn’t care how many there were or any of that shit. What’s really dragging Dennis down into that dark place again is that he’s terrified he won’t measure up. As much as he knows you despise Brad, he’s pretty sure that sex was never the problem in your relationship, and he feels like he’s entered a competition he can’t win. The last thing he wants is to disappoint you tonight, just after you’ve seen Brad, because maybe it will get you thinking your ex wasn’t so bad after all.

The whole time you’re out with Badger, Dennis is telling himself that he needs to talk to you about how he’s feeling but he doesn’t want to bring up your ex. He knows you probably just want to put him out of your mind and end the night on a good note, but he doesn’t know exactly what that means for you. When you come back with Badger you’ve got a sweet smile on your face, but your face changes when you see him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, drawing your eyebrows together. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he replies. “It’s just… fuck… I’m sorry… I don’t…”

Dennis trails off and droops his head, rubbing the back of his neck in a pointless attempt at self-soothing.

“It’s ok,” you say. “Whatever it is, it’s ok. Let me just put Badger in Mal’s room so we can have some space to talk, alright?” You grab Badger’s water bowl and take it with you into the bedroom next to the kitchen. “Come on, Badge. TV Time.”

Dennis hears you put on the TV for Badger and talk to him for a moment, though he can’t make out your words. He tries to put himself back in that headspace where he felt like he could tell you anything but it’s not working because he’s got horrible thoughts floating around his head, thoughts like maybe all that in the restaurant—the little touches and kisses and flirty little smiles—was just you trying to make Brad jealous. Maybe none of it had a thing to do with you wanting him. Maybe he could have been anyone.

Dennis doesn’t look at you when he hears you come back into the living room. He doesn’t look at you when he feels you sit next to him on the couch. He just stares at the ground, gripping his knee to ground himself as he pinches the bridge of his nose to try and stave off the anxiety headache he feels coming on. He feels your hand cup his cheek as you pull his face in your direction.

“Look at me,” you say softly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Your pretty eyes are filled with concern as they lock onto his and he wants to tell you every single thing he feels but his words are caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. His mouth is dry and his heart is beating so hard he feels it throbbing in his neck.

“Baby, please,” you beg. “You’re scaring me. Just talk to me.”

“I don’t want to scare you,” he croaks. “I’m just… I think I’m scaring myself.”

“Please tell me this isn’t about Brad,” you say.

“I don’t know. It is and it isn’t. I mean… it’s about me, really. It’s the same shit again, and I thought I was past it… that we were past it… but I guess not.”

He can see the confusion in your slight frown and he knows he needs to be more specific. He hears Dr. Porter’s voice in his head screaming “open, honest communication” but the words just won’t come tonight. But it’s like you know—somehow you always fucking know. You fold your legs under yourself on the couch next to him and wrap your arm around his waist and you start to ask the right questions.

“What are you afraid of, Dennis? I mean, what exactly happened tonight that has you feeling bad, because I thought… I don’t know… you seemed happy.”

“I was… I mean, I am happy. I’m just… I’m scared I can’t make you happy. I guess just seeing him…”

“He made me fucking miserable,” you say. “No one on earth has ever made me feel worse than he did. I thought you knew that.”

“I do. I do know that. It’s just… God, this is so fucking embarrassing and I really don’t want to make you talk about him. That’s the last thing you want, I’m sure. I just… I feel like I’m not gonna be good enough for you. You know… in that way… and now we’re here and we’re alone and I don’t know what you want, or maybe I do know what you want and I want the same thing but I just… can’t.”

Dennis lets his hand rest on your hip and closes his eyes as you play with the top button of his shirt.

“You said you don’t know what I want,” you say, “but you never asked me what I want.”

Dennis swallows the lump in his throat. “OK, what do you want?”

“I want you to feel safe with me and I want to feel safe with you. And maybe we’re not there yet, and that’s ok. I mean, I know I’m still holding stuff back. I don’t feel 100% confident either and that has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

It’s like a knife in Dennis’s heart to hear you say that because all he wants is to make you feel every bit of his love for you, but he understands where you’re coming from because he’s coming from the same place.

“It shouldn’t have to be this hard,” he says. “I just want…”

“What?” you ask. “Tell me what you want.”

I just want to tell you I love you and make love to you and be with you every single day for the rest of my life.

“I just want to be normal,” he says, and you scoff.

“I don’t even know what ‘normal’ is anymore, Dennis. I’m pretty sure I’m not normal. I can’t even be naked in front of my fucking boyfriend without having half a panic attack… you wanna talk about embarrassing. Christ.”

You hide your face in the crook of his arm and sigh as you hug him tighter, and Dennis is at a complete loss for words because he didn’t know it was that bad. He knew you were hesitant, sure, but he didn’t know that you felt that level of fear being with him. He hates that Brad did this to you—that you’re holding yourself back from him because of things that asshole made you believe about yourself. He wishes you could see yourself through his eyes, and all he wants is to make you feel as beautiful as you are.

He runs his hand across your hair gently and says, “Listen, I don’t know what he said to you and I don’t ever need to know because what I already know is that you are absolutely perfect to me, inside and out, and I will do everything I can possibly do to prove it to you. I never want you to feel afraid around me. I mean… sweetheart, I think about seeing you naked like 90% of the day every day.”

You giggle into his chest and look up at him. ��Do you really?” you ask.

“It’s probably more like 95%,” he replies.

“Perv.” You swat at his chest and he leans down and kisses your forehead, inhaling the spicy vanilla scent of your hair as you sigh. “I want to be normal, too, Dennis. I really do.”

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks. “I don’t want to pressure you or anything but, I mean, there’s not much I wouldn’t do to get you naked.”

“Just kiss me,” you say, and Dennis happily obliges.

“Just kissing” quickly turns to you straddling Dennis with your dress hiked up to your waist, his big hands roaming up and down your thighs as you unbutton his dress shirt and pull it free from his pants.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmurs into your neck, which he peppers with soft, open-mouthed kisses, and when he finds that spot that drives you crazy, he drags his teeth across it gently and you moan his name.

You slide his shirt over his shoulders and dig your nails into the meat of them, drawing a hiss from him that you feel in your core.

“Too much?” you ask, concerned that you’ve hurt him, but he just chuckles.

“Not at all,” he replies. “Not even close.”

You can feel his cock straining in the confines of his pants as you roll your hips on top of him and fuck you want him inside of you. You feel so empty as you clench around nothing, positioning yourself to get the friction you need to ease the aching absence of him.

“I want you so bad, baby,” you say, looking into his lust-blown blue eyes. “I need you.”

He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the couch cushion, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he grips the flesh of your thighs. “Need you, too, sweetheart,” he says, and when he opens his eyes again it feels like he’s staring straight into your soul. “Need to taste you. Please let me taste you.”

You dig your teeth into your bottom lip as you lean forward and press your forehead to his, taking a deep, calming breath before you whisper, “OK.”

Before you even know what’s happening, Dennis has you up off the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands cradling your ass as he carries you into your bedroom. He sets you gently down on your bed and leans over you, cradling your face as he moves in for a deep, slow kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. He finally pulls away and stands up at the edge of your bed, and you’re gasping for air as you look up at him—shirtless and barefoot with a tent in his pants that’s testing the strength of the seams. You want him in your mouth, down your throat; you want him everywhere, but when you sit up and grab his belt buckle he stills your hands.

“Not me,” he says. “You.” He wraps his big hands around your forearms and pulls you to your feet. “Turn around.”

You do as he says, and the slightly commanding tone of his voice has you feeling almost dizzy as he slowly pulls the zipper of your dress down. The heat of his breath against the nape of your neck has you clenching your thighs together as he slides the straps off your shoulders, your dress pooling at your feet as he reaches around to cup your bare breasts. You hear the soft thunk of his knees hitting the rug and you shiver as kisses his way down your back, one of your hands finding the back of his head and sliding through his hair as his lips reach the small of your back. He places his hands on your hips gently and turns you around, and the sight of him on his knees for you, looking up at you through his glasses with an almost reverent desire, is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says. “So fucking perfect.”

He kisses his way across your stomach, just above the waistband of your panties. The small lace garment is the only scrap of clothing left on you—the only place left to hide. He moves his hands from your hips to your ass and pulls you into him, his nose poking at your covered mound as he takes a deep breath of you.

His voice is muffled as he speaks against the lace, “You smell so goddamn good,” and when he starts to kiss your mound over the fabric, you let out a whimper and have to grab his shoulders to keep your balance. He looks up at you, and you think for a moment he’s going to laugh or smirk or something, but his face holds nothing but tenderness.

“Lay down on the bed, sweetheart. Spread your legs for me.”

“O- OK,” you stammer.

You can hear the hesitance in your own voice because somehow, even knowing how desperately this man wants to be with you, you’re still afraid. But fuck do you want to feel his mouth on your bare skin. Just that little tease through the fabric of your panties felt like absolute heaven and you know that, if you can just get over this one hurdle, it’ll be absolutely incredible.

Dennis rises up off the floor and walks you backwards until you hit the edge of the bed and take a seat. You slide up the bed and get yourself into position and he watches your every move, his broad chest heaving with each hungry breath he takes. When you plant your feet and spread open for him, he moans as he drinks in the sight of you.

“So pretty, baby,” he says, and he starts to move toward you.

“Wait,” you say, and the worry creases his brow for a moment before you tell him what you want. “Take your pants off.”

Dennis smiles his relief as he unbuckles and shoves his pants down his long legs, kicking them off to the side. You lick your lips as he stands before you in a pair of gray boxer-briefs that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. You smile up at him, your eyes darting from his bulge to his eyes and back again.

“Just let me see it. Please?” you beg him as sweetly as you can but he just shakes his head, and when you whine out his name, he chuckles.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, getting on the bed and crawling up towards you. You feel the weight of his cock on your thigh as he cages you in underneath him, taking off his glasses and placing them on your nightstand. “You give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want.”

“What do you want?” you ask, your lips ghosting his.

“I want to see all of you, sweetheart. I want to worship every inch of your beautiful body and I want to make you cum on my tongue. You gonna let me do that?”

You take a beat before you answer. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” he says, and then he kisses you deep, dragging his tongue across the roof of your mouth slowly, giving you a preview of what he’s about to do to you.

Dennis takes his time with you, kissing all across your face and down your neck and across each of your clavicles. When he reaches your breasts, he makes sure to tell you how much he loves them as his kisses get sloppier and wetter. Your nipples get special attention from him and he moans as he suckles and laps at you, even using his teeth a little when you start to writhe underneath him. His body is so broad and heavy that you’ve got nowhere to go but you like it—the feeling that you couldn’t get away from him even if you wanted to, that he’s totally in control and you still feel completely safe. You don’t want to get away from him, though. Not even a little bit. You just want more and you cry out to him asking for it.

You could have cum just from the careful attention he paid to your tits but you don’t. Instead, the pulsing ache between your legs is getting almost painful as he kisses across your tummy. You don’t even know if he notices the stretch marks around your hips as he licks them because he’s just devouring every inch of you with the same enthusiasm. He tells you over and over again how incredible you are, how beautiful, how sweet, and you almost almost believe him.

When he’s done with your abdomen, he sits up on his knees and you gasp when he pulls your legs up. One ankle rests on his shoulder as he kisses the other, working his way up your calf and stopping at the knee to give the other leg the same treatment. He lowers your legs and settles between your thighs, the backs of your knees propped up on his broad shoulders as he plants hot, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs. He makes his way from the knee all the way up to the edge of your panties, skipping the place you need him most to do the same on the other side, and you start to lose it. He’s fucking teasing you now and you whine as you feel his hot breath against your skin and his teeth graze the softest, fleshiest part of your thigh. You think he must be able to see your pussy throbbing through the thin lace fabric its hiding behind and you beg him, “Please, Dennis,” because the ache is becoming unbearable.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“Take them off.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You hear a growl come loose from somewhere down deep in his chest as he pulls your pussy against his face and inhales through your soaked panties. “So fucking wet for me,” he says before kissing you over the fabric. It’s already enough to have you clutching the sheets and you beg him again to strip you bare. He pulls away, getting back on his knees as he hooks his fingers around the strings at your hips. When he peels the fabric from your flesh slowly and discards your last line of defense, you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and hold it.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, holding your legs wide open at the knee. “Open your eyes. Look at me, sweetheart.”

You do as he asks, and when you see the way he’s looking at you, you let out the breath you’d been holding.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he says, and then he drops to his stomach and wraps his arms around your thighs.

The first swipe of his tongue up your bare pussy has you boath moaning loud—too loud, you realize, because the sounds he’s about to draw out of you are bound to disturb Badger in the other room.

“Fuck. Hold on,” you say, grabbing the TV remote from your nightstand and turning it on and all the way up.

“Badger?” he asks, and you nod.

Before you have a chance to apologize for the interruption, he’s got his tongue all the way out and pressed flat against your flesh and he’s moving his head up and down slowly. His tongue is so fucking wide and long that you feel it everywhere, hot and wet against every part of you. He keeps his pace steady, looking up at you every now and again for reassurance, and you give it to him, telling him how fucking good he feels, when to speed up, when to apply more pressure. He listens to every instruction, but you don’t really need to tell him all that much because you’re almost braindead already from the way he’s working you with his tongue.

You’ve got your hands buried in his hair, gripping it tight but not too tight as you rock your hips against his face, and when he wraps his lips around your clit and starts to suck it into his mouth, your back arches off the bed and you feel yourself starting to lose control.

“Oh, fuck, Dennis. That’s perfect. Just like that. Don’t stop. Oh, fuck, please, baby. Don’t stop.”

Your praises have him moaning around your bud as he pulls your hood back, and when he does that you pull harder on his hair than you mean to. It doesn’t bother him, though; he doesn’t miss a beat. He just moans louder and you can feel the bed start to rock as he ruts into it, his moans keeping time with the thrust of his hips and Oh fuck is he gonna cum just from eating you out?

He pulls away for a moment and you let go of his head. He’s panting as his face and beard glisten with you, and he asks, “Do you want me to use my fingers?”

“Fuck yes,” you say. “Please.”

He pops his middle and forefinger in his mouth and runs them up and down your entrance, gathering the slick leaking from you before slowly pushing them inside and latching on to your clit again. When he crooks his fingers and finds your G-spot, you know you’re only moments away. You grab your breasts and play with your nipples, wishing Dennis had a few more hands so he could do it for you, the way he knows you like.

“Oh God, oh fuck. I’m gonna cum, Dennis. Don’t stop. You’re so fucking good, baby.”

He pops off you just long enough to tell you, “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum all over my face. You can do it,” and his words of encouragement are enough to send you over the edge.

Your toes curl into the bedspread and your back arches as you cum hard and quivering into his mouth. You know you shouldn’t yell but you can’t help it, and as you cry out your pleasure, you pray that the TV is loud enough that Badger won’t hear you and mistake your cries of ecstasy for those of pain. The sex gods must be watching over you tonight, though, because you don’t hear a peep from him. All you hear is the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears and your ragged breaths as you try to recover from what this man has just done to you. You look down at Dennis, still trying to catch your breath and unable to speak yet, and you give him a lazy smile.

“You’re so fucking sexy when you cum, sweetheart” His eyes roll back a bit and you can see he’s still humping your bed for release. “Oh, fuck.”

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” you ask, and all he can do is nod furiously with his eyes pinched shut.

“Give it to me,” you tell him. “I want it.”

Dennis scrambles up the bed and you sit up and yank down his boxer briefs, finally getting an eyefull of his glorious cock. He’s soaked with his own precum and you moan as you wrap your lips around his tip and the taste of him hits your tongue. He’s already so close you don’t have to do much of anything—a few twists of your wrist and bobs of your head are enough to have him falling forward and catching himself on the headboard behind you as he cums hard down your throat.

You would have sucked the soul out of him for hours after the way he’s just made you feel, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute before he had you wrapped up in his arms and pressed to his chest, kissing you softly with the taste of each other on your lips. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and you can tell you’re beaming as he tells you things you’ve been dying to hear.

“I think I’m addicted to your pussy,” he says. “It’s so fucking pretty and perfect. I already want more.”

You giggle and swat his shoulder. “I can’t do that again,” you say. “I’m spent. But that was amazing.”

“Really?” he asks, and he’s got that tone in his voice that tells you that even though you came screaming on his face, he’s still somehow unsure of himself.

“Yes, really,” you reply. “How did you… I mean… you said you didn’t know what you were doing but… um… you definitely knew what you were doing.”

Dennis buries his face in the crook of your neck and sighs, his words muffled against your skin. “I, uh, might have done some research. You know… read some articles and watched some… videos.”

You grab his hair gently and tilt his head back up so you can look at him. “You studied? For me?”

“I wanted to be good for you.”

“You were. You were so good for me, baby. The best ever.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” he says, and you grab his face between your thumb and forefinger,

“I’m not lying,” you say, dead serious. “I would never lie to you. I promise you that.”

Dennis lets out a relieved sigh and a half smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “The best ever?”

“The best ever.”

PART ELEVEN >>>

#dennis baker fanfiction #dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker #chris evans #chris evans characters #take me home series

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

Text

Take Me Home - Part 12

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

WORD COUNT: 4.8K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M&F Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering, Sexting/Nudes/FaceTime sex, Mutual Masturbation. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @whatinthestyles, @filthy-gorgeous, @justile, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy, @ronearoundblindly, @in-umbra-gratia, @vayollie, @thornsnvultures

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Part Twelve

You thought you might wake up with some regrets about what happened on the phone with Dennis last night but you’re feeling pretty great as you go about your morning routine. You have to say, Dennis is full of surprises. Never in a million years would you have thought that the nerdy, nervous wreck you met in the park that day—the guy with all the insecurities who’s convinced he can’t do a thing right when it comes to sex—would have such a dirty mind and a filthy mouth. It makes sense, though, when you think about it. He’s been so sex-starved for so long that all he’s had is his imagination. Still, thinking that stuff is one thing; actually saying it to you is another.

