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roanofarcc · 5 months ago

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WORTH YOUR WHILE

pairing. Tyler Owens x fem!reader

summary. as the local weather woman, you shared an interesting rivalry with your hometown storm-chaser. while you always reported on the dangerous weather from a safe distance, tyler barreled into it head-first. but things change the night of the county fair when you find yourself in the middle of a storm rather than in the safely of a newsroom.

warnings. dramatic fluff, hurt/comfort, description of tornados, a curse word or two, description of injury, slightly inaccurate meteorological info.

word count. 2.9k || masterlist

a/n. hopping on the glen powell bandwagon bc he and daisy absolutely killed it in twisters!! feel free to send me requests for tyler, kate, and javi!

“If you keep looking at him like that your face will get stuck in a scowl, which is really bad for television,” your friend said, leaning into your side. With a roll of your eyes, you managed to pull your attention away from the self-titled ‘tornado wrangler’ who had stirred up a fuss in the line for funnel cakes. People buzzed all around him as he signed shirts and took photos, never dropping his smile that you often dreamed about smacking right off of his face.

You had grown up alongside Tyler Owens, never as friends but as friends of friends. After you both split off for school to study meteorology, you returned to your hometown for very different reasons. Tyler started in the business of storm chasing, live streaming his adventures to people all across the internet who sensationalized the dangerous weather, and you scored a job as your hometown’s Weather Woman. Your job was to warn people about the threat of tornados while his was to drive head-on into them.

That was where you two drew your lines in the sand when it came to each other. He thought you were scared of taking risks while you thought his thrill-seeking was stupid and would eventually get him or one of his team members hurt. Those opinions on each other's job led to you two butting heads every time you encountered one another. His mere presence was enough to annoy you, especially at your favorite event of the summer, the fair.

“Look who it is,” Tyler’s voice sounded near you and your friend nudged your arm in the direction of it. You looked away from her just as he approached you, tipping his hat and flashing his teeth in a smile. “Didn’t know they still let you out of the newsroom these days.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, as the air of arrogance surrounding him nearly choked you out. “Don’t you have a tornado to chase?” you asked, wanting to end the conversation before it fully started. Unfortunately, he never seemed put off by your jabs, but he was assumed by them.

“I took the night off,” he replied. “I wanted to see if there was anything worth my while here tonight.”

You raised your brows. “Oh really?” He nodded, smiling brightly at you. “Find anything yet?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “It’d be easier if she answered my phone calls.”

Tyler disliked you a whole lot less than you disliked him. After you graduated and he started storm chasing, he tried at every given opportunity to get you to join his team. Even years later he still tried to, no matter how many times you told him the risk he was putting himself and his team in every time they barreled into a storm cell. He was relentless but you were happy where you were at. You wanted to help people when it came to severe weather, not make the storm look enticing for internet audiences.

“I already told you, I’m not interested.” Storm chasing was a dangerous game that you had no intention of playing. Being from the Midwest, you had lived through your share of tornados. Chasing them was not in apart of your career path.

His smile faded slightly before he seemed to snap back to himself. “All I’m saying is, we could use a mind like yours out in the field.” The compliment was nice, you could admit that to yourself, but it wouldn’t win you over. He knew that too. “But suit yourself.” And with that he walked off, meeting up with the rest of his team that joined him at the fair that night.

Your friend whistled lowly. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Say no to a man like that.” You rolled your eyes once more as the line you were in moved. As she stepped forward to order, you threw a quick glance over your shoulder in the direction Tyler had walked off in. You saw him happily chatting with his team before glancing back at you for just a moment before you returned your gaze forward.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of colorful lights, sticky heat, and enough fried food to make your stomach ache in the best possible way. Your friend left after a couple hours of roaming the prize barns and laughing at the kids screaming their heads off on the carnival rides, but you stuck around for a little longer, relishing in the sweet nostalgia the fair brought you.

Before you had taken a couple of well-deserved days of work, you and your team had predicted a storm front moving. Later that night was supposed to bring rainfall and a thunderstorm or two popping up around the county and neighboring areas. You thought you’d have plenty of time to roam the fair for a little longer until it hit, but you noticed the shift in the weather almost immediately. The sudden uptick in wind pricked the back of your neck as the distant rumble of thunder echoed above the fair chaos.

It was difficult to predict everything, that you had learned early on in your career. It also was hard to predict how quickly weather could change from bad to deadly. One moment you’re gazing up through the lights into the night sky, trying to gauge the incoming storm, and the next, the sirens are blaring across the fairgrounds.

The crowd of people running in every direction made the walkways hazardous. You were knocked into and jostled around as you tried to run toward the restrooms that doubled as storm shelters. They were clear at the opposite end of the walkway, but they were your closest option. You dodged and weaved through the swarms of people, trying to stay on your feet.

You only made it halfway to the shelter when you were stopped by the awful cries of a little girl who sat under the counter of one of the carnival games. She hugged her knees to her chest and called out for her mom, but no one who rushed by stopped. You didn’t think twice before you sidestepped the fleeing crowd and crouched down in front of the little girl. The wind picked up significantly, blowing the cheap prizes right out of the booths and sending everything flying around and knocking into people.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you raised your voice above the howl of wind and frantic people.

“My mom!” she cried harder. “I lost her. I don’t know where she is!”

You glanced back up at the sky. The lightning strikes illuminated the massive, dark mass moving in quickly. “Come with me, and I’ll help you find her, okay?”

The noise all around grew louder, frightening the little girl, along with yourself, but as you outstretched your hand, she took it, and you quickly pulled her to her feet before you both took off running. The speakers urged everyone to seek shelter immediately, but you watched as people raced in the opposite direction of the shelters, probably bee-lining to cars in an awful call. They’d never out race it.

“Charlotte!” Someone screamed and the little girl whipped her head around before she tugged hard on your hand. From behind you, the little girl’s mother appeared, immediately scooping up her daughter in her arms. “Oh my, God. Thank you!” she said, looking at you with teary eyes.

“We have to take cover,” you told her, gently pushing her forward. “The shelter’s just up that way.” She thanked you again before she took off with her daughter in her arms. You wanted to follow, it was stupid not to when the wind gusts became more powerful, rattling everything dangerously and making it hard to think. But there were more people unsure of where to go and what to do. Groups of kids who had been dropped off for the evening stumbling frantically out of the rides and still dizzy. You stepped from the path and tried to direct people as best you could, shouting in tune with the speaker and the sirens for them to hurry into the shelter.

It wasn’t until larger objects were plucked from the ground and tossed into the air like paper did you abandoned your aiding. The tornado screeched to life, ripping apart pieces of the show barns and rides with ease. You tried to close the distance between yourself and the shelter once more, but it wasn’t people in need that stopped you, it was a sheet of metal pried from the side of one of the food trucks. You tried to dodge the hurling objects, but the sheet came at you hard and fast.

It sliced your shin, sending a wave of pain up through the rest of your leg. You stumbled, determined to stay upright, but the wind was too strong for your limping figure, and you toppled against the concrete, slamming your knees against the ground before you rolled over into the lousy shelter of a game’s tent somehow still standing.

Panic started to set in as the storm raged around you, loud and monstrous. You covered your wound with your hands, unsure of where the blaring of the tornado ended and the fast-paced beat of your heart started, drumming in your ears and beating against your skull. You knew you couldn’t stay there, but leaving was just as dangerous as every attraction of the fair swirled around in the air. The cut from your leg painted your hands red and throbbed; it would only slow you down if you tried to run, creating even more of a risk.

You didn’t know what to do. All of your life, the storms you had faced you’d always been lucky enough to find shelter in plenty of time, from the cellar in your backyard to your high school’s basement created just for such an occasion.

Through the freight train sounding winds and your thundering heart, you heard a couple of voices that had to be close. Tearing your eyes away from the cut on your leg, you watched as another group of people sprinted down the walkway as someone yelled behind them to run.

In all of your life, you’d never been so relieved to see Tyler Owens’s face standing just a few feet away; he hadn’t spotted you, and for a terrifying moment you thought he’d be unable to hear you yell out above the screaming storm. But somehow, he did. His head snapped in your direction, rain-coated and windblown, looking both out of sorts and in his element.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled as he ran over to you, dodging flying debris that grew larger by the minute. The second he crouched down in front of you, his eyes flickered onto your legs, and the blood seeping out between your fingers as you tried to keep pressure on the wound.

“I thought I’d just hang out here,” you said, your sarcasm watered down by the fear clear in your teary eyes.

His brows furrowed, deep in thought for a moment as he looked between you and the distance there was still to cross to the only close shelter. Without saying a word, he peeled off his wet flannel, leaving himself in a shirt that was already nearly soaked through as the sideways rain beat down against the both of you. “I’m gonna tie this around your leg and then we’re gonna run, okay?”

You shook your head frantically. The ache in your legs was intense and you had already lost a good amount of blood, not enough to make you woozy but you were well on your way. It felt like your heart had crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe as panic soaked you to the bone along with the rain. Everything around you seemed to be ripped from the ground, even the anchored tent you were under was seconds away from being picked up.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing a hold of your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “It’ll be alright. You gotta trust me, though.” The sincerity shined in his eyes, bright as the rest of the power around you flickered wickedly. With a nod of your head, you dropped your hands from your leg and let him tie the flannel around your cut. As he pulled it tight, you cried out in pain. “I’m sorry,” he kept repeating until it was knotted. Quickly, he jumped to his feet and helped you up, looping an arm around your waist as you slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to respond as the tent you were under was plucked from the ground, anchors and all, and flung backward into the tornado as it tore through the front entrance of the fairgrounds. Tyler took off, giving you no choice but to follow.

You two stayed low, trying desperately to avoid the flying objects. With each step your leg burned, but Tyler’s hold on you was strong, not giving any room for you to lag behind or slip away. It felt like hours of running, but it was no more than a minute or two before you reached the shelter. The only major injury between the two of you was your leg, otherwise, you both collected a series of little cuts and bruises from your journey.

Stumbling into the restroom, you were met with a hoard of scared fairgoers. You two managed to find a spot to slot yourself in with everyone else. He helped you lower yourself to the floor back in the corner just as the tornado was fully on top of you. You brought your knees up to your chest and covered your head. Tyler sat flushed against your side; you felt his hands rest over the top of yours as the building rattled violently. Squeezing your eyes shut, you refused to see the damage until the howl of wind subsided and people started to stir.

Once it was over, everyone stumbled out of the shelter, getting jumbled together as police and ambulances rushed to the scene. Amongst people pushing and shoving to find their loved ones and get the hell home, you and Tyler were separated and before you could look for him, an EMT caught sight of your bloodied leg and ushered you to one of the ambulances.

You sat on the back after the EMT stitched up your leg, looking over the torn-apart fairgrounds. Debris was littered everywhere, food trucks and carts overturned and some demolished, and rides were dislocated and strewn about in pieces.

You clutched the bloodied flannel to your chest, shivering in the loss of adrenaline and temperature drop, and watched the sea of people until a familiar face popped into view, looking a little frantic as he stumbled through the crowd looking like he was in search of something. His eyes finally settled on you before he quickly pushed his way through the crowd until he reached you.

“Hi,” you greeted, smiling tiredly.

“I was looking for you everywhere,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. “I looked away for a second and you were gone and-” You continued to smile, and he stopped himself. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” you replied quietly before clearing your throat. “I, um, I just wanted to thank you. And I’m sorry for ruining your flannel.” You gestured to the ruined piece of clothing resting in your lap.

Tyler was quiet for a moment, looking at the large bandage around your shin. “Don’t mention it,” he said, brushing off your thanks like he hadn’t just pretty much saved your life. “What were you doing out there anyway?”

You sighed, feeling a creep of embarrassment up your spine. You should’ve known better but at the moment you just wanted to help people and had little regard for your own safety, until your leg was sliced open, that was. “There were people still out there, trying to figure out where to go. I was trying to help.”

“That was stupid,” he said. “But brave. Stupidly brave, maybe.”

“Funny. I think I’ve said the same thing about you a time for two.”

His signature smirk slowly fell onto his lips. ��Not to my face.”

“Oh, no. Never.”

Tyler laughed, gently patting your knee, lingering for a moment before he dropped his hand back at his side. Someone called out your name, and you spotted your friend running back through the crowd. She had called you as soon as you had made it to the ambulance and told you she’d come back to take you home.

“You should get some rest,” he said. “I’ll see you around.” As he turned around to walk away, you called out to him.

