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usedpidemo · 11 months ago

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Plaid (Newjeans Hanni)

Hanni Pham is just about the perfect student: consistently top of the class, perennial dean’s lister, well liked among her teachers and peers, an active participant for every co-curricular and extracurricular activity, and overall just a good person to be around.

And you? You’re the exact opposite. Slow, lazy, constantly in self-isolation—always cutting classes whenever you can, struggling with just about everything. You’re surprised you’re still even attending this university as is, despite the countless talks with your professors.

Which is why when she greets you a good morning as soon as you run into each other in the hallway, the books you’ve been carrying crumble like Jenga blocks.

She immediately jumps into action, picking up your dropped books in record fashion to hand them back to you. The cute, irresistible smile etched on her lips is icing on the cake.

“Here you go!”

Admittedly, you feel some type of way about Hanni. It’s conflicting, constantly changing. A little bit of jealousy because she’s the student you wished you were, but also a bit of allure because of how surprisingly attractive she is. You’ve never felt any kind of attraction towards anyone in college besides her. And she turns out to be an exchange student, and you’ve never seen anyone with the combination of cuteness and beauty before she came along.

You take a moment to look into her eyes. Those gentle, warm irises perfectly capture the kindness emanating from her—God, why is she so damn irresistible. It isn’t that you’ve been giving her the cold shoulder, but you’re merely apathetic and neutral with her. Outside of the same brief rote exchanges—good morning, what’s your lunch, what are you doing after class later—you and Hanni have been, for the most part, worlds apart.

The universe is doing its part to bring you two together, because you can feel it. Tension so thin, you can cut it with a knife.

She never lets up.

She wants to know you.

“I-uh, thanks,” you say, suddenly averting her gaze to your locker instead as you snatch your books back, then in the other direction. Anywhere but her eyes.

Fuck. She keeps staring, leaning her head forward with a lively smile, her hands behind her back, waiting for you to continue. She talks with childlike passion and energy, “We have an exam in accounting later, did you study for it?”

“N-no,” you say, almost stuttering through the simplest of responses, as though your tongue is wrapped up in itself. It should be embarrassing for you to act this awkwardly in front of a sweet girl like Hanni. Mentally punching yourself to be better. It never happens. “Not exactly, I kinda forgot.”

More like you willingly neglected your studies for a nightlong gaming session. It’s an addiction.

Her eyes widen with amusement, as if she sees through the lie. Does she? You don’t know. Maybe she does. There’s so many layers to her that you never bothered to uncover. That’s the price for your negligence and decision to be a lone-wolf.

Hanni reaches her hand into the pocket of her dress shirt and presents a folded up sheet of paper. “Then this with you. Just make sure to hide it underneath the test paper, got it?”

From bewilderment to amazement—your face goes through every emotion, unsure of what would perfectly suit the situation. She doesn’t know you well enough to casually entrust you with a cheat sheet, yet she’s perfectly fine handing it to you over her presumed friends, which includes members of the student council.

Initially, you hesitate, but she’s steadfast in her position, as if you receiving this paper is doing her a favor. You ultimately fold and accept it from her. She grins as you tuck the sheet away in your coat.

“See you later!” she says, before walking past you to her next class. You slowly turn around, watch her leave and rejoin with her friends, one of whom is the student council head. Alone with nothing but your thoughts, you put the strange encounter aside and get moving again.

—————

The next time you see Hanni again is during world history class, right before lunch. Your rather senile professor, who doesn’t give a shit that half the class is either fast asleep, on the verge of, or doing everything else apart from listening to his monotonous lecture, drones on about Napoleon’s European conquest for the second week in a row. Even the patient student that you are, you’ve grown tiresome of it, especially with the dreadful pacing. You’re way behind schedule. At the very least, he seems to be paid well, so there’s a little silver lining.

Looking at her, you wonder if the gods were in a good mood on the day they made her. She’s as enthusiastic about the topic as if it's her first time hearing it. Listening to every single word intently, taking down notes furiously, taking pictures of the presentation even though she has it projected on her laptop because why the fuck not—she was born to be the teacher’s pet. Compare that to half of the class: even the supposed top student in the class is barely struggling to stay awake, clinging to the edges of her seat out of fear she could collapse from sheer boredom. It’s a miracle, really, that there’s at least one student showing this much interest.

The notion creeps up in your mind: Hanni’s right over there, without a care except for the lecture at hand. Your phone rests on the edge of your chair. Her smile, her shine—you want to keep more than just a mental image of her. Something to actively remind you that someone like her exists. It’s creepy, but it doesn’t matter when no one’s looking, especially not her. Only you.

Little by little your hand crawls toward the phone. Then the moral compass inside you resists. You don’t know this girl—not in the slightest. Just because of a simple kind act doesn’t mean you’re completely smitten over her. Most importantly, you remember one important point about Hanni: she’s not from here. She’s an exchange student with a one year contract set to expire in—wait for it—two weeks. The semester ends before then, and it’s reasonable to assume she’ll be gone from your life just as quickly as she entered it once the page turns.

Right as the inner conflict inside your head reaches a fever pitch, the bell rings. On one side, you’re celebrating this moral victory; on the other, you’re punching a mental wall for not pulling the trigger. Before the professor even realizes the alarm already sounded off, all the students have filed out of the room in quick succession.

You briefly consider searching for Hanni in the sea of students making their way around the halls, but seeing that she’s disappeared into the crowd, you decide to let her go. Perhaps the logical side of your brain might be telling you the truth: that she will be a mere afterthought to you after today.

But then there’s the unshakeable, unceasing part of you that refuses to give in. Even as you eat lunch at the corner of the cafeteria, you’re still trying to single out Hanni to no avail. A hopeless situation gradually growing worse with each passing hour.

A not so subtle tap on your shoulder. Look to your side and there’s your angel, appearing at your hour of need. Hanni.

“Hey! Still have the cheat sheet I gave you earlier?” she asks. A few meters behind her is the student council president, Minji, and her secretary, Danielle, engaged in their own conversation, presumably accompanying their friend.

You scramble to find the folded piece of paper somewhere in your bag, forgetting that you’ve tucked the sheet away deep in your coat. Panicked, you jump from your seat to search within your clothes, still unable to detect its tiny presence hiding in your jacket. “Shit—”

“I can give you another copy if you lost it—”

“I��m sure it’s in here somewhere!” you interject, tonally desperate, repeatedly swiping your fingers on the same pockets with no success.

Eventually, you frisk the deepest pockets of your coat, feeling something rough on the edge of your fingertips. Reeling it out, you present a folded piece of paper in front of her. It should be a small win, but it’s an embarrassing loss, especially right in front of Hanni.

“Good to know you still have it!” she says, grinning from ear to ear. You’re certain she was trying to suppress her chuckle the entire time, and based on her toothy smile, it’s not very difficult to jump to that conclusion. “Even if you didn’t lose it, I still would have given you another copy if you wanted it.”

“Hanni.” You turn to face her, a complete juxtaposition from her jolly, outgoing personality. Your expression looks stern in searching for answers. “Why are you like this? We barely know each other.”

Surprised by your sudden change in attitude, she takes a step back, pausing to contemplate her answer. Her usually bright demeanor gradually changes to reflect yours. Her smile remains, except it's hiding a little gloom, a little concern. “I just wanted to be kind to you. I saw you were struggling in some of the classes we shared and thought you needed some help. It’s only right to do the right thing, you know?”

In that moment, you regret showing a bit of attitude. Hand to your chest, as guilt occupies your heart and mind. “Oh.” You pause, stare back into those wanting eyes. “I-I guess you were really being kind to me, huh?”

“I don’t make fake answer sheets, let alone give them to people I dislike.” She leans forward, causing you to stagger back, bumping your thighs against the cafeteria stool. “And I like you.”

Your mouth gradually opens, trying to figure out what to say, how to react. Only air and silent noises come out. You genuinely have no idea how to respond to this sudden revelation. It’s not like you’re a popular name among the student body, let alone the ladies; if anything, you were mostly a ghost, only coming into light when needed—and in most cases, when the professors would ask you questions about the topic at hand.

Blinking rapidly, you needed to do a double take. “Say that again?”

“I like you.” She repeats it for you. Twice. With increasing emphasis on those three words to drive the statement home. “I. Like. You.”

Let that sink in. You still don’t know what to say. “I—”

“We can talk about this later in the afternoon. Meet me at Room 204, okay? I’m in a rush and I just wanted to briefly check on you.” You watch her tone revert back to its beaming, bubbly self with each sentence. Before you even have an opportunity to say anything back, she rejoins her friends and walks away again, waving at you while shouting, “Remember what I told you about the cheat sheet!”

—————

Aside from accounting, where you followed Hanni’s advice down to the letter, the rest of the afternoon kept your thoughts mostly preoccupied with Hanni’s departing words. The two classes you shared with her during that period were opportunities to stare at her, watch her from a distance. Three simple words, and yet there’s layers upon layers to uncover. What did she mean when she said them? You barely interacted for most of the semester, yet she still considers you likable. During those long, painful hours of waiting, your curiosity and anticipation slowly built up.

And then, the bell rings at the top of the seventeenth hour. Time to find out.

While students file out in every direction, celebrating their regained freedom, you make your way through Room 204. Peeking from the outside, you see no one inside, not even Hanni. It looks about the same as when you left it—messy. You’re anxious, hesitant, cautious. There’s a part of you that believes she’s merely playing you in front of her friends, and that she might stand you up as a joke. And you have no reason to believe she genuinely likes you, apart from that one simple act of kindness from earlier.

For the next few minutes, in those crucial moments of waiting, all your thoughts and presumptions begin waging war inside your head. You have one foot on the door, with the other looking to go home. It’s not the first time you’ve been stood up; you can write an entire thesis report going over each terrible experience and the feeling of bitterness and pining that followed. At the very least, should push come to shove, this wouldn’t be the worst of them—not even bottom five.

So you pace back and forth in front of the designated room, look at your phone, followed by your watch. Again and again. Minutes, stretching to hours, into days, into a slow eternity. You’re starting to lose hope.

Which is why when she comes across you in the hallway, you feel like a kid finding love for the first time all over again. You’re not even trying to hide your excitement. The stunned and relieved expression etched on your lips, the growing shade of red across your face, the hitch in your arms as they reach out to her because you couldn’t believe she would follow through on her word—

And when she flashes her toothy smile, her mouth speaking words you end up missing—you just want to take her by the hand and run away with her.

She ends up calling your name. Twice, thrice, a dozen times—you’re not exactly sure, but you can definitely lose yourself to the sight of Hanni’s presence over and over. With a hand held on the door, she’s telling you to join her inside, saying she has something important to share with you. At least that’s the very gist of it.

At her request, you leave your bag on one of the vacant seats; you end up sharing the same chair. The tension is palpable. Hanni paces back and forth in front of the desk, quietly ruminating, hiding her concerned look away from your eyes. A wakeup call for you that this is a serious matter. You have a lot of unanswered questions, but seeing the gravity of the moment, you conclude that it’s better to keep them to yourself a little while longer—at least once all the heavy air has been cleared. You stand there awkwardly, waiting for her to make the first move.

“I just want to say,” she suddenly says, still turned away from you, long streaks of dark hair covering her eyes. What they can’t hide is the frown on her lips. “I’m going to miss this place. All the profs, all the activities, but most importantly, all the people. Including you.”

“Me?” You’re not surprised at that statement; you’ve assumed she wasn’t going to be here for the long haul, considering she’s an exchange student. What does confuse you, is how she specifically singled you out from everyone else. You barely know each other. At best, you only teamed up for two group projects, which she mostly did the carrying for. For you, the bar has been set very, very low. “How come me?”

Hanni finally faces you, using everything in her willpower not to cry. Her usually lively eyes twinkle with tears waiting to be shed, but she refuses. Not even the warmest of her smiles can hide the somber and pained expression she has looking at you. “Most of the boys here are—excuse my language—a bunch of fucking jackasses and perverts.”

Not exactly wrong; if you weren’t part of an athletics club or hanging out at bars after class, you were likely to be one of their victims. You know this because you are numb to their asshole behavior. The girls would usually retreat in a subtle manner once they knew their presence, which wasn’t difficult to pinpoint.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “You’re right. I hate their guts too—”

“But you’ve been kind to me from the moment I introduced myself, you know?” Hanni begins to walk toward you, rendering you even more frozen in place. “Even our brief good mornings meant quite a lot. It made me feel welcome.”

You didn’t really think much of it, unaware that it would have this profound of an impact in someone else’s life. And why would you—it’s a habit you’ve been taught since when you were seven. For a moment, you’d think she was being very melodramatic, as if she were practicing theater.

“And—” she pauses, takes a deep breath, “Let’s be honest; I know you like me too.”

When she drops those final words, your eyes pop. Wide. Enough to stretch through your forehead and fly up. It leaves you completely paralyzed. A whole truth bomb dropped just like that. She cusps your hands with hers; you freely allow her. Whether it's from utter shock or the desire to hold her like this for so long, you don’t know, but you definitely want to let this moment linger.

“I-I—”

You can feel her hot breath against yours, her face inching closer, your bodies almost entangling into something passionate and warm. There’s nothing stopping you both from finally bridging the gap that’s been separating you for the longest time. Hanni, the charming, popular girl that everyone either wants to be friends with or to be her, seemingly knows you like a book read from left to right. More importantly, she likes you. Tells it straight to your face.

Her arms snake around your neck, leaving you even more suffocated. No longer in her grasp, you find your hands pressed around tiny, fit waist. Her glinting eyes encourage you to let those innermost desires run wild. The suppressed thoughts you’ve been hiding slowly pull you under their influence. You shouldn’t be doing this, yet they’re right there: those sweet, puckery, inviting lips, waiting to be marked, yours and yours alone.

Instead, you end up in a tight embrace. It’s not as romantic as you envisioned. If anything, it’s bittersweet. Deep down, this is her way of saying goodbye, and you’re only realizing what this is really all about. An opportunity to bid farewell on amicable terms. It’s almost cruel that your first substantial interaction outside of school-related activities has to be like this.

You hold on to her tighter. She does the same. You’re unwilling to let go. She doesn’t want to, either.

Resting her head on your shoulder, Hanni whispers in your ear the most calming and soothing tone, “I’m going to miss you.”

You don’t believe you’ve earned the right to say those words back. So the only thing you can do is hold on to her the best you can—for dear life.

Outside, the setting sun is gradually fading away, and so does the natural light it brings. You can stay here, from dusk to dawn, comfortable in this position if she wants to.

She opens her mouth again, and she continues to hum and speak melodies in your ear. “I have one thing I want to do before saying goodbye. Can you help me?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, you nod, saying, “Anything for you.”

Hanni breaks the bear hug then leads you along with her to the desk. With the other hand, she lifts it back to her waist, placing herself in a new and unexpected position: her back arched against the table, with one knee bent beside yours. Her eyes glinting with utter desire, she couldn’t be any more obvious.

Before the realization fully dawns on you, she does the unthinkable.

A simple irresistible kiss, pulling you down by the collar of your coat. Next thing you know, you have Hanni’s back crooked further against the edge of the desk, your lip-lock turning more and more passionate. Nothing overly dramatic and sentimental—only passionate love making.

She wants it. Deep down, you want it too.

“I can’t—” you mutter, drawing your breath, pulling your lips away. But not your hands. It’s in Hanni’s custody now. Your coat halfway down your arms, she sneakily tosses it aside. “Not here.”

Surprised by your sudden change of heart, she leans forward, her fingers now pulling at the hem of your sleeves. “What’s wrong?”

“I mean—look around, Hanni. We’re in a goddamn classroom.”

If only you could throw your arms around in protest to prove a point, but even that wouldn’t save you now.

“This is what I wanted from the start.” Hanni pulls you back in, her eyes hypnotic and irresistible, shining like gold. “You wanted this, too. Don’t play.”

“Hanni—”

She stops you right in your tracks with an impulsive peck on the lips. Curling them through the kiss to form a smile, she murmurs, “Don’t think, just do.”

And you do just that. Kiss her, make out with her as if your life depended on it.

Hanni’s lips taste like they’re meant for you. Sweet like honey. Divine. Heavenly. If it were possible, you’d want to choke on your own breath holding onto them for dear life. Not to mention the hums coming out of her mouth, those subdued mewls that she releases whenever you bite on her bottom lip—you can’t help but sink back in whenever you consider the thought of letting go.

There’s no reason not to; you have this pretty little thing, Hanni Pham, all to yourself. Even your body knows how rare of an opportunity this is. With one hand quietly slipping between her pencil skirt, you navigate your way to the depths of her heat without breaking the kiss. In a flash, she throws her head back, snapping her mouth wide at the new sensation. All that cool, calm expression, gone in an instant.

“Fuck—”

“God, Hanni. You’re so wet.”

She grabs your wrist—that mischievous hand newly buried in her pussy—and urges you further, “Keep doing that. That felt so good.”

And God, does everything about finger fucking her feel incredible. The satisfying squelch of her cunt as your digits press against her warmth, the continuous twisting of her features as she crumbles from the pleasure, leaving her neck exposed for your lips to newly conquer, adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing all over Hanni’s body. Seeing her, this usually larger than life figure, fall under your spell pushes you even further.

Like Hanni, you’re still young; there’s only pleasure and the thrill of moving too fast and reckless. One day you’ll end up regretting this, ruminating over memories that could ultimately end you before you even started, but you’d rather take this memento than leave with nothing at all.

You’re both already past the point of no return. Hanni’s underwear hangs casually between her ankles while they’re wrapped around your waist, her neck filled with bite marks and deep shades of red that no piece of fabric can hide. Her dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, revealing a white camisole desperately seeking to be removed, and if that wasn’t enough, she’s made the crucial decision not to wear a bra today.

Fuck, that bulging ache in your pants is so agitating—both physically and mentally.

“Wait,” you say, suddenly turning around and locking the door quickly, letting her panties fall freely to the floor. It proves to be a little struggle when you unknowingly use your slick-coated hand over your dry one.

“Should have done that first,” she playfully chides, chuckling at you.

Returning to her with your drenched fingers pointed in the direction of her pussy, you respond, “Should have chosen anywhere but the classroom.”

“You’re saying you’d rather do this during our Christmas party?” Hanni lifts an eyebrow, taunting.

“Only if they allowed it.”

“And all those cheat sheets I handed you, all that for nothing?”

“Shut up. Didn’t need them, anyway.”

Hanni can’t help but burst into boisterous laughter. There’s no use locking that door now.

Even with the little time spent together, there’s clearly magic between you, the signs of what should have been a beautiful relationship. If only you both knew that. But now’s not the time to go over what ifs—only what’s next.

She stops you right as you ready yourself, grabbing the top button of your shirt. Using only her expressive eyes for approval, you steadily watch on till they’re completely undone. You’re left with the job of removing your undershirt and helping her toss your clothes aside. On the other hand, you’re in no rush to undress her completely; she’s a perfect mess as is with her unbuttoned uniform, her panties somewhere between your feet, and her taut nipples poking through the fabric.

And Hanni wants it that way. You’ve barely entertained the idea of running your fingers through her skirt when she interrupts your train of thought.

“You haven’t done it yet,” she says looking at your greedy, grubby hands, directing them with hers underneath her garment. “Make me cum. Please.”

As if you had any other intention. Maybe with something better, but that’s usually saved later—and for good reason.

You’re trying so hard not to curse through gritted teeth. Fuck. This. Damned. Skirt. Admittedly, it’s cute and perfectly suits Hanni; it adds to the appeal of seeing this usually meek, well behaved student asking for something more than naughty—it’s downright criminal—but you need to see what makes her really tick. Hanni’s clicking her tongue, growing more frustrated by the second than you are, anxiously waiting for you to come through. Carefully, you push a finger into her, then another, moving in delicate and systemic motion.

Then, it all clicks in perfect harmony:

She releases this pent-up moan from the depths of her chest, as though it were a heave of relief. The initial plunge from earlier makes plunging between her slick folds so much easier. You take a moment to let the satisfying sound sink in: the wet slop of her cunt as it reflexes against your fingers, unable to keep yourself from moaning with delight before you slowly draw back, then in again.

From there, everything takes care of itself.

Hanni dissolves into a whimpering mess, under the hypnotic spell of your fingers fucking her pussy in tempered, intricate strokes, effortlessly and handily. Body shaking, desk quivering under the pressure of her weight, her hands struggling to find reprieve from the overwhelming sensations thundering all over her. She can barely breathe, let alone find the words to speak. Only quick curses. Each and every word so gratifying to hear.

“Fuck—fuck—its—its—so—good—more—”

You don’t give her any breathing room. In the brief moments when you lax, with your fingers either motionless deep within her cunt or pull back, leaving marks on her inner thighs with her own slick, you’re all over her, gently fondling her and kissing her. Half her uniform’s sleeve has fallen down her shoulder, giving you more of her body for you to claim as your own. With every little touch and thing you do, you continue to set her nerves ablaze with nothing to quench her lust.

It’s no wonder she’s such a teacher’s pet; she loves to follow along without any resistance or objection. A fact proven when you lift her undershirt to expose her taut nipples, and your free hand impulsively takes them. You give her left tit a twist, and from her needy lips comes a sharp whine.

“Do it again,” she says, panting, nodding her head wildly, visibly overwhelmed. She doesn’t know what hit her, but it feels fucking amazing.

Of course, you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity, even if she hadn’t asked. Hanni’s body, all yours for the taking. Not everyone can say they fucked the top girl in the class in the classroom of all places.

And you let your body do all the talking. No amount of words nor their depth can adequately describe the sensation of tasting and feeling her figure. First your free fingers, then your tongue—they make their mark on her chest while your other digits crawl to a lazy pace inside her cunt. Not that she minds—she’s too engrossed in the blissful sensation to remotely care. Her hands find their way around your neck and back, scratching and digging away at your skin in an attempt to pull you even closer.

It aches—but not as much as the ache in Hanni’s core. As you inch her closer to climax, you can feel her tremble, propping her head on your shoulder now as her outlet, whimpering, crying, mewling. “Almost—” she mumbles, before she’s caught up again in the sea of her own pleasure. Knowing this, the rest of your body moves like it’s second nature. Faster and deeper, you continue your endless assault on her body, until—

Suddenly, Hanni freezes up, moans over your ear as a moment of silent calm follows. In the succeeding moments, you both remain clung together as her orgasm hits. And by god, it hits her like lightning. Sharp and brutal. Fingers stuck deep in her core as she gushes, quivers all over them. It lingers, leaves you both incapacitated.

Minutes that could easily stretch into hours, stuck on a desk, basking in the afterglow of unadulterated bliss. Eventually, she lifts up her head and lets out a deep breath of relief. Her hands remain entangled with your hair as she pulls herself back. A scope down gives you a short but telling extent of the damage: copious amounts of slick dripping on the edge of the table, down to the floor. You’re a little terrified of what your fingers will look like.

Through half-lidded eyes, Hanni flashes you a smile as she slowly realizes the mess she has become. Cheeks flustered with embarrassment, she quickly pushes down her undershirt, but they can’t hide her nipples’ rigidness. You’re both grinning at each other like mischievous pranksters. Something tells you that despite everything, it’s not enough. The fire in her eyes and the confidence in her laugh says it all: she’s looking for more trouble, and one way or another, you’re gonna be her accomplice.

Before you can even utter a word, you both hear a knock on the door. Through the casted silhouette, you recognize that it’s a janitor. Spent energy be damned, you’re brought back to reality. You quickly turn to Hanni in a state of alarm, “Shit. I told you not told to do this in the classroom—”

Reaching out her hand, she replies, “It’s gonna be fine! Give me my bag and I’ll get us out of this.”

