#links r coming soon... bare with me..
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
rottensdoll · 16 days ago
Text
hi hi! gem again... from my main blog this time... you can also find me at @lovesholics and @egokiss because i came here with a full house. i'm here with my baby chaea... my emotionally unstable, #womeninmalefields final boss, self-destructive baby 🤍 she's my most dear muse to write and i'm excited to introduce u all to her! below the cut, you can find... a lot of info about her and a few wcs. hit the ❤️ if you'd like to plot with her and i'll come bother u!
tw: narcissistic parenting, emotional abuse, allusions to eating disorders, mentions of sexualization/hypersexaulity and slutshaming, toxic relationships, infidelity
i. history
the daughter of a narcissistic stage parent. forced into beauty pageants and contemporary ballet when she was a small child. her mother wants to live vicarously through chaea, but also can't stand to see her daughter live out her dreams.
chaea learns all too quickly that something's wrong with her. at least, in her parents' eyes. she's too much: too angry, too sad, too loud, too promiscuous, she's too too too much.
her parents aren't nice. she learns this far too young. she learns that her mother doesn't (and will never) like her far too young.
when she first started dancing, she had a love/hate relationship with it. she hated that it was something she was doing because of her mother. hated having that connection to her, hated feeling like she had to impress her mother. but she liked the attention. found that she only felt whole when she was up on stage, under the spotlight.
but being a competitive dancer is slowly killing her. being mentored by her mother is slowly killing her. she wants to keep dancing, but not like this.
scouted at a recital by ydh. it's her ticket out. jumps at the chance and auditions. she's professionally trained in almost everything, so she gets in right away.
she's too much again. pulled from the girl group lineup because she's too difficult for the other girls to work with, and her self destructive behaviors nearly get her kicked out of the program. t&d suggest to the executives that they let her go. she's a lost cause. nobody wants to work with her.
but she has so much talent. raw, fiery talent. she's a force to be reckoned with, and she's magnetic. there's potential in her. everyone sees it.
midas music buys out her contract when ydh is about to give up on her. they decide to debut her as a soloist. she won't have to work with anyone else, so there'll be no issues. or so they think.
ii. image
her image is that of a… temptress? (listen… she’s tackled sirens, black widows, and vampires... i think temptress fits). anyway, chaea debuted in 2016. is known for being flirtatious, sensual, and sexually-liberated. those traits tend to get her quite a bit of hate and she's the subject of a lot of controversy (from having songs banned by kbs for being too provocative to various different scandals), but she still has managed to attract a large fanbase. women find her liberating, while men... well, they want to be with her!
chaea's always been hypersexual, and i think it's one of the reasons ydh entertainment were eager to cut her loose. she had behavioral issues as a trainee, of course, but she was hypersexual and one of their last straws was finding out how deep that hypersexuality ran, the amount of men she'd been sneaking into the dorms. pair that with bad behavior towards staff and other trainees and her emotional outbursts... they didn't want to risk investing in her. but… that hypersexuality is kind of what led to her image being the way that is under midas labels.
she's okay with the way she's sexualized. leans into it, harnesses it. sex sells and she knows she's good at it. she likes it, likes to get under people's skin and loves to see people clutch their pearls when she makes a comeback or has a performance, likes to fluster them, likes the attention that comes from being seen as a sort of sex symbol. i think she does see it as empowering because it was clearly born from who she is as a person.
but even an empowered doll is still a doll in the eyes of men... don't tell her that tho. chaea is very gibson girl by ethel cain coded
she's had lots of scandals. clubbing scandals, dating scandals, whispers of attitude scandals. scandals over things she's worn, things she's done. she's always being talked about. it's very clear that part of her image, at this point, is to be controversial.
the idol you love to hate, hate to love. the idol you can't stop talking about. the idol you can't tear your eyes away from, even if she scares or disgusts you.
shes as hated as she is loved. she gets a lot of criticism and a lot of hate comments, but she's loved by women for her empowered image and men, of course, love her because she's easy to objectify. her company and herself already sexualize her, all they have to do is sit back and watch
think hyun* pre-recent controversy and other outspoken, sexually-confident female idols. her fanbase is largely female, and there's a lot of international support. she's praised for not conforming to idol norms, and for being outspoken and a symbol of female empowerment. but shes also hated by many for being too sexual, too "dirty", too loud, called crazy by many.
but at the end of the day, the people in charge of her career are men. she can't escape the male gaze no matter how hard she and her fans pretend she's empowered.
iii. personality
chaea's spent a very, very long time being called a monster and thinking she’s one, so now she just...  kind of acts like one. tends to lash out and seek revenge when she’s hurt. the more hurt she gets, the more venomous she grows. extremely, extremely self-destructive. ruins friendships and relationships because she doesn’t know how to control her emotions or express them healthily — and she’d rather push people away than allow herself to grow attached to someone and have them abandon her, or ruin the relationship unintentionally. she can be a bit toxic, a bit manipulative especially in romantic relationships... but it truly doesn’t come from maliciousness. she’s just so broken and has spent a long time believing that love is violence, love is cruelty.
is cold and icy to most ppl in an attempt to keep them at an arm’s length. likes to be alone but can’t be left alone — if she doesn’t have company in a sexual context, then she’s asking her manager to sleep on her couch so she isn’t alone at night. 
chaea off-stage is… pretty identical to chaea on-stage. she’s flirtatious, sexually-liberated, loves to tease. gets a thrill from teasing ( or pissing off ) men. however, she’s… very broken, and struggles with very big, very high emotions that she has no clue how to regulate or express in a healthy manner.
shes not... evil but shes not a good person? she acts like a worse person than she is deep down bc shes just been. taught that shes bad and shes wrong and shes too much so shes just convinced shes already bad, so why should she play nice or try to be good? but she isnt evil. she has a heart, its just shoved very deep down and its covered in thorns and she just doesnt know what healthy love looks like, she doesnt know what being a good person looks like
despite being extremely confident and bold, she is very self-loathing and considers herself a terrible person. insecurity plagues her despite being a naturally cocky person, and she’s irrationally jealous. very much a broken girl, but she doesn’t know that yet. instead, she just thinks she’s like this, this is what she is: a monster. she’s definitely gonna hit her breaking point at some point.
iv. wcs
tbh... close friends will be hard for her. she doesnt talk to many people and when she does, she's not honest. but i'd love to get her a few surface-level friends to see if they develop into a closer friendship? people she drinks and parties with, people she's worked with.
choreographer/dancer friends might be fun
someone who helped her start writing her own music
someone who cant fucking stand her and for good reason! she probably lashed out at them or just did something horrible to them. i'd love if this was just an one-sided hatred or if it was mutual.
someone shes cheated on her ''ex''/on-and-off bf with... oops... shes very impulsive, so i think she's. cheated a couple times on him! but yeah i think this could be a fun connection to explore...
the first person she ever cheated with and likely no longer sees... i have a specific idea for this one... hmu if u want a little drama and angst..
in general, people she hooks up with. one-night stands, people she sleeps with and ghosts until the next time she's lonely or the next time she's bored. #womeninmalefields
people who use her back would be fun too?
someone whos scared/intimidated of her and she knows that so she torments them would be so fun. she can be a menace when ppl are nervous around her in a romantic context, but this could work platonically too
idk theres probably much more for her but! we can discuss other things during plotting!
9 notes · View notes
flkwh0re · 6 months ago
Text
Try it, Bite it, Lick it, Spit it
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader
Warnings: Strap-on usage (R receiving), Brief fingering, Degradation, Praise, Use of the word slut, Mirror sex, Hair pulling/gripping, Sex in a public bathroom (gross Natasha 😕), Overstimulation (R receiving), Oral (R receiving)
Word Count: 1.1k
Authors Note: Didn’t really have much going to this fic, I just wanted to make a fic with this title. (Stream Guess by Charli xcx and Billie Eilish 😚)
Tumblr media
The loud music that blared through club felt like it shook your core. It was so loud you couldn't even hear your own thoughts, which was a total lie. You just couldn't think because of the gorgeous red head that had showed up with Yelena.
Yelena was your best friend, along side her girlfriend Kate Bishop. You'd known Yelena since your first day of college, she was your roommate at the time. You did everything with her and basically knew everyone she did, but not this woman.
"Y/n, come here!" Yelena yelled to you, the thick Russian accent being the only reason you were able to hear her. "I want you to meet my sister, Natasha. Natasha this is Y/n." You weren't sure how you should greet such a beautiful woman, so you stupidly stuck your hand out for a handshake.
"It's nice to meet you, Y/n." The woman said with very captivating grin on her lips. "Like wise, Natasha." The use of her full name caused her to cringe a little, "Just Nat." You awkwardly smile and nod.
The night moved very slowly, mostly due to your soberness, but also the countless men that would hit on Natasha ruining your small talk. "Let me buy you a drink, help you enjoy yourself a little." Natasha suggested. "I've gotta be able to get home, last time I trusted Yelena getting me home we spent half the night on the streets trying to figure out the gps." A grin creeped on Natasha's face at your jab directed at her sister.
"I can get you home sweetheart, it's no big deal." You were saved by the dim lights of the corner you and Natasha were in, you were sure your face was scarlet red. "Fine." Following your agreement, drink after drink kept coming, and now Natasha's and yours conversation flowed like you'd known each other for years.
"C'mon Nat, dance with me." You pleaded with the older woman, tugging on the sleeve of her jacket. Eventually you dragged her onto the floor, pushing through the swarm of bodies. Her front pressed flush against your back, as you swayed to the music. Her hands possessively held onto your hips, almost as if she were afraid you'd get away from her to go dance with some helpless drunk.
Your body felt like putty in Natasha arms, the arms that were moving up and down your body as her hands gripped and groped at your curves. Her hot breath fanned on the back of your neck, her soft lips occasionally brushing the sensitive skin. "Come with me."
Your hand linked with Natasha's as you two walked off to what you assumed was to the bathroom. You were never one for a hookup, especially in a club bathroom, but Nat made you want to and so you did. Your back collided with the door as soon as it shut, Natasha briefly fumbling with the lock before her lips hungrily connected with yours.
Her tongue laced with yours, as your lips molded together. Your mouths so connected that your moans didn't escape her mouth, but rather she swallowed them. "Fuck you're so hot, I wish Yelena brought you around." Natasha leaned back to admire your current state. Your hair pushed around, clothes slightly wrinkled, your gradually weakening legs as Natasha worked you up.
Her lips returned on yours, and her fingers found new ground on the clasp of your jeans. She tugged it apart and slipped her hand past the lacy material of your soaked panties. "Fuck pretty girl, you're so wet." She rasped, eliciting a pitiful whimper from you. "All for you." You could barely muster the words.
Natasha's rough fingers rubbed your clit just the right way, almost too good for you to bear. "F-fuck Nat! Feels s'good." You managed out the words that felt caged in your throat, and you could tell she knew you were struggling by the small laugh that came from her.
"You like that, hm? Wanna see how much you like this?" She took your hand rubbing it against her crotch, the feeling of silicone begging for release rubbed against your hand. You groaned loudly just from thinking about her fucking you with it. "I think you're wet enough, turn around." Natasha demanded, and you obeyed.
Natasha tugged down your jeans, along with her own. She slid the toy into you with ease and a little force, which caused your front to be flush against the sink. Natasha's hands roughly gripped your hips, yours holding onto whatever you could grab. "Fuck you're so tight, I wish I could feel you. I bet you feel so good." Her filthy words making you moan, so loud that she covered your mouth.
Her hips slapped against yours so rapidly it was almost painful, but the pleasure of the toy rubbing against your deepest parts made all that pain unrecognizable. "You're doing so good for me Y/n, being such a good girl."
Your hair was tugged and balled up into Natasha's hand in a matter of seconds, as she forced you to look in the mirror. "Watch yourself get fucked by me you slut, fucked by your best friends sister. By a woman you just met." The harsh, degrading and words that left her lips made you even more turned on.
"Nat, 'm close. 'M gonna cum, Please!" You begged. "Yea, gonna cum on my cock? Go on then, cum for me." And you did, Natasha made you see stars as she mercilessly fucked you through your orgasm.
Before you knew it she had you sitting on the counter, your jeans completely discarded somewhere. Her head between your thighs as she ate you out. You were too sensitive to take it, but to fucked out to use your words to beg her to stop. Your second orgasm nearing and all you could manage was a little whimper, "C'mon use your words, you got this baby. You're doing so good for me, you can do it." She praised.
"Please, I need- I can't take it!" Her pace quickened, it was so painful but you needed release so bad. "Nat, 'm cuming!"
"You did so good, let me help you clean up and I'll take you home okay?" You nodded, "But what about Yelena?" You asked as Natasha helped support your body, so you could redress. "I'll text her, don't worry your pretty little head." She said as a placed a little kiss on your forehead.
That night wasn't the end of you and Natasha. Eventually after a few hook ups she asked to take you on a date, which went so well it turned into multiple dates, then you were officially together.
MASTERLIST
1K notes · View notes
sugurugetoshairbrush · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
💬 reddit
← ⬤  r/relationship_advice • 16 hr. ago       
      1mjust-agirl02
I found out my (22F) sneaky link (25M) is a cult leader. Am I enabling him if we keep hooking up?
First-time poster here. I’ll try to keep this brief. A few months ago, I was going through a rough patch. I’d just moved to the city from a tiny countryside town—a major life change. Sure, it came with perks: a good job, a decent apartment, and better nightlife. But I felt… disconnected. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shake the gnawing loneliness. The more I tried to adapt, the more isolated I felt.
I’ve always been a model citizen—quiet, diligent, never stepping out of line. But in the city, my days dragged, my nights felt darker, and I was slipping into depression. I couldn’t pinpoint why, but everything around me seemed coated in this heavy, negative energy.
That’s when I started frequenting a local bar. It was small, dimly lit, and blissfully cheap. The kind of place where people drank alone to nurse their sorrows. I guess I fit right in.
The bartender knew my order. The regulars were predictable: the middle-aged lady with crimped hair, the clean-cut businessman with tired eyes. I even started to find comfort in the routine. Until he walked in.
It was a random Wednesday at 5 PM. He was tall, with long black hair tied back neatly except for two loose strands framing his sharp, bronze-toned face. Dressed in a plain black sweatsuit, he looked effortlessly suave, even with a grim expression. Our eyes met, for a moment, his stern demeanor softened, replaced by something that felt like intrigue. Without hesitation, he made his way over, settling beside me like it had been his plan all along. He ordered whiskey—straight—and downed it in one smooth gulp.
“You didn’t even flinch,” I blurted, unable to stop myself. “Impressive—or concerning.”
He smirked, devilish and confident. “You don’t even know.”
That was the start. We chatted. Or rather, we danced around anything personal, just sharing vague feelings and flirting between drinks. He had this magnetic sorrow about him, like we were kindred spirits.
The night carried on, the drinks kept coming, and somehow, he kept getting closer. Our knees bumped beneath the booth. He was attractive in that quiet, alluring way—charming. That distant look in his eyes, as though he’d seen too much too soon, only added to his appeal.
I think we both needed a distraction. I laughed at his teasing, swatting playfully at his chest. His dark eyes lingered, and when I fumbled with my glass, he reached over, swiping his thumb across my lips.
What came next was a blur: heated kisses stolen in a dingy bar bathroom, his coarse hands gripping my waist and sliding to the back of my neck. The kiss was messy, whiskey burning on his tongue as it slid against mine. We stumbled back to my apartment in a haze, barely making it inside.
The second the door swung shut, he had me off my feet. My lock hung unlatched as he threw me onto the bed, the impact knocking my head lightly against the headboard. His hands were everywhere—rough and deliberate. My blouse fell open, my slacks tangled around my ankles as he pushed me face-down on the mattress. I heard the shuffle of his sweats coming off, the warmth of his spit trailing down my skin.
He’s big. I struggled to take him, fluttering and gasping as he pressed inside. His hand yanked my head back, forcing me to look. Between the bunched fabric of his sweatshirt held in his teeth and the tense, toned muscles of his abdomen, the sight was utterly debauched. The sounds—slick, lewd—filled the room. By the end, my sheets were damp, my chest marked with his teeth and hands, and I had my first noise complaint from my neighbors.
I thought that would be it. A one-time thing.
But then, the next Wednesday, he was at the bar again.
Now sober, I finally got a good look at him—and somehow, he was even more devastatingly handsome. His sharp features softened by the loose claw clip holding back his hair.
Our dynamic stayed the same: casual conversation, teasing touches, and nights that left me trembling. He was addictive. Every time, his grip was firm, possessive—his habit of squeezing my throat just as my climax approached pushed me to the edge. It had me teetering between bliss and unconsciousness, choking out strangled moans as he drove into me, relentless. It felt like a punishment. It felt like everything I hadn’t realized I’d been missing.
