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multifandomgirl08 · 10 months

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Glass Houses - [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on.

Warning(s): Jos Verstappen (Being himself/an asshole), Mixed formatting (Story + Article), Max and Reader get into an argument about Reader going and meeting Jos, Max opens up to Reader about Jos, Max and Reader making up at the end

A/N: Although this chapter, like Stones To Throw, is pretty heavy in terms of topic. These were some of my favorites to write for this series. This is also the longest chapter of this whole series.

Words: 4k

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When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on. You and Raymond never talked much without Max around.

Max was at Milton Keynes for testing this week before the season started again, Nico was at school for the day and the sitter was taking care of Nikita for the few hours that you would be out of the house. When you showed up at the restaurant, you saw Raymond talking to someone who was sitting across from him.

As you got closer to the table you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks. Raymond was sitting and talking with Max’s father. Who you had never formally met, or talked to at all. But you knew it was him, from the photos online to see the outline of the same man in your driveway 7 months ago. What was Raymond thinking inviting you to lunch with them?

You timidly walked up to the table before hearing Raymond speak, “Y/N,” He said with a slight nod.

“Hey Raymond,” You greeted him, letting your eyes sweep past Jos.

You didn’t want to look at him, mostly because of the stories that you had heard from Max and Victoria. Jos was a good grandfather to Victoria’s boys, but every time she brought it up with Max you could tell that he was getting angry about it. You always had to keep the peace between them when those conversations started.

Jos stood up from his chair reaching his hand out to take yours. You glanced at it and then at him. He was only slightly shorter than Max. Bigger in build from the fact that he wasn’t on an athletic diet like Max, who had to keep his weight down so he would be in top shape for when the season started in a few short weeks.

You didn’t want to shake his hand but did anyway. There had to be a reason as to why you were here. You just hoped it wasn’t to make a deal with the man who Max grew to despise as he grew up.

He gave you a half smile, and although it didn’t seem malicious you couldn’t help but slightly question it.

“Jos.” Max’s father said.

“Y/N.” You replied.

“I know, my son’s wife.” He made a vague gesture towards you. “Where are my lovely grandsons, if you don’t mind me asking.”

You flinched internally at the word lovely. You loved the way Max said that word when he was complimenting you, or commenting on something that was going on. Hearing Max’s father say the same word and what followed after, made knots in your stomach start to form.

“I actually do.” You played with your wedding and engagement ring as you looked at him, not bothering to answer his question.

The more you looked at him, the more you could pick up the little parts of Max’s features that he got from Jos. His nose, his eyes, even though Max’s were a darker shade of blue. Max had a mix of Jos and Sophie’s hair. Luckily Max had gotten the majority of Sophie’s features.

“I was right, wasn’t I Ray?” Jos turned to Raymond. You could see his smile turn up a little more. “Max chose well.”

You had heard from Christian that Raymond and Jos were friends but never gave it much thought before now. You were sure that Max hadn’t told his father about the house, so Jos was keeping tabs on Max through Raymond.

“Is there a reason as to why I’m here?” If there wasn’t then you would like to go about the rest of your day. You still needed to get groceries before going and picking Nico up from school.

“I wanted to meet you,” Jos said before reaching for the glass that was in front of him. “Meet the woman who is going to help mold my grandson’s future in Formula 1.”

“You don’t know that, you have no idea if my son is going to keep karting.” You crossed your legs, your eyes traveling over Jos’ face trying to read into what he wasn’t saying.

“You’re son?” Jos mocked placing his glass back down onto the table.

“Yes.” You fired back. You didn’t need to hear this from him. Jos hadn’t been in Max’s life for a long time, and he had never even known Nico.

You watched as Jos’ shoulders went lax, sitting further back in his chair. His eyes studied you for a moment before he nodded.

“I’m surprised,” He crossed his arms.

“By?” You asked quizzically.

“My son finding someone… who can handle everything.” You wanted to question Jos. What did he mean by that? Everything? Did he mean Max’s career, his schedule, him being away all the time? Him having to raise a child by himself essentially for the first few years of Nico’s life?

You shook your head, “I don’t understand what you mean by everything. It’s not like my life is all that different. I’m married and I have 2 children. What’s so different about-?”

“I meant,” He said, cutting you off. “That you can love my grandson as if he’s your own.”

Your eyes hardened. Of course, you loved Nico as your own. How could you not? He was a sweet boy, who loved playing with his model cars, wanted to ride his bike around the driveway, and was always polite to those around him.

“There is no if, in that, it’s not as if he’s my own. That little boy is my son regardless of what you or other people might think.” You didn’t know Jos like Max did so you had no problem telling him how things were. “I can’t believe that you even thought it would be right to make Max give Nico up. Max is an amazing father to our children.”

You almost wanted to tell him that you felt bad for him. He would never get to see what a great dad Max was to the boys. He would just have to hear about it from other people.

Jos moved forward in his chair almost as if he wanted to lunge at you. You didn’t flinch or move away.

“You think that you have a right to tell me this.” He said defensively.

“I have every right,” You calmly replied. You weren’t going to elaborate. You didn’t need to.

You made sure to meet his eyes and could see the recognition in them. He knew deep down that you were right. But he would never admit it publicly or try to talk to Max about it. He had too much pride for that. He had raised Max to achieve everything that he did and now got to revel in it when anyone asked who pushed Max to succeed. It was like Jos fed off it.

“If you want to keep tabs on Max through Raymond, that is none of my business, but please respect that my husband doesn’t want you near our children.” You moved out of your chair pushing it in. Jos had moved his hands onto the armrest of the chair as if he were going to get up. “My children’s career, be it racing or otherwise, is none of your concern.”

You pushed up your hand to stop him from getting up from his chair. You didn’t want to be there. You should have just left when you saw that it was Jos here with Raymond.

You gave Jos one last look and you could see that whatever he was trying to accomplish by getting you here had failed. You collected your bag from the top of the table and walked away from them both.

You weren’t going to enjoy telling Max about this.

Five Days Later - Sunday

Wife of Formula 1 Driver, Max Verstappen, Y/N Verstappen seen abruptly leaving a restaurant just outside of Saint-Tropez

Anita Eriksson For DAILYMAIL.COM February 22, 2026

A few days ago one of our journalists was in Saint-Tropez and saw Y/N Verstappen, wife of 4 time World Champion Max Verstappen in a restaurant.

Verstappen's wife, Y/N was there for less than half an hour, and she was seen talking to who appeared to be Verstappen's father Jos, and his manager, Raymond Vermeulen. Over the years, people have started to notice that Jos Verstappen hasn't been present at F1 races and is never seen around the paddock anymore.

Rumors have spread that Verstappen banned his father, saying that he was too much of a distraction, making it hard for Max to compete. Verstappen's father was absent for all of Max's championship wins dating all the way back to his first in 2021. Just over a year after Verstappen's oldest son was born. Although, Jos being banned from the paddock has never been confirmed by Max or anyone from the Oracle Red Bull Racing Team.

From what the journalist saw, Y/N didn't seem all that happy to be sharing the same space with Jos. She sat down for a few minutes, didn't order anything, had what seemed to be a harsh conversation with him, and then collected her bag before getting into the navy blue Bentley Bentayga S 2026 that her husband bought her as a birthday present.

Jos Verstappen didn't look pleased after Y/N had left the table and was seen yelling at Vermeulen.

In December of last year, Y/N gave birth to Verstappen's second child, a boy named Nikita, named after racing legend Niki Lauda. Which they announced via. Y/N's Instagram. This is the first time that she has been seen out in public since the birth of her son.

One Day Later - Saint-Jean Cap Ferret

You had been in the kitchen making yourself something to eat after just having put Nikita down for his afternoon nap. Max had come storming into the room with his phone in hand, from the spare bedroom where his racing sim was set up.

"Did you have lunch with my father and Raymond while I was away last week?"

You had stopped what you were doing and just looked at Max. You had never seen him so angry before. His expression was almost unreadable. You had only ever seen him look like this after something had gone wrong during a race.

You put down the knife that you were holding, "Yes." You started to say. You wouldn't really call the encounter that you had with Jos lunch, but to Max that would only be a minor detail. "Raymond called me and asked that I come meet him."

"You went, of course, without telling me." He stated, moving his hands a bit as he spoke.

You knew why Max was saying this. He didn't want Jos around you or Nico remembering how Max was after Jos had visited the house all those months ago. The following days after Max had been rather clingy with you and Nico, wanting to be around you as much as possible.

"I didn't know that Jos was going to be there." You hadn't but you should have assumed that it wouldn't just be a friendly lunch between you and Raymond either.

“You…” He started to say before he cut himself off. “You shouldn’t have gone. Not without me.”

“I don’t need you to protect me Max.” You had always been able to handle things by yourself, that hadn’t changed.

Max walked closer to you, leaving his phone face up on the counter. It was unlocked to show a Daily Mail article, with a photo of you from last week. It was you leaving the restaurant before you had gotten back into your car to go home.

Max didn't walk any closer to you, keeping a fair distance between the two of you. You could see one of his hands slightly twitch as if he was going to reach out for you. He dropped his hand at his side and then ran it through his hair.

"Were the boys with you?" He asked. You watched as his eyes moved no doubt studying your face.

"No," You said with a sigh. You would never have taken the boys with you to meet Raymond alone. Maybe that's why you were so insistent that Sylvie stayed at the house with Nikita. Your instincts told you that it was better not to take Nikita with you. "Nico was at school and I left Nikita with Sylvie so I could go see Raymond," And your father, you thought. "And then went and got groceries before I went to pick up Nico once he got out of school for the day."

You knew better than to take Nico shopping with you, he would always put things in the shopping cart that you didn't need.

Max nodded but didn't say anything else to you. He walked out of the room, leaving his phone, not looking at you at all.

You picked it up and read through the article. There would no doubt be comments on Twitter about you with the hashtag #lionessverstappen. You had grown used to the moniker but never thought that your being protective over Max and the boys would lead to this type of reaction from Max.

You had never had to explain to Max why you did things throughout the entire time that you had been together. There had always been a reason and Max had understood that. Why couldn’t he understand this?

You didn’t follow Max out of the room because you knew if you did it would lead to both of you yelling at each other. So you just stayed in the kitchen and kept cooking. You finished making yourself food and then started the prep for dinner.

As you stared at the plate of food that you had made, you couldn’t help but push it away from you. You didn’t want to eat anything. You knew that you should since you were still breastfeeding but you couldn’t manage it. So you forgo eating and pull out your laptop to answer some work emails.

You glanced out into the backyard to see Max pacing back and forth while talking on the house phone, his hair in complete disarray from running his hand through it so many times.

As you looked at him, you wanted to tell him why you had gone to talk to Raymond.

Max didn’t talk about Jos unless he had to. He was always a sore subject. You thought that going and talking to Raymond would give you more insight into Max’s relationship with Jos. But after you had met Jos yourself, you were quick to realize that you should have waited for Max to talk to you about this when he was ready, even if he never would be.

After having only spent half an hour with Jos. You understood that Jos cared more for himself and the way he looked in the eyes of the media and F1 history than actually being a good parent/grandparent when it came down to it, or when it had anything to do with Max. He wanted people to view him as the person who helped mold a champion. It just happened to be that that Champion was his own flesh and blood.

The sound of the crackle from the baby monitor pulled you out of your thoughts. You left your computer open, rushing to Nikita’s room. Not noticing that Max had watched you leave before he sat down on the couch outside with his hands in his hair. The house phone now lying on the coffee table after he finished talking with the Red Bull team publicist.

You and Max hadn’t talked to each other all evening. Both of you paid attention to Nico at dinner and as you kept looking over at Max, there were only a few fleeting moments when you could feel him look at you.

This was the first time since you and Max had gotten married that you didn’t feel happy. After just a year of marriage, you had your first fight. Better now than later.

“I don’t want it to be like this.” He said after turning off the faucet in the kitchen after dinner.

You had sent Nico up to his room to finish his homework assignment, and Sylvie had taken Nikita to his room after his 7 pm feeding.

“Like what?”

“I don’t want you to keep things from me.”

“What do you want me to say, Max?” You asked in urnist. “I didn’t tell you that I saw your father. I didn’t want to tell you given what we ended up talking about.” Even if you wanted to justify it by saying that you only meant to talk to Raymond that wouldn’t help.

Max gave you a pensive look, his lips pressed into a firm line.

“I know.” He muttered before you saw his lips quiver. “What did he say?”

You shook your head. “You don’t want to know.”

“Tell me, please.” he pleaded. You shook your head not wanting to tell him before sighing.

“Something about helping mold Nico for Formula 1.” With those words, it was like you momentarily saw the color drain from Max’s face.

“He’s an asshole, and my father… and he-”

Max cut himself off with a sob. You moved closer to him, taking his face in your hands, holding his cheeks, and searching his eyes. Seeing the tears start to form, the storm brewing in the blues of his eyes.

You wanted to tell Max what Jos had said to you but thought it would be better for Max to get his thoughts out first.

“Jos had always pushed me to be the best when it comes to racing, and I, of course, let him because I thought it would make him proud of me.” He paused for a second as if he was trying to think of the right way to say something. “The only good thing he ever did for me was show me what it truly takes to be a father and love your children unconditionally.” He took in a sharp breath.

Max had pulled your hands away from his face. It was as if he needed the space to be able to get those final few thoughts out.

“There were always strings attached when it came to Jos being proud of me. If I wasn’t doing well, then he wasn’t proud of me. I know now, from the boys, that if you truly love your children, you put their interests first, always.”

That was why Max had such a hard time when Nico started karting. It was what Nico wanted at the time, and what he was still passionate about even now, but Max didn’t want to make Nico feel like, if he wasn’t doing well he wouldn’t be proud of him.

“I don’t want to feel as if he defines me, because I know that I’m nothing like him. But I can’t help it at times.” You didn’t want to keep telling Max that he was nothing like Jos. Being like Jos would always be Max’s biggest fear, and the only way that he would be able to get over it was for him to work through it. He would need you for that reassurance until the boys were old enough to be able to tell Max themselves that he had done the best that he could for them.

“I wanted to keep you away from him, so you wouldn’t see the parts of me that I get from him.” Max continued to say. “I can’t lose you, not when I’m grateful for all of the things that you have done for me, and our family.”

“You won’t lose me, I won’t let you.” You promised him.

Max was quick to drop his head afterward. “We don’t fight.”

It was true, you and Max didn’t have arguments. You weren’t those types of people.