You immediately rush Hanni her bag, and while you hastily put yourself back in one piece, she grabs a pack of tissues to clear all evidence of your little escapade. In no time, you’ve somehow returned the place in nearly the same position you found it. Only one difference: her panties are left on the floor, and she hasn’t bothered to pick them up.

“Wait, your underwear—” you tell her as you pick them off the floor. She’s already on the edge of the classroom, opening up one of the windows to escape. It’s not a suicide jump; only someone with brittle bones could possibly break their legs doing the drop, and there’s really no other choice: run away with her or find yourself at the dean’s office on your first day back after the holidays.

“Keep it if you want.” Hanni shoots you a playful wink and a cheeky grin as she lifts one leg over the open window. “We don’t have much time, so unless you wanna explain yourself to the profs—”

“I’m already in trouble regardless,” you reply as you join her on the way out. You didn’t need to think about what to do. “Got eight missed phone calls from my fam. I’m fucked regardless. Might as well make the most of our time while we’re here.”

—————

A/N: Happy new year! I never thought I’d write something for NewJeans, but never say never. Hanni was easily the scene stealer for me at the Asia Artist Awards, she and the other members constantly waved at us from beginning to end, and they were killer performers! I can see why she’s so adored; she’s both talented and adorable. It’s been difficult getting back into writing after one month away, so this definitely is a feel-out attempt, but I hope it’s still good anyway. Here’s to the coming year and hopefully more to come. Thanks for reading!

P.S. I sincerely want to take this moment to apologize for my slow production. As previously mentioned, I got hit with a severe case of the flu, which kept me down for almost two weeks. Since recovering, I’ve been experiencing weird cases of brain fog, where sometimes my mind ‘isn’t there’ and it feels like my body’s been moving on autopilot. I’ve been getting healthier since then, but the so-called absentmindedness still remains. I’ve tried writing a few times since then, and it honestly feels like I’ve forgotten how to write. Hell, this fic was supposed to be out on Christmas day and I’ve struggled to put it together! It’s been very rough. I don’t wanna make promises because I’ll just end up breaking them, so I’ll just say that I’m trying my damned hardest to get back to that level I had been moving before my momentum stalled. I always want to deliver the best possible fic for you to enjoy. Thank you so much for being patient with me as always <3

#smut #kpop smut #newjeans #hanni

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ashasdiary · 5 months ago

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Perfection

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader Synopsis: PWP. Gojo explores his favourite pastime. CW: established relationship, fluff, smut - cunnilingus, fingering, edging, unprotected sex, brief cockwarming, creampie Word Count: 1.8k A/N: hehe enjoy this <3

Gojo Satoru is the epitome of the phrase “duality of man”. Why? You’ve watched firsthand how he effortlessly switches between who he is at his core (playful, intelligent, selfless and sweet), and who society has shaped him to become on the outside (hardened, stoic, serious, but still intelligent).

He’s so easily adaptable to everything and everyone that one moment he’ll be having a gentle conversation with Megumi about working on his technique and the next he’ll be butting heads with the higher ups about assigning appropriate missions to his students. One moment, he will be taunting special-grade spirits and exorcising them, and the next? He will be on his knees worshipping your body, his head locked between your legs, while he hungrily laps at your juices. And that, you’ve found, is his favourite pastime.

Your very being is one that hypnotises everyone that you meet, but your body is a thing to marvel. And Gojo, being the protective but possessive boyfriend that he is, has decided that since he is the only one who gets to see your body in its entirety, he will surely show his appreciation for it every damn chance he gets.

So here you are, and here he is: you with your bare body writhing in the sheets of your shared bed, and Gojo with his, perched before you, strong arms wrapped tightly around your thighs as he devours your pussy like it’s the first time.

The range of his character is so perfect to you and it turns you on so much knowing that this man is wholeheartedly yours.

Your soft gasps and your breathy moans are like music to his ears; sounds which make his cock throb. He rocks his hips absentmindedly against the bed, trying to find some reprieve, while he circles your sensitive clit with his tongue. Your hand threads through his soft hair, and you tug on it lightly, just the way he likes. This, combined with the sinful sounds spilling from your lips, riles him up more and he sucks on your clit, teasing the tips of his fingers at your soaked entrance.

Your breath shudders as you look down at him and as soon as you do, he looks up having sensed your gaze, your eyes locked. His pupils are blown so wide that only a thin ring of blue remains, and he notes the same with yours. God, you fucking loved this man.

“Satoru,” you breathed as he pushed his middle fingers into you slowly, continuing to tease your swollen clit with his tongue. All the while he kept his gaze locked with yours.

“I love it when you say my name like that,” he grinned, slowly retracting his fingers and pushing them into you again.

“O-oh,” you moan, pulling a little harder on his hair. His cock is throbbing at the sight of you. He pumps his fingers slowly, the copious amounts of slick seeping from you making it smooth. He flicks your clit with his tongue and reaches up to tease your nipple with his fingers. Rolling the hard peak between his thumb and index, your other hand covers his over your breast and you buck your hips against his hand and mouth, letting out a pathetic whine from just how well he’s pleasing you.

He’s playing your body like his favourite instrument, and the way it’s responding to his touch is truly magnetic.

“Say my name again, baby,” he requests, eyes shining as he watches you, your lips parted as you try to form coherent thoughts and words.

“S…ah…,” you moan again as he curls his fingers inside you slightly, caressing your inner walls, and your legs quake a little. “Satoru, please…I want you,” you manage to whimper.

“You have me,” he chuckles softly, his eyes fluttering closed as he takes his fingers from you and pushes his tongue inside you. You gasp at the change and buck your hips again, and he presses his hand flat against your abdomen to push your hips back down.

By this point, you were desperate for his cock. Your whole body on fire with desire, you tugged more on his hair and he groaned against you, the sound of which sent shockwaves through your core.

“Give it to me,” he murmurs, alternating deftly between his mouth and his fingers and your brows furrow as you try to catch your breath and focus. “Gonna come for me, sweetheart?” He teases you as he feels precome spill from him, and all you can do in that moment is nod, because words are lost.

“Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking pretty,” he sighs happily to himself as he watches you almost reach the edge of bliss…and then, he pulls away completely.

You blink up at him, panting lightly and cheeks flushed, feeling the loss while he kneels in front of you. “I was right there!” You whine, pouting at his decision to edge you, but you weren’t mad at all. You knew the outcome would be an even stronger orgasm.

“That’s too bad. Because now…” he runs his hands softly over your outer thighs and squeezes your hips as he bends over you, leaning his head down to trace his tongue up your body, “you’re gonna come when I do.” He teases your breasts, his mouth on one and his hand shamelessly cupping the other, pinching the taut peak.

You let out a squeak as he licks and kisses his way up your collarbone, neck and jaw, and you almost moan at the sight of him on top of you. His face is now a breath away from yours; your legs and arms instantly wrap around him because you want nothing more than for him to consume your being. He captures his mouth with yours as soon as you lock your legs around his hips, and he tangles his tongue with yours, letting you enjoy the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Gojo kisses like a starved man, and with you, even the smallest, chaste pecks ignite sparks deep in his belly from how perfect you are to him. So now, in this moment, the messy, breathy, needy kisses that you share are making both his and your insides go insane. You cling to him desperately, fingers running up his undercut and to his longer hair where you tug on it again.

“Taste divine, don’t you?” He pushes his tongue against yours again and you moan in response, then louder again when you feel the solid warmth of his cock against your sensitive folds.

“Please…”you whine quietly, cupping his face as you continue to kiss the life out of him. You don’t need to ask him twice.

He doesn’t falter, continuing his assault on your perfect lips while he reaches one hand to guide his achingly hard cock into you. You’re the one to break the messy kiss and gasp as you look down to watch him slide into you. He feeds you each inch tantalisingly slow, knowing it’s going to send you into a frenzy. Every single time that you are intimate with this man, it’s like you’re ascending into the next dimension.

When he bottoms out inside you, you feel nothing but bliss at how perfectly his body connected with yours. You feel nothing but satisfaction at the fullness of him stretching you out, nothing but pure pleasure. He’s like a drug to you. His lips trail down to your neck, kissing, licking, and sucking on the soft skin there as he stays still for a moment, enjoying the warmth of you, of being home. “So damn perfect for me,” he murmurs and you squeeze your walls around him in response. He groans at this, drawing his hips back and rocking them forward again. And again. And again.

Your eyes flutter shut briefly, almost rolling to the back of your head as he thrusts his cock into you, making you feel so full. You can’t think — it’s the effect that he has on you — so you reach up behind your head to grab onto the pillow to stabilise yourself.

“My sweet girl,” he coos, “so fuckin’ perfect wrapped around me,” he praises you and you feel a small gush of wetness seep out around him. He then sits up, draping your legs over his thighs and taking hold of your hips. This was your favourite position because it allowed him to hit the deepest spots inside you.

He ruts his hips into you desperately now, reaching his thumb over to toy with and abuse your clit some more. He alters his technique and instead of thrusting into you, he’s pulling your body onto his cock; you love when he takes control and uses you like this.

All thoughts in your head are well and truly gone by now, nothing but him in your mind, nothing but the way that he was splitting you open on his delicious cock, the sound of his hips meeting yours echoing loudly around you.

Your back arches at the feeling of pure ecstasy, your moans filling the room as both of you near your peaks. “S-Satoru…I’m gonna come,” you pant out quickly, the imminence of your orgasm nearby.

“Yeah? Gonna come on my cock, sweet thing?” One last time, he switches his technique again, and this time, he bends your legs and pushes them back, pinning them with his arms locked over them. He fucks you into the mattress harshly, but he only gets to thrust a handful of times in that position before the coil inside you releases, the rush of your orgasm overwhelming your senses as your walls clench incessantly around his aching cock.

He grunts deeply at the tightness of you, trying to fuck you through it but your orgasm triggers his as his hips stutter, his deep groans making you clench again. He grunts a low “F-fuck,” and he releases his hot come into you. As he does, he leans down quickly, lips finding yours, sharing needy kisses while he pumps you full of his come.

You’re both panting, a little sweaty, but it’s perfect. You hold onto him as you both stay connected, your kisses becoming more soft and sensual. Carefully, he slips out of you, but stays lying on top of you.

It might’ve been messy, but you didn’t care. He nuzzles your neck, letting out soft sounds of happiness against you. “Mm. I love you, baby. You’re beautiful. And you’re mine.” His long fingers trail over your arms and your sides as he gets comfortable on top of you. He’s like your personal weighted blanket.

He’s laying with his head on your chest, lazing with you for a sweet moment in post coital bliss. The tender moment is cut short by the sound of his phone ringing, and he sighs annoyedly as he sits up and snatches the device off the nightstand. “Hi, Gojo speaking,” he says in his normal voice and you stifle a giggle from the vast difference of how he’d been whining mere moments ago.

“Understood. I’ll be there in 10,” he says and hangs up the phone. You let out a laugh as soon as he does.

“You’re not real!”

“What can I say, I’m a versatile guy,” he grins.

Do not copy or translate my work.

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jjk smut

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hazbinshusk · 3 months ago

Note

Randomly popped into my head

Husk and a stubborn sick reader, where the reader so badly wants to get up and go and do things, but Husk won't let them. And they get into a mini fight over it before Husk makes a deal (wink wink) with them that if they stay, Husk will stay with them and they'll do something like binge movies or voxflix or board games or just cuddle

combining with a request for a kiss prompt because they sound so sweet together :)

prompt #9: a kiss to the eyelid.

Husk rolls his eyes as you try and clamber out of bed again, taking hold of your shoulders and guiding you back down to sit on the edge of the mattress. You fix him with a petulantly furrowed brow, arms folded over your chest. He sighs, amused despite himself. “You might as well can it with the glare, sweetness. I ain’t lettin’ you outta this room.”

“God, I hate you,” you grumble.

“No, you don’t.” he replies easily, the beginnings of a smile teasing at the edge of his lips. He brushes hair away from your forehead, and your eyes close for a moment as his claws graze softly against your scalp. “And God ain’t listenin’.”

“Well, why would he start now?” you joke weakly, grimacing as another wave of nausea rolls through you. “And no, I don’t.”

Husk smiles fully, but it disappears again with another roll of his eyes as you push past him towards the door again. He turns and grabs hold of your wrist, wings fluttering slightly behind him as they settle against his shoulders again. His tail twitches by his ankle slowly. “You’re sick, damn it.”

“I’m not sick,” you argue, even as you can feel the slight sheen of sweat on your temple as your fever rises. “I’m just—”

“Baby, I swear, if I have to spend the next hour combin’ puke outta my fur—”

“Oh, like you’ve never had to do that before.”

Husk chuckles, taking hold of your waist and trying to guide you back towards the bed.

“I’m not sick, for fuck’s sake.” you repeat, pushing him away irritably. “I’m not staying up here all day by myself. I’ll go insane. I’m going to go downstairs, talk to Charlie, and find… find out what she needs me to do for the hotel.”

The bartender growls quietly under his breath, officially annoyed. He had a world of patience for you, but it was beginning to wear thin. “You ain’t gonna get better—”

“I’m not sick.”

“—if you don’t slow down.” He retakes your waist, this time nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck. You feel yourself relax into the sensation of it, breath catching as his lips brush your jaw. His nose is cold, and as much as you would hate to admit it, the feeling of it bumping against your heated skin is a nice reprieve from the burn of the slight fever you definitely don’t have. Husk hums, low and rusty, in your ear, his forehead resting against your temple. “C’mon, sweetness. Bed.”

“Ugh,” you groan childishly. “You don’t even mean for sex.”

Husk laughs, turning you and guiding you back to the bed. You let him set you on the mattress, frowning up at him. He smiles, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead. You smile contentedly at the brief contact. “I’ll come up and check on you in a bit, yeah?”

You shake your head, grabbing hold of one of his suspenders. “Uh-uh. If I’m stuck up here, you’re staying too. I’ll go crazy in here by myself.”

Husk sighs, a furrow deepening in his brow. “Y’know I want to, baby. But I’ve got the bar, and Al isn’t—”

“Alastor can kiss my ass.” you say firmly, taking hold of his other suspender and drawing him closer to you. He steps between your knees, an almost amused tilt to his lips.

“Y’know I think it’s sexy when you talk like that, sweetness, but that ain’t how this works.”

You shake your head. “I mean it; Charlie told you to make sure I was feeling better, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Then do that. Contract or no, I’m pretty sure Charlie outranks that smiling psycho as long as we’re in the hotel.”

Husk’s smile widens despite himself, pressing another kiss to your forehead. He dusts kisses over your face, lips lingering on your cheekbone, your eyelids. “You’re dangerous.”

“Stay with me?”

Husk rumbles in the back of his throat, bumping his forehead against yours. “If I stay, will you stay in bed?”

“For the un-fun reasons, right?”

“’m sure we can find somethin’ fun to do.” he assures you, gesturing for you to move back against the pillows. You do so, and he climbs in beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Just need to hold off on the naked kind ‘til I’m sure you’re not gonna toss your cookies on the sheets.”

“Spoilsport.”

Husk chuckles, bumping his nose against your temple. “Movie?”

You nod, curling into his side. Despite your protestations, being like this, with him… it was exactly where you wanted to be. “Movie.”

“That’s my girl.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

#jx3-xd #husk #husk fic #husk x reader #my fic #hazbin husk x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin hotel fanfic

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idiopath-fic-smile · 1 year ago

Text

more Singin' in the Rain ot3, now on the honeymoon boat

part one

part two

The ship was a grand one. Cosmo, whose nautical knowledge began and ended with that Douglas Fairbanks picture about pirates, could tell that much. There was a majestic dining room and a wide, clean promenade and state-of-the-art engines that would get them to Europe in just a few days. The dining room even featured a four-piece band, who were a little stiff but not half bad.

His room, his island of privacy away from Don and Kathy and their combined magnetic pull, was bigger than he expected, well-appointed. It went a little overboard embracing an Egyptian theme, although the decorators had tastefully stopped short of including an actual mummy in a giant stone sarcophagus. He was grateful for that. The piano, as promised, sat in the place of where a desk might normally be, keys gleaming invitingly.

There was just one problem.

“How,” said Cosmo, dropping onto the bed, “did you manage to accidentally book us two adjoining rooms?”

“I’m sorry,” said Don, crossing his arms. “There must’ve been a mix-up at the offices.”

“Maybe the travel agent heard wrong on the telephone,” said Kathy. She rubbed Don’s back consolingly. Don shot her a grateful look. It was all very sweet, probably.

“How?” said Cosmo again. “Nothing sounds like ‘adjoining.’ It doesn’t even have a rhyme.”

“Are you certain?” said Kathy.

Cosmo nodded; he’d already run through the alphabet, twice. “The closest I can get to is ‘disappointing.’” Don was leaning into Kathy’s back rub like a cat, but his face was full of uncatlike guilt. “Don,” said Cosmo, “look, pal, I appreciate the free ticket, but please tell me you’ll fix this.”

“I already talked to the cruise director and there aren’t other rooms,” said Don. “We’re out in the ocean, what do you want me to do, alert the coast guard?”

“Alert the coast guard,” said Cosmo, “flag down a passing mermaid, strike a bargain with Poseidon himself!”

“Who?” said Don.

“The Greek god of the sea,” said Kathy, like that was the important part.

“I don’t speak any Greek,” Don replied, “do you?”

“I will swim to shore,” Cosmo said, to nobody in particular.

“We can swap over to a different ship when we get to port if we need to,” said Don, shoulders slumping uncharacteristically. He must’ve felt worse about his screw-up than he let on. “In the meantime, the door locks from both sides, so—”

“I’m not—worried that you’ll barge in at all hours pestering me for a cup of sugar,” Cosmo broke in.

Don blinked. Kathy went very still beside him.

Out loud, it sounded more suggestive than he’d meant. Why had he picked sugar, the sauciest ingredient of the baking world?

“Or flour,” he amended.

“Then what’s the trouble?”

“I.” Cosmo sighed. “Why am I the only person in this room who seems to know what a honeymoon is for?”

“Why,” said Don, wide-eyed, “what’s it for?”

“D’you think, if I jumped in the sea and started paddling now—” said Cosmo.

“Don’t worry,” said Kathy. “Don and I can be very quiet.”

And the trouble was, this was worse. The prospect of hearing them from the other side of a single thin door was one thing, and honestly it was plenty bad—Cosmo had played a role during several key moments of their courtship but at least he could say he didn’t know what they sounded like in the throes of passion—but for reasons that Cosmo did not feel like examining, the thought of them stifling themselves in the act, the thought of them naked in bed together, touching each other, biting down on a giggle or a moan, and whispering, ‘Shh, don’t wake Cosmo,’ made him feel like his whole stomach was a sore tooth.

“Don’t put yourselves out on my account,” he told them. Belatedly, he realized that was maybe the worst thing he could’ve said. He blushed, and then he stood, face still flaming—Damn his Irish complexion—nodded to them both, and fled to the promenade.

The ocean stretched in all directions as far as Cosmo could see. It was dizzying, and also strangely calming. He stared out at the waves and reminded himself, hardly for the first time, that it wasn’t Don’s fault how Cosmo felt about him. It wasn’t Don’s fault, and it wasn’t Kathy’s fault that she was maybe the most charming woman he’d ever met. You could certainly blame Don for booking the rooms, for not double-checking over the telephone, but there was no malice to it. They were both, at the end of the day, wonderful people who had decided to open this trip up to him for whatever reason, and besides, his bed was piled with any number of pillows he could jam over his head if they did make noise at night.

He stood there holding onto the railing for a long time. Eventually, he heard footsteps behind him.

“Feeling better?” said Don quietly, almost lost under the roar of the water. Without really trying to, Cosmo turned to look at him. Under his coat, Don was wearing a nicer suit than before, and the color had returned to his face. He looked—well, he looked like a handsome movie star married to a gorgeous starlet. Don took a few steps and rested his hands next to Cosmo’s on the rail.

“It’s the salt air, I think,” said Cosmo, nodding. “Feels like I could do anything. Why, I might write another musical, wear my trousers baggy, become a pirate.”

“Your trousers are fine as is,” said Don.

Cosmo shrugged. “A little change can be good.”

“Sure, unless it isn’t.” Don sighed. It was an awfully sad sigh to be having about the fit of a guy’s pants, Cosmo thought, but then Don turned to him and added, “You know, we really have missed you.”

“Don,” said Cosmo patiently. “I was at your house this Thursday. I stayed for three hours. I drank all your gin.”

Don didn’t make a crack about the gin, which was probably a bad sign. “And before that?”

Before that, it had been a while. Cosmo winced inwardly. “I’ve been busy,” he said, “you’ve been busy, Kathy’s been busy—”

“We invited you over, four different times,” Don interjected. “If I’ve done something, if we’ve done something, I wish you would just tell us.”

In front of them, the sea rolled and rolled. Cosmo thought about deflection, about twisting the moment into a joke, a sword duel where cold steel met only an outstretched rubber chicken: squeak.

He let out a long breath. “Why the Hell did you bring me along on your honeymoon?”

“We brought you along because we wanted you along,” said Don. “Whenever you’re not there, we wish you were. It doesn’t need to be any harder than that.”

“So it isn’t…” Cosmo started.

“What?” “You and Kathy aren’t having problems? Hoping for a buffer, or a distraction?” It was a very new theory on Cosmo’s part, and once the words had left his mouth, he realized how badly they fit the facts at hand.

Don smiled a private little smile. “Me and Kathy are doing just marvelously.”

“That’s splendid,” said Cosmo, because he had to say something, apparently. Marvelous didn’t bode well for Cosmo’s sanity at night, but it beat his friends being sad. “Lovely.” He let his cadences drift into a so-so British accent. “Capital show, old sport. Tip-top. Simpy spiffing.” Not his best work.

Don lay a hand on Cosmo’s coat sleeve, at the elbow. “Do you want to come to dinner with us?” he said. “It’s meant to be a formal affair but you’ve still got time to change.”

Whenever you’re not here, we wish you were. Obviously, Don didn’t mean “whenever” in the strictest sense—Cosmo got the feeling he was not present in Don’s mind, say, when Don was in bed with his beautiful wife—but the thought now made him feel warmer than the gin had. It would be enough. It had to be.

“Sure,” said Cosmo, “why not,” and Don thumped him encouragingly on the back.

“Cosmo,” said Don as they headed back into the body of the boat, “piracy, really?” Cosmo grinned. “Don’t blame me, blame that salt air. Makes a man feel like anything’s possible.”

Kathy and Don looked enchanting at dinner, and Cosmo cleaned up alright too, if he didn’t say so himself.

The food was good—salmon with hollandaise sauce and French beans, braised duckling with apple sauce, some fancy beef thing, salad Dumas and ice cream for dessert—and the band had relaxed a smidge and was playing something from this century, which was nice.

Over dessert, Kathy told them about how, one night several months before meeting Don, she’d been at a speakeasy during what turned out to be a police raid.

“What were you doing in a speakeasy?” Cosmo asked before he could stop to think about it.

“Why, drinking milk and reading Austen, of course,” she replied, a picture of guilelessness. Don snickered, and she grinned.

“I walked full-speed into that one,” said Cosmo.

“Buddy, you ran,” said Don.

“I was drinking,” Kathy acknowledged, nodding, “but really that’s where the best dancing is. The best music, too.”

Cosmo, who lately only drank at parties or at home because it was easier and safer, nodded thoughtfully.

“Hot jazz?”

“The hottest, at least in Los Angeles. Once we’re back, we should all go!”

“I could always stand to take in more culture,” said Cosmo.

“Oh no,” said Don, “don’t let her pull you into her sordid past. Did you forget the end of the story is ‘and then the police came?’”

“That’s more the middle,” said Kathy. “Well, middle-end.”

“So how’d you escape the reaching arm of the law?” Cosmo asked.