If I were to indulge myself, I’d admit I liked him best when sobriety started creeping back into him. He had this way of reading my body like a map, tracing every nerve and exploiting it until I was trembling, breathless, undone. Sometimes, as he finished—his hair spilling over my face like a curtain—I’d let the lines blur. I’d tell him how good he was, how deeply I felt him, how pretty he looked. And for a fleeting moment, he’d soften, his rhythm slowing, kissing me with an almost tender deliberation.
Weeks later, I got a text and an address:
“Want to see you. Be here at 11. Side door, past the gate.”
Curiosity got the better of me, and I showed up. His house was bigger than I’d expected—too luxurious for someone his age. On the way to his room, I passed a door slightly ajar. Inside, I glimpsed pink walls and a boy band poster. My stomach dropped. Was he married? Did he have kids?
I confronted him immediately. Sitting nervously on his bed, sandwiched between his toned thighs, I listened as he explained. He’d been raising his two orphaned cousins for years. His voice softened as he talked about them—their favorite shows, their quirks, their hobbies. I’d never seen him like this before. The care and pride he showed for them stood in stark contrast to the man I knew intimately.
That night was different. When I came, hard and breathless, his lips brushed mine, our eyes locked, fingers intertwined beside my head. For the first time, I thought I was starting to understand him.
But everything changed soon after.
At work, I passed a bulletin board I usually ignored. For some reason, that day I stopped. A flyer caught my eye—his face stared back at me.
In the photo, he was dressed in a golden kasaya draped over black yukata robes, his serene smile paired with an outstretched arm in a regal, inviting pose. The caption called him a “Buddhist priest” and a “divine leader” of some obscure spiritual group.
Confused, I Googled it. Turns out, it wasn’t just a spiritual group. It was a full-blown cult. The photos showed worshippers kneeling before him, their faces aglow with reverence, calling him a godlike figure.
I couldn’t resist. That evening, I went to the event listed on the flyer, held at a local temple. I slipped into a seat in the back, close to the door. Watching him lead the ritual felt surreal. There he was—calm, composed, draped in robes—like he hadn’t had me screaming into my pillow just days ago.
Then, I saw him lay his hands on a sobbing woman kneeling at his feet. Her cries turned into praises as she clung to him, trembling. It was… chilling.
I barely had a chance to settle in before I felt the need to leave. I thought about ending things right then and there—but I hesitated. Now I’m torn. On one hand, he’s the best I’ve ever had—dominant, attentive, and downright divine in bed. On the other hand… he’s a cult leader.
If I keep seeing him, am I complicit in whatever shady things his group does? Or am I overthinking it—can I keep pretending I know nothing?
Advice is welcome. Don’t hold back.
( ↑  734  ↓ ) ( 🗨️ 1K ) ( ୨୧ ) ( ↳ Share )
⬤ toge-talks-shit  MOD  • 14h ago • 
This is the wildest shit I've read all day. My prayers go out to you, OP—but your hookup might be answering them LOL. Fr though, the cult stuff sounds creepy. Not worth it. ↑  1.5K  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘
⬤ blue-eyes-savelives  • 11h ago • 
OP, message me privately. Did he ever mention old regrets, breakups, or friends? Plz answer. T-T ↑  425  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘
⬤ k-nam_mister73  • 9h ago • 
Delete his number. You should’ve ceased all contact a long time ago. ↑  344  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘
⬤ nobarabara_yaps  • 2h ago • 
He sounds hot. See it through. Gatekeep, Gaslight, Girlboss. ↑  109  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘
455 notes · View notes
atebyflowers · 3 months ago
Text
— ellie x readers first time . .
first post in literally a month?? i'm so sorry omg this is unedited but oh wells... cw: fingering & head(r!recieving), short after care
thinking about how gentle and sweet she'd be towards your worries, how careful she would be with your body as if you could shatter under her any moment.
"tell me to stop if you're uncomfortable" she'd whisper against your skin, placing soft kisses along your neck before pulling back — softly rubbing her fingers up and down your soaked slit. "els.. whatre you doing" you questioned, whincing at the slow friction. "just getting you ready baby, don't wanna move to fast... you're so f'me already..." she replies, continuing her motion for a moment before it's halted by your hand on her arm — catching her off gaurd.
"what's wrong?" she questioned as you bit down on your lip, hesitant to respond — afraid of saying something that'll ruin the moment. "tell me sweetheart it's okay" ellie adds, caressing your cheek. "m'just nervous" you admit through embarrassment. ellie, replacing the hand on your cheek with her lips — using the other to interlock your fingers with hers. "we can stop at anytime" she re informs with a warm tone, "just say the word and we don't have to continue".
she lifts herself off of you just enough to lock eyes, nodding at her words — you give her the signal to continue as she lifts your interlocked hand, placing another gentle kiss onto yours before re adjusting herself.
You shut your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to relax as she inserted a finger into you — your body taking in a deep breath as the unfamiliar sensation overwhelmed, ellie, slowing pumping in and out as your warm slick coated her finger. her eyes watching your every movement, "it'll feel more comfortable soon i promise angel.. just focus on me" she instructs.. and you do just that — opening your eyes to meet hers, ellie now lowering herself — slightly hovering over your cunt.
with one of your hands digging into the bed sheet, and the other still interlocked with her free hand — she began picking up her pace alongside inserting another finger. though without warning, she's slow, cautious not to hurt you. as her tongue latches onto your body, she brings placing cat links alongside her fingers still pushing into you — her mouth releasing occasionally to mutter praises. "doing so good for me pretty.. swallowing me whole.. god you're so fucking perfect" "wanted to taste this pussy for so long" she manages to speak through moans of her own, getting off to the taste of you.
"ellie .... need more" was all you managed to get out, your body desperate to increase the feeling, something you've never had before but craved in the moment. those words, causing her to look for any signs of hesitation — you, quickly to dismiss it. the words "please els... i want more" coming out of you through a almost pathetic cry, enough to make her thrust her fingers in and out of you — her mouth now sucking down on your clit throughout the process.
you let out sounds you had no idea your body could make, a feeling that was indescribable being pushed throughout your veins. your fingers, practically digging into her hand as your fingers remained intwined, her free hand now holding down your thigh — assuring you don't squirm away.
"fuck!" you cried as you felt a release approaching, "ellie i think-" your words were cut off with her mouths sudden removal from your cunt, though her fingers remaind at the same steady pace. she lifted her body onto yours, her mouth barely an inch away from your ear as she spoke. "you're close yeah..? c'mon baby... cum on my fingers.. taking them so well...". those words from her sending waves through your body as you released onto her fingers below — a mix of cum and liquid marking the bed sheet below. ellie lifted her head down once more, using her tongue to lick your messy and sensitive cunt one last time before slowly removing her fingers — savouring every last bit that coated them.
your body fell limp as you attempted to catch your breath, sensitivity flourished over you as she began to clean your body — your mind to fuzzy to notice her ever getting up. once finsihed, she regains her gentle demeanour — clothing you, and cradling you in her arms as if you were the most fragile being in her presence. "you did so well for me princess... thank you for trusting me..." she whispered once more, caressing your head as she allowed your tired body to doze off.
502 notes · View notes
caroldantops · 1 month ago
Text
baby, it's cold outside
ship: dark!agatha harkness x female!reader
summary/request:  darkfic; you're invited to agatha's christmas party, but you're afraid to make a move. lucky for you, agatha is more than willing to take things into her own hands.
word count: 3396
dead dove do not eat - this fic contains dark elements including rape/non-con, drugging, hints of victim blaming. proceed at your own discretion.
other warnings: non-magic au, smut (18+), top!agatha, praise, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), light pain play (agatha slaps reader's body once), i think this qualifies as whump, pet names (darling, good girl, baby, and a couple more)
(I genuinely feel like I'm missing some important warnings so let me know if you think there's something i should add here)
masterlist | ao3 link
Tumblr media
The wind practically knocks you over as you try to climb up the few stairs up Agatha’s porch. Christmas lights twinkle in the darkness, illuminating the snow that’s gently falling. Your mittens do little to block the cold, hands shaking as you reach up to knock on the door. 
The fog from your breath hangs in the air as the door swings open. Alice greets you with a sweet smile. “Hey, you! You made it! Come in, come in, it’s freezing out here.” 
“Thanks,” you smile, stepping in and sighing with relief as warmth envelops you. “I like your sweater.” 
“Fun, right?” Alice closes the door behind you, posing so you can see her sweater in full. It has a cute silhouette of a witch on a broomstick, being pulled by a group of reindeer. “Kind of a mash-up of holidays. Speaking of outfits, you look amazing tonight.” 
“I think I’m overdressed, to be honest,” you laugh as you shed your coat. You definitely regretted asking Jen of all people for outfit comparisons - she always overdressed for any occasion, and it made you lean towards a velvety black dress. Like Alice, it seems like the other guests milling around are dressed more casual. “Maybe I should just grab my sweatshirt from my car or something.” 
“Don’t you dare,” Jen says as she approaches you. Seeing the sparkly, emerald green dress she’s wearing gives you a bit of relief. At least you don’t stand out the most here. Flying under the radar was usually your go-to. The only reason you even dared come to a party hosted by someone you barely know was from Jen and Alice convincing you that it would be fun. 
Jen soon gets distracted by gossiping with Lilia, but Alice is kind enough not to abandon you. The party is actually pretty nice, despite your initial hesitance to even show up. There’s not very many people crammed into the house - just enough that it feels cozy and chatter fills the space. 
The weather outside starts getting worse through the night, unbeknownst to you as you’re tucked into the cozy library with a few others who prefer the quieter atmosphere. 
Though the night is still young, people have started slowly leaving, claiming that they want to get ahead of the inclement weather. You start to wonder if maybe you should leave a bit early as well, but Alice assures you that if it gets particularly bad, you can stay at her place since she’s much closer. So, you put that thought aside and just enjoy your evening. 
While you’re telling Alice about a weird customer that keeps showing up at the coffee shop you work at, your eye catches a glimpse of the host for the first time tonight as she waltzes into the room. 
Agatha Harkness. The older woman is dressed in a blood-red sweater and simple dress pants, some elegant rings and necklaces sparkling under the light. She’s talking to Jen and Lillia, the former of whom being the reason you even knew Agatha. You’d only talked a couple of times when Jen would drag Agatha along on a coffee run, but you’d always been a bit enamored with her beauty. 
You weren’t even really sure what she did for work - and if your friends knew they’ve never filled you in. All you knew is that she was a very powerful woman, with very powerful connections. Even Jen, who was frankly unintimidated by most people, had to admit that Agatha was a bit scary. 
What Agatha wanted, she got. And if something tried to stop her, there would be hell to pay. 
Alice nudges you, giving you a knowing look. 
“What?” You roll your eyes at her. 
“You’re painfully obvious, you know that right?” Alice raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on her face. “Go say hi.” 
“Well, I don’t want to interrupt their conversation…” The end of your sentence trails off as piercing blue eyes meet your gaze. Instincts tell you to look away, but some unknown feeling overrides that. 
Time seems to stand still as you mull over how little you know Agatha and how much you’d like to know. She regards you, blatantly ignoring the conversation she’s supposed to be participating in. Eyes scanning you, calculating. 
Maybe even hungry. 
With that thought, you’re the first one to break, pulling out your phone to fake distraction. With your gaze now averted, you miss Agatha’s lips quirk up in a smirk. She watches as you turn back to Alice, clearly flustered, and clearly not intending on making any sort of move. 
Lucky for you, she’s more than happy to take things into her own hands. 
“Alice,” Agatha’s booming voice cuts through the noise of the party. Alice looks up as Agatha struts over, boots thumping on the floor with determined purpose. “Would you be a dear and keep those two from starting a karaoke session? They’re both about one glass of red away from breaking into Mariah Carey, and frankly I’d rather risk walking across a frozen lake right now.” 
Alice rolls her eyes, but gets up to go make sure the others behave. Agatha sighs, plopping into the now empty seat next to you. Her nimble fingers trace the rim of the wine glass she’s been nursing. “Jen said you’d be coming.” 
“Oh, she did?” 
Stupid. Of course she did, she told you she would. In your nervous fumble, you reach for the drink Alice got you earlier. It’s remained almost untouched so far, but you’re desperate for an excuse to not talk. 
And, in a true feat of spectacular coordination, you manage to knock it into your lap. 
“Shit!” You groan. 
“Oh, dear,” Agatha juts her lip out in sympathy. “On such a pretty dress too! Come on, I’ll help you clean up.” 
You take a couple of napkins and blot ineffectively at the stain. “It’s okay, this is enough to dry it at least…” 
“Nonsense,” Agatha scoffs, putting her own glass down and standing up. You look at her, puzzled as she just stands there, before you realize she’s expecting you to follow. She starts leading you through the house, down the halls that no guests were allowed in. “We don’t want that to leave a stain, I have a couple of things that should help.” 
“Thank you, Agatha, really,” you say, trying not to analyze all the decor and photos that you pass as she leads you. 
You end up being led down to the basement, carefully descending the creaky wooden stairs. The dwindling party can be heard above you, muffled music and footsteps reminding you that you’re not completely alone with Agatha. 
Agatha shuffles some stuff around, looking through the bins near her washing machine. “Dear, do you have your phone on you? My eyes aren’t great in this darned dim basement light.” 
You turn on the flashlight on your phone and pass it to her, waiting patiently as she rummages around. “Aha!” 
Her grin is illuminated by the light of your phone, and you can’t help but smile - it’s infectious. She motions for you to come closer, turning on the nearby sink. 
“Alright, give me your dress for a second.” 
“What?” Your smile fades, and you recoil back in surprise. 
“Your dress, it’ll be easier for me to clean if you just take it off,” Agatha says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She analyzes your face, and you practically see the thoughts turning in her head as your own brain fumbles for what to do. “Here, one second.” 
She grabs a couple of things from a laundry basket - a t-shirt and some sweatpants - and hands them to you. “Switch these out, and then I’ll clean your dress off.” 
You nod, taking the clothing and changing as fast as you possibly can. Your head gets stuck in the shirt for a moment, and you miss the way Agatha’s eyes rake over your bare torso and lacy bra. As your head pops out, she quickly turns her attention to your dress, rinsing it and applying some cleaning product, rubbing the fabric gently in her hands. 
“Ugh,” Agatha groans suddenly. 
“What’s wrong? Not coming out?” 
“No, the stain came out fine, but I think I wet it too much. It’s soaking, you can’t go out in this. I’ll hang it up to dry, but it’s gonna take a while,” Agatha ponders as she grabs a hanger. “You’re more than welcome to just keep those clothes for now.” 
“Oh, okay,” you say, playing with the end of the shirt. You’re resisting the urge to rub your nose against the fabric - even after having been washed it seems to smell like Agatha. “Thanks again.” 
“Of course, sweetheart, I’m happy to help,” Agatha beams. “I’m going to get this dress set up to dry, you go back upstairs and enjoy yourself. I’ll be right behind you.” 
When you get back upstairs, you realize that most of the guests have left. In fact, it seems like it’s just your friends left. Even the neighbors who live just down the street have retired for the night.
Alice spots you approaching and sighs with relief. “There you are! I was trying to find you. I’m going to need to take Jen and Lilia home. They’re in no state to drive. What are you wearing?” 
“Oh, I spilled my drink, Agatha’s hanging up my dress to dry,” you say, clearly embarrassed. Alice, the saint that she is, does not take the opportunity to tease you for being in Agatha’s clothes. 
“Gotcha.” A loud thump comes from the other side of the room, and you both look over to see Jen picking Lilia up off the floor, both of them drunkenly giggling. Alice sighs, “You’re good to drive, right? They live on the opposite side of town from my place, so if you do need me to pick you up on my way back, just call me okay?” 
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” you assure her. “I didn’t get a chance to drink anything before I spilled it on myself. I’m just going to thank Agatha for helping me out and then probably head out.” 
“Okay, be safe. And seriously, call me if you need anything.” 
“I will, I will,” you instinctively reach for your phone to see that it’s charged enough, but you realize you must have left it downstairs. The trio leaves in a whirlwind, and suddenly you’re left alone. 
Well, not completely alone. 
“Good grief, did everyone decide to do an Irish goodbye?” Agatha returns from the basement and immediately makes her way to the kitchen to make herself a drink. She sees you standing awkwardly and nods at the sofa. “Take a load off, honey. Your dress will probably at least be dry enough to wear comfortably in a little while. Might as well enjoy the fireplace while you wait.” 
You hear her humming to herself from the other room, and you gaze contentedly at the crackling fire, curling your legs under you. The wind outside rattles the windows. You gasp as you look outside for the first time in a while. It’s started snowing so hard that it’s hard to see, and you can tell that it’s piling up on the streets. 
