#teacake x reader

You were pissed. All you asked for was a simple night out with your boyfriend. You just wanted to go out to dinner with him, to forget about the stress in your life for at least a little bit as you focused only on him and some good food.

But you couldn’t have that.

Your boyfriend, notorious for his fast pace thoughts and one track mind, forgot. It slipped his train of thought completely the moment something interesting happened at work with some couple getting into a heated argument over some stupid thing the other tried to hide that he decided he had to watch and then call his friends to tell them all about it with every play by play of the entire thing.

He retold you the entire thing as well. Including the part where he had spent over an hour on the phone with his friends telling them the whole story too. While you were sat at home, alone, waiting for him in your best dress.

Your mood was already sour on your own while the time ticked by, the set reservation window inching closer and closer as you heard no word from Travis. But now that he was with you in person—excitedly rambling in detail again about some stupid thing the woman said to her boyfriend—you were feeling even more bitter than before. It was clear that he forgot about your date entirely. He didn’t even question why you were dressed up, why you had a pretty dress on and your makeup done so delicately.

“Okay, Travis, I get it.” You cut off his rambling. “It’s real funny, sure. I get it.”

You avoided his eyes as Travis paused, his eyebrows furrowing at the sound of your tone. His hands were still in the air, frozen in gesture after you abruptly cut him off, while his smile slipped from his face.

“Okay, what’s up?” He asked, finally dropping his arms.

His eyebrows furrowed even more when all you did was scoff, turning to retreat down the hallway toward your shared bedroom. He didn’t hesitate to follow you, “Hey, seriously, what’s up?”

You almost felt guilty at how confused and hurt he sounded. Almost. If it wasn’t for the fact that you had been sat waiting for three hours, the only notification coming through being an email from the restaurant you were supposed to be at telling you that your reservation had been canceled due to you not showing up. You would’ve felt guilty if you didn’t feel like an idiot, sitting on the verge of tears as one more thing piled onto what felt like an endless list of things bothering you from the last week.

In an effort to try and keep your temper at bay, you ignored him. You stood in front of the vanity in your bedroom, removing your earrings and tossing them carefully into the jewelry dish. The sharp clink of them landing seemed to finally make Travis take in your attire.

His eyes scanned you up and down, and the pieces slowly began to come into place for him in his head. As you removed your necklace next, tossing it down into the dish as well, his shoulders slumped.

“Oh, fuck.” He breathed out. “Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I completely forgot that the date was tonight.”

Your lips were pursed while you didn’t reply, your jaw clenched as you grabbed your makeup remover and began to carefully remove the eye makeup that he always deemed his favorite look on you. You felt so stupid for getting your hopes up that you would have a good night out after countless days of bullshit with your job.

The lack of response from you only made the guilt suddenly gnawing at Travis increase. He shifted on the spot, watching as you angrily tossed the cotton round into the trash and grabbed a new one to use.

“Baby, please.” Travis stepped into the room finally, his voice soft and hesitant. “You have to understand, I forget things easy as fuck.” He tried to excuse himself, laughing in a self deprecating way.

“I’d never do that shit on purpose, you know that.” Travis continued, when you still didn’t reply to him. “You’re the most important person in my life, I promise I’ll make it up to you. Tonight was just a dumb slip up.”

You tossed the other cotton round into the trash, shaking your head. “Whatever, Travis. I don’t want to talk.”

He carefully inched closer to you, as if approaching a ticking time bomb. “Okay, that’s fine. You don’t have to talk.” He replied. “Just let me-“

“Let you what, Travis?” You cut him off, turning to face him finally. It was then that he finally saw the tears falling from your eyes. “I asked you for one thing. One single thing. You couldn’t even do that.”

Travis looked so guilty, as he reached up to run a hand through his hair. “Shit, I know, baby. But I swear to you, I’m gonna take you on the best fucking date of your life tomorrow night.” He promised, his eyes pleading with you as you glared at him.

You rolled your eyes, sniffling, but he shook his head quickly. “I swear, angel.” He hurried before you could say anything again. He stepped closer, his hands reaching for you slowly. “Let me make it up to you in the meantime, yeah?”

Before you could ask him how he could possibly make it up to you now—since your spot at the restaurant was gone and your mood was too sour to actually do anything anymore—Travis sank to his knees in front of you.

His hands slowly slid up your thighs, carefully pushing the hem of your dress up the slightest bit. “This okay?” He asked, gazing up at you with a tender look. “Tell me to fuck off if you’re not in the mood for this.”

You responded by tangling a hand in his hair, giving him a small hum and a nod of confirmation. He smiled eagerly, pressing a kiss to your soft thigh. “Thank you, angel. Gonna make you feel so good.”

Travis pushed your dress up more, exposing the pretty pair of lacy panties you had on. He cursed under his breath as he took in the view, “Fuck, doll, all this for me?” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your pussy through the lace before breathing in slowly.

Your body shuddered, the stress from the last week and the high emotions from tonight were making you feel so sensitive and needy. You desperately wanted to just shut your mind off for a while and let him take the lead, let him make you feel good. You nodded, your eyes trained on him.

He pressed another kiss there, “Good girl.” He hummed, his tongue flattening against you through the thin material.

The warm heat of his mouth made you grow wetter, your breathing becoming heavier while his tongue worked at you through your panties. Your eyes slipped shut, and his mouth moved to kiss and suck at your inner thighs while his hands hooked in the waistband of your panties.

He tugged them down, helping you carefully step out of them before he shoved them into the pocket of his jeans. He guided your legs further apart for him, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder as he leaned in.

Once his mouth met your soaked pussy, the anger and sadness from earlier seemed to quiet down to nearly nothing at all but a dull hum in the back of your mind. Your head fell back, the vanity edge digging into your lower back while Travis ran his tongue through your folds. He then circled your clit, sucking it into his mouth—his tongue lapping at it in smooth motions.

“Trav–“ You whimpered, your hand tugging at his hair.

His hands gripped your thighs, his eyes shut in focus while he devoured you. His cock was throbbing in his jeans already, just from the way you tasted, smelled, and sounded. You both felt so drunk on each other, so absorbed in everything happening. Travis continued lapping at your clit with his tongue, his rough hands squeezing your soft thighs while he moaned against your cunt.

Your hips began to move, grinding against his face while he ate you out. A small hum of approval came from him, burying his face deeper between your legs all while his tongue dipped down to prod at your hole.

You were barely able to keep yourself standing, your legs felt like jelly from how good he was at eating you out. His favorite thing to do was to lay on his stomach between your thighs in bed, tongue working at you while you did something simple like read your book, or watch a show, or scroll your phone. He loved giving you head, and he was always so good at what he did. He knew all of the ways to make you tremble, everything that made you tick and arch your back as you came for him with his name on your lips.

Travis supported your weight with his tight grip, pressing you further back against the vanity as his fingers dug into the plush skin of your thighs. The leg hooked over his shoulder was shaking, your knee wobbling on your other one. You would’ve stumbled over if it wasn’t for him holding you up. He opened his eyes for a moment to peek up at you, taking in the view of you with your lips parted as you gazed down at him through lidded eyes.

He pulled back for a moment, “You’re so pretty, baby.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh and gently biting at the skin there. “Always so pretty for me.”