“Tyler, wait.” He paused. “You should try calling me again. Maybe I’ll answer this time.” Breaking out in a grin, he tipped his hat in another goodbye, leaving you with a new feeling stirring inside your chest.

Bonus!

Hours later, after you had cleaned yourself up, you were tucked into bed, reading by the lamp light knowing sleep was probably far off after the events of the night. You didn’t expect your phone to ring that late into the night, and when you glanced at it, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the caller ID, but that time it was something besides annoyance that you felt.

You answered, discarding your book on your nightstand. “You don’t waste any time do you,” you teased.

“What I can say,” Tyler said on the other line. “I know when I find something worth my while.”

#twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #glen powell #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters 2024 fanfic #glen powell x reader

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thistlecrimes · 1 year ago

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Things I've learned from getting covid for the first time in 2023

I wear an N95 in public spaces and I've managed to dodge it for a long time, but I finally got covid for the first time (to my knowledge) in mid-late November 2023. It was a weird experience especially because I feel like it used to be something everyone was talking about and sharing info on, so getting it for the first time now (when people generally seem averse to talking about covid) I found I needed to seek out a lot of info because I wasn't sure what to do. I put so much effort into prevention, I knew less about what to do when you have it. I'm experiencing a rebound right now so I'm currently isolating. So, I'm making a post in the hopes that if you get covid (it's pretty goddamn hard to avoid right now) this info will be helpful for you. It's a couple things I already knew and several things I learned. One part of it is based on my experience in Minnesota but some other states may have similar programs.

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The World Health Organization states you should isolate for 10 days from first having symptoms plus 3 days after the end of symptoms.

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At the time of my writing this post, in Minnesota, we have a test to treat program where you can call, report the result of your rapid test (no photo necessary) and be prescribed paxlovid over the phone to pick up from your pharmacy or have delivered to you. It is free and you do not need to have insurance. I found it by googling "Minnesota Test to Treat Covid"

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Paxlovid decreases the risk of hospitalization and death, but it's also been shown to decrease the risk of Long Covid. Long Covid can occur even from mild or asymptomatic infections.

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Covid rebound commonly occurs 2-8 days after apparent recovery. While many people associate Paxlovid with covid rebound, researchers say there is no strong evidence that Paxlovid causes covid rebound, and rebounds occur in infections that were not treated with Paxlovid as well. I knew rebounds could happen but did not know it could take 8 days. I had mine on day 7 and was completely surprised by it.

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If you start experiencing new symptoms or test positive again, the CDC states that you should start your isolation period again at day zero. Covid rebound is still contagious. Personally I'd suggest wearing a high quality respirator around folks for an additional 8-9 days after you start to test negative in case of a rebound.

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Positive results on a rapid test can be very faint, but even a very faint line is positive result. Make sure to look at your rapid test result under strong lighting. Also, false negatives are not uncommon. If you have symptoms but test negative taking multiple tests and trying different brands if you have them are not bad ideas. My ihealth tests picked up my covid, my binax now tests did not.

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EDIT: I'd highly suggest spending time with friends online if you can, I previously had a link to the NAMI warmline directory in this post but I've since been informed that NAMI is very much funded by pharmaceutical companies and lobbies for policies that take autonomy away from disabled folks, so I've taken that off of here! Sorry, I had no idea, the People's CDC listed them as a resource so I just assumed they were legit! Feel free to reply/reblog this with other warmlines/support resources if you know of them! And please reblog this version!

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I know that there is so much we can't control as individuals right now, and that's frightening. All we can do is try our best to reduce harm and to care for each other. I hope this info will be able to help folks.

#covid #covid 19 #harm reduction #apparently only 16% of Americans even got their booster #it's wild out there #which makes sense because our public health messaging has been super unhelpful and intentionally shifted the burden #of infection control onto individuals to avoid us holding them accountable because it's politically and economically inconvenient to them

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sturnlsstuff · 2 months ago

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CHRIS IS OBSESSED WITH HIS BROTHER's GIRL. [smut, masturbation, mdni]

chris knew how wrong this was.

the guilt and feeling of betrayal building up in his chest, but he couldn't help himself, not when it came to you. matt's girl. it wasn't like you and his brother were together, you weren't his girlfriend, you two were only hooking up, but you still belonged to matt. he had some interest in you, maybe even liked you, a lot. so chris was fully aware how fucked up the situation he found himself in was. he just wished his room was the one you go to every time you come over, not matt's. it all was making him frustrated.

especially now at one in the morning when he was trying to sleep and not listen to the sounds coming from the other room, but it was fucking hard not to hear. even nick texted the group chat telling you and matt to shut the fuck up, but it didn't help much. actually neither you or matt cared at that moment.

the constant sounds of bed cracking, skin slapping against each other, the headboard hitting the wall and more specifically something that chris focused on the most. your moans.

the thing was, chris had no clue that you caught up on the stares he'd give you anytime you come over, how he would hungrily look at your body, especially when you were wearing these mini skirts of yours. so maybe you were really loud on purpose right now, wanting him to hear. just maybe.

so he really tried to actually fall asleep, but it was just impossible and his imagination got carried away. in his head he was the one making you sound like this, moaning his name while he was fucking you from behind on his bed.

he didn't even realize how painfully hard he was and when he would slid his pajama pants down his hips, freeing his already leaking with precum dick. he also didn't necessarily know at what point his hand started moving up and down his length. was it when he heard you moaned "harder" or maybe the strangled sound of your crying from pleasure?

chris was so desperately turned on, squeezing his eyes shut while he was thrusting into his fist, his thumb occasionally brushing against his sensitive tip, making him groan quietly. the sounds you were making, it all made him going feral, "--oh shit, y/n..." he hisses speeding up his movements and his head throws back at the sensation. he'd imagine you being here with him. on top of him, jerking him off. how you would use your thumb to smear his precum all over his slit and head of his cock, how your small hand would look working on him. maybe you'd even use your mouth to suck on his tip. then taking him deeper and he'd see how hard you try to fight the gag reflex, saliva dripping down your chin as you take him all in, looking up at him with those puppy eyes of yours. he could physically feel his tip hitting the back of your throat until you pull out to catch your breath, your spit connecting his cock and your lips and your hand working on him again.

his own thoughts made him groan a bit louder, accompanying your own muffled moans still coming from matt's room. "fuckkk—" he whimpers, squeezing his hard member a bit, causing his hips to jerk upwards. chris tried to be quiet, his jaw was slacked as he started to feel his orgasm building up, all the images he had in his mind right now sent him right over the edge, his body tensing up while he frustratingly was moving his hand faster on his cock. his other hand gripping the sheets, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. "oh shit, yes-- please... fuck, fuck, fuckkkkk—" he almost whined as he heard your final moan, assuming you just reached your climax and the thought of him finishing at the same moment as you made his body heat even higher and with another groan, warm drops of cum bursts from his tip all over his hand, thighs and lower stomach as he moans out your name once again.

the realization of what just happened, what he did, started hitting him only a few seconds after he opened his eyes, seeing the mess he'd make and tried to calm himself down. he really felt fucking bad about this, but at the same time it was one of the most intense orgasms he's ever had while jerking off. and all it took was to hear your pretty sounds and a little bit of imagination.

chris would actually kill to make it happen in reality and feel your skin against his at least for one time.

@xaristhings @certifiedstarrr @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @chrislovespepsi @r0s3luvr @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x fem reader #chris sturniolo x fem!reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo blurb

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inkskinned · 10 months ago

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i don't mean to sound ungrateful, but as a content creator on this site, there's a part of me that's like. they absolutely just stole my work.

i'm not, like, unaware that tumblr has been shuffling downhill for years now. sometimes i play with the idea of switching platforms, turning myself into the shark. i often get tens of thousands of notes - i could be "doing numbers" on a platform that actually pays me to do so. i could have statistics that i could use to sell myself, i could rebrand and make content pay-to-play and make brand deals. i could have the other life, i mean.

but i don't want to. i like the quiet nature of tumblr. i like that it still feels like i'm writing poetry, not like i'm fulfilling ad spots. i like the community, and that i can sometimes still take someone by surprise and write something that really speaks to them. i like the tags and reading things like oh of course it's fucking inkskinned i love you inkskinned you gay mess. my girlfriend recently told me that people tag things "inkskinned" because they assume it is similar to tagging "creative writing". that's wild. i made this word up when i was 19, and have always assumed people tag me in things so i read it (and i often do). i have nothing but love and gratitude for you all, for this tiny scoop of family.

and i haven't made any money off it. i had opportunities, and i turned them down. i could have sold this thing like a thousand times. i thought about moving my work elsewhere - over and over and over i thought about it. i weighed each option specifically. but my tumblr felt like ... it's for you guys, only. if you're still here and reading this, you deserve to do it for free.

tumblr has now, most likely, skimmed my work (and yours) in order to make money. i will never see a single cent for that violation. something about landlords, i guess - my work pays their rent.

i just lost my job on valentine's day, and am working on scrambling for solutions. i am writing this to a blog that they will probably scrape with AI. and like, what number to do you think it was? do you think it was only a couple hundred thousand? no way it was close to a million, right? my time, effort, energy - it belongs to someone else now. how many silver pieces for them to completely sell out their user base.

and it's kind of like - funny? when it isn't very-sad. because i personally don't know what to do, ya know? i might as well move to a different platform, where my efforts are ai-scraped but could eventually pay me. where i know my privacy is the cost - but it could result in actual money. anyway. i need to figure out how i'm paying for meds. i need to email like six people about COBRA benefits.

my work is powering someone else's AI. it will be a beautiful fabricated poem, made from words i've already said.

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giannaln4 · 2 months ago

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GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day ten.

Jealous Lando (2.2k words)

summary: Something unleashes inside Lando when you run into one of your coworkers, his shameless invitation making him want to remind you who you belong to.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, blow job, fingering, jealous!lando, possessive!lando.

You found yourselves sitting in a somewhat fancy café in Austin, enjoying the warm weather as he told you about his day.

Lando had been a little bit busy with the duties that carried being a Formula One driver, so any little time you could spend with each other was well appreciated, so sitting really close to him in one of the couches as you sipped your coffee was nice.

However, you took a few days of vacations to go with him to the American races, but that didn’t mean you were completely off the hook since you carried your laptop everywhere in case you needed to get something done, which is what happened right now.

You got a notification on your phone from what seemed like an important email, so you pulled your laptop out to take a look at the file your boss had shared with you, promising Lando it wouldn’t take more than five minutes.

It had been like fifteen minutes and you were still reviewing it, now with your phone on your ear while you talked with someone about this new project you were supposed to take over once you got back as Lando had your computer on his lap.

He didn’t really mind, or at least that was what he always told you. Here is the thing: he understood that your job was important for you, and he appreciated the fact that you took a few days just so you could be with him, but sometimes he just wished you could quit so he could take you everywhere with him without having to worry about you focusing on a screen instead of him.

Was that selfish? Maybe, but who could blame him for wanting his girlfriend to be all his?

You would never describe Lando as the possessive type, and maybe it was because he never voiced his concerns out loud. He was jealous sometimes, that’s for sure, but possessive? Not really.

“Sorry, baby. I really had to take this,” you said as you hung up the phone.

“It’s okay, but I don’t understand why you still have to do all of this if you are supposed to be on vacation.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I thought I would be able to go the full month without having to do any of this,” you sighed as you took one last look at the email. “I will try to stay off work for the rest of the time we are together, I promise.”

That really pissed him off. If you were on vacation, shouldn’t you be able to enjoy it? Lando was building up the courage to tell you what he had been thinking pretty much your entire relationship, carefully thinking about his words. “Maybe you should quit-”

“Oh, hi Y/N,” a random voice interrupted him, making both of you look up. You both saw one of your coworkers standing there, entirely ruining Lando’s plan to covince you to leave your job and become a full-time wag. He could already feel his blood boiling.

“Oh- hi,” you replied, trying to remember the guy’s name.

“I didn’t know you were here. I mean, I knew you were off, but I assumed you were just staying home. Nice to see you are enjoying your free time travelling.” He was completely ignoring Lando, not directing a single word to him, not even a quick glare, and Lando didn’t like that. Not one bit.

“Yeah, I took time off to go to a few races,” you said, motioning your head towards your now upset boyfriend. “What about you?”

“I’m here to attend my brother’s wedding,” he said with a small laugh. “But I didn’t bring anyone with me, so it will be a bit awkward to be the best man without a date.”