“Shit, I should really try to get home,” you start to stand up, but a firm hand is placed on your shoulder, and a warm mug is shoved in your hand. You give Agatha a confused look as she sits next to you, a steaming mug in her own hand. 
“Honey, it’s getting real bad out there. Alice said you live across town, yeah?” Agatha says, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I think it’s a bit too late to try to start driving. Good thing is, the other ladies probably made it at least back to Lilia’s place by now. They’ll probably huddle up there for the night.” 
“Yeah…How am I going to get home though?” You look at the drink Agatha handed you, realizing it’s not alcohol but hot chocolate, the top foamy with already melting whipped cream. You take a sip, sighing as the warmth fills your body. 
As you ponder your options, you take a few more sips. Agatha wipes the whipped cream that catches on your upper lip with a napkin, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how close she is. You kind of want to shift away, but your body feels heavy, and the way she’s looking at you has you paralyzed. 
“Stay here,” Agatha whispers, breath dancing against your skin. “You can drive home in the morning once they clear the streets.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you shake your head, taking another big sip of your drink, frowning as you realize you’ve almost hit the bottom. “I can figure something out…” 
“Doubt any cabs are out tonight.” 
“Seriously, Agatha, I appreciate the offer, but I should probably go,” you start to stand up, but are hit with a sudden dizziness, and immediately sit back down. “Woah…”
“You okay, baby?” Agatha asks, but her voice doesn’t sound concerned. Or surprised. 
Your stomach churns a bit. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the lights all suddenly feel way too bright. “I don’t know. Was there alcohol in this drink?” 
“Not a drop,” Agatha answers. 
“I dunno what’s wrong then,” you mumble, your words are slurred. Desperately, you try to put the pieces together and figure out what’s wrong, but everything feels muddled now. 
“Maybe you ate something bad earlier? Here, lay down on the couch, baby.” 
When did she start calling you that? You try to respond, but the words come out too muddled to understand. Agatha guides you onto your back, your head resting on a throw pillow. All of your muscles feel simultaneously heavy and weak, and you need Agatha to guide you down so you don’t just flop like a fish. 
“Agatha,” your word comes out as a strangled whine. “What’s happening?” 
“It’s okay, I’m right here,” Agatha says, her voice deep. She’s hovering over you, and you feel a shudder run through your body as she hits you with that hungry look again. 
Wait. 
The only thing you’ve drank tonight was what Agatha made you, but…she wouldn’t have. 
Right?
If your eyes didn’t feel so heavy, you’re sure they would’ve looked up at her wide in sudden realization. Nevertheless, it seems like she reads the change in expression on you, the shift from confusion to sudden fear. Agatha laughs, low and menacing. 
“So cute. I was almost worried that I wouldn’t even get the chance. But thank god for the others leaving early, hm?” The shirt Agatha gave you is tugged up, and her thumb catches your bra as well, pulling both articles of clothing over your chest in one motion. You try to wiggle away with what little strength you have, but Agatha shifts quickly, straddling your thighs and keeping you in place. 
“Pretty tits,” Agatha says, and you don’t know if she’s speaking to you or herself. 
“Ag’tha.” 
“Shh, darling. Just let it happen,” Agatha’s face hovers over yours, her pupils blown out and dark, and your stomach twists as you realize how much this is turning her on. Drugged and delirious, you’re at her complete mercy. And she couldn’t be happier. “I’m going to take such good care of you. I don’t break my toys. Not permanently, anyway.” 
Agatha’s lips press against yours, and she doesn’t even care that you’re too weak to reciprocate. She grips your chin with one hand to keep you in place, her soft lips peppering your face with kisses. It would be sweet, in any other context. You’re sure that her shiny red lipstick is all over your face, and that it’s leaving a red trail as she drags her lips down your neck. 
Her teeth sink in, and you give up your feeble attempts at fighting it. Agatha must feel you go completely limp (well, more limp than you already were), because she chuckles against your skin as she soothes the bite with her tongue. 
“Good girl. So good when you let me give you what you need.” 
The drugs in your system make it hard to register what’s happening. Agatha’s hands are on you, but you’re unable to keep up with every pinch and grope as she explores your body. A sharp tug of your nipples is enough to give you a jolt of awareness, and you moan pathetically in response, your body betraying you. 
“Oh, you like being hurt?” Agatha tugs again and gives your tit a sharp slap as well. You groan, drool starting to drip from your lips. “Dirty girl. Bet your pussy is fucking wet too.” 
She slips her hand under the waistband of your pants, nimble fingers finding your damp cunt. Her mouth opens in a dramatic gasp. “I was right! You like this, huh?” 
You babble nonsense in response, your no’s coming out incoherently. 
“What was that? You love it? Aw, baby, you flatter me,” Agatha kisses you again, not caring about the trail of drool on your cheek. She pushes her fingers into you, meeting some resistance as you’re not quite wet enough to take her so quickly. Your hips twist as the feeling of her fingers dragging against the walls of your cunt makes you flinch. “Take it, take it like a good girl for me. This is what you wanted, right? You were so obvious, with all that staring and how nervous you got around me. You were practically begging for this.” 
“Don’t…” 
“Found your voice again, it seems. Probably not for long.” Agatha clicks her tongue, shrugging as she shuffles down your body, tugging your pants down enough that your cunt is exposed. She kisses down your mound, groaning as she reaches her prize. Nose nudging your clit, she inhales your scent and moans, the vibrations close enough that your clit throbs in response. “Fuck.” 
All the sensations are reduced to vague feelings as Agatha starts to lick you in earnest. Warm. Wet. Feels good. Darkness clouds your vision as you start slipping in and out of consciousness. Fingers again, prodding at your hole. Thrusting in, curling, working you better than anyone ever has. When did she slip a third finger in? 
“Come on, baby, want you to cum all over my fingers,” She mumbles against your clit before flattening her tongue against it, fingers curling against your sensitive walls again. 
Your body shudders, but you can’t even tell if it was an orgasm. The woman you’ve been lusting after is fucking you through climax, and you’re not even going to remember it. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll forget this whole thing. Or at least enough to deny it. 
Because as fucked up as it is, some pathetic, yearning part of you still wants Agatha. She’s drugged and taken advantage of you, yet there’s a part of you hoping that this isn’t a one time situation, that she’ll still want you when you’re fully awake and able to enjoy yourself. 
God, there’s not enough therapy in the world to even start to tackle that, you think.
Suddenly you realize you’re crying, salty tears hitting your tongue as you breathe heavily. Agatha crawls back up your body, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Baby, it’s okay, it’s okay. We’re done. You did so, so good for me.” 
“Good?” 
“Yes, very good,” Agatha kisses the tears from your cheeks. She rearranges your clothes so that you won’t get cold, and pulls a blanket off the back of the couch to drape over both of you. The position is awkward, since you can’t really move much, but she manages to squeeze herself into a space where she can hold you. “C’mere, darling. You took that so well. Let me hold you, pretty.” 
“Aggie,” you mumble against her skin when she pulls you against her chest, unable to conjure her full name. 
“Yes?” Agatha hums, stroking your hair. 
“Why?” 
Silence falls over the two of you for a moment as Agatha lets the question hang in the air. You can feel her heart thumping, feel the way her hands stroke soothing circles into your skin. The last thing you hear before you finally fall into a deep sleep is her voice. 
“Darling, I always get what I want.”
247 notes · View notes
writingsbytee · 2 months ago
Text
HIDDEN PT. 2
TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM READER
Tumblr media
WARNINGS / TRIGGERS: SFW; minors do not interact; mentions of domestic violence; self-hate; angst; Terry is hard to read in the beginning.
SUMMARY: You’ve been working at Terry’s club for about a week now and you’re finally getting the hang of things. There might be a little jealous Terry in here if you squint. This “chapter” might be dialogue heavy. No Smut (yet!)
TROPES: grumpy x sunshine ; “touch her and die”; slow burn; 
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Okaaay!! Part 2 is now available!! I hope you guys enjoy it. I’m really trying to work on my dialogue skills and some world building so bare with me. The SMUT will come soon, I just want you guys to get to know my version of Terry and Daphne.
WORD COUNT: 2.4K
PREVIOUSLY ON HIDDEN: 1
Tumblr media
DAPHNE
“Girl! I see why you never left this job! The tips alone are enough to cover rent this month,” I said looking at the wad I already had in my mini apron. 
Lexi nodded, “See, what did I say? You won’t have to go back to the hospital for a while.” I contemplated the idea, sure the break from the physically, mentally, and emotionally draining job is nice. But, helping people, caring for them, that’s my passion. I’ll go back when I’m ready. As I wait for Lexi to make the next round of drinks for the police commissioner’s table, I turn and take in my surroundings.
The club is so unique. With a sunken lounge area and the circular light fixtures it almost has a 60s vibe. But with the seductive lighting and R&B playing it feels like a jazz club. Lexi slides the finished tray of drinks my way and I head towards the commissioner’s table. 
“Our favorite girl is back!” one of them shouted. They were all very close to being drunk, the drinks in my hand should do the job. 
“That’s me!” I said with my million dollar smile. I could already tell what kind of men I was dealing with, pretty boys who never heard the word ‘no’. I place all their drinks down and ask them if there’s anything else I can get them. 
“Aww c’mon leaving so soon? Stay and chat with us for a little while,” one of the men said. I huffed out a fake laugh, “I wish, but I’ve got to finish up my training”. They all boo’d in protest, but I just shrugged my shoulders and backed away. Breathing a sigh of relief I make my way back towards Lexi.
“Ouu girl, they like you,” she said laughing at me, 
I rolled my eyes, “I don’t wanna hear shit when the car is gassed up and the fridge is full. If they keep tipping me like this they can like me all they want,” i said cleaning off the counter. The lights started to dim as someone walked on stage. Out of my periferie I see Terry’s office door open. 
“Oop there go your man,” Lexi whispers in my direction. I huff out an annoyed breath, “Stop calling him that! What if someone hears you!” I whisper-shout, throwing my rag at her. Okay, so I might've developed a teeny-tiny crush on Terry. I don’t know how anyone can look at that man and not get swept up in his beauty. I keep it professional obviously, and it’s not even like he notices. Terry’s barely said two words to me since I started here. I sneak a peek at Terry over my shoulder and I feel my canine sink into my lower lip as I take in his attire.  
Dressed in a simple black long sleeve and matching black cargos and timberland boots. With the gold mini cuban link chain and glasses to top the look off, he’s any woman’s wet dream.
“Damn, Daphne could you be any more obvious?” Lexi asked, laughing at me. 
“Oh, shut up! Look at him, he’s too fine for his own good” I whisper, turning back toward my sister. I feel like a high school girl with a crush. I need to get a grip, fast. I grabbed the ice bucket, heading to the back to fill it up. I need to put some distance between myself and the green-eyed giant. I’ve only been working here about a week and I feel like I’m finally getting a hang of things. I bring the ice out and make my way over to my side of the bar. 
Eli, the police commissioner’s son, has become one of my regulars. After his dad leaves Eli usually stays to hit on whoever is within earshot. Tonight it looks like that’s me, “There she is!” he shouted, eyes low in his liquor induced haze. 
“Someone needs to get cut off I see,” I say, chuckling at Eli’s dopey grin. He groans, “Aww c’mon baaaby. Don’t b-be like that.” Eli reaches for my hand to grab my attention. Before he could open his mouth, the deep, sexy voice of my boss cuts him off.
“Eli quit harassing my staff before I cut you off,” Terry says, sliding into the seat next to Eli. 
“Don’t worry ‘bout it T-man! It’s allllll good,” Eli said, his words starting to blend together.
“Annnd, you’re cut off. Eli give me your phone so I can get you an Uber,”I say, making grabby hands at Eli. He smirks peering over at Terry who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “See, told you she wanted me,” he said, nudging his elbow into Terry’s ribs. I roll my eyes not wanting to satisfy him with a response. Eli’s cute, don't get me wrong, but I’m just not interested.
“Actually someone’s coming to relieve you Daphne, I need you in the back,” Terry says leaning up on the counter. My eyes widened as I looked over at Terry. He just smirks and nods his head toward the door marked ‘employees only’. I nod before wiping my hands off on my pants and head towards that door. I glance over my shoulder to see Terry whisper something in Eli’s ear before he makes his way toward me. 
“Ready for your first assignment?” Terry asks as he makes his way to me. 
A dry chuckle leaves my mouth, “Will it be worse than that?” I ask, pointing my thumb in Eli’s direction. 
Terry’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter, “I hope not, here, c’mon they’re right through here”
I knew Terry was serious about using my medical side to help him out, I just didn’t think it’d be so soon. My mind blanks as I try to shift my focus to that of a 3 year trauma/ICU nurse. Not knowing what I’m walking into I take off my rings and bracelets as we enter the door. Terry leads me down what appears to be basement stairs and then leads me to another door. Before we go in he turns to me standing shoulder-width apart with his hands crossed in his front (REFERENCE).
s it just me or did it get ten degrees hotter in here?
“This kind of goes without saying but, you don’t say anything about what goes on behind this door,” Terry said.
With a nod of my head I say, “Of course not, now let’s see what I’ve gotten myself into yea?”
Tumblr media
TERRY
“Gunshot wounds!? Terry, what do you expect me to do with this?!” Daphne asked, examining the semi-conscious man laying on the table. I watched carefully as she threw her locs up in a messy bun and went to work on her “patient”.
“They’re just flesh wounds, mostly just need patching up. You can do that right sweetheart?” I ask leaning back against the door. She rolls her eyes and mumbles out a ‘yeah’. That eye rolling shit is really starting to get on my nerves with how much it turns me on. 
“What kind of supplies do you have?” She asks looking over at me. 
I move to a storage closet on my right and open the door for her, “In here is everything you should need.”  I grab a cart containing multiple drawers with the supplies she might need (reference). Once I wheel it over to her she pauses and looks at the cart then me. 
“This is a hospital grade crash cart,” Daphne said, raising a brow at me. Damn, she’s pretty when she does that too. 
I nod slowly, “Yes, yes it is. I figured how can I ask you to do a job without the proper equipment.”
She lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “How’d you get all this? And can you get it restocked when I’m done with him?”
“Well I can’t really tell you how I got everything, let’s just say everything has its price. I’ll have it restocked before you have to do this again”, I say. 
Daphne just nods and takes a deep breath before heading to the sink, “Well, I’m going to need an extra hand in here. Do you have time or can you send someone else in here?”
“I’ll stay,” I reply with a shrug. She flashes me a small smile before instructing me to wash my hands in the sink. Once I finish I saddle up beside her and wait for instructions. Daphne hands me a pair of gloves instructing me to put them on. 
“Do you have any medical training?”Daphne asks as she puts a stethoscope to Paul’s (gunshot victim) chest. 
“Basic CPR and some shit I had to do in the field,” I say checking Paul’s heart rate 
“What branch?” 
“Who said I was military?” I ask, smirking at her. 
“Terry, be serious, look at how you stand, how you always sit facing the door, and how you talk. Let’s just say it wasn’t that hard for me to tell. Hand me that syringe that says ‘Morphine’ please,” she smiled at me sweetly, pointing at the aforementioned syringe.
I feel my smirk widen against my will, “You’ve been watching me?” I ask, passing her the syringe. 
She rolls her eyes yet again, “Oh don’t flatter yourself. I spent over a decade in healthcare. 25% of those people are from military backgrounds.” 
“So who was it? Mom or Dad?” I ask, holding pressure on Paul’s wound while she places an IV. 
“Huh?”, she asks, not looking up from her task. I can admire the way her nose scrunches and she bites her lip as she works through her task.
“Who was in the military? Your mom or your Dad?” I ask again. 
Daph lets out a small giggle, “What gave it away?” 
I clear my throat and her eyes meet mine. I move my index finger back and forth pointing at me then her, “Same recognizes same, sweetheart.” She huffs out another small laugh before focusing back in. I’m thinking of one thing and one thing only as we work in comfortable silence, patching Paul up. I need to make her laugh again. 
“My mom, she was in the Navy. She was the best,”I say reaching for my locket that had her picture in it. 
Terry nods before looking at me, “I’m sure she was sweetheart. I’m sorry you lost her so soon”. He’s got the prettiest eyes. They’re so expressive I feel like he’s saying more to me with just a look than he ever could with words. 
Tumblr media
2.5 HOURS LATER
DAPHNE
When Terry and I exit the basement his club is empty.  “That was good work in there Daph,” Terry said, eyeing me appreciatively. 
“Well it was a simple plug and patch like you said, you probably could’ve done it,” I say, rubbing my hand against the back of my neck. 
Terry takes a step toward me, “You sore?”