His mouth went back to working at your clit again, his lips closing around it as he slurped gently. The sound made your cheeks blaze red, a shy and shaky moan escaping you. The reason for your bad mood had completely left your mind, no longer angry at him and instead craving him so intensely that it made your stomach tighten in pure want.

“I’m so close, don’t stop.” You whimpered, your hips pressing more insistently against his face.

Travis answered by moving one of his hands, two of his fingers prodding at your hole while his tongue focused on your clit. The loud moan that left you when his fingers slowly slid into you made him groan in return.

You clenched around his fingers, throwing your head back while he pulled away to hold your thighs apart so he could take in the sight between your legs. Your pussy was soaked, dripping for him, and he licked his lips hungrily as he began moving his fingers at a quick pace.

“Gonna cum for me, doll?” He asked, his breathing heavy as he shifted on his knees and curled his fingers just right. “Come on, pretty baby, cum on my fingers.”

He sounded desperate, his voice shaky. He was throbbing in his jeans, his cock was aching and his boxers were ruined with pre-cum. Travis let go of your thigh, that hand instead moving to palm at his hard cock through the thick material of his jeans.

He groaned quietly, cursing under his breath. “Fuck, you see what you do to me?” He asked, diving back in to give your clit attention again with quick flicks of his tongue.

With a few more seconds of his tongue at your clit and his fingers stuffed deep inside of you, it didn’t take long for you to tip over the edge. You gasped, your hole fluttering around him as you came with a moan of his name. Your hand pulled roughly at his hair, pressing his face against your cunt as you finished for him.

You nearly fell, your body slumping fully against the vanity. Travis laughed softly against you, pulling his fingers out and his face away when you finished. He steadied you as he lowered your leg from his shoulder, his warm hands firmly grasping your hips.

“Easy, baby.” He soothed gently, smoothing your dress back into place again.

Travis looked up at you from his place on the floor before you, his mouth glistening with your arousal. “You still mad at me?” He asked, looking far too smug.

You replied by reaching out shakily, flicking his cheek. “Shut up, T.”

He stood finally, his knees cracking as he winced and groaned. Despite the discomfort of being in that position for long, he still looked completely content and pleased with himself. He tugged you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head.

Last week you were in Teacake’s apartment, having some takeout and watching a movie because by some miracle you both had a Friday off and no social life. The TV was playing some action movie neither of you had been paying attention to because Teacake kept making comments about every single thing that happened on the screen and then going on a tangent about how this or that character reminded him of someone that had walked into the facility that day.

Your feet were resting on his lap, your legs stretched out across the couch between you, while both of you ate straight from the containers. Well, while you ate, Teacake had already inhaled his food and was now absentmindedly rubbing circles on your ankle when he wasn't busy stealing food from your container.

You looked down just in time to catch him reaching over with his fork.

“Did you not have enough of your own food?”

He froze, fork halfway there.

“Yours tastes better” he shrugged, unbothered.

You just rolled your eyes and moved your food closer to him.

The credits rolled eventually and you both stayed exactly where you were, your feet still on Teacake’s lap, and the apartment settled into that comfortable (although unusual) kind of quiet.

Teacake was scrolling through his phone, when you could tell something suddenly caught his attention. He was staring at his screen with his eyebrows pulled together like he was trying to figure something out.

You glanced over, frowning.

“What?”

He looked up at you, with a suspicious glint in his eye.

“Remember that list I told you about?” he smirked.

Oh no. Because you did remember. The one he’d made while he was still in jail. Teacake’s Freedom List. Things he wanted to do when he got out. Things he missed. Things he wanted to try out. A messy collection of ideas, small goals, and things that mattered more than he’d ever admit.

 Some things were stupid. ‘Convince somebody I've got a twin for at least five minutes.’

“Come on, it’s fun! It’s like bein’ an undercover cop or some shit”, he bumped your shoulder with his.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re such a weirdo.”

Another one was ‘Win one of those claw machines.’

“Dunno why that got so stuck in my head,” he shrugged “I just always thought ‘how hard can it be?’ Well, turns out, real hard. There was this little penguin wearing a scarf. Which, honestly, was kinda unnecessary because it's a penguin. Like, that's literally their whole thing, right? Not even a good one, which is the funny thing. Kinda weird lookin'. Like now that I think about it, probably not even the best toy in the machine. But he was cute, with his little scarf and everythin’. I dunno, it just looked like somethin' you'd like. And it made me think of you cause you’re always cold and then you do that thing where you put your hands on me to warm up like I’m some kinda personal heater. So I thought, alright, I'll get it for you. I try once. Didn't get it. Whatever, no big deal. I try again. Still didn't get it. Ended up spendin' like fifteen minutes on that damn thing. Kept gettin' it halfway up and then it'd drop, and I swear it was that damn scarf.”

He pointed at you.

 “So truly…it’s your fault.”

You scoffed.

“… and after about the tenth try it was just a matter of pride, you feel me? Didn't even realize there were people behind me 'til I finally looked up and there were all these kids just starin' at me. I was like, okay, yeah... maybe I should give up. I was so close. I could feel it. That’s how they get you, I’m telling ya. So now I have to go back, because technically I didn’t finish that one… hey, are you listening?”

You smiled at him as something warm settled somewhere in your chest, and you decided to ignore it.

On paper, the list sounded ridiculous. Almost all of it.

But you knew better than to brush it off. Because it wasn’t really about the things themselves. It was about the little pieces of a life he’d been waiting to get back to.

Things most people never thought twice about. The things he’d missed. Things you never thought about until someone took them away. Things he’d imagined doing when he finally had the chance. New experiences he couldn’t wait to try. Even if those experiences were trying to get a penguin with a scarf from a claw machine. And maybe you liked being part of those experiences more than you should have.

It wasn’t all chaotic though, some were so ordinary and yet so meaningful they felt like a punch in the gut when you heard about them. ‘Take a walk with nowhere to be.’ Not some huge adventure. Just a walk.

But you knew what that meant for him. Because you noticed. You knew because sometimes he’d stand outside his apartment for a few extra seconds before going in. You knew because every now and then he’d look at you with this quiet little smile, like he still couldn’t believe this was his life now.

Like he was still getting used to having time that belonged to him.

Maybe that was the problem. You noticed a bit too much. And maybe you were also starting to notice that you might want your time to be a bit his too.

Somewhere along the way, your feelings for Teacake had shifted. And you didn’t know how to feel about that. At first, you just thought it was you missing him after so much time without him. That you had missed his stupid jokes, his voice, the way he always seemed to know when something was wrong or when he looked at you with that familiar smile that made everything feel better. Of course you’d want to spend more time with him. Of course you’d feel your chest tighten every time he laughed. You had missed your best friend.

But when those feelings didn’t go away, you started to realize that maybe it wasn’t just because you had missed him.

So naturally, you tried to ignore it and push those thoughts away. But sometimes you caught yourself looking at him a little too long. And you’d have to look away. Because you weren’t ready to admit what that meant.

“I remember,” you replied, softer than you meant to.

He smiled, apparently that was all the encouragement he needed.

He turned over the phone wordlessly. It was some article about a ridiculously expensive wedding. One of those where people wear suits that cost more than your car, the venue looks like something out of a movie and a person with allergies’ nightmares, and the food had names no one could pronounce.

You stared at the screen. Then back at him. Then at the screen again.

“It’s a wedding,” you deadpanned.

He frowned.