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t disagree on things in the future.” You said.

Max had held his hands out to you facing his palms out, inviting you to touch him. Offering himself up to you.

You moved closer to him, taking his hands in yours. “It matters that we worked it out.” He moved closer before resting his forehead against yours. “That we always find a solution, together.”

“We will.”

“I’m sorry, for getting upset with you.” He said.

“I’m sorry for not telling you that I went to lunch with Raymond and that Jos was there as well. I should have told you right after it happened.”

“It’s okay Schat,” Out of all of Max’s pet names for you that was the one he used the least. “I know you were only doing what you thought you needed to.”

“What did you say to him?” He asked muttering the words into your hair. Max was looking past you a little lost in thought.

You let out a small sigh, “I told him to respect that you don’t want him around the boys, and that Nico’s career wasn’t any of his concern.”

With those words, it put the conversation to rest. Max met your eyes, and you could see his shoulders relax.

Max pressed his lips to your forehead, and then your cheek. You let him hold you for a moment, running your fingers over his back as you felt his shoulders relax further. You slotted your head against his shoulder.

As you stood there in each other's arms the baby monitor crackled awake with the sound of Nikita fussing. You pulled back from Max before he stopped you.

“I’ll get him.” Max reached up and cupped your cheek before leaving you in the kitchen to calm him. You ended up pushing in the kitchen chairs that weren’t tucked under the counter.

“Come, Nikita, come to Papa.” You heard over the baby monitor as you moved to sit in the living room. You could hear Nikita lightly fussing but it ended rather quickly.

You moved onto the couch taking the cashmere blanket that was hanging off the edge and laying it over your legs before you saw Max come back into the room with Nikita lying against his shoulder.

You didn’t move from your sport, instead you stayed there watching Max interact with the baby, as he gave him all of his attention. Nico had come into the living room, shoving the papers from his homework into his bag. He ended up climbing onto the couch before crawling over to you sitting in your lap, and laying his head on your shoulder.

Nico had gotten extra clingy with you now that Nikita was around. He wanted to always have your attention when he could even if you were trying to change Nikita’s diaper or make sure that Nikita wasn’t being fussy. It had taken a bit of time but eventually, Nico started to understand that you were paying more attention to Nikita because he was a baby, not because Nico had been replaced.

Max eventually joined you and Nico on the couch with Nikita tucked into his arms. You spend a little longer in the living room with them until Nico's head grew heavy against your shoulder after he fell asleep. You switch with Max, him taking Nico and putting him to bed and you taking Nikita, putting him in the bassinet that was in the master bedroom.

Eventuality both you and Max make it to bed, he can't seem to let you go once you’re under the covers sharing a few kisses before your eyes are too heavy to stay open. He pulled you flush against him, your head over his chest, his hands finding any bare skin that he could feel without the fabric of one of his shirts getting in his way.

“I love you.” You mutter into his chest. You need him to know that through every argument and all the time spent away from one another, you still love him and will always be there for him.

“Ik houd ook van jou, mijn leeuwin.” You can tell from the tone in Max’s voice that he’s almost asleep but not quite there yet. You feel one of his hands move out from under the shirt that you’re wearing before he reaches to take your hand in his. He kisses the back of your hand and then interlocks your fingers together placing it on the vacant part of his chest.

Translation:

Ik houd ook van jou - I love you too

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idesofrevolution · 1 year

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Party Animal

Danny smiled his signature perfect smile, posing stereotypically as the phone sat propped up on a sidewalk trashcan with a timed camera counting down. While it was his 21st birthday, and he'd invited nearly twenty people to come out clubbing with him in New York City, he wasn't entirely shocked when everyone had some lame excuse as to why they couldn't come. Victoria was in the middle of watching Yellowjackets and couldn't be bothered to get up off her couch. Taylor was stuck at the airport in Nashville, unable to board his connecting flight due to "inclement weather." Felicity couldn't find a dog sitter for the night (bullshit), and Kyle just didn't even respond to the text. This was relatively par for the course for poor Danny, who'd gotten all but used to the feeling of his "friends" ditching him when it was plans of his own.

There were absolutely reasons in their mind as to why going out with Danny was less than an ideal evening: he was a wallflower. Sure, like everyone else in his small town, he had a fake ID. So one would assume that his relative experience in bars would at least teach him something about how to have a good time in one. Unfortunately, this was certainly not the case. Danny was the friend who would get to the bar, order two Long Islands and drunkenly cry for the rest of the night. He couldn't hold his liquor, he couldn't hit a joint without having a fifteen minute coughing spell, his moves on the dancefloor were generously described as "cringe," he would leave early and complain about it the next day. Yet, without fail, the next weekend would roll about and he would be the first one in line at open. His messy party ways had completely eradicated any chance of an entourage going with him, even on his birthday. Thus, as he posed rather stereotypically on the side of West 17th Street, alone and underdressed for his first gay nightclub of legal age, there was a level of disappointment.

Chelsea was bustling that evening, with stunning people in outrageously skimpy outfits strutting from building to building. All were in their little cliques huddles together until they made it to the doorman, where they'd quickly disperse into the drunken crowd within. Guys like him were the ones standing in line, waiting for someone to leave so they could have a chance of getting in; wallflowers, all of them. Thus, as he finally arrived at the club he'd heard so much about on every gay travel blog imaginable, he wasn't shocked to receive a quick look up and down from the bouncer and a head shaking no. Dejected, alone, and not even buzzed, Danny pulled out his phone to call the Uber back to his hotel. That is, until he felt a subtle tap on his shoulder. He sighed and turned around, locking eyes with an unexpected but very welcome sight.

He was tall, maybe 6'4 in a cutoff white tank top, a golden chain hanging from just beneath his nipples. His abs sat like the cobblestones on the street against his chiseled torso, flanked on either side by two huge, vascular arms. His fly was undone, with his thumbs suggestively holding it open. He had a gentle, yet sultry face: perfectly manicured facial hair and sweaty, wavy curls atop his head. He smiled as he leaned against the wall, illuminated brightly by the streetlight above them both.

"Baby you're not gettin' in looking like that." He had a thick accent, perhaps Cuban or Dominican, but it rolled off his supple lips like the drool which had begun to slightly dribble down Danny's jaw. The man smiled and ruffled his hair, getting ready to walk back into the club.

"Hey! Uh... I really like your outfit. You wear it really... really well." The stud turned back, a small chuckle under his breath.

"Thank you baby! I wasn't sure about the chain, but it draws attention to all the right places, am I right?" He ran his large hands over his abs, winking at the salivating 21 year old. "I'm Mateo, by the way." The two shook hands, Danny barely able to contain himself.

"So, you come out to these clubs often? It's my first time in the city. My twenty first birthday, actually." Mateo's face lit up. Tossing his arm around Danny's shoulder, he leaned in close to hopefully be heard above the hustle and bustle of the chattering crowd outside. Danny blushed. He could feel the heat from Mateo's pit on the nape of his neck, the smell of wet armpit after a night of dancing tickling the hairs in his nostrils.

"Where's your party? You better not be out here alone on a Saturday night!" Danny looked down, trying to hide the thirst which had overtaken him.

"Ahh, they all cancelled. It's just me tonight." Danny felt an immediate yank, as Mateo squeezed him tightly against his pillowy pecs.

"Nahh. It's just you and ME tonight. C'mon." Mateo began guiding Danny down the street, chatting about the nightlife in New York City, how it's better than anywhere else, how it has the hottest guys and the best vibes. Mateo had been a staple of the ballroom scene for a couple years at that point, and was well acquainted with the bars and their owners. Any place of any note, he'd be able to waltz right in. Though in this instance, he decided to do something special for this little guy who he'd found meandering the streets. "It's definitely an in-the-know kinda place, if you know what I mean. And you're not getting in wearing that, so I guess we're just going to have to get you a birthday present." The two strolled up to a relatively inconspicuous apartment building, Mateo flashing his card to open the heavy metal door. Two flights up and ten doors down the hall, Mateo opened the door to his apartment. It was tidy for the most part. Plants sat on every imaginable surface, even hanging in macrame slings from the popcorn ceiling. Mateo flipped the lights on in his bedroom and opened his closet door.

"Uhhh, what are you looking for?" Danny nervously shuffled from side to side. This wasn't going to be one of those makeover scenes a la Clueless, was it? Mateo flashed several articles of clothing in front of his face, each vastly different from the one before: leather pants, a silk button up, a ripped up tank top, a latex polo... Under his breath, Danny could hear the quiet mutterings Mateo whispered after each one. Too young, too bulky, too preppy, too kinky.

"Hey. Like what's the vibe you're going for? If some hot guy walked up to you and was looking you up and down, what would you want him to see in a perfect world?" Danny sat there a moment, pondering. He wasn't entirely sure. He'd never thought about it. Closing his eyes, he tried to go back to his days of fantasizing about what a perfect Danny would look like. What he'd always wanted to look like. Though, for him, those days were far behind him. The years of being ditched and cast aside, while he understood why, had taken a toll on him. He'd only ever seen himself as that annoying friend who ruins the mood. Danny shuffled his feet beneath him, hanging his head.

"I don't know... just not... this." He motioned up and down, alluding to the rather sad appearance he'd taken on. Mateo stopped what he was doing, chucking a pair of sunglasses at the frowning young man, hitting him square on the nose.

"You stop that. This is not a pity party, it's a birthday party." Danny nodded, picking up the sunglasses from his feet: Balenciaga. "You know what you need? You need a confidence boost." Mateo pinched his chin, analyzing his closet. "And I have just the thing." It was like a frenzy. Within seconds, clothes were being tossed at him. Looking down at them, he anxiously investigated them. A long, almost see through tank top, a well worn sleeveless leather jacket, and a pair of wide, baggy pants- all of which about two sizes too big.

"Uh, hey, I really appreciate it but I don't think I'm gonna fi..." Mateo had plopped a heavy pair of beat up combat boots on top of the pile in his hands, nearly spilling the whole outfit out of Danny's arms.

"Shut up and go put this on, I promise you'll look great." Sighing, he started headed toward the bathroom, only for Mateo to stop him. "Here, just..." Mateo grabbed the wrists of Danny's shirt, pulling the gaudy top off his frail body. Snatching the tank top from the pile, he ripped it off the hanger and slipped it over his arms and head. The shit was undoubtedly massive on him. Danny was after all 5'4 and 100 lbs soaking wet, the tall hunk which stood before him would obviously be wearing way larger clothes than him. "Arms back!" Mateo slid the sleeveless leather jacket onto him. Danny could smell that this item was well loved, catching a subtle hint of weed, cigarettes, and sweat gently wafting from it. "Pants off!" He directed, Danny followed. Pulling his skinny black jeans down to his ankles, and taking off his brown loafers. He stood before Mateo in his whitey-tidies, and an unimpressive flat bulge. "Yeah, take 'em off and burn them. Besides, easier access for the lucky guy later tonight." He winked, causing Danny to blush. Any time his gal-pals had tried to do a makeover it always ended in a trip to Hollister or Abercrombie to look like every straight high schooler in 2013. He'd never had a guy, let alone a gay guy take the time to dress him. His guard finally down, he dropped them, quickly snatching the lightweight pants and pulling them up his legs, tightly pulling the drawstrings to keep them up.

Mateo looked him up and down, clearly thinking about what was missing as Danny slid his feet into the massive boots, feeling the squish of gogo boy sweat bubbling up onto his soles. Mateo snapped his fingers, grabbing the sunglasses and sliding them onto his face. Danny couldn't deny feeling cool in these ill-fitting clothes, whether or not he felt hot in them or not- if this sexy club kid thought he looked good he probably did.

"Awesome, here, take this bag. Happy Birthday, we gotta go!" Danny didn't even get a chance to peer into the mirror before a large leather bag was tossed at him and he was pushed out the door. He tripped over the baggy pants dragging on the ground, and the clunky boots which slid around on his now damp feet. "You look great," Mateo said as they hopped down the stairs. "I got just the place to take you."

The two walked for perhaps only a block or two before they turned into a dark alley, only a single red lamp far down the brick walled canyon illuminating the surroundings. They strutted up to the rusted metal door, Mateo knocking only three times before it swung open. The huge bouncer blocked the door with his arms crossed, though the moment he saw Mateo, he silently stepped aside. Thrust inside from behind, Danny entered the club.

From then on, the night was a blur. The few moments of clarity and recollection told quite the story. The club was packed, sexy guys dancing on eachother, gogo boys on the bar, discarded ecstasy pills littering the floor brightly glowing from the blacklights. A DJ played derivative beats as they approached the bar. The last clear decision that was made was to take a round of shots.

"Zayn! Could you get us two blowjobs?" Danny turned quickly, shocked at the prospect. He was slightly less anxious when the two cream topped shots were placed in front of them. After a quick birthday toast, the two downed their shots. Immediately, Danny felt an instant release. The nervousness had subsided, and he felt ready to enjoy the evening. He couldn't help but notice, before Mateo had ordered round two, that the sexy bartender seemed to smirk with every shot, heading to the back room for a moment only to come back with two perfect drinks. Round 2 felt just as good as the first, feeling himself smile and sway to the music. It was followed up by round 3, then round 4, then round 5... The shots just kept coming, and by round 7, the world was spinning.

From what little could be recalled, he hit the dance floor with Mateo, showing off the notorious dance moves which had caused him so much grief back home. Though, as the night progressed, he felt the music in a patently distinctive way. Every beat, every note hit differently. His body seemed to just move on its own, his hips swaying, his hands slowly wandering around Mateo's firm waist. The unfittedness of the clothes seemed to dissipate, and they began to feel... right. He liked the way that they showed off his broadening shoulders, his widening biceps... As he dropped, effortlessly pulling off spins and dips, his strong, muscular legs kept him firm in his stance, rooted in the perfectly fitted boots.

He could remember Mateo running his hands over the light tattoos sprawled on his pulsating forearms. He'd even done a few of them himself in his boredom during a relatively crazy shroom trip a few years back. In fact, as the two of them stood there in eachother's arms, looking eye to eye and towering over the dancefloor, he was so grateful that his bestie Mateo would give him such a night out on his birthday. Though, it seemed every year got more and more wild. The two didn't waste any more time. This was going to be a wild birthday, as Mateo planted a deep kiss onto his lips. Their sweaty, muscled arms wrapped around eachother, passionately making out on the dancefloor, before Danny reached into his bag, pulling out the magnum ribbed condom he'd gotten earlier that day, hoping the two would arrive at that point sometime during the night.