Kathy swallowed her ice cream. “I saw the police were all rushing in through the front door, and I dashed to the back and through the performers’ dressing room. I’d done makeup for some of my school plays, so I fought my way up to the mirror, grabbed a grease pencil—a few lines here, a few lines there—borrowed an old coat of the back of a chair, ran maybe half a block, and pretended to be an old lady.”

“Really,” said Cosmo.

“It’s mostly in the walk and the posture,” she said. “And it helps that a few of the street lights were out.”

“And the cops were fooled?”

“One of them asked me if I’d seen any young people running that way,” said Kathy.

Cosmo clapped his hands together with glee. “Don, you married a criminal mastermind! Never make her angry.”

Don wrapped an arm around her shoulders and flashed her a besotted look. “I don’t intend to.”

Kathy nestled into the half-embrace. “Tell me more about—was it Coyoteville? With the ventriloquist.”

“Dead Man’s Fang,” said Cosmo. “And your wish is my command, but I don’t know what else there is to say. We came, we saw, we lost our sleeping arrangements to a puppet.”

“He tucked it in that night, remember?” said Don suddenly.

“He did!” said Cosmo, delighted.

Sometimes when Don started in on the official line about how they’d studied at the conservatory and the rest of that baloney, Cosmo worried that some part of Don believed it, that it was Cosmo’s job alone to remember how long they’d traveled that strange, bumpy, often farcical road together towards some measure of success and respectability in Hollywood. But Cosmo had completely forgotten that particular detail. He had burned it from his mind.

“After he fell asleep, one of you might have moved the dummy and claimed that bed,” Kathy pointed out.

“He left it with the head turned facing us, eyes open,” said Don. “Neither of us were touching that thing.”

“So instead, Cosmo had to put up with Don all night,” said Kathy solemnly.

“So instead, I had to put up with Don all night.”

He could still recall the potent mix of resignation, terror, and guilty excitement he’d felt, huddling up on that mattress together. Their act at the time had involved being in close quarters a lot—at one point, the choreography had Cosmo leap onto Don’s back and then immediately continue playing the fiddle—so it wasn’t like touching Don was a novelty, back then. But doing it offstage, out of costume, away from any onlookers except for Esther Quill the ventriloquist dummy, it had felt like an entirely different proposition.

Don had been a real champ about it, though. When Cosmo had started shaking with withheld hilarity that this was his life, the punchline of all punchlines and nobody to share it with, not just Don’s best friend but his literal bedwarmer, Don had clearly assumed it was a simple case of the shivers, and so he’d bundled Cosmo close, tucked Cosmo’s head under his chin, and wrapped his arms around him, muttering warm in his ear about how if Cosmo dropped dead, Don was out a dance partner “and that whole routine wouldn’t work as a solo number, it’d go over like a brick.”

“Just imagine what barnyard animal they’d have you opening for then,” Cosmo had whispered back, because Oatmeal, Nebraska had already happened to them. “A pig who juggles. A cow acrobat. A chicken magician. Just a little sleight of wing, folks, nothing up my feathers.”

And Don had laughed, and held Cosmo tighter, and the ventriloquist had shushed them, which had made them both crack up again. It had been a long night, and not one Cosmo would forget in a hurry.

“Who runs hot as a Holland furnace, let me tell you,” he added now, in case his tone had shifted a few shades too close to dreamy.

“Oh, I know,” said Kathy, smiling.

Don raised an accusing finger at him. “Well, you were shaking like a leaf! You’re lucky I was there, especially when we didn’t have so much as a sheet of our own!”

“Wait, why didn’t you have any blankets?” asked Kathy.

“The blankets,” said Don airily, “were for the puppet.”

And so dinner had been a joy, and after that, Don and Kathy invited him back to their room for a drink or two, because they’d had the common sense to bring alcohol, which was of course not offered by the cruise. The three of them sat on Don and Kathy’s bed (much bigger than Cosmo’s—not that he was jealous, he didn’t need the space, but the sheer expanse of mattress really did rival a small country, and Cosmo was determined not to picture in any detail how the two newlyweds might make use of that) and passed a flask around and had some more laughs and when Cosmo next got a glimpse of his watch, it was three in the morning.

“I should go,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” said Kathy. She’d shucked off her heels at some point and now her stocking feet were in Cosmo’s lap. Don sat on her other side, head on her shoulder. He’d loosened his tie early on, and his suitcoat was draped over one of the bedposts. While they were drinking, it had all felt very natural. Looking at them now, Cosmo had the sense he was intruding on something private, something intimate.

Granted, they weren’t exactly trying to kick him out, but Kathy was drunk, or tired, or else she was both drunk and tired, and it was up to Cosmo not to outstay his welcome. They had a whole two weeks together, after all, and their rooms were barely a wall apart.

“My regrets, Cinderella,” said Cosmo, “but I can feel myself turning back into a pumpkin.”

He made as if to stand, but her feet were in the way. Very gently, he picked up her ankles, lifted them off his legs, stood, turned her like they were doing some sort of a dance move, and deposited her feet in Don’s lap instead.

“There,” he said to no one.

A long pause followed. Don and Kathy blinked up at him. He sorely regretted moving her. It had seemed like the most elegant solution. Probably he should’ve found one that didn’t involve taking hold of her legs, skin warm through the thin layer of nylon–

Kathy’s brow furrowed. “What makes you the carriage?” she said at last.

“What?” said Cosmo, who really did need to make an exit.

“Cinderella,” said Don, apparently reading her mind, which was swell for them.

“Better that than the mouse footman,” Cosmo told her. “Or the lizard coachman. Or the horse.” Or—who else? There were a lot of characters in Cinderella, he realized.

“There’s a prince in that story, Cosmo,” said Kathy. “A human prince.”

“Yes,” said Cosmo, patiently, “and you’re married to him, your highness,” He sketched a little bow but Don and Kathy weren’t looking at him. They were having one of those silent couple conversations, with mostly their eyes and eyebrows. A career in movies before the advent of sound had probably given Don a real advantage in that department, Cosmo thought, although Kathy seemed to be holding her own.

“It’s a made-up fairytale,” Kathy said at last. “Why, it can go any way you want it to.”

“The lady’s got a point,” said Don.

Cosmo blinked. He knew how it sounded, knew that to the untrained ear, it certainly—there were overtones, or undertones, or just plain tones that vibrated with suggestion. Cosmo had grown up in Vaudeville and now he lived in Hollywood; these things happened every now and then. These things did not happen to Cosmo. He was good for a dance or a laugh, and nine times out of ten, that was enough for him, but he wasn’t exactly fending off amorous advances—not like Don, and probably not like Kathy, either.

Also, Don liked women. Don only liked women, as far as Cosmo knew, and they had lived out of each other’s pockets for years.

The fact that a late-night ménage à trois rendezvous was increasingly the only explanation that held water in his head—it said more about Cosmo’s fragile mental state than it did about Don and Kathy’s true motives, he decided.

Don and Kathy who were still sitting on the bed, waiting for some sort of response.

“I wouldn’t, uh,” Cosmo started, and then realized with a stab of panic that for once, he didn’t have a joke in the wings, waiting to go. “I wouldn’t know where to start,” he said.

“You said earlier today you might become a pirate,” Don offered. Kathy cuddled up close against his side, watching with bright, intent eyes. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Enter pirate, stage left.”

“I said I was thinking about it,” said Cosmo, trying not to sound affected and missing by a mile. “A fella can think about all kinds of things he wouldn’t do.”

Case in point: Cosmo was not about to climb back into bed with them, no matter how cozy that bed was, no matter how warm and inviting and beautiful the two of them looked together.

His hands were starting to shake, he realized, and if Don saw that, and past experience was any judge, Cosmo might spend the night being cuddled for warmth again. What was Cosmo’s life? He didn’t go in for horoscopes, but maybe he should’ve, maybe that was the key to understanding the whole puzzle: Cosmo Brown, born under the one constellation that resembled clown shoes. He swallowed back a hysterical laugh and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Why not?” said Kathy quietly.

Because he didn’t want to ruin his oldest friendship and his most promising new one, all in a single go. Because he hated rejection, and the thought of two no’s that close together made his head spin unpleasantly. Because then there would be no more innocent touches and smiles and nightcaps in Don and Kathy’s room.

That wasn’t what she’d asked, though. Mentally, he shook himself.

“If everyone who thought about being a pirate became one, the whole US of A would fall apart,” Cosmo informed them. “Nobody would work, or pay taxes, or go to see films. Not to mention the national parrot shortage—just try to get ahold of birdseed anymore! There’d be a run on eyepatches and tri-corner hats, and the price of a simple pirate earring would shoot through the roof, in fact—”

“It’d cost a buccaneer,” Don filled in. He sounded almost sad, which was a mystery because that bit was evergreen.

“That’s right,” said Cosmo. He rocked back onto his heels, at a loss for a moment. He’d really been counting on that joke to clear the air.

“Cosmo,” said Kathy. “Do you want to go, or do you want to want to go?”

Cosmo struggled to make sense of that. He struggled to parse it in a way that worked outside his own feverish imagination. His entire mind came up short. That was where it got you, going on the road with only an eighth grade education, he thought. His was a cautionary tale.

Maybe ninth grade was where they taught you how not to twist a moment in your head to the point where it really did seem like maybe Cosmo could’ve kissed either of them, could’ve kissed both of them, and it would’ve been fine, or even more than fine. Maybe it was that, and Dickens, and Geography; Cosmo still could not locate Siam on a map. Or Paris. Come to think of it, ménage à trois and rendezvous were the only French he knew besides bonjour. This time, he did laugh. It was that or scream.

“I am both too drunk, and not drunk enough for this talk,” he said, turning for the door that led directly back to his room.

“If you’d rather stay—” said Don.

“Of course I’d rather stay, Don,” Cosmo snapped, sharper than he’d meant to. “But leave me enough dignity to fill half a shotglass, at least.” Don and Kathy said nothing. When he got to the door, he sighed. “Sorry, that was—I’m sorry. See you at breakfast.” “Goodnight,” said Kathy.

Alone in his room, Cosmo closed the door and ran his hands through his hair. Pirates in Cinderella, he thought. Offers to stay, with his room not 30 paces away, at three hours past midnight. Maybe it would all make sense in the morning.

#singin in the rain ot3

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billk4ulitzsecretlvr · 5 months ago

Note

could you maybe write a threesome with Bill and Tom and their girl best friend (they're all like childhood best friends) who's still a virgin? They're messing around one day and one thing leads to the other but they're telling each other it's not wrong cause it doesn't mean anything ... obviously that's a lie but they're all enjoying it way too much to stop. please please

A/N ☆ : I've never actually written a threesome fic before so please forgive me if I over use names / pronouns or focus too much on one character and not the other !

☆ This fic contains : p in v , threeway , brothers ?? Technically , y/n , oral play ( m and f ) , spit , bbrief edging ( ? )

.•.☆Nothing To Me ☆.•.

☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.

The twins. Always the boys that were your best friends, always each other's best friends. It was your guys' small group, not that there'd ever need to be anybody else.

You were invited over by the older of the two, Tom. The one with the mattlocks. They were long, always kept in a pony tail that was swallowed up by his flat brim and beanie combination. Blonde, brown, and dirty brown was the complection of colors in his hair.

He was always the more laid back one, easily relaxing and would much rather do so than to go out and party.. or hangout in large quantities of people.

But you? You were always an exception. For both of them, of course.

Tom had a younger brother, Bill. He was only younger by ten minutes, and god, he didn't disappoint when he grew up.

The boy was thin, fast metabolism helped towards keeping a slim figure. People often mistook him for a chick, seeing as his hair was long, reaching his shoulder blades. It was black, everything on him always had to be. He had subtle white streaks that weren't too frequent in his raven black mane,

Both of the boys had high cheek bones, thin faces that had similar qualities but still distinguishable. Bill had a more feminine face, whereas Tom was very obviously a dude.

Of course, all of this doesn't matter. You love them both equally and it wouldn't change anything if the roles were swapped between the two. They were both your favorite people, your rocks. It was the same for them.

"Y/n," Bill swatted his hand in front of your face, grabbing your attention.

He was wearing a black button up, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his thin arms. Sporting some leather bracelets, he had a white leather belt with many holes in it wrapped around his hips. His jeans were your average bootcut jeans , his hair styled up in that baffling lion like look, but a bit more relaxed.

"Sorry," you sighed, walking into the house as Bill shut the door behind you.

"Tom's in the bathroom," Bill mumbled as he lead you upstairs.

And of course, you guys were ought to hangout in Bill's room. "The coolest room in the house", per your opinion.

His walls were adorned with posters for all the bands he liked, overwhelming at first glance before you were able to fully grasp the artists and identify them. He had a vanity in the corner, his eyeshadow and eyeliner sprawled out across the wooden flat. It was black, of course.

Bill sat on his bed, sighing as he waited for Tom to join you guys. Eventually, he did. The slightly shorter (in comparison to Bill,) entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

"What's up, Y/n?" Tom smirked, fist bumping you as he sat on Bills bed, next to the boy. Bill curled himself into the corner against the headboard and the wall as he attempted to work the TV.

You smiled softly, gazing up at Tom. "Nothing new," you mumbled.

Tom looked just as good, as always. He had on a white oversized shirt, blue denim jeans to match the proportions. His beanie was black, topped with a white flat brim hat. He stole a couple glances at you, looking you up and down before averting his eyes to the TV.

"Give me the damn thing," Tom hissed, snatching the remote from Bill which only earned a sigh and eyeroll.

"Could you guys ever be nice to each other?" You giggled, sitting yourself on the floor.

Bill sat up, smirking softly between you and Tom as he took notice of you sitting on the floor.

"Get off the bed, jackass. Let y/n sit somewhere actually comfortable." Bill said, kicking Tom off.

A loud thud was heard as Tom fell onto the floor, slightly annoyed with Bill as the boy patted the bed to let you sit where Tom used to.

You giggled softly, rolling your eyes at their boyish ways. Nonetheless, you took the opportunity to steal Tom's spot and cuddle yourself into Bill's black bedset.

After some time, the boys were actually able to get the TV working. Bill had been wanting to watch a movie for quite a bit with you, seeing as twilight wasn't too bad in your opinion.. he wanted to try Cruel Intentions. Tom found it a load of bullshit, never really being interested in the weird romances you and Bill bonded so strongly over.. but Tom couldn't turn down a chance to hangout with you for a couple hours.

The movie had been on for awhile, finally reaching a point where one of the main characters were making out with the girl she was setting up for failure. You felt butterflies in your stomach, realizing as you had never even had your first time.

"Lesbians are not as hot as everyone makes it seem," Bill scoffed, earning a glare from Tom.

"Have you ever even watched normal porn, Bill? I feel like all you talk about is obscure fetishes," Tom just furrowed his eyebrows, the small argument had officially started.

"What exactly even is "normal porn" to you?" Bill returned, cocking his head.

"Like, I imagine you only think vanilla sex exists, Tom." Bill giggled. Tom just threw his hands up in defense, a bit embarrassed as he looked between you and Bill.

"No- not true! I've definitely watched some BDSM movies, it's just not my preference." Tom defended.

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes before he looked towards you.

"What about you, y/n? What are you into?" Bill pestered, poking your wast teasingly.

It caused you to smile, blushing softly grabbing his hand to end his poking.

"I don't need porn to get off, freaks." You lied, trying to avoid the concept of really admitting you didn't know there were genres of porn. You had mostly just assumed it was either sex, or it wasn't. You didn't know all the small details, you couldn't distinguish vanilla from not vanilla. As far as you knew, you thought vanilla was a flavor. Not a type of sex.

Tom smirked, kneeling by the bed as he got closer to you.

"Yeah? Well how'd you get off on your first time. What'd the lucky guy do?" Tom asked, nudging you.

You hesitantly answered, "Y'know.. the usual." You mumbled. Bills eyes widened, hitting your shoulder softly.

"Y/n!" He growled, "You haven't had your first time!" He noted, sitting on his thighs as he looked down at you on the bed.

Tom smirked, "Cats outta the bag now, y/n." He said, crossing his arms.

You blushed profusely, "I have!" You lied, right though your teeth.

"Prove it." Tom hissed, poking your side as Bill giggled down at you, seeing straight through your fib.

"Prove it?" You scoffed, "How am I supposed to prove it?!" You asked, sitting up.

"Well.." Bill started, looking up and slightly off as he thought. "I dunno, tell us about it." He giggled.

Tom cocked an eyebrow, he knew you wouldn't be able to fabricate a believable story. You stalled a bit, trying to think of a way out of this as you stared between the twins.

"You could always lose it now. Your virginity, I mean." Tom said, causing you to blush. Bill side eyed Tom, biting his lower lip as he found a cruel amusement out of seeing you so nervous.

"Come on, it won't mean anything." Bill said, laying a hand on your thigh as he squeezed it softly. You had finally given up.

"I'm not choosing between you two." You stated, trying to wiggle your way out of it still.

"Who said you had to?" Tom replied, climbing onto the bed next to Bill, leaning closer to you.

You felt as your face flushed, feeling the close proximity of Toms face to yours, feeling as your lips softly connected. Bill just watched.

It won't mean anything, you repeated to yourself, amateurly returning the kiss with a shy demeanor.

Tom pushed you back on the bed, running a hand up your waist as he made out with you. Bill bit his lip, his eyes narrowing as he got a sort of.. tingly feeling from the scene in front of him. He wanted to join, he knew it'd just be easier.

Bill moved on the opposite side of you, finding a place on your neck he was free to nip at and mark up, hearing as the sounds between you and Tom's lips became moister, god it was driving him insane.

Tom squeezed your waist softly as he took notice of Bills presence, smirking softly through the kiss.

You arched your back softly, feeling the sweet feeling of Bill and Tom's mouths on you coincidingly. It was wet, but more than just their kisses were wet.

"Relax, jeez." Tom mumbled, kneeling on the bed off to the side of you. He trailed his veiny hands down, rubbing you softly through your jeans.

Bill giggled as he felt the vibrations of your vocal cords as you yelped quietly when Tom touched you, Bill took his hand and groped your breast softly.

You could feel all these sensations from the twins.. feeling their mouths, their hands.. god, and the worst part had to be that you didn't hate it. You didn't even dislike it, in fact.. you wanted more. You wanted to feel this more than anything, their hands were talented and obviously experienced.

Toms hand moved to grab your inner thigh though your low-rise jeans. He paused though, taking his lips off yours completely and looking at Bill. They seemed to both have had a striking thought, looking down at you and then to each other.

"Y/n, we're just helping you lose your virginity." Tom clarified down to you, you nodded.

"I know-.. " you quickly noted, looking up at the boys. . "I know."

Tom nodded, nudging Bill to continue. And they did, Tom moved down to kiss your stomach as Bill lightened his hand on your breast, understanding he might have been getting a bit excited.

You wrapped your hand around Bills boney back, rubbing it gently and slowly as you felt him run his slender fingers down your ribs. Tom smirked as he eyed up Bill nipping at you, rolling his eyes teasingly as Tom sat up.

He took in the sight with a eased look, registering that he was watching his brother in the process of trying to fuck their childhood best friend, and it had been the other way around for Bill. Either way, it was equally sexy for both boys and you.

Bill moved to kiss your lips, biting your bottom lip while he pushed his hand under your shirt, under your bra.

Tom ruffled Bill's hair, just watching as he worked on you.

"I never thought I'd see it," Tom said, crossing his arms.

Bill pulled off you, you looked at up at Tom with a slight embarrassed look.

"Tom, be normal." You scoffed, Bill just smirked.

"Hey, Whaddya say we get your top off?" Bill said, sitting up. He pulled needily at the hem of your shirt, nagging you to remove it. And by the looks of the small excitement in Tom's eyes, he was excited too.

You hesitantly pulled your top off, revealing your breasts lying comfortably in the black lace bra you dressed yourself in earlier. Toms eyes showed hunger, Bill's showed excitement.

The difference between the two. Bill was always excited, giddy like a child. Tom was much more serious, hungry and lustful when he could focus.

Tom leaned down slightly, kissing your collar bones as he moved lower..and lower, leaving soft love bites on your chest. Bill worked towards removing the bra all together. Once he did, his lips parted as both their eyes fixed on your full.. not exactly big but nowhere near small, chest.

"My, my." Tom purred, caressing the breast closest to him. He rubbed his thumb over your nipple, the soft skin and sensitive area.

Bill leaned his head down, nipping at the thin skin before brushing his tongue over the sensitive rosy nub, his tongue ring was warm against your nipple. It earned a quiet whimper to escape your lips, feeling the boys work at your chest.

You almost felt bad for your lack of doing, they seemed to overenjoy your body as you just sat there and took it.

You knotted your fingers in the back of Bills teased hair, rubbing your hand down his spine and pushing the dress shirt up a bit in the back to touch his warm exterior. Your other hand occupied itself by cupping toms cheek, kissing him gently as Bill left red bite marks along your chest.

Tom danced his fingers down to your jeans, dipping his middle and ring finger down into the denim and rubbing you through your panties.

Bill took notice of Toms fingers, almost a bit jealous.. but he'd never admit that. He laid a hand on your stomach as his eyes examined Tom's movement, his eyes meeting toms after a minute.

You moaned softly and tried to move against Tom's thick fingers, he felt the moist texture of your underwear as he looked between you and Bill. Tom's fingers slid up and down the thin fabric of your underwear, rubbing you gently and slowly. He was obviously getting a kick at your quiet and amateur breathy moans, biting his lip as before he leaned down to reconnect your lips.

Bill was having fun on his own, just watching and nearly drooling. The sight of his brother toying with his best friend was a questionable thing, but he couldn't deny that he liked it.

The boy quickly reminded himself that it was a one time thing, he and Tom were just helping you. Tom paused for a second after a couple minutes, looking up at the boy who was ogling at you two.

He caught Bills attention by mumbling his name, causing the boy to break the eye contact from his hand in your jeans and look up at the man.

"Do something, slacker." He hissed teasingly, Tom pulled his hand out of your jeans and gave Bill the okay to work on you himself.

Bill looked up at your eyes before down at the low-rise denim, unbuttoning them and sliding them down your pale thighs. He took a second to admire your lacey underwear, running his fingers over the material and flicking the little bow on the front.

Bill pulled the flares off and let them hangout at the end of the bed, kneeling between your legs while he left little kisses on the inside of your thighs, pushing the lace to the side to view your folds.

His eyes lit up, he looked like a child getting a gift on Christmas.

"Oh my," he observed your wetness.

taking no time before pushing his tongue against you, lapping eagerly at your clit before lowering his head and pushing his tongue into you. You felt the bead of Bills tongue ring enter you, arching your back as you whimpering at the boys play. You couldn't help yourself, moaning as you felt yourself get wetter against the boy.

Tom watched Bill as he eagerly went down on you, chuckling softly. He ruffled the boys hair, mumbling a 'someones excited ' before he looked back at you.

"We're not gonna do all the work, princess." He teased, mocking the use of the pet name.

Tom cupped your face as he unbuckled his belt. He groped himself through his boxers as he presented himself to you. His hand pulled himself through the slit in the boxers.

The man looked down at you as you gasped, mixed from surprise and also the way Bill's tongue was still sliding in and out of you. Your back arching and your face slightly twitching as the emo boy went down on you.

You felt as Tom opened your mouth, pushing himself in as he groaned quietly. The warmth of your mouth against his cock, feeling him softly move his hips back and forth as to pump his length in and out of your mouth.

You felt it hit the back of your throat a couple times, coughing a bit. You tried to bite back a moan while feeling the sensation of Bill hungrily eating you out, breathing heavily.

Bill didn't take long before pulling his head away, his chin soaked with your slick before he pulled your panties off completely, returning in his spot between your legs.

The overstimulation of both the boys each doing their own thing to you was pleasurable of course, but a little much.