Lando already knew where this was going, and he was using all his self-control not to punch the guy in the face and tell him to fuck off. They were in a public place anyway, and he knew his team would not like to see something like this hit the news, but man, the guy really deserved it.

“Hey, unless you are free tomorrow. Would you be interested in coming with me? You know, free food and free buzz. Big party.” At that moment, Lando felt his coherent thoughts leave his mind, his hand finding a place on your thigh and squeezing it softly as he killed him with a glare.

“We’re busy, actually, can’t you see?” Lando finally spoke, in a tone you had never heard before, as he pointed to the open laptop that still rested on his lap.

“Oh, I didn’t mean right now," the guy replied, finally acknowledging Lando’s presence, but he turned to face you again. “There is a rehearsal tonight, but tomorrow-”

“We have plans for tomorrow." Lando interrupted, bringing you closer to him with his hand still gripping your thigh. “Don’t we?” He said, looking at you.

You looked back at him, slightly blushing at your boyfriend’s actions. “Yeah, sorry… uh”

“Joe”

“Right, Joe,” you repeated, giving him a friendly smile “Sorry, Joe.”

“Good luck being alone at the wedding though." Lando wasn’t trying to be friendly at all; if anything, he just wanted him to stop hitting on you and leave immediately. “See you around, mate.”

Joe looked at you, as if he were asking you for confirmation to leave. “I’ll see you back at the office,” you said, waving him goodbye.

Joe sighed loudly as he started to walk away, and Lando smiled proudly and kissed your temple.

“Wow, I knew you were jealous, but I didn’t think you were that jealous," you whispered, placing your hand on top of his.

“I’m not,” he frowned his eyebrows as if he was being falsely accused. “We’re just really busy.”

He stared at you with eyes full of... anger? You weren’t sure, but you knew for a fact that he’d be leaving marks on your thigh if he kept gripping you like that.

“You know I would’ve said no, right? You didn’t have to scare him off like that.”

“We’re leaving.” Was all he replied, taking his hand away as he closed your laptop, standing up and walking away from where you were sitting.

You tried to follow him, but he was walking so quick he was already waiting in the car when you got there. You let out a sigh as you opened the door, sitting beside him as you tried to think of something you could say to get his mind off what just happened.

“So, it’s a sprint weekend. You haven’t done one of those in a while.”

But he barely let out a sound at your words, at least acknowledging that you were talking to him but not caring enough to say something back. That’s how it was for the rest of the ride back to the hotel, you trying to talk about anything and him just grunting, and by the way he was gripping the stearing wheel, you knew he wouldn’t let this go any time soon.

Once he parked the car, he got out and waited for you a few seconds to collect your things and be next to him, grabbing your hand tightly as he guided you to the elevator and back to your room, and as soon as you were inside, he dropped your hand and found a seat on the small couch that was placed next to the hotel bed, staring at you as if he was waiting for you to apologise for something that wasn’t even your fault.

“Lando, let’s not do this, please. I would have never in a million years accepted to go with him, even if you weren’t there-”

“On your knees.”

“What?” You asked in disbelief after a few seconds of silence as he unbuckled his trousers and pushed them down until they were pooling on his ankles.

“You heard me, go on.”

You slowly made your way there, watching him as he slowly pumped his length. At this point, you weren’t even thinking clearly anymore, and doing as he said just came naturally to you, so you dropped to your knees once you were in front of him, swallowing harshly when he motioned his head towards his angry cock.

Not thinking twice, you took him in your mouth and started working on it, knowing teasing him right now was far from a good idea.

“Why don’t you take some more, love?” He said as he quickly took a hold of your hair, pushing your head down his shaft.

You could really feel his size because of the stretch your mouth feels, which you always did, but given the situation, it somehow felt more prominent. Your cheeks were hollowing around him, and one of your hands was wrapped around his base as your other one gripped his thigh, nails digging into his tanned skin.

“You know you are mine, right?” He asked you in a shaky tone. “No other guys but me should be thinking about talking to you, asking you to be their date- ah- only I get to have you like this, so pretty with your mouth around my cock.”

You let out a moan at his words, secretly loving this side of your boyfriend, and the vibrations made him let out another moan as he used his grip on your hair to guide your movements.

“No one else will ever see you like this, right, baby?” You tried and failed to nod your head; you didn’t even have control anymore, you were just trying to follow what Lando was silently instructing you to do.

His hold was getting tighter as you sucked his crown, which made him let out the deepest moan you have ever heard from him as his fingers tightened even more, unintentionally bucking his hips up once. You gagged around his cock, taking it gracefully as mascara tears rolled down your face.

“Shit, I could have you like this at all times. You are doing so good, angel.” His words were breathy and full of bliss as he got closer and closer to his release.

The way his cock twitched inside you and his thighs tensed under your hand made you know he was seconds away, the echoes of his moans bouncing off the walls as he started thrusting his hips up, his cock hitting deep inside your throat. With one last hit, you felt his hot cum filling your mouth, some of it smearing on the sides as you happily swallowed all of it, making you slow your movements down with his hand.

When he started to catch his breath, he pulled your head off his cock, dropping your hair and patting his lap so you would sit there, which you immediately obeyed.

“Why don’t you quit that stupid job so I don’t have to worry about assholes like him hitting on you?” Lando’s hands were roaming your thighs, slightly parting them as his hand sneaked into your underwear.

Your breath hitched when his fingers explored your folds, finally landing on your clit with an insane pressure. He started rubbing hard circles, his mouth so close to your neck you could feel his hot breath.

“You are mine.” A moan scaped your lips at this. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, all yours.”

As soon as you said this, one of his fingers entered your desperate hole, quickly finding a pace for you. He was desperate to make you come, and you knew he would get it within minutes if he kept playing with you like this.

Lando found a place on your neck, kissing and sucking your sensitive skin as he dipped a second finger inside you. “You think anyone else could make you feel this good? Mhm?”

“No,” you breathed out, fingers gripping his thighs.

“Good.”

You weren’t sure if it was his fingers or his words, but your stomach was quickly building up that familiar feeling as your hips started moving against his hand, making him use one more finger as you completely lost yourself in pleasure.

“Lando- fuck.”

“That’s it. Cum for me, love.”

His teeth were niping the skin on your shoulder, and only seconds before your orgasm hit you, you let out a loud moan, making him smile as he somehow fastened his pace.

With a few more pumps, a wave of bliss travelled through your body, your head falling back and into his shoulder as he helped you through your orgasm. At this point, your body had stopped moving, and all you could do was moan and squirm under his touch.

“‘s too much,” you managed to say.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Say you are mine.”

“I’m- ah- I’m yours, Lando, only yours. Shit” You complied as a string of moans scaped your parted lips.

“Good girl,” he said, finally taking his hand away from your sensitive pussy and kissing you, slow and possessive as one of his fingers cleaned the cum that was still on the side of your mouth. “Now, let’s get you changed. We’re going to dinner.” Lando softly pushed you off his lap, standing up as he pulled his trousers back up. “Oh, and make sure to wear that black dress I love so much.”

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cuppajj · 6 months ago

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Neo beasts x reader head cannons? 🥺

You know what anon? Just for you

Beast Ancients AU - Neo Beasts x Reader Headcanons

Congratulations! Someway somehow you’ve attracted the attention—and affection—of the Neo beasts. How do each treat you?

Saint Vanilla Cookie

This implies that he’s decided not to purify you out of his intense compassion. In fact, he’s settled for something arguably much worse: saving you for last, so you can witness his deliverance.

You’re his lamb, his bluebird, and he never lets you forget how blessed you are to be one of his

He’s gentle in almost every way. Voice, touch, words. He especially likes cupping your cheek and cooing sweet little things. Sometimes they’re laced with dark promises

On his orders, the Lambs of Penance are your personal servants and won’t let any harm befall you. Cream Wafer speaks to you respectfully, but you can hear a little envy in his voice

Saint pays attention to every little detail you have, the things you like, and your wishes. He wants to see you at your happiest because a tainted soul as yourself should never feel sad. He’ll wipe your tears away

But don’t assume he’s perfect; he’s far from. Saint stays true to his personal promise that you will be safe and happy and alive until the day he finally saves you, and that means that any potential threat to you will be dealt with by his lambs. If he thinks something will taint your soul further, he’ll be sure that it’ll never have the chance.

In fact, why don’t you stay with him? In his timeless kingdom, amongst his loyal followers and all the orchids that will watch over you. It’s the closest you’ll be to the light.

Make no mistake, saint is two steps away from being a yandere. He just wouldn’t get his hands dirty, and he would never change to that typical yandere-ish behavior. The oh so benevolent saint just wants to see you safe, and if that safety is under his wings, so be it…

Dragonberry Cookie

As the Beast of Pride, the way she loves is bold and loud. She will make it known to you that she loves you pretty quickly.

While she throws parties pretty frequently already, you’ll be center stage at a lot of them with her as she makes you dance together and drinks herself stupid with a bunch of glasses poured your way as well.

If you’re the shy type, expect to be embarrassed or put in big social situations a lot since she’s a massive extrovert who would bring you along to things. Outside of parties and other events of the sort, she would also love for you to watch her spar with Wildberry and her other soldiers

She’ll also give you lots of gifts

She does have a pretty big ego though, so she expects praise and validation from you. Compliments, acts of service, things that assure her you’re not just mooching off of what she gives you. If she thinks you’re not being grateful, she’ll get bitter and confront you about it, which will or won’t go well depending on how well you can prove your point to her

She’ll kill for you 100%. She might even do it in front of you. If you get messed up from that? It’s okay! You’ll get over it in no time.

Despite all this she does respect your boundaries, she’ll give you space if you’re vocal about it. She disappears on occasions and comes back covered in battle wounds and jam anyway.

You know about Pitaya locked up in her basement but you know not to touch them, let alone try and free them if you’re hero enough. She might just have to punish you for that if she catches you doing something you shouldn’t. Don’t worry though, it’s just this once, because you’ll surely never try anything again, right?

Big hugger, her love language is touch so expect hugs and kisses and mandatory cuddle sessions. Honestly if you’re just as messed as her then she’s a pretty solid lover

Frigid Cacao Cookie

It’s hard to tell he cares for you because he’s so distant, even from you.

You’re allowed into the throne room without summons, but the furthest into it you can go is to the foot of his throne. Like everyone else in the citadel, you’re not allowed to touch him.

Your days in the citadel are quiet. The outside is cold but the hallways and your room are warm, the latter always supplied to the brim with what you need.

Tiny licorice creatures slink in and out of your peripheral vision, watching you curiously. Sometimes they slink up to you, purring and chittering, and some might even be balancing trays of food, warm towels, clothes, or other things on their heads. Little do you know that Cacao has been ordering them to take care of you

While he doesn’t forbid you from leaving the kingdom, he’ll want you to come back to him one way or another. Ideally on your own, but one of the licorice oozes that have been watching you since you left could also bring you back.

You might see him out and about on rare occasions, and he might look at you. On even rarer occasions he might ask about your well being

The only thing he’s strict about is that you absolutely cannot attract attention from the other neobeasts, especially Saint Vanilla. The beast of Penance is already curious about learning what things make Cacao go soft; he does not need to learn about you.

Also don’t bring up Choco, he has a reaction to it

Celestial Cheese Cookie

Pampers you. Pampers you and pampers you and pampers you and pampers you

Thinks you’re the sweetest little thing and pinches your cheeks and everything

She’d be more than happy to show herself off, as well as all of her achievements. She gives you treasures from her conquests regularly

She’s similar to Dragonberry though where she expects praise, but unlike her she doesn’t get as angry. She doesn’t see her gift giving as a transactional thing, she does it because she can. You just gotta tell her how wonderful she is

The oases are a popular spot for her to bring you for food and refreshments, cared for by gold-adorned servants as she gushes over the grand vision for her kingdom. She’s honestly quite excitable and loves talking about herself and her plans.

Pay no mind to the scans that are run on you while you sleep, or the diagnostics of your information that run deep in her servers. She doesn’t think it’ll need to happen soon, but she’s planning to put you in a sarcophagus and hook you into her virtual world to make you live forever. She’s not going to let something else she cares about go.

Midnight Lily Cookie

The tamest one honestly

Unlike the others, she sees you as an equal. She knows your personal space and doesn’t encroach on it too much or too little, makes sure you’re well cared for and healthy, and keeps you safe. She also lets you leave and trusts you to take care of yourself. Being Beast of Sovereignty, she encourages the people under her to do whatever they please within their allegiance to her, and this includes you.