Mateo smiled and nodded, the two heading outside to wait for the Uber to take them back to the apartment. As Mateo eagerly tapped away on his phone, Danny leaned against the street pole, thrusting his sizeable package toward his boyfriend.

The next morning, Mateo woke up to an empty bed. Sweaty sheets tossed from one side of the room to the other, the stench of kinky sex still wafting in the air. He rolled out of the stained bed, walking past Danny's still warm, musky combat boots splayed on the hardwood floor. After a night of being railed with his face buried in it's ripe opening, he couldn't help but take a quick whiff down memory lane before going down to the front door. There, perched on the step, in all his blonde, shirtless glory sat Danny smoking his American Spirits.

"Good morning, sexy bitch." His velvety voice soared like the wind to Mateo's eager ear, something about that cocky, confident swagger behind his words always hit just right. He plopped down next to his boyfriend, sensually nibbling on his pierced ear. "Gonna get the neighbors all hot and bothered." Danny chided, Mateo knowing full well he loved being seen in even more compromising positions by anyone who stumbled across them.

"That's the idea." The two laughed and kissed, hoping old Mrs. Prallatt across the street was huffing and puffing in an indignant rage. "Hey the house is performing later tonight in the Bowery, I think you should show off the new number. Kick the LaBeija's ass off the floor." Smirking, Danny took a long drag and let out a large cloud of smoke before turning to Mateo.

"They don't stand a chance." Mateo stood up, kissing Danny's smooth hand before getting ready to head back up to get dressed for the day. "Hey, babe." Mateo turned and looked down at the beautiful creature which had been the wildest ride he'd ever taken. "How about you take those sweats off and I show you a couple more moves before we head out?" A strong grope of Mateo's growing bulge and a wink from behind his Balenciaga shades was all that his man needed to see.

#male transformation #body transformation #original #transformation #musk #gay transformation #clothing tf #male tf #ballroom #gay tf #confidence boost #boyfriend transformation #tattoos

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love-toxin · 2 years

Note

Okay but Eddie being the babysitter for you and Steve! And getting thrown into the family because the two of you cannot keep your hands off of him. And he loves the love

ehe <33 i went a lil feral <333

cws: dilf!steve + milf!sunday school teacher!angelface, babysitter!eddie, age gap (38-40, and 22), fears of infidelity (but its resolved), masturbation, pillow humping, (a+v) fingering, throat fucking, ball worship, rimming, assplay, scent kink, angel has a cum kink, threesome, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, praise kink, sub!eddie, dom!steve, switch!angel, fem reader.

word count: 8.8k (90% smut)

Edward is so, so cute.

You noticed his look at first--the aesthetic he's got going on is really quite something, with the ripped jeans, and the hair, and the....the rings on those long, thick fingers. He was a little off-putting at first because he wasn't transparently shy, more blunt than anything else as he introduced himself. He's not like some of the other young girls and boys you and your husband had sifted through, almost all of them preppy young teenagers or prepubescent middle schoolers looking for a crack at their first job.

Edward--Eddie, is a little older than that. Which some might find strange or untrustworthy, but he's only around twenty-two, so still young. They would find him uncouth for many other reasons anyways, so it's not really a bother--you and Steve wanted someone older, someone more mature and hopefully more responsible anyways, because you've been looking for a long-term sitter and the high schoolers you picked before....oh, Steve was not happy when you came home early and found them throwing a party in your house, while your son was fast asleep in his room.

On the other hand, your check-ins with Eddie over the last few months have been stellar. Not only has he managed to follow all your rules, but your son absolutely adores him. It's hard enough at your respective ages, with you at 38 and Steve hitting 40 this year, to wrangle a seven-year-old with his own agenda. But Casey has taken to Eddie like a bee to honey and he seems to have no trouble getting him through his daily routines. Toothbrushing, bedtime, and eating vegetables is like a dream when it's in Eddie's hands--the kid thinks he's a god, and Eddie's so thrilled whenever he can talk to your son about his hobbies, so it's a match made in heaven. He's even started reading The Hobbit to him before bedtime, and you can see the joy on Steve's face whenever his son climbs up into his lap and starts excitedly chattering to him about orcs, and dwarves, and dragons, and whatever else tickles his fancy. You're sure it's because he reminds him of Dustin in those moments, and it's just so sweet.

Of course, a couple moms and older ladies at your church meetings had expressed worry at first, discontent even with your choice of caretaker, but you've been quite happy to report nothing but solid results out of the young man over the last few months. Casey's even taken to asking if Eddie can come over and play when you're at home--"Mommy, call Eddie! You and daddy hafta go out, I wanna play dragons!"--so you would think their minds would quickly be changed. But not so.

"He's a fan of that heavy metal music, he can't be good with kids. What if he indoctrinates your son, or converts him? Besides, he deals drugs! You can't ignore that."

Their criticisms fly over your head with nothing to hold them down, and while the drugs do worry you a bit, you have nothing but pure faith in Eddie to keep any of those habits out of your house. He never even smells of smoke when he comes to babysit, and the one time you did catch a whiff of cigarettes when Steve called him in last minute, he apologized and offered to change his clothes as soon as he spotted your nose crinkling up. Such a sweet boy, how could you even try to be upset? Steve lent him an old polo and jeans, and the two of you got a good chuckle before you left at watching him shimmy around in those clothes that were so not his style. But he committed to it because he's just....Eddie. That's just how he is.

And you're not sure when you started thinking of him that way, as Eddie, and not just as your babysitter, but it certainly hasn't gone away on its own. At first it was just a fancy, a cheeky "oh, isn't he cute? I bet the girls love that hair." that you've heard from all manner of female gossip. Even being a Sunday school teacher you aren't immune to it, so you figured that fluttering of your heart when he calls you "Mrs. Harrington" would go away with time.

But it hasn't. And the fear has been growing--what's wrong with you, you've wondered? You've been with Steve for years, and not once have you ever been charmed by someone other than your husband, not to the extent of thinking about them when you're with him. Steve's always been the love of your life since you were eighteen, so what could have possibly changed in all those years? Is it a midlife crisis? Or are you just a terrible person for thinking about another man, a younger man, while you're next to your husband in bed?

It isn't until you start noticing things about Steve that you realize that you might not be the only one, and that it might not be just a you problem. At first it's subtle, a "Hey Eddie, you wanna stay for a drink?" after Casey's gone to bed and you've both arrived home from your date. Then you notice the looks he's giving him--the long, lingering stares when Eddie laughs or flips his hair over his shoulder, sometimes a flicker of a look when he bends over. And soon after that, you notice that he's getting further from Eddie. Steve's buying you more gifts, and your sex life ramps up dramatically; you go from two or three times a week to every night, Steve moaning into your ear that he loves you, he loves you so much, and that worries you even more. By then, has he already strayed? Are you watching his guilt unfold after he's broken the vows of your marriage?

Clearly that's not the case when you get some time alone with Eddie, though. It's quite obvious that he has no earthly idea of your feelings or of Steve's, and there isn't a single clue of some kind of secret affair that you can find. In some ways, you feel a little stupid for searching for one in the first place, because maybe you're just projecting your own guilt on to your poor, sweet husband.

That is until you catch Steve in the shower late at night, jerking off and moaning Eddie's name into his hand. If that isn't a tell, literally nothing could be. But it's a fortunate affair if not incredibly humiliating and shameful for your husband in the moment, shock and pain clear in his eyes when you pull the curtain back and catch him red-handed. It's adorable actually, seeing him so guilty and apologetic as he tries to tell you how much he loves you, and how he's so ashamed of himself but he doesn't know what to do--he certainly wasn't expecting you to admit your own feelings, nor for that humiliation to turn into lust as he pinned you to the shower wall and didn't let you down until the water ran cold.

After that, you came to a crossroads, and you both had to be honest with yourselves. Should you let him go? You both knew how desperately he needed the money, and you were sure it would devastate Casey not to have him around anymore, but how ethical would it be to be paying someone you both want to sleep with? What if your feelings leaked out and Eddie felt pressured to stay, or worse, felt he couldn't leave because of the money? It's such a difficult decision that you just had to leave it for a while, too wrapped up in your emotions to make a proper choice--you both just decided to keep things hidden for now, at least until you can find a better solution than firing him out of the blue for reasons beyond his control.

It doesn't stay that way, though. It certainly doesn't. Because now, you're living day to day with Eddie on your mind, and tonight's the night that you're not so sure it's completely one-sided anymore.

It's just barely past two am, and your key clicks so quietly in the lock that even you can barely hear it. You and Steve have been off on a couple's vacation for the weekend, but contrary to what you were hoping, you're both feeling more exhausted than refreshed. First, the hotel you'd booked months in advance had sold your room out from under you, and you were forced to find a much cheaper, much dingier one to sleep in at the last minute. Then Steve had his wallet stolen, and you spent the better part of your first vacation day calling people and looking around the resort for it. Then some drunk guy at the restaurant Steve had proposed to you in started harassing you, and the two of you were kicked out for Steve's less than delicate way of handling the situation, which was to clock the douchebag in the face after he called you a whore. And now you've just spent hours in traffic trying to get home early, so when you stumble into the front hallway of your home and kick your shoes off, you're so grateful you're ready to head right to bed and pass out.

"Hey, let's go tell Eddie he can go home, first." Steve whispers with a hand on your shoulder, aware and cautious of the fact that your son is definitely sleeping at this time of night. To top it all off, Eddie had called that first evening to tell you that your son had a fever and wasn't feeling well, as if your luck wasn't bad enough already.

"Let's pay him for the whole night, though. Give him a good tip for cleaning up Casey's puke."

"Of course. Aren't you so generous, Mrs. Harrington?" He chuckles, and with his loafers kicked off, he leans down and sweeps you right off your feet like you weigh nothing, and hurries on light feet up the stairs as if you're a bride again and he's rushing to toss you into your marriage bed. You pass by Casey's room and hear nothing, and Steve only lets you down when you reach the other side of the hall where the corner is, to peek into the guest bedroom that you've designated for Eddie. But when you do, and even when you flip on the light, you realize right away that he's not there--there's not even an inkling of a lump under the covers, which immediately flips your mind to worry after you've been on edge for the last three days. A reassurance is just about to fly off Steve's lips over your shoulder, something about how he might've gone for a walk, because his van was still parked in your driveway when you pulled in.

But as soon as you step back and pull the door closed, you hear it. Down the second hallway at the very end, where the master bedroom sits with the door firmly shut.

"Fuck..."

Your eyes both widen, and you share a look with your brown-eyed husband that screams pure shock. That was definitely Eddie. And that was absolutely, indisputably, without a doubt a moan.

Neither of you say a word, you're too nervous to even breathe, but Steve's features twist with anger before he can counteract it. You can both deal with your feelings about Eddie later, but having a stranger in your house while you're gone, and having sex? That's absolutely disrespectful, and you get why your husband is so flustered and stiff as he stalks down the hall towards the cream-coloured door. You follow close behind, like a rabbit on soft paws as you hurry to huddle up behind him--but just as he's grit his teeth and got his hand on the doorknob, you hear something else.

"Fuck...Mr. Harrington-"

His voice lilts, trills up to get a little louder, before his noises are muffled again--he must have clamped a hand over his mouth, but you're too caught up with the fact that your babysitter just moaned your husband's name. You can be sure now that your suspicions were wrong and that there isn't someone in there with him, because it's only his ragged breathing on the other side of the door....and you can hear the hard, sharp shuck shuck shuck of a soft, wet hand gripping the shaft of his cock, just like all those weeks ago when you caught Steve rubbing one out to the thought of Eddie in the same way. Your nails dig into Steve's baby blue golf shirt and it draws his attention down to you, the fury completely evaporated into a hot, red flush burning across his face.

In those strained few seconds, it's not your husband that opens the door. You reach past him and graze his hand as you do it yourself, carefully turning the knob and pushing it forward slowly enough that it doesn't make a sound. Relief washes over you.

Because otherwise, you wouldn't have got to see what's waiting for you in your own bed. Eddie's Iron Maiden t-shirt is rucked up, his pants and boxers in a heap on the floor, and he's hunched over your bed with one hand gripping something beneath him. You peek a little closer, and see that it's your pillow--your pillow, the one that lays on your side, pinned between his hairy thighs and cushioning his hard, rosy-tipped cock that's absolutely drenched in what you can only guess is his own spit and lube. There's clearly a big, damp patch on the dark blue fabric just beneath him, where you can see his balls squishing up against it every time he rocks into it, and...fuck. If you knew how often he had done this, you would've started humping your own pillow a lot sooner.

"Mr. Harrington, fuck--fuck, she feels so good..." Now it's your turn to warm up, Steve's hair tickling your cheek as he looks over your shoulder with just as much entrancement. You watch with bated breath as Eddie pounds your poor pillow into the bed, the hand he was muffling himself with finally spared to reach behind him and slowly work its way down--and you can't miss how slick his fingers are, his hips stopping for a moment or two so he can find the spot he's looking for. "S'gonna be okay, I can take it, I know you're big, I can take it,"

That cute, taut little rim slides open easily with the lube, but Eddie still moans and his hips kick up on instinct when he pushes a finger inside. It isn't until he starts bucking again that you finally notice the hand sliding down your ass, and your squeak of shock gets smothered by your husband's other hand as he claps it over your face, murmuring so quietly into your ear not to move as his fingers travel further. The flimsy sundress he convinced you to wear is obviously coming in handy for him, because your panties move easily and in moments, he's got two huge, hot fingers buried inside your cunt and your slick dripping all over his wrist.

"M-Mrs. Harrington--please, please let me cum, I'll be so good-" Eddie pants, completely oblivious to the squirming woman in the doorway and her husband's pants tenting as his cock strains for warmth. "I-I'll never cum in your panties again, I promise! I'll save all my cum for your pussy,"

You choke at that, and you're yanked back into your husband's chest with a hush and a stiff prodding into your lower back. Eddie's so far gone he doesn't notice though, and fortunate for you, because with Steve rubbing your clit as you listen to him call you baby you really aren't going to last long. Especially not when you can see when he hits his own hot spot inside, and buckles like he's just been shot, his face planting square into the sheets as he keeps working his fingers and humping your pillow with his cock leaking everywhere. He's close, so close, and so are you.