“Yeah a tiny bit, it’s been a while since I had to do that. I’ll be fine,” I say, straightening my spine and shifting my hips from side to side. 
“Here let me,” Terry moved behind me, placing his hands at the base of my neck. My spine straightened like a stick was shoved straight up my ass. He starts to knead the stiff muscles in my neck and I feel my shoulders start to slump. He continues to knead and massage the back of my neck. I don’t even notice that I’m leaning back against him.
“Mmm that feels nice,” I say, leaning my hand to the side. He’s so close I can feel his exhale against my neck, I know he can see the goosebumps. 
“Yeah?” he says. I don’t know if I’m imagining it or not but it feels like his lips brush my neck. Before I can say anything else, there’s a knock on the door. I can feel Terry tense up behind me, like somebody poured a bucket of ice water down his back.  
“Go to the back, get your stuff, and leave,” Terry said, taking a step back from me like I burned him. My mind was reeling, I just silently nodded and turned to make my way back to the locker room. Who was at the door that made him shift his whole persona? I’m putting all my shit in my tote back when I hear my phone ring from somewhere inside it. Once I find it I tap the green button putting the phone up to my ear.
“Hey Lex, I’m about to leave now,” I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder. 
“Perfect, I got a ride from Princess. I put my keys in your coat pocket so you wouldn’t have to Uber by yourself this late,” my oh so considerate sister says. 
“You’re too good to me. Dinner on me tomorrow, “ I say, finding the keys she mentioned. Lexi and I yap for a few minutes before we say our goodbyes. Leaving the locker room I bump right into Terry.
“Oh! Sorry didn’t see you there,” I hate how awkward and strained my voice sounds. Terry’s eyes are unreadable as he looks through me. 
“Time to go, I’ll walk you out,” he said then abruptly turned and started down the hallway. 
“What the fuck?” I mumble to myself. I know we aren’t best friends or anything, but I thought that Terry and I were at least breaking down that wall ‘boss/ employee’ relationship between us. I thought we could at least have some sort of civility toward one another. I follow him out towards the main floor of the club and make my way towards the door. There’s a group of men sitting in the center of the club, they all look hella shady. I pick up my pace a little bit so I can get the hell out of there. 
“Daphne?,” I hear as I walk past the table. I look up toward the voice and my blood runs cold. What the fuck is Rafa’s brother doing here?
Tumblr media
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  okay, okay. I know this one is short but the next one will be longer I promise. I kind of just wanted to focus on a little bit of character building because this is going to be a series. Let me know what you guys think! 
TAGLIST: 
@blackgurlnhermoods @dxddykenn @kianaleani @pinkkycherrish @shallipii @greatpandagladiator-blog @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @megamindsecretlair @melalsworld @nayaesworld @theereina @shallipii @mogul93 @onherereading @blyffe @earthchica @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @kimuzostar @pocketsizedpanther @kumkaniudaku @mymindisneverhere @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @uzumaki-rebellion
DIVIDER: @cxrrodedcoffin
191 notes · View notes
notjustjavierpena · 1 year ago
Text
Mouthful
Tumblr media
Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator
A/N: Made with the help from my loveliest @strang3lov3 with a talk about men conking out after cumming and how Hubby Javier still hasn’t gotten his dick sucked. So to all the girlies who want to give your fictional husband a blowjob, this one is for you.
Summary: Javier is starting to come down with the flu but he just simply won’t lie down to have some rest. You have a trick that never fails.
Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)
Tags: +18 smut, husband!javier, domestic life, sickfic, Inés is a menace, Javier is a stubborn man, ❤️ JAVIER HAS A DAD BOD!!!!!!! ❤️, blowjob, deep-throating, mouth-fucking, praise, dirty talk, cum-swallowing,
Word count: 2.8k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52856839
Mouthful
You hear the clink of plates being lifted out of the dishwasher, the sound of Sebastian crying, stuttering sobs as he is bounced, and Inés going on about something that happened in preschool. Javier is barely listening, replying with half-sentences that seem to make his daughter more frustrated with her father not paying attention and eventually leading to her talking louder. 
The idea of what will meet you in the kitchen is enough to make you want to flee to the bedroom, enough to make you want to pretend that you haven’t heard them during an extended nap. However, you could never bring yourself to let Javier go through the hell of late afternoons with children alone.
“Look who’s up,” he says with a desperate smile as you enter the room, twisting his whole body to make his crying son spot his mother. As soon as Sebastian’s eyes gaze upon you, his wails die down and they stop completely the moment you take him from Javier’s arms. 
“Mom! Guess what happened today at school,” Inés interrupts just as you are about to say something. She speaks loudly, and you automatically reach up to cover Sebastian’s ear that isn’t pressed into your shoulder. 
“Inés, indoor voices,” Javier finally manages to say, reaching up to rub his temples, “Shhh…”
“Sorry,” she makes a face, not completely convinced. 
“What happened at school?” You ask but instead of looking at her, you find yourself staring at your husband who looks like absolute hell, glassy eyes and exhaustion radiating from him. Inés giggles as she tells a joke that isn’t really a joke, too lost in her story to notice that you aren’t really listening. 
Javier places a hand on the kitchen table, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. His shirt is crumpled, his eyes have dark circles and you don’t actually think that he has even noticed that he is sniffling every other moment. He sighs deeply, breathing mostly through his mouth as he does it, and then goes back to emptying the dishwasher.
“Are you okay, honey?” You ask him, stopping midway to shush Inés who doesn’t look pleased, “You look under the weather. Are you feeling okay?” 
There’s an almost offended nature in Javier’s reply. He doesn’t stop what he is doing, sorting through the cutlery, “What? No, yeah. Estoy bien, mi amor (I’m fine, my love). Just need to get this done.”
“And then what?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. 
“And then I’ll get started on dinner,” he tells you with a tired smile that isn’t very convincing. 
“You look like… m i e r d a (shit), and you probably feel it too. I was sick last week,” you spell out the dirty word, using the Spanish word because the English is short enough to make Inés guess what you are saying. 
“Mom,” Inés predictably complains. 
“I’m fine. I just need 20 minutes where no one comes near me,” he says with exasperation. He finishes up the bottom drawer of the dishwasher and goes to pull out the top one. You find yourself laying a hand on top of his, stopping him in his tracks.
“Javi,” you say softly. 
“What?” He grumbles.
“I can finish up here. I’ll cook dinner,” you tread lightly, knowing that he hates being babied by you. Him not pulling his weight is a common fight that the two of you have had, and he probably feels on edge when you ask him not to help out with the kids. 
“I can do it,” he snaps but suddenly sneezes, and it ends up making his nose prickle enough to cause his eyes to water. 
“Go do something else, laundry maybe. I’ll do this,” you say a little more firmly, strategically sending him to your bedroom to make him spot your bed and have some well-earned rest, “It’s really not a problem, and you know I hate doing laundry anyway.”
“Fine,” he holds his hands up in surrender. 
“I love you,” you say in a sing-song voice as he leaves the kitchen, “Go have your 20 minutes.”
Inés looks longingly after her father but you manage to distract her with a snack before she runs after him. You run your free hand over her hair as she eats a peanut butter sandwich, Sebastian cooing happily on your hip as he has been allowed to chew on a banana.
“Do you want to watch cartoons before dinner?” You ask, “Give Mommy some time to get things done in the kitchen, and then I can hear all about school while we eat?”
“Fine,” she parrots her dad, holding up her hands as well and running off to the living room. You follow her, setting Sebastian down in his playpen and turning on the baby monitor. Then you turn on the TV, adjust the volume, and let Inés busy herself by singing along to her favorite theme song. 
You finish emptying the dishwasher, cut vegetables, and throw them into the slow cooker with other ingredients, and after you check on both of your kids, you realize there’s some spare time before you have to pick Lucas up from his play date. 
You decide to go upstairs to do another round of laundry, but when you cannot find the laundry basket, you go to your bedroom. Javier must have taken it when folding clothes. 
“Jesus, why are you not resting? I sent you here so you’d eventually nap,” you groan as you enter the bedroom and see Javier putting his shirts on hangers. 
“I told you I’m fine,” he seems even more sick at this point, nose slightly congested and causing him to speak nasally, “I can do this.”
You walk up to him to yank a clothing hanger out of his hands and throw it onto the floor, receiving a glare in response. Javier doesn’t look pleased with your behavior, but you don’t find his stubborn attitude charming either. 
“Javier F. Peña,” you tut, “Just go lie down and trust that your wife has everything under control. It’s what a lot of husbands do, you know.”
“Well, wife, I don’t need your permission to do housework,” he tries to push past you but you catch him in a disarming embrace, giggling as he tries bending down to pick you up so he can move you out of his way. You avoid his efforts, catching him by the wrists when he straightens once more, and push him back towards the bed. 
“You need rest, husband,” you shove him when the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he lets himself fall down into the mattress, bouncing slightly as it connects with his back. 
“I don’t need a nap, I’m not a child,” he groans dramatically. 
“Then stop acting like one,” you pull the baby monitor out of your pocket and place it on the nightstand. When Javier tries to sit up again, you snap your fingers and point at him, “Nuh-uh, lie down.” 
It makes you realize that you need to use alternative methods to get him to obey; he simply won’t do as he has been told, and if anyone is ever in doubt about where Inés gets her stubbornness from, you’ll simply glance over at her father to answer the question. 
“What if I treat you to something special?” You ask with a little smirk, moving to the end of the bed so you can proceed to crawl onto him. You sit on his legs, “Think that’ll make you relax?”
You already know the answer to that question. He looks ready to conk out. 
“I’m actually fine, I don’t need—“
“I know, Javi,” you reply. Your fingers find his crumpled shirt and you pull it out of his jeans, shoving it up over his stomach so you can access his belt, watching your husband twitch underneath you at the sound of the buckle clinking as you undo it. 
He lifts his head to watch as you tug down his jeans and underwear, “Just so you know, I’m not sleeping after this. I have to—“
“I know, Javi,” you repeat, bending down to nuzzle your nose against his soft stomach. His cock lays flaccid against his thigh, but you pull it out from underneath the waistband of his briefs to lay it against his tummy so you can skim your palm up and down the shaft. His soft cock slowly comes alive underneath your touch, and soon you can wrap your fist around him to stroke him till he stands completely erect. 
Below you, Javier groans when you press a kiss to his belly, “And I have to get the laundry done.” 
“Whatever you say, baby, let me take care of you and I’ll let you do as much laundry as you want,” you hum against his skin, relishing in his warmth and his so-called dad-body - the last year has blessed you with Javier getting a little softer to the touch - that you nuzzle up to at every opportunity you get. 
Javier isn’t a fan of himself growing soft around the middle but you savor it every time you get to see that bit of pudge strain against his usual jeans (which he refuses to buy in a bigger size). If you thought he was gorgeous when his muscles were toned and his body looked younger, you had not been prepared for how good he looks now that he is older, rounder, and getting comfortable. His arms are still deliciously strong; an overwhelmingly sexy result of still carrying Inés around everywhere, picking her up from the ground if she has a tantrum at the grocery store. 
“God, you’re so sexy,” you pinch his stomach to earn a little noise. Javier says your name in disapproval but you just look up at him with a smile, grabbing more of his pudge before biting into it and kissing it afterward, “Let your wife have her fun.”
Javier is just about to say something - you don’t know whether it is about his body, the lack of a blowjob, or laundry once more - but you know it’s more complaining and so you cut him off by running the flat of your tongue from base to tip of his cock. He tastes like salt. If you had the time, you would not finish until his scent and taste were everywhere on you. In your clothes, etched into your skin, and on your tongue. 
“Oh shi—“ he gasps, resting the back of his head on the mattress once more. He breathes deeply in through his mouth, nose still stuffed, and stares at the ceiling as you work your tongue up and down his shaft only to follow the wet trail with your nose.
When you reach his cockhead a third time, you suckle on the very tip to rid him of the pearl of precome that has accumulated at the slit and is threatening to slide down (you want to treat yourself to it before it does). Above you, Javier moans at feeling your mouth, not your tongue, properly for the first time. 
“Fucking hell, baby, gotta admit that I didn’t see this coming,” he half-chuckles, half-groans.
“Maybe I just wanted to shut you up for a moment. You are stubborn, you know,” you pull back to talk, look up at him, and nuzzle needily at his cock. He looks down at you but you simply smile, “I looove you for that though, not annoying at all.”
You follow your little snarky remark up with a press of your lips to the underside of his shaft, using a hot open-mouthed kiss to cut off whatever offense he might take from your teasing. He doesn’t even seem to register it after feeling your mouth on himself again. 
Then you let saliva gather in your mouth before spitting directly onto the head, using your hand to smear it down his length by stroking him a few times. You lean over him and bring your mouth down over his girth, no teasing or anything, until the thick head hits the back of your mouth. 
“Fuuuck, and then up again,” he groans, a strong hand reaching for whatever he can grab of you. His fingers curl around your shoulder, moving inwards until they dig into the back of your neck. Slowly, you drag your lips all the way off of him again. 
Javier makes a sound when you pull off but it quickly turns into a whimper as you let more saliva drip down. You smear this too, swirling your sinful tongue around the tip and occasionally licking like were you eating a popsicle on a summer’s day. 
You can feel him pulse against your lips, so you show mercy and let him into your mouth again. He is hot and heavy on your tongue and a moaning mess above you, nails starting to dig into your skin. 
You start bobbing your head, hand on the base of Javier’s cock to hold his generous size in place. When he bumps against your throat for the first time and thus makes you gag the first time, he lets out a sound that you can never get enough of and it causes your cunt to throb between your legs. 
“Who would think that a pretty girl sucks cock like that? Oh, fuck… I love you, just like that—” he talks in a way that makes you think he might not even be aware of what he is saying but is simply letting his mouth run, “Suck that cock, baby. Good fucking girl, married the right one, didn’t I?”
You hum in reply and he growls at the vibrations of your voice. The pride you feel is indescribable, and so you seek out his approval once again by moaning as you taste him. Even if it results in your eyelashes dampening from Javier pushing his hips upwards, you lean further down and force yourself to relax your throat. 
He slides into the tight space at the back of your throat and his hand flies to the top of your head. He fists your hair desperately when you gulp around him and make your throat spasm, tugging at your follicles to the point where tears slide down your face. Soon, they also mix with the spit coating his cock.
You swallow around him again. Javier holds your head with both hands now, “Can I - Christ - can I fuck this gorgeous mouth? Por favor (please), baby.”
Even if it is hurting a little, you nod the best you can because Javier’s groan as he starts thrusting his hips upward is worth any ache in your body. Your thighs flutter, your clit pulses. 
Both his hands gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He uses it to move your head as he pleases, makes you bob on his dick until you gag wetly with every other thrust of his hips. Every time he bucks his hips, his thigh muscles flex and your nose buries itself in his happy trail. 
“You gonna take it?” He rasps, chest heaving. He is nearly there, muscles in his whole body twitching as he slowly loses control over himself when pleasure is so close. The next thrusts are maddening and you can’t blink any tears away even if you tried, “Fuck, swallow, baby. Take my come.”
You look up at him through your wet lashes and hum a mhm, confirming. Yes, yes, yes, give it to me.
You know he is peaking when his breath stops. He holds it during the last thrusts, finally letting out a loud moan as he finishes and sucks in a deep breath afterward. 
His cock spurts in the next moment. You can feel it hit the back of your sore throat, warm and salty, in several pulses and automatically, you swallow hungrily around his girth. The action makes him groan weakly and his hips stutter until he finally needs to let go of you. His arms lie flat along his side.
“Holy fuck, baby,” he sighs contentedly when you pull off, “Fuck, I don’t even know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, Daddy,” you tease, and then you treat the sensitive head of his cock to a few innocent kitten-licks, essentially cleaning him up until he softens. 
He whimpers when it becomes too much, and so you pull off to kiss him along his stomach. You can hear his breathing changing, turning into something less erratic. 
“You okay?” You eventually ask but receive no reply. You look up. 
As predicted, Javier snores. You smile to yourself as you push yourself away from him, careful not to wake him up as you pull his briefs and jeans up again, leaving the latter unbuttoned. 
“Javier Peña, the most stubborn man on the planet has a weakness,” you whisper and shake your head with a fond smile. 
You grab the baby monitor from the nightstand and leave him to sleep, knowing he’ll wake up feeling a lot more sick and, hopefully, a lot more cooperative. You bring him a glass of water and some Tylenol to wake up to, write a note for him about how much you adore him, and that you’ll take care of everything. He needs it. 
.
.
If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️
690 notes · View notes
sapphosclosefriend · 1 year ago
Text
- Money, Power, Glory pt 4 -
Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader
Genre: fluff, angst, brief smut
Summary: you're finally ready to start getting to know more about each other while in Cuba. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Word count: 4k
Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, big age gap (N=56, R=24), talks of miscarriages (not R), big mommy issues, very brief smut.