She’ll play the harp for you and ask you how she did

You also get lots of gifts and compliments from the other faeries for being the lover of their queen

She does have preferences though. She likes honesty and expects you to keep promises, she prefers if you do something for her in exchange for her doing something for you, and to not question her motive and means to take down her other half. She will get very defensive with you and shut down the conversation pretty fast

The flora in the silver kingdom bloom to their fullest around you both, but when Lily is upset with you, they curl or bud as you pass by them.

Speaking of chlorokinesis, get used to seeing her show no mercy with her plants. Unlike Dragonberry though, she’ll do her best to help you if the sight of bodies skewered on flower stems is too much. Maybe stick to the heart of the kingdom for your own good, where you’re less likely to see how the rest of Beast Yeast challenge her kingdom.

She has a whole bunch of rules set up when Saint visits. While she’d encourage not being with him at all, if you really want to see him, she made it expressly clear to him that he cannot purify you.

#disclaimer i’m not an x reader blog pls don’t flood my inbox with a ton of these requests #beast ancients au ask #beast ancients au #cjj arts #saint vanilla cookie #dragonberry cookie #frigid cacao cookie #celestial cheese cookie #midnight lily cookie #crk au #crk x reader #cookie run x reader #tw religious themes #tw religious trauma

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kisses4reid · 1 month ago

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scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic

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stevesgother · 18 days ago

Text

Chalkboard Hearts - S.H

Pairing - KindergartenTeacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Contains - strangers to friends to lovers, slowburn, so much fluff, teacher!steve and mom!reader. No descriptions are given of reader or abbey, other than that abbey has curly hair, steve and reader are the same age (about 24-25), set early-mid 90's

AN - i don’t write for kids often so i hope this reads well and is realistic. i don’t have a clear end for this series in mind, so i’m gonna keep writing it for as long as y’all want it :) feel free to send requests for blurbs for this AU if you so wish and as always, thank you - emma

“Moooooom,”

You hear a tiny voice whisper in your ear. Most mornings started this way, if not all of them. Whoever said getting children out of bed in the morning was difficult had clearly never met Abbey. Every day you peeled your tired eyes open to see the miniature version of them staring back at you, the only difference being they were much wider, and lacking the distinct fog of leftover sleep.

Today her hair was sticking up in all different directions; frizzy curls here and tangled knots there. Your daughter takes after you in many ways, one being that she’s an active sleeper and it shows when she wakes up. Her bed was always disheveled; embroidered blankets strewn across her bedroom floor and little red lines indented in her cheeks where they had been smushed against her pillow.

“Mornin’ Ab,” you say, voice gravelly with disuse. “Have you made your bed yet?” you eye her suspiciously.

You know she hasn’t and she confirms as much when she spins on her heel and dashes for her room down the hall. Truthfully, you couldn’t care less if her bed was made or not, it was merely a guise to buy you a few extra minutes of peace and quiet each morning.

︵୨୧︵

When she doesn’t reappear, you assume she’s gotten distracted and decide to make your way downstairs to scrounge for something to eat. You never ate breakfast before you had Abbey; either for lack of time or because the smell of food so early in the morning made you nauseous. Eating three meals a day was just one bullet point on the long, running list of changes in your routine since becoming a mother.

Two bowls of Frosted Flakes were set out on the table after deciding there was no time for anything more nutritious.

“Abbey!” You call, “Breakfast!”

You hear the sounds of sniffling and small feet padding on hardwood as she enters the kitchen– pouting. You try not to gape at the utter monstrosity of an outfit she's put on. She whines, “I don’t know what I want to wear!”

You sense a meltdown coming already, on today of all days. Pre-school was easy, as Abbey was a fairly agreeable kid. Or at least she used to be. Lately it felt like you had to battle her about anything and everything.

“You look so beautiful, Ab!” you reassure her, attempting to deescalate the impending tantrum. She has on pink corduroy pants and a frilly forest green blouse. For accessories she’s sporting a chunky plastic necklace that definitely came with a dress-up kit, along with a tutu. You have no idea where the tutu came from.

Eventually she decides not to fight you, at least not on her outfit. However, as she climbs into the kitchen chair, she scowls down at the soggy cereal in front of her and asks in the most darling tone she can muster,

“Can I have Scooby fruit snacks instead?”

“How about I pack some in your lunchbox today and you can eat them at snack time?” you try to barter.

Sneaking a glance at the clock, it mocks you with its unforgiving hands– you’re going to be late and your daughter will have skipped supposedly the most important meal of the day. Some mother you are.

“But I want them right now!” Her petite fists bang against the wooden table and she’s a heap of dramatics wriggling in her chair.

“Hey, what did we talk about? Yelling is not nice, even when we’re frustrated. Right?” She acknowledges you with a teary nod along with more crying and petulant moaning that can be heard as you run to the bathroom and grab a hairbrush with two bows. When you return, she’s still moping over her breakfast, but taking bites nonetheless. A win is a win.

You begin detangling the mess of knots and snarls at the back of her head. “Ouch, Mommy!” she cries when you try to comb through a particularly tangled section.

You place one of your hands over the crown of her head like a claw in a poor attempt at keeping her from squirming, “The more you move the longer it takes, sweetheart,”

“Hmph.” she pouts, folding her arms over her chest. When all is said and done, your daughter has her hair parted and tied into two high pigtails, secured with little pink bows, and you’re rushing her out of the front door with haste.

︵୨୧︵

In all the hubbub, you realize you’ve barely gotten yourself ready. Reaching over to buckle Abbey into her carseat, she asks,

“When can I sit up front with you?”

“When you’re this many,” You hold out both your hands to display all ten fingers.

She mimics you with her own smaller fingers, “Ten?”

“That’s right!” You smack a kiss on the crown of her head as you pull back, she smells like her strawberry scented shampoo.

“Watch your feetsies,” you warn and she tucks her legs unnecessarily far into her chest as you close the door.

The ride is filled with the usual nonsensical ramblings of a five-year-old. She beams back at you through the rearview mirror, eyes sparkling and nodding fervently when you ask if she’s excited to make some new friends today. Your social butterfly, the complete antithesis of you.

The elementary school is only a few miles from your home, and before you know it you’re circling a crowded parking lot and preparing to drop your only child off for her first day of kindergarten. The rush of emotions you feel are indecipherable, something like a mix of somberness, excitement, relief, and anxiety.

As you walk towards the front of the building, you’re surrounded by dozens of kids aged five through twelve greeting their teachers and saying ‘Hello’ to friends they haven’t seen all summer. The teachers are holding laminated signs that indicate their name and what grade they teach; thank God for that. Abbey’s little fist squeezes around your index finger and you can tell she’s becoming nervous, despite her previous unbridled anticipation.

“Hey, it’s okay,” You assure, “Look, I think that’s your teacher right there,” you point towards a tall, brunette man standing near the double doors.

A shy smile tugs at the corners of her lips when she sees the teacher in question. He’s dressed in a striped button-down shirt and khakis, with a lanyard dangling from his front pocket; the typical teacher attire.The sign he’s holding reads, ‘Mr. Harrington’ and just below that, ‘Kindergarten’ with a little cartoon apple printed next to his name. He looks young compared to the rest of the staff, closer to your own age. This must be his first year teaching.

As you approach him, Abbey treks in front, eager to meet him. Her backpack is adorned with sparkly butterflies and it covers nearly her entire torso; bumping the backs of her knees with every step she takes.

The man crouches down to her level and greets her, “Hey there,” he offers a warm smile, “what’s your name?”

“Abbey,” she says timidly, twiddling her fingers and flashing a toothy grin at him. She doesn’t bother with her last name, honestly you’re not positive that she even knows it.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Abbey,” he holds a gentle hand out for her to shake and she does so hesitantly, “My name’s Mr. Harrington, and I’m going to be your teacher this year. How does that sound?” The way he’s so patient and attentive with her stirs something within you that you haven’t felt in years, but he’s a teacher, for goodness sake. He looks up then, locking eyes with you and rising back to his full height.

This time, it’s your turn to shake his hand. “I’m Steve.” He flashes you a smile directly out of a Colgate ad and you hope you’re not blushing as much as you feel like you are.

You must look nervous because he immediately assures you that Abbey’s in good hands this year. “We’re having an open house tonight, I hope to see you both there,”

You glance at your daughter, “What’d you think, Ab? That sound fun?”

“Yes!” She squeals and almost falls over from the weight of her backpack.

“Okay then,” With that, you crouch down to give Abbey one final hug. It’s clear that she’s itching to go socialize with the other kids, so you try not to delay her with your sappiness.

“Be good today, okay?” you give her a tight squeeze and a smacking kiss on her little cheek, “I’ll be back to get you at two-forty-five.”

“What will the clock say?” She asks inquisitively. Her favorite question.

“It’ll say ‘two-four-five’,” She nods in understanding, “But I bet you’ll be having so much fun that you won’t even remember to look.”

She’s already on her way to the door when she calls, “Love you, mommy!” and blows you a kiss with her lips puckered. You blow her one back and fight the tears threatening to surface. When did she get so big?

A pang of insecurity settles in your chest when you chance a look around and see all the children accompanied by two parents. You begin the walk back to your sedan before the thought has a chance to fester.

︵୨୧︵

Six hours goes by alarmingly fast when it’s spent running around your house in a frenzy, trying to catch up on all the cleaning you aren’t able to do when there’s a rampant five-year-old on the loose, making a brand new mess where you just cleaned an old one.

Before you can even register the time has passed, it's two o’clock and you need to pick Abbey up in a mere forty five minutes. Looking around your house, you feel satisfied with the progress you were able to make on tidying and call it a day.

This time, you decide to try and appear more presentable before visiting the school, and firmly remind yourself that it has nothing to do with how flustered your daughter’s kindergarten teacher makes you. By the time you’re dressed and have pulled your hair up into a halfway decent top knot; it’s time to go.

︵୨୧︵

The line for pickup wraps around the front of the building, aided by crossing guards and supervised by a few teachers. Twenty minutes into waiting, you regret not having gotten here a little sooner. ‘Tomorrow’ you think. Soon, you catch sight of two little pigtails bobbing up and down as your Abbey skips over to you, grinning ear to ear while Steve watches from the doors she just exited.

“Mommy!” she shouts as she bounds towards you. You place the car in park and run around to greet her.

“Hi, Bug!” you exclaim as you bend at the waist to pick her up. She gives you a tight squeeze around the neck, and you catch a split second of Steve’s gaze over her shoulder before he’s disappearing back inside the school

Plopping her as gently as possible into her carseat and fastening the straps over her chest, her mouth is already moving a mile a minute– absolutely ecstatic to tell you all about the activities she got up to while you were gone.

“What is ‘open house’ ?” she asks, kicking her feet like she can’t possibly contain all the excitement inside her little body.

“It’s just a chance for all the mommies and daddies to meet your teachers,” you explain, “And you get to show me around your new school, fun right?”

Her face lights up like a christmas tree at the prospect, “Are we gonna go?!”

“Yes, but first we have to eat dinner. What sounds good?”

Without missing a beat, she yells a little too loudly, “McDonalds!”

You want to say yes, of course you do, but your shifts at the ER barely cover the minimum of your living expenses. Your resolve begins to crumble, however, when she looks at you with those saucer-round eyes, and her bottom lip juts out in the most precious pout. Who knew she could be so harmlessly manipulative?

“I don’t know, Ab. I think we have some chicken nuggets in the freezer at home, though,” you say, with an air of hopefulness that she might accept the compromise.

“Not the same,” she whines, “Please, Mommy! I’ll be extra extra good please–”

And with that, it’s over.

“Okay! Okay, fine,” you feign annoyance through a smile, “We’ll stop on the way home,”

You can still hear her squeals of excitement when you close the door and walk around to the driver's seat.

︵୨୧︵

Abbey dresses a little more cohesively for the open house than she did this morning. This time she’s clad in a thrifted pair of overalls overtop a little purple blouse. She leads you, hand in hand, inside the school like she knows exactly where she’s going– despite only having spent six hours here.

Steve’s classroom looks exactly how you’d expect. The walls are a light, mint green and it’s as if a character from Sesame Street threw up all over it. Abbey leads you to a reading nook in the corner of the room, surrounded by books and complete with several bean bag chairs, and proclaims this is her favorite spot. She shows you where her desk is– right in the very front of the classroom– and on it, a laminated sticker with her first and last name sits neatly near the top. The walls are lined with colorful letters in alphabetical order, accompanied with numbers just underneath them.