"Harder, please, you can be rough with me--you like it when I fuck her, Mr. Harrington? Like when I make your wife cum for me?" Steve only gets deeper, his tongue on your ear as he curls his fingers into that spot that blinds you with hot, white pleasure, and doesn't dare to stop right up until you're so hot it's burning--and then, when Eddie mumbles that next line to himself, it's the one that throws you right over the edge into ecstasy.

"Bet you and your wife love watching me rub one out, dontcha Mr. Harrington?"

He turns his head over his shoulder just in time to watch you crumble in your husband's strong arms, feet scrabbling for purchase on the hardwood as Steve fingers you right through your leg-shaking orgasm--and while you're writhing and whimpering into his hand, you're soaking the floor beneath you with enough clear, slick cum to run a mop clean through.

Eddie knew. Even if he was just guessing, he was definitely doing it for real--and while your head is still floaty and your body still reeling from cumming, Steve pulls his hand away from your cunt and locks the door behind him with the other, pushing you ahead to collapse into your bed next to Eddie. You can smell him, smell that hot musk of sweat and manly aroma, and if you weren't still trembling your mouth would be on his balls right now.

"About time I got to show you my nightly routine, Mrs. Harrington." He sighs, a content smile on his face despite the circumstances. He pulls the pillow out from under him and sets it next to you--and somehow he looks a little surprised when you grab it, and plunge your face into the exact spot where he'd been rubbing his cock all over it. Warm, wet, smelling of him....you flick your tongue out for a taste, and you're even happier to find that it's just as delicious as you imagined.

"Is this a joke?"

"You think I'd risk my best source of income for a joke?"

"Just checking. So you're a pervert." You feel the weight of Steve's body sinking the end of the mattress as he interrogates him, and when you pull the pillow away from your face, you're delighted to see that Eddie's sitting back with a flustered grin as your husband looms over him. Looks a lot more excited than scared, for sure.

"Only in the good way! Can I-" His hand grazes his cock, but Steve grabs his wrist and yanks it away. The other one, the one you know he was using to finger himself, gets grabbed too--but Steve brings those fingers to his lips, and slowly, intently sucks each one into his mouth without breaking their shared gaze. It's not until the last one gets sucked out with a pop that he finally makes his demands.

"Head over the bed. Lay on your back. Honey, can you give me a hand?" His voice turns so sweet when he talks to you, his soft eyes transfixed on the way you glide over the bed with ease. Eddie does exactly as he's told, and turns himself around so he's laid back with his head hanging off the edge, his curls reaching so far they nearly brush the floor. His fingers tremble and dig into the sheets when you get on top of him, but you don't straddle his cock and he whines. He won't have much room to do that again, though, not after you're finished unbuckling your husband's belt and coaxing that third leg he's hiding out from his underwear. He's already left a wet patch in the gray fabric, much like the one Eddie left on your pillow--you're just flush with gifts it seems, including the reward of watching your husband's cock bob out with that dark, flustered tip that stares you both in the face. Eddie sighs in awe, watching from his place with big, bright eyes, and licks his lips hungrily without knowing what's gonna come next.

"I'm not stopping if you gag. But if it hurts, hit my thigh." He leans down to whisper that part, and as you shimmy your way back down Eddie's torso to his lap, you smile to yourself. Your husband's a softie, always has been, always will be. As dominant as he is, he's always so sweet and doting when things need to wind down--or wind up.

"I won't," Eddie shakes his head, curls bouncing and his eyes never leaving the sight in front of him. He's in a trance, almost, watching Steve's cock twitch and hang so heavy for him, both with size and with age.

"I'm not asking you, Edward. I'm telling you. Hit. My. Thigh. You understand that?" Finally, he nods and chimes out a "Yes, sir" although your husband sighs regardless.

"Such a brat. Where do you young people get your attitude from?"

"Oh, honey. You sound like a grump! Cut the poor boy some slack--you're gonna do a good job for my hubby, right?" You speak softly, gently pulling his shirt up his chest until it's bunched around his collarbone. He seems to like that pool of arousal that you're leaking all over his belly, especially while you're perched over his happy trail and soaking his bush with your slick, since he's already trying to hump your bare cunt despite being nowhere close to it.

"Yes, ma'am." He rubs your hip affectionately, breath hitching as he leans up to watch you balance on your knees and angle yourself over him, to finally start letting his cock breach your slippery folds. "Y-You want a condom, Mrs. H?"

"No. This'll be a lesson in responsibility. You get my wife pregnant, you'll have to deal with it." Eddie looks back at him in shock, but he doesn't say a word. If anything, it shifts more towards excitement as he waits for you to move--and when you do, when you finally start sinking down on that pretty, girthy cock, Eddie cries out and writhes and grabs your waist for stability but he can't make you stop. You're too wet to try, and the stretch that fills you out when you reach the base....it's not better nor worse than your husband's, but it's different. And you just hope it's as good for Eddie as it is for you.

"How's that feel, sweetheart? Feel okay?" You coo, trying to ignore the delightful scrape of unkempt, wiry hairs against your oversensitive clit. It's even more difficult to keep that pleasure at bay when Eddie's throbbing uncontrollably inside you, and your husband is sweetly, tentatively stroking himself off over Eddie's head as he watches the show.

"F-Fuck my mouth, Mr. H," He suddenly pipes up, reaching back to grab Steve's hips and tug him closer, so his cock is barely a centimetre off his face. "Shut me up before I say something--s-stupid!"

Whatever he's thinking about saying, Steve obviously has the patience to wait to hear it--because he wastes no time in pulling back and aligning his tip with Eddie's parted lips, one hand guiding himself and the other holding his jaw to keep him open as he slowly, carefully works himself inside. Every time Eddie jolts, your hips buck and it stimulates him even more, every inch sinking deeper and deeper until he's whimpering around the obvious bulge of Steve's cock nestled in his throat. It's such a pretty sight, his chest heaving for air and his nose nudging at Steve's heavy balls, spit trailing from his straining lips up his face--and Eddie's taking it so well, you can tell even Steve is pleased to see how trained his throat is to take him already.

"You practiced, huh? You were a good boy and practiced for me?" Eddie's eyes roll back into his head at the praise, and the thought of lazily stroking your clit in the interim is blasted away when he starts throwing his hips into a harsh rhythm. Like he's suddenly been possessed by his own lust, Eddie fucks into you with wild and reckless abandon, and doesn't bother trying to muffle his own choking and gagging noises as Steve starts humping his mouth in tandem. "You like being praised? You want more? Then make me cum."

You can tell by the sounds and the humming from Eddie that he would absolutely be running his mouth if he could, although it dies down into whines and deep, rumbly moans as you ride him harder and pay no mind to how he's losing steam. Honestly, you are too, even though the feeling is just indescribable--so you compromise by laying yourself down on his chest, tits squished up against his pecs and your hips laid flat for easier access, plus an opportunity for Eddie to bring his hands up and grab tight fistfuls of your ass that seem to spur his thrusts on even more. Having yourselves lined up only a few centimetres apart doesn't take away from the adrenaline at all--it just gives him an easier time of rapid-fire bucking into you like two rabbits in mating season.

On the other hand, Steve is taking zero liberties with him. He huffs and reminds him of the stopping rule even though he's in the midst of pummeling his poor throat into oblivion, but when he pulls completely out to allow him some breathing room, Eddie's sticky, flushed face twists with want and he sticks that pretty pink tongue out to coax him back inside. Clearly he's victorious in that sense--Steve's balls smush right up against his nose as he slides back in, tightening up against him when Eddie makes a loud show of slurping him up like he's some kind of dessert. His poor adam's apple is being abused with every dip into his throat though, and with a hazy giggle, you reach up and lick that spot that keeps showing the outline of your husband's cock--and you don't expect him to push down on the back of your head to shove you into it, Eddie squealing and panting with pleasure at the strange sensation of you sucking on your husband's dick through his own flesh.

"So fucking good," Steve pants, breaking his no cursing rule for the moment to look down on you both with reverence. "Sucking me off so good. My angels, you look so pretty down there."

He tugs you back up by the hair, peering around you to watch the mesmerizing jiggle of your ass as Eddie grinds into you and smirking at the sight. Now both of your faces are smeared with your own saliva, and he happily gives you more as he spits into your slackened mouth and watches it dribble down your chin to splatter against Eddie's flushed skin.

"Such a fucking soft tongue too, christ," Your husband groans, drawing your attention back to the pretty boy beneath you that's spasming and choking back on him. "Want me to pay you to warm my balls for me? Bet you'd do it for free. Just wanna have em in your mouth no matter what."

Just for show, he manages to extract himself from those warm, wet confines and moves his hips a little higher, so his musky scent overwhelms your babysitter's face as he rests his sack right on his panting lips. Eddie's honestly so admirable--he doesn't waste any time in sucking on them, his tongue flicking out to taste each one before he pulls them into his mouth independently. If you weren't married, you'd be worried that he'd show you up for Steve's affections, but your husband clearly knows his priorities as he pulls you up to kiss you firmly on the lips. You can taste each other's sweat on your tongues, and when he moves back his hand shifts to cup your chin with a smile and an affectionate rub. And just like that, he snaps back into dominant mode.

"I'd pay you to creampie this tight little throat too, but you're gonna take it anyways cause you're such a dirty boy for me." A shudder runs through him as Eddie moans around his balls, contently devouring them with his tongue and totally lost in the taste of his musk and sweat from the long day--you can definitely relate to that feeling, because something about Steve's smell just makes him irresistible. His treat is soon pulled away with a grunt, but he's not left wanting for very long when you watch Steve stuff himself right back down his throat, like he's returning to where he belongs. The show is gearing up for its finale and you're pretty glad that Steve's already made a mess of you once, because it's been easier to stave off the next orgasm that you know is coming soon--just as long as Eddie keeps rolling his hips into you like a mindless, youthfully horny sex machine. "And you're gonna get my sloppy seconds when you blow your load in my wife. Gonna make you lick it all up and--and get her all clean for me to breed agai-nnnnh, fuck, fuck!"

Steve's dirty thoughts taper off into throaty, husky moans, his hands coming down hard to pin Eddie's shoulders to the bed so he can't squirm off--but if anything he's edging closer, squeaking and humming with moans as Steve loses his composure and brutalizes that poor, pretty neck as he chases the last few seconds of orgasm. Just to top it off, you make sure to grind your hips down against Eddie to meet his thrusts as he does so, crooning out praise after praise when he digs his nails into your waist and shakes with boundless pleasure as Steve floods his belly with cum straight from the source. If he's trying not to cum in you, he's gonna lose--and now you're close enough that you don't care, you just want it, you're losing yourself in the fantasy of being a cumdump just like Steve's always entertaining for you. When you're so close you can feel it coming on too hard to stop it, and your husband pulls out with little regard to the streams of cum that spurt out and paint Eddie's beet-red face, tilting his head up so they can both watch you come apart on top of him. His honey-brown doe eyes widen with awe as he watches you use him for your own pleasure, unashamedly grinding your clit into his bush to get that delicious pleasure you crave--and with Steve's encouragement, "C'mon honey, show Eddie how pretty you look when you cum" the room blots out and you witness nothing but Eddie's concaving stomach as you push him into his own orgasm.

It's hard to tell where you start and Eddie ends, whose fluids are churning up inside you and spilling all over his lap like a man-made puddle, but nothing in those moments matter. All that matters is the rolling waves of tingling ecstasy that wash over you one at a time, accompanied by the feeling of Eddie's nuts clenched up against your ass as your pussy pulses and milks him of all he has to spare. You're really unsure now of what you just did, but the glory that spreads through you as you come down makes it all feel hazy and good--doesn't really matter as long as this feeling lasts, even if it's just the heat of Eddie's body beneath you as you collapse and nuzzle deeper into his chest.

"Mrs. H..." He finally pants in a hoarse voice, sucking back whatever's left sticking to his mouth and trailing a hand up to rest it on your lower back. "Can't see straight...fucked me too good..."

You bury your grin in his collar, dazedly tracing circles in his shoulder as you readjust to your surroundings. When you finally manage to lift your head, you're met with your husband's groin--he's in the midst of pulling up his pants, but he pauses when he sees you eyeing him. Mostly focused on his heavy, hanging cock between his legs, still smeared with cum and spit and sweat...and although it's usually a toss up of whether he thinks you're too tired to do it or not, he doesn't interrupt and even moves closer when you reach out to touch it, and you lick a long stripe from tip to base to start polishing him off.

"Good girl...love it when you clean my cock for me. Always so gentle, huh? Ssh-" He hisses suddenly as you prop him up and suck the soft tip into your mouth, the globs of cum that threatened to fall getting licked up as you ease every last spurt of seed out of him. His hands brace your head but don't move, though you can't quite reach all the way--but when you start sliding off Eddie's cock to stretch closer and move further down on your husband's, he whimpers with sensitivity and watches with a keen eye as his cum drools out of your cunt like a faucet. You just wanna get close enough, forcing down each inch that's much easier to swallow when he's soft. When you've got the shaft all clean, though, you can get to what lies underneath, and sweetly lap at the sticky mess off your husband's balls until you've polished his skin and groomed every thatch of thick, dark hair he's got. "That's my girl. Givin' em such nice attention, yeah? You know they're yours."

Only when you're good and ready does he finally pull you off, a chuckle rising out of him when you sink back into the man underneath you--and unintentionally smother him with your tits in the process, your velvety skin falling victim to his teeth as he starts mawing at each round, soft globe of flesh. He buckles himself up and bends down to peck you on the lips, murmuring that he's gonna get some towels and go check on Casey, and makes sure to scritch the top of Eddie's frizzy head as a gesture of affection before he slips out the door and shuts it. As soon as he's gone, it gets too quiet.

"What were you gonna say earlier, Eddie?" You sit back so he can have some room to breathe, shuffling down so you can sit on the relatively clean sheets and lean back against the headboard. He follows close behind though and cuddles up in your embrace, his arms loosely hung around your waist while he rubs his cheek against you. He's unusually quiet too, breathing softly against the bare skin of your chest without a word to fill the silence.

"I....was gonna tell you I love you, Mrs. H. And I love Steve. And I love that crazy little squirt of yours. And...you make me feel like I belong. That's, uh...what I was gonna say. Stupid, right?" He jokes, but he doesn't laugh honestly. The playfulness fades away as fast as a heartbeat, and you can tell by his clinginess and the way he squeezes you tighter when you stroke his hair. The poor thing is incredibly lonely, although you've sensed that from the start.