A/N: this story contains smut and mature themes so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. I can't believe we're on schedule…if it keeps going well, the Christmas special will come out next week!!! As usual, thanks so so much to @supercorpdanbeau and @rt--link !!! As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡
Masterlist
Tumblr media
You could barely breathe and the sounds that kept fighting to come out of your mouth over and over made it even harder for you to draw in some much needed air.
You could only lay limp on your stomach while Natasha had her weight on her hands on either side of your waist, getting enough leverage to thrust deep and hard into you and make your eyes roll back as she graced your ears with her breathless swears. She was incredibly close and, after a few more harsher thrusts that you were sure had to have made you slide up the bed at least a bit, she reached her peak with loud groans as she intently filled your pussy with all of her cum. Finally getting the chance, you tried your best to get your breathing back to normal while she stayed still inside of you and tried to do the same. You looked even more beautiful to Natasha as you lay under her. You were always ready to take anything from her, and your heavenly afterglow along with the way your pussy clenched around her while still coming down from your own peak, could've easily gotten her going once again. Sensing your tiredness, though, she immediately stopped her impure, spiraling thoughts to carefully pull out of you as gently as she could while lightly caressing the small of your back at the small hiss you tried to hide, before leaning down to land a quick peck on your bare back.
“You did so good for me”
You could only tiredly hum at the murmured praise as the older woman moved off of you to clean herself up, retrieve something to do the same to you and get a glass of fresh water. You were fighting to keep your eyes open, knowing that you could've easily fallen asleep as soon as you blocked the light coming from the large window, but you lost your battle once she came back to take care of you. You were starting to drift off as soon as her soft hand touched your shoulder to tell you she was back, but still made out her quiet chuckle once she finished her task and settled back in her spot on the bed. Feeling her gaze on you, you opened your eyes to be greeted by her lying form next to you, amusingly looking at you as you still hadn't moved an inch.
“Shut up”
Your grumbled words as you tried to look at her through only one eye seemed to be a way too entertaining show for Natasha as she fought to hide a smirk threatening to come out.
“I didn't say anything”
She was full on smiling now as you rubbed your eyes to get a better view of her.
“You don't need to”
Your sluggish movements as you did your best to find a comfortable position while turning to your side to face her would've made you almost embarrassed with any other customer, but you both knew deep down that Natasha simply wasn't any other customer. You both felt so at ease with each other and when your professionalism slipped away to leave space for genuineness, you gave her the courage for the same to happen to her and the constant control she always had even over her own self would leave some space for a more relaxed version of her you couldn't help but appreciate more and more. You admittedly felt very lucky to be able to witness the real person behind the big title and even though she was still clearly not ready to disclose too personal information about herself yet, you appreciated the effort she had put into sharing small, apparently meaningless, bits of her with you. You cherished every single word, every action, every joke, every glance and, unbeknownst to you, Natasha only felt her heart clenching more the less you asked her about herself. She would've poured her heart out to you, if only to make you happy and to satisfy your curiosity, but she knew that such a thing just wasn't possible. And seeing your clear desire to know anything you could about her, yet your restraint to do so, warmed her heart at the prospect of someone finally understanding her for once and letting her go at her own pace.
The happiness that always came from such beautiful thoughts that, by then, plagued her mind, though, was always destined to get shattered. Because she knew, deep down, that you were just doing your job after all. Yes, you were getting to know her and you wanted to do so, but you weren't actively looking to start a relationship or anything so crazy. You were just a girl being way too nice with a woman like her. Your interest couldn't possibly be as deep as hers was becoming. She just had to keep shaking the strange fluttering in her stomach away every time you looked at her like you were doing now, but your pretty eyes and your even prettier face made it impossible for her hand to stay in its place and before she knew it she was caressing your warm cheek before leaning in to leave a small peck on your lips and bashing in the incredible feeling of your touch on her.
She couldn't believe she was once again feeling disappointment, yet this time around it pierced her heart just so much harder. This time it wasn't someone else hopefully trying to get through the thick wall she had created against the outside and giving up before succeeding. This time she was the one who couldn't get to the person she seeked because such person simply didn't want her in the same way. She hated how vulnerable she felt, yet, for once, such a feeling, instead of the anger she was used to experiencing, got even more curiosity out of her. If nothing serious could happen it didn't mean that she couldn't indulge herself into knowing the most about you she could.
Noticing the goosebumps on your arms you tried not to bring any attention to, she silently got up from the bed, not bothering to cover up her godly body, to get some clothes for the both of you. As you lay alone on your side and admired the cloudy sky, free of all sun rays, the sight of the sea moving back and forth outside slightly started lulling you further into relaxation, also thanks to the oxytocin still running high through you. You didn't even hear her steps as she approached the bed once again and the warm light she turned on slightly startled you, pulling you out of your brief trance and getting your attention back to her. She was standing at the foot of the bed with her gray hair up in a messy bun and wearing only a pair of black boxers and a wrinkly band t-shirt, a kind of look you'd never seen on her. She looked pretty, like one of the truest versions of herself there was and one that made you want to hug her as hard as you could.
She was holding a pair of underwear you recognised as yours, that she probably found in your luggage, and a beige, slightly damaged, cashmere sweater you knew for sure was hers. You had seen it so many times in her house, always somewhere in case she needed it, if she wasn't wearing it already. You didn't know why, but the thought of something so simple such as Natasha having a favorite sweater made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, especially knowing that she was offering it to you now.
As you thanked her for the clothes and put them on, not even bothering to get out of bed to do so, she gathered the duvet from the floor to lay it over the bed once you sat back, letting it cover you and immediately warming you up a bit. You only wanted to admire her long legs and the snippet of her stomach as her t-shirt rode up while she got into bed, but the smell coming from the fabric on your body almost got you back into the post sex trance you just exited. The sweater sat soft like a cloud on your skin and the sleeves, a little too long for you, offered you the opportunity to ball their remaining fabric around your fists, warming up your hands and almost forcing you to move them closer to your face to fully breathe in the scent that intoxicated you. It didn't just smell like her perfume, it smelled like her, like her skin, like her hair, like Natasha.
You could've fallen asleep right then and there, with the soft sound of her even breathing and her smell clouding your mind, but you opened your eyes once her fingers gently moved a strand of hair away from your face and tenderly caressed your cheekbone once again. The second your gaze met hers, the vast ocean outside of the yacht completely disappeared, leaving you alone to drown in the greenish, addicting sea that were her eyes, instead. Gosh, how gladly you would’ve died lost in their depth.
“Can I ask you…can I ask you something about yourself?”
Her murmured question, spoken so quietly and even unsurely, pulled your mind off the beautiful endlessness of her eyes.
“Sure…I'm not that interesting, though, compared to someone like you.”
“You’re very interesting to me.”
Her small voice as she muttered the words warmed your heart like never before and almost made you tear up at the genuine interest she seemed to have over you. It was a bit hard for you to open up, certainly not as much as it was for her, but you did your best not to hold back when you could, hoping to make her trust you enough to let her guard down if she wanted to. And so, with a small nod from you, she moved to lie on her side, holding her head up on her hand, while you wiggled closer to her until you found a comfortable position to look up at her from your spot as you lay down next to her.
“What do you wanna know?”
“Everything you wanna tell me.”
You never disclosed personal information to your customers, after all it's not like they really wanted to know anything about you. Whenever they asked you something it was always out of courtesy, never of true interest, so you would just find a polite way to discreetly deviate the conversation to something they actually had interest in. But seeing the little smile on her face as she sweetly waited for your response with so much interest in her eyes, warmed your heart like never before and made you feel as though you could've never stopped yourself from telling her whatever the hell she wanted.
“Sorry, I’m usually not very good at opening up”
You tried to justify your initial silence as you thought about something to start the conversation with, your mind overcrowded by a turmoil of emotions.
“It’s fine, it doesn’t seem like it, but I like listening to people I care about. Of course you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, though.”
The sudden warmth in your cheeks at the mention of possibly being as lucky as being someone Natasha cared about immediately lost its importance, as you tentatively looked up at her. The disappointment you were afraid to meet wasn't anywhere on her face, though, as it was only filled with what you could only describe as love and care. She was at ease, she was talking and maybe she was even more than at ease. She trusted you. You couldn't ruin such an achievement and she needed to know that you noticed and you appreciated it.
“No no, I want to, really! I want to, Natasha”
You held her soft hand in yours as you intently looked at her in the eye as a way to reassure her of your willingness and, once you tried to let go, feeling slightly ashamed of your initial eagerness with your action, you were glad to feel her hold tighten on your hand, signaling she was more than fine with the contact.
“When we got here this morning you said the smell of the ocean reminded you of your childhood, why?”
You still seemed uncertain for a moment, but her comforting, warm hand in yours and her patient silence gave you the courage you needed to start talking to her. It surprised you how at ease you felt as soon as the first word left your mouth and after that, it was as if the floodgates had been opened.
"You know, there are studies that show how the faintest of smells or scents, in a mere millisecond can trigger whole memories that you never even knew you had or that you haven't thought about in years. That always happens to me with what I call the salty sea, this warm, dry, saline smell that always makes me feel so many things. It's bittersweet.
You know, when I was a kid I'd always spend the summer with my grandparents at the seaside. My parents couldn't take time off work so I'd spend those months away from home, only the three of us. I used to love that, I was always looking forward to it: we always stayed at a very beautiful campsite, in our trailer and it was so fun, to stay in our cozy little house during those three months and have more adventures every single day. I'd go to the pool, ride my bike, play at the park, paint at the kid's club, swim in the ocean, make sand castles. And every year I'd make new friends from all over the world. Sometimes I'd never see them ever again, which was sad, but I knew that I'd meet new ones and make the pain in my heart go away.
The thing that I liked the most about those summers, though, was how sweet my mom used to be to me. We wouldn't see each other all day every day, so there wasn't the risk of me pissing her off, doing the wrong thing, saying the wrong thing, forgetting to do something, making her forget to do something. We wouldn't see each other all day every day, so her daily evening calls were only filled with love and affection from her. Every day she'd call and she'd ask me what I had done and how the new kids I met were. She'd tell me she missed me so freaking much and that she couldn't wait for me to be back home in her arms. I'd cry almost every night, because every night I'd realize just how much I missed her and that I would've left and even walked all the way back home if she missed me too much. I hated how I could hear the strain in her voice from the whole day spent at work and the pain from being away from me. She was used to not spending a lot of time together, she had to go back to work very soon after I was born and always worked very long hours, but of course it was different in those summer months.
When I got older I realized that being away from one another was actually much better than we thought: after being apart for a while, the need to be together and the way she missed me would make the side of her that wasn't always happy with life go away, at least for a little bit. She didn't get the chance of getting angry with me or me triggering a mental breakdown and her telling me that she just needed to leave dad and I and get a new life or end it all. It's funny, I never realized how fucked up it is to say something like that to a 6 years old until very little ago.
Anyway, during those summers the only thing my mom did was love me, actually, not love me, she liked me, I wasn't flawed and always doing something wrong, I was her daughter and she liked me and she loved me. And then I understood, I need to stay away from her for a little while, so that she can love me for a little bit.
So yeah, it's bittersweet, the salty sea."
You couldn’t process what just happened, but what took over your mind as soon as you finished talking wasn’t the shock from being able to disclose such information to someone who wasn’t family or your therapist, but the fear of having ruined for good whatever small traces of a connection you had with Natasha thanks to your uncontrolled rambling. She said “everything”, but what if it was too deep? She said “everything”, but what if she wasn't ready to tell you something like that about herself and you made her feel forced to do so? She said “everything”, but what if you had built her wall back up with your own hands?
Sensing the panic you were almost perfectly hiding, she gently pulled you against her chest to hold you in her arms and kiss the top of your head before the “sorry” you had ready for her could leave your lips. Pulling back, she finally admired your beautiful face once again, feeling a bit more reassured at the slightly lessened, yet still present, traces of tension on your features. You looked small, young, younger than you were, with almost imperceptible traces of childhood you still seemed to unknowingly hold onto behind your eyes. You looked young because you were young and for the first time with her you didn't try to hide yourself behind a closely crafted composed facade that sometimes didn't fully fit you.
“And how is it now? If I can ask.”
"We don't really see each other anymore, except for the holidays sometimes, but we're not on bad terms at all. We always text and talk through the phone. It's just that her calls now feel like those old summer ones, always so sweet"
She didn’t respond to you, but she didn’t need to say anything, you understood how hard it could be for someone like her to express herself with her words. Her eyes and the warmth of her arm, still holding you in a loose hug, easily made you understand anything she would’ve wanted to express to you.
You tried your best to be as open as you could, but you knew you needed to take your mind off of certain things before your mood would’ve been ruined for the whole weekend and you still wanted to try to get to know at least something more about Natasha. You had to try, at least.
“Can I ask you why you like this sweater so much?”
You didn’t know where that question came out of, maybe the thought had been bugging you for way too long and your mind pulled a trick on you. Great, now she must’ve really thought you were crazy for good.
“I’m sorry, it must sound dumb”
You tried to brush it off with a small, pathetic laugh as you lowered your head to hide from her out of embarrassment, internally facepalming at your impulsiveness, but her hand on your arm, softly rubbing her thumb over it gave you the courage to look back up at her.
“No, not at all!”
The slight worry in her eyes, at first caused by the sight of your discomfort from your own question, soon turned into the usual worry she felt at the prospect of sharing certain aspects of her life with someone else. But the more she looked at you, the more the deep, gnawing feeling slowly got replaced by the mere melancholy of what the answer to your question consisted of. She knew it would’ve been hard but for once she wanted to do it, for once she wanted to try to open herself for someone she knew would’ve been willing to accept what came with her. And so she took the leap of faith.
“I know I have a poor reputation in terms of marriages, everyone apparently knows about it. I also know it was my fault for not making it work out every time, but if I have to be honest I never felt too…bad about myself for it. I mean, I know I’m not perfect and I have too many things to think about to try to be someone I’m not for the sake of a wife. I think the only oth-…time I did was with my first wife.
I got to know Maria when I was in college and as soon as I graduated we got married, got a house and I started working a shitty office job. We struggled for a bit, I wasn’t making a lot of money and she was working as a waitress, but I did anything I could to make our lives better and finally I got a pretty good promotion. That sweater was one of the first things I bought for myself and, I know it sounds stupid, but every time I looked at it, it reminded me that I had power over my life and we could finally have a decent life, I could give her a decent life. I was so happy, not only because I knew I could’ve done more for her, but I was also proud of myself, I mean, I liked my job.
I only realized just how much time I was spending away from home, away from her, when she told me she wanted to have a baby. We had more than enough money for it but I knew that my focus wasn’t at home back then. At first I tried to make any excuses I could, but eventually I just gave in. I think she noticed that I was doing it more for her than for me, but, if she did, she didn't mention it. We tried for a bit and at first it didn't work, but eventually she got pregnant. And she was so happy after all those months, she was over the moon. Of course I was happy we were expecting, but I could still feel my focus being somewhere else…and then she lost the baby and I was so stupid I barely even said I was sorry. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to help her…
We tried to go on for a bit and I knew I couldn't help her out emotionally, so I did what I know how to do best. I worked more and I bought her more stuff and I brought her on more trips but it was all for nothing and that sweater now reminded me that I couldn't be what she needed, that I wasn't perfect.
I cared, after she left me, then I didn't and now I know I just can't be perfect.”
You could still see some small hints of fake confidence she was so used to displaying, but the insecurity and sadness still drenched her words as she avoided your gaze at all costs. You could see her trying to get some last words out and her slightly shaky breathing almost got you worried for her.
“You know, I don't give a shit about what people think of me…but…you make me wanna be perfect”
Her brows were knitted as she tentatively whispered her words, almost as if she couldn’t understand such a concept. She didn't do what she was so used to be doing, what she had done with all of her wives. She didn't do her best just as a way to avoid you getting mad, she did it because she felt you deserved to always be with her best self, nothing less.
Everything was different with you, everything felt different…
.
.
Part 5
.
.
Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox @dmenby3100 @marvels--slut @dvrkhcld @elenimoris @mrsrushman @mrsromanoff @thalia-is-not-ok @alianovnasposts @clintsupremacy @taliiiaasteria @meowymari @lissaaaa145 @natashaswife4125 @olsenmyolsen @angrywhisperslove @aemilia19 @setsuna1415 @letsboandy @mrsromanovaa @wizardofstories @karsonromanoff
723 notes · View notes
thegreatirene · 4 months ago
Text
Traveling Witch (Adrian Tepes x witch!reader) Part 5
Tumblr media
Rated R
Warnings: violence, cursing, and some heavy petting
Ok everyone this is the last chapter! Sike im gonna write the last chapter and then that’s it for this series! I’m writing other fics and I might put more out from the Castlevania fandom. So look forward to the last chapter and thank you guys again for reading! Let me know how you feel about this one and I’ll see you guys soon!