“Abbey!” you hear a familiar voice call, “I’m glad you and your mom could make it!” turning to you then, “I’m actually not sure I ever caught your name,” he chuckles awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by the fact that he doesn’t know it yet.

“Oh, it’s–” and before you get the chance to tell him, Abbey pipes up and tells him your first and last name with a confidence that she certainly didn’t have when it came to her own introduction this morning. You’re relieved that she feels so comfortable around him already.

He repeats your name back to you and holds out his hand for you to shake, “It’s nice to meet you,” You pay no mind to the way your heart beats a little faster in its cage at the sound of your name on his lips. His palm is surprisingly soft when you grasp it in your own.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you grant him a polite smile, “Abbey could not stop talking about you on the way home,” you pinch her side, teasing, and she giggles in that contagious way that kids do.

“Is that so?” he feigns surprise when he looks at her.

“Nooo!” her giggles amplify as she becomes increasingly bashful.

He crouches down to meet her at eye-level, exactly like he did this morning, “Well, that’s a shame, because I think you might be one of my favorite students,”

Now, she’s a heap of laughter and has a blush spreading from the apple of her cheeks to the tips of her ears. You can’t help but feel enamored by how great he is with children, silently wondering if he comes from a big family, or if he has a child of his own.

“Did you introduce your mom to Nibbles?” he asks her when her laughing mostly subsides.

She gasps like she can’t believe she would’ve forgotten such a thing, then she hauls you by the arm over to a tiny cage on a table, presumably for an even tinier animal.

“Mommy, look! This is Nibbles,” She’s peering between the metal bars of the enclosure and encouraging you to do the same, when you lean in closer you see a small, tan gerbil sleeping in a little nest of bedding.

“He’s our friend and he helps us learn, so we have to be very careful with him,” she tells you with a sudden seriousness that's amusing to see displayed on such a young face. It’s obvious she’s parroting Steve.

You turn to see Steve observing from a few feet behind you, both hands shoved in his pockets, “I didn’t think teachers actually had class pets,” you breathe a huff of laughter.

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckles with you, “I brought him from home, actually. Figured he could use some socialization. With dozens of children.” he informs you sarcastically. God, he’s funny too.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you to be a hamster guy,” you tease.

“He’s a gerbil, first of all,”

“Right, sorry, my bad,” you smirk.

“No time for a dog, I guess,” he shrugs, “thought I could use the company,” he’s clearly still bantering, but there’s an underlying melancholy in his tone that you can’t quite place. Before you can think about it for longer than a second, an impatient five-year-old is tugging on your arm and begging to show you the library.

“Okay, alright,” you laugh, “better get to it, the library awaits,” you shoot him an apologetic look for having cut the conversation short. You feel less guilty, however, when you see more parents and children start to funnel into the classroom, busying him in yours and Abbey’s absence.

“See ya, “ he waves.

“Bye, Mr. Harrington!” Abbey yells, already halfway down the hall.

︵୨୧︵

In the library you have to shush Abbey several times, much to her dismay.

“We use our inside voices in the library, Ab,” you remind her for the fifth time. She frowns but it’s temporary when she spots her favorite section: the picture books. Abbey is ahead of a kindergarten reading level now, and it's one of her favorite hobbies, but you can still never go wrong with a good picture book.

You’re about to follow her when you hear someone call your name.

You turn, “Stephanie?” you ask, puzzled.

“Oh my gosh! It’s been forever!” an old friend from your shared high school, Stephanie, pulls you into an unreciprocated bear hug. Squeezing and swaying back and forth for an awkward amount of time.

“Hey,” you draw out the last syllable and try to paint your voice with a nostalgic excitement, “How have you been?” you ask, even though you’re sure you’d rather be shot than continue this conversation.

You don’t know if you could really call Stephanie a ‘friend’, or if you ever could. The only reason she even knew your name being the shared, piranha-esq social circle you both ran in years ago. She reminded you of your past– who you used to be– someone who you’re not particularly proud of.

“Oh, I've been just fine!” She gestures wildly with manicured nails. Her lips are overlined and her hair is still damaged from bleaching and too many perms. Evidently, not a lot has changed. You ponder if she’s still the mean girl she always was underneath all that makeup, or if at some point in your adolescence she decided to mature.

“Todd and I just bought a house over on Maplewood, are you familiar?”

“Oh, no, not really– my daughter and I live across town,” You don’t like how ashamed you feel, “I’ve heard it’s beautiful over there, though,” you attempt to smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“That was your daughter?” She’s trying not to sound taken aback and failing, “With–?”

“Yes,” Your teeth grit ever so slightly. You hate that she won’t say his name, as if speaking it into existence would somehow break you. Like you’re fragile.

“I was terribly sorry to hear about what happened, Hon,” Her sudden sympathetic tone irritates you, whether it’s genuine or not. You don’t need pity, especially not from Stephanie Nettles.

“It’s okay, Steph, really,” losing patience by the second, nothing about it was okay. “It was a long time ago, Abbey and I are doing fine,” you assure her.

“Oh,” she fawns as she presses her bony hands against her chest above her heart, “Can I meet her? Would you mind?" Her tone is saccharine sweet. You figure it can’t hurt, but when you turn around to retrieve Abbey, she’s not where you left her. The spot on the rug that she was previously occupying is empty and her book is abandoned on the floor.

“Abbey?!” Calling a little too loudly for the setting you’re in but you can’t bring yourself to care. You search row after row, it’s not a big library, and after every shelf you’re expecting her to be there– browsing novels and you’ll feel silly for overreacting.

But that doesn’t happen, and you realize with mild panic that she definitely left the library; somehow without you noticing. You suppose this is the safest place for her to go missing, but the thought doesn’t soothe you for long as you still have no idea where your daughter could be.

Stephanie is staring at you with concern, but still making no effort to help you locate Abbey. You don’t speak and neither does she as you rush out of the room and begin to pace the halls, still calling out for her. You check the bathrooms by the gym, a couple of empty classrooms that aren’t locked– she’s not there either.

When you’ve checked every available room and potential hiding spot in the near vicinity and still see no trace of her, that’s when the real dread sets in. What if she’d wandered outside and been taken? Or worse, there had been an accident and she’s hurt? She could be miles from here by now, she could be–

“I think this might belong to you,” a mellow voice rings out.

Steve and Abbey walk leisurely towards you, hand in hand. A complete contrast to the frazzled mess of anxiety you are right now. You hurl yourself in their direction and wrap Abbey up in a hug, lifting her off her feet.

“Oh my God, Abbey,” normally you’d be fuming at her for wandering off like that when you know that she knows better, but you can’t feel anything other than relief in the moment.

“Found her on the swings,” Steve continues, “Isn’t that right?”

Your relief does eventually morph to frustration, “You know better, Abbey Jane. Don’t stray off like that again. Do you understand?”

She succumbs to her guilt and you can tell her short-lived freedom has lost its novelty. “I’m sorry, mommy,” her little eyes well with tears. “The other kids were going to the swings, I wanted to go,” she pouts.

“We could’ve gone, baby, but you have to ask first, okay?”

Her meek response is muffled in the crook of your neck, “Okay,”

She’s still sniffling into your shoulder when you remember Steve is there, and your surroundings come back into focus.

“Thank you for finding her, Steve–”

“--His name is Mr. Harrington, mom,” she corrects like she can’t believe you’d embarrass her like that by calling her teacher the wrong name.

“--Mr. Harrington,” you stifle a laugh for your daughter's sake, sending him a knowing look.

He returns the expression, “Anytime,” he smiles, sweet . “Think that's enough scaring your mom for today, huh?”

Instead of acknowledging with words, she simply nods her head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

“I think someones getting sleepy, might be time to head home,” you drag a gentle hand down her back soothingly.

“Will you carry me?” she asks too adorably to say no, despite her being ever-so-slightly too big for it. Grunting as you pick her up, you say, “Thanks, again,”

“No need,” he ruffles Abbey’s head lightly as you pass, “See you tomorrow, right?”

“See you,” her eyelids are heavy already. You make your way back to the car slowly but surely, arms growing more numb with every step.

︵୨୧︵

Abbey manages to bargain a bath out of you and four books before bedtime instead of the usual two. How you ever say no to her, you’re not sure. By the time you finally tuck her in, it's well past nine o’clock.

“Did you have a good day today?” You ask as you bend down to kiss her forehead.

“Yes, Mr. Harrington is my favorite teacher,” she proclaims drowsily.

“He’s your only teacher, Ab,” You snicker.

“But he’s still my favorite,” she replies in the same cadence one would say ‘Duh’.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to go to sleep super fast tonight so you can see him sooner, right?”

You can practically see the lightbulb turn on above her head like she’s just had a groundbreaking revelation and nods fervently. You tuck her in tight on both sides, and give her a kiss on each of her cheeks and once more to her forehead for good measure.

“Love you, Abbey girl,” you tell her on your way out, “Goodnight,”

“Goodnight, mommy,” she says wearily from underneath her princess bedsheets.

The door closes with a soft click and you make your way to the living room. You never had the chance to ask Stephanie what she was doing at the school– from what you knew, she didn’t have any children. Perhaps she was a teacher. It didn’t matter as long as you didn’t have to interact with her again.

As you lounged on your old sectional, you couldn't help your mind wandering back to thoughts of Steve. You wanted to know more about him. Where he came from, what made him want to work with kids, why he needed a gerbil to keep him company. Distantly, you imagined what he was like outside of an elementary school setting. You hoped one day you’d find out.

He was Abbey’s teacher, sure, but what was the harm in a little crush?

taglist - @soulxiez

divider credit to @/strangergraphics

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rootedinrevisions · 1 month ago

Text

No Nut November...or Not

SUMMARY: When a harmless bar conversation turns into a bet about who can last the longest during No Nut November, the stakes are set. They both assume they can outlast the other without breaking a sweat. What they don’t anticipate is you–their mischievous partner–who takes it as a personal challenge to make the month as impossible as humanly possible. Because why should they get to have all the fun?

A/N: Thank you so much to the Nonny who sent in this request! This one is a little more outside my comfort zone than what I normally write, but I think it turned out okay. Please let me know how you feel about it!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT. (Lingerie, Spanking, Slight Dom, Unprotected Sex (be responsible people), P in V (reverse cowgirl), Voyeurism/Exhibitionism (not sure if this counts in a poly relationship but including it in case)

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual hum of chatter and laughter, the jukebox belting out an old rock anthem. You leaned back in your chair, nursing a cold beer as you watched Jake and Bradley settle into their usual rhythm.

Jake smirked, his signature cocky grin firmly in place as he tipped his bottle toward Bradley. “Face it, Bradshaw, you just can’t handle the pressure. That’s why I’m better at pretty much everything.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, though the twitch of his jaw betrayed his annoyance. “You keep telling yourself that, Bagman. Last time I checked, you couldn’t keep up with me in the air…let alone other places.”

His gaze then shifted to you and he shot you a wink. You hid your smile behind your bottle, enjoying the way their bickering played out like clockwork. It was endearing in its own way, how the two of them always seemed to push each other just to prove who could come out on top.

“Alright, alright,” you interjected, setting your drink down and tilting your head at them. “What’s it going to be this time? Another darts match? Arm wrestling in the middle of Penny’s bar?”

“Don’t even think about it boys,” she interjects from behind the bar causing your lips to curve into a smirk.

Jake turned to you with a gleam in his eye, his grin widening. “Nah, that would be too easy, sweetheart. I’m thinking something better. Something that requires real willpower.”

Bradley scoffed, but there was a flicker of curiosity on his face. “What are you thinking, Hangman?”

Jake leaned forward, bracing one elbow on the table. “No Nut November.”

The words hung in the air for a beat before you burst out laughing, nearly spilling your beer. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m dead serious.” Jake looked over at Bradley, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Think you’ve got the guts to keep it together for a whole month, Bradshaw? Or are you gonna fold like you always do?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes, his lips curving into a slow, confident smile. “You’re on. But don’t come crying to me when you lose after, what, three days?”

“Three days?” Jake repeated mock outrage in his tone. “I’ve got steel discipline, Bradshaw. You’re the one who’s always got his head in the clouds.”