Tom pulled his cock out of your mouth, grabbing his shaft and tapping the head against your lower lip as you looked up at him, your chest rising and falling quickly. You felt a small knot in your abdomen, Tom noticed as he saw the look on you face before knotting his hands in Bill's hair and pulling the boy off.

He looked at Tom with a pouty look but quickly put two and two together as to why Tom did so. His eyes flickered down to Tom's length, then down at your face.

The boy wiped his mouth of your wetness, leaning down to lay a kiss on your cheek.

"You're doing good," Bill cooed softly, petting your hair.

Tom rolled his eyes, chuckling down at the sight of Bill consoling you.

By now, you were the only fully nude person in the room. Feeling a little exposed, you looked between the boys.

"Are you guys.. gonna stay dressed?.. the whole Time?" You asked quietly, more like a pout.

Tom shook his head, slipping off his shirt and tossing his hat. His shirt coming off revealed a toned figure, slight definition in his abs but not over the top. He was muscular, your hand reached up to caress his v line.

"Acting like you've never seen me shirtless before," he commented, chuckling and crossing his arms.

As he chuckled, his cock slightly bounced when the rest of his body jumped. You were mesmerized, Bill watched too. He felt a little behind, thinking maybe he should have been as revealed as Tom was.. but also reassured himself it'd be fine.

You looked up at Bill, kinda wishing he'd do the same. He was the only one fully dressed, now making him the odd one out. Bill felt pressured by you and Tom's stares, hesitantly unbuttoning his button down. He kept it over his shoulders, his slim body now revealed. His hip bones boked out slightly, same with the bottom of his ribs. It was nothing major, just a thin boy.

You thought about the situation a little more, feeling a bit guilty that you were nude beneath both of your childhood best friends. But you reminded yourself that this wasn't wrong, it couldn't have been. They offered, and its not even like the twins gave you enough time to disagree. Not that you would, but it confused you a bit.

Would things be different after this?.. or would you guys just brush over it completely?

Tom scoffed at how little skin Bill showed, shy to even take his shirt off. Bill just scowled at the man's judging looks before he pulled the shirt down his arms and tossed it onto the floor.

You had to admit, it was a bit odd to see this as a whole. The twins, you, in bed. In bed. It wasn't something you thought would ever happen, moreso a drunk thought or even a wet dream. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't something you thought about once or twice.

You felt as Tom pressed his tip back against your lips, shyly licking at the head before taking it back into your mouth. Your hand found its way to Bills belt, tugging at the material as he unbuckled it and was slightly shocked at your initiative to jerk him off. He felt as your thin and feminine fingers pulled his cock from his boxers and pumped your hand, feeling his excitement.

Bill watched as you sucked Tom off, feeling a little awkward for not knowing exactly what to do. Toms hand was buried in your hair, gripping it gently as you worked your mouth.

The boys looked up at each other, their eyes darting down to you before they closed a space between them, their lips shyly touching as you pleasured them both. The boys made out quietly through breathy moans which just fueled you even more.

Eventually, you took your mouth off of Tom and exchanged it for Bill, the teen quietly hissed at the sudden pleasure washing over him, he bit Tom's lower lip gently as he pulled away, looking down at you.

"Y/n.." he moaned softly, "You're doing so good." He softly praised, petting your hair.

Tom felt as your hand pumped his length before pulling away. He was hard, really hard.. and that much was obvious.

He pushed his boxers and jeans away, finally committed to this as Tom moved to position himself between your legs.

Sure, it was your first time.. but he would find a way to ease in without being too rough. He played with his head against your folds, rubbing it on your clit and between your lips before gently and slowly pushing in. You arched your back, parting your lips from Bill's length while keeping him in your hand as you looked down at Tom. You felt his hands on your thighs, he leaned down to kiss your neck softly before he pushed all the way in.

At first, all you felt was pressure.. it didn't feel that great, but after his first initial thrusts, you felt the enjoyment wash over you like a tsunami. You looked up at Bill as he watched Tom, averting his eyes back down to you as you gently took him back into your mouth.

See, the difference between the teens was that Tom was much more confident and initiative. Bill was shy, it was obvious they both had plenty of experience.. but they were vastly different at it, which threw you off only slightly. Tom was always ahead of Bill, it seemed like the emo boy only got nervous and forgot what he was doing Everytime he realized the situation.

He pushed the soft smile off his face replaced with a gentle lip bite as Bill cupped your face, rubbing his thumb over your cheek at a slow pace.

You were whimpering and moaning through the blowjob, feeling Tom thrust into you which pushed your body up and down on the bed every time.

Tom looked down at you, he could have finished just from the scene he was looking at but obviously he didn't. He heard as your guys' skin made small noises Everytime it clapped together when he pushed in, feeling your wetness moisten his cock was butterfly inducing, looking down and seeing the slight shine of the light glisten on your folds.. god, just seeing how wet you were in general.

"Soo good." He purred, squeezing your hips slightly.

"So wet.." he commented, his eye contact with your face quickly darted up to Bill, then down to the movement between you and him.

Tom watched as you sucked and lapped at Bills cock, biting his lower lip as he ingested the sight of you sucking his twin off.

Tom was half convinced this was wrong.. he was taking his best friends virginity with his brother and although the twins briefly made out, he couldn't help but feel slightly wrong about it.. but he quickly shoved into his mind that it was a one time thing.. but god, he didn't want it to be.

Tom felt butterflies in his stomach as he thrusted into your tightness, pulling out completely before pushing back in.

Then a thought struck him that would definitely be easier for you all.

He pulled out, tapping your thigh for you attention. You and Bill both looked up at the man, curious.

"Turn around, bend over." He instructed clearly.

Bill sat on his thighs while he waited, watching as you followed Tom's directions. The pose left you in doggy style with Tom, and Bill found a way to easily slide himself against the headboard under you.

You felt as Tom pushed back in, a little harder this time which earned a louder moan.

"Fuck -.." you hissed, your eyes rolled slightly as you felt him pick up the pace with thrusting.

The room was filled with your moans before Tom pushed your head down, holding your hip with the other as he forced you to retake Bills cock into your mouth. Which you complied, seeing the boy lay underneath you with ease. His hand topped Tom's as he pushed your head up and down.

Bill found more enjoyment this way, seeing your full face as your pink lips wrapped safely around his shaft. Bill looked up at Tom, leaning his head back against the headboard as he bit his lower lip with a dorky smile.

Bills eyes were occupied with how Tom got overly excited with your cunt, speeding his pace up before slowing it back down and doing that every so often.

You got used to the feeling a little bit, but When Tom sped up for a couple seconds, you felt it overwhelmingly as he nudged against your g-spot. You moaned through Bills cock in your mouth which just sent a vibration through him, causing he himself to even whimper softly which didn't go unnoticed by neither you nor Tom.

Bills back arched slightly off the bed as he pushed your head down a bit lower, his breathing a bit labored.

Tom and Bill made the contact, one of them taking it like a champ and the other almost folding and becoming the one making all the noise.

He watched Bill's facial expression as his lips parted, he bit his lips, his eyes narrowed.. all of it. Tom bit his own lower lips as his eyes flickered down to your cunt bouncing off his cock.

But Tom couldn't help but keep his eyes on Bills face, watching the boy pet your hair as he whispered praise, 'good job's, 'good girl ', 'youre doing so good '.

It almost made Tom feel bad for his silence but he just took it as a mental note to do better next time.

Tom was becoming needy, thrusting in deeper and deeper, harsher.. it caused you to completely fold, feeling the feeling in your stomach as you moved your head a bit faster on Bills length.

You felt as Tom pumped his cock in and out, hearing his breathy moans.

Before you knew it, you felt yourself tighten up before letting go, feeling yourself cum while you let out whimpers on Bills cock, causing him to also push over the edge.

"Y/n- oh my god -!" Bill yelped quietly.

Feeling the cum shoot and coat into your mouth was a specific feeling you couldn't describe, but seeing Bills face is what made you proud. The boys lips parted as his back arched, looking between you and Tom.

Tom was the last to let loose, but you felt his cock twitch in you and his speed increase rapidly, making you moan a bit more as you pulled off of Bill.

Toms pulled his cock out as he groaned, "Y/n, holy shit-.."

The semen being ejected into Bills bedset between your legs as he breathed harshly.

You felt as Tom pulled his hand off your head, out from under Bills. The movement was replaced by Bill pushing a couple strands of hair behind your ear. Tom kissed and nipped softly at the back of your neck eventually turning your head to lay a sloppy kiss on your lips.

"You're a woman now," He joked in a whisper, kissing you again quickly before watching you reposition yourself next to Bill against the headboard.

You stretched your body out, working out the kinks of staying in one position for so long.

Tom immediately grabbed for his boxers, slipping his jeans back on. Bill buttoned his lowrises before leaning towards end of the bed to yank up your undergarment set.

You slipped the thong and bra back on, watching as the twins dressed themselves.

"That was.." you started, you found it best not to finish your sentence.

You wanted to clarify nothing would change between you three. Well, between you and Tom, you and Bill. The twins were ought to work this out themselves, if this was even their first time doing something like it.

But at the same time, you wanted it to mean something.. but not really. You couldn't decide.

Bill had his shirt back on and immediately looked more comfortable with himself again, watching as Tom clothed himself. The baggy shirt and jeans once more hiding his beautiful body.

"You alright, y/n?" Bill asked, kissing your forehead like always.

You nodded, looking up at Bill.

"You did so good." Tom praised, squeezing your thigh gently as he sat down on the bed. Bill pulled his knees to his chest, eyeing up the cum stain on the bed. He scoffed, rolling his eyes before shaking his head.

"Thank you guys," you finally said, not quite sure what else to say. The boys just chuckled and looked down at you.

☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.°☆.•.

Sorry this was really long , or if it was repetitive and not a lot happened :[ . I have never before written a threway fic before so I was a bit scared to just throw a lot in there and it would be even longer or boring . I hope this was good !

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ghostedgrim · 4 months ago

Text

She's All That .pt.2

MDNI!!

Pt.1. Pt.2.sfw version. Request page. Masterlist

Warnings⚠️:Jealousy, (i recently finished a 700 page dark fantasy book, so that kinda effected my writing) fighting, a graphic fighting scene, injuries, death, fluff, smut written by a virgin 🧚‍♀️ ✨️

The sounds of grunts, and fists connecting with leather echoes through the room as I hit the punching bag over, and over. It's been a month, I haven't talked to James once, nor have I talked to y/n either. No matter how hard I try, I can spot her from across the room, yet she ignores me so easily. Now that I've dated her, every guy around seems to finally notice she exists and they all want a damn piece of her.

"Eric!" I turn around to see Max approaching, my shirt and jacket in his hand. I back away from the bag, and wipe some of my sweat off my face with my hand towel. "Why weren't you at the meeting this afternoon?"

I hold back a groan and turn to Max, "I highly doubt I would've had any important input on how to handle rowdy Factionless when I only handle the affairs inside Dauntless, and our alliance with Erudite."

"Eric, I don't know what has gotten into you, but if you miss another damn meeting, or get to work late again you'll be kissing your position as a Dauntless leader goodbye and living with the Factionless." Max's tone is firm leaving no room for argument or question of a bluff. Fuck.

"My apologies sir, I'll get my act together. I will see you at Erudite tonight." Max fists my shirt and jacket tighter in his hand and punches them into my chest.

"Good, cause you're on very thin ice and summer is fast approaching." I grab my clothes before he can drop them, and watched with a cold glare as he left. I drop my clothes back onto the chair I initially set them on and resumed punching the bag. The bruises decorating my body, curtesy of Four, hurt like Hell, and I revel in it.

Kai, green hair, snakebite peircings, no tattoos, and ironically he's a tattoo artist. I swear he took the job simply because he's a damn coward. I don't understand what y/n sees in him, and yet somehow she chooses to date him of all people. Kai is docile, timid, and to be honest if it weren't for the fact he killed three people during initiation this year you'd think he'd belong in Amity.

Jealousy is a poison that I fall victim to every time, and watching her fawn over him makes my blood fucking boil. Kai killed three initiates so he wouldn't get kicked out of initiation. He was a weak coward, but something about him screams danger. Throughout the time I had taught him he was a predator, doing what's needed to survive while dressed in sheep's clothing. Ironically enough he also takes up the job of defending snipers. I have no doubt he took the job because he's almost never called out onto the field, and people in that position could go their whole lives without once getting in a fight with enemies.

It's stupid because here I am, in the middle of an important meeting and all I can focus on was the image of her grinding against Kai on the dance floor. It should've been me, not that creep. Just from imagining it I have to subtly adjust my pants. God I would love to just toss Kai over the chasm and-"

"Eric." Max's tense tone finally breaks me free of my thoughts. "How do you think we should handle the situation."

I pause. What situation? This meeting... it was about Factionless starting to get too rowdy or whatever. "Which part of the situation? The Factionless are acting out, what are the believed causes, how much risk are the Abnegation who help them are in? The Factionless are bigger than all of our factions combined." Good enough save... I hope.

Max rolls his eyes. Shit.

"So far it's only a small group," I look up at Maverick as he speaks, "and we're yet to see them attack the Abnegation. All the Factionless have done so far is raid five Amity trucks, with only two Amity injured so far. There does appear to be someone organizing their attacks. Kevin Atos, Divergent, and has been evading our capture for the past few months since the Choosing Ceremony." Maverick runs a tattooed hand through his firey hair, then looks back through the documents.

"How do we know it's Kevin? Is he taking part in the raids, do we see him at any points in the raid?"

Jade then scowls at me accusingly, her blue eyes like bullets. She flips her black hair off her shoulder, "Are you implying Kevin is innocent?"

I grimace, "Hardly, I'm simply asking for how we know he takes part in these raids. More specificly, will we need to draw him out. We have seven extremely skilled snipers, meaning we finally have an opportunity to take him out. Without a leader the raiders will temporarily be distraut. That's when a special ops team swoops in and captures everyone who took part in the raids. From there we interrogate, and capture all the Factionless who aided the raiders. Then-"

"Whose to say the entirety of the Factionless don't join up in arms and rebel as a whole. Those raiders could become martyrs," Jade interrupts.

I roll my shoulders and crack my knuckles. "Well maybe if you didn't interrupt I could get to that. Yes we will execute all the Factionless we deemed guilty. However, those raiders had weapons, and sure they could've scavanged them, but it's extremely possible a Dauntless member could be helping them."

Jeanine finally speaks up, "If you find someone guilty we could then hack the records, make everyone who researches the situation think the traitor is divergent."

Max nods in agreement with the Erudite leader, "It's very likely the traitor is Divergent anyway. And if we don't find anyone guilty, we'll just find someone suspected of being Divergent, Erudite will alter the evidence."

While useful to our cause, framing someone of Divergentence, especially if they're 100% innocent, put a foul taste in my mouth. "What if someone from Erudite also helped coordinate the attacks, or help the raiders get weapons. Kevin came from Amity. He may be smart, but not that smart. Either way, we hunt down everyone who was involved, we'll check each faction if we have to, there must be at least one faction traitor, wether we make up one or not. The Factionless will learn their place, and they won't question our authority or justice." The other Dauntless leaders, Maverick, Jade, Max, Mira all pitch in bouncing ideas around. In the end they settle on my plan.

"Y/n, we need to talk." She turns to me with a hard glare, the squad she's training look absolutely exhausted. Ever since we broke up she been training her squads thrice as hard, especially James.

"If you've come to apologize again I'm not listening."

"It has nothing to do with that."

She turns to the five squads infront of her and orders them to hold a plank position until she returns. Absolutely evil, hot though.

We walk out into a more secluded area. "Talk." She commands.

"Factionless have been raiding Amity trucks, we need a skilled sniper to kill their leader."

"At ease!" She shouts towards the gym and I cam hear groans of relief from within. "It'll be nice to get out of the facility. When?"

"Four days from now. I'll be leading the attack, you'll be positioned in a skyscraper overlooking the Amity route where the attacks happen, we'll have a second sniper positioned further down the street near the corner just in case. The second you shoot Kevin Atos me and my men will dive in to apprehend the raiders, disable anyone who tried to run and any vehicles they try to use."

She crosses her arms, she's tense and i can tell by the steel gaze in her beautiful eyes I'm the reason. "Whose assigned as my guardian?"

The name tastes like bile and sulfur in my mouth, "Kai. That's all you need to know for now. Training will be in the southern gym, floor 02, at 0400. You're dismissed."

She turns, sharp and quick, her braid almost smacks my face. I try to turn away, to walk back to my office but I can't. I watch with absolute admiration as this powerful, amazingly smart woman walks away from me. For some reason it hurts, and a part of me that I have long tried and failed wants to pull her into my arms, to finally kiss her, and hold onto her and never let go.

I'm the first person in the gym the next morning. I wear only black sweatpants, no shirt or tank top. I take my time preparing the map, equipment, and warming myself up. Y/n is the first to arrive, soon followed by the three squads I had chosen for this mission. Her eyes drop to the fresh ink peeking over my waistband on my hip and I smirk. As much as I'd love to tease my ex, I have more pressing matters to focus on.

"Everyone at attention please! I will go over this plan only three times followed by four hours of training! Afterwards I'll quiz each of you on the plan and anyone who gets it wrong will stay an extra hour to clean this gym!" I point at the map set up on the board beside me. "Mrs. Dove our first sniper will be located of the 13th floor of this building here. Mr. Rivers," I point at Kai, "you are assigned as her guardian. She dies, you better be dead too. Mr. Bown you will be located on the 15th floor of this building here," I point at the building on the corner of the street. My lecture continues for another fifteen minutes before I finally assign everyone to their respective workouts.

Kai pales as I step onto his mat. "If you're gonna be a guardian you have to be prepared for hand-to-hand combat. Sure, you were decent during initiation but I haven't seen you fight since. Knock me down and I'll let you leave."

The only image better than my fist kissing Kai's jaw was the image of my beloved dagger asleep in my arms while wrapped in my hoodie. I must give the boy credit, he can take a punch, however he isn't very good at giving them. I'm grounded where I stand while Kai is light and moves around, he favors deceit in his attacks then hitting anywhere that's soft and sensitive. But that means nothing when you're hitting stone. Kai may land a few hits but I've barely moved. Jaw, gut, waist, back of the knees, this idiot barely knows how to fucking block!

I sweep Kai onto his ass yet again. "You're going to get her killed! Do you realize just how fucking pathetic you are! If trouble comes your way and you fail to protect her I will take sweet joy in killing you slowly," I seethe.

It was like something flipped in Kai, one moment he's a doe and the next a rabid dog. Kai movies faster than earlier but his movements are feral. A punch to my throat and I choke. His hands wrap around the crown of his skull and my face kisses his knee. I'm shoved to the floor. Punch after punch this kid doesn't stop.

I barely process someone pulling him off me.

"Eric!" It's muffled like I'm underwater.

I wrapped in someone's arms- no, not just a someone. My dagger, she looks like an angel. I don't dare speak because I'll say something stupid so I force my gaze away from her. Kai lays sprawled out, face first, on the mat.

"Eric!"

"M' fine... I'm fine. Just give me a damn second." I hate to see her look so worried, but the twisted part of me is happy to see her worried, to see that she cares. "Everyone out!"

Two burly men drag Kai out by his arms.

"What the hell do you see in that boy," I spit.

"Boy? He's only a year younger than us. And what I see in him is someone who won't treat my emotions like a damn joke."

"I already told you, it was never a joke to me, not after our first date. I fell for you, hard, and my love for you was genuine."

"You say that over and over, but it doesn't change the fact you initially asked me out as a joke. I don't care how many times you ask for forgiveness I won't-"

"I never asked for your forgiveness! Yes I apologized but I never asked for your forgiveness because I am unworthy of it. I hurt you and I own that, what I did to you was wrong and I own that, but not with pride, never with pride. You were innocent and undeserving of that cruelty, that is why I don't deserve your forgiveness." I look up at her, still slumped in her arms and oh how desperately I want to curl her hair behind her ear and kiss away the bruise on her cheek.

"You need to leave Kai."

"Eric." She purses her lips.

"No, listen. That boy is trouble. He is not the sweet boyfriend you think he is. Kai is like a wild dog, give him a treat and he'll roll over, put him in danger he'll leave you to die, threaten him and he-"

She drops me, the back of my head smacks the floor and my ears ring. "Jealous dickbag." One swift kick to my groin and I gag.

"That's fair I guess."

To my suprise y/n actually helps me to the medical wing, only to leave right as a nurse walked out to greet us.

For the remaining days of training I assigned Damien, a very buff and intimidating man to handle Kai's training while I walked the squads through our routines over and over till it was muscle memory.

Finally the day came. Breakfast before missions like this are always strangely quiet, and when looking out my windows the world looks unsettlingly calm. I grab my jacket, it still smells of her perfume. I've refused to wear it since we broke up in fear the scent would go away, but today I will wear it.

It's days like these that you need to take a moment to remember your mortality. So I take my time lacing my boots, and I give Muffin, my cat, a good scratch behind her ear before making my way to the ramp.

Everyone is already armed and in gear as I approached. The two snipers and their guardians aren't here for they left late in the night to sneak into their respective positions.

After a quick review of the plan we march out. We move on foot, silent and hidden by the long shadows cast by the rising sun.

I'm coiled tight, counting every second that ticks by.

It's a haunting sight, watching the Amity transport roll down the street. They don't sing like they always do, they know they're about to be attacked. I frown as inevitably the Factionless run out, they shoot the driver in his arm and the two Amity accompanying her drag her out and dash into a nearby building.

BANG!!!

My men and I rush out, the Factionless scream out orders, both trying to help Kevin, and escape. It's utter chaos, bullets fly past, innocent bystanders are running away and towards us in search of safety.

The medical team are split in three, two men aid the Amity, three men haul Kevin, whose screaming and cluching his wounded thigh, over to the group of bound Factionless, and the rest are spread out to help fallen soldiers.

I grunt as a bullet grazes my right bicep. I dive behind a pillar within a building and peeked to find my attacker. Instead I see a group of Factionless running up the stairs of the building y/n is in. "Shit."

"Carlos, how's the situation out there!"

Static buzzes in my ear right before he replies. "We've captured fifteen Factionless raiders, eight more are on the run with two of our squads hot on their tails. Daton and y/n have already adjusted their positions to help shoot them down!"

"Good, take command of the situation out here, I just saw a group run into y/n's building and I'm going in to intercept!"

I don't wait for a response as I charge in. I bound each step two at a time, multiple times I've already tried reaching y/n and Kai through their comms but all I get is static. Someone between y/n's message to Conor, and me running into the building someone scrambled the comms.

He doesn't see me, but I see him, that tuff of green hair making him stand out like a highlighter as he crawls to hide behind an old desk, the crazy bitch stabs his own leg too. If I had the time I would shoot Kai for running away and abandoning y/n, especially because he's faking injuries so everyone thinks him innocent.

Please don't be dead, please don't be dead. For every bruise and scratch I find on her will equal at least one broken bone.

Three more floors.

Please be alive.

Please.

Oh God please.

I almost cry in relief when I hear the sounds of fighting, she isn't dead. I rush into the room, and met with a fist in my face. I pay it back with a knife to my attackers throat, and just as the second guy comes at me I duck below his arm and stuff my knife through his throat into his mouth.

I turn to where y/n is, and I see red as I watch three men slam her to the ground.

Just as I grab my gun a bullet tears through my forearm. The pain is agonizing, but adrenaline is stronger. I drive straight through the Factionless man holding the gun. Arms wrap around my waist and haul me to the floor and straddles me. I barely process their faces or their ragged appearance. The third attacker kicks my head, but I keep my focus on stealing the second man's knife. The third attacker tries and fails to grab my wrist as I steal the knife. I dig the blade into the second attacker's bicep, and I rip it down tearing down to the elbow. As the second attacker falls off me I stab the third guy in his leg several times and he falls.