"That's not stupid at all, darling. You know Casey idolizes you, you're practically another father to him. And Steve and I, we've loved you for a long time. We just...we were afraid we were pressuring you into a life you didn't want."

Somehow it's more nerve-wracking to say those few words out loud than it was to come on to him in the first place, but it isn't your first run around the track. You know that true feelings are much harder to be honest about, even when the person they regard is cuddled up next to you in the nude.

"No! No, never! You've been so good to me, I never...I've never been treated so well. You always made me feel safe." He sits up to look you in the eyes, his voice unusually level and mature as he keeps going. "You make me feel like I'm part of the family. Like I have a family. I mean, I do, but...my uncle needs his space, and so do I. I've mooched off him long enough. Although I guess I'm just mooching off you guys, now..."

He rubs at his arms, tentatively reaching behind his head to pull his shirt completely off and dump it with his other clothes. But he looks so dejected, depressed, like he's expecting you to realize that he is a mooch and throw him out of your house. His eyes flutter back up to you when you touch his cheek, however, and he listens intently as you spill out your heart-to-heart.

"You are part of our family. Our home is your home. You're not mooching off us if we're asking you to stay--you never have to, but you're always welcome here. We can't get enough of you." You shrug your shoulders, offering a sincere smile that he returns--and soon it turns to giggling, the high leaving you both bubbly and floaty like you just got done smoking a joint. For a moment or two you don't feel like you've got a ten plus year age gap, but that you're both young and foolish and passionate like you've always been at heart.

"....I was also gonna tell you you have the tightest pussy I've ever felt, holy mother of Ozzy-" He sighs dreamily, and you swat at his arm with an "oh, stop it", but his smirk doesn't fade. "Seriously. Thought you were gonna choke me out. I can't believe you're a mom...you've got a better body than I've ever seen in a magazine. No wonder Steve's such a monster in bed."

"I think you're underselling yourself, sweetie." You coo, leaning in close so he can practically taste the last hints of your perfume. "I wouldn't feel so tight if you weren't so beautifully endowed." You reach down and grope his soft, yet still slick cock, and watch his expression twist with open-mouthed awe and pleasure as you stroke it in your hand. Watching it twitch like crazy in your palm stirs something up in you, and your belly knots itself up as Eddie grows harder and harder under your touch. He's still so sticky--you reach underneath with your other hand and giggle as he gasps, and you're right, even his balls are all messy too. Now that you've got a grip you can feel the heft of them, full of that thick, creamy stuff that drives you crazy, and your fingers weave through the matted patches of hair to feel every curve and give them a squeeze to gauge how much you've got to work with.

"Never woulda thought the sunday school teacher'd have a kink like that," He mumbles, but it's a tease, his lips curving up into a smile as he hovers his hand between your own legs and presses his fingers into your clit--and, just like he hoped, he draws a whine and another squeeze out of you. "Now, you know I desperately wanna lick the cum out of you, and I know you're just dying to get your tongue on my nuts,"

He leans into a whisper, rubbing your soft little button harder so you have to clench to keep all that mess inside. "So why not sit on my face? And I'll give this pretty pussy so many kisses, just like she deserves..." He keeps leaning further, boldly brushing his lips against yours until you close the distance for a kiss--and it's so cute how smug he looks when he pulls away, totally unaware of the side you've been keeping down that you usually save for your husband's worst, most tiring days, when he needs someone else to take control.

"Lay back, sweetie." You charm him with glittery eyes, watching intently as he pulls his fingers away and sucks them clean of your arousal before he follows your order--but instead of climbing on top at once, you reach beneath yourself and plunge your fingers inside, swirling them up with a thick coating of sloppy cum that you transfer to him....but not where he would've expected. You watch his expressions as he sits up and sees what you're doing, circling that tight rim that's exposed to you now at this angle. If he wants you to stop, you're sure he'll say something, especially when you meet his gaze and slowly ease your slick finger inside him.

But he doesn't speak up, doesn't shake his head, doesn't push you away--Eddie just watches, legs shaking as he spreads them wider and fists clenching against the sheets when you dip your head down between them. Seeing his hole swallow up your finger so eagerly is cute, especially with those tantalizing balls heaving just above it and clenching when you curl your knuckles, searching for that spot to hook into that's gonna make his cock spurt all over his belly. He takes it well, he's clean, and he's tight. You can't help but think that Stevie's gonna adore this--and when you lave little kitten licks over his rim, getting a taste of that bitter sweat and cum off your hand, and his hips jump with a jolt of pleasure? It's so sweet you could just die. Your hair shifts suddenly and you feel a warmth on your scalp, though you don't peek up until you've wiggled the tip of your tongue against his hole a little more. But when you do, you're pleased to see Eddie hunched over you and his hand on your head, bottom lip pinned between his teeth as he strokes you devotedly.

"L..Love it when you do that..."

"Do what?" You tease, working your finger slowly back and forth as you wait for an answer, and planting a wet kiss on his sack when he takes too long and has to groan it out.

"F-Finger me. Love it when you finger me, and...u-use your tongue, and stuff...s'gross, but it feels..." A sigh makes its way out of him, long and whiny when you press another finger in alongside the first, and spread them both out. You can catch a glimpse of some pearly shimmers of his own cum when you do, getting creamier when you churn them around with your curious fingers. "Feels incredible. No girl'd ever do this for me...they'd think I was crazy-"

"That's why I'm a woman, Edward. Stevie likes it too." You work on searching for that spot again, letting a glob of spit shoot out on to his rim to massage it in and lube him up a little more, which he seriously seems to like--or at least his cock does, because it twitches and bounces at full stiffness now, completely erect and needy and leaking already.

"You do this to Steve?" He asks in a hushed whisper, eyes big and shocked. He's probably imagining it....oh, he's clenching so hard, he's definitely thinking about it.

"All the time. I'll eat him out in the shower after work," You grin, having clearly caught his rapt attention, and test his resilience by making use of your other hand to massage his balls as you talk. "And he'll moan, and moan, and moan. So shy about it, but as soon as my tongue's inside him he forgets it all. Whimpers like a little princess."

Eddie throws his head back, adam's apple bobbing to and fro as he swallows down his cries. It's a lot harder to do when you start holding his rim open and sticking your tongue inside, only allowing him a moment or two of mind-bending pleasure before you pull back and leave him gaping and empty.

"I-I'd watch that," He finally pipes up, trying desperately to cling to his confidence. You really can't wait until he drops the act entirely, and gets to the point that he's grinding into your mouth and begging Mrs. Harrington to eat him out.

"And you'd rub yourself raw to it, wouldn't you? Then you'd beg me to do it to you, too."

"Mh-!" He squeaks and his head cranks back down to watch you lap at his hole, the hand on your head now clasped over his mouth because he can't go without seeing you work for a second longer. But he nods his head frantically in agreement, and that's when you finally tug your fingers out and use them to push his cheeks completely apart--because you reward honest boys, and it takes a lot for a nice boy like him to admit he enjoys having a woman of the church's tongue up his asshole.

"...That's how I found out Steve liked you, Eddie. He was touching himself in the shower, moaning your name." With a grin that's gonna haunt his wet dreams for the rest of his life, you tease his newly-empty hole with the tip of your tongue and let it wriggle there, testing his reactions and the sounds muffled by him biting his index finger out of desperation. The tears glistening in his eyes make him look so pretty, the embarrassment and shyness something you can enjoy now because it won't last--and you plunge your tongue inside him, completely bypassing any resistance he might have had that's now been loosened by your efforts.

"Shit! No, fuck, that's so fucking hot, fuck-!" He grunts, playing with his own cock like he's not really trying to make himself cum--he just wants it out of the way so he can watch you bury your face in his ass. His balls sit high on your face and they're so much heftier when they're spilling over you, swollen and soft and smelling so manly. It's like a dream, a beautiful, sexy dream, and with how floaty your head is right now you're not altogether sure it isn't a dream. The determined and near-feral manner in which you're tongue-fucking your babysitter could very well be something you've just concocted in your mind and gotten too involved in....but the fingers digging painfully into your scalp feel a bit too real, and so does the chuckling that vibrates through your mouth and up his spine as you feel Eddie squeeze his tight ring around your tongue. A knowing smirk makes way for your lips to seal around him, to suck the incredibly sensitive skin that you've teased into vulnerability, and with that one motion you get exactly what you wanted.

"No, no no no no! Fuck, fuck, cumming, cumming!" You've never heard Eddie so needy, voice nasally and high-pitched like he's in pain, but it's the complete opposite. Once he starts humping your face, he can't stop, and he rides your tongue so hard and for so many harsh thrusts you nearly believe he's not gonna let you pull it out. But he does, once his poor, weeping cock finishes spitting another load all over your hair and his belly, and he drains his balls so dry they tighten up and then flatten until they're completely soft. Only then do you manage to extract yourself and sit up, tongue lolling out your mouth as you heave and gasp for air as if you'd just dunked your head underwater.

And Eddie's done when you come up. He falls back and lets his back hit the bed, chest rising and falling hard enough for you to watch him take each breath. You nudge his knees apart to take a peek, and while his cock is limp and still twitching with a spurt here and there, his hole is flushed and spasming with the aftershocks. It's gaping just wide enough to wink every now and then, and you're sure you can call that a job well done. If only you could take a picture to save it forever.

"It's me," Timing as perfect as always, the door clicks open and your husband pokes his head in, a bundle of towels under his arm and a glass of water he stretches to hand you before he shuts it with his foot. "Wore him out, I see."

"Yeah, we had fun. Casey?" Steve slides in beside you, dropping the towels in front of him and throwing one over Eddie's sticky chest, before tugging his polo off for the first and last time tonight to toss it to the floor.

"Sleeping like a baby. Saw his cup in the sink, Eddie gave him his medicine--he won't wake up for awhile." He greets you with a kiss on the cheek, but you redirect him with your hand on his chin to plant another on his lips--and you know he knows exactly what you got up to when your tongue slithers into his mouth, and he hums at the overwhelming taste of Eddie that you pass on before you pull off with a loud, wet smack.

"Aw, well done! Poor thing hates the stuff, I'm proud of you." You rub Eddie's knee that's collapsed into the bed, feeling smug and proud of yourself at wearing out someone more than ten years younger before you've run out of steam yourself.

Maybe it's cause you've just had to keep up with Steve, who's been a stallion ever since he was fucking you in the backseat of his BMW at the drive-in movies after graduation. You'll never forget the time he made you cum so hard you squirted on one of those dates, and had to throw his jacket over your lap to cover your soaked skirt when he dropped you off at home....and how he came right back the next morning with a handful of roses, asking bashfully if you would be his girlfriend. He's become even more romantic as he's matured--but he's never dropped that insatiable lust for you, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"What can I say? Best babysitter ever." Eddie pants, grinning up at both of you with his pearly whites glinting in the low light, although his eyes are half-lidded and he's already starting to doze off. You really did wear him out...but you're looking forward to telling Steve about your rather enlightening conversation.

"I guess we're lucky Casey's not getting up til noon," Steve murmurs quietly as you take a sip and pass the glass to him. "Can't imagine Eddie's gonna have any energy for wrangling our kid at six am after this."

"I don't think any of us will have the energy to get up early." You giggle, falling victim to your husband's firm kisses as soon as he sets the water down on the nightstand, his toned arm coming up to cup your cheek as he moves you to lay back against the pillows. He takes a moment to turn back and grab each of Eddie's deadweight legs--because by his snores, he's already passed out--and move them carefully over so he's laid out on the side of the bed and not splayed out in the middle, but returns right back to your lips as his fingertips graze your sides and send shivers up and down your spine.

"I'm not sleepy yet. Are you sleepy?" You shake your head, feeling a girlish flutter in your heart that takes you right back to those days of your early romance. It's one of the many reasons you still feel such intense love for him, because he reminds you of how happy you were then with every headrush that comes from a kiss, and every time he makes you giggle with a joke or a sweet gesture just like he did when you were dating. "Then I think a certain hot momma I know needs some me time."

"Me time?" He nods, a "mhm" hummed into your lips as he steals another kiss, before planting a firm, squirm-inducing one right at the soft spot of your throat. "What kind of 'me time', may I ask?"

Steve leans close enough to your lips that you're sure he's going in for a deeper kiss--but when he hesitates, your mouth is already parted, and you feel that puff of hot breath on your tongue as he mutters in as low and rumbly a tone as he can get.

"Me 'eating this pretty pussy until my wife cums on my mouth' time. Obviously." He smirks, and flicks his tongue across your bottom lip to hear you moan for him already. Knowing Steve, this is definitely gonna keep Eddie from sleeping soundly in the same room, especially when he's got that look in his eyes. But...at least now, you don't really have to worry about waking the babysitter anymore.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #steve x reader x eddie #dad!steve harrington #milf!reader #spicy writing #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #anons

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koithelittle · 9 months

Note

Hello! could you make a cg!simpbur moodboard with a kinda webcore theme? also headcannons if it's not too much of a bother :3

cg!simpbur moodboard + headcanons!

note; I'm not familiar with webcore so I hope this is good!! anyways i don't have too many hcs but I will write the ones I do have :3 requests are getting wrapped up today, after that any wips that will be posted will be non requests !!

paci creds; thesoothershop on ig!

navigation

other moodboards (requests are open!)

taglist; @jjtheresidentbaby @lillylvjy @wilmaslittleflower @whos-nicooo @littlerosiesoot (ask or dm to be added!)

- i feel like he's very overprotective and often times a lil strict

- he has his rules for a reason but he's a bit more firmer in the following of them

- possessive but in a good way! never do anything you didn't like.

- asks for permission to hug you or kiss your face or call you any sort of petname

- he likes honeybear and baby the most though

- more of a papa/dada guy but secretly melts when you call him daddy!

- he writes little lullabies that he sings for you

- carries you literally everywhere around the house

- like you are always on his hip and he's just like walking around doing random stuff

- big on holding you between his legs

- like you'll sit between his legs and play while watching cartoons and he's doing your hair

- plays computer games with you all the time, but only the ones he deems are age appropriate!

- his favorite to play with you is the JumpStart 3D game! there's a lot but the specific one is the legend of grizzly mcgruffin!! (personal fav here too-)

- please ignore the fact that jumpstart is no longer existent, let me live in my fantasy world where it didn't shut down

- interactive play all the time! asks you questions about what you're building or what your stuffies are saying or even sets up tea parties with silly invites and fun snackies!

- he has this list he gives to any sitter he has for you. it's incredibly detailed and has the answer to any questions a sitter may have. like favorite toys, favorite foods, allergies, bed time, routines, rules, triggers, etc etc.