You’re really proud of him for finding the courage because you know he must have been afraid, and you’re proud of yourself, too—for being a safe place for him and shedding your own insecurities to do it. You can’t get enough of the way Dennis looks at you and the way he makes you feel. Last night, you didn’t feel ashamed of your body; you didn’t feel desperate or needy (even though you absolutely are, but in a good way). You’re starting to see yourself through Dennis’s eyes, and it makes you feel sexy and powerful and so, so wanted. It makes you feel loved, even, though he hasn’t said it, and you wonder how long it’s going to take him. You think that maybe you should just say it first to take some of the pressure off him, but that’s the one thing you can’t do. No, he needs to be the one to say it first because you have to know that he’s ready to say it; you have to know that he’s not just saying it back to avoid hurt feelings, because that’s exactly the kind of thing Dennis would do.

You head to the kitchen for coffee and Mal is already holding your to-go mug with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“So, what were you doing last night?” she asks, but you can tell she already knows.

“Don’t you dare,” you reply, taking the coffee from her outstretched hand. “After everything I’ve had to listen to, I know you’re not giving me shit right now.”

Mal laughs. “Not giving you shit, not judging, just curious is all. When I got home I thought for a second you might not be alone in there…”

“We were just having a little quality FaceTime,” you tell her coyly.

“Love that for you,” she says. “So, how is Big Boy at the whole phone sex thing?”

“Shockingly good. Like, I might actually die if I don’t get to see him soon. I feel like I’m going crazy, and I think…”

You trail off, not wanting to jinx it, by Mal doesn’t let you off the hook. “You think what?”

“I think… I mean, I hope that Saturday might be… you know… the day.”

“Oh, thank god!” she exclaims. “I mean I really thought you guys were gonna fuck the other night after dinner. I mean, after what he said, I just thought-”

“Wait,” you stop her. “What do you mean what he said? What did he say?”

“Oh! Uhhh…” Mal looks up, down, around—anywhere but at you as she speaks. “I mean, he just told me that he was really into you and that he thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous, and it was like so obvious at the table that he wants to rail you… like anyone could see it. That’s all.”

You don’t believe her—you know what Mal’s lying face looks like—but you’re running late for work and you don’t have time to press her on it.

“Yeah,” you say, “ok. Sure. So, dinner tonight?”

“Absolutely,” she says, looking relieved to have gotten out of whatever mess she put herself in. “See you at 8.”

You don’t exactly have a bad feeling as you leave your apartment and drive to work, but you feel a bit unsettled. You don’t like that Mal is keeping something from you; you know there is more to it than what she told you, but you also know that she wouldn’t lie to you without a good reason. You push it out of your mind, though, because you trust her and you trust Dennis and you don’t feel like spending the day doubting yourself and everyone around you. You’ve got a lot of work to get done and you need to occupy your mind with thoughts that don’t involve Dennis because otherwise you might completely lose it.

Three more days.

***

Dennis spent the workday trying and failing to put you out of his head. After the little show you put on for him last night, he’s more desperate than ever to be with you, but he knows he has to get through his appointment with Dr. Porter first—that there’s things he needs to discuss before he sees you next and lays it all on the line.

The workday drags, the only bright spots in his day being your phone call at lunch and the few texts you sent throughout the day—all very PG (occasionally PG-13), just discussing who is coming to the party and what stuff to buy and cook. Dennis actually got up the nerve to invite a few people from work (or formerly from work), and he was happy to report to you that Gary is coming along with the receptionist, Lydia, and another guy from his department, Dave, who is bringing his wife and two kids. He wouldn’t consider any of them close friends, of course, but over the past year he has actually gotten to know Lydia pretty well.

They are a bit of an odd pair, he knows; she’s a 60-something-year-old lady who loves to talk about her grandkids, her Yorkie, and Dennis’s (lack of a) personal life, but Dennis knows that it comes from a place of love. She always tells him how much he reminds her of her son, and she’s sort of adopted him as his work mom. They don’t talk to or see each other outside of work, but she always drops by his desk with baked goods and occasionally they’ll sit on the bench outside and have lunch together. Lydia is easy to talk to. She reminds him of his own mother, if his mother had been a chain-smoking, hard-drinking Italian broad. What they do share is the ability to put Dennis at ease while still telling it like it is. Dennis likes that in a woman; it’s one of the things he likes so much about you.

You were ecstatic to hear that Dennis would be having some guests of his own and that it wouldn’t just be your friends taking over his house. You’re especially excited to meet Lydia, who Dennis has assured you knows all about you and approves. As for your friends, it will be Mal and her not-boyfriend, the newly engaged couple from the shelter, and your coffee shop friend and her wife. Not including you and Dennis, that’s 10 adults and 2 kids—a manageable number for Dennis’s first house party. He’s nervous about it, but you’ve told him not to worry, that you’re going to handle everything, and that all he needs to do is help you with the shopping and setting up. You’d even offered to pay for the food but of course he won’t allow you to spend a dime of your own money. He’d appreciated the offer, though, because he knew you actually meant it—that you don’t just treat him like a walking credit card and assume he’ll buy you whatever you want whenever you want it.

Of course, he happily would and wouldn’t think twice about it—Dennis knows you don’t have a ton of disposable income—but he’s learned from Dr. Porter that, while gifts are certainly one of the love languages, he should be cautious about falling into old patterns. He can’t buy love, and he should avoid putting himself in a situation where he feels taken advantage of. But that’s not you; you never expect anything from him even though you know he’s wealthy, but that just makes Dennis want to give you the world.

He knows that he shouldn’t, for example, buy you a new car because yours is a piece of shit that breaks down every two months and Dennis doesn’t feel like you’re safe in it. He wants to, though. He wants to spoil you rotten, and he’s already ordered an almost certainly over-the-top gift for you—something he knows you’ll go crazy for. He’s excited to give it to you on Saturday before the party, and he’s sure you’ll make good use of it.

Dennis is so lost in thoughts of you and all the things he wants to do for you (and to you) that he doesn’t even notice that Dr. Porter’s previous appointment is running long. But Dennis doesn’t mind, because he has to get some things off his chest in there, and he’s not quite ready yet even by the time Dr. Porter’s patient leaves and he invites Dennis inside.

“Sorry about that,” Dr. Porter says as Dennis takes his usual seat. “Lots of catch-up to do after my vacation. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you in sooner.”

Dr. Porter looks very tan and Dennis’s mind wanders to the thought of whisking you away to some exotic beach somewhere and keeping you in a bikini (or less) for a few days. It’d be nice, but it can’t happen right now. One day, though…

“Dennis? You with me?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry. I was just… what did you say?”

“I asked how your week has been.”

“Oh, of course. Well, uh, it’s been… a lot actually.”

And as Dennis becgins to recount the events of the past week, he realizes just how much he’s managed to cram in since the last time he spoke with Dr. Porter. He doesn’t go into specifics about exactly what the two of you have been up to, but he’s happy to report that you’ve had many of the important conversations that Dr. Porter suggested. As expected, the Doc wants to spend some time discussing the Karen situation, even though Dennis would prefer not to.

“I’m very proud of you for the way you are handling things with your ex-wife at the moment,” Dr. Porter says, uncrossing and crossing his legs. “That could have been a paralyzing situation for you, and you dealt with it very well.”

“I’m just glad I told her about Karen before she showed up shitfaced and screaming at my door,” Dennis replies. “It’s like she knew exactly what to do. She wasn’t scared of her at all.”

“What I’m hearing is that your partner made you feel safe and protected, is that right?”

“Yes, exactly. I feel safe with her. I feel like… I don’t know… almost like a different person. Like I can actually be who I want to be and do things I want to do. I mean, I’m still nervous.”

“And that’s perfectly normal,” Dr. Porter replies. “It’s your brain’s way of trying to shield you from potentially dangerous situations—like a sort of warning alarm going off—only right now your brain is wired to view almost any new experience as a potential threat. The good news is that you seem to be able to look rationally at these situations and turn off that alarm when it’s a false one instead of freezing up or backing off. This is real progress, Dennis.”

“I, uh, yeah. I feel pretty good about it. I mean, there’s still the whole going to court thing to deal with, but the court date isn’t for a few weeks and, uh, there’s other stuff I’d rather discuss today if we can.”

“What exactly would you like to discuss?” he asks, and Dennis takes a breath.

“Well, you know how we’ve talked a lot about what I need from a relationship… like, my dealbreakers?”

“Yes, of course,” he replies, a slight look of concern on his face. “Is there something about your girlfriend that doesn’t meet the criteria?”

“No… I mean… I don’t know. It’s just… I’m scared to ask her if she wants kids. It feels like, I don’t know, kind of crazy to drop a bomb on her like, ‘Hey, do you want to have children because I can’t be with you if you don’t,’ you know?”

“There are better ways to phrase that, Dennis, but yes, I understand your hesitation. At the same time, this is a huge deal for you. It’s something you feel is missing in your life, something you’ve decided that you need in order to feel fulfilled, and you deserve to get what you want out of life. It’s incredibly important that you discuss this with your girlfriend, that you’re on the same page about your future. If she doesn’t want the same things that you do, she isn’t the right person for you in the long run. I don’t want you to put yourself in a position where you need to make a choice between a woman you love and the life that you want.”

“I’m just…” Dennis clenches and unclenches his fists. “I’m so close.”

“So close to what?”

“I’m going to tell her how I feel this weekend,” Dennis says, trying to read Dr. Porter’s face and failing. “I’ve already decided so don’t try to talk me out of it.”

“I would never tell you not to express your feelings, Dennis. You know that. And if you feel that strongly for her, then you should tell her that. However, you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that she may not feel the same way, or that even if she does, she may not want the same things that you do.”

Dennis shakes his head because he simply cannot and will not believe that’s a possibility. You were made for him, he knows it. He can feel his whole upper body tense up and he knows that Dr. Porter noticed.

“OK, let’s back up a bit. You said you want to tell her about your feelings this weekend. That’s three days away. Do you think you could have a conversation with her at some point over the next three days in which you could broach the subject of children?”

“I’m not going to be able to see her until Saturday,” Dennis responds. “And, I mean, how do you just bring that up nonchalantly in a fucking text message or a phone call? I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up face-to-face. I just… it makes me feel kind of desperate. I don’t want her to think I’m some old man who only wants to be with her so she’ll have my babies.”

“Having an open, honest conversation about what you want out of a relationship, out of your future life with someone, has nothing to do with desperation. These are your insecurities talking. This is that voice telling you that you don’t deserve the things you want out of life. There’s nothing desperate or strange about a man your age wanting to have children.”

“She’s younger than me,” Dennis says. “I mean, not by a weird amount or anything, but what if she just hasn’t really thought about it yet?”

“If that’s the case, then you need to know that, too.” Dr. Porter looks at Dennis with as much sympathy as he can while still remaining professional and objective. “I know it’s hard, but it’s only this hard because it’s something that’s very important to you. If she feels the same way about you as you feel about her, she wouldn’t want you to give up something you want out of life. Just talk to her, Dennis, and whatever happens, at least you’ll know.”

“And what if I decide I don’t care either way? What if I choose her? Does that make me weak?”

Dr. Porter sighs and taps his pen on his notebook a few times. “Dennis, this is a dealbreaker for a reason. And yes, you are free to make your own choices, but I would highly encourage you to really think about why you’d be willing to sacrifice your own personal needs for a woman you’ve only known for a short period of time.”

“Because I love her,” Dennis snaps, but he’s instantly ashamed that he raised his voice. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to get upset. I’m just afraid. I want a life with her so badly, and I know we haven’t been together long—I know that—but I feel like I’ve known her my entire life.” Dennis looks at Dr. Porter. “Do you believe in soul mates?”

“No,” he replies immediately. “At least, not in that magical, fated to be together sort of way. I do believe that there are people in the world that are uniquely suited to us, but I don’t believe that there is only one person in the world we are fated to be with, no. I find the concept of soul mates too simplistic; it doesn’t take into account the realities of how healthy relationships work and that they take actual work to maintain.”

“Geez, Doc. Tell me how you really feel.”

Dr. Porter chuckles. “Sorry, but I’m not letting you off the hook here with some claim that she’s your soul mate. However, if you really do believe in soul mates and you believe that she is your soul mate, then you have no reason to be afraid to ask her if she wants children, right? Because your soul mate—the person made for you—would obviously want them.”

Dennis knows the Doc is just humoring him, but that actually does make him feel a little better. Because you are made for him—Dennis feels it on a cellular level—and he just needs to man up and ask you the question. Because the Doc is right: he shouldn’t give up on his dreams for you or for anyone else. He wants to be a husband and a father, and if that’s not what you want, then you’re not the right woman for him. Best to know that now, even if it will absolutely destroy Dennis to learn that you’re not as perfect for him as he thinks you are.

***

“So what’s going on with Mr. Hipster,” you say, twirling your linguine on your fork.

Mal sighs. “I don’t know. I mean, I like him. I really like him, I just don’t know if I can date another fucking musician. They’re all narcissists and cheaters.” She takes a sip of her wine and you can tell she’s frazzled. “But he seems… different. I just… I don’t fucking know. I can’t commit, ok? I have issues.”

“Have you talked to him about it?” you ask. “I mean, like, what he’s looking for in a relationship, if he’s just trying to be casual or…”

“Fuck no,” she says. “That’s the kind of mature, adult thing that you would do.”

You laugh. “It’s scary, sure, but it helps. At least you’ll know.”

“What if he just lies to get in my pants? Musicians are fucking liars, too.”

“Mal, he’s already been in your pants.”

“True,” she says, “but what if he lies to stay in my pants?”

You put on your best mom-friend face and tell her, “Just have the conversation.”

“Can I just text him? I don’t think I can actually do it in person.”

You roll your eyes. “I mean, you can do it however you want to do it.”

“I didn’t fucking want any of this,” she says. “I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I just wanted to bang a hot drummer and I went and fucked around and caught feelings.” She sneers when she says the word, like it’s poison on her tongue. “Ugh. God, I hate this shit.”

You giggle but you feel bad for Mal. You know how much she struggles with commitment—divorced parents and too many cheating exes will do that to a person.

“Mal,” you say, “I can see how much you like this guy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. Just talk to him.”

“Fuck,” she says, “fine. But I’m texting.”

You help Mal craft the text message as you both finish your dinner and she pours the rest of your shared wine bottle in her glass before she hits send.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This was a mistake,” she says, taking a huge gulp of her cabernet. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

“It does feel kind of absurd that I’m the one giving you relationship advice.”

“It’s not,” she replies. “You managed in one week to get into a healthier relationship than I’ve ever been in my entire life, so you clearly know something I don’t.” She looks down at her phone and drums her fingers on the table before taking another slug of wine. “Shit. He’s not responding.”

“It’s been like 30 seconds. Relax.”

“Wait… oh God. He’s typing. Fuck, I can’t do this. Here, take my phone.”

She shoves her phone across the table at you and hides her head behind her hands, cursing and groaning. You stare down at the ellipses stopping and starting and you pray to whoever is listening that this guy is worth your best friend’s affections, that he says the right thing and that he fucking means it. The phone dings and Mal curses again, and when you read Carl’s text, you get butterflies.

I want something serious with you. Something real. I didn’t think you did but I was hoping I’d win you over eventually ;) Stay over tonight? I’ll burn you breakfast in the morning…

“Well,” you say, “I think he’s all in.”

“What did he say? Give me the phone.” She reaches across the table and snatches it from your hand, and when she reads the message she practically has little hearts swirling around her head. She lets out a dreamy sigh and looks at you, squinting a little. “You think he means it? Like, is he actually for real? Because I’m so fucking tired of being dissapointed.”

“If you really like him, you have to trust him.”

“I don’t trust men,” she says. “They make it impossible.”

“Not all of them,” you reply, and suddenly you’re hit with a pang of missing Dennis.

You’d put him out of your mind for most of dinner, focusing instead on Mal’s relationship issues, but now all you want is to be with him. You know Mal is going to leave and finally go stay the night with Carl, and that you are going to spend the night alone and wish that it was you fucking your boyfriend and falling asleep next to him. But you’re close now. The day’s almost over, and the it’s just two more fucking days.

“So,” you say, “are you gonna take him up on his offer?”

Mal smiles softly as she responds to his text, then looks up at you and says, “How could I not?”

After packing an overnight bag, Mal leaves you and Badger on the couch. You decide to have one more glass of wine because you’re only on the late shift tomorrow and you don’t have to wake up early. You text Dennis, telling him that you’re home from dinner, and he texts you back immediately.

Can we talk?

You feel your heart start pumping double-time because no three-word combination can launch more anxiety into a person faster than those. You take a sip of your wine before taking a deep breath, and then you call Dennis.

“Hey,” he says.

“What’s wrong?” you ask immediately.

“Nothing. Why?”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Dennis, you can’t just text ‘can we talk?’ That’s, like, the universal phrase for ‘I’m about to say something horrible.’”

“Shit,” he says. “I didn’t think about that. I just, y’know, wanted to talk to you.”

You huff out a laugh. “I was about to have a heart attack. You’re so fucking clueless sometimes.”

“I’m clueless most of the time. That’s why I need you to teach me this stuff.”

“OK, well today’s lesson is if you want to talk, just fucking call me. Never ever text me ‘Can we talk?’ because I will freak the fuck out and think you’re breaking up with me or dying or something.”