I’m not able to link the other parts to this one. I’ll try to see if I can do it later!
Part1. Part2. Part3. Part4. Part6
“Are you sure-“
“Yes! It had to have fell out here!”
“I’m not doubting you. I just want you to be sure”
“Well I am, Adrian, it’s gotta be somewhere around here”
You and Adrian have spent a good amount of the day searching for your lost page. The kids that Greta’s group brought along helped too. But there was no luck with anyone. So you called it a day.
“This should not be this hard to find that damn page!” You shouted as you threw yourself back into your pillows. Adrian chuckled as he laid next to you. He wrapped his hand around yours.
“Are you that much in a hurry to leave?” He raised a brow at you as he turned his head to you.
“Of course not,” you turned your body to lay on your side and he does the same.
“If I stay here I could mess with the future” you brought your interlocked hands to your lips. You closed your eyes holding back the tears you didn’t want Adrian to see. You knew the hardship he will experience but you can’t be there. He survives, you know that. He lives and gets to make friends and more a long the way. You just can’t be part of that. Your presence could do damage to that timeline. So you’ll leave with the knowledge knowing that he’ll be ok without you.
You opened your eyes to look at Adrain and found him sound asleep.
‘Fuck I’m screwed’
You were about to sleep with him until you heard screaming from outside. You thought you heard wrong but when you heard it again you got up. Something was happening outside. Moving to get out of bed Adrian held you down as he got up.
“Stay here”
“But I-“
“No you said so yourself you’ve never fought and I’m not going to lose you tonight” he kissed you one last time as he got to the door and closed it behind him.
Adrian was right, you haven’t fought any type of monsters. The one you encountered in the woods you barely made it without the help of Adrian. Maybe for once you’ll listen to him and sit still.
-
Ok you lied. But in your defense the ones you fought in the hallways weren’t monsters and just other vampires. So you were fine fighting them. Shit was easy.
“Fuck out of here!” You shouted as you threw two of the vampires out a window away from a couple.
“Go hide quickly!” You ran off looking to see if you can find more of the villagers. Rounding the corner you came smacking into the back of one of the vampires. He held one of the villagers by the neck and dropped them as he turned to look at you.
“God just how many are you?” He sneered at you as he roared to attack you. You waved your hand and his head turned a complete 180 and dropped to the floor. The villager long gone as you stepped over the vamps body.
“You fucking bitch!” You looked to your left and seen about four or five of the vampires buddies come at you.
“You’ll die where you stand!” All of them came at you at once. You huffed tired of them already. Lower level vampires were like wiggly worms. You got bored of them and raised your hand. You gathered them up with your energy and closed your fist. They imploded and blood sprayed everywhere. You got a good amount of their blood rain downed on you. You wiped your eyes clean and made your way to the foyer. You knew Adrian had to be there if he wasn’t with the villagers.
You were just about to make it to the entrance that lead to the foyer but you heard screaming from the library you came to love. You made your way there and found a couple of the villagers being killed. Rushing to them you took out a couple of the vamps that were pressing them and as you were about to say something to the civilians you were knocked to the side by a foot.
You crash into the bookcases across the room as you struggled to breathe from the impact. Pushing yourself from it you feel to your knees as you looked at the giant man. He threw his boomerang axe thing and came right next to you and kicked you again to the other side of the room. He did it a couple more times until you got to your feet. You watched as he threw his weapon and again, turned just in time to be face to face with him.
“Ha!” You ram your hand right into his chest and pulled out his heart. He looked at your hand and then your face. You smiled and crushed his heart. He screamed as he went up into flames and exploded. You dusted your hands off and looked up with pride on your face.
Adrian stood at the entrance with a shocked face. He was about to help you until he seen your hand go through the giant man. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on by someone covered in blood. “Oh, Adrian” you smiled at him as you ran and threw yourself on him. He chuckled as he held your head to him and kissed the side of it.
“Did you see what I did?” You looked up at him hyped up.
“Yes, I did darling” he chuckled as he wiped some of them blood off of your face. “I should have known that you wouldn’t have listened to me and came looking”
“I listened…for like a minute but I couldn’t let you go and fight by yourself” you said as you looked up at him. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as you played with his hair.
“As much as I appreciate that I had some help from friends” he smiled down at you.
“Oh that’s great! Well let’s go look for them” you hand slide down his arm and took his hand into yours and went off.
The both of you made your way back to foyer as you gathered a couple of villagers that were still around waiting for the fight to stop. You could see two new faces you haven’t seen before standing next to Greta. He walked ahead of you as he started to speak to them.
“Sypha, Trevor, this is Greta headwoman at the nearest village and these are people” he introduced the woman that stood between the two newcomers. You came and stood next to Adrian as you looked at the two.
“And this is y/n, my darling” he said with a coy smile. Sypha and Trevor looked to each other with surprise on their faces.
“It seems I need to have a certain talk with you” Trevor says as he placed a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. He in turned gave him the finger and they both chuckled.
“It’s nice to meet you y/n. I do wish we could have meet under different circumstances” Sypha said.
You smiled at her as you agreed with her words. Greta parted from the group as she went to check on her people. Trevor then spoke as he took the last spike from his arm.
“You were saying something about a madman upstairs?”
“A little shit by the name of saint Germain” Adrian said bitterly as he grabbed your hand and lead your little group up the stairs that lead to the upper floors.
-skipping cuz it’s a lot and we’ve all seen what happened~-
After the fighting with death and Trevor sacrificing his life/coming back. You were all surprised to see him coming back on a horse, hurt but alive. Sypha the happiest as she has her love back and the father to her child. You and Adrian sit at the top of a hill where it overlooks the new little village. He and Greta fought over who came up with the plan of them staying there. You found it funny how much they got along and thought. You really don’t need to worry about Adrian with Greta here. She can help him open up more than you can at the moment. Maybe in time a new relationship will blossom. Adrian deserves it.
You leaned your head against his shoulder as you watched the people work and the kids play. It’s amazing how just two weeks ago these same people had to fight for their lives and now it’s back to norm. You really should be grateful for your time period seeing as you and everyone else don’t have to experience what you did the past month.
“I’ve been meaning to give you something” Adrian says as he rummages around in his pocket. You looked at his hand as he held a piece of paper to you.
“Oh! You found my missing page!” You grabbed it and read it over. Confirming that you have what you need back in your room you smiled at Adrian as you laid on him again.
“Thank you for finding it” you interlocked your fingers with his as you looked at him. He hummed as he placed his other hand on top of yours and looked to the castle.
“I really don’t want you to leave. I know it’s selfish but I’ve grown to love you” he looked back at you. Your eyes shined in the light of the morning sun. He could see the tears you are holding back.
“Even the weird parts of you” he said as he tucked hair behind your ears. You snorted as you pinched his hand.
“I love you too Adrian. Even when you’re grumpy in the morning when I wake you to eat” you got to your feet and pulled him up with you.
“I do want you to know,” you held both of his hands as you looked up at him, “when I’m gonna and you start to grow feelings for someone” he tried to turn away from you but you held him in place.
“Adrian, please, listen to me ok” you held his face. “If it does happen, let it happen. I want you to be happy and if that is with someone else” you breathed in a sob as you smiled at him. “Then I’m happy for you. Just know I’ll always love you.” You brought him down at your level and gave him a kiss full of affection.
You pulled back and smiled at him. Adrian looked at you with a sort of sad but happiness in his eyes as a tear ran down his face. You wiped it away and kissed him again.
The both of you made your way back into the castle. A couple of the children stopped the both of you on your way inside to show off what they have made. One of the little girls held up a flower crown to you. She smiled as you thanked her for it and put it on your head.
“Father can you play with us?” One of the little boys asked as he held Adrian’s hand. Adrian looked at the corner of his eye at you when the boy called him father. You smiled at him and then turned to the boy, “sweetheart your father will play with you in a little bit we just have some things to do right now but he’s yours once we’re done, ok?” You wiped some dirty from his face and he nodded as he and the other children ran back outside.
“The children really love you” you said as you held his hand. He hummed as he the two of you walked back to your shared room. Adrian went to sit on the bed as he watched you gather your things. You went through the closet as you found the outfit you had worn on the day you met. You were about to walk into the bathroom when Adrian stopped you.
“Let me help you dress” he asked as he held your hand and brought you to stand between his legs. You smiled as you felt his hands slide under the shirt he had bought for you a while back to make you more comfortable. He kissed your stomach as his hands held your waist and looked at you through his lashes.
“Adrian” you softly said his name as you ran your hand through his hair. He bit at your skin and removed your pants as he helped you out of them. His hand skimmed up your legs sending sparks and tingles up your body as you pushed Adrian back to sit in his lap.
Adrian brought you in for a heated kiss as his hands roamed over your back and then gripped your hips. You moaned into his mouth as you felt him buck up into you. Adrian bucked his hips again and your teeth clicked against each other. The both of you pulled back and you held your hand up to your mouth and looked at him.
You started to laugh at the shocked look on his face and he joined you. You rested your forehead against his and closed your eyes. You breathed in the moment and held your hand out for your phone to teleport to it. You turned it on and waited as it came to life and swiped for the camera. You brought your face next to Adrian’s and took a selfie.
Adrian kissed you again and you took one last picture and tossed the phone to the side of the bed as you both fell back on the bed.
-
Adrian helped put on your shoes and got up from the bed as he helped you carry your bag out of the room. He went to the room where Trevor and Sypha stayed in and knocked on it.
“Come in Adrian” came Sypha’s voice.
“Sorry to intrude but y/n wanted to say goodbye” Adrian said as he held you by the waist.
“So soon?” She said as she sadly looked at you and then to Adrian.
“Yes, uh,” you looked at Adrian and he nodded at you.
“I’m not from this time era and have to return to mine before I do something that can cause a shift to my time.”
Sypha looked at you with shocked. Trevor was knocked out but you were sure he would have the same look as his wife.
“I have so many questions”
“I’m sure you do but I think it’s best if I don’t answer them” you smiled at her nervously.
“Right, you’re right” she looked to Adrian to see how he was doing. Adrian gave her a smile “I’m fine Sypha” he said as he rubbed your back.
“I wanted to give you and Trevor some amulets I’ve made to protect you and your little one” you walked over and placed a neatly wrapped package in her hands. She held your hand and smiled up at you.
“Thank you for watching Adrian while we were gone” you smiled and looked at him. “We’ll watch him and make sure he’s alright so don’t worry too much about him.”
“Thank you Sypha” you squeezed her hand and finally let go of each other.
“We’ll be in the undercroft” Adrian said as he welcomed you back to his side.
“The undercroft?” She questioned as she looked at you.
“Yea I came from there when I first appeared and I have to go back in the exact same location”
“Interesting”
“It’s a lot of things you need to get right for it to work. For instance, there’s a blood moon right now and it’s the perfect time for me to perform” you looked at your phone to see the time. “And it’s about that time as well. I wished we could have sooner Sypha I also have a lot of questions for you but it seems it would have to be left as a mystery” you smiled as you grabbed Adrian.
She smiled and nodded and watched as Adrian picked you up and disappeared before her eyes. You held Adrian tight as you felt a coldness wash over you and then opened your eyes to see that you were in the basement of the castle. He placed you down and you ran over to the mirror that slowly started to flicker with light as you got closer.
Adrian watched as you grabbed the prepared note with the ingredients on it and then pulled out a knife. You cut ur finger open and dripped a couple of your blood on to it and the mirror flashed white. Adrian looked at the blinding light and then back to you. You were standing in front of him with a sad smile. You held your bag tight to you.
You both pulled each other into a tight hug and grabbing onto each other clothes. You didn’t want to let go and neither did he. You reluctantly let go and then brought his face to yours and kissed him one last time. You released him and walked over to the mirror. Adrian held your hand all the way until you stepped into the mirror. He slowly let your hand slip from him as he looked at you with sorrow. Your face mirroring his as you blew him one last kiss and your figure slowly faded along with the light. As it turned back to a normal mirror again.
65 notes · View notes
chicgeekgirl89 · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
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.”
49 notes · View notes
regretsofaghost · 13 days ago
Text
Part 3- you'll always be my closest friend, I lost myself but I struggle too, so please tell me, was I good to you?
AO3 link to chapter 3- here Tumblr link to chapter 2-here Tumblr link to chapter 4- here
Word Count- 700 words
It was getting to early morning, when Charles had begun to worry about Edwin’s whereabouts. They had tried to make a habit in recent months of not being gone from each other for too long, to come back within six hours of leaving, if that. Edwin had skirted close to this deadline on multiple occasions, coming back at five hours and thirty minutes for instance.
It made Charles feel like a nag, to pay such close attention to how long his friend was gone for, but he could not help it.
He had spent too much time neglecting Edwin, since meeting Crystal, that the prospect of doing so again left a terrible taste in his mouth.
Sometimes he still wondered, what Edwin would taste like, underneath that sweet-piney taste of gin.
Still, it should not have been remarkable, when Charles’ eyes flew up to the mirror at a clatter, Edwin’s form stumbling in, looking like he just barely kept himself upright. Charles moved quicker than he thought possible, hands coming up to catch his friend, worry shooting through the roof when all Edwin did was laugh.
“Charles,” Edwin’s voice was slurred, the r of his name all but lost in his posh accent as his hands came up to grip the arms that held him. Charles opened his mouth to say something, anything, but found his eyes tracking the way Edwin’s tongue darted out to lick hi slips, and perhaps he was more obvious than he thought, because as quick as Charles had been in catching Edwin, Edwin rushed forward to press his lips against Charles’.
It wasn’t a good kiss, too hard, too much teeth, but Charles could not stop Edwin, could not deny him, would never wish to.
It wasn’t sweet, like those kisses that night, all those months ago.
“You’re mush better at that than-“ Edwin began to say, before he cut himself off. “No, that’d upset you, to hear. I’ve been trying my best to not upset you. Has it worked?”
Charles looked at Edwin, his glossy eyes, slurred speech, the way he pressed himself so closely to Charles that they might begin to meld into each other soon enough.
“You’ve drunk that potion, haven’t you?” Charles asked, knowing the answer, even if it made his stomach knot, a weight dropped on his chest.
Edwin was supposed to be doing better.
“You’re upset,” Edwin said, and Charles couldn’t reply, because he was. He could not offer reassurance, could not mask worry and anger, not when it came to Edwin’s safety.
“Of course I’m bloody upset! You went and got- fucking sloshed again, gone all night, what if something happened to you? I wouldn’t even know till it was too late!” Charles took a shaking breath, trying to be mindful of his hands still holding onto Edwin, to not grip him tightly and hurt him.
“I-“ Edwin began, licking his lips, looking so lost, and Charles hated that he was the cause, but he needed to know, what Edwin had planned, if he were hurt, if something happened.
Edwin with his big ol’ brain, usually thinking ten steps ahead, but sometimes losing himself in the way only sixteen year olds can.
It was then, that Charles saw them, again.
Bruises, along Edwin’s throat, where his dress shirt was messily unbuttoned, his bowtie undone, the way his hair was disheveled and wavy.,
“Did you meet up with someone?”
Those kisses-
They were supposed to mean something.
Was Charles not enough anymore?
Was he too late?
“What?” Edwin’s hand came up to his collar, his cheeks turning an impressive shade of pink as if he was just reminded of where he was.
Edwin was not Charles’
But how he wanted him to be.
Each other’s.
Like they were for over thirty years.
Before everything changed.
For better and for worse.
“Win…” Charles’ voice was softer than he meant for it to be, just above a whisper, but Edwin looked at him all the same., attention grabbed, and his lovely eyes looked at Charles like he were the most important thing in the universe. “Where did you go?”
Edwin took a shaking breath, his reply on his lips, the door opened.
16 notes · View notes
iheartambss · 2 years ago
Text
You make me com-com-complete
Amber Freeman x Fem Reader
Part 1 | Part 2
summary; After one of Amber’s famous parties end, she can’t help but make you feel good
warnings; Praise, fingering (r receiving), a little possessiveness, edging (r receiving, like once)
a/n; This is so gay LMAO. Also if you’d like to listen to the song while reading there’s a link below :)
Sexy Drug by Falling in Reverse
Tumblr media
You were in Amber's house, which was currently crowded with an overwhelming number of drunk teens because your girlfriend had thrown another one of her famed parties. Everyone was leaving the house, and as soon as the last person left, she turned to you, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you upstairs to her room. When you both entered her room, she shut the door and pinned you against the wall.