I get up in time to see the first guy aim his gun at y/n.

"No!"

I don't think, I just run. I slam straight into him and we tumble through the window. Sharp, breaking pain snaps through my right leg as I snags in metal scaffolding, but fortunately it saves me from plummeting like the first guy. I simply hang by my leg, my vision already turning splotchy.

"Eric!"

I cry out as I'm hauled back into the building, but before I can complain lips crash onto mine. I'd always imagined they'd taste like, but all I tasted was the blood from her split lip.

Just as quickly as her lips touched mine her hand cracked across my cheek.

"You fucking idiot Eric! What the hell were you thinking you could've died!"

"That I was saving an angel," I groan.

"Stop being romantic you almost died!"

"Says the girl that kissed me," I smile through the pain. My eyes roll back for a moment and my whole world spins as I'm hauled over her shoulder. "Ow."

"Shut up."

"Just stay awake Eric, please. Otherwise I'll haul your ass out of the afterlife and kill you all over again."

"Yes," I let out a pained grunt as she starts running down the stairs, "ma'am."

It's been three days and this room still smells of bleach and cleaning alcohol. I can't complain, I'm lucky to have gotten a private room here in the Dauntless medical wing, especially one with a view outside.

"You look like shit."

"I feel like shit. Thank you very much."

Despite my pain I can't help but to smile as I watch y/n enter the room. A bandage wraps around her bicep, and another peeks out over the waistband of her skirt right on her hip.

"How bad are your injuries." Her voice is soft like a lullaby. I could listen to it forever and never get bored. She sits down on the bed and places a hand on my chest and I hiss in mock pain. "Oh my gosh sorry."

I snatch her wrist as she pulls it away and laughed.

"Asshole, your lucky I can't slap you."

"Even if you did I wouldn't regret it. How are you?"

"You first Eric."

"Fine. I got grazed by a bullet on my bicep, got shot in the forearm. I got stabbed several times too," I gesture to my bandaged torso. "My leg got broken in three places, and I'm covered in bruises. Now tell me about you, I know it must be hard after Kai..." I may be cruel but I'm not heartless enough to dig at how he hurt her, the last thing she needs is me to mock her or sound like a jealous ass.

She sighs deeply and looks out the window, "Kai is going to be executed tomorrow. Not only did he abandon his station of protecting me, turns out he helped arm the Factionless, oh and there's rumors that he was Divergent! Why is it I trust the wrong men?"

I sigh, "It's not that you trust the wrong men, it's just that bad men are good manipulators."

"So? I'm from Erudite, I'm supposed to be smart-"

"You are smart, so fucking smart. Trust me, you have no idea how easy it is to manipulate the Erudite. Don't ever claim you're not smart because you're the smartest woman I know." I grip her hand.

"I'm suprised Four hasn't scolded me yet."

"Well if he does tell me so I can punch him."

We sit in silence, soaking up everything that has happened. I almost lost her, we kissed but I don't know if she truly wants me back, I almost died too, which is honestly terrifying.

"What are we?" I break the silence.

She shifts, her gaze moving from the window down to me. "I don't know, I mean we kissed so I guess lovers once more."

"Do you want to be? Lovers I mean. I know we kissed, but we were high on adrenaline, so that doesn't mean you should force yourself to be with me. So is that something you want?"

"I believe I do. Sometimes I really hate you, but you literally jumped out of a building to save me."

"And got stabbed."

"Yeah that too." She chuckles and I soak in every bit of her brief mirth. "I missed being with you, I was so happy back then. So honestly, I want to give us a second chance."

"Good because I really miss how cute you looked running around my apartment in the t-shirts and jackets you stole from me." We smile and she lays down beside me.

"Can I kiss you. When you almost die you really value those little things. Also when you kissed me it was way too brief for my opinion and romantic as it was."

"Only because I like you."

I cup both her cheeks, my arm hurts but I hardly care right now. I pull her down to me, my heart soars as our lips meet. Her lips taste like chocolate and I have no doubt she was eating some before coming here, I can taste a hint of the strawberries she loves to eat too. I sigh and tilt my head to deepen our kiss. I feel like I'm on cloud nine.

Eventually we pull away to catch our breaths and I look at her, my dagger in absolute awe before pulling her down into a second kiss. I tangle a hand in her hair unwilling to let her go. I want to drown in her, to stay in her arms and to never leave.

"Y/n, my dagger, my love, my stars in the sky," I whisper against her lips, "you are my everything."

She straddles my lap and we kiss again, but this time it's hungry. She parts her lips and I happily accept the invite. I slip my tongue in, tasting, exploring. We devour each other in a clash of hungry kisses.

A gutteral groan falls from my lips when she rolls her hips. It's slow, experimental, but it certainly does the job.

"You're going to be the death of me."

She kisses down the column of my throat. "Do you want me to stop?" She asks it so fucking innocently, as if she doesn't have me rock hard and wrapped around her finger.

"Absolutely not," I growl and pull her into another kiss. She rocks her hips once more, but more confident.

I'm hungry.

No, I'm famished and I need her now.

"Fuck..." My hands grip her thighs tight, they're warm, plush, and I wish I could take a bite. My fingers caress the bottom of her skirt. "May I?"

"Yes." Her voice is breathy and I grin as my hands push up her skirt and push the bottom of her underwear to the side.

"Fuck you're wet," I chuckle. "You still virgin?"

She looks shy for a moment, "not anymore."

"Well I may not be at my prime, I'll still certainly give you a way better time than Kai ever could."

"Actually I lost it to Four," she smiles, clearly knowing just how much that riles me up.

"Four, really?" I pinch her clit and watch in glee as she gasps out a moan. "Let me guess, he talked you through it," her eyes flutter closed as I slowly circle her clit with my thumb, "Guided your hands, told you how to use that mouth huh?"

My mouth curves into a fown as she only nods, so I pull my finger away making her whine. I tut, "Look at me, and use your words, my dagger."

"Yes," she gasps, "he did."

"Good girl," I purr, with a small groan I push myself into a sitting position. Call me a masochist but I like the pain. My arms wrap around her waist, I grind her down against my cock and devour her whimpers in a kiss.

"Fuck you taste so good. Now go make sure the door is locked." She gasps as I nip her throat. Y/n practically runs to lock the door. To my supries she then rips off her boots and underwear before climbing back on me.

"Well aren't you cute." I reward her by pushing a finger through her entrance, thrusting slowly.

"Eric," she whines and squirms in my lap. I thrust in a second finger.

I bring my lips to her ear and in a quiet whisper, "baby I don't know how much longer I'm gonna be able to control myself. You look so pretty moaning and reacting so well to my touch," I curl my fingers, hitting that sweet spot that no doubt has her rolling her eyes, " but if you keep squirming I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to control myself much longer." I kiss down her throat before pulling away.

I push her skirt up, revealing her to me. "Such a pretty pussy, next time we do this I think I'll just tie you up and eat you out all night." My lips latch onto the sensitive area of her neck, just below and almost behind her ear, and I suck a hickey.

"Eric, please," her hips start to roll, riding my fingers and I press my thumb to her clit. "Yes, just like that please."

"Gonna come?"

I tisk when she whimpers out a yes without looking me in the eyes. She cries softly when I pull my hand away.

"What did I tell you about eye contact?" I give her ass a form smack making her jolt. "Use your words and look me in the eyes when I talk to you."

She mutters a sorry, but I hardly listen as I lick my fingers clean, "fuck you taste like heaven. I think it's ought time I finally got some well deserved attention."

I lean back, giving her space to pull open my buckle. She pushes her down to sit on my thighs and leans down close, her breath ghosting over my lower stomach, making me shiver. I pull his hair back as it falls over her face.

Her fingers work deftly and soon my cock finally springs free from my boxers. "M- fuck y/n." Moans escape from my throat as she licks a stripe up the underside of my cock before bringing it into her mouth. "Shit, don't- don't stop." I think I might just thank Four for teaching her because I can barely breathe this feels so good.

Far sooner than I want I have to pull her mouth from my cock. Any longer I would've cum. For a moment, all we can do is stare at each other, panting, hungry, swollen lips.

Soft hands trace my tattoos, trail up my arms then finally settling on either side of my throat. My eyes fell shut, letting her pull me into another delicious kiss. I soak in every second, reveling in the feeling of her touching every inch of my upper body. There's a string of saliva between our lips as we pull away panting and I watch in absolute awe as she hovers above my lap and strips the remainder of her clothes.

My lips part, my tounge darting out to wet them as my eyes trace every detail. Those lovely curves, the dip in her hips, the curve of her breasts. Once more my hands grip her hips and I pull her to me. I trail kisses down the column of her throat, sucking hickeys, nipping at her skin then licking it as if it'll soothe the bites. I damn near growl as I kiss, bite, and lick down her sternum. "Ride me," I command, my voice dark and desperate.

I bring a hand down to guide my weeping cock to her entrance, and I have to bite her shoulder to muffle my moans and groans as she sinks down.

"Eric."

"Shh, I got you." I kiss up her throat, and kissed her lips softly, one arm lays flat across her back, the other on her hip with my thumb rubbing circles on her hip as I guide her all the way down. "Just a little more, you're doing so good baby." I murmer words of praise when I'm finally to the hilt within her. I wait for her to start moving, letting us start at her pace.

She rocks her hips and my eyes flutter closed, my head burying in the juncture of her neck, mouth dropped open in endless low groans. I feel like a virgin all over again, she feels so good that I'm momentarily dizzy. But then I notice, her muffled moans and I pull away to see her biting her lip to keep herself quiet.

"Y/n, my love, let me hear those beautiful moans, these walls are soundproof. And who cares who hears, let them, let them know you're mine now. Let them know how good I make you feel." I stare deep inter her stunning eyes, watching them flicker to the door and back to me as she thinks. And then finally, she releases her bottom lip and let's out a moan.

"Good girl," It takes every bit of restraint to not take over and slaim her down on my cock over and over. "Such a good girl, don't stop, you're riding me so well."

My head dips down, her hips stutter then sped up as I sucked one of her pert nipples into my mouth. I moan, swirling my tounge around and on the pert tit, sucking, swirling again, over and over. My other hand gropes her other breast, and I love just how soft and warm it is.

"Eric!" She arches her back and she fists her hand in my hair while the other grips my shoulder for support. My other arm wraps around her waist tightly, and I finally let go of my restraints. Using my tight grip I guide her up, bit the underside of her breast, sucked a hickey and soothed it over with a lick, then slammed her down on my cock. I roll my hips to ensure I hit that sweet spot to make her see stars.

"Tell me my love, which do you prefer?" I guide her up again, and slam her back down loving the way her tits bounce, "the stars in the sky or the ones I'm making you see?"

She locks eyes with me, doing her best to keep eye contact, but I slam her back down making her eyes roll back. "Y- yours Eric! I pref- fuck, prefer the stars you make me see!"

I speed up, and her nails rake down my back deliciously. "Close?"

"Yes," she tugs my head back with my hair, looking me into my eyes now, "yes. Please Eric I'm so close. Please make me come."

I kiss her, hard, swallowing every moan, whimper and mewl. The hand that was on her breast moves down, tracing across her side and down to her hip. I splay my hand across her hip, gripping hard. I angle the arm around her waist so my hand can rest between her shoulder blades. I hold her tight against me.

"Hold on tight." M y thumb circles her clit, and using my grip on her hip and around her waist to bounce her on my cock hard and fast. Her cries of bliss fill the room. I watch her, her eyes rolling back, back arching, mouth stuck open in endless moans. She chants my name like a prayer.

A shudder seems to roll through her whole body, and her nails rake down my back as she comes. I bury my face in her neck, and cum hard. I grip her tight, grinding our hips together as her pussy milks me dry.

Every she slumps against me, her legs shaking and breathing hard. I pepper kisses across her face, murmuring praise after praise.

I pull out and allowed myself to fall back on the bed, pulling her with me so she lays atop me.

"We need to clean up."

"Soon, but I'd rather soak in the afterglow first." She kissed my jaw before laying her head on my chest, her fingers trace patterns across my chest, carefully avoiding my badly injured areas. The pain is slowly returning but I pay it no mind. One hand plays with her hair, occasionally rubbing her scalp or tracing the contours of her face. My other arm is wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close in a warm embrace.