- although he only has one person he deems suitable to be around his baby without him and that's his older brother, anyone else has to be thoroughly vetted.

- if you ever get hurt by any means, he's right there with the first aid kit, candy and a drink, and a ton of warm blankets n stuffies.

- also kisses. every boo-boo gets a kiss per number of pain times two (if you say it hurts like a 5, he'll give you 10 kisses on that owie)

- he's an absolute pro when you're sick. does everything you could possibly think of to make you feel better.

- he'd do anything for you.

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theoceantot · 4 months

Text

Mercy as a Caregiver

*Mercy has the biggest soft spot for littles

*I can see her doing well with all regressors but her favorite is baby regressors

*Has a crib for you in her office so she can keep an eye on you while she's working.

*Its a rule that you always hold her hand so you don't get lost in the overwatch compound

*Last time you let go of her hand you got lost and started screaming "Mama" while balling loudly. Genji was quick to help and informed Mercy you got lost

*Very quick to find out what's bothering you.

*Gets you your own little staff. Nothing to powerful just enough to heal things like scratches.

*Hanzo got cuts while sparring whith Genji and here comes you toddling in the training roll in your footie pajamas healing the small cuts with your staff. Genji chuckled and gestured to Hanzo. "Thank you child.."

*Loves to play doctor with you and be your patient

*Even the other members join in. Tracer is the best actress out of all of them tho.

*Genji is your number 1 baby-sitter

*Sometimes Mercy has to go on missions or tend to patients and can't look after you so Genji has to step in.

*If you're a very clingy baby then there's a good chance their will be some tantrums that Genji has to deal with. He doesn't get mad though. He understands you just want Mercy.

*Waits for you to cry it out and then shushes you gently and puts on a cartoon for you two to watch.

*Expert at diaper changes. She comforts you the whole time and is very fast with getting you clean

*Loves bottle feeding you. The way you look into her eyes with so much love always makes her melt.

*You go around putting bandaid on people after missions if they have a scratch.

*(Hanzo wants to take them off but doesn't becasue he sees how happy it makes you)

*Has a behavior chart for you. You rarely ever get in trouble though becasue you're just a baby. You're hardly ever bad intentionally

*Loves holding you but can't do it on her own so Winton creates a device that makes people/things lighter.

*Now she always wants to hold you and that's perfectly fine because you wanna be held too

*You love how she always smells like vanilla and her skin is so soft.

*Is very picky about who changes and babysits you.

*Genji, Sojourn, and Mei are allowed to babysit and change you.

*Kiriko, Tracer, and Pharah are allowed to babysit.

*Trys everything in her power to keep you hidden from Talon but you know there's a certain hacker that knows just about everything.

*For that reason you're never allowed outside on your own without at least 2 people by your side.

*Definitely a protective mama

*Hums lullabys to help you sleep. Her voice is so angelic

#sfw agere #fandom agere #little space #agerereader #agere #little!reader #age regression #age regressor #agere caregiver #agere reader #overwatch agere #mercy

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sl-newsie · 7 months

Text

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 10: Equality vs Justice

Later that night we hold dinner for two hours before I finally decide to stop waiting for the Shelby brothers to return. Finn left to help about an hour ago and it’s just been Polly and me preparing Shepherd’s pies. When I tell her about Ada’s behavior she gets a funny look in her eye.

“I’ve got some suspicions. For now I’ll wait for Ada to come to me but my patience is wearing thin. She’s been avoiding me.”

A few more minutes go by and I check the clock. “Do you always wait for them to come back this late? If I were to stay out unaccompanied like this my mother would personally kill me.”

Polly laughs as she stirs the filling. “With those boys nothing is ever normal. Between John worrying about his family, Arthur wanting to be smarter than he is, and Thomas thinking he knows everything, I sometimes wonder how they can even function.”

“And Finn?”

She sighs heavily. “I hope he’ll turn out straight. He tries so hard to be like his brothers that sometimes we forget he’s still just a kid. How’s his lessons been going?”

I wipe my flower-covered hands on a towel. “No complaints at all, ma’am. Finn’s a prime student. He definitely has potential and dedication, though I’m glad to say he does not share his brother’s lack of resilience. Finn always has an open mind, which I think is inspired by his sister.”

We hear the front door open and all four Shelby brothers crowd into the room, all taking their places at the kitchen table. I can tell they’ve been drinking due to the smell of liquor but they seem to be level-headed enough. I just hope Finn hasn’t drank too much.

“How was the bonfire?” I ask lightly as I pass out a tray of slightly-cold pies.

“Affective.”

Thomas is the only one to reply as they all dig into the simple meal. No doubt they’re tired. Finn is the only one that still shows any hint of ignorance. In these insane times a touch of ignorance might not be so bad.

“I got to leave early,” John says after he swallows. “Kids’ll be wanting their dad to tuck ‘em in.”

“Ever considered a sitter?” I ask.

Arthur slurs a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, so we can pay you double? Watch his tykes and teach Finn, ey?”

I shake my head and try to defend his accusation but John waves it off.

“‘S alright, Steenstra. I don’t expect you to. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is. I need a more stable solution.”

Thomas speaks up. “You need a wife, John.” He gets up and comes over to search through the cupboard. “Polly, where are those biscuits-?”

“In the refrigerator,” John says. “Though there may not be many left. Verena’s a damn good baker.”

“All the more reason why my decision to hire her has paid off well,” Polly comments. “Which is why you lot should treat her as the proper Peaky Blinders employee she is, Arthur.” She points a warning finger at the eldest Shelby brother, who just rolls his eyes.

“Respect is earned,” I reply. “Since my position is temporary I don’t expect to gain anything before-”

“Before you go back,” Finn grunts. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

Thomas ruffles his brother’s hair. “Hear that, Verena? Someone’s gonna miss you.”

Finn swats his hand away. “I will not!”

“I will,” John says as he chews another cookie. “Without her there’s no biscuits.”

The brothers go on chatting about other Blinders business and I take the chance to finish cleaning part of the kitchen before slipping off to bed. It’s already midnight and my eyes are starting to droop. I don’t even bother thinking about reading as I dim the lights and slip under the covers…

“Clocking out early?” Thomas’ voice stirs me from my thoughts. He’s standing in the doorway.

“It’s midnight, Mr. Shelby. If I did have an established work schedule my shift would have ended hours ago.”

The man simply nods his head and walks over to look out my window. “Dinner was nice. And I know John’s exaggerated this already but your biscuits are to die for.”

In the dark I stand up to face him better. “Trying to butter me up with a compliment before delivering unpleasant news?”

Thomas’ reaction is covered by the shadows. “Only giving a compliment, Ms. Steenstra. I must say I’m surprised at how much you’ve changed around here.”

I tilt my head. “I haven’t changed much in the house besides my cooking-”

“I mean us,” Thomas gestures towards the kitchen. “You might not see it but you do more than what you think, Verena. And Finn will miss you, by the way.” He pauses. “Most all of us will miss you.”

“Most?”

“Well… Arthur’s still undecided about me hiring you.”

I nod respectfully. “I’m still grateful for your trust. In my family it’s a high honor for younger members to be part of something this big.”

Something I say doesn’t sit well with Thomas. His laid-back expression shifts to one of curiosity.

“Members? What kind of family are you part of, Steenstra?”

I slipped up. He suspects my involvement with the mob.

“Like I said before. I’m half Dutch, half Irish. My father runs a chain of breweries.”

“And are there any business deals made under the table away from federal eyes?” Thomas inquires.

I keep a steady expression. “Do not accuse my father of bootlegging, Mr. Shelby. All his transactions are thoroughly legal.”

It’s not a lie. Father’s refused several proposals from Uncle Colon about selling his products to the Irish mobs. Thankfully my answer persuades Thomas to drop the subject.

“Your father seems like a good man. He raised a bright and resourceful daughter.” Thomas steps closer and I can smell the mint cologne and ash on him. “Good night, Ms. Steenstra.”

“Good night, Thomas. Prayers be with you.”

The gangster nods and exits the room, taking the chill of the conversation with him. That was close. At this point I’ve gone too far to confess to my family connections. The Shelbys trust me as myself, not as a mob asset. As I lay down once again to catch some sleep I can’t help but wonder if my family’s noticed I’m missing…

I open my eyes to a brand-new day and quickly get dressed. Now that I have my own clothing with English fashion I don’t feel like an oddball. It’s already 10:00. Much later than I wanted to start but there’s no use crying about it. I walk into the kitchen and am not surprised to find out that Thomas and his brothers have already left.

“Morning, love,” Polly greets from the table. “Finn’s running an errand and then you can do a lesson. He seemed eager to get back so you should expect him soon. The only other one who’s here is Ada.”

As if on cue, the Shelby sister walks into the room and slumps into the chair next to Polly.

“Good of you to join us.” Polly remarks as Ada pours some tea. “Where have you been all day?”

“In bed,” the brunette replies, sharing knowing glances with me. Sure. ‘Bed.’ “Couldn’t sleep. Then I couldn’t wake up.”

She goes on to ramble about dreams while Polly chats about recent bad news. It’s not until I hear Polly abruptly say “stand up” that I look up from the novel I’m reading. Ada does as she’s told and Polly walks around examining her, then suddenly feels up her chest.

“Polly what are you doing?” Ada shouts.

“Ada. How late are you?”

Her words take a moment to drift in the air, then it clicks in my head. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. It was only a matter of time before Ada’s affair would catch up with her. She’s pregnant.

“One week- 5 weeks- seven weeks, but it must be a lack of iron…” Ada desperately tries to patch up an excuse.

But Polly won’t have it. “I’m taking you to the doctor.” She gives Ada a stern look to quiet her then glances over at me. “Verena, love, it’s best you not tell a soul if you know what’s good for you. You can wait here for Finn while I take her.”

Hiding my face behind my book cover, I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

Polly nods and drags Ada out of the room. Ada gives me one last panicked look before the pair walks through the front door. Don’t expect sympathy from me. You know what you were getting yourself into. I sit quietly at the table and continue reading until the door opens again and Finn walks in.

“Where’s Aunt Polly?”

Not a word about Ada. “She had something come up. Didn’t say when she’d be back.” I try to reroute the conversation. “What do you want to learn about today?”

Finn joins me at the table and sets down a new book. “I found this at the library. Before you say anything-” He points a finger at me. “No, I don’t agree with Tommy about using public resources. I like the library.” He holds the book up for me to see. “I found this today and was hoping you might know about it?”

The book is one I’ve never heard of before but the topic looks enticing. “You want to learn about equality and justice?”

“Yeah. We deal with social concepts like them all the time in the family business.”

“That you do, Finn. If only others would share your willingness to learn.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Thomas’ voice asks from behind.

Of course he’s here. I turn around to find the blue-eyed gangster leaning against the counter with an amused smirk.

“Good morning, Thomas. Care to join us?”

“Depends. Will I like what I hear?”

I raise a brow. “Depends. Does talk of justice bother you? You Shelbys seem to admire it.”

Thomas doesn’t answer verbally. Instead he slowly walks over to sit next to Finn. I take that as my cue to begin.

“Equality is the state of being equal, regardless of background or social status.”

“So socialism, then,” Thomas says.

“Please hold all comments for after the lesson, Mr. Shelby. As I was saying, justice is the concept of what is fair. What is right and what is deserved.”

“That sounds like the same thing as equality,” Finn says, confused.

“Think of it like this, Finn. Imagine two people watching a horse race from behind a fence. They’re each too short to see over the top. In a scenario when equality is involved, each person is given a crate to stand on. However one person is still too short to see over. In a scenario with justice, the fence would be removed to allow both people to see.”

Both Shelbys take in my words with consideration. However our lesson is interrupted when Arthur bursts through the door.

“Tommy, where’ve you been? Been looking for you in the Bull Ring and you’re here being lectured by the American?”

I suppress the urge to argue. Thankfully I don’t have to because Thomas does the work for me.

“She’s got a name, Arthur. Verena’s a Peaky Blinders employee so she’ll be treated as such. We were just finishing a lesson with Finn.”

The oldest Shelby brother takes little notice to apologize and motions for Thomas to follow him. Probably more urgent business than a lecture.

“That’s enough for today, Finn.”

He gives a disappointed sigh. “Thanks, Verena.”

The rest of the day ticks by and I do my best to make the time pass faster while I wait for Ada and Polly to return. The sound of the door opening alerts me to look up from my book and see the two sit down on the couch across from me, both holding cigarettes.

“You’re pregnant, and you’re smoking?! What is wrong with you?”

“Quiet!” Polly hisses. “I’ll talk to Tommy about it later but for now no one knows. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nods. “Good. How was Finn today?”

How can she expect me to ignore this blessing? “Ambitious as usual. Is the baby healthy?”

“So far so good,” Ada assures me. “Have you been stuck inside all day? You should get some fresh air.”

Come to think of it, I am getting a little antsy. Some time outdoors would do me some good. Polly and Ada probably need to discuss the situation more thoroughly with privacy.

“Good idea, Ada. I think I’ll step out back and take a stroll in the alley. I won’t stray far.”

After picking out a hat to block out what little sun there is I see Polly approach me with a pistol.

“For protection.”

I take it graciously and slip it into my skirt pocket. “How did you know I know how to shoot one?”

She gives me a subtle wink. “Intuition.”

The moment I open the back door I’m welcomed by a gust of ash and dirt. Today’s much windier than normal and is not in my favor. But beggars can’t be choosers. I should stretch my legs before I develop cabin fever. The pistol's weight pressing against my leg serves as a reminder that I can defend against any unwanted violence.

Just as I step into the alley and wander into the nearby street the sound of hooves signals for me to peek around the corner. Thomas is back, and he’s riding his new white horse. The horse almost looks out of place here, with the whole ‘gloom and doom’ atmosphere. Thomas halts the horse and dismounts, gently stroking the animal’s nose.

“Seems to me like you treat horses like people and people like snakes.”

Thomas rolls his eyes but takes the comment all in good fun. “Yeah, yeah. The humanity in me is dead.” He pats the horse and ties him to a nearby hitching post. “On another note, I just talked with Grace. I’m taking her to the races later this week.”

My thoughts come to an abrupt stop, like a freight train tumbling off a twisted track. Why? Why do I feel so… disappointed? It only makes sense that Thomas would ask her out. Grace is pretty and kind. He’ll only ever think of me as an employee, so at least he trusts me enough with his family’s business.