"You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this baby" Amber murmured before pulling you into a deep kiss. She gripped your hips and began to grind against you, pulling you into her. You moaned into the kiss as she groaned. She broke the kiss started planting soft kisses on your neck while still grinding against you. She bit down on your neck, causing you to moan. "Fuck Amber..." You said breathlessly.
Amber grinned against your neck before pulling away, causing you to whine. She grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off, then led you over to her bed. She gently pushed you onto it, and you sit up when you feel her straddle you. "God you’re so beautiful" Amber whispered softly before pressing a kiss to your lips. She broke the kiss after a while. "I saw so many people staring at you today baby. It made me want to punch the shit out of them. They need to learn to keep their fucking eyes off of what’s mine" Amber stated, her voice hardening as she spoke.
You chuckle "There's no reason to be jealous baby. You know I'm yours." Amber smirked when she heard that "Yeah?" You smiled and nodded, “Yeah." Amber pushed you onto your back gently, kissing your neck as her hands wandered lower. She runs her fingers up and down your thigh, frustrating you. You let out a whine, which makes her laugh softly. "So needy" Amber murmured into your neck, her hand again running up your thigh. When she got to the zipper of your jeans, she pulled it down and away from you, tugging your jeans off.
Amber then repositioned herself on top of you and started teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties, sliding her fingers back and forth over it. You subconsciously buck your hips into her hand, saying "Please." "You're gonna have to be more specific baby" Amber said as she teased you through your underwear. "Just fuck me... please" you said, frustrated. Amber gave you a mischievous grin, “That's what you wanted baby? How come you didn't say anything sooner?" she offers you an innocent expression. You roll your eyes at her, causing her to chuckle softly.
Amber leans in, "Tell me who owns you” her lips barely brush against yours as she whispered, "then maybe I'll give you what you want." You give her a soft kiss before pulling away after a while, “You do." A smile grew on Amber’s face as she stared down at you with a hungry gaze, "Good girl.” "Who owns you pretty girl?" her grip tightened around your waist as she continued grinding against you. "Fuck... you do" you moaned softly, your hips bucking into hers. Amber kissed your neck as soon as those words left your mouth, "Mine.. All Mine..” she whispered in between kisses. "All yours" you murmur.
Amber groaned softly, her desires spiraling out of control as she started to bite down on your neck. You moan softly “Amber please.” “Please what baby?” Amber said before she pressed a soft kiss on your skin. “Stop teasing” You say breathlessly. Amber’s thumb teased at the waistband of your panties as she gave you a smirk. She leaned in once more, and in a swift move, ripped your panties off, throwing them across the room. With one last look at you, Amber pulled away slowly, taking in your form. She ran her finger along your wet slit, making sure to get all of your juices on her fingertips which drew a moan out of you.
"So pretty” she said, looking down at you lovingly. When Amber felt your hips buck into her hand, she grinned mischievously. She rubbed her thumb over your clit, causing you to squirm underneath her touch “I'm going to make you cum so hard tonight baby.” You arched your back in response to her touch, letting out a soft moan. Seeing you arch your back made her grin before she leaned in to gently nip and suck at the skin of your neck. “You’re such a good girl" she praised as she kept rubbing your clit, occasionally dipping two fingers inside of you just enough to stretch you open "How does it feel baby?”
You tried to answer but couldn’t, your mind felt foggy due to the pleasure. When you didn’t answer, Amber stop her movements making you whine “I asked you a question baby.” “Feels good. Feels so good” You say breathlessly. Amber grins then continues her ministrations “Good girl.” She began thrusting her fingers deeper inside of you, smiling softly when she felt how tight you were around them. You continued to let out noises while she continued her movements. When Amber feels you tighten around her fingers, she smirks “You’re close, aren’t you baby?”
You moved your hips to meet the trusts of Amber’s fingers, nodding. Amber began to kiss your neck again, increasing her pace. She loved watching you lose control under her. You let out a loud moan when she curled her fingers into a spongy spot inside you “I’m gonna cum.” A smirk formed on her lips as she watched you struggle to meet her fingers. "Cum for me then" she whispered as she sped up her movements, wanting nothing more than to see you reach your peak. You let out a choked moan as your hips stutter and cum on her fingers.
Amber smiled softly at you before she pulled her fingers out and licked them clean, letting out a groan at the taste. She laid down next to you, pulling you closer to her and wrapping her arms around your waist. You smile and kiss her cheek “I’ll return the favor tomorrow.” Amber shakes her head “You don’t have to.” “Yeah but I want to” you mumble. Amber smiles softly then pecks your lips “Go to sleep baby.” You close your eyes and drift off to sleep, happily in your girlfriend’s arms. Little did you know… she left the house while you were asleep in the middle of the night wearing a cloak and mask with a knife.
343 notes · View notes
cyanbugremix · 7 months ago
Text
Let's Watch An Adult Movie! - Stories of the Shaw Pack
Characters: 11 yr old David, Ash, and Milo, 15 yr old Madelyn Talbot
CW: None; Fluff
Written in May 2024
Summary: During a sleepover, the boys decided that they were going to have a movie marathon, but they need to pick something. Of course, Asher had a great plan: they could watch an adult movie!
Can be found ✨here on Ao3✨, written by moi (cyan_bug37 on Ao3)
~~~~
“What movie should we watch?” Asher asked, kneeling under the TV and looking through the DVD cabinet. He took out a few that were blocking the back row.
“How are we supposed to know?” Milo leaned forward over the arm of the couch.
“Well if you get down here with me, then you could see,” Asher looked back. Milo shuffled out from under the blanket and leaned down next to Asher.
“What if we watch Ice Age?” Milo’s eyes locked on the blue and white DVD.
Asher hummed in thought, and then he had a great idea. He turned to David with his eyes lit up. “What if we watch an adult movie?”
“Aren't you not allowed to watch adult movies?” David countered.
Asher turned to look at Milo who only shrugged. Milo had watched a lot of rated R movies, more than he probably should have, either late night on the cable network or because it was some of the only movies his parents owned.
“Okay and?”
David adjusted his sitting position. “Won’t you get in trouble?”
David knew that if his dad had found out he watched something he wasn’t supposed to, he might have a very stern conversation about waiting to watch it with his dad so they could talk about if something disturbed him.
“Well my parents aren’t here. Besides Madelyn is in charge. And she won’t care!” Asher continued. He leaned down to the bottom shelf and slid one of the movies out: American Psycho.
“I won’t care about what?” A feminine voice asked. Asher turned to see his sister leaning against the door frame between the entryway and living room. Asher’s eyes looked down at the DVD in hand. His mouth opened to come up with some other excuse, but man, was he a bad liar.
“Ash. Give that to me,” Madelyn walked over before he could respond, Milo scooting out of the way. She snatched it out of Asher’s hands.
“What?! That’s so not cool!” Asher whined. “You watched it with your friends last week!”
He jumped up off of his knees so he could be at his full height.
“Maybe because I’m 15, and you’re barely 11,” Madelyn rolled her eyes. “Besides, I don’t want to get blamed by Mom and Dad if you have nightmares.”
Asher crossed his arms and bore his hatred and annoyance into his stare. Maybe that would get her to give the movie back. . .
Madelyn wasn’t budging.
She rolled her eyes again. “Fine. Chillax. You can watch any PG-13 movie in there, how about that?”
Asher held out his pinky, after a second Madelyn linked hers with his and they both relented.
Asher grinned and dropped himself back down to the floor. “Booyah!”
He would take what he could get.
Madelyn set the movie on one of the shelves before going to walk out of the room. She glanced at David, re-evaluating her decision. “Make sure it’s not too bad of a movie.”
He quietly nodded. With that, Asher's sister left. After a few more minutes of analyzing every possible movie, and checking the back for its rating, Asher had found the new selection.
“Okay! New plan! We’re watching Mean Girls!” He excitedly announced. The cover was pink and it looked like a rom-com to David.
“Looks fine,” David agreed. Milo nodded.
“Sick! Okay. I’ll put this in, and then go start the popcorn,” Asher opened the case and gently took the movie out. The DVD player whirred, loading the movie onto the TV screen, and soon the previews began.
~~~~
As always, I have no ownership or rights to these characters, stories, or franchises. I write this to appreciate the content Redacted ASMR/audio makes. Anything I write is not official in their stories, other than using moments from the original story line. I make no profit from this.
Please don't steal.
24 notes · View notes
beyoursbb · 2 years ago
Text
€uro Tra$h Series: Dipped in $ugar (Part 1)
Pairing: Billy Butcher x You (Reader) || Rating: Explicit || Word Count: 2.4k || Link to Part 2 and Link to Part 3 - final (Timeline for this work is Season 1 btw)
Author’s Note: It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything! So please leave your feedback! Specifically I want to make sure I’m hitting the dialogue right cuz I can’t always imagine how words would sound or how to write them in Butcher’s accent LOL. Also if there’s anything I should add / eliminate / change next time (to make Butcher more accurate or the smut hotter haha) let me know. Thanks for your help and for taking the time to read!
Warnings: sugar daddy / daddy kink (the name daddy is used 4 times), age gap (implied, not specified), oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, swearing, kinda praise kink? (I’d write this better if I could lol)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, luv,” Billy greeted you as he opened the door. You smiled in return and as you stepped forward into his motel room, he immediately captured your lips into a quick, familiar kiss. “Sorry I haven’t been able to take you out proper in awhile.” 
You shrugged. Plenty of sugar daddies required discretion. “If it’s discreet that you need, I don’t judge. I’m happy to see you wherever.” 
He nodded gruffly, and handed you his phone. “Order whatever you want. Gona shower.” 
“You don’t want anything?” 
“I’ll eat something else later,” he smirked, giving you a once over that sent a jolt of excitement through you.
Billy Butcher was hardly your first sugar daddy. You were pretty accustomed to the lifestyle by now and its variations. You had met men from all walks of life who all wanted companionship and intimacy in different forms. Most enjoyed regularly scheduled dates with you a couple times per month, one took you on trips as a travel buddy, and others were more casual acquaintances, like Billy, who would randomly reach out whenever his schedule allowed, and you wouldn’t hear from him again until the next time.
Butcher re-emerged 10 minutes later from the bathroom, wearing only boxers with a towel draped around his neck. It appeared tiny against his broad shoulders and expansive chest. As you stared at his bare, freckled complexion under his taut muscular frame, a similar feeling from earlier electrified your core. You found yourself rising swiftly from your seat and striding toward him confidently. 
He sat on the edge of the bed as he saw you coming, his big hands enveloping your waist as soon as you stood in front of him between his legs. You rested your hands on the towel atop his shoulders and gazed down, studying his hazel eyes, the crinkles in his forehead, his damp hair slicked back in a way that made you consider how smoothly your fingers could run through it. 
“What you starin’ for? C’mere,” Billy grumbled. 
He jerked your body towards himself, one hand flying up to grab the back of your neck as his mouth latched onto the soft skin near your collarbone. You gasped at the contact and steadied yourself from being thrown off balance by gripping the towel and pulling him even closer. Billy sucked a mark into your flesh before you could register the moan that escaped your lips. 
He always made hasty work of you, even the first time after this arrangement had been agreed upon, when nerves were still fresh. Since then, there had been at least half a dozen dates you’ve met for some quick fun, each one well worth your time despite being planned on short notice. In the moment, you couldn’t put your finger on how he turned you on so fast with a simple touch or kiss in the same places you’d been touched and kissed by numerous men before him. 
All you knew was that every little thing he did and every little thing about him made you fucking insatiable. 
Maybe it was his body type — thick, the perfect proportion between dad bod and DILF. His strength was surprising — hidden under that trench coat he wore everywhere — but he wasn’t so ripped that his chest and stomach felt uncomfortably rigid when he was naked against you. His height alone gave you a rush whenever you saw how he towered over others, or barely fit through doorways, or otherwise made his physical presence more domineering than his personality already granted. You wanted nothing more than the overbearing weight of his body to pin you down under him with the sole intent of consuming all of you. 
Or maybe it was his casual cockiness — the fact that he knew you were putty in his hands, that he could do anything he wanted to you, and you would practically thank him. Of course, there was always a give and take of control in a sugar arrangement, but with Billy, you didn’t mind if all he did was take. The time and dedication it took you to curate a personality that was a delicate balance of being submissive enough to appease older men, yet assertive enough to remind them of your expectations to consistently hold their end of the deal, all went out the window when it came to Billy. The money was the last thing on your mind. One flash of that wicked smirk, and you melted on the spot. You instantly relinquished what little control, if any, you had over this affair.
Or it could be — and this was the biggest reason you thought accounted for your deep, inexplicable attraction to him — that you never knew when you’d get to see him again. It could be days, weeks, or months. He told you upfront his life was hectic, which you accepted, but the sporadic nature of your get-togethers was reminiscent of that toxic ex from college who you let in every time he rolled around suggesting you two could still work out to be great friends with benefits. You couldn't help the sex was intoxicating. Unlike with your ex though, you never had any regrets after Billy fucked you. Your friends would laugh at how badly he left you dickmatized: always satisfied and always craving more, never one without the other. Unsure of how long you’d have to go without, you savored the hours spent in between his legs under motel sheets, basking in his lustful gaze, absorbing the timbre of his thick accent that you’d most certainly replay over and over in your mind later. 
You tilted your head back to give Billy more room to maneuver as he continued a trail of kisses and bites up your neck, before switching to the other side. You ignored the itch of his scratchy beard to focus on his hands which were seemingly pinching you everywhere at once — your hips, ass, chest — yet still not touching where you needed him most. In an effort to not get lost in the haze of lust so soon, you threw off the towel from his shoulders and dove your face into his own neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses against it. The heat from the shower rose off Butcher’s skin and he smelled deliciously woodsy. 
“I missed you, Daddy,” you breathed on his collar bone.
Billy groaned, grabbing your chin with one hand and attacking your mouth in a rough, tongue-heavy kiss. He pulled back for a second — too soon for your liking — dragging out his teeth against your bottom lip. Still holding your face, his darkening pupils peered into yours. 
“Daddy missed you too.” 
The glint in his eyes made your breath hitch. It was subtle, but no reaction of yours eluded him. The corner of his mouth turned up just slightly, and you barely swallowed a gulp before you felt yourself being twisted and your back hit the bed with a low thump. Billy’s tongue once again slid between your lips in an instant while his fingers tangled in your hair. You linked your hands behind his neck and did the same, pushing your tongue into his mouth with the intent to taste every bit of him while tugging at his brown locks.
At this point, you were so thoroughly wet, you were certain you had soaked through your leggings, and possibly his underwear too. With Billy on top of you, his length was starting to peek through his boxers. Feeling his hard-on against your thigh suddenly reminded you who was getting paid to do what here. You hoped he didn't notice how your face grew hotter with embarrassment at how much his attention distracted you, while you dipped a hand between your bodies and freed his thick cock all the way. Billy groaned against your mouth and let you provide a few glorious pumps before pushing you back even farther onto the bed covers and pulling up the waistband of his underwear. 
He answered your surprised expression with a hungry look. “I want to taste you first.”
You nodded and sighed in anticipation as he yanked down your leggings and panties, but instead of taking them all the way off, he left them bunched around your ankles, and ducked his head in between your legs, raising your knees onto his shoulders so he was fully trapped under you. His hands caressed your bare thighs, easing them open wider. He dipped his head down to suck on your clit before licking a stripe down and back up your pussy. 
You watched him keenly as he worked his tongue through your folds, his eyes meeting yours every so often to gauge your response. His hazel irises were stunningly gorgeous this close up, and gentle — more of a calming green tone than an impatient gray. He always looked like he genuinely enjoyed pleasuring you. Although you assumed you were far from the only woman in his life, it didn’t matter right now. With his tongue working magic circling around your clit and his low moans signaling he was relishing lapping up your juices, you allowed yourself to feel special being the current focus of his admiration. You closed your eyes now and ran your hands through his hair, concentrating on the sensations building in your core.
Once Billy got you rising, there were only two scenarios of what would happen next: he’d either, more commonly, string you out until you were scream-begging for release, or if he was feeling unusually nice, like tonight, he’d waste no time in finishing you off. So you hummed your approval when you felt a finger prod your entrance, and eagerly bucked your hips into his face when a second digit promptly followed. 
“That’s it, luv,” Billy said as he stroked your inner walls, slowly at first, then picking up the pace as your grip on his hair tightened and your ankles twisted across further behind his neck to hold him in place. Between his mouth swirling more kisses along your sensitive bud and his steady finger-fucking, he was utterly devouring you. “You’re so fucking delicious.”
Your breathing quickened. “Fuck, don’t stop, please.”
Billy knew you were reaching your limit for physical stimulation, and that his words would bring you all the rest of the way to the edge. 