“I’m not doing either of those things,” he says, but there’s something weird in his voice—some hesitance. “I did want to ask you something, though.”

“Dennis! That’s not any better! Just ask the thing. Don’t say you’re going to ask the thing!”

You can hear Dennis take a breath before he says, “So, I saw Dr. Porter today and he told me that I need to ask you what you want, like, in the future.”

You tilt your head and knit your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Dennis sighs deep. “OK, I don’t even know how to say this without it being weird, and I’ve clearly already made it weird a couple times, so I’m just going to say it.” He clears his throat. “When I started therapy with Dr. Porter, we talked a lot about relationship red flags and dealbreakers—like, stuff that I absolutely need to have in a relationship in order to be happy. And one of those thing is that I really want to have kids. Like, not today or anything, I just need to be with someone who wants to have a family because Karen didn’t. She fucking lied to me and said she did before we got married and then she wouldn’t do it. So, yeah, there it is. I’m sorry to just lay this on you but I… I need to know if we want the same things before this goes any further. I know you’re younger than me and maybe you haven’t even thought about this at all and I sound like a crazy old man who-”

“Dennis,” you interrupt him. “You don’t sound crazy. And I love kids. I want them. I’ve always wanted a bunch of kids and a bunch of dogs running around.”

“Oh, thank God,” he says. “I was so fucking scared. I didn’t want to have to choose because I know I would have chosen you.”

God, you love him. If he was here right now you swear you’d let him put a baby in you today.

“I’m actually glad you asked,” you say “because I was scared that you didn’t want them. I mean, you were married all that time and you didn’t have any…”

“I get it. It’s weird, I know.”

“It’s not weird—not if you don’t want kids—I just… I really wanted you to want them because I would have chosen you, too.”

“You’re perfect,” he says. “Fuck, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. So much. This is awful.”

“Two more days,” he says.

“Two more days.”

You sigh and take a sip of wine. Part of you wants to ask him to come over right this second, and you know that he would, but he has to be at work in 8 hours and it’s not fair to ask that of him. You know how busy he is, how much he has to do. You hear him yawn on the other end of the line.

“I should let you go,” you say. “You have to be up early.”

“I’d rather stay up all night with you,” he replies.

“You’d regret that choice at work tomorrow.”

“I’d never regret one second with you.”

You can feel your cheeks heat up and God you want to see him so bad. It would be so easy, too. You know he would jump in the car right now if you invited him, but that would be selfish of you. You don’t have work in the morning, and you wouldn’t want him to leave Jax alone at night anyway.

“Goodnight, Dennis,” you say. “Give Jax a kiss for me.”

“He’s fast asleep,” he replies. “But I’ll give him extra kisses in the morning. Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

When you hang up, you feel like a weight has been lifted—and not just because now you know for sure that Dennis wants the same thing as you but also because you know how he must have been agonizing over that, how scared he must have been to bring that up with you. But he did it, he conquered that fear, because he feels safe with you. It makes you feel so fucking good that you can be the person he needs you to be.

You’re up half the night with the rest of that bottle of wine, and as you get progressively drunker, you end up fantasizing about weddings and babies. You look at dresses again. You look up the meaning of baby names you like. By the time you pass out around 3am, you’ve already planned the next ten years of your life. You feel absolutely insane but you don’t care because you’re absolutely, hopelessly, crazy in love with Dennis and you’ve decided that maybe it’s time you tell him that.

PART THIRTEEN >>>

#dennis baker fanfiction #dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker #chris evans #chris evans characters #take me home series

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

Text

Take Me Home - Part 7

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.4K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering. 18+ only, no minors.

*TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @filthy-gorgeous, @whatinthestyles, @justile, @mazarinqueen, @valhalla-kristin

Series Masterlist

Part Seven

“What the fuck is a bad penis?”

“I don’t even know,” Dennis replies. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” You run your hand through his hair gently as you sit curled up next to him on the couch. “All that shit she said to you… anyone would feel the way you’re feeling.”

Your heart is breaking for Dennis. You’d thought Brad was cruel, but the things Dennis is telling you—all the ways Karen made him feel inadequate, the absolutely horrible things she said to him over the course of their marriage… it makes you so incredibly sad, but it also makes you fucking furious. You temper your rage, though, because Dennis doesn’t need to see that. He needs softness and tenderness; he needs you to listen and to understand.

And you do, because you know what it feels like when someone puts things into your mind that you can’t shake even after that person is gone. You know what it feels like to have insecurities that paralyze you. Of course, it was different with Brad; he made you feel like shit about your body and made you feel crazy, but you see now that it was all just a form of control. He made you insecure so he could take advantage of you and make you feel grateful that he would even want you at all. And so you did whatever he asked, whenever he asked, even if you weren’t in the mood.

You tell Dennis this, but you can’t bring yourself to get into specifics about the things Brad said about your body. You don’t want to call his attention to things he might not notice on his own. He doesn’t push you for details, just tells you that you’re beautiful and that you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. You feel bad, though, because he’s being so open and honest and vulnerable and you feel like you’re holding back.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” You rest your head on his shoulder, his bare skin warm against your cheek, but you’re unable to look at his face. “I just… part of me just wants to forget, and I feel like if I say it out loud, it’s going to affect the way you look at me.”

“Then don’t say it,” he replies, bringing two fingers to your chin and tilting your head so you’ve got no choice but to look him in the eyes. “I can promise you that it wouldn’t change the way I look at you, but if you think it’s better to just leave it in the past, then that’s what you should do. The only reason I feel like I have to tell you things is because… well, for one, my therapist says I do. If I hear the words ‘open, honest communication’ out of his mouth one more time I might lose it, but I know he’s right. ”

“What else did he say?” you ask, and it makes you happy to know that Dennis is getting professional help, that at least he’s had someone to talk to about all this.

“He wants me to be able to express my needs—both the emotional ones and the physical ones. He, uh, he told me not to… that we shouldn’t… you know, go too far until I felt like I could talk to you about this stuff.”

“So what do you need?” you ask. “I want to know. I don’t want to do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing or-”

“You could never,” he says. “You always do the right thing and say the right thing. If you didn’t, I would never have been able to go out with you.”

“Yeah, but I need you to tell me so I don’t screw up.”

Dennis sighs. “I just… I need you to be patient with me when it comes to the physical stuff. I’m just so in my own head about it and it’s been a really long time since I felt any sort of… confidence in that area. I mean, I haven’t had sex in almost 6 years. I feel like I don’t even remember how to do it, and that maybe I never knew how to do it.”

You manage to keep the shock off your face but six fucking years? You can’t imagine going that long without any sort of intimacy, and you find yourself feeling so grateful—that he trusts you enough to tell you these things, that he wants you to be the person to help him heal. You want him so badly, but you know you need to go at his pace.

“We can go as slow as you want to, Dennis.”

“That’s the thing, though. I don’t want to go slow. I want to make you happy and, you know, satisfy you and I just… I don’t think I can.”

“You can,” you say, “and you will. I’m not going anywhere. We have all the time in the world to figure it out. And you already make me happy.”

Dennis squeezes his eyes closed and takes a deep breath. “Will you… can you… show me? You know, what you like?”

You smile at him and run your thumb across his beard. “Of course,” you say, “but maybe we should wait a little while. I mean, not too long…”

Dennis chuckles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, maybe we should. I just… it’s hard. I just want to be normal. I’m sure the last thing you were looking for is some headcase who can’t fuck you.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” you command. “Those are her words coming out of your mouth. That’s not what you are to me. Not at all.”

“Then what am I?” he asks.

“You’re the sweetest, kindest guy I’ve ever met. You’re emotionally intelligent and you actually care about me, about how I feel and what I want. And all of that is so incredibly sexy, you have no idea. You’re also really fucking hot. Like, I maybe should have made you put a shirt on before trying to have a deep meaningful conversation with you because all of this is very distracting.”

Dennis blushes as you toy with the hair on his chest, and when he shifts in his seat and clears his throat you don’t have to look down to know there’s a growing tent in his khakis. You should stop. You know you should. But six fucking years… you just want to make him feel good and take his mind off all of this shit.

“Shit,” he says. “Sweetheart, you gotta stop or else-”

“Or else what?” you whisper. “You’ll get hard?”

“I’m halfway there already and if you keep touching me like that…”

“Let me make you feel good, Dennis. You don’t have to do anything. I just… I want to. Can I touch you?”

You feel like maybe you’re pushing him too far. You literally just talked about this and agreed to slow down, but you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so badly in your life and if anyone needs their dick sucked, it’s Dennis.

“Y- Yes,” he stutters. “Yes, please.”

“So polite,” you say, moving your hand down to palm him through his pants.

He hisses when your hand finds his bulge and fuck is it big. You don’t waste too much time outside the pants because you know this poor man isn’t going to last long and you just want to taste him anyway. You slide down onto the floor on your knees in front of him and lick your lips as you unbuckle his belt, and when you finally get his cock free and get your first look at it you actually moan. Jax isn’t the only one in this house with three legs.

“What?” he asks. “Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Oh, baby. It’s not bad. It’s fucking huge. Just wanna…”

You’re so mesmerized by the sight of his cock you can’t even finish your sentence. You can see the precum beading at his tip and you need to taste him and feel him in your mouth. You grab his pants at the waist and pull on them, and he lifts up enough for you to get them down around his knees and out of your way. When you grip the base of his cock, you can barely get your hand around it and you know you’ll never be able to fit all of him in your mouth but you’re sure as hell gonna try. All the muscles in his abs and his chest tense and release, and when you bring your mouth to his slit and the salty-sweet taste of him hits your tongue for the first time, you know you’re already addicted to him.

He moans, “Oh, fuck,” and his voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it and you feel it in your core.

You gently stroke the length of him as you take his swollen head into your mouth and wrap your lips around it, giving open-mouthed kisses to his tip. When you swirl your tongue around his head, it pulls the sweetest sounds out of him and you can’t get enough of the way your name falls from his lips as you start to take him deeper, getting him wetter with each bob of your head. You pop off him and spit, working him with both hands as you take in the sight of him, already absolutely wrecked.

“Does that feel good, baby?” you ask, even though you don’t need to.

“So fucking good. Fuck. I’m not gonna last, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to. I wanna make you cum. I wanna taste you.”

You flatten your tongue and lick the underside of his cock from base to tip, eyes rolling back in your head as you feel his veins pulsing against your tongue. The way he’s watching you, pupils blown and lashes fluttering behind his glasses, has you soaking through your panties. You can’t take your eyes off of him, not even when you hollow your cheeks and take him as deep as your gag reflex will allow, and then a little bit farther. His hips jerk ever so slightly and he pushes a little farther into your throat, and even though you’re gagging and the tears threaten to come you don’t want to let go.

“Oh fuck, oh baby, you feel so fucking good.”

You pop off him for air and stroke him harder and faster now, telling him how much you love the feel of his cock in your throat and how good he tastes. His eyes roll back as you swirl your thumb around his tip and he groans low and deep before his eyes lock onto yours.

“I want… I wanna… oh fuck sweetheart, that feels good.”

“Tell me what you want, Dennis,” you say. “It’s ok.”

“Wanna see you. Will you… can you take off…”

He doesn’t finish but you know what he wants. “You wanna see my tits, baby?”

“Fuck yes. Please. Wanna cum on ‘em.”

You were nervous about showing that part of yourself to him before, but the way he’s begging for it has you giddy. You reach back and unclasp your bra, and when you let it fall to the floor, he moans, “Oh my god, you’re fucking perfect,” before sitting up and taking your breasts in his hands. His touch is gentle but needy, and you keep stroking him as he massages your breasts but it’s getting harder and harder to focus on him because his hands feel so fucking good and you want to feel them everywhere. You look up at him, his pretty lips so close to yours as he digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“I love the way your hands feel on me,” you tell him.

“Yeah?” he asks, and you can tell he really has no idea how crazy his touch is making you and all you want is for him to know exactly how good he’s making you feel.

Because you don’t feel self-conscious. You’re not thinking about all the things you hate about yourself. You can see yourself through his eyes, and his eyes are hungry and desperate and filled with such an urgent need for you that it’s making you dizzy. When he rolls your nipples between his fingers you bring your lips to his and kiss him deep, moaning your pleasure into his mouth because you’ve lost the ability to form words. You’re absolutely throbbing for him, but this isn’t about you—not right now.

You pull out of the kiss and take his cock in your mouth again, gripping his thighs as you bob your head and feeling his muscles jump under your touch as you take him as deep as you can.

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. I’m gonna cum.”

You pop off of him and move in close to him, putting your hands on top of his as you nestle his cock between your breasts. It’s wet enough already, but you spit on it anyway as you guide his hands where they need to be. He doesn’t need your help anymore, though. He’s got your tits shoved together, wrapped around his cock, and he’s snapping his hips as he fucks up against you, the tip of his cock hitting your open mouth at the end of each thrust.

“That’s it, baby,” you say. “Just like that. You wanna cum on my tits?”

He nods vigorously and speaks through gritted teeth. “S- So bad. ‘M so close.”

“Go on, then. Make a mess.”

Dennis’s thrusts grow erratic and his pecs tense up tight before he snaps and lets go with a series of shaky moans. You feel the first spurt warm against your chin and you stick your tongue out to get a taste of it, moaning as you watch him come undone in front of you. He pulls back a little and takes himself in his hand, painting you with hot stripes until you’re absolutely dripping with him. When he’s done, he falls back panting and looks at you, and you think for a moment the post-nut clarity might hit and he’ll be ashamed or embarrassed, but no.

“That was incredible,” he says. “You look so pretty covered in my cum, sweetheart. Come here.”

Dennis reaches out and pulls you up off the floor and into his lap. You straddle him as he gently rubs his spend into your skin, and when he starts to swirl it around your hard nipples, you shudder and clench around nothing. You’d almost forgotten how sensitive your nipples are, how your body responds to even the lightest touch, because for so long you’d been hiding that part of yourself—wearing a bra during sex or covering yourself with your hands. It’s almost too much, and you grab his hand and suck his fingers clean and then he pulls you into a kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he tastes himself on you. When he pulls away, he’s got you breathless and desperate for your own release because who the fuck is this Dennis and where has he been hiding?

“Let me get you cleaned up,” he says, and you think he’s going to go grab a washcloth or something but no—he takes off his glasses and tosses them aside, and then he brings his tongue to your skin and starts to lick you clean.

Oh. Oh. He’s filthy.

***

Dennis doesn’t know where he finds the audacity to do all of these things he wants to do to you—things he didn’t even know he wanted to do—but the second you wrapped your lips around his cock it was like he was a different person. Karen hated blowjobs (or at least she claimed to) and once they got married, she’d stopped doing it because, “a girlfriend has to give blowjobs, a wife doesn’t.” And of course he’d never asked for it, even when they were still having regular sex. He would never pressure someone to do anything they didn’t want to do.

But you… you were literally salivating the second you got your eyes on his dick. He could feel how much you wanted him in your mouth and he’d never felt so desired before. It wasn’t a chore for you; you wanted it, and he could see how much you loved pleasuring him in that way. Dennis wants to do the same for you, for you to see in his eyes how much he wants you, but while he’s certainly found his voice enough to ask for what he wants, he hasn’t had a chance to ask you what you like.

But something about the way your body responded to him when he touched your breasts makes him think that you’d like him to do it again, and god your tits are incredible and all he wants is to feel every inch of them with his lips and his tongue. So he just goes for it, and he knows it takes you by surprise, but you don’t stop him. Instead, you arch your back and grab the back of his head and hold him against your flesh and tell him, “Fuck, that feels good. Please don’t stop.”

He tastes himself on your skin as he cleans you up and there’s something so incredibly intimate about it. It’s nothing Dennis has ever done before but he’s always been curious, even tasted his own cum once or twice before when he’d got himself off, but it’s different like this—the mixture of his own spend and the taste of the sweat on your skin as you writhe in his arms has him intoxicated. He just wants to please you. Fuck, he really wants to make you cum.

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth and sucks on it gently as his hand cups your other breast, and when he wraps his lips around it and applies a little pressure, you moan and grab his bicep as you shudder.

“Too hard?” he asks.

“No,” you whisper. “So fucking good, Dennis. Keep doing that.”

He takes his time, worshipping every inch of your chest with his hands and his mouth. You’re making such pretty sounds—desperate little whimpers and breathy moans and fuck when you say his name, it shoots straight to his dick. Because he’s the one making you feel this way, he’s the one making you feel this good. He kisses up your breastbone to your neck, and when he reaches a spot just above where your neck meets your shoulder, you cry out and tug on his hair and it makes him growl against your skin.

“Touch me, Dennis,” you beg. “Please. I’ll show you what to do. I need it so bad. I need you.”

You unbutton your shorts and guide his hand down inside them, underneath your panties, and you’re absolutely dripping.

“You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart.”

You speak low into his ear. “Mhmm. You did that. Do you feel what you do to me?”

With your hand placed on top of his, you use his fingers to teach him how to touch you and what you like. You show him how to rub your clit in circles, how much pressure to use and where, when to change it up and give your pussy some attention. And fucking hell when you guide his middle finger to your entrance and tell him to put it inside you, his cock springs to full attention against his stomach. You feel like hot velvet against his finger as he slowly moves it in and out of you, at the pace you set for him.

He wants to see you—all of you—but he figures you would have taken your clothes off if you wanted to be naked. He knows you’re sensitive about your body, that it’s probably a lot for you to be even half naked in front of him, but fuck if he knows what you’re so concerned about because you’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. He brings his mouth back to your nipples to suckle you while you fuck yourself with his finger, telling him to add a second one and moaning when he gives it to you. He brings his thumb up to your clit and rubs it like you showed him and you cry out, “Yes yes just like that. Doing so good for me, baby. Gonna make me cum.”