"I love you my dagger, and I'm do grateful you entered my life."

~~~

Thank you so much for reading! I hope the smut turned out well, if not please send me tips and way I can improve/fix it. I hope you all enjoyed it.

Too Blunt? A Four x ex Candor reader coming next

#writing #eric coulter #eric divergent #divergent #eric coultler #eric x reader #eric coulter x reader #eric coulter divergent #eric coulter imagine #divergent x reader #dauntless x reader #eric coulter smut #divergent smut #smut written by a virgin #erudite divergent #dauntless divergent #amity divergent #abnegation divergent #candor divergent

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sp0o0kylights · 2 years ago

Text

Eddie Munson was having the kind of high where your hands were as floaty as your thoughts.

World tinged with a droopy-eyed vignette, he watched smoke loop lazily towards his window, twirling opaque in beams of light.

A knock sounded on his door, and Eddie simply stared at, unwilling to move.

His thick thoughts had him almost convinced he'd imagined it when it came again, a little louder and a touch more frantic.

'I should get up,' Eddie thought, with zero intention of following through.

The bed was too comfortable, his limbs velcroed in.

Someone started cursing, just barely heard through the thin trailer walls.

Eddie tracked it as it moved, circling around, a thread of concern wormed its way through the soft, engulfing fog.

It sharpened to a needle point when his window was thrust up with a bang. Seconds later a puff of hair climbed through, followed by broad shoulders and a build that could only belong to a grizzly--or Steve Harrington.

Grizzly Steve struggled trying to dodge all the shit flung around the room-unfamiliar with the path Eddie had taught himself and his bandmates.

He’d long found that a room covered in items made a pretty combination alarm system and booby trap, a fact he told Wayne repeatedly.

"Jesus I thought you were a bear." Eddie said jolting back in delayed action as Steve stood with a huff, hands on his hips.

"If you could answer your damn,--a bear?" Steve narrowed his eyes huffing dramatically. "You thought I was a bear!?"

Eddie managed to sit up on his elbows. "Sorry man. You were just kinda." He tilted his head. "Beary."

"Whaa-- tha' hell" Gareth announced his presence with a mutter, sitting up besides Eddie with his hair looking like an entire birds nest. It obscured his view, and he sleepily lifted a hand to comb through it.

It did absolutely nothing, as his curls immediately flopped back down into his eyes.

Steve froze.

"Ah." He said, looking between Eddie and the lump of blankets making up Gareth.

Steve's voice abruptly pitched itself adorably high. "Ahhh--"

The blush that spread across his face was an equal delight and Eddie knew it was a bad idea to drink it in, aim a dopey little grin Steve's way, but figured he could blame any backlash on the weed.

At least that's what said weed told him would work, and he was happy to comply.

"Harrington?" Blanket-Gareth asked, like he wasn't sure he was awake.

Which collected Eddie's wandering consciousness enough for a couple of cohesive thoughts. "Hey, mon cher," he hummed, rolling a hand out to Steve. "Bad night?"

"I--yeah, uh, no, I mean--shit. Sorry." He cast a panicked look towards the door. "I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie made a tutting noise. "After all the effort you just went through to get in here? Stick around, man. Take a load off."

He tossed him what he hoped was a confident, dazzling gleam and not something half psychotic.

It was always a 50/50 chance when you were that high.

"What is happening right now? Do you guys do this often?" Gareth was waking up at speeds entirely too fast for Eddie so he flapped his free hand at him, in what he hoped conveyed 'stop it you shit before Steve bolts like a deer.'

The younger man's eyes were certainly wide enough, his whole body tense. "I don't wanna disturb you guys. I um," Steve rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "--didn't know you had company, sorry Eddie."

Then, in a painfully awkward voice that made him want to take Steve and tuck him against his chest, added "Sorry Gareth."

"What are you apologizing to me for--oh my God do you think I'm boning this moron?" Gareth had finally shed the blankets, face shifting so quickly through emotions that Eddie couldn't help the giggle that escaped him.

"Be nice, Gary, god." He chided, through snickers, as if Gareth was teasing them and not asking a legitimate question. "Stevie, go grab that blunt I have on my dresser and come lay down."

"You are literally holding a lit blunt right now." Steve pointed out, cheeks fully inflamed with embarrassment and eyes stubbornly not looking at Gareth.

Who groaned and flopped face-first back down on the bed, apparently over this entire situation.

Eddie look down at his hand in mild surprise. "So I am!"

He put the blunt he found in-between his fingers to his lips, inhaling a lung full of smoke.

Held the blunt out, wiggling it at Steve when he just stood staring until Eddie exhaled.

Something in Steve's eyes changed, a glimpse of that painful, living wound of a secret he was hiding inside himself surfacing and Eddie automatically knew what caused it

"Gareth doesn't care that you're here, he's just not a morning person." Eddie explained gently, still holding out the joint.

Smiled encouragingly when Steve still looked unsure.

"Promise. You can chill here if you need too, Pop Culture. Neither of us will bite" Eddie made a come here gesture and was happy to watch as Steve hesitantly approached. "Well, at least we won't until you ask really nicely."

Then he winked because apparently shooting himself in the foot continued to be his default reaction to Steve Harrington.

Gareth said into his pillow; "No we fucking won't, you muppet."

It was muffled, so Eddie ignored it.

"If you're sure--" Steve muttered lowly, and they both ignored how clearly relieved he was.

Took the blunt with fingers that trembled ever so slightly.

Slowly, they passed the blunt back and forth a few times, Steve standing over Eddie.

Who enjoyed the way the younger man relaxed, inch by inch. Like the anxiety and stress was being exorcised out of him.

Couldn't see anything physically wrong for once, but knowing Steve Eddie wasn't at all positive he wasn't hiding some random, ridiculous wound on his torso somewhere.

Graciously, he gave Steve the last puff of the joint, waiting until Steve had stubbed it out and down in his ashtray before carefully touching his arm (above the wrist, with his hand clasping comically slow around his skin.)

Started tugging just as slowly when Steve figured out what he was doing.

Eddie grinned at the snort he got, as Steve gave in and reluctantly got into the bed, Eddie shoving Gareth practically into the wall to make room.

A loud, incomprehensible grumble erupted, but Gareth otherwise made no complaints as Steve tucked in.

The bed wasn't built for two people let alone three, meaning they all ended up practically on top of each other, but Eddie didn't mind.

Steve clearly didn't either, with how fast he dropped off to sleep, his body curling even further into Eddie's than it had before.

Best friend cuddling his back and Steve tucked against his front, Eddie happily nodded off, warm and content.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #gareth #gareth emerson #gareth is eddie's robin #tw eddies high #fluff #hurt/comfort #0o0 fanfics #gareth is so done with their shit #whumpverse

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inoreuct · 1 year ago

Note

sleepy zosan cuddles please? maybe sanji crashing zoro’s catnap 🤭

this was IMMENSELY fun to write. i couldn’t resist adding in a flipped scenario with zoro crashing sanji’s bed,,, enjoy 😽

Sanji poked his head into the men’s quarters, biting his lip against a smirk. The night was still young; Nami and Usopp were outside, ensnared in some inane drinking game while Luffy egged them on. He, however, had much better things to do with his free time.

Such as bothering the one man currently asleep on the ship.

The wind whistled before he shut the door. It was going to get chilly, which was why he’d had the foresight to be here; Zoro put out heat like a bloody furnace.

The swordsman was belly-down on his bunk, arms splayed out, his broad back rising and falling in time with his breaths. Sanji was really banking on Zoro subconsciously recognising him here in order to not get run through with a katana, but better safe than sorry, he supposed.

He crept across the room in the soft lamplight, planted his feet, and announced “Marimo!” like he was summoning the man— before jumping and face-planting between Zoro’s shoulder blades.

Evidently he’d been expected, because the swordsman didn’t so much as startle even as the bunk swayed under their combined weight. “What,” he deadpanned, sighing into his pillow.

Sanji could feel it under his cheek, hear the soft whoosh of breath out of Zoro’s lungs. “It’s winding up to be a chilly night,” he sing-songed, stacking his hands to prop his chin on top.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Zoro groaned irritably, scrubbing both hands over the back of his head and clearly grouchy at being woken. up.

Sleeping constantly, horrible sense of direction, grumpy all the time— “God, chéri, you’re such an old man,” Sanji complained, absentmindedly tracing patterns into Zoro’s shirt and watching the loose linen gather and twist beneath his finger. “And for someone with so much muscle, you’re not a very comfortable pil— Hey!”

“Up,” Zoro grumbled, uncoordinated and sleep-heavy as he pushed himself up and toppled Sanji off to the side.

“What’re you— Have of my efforts in trying to make you a gentleman been absolutely—” The cook squeaked as he was grabbed, muscled arms tight around his chest and waist as Zoro picked him up and rolled them over.

“Y’talk too damn much,” he muttered, the words pressed into Sanji’s hair as he adjusted, thumb rubbing up and down Sanji’s upper arm over his sleep shirt.

The motion was repetitive. Soothing. Sanji went quiet as bony ankles tangled with his; with his back pressed to Zoro’s chest, he could feel every breath the swordsman took, deep and ever-steady. Every single beat of his heart, clear against Sanji’s shoulder blades.

The cook slid a hand over the one around his waist like he always did and laced their fingers. He’d lied about Zoro not being a comfortable bedmate; Sanji never slept better than when he was with him, and on top of that— If there was one thing better than a comfortable bedmate, it was a comfortable boyfriend.

He had the vague awareness of a kiss being pressed to his crown before his eyes fluttered shut, sinking boneless into the thin mattress with a contented hum. Zoro didn’t sleep with a blanket, but honestly?

Sanji never really minded.

His bunk creaked, dipping under the weight of a new person, and Sanji jerked awake with a soft “wha?”

“S’just me,” Zoro muttered, sliding into the blankets behind him and kicking them away after a split second of consideration, pressing the line of his body to Sanji’s back. “It’s too fuckin’ hot.”

“You’re sticky,” Sanji whined, awake enough to protest against the feeling of damp skin and swat half-heartedly at the arm winding around his waist.

“Because I just took a shower, idiot,” Zoro hissed, which, ah. Explained why he was shirtless.

“It’s too hot. Which is why you’re choosing to share a bed. And body heat. Okay,” Sanji yawned, his sleep-addled brain mollified as he settled back in, and Zoro huffed through his nose.

“You’re cold, it’s nice.”

“Hm.” The cook peered blearily over his shoulder before rolling over, tossing a leg over Zoro’s hip and shoving his head beneath his chin. “That’s the only reason you’re in my bed, huh?”

“Go to sleep, cook,” Zoro grumbled, something wry in his tone, “before I give you a reason to stay up.”

Sanji kicked him in the shin and fought down a sleepy grin. “Not so loud, they’ll hear you!”

“I’ve been awake this whole time, guys.” Usopp’s voice came floating from the darkness somewhere to the right, sounding a little traumatised, and Sanji sank his teeth into Zoro’s shoulder to stop himself from laughing out loud.

“Sorry, buddy,” he stage-whispered, still trying to control his residual chuckles. He could tell Zoro was laughing quietly from the rumbling beneath his cheek.

“S’fine. Just no funny business or I’ll get Nami… to…”

Their crewmate started snoring, and Sanji squinted up at Zoro’s face in the darkness. “Get Nami to what?”

“Can’t be anything good when that witch is involved,” Zoro sighed, shifting his arm up onto the pillow so Sanji could rest his head on his bicep. “Night, cook.”

“G’night. Don’t blame me when your arm falls asleep,” Sanji murmured, snuggling in with a shiver.

“Shut up.”

“Mhm. Love you.”

“…Yeah, whatever.”

“Marimo. You have to say it back.”

“Yes, okay, I love you, now please go to sleep.”

Sanji scoffed quietly. “You’re the one who woke me up.”

Zoro craned his neck to glare down at him. “I swear I will fuck off back to my own bunk.”

“…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Pissy asshole,” Sanji muttered into his shoulder, small enough that Zoro didn’t hear.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face anyway.

fin.

#zosan #op zosan #zosan fanfic #one piece zosan #zoro x sanji #they’re so fucking stupid #somebody please go save usopp #luffy’s out cold like the dead in the corner he’s doing peachy #but poor usopp is NOT #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #one piece #ask box #ino’s ask box

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slamminslamminmcgill · 2 years ago

Note

random thoughts... saul fingering you while hes on call with someone ... placing his hand tightly over your mouth to shut you up ... dhdjhejshrntg..f..g.. getting bent over that damn desk and him taking his tie off to choke you with it ...

>:333

combining w/ these

anatomical terms:

"We're sorry we missed you! Saul Goodman and Associates is out to lunch. Leave your name and phone number at the tone, and we will return your call before the end of the business day. Thank you!"

If anyone were to contact the office between 1-2PM, Monday-Friday, that's the message they would be greeted with. Guaranteed. That was when Saul took his lunch break. During that time, he'd eat out and get whatever he was craving: burgers, Mexican, Thai, you. That last one was his favorite.

You were laying down flat against his desk, legs dangling over the edge, with Saul nestled between them as he ate you out. Your hand grasped at strands of his thinning hair and guided his movements. He appreciated the help, but he didn't need it. He knew what he was doing, and what he was doing was a great job.

Hs firm hands and thin lips brought you up to the precipice of an orgasm. You begged for release in the soundproof office. "Saul... Saul, please... so... so close... God, fuck, please... Please!"

Surprisingly, the next thing you heard was not your own voice shrieking in ecstasy, but that of a telephone screeching for attention. You both froze in place, your climax shot down and reduced to rubble.

Saul pulled off of you and groaned, his mouth quite literally dripping wet. "Son of a bitch..." He stood up, brushed himself off, and leaned over you to hit the intercom button. "Francesca! What time is it?"

A flat, no-nonsense voice came through the other side. "2:04" was all it had to say.

"Oops! Sorry, lost track of time there. Thanks HT!"

"Don't call me tha-"

Click.

Saul silenced her dissent by releasing the button. He sat back in his chair and grabbed the ringing phone, one of many piled up in his drawer. Holding the cell in one hand, he beckoned you over and slapped his thigh with the other. A silent cue for you to take your seat.

You slid off the desk and propped yourself on his lap. He flipped the phone open and finagled it between his shoulder and his ear to keep both of his hands free. "Thank you for calling Saul Goodman! What can I do for ya?" He answered with perfect poise and nonchalance as he wrapped his arms around you and groped your chest.

The voice on the other end was frantic, low, and gravelly. You didn't hear specific words, just tone. Saul rolled his eyes as it spoke, lazily dragging one of his hands lower and lower, until it rested between your legs. "I see... That sounds very troubling." He answered with mock sympathy as he pressed his fingers inside you again.

You threw your head back and moaned, probably for a fraction of a second before Saul slapped his hand over your mouth. "Quiet. You just sit back, relax, and let me handle this, okay? I don't need your input."

The party on the other line must have heard something, because Saul's response was more anxious. "Oh! Nothing, nothing, don't worry. Now, let me check my schedule and I'll see where I can fit you in." He twisted and turned his fingers inside you, stretching you out, probably making sure you could fit him in. "Hm... looks like it's gonna be a tight squeeze..." He emphasized those words by pushing up into your g-spot and making your legs tremble, "...buuut I can get you in tomorrow at 4. Would that work for you, Walt?"

His voice stopped for a moment to let "Walt" speak; his fingers didn't do the same. Regardless of who "Walt" was and what he needed, it wasn't as important as this. At least, to you two it wasn't. "Walt" was shouting into the phone like he might burst a blood vessel.

Saul replied incredulously at the mysterious figure's behavior. "What?! Absolutely not! I have a waiting room packed full of clients who need to see me just as much as you do! I'm not your little callboy!" He leaned in close to whisper in your ear. "You on the other hand..."

He turned his attention back to the petulant voice shouting in his ear. "Y'know what? I'm done talking about this. Mr. White, I'll see you at 4PM tomorrow and not a moment sooner." He took his hand off your mouth to snap the flip phone shut.

"Sorry about that, sweetheart, now..." He pumped his fingers even faster, priming you for another release. "Let's get back to the task at hand."

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gothamite-rambler · 23 days ago

Text

Barbara Petty Revenge

Context: Dick ate Barbara pastrami sandwich.

Barbara’s voice crackled through the comm as we Dick Grayson aka Nightwing stood alone on a rooftop, silhouetted against the skyline.

Barbara: Dickie bird, this is Oracle. What’s your location?

Dick crossed his arms and frowned, the tension evident on his face as he refused to respond. He knew she would be like this after eating her lunch, but in his defense the food wasn't labeled... and that was all he could use as a defense.

Barbara could feel the anger from his silence, so she continued to poke fun.

Barbara (mischievous smile as she speaks louder): Dickie bird, are you in? Dickie? Dickard? Dichard? Dickwad?

Dick pressed the comm button with an audible click, his face turning red with anger.

Dick (finally speaking, angry): Okay, that last one is intended to be insulting!

Barbara leans back in her chair, taking a sip from her tumler cup before putting on the theatrics.

Barbara (feigning shock): What am I doing wrong? These are nicknames connected to your main nickname, and I am simply calling you these as terms of endearment.

Dick shifts his weight, visibly irritated.

Dick: That is a damn lie! You are clearly doing this to mess with me because I ate that two-day-old pastrami sandwich! If you wanted it, label it!

Barbara put on a mock serious expression, placing her cup on the desk.

Barbara (fake stammering): I—What—I—I would never! I am simply being a friend. You eating the clearly pastrami-filled sandwich is not why I'm doing this. It's not like I'm the only other person who eats pastrami from the deli that's difficult to get to since I'm freaking paralyzed and it’s hard to take an Uber.

Dick rolled his eyes, a little smirk creeping onto his face despite himself.

Dick (trying to upset her): You snooze, you lose!

Barbara leaned forward, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Barbara: Mm-hm, mm-hm. Well, I am not being petty, just a friend. I even combined two of them—Dickard.

Barbara’s brows furrowed as she smiled, waiting for his neck move.

Dick (angry whisper): Dickard and Dichard aren’t what you call me! My name when I'm on patrol is Nightwing! I have been going by Nightwing for ten years! Say my damn hero name!

Barbara twirled her pen mockingly, pretending to be deep in thought.

Barbara (twirling her pen while pretending to think): Hm... I'm not sure, Dickard. Let me try to say it a few times: Nightwing, Nightwing, Nightwing... Chickenwing... Cockwing! Is that better?

Dick’s frustration boiled over, his body tense with anger as he raised his voice.

Dick: Keep talking, bitch, and I’ll tape your mouth shut! You call me by my name, Barbie, or—

Barbara, maintaining her sweet facade, leans back with her arms crossed.

Barbara (sickeningly sweet): Now, that’s not very nice. Dickwad, I was simply checking—

Dick jumping up and down in rage, clearly losing his patience.

Dick: I am not in the mood for this!

Suddenly, Bruce, in his Batman suit, enters the comm chat, his voice authoritative.

Bruce (entering the comm chat): Would you both stop being children! Oh my God, I will buy you a new sandwich, Oracle! Nightwing... you are grounded!

Barbara cackled hearing this news. She won, got a free sandiwch and got a grown man punished by his father. Dick shoulders slumped in shock.

Nightwing: What?! I didn't even do anything!

Bruce’s tone remains stern, emphasizing his frustration.

Batman: You are acting foolish in the middle of your job! And you threatened her! She is mocking you, yes, but she has not threatened you. You're grounded!

Barbara, taking advantage of the moment, shifted to a baby voice, playing innocent.

Barbara (baby voice): Yeah, I am a frail paralyzed lady. You might hurt me for harmless jokes? That’s so mean.

She chuckled softly in the background, further irritating Dick.

Dick (shrill voice): SHE'S LAUGHING AT ME IN THE BACKGROUND!

Bruce’s patience wears thin.

Batman: The people around you can hear you. Grounded! You are grounded! I don't care how old you are or if she picking on you, you are acting childish. I get you're upset Kori extended her vacation for three weeks, but during that time you are grounded! No missions, no fancy electronics, no hanging out with your friends. You're grounded for three weeks! Go home and think about what you did!

Dick stood there, arms crossed and lip quivering as if he were eight again, frustration radiating from him.

Dick: I—I—THIS IS SOME BULLSHIT!

He stomped away, the comm on his end disconnecting with a loud static pop. He fired up his grappling hook gun, swinging down from the rooftop, muttering to himself as he headed home.

Barbara: Mess with the queen, you get the gullitone.

Meanwhile on the streets of Gotham Bruce waited for Tim to return with the hot dogs he wanted Bruce to try. Tim, 19 and full of youthful energy, approached the caped crusader, holding a couple of hotdogs in hand.

Tim: What did I just walk over to?

Bruce: Nightwing is grounded.

Tim (confused): You grounded him? Like he's on punishment?

Bruce glanced at Tim, a hint of exasperation in his demeanor.

Bruce: Yep.

Tim raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Tim: But... he's in his twenties, he doesn't live with you— 'You're Batman' that’s the explanation, isn’t it?

Bruce gave a curt nod, looking slightly amused despite the situation.

Bruce: Yep.

Tim shrugs, accepting the absurdity of the situation.

Tim: All right then. At least it isn't me.

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chicgeekgirl89 · 5 months ago

Text

Summary: Summer is for fun, but sometimes it doesn't always go as planned. Five times the summer handed Tarlos some minor inconveniences and one time it all worked out.

A/N: Did I change the title on this between Sunday and now? Shut up, it's fine. 😅

Read on AO3

Jellyfish

T.K.’s body is fever hot, the sun beating brightly down from overhead, still intense even though the hour is waning toward four o’clock. The sand underneath his towel provides a soft cushion for where he’s lying next to Carlos on the beach, both of them relaxing after a long walk down the shoreline.

Sweat slides down the side of his neck; he’s going to need a dip in the ocean soon to cool off. They’ve been here since early this morning, reading on the beach, playing in the surf, and writing their names in the sand with their fingers like two lovesick teenagers instead of a married couple on an anniversary trip to Galveston. It’s been a perfect day. The most perfect day.

T.K. turns his head to the side, taking in the sight of Carlos lying next to him. He’s shirtless, his chest glistening in the sunlight, a combination of the sunscreen he’s been making them reapply every hour like clockwork, and sweat from the heat rolling over his skin. His blue swim trunks stand out against the gold of the sand, matching with the blue and white stripes on his towel.

He’s got one arm thrown back, blocking the sun from his eyes, his ring shining in the light, the other hand resting beside him, a little bit of sand clinging to the tips of his fingers. His curls stopped being tame the second the ocean breeze hit them and they’re so soft and fluffy they look like a cloud. He looks like the epitome of a bronzed god.

It’s moments like this, little quiet, nothing moments when T.K. feels the immense gratitude of having a partner who is fun, dependable, and hot as fuck. He knows he’s beyond lucky, to have someone like Carlos in his life. It makes him so damn happy it hurts sometimes.

He looks down and takes Carlos’ hand, linking their fingers together. Carlos turns his head to the side and smiles at him, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. His lips are still cold from the lime flavored sparkling waters they’ve been drinking out of the cooler and they feel amazing against T.K.’s warm skin.

T.K. misses them the instant Carlos goes back to lying flat out on his towel and he doesn’t even think before he’s rolling over so that he’s on top of his husband, his weight pressing him further down into the sand. “You’re hot,” Carlos says, an amused smile on the lips T.K. wants back on him as quickly as possible.

“So are you.” T.K. smirks down at him with that cocky, sexy smile that usually initiates very fun things for them both.

“No I mean you’re physically hot. You’re sweating all over me, get off,” Carlos says, giving him a little push, but T.K. holds firm.

He leans down, capturing those cold lips with his own, his tongue tasting a heady combination of saltwater, lime, and coconut lip balm. His husband tastes like a fucking tropical vacation and T.K. doesn’t waste time diving in deeper for a stronger hit.

Carlos makes a small noise in the back of his throat and lifts his head up, meeting T.K. with an open mouth, his tongue soft, the kiss slow, but still simmering, both of them barely holding back, vaguely aware of watching eyes all around them.

T.K. lets his weight drop a little more, pressing their hips together, relishing the way their bare chests and stomachs slide against each other. He braces his hands on either side of Carlos’ chest, digging them deeply into the sand and staring into his eyes. “I want you so bad right now,” he says.

He can feel all of Carlos through his bathing suit. The fabric is so damn thin, being at the beach is practically like being in your underwear in public. The thought of it turns him on even more and he has to resist the urge to grind down in a way he knows drives Carlos crazy.

“There are families on this beach, T.K.,” Carlos says, but his hands come up to rest on T.K.’s hips, and there’s a glint in his eyes that tells T.K. he’s equally turned on right now.

T.K. takes a look around. The area has emptied out considerably in the last hour, lots of people heading home for the night. But Carlos isn’t wrong, there are still plenty of kids and adults nearby, building sandcastles and picking up seashells. They’re not alone enough for what T.K. wants to do right now.

He lets his head fall. “Ugh,” he groans. “Why do you have to be so fucking hot all the time? It’s not fair.”

He lets out a squeak as Carlos moves suddenly, rolling them over so T.K. is back on his own towel and now Carlos is the one on top. “It’s not my fault you find me irresistible,” he says with a smirk. “Or that you have to keep it in your banana hammock while we’re in public.”

“My banana hammock!” T.K. laughs. He’s wearing the same style of trunks as Carlos and although his are considerably louder, covered in smiling pineapples and coconuts, they are definitely not revealing.

“You’re a menace in those things,” Carlos says, poking him in the ribs right in the spot he knows T.K. is ticklish and making him squirm. “You think I’m hot, you should see how this whole beach has been looking at your ass all day.”

“Nobody is looking at my ass Carlos,” T.K. says with a roll of his eyes. He wiggles a little bit, trying to get comfortable. Carlos is right, it’s slightly smothering to be the one on the bottom in this heat.

“They definitely are,” Carlos says, lowering his head so his mouth is right to T.K.’s ear. “But that’s too bad because this ass is all mine.”

He pushes himself up and grabs T.K.’s hand, hauling him to his feet and then pulling him toward the water. T.K. stumbles over the uneven sand, both of them laughing as they go crashing toward the surf. They hold hands, pushing past the breakers until they get into deeper water, letting the waves bob them up and down.

“There,” Carlos says as one lifts them up, their feet brushing against the sandy bottom before they land again. “Now this ass is all mine.”

He pulls T.K. in, their lips bumping together a little awkwardly as the under toe pulls at them, but quickly finding their usual rhythm. With their bodies now more hidden from the general public, T.K. wastes no time in jumping up to wrap his legs around Carlos’ waist, his wet hands slipping and sliding over Carlos’ back.

Carlos holds him up, hands gripping firmly under his thighs. Sometimes T.K. forgets how large his hands are, and holy fuck this has to be in the top five hottest things they’ve ever done. Their kisses are not chaste at all anymore, sloppy and a little frantic as the sea buoys them up and down.

He’s just trying to decide if anyone would really notice if he put his hand down Carlos’ bathing suit out here when Carlos rips his mouth away, a sharp gasp forcing its way out, his hands releasing T.K.’s legs.