“Oh, this is good,” you said, shaking your head in amusement. You could already tell where this was headed, and it was going to be entertaining, to say the least

“What’s the wager?” Bradley asked, his eyes not leaving Jake.

“The usual,” Jake said with a shrug. “Loser has to do whatever the winner says. No complaints, no excuses.”

Bradley nodded, extending his hand across the table. “Deal.”

They shook on it, their grips firm and their gazes locked in mutual defiance. You snipped your beer, biting back a grin as an idea began to form in your mind.

If they were really going to go through with this, you might as well make it interesting. After all, wasn’t it your duty as their partner to keep them on their toes?

“I hope you two are ready,” you said, your voice deceptively sweet as you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Because I’m not about to make this easy for either of you.”

Jake arched a brow, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Bradley’s eyes flicked to yours, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flashing across his face. But neither of them had the chance to respond before you stood, finishing the last of your drink and setting the bottle down with a soft clink.

“Good luck, boys,” you said, giving them a wink before walking away.

Behind you, you could hear Jake muttering, “What the hell does that mean?”

The next evening, the glow of the Hard Deck’s neon lights and the buzz of competitive banter were a distant memory. In their place was the soft hum of music drifting from the living room speaker and the warmth of home-cooked comfort filling the air.

Jake and Bradley’s off-base apartment had always been a haven of sorts—a space where the three of you could unwind, trading the chaos of your days for shared laughter and easy companionship, and a lot of physicality. Tonight was no different.

You stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and a grin tugging at your lips as you recalled the way Jake and Bradley had shaken on their bet the night before, each so sure of their resolve. It was all in good fun, of course, but watching them try to outlast each other was going to be a source of endless entertainment. Especially if you had anything to say about it.

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the cozy apartment kitchen as you stirred a simmering pot on the stove. Bradley leaned beside you, chopping vegetables with steady precision, while Jake stood at the counter, tossing together a salad. It was a rare quiet evening for the three of you, the kind of domestic tranquility that felt all the more special amidst the chaos of naval schedules.

You glanced at Bradley out of the corner of your eye. He was focused on his task, the rhythmic thwack of the knife against the cutting board filling the space between the three of you.

Setting the spoon aside, you turned toward him, brushing your hand lightly along the small of his back as you reached for the bowl beside him. “Thanks for helping out,” you said, your voice casual but laced with a subtle warmth.

“No problem,” Bradley replied, his tone as calm as ever. He didn’t look up from the cutting board, his focus unbroken.

Undeterred, you let your fingers linger a moment longer than necessary before pulling away, casually brushing against his forearm as you leaned over to grab a kitchen towel. Still no reaction—though you noticed the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

From across the kitchen, Jake chuckled softly. You looked over your shoulder to find him watching with a smug grin, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “Really? Is that all you’ve got?”

Game on.

Turning back to Bradley, you stepped closer, reaching for the bowl of chopped veggies just as he finished.

“Let me get that,” you said, letting your fingers trail along his wrist as you took the bowl from him. This time, there was the faintest flicker of something in his expression, but he quickly masked it, his lips curving into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Thanks,” you said sweetly, placing the bowl on the counter and brushing past Jake on your way to the fridge.

You could feel his eyes on you, but he didn’t say a word, his hands continuing to toss the salad with deliberate nonchalance. Smiling to yourself, you opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of wine, taking your time as you returned to the counter.

Jake didn’t react when you sidled up beside him, leaning slightly against his arm as you reached for a corkscrew. But when your fingers brushed his wrist—lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin—his hands faltered, sending a stray piece of lettuce tumbling onto the floor.

“Oops,” you murmured, hiding your grin as you grabbed the corkscrew and stepped back. You almost painfully slow, bent down to pick up the lettuce, making sure the skirt you were wearing slid up giving Jake just the tiniest glimpse of the frilly lace of your underwear peeking out at him.

Jake shot you a look, his smirk slipping for a fraction of a second before he composed himself.

“Careful there, darlin’,” he said, his voice smooth but with a slight edge as his hand moved to your hip.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Bradley glancing over, his smirk now firmly in place. “What’s wrong, Seresin? You’re not getting distracted, are you?”

Jake’s jaw tightened just enough for you to notice, and you bit back a laugh, turning your attention back to the wine.

“Oh, don’t tease him, Bradshaw,” you said innocently, pouring three glasses with careful precision. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he said nothing, instead focusing intently on his salad as if it were the most important task in the world.

You smiled to yourself, setting the glasses on the counter. This was going to be even more fun than you thought.

Dinner was ready not long after, and the three of you settled at the small dining table tucked against the window. The kitchen lights cast a soft glow over the scene, the faint hum of music still playing in the background. Plates were filled with the fruits of your collective labor: roasted chicken, sautéed vegetables, and a fresh salad that Jake had insisted was “restaurant-quality.”

You took the first bite, savoring the flavors as they hit your tongue. But instead of keeping the reaction to yourself, you let out a quiet, almost breathy moan, closing your eyes as though the simple taste of the meal was enough to send you to heaven.

When you opened your eyes, you caught both Jake and Bradley staring, their forks paused midair. Their gazes flicked to each other in a brief, wordless exchange before they simultaneously looked down at their plates, the muscles in their jaws tensing as they focused a little too intently on their food.

Suppressing a grin, you stabbed another piece of chicken with your fork, dragging it slowly through the sauce before taking another bite, this time pulling the utensil from your lips with an exaggerated slowness. You made sure the movement was subtle enough to seem natural—just enough to plant the idea without making it obvious.

The effect was immediate. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake shift in his seat, adjusting his posture in a way that suggested he was trying to ignore you. Across from him, Bradley chewed with deliberate focus, his expression unreadable except for the faint tightness in his jaw.

“Everything okay?” you asked innocently, looking between the two of them.

“Fine,” Jake said quickly, his tone light but clipped. He took a long drink of water, his eyes trained firmly on his plate as if it held the answers to all of life’s mysteries.

“Yeah, fine,” Bradley echoed, though his voice carried a hint of strain as he reached for the salad bowl, pretending to busy himself with serving more.

You leaned back in your chair, letting the silence settle for a moment before leaning forward again, your fingers brushing against the edge of your fork. There was a bit of sauce clinging to the tip, and instead of reaching for a napkin, you raised the utensil to your lips, your tongue darting out to catch the stray droplet.

It wasn’t dramatic—barely more than a flick—but the tension in the room crackled like static electricity. Jake’s fork clattered against his plate, and Bradley muttered something under his breath, though neither of them said anything directly.

Satisfied, you straightened in your chair and continued eating, keeping your movements deliberately slow and casual. You were playing the long game, after all, and the night was still young.

The evening stretched on, the kind of Saturday night that carried the promise of an easygoing, relaxed vibe. But the air between the three of you had changed. Every glance, every subtle movement felt charged, as if all the teasing from dinner was quietly simmering beneath the surface, waiting for something to tip it over the edge.

As the game time drew near, you decided to take a break, excusing yourself with a casual, “I’ll be right back. Gonna get comfy for the game.”

Jake barely looked up, his attention already focused on the TV screen as he pulled up the Longhorns' game schedule. Bradley nodded absently, taking another sip of his beer.

You made your way toward Jake’s bedroom. His closet door creaked open, and you moved quickly, your fingers brushing past the shirts hanging neatly in a row until you found it—the burnt orange jersey. You had no intention of wearing it the traditional way, though.

Next, you turned your attention to the bottom drawer of Jake’s dresser. The one that, over time, had become a place for a few of your things—your stuff from nights spent at their place, the clothes you didn’t mind leaving behind. You sifted through the familiar pile, your fingers grazing the fabric until you found what you were looking for. The lacy black thong with the satin bow on the back, a gift from Bradley on your birthday last year.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stripped out of your clothes, quickly slipping into the thong and then pulling the jersey over your head. The fabric settled comfortably against your skin, the oversized fit doing little to hide the outline of what you were really wearing underneath.

When you emerged from the bedroom, your eyes met the living room where the guys were settling in. Jake was already lounging on the couch, the TV lighting up his face as he focused on pulling up the game. Bradley was standing near the fridge, mid-drink when he saw you. His hand froze, the bottle of beer almost slipping from his grip. His eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he took in the sight of you in nothing but the jersey.

Jake’s gaze flickered over to you, eyes widening for just a moment before he cleared his throat, his focus shifting back to the screen as though it was the most important thing in the world. But you could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened against the remote as if it were somehow anchoring him.

Bradley, on the other hand, had a harder time hiding it. His eyes followed you across the room, the surprise quickly turning into something unreadable, but not before his lips parted as though he might say something—until he caught himself. Instead, he looked down at his beer, taking a long swig to steady himself.

You smirked, casually flopping down on the couch beside Jake, making sure to let the fabric of the jersey shift just enough to give him a better view of what you were wearing—or, more accurately, not wearing underneath.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Jake’s hand settled on your thigh, warm and heavy, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the cool air from the open window. You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder, and wrapped your arms around his arm for good measure, leaning in close to him.

As you shifted your position, tilting your knees slightly, you felt the jersey ride up a bit higher, just enough for the lacy black thong to peek out from beneath the fabric. It was a calculated move, knowing full well that Bradley would notice.

Sure enough, when he finally settled back onto the couch on the other side of you, his gaze flickered down. His hand, perhaps on autopilot, reached out, brushing against your nearly bare skin, and you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. Bradley’s fingers squeezed the flesh there, just a little too long, a little too possessively, before he quickly pulled his hand away, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

You tilted your head back into Jake’s side, letting out a soft, content sigh, and allowed yourself to sink into his warmth. The move was deliberate, a subtle taunt that made Bradley’s jaw clench and his nostrils flare. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off you, and you reveled in the power you held over the two men tonight.

“Enjoying the game?” Jake asked, his voice low, as if he didn’t want to break the spell you’d cast. His fingers tightened on your thigh, pressing just enough to remind you of his presence.

“Mmm,” you replied, letting the sound linger in the air, your breath warm against his neck.

Jake leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered, “You know, you’re really playing a dangerous game, don’t you think?”

You looked up at him, your expression innocent, the tease in your eyes impossible to hide. “Maybe,” you replied coyly, “but I think it’s one you’ll both enjoy losing.”

The game continued, but the real action was unfolding right in front of Jake and Bradley. You could feel their eyes on you—the weight of their attention was undeniable. Jake’s hand had barely moved from your thigh, and Bradley’s fingers lingered there, giving you little indication that he had any intention of stopping. They were both wound tight, and you were enjoying every minute of it.

As the Longhorns scored a touchdown, the roar from the crowd on the TV mixed with your own excited gasp. Without thinking, you jumped to your feet, the burst of energy sending you bouncing up and down in celebration. You felt the jersey ride up as you raised your arms, the fabric lifting just enough to expose the small, barely-there thong underneath.

Your ass swayed with each bounce, the thong almost completely exposed, offering a perfect view of your bare skin to both men. The sensation of their eyes locked on you was intoxicating, but you didn’t stop. You made sure every movement was deliberate, a tease designed to keep them both hooked.

Finally, you turned around, your back to them now. The jersey hung just low enough to cover your front but did nothing to hide the thong from their view. You felt their stares burning into you, the tension between the three of you palpable in the air.

With a grin, you smirked over your shoulder, catching their eyes before saying, “Man, I love football.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably, his hand now tight around the beer bottle in his lap, but he didn’t say anything. Bradley, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his reaction. His jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in frustration. His hand moved to the front of his jeans, adjusting himself. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself, like every instinct he had was telling him to do something more.

The tension in the room was unbearable, and you could practically feel the moment when Bradley’s restraint finally snapped. As you smirked over your shoulder, still reveling in the heat of their gazes, you noticed the way his hands tightened into fists at his sides. His jaw was locked, his body rigid as he tried—unsuccessfully—to stay composed.

Then, without warning, he shot up from the couch. “Screw this,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration.

Before you could even react, he was on you. One moment, you were standing in front of him, and the next, he had you hoisted effortlessly over his shoulder. You gasped in surprise, but the only response from him was a determined growl.

You kicked your legs slightly, but it was no use. Bradley had you completely at his mercy, carrying you down the hallway toward his room with a purposeful stride.

Jake called out from the living room, his voice laced with disbelief. “Bradshaw—what the hell are you doing?”

But Bradley didn’t even look back, his focus solely on you as he carried you down the hall, ignoring whatever punishment Jake might throw at him. The bet? The consequences? They didn’t matter in that moment. All that mattered was the desire that had been building up in him, the need to finally act on everything he’d been holding back.