Oh, he likes that. He likes that a lot, and when the pad of his middle finger finds a spot deep inside you that feels a little different, he crooks his fingers a bit and you lose it.

“Oh, fuck. Right there. That’s it. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

“Is that… did I find…”

“Yes, baby. Yes. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum. Keep going. Please please please please fuck you feel so good.”

He wouldn’t dream of stopping, not now, not when he found your fucking G-spot on the first try and he’s soaked to his wrist in you. You tell him faster, harder, and he hangs on your every word, following your instructions until you squeeze your eyes closed and grab his wrist to still his fingers as you cum, your thighs shaking around his as you sigh your pleasure into the crook of his neck. He can feel your walls clamping down on him and you’re gushing around his fingers but he doesn’t dare move them yet. When you go limp in his arms and fall against his chest, he takes it as a sign to very slowly pull them out of you. He pops them straight into his mouth, needing to taste you, and you watch him with your mouth hanging open and your chest heaving as he licks them clean.

“Mmm,” he says, moaning around his own fingers as you watch him wide-eyed, “you taste incredible.”

Fuck he wants to bury his face between your thighs and eat you alive but he’s not quite ready for that yet—best to quit while he’s ahead. You pull him in for a kiss by the back of his neck.

“That was amazing,” you say. “Thank you.”

“No,” he says. “Thank you.” He grabs his glasses and puts them back on so he can see your pretty face better—and you’re fucking glowing and you look like an actual angel laying across his lap, looking up at him with a lazy smile. “I, uh, I don’t know what got into me, I just…”

“Well, whatever it was, I hope it gets into you again.”

You reach up and push a strand of hair behind his ear, and he can tell you’re trying to ignore the fact that he still has an erection but you can’t because it’s basically right next you your head.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “It’ll, uh, settle down.”

“No,” you reply. “I’m impressed. I mean you literally just came, like, a lot and everywhere.”

“You just felt so fucking good. I couldn’t stop it.”

“It’s a good thing, Dennis. Because, I mean, you said you’re worried about cumming too quick during sex, but if you can get hard again in like .5 seconds, it doesn’t even matter how fast you cum the first time.”

“I never thought of it like that,” he says.

“Well, I’m thinking about it,” you reply, “and, believe me, it’s fine.”

Dennis runs his hand down the length of your body, feeling the way it dips and curves, and he feels good—no, he feels fucking great—because he’s not afraid anymore. Well, he sort of is—there’s lots more for him to learn about you and there will surely be some awkward stops and starts along the way, but he trusts you 100% and he knows you’ve got his back. You’re everything he hoped you would be and more, and he just feels so lucky to have found someone who just seems to get him. Even before he told you everything, he felt like you understood him, but now he feels a surge of something—is that confidence?—that tells him that whatever happens, it’ll all be ok because it’s with you.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask.

“My girlfriend and how perfect she is.”

“Well, she’s a lucky girl,” you say.

Dennis bends his head to kiss you but before he gets a chance, he hears Jax whimpering at the back door.

“Shit,” he says, grabbing a blanket to cover both of your nakedness.

You giggle and look at him sideways. “He’s a dog, Dennis. He doesn’t care if we’re naked.”

“It’s just… It’s weird. He’s like my child.”

“We should get dressed anyway,” you say. “And, fuck, what time is it?”

“Almost 11.”

“I should get home,” you say, but he really doesn’t want you to.

“Don’t go,” he says. “Stay with me.”

“I shouldn’t. I have to work tomorrow, and Mal is out so I have to get home for Badger.”

“Ok,” he says, “I understand.” Dennis pulls his pants back on and grabs your shirt and bra off the floor. “Here.”

“I want to stay, Dennis. You know I do, right?”

“I know. It’s ok. I just… I already miss you and you haven’t even left.”

You smile. “Why don’t you come over to my place tomorrow night? I want you to meet Mal and Badger. We can go out to dinner and she can grill you. It’ll be fun.”

“You want me to meet your friend?” he asks. “Isn’t that… I mean, do you think she’s gonna like me?”

“She’s going to adore you because I adore you. So, will you come?”

“I’d love to,” he says.

“Good, now let that good boy out before he has an accident.”

You put the rest of your clothes back on as Dennis walks over to the back door, and when he opens it Jax bolts towards his favorite pee spot by the fence.

“I should take him for a proper walk,” he says, “but I’ll let you go first.”

You tell him you’ll call him in the morning and give him the sweetest kiss goodnight. He walks you to your car, and then you give him another one.

“Goodnight, boyfriend,” you say.

“Goodnight, girlfriend,” he replies, that I love you right on the tip of his tongue before he snatches it back.

***

Mal isn’t home yet when you get there but she’s left you a note next to the note from your dog walker telling you Badger ate all his dinner and took his allergy pill.

Might stay over at Mr. Hipster’s tonight. Don’t wait up xoxo.

This is Mal’s second official date with Mr. Hipster, whose name is actually Carl but you can’t bring yourself to use it. She claims she doesn’t like him like that and that the sex is just good, but you can tell she’s lying to herself a little bit. She’s been texting with him and talking on the phone, which she never does. You’d love to see Mal in a real relationship if that’s what she wants, and you hope that Mr. Hipster is the right guy for her. You don’t judge her for living that casual sex lifestyle, but you know Mal—she has so much love to give and you just want her to stop wasting time on guys who aren’t worthy of her. You want her to find her person.

It’s better that she’s not home, though, because you need to decompress. Your evening with Dennis was… a lot—not bad, per se, just intense. You feel like you did a dating speed run and while you’re happy and relieved to have gotten a lot of stuff out on the table early on, to know 100% that you and Dennis are on the same page, it’s still a lot to digest.

As you walk Badger around the block, you try not to think about that evil fucking bitch Karen and what she did to Dennis but it’s impossible. It’s hard for you to even comprehend how someone could treat him like that, how a person could do anything but love him. You hate her for the things that she did and said to him. Just the thought of her putting her hands on him makes you fucking feral with rage. You wanted to hit her so badly when she showed up at his place, to give her a taste of her own medicine, but you’re not a violent person. Everyone has their limits, though, and it amazes you that Dennis never once fought back. He could have snapped her like a fucking twig, but he never touched her. It makes you so sad for him, but it also makes you love him that much more.

When you get back inside, you take a shower because you smell like a fucking cum rag and you can’t let your filthy skin touch your sheets. You can still feel Dennis all over you and in you, and you’re actually pleasantly sore from just his fingers. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything besides your own fingers inside of you and his are just so long and thick. If this is what two fingers did to you, god help you when you have to take his cock. You’ll make it fit, though. You know you will.

Freshly showered and moisturized, you slip into some comfy pajamas and get under the covers and Badger jumps up into his spot on the bed. You grab your phone to send Mal a quick text and let her know you’re home when you see a text from Dennis. It’s a picture of him shirtless in bed with Jax with a message.

Bed felt too empty without you.

God, he should not be allowed to be this sweet and cute and also have that sinful fucking body. It’s unfair, really. You contemplate sending back a thirst trap of your own but decide against it. You just send him a message instead—Goodnight, my sweet boys—and a kissy face emoji.

You shoot Mal a quick text to tell her you’re home in bed but you leave it at that—there’s far too much to report and you don’t have the energy right now, and you don’t want to interrupt her date with the news that you and Dennis are officially together because you know she will ditch Mr. Hipster in a second to hear everything. You turn on the TV and put on Beachfront Bargain Hunt but you’re not really paying attention, because it’s the time of night when you’re alone with your thoughts and all the bad ones try to creep in and wreak havoc.

You find yourself wondering if you’re strong enough for Dennis, if you have what it takes to help him, and you end up Googling “how to help partner who has ben abused in previous relationships.” It annoys you a little that most of the articles are written from the perspective of a man helping a woman, although you know that the percentage of women who are abused is significantly higher so it makes sense, but still—you can’t find anything that is specific to Dennis’s situation and it bothers you. But you read a few of the articles anyway, just changing the pronouns in your head, because the same general principles apply.

A lot of it you’d heard straight from Dennis—things that he learned in therapy—and what it all boils down to is what you already know: you need to be a safe space for him. And you can do that, you think, but the one question that keeps popping into your head is a selfish one: what about me? Because you’ve been in a relationship where the other person always came first—what he wanted, what he needed—and that didn’t turn out very well and you promised yourself never again. You know in your heart it’s not the same thing and you hate yourself for even thinking it, but you wonder how there will be room for your wounds to heal if you’re busy taking care of Dennis.

But you push that thought out of your head because it’s stupid and it’s selfish and you already know that Dennis would do anything for you. You need to look at this differently, to remember that healthy relationships aren’t one-sided with one person as the giver and the other the taker. You can be there for Dennis and he can be there for you. You can help each other. You can both heal.

PART EIGHT >>>

#dennis baker fanfiction #dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker #chris evans #chris evans characters #take me home series

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

Text

Take Me Home - Part 13

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

WORD COUNT: 7.2K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M&F Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering, Sexting/Nudes/FaceTime sex, Mutual Masturbation. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @whatinthestyles, @filthy-gorgeous, @justile, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy, @ronearoundblindly, @in-umbra-gratia, @vayollie, @thornsnvultures, @whiskeytangofoxtrot-555, @terry2227

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Part Thirteen

You wake up with a pounding headache and Badger’s cold nose butting your face. You should have known he wouldn’t let you sleep past 9. You groan as you push him off you.

“Ok, ok,” you say. “I’m up.”

You stumble to the bathroom and chug a glass of water before brushing the wine stains from your teeth, lips, and tongue. You look like shit and you feel like shit. This is why you don’t drink to excess. You want to crawl back under the covers but you have responsibilities: Badger needs his walk and his breakfast, and even though you feel like death, you have no choice but to get yourself dressed and take care of him. As you shuffle around your room grabbing clothes, Badger sits on your bed staring at you with judgment in his eyes.

“I know,” you tell him. “I’m an idiot. This one’s on me.”

The fresh air outside helps a little, as does the cup of coffee you drink while Badger chows down on his breakfast. The shower you take afterwards helps even more, and you feel almost human after you eat your own breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon. Once you’re done and the dishes are rinsed and placed in the dishwasher, you check your phone to find you have a missed text from Dennis.

D: Good morning, gorgeous. I decided to call in sick from work today. I miss you too much. I need to see you.

You beam as you look down at your phone but the hangover still pumping through your veins has you yet again cursing your decision to stay up late polishing off that bottle of pinot. You want to see him desperately, but not like this. After all these days away from him, you want to be at your best and look your best when you finally get to be with him, and you don’t want to explain why you’re hungover—that you were drinking alone until the wee hours of the morning because you couldn’t stop yourself from planning your fantasy life with him. You take a beat to think before you respond.

Y: I want to see you too but I was an idiot and drank too much wine last night. I’m kind of a mess this morning.

It takes a minute for Dennis to respond and you feel the hangxiety start to settle in as you wait.

D: I hope not because of what we talked about. I didn’t mean to freak you out.

Of course he thinks it’s his fault. Of course he does.

Y: No! You didn’t freak me out at all. I just couldn’t sleep and I didn’t have work in the morning so I went a little overboard. I still want to see you though. I can’t believe you called out of work for me, you naughty boy :)

D: I just woke up this morning and the idea of another two days of this was too fucking depressing to stomach. I thought maybe we could take the dogs to the park. I know you’ve been talking about getting them together to see if they can get along, but if you’re not feeling well then I can always just bring you some hangover food.

Y: No, the park sounds great. I can pull my shit together. Just maybe a nap first :) I don’t have to be at work until 5 so maybe we can meet at around 2?

D: 2 is great. I’ll just get the shopping done for Saturday while you’re napping. Do you have a list?

Y: I always have lists :) Let me just check it over and I’ll send it to you. I’m sorry about this. I feel bad you took the whole day off and I’m wasting it.

D: It’s my fault. I should have asked you first. Besides, I’d rather get the shopping out of the way so we don’t have to do it when you get back on Saturday. There are other things I’d rather do when you get here…

Y: You really are a naughty boy.

D: Only for you ;) Send me the list and take a nap. I’ll see you at 2.

Y: Kay. See you soon <3

You know the anxiety you’re feeling is just remnants of the alcohol in your body but you can’t help it—you’re afraid to see Dennis. As much as the past few days have been testing your patience, you’d resigned yourself to the fact that you’d be seeing him Saturday. You were ready for Saturday, but you’re not ready for today—for a few hours from now when you feel like this and look like this. Not to mention the fact that you’re scared that Badger and Jax won’t get along. It’s the thing you fear most, because what kind of relationship can you have—where can it even go—if you can’t bring your lives together? Badger is such a huge part of your life and you love him with your whole heart, and the thought that he could be what ends up breaking your heart makes you feel sick to your stomach.

Your head is spinning and your nausea has overtaken you, so you grab a big bottle of water from the fridge and head back to bed. You almost forget to send Dennis the grocery list because your mind is so focused on everything that could possibly go wrong today, but just before you start to drift off you force yourself to finalize it so that Dennis can take care of the shopping. There’s a lot to be done because, true to form, you’ve decided to make more work for yourself by making everything from scratch. You’d wanted to impress Dennis with your skills in the kitchen and you’d also wanted to teach him a few things in the process, but in the state that you’re in, it all just seems like way too much.

No, you think, that’s the hangover talking. You can do this. You’re not going to feel like this forever. You’ll be fine to do all of this on Saturday and, with the shopping already taken care of, you’ll have a few extra hours to get everything done. You’re not going to let one night of poor decision-making ruin your entire plan—that little slice of domestic bliss you’re so desperate to have with Dennis in his big, beautiful kitchen with all the best toys. You want him to look at you and think “wife material.” You want him to look at you and picture a life filled with home-cooked meals, and you want to help teach him how to cook, too, because you know how much he wants to learn.

“Get your shit together,” you say to yourself. “Focus.”

You go through the menu—mostly basic 4th of July fare, with vegetarian options for Jack and Betsy and whoever else might want them. For appetizers: deviled eggs, air-fried buffalo cauliflower, fresh guacamole & chips, strawberry & goat cheese crostini with balsamic, bruschetta, and summer vegetable skewers. For sides, you’ll make the standard Italian tri-color pasta salad and potato salad, along with some seasonal extras: grilled peach & heirloom tomato salad with burrata, watermelon & feta salad, and elote. For mains on the grill, the usual hot dogs and burgers (although of course you make your burger patties from scratch and season them yourself), and then some barbecue chicken and portobello burgers. Cassie is bringing a bunch of cupcakes and cookies for dessert, but it’s not 4th of July for you without your grandma’s famous blueberry peach pie.

You triple-check the grocery list, making it as specific as possible for your culinarily-challenged boyfriend, and send it to Dennis. At least you know he knows how to pick produce. As for the booze, you can’t even think about alcohol so you tell him to just handle that part of things. You can always deal with it later once your head clears and the thought of alcohol no longer makes your stomach want to upend itself into the toilet. Part of you feels bad because you know you’re overcomplicating things; you’d wanted to help pay for it all since you’re the one who decided to go a little crazy, but Dennis wouldn’t hear of it. Still, you hope that he doesn’t feel obligated to pay. You don’t want him to look at you and think you're just another broke bitch taking advantage of him. You text him again because you need to make sure.

Y: Are you sure all this is ok? I know it’s a lot of stuff. I may have gone a bit overboard…

D: It’s more than ok. I can’t wait to eat my weight in your food. I know it’s gonna be amazing. Plus, I’m gonna get my own personal cooking class and I hear the teacher is really hot ;) Go to sleep and stop worrying about it. I’ve got it.

You smile and send him back a heart and a kiss emoji, and then you put your phone on your nightstand and you pass the fuck out.

***

Dennis is slightly disappointed that he can’t spend the whole day with you and he’s a bit concerned that you weren’t entirely truthful about why you drank so much. He knows you don’t drink a lot, especially not alone, and he can’t help but think that your conversation last night had something to do with it. Maybe you felt like he was putting pressure on you, maybe you felt overwhelmed with all that talk of the future and babies and that’s why you drank yourself to sleep. The last thing in the world that Dennis wants to do is pressure you into anything, but he thinks that maybe that’s exactly what he did, even though he didn’t mean to.

But he tells himself that you promised to always be truthful with him, that you’ve never once shied away from a difficult conversation and you’re always honest with him. He has to believe you were telling him the truth when you said that you want the same things that he does. The alternative is too troubling, too heartbreaking for him to think about.

Dennis takes his shopping duties very seriously. You’d sent him your list in Notes, but he types it up and prints it out and takes it with him to the store with a pen so that he can check off every last thing and make sure that nothing is forgotten. You trusted him with this task and he doesn’t want to screw it up. There’s a lot of shit on your list but he doesn’t care because his stomach is growling just thinking about all the delicious things you’re going to make for him and your guests. And it is your party: yours and his together—that’s how he thinks of it in his mind. To Dennis, his house is already yours, too. Everything he has is yours if you want it.

He’s focused and determined as he walks the aisles. He’s been to the grocery store before, obviously, but never with such a specific haul in mind. Dennis generally sticks to the frozen food aisle and the pre-prepared section, but today he’s got to navigate the rest of the place. He wishes that you were beside him, not because he can’t handle it on his own but because he was looking forward to going shopping with you. Undoubtedly you would have been filled with little tidbits of advice on the best things to buy and easy things he could make with them, but more than that, he just wants you with him all the time. Even doing boring everyday tasks—grocery shopping or dropping off dry cleaning or picking up prescriptions—with you, all of it would seem like something fun and fresh and new.