“You look so fuckin’ hot right now, cunt dripping for me.” Billy paused his movement, causing you to open your eyes in time to catch him sucking your wetness clean off his fingers before plunging them into you once more and immediately curling to find that sweet spot that drove you insane. 
“Please,” you whimpered, “I’m so close.” The tidal wave threatening to crash that was your nearing orgasm continued to grow in the pit of your stomach. 
“Then come, darlin’, let me feel you come hard on my fingers. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous when you do.”
With his free hand, Billy reached up to fondle your chest under your shirt, his warm palm enveloping your breast, thumb tweaking your nipple. You arched your back into his touch, craving him still to be impossibly closer as you moaned his name. 
“So fucking tight, you know this pussy’s my favorite.”
With his final praise, your body convulsed, your walls squeezing tightly around his fingers, but Billy didn’t let up for a second. 
“Fuck—” you gasped. “Daddy—”
You didn’t even recognize the noises that spilled out of you, nor were you able to hear more of his flattery as your orgasm wracked through your senses, multiple mini waves washing over you until they finally tapered off. You opened your eyes that had been sealed shut to find Butcher grinning smugly, licking his lips. 
“Feel good, luv?” he asked, knowing you had no words nor energy to adequately express your satisfaction; all you could do was nod as you came down from your high. 
Billy started to rearrange your bodies, releasing himself from your tangled legs to undress you completely in preparation for your second round, but stopped at the sound of his phone vibrating on the table with several texts. You saw a thought flash across his face as he debated checking it for a split second, but when it started ringing, he stalked over, looking disgruntled. 
“This better be fuckin’ rich if you’re bothering me right now,” he answered.
Butcher was turned away from you as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call, but you thought you saw his shoulder muscles tense ever so slightly before his next reply.
“Alrite, for fuck’s sake, calm down. Be there in 15 minutes,” he responded, then ended the call. 
“Work?” you asked, not that you had any idea what his job was anyways. It was a bit of an unspoken rule to not discuss what made a sugar daddy in the first place. They tended to be private with that information. You usually assumed they were high on the corporate ladder or an investor in some big technology company, though Billy had a pretty distinct appearance from that type of man, with his numerous Hawaiian print shirts. You were curious what he did, but never crossed that boundary to inquire. 
He grunted an affirmative. “If I’m not back in an hour, go ahead and leave,” he said, nodding towards the envelope stuffed with cash on the nightstand. “Don’t want to keep you waiting.” 
He threw on jeans and a plain black sweater that hugged his arms, instead of his signature outfit. You fixed your clothes as well, then repositioned yourself against the pillows, fiddling with the TV remote. Billy sat down on the edge next to you as he tied his shoes.
“But if I do come back and you’re here,” his voice was a low growl as he suddenly leaned forward to occupy your space. Your eyes locked with his. “I’m going to fuck that tight wet cunt of yours ‘til I fill you up with my cum.” His hand came up to gently caress your cheek. “You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” 
As much as he had just worn you out, the prospect of his dick doing the same was definitely something you looked forward to. You swallowed as you nodded. 
He cocked an eyebrow.
“Yes, Daddy,” you corrected yourself. 
“One hour,” he repeated, then was out the door before you could say anything more. 
156 notes · View notes
Text
WIP ASK GAME
Rules: You are given a word - share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of that word!
Major thanks to @mistresslrigtar, @aurathian, @fan-girls-r-us for tagging me! Sorry I've been a little MIA on tumblr lately. These excerpts all come from my WIP Echoes and Expectations.
S - She gripped her Trirod, swallowing the lump in her throat once more, trying not to notice the way everyone looked around for the little fairy - searching in vain.
W - When Link made no move toward the pastries, she made herself a little more clear. “You’re welcome to try one, if you want. They’re very good.” 
O - “Oh, Tri! I knew you couldn’t mean what you said! You couldn’t really leave me!” 
R - Regardless, Zelda had her battle-spirit up again. She raised her head high, clutched the etiquette book to her chest, and exited the library. 
D - Despite seeing all the evidence, she could hardly believe that Link was truly ignorant of it. “Horses. You do know what horses are, I trust?”
F - For having such a voracious appetite all other days, the king’s company seemed to temper him. 
A - After having not seen or spoken to him for several days, the picture of Link from her imagination had crept back into her mind, built on the stories of those who he helped before the rift took him.
I - Impa gave her a curious look. “How many of your problems did you solve by arson?”
R - Respectfully, she gave him a slight inclination of her head. “I’ll do what I can, Father.”
Y - “Yes, until then!” She agreed, waving back to him and trying not to appear as much of a fool as she felt.
S - She coughed a few more times, trying to speak, but found she had thoroughly mucked up her chances by inhaling the liquid sugar she called tea. 
U - Upriver, dodging bared teeth and sharp stones, changed in form, unrecognizable.
B - Before Zelda could ask him to elaborate on that, he snapped his fingers, pointing to something behind her.
L - Likewise, learning which utensils to use at supper soon showed off Link’s utter disinterest in anything “proper.”
I - “I’m not asking you to condone it,” Zelda snapped, glancing back at her mentor’s reflection, loosing her nightly braid.
M - “My sword,” Link repeated. “I lost it when I fell in after freeing you from that crystal. Without my weapons, I had no way to escape the Still World.”
E - Even Lueberry, who supposedly knew Link better than anyone, jumped back in surprise.
Thank you again so much for tagging me! To spread the love, I'm tagging @raccoonfiend95, @zeldaelmo, @hurricane105, and anyone else who feels so inclined.
Your word is:
DRAGON
3 notes · View notes
lady-o-ren · 2 years ago
Text
Kiss The Blood From My Hands
For easier reading here's the Ao3 link (HERE)
//
Paris, 1756
Claire Beauchamp finds herself the target of Les Disciples du Mal, an underground cult that her Uncle Lamb had been investigating that ended with his murder. But she finds an unlikely savior in the darkly mysterious James Fraser who marries her to keep her from harm and just maybe to redeem his own tormented soul.
//
"But his flesh upon him shall have pain, and his soul within him shall mourn. "
Job 14:22
P A R I S
1 7 5 6
My husband was a stranger to me when we married some months ago.
All I had known was his name and that he'd been born somewhere in the Scottish Highlands ten years before myself in Oxfordshire yet had the look of a man twice his age, worn from a thousand wretched sleepless nights as I would soon learn.
 We did not share a marriage bed nor did we have love for one another, but there were moments where we found a quiet kinship here in this foreign land not our own. Be it in a shared glance of amusement at the absurdity of the many rules of etiquette we were subjected and expected to follow to an unexpected turn of phrase that tickled the other to a fleeting smile. 
He even indulged my interest in botany by giving me the run of his courtyard to grow a garden of my own, himself admitting to having lost the spirit to foster seed to green a lifetime ago. He never told me why, leaving me to wonder what sort of man he used to be that didn't shrink from the light. 
Our conversations were sparse but cordial. Sometimes strained with awkwardness and an undercurrent of something I couldn't quite explain that resulted in his inability to meet my eye, suddenly at a loss for words, and avoid my presence for long stretches of time. 
It was rather a lonely experience, our marriage, but I counted myself luckier than most. 
My husband was neither cruel nor violent towards me and he certainly never forced himself upon me when he so easily could. He was a good man if more than a bit rough around the edges but it was nothing I couldn't bear. 
Though his nightmares troubled me greatly.
They came infrequently. Loud and sorrowful, bursting with rage, waking me from bed with my heart a pounding, painful fist against my ribs. And the only way he could break the terrible hold these terrors had on his mind was to take to the streets of Paris only to return home well into the next day.
Sometimes I'd catch him coming up the backstairs to his bedroom much to his dismay. His eyes would be bloodshot, his knuckles bruised, reeking of alcohol and perfume that darkened his face with shame. 
I didn't need to ask where he'd been. 
Not that he would ever bear his heart to me. 
Or so I thought . . .
//
I laid awake in bed, staring into the dying flames of the hearthfire, with a copy of Manon Lescaut left abandoned on my lap. I hadn't been able to read more than a few pages of the doomed romance as I was far too distracted thinking about where my own Des Grieux was this awful rainy night.
But then I heard a noise from downstairs that gave my heart a jolt and sent poor Manon flying to the floor as I leapt out of bed, reaching for my robe. 
I hurried down the staircase in a flurry of yellow silk, guided only by the flashes of lightning that shone through the lone window, and called out -
"Jamie! Jamie, is that you?"
But only the howling wind and rain replied, provoking a frightful thought to mind. 
What if it wasn't Jamie downstairs nor even a creeping servant? 
What If . . . 
I shuddered, unable to finish the thought, as I recalled the night Jamie and I had first met. 
The night he had saved my life. 
And I was no better prepared to protect myself than I was back all those months ago.
But just as I inched my cold bare foot backwards on the step, a thin beam of light shot out into the hallway, signaling who the rain had brought home. 
I breathed a sigh of relief and followed the lighted path into the parlor where I stopped myself at the doorway. Struck by the sight of Jamie. 
But it wasn't his imposing figure or striking features that caught my eye - though it did give one the impression that he was made of something more than simple mortal flesh. 
He was leaning against the mantelpiece with water puddling around his boots, holding his right hand against his chest, bloodied black to the cuff of his sleeve.
"Jamie," I gasped, crossing the room. "What's happened to you?" 
Jamie snapped his head at me, sparking the red-gold flame of his hair like hellfire. 
"Away wi' ye," he said sharply. 
"But - " 
"Damn ye, Claire! Do as ye're told. For once." 
I flinched back as if I'd been slapped. 
Jamie never spoke to me out of anger. And scarcely did he ever call me Claire. My name was reserved for formal occasions or as a token of profound gentleness that always made my heart sore right at the center where it bled most tender. 
"I - I'm sorry - I -"
I saw Jamie's face twist with that familiar shade of shame and self-loathing as he bowed his head and thumped the mantle with his good fist, hard enough to disturb the hearth. 
"I'm sorry, lass. I didn't mean to snarl at ye. But I've the devil's temper tonight and canna bear the company. Now, get ye to bed . . . Please." 
The last was said so pitifully that I didn't spare a thought to consider Jamie's plea. Instead I reached for him and took his maimed hand in mine. 
"Push me away if you must but I won't leave you like this. Let me help you for once . . . Please."
I was met with grim silence and readied myself to be thrown out the parlor but then Jamie let out a brandy laced sigh, loosening the tension in his jaw and shoulders soaked from the rain. 
"What choice does a wretched beast like me have when ye've my paw in yer hands. Aye, Sassenach?"
I felt a warmth spread over my cheeks hearing Jamie's name for me that was his alone to speak, and lowered my face, hoping he didn't see. I then carefully peeled the bloodied stiff cuff away from the back of his big hand and tried not to wince.
"I see no thorn here, you poor beast. Unless you pulled it out with your teeth." I meant it in jest, glancing up at Jamie's face, but I found it set in cold hard stone. 
"Who did you hit?" I asked tentatively, imagining masked men in alleyways beneath the dark menacing glow of a blood moon.
 The truth instead broke my heart.
"A mirror," he answered flatly. "I didn'a like what I was seeing."
//
After fetching some much needed dressings for his hand I came back to the parlor and found Jamie as I had left him - By the hearthfire in his wingback chair with a throw I'd taken from the settee in the corner wrapped around him. An improvement over the soggy coat he was wearing that was left to drip over the mantle. 
His eyes were closed and his long legs were stretched out in front of him and for a moment I thought that maybe he'd fallen asleep, but then he cracked one dark eye open to scowl at me.
"Ye're going to enjoy this, aren't ye, Sassenach?" His mouth twitched at the corner and I felt my own do the same. He was only teasing me. 
"No, but I'll try not to laugh when I douse your hand in vinegar," I said, taking my place by his knee, and saw his eyes, circled by shadows and glossy from a night of drinking, twinkle like sapphires in the firelight. 
I set myself to work washing the blood from Jamie's right hand, taking particular care around his battered knuckles where the ugly gash stretched across them. Luckily, it looked worse than it was and would only need a suture or two. 
Here and there I'd glance up at him, watching me with a sort of quiet fascination as I worked, tired as he was. This time he caught my eye and murmured something drowsily, almost longingly, in gaelic. 
"What are you saying up there? Something beastly?" I asked, as I finished bandaging his hand. 
Jamie looked startled, maybe not realizing he had spoken aloud and quickly adjusted his features, cocking his stubbled chin down at me.
"I said that my hands afire with all yer poking and prodding and I'd like to have it back in one piece - Not that I don't appreciate yer mending," he amended, and twitched his nose at a damp forelock that hung low past his brow. 
"Well I'm all done here - I just . . ." I hesitated and bit the inside of my bottom lip. 
It must be now, I thought. For I didn't think I'd ever have the courage to be so forward with him again. 
"I just want you to know that you can talk to me, Jamie," I said softly. "Whatever it is that's troubling you, that keeps you up at night, you needn't suffer alone." 
He stiffened and his right hand would've curled into a fist if I hadn't taken a hold of it. 
"I have to," he said in a tone barely above a rasping whisper, looking down where our hands were linked. "Ye'd never be able to look me in the eye again if ye kent the truth of what haunts me. I couldn'a bear it, Sassenach. "
"Try me," I dared, giving him a little shake by the arm so he'd raise his gaze to mine. " Or do I have more faith in that gallant heart of yours than you have in mine?"
His eyes narrowed with seriousness and no short amount of pain. 
"You have no idea what little faith I had before I met ye, Claire. Tis why I fear losing whatever care ye have for me."
I leaned forward across his knees, my heart in my eyes. "Then trust me Jamie as I've trusted you unequivocally with my life. "
After what seemed a long silence, where I thought I could feel his pulse hammer against my palm, he spoke again.
"There were things done to me against my will that haunt me still," he began, and I saw a tremor ripple down his throat as he swallowed. "Whether I'm awake or when I dream, I feel the touch of the devil himself on my soul. My fear in hell is all that keeps me from taking a knife to my gullet and sometimes even then . . ."
"You don't mean that," I said half choked, feeling the pinprick of tears at the corner of my eyes threatening to fall as I shook my head.
A sad smile tugged on Jamie's mouth as he gently touched my cheek with the back of his good left hand. 
"Aye, ye're right. It was true before but now my life is bound to yers. For as long as ye need me, I'll always be at yer side, mo bheannachd."
I grasped his hand when I felt him pull away. Held it nearly to my throbbing heart. 
"Promise me then or I swear I'll drag you from the pits of hell just to strangle you."
Jamie blinked at me, wide-eyed, clearly caught off guard. Then leaned back into his chair and laughed deeply from his belly. I never heard such a sound from him before. 
"Christ, Sassenach! Only you would seek vengeance on a puir man pouring out his miserable heart to ye." He laughed again, bringing out a much needed flush to his face and clasped his other hand over mine.  
"Aye, I promise. I'll not leave ye. Not until ye find someone worthy of yer heart."
He meant it too. And I felt the truth of it pierce my breast. 
I hadn't given much thought to our arrangement. Our marriage was in name only and would only last for as long as my safety was in jeopardy or if I asked for a divorce.
I never once considered that Jamie might ask one from me if he were ever to find an attachment elsewhere.
"What about your heart, Jamie?" I asked around a hard knot lodged in my throat.
An extraordinary look of tenderness bloomed across Jamie's face that seemed to breathe life back into his soul that beamed bright through the shimmering blue of his eyes. 
"My loyalty is to you, mo ghràidh, and no one else. Not a Laird nor King. Even God would be jealous of such devotion."
I blushed not knowing what to say. I remembered the smell of perfume that sometimes clung to him whenever he'd come home from one of his ventures. 
Jamie then cleared his throat where I saw a red flush arise and carefully flexed his hand in front of his face.
"Thank ye for my hand, Sassenach. Ye've earned yerself a good lie in."
" And you? " I asked when I saw him slouch back into his chair. 
He gathered the throw tighter around him and shrugged. "Dinna fash. I'll stay here till the fire goes out." 
I sat stubbornly back on my heels and pulled my own robe tighter around myself. "Then I'll stay here with you. Maybe it will help."
"Help what? " 
"To keep your demons at bay. That's why you don't sleep. Being alone makes it worse, doesn't it?"
I immediately regretted what I had just said as I watched Jamie retreat into himself. Before I could apologize, he said with a bit of gravel to his voice -
"Do as ye wish, but not on the floor. And I'll put another log on the fire for us." 
I didn't remember falling asleep but I obviously had and woke up in my own bed. Still in my robe. With the faintest impression of something lovely pressed to my cheek.
Not a kiss. 
But warm breathed words, indecipherable, yet spoke to my heart. That swelled and overflowed with love. 
//
A/N: The notes for this are long so hit up ao3 if you're curious.
77 notes · View notes