“I know it’s a wedding, dummy.”

“Well, what do you want me to say, Tea? It looks like another rich people wedding to me.”

He just kept looking between you and his screen shifting slightly on the couch as he tried and failed to hide the smile pulling at his lips.

“Why are you showing me this?” you narrowed your eyes.

His smile widened at your question.

“I still got stuff on there.”

Which is how you now found yourself in the middle of a conversation with Aunt... Lisa? Linda? about how absolutely exhausting finding a nanny for your toddler is these days but “you just have to put in the effort if you want to go to The Hamptons, you know?”

“Right,” you nodded like you had any idea what you were talking about. "Can't have the wrong nanny in... the Hamptons.”

You had walked in waiting for someone to stop you at any second, notice you weren't on the guest list, call security to escort the two of you out, and with the night ending with Teacake behind bars again.

Turns out, there was nothing to worry about. People just assumed you belonged there. That was apparently the secret. Show up, look more or less sharp and just walk around like you had the right to be there. And sure, maybe it was because everyone was too busy looking at themselves to look at you too closely but hey, you weren’t going to complain about that. You were, however, going to complain about being abandoned fifteen minutes in to a group of people talking about things like summer houses, annoying husbands, and which places were “too crowded” this time of year.

She laughed like you had said something hilarious. God, even her laughter sounded expensive.

“Oh, honey, not in the Hamptons,” she corrected, touching your arm like she was talking to a child “For the Hamptons. I love him, of course, but bringing a toddler to The Hamptons is not very relaxing, now, is it?”

Right. Because who would want to make memories with their child when they could be relaxing. Your bad.

“Right. Wouldn’t want him getting in the way of your… relaxing.”

“Exactly! You get it,” she smiled, satisfied with your answer.

The venue looked like something out of a period drama, all stone and huge windows overlooking beautiful gardens. The lawn had been turned into a reception space under the open sky, warm lights wrapped around and between the trees, flowers covered every table and there even was a huge ice swan because of course there was.

Waiters moved through the lawn with trays full of champagne and tiny pieces of food that Teacake got his hands on immediately. Somewhere near, music played softly in the background, mixing with the sound of conversations, laughter, and glasses clinking.

You looked across the crowd of perfect hair and expensive suits until you finally found him on the other side of the lawn, doing exactly what you expected. Talking. He was laughing with an old lady like he'd known her for years. He caught your eye for a second, and the corner of his mouth lifted, letting you know he was enjoying this way more than he should, before turning back to whatever conversation he had somehow charmed his way into.

He was loving this, you could tell. Everything about this place was ridiculous, and Teacake was loving all of it.

“Like, look at this. Look at the flowers. Who needs that many flowers? What happens after? They just throw 'em away? Somebody’s gotta clean all that up. And look at that cake,” he pointed at the admittedly ridiculous cake “The thing’s taller than me!”

“Look,” he pointed behind you.

You followed his gaze.

A waiter walked past carrying a tray of tiny appetizers. He immediately grabbed one of each. You stared at him.

“Are you serious?”

“What?” He shrugged, completely unapologetic, “They’re free”

“Everything is free, we shouldn’t be here” you reminded him.

“Oh, come on,” he poked your side. “you tellin’ me you weren’t even a bit curious to see what these rich folks’ weddings look like?”

You rolled your eyes at him, fighting the smile that was starting to appear when he shoved one of the appetizers into his mouth.

Before you could figure out a way to leave the conversation to grab another glass of champagne before you could rip your hair out, a voice interrupted you.

“There you are!”

A woman you didn’t recognize was making her way towards you. She had perfect curls, a dress you were sure cost more than your entire wardrobe and she was smiling at you like you were old friends.

“I was wondering when I’d get a chance to congratulate you, darling.”

“Excuse me?”

Her smile widened.

“On your engagement, of course.”

You stared at her, certain you had misheard her, or that she had you confused with someone else.

“My… engagement,” you repeated, because it was the only thing your brain managed to come up with.

“Yes!” she said excitedly “Your fiancé told my husband the happy news”

“… My what?” you asked dumbly. Your brain had stopped working. It was already halfway there when Aunt Lisa (Linda?) started talking about the importance of knowing your ‘seasonal color’ but this was the little push it needed to completely turn into mush.

“Oh, it must have been very recent,” she said with a small laugh “you don’t seem very used to the word yet.”

Yes. So recent it appeared you had become engaged at some point in the last thirty minutes.

“You two are just adorable,” she continued, unaware you were barely paying attention “I knew it the moment I saw you together.”

Teacake. Of course.

“Really,” you deadpanned.

“Yes,” she replied, completely serious. “It’s the way you two look at each other. Very sweet.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Nope. You were not going to dwell on that.

“Excuse me,” you forced a smile “I need to find my… fiancé”

You looked across the lawn. He looked good. Annoyingly good. The kind of good that made you forget you were supposed to be annoyed. His bleached hair was slightly messy, a few pieces falling forward from the breeze, his top button undone, and his arms were moving with the story he was telling. And he was far too unbothered.

Fine. If he wanted to play pretend, you could play pretend. Except you were going to have more fun with it than he was.

You narrowed your eyes. And started toward him.

“There she is! The lovely fiancé.”

The woman next to Teacake was exactly what you would expect to find at one of these weddings. She was older, probably in her seventies. Grey hair in place, a pearl necklace and a… Transatlantic accent? that seemed too practiced to be real.

“Here I am” you forced a smile.

“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, darling,” the old lady, who introduced herself as Ethel, added “you must be so happy.”

“So very happy,” you said, way too sweetly. Then you slipped your arm through Teacake’s and leaned in “Aren’t we, teacup?”

Teacake froze. He looked down at you like you had lost your mind. And when he saw your expression, he immediately realized what you were doing. You smiled wider at the panic in his eyes. Good.

“I was so sorry to hear about the ring,” Ethel said, with a sympathetic shake of her head, “How awful.”

“Right,” you falltered “The… ring.”

The non-existent ring.

“I simply cannot believe someone would steal such a valuable thing,” she continued, devastated for you “A family heirloom. And your twin brother at that!” she placed her gloved hand on her chest.

You looked at Teacake, trying to process what you were hearing. Oh, he had gone all out, hadn’t he? And he had clearly sold it, because Margaret looked heartbroken.

“Oh, my poor sweetcheeks,” you said softly, giving his arm a gentle squeeze “he was so devastated. He even tried to confront him. He is so brave, aren’t you, honeybear?”

Teacake’s eyes dropped to where you were touching him and he visibly swallowed.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she said warmly. “That must have been terribly difficult. Especially knowing he left the country with the ring…”

Jesus Christ.

“It was, but my pumpkin is so considerate,” you sighed dramatically, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“What’s with the names?” he hissed quietly, looking down at you.

“What?” you looked up at him and smiled innocently “it’s just what I call my fiancé.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll laugh about it one day,” Ethel said with a reassuring smile.

“Oh, I’m sure we will. My darling cinnamon roll always sees the bright side,” you smiled brightly.

Ethel blinked. Apparently, that was too much even for her.

“Oh yeah, I call him that sometimes. Because he’s as sweet, soft and delicious as a cinnamon roll,” you patted his cheek.

Teacake’s ears turned a funny shade of red, and you had to stop yourself from laughing.