“Oh. That sounds fun,” I try to sound encouraging. “Are the races here exciting?”

“They never disappoint, love. Ever been to one?”

I shake my head and stroke the horse’s mane. “My father never lets me go to the races. Says it’s not ladylike.” Another thought surfaces. “What did you think of today’s lesson?”

The gangster scoffs and takes off his cap to run a hand through his hair. “I think part of that lecture was directed at me.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. You want me to reconsider my mindset of establishing justice, eh?”

Honestly I didn’t plan for the topic to hint at Thomas’ mindset but he makes a good point. “You have heart, Thomas. But you can’t act as life’s judge, jury, and executioner. It’s not always about what people deserve. It can be about what they need. No, they may not always want what they need. But God’s plans aren’t spelled out for everyone.”

Thomas looks over at me with a happy smile. “Keep that hope alive, Verena. We all need it.”

His praise causes me to smile too. Besides being a teacher I’m also on the good side of one of the fiercest gangsters in England all because I speak my mind.

But the moment is gone when Thomas reaches for a cigarette and I see something fall out of his pocket. I bend down to pick it up and dust off the ash to reveal a gleaming silver and bronze bullet with the markings Tommy etched into it.

“Thomas, what is this?”

My boss takes a puff of his cigarette. “Oh. That. ‘S just a gift from the Lee family.”

This is no gift, this is a threat! I’ve heard of threats like this from Uncle Colon and they are no light matter. How is he so calm?

“They’ve signed your death warrant, Thomas. The bullet literally has your name on it!”

But Thomas doesn’t share my worry. Instead he chuckles and puts both hands on my shoulders. “No need to worry, love. I’ll handle it.’S not the first time I’ve gotten a death threat. Now,” he rubs his hands together and starts walking towards the Shelby house. “Where’s Polly? I’ve got a few questions for her.”

Oh. Right. And he doesn’t know about Ada yet.

“Last I saw she was in the living room.” Lord, I do not want to hear this!

I follow him inside and briskly walk back to hide in the kitchen, where Finn has settled to do some reading. He is also smoking a cigarette!

“Finn! Not you too!” I throw my arms up in defeat. “Am I the only one who thinks smoking is a death wish?”

He just shrugs and continues reading. I don’t hear a reaction from the other room but after a few minutes Polly walks in with a determined look.

“I just told Tommy.”

“About Ada?” I ask softly.

“Yes.”

“What’d he say?”

Polly sets out the kettle and begins brewing tea. “Nothing. He just stormed out to find her. The instant Ada spills his name, he’s a dead man. Thomas won’t stand for it.”

I don’t blame him. If I were to ever try something like that my brothers would kill any man who looks at me in cold blood. All I can hope is that Thomas goes easy on the poor bloke.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #polly gray #grace burgess

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oysters-aint-for-me · 2 months

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maaaan idk what to do...tw for sick cat, (upcoming) animal death

so my parents' cat, Hamish, is an old fragile boy who is sick with a number of issues, some of which we haven't bothered to diagnose, since he's dying of the major one (hyperthyroidism) and he's basically on cat hospice right now - we're not trying to cure him or make him better, we're just trying to make him comfortable.

the issue is that pretty soon (like in two and a half weeks) my family (me and my parents) are going on vacation to alaska for two weeks. this is like a bucket-list level trip for us; we got a rare opportunity to go to see the fat bears in katmai national park. this trip also the one year celebration of my dad making it through open-heart surgery. so it's a big deal trip that we're not going to cancel.

we've been hoping that Hamish will pass away peacefully somehow before our trip happens, whether naturally or by being put to sleep. but as of now, he's doing okay. he's still eating, purring, jumping, going to the bathroom, demanding snuggles, and being very very affectionate. so it's like, he's definitely not ready to go. he's still got that spark.

but he's also not great, like, he doesn't eat well, he's unsteady on his paws, he's extremely underweight, he's fragile, you can tell he's achy sometimes, he's started meowing differently, he sleeps in weird places that he's never slept before, etc. so while he still has that spark, he's clearly nearing the end.

the reason why he's survived so well until now is I think because my parents take SUCH good care of him. they adjust his meds as needed and monitor him closely. usually one of them is home most of the day to make sure he's doing ok.

the thought of leaving him for two weeks with a cat sitter is making us really nervous, because the cat sitter doesn't know how to monitor him in the same way, and while the cat sitter will be here the whole time to watch him, i don't want them to have to deal with any end-of-life stuff.

basically, I don't think Hamish will survive the two weeks without my parents there to take care of him - but he might, and there's no way to know!

there's also the option of boarding him at the vet, but that makes me sad, because he might still die while we're gone, and i don't want his last days to be spent in a cold metal cage. plus our vet doesn't like boarding animals anyway unless there are extreme circumstances.

so what do we do??? do we put him down before we go, even if he's not on death's doorstep quite yet? or do we take the chance that he might survive the two weeks and then deal with it when we get back? it's just that the thought of him being put down without me or my parents there to hold him at the end makes me so so so sad. above all else i don't want him to die alone. :( what are we gonna do!!!!

i guess we still have like two weeks to see how he does. it's still possible he'll go downhill sharply before our vacation and we'll put him down before we go and we'll get to be there with our sweet boy to say goodbye. it's just weird to hope for the speedy death of a pet, you know?

blaaaah the uncertainty is getting to me. idk. sorry i just had to vent.

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mrs-dr-reid · 1 year

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Babysitting

(A Spencer Reid x Fem!OC Fic)

Pairing: Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Adri Carmichael (my CM OC)

Summary: Spencer is charged with babysitting the LaMontagne boys as well as little Addie Carmichael-Reid while the BAU Ladies have a night out

Genre: Fluff, Dad!Spence Brainrot

Warnings: Toothrotting fluff, Dad!Spence (need I say more?)

A/N: This is something I finished writing solely for my Discord friend, Ozzie. But also because I love writing Spencer's interactions with my OC after they have their daughter. Also, I'm not gonna bother switching this out of diary-entry style, so have fun with that. Also also, Henry is like 8, Michael is 6 months old, Addie is 2 months old, and my faceclaim for Adri is Amanda Seyfried. Just throwing that out there

Word Count: 1467

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Status Report:

I just witnessed the cutest thing in the world. I was out with Tara, JJ, and Penelope for a ladies night, and Spencer volunteered to watch all three kiddos (Henry, Michael, and Addie) for the evening because Will was planning on going out with some of his old coworkers at the police station and was concerned about finding a sitter so last minute. Spencer brought me and Addie over to JJ and Will’s because he insisted it would be easier to bring Addie there instead of bringing the boys to our place, and I went upstairs to get ready with the ladies. At the same time, Will gave Spencer the rundown on what the boys needed to get done while we were out. I found everyone in JJ and Will’s master bathroom, and we started getting ready. Tara said, “Are we sure Reid can handle three kids all at once?”, while putting on mascara, so JJ replied, “Well, he did a pretty good job with Henry last time we went out for a ladies' night,” while curling her hair, and both Penelope and I let out joking shudders because all of us got AWFUL hangovers from that night, and Spencer still hasn’t let us forget that we didn’t come back until after sunrise when we said we’d only be gone a couple hours. It also didn’t help that the next morning we had to go support Hotch at his triathlon and all of us were MISERABLE from how bright it was and from all the cheering.

Once we were all ready, we went back downstairs to find Spencer already doing a kid’s puzzle with Henry while bouncing Michael and Addie on his knees. I melted at the sweetness of the scene, then went over to kiss him on the lips before I said, “We shouldn’t be out any later than midnight. I’m the designated driver and JJ isn’t drinking, so we’ll make sure we don’t leave you hanging all night,” which earned a pointed look and a, “Thank god,” from him. I giggled, then squatted down and said, “You’ll be good for Daddy, right?”, to Addie, who flapped her little arms and babbled happily at me. I smiled and said, “Good,” before kissing her nose with a comically exaggerated “Mwah!” sound to make her laugh, then standing up and calling, “Let’s go, Ladies! Party time waits for no one!”, the girls following me out the door while extending their thank you’s to Spencer, who just held up a hand and told us to have fun. And fun, we had. I honestly can’t remember the last time I got to hang out with my best gal pals outside of work like that. We obviously didn’t get up to the same level of debauchery as last time since JJ and I stayed sober the whole night to keep the other ladies on track (still being breastfeeders meant no alcohol for us), but we still had a good time.

Tara and Penelope were giggling messes the whole way back to JJ and Will’s due to the large but still reasonable amount of alcohol they consumed, and we pulled into the driveway at about a quarter after 11. Tara and Penelope were staying the night in the guest bedroom, so they quietly dragged their inebriated butts upstairs while JJ and I followed behind them with lovingly exasperated looks on our faces. The tv was still on and playing what I think was a Spider-Man cartoon, and when I saw a familiar mop of unruly hair poking over the back of the couch, I put out a hand to stop JJ from walking and pointed. She nodded, then the two of us tiptoed around to the front of the couch and proceeded to melt, because Spencer was fast asleep on the couch with Henry snuggled into his side and both Michael and Addie knocked out on his chest. Both of us whipped out our phones and took several pictures (making sure the flash wasn’t on so we wouldn’t wake them up), then I went over and kissed Spencer’s forehead before whispering, “Honey, we’re back,” which made his nose scrunch before he opened his eyes while mumbling, “Mmm, what time is it?”

I smiled and said, “20 after 11. Tara and Penny are staying the night, so I was gonna help JJ bring the boys up to bed before I bring you guys home,” so he said, “No, you go put Addie in the car, I’ll help JJ and pack up Addie’s stuff,” while gesturing for me to grab our daughter off of his chest. I did so, then he very carefully handed Michael to JJ before he scooped Henry up and nodded for JJ to go in front of him. He whispered, “I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”, so I whispered back, “Okay,” he smiled, then pressed a chaste kiss to my lips before following JJ upstairs to the boys’ rooms. I shook my head fondly as I watched him go, then strapped Addie into her car seat and brought her out to the car, her not stirring even a little bit the whole time (if there’s one thing she inherited from me, it’s my ability to sleep like the dead in any circumstance). I started up the car (double-checking that the radio was off first), and then Spencer made his way out and plunked into the passenger seat. I giggled, and he let out an only slightly melodramatic sigh before saying, “Thank you for not being out until sunrise again,” so I replied, “You’re welcome. Thank you for taking care of the Three Stooges all night,” which made him wave a hand and say, “Anything for my favorite ladies. Now let’s go home,” causing me to roll my eyes lovingly before saying, “As you wish, My Love,” and pulling out of the driveway.

We made it back to the apartment, and Spencer got out of the car to grab Addie’s car seat while insisting I go ahead and get ready for bed since he was already in a hoodie and sweatpants. I gave in, then as I was taking my makeup off in our bathroom after changing into some pajamas, I heard Addie babbling nonsensically and Spencer talking indistinctly. I went back into our bedroom to find him walking around with a swaddled-up Addie in his arms, and every time she let out a coo or a squeak, he’d say something like, “Really? I never knew that,” or, “Wow, Precious, that’s incredible!”, which made my heart practically turn to mush and a dopey, love-sick smile spread across my face. Spencer turned around to see me standing there, and his smile got even bigger before he teased, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” which made me scoff and say, “Photographic memory, Wise Guy. Don’t need to,” earning an eye roll from my partner.

I walked over to him, then said, “You get in bed, I’ll put her back to sleep,” and when he said, “You sure, Adri?”, I said, “Yes, Love, now give me my Little Lady,” while holding out my hands expectantly. He chuckled, then handed me Addie before kissing my forehead, crawling into bed, and grabbing the book he was rereading for the eighth time. I said, “Okay, Baby Genius, time for your bedtime song,” while adjusting Addie’s blanket, and Addie reached up to grab at my finger as I started to sing, “Edelweiss, Edelweiss, every morning you greet me. Small and white, clean and bright. You look happy to meet me,” Addie cooing at me while I rocked her back and forth. She fell asleep after two choruses, so I very carefully slid her into her crib and tucked her in before whispering, “Sweet Dreams, Miss Adeline,” and climbing into bed beside Spencer, who was looking at me with more love in his eyes than the day we finally told the team we were together.

He whispered, “You’re incredible, Adri. You know that, right?”, so I replied, “You tell me every day, My Love. I know. You’re pretty fantastic, too,” before leaning closer and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He smiled against my mouth, then when I pulled away, he quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “Bedtime?”, which made me let out a tiny snort and confirm, “Bedtime,” making another smile spread across his face. He turned the lamp on his bedside table off, and I snuggled against his chest while letting out a content sigh. I felt his lips press against the top of my head and I heard him whisper, “I adore you, Adrienne Carmichael,” so I whispered back, “I adore you too, Spencer Reid,” before letting the sweet caress of sleep overtake me. That’ll be all for now. Talk soon!

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CM Taglist: @homoose, @libraryofloveletters, @xgoldentigerlilyx, @less-intelligent-spencerreid, @boketto2-0, @aryaarathornson, @spoookymuulders, @nomajdetective

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

#logan writes #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!oc #adri carmichael #dad!spencer reid

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glitziinova · 1 year

Text

Managers with a Tamagotchi Headcanons

(I want a tamagotchi uni but I don't have one yet so I'm making headcanons) (Include spoilers???? for the Tamagotchi uni)

Duck shuffler

🦆 > DO NOT trust this man with taking care of anything

🦆 > Probably kills it many times from lack of proper care, he dgaf

🦆 > Does like pushing the buttons tho and hearing the beeps

🦆 > The tama is either as maxed out or dead

Prethinker

🧠 > thinks that it'll be SO easy to take care of it but struggles to keep up with its needs

🧠 > Have some difficulties for the first few days (had a few close calls with death) but got the hang of it

🧠 > Likes Mametchi because he's smart

🧠 > High to maxed training but mid everything else

Deep diver

🐠 > Thinks it's cute and plays with it when he's had some free time or it's a slow day

🐠 > Likes Otmatchi and Shykutchi

🐠 > Mid-overall care and stats

Rainmaker

⛈️ > Love this fucking thing with all of their heart, it's always on her so she can take care of it everywhere

⛈️ > Falls to their knees devastated when it dies

⛈️ > Love when her tama gets married or gets a playdate

⛈️ > Likes all of the tamas but prefers the ones that look like fluffy clouds like awamokotchi

⛈️ > Maxed out hunger, happiness, and training

Gatekeeper

🛡️ > Girl running the Tamagotchi like its the navy

🛡️ > WAY too picky for marriage and playdates

🛡️ > likes Knighttchi

🛡️ > Mid stats with high training

Witch Hunter

🪄 > Is confused on why this plastic egg thing has a weird creature in it and why he gotta take care of it.