Karen hated running errands but it was the one thing she actually did. Of course, she never wanted Dennis to come along. She always told him she would do it only so she could get out of the house, get away from him for a few hours. All Dennis wants in the world is a partner—someone to do things with who wants to spend that time with him, even if it’s only a quick trip to the store to buy toilet paper. He already feels the absence of you in the space next to him as he checks out. You would be smiling brightly at the cashier and thanking her, you would be bagging the groceries as they came down the conveyor belt, arranging everything in the bags exactly as it should be so that nothing gets smushed or broken. You’d be offering to pay again even though Dennis has told you ten times already that he’s not taking a dime from you. And after he’d paid and you’d walked out and put the groceries in the back of Dennis’s car, you would give him a huge hug and a kiss and you’d say, “Thank you.”

This is how his life is now when you’re not there: all Dennis can think about is what you would be doing if you were with him. So, in a way, you are always with him, but he just wants—he needs—the real you. He needs to see your smile, hear your laugh, feel your lips and your skin. He needs the soothing presence of you.

After putting all the groceries away and taking a shower, Dennis grabs Jax and heads to the park to meet you. His heart is racing all the way there; the old nerves are back. He can’t stop those intrusive thoughts from entering his mind: she didn’t really want to see you today, you pressured her into it. And then there’s the big question: will Badger and Jax get along? He knows how important it is that they do, and maybe he should have waited for you to take the lead on that instead of suggesting it himself, but part of him needs to know now—the same part that needed to know if the two of you are on the same page needs to know if your dogs are, too.

Because if they aren’t—if you can’t figure out a way to combine your fur-families—then what is this all for? Dennis knows he often creates potential problems and pitfalls in his own head, but this one is very very real.

Jax is raring to go when Dennis parks the car but he tells him, “We have to wait for mama,” and he sits in the car waiting for you to arrive. He hears your car before he sees it—that horrendous clunking sound and the screeching of your brakes. Every cell in his body is screaming at him not to let you drive that thing but there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. Well, there is, but you’d never allow it, never accept it.

You park next to him and get out with a huge smile on your face and Dennis instantly feels like the thousand-pound gorilla that’s been sitting on his chest is gone. You’re practically skipping over to his driver’s side and by the time Dennis gets out, you’re already there and you’re throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a hungry kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that probably shouldn’t be shared in public, but Dennis doesn’t care because fuck he missed your soft lips and your warm tongue and the way his scalp tingles when you run your fingers through his hair. Dennis keeps his hands on your waist even though he wants to put them many other places—like, for example, your ass, which looks like a ripe peach in the leggings you’re wearing.

Dennis has to pull out of the kiss because he’s already half hard and it’s becoming very obvious in the shorts he’s got on. You giggle because you can feel it and you can see it and Dennis knows he’s gone bright red, but again, he doesn’t care, because the way you dig your teeth into your bottom lip when your eyes dart quickly down and back up to his face makes him want to throw you over the hood of your piece of shit car and tear your leggings open and-

“I missed you,” you say, breaking him out of his X-rated reverie. “I can tell you missed me, too.”

“You have no idea,” he says. “Fuck. I can’t go on the trail like this, Sweetheart.”

“We’ll give it a few minutes. Besides, we need to talk through how this should go.”

Jax starts barking, clearly tired of waiting to be let out of the car so he can greet you properly.

“He’s worked up already,” you say, “so let’s take him out first so he can say hi to me and get it out of his system. We’ll do it on the other side of your car so Badger can’t see.”

Dennis lets Jax out and he bounds over to you where you’re kneeling down to greet him. Jax kisses all over your face and you giggle as you try to push his face away.

“I missed you, too, Jaxy,” you say. “But I need you to be a good boy today, ok? There’s a very special dog I want you to meet and he needs you to be chill. Can you do that for me, buddy?”

Jax barks like he understands you, and Dennis thinks that he might actually—that maybe you actually speak dog. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least; you’re basically a Disney princess.

You stand up and hand Jax’s leash to Dennis. “OK, so what we have to do is basically keep them pretty far apart at first. I think the trail is too narrow so maybe we start just in the field and walk them around. I need you to keep a tight hold on Jax because he’s just so friendly that he’s going to overwhelm Badger and he doesn’t respond well to that—especially with a bigger dog.”

Dennis can see in the way you’re shifting your weight and knitting your brow that you’re nervous—even more nervous than he is and Dennis is already sweating through his t-shirt with worry. He doesn’t want to do the wrong thing; he doesn’t want it to be his fault if something goes wrong.

“But, wait… Shit, I should have let Badge see you again first, give you a good sniff. God, I’m such a fucking disaster today.”

“How are you feeling, by the way? Because you look great. Better than great, actually.”

You give him a shy smile. “Ok, well, you’re lying, but thank you.”

“I’d never lie to you,” Dennis says.

You smile. “I know,” you say, “but, ok, fuck. We need to put Jax back in the car for a minute so I can let Badger out. Then we’ll just do like last time. He’ll remember you and I brought a ton of treats. Here.” You dig a handful of treats out of the pouch you’re wearing and hand them to Dennis. “Put those in your pocket.”

“Got it,” Dennis says, but he’s all thumbs trying to get the treats into his pocket and a few of them fall on the ground. “Goddammit.”

“Relax,” you say as Dennis wrangles Jax back into the car. “I know it’s stressful. I’m fucking stressed about it, too, but they can read our body language. They can smell it on us, so we’ve gotta be calm. If we’re relaxed, it will be much easier for them to relax.”

Dennis takes a deep breath in, holds it, then releases it, and with it some of the tension he’s been holding in his muscles.

“You ready?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You let Badger out of your car and walk him over to Dennis, who is standing out of view of Jax.

“You remember Dennis?” you ask him. “You wanna go say hi?”

Dennis maintains eye contact with you as Badger tentatively makes his way towards him, tossing a few treats on the ground near his feet. Badger snatches them all up and wolfs them down, and then Dennis feels a cold, wet nose on the skin of his ankles and snoot trail moving up his calves.

“Good boy, Badger!” Dennis tosses another couple of treats as you praise him. “You like Dennis, right? Mama likes Dennis, so you should, too.”

“Can I look at him yet?” Dennis asks.

“Go ahead,” you say, “and flash him that pretty smile of yours.”

Dennis knows his smile is forced when he looks down at Badger, but when he meets the pup’s eye, there’s something so soft and sweet in them. Dennis recognizes it—it’s fear coupled with the desire to be loved, to be safe.

“Hey, Badger!” Dennis says. “Hey, pal. You wanna be friends? I wanna be friends. You’re a good boy, you know that?” Dennis tosses treats down as he chats with Badger, and he notices the most tentative of tail wags. “You’re a sweet boy, aren’t you? Just need a little extra attention, right? Some extra love?”

Badger wags his tail harder now and Dennis hears you gasp. When he looks over at you, you’ve got your hands over your mouth and tears in your eyes. “Keep going,” you say. “He… he likes you. I can’t fucking believe it. I’m so fucking happy.”

Dennis takes another few moments talking to Badger and treating him, and when you say it’s ok, he reaches his hand down slowly, fingers curled in and wrist pointed toward Badger. A few days ago, Dennis would have been terrified he was about to lose an appendage, but not now—not when he sees how Badger’s face has softened toward him, how he’s smiling with his eyes (though not yet with his mouth). Dennis holds his hand just within reach of Badger and he waits.

“It’s ok, buddy,” Dennis says. “We don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to.”

And then Badger, slow as molasses, moves his nose towards Dennis’s fingers and sniffs them. His tongue darts out and he licks Dennis’s knuckles, and you are both praising him for it and treats are raining from the sky for him, and after a few more investigative smells and tastes, Badger lets Dennis pet him on the head.

“Good boy, Badge!” you call out, but Dennis isn’t even looking at you; he’s looking into the eyes of this sweet old dog who didn’t have to trust him but chose to and he feels his own tears start to come.

“Fuck, now I’m crying, too,” he says to you.

“It’s ok,” you say, wiping tears off your cheeks. “Happy tears are always good.”

Dennis is gently petting Badger’s head, giving him a few soft, behind-the-ear scratches, but he knows Jax is getting antsy in the car. He can hear him barking.

“We should let Jax out again,” Dennis says.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’m gonna take Badger over to the far side of the field. Why don’t we do this—how about you take Jax down the trail for like 10-15 minutes, let him get some of the crazy out, and then meet us back at the field and we can see how they do.”

“Sounds perfect,” Dennis says, and he throws Badger one last treat before you walk him off into the distance.

Dennis takes the trail with Jax at a quick jog, with Jax keeping perfect time at Dennis’s heel. He breaks out into a run after they’re both warmed up, and Dennis has to struggle to keep pace with Jax who is bursting with energy after his morning spent alone and all that time in the car. Dennis knows it’s important that Jax be as tired out as possible when he meets Badger—his boy’s energy is off-the-charts and he doesn’t want your timid old dog to get spooked by 80 pounds of hyperactive German Shepherd.

Dennis sees now what drew you to Badger: his big brown eyes, the eyes of an old soul. Dennis could see in those eyes everything he knew he was when he met you—scared, anxious, desperate for connection but afraid that intimacy will come with violence. He knows what drew Badger to you, too: your pretty eyes, sparkling with kindness, telling him without words that you’re going to make everything ok—that he’s safe now, with you. From the very first second he met you, there was something about your spirit that just put Dennis at ease; it’s what attracted him to you first. Not your beauty or your figure or even your dazzling smile—though any one of those things on their own would have been enough to have Dennis totally sprung. No, it was your aura; it was your soul.

***

You walk Badger around the edge of the field near the tree line, waiting for him to do his business. You don’t want him overtired and cranky, but you want to give him a break in between his reunion with Dennis and meeting Jax. You’re walking on air as you watch Badger track a monarch butterfly with his eyes, just sitting and watching it flutter around his head, and you think to yourself how much you love him and how proud you are of him for facing his fears. You know that dogs have a good sense about people, and the fact that Badger likes Dennis is just extra proof that he’s a good, kind man. Maybe Badger can even sense how much you love Dennis; maybe that was the extra push he needed to be brave and give Dennis a chance.

At the 15-minute mark, you look over at the trailhead and see Dennis walking a worked-out Jax. Even from a distance, you can see Dennis’s shirt is drenched in sweat and glued to every curve of his muscular torso. He must have run Jax to tire him out—good thinking. You smile at him and wave but all the while you’re just watching that body come closer and closer to you. His pecs and his nipples are clearly visible through the wet white fabric and they bounce just a little as he walks towards you. It’s obscene, really, the way this man is walking around right now. You think you might be drooling harder than Jax.

You stop him when he’s about 30 feet away and tell him to start walking parallel to you, and he does exactly what you ask. You can tell Jax is curious about Badger, but he’s too tired to pull or bark his hello. Badger is instantly wary of Jax, but he sees Dennis also, and you can read the confusion on his face—the desire to go towards Dennis but the urge to keep away from the big, strange dog with him.

You tell Dennis to move a few feet closer and keep a tight hold on Jax as you keep walking, and you give Badger’s long lead a bunch of slack, allowing him to walk as close or as far away as he wants. As you and Dennis move closer, the two of you discuss how his shopping trip went and you tell him to just talk—tell you everything—as you’re laser-focused on Badger. Initially, he keeps a wide berth, staying far on the other side of you, but after a little while, his curiosity gets the best of him and he starts to make his way closer to Dennis and Jax.

“Good boy, Badger!” you say, and you give him a treat.

You treat and praise every time Badger moves a little closer or makes eye contact with Jax, who is being a very very good boy and keeping at Dennis’s heel.

“Tiring him out was a good idea. Did you run him?” you ask.

“He ran me,” Dennis replies, and you laugh.

“I can tell,” you say. “I can see your titties through that shirt and it’s making it very difficult to concentrate. You really had to wear white, huh? That’s very slutty of you.”

“I didn’t really think about it,” he replies, looking down at his own chest. “But, I mean, if you like it…”

“Oh, I love it, but I don’t want you showing off the goods to other bitches.”

“You’re the only bitch I want,” he says, a goofy grin on his face, and you get lost in it for a moment before you realize that Badger has stopped and he’s sitting and looking at Jax.

“Ok,” you say. “Tell Jax to sit. Let’s see if Badge wants to investigate.”

Jax sits at Dennis’s command and you throw a treat into the grass a few feet in front of Badger—in between him and Jax—to see if he’ll go for it. He does, very slowly, with his eyes on Jax the whole time. When he gets the treat, you tell Dennis to give one to Jax, too—that that’s how it has to be: if Badger gets one from you, Jax gets one from Dennis, so no one gets greedy and wants the other dog’s treats. Positive reinforcement, you tell him. That’s what it’s all about. That’s the only way this works.

Jax stands up and you tell Dennis that’s ok but to tell him to stay, which of course he does because Jax is a good boy—absolutely nuts, but he always listens to commands; you made damn sure of that when you trained him. If there’s any dog in the world that you trust with Badger, it’s Jax, because he will always listen to you. Even if something happens and Dennis panics, which is totally understandable for a new dog owner, you know that Jax will heed your commands.

Slowly and steadily, Badger makes his way over to Jax, stopping about five feet away before putting his nose to the ground and inching towards the strange dog opposite him. You can see Jax getting excited to meet a new friend, but he’s not overly hyper about it; he’s just bringing some good vibes to the party and you hope that Badger is picking up on them. Just two feet away now and you find yourself gripping Badger’s leash so tight it’s leaving indentations on your palm. Dennis is tense, too, but you can see him breathing through it as he praises Jax for staying. You watch with bated breath as Badger closes the distance between him and Jax, and now it’s just up to the fates to decide whether they smell good to one another.

And now, the moment of truth: the first butt sniff. Badger goes in first and Jax lets it happen with a smile on his face. After Badge gets a few sniffs in and doesn’t freak out—a very tentative seal of approval—Jax curls around him and sticks his nose a few inches from Badger’s tail, which is still low and guarded. You and Dennis meet each other’s eyes over the dogs circling each other below you, sharing a moment of excitement and panic, and then you look down and see that Jax is on his back for Badger.

“Oh my God,” you say as Badger sniffs Jax’s tummy.

When he looks up at you, you tell him “Good boy!” and give him a treat, and Dennis fumbles to get one to Jax, too.

“Calm, cool, collected,” you say softly. “It’s going well. Really well.”

“I’m so fucking nervous I feel like I’m gonna puke,” Dennis tells you, and oh do you know the feeling but you’re so in shock that Jax is actually submitting like this that you don’t even know what to say.

Jax stays on his back for about a minute, and during that time Badger investigates Jax’s stump for quite a while. Jax lets it happen but it’s not long before he bounces back up onto his feet: he’s been patient and he wants to play a little now, and you can’t expect anything more from him. Badger takes a few steps back, startled a bit by Jax, but you can tell he’s not entirely afraid. He just can’t remember how to play with other dogs—what it’s like to feel safe around one.

Badger moves back in and Jax starts to hop around a bit, pushing Badger away and then baiting him back in by bowing with his rump high in the air and his tail wagging. You can tell Badger doesn’t quite know what to do with this silly, crazy dog in front of him, but you can see by his body language that he’s more curious about Jax now than afraid—that he sensed something in Jax that assured him that there was nothing to fear. You wonder then, as you often do, if dogs can smell each other’s pain—if there’s some sort of scent that indicates a sense of shared trauma. Looking at the two of them now, you’d be willing to bet money on it, because they are doing a little bit of light wrestling and mouthing at each other (which you’d already assured Dennis is something totally normal and that he shouldn’t freak out if he sees the teeth come out).

“Let’s quit while we’re ahead,” you say. “Badger come!”

Badger comes right to you and sits at your feet and you give him a bunch of treats and praise him. Dennis follows your lead and does the same.

“What now?” he asks.

“Now I think we call it,” you say. “It’s hot out and I’d rather leave them wanting more, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” he replies. “They’re not the only ones who are gonna leave here wanting more.”

“Maybe you can get a little more after we get them in the cars and get the AC cranked up.”

“I’ll take that,” he replies, and you both make your way over to the parking lot.

After you’ve given your respective pups their water, cooled down the cars, and got them settled, you’ve got Dennis’s name on the tip of your tongue when you hear it being called out from another woman’s lips. In the distance, you see a German Shepherd puppy dragging a very fit blonde woman across the parking lot. She’s got one hand on his leash and the other is waving at Dennis, and you can see the shock and fear in his wide eyes as he watches her come toward him. He takes a few steps back, but the puppy closes the difference quickly when its handler drops the leash and lets him run. The puppy jumps up onto Dennis’s legs the second he gets close enough.

“Hey Dennis!” the woman says. “It’s Stacey, remember? Been waiting for you to call me about that playdate!”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Dennis stammers, and you feel your heart fall into your gut as this Stacey woman looks at your boyfriend like he’s a 5-course meal. “Hey, uh, Stacey,” he says. “I want you to meet my girlfriend.”

Dennis looks at you with a nervous smile and waves you over, but you’re already on your way. You introduce yourself and Stacey takes your hand, looking wary of you as she shakes it.

“Well!” she says. “You didn’t mention you had a girlfriend when you took my number the other day!”

“I… I didn’t…” Dennis stutters. “You just gave it to me.”

Stacey looks at you, hands on her hips. “Sorry about that,” she says, looking anything but. “He was flirting so I just assumed…”

“I wasn’t,” you hear Dennis say weakly.

“I’m sure he was just being friendly,” you say, the fakest smile plastered on your face while every muscle in your body tenses up with anxiety. “My boyfriend is a very friendly guy.”