“You two are adorable, I must say,” Ethel said, looking between the two of you, unaware of the chaos unfolding in front of her.

“He’s very affectionate,” you sighed “but he’s also very shy, my snugglebug.”

His blush somehow got worse, if that was even possible.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” you whispered in his ear, barely containing your laughter.

It seems that was enough for Teacake. He straightened his posture, narrowed his eyes…

And decided to tease you right back.

“You two really seem comfortable with each other,” Ethel continued “you don’t see that with couples these days, it’s quite endearing.”

Suddenly, he grabbed you by the waist, pulled you closer, and pressed you gently back against his chest.

“Oh, yeah,” he said by your ear “we can’t get enough of each other. Especially her.”

You turned your head so fast you almost knocked your forehead into his chin.

You had lost control of the situation too quickly for your liking. Because he was too close. You couldn’t focus on anything but his breath on your ear, his warm chest pressed against your back, and his hand on your waist. You needed to get it together. This was your best friend. The man who had ‘Eat an entire cheesecake’ in his Freedom List. (And who had lost a fight with a claw machine just to get you a stupid penguin, but that was besides the point).

Get it together.

“Is that what you think?” you asked, trying to ignore how breathless you sounded.

“I don’t think it, I know it,” he smirked, looking smug.

You snorted.

"What's funny?" he frowned at you.

You leaned in a bit.

“That you actually believe that.”

Teacake's eyebrows lifted and his eyes dropped for a second.

"Believe what?" Now he was the one who sounded out of breath.

“That I’m the one who can’t get enough,” you tilted your head.

His mouth opened slightly. Then closed.

“Because from where I'm standing...” you leaned in even closer. His hand at your waist shifted, his fingers moving against your side. His eyes flickered down again. “...I think you're the one who's always finding reasons to stay close.”

Ethel laughed, thinking she was just watching just two people bickering. And you two were used to this. Bickering. Bantering. That was normal. Except normally his hand wasn't resting on your waist. Or your back was against his chest. Or your noses were nearly brushing.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

And he grinned.

After another hour of pretending to be a perfect couple and suffering through a few more enthusiastic congratulations from people you had never seen before, and hoped to never see again (God, how many people had he talked to?), you and Teacake finally managed to escape to a corner of the ridiculously lavish estate’s ballroom the newlyweds had rushed everyone into to witness their first dance.

Huge chandeliers, polished marble floors, and flowers decorated everywhere you looked. The orchestra was playing a romantic melody while guests gathered around the dance floor.

“You know, I thought we wouldn’t last this long,” you admitted, “and, I hate to say it, but I’m kind of having fun.”

“I t—”

“I swear to God, if you say ‘I told you so’, I’m telling everyone, walking out and leaving you to deal with the consequences,” you warned.

His hands raised in mock defense, and you both fell silent for a moment after that. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and his gaze softened.

“I’m glad you’re doing this with me”

“The stupid list?” you frowned.

“All of it. Thank you. For staying. I know it sounds obvious, but... you didn't have to and to be honest, there were moments when it would have been easier not to. I wouldn’t have blamed ya” he was looking at you with an intensity you started to think your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

You frowned. Where was this coming from?

“So, yeah, thank you, I guess,” his eyes widened a bit “Not guess! I mean. I mean it”

His hand moved a bit more securely against your waist, and he started to gently brush circles with his thumb against your side.

The thing is, you didn’t know what you were expecting going in. But what you weren’t expecting was how right this would feel like. His hand hadn’t moved from your waist in the last hour, and you found yourself missing it when he removed it to grab a drink. Every time he grabbed your hand when he introduced you as his fiancé and smiled at you, something in your chest fluttered so violently you had to look away. This wasn’t real. This was your best friend. Yet none of it felt weird. And you found yourself craving more.

You were about to say something, anything, when you heard a tiny voice behind you.

“I like your dress.”

You both looked down. A little girl stood in front of you staring at you with wide eyes. She was wearing a pink, sparkly dress and had one of those mini purses rich people seemed so fond of and probably didn’t fit anything, but in her it looked adorable.

“Oh, thank you” you smiled at her “I like yours better. I love glitter.”

The little girl gave you the biggest smile you had ever seen. She looked at you like you had just given her the greatest compliment in the world, and you thought this might be the most adorable child you had ever encountered.

“Your hair is pretty too” she suddenly glanced at Teacake and said, “Yours is funny.”

You snorted at Teacake’s expression. You had never seen a grown man look more offended in his life.

“You look like Ken,” she added.

He blinked. That did it. You started laughing.

“And why are you laughing?” he accused, his eyes narrowing.

“Because you just look so offended and… she does have a point.”

“Okay. First of all. I do not look like Ken. And hey, I have nothin’ against Ken, alright? Ken's cool. Ken is fine. But I am not like him. Ken’s like… preppy. And he has that whole beach thing goin’ on. Me? I’m cool. And this” he pointed to his hair “is not toy hair. This is cool bleached hair, okay?”

“You’re cool,” you repeated.

“Yeah! Like, take skatin’, that was on my list. You won’t see Ken skatin’,” he scoffed, like he had made a point.

“Oh, you mean when you broke your wrist?” you raised your eyebrow.

“Okay that’s besides the point,” he waved a hand “and I still did it”

So had Ken, but you wouldn’t tell him that.

“Don’t worry Tea, anywhere else you’d be a ten,” you patted his cheek.

“Hey—”

“You two argue a lot,” the little girl observed.

You both turned to her at the same time. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just stared at her.

“That means you like each other,” She stated, nodding to herself. If she hadn’t completely thrown you, you would have found the confidence with which she said it hilarious.

“What?” you sputtered.

You felt Teacake freeze beside you. Before any of you could say anything, she kept going.

“My mommy and daddy argue all the time too. And they’re married. But they make each other laugh after.”

She suddenly turned her head towards Teacake and looked at him with a seriousness that didn’t match her age. You didn’t know at what point this had turned into an interrogation.

“Do you make her laugh?”

You looked at Teacake. The playful look he always wore faded into something softer. His eyes moved over your face for a moment, and then he smiled.

“I try” he said quietly.

“Do you make him happy?” the little girl turned her attention to you.

You froze. Because you realized that this wasn’t part of the act anymore. These were real questions. Not questions about fake twin brothers or how long you had been together. This was about your real relationship.

Teacake answered before you had the chance to. He still had his hand around your waist. His thumb moved once, twice, against your side.

“She does.”

And he said it so naturally. Like it was a universal truth. A fact. Like someone had asked him his name. The answer came to him immediately, like didn’t have to think about it. And something in your chest loosened.

You looked back at him and put your hand over the one he had on your waist. A small gesture, but you noticed the change in his expression, his eyes dropping to both of your hands and a shy smile spread over his face.

The little girl nodded to herself, like she had just confirmed something very important.

“Good,” she said. And with that, apparently satisfied, she left, her little purse swinging at her side.

The newlyweds moved to the dance floor after that and for a minute you and Teacake watched them in silence, still in the same position you were in when the little girl left. You felt Teacake shift, and when you turned to look at him, he was already looking at you.

“You know, if there was a chance we wouldn’t get caught…” he said quietly, “I’d ask you to dance.”

You felt yourself smiling before you could stop it.

“If you asked,” you whispered. “I'd say yes.”