T.K. grips on a little tighter and blinks at him in confusion. “Are you okay?”

“Something stung me,” Carlos says. “Ouch!” he yelps, his body jerking to the side.

T.K. lets go, his feet dropping back to the ocean’s sandy bottom. “Where did it get you?” he asks, concern erasing every drop of lust from his system.

“My leg,” Carlos says, pain slipping into the lines of his face, hand reaching out to grip T.K.’s shoulder for support. “Shit. Ow.”

“Okay, let’s get back up to the towels and I’ll take a look,” T.K. says.

Getting out of the water is way less fun than getting in was. Carlos grimaces in pain with every step and they have to fight against the pull of the waves chasing the tide back outward from the shore.

Once they’re ankle deep in the water, Carlos leans over to try and see the source of his pain. T.K. looks too and winces. Crisscrossing red marks slash their way up his calf like he’s been struck with a whip.

“Shit,” Carlos breathes out, and then a quick, “Sorry,” when he spots a mom and her kids nearby.

“Looks like a jellyfish sting,” T.K. says.

“It freaking hurts,” Carlos says, his muscles tight with pain.

They maneuver their way up to the dry sand and Carlos collapses on his towel, a scowl on his face as T.K. drops to his knees and takes hold of his leg, turning it this way and that for a closer look. “It didn’t get you?” Carlos asks.

“No,” T.K. says. “I think because my legs were up.”

“You’re welcome,” Carlos says, a slightly grouchy tease.

T.K. chews his lip as he thinks through his options. “I’ll be right back.”

He jogs back down to the mom and her kids. “Hey, can I borrow this for a second?” he asks, picking up a yellow bucket.

The mom nods her consent and he fills it up with seawater before running it back up to their towels. He gently pours it over the angry welts on Carlos’ leg and Carlos hisses out a sharp breath. “Ouch.”

“Sorry,” T.K. says sympathetically, sitting back on his heels when the bucket has been emptied. “That’s a start.” He reaches into one of their bags for the first aid kit he brought with them and pulls out two Advil. “Here take these.”

He watches Carlos swallow them down, hoping they help with the pain and the swelling. “Do you want to pack up and head back to the hotel?” he asks.

“Um…”

Carlos looks uncertain, which T.K. knows means he’s weighing his own happiness against T.K.’s. So T.K. decides for him. “Let’s go back. It’s getting late anyway. It’s not going to be much fun sitting here with your leg on fire.”

“Are you sure?” T.K. reaches up and squishes his cheeks. “Yes. Shut up. Let’s go.” He pecks his forehead with a kiss before standing and packing up their things.

Carlos tries to help but T.K. shoos him off, shouldering all their bags on his back until he looks like a pack animal. He manages to get to the car without dropping anything, and then gets it all in the trunk while Carlos slides into the passenger seat, wincing in pain the entire time.

T.K. drives them back to their hotel and when they get to the room T.K. sends his husband into a hot shower while he orders up some room service. When Carlos emerges he’s wrapped in a fluffy hotel bathrobe, his hair still damp and curly, his body scrubbed clean of sand and seawater.

“How are you feeling?” T.K. asks.

“Better,” Carlos says. “Still stings a little, but not as bad as before.”

“You okay if I get in there for a minute?” T.K. nods toward the bathroom.

“It’s a jellyfish sting, not a shark bite,” Carlos says in amusement. “I think I can make it fifteen minutes without you.”

“Are you sure? Because if you need me, I can just stay this sweaty, greasy, salty mess,” T.K. leans toward him and Carlos shoves him away. “Get out of here!” he says with a laugh. “You’re gross.”

“But you still love me,” T.K. says with a grin, backing away and wiggling his hips as he starts to push his bathing suit downward, pale skin, untouched by the sun, being revealed inch by inch.

Carlos whips a pillow at him. “Get out of here!”

“Love you!” T.K. yells as he closes the bathroom door.

“Love you too!”

Handprint

T.K. is splayed out chaotically in their bed when Carlos checks on him before heading off to work. His husband had come home exhausted last night after working a grueling double shift. T.K. had barely even said hello, stripping off his clothes as he walked into the bedroom and then face planting directly into their mattress.

By the time Carlos had come in he’d been snoring away, socks still on, his head halfway down the bed instead of up on the pillow. Carlos had gently coaxed him into place before snuggling in beside him and T.K. hadn’t woken up once.

He has moderately more success this morning. He kisses T.K.’s ear, then his cheek, pleased when T.K. sucks in a waking breath and curls up a little bit. “I’m heading out,” Carlos says softly. “Are you guys still going to the pool today?”

The entire 126 has the day off and the plan is to spend it poolside. Tommy is bringing the twins and Grace is coming with Charlie. Carlos is bummed that he has to work instead of participating in the fun.

“Mhm,” T.K. says, his reply muffled by his pillow.

Carlos cards his fingers softly through T.K.’s hair. “Maybe you should skip. You’re exhausted. There’s a new season of Grand Designs out. You could stay home and relax.”

“No, I wanna go,” T.K. says, his eyes still closed. “It’s fine. We’ll just be hanging by the pool. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” Carlos runs his thumb over the shell of T.K.’s ear. “I left a towel and sunscreen out for you. Make sure you put it on every hour, okay? And take a hat.”

T.K.’s fair skin is prone to sunburn and Carlos is always extra cautious with him when they’re outside.

T.K. cracks an eyelid. “Okay Mom.”

Carlos chuckles softly. “Sorry. Have a good time. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Love you, be safe,” T.K. mumbles, already snuggling back into bed.

“Love you too.”

Carlos makes a mental note to check-in with Nancy in a few hours to see if T.K. actually makes it to the pool outing or not. He wouldn’t put it past him to sleep through his alarm and miss it entirely.

When he and Lexie stop for coffee mid-morning he fires off said text and receives an affirmative from Nancy: T.K. has made it to the pool. So Carlos texts him directly.

Carlos

[11:42am] How’s the water?

T.K. ❤️

[11:45am] *Selfie of T.K. in floral swim trunks with Marjan, Nancy, and Mateo*

[11:45am] Water’s great. Wish you were here!

Carlos smiles, but feels a little twinge of concern at the dark circles under T.K.’s eyes. He still looks tired. Hopefully the group is taking it easy and T.K. will come home feeling refreshed.

Carlos

[11:46am] Glad you’re having fun. Don’t forget to sunscreen.

T.K. ❤️

[11:48am] *picture of T.K. holding sunscreen in one hand and giving the finger with the other*

Carlos

[11:49am] Good job.

Carlos finishes his shift without any major issues and heads home on time for a change. He stops at the market for some bread to go with dinner and spies some beautiful sunflowers, so he grabs those too. Something to brighten up T.K.’s evening.

When he gets home he sees T.K.’s bag by the door, his flip flops lying next to it haphazardly instead of in the shoe bin where they belong. This is slightly odd because T.K. is usually pretty good about putting his shoes away.

T.K. is also nowhere in sight, so he must be in the bedroom or bathroom. Carlos heads for the kitchen to drop his groceries, calling out for him as he goes. “I’m home babe! How was the pool?”

There’s a long silence and then a very faint, “It was good,” from the direction of the master bath.

Carlos frowns as he pulls the bread and flowers from his canvas tote. T.K. sounds off. “You okay?” he calls back.

Another silence. “…yeah…”

Something is off. Carlos picks up the flowers and heads toward their bedroom. “You sure?” he asks as he approaches the closed bathroom door. “You sound weird.”

“Don’t come in here!”

Now T.K. sounds panicked and Carlos feels an immediate need to bust the bathroom door down. “What? Why not? T.K.? What’s going on?”

“I…”

When no answer comes Carlos squares his shoulders and grabs the door handle. “I’m coming in.”

He pushes just as T.K. says, “No wait!” but it’s too late, Carlos is inside the bathroom, his mouth falling open in shock at the sight of his husband.

T.K. is sitting on the closed toilet seat, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, a bottle of aloe vera frozen in one hand. His face is so pink it’s practically glowing. And that’s not the only thing that’s pink.

Carlos’ eyes travel with horror down his torso, past the towel, over his legs all the way to the tops of his feet. T.K. is sunburnt from head to toe save for one stark, white handprint across his stomach.

“Please don’t yell at me,” T.K. says, misery all over his face.

It takes another second for Carlos to find his voice. “I’m not going to yell,” he says, far too shocked to be angry. If anything he’s deeply concerned. T.K. must be in a lot of pain. “Babe, what happened?”

“I put on sunscreen when I got there but then I…I fell asleep,” he says, his voice full of sadness. “For like, a couple hours I guess? I was just so tired and when I woke up…”

He gives a sad little shrug. “Oh baby,” Carlos says sympathetically, taking a step forward and dropping to his knees in front of him. “The hand print?”

“My hand was on my stomach.” T.K. looks down and his face crumples. “It’s going to be like that all summer, isn’t it?”

Carlos nods, pushing down the bubble of laughter inside of him. Now is not the time.

“I was trying to put aloe on but it just, it hurts,” T.K. says with a pathetic little sniffle.

“Do you want me to help you?” Carlos asks and T.K. nods.

Carlos gently pulls the bottle from his fingers and globs out a sizable amount into his palm. Starting at the top he runs his hands gently over T.K.’s face; his forehead, the bridge of his nose, across his cheekbones, letting the aloe sit on top of the raw skin instead of rubbing it all the way in. Even T.K.’s ears have a rosy hue and Carlos takes the time to cover them as well before moving onto his chest.

From his shoulders to the tips of his fingers, over his pecs and down his abs, Carlos moves slowly and deliberately, careful not to miss a single patch of tender skin.

Despite his gentleness, T.K. keeps flinching and making smalls noises of pain, so Carlos talks to distract him. “How was the day otherwise?” he asks. “Did you guys have fun?”

“Yeah it was good,” T.K. says, his voice rough. “Charlie had a blast. She had this little toy duck that she would toss in the pool and Izzy and Evie would go get it for her. It was super cute. She’s getting so big, even since the last time we saw her.”

“Yeah it’s been a couple months hasn’t it?” Carlos says, smoothing his hands over the top of T.K.’s thighs. “Crazy how fast they grow at that age. We’ll have to offer to babysit soon so I can see her again.”

“Maybe in a couple weeks after they get back from vacation,” T.K. says.

“Sounds good. I’ll send Grace a text.”

When he finishes, he stands up and washes the goopy aloe off his hands in the sink then goes back to kneeling in front of T.K. “Be honest with me, is this a hospital situation?”

“No, I don’t think so,” T.K. says. “Tommy made me drink a ton of water and sit in the shade after we realized. There’s no blistering, I think it’s just a really bad sunburn, not sun poisoning. I don’t have a headache or feel nauseated or anything.”

Carlos is going to send the literal and metaphorical mom of the group a bouquet of flowers for taking care of his absent minded husband. “Okay, what else can we do then? Some ibuprofen maybe?”

“Tommy made me take some.”

“When?”

“Um, like three hours ago?”

Carlos looks at his watch and makes a note of the time. “We’ll do more in an hour then. Did you take a cold shower or bath when you got home?”

T.K. nods. “I took a bath for a while.”

“Good. Then how about we get you up and into something better than a towel?”

Carlos helps him into a very loose pair of shorts, T.K. wincing every time the material even so much as brushes against his skin, and then settles him on the couch. “I got bread to go with the soup my mom brought us for dinner,” Carlos says. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, can I help?” T.K. asks, looking like he’s going to try and push himself upward.

Carlos waves him off. “No. You stay right here. It’s literally going to take fifteen minutes to heat up. I think I can handle it.”

He heads into the kitchen and spies the flowers. “Oh I forgot,” he says, returning to the living room so T.K. doesn’t have to try and crane his head around to see. “I got you these.”

T.K.’s face brightens immediately. “You got me flowers?”

“I did.”

“You’re my favorite husband.”

“I’d better be your only husband,” Carlos warns teasingly, setting the flowers on the coffee table so T.K. can see them before returning to the kitchen.

They make it through dinner without too much fuss, but bedtime comes with new challenges. T.K. can only lay flat on his back without any sheets or blankets touching him, even after Carlos doses him with more ibuprofen.

“I feel like I’m going to glow in the dark,” he says sadly as he lays perfectly still, arms and legs spread out awkwardly while Carlos changes for bed.

Carlos chuckles. “My little neon sign. You do light up my life, so that seems appropriate.”

“Haha,” T.K. says without any mirth.

Carlos sits down next to him. “What can I do? What do you need?”

T.K. flops his head to the side. “I want you to hold me. But you can’t touch me,” he says miserably.

“What if I just play with your hair, like this?” Carlos says, reaching up and toying with a few strands.

“That feels nice,” T.K. says, his eyes closing.

“Good,” Carlos says, pleased that he can provide a little relief to ease T.K.’s discomfort. “You know you’re still very cute. Even when you’re glowing like a stoplight.”

T.K. makes a face. “Will you still love me when my skin is peeling off like Lou II’s when he molts?”

Carlos huffs a laugh. “I’ll try.”

Amusement

The boiling heat of day has slipped into the balm of early evening in Austin, Texas. It’s cooler than usual, only seventy-five degrees tonight, a welcome relief from Austin’s blazing summer.

Tonight the sunset isn’t the only thing lighting up the night sky. The Catan crew is out instead of in for a change, visiting the carnival that’s come to town. As the sun has dropped below the horizon, the rides and games have lit up in a dazzling display of color, whirling and blinking rainbows punctuated with screams and laughs and cheers from guests of all ages.

Carlos’ hand is intertwined with T.K.’s and his husband is swinging it back and forth as they wander between the carnival games. T.K. is chattering away to Marjan about Lou II’s latest outfit; a pair of lizard size swim trunks. Carlos had caught him turning their bathtub into a mini water park and just slowly walked out and closed the door behind him. He loves his husband, but some things are better left unseen if he wants their marriage to survive.

Nancy and Mateo are walking ahead of them, their hands also entwined, and Paul is to Carlos’ right. It’s been the best kind of day. Fun and friends and time together without any of the stresses of work to weigh them down.

T.K. is practically bouncing as he walks. So far Carlos has watched him down two corndogs, fries, cheese curds, half of Carlos’ burrito, and a pink cotton candy. He’s currently slurping on a blue raspberry slushee, his tongue now so electrically blue that Carlos isn’t sure it will ever be normal again. He’s hopped up on sugar and fun and Carlos is going to have to have extremely enthusiastic sex with him tonight to get him tired enough for bed.

He’s looking forward to it.

“Ooh babe! Do you have any ones?” T.K. asks eagerly.

“I think so,” Carlos says, pulling out his wallet and handing T.K. about five dollars’ worth. “What do you need them for?”

“I’m gonna go win you one of those giant teddy bears!” T.K. says, already grabbing Marjan’s hand and dragging her toward a ski ball game.

“T.K. we don’t have anywhere to put that!” Carlos calls after him, but T.K. either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care.

“Ooh I wanna go help!” Mateo says, running after them and pulling Nancy with him.

Paul looks at Carlos. “These are the people the city of Austin trusts to save lives. Everyday.”

Carlos shakes his head. “Sometimes I don’t even know Paul.”

Thankfully T.K. does not win a giant teddy bear, having to settle for a small frog keychain instead, which makes them both happy.

They go from the game to the petting zoo which takes forever because T.K. feels the need to speak to each animal individually and Marjan won’t let go of one of the bunnies that she declares “needs to come home with her” until Paul points out that rabbits chew everything.

“Carlos, just think about it,” T.K. says as they finally walk away. “A baby goat would be so fun to have. And then it would grow up and become an adult goat and we could get goats milk and make goat cheese! You love goat cheese!

“I do love goat cheese,” Carlos says with a chuckle. “I do not love the idea of a goat living in our loft. We already have one pet. That’s enough.”

“If you had fresh goat cheese for our game nights that would be on another level,” Nancy says.

“Well then why don’t you get a goat and keep it at Owen’s house?” Carlos suggests.

“Oh, I don’t think Cap would like that,” Mateo says. “Can you imagine if it got hold of one of his Gucci loafers? That thing would be goat kabobs in a heartbeat.”

“Mmm, goat kabobs. Now we’re talking,” Paul says, licking his lips.

“All right, who’s going with me on the Twister?” Marjan says as they walk past a swirling mass of lights and machinery.

“Yes!” T.K. says immediately. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Y’all are crazy,” Paul says. “That thing looks like whiplash waiting to happen.”

“Okay grandpa,” Mateo says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m in. Carlos?”

Carlos absolutely does not want to go on the Twister. It swings over their heads, screams filling the air above them and he suppresses a shudder. He’s not a fan of this kind of ride at all. “Come on babe!” T.K. tugs at his hand, glee shining in his eyes and Carlos gives in.

“Okay, yes, let’s go,” he says and T.K. squeezes his hand excitedly.

“Yes! Nance, you coming?” Mateo asks.

“I think I’m going to sit this one out. I get motion sickness when I spin like that,” Nancy says, her face showing her distaste at the thought.

“Can I interest you in a more sedate ride on the carousel?” Paul asks, holding out an arm.

“Why yes, dahling, that would be delightful,” Nancy replies with a mock southern accent, looping her elbow through his as they wander off in search of a more relaxed ride experience.

They join the line, which is made up primarily of teenagers who are either horsing around or making out. “There’s a ride like this out on Coney Island,” T.K. says. “My dad took me out there one time when I was like eight. We rode it six times in a row.”

“I used to come to this carnival when I was a kid. I think I puked every single year,” Mateo says, a fond look in his eye.

“If anybody pukes on me during this ride…” Marjan says warningly.

“Relax Marj, nobody’s puking on you tonight,” Mateo tells her with a roll of his eyes.

As they approach the front of the line, Carlos notices that his husband has gone quiet. He looks at T.K.’s face, realizing that he looks a little peaked and there seems to be a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. “You okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” T.K. says brightly. “Just hot out here.”

It’s not that hot, but Carlos chalks his odd expression up to too much excitement and sugar.

They board the ride and strap on their seatbelts, their legs cramped up awkwardly because the seat is so low. Carlos and T.K. are smushed together on one side with Mateo and Marjan opposite them.

Carlos grips onto the safety bar as soon as the attendant lowers it. “This is going to be fun!” T.K. says gleefully, the lights flashing over his face that definitely looks paler than it did before.

The music starts up, something by Aerosmith, and then the next thing Carlos knows they’re moving, whirling around, his legs mashing into T.K.’s even more than they already were, their car whipping around and around so fast that everything besides Mateo and Marjan’s faces becomes a blur.

Carlos can’t help himself, he screams right along with everyone else. It is kind of fun, other than the constant smashing into T.K. and the cramp in his thighs. He hasn’t been on a ride like this in years and it’s a little more painful than he remembers, but also pretty fun.

When it finally slows to a stop Mateo lets out a whoop of glee. “Let’s go again!”

“Hell yeah!” Marjan agrees.

Carlos turns, expecting T.K. to give an equally affirmative response, but instead he’s met with a T.K. whose lips are pressed tightly together. And where he was pale before, now he looks slightly green.

“T.K.?” Carlos asks in concern, but T.K. just gives a sharp shake of his head in response.

The second the safety bar goes up, T.K. is gone, running to the exit as Carlos struggles to free himself so he can jog after him. By the time he reaches his husband, T.K. is retching over a smelly garbage can. Carlos puts a hand on his back and tries not to look too closely at what is coming out of his mouth.

“Easy, easy,” he says, rubbing a comforting hand between his shoulder blades when T.K. starts a second round of puking.

It’s several minutes before T.K. lifts his head and takes a step away from the garbage can. He swallows hard, his face still a sickly shade of green.

“Here,” Marjan says, offering him a bottle of water she’d run to get when she realized what was happening.

He takes a sip and swishes it around in his mouth, spitting it into the garbage can instead of swallowing. “Let’s sit down,” Carlos suggests gently, guiding T.K. toward a picnic table that’s only moderately covered melted ice cream and powdered sugar from funnel cakes.

T.K. sinks onto the bench, his head in his hands. “I don’t think I should have had that slushee,” he says in a muffled voice.

“Yeah, I’m not sure it was the slushee that put it over the top love,” Carlos says sympathetically, rubbing his back again.

“Good job bro,” Mateo says seriously. “You barfed chunks in the garbage instead of on people or the ground. Impressive.”

“Ew, can you not say ‘barfed chunks’ ever again?” Marjan asks in disgust.

“Whoa what happened?” Paul asks as he and Nancy rejoin the group.

“T.K. got sick,” Mateo shoots a look at Marjan to emphasize his less disgusting language, “on the Twister.”

“Can’t hold your carnival food anymore huh partner?” Nancy asks.

T.K. glares up at her. “You suck.”

“And yet, I am the one who made the mature, adult decision to ride the carousel and avoid this situation,” Nancy tells him in a superior tone. “And also not wolf down snacks like I’m still fifteen years old.”

T.K. opens his mouth, but then looks panicked and immediately closes it again. “Okay, on that note, I think it’s time for us to head home,” Carlos says.

T.K.’s head whips up and he swallows hard. “But we didn’t go on the ferris wheel yet!”

“You really want to risk barfing your guts out three hundred feet in the air?” Paul asks skeptically.

T.K.’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Yeah, I guess that’s a bad idea.”

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” Carlos says, pressing a kiss to his temple and then helping him to his feet.

T.K. makes it through the ride home by leaning his seat back as far as Carlos will allow (safety first) and closing his eyes with the air conditioning blasting on his face. By the time they arrive at the loft he looks more like himself, although he still curls up into a little ball on the couch while Carlos finds the Pepto Bismol and makes him some ginger tea.

“I’m never drinking blue raspberry slushees again,” T.K. says. “I want to forget this ever happened.”

“Your tongue is going to be blue for days,” Carlos says. “I think you’re going to be reminded every time you brush your teeth.”

T.K. groans and buries his face into a throw pillow. “I’m sorry I made you leave.”

“You didn’t make me leave,” Carlos says, patting his calf gently. “You were sick. Of course we were going to go home.”

T.K. says something that Carlos can’t make out. “What?”

He raises his head. “I said I was stupid.”

“You were having fun. Sometimes we don’t think through our decisions when we’re having fun.”

T.K. shifts a little. “Thanks for being nice to me while I’m sick.”

“Thank you for not puking in the car on the way home.”

Mini

“Tío, Tío, Tío watch me! Watch! Are you watching?”

“I’m watching Marco, I’m watching,” Carlos assures him.

Marco takes his kid-sized golf club and plants it into the pathway before putting his other hand on his back and scrunching up his forehead. “Look! See? I’m an old man!”

Carlos chuckles. “I see.”

“Tío T.K.! Look! Do you see me?”

T.K. looks up from where he’s writing down their scores from the previous hole on their scorecard. “Wow! Where did Marco go? All I see is this little old man! Oh no, Carlos, his mom is going to be so mad we lost him!”

“No Tío, it’s me!” Marco giggles and straightens up. “See? I was just pretending!”

“Oh phew!” T.K. pretends to wipe sweat off his brow. “Thank goodness.”

“My turn!” Carolina yells, running across the green.

“Whoa, hang on, we have to let the other people finish first!” T.K. says, jogging after her so he can catch her hand and keep her from interrupting the teenagers in front of them.

The kids have been calling him Tío since the first time they met before the wedding, but something about it still gives him a thrill. There’s something so familial about the term; like he belongs to them. Like they want him to be part of the family.

They’d offered to watch the kids for the afternoon so Ana could spend some alone time with Andrea while they’re in town. So far they’ve had tacos for lunch, visited the playground, and made it through three holes of mini golf without too much drama. Carolina spilled her Sprite at lunch and made a bit of a sticky mess, and Carlos had to grab Marco’s hand to keep him from running across a parking lot to see a dog, but other than that, T.K. thinks they’re doing a pretty great job.

“I need my ball!” Carolina says as soon as the teenagers move on.

“Please can I have my ball?” Carlos corrects gently.

She looks up at T.K. with her big brown eyes, the same ones he sees in his husband’s face every single day, those same, pleading, cow eyes and says, “Please?”

And god, it’s probably good they’re not actually parents yet because she could literally ask T.K. for a pony right now and he’d go get her one.

He hands her the pink ball she picked out when they arrived. “Thank you!” she says brightly. She carefully uses her little fingers to set it down on the green and then brings her club back with a big swing.

“Whoa!” T.K. grabs the collar of Marco’s t-shirt and pulls him back a step so his sister doesn’t hit him in the eye. “Watch out for Tiger Woods there.” So far it seems like most of parenthood is trying to keep your kids from accidentally killing each other.

Carolina completely misses the ball, but it doesn’t deter her from trying again. And again. Finally on the third attempt she makes contact and sends her ball rolling toward an open mouthed whale. It only makes it a couple feet, but it’s enough to satisfy her turn.

Marco goes next, his orange ball managing to go a little further. “My turn!” Carolina says, running up the green toward her ball.

“Hey, what about me and Tío T.K.?” Carlos asks from where he’s just dropped his green ball down.

She glances back at them. “You can go later.”

Carlos takes a step toward her but T.K. shakes his head. “Let her go. It’s fine.”

“Don’t you think we should teach her to take turns?”

“I think that’s her parents’ job. We’re just the fun uncles who take them mini golfing and get ice cream after.”

“Ice cream?” Marco’s head whips around. “We’re getting ice cream?”

“Maybe,” Carlos says.

Marco looks at T.K. who nods and mouths, “Definitely.”

“Yes!” He pumps a fist in the air and then runs after his sister who has managed to get her ball through the whale’s mouth by whacking it repeatedly and then finally pushing it the rest of the way. “Carolina! We’re getting ice cream!”

“Probably should have saved the ice cream detail for later. I’m not sure we’re going to make it through all eighteen holes now,” Carlos says.

“Were we really going to make it through all eighteen in the first place?” T.K. asks with skepticism.

Carlos looks at the kids who are struggling to get their balls into the cup. “Good point.”

They both take their turns while the kids are occupied with jumping off a big rock between this hole and the next one. Carlos manages to get his through the whale in one hit, while it takes T.K. two to get his onto the other side.

T.K. watches as Carlos holds Carolina’s hand so she can walk along the raised edge of the green like a balance beam while also listening to Marco talk about Minecraft. There’s something about watching his husband talk to kids that makes his heart a little extra soft. They haven’t revisited the idea of having their own kids yet, and T.K. won’t pressure him, but he can tell in little moments like this that whatever his qualms are, Carlos would make a great dad. He’s so patient and kind and he listens with this kind of intensity that makes little kids feel important.

It’s really special to see.

They head for the next green. This one sits next to a waterfall that splashes merrily into a pool at the bottom and runs down a small river and under a narrow bridge that Marco immediately runs to and stands on. “Look at me!” he cries.

“Okay be careful,” Carlos says. “We don’t want anyone falling in and getting wet.”

“My turn!” Carolina yells, bringing her club back again for another big whack.

“No I want to go this time!” Marco says, jumping down and charging toward them.

“Maybe on the next one we can let Marco go first,” T.K. suggests.

She looks at him, her stare cold. “No. I go first.” Then she takes a big whack at her ball and sends it immediately into the water.

“Okay then,” T.K. says, going to fish it out.

In the end Carolina simply picks up her ball and walks it across the bridge and into cup on the other side. Marco manages an astonishing swing that sends his ball flying to the far edge of the green and makes par for the first time.

“Wow, good job buddy,” Carlos says to him. “You got it right in there.”

“Yeah!!! I’m so good at golfing!” Marco crows, pumping a fist in the air.

“I’m good too!” Carolina says. “I’m good at golfing!”