When he reached the door to his room, he kicked it open with one swift motion, stepping inside and slamming it shut behind him. As soon as it was closed, he dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark with intensity.

“You’ve been teasing us all night,” he growled, voice thick with desire. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You smirked, already knowing that you had pushed him too far. But that didn’t stop you from playing along, feeling the thrill of victory in the way you’d slowly unraveled him.

Bradley didn’t care about the bet anymore. All he cared about was you, and right now, that was enough.

As Bradley moved over you, his hands working the black thong off of your body with an urgency that matched the heat in his eyes, you felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The door swung open with a creak, and there, standing in the doorway, was Jake. His smirk was wide, his eyes gleaming with that same cocky confidence, but there was a sharpness to it now—a flicker of something darker beneath the surface.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him. His eyes shifted between you and Bradley, taking in the sight of the thong being discarded carelessly to the side. The silence that followed was thick with tension, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Bradley’s fingers paused for a moment, as if sensing Jake’s presence, but his focus quickly returned to you. The momentary distraction was all Jake needed. Without breaking his smirk, Jake pushed off the doorframe and strode confidently across the room.

“Bradley, step back, baby,” Jake’s voice was low, filled with a knowing taunt. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes still on you as he placed a hand on your waist, guiding you down across his lap.

You gasped, a mix of surprise and excitement flooding through you as you found yourself positioned across his strong legs. Your heart raced, but the smirk never left your face.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?” Jake’s voice was suddenly darker, his tone shifting as he ran a finger down your spine. “You think you can tease us both, and get away with it?” He gave you a playful, but firm tap on the back of your thigh, the sting shocking you.

He leaned forward slightly, pressing his lips to your ear. “Well, it’s time somebody put you in your place.”

Bradley watched, still breathing heavily as he stood at the foot of the bed, his hands flexing with restrained hunger. The game had changed entirely. You had crossed a line, and now, both men knew it was their turn to take control.

Jake’s grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he positioned you more firmly across his lap. He traced a finger across the curve of your backside, his voice rough as he said, “This isn’t over, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”

The first smack comes without warning, a startled cry leaving your lips as you feel the sting of Jake’s hand.

“That’s one. You’ve got nine more. Think you can handle it?”

You nodd, but Jake just makes a tsk tsk tsk noise with his mouth before delivering another smack to the same spot.

“Use your words. We’re back to one. I can do this all night.”

“Yes. Yes, I can handle it.”

You hear Jake let out a low chuckle before saying, “Damn right you can, baby.”

The final smack echoed through the room, sharper than the rest, and you couldn't suppress the gasp that left your lips. A wave of heat rushed through you, a mix of sting and longing building in your body. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the tension of the moment overwhelming.

Jake’s hand lingered, resting gently on your sore skin, the warmth of his palm contrasting with the burn of the smacks. For a brief moment, there was silence. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the weight of his touch seemed to calm you, despite the ache.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still full of command. His hand moved slowly, rubbing circles into your tender skin, soothing the burn as he spoke. "You did so well for me."

You could hear the pride in his voice, and feel the shift in his demeanor as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. It was a small, almost gentle gesture, but it spoke volumes in the context of everything that had just transpired.

His fingers traced along your back now, his touch lighter, almost tender. "I know you can take it," he continued, his tone warm. "You’ve been so good for us tonight."

The praise was enough to stir something inside you—something that made the lingering sting worth it. He could still dominate you, but in this moment, you were his, and he took care of you in a way that felt like both power and care.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen next, sweetheart,” Jake says. “Bradley here is going to lay on his bed, and you’re going to ride him, reverse cowgirl so he can watch that pretty ass bounce as your ride him. And so I can watch your perfect tits bounce.” You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together at his words. “And I’m going to stand at the end of the bed and I want your eyes on me the whole time. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” Jake says before helping you up off his lap.

The moment you lift yourself off Jake’s lap, there’s a quiet shift in the room. The tension in the room grows as you crawl up the bed, hovering over Bradley, who’s now lying back on the bed, his eyes dark with hunger but also something else–softness, a trace of tenderness mixed with the primal need.

As you settle above him, the weight of your body supported by your hands on either side of his chest, Bradley’s hands reach up to pull you down. He doesn’t waste a second, his lips finding yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. The kiss is almost electric, his lips hungry, but gentle enough to make you melt against him. The urgency fades slightly, and you find yourself losing a bit of control as you sink into the warmth of his embrace. His hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you close as if he doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It's just the two of you, your bodies pressing together, the soft sound of your breathing filling the space between you. You feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and warm, grounding you in this moment. It’s different with Bradley—there’s a tenderness there, something that contrasts with the more commanding side Jake showed earlier.

When you pull away, your lips still tingling, you can see the quiet satisfaction in Bradley’s eyes. His hands slip down your sides, tracing the outline of your body as if committing every inch of you to memory.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire, but there’s a softness to it, a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, but this time it’s slower, more deliberate, and you can feel the shift between you—less about the tease, less about the game, and more about the connection.

You shift, moving so that your back is now towards Bradley, and your gaze finds Jake’s. The electricity between you three is palpable, the air thick with the kind of unspoken connection that runs deep. You can feel Bradley’s hands on your waist, steadying you, but it’s Jake’s eyes that hold your attention now—dark, intent, but filled with something else. There’s a depth in his gaze, a silent understanding, a promise that whatever happens next, it’s about the three of you as one.

You reach down, tugging the burnt orange jersey off, letting it fall to the floor in a fluid motion, leaving yourself exposed before them. The vulnerability stirs something within you—both exhilarating and grounding at once. With each passing second, the trust between you grows stronger, the knowledge that you're not just being seen, but truly understood, is almost overwhelming.

You pause, locking eyes with Jake, and the tension rises again. His presence is commanding, but it's the gentle weight of his gaze that gives you the confidence to continue. Slowly, you begin to lower yourself, the movement calculated and deliberate, not just for them, but for yourself.

Bradley’s hands guide you, steadying you as you move closer to him. Your eyes flutter close as you feel the stretch of Bradley as you sink further and further onto him.

“Uh uh. Eyes on me, baby.” Jake reminds you.

You nod and open your eyes, yours immediately find Jake’s green ones. They’re darker than normal, laced with desire and need.

“You’re perfect,” Bradley whispers, his voice thick with emotion. You can feel the weight of his words, not just in his tone, but in how his hands trace over your skin, grounding you in this moment.

You stay locked on Jake’s gaze, the intensity of his eyes grounding you in the moment. The air between you two feels thick, like a promise that’s been quietly building, waiting to be fulfilled. His face softens, but there’s a quiet strength in it that makes your heart race.

Bradley’s hands move to your waist, his touch steady and sure. He guides you gently, helping you find your rhythm as your body begins to move, slow and deliberate. His touch is a contrast to Jake’s silent command—Bradley’s touch is soft, like a grounding force, holding you steady.

You feel the heat rising, your chest tightening as the tension builds. But through it all, Jake’s eyes never leave yours. There’s something magnetic about the way he watches, as though he’s seeing you—every part of you—in a way that makes you feel both vulnerable and safe, all at once. His jaw tightens as he shifts, the intensity in his gaze never faltering.

With every small movement, every shift of your body, you feel the pressure building. Your breaths come quicker, your heart racing as Bradley’s hands guide you.

“S-shit,” you hear Bradley mutter from beneath you, causing you to clench around him.

Bradley’s hands move to your back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. His touch is tender, guiding you closer, helping you reach a place of intensity that feels almost overwhelming.

And then, it comes—like a wave crashing over you. You can feel the pressure building, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Bradley’s hands on your skin, his body beneath you, and Jake’s steady gaze pulling you deeper. Every part of you is alive, connected, and entwined in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Your breath catches as the moment hits, your body trembling as you reach the peak. Your eyes never leave Jake’s, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. There’s nothing but the bond between the three of you—the love, the trust, the unspoken understanding that this is where you’re meant to be.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.” Bradley grunts as you feel ropes of his seed release into you.

You collapse on the bed against Bradley, your body spent and trembling, Jake’s smile softens, a quiet satisfaction in his eyes.

“You’re incredible,” Bradley whispers, pulling you into him, his hands still on your back as he kisses the top of your head. His voice is filled with a tenderness.

“You’re perfect,” Jake adds softly, his voice low and comforting.

Bradley shifts beside you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he looks over at Jake. There’s a quiet moment between them, an unspoken understanding passing between the two. With a soft chuckle, Bradley pushes himself up from the bed, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer before he speaks.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Jake, you wanna take care of her while I’m gone?” he asks, the affection in his voice evident.

Jake’s response is immediate, his eyes softening as he watches you. “Of course,” he says, his voice low but filled with warmth.

As Bradley moves to the bathroom, Jake crawls onto the bed beside you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. His presence is a steady, comforting weight as he shifts closer, opening his arms for you. You don’t hesitate, scooting over to him, seeking the comfort of his embrace.

You curl into him, your body instinctively leaning into his warmth as your head rests against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a calming rhythm beneath your ear, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment, the tension of the last few minutes slowly ebbing away.

Jake wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer, his hand gently stroking your hair as he settles against the pillows. His touch is soothing, almost protective, and it fills you with a sense of security that you can’t quite put into words.

“You did so well,” Jake murmurs, his voice soft and tender. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You smile against his chest, the words washing over you like a balm. You can feel the warmth of his body, the affection in every movement, and it’s all you need right now. The bond between the three of you feels unspoken but undeniable, and in this moment, everything feels right.

As you settle more comfortably against Jake, his arms holding you close, you allow yourself to fully relax, your body melting into his embrace. The soft sound of Bradley’s footsteps in the bathroom fades into the background as you lose yourself in the warmth of Jake’s care.

The world outside this room doesn’t matter right now. There’s only the three of you, your trust, and the quiet love that lingers in the space between. And for the moment, that’s all you need.

As the warmth of Jake’s embrace settles around you, the exhaustion from the long day and the intensity of everything that’s happened begin to catch up with you. Your body feels heavy, your mind slowly unwinding as the last threads of wakefulness start to slip away. You’re so close to falling asleep, the soothing rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat lulling you deeper into comfort.

But then, there’s a soft rustle of movement. You feel the bed shift slightly, and soon, Bradley is back. He’s holding a warm washcloth, the scent of soap and something faintly floral filling the air as he gently presses it against your skin. The touch is tender, careful, as he begins to clean you up, his fingers moving gently over you.

“Let me know if I’m being too rough,” Bradley murmurs softly, his voice a whisper in the quiet room, his gaze focused on his task. There’s no rush in his movements, only a quiet affection, as he takes care of you.

Once he finishes, he places the cloth aside, his hand lingering for just a moment before he pulls back. You feel the bed dip as he moves around, and then, in the next moment, he’s crawling onto the bed beside you. His arms slip around your waist from behind, pulling you into him, and you easily melt back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against your back.

You’re trapped now, but it doesn’t feel like a prison. Bradley’s strong chest presses against your back, his arms holding you securely while Jake, still on the other side of you, continues to hold you close. The two of them surround you, their presence comforting, and you can’t help but feel safe in their arms.

“Comfy?” Bradley murmurs against your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod slightly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Wouldn’t want to fall asleep any other way.”

The steady sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies, and the quiet intimacy of the moment all wash over you. You can feel yourself drifting, your body sinking into the bed, the pull of sleep becoming harder to resist.

Just as your mind starts to fade, you hear Jake’s voice, light and teasing, cutting through the soft lull of the room.

“So, Bradshaw,” Jake begins, his tone dripping with playful mockery. “Not even twenty-four hours, huh?”

Bradley chuckles softly behind you, his fingers idly tracing circles on your waist as he gives a quiet, amused grunt. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

Jake snorts, a low, amused laugh slipping from his lips. “Right, but it’s nice to know you’re still a little bit predictable.”

You can hear the affection in Jake’s voice, his teasing not mean-spirited but filled with that familiar bond that the three of you share. As the sound of their laughter and gentle banter continues, the exhaustion pulls you under, and you finally surrender to sleep, the two men’s arms around you the last thing on your mind as you drift away.

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eldritchamy · 4 months ago

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I think I've figured out a good way to articulate one of the reasons Human Domestication Guide is hitting for me in a way really not much else has done for a long time.

HDG is an inverse fandom.