He turned you so you faced him, his hand still on your waist, and reached for your other hand. He held it and his thumb brushed gently across your ring finger. Your breath caught. And you swore a hundred butterflies decided to take flight in your stomach.

“Good,” he breathed with the gentlest smile you had ever seen on him.

His eyes flickered down, just briefly. And suddenly, you were aware of everything. How close you were, his thumb still brushing the place where your supposed engagement ring should be, his hand on your waist…

Before any of you could say anything else, a loud cheer erupted through the room when a very drunk groomsman encouraged everyone to go down to the gardens to watch the fireworks show.

You raised your eyebrows at Teacake and mouthed “fireworks?”. He just smirked, tugged at your hand and quickly made for the door with the rest of the guests.

“Tea, we can’t watch go watch them,” you whispered, trying not to laugh “the bride and groom will be there.”

“I know,” he didn’t even slow down. “You think I’m stupid?”

You stopped in your tracks, which made him stop suddenly with you, and looked at him dead in the eye.

“You’re not stupid,” you said firmly.

He had said it jokingly, but you knew he was still beating himself up over getting tricked into helping someone do something that put him in jail. And you couldn’t bear the thought of him blaming himself for just wanting to help someone and feeling bad about that. He just trusted the wrong person, that was all.

His eyes roamed over your face, searching for something, and something in his face softened.

“Okay,” he smiled. He interlocked his fingers with yours and squeezed your hand. “Let’s go.”

Teacake led you to a balcony hidden away from the rest of the wedding, overlooking the gardens but not directly above. You could still hear the music from the ballroom through the open doors behind you, but it was softer from this distance. Somewhere in the gardens below, you could hear people cheering and laughing.

For the first time all evening, everything slowed down. The air smelled faintly of gunpowder from the fireworks, the flowers from the garden, and the cologne Teacake was wearing.

You both watched the gardens and the firework show in silence. Out of the corner of your eye, you could feel Teacake shift beside you. His fingers tapped against the stone railing, stopped, then began again. You could see from time to time he would look at you, then back at the gardens and the sky.

You knew Teacake better than you knew yourself. He always had something to say. Sometimes, even too much, which was one of the things you found endearing about him. If something was bothering him, he usually talked more, not less.

“Hey,” you called softly, “you okay?”

“Huh?” his head turned quickly, “Yeah. Yeah, no. I’m good. So good. Everything’s great.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Okay. Maybe not.”

You watched him carefully in the silence the end of the show had left, but he was looking everywhere except you. At the stone floor, at the sky, at the gardens. Anywhere but you. And every moment your eyes caught his he would avert his gaze so fast you would think you were going to turn him into stone. It would be funny if he wasn’t starting to worry you.

“Tea?” you said gently.

His eyes finally found yours and stayed there. He closed them for a brief second and took a deep breath. You thought you heard him whisper ‘okay, okay’ to himself but you weren’t too sure.

“Look, I know I’m probably going to mess all this up, but…” he sighed, signaling the space between you “I can’t it hold it anymore. Not after today. Which didn’t go how I was expectin’ it to go, lemme tell you that.”

He laughed nervously, shaking his head.

“I thought ‘hey it’s just another stupid item on the list’, right? No big deal. But then you walked out in that dress, and it reminded me of this poem, right, one I had to memorize in Ellsworth for Explorations in Poetry, and that was like the shortest one in there, but it was cool. ‘She walks in beauty’, or some shit like that. And I didn’t know what that guy was on about. I mean, I knew what he was sayin’, but I didn’t know know. What he meant, you know what I mean?” his voice softened “‘Til I saw you in that dress this mornin’. And I thought ‘Well shit, maybe I’m screwed’. And maybe that guy had a point. What I mean to say is…”

He took a deep breath.

“I like you” he admitted “Like… a lot. I think I might love you, to be honest with you”

He swallowed hard and he looked away.

“And I know you deserve way better than a guy who was in jail because he was too stupid to realize he was getting played. I know that, okay?” he looked back at you “But… I am tryin’ to be better.”

For a moment, you forgot how to breathe. Your heart was pounding so hard you thought it was going to beat out of your chest. Because you didn’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“Teacake…” you breathed.

You wanted to say a lot of things. That you didn't care about some mistake he made years ago. That you saw how hard he was trying to start a new life. That you felt the same. The words didn’t come. You just stared at him, trying to process the fact that Teacake, your best friend, who you had spent so long trying not to think about in that way, was standing in front of you saying the exact thing you had been too afraid to admit to yourself you wanted to hear.

He took your silence the wrong way.

“Look... you don't gotta say anythin'. I get it. We can just pretend I never said any of this, and I won’t make it weird. I just thought you should kn—”

“Travis.”

He stopped abruptly.

“Okay” he nodded to himself. “First name. Not a great sign. Was it the poem thing? I knew the poem was too much. Shit, I should’ve skipped the poem. Yeah, the poem was—”

You could see he was already starting to spiral. So, you did the first thing you could think of to shut him up.

You kissed him.

For a second, he went completely still. His hands stayed at his sides, like he was afraid to touch you.

Just when you were about to pull away, he sighed into your mouth, held the back of your neck softly and kissed you back so sweetly you thought your heart might burst. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that caught you off guard. His thumb brushed slowly across your cheekbone, the touch so gentle it made your breath catch, and you felt him smile against your lips.

When you tangled one hand in his hair and grabbed the front of his suit with the other to pull him closer, he pressed you gently against the stone wall next to you. And the kiss wasn’t hesitant anymore. He kissed you with an intensity that made your heart race, like he had been waiting years to do it. Your fingers tightened on his hair and a quiet groan escaped him against your lips. The sound sent a rush through you, and he pulled you even closer. Your lips parted slightly and he immediately took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. All you could focus on was Teacake, the heat of his mouth and the feeling of his hands on your waist.

After what felt like hours but was maybe minutes, you both pulled apart breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. He pressed his forehead to yours and opened his eyes. His hair was messy from your hands, his lips swollen and he looked like he had lost his bearings. You smiled at the sight.

“Hi” you breathed.

“Wow. Hi,” he looked dazed.

You laughed and tried to enjoy the unusual sight of a speechless Teacake for a bit longer, but you were feeling too happy.

“For the record… I think I might love you too,” you confessed softly.

He blinked.

“I know,” he blurted out.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling.

“I know I love you!” he clarified quickly “Not that I knew you love me. Obviously. I would never assume something like that. Honestly, I’m still surprised you kissed me” he paused, looking uncertain for a moment. His eyes dropped for a second, then they returned to yours a bit more hesitant “Are you sure? Because I know I’m like… a lot. And I’m a fuck-up and a mess and definitely not boyfriend material. Hell, I’m not even sure I'm friend mat—”

You put your hand on his cheek and gently placed your thumb on his lips to stop his rambling. He turned his head and kissed your palm. His eyes held a vulnerability you had never seen before. Like he still wasn't sure he was worth choosing. How could he think he wasn’t enough?

“You keep talking like I don’t know who you are,” your voice softend as your thumb brushed his cheek. “I knew you before, Travis. Before everything that happened.”

“You’re ridiculous. You’re a pain in the ass sometimes.” A small smile tugged at your lips. “You tap your fingers when you’re thinking. You steal my food and then act offended if I call you out. You notice when someone’s having a bad day. You remember the smallest things people tell you because you actually listen.”