“Lina look, I can hit my ball in so fast!”

T.K. sets his red ball down to take his turn. “Is this what it was like for you growing up?” he asks Carlos. “With your sisters?”

“Similar,” Carlos says. “Except there were two of them. And Marco at least has the upper hand being the oldest. Trust me when I say, I never got the first turn. And if you ask my sisters they will disagree and say I always got the first turn. That I was the spoiled baby.”

“Well, they’re not wrong. You’re a little spoiled,” T.K. teases.

Carlos opens his mouth to snark something back, but Carolina lets out a blood curdling scream, causing both of their heads to whip around in panic. “A bee!” she shrieks in terror. “A bee, a bee!”

Both T.K. and Carlos immediately go running toward the kids, but the have to go over the bridge to get there. Carlos takes it first and T.K. follows him over, sliding a little bit on the downslope, but catching his balance easily enough.

“It’s okay,” Carlos consoles her. “Did it sting you?”

She’s wailing loudly but shakes her head, just scared, not hurt thank goodness. Carlos wipes her tears away.

“You know, bees are actually really scared of people,” T.K. says, squatting down in front of her. “It was probably just saying hello.”

She stares at him with angry, watery eyes. “Bees sting you.”

Maybe this isn’t the right moment for a lecture on pollinators.

T.K. gets to his feet, crisis averted and Carlos starts to stand up as well, but neither of them have counted on Marco.

“I see the bee!” he yells.

Carolina screams in fear and bolts away as he charges forward, his club swinging as he goes. It catches Carlos, who is slightly off balance halfway out of his crouch, across the chest.

It’s like watching something out of a cartoon. Carlos’ eyes go wide, his arms pinwheeling wildly as he attempts to catch his balance and fails. T.K. reaches out but he’s too late; Carlos’ momentum sends him flying backward and he lands with a loud splash in the pool at the base of the waterfall.

“Oh sorry!” Marco says, freezing in place and looking scared that he’s just done something really wrong.

“Carlos, are you okay?” T.K. calls anxiously.

“Yes,” Carlos says, his voice full of annoyance. “I’m fine.”

“Sir!” One of the golf course employees comes charging over in his electrically yellow t-shirt. “Sir, you are not allowed to be in the water features! Please get out!”

“I’m trying!” Carlos growls back, uncharacteristically, yet understandably, short tempered.

He pushes himself upright, water swirling around his calves and T.K. reaches down a hand to pull him back up onto the green. “You’re sure you’re okay?” T.K. asks. “Marco hit you pretty hard. And you fell on your back.”

“I’m fine,” Carlos says. “Just…very wet.”

He’s drenched. His clothes are dripping all over the green and he wipes a hand over his face to clear the water that’s running down from his curls.

“Tío, you said we couldn’t get wet,” Carolina says pointedly, crossing her arms in indignation that her tío has broken the rules.

“I’m really sorry,” Marco says.

“It’s okay Marco,” Carlos says. “It was an accident. But that’s why we have to be careful with golf clubs. If you’d hit your sister you could have really hurt her.”

“Can we…still get ice cream?” he asks tentatively.

“Um…”

T.K. steps in. “I think we probably need to take your tío home to get some dry clothes first. But then yes, I think we can still get some ice cream.”

They head home so Carlos can change and then back out for the promised ice cream.

Marco, Carolina, and T.K. had all gone for cotton candy with sprinkles, while Carlos went for a more sedate chocolate soft serve, of which T.K. had stolen several bites.

They dropped the kids off with Ana and now they’re home. T.K. isn’t sure he’s ever been this tired in his entire life. He hadn’t realized how constantly being called for and answering a thousand questions in a row about everything from “what’s that?” to “is there ice cream in heaven?” could wear you down faster than back-to-back shifts.

“Wow, he really got you good,” T.K. says.

Carlos has taken off his shirt to ready for bed and there is a long bruise running across his chest where Marco struck him. He looks down at it and shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

“How’s your back?” T.K. asks.

Carlos had claimed he was uninjured after his spill earlier, but T.K. had seen him wincing when he picked Carolina up to put her in the car.

His husband puts a hand on his back self consciously. “I think I landed on a golf ball. And maybe tweaked something a little.”

“Let me see.”

He turns around and T.K. steps closer so he can take a look, wincing when he sees a perfectly round, dark bruise just to the right of Carlos’ spine. “Yeah I think you did land on a golf ball. That’s going to hurt for a while.”

“I don’t know how my sister does it all day,” Carlos says, turning so he can try and see the bruise in the mirror.

“You’re so good with them,” T.K. says. “They adore you. But yeah, they’re freaking exhausting, right?”

“So exhausting!”

The both chuckle. “Come on,” T.K. says. “Lie down and I’ll rub your back. See if we can fix whatever you pulled.”

Carlos immediately flops facedown into their mattress. “You’re so easy for back rubs,” T.K. says with a laugh as he climbs on top and straddles Carlos’ ass.

“I like back rubs,” Carlos says as he turns his head to the side, mashing one cheek into the duvet so he can talk.

“Oh I know.” T.K. digs his fingers into the muscles of Carlos’ shoulders and immediately gets an appreciative groan.

“You know the kids really love you too,” Carlos says after a minute, his eyes closed.

“Because I bribe them with ice cream,” T.K. snorts.

“No.” Carlos shifts a little bit. “Because everyone loves you. Because you’re the best. You’re going to be a really good dad.”

T.K. freezes. It has to be a slip of the tongue. They haven’t talked about kids at all. He forces his hands to work again. “Oh you want to get kinky, huh baby? I can call you daddy if you want me to,” he says, choosing to deflect the statement with humor.

Carlos rolls over, forcing him to stop. “No I mean like, for real. You’ll be a really good dad.”

T.K. narrows his eyes, very unsure of how to proceed. “The last time we talked about it, you said you didn’t want kids.”

“I remember.”

“So….I feel like we’re having a different conversation now.”

Carlos looks up at him, his face soft. “I don’t know. I guess we are?”

T.K.’s heart is beating a mile a minute. This is the most awkward position ever to be having this conversation in, but neither of them moves. “Okay. That’s…wow. Do you, should we talk about that?”

Carlos shifts a little. “Maybe not right now? But you know, soon. Maybe.”

Okay. Okay. T.K.’s mind is reeling but he tries to slow it down. “So what I’m hearing,” he says, sly grin spreading across his face. “Is that you might want to make a baby with me.”

It breaks the tension and Carlos rolls his eyes. “You are so weird, you know that?”

“C’mon Carlos. Let’s try it.” T.K. humps him a few times, thrusting enthusiastically with his sweat pant clad hips.

Carlos grabs him around the middle and rolls them over, claiming the top position. “Shut up,” he says firmly, dropping his head so he can kiss the stupid out of T.K.

“Wait, but is your back okay?” T.K. says, suddenly remembering how they got here in the first place.

Carlos gives a long, slow roll of his hips that has T.K. arching up to meet him. “Look at that, I think your hands fixed it,” he says with a smile.

“Good.” T.K. smirks. “Then try and put a baby in me Carlos Strand-Reyes.”

“…That is not the turn-on you think it is.”

Camp

The stars are shining brightly overhead, the moon lighting up the night with its near fullness. Fireflies flicker in the darkness, their glow magical as they sparkle between the trees.

T.K. honestly had thought he’d see a lot more of this kind of sight when he’d left the city lights of New York behind for Texas. The stars at night are big and bright after all. It was Carlos who’d pointed out to him that the next line of the song refers to the deep heart of Texas, not the deep heart of downtown Austin. Their loft doesn’t provide much opportunity for stargazing in the night sky what with all the light pollution.

The air is still a little warm, but the bugs aren’t too bad tonight thankfully, and there’s a slight breeze that’s keeping things on the nice side of pleasant. The smell of their campfire fills the air and the sound of crickets and the rushing of the river on the other side of the trees make for peaceful background ambience above the snapping and popping of their campfire.

“Babe. Your marshmallow is on fire.”

T.K. lifts his stick and blows out the inferno that has engulfed his marshmallow. “That’s how I like ‘em,” he says, waggling his eyebrows in the firelight as he reaches for graham crackers and chocolate.

It tracks that T.K., with his zest for life and penchant for jumping into action doesn’t have the patience to let his marshmallows roast over the coals, while Carlos, with his desire for order and perfection takes the time to make sure his is a perfect golden brown before eating.

T.K. sandwiches his s’more together, struggling to be patient long enough for the marshmallow to cool so he doesn’t burn his entire mouth. He’s planning to put it to good use when they finally retire to their tent for the night and he’d rather not miss out on fun camping sex with his husband because he was in a hurry for treats.

“Oh shit.”

Carlos’ surprised exclamation pulls T.K. from staring at his s’more in the firelight just in time to see his husband’s gooey marshmallow plop off his stick and into the fire. “Aw man,” Carlos says sadly, watching it go up in flames.

T.K. finally takes a bite, chewing with his mouth open to try and release some of the heat. “See? You should have just set it on fire in the first place,” he says around a mouthful of chocolate and graham cracker.

“I’ll make another one,” Carlos says, reaching for the bag.

“Gee babe, I don’t think we have another four and a half hours for that,” T.K. says pretending to check his watch.

“Ha ha,” Carlos says drily, impaling a fresh marshmallow on his stick.

“Come on. Try mine.” T.K. holds it out so the s’more is within Carlos’ reach. “You’ll see. The char really makes it taste campfire-y.”

Carlos leans forward and takes a bite, sticky marshmallow clinging to his chin as he chews. T.K. feels something flutter low in his belly. Why is this so sexy?

“So,” he says, clearing his throat, “what do you think?”

Carlos wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “Smoky,” he says. “I still think my way is better.”

“Well one of us has a s’more and the other one doesn’t. The evidence would suggest otherwise officer,” T.K. says, taking another bite.

The poke and tease each other a little more, Carlos eventually managing to get his marshmallow toasted to his unrealistically high standards. When they decide to turn in for the night T.K. takes his job of putting out the campfire very seriously, putting his firefighter training to good use as he douses it repeatedly before joining Carlos in the tent.

It’s lit only by the glow of the battery operated lantern they’ve brought. Carlos has already stripped off his shirt and is kneeling on top of his sleeping bag as he searches for something in their duffle ag. “Babe do you know where my toothpaste went? I thought I put it in the side pocket, but it’s not there.”

T.K. plops onto his knees on top of his own sleeping bag. The tent is small, cozy, intimate in a rugged, slightly dirty kind of way. Carlos is still searching, so T.K. shuffles forward a little bit, crowding into his space.

Carlos looks up, an amused smile on his lips. “Hi?”

“Hi.” T.K. grins back, biting his lip coyly.

“We’re in a tent,” Carlos says, his expression saying he knows full well where T.K. wants to take this.

“We are,” T.K. says, letting his eyes slide down Carlos’ tank top clad chest to the zipper of his jeans and back up. “Totally, completely, alone in a tent. No one around for miles.”

There’s another campsite on the other side of the trees, but T.K. thinks his version of events sounds far sexier.

“I smell like campfire,” Carlos says, but his eyes drop to T.K.’s lips and he leans in a little bit.

“Come on baby. Let me live out my Brokeback Mountain fantasy,” T.K. says, letting the back of his hand trail down Carlos’ arm. “Two sexy, star crossed cowboys. Finally alone.”

Carlos’ mouth captures his, smoky and sweet and hot and T.K. devours him eagerly. He pauses between breaths to rip his tank top from his pants and pulling it off over his head so that they’re both shirtless.

Carlos hasn’t shaved in a couple of days and his stubble scrapes pleasantly across T.K.’s skin. “You’re so fucking hot,” T.K. murmurs, sliding into Carlos’ lap, desperate to be even closer to him.

“Mmm, take me for a ride cowboy,” Carlos responds.

The words shoot straight to T.K.’s dick and he pushes Carlos down on top of their sleeping bags a little harder than necessary. “Pants. Off,” he orders, already reaching for his own zipper.

It takes a lot of wiggling around and some awkward angles to get naked, but finally they’re devoid of their clothes. T.K. sits back on his heels and drinks in Carlos’ body. Sometimes he feels like it’s such a miracle that he’s married to this man.

“Are you going to sit there staring all night?” Carlos asks, throwing one arm up behind his head.

“Shut up cowboy,” T.K. says. “I’m in control of this rodeo right now.”

“Oh you are?”

“Yeah,” T.K. sends him a pointed look. “I am.”

He bends Carlos’ right knee up and kisses it, enjoying Carlos’ sharp intake of breath as he moves his lips slowly along his inner thigh, alternating between nips with his teeth and short brushes of his tongue. When he finally reaches the softness where Carlos’ hip joins his pelvis, Carlos’ entire body tenses and he bites out a very sharp, “Fuck.”

“Is that what you want?” T.K. asks, fully aware that his breath is ghosting over some very sensitive parts of Carlos’ body and driving him crazy.

“Yes,” Carlos gasps, arching his back. “Fucking yes.”

T.K. gives that sensitive crux of skin one more sweet kiss and then gets to work. It’s sweaty and hot and slightly dirty and T.K. feels heady with the fun of it all.

He’s laying drowsily with Carlos draped across his chest, still naked and fully considering dragging him down to the water for a late night skinny dip, when he hears something. He instantly stiffens, his ears straining to make sense of a scuffling sound outside the tent.

“Carlos,” he says, tapping his chest. “Carlos do you hear that?”

Carlos is so blissed out that he’s mostly asleep, but he turns his head and presses a kiss to T.K.’s sweat sticky chest. “Your heart’s still beating really fast,” he mumbles.

“No, not that. Something outside.”

“It’s probably a squirrel.”

“What if it’s a bear?”

That gets Carlos’ attention. His eyes open all the way but he doesn’t move. “There are almost no bears in Texas T.K.”

T.K. hears the swishing of grass moving again and sits up, Carlos rolling off of him unceremoniously. “Almost doesn’t mean zero.”

“It’s basically zero,” Carlos says as T.K. gets to his feet and starts digging around in the messy piles of fabric they’ve made. “What are you doing?”

“If we’re going to get attacked by a bear, I don’t want to be naked.”

“It’s more likely a javelina than a bear,” Carlos says with a roll of his eyes.

“Javelinas are worse than bears! Put some clothes on!”

He throws a pair of underwear at Carlos and almost hits him in the face. “These are yours,” Carlos tells him.

“It doesn’t matter, just get dressed!”

Carlos rolls his eyes but then there’s an odd chittering sound and they both freeze. “Is that a javelina?” T.K. whispers, his eyes huge.

“I…don’t know what that is,” Carlos says, finally starting to look a little disconcerted.

T.K. yanks his hoodie over his head. “Put. Some. Clothes. On.”

“Yeah, okay,” Carlos says, scrambling to try and find some pants. “Did you put all the food stuff away?”

“Yes!” T.K. says, then thinks. “I mean, I think I did.”

“You think you did?”

“Well I was kind of excited about cowboy role play…” He shakes his head. “No I definitely put everything away.”

“Well then hopefully whatever it is will move on quickly,” Carlos says.

They both sit in silence, listening hard. “Do you think it left?” T.K. whispers when they don’t hear anything.

“I think so,” Carlos says.

T.K. gets up and reaches for the tent flap. “What are you doing?” Carlos asks.

“I’m going to go make sure our stuff is okay.”

“T.K. just leave it. We can check in the morning.”

“If it got into our stuff we should try and take care of it now so it doesn’t come back!” T.K. argues, unzipping the flap.

“T.K.! T.K. don’t!”

But T.K. ignores him, stepping outside.

The moon is even brighter now than it was before, lighting up the whole area. T.K. glances around and doesn’t notice anything amiss. He checks their food supply, all of it still locked up tightly, just like he’d thought.

He’s about to head back in when he senses a large presence behind him. “Ah!” he cries, as he turns around, only to find his husband has joined him. “You scared me!”

“Well I couldn’t let you come out here by yourself!” Carlos looks around. “Everything seems okay.”

“Yeah it was probably a raccoon or something.”

“So not a bear?” Carlos teases.

“No, but if you don’t shave soon I might mistake you for one,” T.K. says, patting his stubbly cheek.

They’re wandering back toward the tent and T.K. is thinking about getting naked all over again when they hear the same snuffling sound from before, this time accompanied by squeaking. “Carlos.” T.K. grips his husband’s shirt and shrinks against him as Carlos pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight.

It flashes over the grass, their doused campfire, the tent, and then lights on something bumbling across the ground. T.K. takes in a sharp breath. “Oh look at it!”

It’s a skunk, but a tiny one. Its little mouth opens and it lets out a squeaking sound before toddling toward them. “Oh it’s a baby,” T.K. says, taking a step toward it.

Carlos grabs the hood of his sweatshirt and yanks him back. “T.K. that is a skunk,” he says.

“Yes I know that, thank you,” T.K. tells him with a roll of his eyes. “I may have been born in a city, but I know what a skunk looks like.”

“Okay so then you should know that we don’t mess with skunks,” Carlos hisses.

“But what if it’s lost? And babies can’t spray anyway until they’re like three weeks old,” T.K. says, sending another look at the tiny skunkling.

“T.K. you have no idea how old that skunk is. Leave it alone.”

“I’m not going to touch it!” T.K. crouches low. “Hey little buddy. Are you lost? Where’s your mama?”

There’s another squeaking sound and a second baby appears in the light of Carlos’ phone. “Oh look, you’ve got a buddy.”

“T.K. come back here,” Carlos says in a loud whisper.

“But they—“

His eyes open wide as several more babies appear, five in total and then…

“T.K. look out!”

Carlos runs toward him, the flashlight bouncing everywhere, but it’s too late. The most repugnant smell in the entire world fills the air as the mama skunk spots them and lets loose in an attempt to protect her babies. “Oh fuck!” T.K. chokes out, gagging on the fetid air.

“Get in the tent!” Carlos manages, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside. It’s no good. The tent, their clothes, everything they’ve brought with them is well and thoroughly skunked.

After an hour of trying to air things out at the campsite they give up. They pack up, drive home, throw most of their belongings into a dumpster outside of the loft, including the tent and their duffle bag, and now, at four am, they’re both seated in their tub, baking soda infusing the water as they try desperately to get rid of the smell.

“This is the least sexy bath we’ve ever taken,” T.K. says.

Carlos is in front of him and T.K. is using the Dawn dish soap they usually save for accidental grease stains on clothes to try and rid his beautiful curls of the scent. It’s only kind of working.

“So much for our sexy cowboy role play,” Carlos grumbles back.

They’re both mad and trying very hard not to take it out on each other. “Hey,” T.K. says. “Don’t let this tarnish the memories of sexy cowboy role play. It was one of our best ones. You are a very hot cowboy.”

“I don’t smell like a very hot cowboy,” Carlos says, giving his arm a sniff and wincing.

“It’ll wear off. Eventually…”

BBQ

Summer in Texas comes to a slow end, like trying to squeeze the last drops of honey from a bottle, clinging on thick and golden to the final drop. The days slip from blisteringly hot to only moderately uncomfortable as summer wanes and the Ryders invite everyone over for an end of summer barbecue, Judd promising it will be the best meal they’ve ever eaten in their entire lives.

“Babe, we’re going to be late,” T.K. says, checking his watch as Carlos finishes covering an immaculately constructed charcuterie board in saran wrap.

“I’m almost done,” Carlos says, gently pressing the end of the saran wrap into place underneath the board. “There. Perfect.”

T.K. puts a hand on his back and looks down at it. “Stunning. Best you’ve ever made. Now can we please go? Mateo said he’s going to eat all the wings if we get there soon. I want wings Carlos.”

“Okay, okay,” Carlos laughs. “Let me get my shoes.”

He’s slipping them on when his phone vibrates and he pulls it out to look at a text message. “Oh, wait a second.”

“What?” T.K. asks, practically bouncing on his toes. If Mateo eats all the wings before he gets there he’s going to be so mad.

“Grace needs paprika.” Carlos crosses to their spice cabinet and pulls out a half full container of it. “Got it.”

“Okay, great, so we can go now right?” T.K. lifts up the charcuterie board and heads for the door. He doesn’t spot that the corner of the carpet is flipped up until he’s tripping on it. “Oh shit,” escapes his lips as he tries to regain his balance, taking a couple more steps before he catches himself.

“Oh my god!” Carlos lunges toward him his hands outstretched unhelpfully since he’s too far away to catch the charcuterie board or his husband before they hit the floor.

T.K. straightens, the board still in his hands. “We’re good. I’m good.”

Carlos lets out a sigh of relief. “Please be careful.”

“I will,” T.K. says. “It’s fine. I got it. Party is still on.”

They make it across town to the Ryders’ without further incident. T.K. balances the board on his lap while Carlos drives carefully, taking turns with a speed that a senior citizen would be proud of. When they arrive at the house he parks the car and then runs around to take the board gently out of T.K.’s hands. “What, you don’t trust me anymore?” T.K. asks as he climbs out of the car.

“I do trust you. You can take the paprika,” Carlos says, nodding to where it’s sitting in the Camaro’s cupholder.

“Gee, thanks babe,” T.K. says drily, grabbing it and heading for the front door.

“My heroes,” Grace says when she opens it, the sounds of the party spilling out with her from inside. “These deviled eggs are not going to devil without some paprika. And somebody used up the rest of ours in his dry rub without telling me.”

“Happy to help,” T.K. says as they step inside. “Didn’t think we’d be saving the day with paprika, but here we are.”

“Oh my god, Carlos you made that?” Grace asks, when she spots the charcuterie board in Carlos’ hands. “That looks incredible.”

“I just threw it together,” Carlos says, a blush coloring his cheeks.

“He spent three hours on it,” T.K. says, squeezing his shoulder, an amused look on his face. “Many Youtube tutorials were watched. The salami roses have been shaped to perfection.”

Carlos’ face takes on that slightly strained look that it does when he’s miffed at T.K. but trying not to let it show. “It was one Youtube video T.K.,” he says tersely.

“Well your hard work paid off. Go ahead and take it on over to the table. I’ll just finishing whipping these up and be right over.” Grace nods toward their dining area, the table already laden with chips and drinks and other treats.

Carlos deposits his board on the table next to a pasta salad and some carrots and celery, gently pulling off the wrapping and adjusting a few olives that have slipped out of place.

“Hello boys!” Owen says as he wanders in through the slider door, Buttercup hot on his heels.

“Hey Dad,” T.K. says.

“Owen,” Carlos acknowledges.

“You have arrived at the perfect time,” Owen says. “Judd just pulled some wings off the grill and they look delicious. I also brought along some marinated tofu that I think you might find equally as appealing. We’re going to do a little taste test comparison.” He glances down at the table. “Are those roses made of salami?”

“Hey you two, get your asses out here! We’ve got Giant Jenga going on!” Nancy yells from outside.

They head out, saying a hello to Judd who is wielding a pair of tongues at the grill and Tommy who is supervising all the kids. Izzy and Evie are playing with Charlie in one corner of the yard, while the rest of the crew is crowded around a towering stack of massive Jenga blocks in another.

“T.K.! You’re with me and Marj,” Paul says immediately.

“Whoa whoa whoa, why do you get to pick your whole team? How is that fair?” Nancy protests.

“Okay fine. You want Captain Chaos on your team?” Paul offers.

“Hey!” T.K. cries. “I’m a paramedic! I have excellent fine motor skills!”

“Yeah, fair point. You can have him. We’ll take Carlos,” Nancy says.

“Yeah!” Mateo says, slinging an arm around Carlos’ shoulders to welcome him to the team.

“Play nice children,” Tommy says as she walks by with a bowl of watermelon.

The game starts off with everyone in good spirits as most of their games do, but the tension quickly ratchets up as the tower grows more and more unstable.

“Careful, careful,” Nancy says, watching Carlos closely as he gingerly attempts to pull a piece from close to the bottom.

The tower teeters dangerously and Carlos freezes. “Oh you’ve got no shot Reyes,” Marjan says, glee in her eyes.

Carlos takes his hand off and wipes his sweaty palm on his shorts. “Hey, you can’t choose a different block,” Paul says quickly. “You touch it, you take it.”

“I’m not taking a different block. I’m adjusting my strategy,” Carlos says, taking a breath and going back in again.

The tower teeters, but it doesn’t fall as he slides the block out and carefully places it on the top. He turns around with a sly grin on his face. “Next.”

Marjan steps up, her eyes narrowed with concentration as she studies the tower.

“All right, food’s ready!” Judd calls. “Come and eat!”

“And don’t forget to try the marinated tofu!” Owen reminds them all.

They abandon the game for now, leaving it stacked where it is as they all head to fill their plates with the steak, chicken, and ribs that Judd has cooked up.

Carlos is chatting with Paul about a book they’ve both been reading when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Charlie has wandered over toward the Jenga tower and is trying to pull out one of the blocks with her little fingers. But the tower is currently only balanced on one, singular block, and it sways dangerously.

Carlos cuts off mid-sentence and dashes over, catching her around the middle and lifting her up and away as the tower of heavy blocks comes crashing down right where she was just standing.

The rest of the group turns around at the sound of the crash, everyone’s eyes wide. Charlie giggles, tucked safely under Carlos’ arm, unaware that she was just saved from a probable concussion and/or stitches.

“Okay little lady, that’s enough danger for you today,” Judd says, coming over to take her from Carlos. “You tell Uncle Carlos thank you. He just saved your life.”

“Thank you,” she says with another merry giggle, still unaware how close she came to ending this party with a trip to the ER.

“And that’s a lesson for the rest of us on child safety,” Tommy says. “No more Giant Jenga towers unattended with children around.”

“Nice save Carlos,” Paul says.

“And he didn’t even drop his beer,” Mateo cheers.

“Whoa, hey, nope!”

Distracted by Charlie’s near accident, the food has been left unattended and they all turn back to find T.K. has only just managed to grab the platter of barbecue, holding it high up out of Buttercup’s reach. Buttercup looks up at him curiously and sits down politely, his face expectant as he licks his lips and waits for T.K. to give him a treat even though he very nearly just made off with their entire meal.

“Damn. Okay, Crisis Number Two averted,” Marjan says.

“Thank God for the Strand-Reyes boys. Just saving this party again and again,” Grace says.

“Amen,” Tommy echoes.

The rest of the party goes on without further incident. Everyone tries Owen’s tofu and most of them regret it. They rematch for Jenga and T.K.’s team wins. Charlie and Buttercup chase Evie and Izzy around the yard while everyone watches and cheers them on and Charlie cries when Grace tells her it’s time to go to bed. She gives everyone a hug and then goes back around for seconds before asking if Buttercup can sleep with her.

The sun sets and Judd turns on the patio lights and they talk and laugh and eat Tommy’s cherry cobbler with Blue Bell ice cream on top and it’s truly the best kind of summer night.

It’s late by the time they get home, both of them tired and overly full, but so deeply happy and content. T.K. flops onto their bed and looks up at Carlos. “We,” he says, “are heroes. We saved that party three times today.”

“I mean kind of,” Carlos says, sliding beneath the sheets beside him.

“No, not ‘kind of.’ That party would have been a disaster without us.”

“Well you do always bring the party,” Carlos says, an amused smile on his lips as he leans in for a kiss.

T.K. obliges him and then snuggles in close. “This has been the best summer. I love being married to you. I love hanging out with our friends and going to the beach and having cowboy sex.”

Carlos laughs. “And getting stung by jellyfish, sunburnt, skunked…”

“Yeah but we did all those things together. None of it was so bad because I was with you.”

“Speak for yourself! That jellyfish sting hurt!” Carlos teases.

“Carlos!” T.K. smacks him gently across the chest. “I’m trying to be sappy here!”

“I know, I know,” Carlos says, tweaking T.K.’s nose fondly. “You’re right. It was a really good summer.”

“The best summer.”

“Sure, the best summer.”

T.K. flops onto his back and sighs contentedly. “I hope all our married summers are like this.”

Carlos smiles and pulls him in close. “Yeah. Me too.”

#Tarlos #911 Lone Star #Long Hot Summer #Summer Fic #911lsfic #Tarlos Fic #Whump

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