She scoffs. “Maybe a little too friendly, sweetie. Keep your eye on that one. Come on, Mickey.”

Dennis hands Stacey her dog’s leash and clenches his jaw as she takes it from him, her hand grazing his knuckles as she does.

“See you around, Dennis,” she says.

“Bye,” he replies, and his voice cracks when he says it.

Dennis turns to you and holds up his hands. “I didn’t give her my number, I swear. And I didn’t fucking flirt with her.”

“Well, she sure seemed to know you,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest where your heart is pounding against your rib cage. You can feel your hangover coming back full force as you stand there, sun beating down on you, and you suddenly feel light-headed. “I have to go,” you say.

You stumble towards your car and grab the door handle as Dennis says “Wait!” and comes up behind you. He grabs at your arm but you wrench it away.

“Don’t,” you say. “I just… I have to go. I don’t feel well and I have to work in a few hours and I just… I have to go.”

“Please don’t leave,” he begs. “Let me explain.”

“I’ll talk to you later, ok? I just really want to leave now.”

“O- ok,” he says meekly. “But I swear to you I didn’t do anything.”

You can’t look him in the eye because you feel like you’re about to throw up all over yourself, so you get in your car, put it in drive, and start towards home. You’re crying by the time you pull out of the park’s parking lot and you don’t know if you can even make it home in this state, your body nearly shaking and your head swimming with all the old insecurities. You want to believe Dennis but you can’t help but wonder if maybe he did flirt with her a little, get her number just in case things with you didn’t work out. It hurts your heart to even think about it. You hear the words in your head—desperate, needy, clingy, crazy—and are you all of those things after all? You certainly fucking feel like all of them now.

By the time you get home, you’re so worked up that your hands are shaking as you try to get the keys in the door. Badger goes right to sleep, but you just pace around your apartment, trying to get a hold of yourself.

He wouldn’t, you tell yourself. He would never. He loves me.

But does he? He hasn’t told you that he has, but then again neither have you. You were so ready, too—so close—and now you feel like you’re right back at the beginning.

You shower and ready yourself for work, forcing some dinner down your throat and feeding Badger before you leave. You need this shift to be easy—your body needs it and your mind needs it—so of course, it’s an absolute nightmare. You haven’t had one like this since the night Jax got brought into the shelter. Within the first half hour of your shift, you get a call for an emergency intake: a Beagle found scrounging around on the side of the road in really rough shape. The people who made the call said that they were scared to approach it, so you send a team over to the location to bring the dog in safely. One of them arrives with a chunk taken out of his arm and has to go to the hospital.

The poor, terrified Beagle is muzzled and caged in the examination room and you can hear that pained caterwaul howl echoing throughout the place as you wait for the emergency vet to arrive. After the vet sedates her, you finally get a good look at her and it’s absolutely horrifying: the most revolting human cruelty writ large on this poor animal’s body. Halfway through the exam, you have to run to the bathroom and throw up your dinner. Your head is pounding behind your eyes and you’re dizzy but you get back to work because this animal needs your help. You decide to name her Hope because it’s what she’s going to need to get through what will surely be a very long and very rough road to recovery.

It’s 10pm by the time Hope gets transported to the animal hospital to start the rehabilitation process and you head to your office to lay your head down and take a breather. The overnight staff will be there soon and you’re going to have to hand off a lot of the night’s work to them because you are completely spent and you can’t stay an extra minute after your shift today. Normally, you would stay until 1 or 2 after a rough night intake just to get all your shit done so you didn’t have to burden anyone else, but not tonight. Tonight you have nothing left to give.

You check your phone for the first time in hours and you see two missed calls and a bunch of missed texts from Dennis. In all the chaos, you’d completely forgotten about your afternoon, and all of it seems so small now as you read his messages, each more desperate than the last for you to please just talk to him. You barely finish reading them before you dial his number.

“Hi,” he says, and you start bawling the second you hear his gentle voice on the other end of the line. “Hey? Are you ok? What happened? Sweetheart, talk to me.”

You’re almost hyperventilating and you can barely get the words out, “C- can you c- come here?”

“I’m on my way,” he says—zero hesitation—and he hangs up.

You’re waiting outside for Dennis, pacing, when his car pulls into the lot. You don’t wait for him to come to you; you run to him and you jump on him and you collapse crying into his big, strong arms. It’s what you needed—to be held by him, wrapped up in his scent and the calming presence of his strong body.

“It’s ok,” he says, his voice like a balm. “It’ll be ok. Talk to me,” and once you can recover the ability to speak, you tell him everything.

He listens to all of it, stroking your back and your hair and holding you so close you feel like you’re one single person. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he tells you.

“It was horrible,” you say. “Worse than Jax, even. The sound that came out of her, Dennis… I can still fucking hear it.”

“She’s gonna be ok,” he tells you, rubbing your back in the most hypnotically pacifying way. “She’s safe now.”

You look up into his blue eyes, so filled with concern for you. “I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “About earlier. I was being fucking stupid. I overreacted. I should have just let you explain but I-”

“It’s ok,” he says. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” you insist. “That was so fucking unfair of me. You deserve better than that. You’ve never done anything to make me question you. You’ve only ever told me the truth—and, like, hard truths, too. That was so fucked up of me to do, I’m sorry.” You push a chunk of hair behind his ear and ask, “Forgive me?” but you can see in his eyes that he already does.

“There’s nothing to be forgiven for. You’re fine. We’re fine. I love you.”

He looks just as surprised as you when he says it, and now you’re crying all over again but they’re happy tears,

“I love you, too, Dennis. So much.”

He kisses you deep, his hands cradling your face, and his lips and his touch erase everything: your whole shit day—poof, gone. You still remember, of course, but it’s so far in the back of your mind that it barely even registers. You feel too high on Dennis to care about any of it, because he loves you—really loves you—and you love him, too.

PART FOURTEEN >>>

#dennis baker fanfiction #dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker #chris evans #chris evans characters #take me home series

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

Text

Take Me Home - Part 9

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

WORD COUNT: 4.9K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @filthy-gorgeous, @whatinthestyles, @justile, @mazarinqueen, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy, @ronearoundblindly, @thornsnvultures, @terry2227

Series Masterlist

Part Nine

The restaurant is bustling for a Sunday night, and as the hostess takes you to your table you look around in awe of the place. It’s sleek and modern without being minimalist, bathed in low warm light with chillout music playing at the perfect volume. The place is lively and sexy and not any place you’d ever have pictured Dennis choosing, but you’re pleasantly surprised to find that, in his Sunday best, with his arm around your waist, he looks totally comfortable. The hostess seats you at a table near the open kitchen, and when she hands Dennis the wine list, he passes it to Mal almost instinctively.

“You drinking tonight?” she asks you.

“Not really,” you reply. “I’ve got work in the morning, and you know more than two and I’m useless the next day.”

She sighs. “Lightweight,” she says, snapping the wine list closed. “Cocktails it is then. I’m not gonna drink a whole bottle by myself.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you snark, and she laughs.

“Hey! Don’t make me look like a wino in front of my new friend here.” She turns to Dennis. “So, what’s your poison, Dennis?”

“I’m not much of a drinker either,” he replies, “but feel free to get whatever you want.”

“You might regret saying that,” Mal replies, “but I’ll just stick to my dirty martinis.”

You turn to Dennis, who is holding the signature cocktail menu, and point at one of the drinks. “I was checking out the menu earlier and I thought you might like this one—it’s like an old fashioned but with fresh peaches and blackberries.”

“That sounds perfect,” he says. “I love peaches.”

“Well you’ve already got the juiciest peach in this place,” Mal quips, and you kick her under the table. “Ow! Fuck.”

“Don’t mind her,” you say, noting the flush rising on Dennis’s cheeks and the tiny smile playing at the corner of his lips. “She’s an idiot.”

Dennis leans over and whispers in your ear, “She’s not wrong,” and the deep timbre of his voice shoots straight to your core.

“Stop it,” you say. “Both of you.”

Mal giggles and gives Dennis a cheeky little wink. It’s gonna be a long night if she keeps this up, but you’re not actually mad. It feels good—easy, comfortable even—being with the two of them, and you can tell Mal already likes him. She wouldn’t bother hiding it if she didn’t.

You already know what you’re going to order. When you weren’t out of your mind on wedding websites earlier in the day, you were studying the menu and making your decision. All of you are ready by the time the waiter arrives to take your drink order but when you see the man’s face you freeze for a moment before looking away. You know him—Tom; he used to work at Brad’s restaurant and he would hang out late night with the chef crew from time to time. You bury your face in the menu, hoping he doesn’t recognize you. If he does, he doesn’t mention it, just takes your table’s order and says he’ll be back swiftly with your drinks.

One slight arch of a perfectly shaped eyebrow tells you Mal knows something’s up, but she’s not about to ask you in front of Dennis. You shake your head at her, almost imperceptibly, telling her to drop it in that secret non-verbal friend language.

“So, Dennis,” she says, and you brace yourself for what’s coming.

“Here we go… Please be nice, Mal.”

“I’m always nice. I just want to know what your intentions are with my bestie here.”

“Oh my Godddd.” You hide your face in your hands and you hear Dennis chuckle next to you. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s a valid question,” he says. “She’s just looking out for you.”

“Damn right,” Mal says. “So…”

“Well,” Dennis begins, “I don’t know how much she’s told you about me and my divorce-”

“I didn’t say anything,” you interrupt, turning to him. You look into his eyes, needing him to know that you didn’t break his trust. “I didn’t tell her about all that, and you don’t have to either.”

“It’s ok.” He places his hand on your thigh under the table and gives it a gentle squeeze before turning back to Mal. “I was in a bad situation for a really long time. My ex-wife is… not a nice person. When we finally got divorced, I thought it was enough to just be away from her, that I could just be happy on my own without having to deal with… all that.” He turns to you and the adoration in his eyes makes your stomach flip. “But then I met you, and I knew I could never be happy alone knowing you were out there.” He turns back to Mal. “I never thought she’d go out with me. Couldn’t even get up the courage to ask her. She had to ask me. But I’m so happy she did. So, uh, I guess my intentions are to make her happy for as long as she lets me.”

You can see from the way Mal’s face softens as he talks that he’s already won her over, and she confirms it when she says, “OK, that’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard. I might puke actually.”

You turn to Dennis. “Do you mean that?”

“Every word,” he replies, and you lean over and cup his face with one hand and plant a gentle kiss on his lips as Mal fakes gagging sounds in the background.

A voice rings out, and it’s one you never wanted to hear again. “Get a room.”

Your hand drops to Dennis’s shoulder and you grip it tight, staying stock-still as your body runs cold and your heart pounds in your chest. Dennis looks up and over your shoulder, glaring at the source of the interruption with his eyebrows scrunched together, but you don’t turn around—you can’t, because you know exactly who is behind you and he’s the last person on earth you want to see.

You hear Mal’s voice but it’s like you’re underwater. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she snaps.

“I work here, Mallory,” Brad says. “Tommy said you all were here and I figured I’d bring you your drinks… on the house, of course.”

“We don’t want shit from you. Just fuck off, will you?”

“Aww, not even gonna turn around, babe?” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “Come on. That’s no way to treat an old friend.”

“She’s not your fucking friend and you need to leave,” Mal says, practically growling. “Now.”

“Well considering I’m the sous chef here, I’m pretty sure I can be wherever I’d like.”

You hate that you’re frozen in place, unable to turn around and face Brad and unable to look Dennis in the eye. You can feel Dennis’s eyes on you as you try to keep your breathing steady and swallow what feels like a golf ball lodged in your throat. You’ve got your head down, staring at the patch of chest hair poking out the top of Dennis’s dress shirt, when you feel him grab your hand under the table and squeeze.

He leans in and asks low in your ear, “That him?” and you nod.

Dennis clears his throat and you can tell he’s about to say something but you don’t want him involved. You can’t hide from this; you need to be the one to put an end to it. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you turn around and see Brad sneering at you in his chef’s whites.

“There she is,” he says. “Been a while.”

“Not long enough,” you reply.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend here?” Brad asks.

“Wasn’t planning on it, no.”

Before you even know what’s happening, Dennis is up out of his seat and walking over to Brad, stopping a reasonable distance from him but still towering over him. “Dennis,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m her boyfriend. And I’m assuming you’re Brad?”

Dennis absolutely dwarfs him and you know that Brad notices. He was always self-conscious about his height and has the Napoleon complex to prove it. You see the way he puffs his chest up and tries to stand a little taller as he shakes Dennis’s hand.

“She told you about me, huh?” he asks, wincing almost imperceptibly as Dennis gives him what must be a very strong handshake.

“She did,” Dennis replies, “and from what I’ve heard, I think it’d be best if you went back to work now.”

Mal is wearing the biggest shit-eating grin on her face as she looks back and forth between Dennis and Brad, but you can’t take your eyes off of Dennis—the strong posture, the tilt of his head, and the steely-eyed stare that doesn’t match the smile on his face. The tension in the air is thick because you know Brad is angry. He doesn’t like being challenged. He doesn’t like it when he’s not the one in charge. His nostrils flare and you think for a second he might keep going—say something to try to embarrass you or make you feel small—but he doesn’t. He can’t, because Dennis is a customer and he’d never make a scene at his own restaurant. He’s a dick, sure, but he’s always been professional.

“Well,” he says, backing away with his hands clasped in front of him. “I hope you all enjoy the food.” He looks you dead in the eye and you can see the hostility when he says, “You have a nice night, hon.”

Dennis is back in his seat with his arm around your shoulders, and the gentle way his fingertips are brushing your bare arm is steadying your heart rate a bit. Still, you need a moment alone to get your shit together because you feel like you could scream. You can hear that “hon” echoing in your head, dripping with malice. You hate that he still thinks he can call you that, and you hate that he had the audacity to do it in front of Dennis.

“You good?” Mal asks, and you nod.

“We don’t have to stay,” Dennis says, but you place your hand on top of his where it rests on your upper arm and smile at him, though you can tell it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’m ok,” you say. “Just gonna go to the ladies’ room real quick.”

Mal offers to accompany you but you tell her to stay. You need a few minutes alone.

***

Dennis watches you walk determinedly towards the bathroom with a pit in his stomach. Things were going so well, but of fucking course he had to pick the restaurant where your asshole ex works.

“She’ll be fine,” Mal says, taking a sip of her martini. “Just give her a few minutes.”

Dennis takes a sip of his drink, which is annoyingly good because he wants to hate everything about this place now that he knows that Brad is involved in it. “Well,” he says, “I sure fucked this up.”

“No you didn’t,” Mal replies. “None of us knew he worked here. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, I think you handled it perfectly. I mean, did you see the look on that asshole’s face?”

Dennis did, in fact, see the look on Brad’s face when he approached him—like he was ready for a fight only to find his opponent was in a higher weight class.

“Yeah,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “What the hell was he trying to accomplish with that anyway? I mean, I know they ended on bad terms.”

Mal snort laughs and leans in toward Dennis. “You can say that again. Brad is maybe the biggest asshole I have ever met, and I know a lot of assholes. And he wanted the same thing he always wanted, which is to embarrass her and make her feel like shit. He’s lucky you got up because I was about two seconds from slugging him.”

“Maybe we should go,” Dennis says, because he wants to get you as far away from Brad as possible and he can’t imagine you’d really want to stay now—you’re probably just saying that to make him feel better about making the worst possible restaurant choice.

“Fuck that. We’re not going anywhere. He doesn’t get to win.” Mal checks over Dennis’s shoulder to make sure you’re not on your way back before continuing. “How much did she tell you about him?”

“Enough,” Dennis replies, his jaw clenching as he thinks about all the things you’d shared with him. “I know he made her feel bad about herself, like she wasn’t good enough for him and like being with her was some sort of… like… charity, which—now that I’m seeing this guy—is even more insane than I already thought it was.”

Mal pauses, and Dennis can tell that she’s unsure how much to share. “It’s more than that,” she says. “It’s not really my place to say and she wouldn’t want me to, but… well… he made her feel ugly in a lot of different ways.”

“She mentioned that, yeah. She wouldn’t go into detail. She didn’t want to talk about it and I didn’t press. I mean, it’s absolutely ridiculous to begin with because she’s fucking gorgeous, so I don’t need to know what that idiot said. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

Mal smiles before popping the stick of olives in her mouth. She doesn’t finish chewing before she starts talking again. “Look,” she says, “she doesn’t need a lot. She doesn’t care about money or fancy shit or any of that. All you have to do is make her feel loved and make her feel beautiful. That’s literally it, and if you can do that, she will be yours forever. I’ve never met someone sweeter or more loyal than her, and it pisses me the fuck off that she thinks she’s anything but a total catch in every possible way.”

“Me too,” Dennis says. “You have no idea how fucking infuriating it is to hear that. I just want to make her happy. What… I mean… is there anything you think I should do, like, specifically, or…”

“You already make her happy,” Mal replies. “It’s kind of breaking girl code to say this but whatever… I can tell you’re a good guy and you’re totally obsessed with her so I’ll say it. She really really likes you. All you have to do is make sure she knows that you really really like her, too.”

“I love her,” Dennis says. The words fly out before he even knows he’s saying them and he starts to panic once he realizes what he’s done. “Shit… I mean… Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I haven’t even told her that. Please don’t say anything.”

Mal smiles as she polishes off her first martini. “Your secret’s safe with me, but you should tell her that,” she says. “Seriously.”

“It’s too soon,” Dennis says, shaking his head. He’s sweating now and he wipes his brow with the cloth napkin from his lap. “It’d just freak her out.”

“I can guarantee you that is not what would happen, but I’m not going to force you. I won’t say a word, just know that she’s not the type to be scared off by that. She deserves to be loved out loud, Dennis.”