His expression softened and he gave your waist a little squeeze.

“And I know you trusted someone you shouldn’t have. I know they made you think they needed your help, and you didn’t think twice about it because you thought you were helping. Because that’s just who you are. You care. You care so much that sometimes you forget to think about yourself,” you smiled softly at him “And I love that you still choose kindness after everything that’s happened to you. I love how you show up, how you make me feel safe, how you make me laugh and make everything feel a little less hard.”

You gently grabbed his face with both of your hands so you could really make him understand. You needed him to understand.

“I know you,” you whispered “And… I know I love you too.”

Teacake stared at you for a second, and he let out a soft laugh. Then he leaned in and kissed you. When he pulled back, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours.

For a moment, you just stayed there smiling at each other.

You took in your surroundings. And you started laughing. Because of course this was how it happened. Your first kiss and the moment you admitted you love your best friend happened at a wedding you weren’t even invited to. It felt ridiculous and yet so appropriate.

And maybe that was why, five minutes later, when everything went wrong, when someone finally realized there were two people at this wedding who shouldn’t be here, when security started making their way to you, when Teacake looked at you with that familiar glint in his eye…

You already knew you were going to run.

“Hey, sugarplum? Is this a bad time to tell you another item on the list is ‘Run a marathon’?”

To my friends and all the writers who keep fandom alive, thank you for what you do.

feel free to share your thoughts with me, but be nice this is the first thing i've written and i'm fragile

dividers by @moonstoneandmoonlight @starrliqhtt @strangergraphics and @saradika-graphics

It’s Friday; regular mandated girl’s night. You’re all sprawled across the sectional, legs tangled, empty wine glasses dotted across the coffee table, the air filled with gossip and laughter.

 “He was just so bad at it… imagine a cat drinking milk. Literally, no difference,” Jess groans, tipping her head back against the cushions.

“Beginning to think we all need to take a page out of Bella’s book and start playing for the other team.” Priya snorts, swirling the last of her wine.

“Believe it or not, there are still lesbians who are also terrible at it.” Bella smirks, lifting her glass.

Down the hall, behind his closed bedroom door, Travis stares blankly at his television. He’d come in here on purpose, specifically to give you space, determined not to be that annoying roommate hovering where he wasn’t invited. But you’d all gotten louder as the night went on. He knew you weren’t drinking, you had work in the morning; you’d been complaining about the early opening shift to him most of the afternoon. But the others definitely were, and with every glass their voices rose another decibel. He found himself reaching for the remote, turning the volume down lower and lower until the TV was little more than a quiet murmur, and leaning closer to the wall to listen.

Back in the living room, you lean forward to grab a chip from the bowl, shaking your head as you speak.

“I’d take terrible at this point. Luke wouldn’t do it at all.”

“Ugh, I’m so glad you broke up with that dickhead,” Jess sighs.

“At all? Like not once?” Priya asks.

You crunch the chip slowly, nodding grimly.

“Two years together and he didn’t go down on me once.”

Bella makes a face, “that’s just depressing.”

“Tell me about it.”

Travis freezes, staring at the wall like it just told him something impossible. He knows he absolutely was not supposed to hear that. Panic spikes hot in his chest and he fumbles for the remote, turning the TV volume up a little higher to try and drown your voices out, but it does nothing. The words are already burned into his brain. Two whole years?

He’d met Luke plenty of times. Never liked the guy, but he’d always been civil, for your sake. Luke was constantly giving you grief about having a male roommate, making snide comments, acting like Travis was the problem. But Travis was sat there thinking Luke sounded like the fucking problem: he had you, for two years, and never touched you like that? The idea sits heavy and hot in his chest. If you were his? You’d have to physically pry him off you. Okay, maybe that sounds a little intense. Maybe a little weird. But Travis knows, he’s thought about it enough, imagined it enough, he’d be more than happy to make up for every single second of that neglect.

A little later, the wine runs dry and the girls are tipsy enough to be swaying on their feet. You see them out to the Uber, hugging them goodbye, then shut the door and turn back into the quiet living room. You start gathering up glasses and bowls, calling out toward the hallway as you work.

“You can come out now, they’ve gone.”

Travis emerges from his room a moment later, looking sheepish. His dyed blonde hair is all messy and tousled like he’s been running his hands through it, wearing loose grey sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt that fits him just a little too well. He gives you that soft, lopsided smile. You lean against the arm of the sofa, watching him.

“You know you don’t have to hide in your room, right? I tell you all the time; the girls love you. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

He scratches the back of his neck, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just… it’s girl night, right? Sanctity of girl night and all that.”

You laugh, shaking your head. He looks nervous, embarrassed, and you realise you might be pushing too hard. You decide to ease off, changing the subject gently.

“Were you watching anything good?”

Travis blinks, and suddenly his mind goes completely blank. He has no idea what he was watching. All he can think about is Luke, and what a waste of space he was, and exactly how much better he could treat you, how you’d feel against his tongue, how you’d smell, how you’d sound. He stands there frozen for a beat too long, staring at you, until you tilt your head.

“Trav? You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, sorry, just… documentary about… um. Starfish. Or seahorses. Or… seals.” He flounders, rubbing his forehead. “Can’t remember now. Just stuff in the ocean, you know, that British guy. With the… the voice.”

You smile, warmth curling soft and quiet in your chest, and turn to carry the stack of glasses through to the kitchen. You turn back from the kitchen and find Travis exactly where you left him, rooted to the spot, gaze fixed on nothing in particular, so quiet you can practically hear the gears spinning fast in his head.

“Trav?”

Nothing.

“Travis?”

He blinks hard, like he’s surfacing from a daze, and finally looks at you.

“Sorry.”

“You’re being weird. What’s up?”

He wrings his hands together, nervous energy rolling off him in waves, then jerks a thumb back toward his bedroom door.

“I wasn’t trying to, like… eavesdrop or nothing. But… were you serious? About what you said? About your ex and how he never…” He gestures vaguely, hand bobbing in the general direction of your hips, and the sheer awkwardness of it makes you laugh.

“Oh. So, you do take part in girl night. Just from the comfort of your own bed?”

You smirk and his face flushes bright pink, ears burning, and your smile softens.

“It’s fine. We’re loud. I get it. But… yeah. Yeah, I was serious.”

“Why?”

“Um… he never did. From the beginning. It wasn’t like he just stopped, he never started. I never really asked. Didn’t like it, I guess?”

You fluff the cushions as you speak, picking up the blanket and folding it neatly, rolling it tight to tuck away. All the while, Travis just stands there, staring at you like you’ve just told him the most outrageous thing he’s ever heard.

“That is the dumbest shit I have ever heard in my life. What an idiot. The guy was a complete dickhead, no offence. I mean… who does that? You don’t skip the best part.”

You set the blanket in the basket and look at him. He’s wide-eyed, genuinely aghast, hands moving as fast as his mouth, gaze darting everywhere except at you, too invested to hide how ridiculous he thinks it is.

“Like, if I had the chance? If it were me? I’d be down there every chance I got. I mean… shoot. I’d love to get my lips on yours. Either set, honestly. I’m just saying, like, if you need someone to fix that ratio? I’m available. I’d consider it a favour to both of us.”

The words hang in the air as Travis freezes mid-gesture, brain catching up with his mouth. Did he actually just say that out loud? To his roommate? Who he’s been pining over for months? He scrambles, panic rising fast.