Whereas a lot of fanfiction (maybe just for the sake of the pun we can expand outwards, wink, and call them "transformative works") takes at the core of its nature a specific character or group of characters, and then transplants (sorry, I had to) those characters into Alternate Universes in order to keep telling altered, revised, and original stories with those CHARACTERS, while changing everything else, HDG does the opposite.

It takes the SETTING as the core defining feature, and creates original CHARACTERS in order to tell original stories.

And that's really cool for reasons that, of course, ended up becoming another gigantic one of Amy's Patented Infodump Posts.

Most fanfiction gets to appeal to its audience because of the associations and attachments readers have for the CHARACTERS, and then create a new story from there without having to spend time setting up WHO THE STORY IS ABOUT for you. I don't say this as a bad thing, that's just the attraction. The readers bring their attachment to the characters WITH them before they start reading.

HDG gets to assume you understand the SETTING as a basic premise, and then tell new stories with original characters without having to hold your hand through as much of the set up work, because you already know the SETTING going in.

So instead of discovering how the characters you know relate to a world you don't (and to each other within that context), you get stories where you get to discover who the characters ARE, in the context of a world you already understand.

It's not "what does a different setting do to these characters." It's "how do different people navigate this setting."

You get to meet and learn and identify with the CHARACTERS because you see how they as unique people react to a set premise.

So much of what I've read so far has done exceptional work establishing who the characters are, even making MINOR characters within the story feel like fleshed out people.

You'd think in a setting that takes at face value the premise of humanity being subjugated and doted on by a species that uses mind control drugs to turn them into docile, obedient pets, the stories would struggle a bit with sameness as the individuality of the characters failed to shine through or were inevitably suppressed over the course of the plot.

In practice, it seems like almost the OPPOSITE is true.

The Affini always win. But every character chooses to lose to them in a different way that speaks to who they are as people.

Getting to explore these unique stories through the eyes of unique characters seems like it's making it EASIER to latch on to what makes THESE characters the focus of the stories being told.

And so far the stories being told are fucking great, and have such a huge range to them.

The original story for the setting is a VERY non consensual medfet/drug play subjugation story where Elvira (captain of a ship for the Free Terran feralist rebellion) is ABSOLUTELY brought into domestication by force (at first), and we get to see the PROCESS of her being broken down and becoming something new over the course of (what we later learn has been ONLY) about three weeks. She's not the same person she was at the start of the story. At all. She's been utterly replaced by a new identity and personality that the old version of her would never have accepted. (Also it's kinda hot that it's actually good for her, and that she very much DOES end up happier for it. She's still Elvira. But she's safe, and she's loved.)

That's a pretty specific vibe for a story.

But the next story I read in the setting takes place over the course of several hours in-universe, and basically follows a dysfunctional, clearly neurodivergent woman stagnating in the limbo of having been failed by capitalism (or in her mind, failing at it) and having mixed feelings about the staggeringly powerful alien civilization that is currently part way through conquering her planet and its people.

The story starts off when she's so hungry after scraping through what scant, nutritionless garbage she was able to find in the capitalist dystopia that it finally overrides her fear, and she goes to the border of Affini-controlled territory in her city. She figures, they're going to do whatever they're going to do to the rest of the city within a few days anyway, so there's no sense pretending whatever outcome she's walking into wasn't inevitable, and even if it's not as good as the Affini promise, at least it's not what she's been stuck in. Fear of sameness finally becomes more traumatic than fear of change.

She proceeds to go on an adorable lesbian grocery date with a 10 foot tall plant that gently flirts with her while remaining very firm that all of this human's needs CAN and SHOULD and WILL be taken care of FOR her from now on, and it's OKAY that she has trouble focusing because it's OKAY that some people need more help than others.

She spends several chapters experiencing repeated Lesbian Bluescreens because of this sweet, doting alien who insists it's no trouble at all and she's happy to help. Then said alien takes her back to her apartment on the human side to make sure she feels safe getting there through the anti-Affini protests, and then in a matter of minutes she has cleaned this girl's entire disaster of an apartment and promised to cook her a nice Terran pizza.

Then the girl has a lesbian panic attack while coming to terms with how much misery she didn't have to be living with, and whether this future isn't exactly what she always hoped for and more, so the alien offers to give her some alien drugs to calm her down, and her now fuzzy brain accidentally crumbles under the weight of all the secret petplay fantasies that have been turning her face red all morning and she accidentally calls the alien "Mistress", and then she goes home to THEIR place back in Affini territory with her new owner and gets absolutely spoiled until she falls asleep feeling safe and loved for the first time in her life.

COMPLETE tonal shift from the original story, but the LOGIC of the story is fully consistent with the setting. It's just a different character responding to that setting in a different way.

The range of what's possible is ENORMOUS.

I went from there to "two humans captured at different times struggle to find their way back to each other and end up with neural implants plugged into each other's brains by their shared Mistress, and the feedback loop helps them domesticate EACH OTHER" and then from there to a mostly historical context story about an Affini who lived for almost 300,000 years and how she feels about the Compact's role in everything they've done to the universe.

And then I got to read "I have to pretend to be a good little floret maid at an Affini Compact hotel because that's my Genius Spy Cover WHOOPS it turns out being a maid means getting teased and played with a lot WHOOPS, OHHhhh NOOOoo~ I'VE BEEN TURNED INTO A FREE USE HYPNO DOLL because EVERYONE KNEW I WAS A SPY THE WHOLE TIME, I'm going to resolve my mixed feelings by erotically betraying my co-conspirator so we can be floret girlfriends together," which was cute, funny, and INCREDIBLY hot.

Seriously, chapter 10 of that story. Holy FUCK. I think my brain has turned fully inside out. I had a DREAM kinda like it afterwards that I wish I could remember more of.

I guess my point is HDG is less like a fandom and more like DND.

It's a shared universe of collaborative storytelling, even if any individual work within it was made by one person.

You get to play within a core set of rules for how the setting works, but the stories that can come out of playing by those rules are so incredible and diverse and interesting, and I'm really enjoying getting to explore all of that within the context of a basic premise that has absolutely grabbed most of my kinks by the throat, stared menacingly into my eyes, and smirked knowingly.

Also it's INCREDIBLY queer and very obviously made specifically for gay autistic trans women who take progesterone, so I guess just like the rest of the little Terrans, I never stood a chance.

#HDG #human domestication guide #floretposting #eldritch rambles

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mochinomnoms · 10 months ago

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So uhhhh...... what other kinks would octavinnle have 😗

🦩

I already went into one I think Jade would have, so I'll list three new ones for each and a brief thing as to why, though it's not their only ones I would say it's some of their top ones.

Azul

Oral fixation: Azul has a refined palate, he can note each ingredient used in dishes with just his tongue! He's learned to put that tongue to good use, so it's logical to assume that he'd like to taste you as well. And Azul does love it so. There is no treat taster than you and your cum on his tongue, and while he's not one to indulge in his meals, for you he'd make an exception. I do hope that you are willing to keep your legs open for a quite some time, after all you wouldn't want to deny him of a treat, would you?

Praise kink: Let's be real, because of his childhood, Azul thrives on recognition and praise for his hard work. When he decides to go into something, it's never half-hearted, especially regarding his love and affection to you. So, praise him! Tell him what a good job he's doing, tell him to keep hitting that spot right there, oh god, Azul, you make me feel so goood~ It makes him feel so so good knowing that only he gets to make you feel like this, that only he gets to hear your voice praising him. It gets him off, so keep doing it at all times, whisper in his ear about how smart and wonderful he is in all aspects, the sweet tone in your voice gets him hot and heavy, turning into a need to keep hearing those honeyed words and show you just how deserving he is of your praise.

Breeding: Out of the trio, he is technically the only one with a mating season (two actually). And while he can usually get over those seasons on his own, with you at his side he instinctually develops a need to breed you silly! Who knew he had such a desire to become a daddy, you'll help him won't you? As his mate? Regardless of whether or not you can actually get pregnant, when the late spring and early fall come, he needs to fill your tummy with so much cum that it hurts! You'll spend at least two months out of the year with bent over or in a mating press until you're shuddering and twitching as milky white fluids are dripping from your hole. Now now, Azul can't have that, so won't you let him fill you just one more time? (It's never just one more time.)

Jade

Shibari: Jade thinks it's fascinating how humans don't have long, winding limbs to wrap their mates and make due with soft, pretty colored ropes. It's even more fascinating seeing the fat of your skin bulge against the ropes. Your chest, thighs, hips, all straining the ropes as your hands are tied against your back, helpless to his poking and prodding. Call him sadistic, but he loves seeing you so helpless underneath him, pretty eyes begging for him to use you and make you feel good. It makes him feel a sort of way to hear you beg to free your hands so you can hold him, dig your nails into his skin as your orgasm inches closer and closer. Jade does love having you be so helpless under him, free for him to use as he sees fit.

Service kink: Jade likes taking care of things, to be depended on. After all, he's so good at being a dependable partner, so why not place all your pleasure into his very capable hands? Be warned, though, Jade can be quite sadistic, and once you place your pleasure into his hands, it belongs to him and only him. There's no need to touch yourself when he hands long, nimble fingers to use, a long furling long to sink into your heat, and attentive eyes that watch and study every single moan, twitch, and breath you take. Jade will make sure that your lust filled brain will be drawn to him, immersed with the mind-blowing rapture he provides. All to the point that you'll only be able to cum through him, whether it be his mouth, hands, or dick. It's fine, Jade does love depend on, especially if it ruins you for anyone else after him. That's if you can bring yourself to leave, after all you'll never find another quite as attentive and caring as he. Jade's made sure of that.

Roleplaying: This plays a bit into Jade's service kink, but he does love dressing you up in cute outfits and making you play a bit. Perhaps he is a butler, and you're his master, bringing yourself down to ruin by a lowly servant as he fucks you into oblivion. Perhaps he's come to collect collateral from you for a deal, and you can only offer yourself. Maybe he's a big bad sea monster, and you're a sweet little human that drifted too far off into the sea. In any case, he loves playing into any of his roles, teasing you as you start of shy like an actor with stage fright. It's wonderful when Jade finally gets to see you lose yourself into your role, all for him. Though, don't be surprised if he decides to turn the table a bit, and dresses you up in a maid costume with a leash and collar. As much as he loves playing his usual role, Jade does also love seeing you coo and tend to him (and his dick) like the pretty, sweet spouse he knows you will be. Go on love, get on your knees and make him feel good. It's your responsibility to clean up the mess of slick you've left on his dick after all.

Floyd

Overstimulation: To no one's surprise, Floyd has plenty of energy to go around once he's interested in something, and you are very interesting to him. He wants to see just how much you can take of him and what he gives you until your crying and begging him to give you a break. But unless you give him your safe word, that delicious orgasm he just gave you is blending into the next as he seeks his own euphoria. But don't think that he won't just ignore his own overstimulation, because he will. Just feels so good for both of you that it almost hurts. And yet, Floyd just can't help and keep going. That yummy high on cloud 9 is gonna keep going, even through your shrieks and cries for a break, the rhythmic slap of skin, the shuddering breaths. He just can't stop, even if he wanted to, oh please Floyd! It's too much! It feels too good-AAAAH~ He'll keep going until you both pass out from sheer sensory overload and exhaustion, his dick still in you and ready to go when you wake back up.

Dumbification: This is a bit surprising, or maybe not, but Floyd loves fucking you until you're so sex-brained that all you can think about his him and his dick. He wants you to love his cock so much that you're bending over and spreading yourself open for him with hearts in your eyes. No thoughts, head empty except for Floyd and his cum. He wants a pretty smile with your tongue lolling out. He wants you to see him taking pictures of him fucking you with your hands forming a heart. He wants you to ignore anything and everything else except for him, because you're his little dummy that can only think about him and his pretty dick that's bruising your insides and shaping you for him. And only him.

Dacryphilia: This should actually come as no surprise, but Floyd gets really horny at seeing your tears streaming down your face. But not from being upset, no, he loves the tears that come from him overstimulating you. They're just so pretty! You're so cute, and he's so big, too big for you, but you try so hard! So forgive him if he's a bit mean, a little rough, and dragging out orgasm after orgasm from you so that you're whimpering and sobbing. Such a sweet sight reserved just for him, as only he can guarantee that these tears come from feeling good and not from something more sinister. Plus, Floyd really likes how you pout at him. It's just so cute!! And he just looooves cute things.

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #jade leech #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech smut #floyd leech smut #azul ashengrotto smut #!nsfw #!breeding kink #🦩 anon

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