“I know she does,” he says, and he takes a swig of his drink.

When he looks up at Mal, she’s looking past him, over his shoulder, and he knows you’re on your way back to the table. He would have liked another few minutes to try and squeeze some more advice out of your best friend but he’s happy to have you back.

“All good?” she asks you.

“Yeah,” you say, sliding into the seat next to him. Dennis searches your face for signs that you’ve been crying, but you look completely pulled together—somehow even more beautiful and radiant than you were before. “So, what were you guys talking about so intently?”

Dennis looks at Mal, panic in his eyes, but she just curves her lip and cocks her head. “Oh, nothing,” she replies. “Just making sure Dennis here knows how lovable you are.”

Mal winks at him and he can feel his ears burning red. You just roll your eyes and wave off her comment. Dennis notices, as he always does, how you can’t take a compliment—the way you get flustered and look away and try to change the subject. It’s so fucking cute he can barely stand it and all he wants to do is tell you every single thing he loves about you, force you to look him in the eye when he says it, and make you believe every word of it is true. He gets it, though. He feels the same way every time you tell him he’s handsome or sexy, and especially those times when you tell him how good he makes you feel when he kisses you or touches you. Looking at you now, sexy as hell in that tight red dress that shows off everything he’s dying to get his hands and his mouth on, all he wants to do is take you home and strip you down to nothing and make you feel good, inside and out.

He knows he can’t—you’ve got work in the morning and he has to get home to Jax pretty soon after dinner—but it’s all he can think about as the three of you make your way through your meal. Dennis does his best to keep his hands to himself, occupying them with silverware as he eats, but occasionally he’ll let his hand wander over to your bare thigh or drape his arm over the back of your chair. He can feel you lean into his touch—your thighs clenching together when he touches your knee, your head lolling back slightly against his bicep—and every so often, when your eyes meet his, you bite that oh-so-kissable bottom lip of yours and smile.

It feels so fucking good to be wanted—to have his touch be welcomed and desired—that Dennis almost forgets how their dinner started out. He hopes that you’ve forgotten about it, too, though he doubts you have. At least he can see that all that tension is gone from your face and your body. You’re laughing as Mal tells a story about some nightmare Tinder date and your giggles sound like the most beautiful music to him. He pretends to listen to Mal, to be engaged in conversation, but he’s only got eyes and his ears for you. It’s ok, though, because even if Mal notices, he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t mind.

Fuck, he can’t believe he told her he loves you, but is it really the worst thing? He’s absolutely terrified to say it and might have gone too long without telling you, but now there a ticking clock on it. He only half believes that Mal won’t tell you what he said—she is your best friend, after all, and he wouldn’t blame her for spilling the beans after a few martinis—so now he has to do it and soon if he wants you to hear it from him first. He wants to believe Mal when she says that you would want him to say it, but that doesn’t make it any easier. He feels like he felt years ago, when he went cliff jumping in Oahu on his honeymoon—just hovering at the precipice, trying to decide if the reward was worth the risk. Of course, Karen had pushed him over and called him a pussy for taking too long. He knows you would never do that, though—you’d never rush him into anything—and as he looks at your smiling face, he realizes he’s ready to jump.

***

You’d told yourself during your little self-pep talk in the bathroom that you weren’t going to let Brad ruin your night. You were just going to go back to the table, put him out of your mind, and focus on having a good time with your best friend and your handsome new man. And fuck does Dennis look good tonight. He always looks good to you, but something about him in a suit with his shirt is unbuttoned just enough for that thick neck and chest hair to be on display, the sleeves rolled up to show off those forearms with the veins you just want to lick. Dennis is lightyears more attractive than Brad and he wants you, so why are you letting Brad get to you? Part of you does want to leave, but you’d decided that would be letting him win, giving him what he wants, which is to ruin your date, to make you look pathetic in front of your man, to make you feel worthless and weak.

Fuck him. You’re not going anywhere.

As you, Mal, and Dennis make your way through your courses, you find you’re able to relax a little. You wish you weren’t sitting quite so close to the open kitchen—that you didn’t feel Brad’s eyes burning holes in the side of your face the entire time, whether he was actually looking or not—but you tell yourself, let him look. Let him watch your big, sexy man wrap his arm around you and toy with the strap of your dress. Let him watch your face light up as you laugh with your whole chest at something your best friend said. Let him see the way your boyfriend looks at you like you’re the most precious thing on earth one second and like he wants to throw you on the table and eat you alive the next.

Fuck him. Let him look.

“So,” Mal says, “we getting dessert?”

“I can’t eat a whole dessert,” you reply, “but I’ll have a bite if you’re getting something.”

“Oh, I’m getting something,” she says, and there’s a mischievous glint in her eye that should probably worry you except that Dennis has his hand on your knee and all you can think about is how you want to grab it and push it up under your dress.

“Let’s get the peach tarte tatin,” she says. “I’m just gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” She stands up and tosses her napkin on her chair, grabbing her purse off the seat next to her. “Try not to feel each other up too much while I’m gone, yeah?”

Dennis lowers his head and chuckles into his chest and you shoot her a playful scowl. “That obvious?” you ask.

“Oh yeah,” she replies. “But it’s cute. Very PG-13, but let’s keep it that way. At least until he gets you home…”

You giggle and let your head fall onto Dennis’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says, “I just can’t keep my hands off you in that dress. You’re so fucking gorgeous.” You feel his hand slide up the side of your thigh and you shiver as he speaks low in your ear. “My sweet, juicy peach.”

You let out a whispered “fuck” and grab his hand before it can make it’s way any higher. “You’re being a very bad boy right now,” you say.

“Can’t help it,” he replies. “You look too good. Don’t be mad.”

You cock your head at him and he’s got the sweetest little smile on his face and his eyebrows raised enough to crinkle his forehead. God, you just want to crawl into his lap and kiss him all over his face and his neck but you have to keep your shit together.

“Hands to yourself for the rest of dinner and I’ll let you put them wherever you want later. Deal?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I’ll take that deal.”

“Good boy,” you say, and over the music you think you hear him let out a little moan as he adjusts the napkin on his lap.

Interesting… noted.

By the time Mal returns, the two of you have managed to return to your own spheres of personal space and ordered the dessert.

“So some good news,” she says. “I’m going to meet up with Carl after dinner so the two of you can have some quality time.”

You already knew Mal was going to come up with some excuse to give the two of you the apartment for a while, and you’re happy to hear that things are still going well with Mr. Hipster.

“You gonna have a sleepover this time?” you ask.

“We’ll see,” she replies. “I don’t have to work tomorrow so I’m just going to see where the evening takes me.”

You turn to Dennis. “Mal has a new boyfriend who she refuses to admit is her boyfriend.”

“And why is that?” Dennis asks.

“So you’re grilling me now?”

“Maybe,” he says. “So what’s the story?”

Mal sighs. “I don’t like labels,” she says. “I just… you know… ‘boyfriend’ sounds so serious.”

“And you’re not serious about him?”

You are absolutely loving the way that Dennis’s perfectly logical and normal questions are making Mal squirm. It’s the same conversation you’ve had with her already, but it’s truly delightful to watch her try to rationalize her bullshit in front of another person.

“It’s not that,” she says. “I like him. A lot. I just don’t do boyfriends.”

“And does he do girlfriends?” Dennis asks, but Mal is saved by the arrival of dessert.

Tom places the tarte tatin in the middle of the table and Dennis thanks him and asks for the check. You’re just about to grab your fork for a bite when Mal stills your hand with hers.

“Wait,” she says.

She looks around the table, surveying the scene quickly, and she gets up and walks around to Dennis. When she leans over like she’s about to whisper something in his ear, you say, “What the fuck, Mal?” and then you see her snatch a piece of Dennis’s hair out.

“Ow! Jesus. What the hell?”

“Shh,” she says. “Just wait,” and she returns to her seat and places the hair on top of the glazed peaches with an impish smile on her face.

“Mal, don’t,” you say, but it’s too late because she’s already exclaiming quite loudly, “Is that a HAIR?!? Oh my God, GROSS!”

God, she’s so evil sometimes, and you love her so fucking much. You drop your head and put one hand across your brow, trying to stave off the giggles as you grip Dennis’s thigh with the other.

“Is she doing what I think she’s doing?” he asks.

“She sure is.”

The surrounding tables have taken notice of Mal’s little charade and Tom hurries over to the table as she details the problem.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Tom says. “I’ll get you another one.”

“I think just the check,” Dennis chimes in.

“Well, uh, let us at least comp.. uh… your drinks?” Tom stutters.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Brad in the kitchen absolutely fuming. You feel a little bad because you know he’ll take it out Tom or on the poor pastry chef, but your satisfaction at the flaming red hue of his face outweighs any guilt you might feel.

“That’s alright. I’m happy to pay for everything,” Dennis says, and he hands Tom his credit card without even looking at the bill.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll be back right away. And sorry again.”

“Don’t you fucking laugh,” Mal hisses at you as Tom scurries away from the table. “Keep your shit together.”

“I’m trying,” you say, and it’s really taking everything you’ve got not to explode into a giggle fit. You’ve got a death grip on Dennis’s thigh and you can feel his muscles flexing under your fingers, and when you look up at him, he’s got a half smile on his face that’s making the dimple on his cheek pop.

“Keep squeezing me like that and you’re gonna leave a bruise, sweetheart.”

“You should be so lucky,” Mal says. “Anyway, speaking of leaving bruises, Carl just texted me. You two mind if I take off? I think I may be on the verge of overstaying my welcome.”

“Go ahead,” you say. “Go get your man.”

“He’s not my man.”

“Sure he’s not,” Dennis says.

“Don’t you fucking start, too. Jesus. Now there’s two of you? I can’t.” Mal stands up and grabs her purse. “But seriously, it was so nice to meet you Dennis, and thank you for dinner. You’ve officially passed the bestie test.”

Dennis smiles. “Glad to hear it. Have a wonderful rest of your evening, and hey, maybe you and your not-boyfriend could come over to my place for a barbecue next weekend.” He turns to you. “I was thinking of maybe doing something for the 4th… I mean, if you want to.”

“I’d love to.”

“Me too,” Mal says. “I need to see this big fancy house of yours. And if Carl is still around by next weekend, maybe I’ll invite him.”

You roll your eyes. “Just go.”

You stand up to give her a hug goodbye. Dennis stands as well, and you think he’s going to be awkward about it but he isn’t; he gives Mal a quick hug goodbye like they’ve known each other forever and it warms your heart to see it. She whispers something to him as she pulls away that you don’t quite hear but you do hear his response.

“I will,” he says. “I promise.”

PART TEN >>>

#dennis baker fanfiction #dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker #chris evans #chris evans characters #take me home series

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disturbedbydesign · 2 years

Text

Take Me Home - Part 8

PAIRING: Dennis Baker x Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.3K

WARNINGS (more to come): Body Issues (Dennis and Reader), References to Past Animal Abuse, Emotionally Abusive Exes (Dennis and Reader), Mention of Past Domestic Violence (Dennis’s Evil Ex), Dry Humping/Thigh Riding, Two Idiots In Love Making Out In A Car, Oral (M Receiving), Titjob, Cum Play, Fingering. 18+ only, no minors.

TAGLIST: @littlelioncub43, @filthy-gorgeous, @whatinthestyles, @justile, @mazarinqueen, @valhalla-kristin, @elrw24, @janaev4ns, @ysmmsy

Series Masterlist

Part Eight

Dennis sleeps better than he’s slept in years. Instead of waking up groggy and resistant to leave bed, he’s actually got energy—that ready-to-greet-the-day pep in his step that’s always annoyed him when he sees it in movies or on tv. It never seemed realistic to be excited for a new day. For Dennis, for a long time, all the days have been the same, bleeding into one another—some of them horrible beyond words, others just an endless stretch of nothingness. There was never anything to be enthusiastic about; there were only ever things to fear. But he gets it now. Because of you, he feels like the day ahead is filled with promise.

Of course, Jax has helped with those feelings, too. With Jax, Dennis’s days have structure and he never has to be alone. Normally on a Sunday morning like today, he would have to force himself to get up and get out of the house to go for a run or a hike. Even though he actually enjoys those things once he starts doing them, there was always that inertia keeping him in bed too long or holding him down on the couch. But today—waking up to Jax licking his face, his mind swimming in memories of you—he can’t wait to get up and out and take Jax to the park. Everything seems greener as he jogs the trail with Jax at his side. Even the birdsong seems louder and more melodious than usual. When people pass him in the opposite direction, he smiles back instead of looking away. He would say he feels normal again, but this was never his normal.

Even though they got an early start, by the time they get to the middle of the trail the summer heat is starting to get oppressive. Dennis’s t-shirt is soaked with sweat and clinging to his body, and he stops to take a drink of water and give some to Jax who is happily panting away at his feet. He takes a few big gulps and Dennis thinks it’s probably smarter to cut the hike short given the heat, but as he goes to lead Jax back down the trail the way they came, he starts to pull in the opposite direction.

When Dennis turns, he sees what’s caught Jax’s eye: another German Shepherd who is also pulling at the leash to meet a new friend. The other dog is strong, and the woman holding him loses her grip and stumbles over a branch onto the ground. As Jax and his new friend greet each other with a few butt sniffs, Dennis grabs the other dog’s leash and pulls the both of them toward the woman to help her up.

“You okay?” he asks as she takes his hand and hoists herself up.

“Yeah,” she replies, taking the leash from his hand. “Mickey’s only six months old but he’s already way too strong for me!”

Dennis is focused on the dogs playing together but he can feel the woman’s eyes on him, expecting him to say something—the kind of small talk he’s never quite grasped. He gives her a half-smile because he doesn’t want to be rude.

“They seem to be getting along,” she says. “I’ve had him in puppy socialization classes but he hasn’t really been around older dogs much. How old is yours?”

“Jax is about 4,” Dennis replies, much better at answering questions than coming up with something to talk about. “He’s a rescue so we don’t know his exact age, but that’s what the vet thought.”

“I’m Stacey, by the way,” she says, reaching her hand out.

He takes it and gives it a shake. “Dennis.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dennis.”

Dennis is happy to see Jax make a new friend and he watches the two dogs wrestle around with each other as Stacey babbles away, telling him all about her last dog who passed and how she thought maybe it was too soon to get another but that she was just so lonely without one.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I feel like I’ve been talking forever and I haven’t let you get a word in.”

“That’s ok,” Dennis replies, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

“I think they really like each other,” Stacey says. “Here, why don’t you take my number and maybe they can have a playdate sometime.”

Dennis doesn’t want to take it but It feels awkward not to and she’s already got his phone out of his hands anyway, putting her number in and sending herself a text.

“There,” she says, “now I’ve got yours, too. Well, I’ve gotta get back home, but it was really nice meeting you. Hope we can get the dogs together soon! Come on, Mickey.”

She’s off down the trail before Dennis has a chance to say anything. And what would he have even said? It’s not like she asked him out. She just wants a playmate for her dog. It doesn’t mean anything. Dennis has no intention of texting her or calling her or making plans with her. You’re the only one he wants to spend time with, and he wouldn’t want you to think he’s just going around getting women’s numbers. He deletes Stacey’s contact from his phone and puts it back in his pocket. She doesn’t need to know. No need to be rude.

All thoughts of Stacey are gone from Dennis’s head by the time he gets back to his car and gets a text from you.

Y: Hey! I’m at work. Just wanted to check and see if you still want to come over later.

D: Of course I do. Should I make dinner reservations? Someplace nice? My treat.

Y: Sounds good. Mal loves a free dinner. Why don’t you come over around 6 and you can meet Badger and then we can go to dinner after.

D: Perfect.

Y: Just a reminder that Badger can be a little standoffish with men so don’t take it personally. He might have to warm up to you a little before he acts like himself but he’s a sweetheart once he feels comfortable.

D: I’ll be patient.

Y: Ok. Gotta get back to it. I’ll see you at 6.

You sign off with a heart and a kiss emoji and he can’t wait to feel your lips on his again. It’s all he’s going to think about all day—well, that and the fact that he’s meeting your best friend and he’s terrified she’s going to find him lacking. You’d promised him that he had nothing to worry about, but he can’t help it. This is new territory for Dennis and he wonders what kind of questions she’s going to ask him and if he’ll be able to answer them.

He wonders, too, how much you’ve already told her about him—if she knows all about his history. Dennis doesn’t think you would share everything with her, but the fact is that he doesn’t know. Maybe you did tell her and swore her to secrecy. It makes him uncomfortable to think about it—you sharing his deepest insecurities and fears with someone else—but he tells himself you wouldn’t do that… would you?

***

You smile at your phone as you put it down on your desk. It seems like ages since you’ve seen Dennis but you’ve only been at work for a few hours. You wonder briefly if this is normal—this insane need to be around him 24/7 and to miss him when you’ve barely even been apart. It’s all just so new, these feelings. You can’t remember ever feeling this way about someone, not even Brad at the beginning when things were fun and exciting. You’re lost in your thoughts about the night before when Jack comes into your office. He’s holding Lily, his favorite little Chihuahua, and he’s got a sheen of sweat on him and terror in his eyes.

“I need your help,” he says, and you feel a panic rising beneath your skin.

“What’s wrong? Is Lily ok?”

You rush over to him and give her a once over but you see nothing but her tiny smiling face with her tongue poking out.

“Can you hold her?” he asks, and you take all four pounds of her into your hand.

“Jack, what the fuck?” you ask. “What’s going on?”

He pulls a little black box out of his pocket and opens it with a sheepish smile, and you gasp when you see it. The ring is modest but absolutely gorgeous—a vintage art deco style that you know Betsy is going to love.