“Wait, shit. No. I didn’t mean… okay, I did mean it, but I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like some weirdo. I’m not trying to be a creep. I just meant he’s an idiot, and you deserve… well, not that I’m saying I’m the guy. But I could be. If you… fuck. Let me start over…”

He doesn’t get to finish. You step forward in two quick strides, fist curling tight in the front of his t-shirt, and yank him down to meet you. Your mouth crashes onto his, and for a split-second Travis short-circuits entirely; his brain goes completely static, every coherent thought vanishing. This is happening. This is actually happening. Hang on, is this happening? He pulls back just an inch, chest heaving, eyes blown wide and dark.

“Yeah?” he asks.

You smile at that quiet, stunned little question, unfurl your fist from his shirt, and rest your palm flat over his chest, feeling his heart hammering wild and fast beneath your fingers.

“If you’re half as good at it as you are at talking? Then yeah.”

A slow, dark, devastating grin spreads across Travis’ face. His eyes sparkle, bright and hungry, and every trace of flustered ramble vanishes.

“Bet,” he says with a smirk.

This time he kisses you hard, deep and claiming. His hands drop straight to your waist, fingers bunching in the fabric to tug your top upward, then fumbling with the waistband of your sweatpants, pushing you backward toward the sofa like he can’t decide where he wants you first. You laugh breathlessly against his mouth, lifting your arms to help him pull your top over your head, while he shoves your sweats down over your hips. You fall back onto the cushions together, and he yanks your sweats all the way off in one smooth, frantic motion, barely breaking the kiss even for a second.

You reach for him, curling your fingers into the back of his neck to pull his t-shirt over his head and he lets you, but he barely even seems to notice, doesn’t care about himself at all, every scrap of his focus locked entirely on you. His mouth leaves yours only to blaze a trail down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone; kisses that are just as deep, just as thorough, just as hungry as the way he kisses your mouth. Then he’s back, stealing your breath all over again, before his hands are working at the clasp of your bra, deft and suspiciously capable, the second it comes undone he’s kissing his way back down, hot open-mouthed presses over your chest, closing his lips around your nipples and sucking deep and warm until you’re arching up, already gasping and lightheaded.

He keeps going, descending lower, trailing heavy, wet kisses, soft nips, slow broad licks over every inch of skin he passes; thorough, unhurried, like he intends to memorise every reaction he pulls from you. He hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them free, tossing them aside, then settles between your legs and looks.

Travis’ breath catches hard in his throat the second he sees you; the soft, glistening sheen coating your folds, how you already pulse and wait for him. His mouth literally waters, and he shakes his head, like he can barely believe what he’s looking at.

“Jesus Christ.” The words come out low and rough, dropping an octave like he’s speaking through clenched teeth. “I’m being deadly serious; your ex needs his head checked. He is a fucking idiot. Certifiable moron. This is the best thing I have ever seen in my life. The best thing I’ve ever… shit, I haven’t even touched it yet.”

He leans in just an inch closer, inhales deep, lungs pulling in your scent, throat bobbing hard as he flickers a quick, burning glance up to your eyes before dropping right back down.

“You smell so good. Fuck. I bet you taste even better. God, I’m just… I’m just gonna…”

Before you can even part your lips to speak, he leans in and his mouth covers you completely. No hesitation, no light little flicks, no tentative testing. His lips part wide and he presses full, wet, heavy warmth flush against you, then his tongue sweeps slow and broad from the very bottom all the way up, one long, heavy, rolling drag that makes your hips jerk upward off the cushions. He’s kissing you exactly the way he kissed your mouth; hungry and thorough, like he’s been dying for this, like he intends to consume every last drop.

Travis takes his time, savouring every second. He’s already rock hard just from the taste, just from the soft, slick warmth against his tongue. He pays attention to everything; every gasp that hitches in your throat, every twitch of your thighs, every sound you make. He’s learning you in real time, adjusting the angle, varying the pressure, figuring out exactly what makes your breath catch. He alternates: long, slow, sweeping drags that cover every inch of you, broad and lazy and deep; then he closes his lips and sucks, warm, firm suction that pulls a sharper cry from you, messier, more urgent, the way a kiss deepens when someone gets carried away and forgets to be careful. His hands never stay still; they grip your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you, fingers digging in just enough; they drift up and down your thighs, warm and rough and reverent; they pull you closer, tighter, right into his mouth like he can’t get enough, like he wants you pressed so close you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.

It’s overwhelming, it feels like he’s everywhere at once. His mouth covers you fully, completely, lips sealed hot and heavy over your sensitive flesh, no part of you left untouched. He works a deliberate rhythm, varying the pressure until he finds the right spot, then leaning into it, breathing hot and damp against you, every heavy exhale vibrating right through your skin. It feels thorough, devout, like he’s pouring every ounce of focus he has into making you fall apart.

Your back arches hard off the cushions, hips jerking but Travis’ grip locks tight around you, holding you exactly where he wants you, keeping you pinned right to his mouth, not letting you pull away even an inch.

“Fuck, Travis… right there, fuck---”

You can feel it coiling tight and hot deep in your gut, building faster and harder than anything you’ve ever felt before. Sweat beads at your hairline, your fingers scrabbling uselessly at the sofa cushion beneath you and still he doesn’t come up for air. It’s like he can breathe right through you, devouring every twitch and gasp. When your hips start rolling, chasing the peak, he meets every single movement with the same rhythm, matching you stroke for stroke, like he’s kissing you back; following your lead, letting you set the pace then taking it deeper.

“Fuck--- Travis--- I’m gonna---”

The words dissolve into a broken groan, too far gone to finish the sentence. You reach blindly, grab a throw cushion, and yank it over your face to muffle the screaming, but Travis feels the movement instantly. He reaches up without even lifting his head, tugs the cushion away and tosses it aside, refusing to let you hide a single sound. He’s buried so deep between your thighs you have no idea how he even saw you do it, but his eyes are dark and locked on yours for half a second before he dives back in.

You’re panting, babbling nothing but broken, incoherent noises, your whole body winding tight and then you snap. It crashes over you all at once, white-hot and endless, your back bowing, your hands fisting deep into the cushions as you practically scream his name. Travis doesn’t stop. He stays locked right there, mouth sealed to you, riding you through every shuddering aftershock, tongue working you gently through the spasms until you’re gasping, chest heaving, limbs trembling.

You assume he’s done. Your hips twitch, trying to lift away, overstimulated and sensitive but Travis wraps both arms around your thighs, pulls you right back, and buries his face deeper than before. He doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t ease up. And instantly, you feel it, that hot, tight pull building all over again, too soon, too intense, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you rock helplessly into his mouth.

His tongue is everywhere; circling slow and firm over your clit, swirling tight and precise, then dipping lower, sweeping broad through your slick heat, pressing into your entrance and lapping slow and deep. The sounds are obscene; loud, wet, slurping drags, heavy suction, the slick friction of his mouth moving through your arousal echoing in the quiet room. Travis is moaning right into you, low throaty vibrations rumbling against your skin, lost in the taste of you, and you can’t hold anything back. Your own cries are raw, broken, spilling freely, loud and unhinged. Before you can even catch your breath, the second wave hits, harder than the first, snapping through you and leaving you shaking, limp, and screaming his name into the empty living room.

“Fuckkkk, Travis, shit, yes, fuck.”

Travis feels your thighs trembling either side of his head but still has no intention of stopping. He braces his forearms firm around your hips, presses a flat palm light and steady against your lower stomach to keep you anchored to the sofa, and just keeps going; deeper, harder, louder. The sound is filthy, wet slurping and sucking. You’re a dripping mess, and he’s completely lost in it. You taste incredible and you smell like heaven, feel like heaven, soaked and slick and trembling for him. You’re so wet, so ready, and he would happily drown in every single drop.

Above him you’re bucking, twisting, spilling nonsense cries, and it only spurs him on. He tightens his grip, holds you still, and points his tongue, diving sharp and precise right into your fluttering entrance, dragging slow and deliberate through your spasms. He’s so painfully hard it aches, straining against his sweats, throbbing and desperate. He shifts his weight higher up the sofa, dragging himself closer, and presses his hips down hard into the cushion, grinding slow and heavy against the fabric, seeking any friction he can get while he stays right there, mouth locked to you, refusing to pull away. You’re heaving, chest rising and falling fast, lungs burning as you claw for air.

“Trav… fuck… I can’t…”

It’s true. You don’t think you have anything left to give, every nerve frayed raw and screaming. You reach down, fingers tangling tight into his messy blonde hair, and try to yank his head up, but he doesn’t budge. His arms are locked firm around your thighs, his heavy palm pressing steady, unyielding weight low on your belly, refusing to let you pull away. A broken sob tears from your throat, overstimulated and overwhelmed and completely at his mercy.

Travis is drunk on you; lost in the taste, the smell, the way you tremble and unravel for him. Every drag of his tongue makes his own cock throb so painfully it aches, straining hard and heavy behind the fabric of his sweats. He can’t bring himself to pull away from you, not even for a second, so he just grinds his hips down hard into the plush sofa cushions, rolling and gyrating, seeking any friction he can get while his mouth stays sealed hot and tight to your core. The pressure drives him wild, makes him work harder, hungrier and it’s exactly what pushes you right back over the edge before you can even catch your breath.

This third orgasm shatters you completely. No words, no scream, just a deep, guttural groan wrenched from somewhere deep in your chest as you convulse, walls fluttering and gushing hot and hard against his tongue. He rides you right through the peak, lapping it all up, letting your slick spread across his mouth, his chin, his nose, his cheeks; shiny and messy and marked by you. Fuck, he thinks, half-dazed and delirious. He could die right here and die happy.

At last, he pulls back just an inch, lifting his head. His face is flushed pink, glistening wet and shiny, lips swollen and dark. You let out a ragged, shaky breath, chest heaving. Thank God, he’s done. You blink hard, fighting the weight of your eyelids, tilting your head to look down at him. He rests his chin heavy on your trembling thigh and looks up at you, eyes blown wide and dark, pupils swallowing the light, voice soft and wrecked and thick with need.

“Please. Just… give me one more? Can you do that for me? Just one more. Please?”

He says it like you’re doing him the biggest favour in the world, like he’s begging for something precious. You can barely string two thoughts together, can barely remember your own name, you just give him a dumb, dazed, overwhelmed nod.

He doesn’t waste a second. He slides his hands beneath your hips, lifts you just enough to tilt you upward and then he dives back down. This time he doubles everything. Harder, faster, deeper and his tongue pushes past your entrance, slips inside you fully, burying itself deep and sweeping slow and deliberate through your fluttering walls. He feels you clamp down tight around him, hears the broken little cry you make, and the sheer sight and sound and feel of it all hits him so hard his hips stutter. He stiffens momentarily, spilling right there in his sweats, just from tasting you, just from watching you come apart entirely for him.

Your knuckles are white where you claw and grip the cushions, tears spilling freely now as your hips buck wildly off the sofa and Travis meets every sharp, desperate roll with his mouth sealed to you, inhaling you completely. His tongue drives deep inside you one last time, slow and sure, and that’s what breaks you. You choke on a sob as your whole body seizes and convulses around him. Travis doesn’t pull away. He holds you there, soft steady licks and gentle sucks guiding you all the way down until your hips stop trembling and your breath finally starts to return. Only then does he begin to move.

He climbs slow, dragging his mouth up the length of you. Wet, heavy, claiming kisses pressed hot to your trembling stomach, your ribs, the swell of your chest, all the way up your throat until he reaches your jaw. Then he kisses your mouth, deep and unashamed. His face is still shiny and damp with you, and you taste yourself on his lips as he steals the breath right out of your lungs.

Your hands drift down, fumbling with the waistband of his sweats, desperate to touch him, to give back even a fraction of what he just gave you but Travis catches your wrists instantly, pins them firm above your head, and kisses you deeper until the words dissolve in your throat.

“Trav… let me…”

He pulls back just an inch, forehead resting light against yours, chest heaving.

“Gonna need to give me a few minutes for that.”

 “Huh? Why?”

You blink up at him, dazed and confused. A devastatingly satisfied grin tugs at his mouth.

“I told you. This is the best part.”

Realisation hits you slow, “Travis… did you…”

“Cum in my pants?” He says it so casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah.”

He chuckles soft and warm against your skin, completely unbothered, and drops his mouth to kiss slow open-mouthed lines down the side of your neck.

“Listen. I’ll be good in like… two minutes. Tops. But until then? I’m more than happy right here. I ain’t going anywhere.”

He kisses your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth and you lie there beneath him, wrecked and glowing, staring up at him through heavy, soft lashes.

“I wish you’d offered this months ago,” you murmur, breathless and quiet, “and saved me all that drama with Luke.”

Travis stops. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye and the look on his face makes your chest ache. Dark, intense, completely sincere.

“I’ll make it up to you. Every. Fucking. Day.”

You sink back into the cushions, thoroughly ruined in the most wonderful way, and think if he actually keeps that promise, you might not survive it. But as you pull him down to kiss you again, slow and sweet and tasting of you both; you decide you’re more than willing to try.

He had his arms crossed over his chest as he was leaning against the doorframe, his posture was strangely loose for a guy who might be sacrificing the clean appearance of his bathroom for your hair.

“It varies, depends on how deep you want the colour to be.” You applied some more dye to the back of your head, trying to get all the strands saturated. “I usually keep it on for about fourty minutes or something like that.”

“Fourty?” His eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. “Won’t that be, like, suuuuper bad for your hair? I mean, look at my hair.” He shook his head for emphasis, earning a laugh from you. “It’s like all dead now, stack of hay...”

“Well bleach and dye are slightly different, you know. Besides, your hair isn’t dead, it’s just …slightly damaged.” You went back to thoroughly coating your hair with the dye, going back over your baby hairs and coating your ends.

Once you were done you took off your gloves and set a timer on your phone. Travis was still in the doorway, just watching you.

“Hey baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you clean the back of my neck? It’s going to stain purple for like a week and It’ll look like you chewed me up.” You started wiping your face with a wet cotton pad, he took a few steps forward until he was right behind you.

“I wouldn’t mind chewing you up.” He murmured under his breath while reaching for a cotton pad.

“Say something, baby?”

“I wouldn’t mind cleaning you up.” He began carefully cleaning your neck.

When you looked in the mirror you saw a small smirk playing on his face, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek in concentration.

Maybe you heard exactly what he said

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