“I wanna tie it to her collar,” he says, “and my fucking hands won’t stop shaking.”

“OK, that’s adorable. I’m so excited. Does she know?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“I mean, she knows but she doesn’t know it’s today. Fuck, what if she says no?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you reply, holding Lily still so he can slip the ring onto the ribbon and secure it to her collar. “In no universe does she say no. And that ring is amazing.”

“It was my grandmother’s. I hope she likes it.”

“She is going to love it, and if she doesn’t, I’m stealing it. So how are we doing this?”

“I was gonna bring Lil over to the desk and ask her to check her neck for a tick.”

“I love it,” you say. “I love all of this. I wish you’d told me sooner. I would have gotten a cake or something. I can run to the cafe real quick if you want and get some cupcakes.”

“No,” he says. “That feels like a jinx.”

You roll your eyes. “Jack, you guys have been together forever. Do you honestly think she’d say no?”

He takes a beat to think about it and smiles that goofy little boy smile of his. “I guess not,” he says. “I’m just… I’m excited. I just want to spend the rest of my life with her. I would marry her today if she wanted to.”

You feel a pang of something then, though you can’t say what it is, and when the tears starts welling up in your eyes you stomp your foot and say, “Dammit.”

“Shit,” he says. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” you reply, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I’m just happy for you.”

And you are. You really really are. They are happy tears for sure, but you can’t help but wish it was you—that you were where they are instead of at the very beginning of something, wanting desperately for it to be more. And then there’s the other bit, because when you look at Jack, absolutely frazzled with nerves and excitement to make Betsy his wife, you think about Dennis—how, at one time, this was him. You wonder how he proposed to Karen, if it was some adorable elaborate thing he was this excited about. You know in your heart that it was, and you also know she didn’t appreciate it, that she never appreciated him or anything he did for her.

It pisses you off that she got to be married to him for all that time and took his love for granted. It pisses you off that he wasted so many years on her, that he wasted marriage on her when she never deserved it (or him) to begin with. You never thought you were the kind of girl who was desperate for a guy to put a ring on it—who would be filled with jealousy at someone else’s proposal—but here you are, filled with envy as Jack makes the final touches on the ribbon bow.

You can’t help hearing those words in your head—desperate, needy, clingy, crazy—and that’s exactly how you feel right now, like maybe Brad was right. But then you feel a single cramp shoot across your side and you realize you’re probably just pre-menstrual and hormonal. But that doesn’t stop you from sobbing like a lost child when Jack proposes and Betsy says yes, or from spending the rest of your day at work lost in thoughts of your own dream wedding as Betsy talks to you about their plans.

“I just want something simple,” she says. “None of this whole wedding industrial complex bullshit with months and months of planning and tons of money spent on one day. I want to do it soon. Like, maybe in the next few weeks just go to the courthouse and have a little party in our backyard or something. I just want to be married to him, you know?”

You’re so in your own head that you barely realize she’s waiting for a response from you. “Yeah,” you say, “I totally get it.”

And you do—part of you does, because (as insane as it makes you feel), if Dennis showed up today with a ring and asked you to be his wife, you know you’d say yes. You haven’t even said those three little words to each other yet but you already know you want to be his forever, that you already are his and he just doesn’t know it yet. But these are the kind of thoughts that you know it’s best to keep to yourself, just like you know you shouldn’t be thinking about the type of dresses that you like when Betsy comes into your office to show you a couple of choices she’s trying to decide between. You help her pick, of course, but when she leaves your office, you stay on the website and tell yourself, what’s the harm in looking?

The further down the wedding website rabbit hole you go, the more you feel your rational mind urging you to shut your laptop. Objectively, it’s insane for you to be thinking about any of this and you know that. Never once in your entire relationship with Brad did you consider any of this stuff. Of course, he never once brought up the idea of marriage, but it’s not like Dennis has either. You find yourself wondering what Dennis's wedding was like. It was probably picture-perfect and insanely expensive. Karen would have insisted on the best of everything, and you know he always gave her everything she wanted. He probably wouldn’t want to do that again; it would probably just remind him of her.

You have to stop. It’s just the hormones. It’s too soon for any of this. You haven’t even had sex. You haven’t talked about whether he’d even want to get married again. Sure, he’d said he wants a committed relationship, but that doesn’t mean marriage. And what about kids? You want them, but does he? He was married for 10 years and never had any. You think that was probably her decision, but what if it wasn’t? There’s so much you still don’t know about him.

Stop being crazy.

You’ve got an intake to prepare for anyway: a 5-year-old Persian named Bella whose elderly owner passed away and whose family can’t take her because of the children’s allergies. Bella is young and gorgeous and by all accounts perfectly healthy, and you know she’ll be adopted quickly, so it won’t be too stressful an afternoon, but you need to focus on making sure your newest resident gets all the TLC she needs. After the initial examination, you spend some time with her and you’re happy to see that—though she’s understandably a bit freaked out by her new surroundings—she’s a very friendly, sweet-tempered cat. Once you get her settled in the kennels, you snap a picture of her on your phone, put her into the system, and take your break.

The cafe is slow at this time of the afternoon and Cassie grabs your iced coffee and sits with you at a table.

“I’ve got a beauty for you,” you say, showing her the picture you took of Bella. “She just came in and I want to get her fostered ASAP.”

Cassie snatches your phone out of your hands. “I’m in love with her already. Look at those eyes!”

“I know,” you say, “and she so sweet. You’re gonna end up keeping her.”

Cassie rolls her eyes and says, “Probably,” before accidentally scrolling backward in your camera roll. “Fuck me. Hello there, handsome.”

You look over and see the picture Dennis sent you of him shirtless in bed with Jax and you feel your cheeks start to heat up.

“Give it back, Cass,” you say, trying not to giggle as you attempt to grab the phone back.

She holds it just out of your reach and raises an eyebrow at you. “Um, so, when were you planning on telling me that you’re fucking the nerdy beefcake?”

“Keep your voice down!” you whisper-shout, checking your surroundings to make sure no one heard that. “And we aren’t… you know… we just started officially dating, like, yesterday.”

“So you’re telling me you haven’t fucked this guy? This guy? The incredibly sexy, ripped guy who adopted the dog you’re in love with and is sending you lewds?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well do it, for fuck’s sake. I mean… look at him.”

You laugh and finally get your phone back from her. “I will,” you say. “It’s just… we’re trying to take things slow.”

She eyes you over the rim of her coffee mug as she takes a sip. “Is that your decision or his?”

“It’s a mutually agreed-upon decision and it’s complicated so can we talk about when you’re coming to get Bella, please? I have to be back at work soon.”

“Alright alright,” she says, “I won’t pry. I’m just excited for you. It’s about fucking time you found yourself a new guy. What’s he like?”

You can’t keep the goofy smile off your face but you don’t care. “He’s sweet and kind and he’s, like, actually capable of talking about his feelings.”

“And he treats you well?”

“Like a queen,” you say. “I think… fuck, I don’t know.”

“No, uh-uh, no way,” Cassie says, and you know she’s not letting you get away with anything. “What were you going to say?”

“I feel crazy,” you tell her. “I feel like it’s all happening so fast but I think… I love him? Like, I’ve never felt this way about anyone and it’s making me feel absolutely insane and I don’t know what to do because I obviously can’t tell him because he’ll run away screaming but I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t.”

“Slow down,” she says, grabbing your coffee away from you—a not-so-subtle hint that caffeine is the last thing you need in your current state. “You’re not crazy. Sometimes it takes a long time to fall for someone, and sometimes it happens right away. Now, if I were you I probably wouldn’t go spilling all that to him before you’ve even had sex, but what do I know.”

“I looked at wedding dresses today, Cass. I’ve officially entered crazy territory.”

She looks at you and bursts out laughing. “Well definitely don’t tell him that.”

“To be fair, Jack and Betsy got engaged and she pulled up the website to show me some stuff. I just happened to stay on it longer than I should have.”

“About time Jack popped the question,” she says. “That’s been coming for a while. So, let me guess: you listened to Betsy wedding planning all day and now all you can think about is walking down the aisle towards this big hunk of man?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Understandable. I can only imagine how he’d look in a tux. But you need to slow it down a little. I mean, I’ve been there—when you fall fast for somebody and it feels like you’re crawling out of your skin—but you basically just met this guy.”

“I know,” you say. “And I’m not going to say anything to him, but I just… I don’t know. I just want to be with him. I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to feel like this about someone and now I do and I don’t want to lose that feeling.”

“Well,” she replies, “the good news is you are with him because you’re dating him. He obviously wants to be with you, too. So why don’t you just enjoy that for now, get to know each other, and fuck him before you start picking out DJs and wedding flowers.”

“Peonies,” you say wistfully. “He grows them. In his garden. That he built himself.”

“Oh, you’re down real bad,” Cassie says, laughing. “But, wait, are you serious? Because that is very sexy.” You pull up a few pictures of Dennis’s garden and show them to her. “Holy fuck, look at those tomatoes. I think I might love him.”

“I’m sure he’d bring you some,” you say. “He donates most of the stuff he grows to the food bank.”

“Ok, ok. I get it. He’s perfect. Except he’s not perfect, because no one is.”

“He’s close,” you say. “But point taken. I gotta go. Do you think you’ll be able to take Bella soon?”

“Absolutely. I can get all set up to take her tomorrow.”

“You’re the best, Cass.”

As you’re walking back to work, you get a text from Dennis with the dinner reservation confirmation and you almost choke on your sip of coffee. Mirabelle just opened and you’ve heard amazing things, but it comes with a hefty price tag and a dress code. It’s one of those chic, sexy restaurants—the kind of place you’ve always wanted to go but could never rationalize spending the money. Mal is going to absolutely shit. You want to text Dennis and tell him it’s too much but then you think about the fact that he’s gonna have to dress up for dinner and you’re basically drooling at the thought of him in a suit. Besides, you know Mal would murder you if she found out you turned down a free five-star dinner and she confirms as much when you text her to tell her where you’re going that night.

M: Holy shit Mirabelle?!? Please marry him.

You almost text her back, “I’m trying to,” but you put your phone away instead.

***

Dennis takes his time getting ready. Even though he knows you won’t be spending the night tonight, he wants to look his best for you. He lays out one of the suits he bought—a nice navy blue one—and pairs it with a light blue button-down. It’s pretty hot out for a jacket, but the restaurant requires one and the suit is lightweight anyway. It’s probably too much, he knows, but he just wants to spoil you, and it doesn’t hurt that his choice of dinner location will ensure he gets to see you in a dress. The first one is still burned into his memory and he can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store for him tonight. And yes, sure, he wants to impress your friend, but it’s not about her. It’s about you. It’s always about you.

When he pulls into your apartment complex, he texts you a heads up so you can get Badger harnessed up and ready to meet a new person. Dennis knows his history: that Badger was in rough shape when he was brought in, had obviously been abused (and was most likely used as a bait dog), and is still skittish around other dogs and men (especially big ones). There’s a pit of anxiety lodged firmly in Dennis’s chest because he knows it’s important that Badger likes him (or at least tolerates him) or else your relationship is never going to work. You’d never choose him over your dog, and he’d never ask you to. And even if Badger does like him, Dennis wonders how things could possibly proceed if Badger and Jax don’t get along. Dogs brought the two of you together, but they could also complicate everything.

As Dennis walks to your apartment, carrying a basket full of veggies and herbs from the garden and a bottle of wine for your roommate, he can’t seem to calm his nerves, but all the bad thoughts whoosh out of his head the second you open the door. He’s never seen anything quite so lovely. The dress that hugs your body is a sinful shade of red and falls just above your knees, and Dennis’s eyes travel up the slit, drinking in every inch of your thigh on display. Your black heels are high, bringing you slightly closer to his height, and your silver pendant necklace rests on your breastbone, just above the swell of your breasts. You look elegant and sexy as hell, and the wicked little smile on your face tells him that he looks good, too.

“You look…”

Dennis doesn’t even know if there’s a word for the way you look, but you don’t make him finish his sentence. Instead, you say, “Hey, handsome,” and give him a kiss that tastes like cherry candy.

You swipe your thumb across his lips to wipe them clean. “Sorry,” you say. “Lip gloss.”

“Tastes good,” he replies, and he can hear the gravel in his own voice.

“Come in.”

Your apartment is much as he imagined it would be: small but in a cozy way, a collection of secondhand furniture that somehow goes together although it’s mismatched, colorful walls and artwork and pictures, a tiny open kitchen overflowing with things you have no space for. It’s warm, it’s inviting, it’s you.

“This is Mal,” you say. “Mal, this is Dennis.”

Dennis sticks his hand out and swallows the lump in his throat when he gets his first look at your friend. From the way you’d described her, Dennis expected some supermodel, but although Mal is a beautiful woman, she doesn’t hold a candle to you.

“Nice to meet you, Dennis,” she says, shaking his hand. “This one won’t stop talking about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Dennis says. “This is for you.” He holds out the bottle of Cabernet the guy at the wine store said is the best. “I don’t know much about wine so I hope you like it.”

Mal’s eyes go wide when she takes the bottle from him. “Is this… holy shit, this is Opus One.” Mal turns to you, clutching the bottle to her chest. “I think I love him,” she says, and then turns back to Dennis. “This is insanely nice of you, thank you. Should I open it now or…?”

“You keep it,” he says. “I’m not much of a wine guy. It’d be wasted on me.”

“What else you got?” Mal asks, motioning towards the basket Dennis is holding.

“Oh! Right.” He turns to you and hands you the basket. “From the garden.”

You place the basket on the small kitchen island that divides the kitchen space and the living room and your eyes light up when you open it.

“Mal, look,” you say, taking in the bounty he brought for you.

He’d taken his time in the garden that afternoon, picking the best of everything—perfectly ripe tomatoes and bell peppers, crisp Bibb lettuce and green beans, basil and chives and thyme, and a bundle of lavender tied in a bow. You take the lavender out of the basket and bring it to your nose and Dennis is jealous of the buds that brush your lips as you inhale.

“Oh my God, Mal, smell this.” You hand her the bunch and turn to Dennis, quickly closing the distance between you and grabbing his face and bringing your cherry lips to his again—a deeper kiss this time, but nothing too obscene in front of your friend. “Thank you. I love it.”

I love you, he thinks.

“You’re welcome,” he says, lost in the sparkle of your eyes for a moment until Mal’s voice brings the rest of the world back into focus.

“Should I go get Badger?” she asks you.

“Let me do it,” you say, and Dennis can see a nervous crease in your brow. “So, ok, here’s what we need to do. Dennis, I’m gonna give you a couple of his treats to put in your pocket, and when I bring him into the room, you should just ignore him, ok? No eye contact or anything. Let him come to you, and if he does, then just toss a treat onto the floor but don’t look at him or make any moves to pet him or anything. He’ll probably just sniff you and then ignore you, and that’s probably as good as it’s gonna get right now. He’s got some… trust issues.”

“Don’t we all,” Dennis says, and you smile as you give him a handful of treats.

“It’s gonna be fine,” you tell him, placing your hand on his chest and running it down the front of his jacket. “Love the suit, by the way.”

“Love your dress,” he responds, and you look over your shoulder.

“It’s Mal’s,” you say. “I don’t have anything Mirabelle-worthy in my closet right now.”

Dennis is already planning the shopping trip he wants to take you on as you walk towards what he assumes is your bedroom. The A/C in your apartment is working overtime in the summer heat but Dennis can feel himself starting to sweat so he takes his suit jacket off and lays it over the back of a nearby armchair.

“I hope he likes me,” he says, partially to Mal and partially to the universe itself.

“He will,” she says. “You just gotta give him time to warm up. He’s very protective of her, as am I.”

Mal gives Dennis a look that says she’s kidding but also very much not kidding, and Dennis nods.

“As you should be,” he says.

Mal gives him a tiny half-smile as you enter the room with Badger on the leash. Dennis watches out of the corner of his eye, making conversation with Mal as Badger slowly walks toward him with his head low to the ground. He stops a few feet away and you say, “Wanna go say hi?” but he doesn’t move. Dennis tosses a treat on the ground toward him when you tell him to and Badger scarfs it down and moves a bit closer before stopping again. Another treat, another few inches, and soon he’s tentatively sniffing Dennis’s loafers. Another treat, some more conversation with Mal, and Badger is circling Dennis, sniffing at his pant legs and collecting the treats as they fall. You’re praising him the whole time (and praising Dennis, too), and Dennis is looking everywhere but the dog until he hears you say, “Oh my God, look!” Dennis takes a quick peek down and sees Badger sitting in front of him with perfect posture, his tail wagging behind him. You look like you’re about to cry.

“Is that good?” he asks.

“He’s literally never done that before,” Mal says. “With anyone.”

“What should I do?” he asks you.

“OK,” you say, “why don’t you walk over and sit on the couch and let’s see if he follows you.”

Dennis does, and Badger does, and when he sits again and starts wagging, you rush over to give him a treat.

“Good boy, Badge!” you exclaim, bending over to give him a treat and some scratches. Dennis catches your eye and you’re smiling so wide he can feel it in his own cheeks. “Let’s quit while we’re ahead, shall we? You guys ready to go?”

Dennis gets lost in your cleavage for a minute as you lean over in front of him and he has to force the memory of his dick sliding between your tits to the back of his mind or else he’s going to go absolutely feral. You just look so fucking good he wants to grab you by the arms and pin you down on the couch and rip that dress to shreds, but instead he just smiles and clears his throat.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m starving.”

PART NINE >>>

#dennis baker fanfiction #dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker #chris evans #chris evans characters #take me home series

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