🪄 > Saw the Majoritchi on the Tamagotchi on and got pissed. Always tries to prevent his tama to marry him

🪄 > Gets a bit mad that he can't take over the magic land

🪄 > Full hunger, low happiness, but maxed training

Bellringer

🔔 > Loves Belltichi with everything in his heart as long as the nature and flower theme tamas.

🔔 > Has one of the most playdates

🔔 > Ok care overall

Multislacker

📺 > Actually somewhat takes care of it, but does the bare minimum. Mainly checking on it when he's bored

📺 > Kinda forgets about it until it starts screaming on their desk

📺 > usually get the same tamas because they can't be bothered to actually take care of it to get the different ones

📺 > Plays a game like...once a Life stage

📺 > Bad to mid care

Mouthpiece

📞 > Mainly got them to give to her grandkids but decided to get one for herself because it looked cute

📞 > Has the most problem navigating the menu with the buttons, often asking her grandkids or the other managers who have one for help

📞 > Makes those little cushions, cradles, and covers for it

📞 > Good overall care but with low to mid training

Major Player

🎹 > Use some of the beeps and sounds for music

🎹 > Do enjoy playing with the little guy and seeing all the cute things it does

🎹 > Has one of the most playdates

🎹 > Pianitchi is his daughter and he loves her so much

🎹 > Has a Tamagotchi music stars

🎹 > Pretty good care

Firestarter

🔥 > Only really have playdates with Graham's tama, but he's open to others

🔥 > Takes better care of it than Graham

🔥 > Thinks acchitchi is cool

🔥 > Very good overall care

Plutocrat

🌑 > A family can be 6 mafia capitalist robots. That's it, just 6 mafia capitalist robots with a virtual pet.

🌑 > Lowkey surprised when the Tamagotchi Uni had Italian as a language

🌑 > Takes his tama to the water city because it reminds him of Italy

🌑 > When he's busy with something, he often gives his Tamagotchi to one of the Satellites for them to care for it. (they did eventually get their own Tamagotchi)

🌑 > Likes Yukinkotchi

🌑 > Maxed hunger, happiness, and training

Treekiller

🪓 > Thinks that it's a silly time waster but got invested in it

🪓 > Makes Chip has playdates or marriage with his tama

🪓 > For some reason, he usually gets the nature-themed tamas

🪓 > Mid care

Chainsaw Consultant

⛓️ > Mainly just sits on his desk until it beeps for something

⛓️ > Don't really pay too much attention to it, often leaving it paused or with a sitter

⛓️ > Low to mid care

FeatherBedder

🦉 > May not be the best person to trust with this

🦉 > Will take somewhat good care of it when he's awake but falls asleep with it unpaused

🦉 > Will wake up with it either dead or face down surrounded it with's own poop everywhere diseased

Pacesetter

🎸 > Him and Flint got matching tamagotchis, they often have little tamagotchis playdates and have each tamagotchis marry the other

🎸 > Mainly keeps it on his wrist but sometimes has it as a keychain

🎸 > Mans in the pace corner, pacing and playing the little games

🎸 > Only really feeds it when it's beeping so he can go back to the games

🎸 > His Tamagotchi will have maxed happiness, low hunger, and no training

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my-head-is-an-animal · 1 year

Text

The Sitter

Mycroft Holmes x Bethany Wheeler (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 9 - Goodbye Sherlock

The day had finally arrived, the one where he would say goodbye to his brother. Mycroft collected him from the facility where he was being kept, he looked a little upset, but Mycroft recognised the slight dilation of his eyes, he was high. He decided not to say anything, allowing him a few moments to indulge before he was flown off to a place that would ultimately be the death of him.

‘You know,’ Sherlock started as they made it halfway to the airport. ‘I never did say goodbye to Beth.’ Mycroft rolled his eyes a little, not wanting to entertain the notion that he liked her more than he should. ‘She’s going to be a brilliant researcher one day. Will you do something for me?’ Mycroft turned and frowned in questioning. ‘Will you make sure she succeeds? Make sure she gets whatever place she wants in whatever institution she chooses?’

Mycroft took a breath, he pulled out his phone and began sending off a text message to Anthea. ‘I think Miss Wheeler would prefer to make her own way in the world, off the back of her own merit. Any intervention from me, may not end particularly well for anyone involved.’

Sherlock smirked. ‘I knew you liked her.’

‘Sherlock.’ Mycroft warned.

The rest of the car ride was silent, aside from the text from Anthea to say a car had been sent.

There is a car waiting for you outside your lecture building. Sherlock is leaving today, I thought you might want to say goodbye. – MH

He didn’t receive a reply, but he did receive confirmation that the car with Bethany inside it was on its way to the airfield.

They waited for John and Mary to arrive which they did with Bethany in the car behind. Sherlock gave him a knowing look, but he ignored it. Mary was heavily pregnant and probably due to give birth soon. She exited the car and immediately wrapped her arms around Sherlock.

‘You will look after him, won’t you?’ He said, embracing the hug.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep him in trouble.’ She mumbled into his coat.

Sherlock pulled back to look a woman he cared about. ‘That’s my girl.’ He smiled, turning to Bethany. ‘And you? Any chance I can count on you to give my brother as much hassle as I did?’

That bright smile appeared on her face as she hugged Sherlock with just as much love. ‘I don’t think anyone could compete. But I’ll give it my best shot, Sherlock.’

‘Thank goodness for that.’ He said, not quite ready to let go. ‘Go to Brazil, Beth. Go to Peru and climb mountains. Go and see your parents.’

‘I will.’ She whispered, suddenly not feeling so brave.

Mycroft swallowed remembering the feeling of her body pressed to his and felt a wave of jealousy that she wasn’t hugging him. It was ridiculous, she was saying goodbye to a friend, there was no need to be jealous of anything, but it had been so long since he’d seen her properly.

Bethany let go and took a breath, moving to one side so that John could say his goodbyes as well. Sherlock turned to Mycroft, he wasn’t expecting it and suddenly tore his eyes away from Bethany to look at his brother.

‘Since this is likely to be the last conversation I’ll have with John Watson, would you mind if we took a moment?’ It was a simple enough ask and one he couldn’t see any reason to deny.

Mycroft nodded to his security and allowed Mary and Bethany to walk ahead of him to a spot a fair distance from the conversation.

‘I thought you had lectures today?’ Mary asked quietly.

‘I did.’ Bethany nodded, she was still wearing her thick-rimmed glasses and didn’t bother picking up her jacket, so quite possibly she had rushed out of the lecture without taking anything but her phone with her. ‘And then I received a message saying there was a car waiting for me so I could say goodbye to Sherlock.’

Mary gave a wide grin to Mycroft. ‘I see. That was very kind Mycroft.’ She said, with a knowing tone.

‘Sherlock mentioned not getting the chance to say goodbye,’ Mycroft didn’t even bother looking at the two women, trying not to show how tenderly he felt for Bethany. ‘If this is to be his last moments to speak with anyone he cares for, I could hardly deny him the privilege.’

‘Eloquently put.’ Mary wasn’t buying it.

Bethany just gave him a small smile and it was then he noticed the silver chain around her neck and what looked to be a black gem poking out from her emerald green knit jumper. She was wearing the necklace he’d gifted her at Christmas. Mycroft tried to hide his smile, but she caught it and smiled back, placing her hand over her chest in acknowledgment.

Mary suddenly decided to talk to Mycroft’s security, he wouldn’t answer generally, but Mycroft knew she was just doing it to give him the chance to talk to Bethany alone.

‘I hope your lecture wasn’t an important one.’ Mycroft said, his eyes scanning over her face, her dark eyes piercing his for a moment. If he’d been anywhere else in the world, he would have taken it as a signal to kiss her, but in the middle of an airfield during his brother’s exile was just the wrong time and place to be thinking on such things.

‘Well,’ Bethany shrugged. ‘I can always catch up. Though I think if I tell them the truth that some big, fancy government man sent a car for me to say goodbye to his freelance, detective brother who’s being sent to Eastern Europe to serve time for murder, it might not go down particularly well with my professors.’

Mycroft smiled, seeing the funny side at least. ‘Perhaps, I could write you a note.’ He joked.

Bethany chuckled, shaking her head. ‘And what would the note say, “believe this woman or I’ll incarcerate you”? I think not.’

Mycroft nodded and glanced over to Sherlock and John who were shaking hands as a final goodbye. ‘It’s good that you were here for him.’

‘Yeah,’ Bethany sighed. ‘I’m going to miss him. A lot. Still got John and Mary though. And the baby which is good.’

‘Indeed.’

Sherlock boarded the plane and Bethany took a deep breath, Mary being the one to comfort her. Mycroft knew it should have been him, but again his cowardice stopped him.

They stood and watched the plane take off from the runway, John and Mary holding hands and it was then that he noticed Bethany had pulled the sleeves of her jumper and was shivering slightly.

‘You should have picked up your coat on the way out.’ Mycroft said, standing close to her and placing his hand on her lower back, anything to make her feel like he was trying to help without going too far.

‘I know, but it was warm in the lecture hall.’ She half laughed, leaning a little closer to get what warmth she could from his body.

‘We’ll drop you off on my way back to the office, hopefully you won’t have missed too much.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ Bethany smiled brightly up at him and Mycroft felt his knees weakening. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re very welcome.’

Mycroft could smell ginger again and it reignited him. He would have given anything to kiss her again, to take her home watch another film and just be with her the way he wanted.

Eventually they said their goodbyes to John and Mary, who were still watching the plane and Mycroft held the door to his car open for Bethany. He ignored the knowing looks and got in on the opposite side.

Mycroft looked over at Bethany who was staring out of the window, her hand was balled up on her thigh and he had the distinct impression that he should have held it to calm her stresses. He inhaled deeply and gently slid his much warmer hand over hers. Mycroft was glad to feel her relaxing and listened to her own exhalation of relief.

For a moment, she looked down at their hands, turning her own so that he was almost holding it. His phone rang and broke the wonderful moment that they were about to share.

‘Yes, what is it?’ Mycroft answered, hating taking his hand away from Bethany’s. ‘But that’s not possible.’ He said, getting out of the car again. ‘It’s simply not possible.’

Bethany opened the car door to find out what was going on.

‘What’s happened?’ John approached him.

Mycroft was unsure of what he was hearing. Moriarty couldn’t be back, he just couldn’t be. He informed everyone of the situation and made the call to bring Sherlock back. He was naturally annoyed having only gone for four minutes, but they didn’t have a choice, if Moriarty was back then they needed Sherlock to stop whatever was about to happen.

The plane eventually landed. Bethany should have been taken back to school, but she had also been affected by Moriarty and wasn’t about to let her friends go through this alone. Mycroft could only look at her with admiration, that bravery was going to get her in real trouble one day and he was unsure he’d be able to get her out of it.

They boarded the plane and Sherlock was barely stirring, it was as if he’d fallen asleep, but waking him up was another matter. Mycroft knew exactly what this was and searched Sherlock’s person to find what he was looking for.

‘What’s that?’ Bethany asked.

‘A list.’ Mycroft answered a little cryptically. ‘It’s everything he’s taken.’ He showed the list to John who immediately tried to wake him. Mycroft turned to Bethany. ‘Wherever I find him, in whatever back alley, in whatever state, there will always be a list. We have an agreement.’

‘Christ Mycroft, that’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself.’ She said it quietly so that no one else heard and the only thing he could do was give a small smile and nod.

Mycroft stood back while Mary sat down opposite Sherlock and John tried to wake him up. Bethany just watched trying to understand why Sherlock would do what he did.

‘Miss me?’ Sherlock said, waking up.

‘You alright?’ John asked. Mycroft watched Bethany sigh and hold the bridge of her nose.

‘Yes, course I am, why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Maybe because you just OD’d,’ Bethany spoke up. ‘You should be in hospital.’

‘No time.’ Sherlock shook his head, getting up. ‘I have to go to Baker Street now. Moriarty’s back.

Mycroft stood, blocking his way off the plane and took a good look at his brother. ‘I almost hope he is if it’ll save you from this.’ Mycroft lifted the list of drugs Sherlock had taken, disappointment lacing his tone.

Sherlock took the list and ripped it up. ��No need for that now. I’ve got the real thing. I have work to do.’ Sherlock went to move past him again, but Mycroft needed him to understand.

‘Sherlock, promise me?’

There was a moment where Sherlock was about to do so, Mycroft could see the softening of his expression.

‘What are you still doing here?’ Sherlock snapped. ‘Shouldn’t you be off getting me a pardon, like a proper big brother?’

Sherlock pushed passed Mycroft with Mary and John following him out. Bethany stayed with him, his more cynical side told him she was just waiting for a lift back to her lecture, his softer side told him she was being there for him.

‘Dr Watson.’ Mycroft turned to John. ‘Look after him for me. Please.’

John didn’t say anything, but Mycroft was sure John would take care of his brother regardless. Bethany bent down to pick up the ripped up pieces of the list and Mycroft held out a place in his notebook for her to place them inside.

‘Thank you.’ Mycroft said, quietly.

‘It’s fine.’ She said, seemingly a little distressed. ‘I just wish he’d realise what it does to us when this happens.’

Mycroft nodded, in part, praying she didn’t stick around long enough to get used to it. He smiled and ran his hand down her arm, trying to be some comfort to her and glad when he felt her physically relax.

Eventually he was able to get Bethany back to her lecture which was probably over by the time he did, but she told him not to worry and to let her know if there was anything she could do to help where Sherlock was concerned.

Mycroft allowed himself a moment of indulgence and while he was making his phone calls to various people, Bethany held his hand. He found it calming and addictive the way her soft, cool fingers drifted over his palm, his thumb, the back of his hand and each of his fingers. He could have stayed like that all day and never tired. She placed a soft kiss to his cheek on the way out of the car and he was almost tempted to kiss her properly, but the back of a car was hardly the appropriate setting.

‘See you around, Mycroft.’ Bethany smiled and hopped out of the car.

He watched her rush back into the university building and took a deep breath. ‘See you around.’ He said, quietly to himself, hoping it was true, but suspecting it might have been longer than he would have liked.

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endlessbittersweetdreams · 2 years

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"Broken & Beautiful" Chapter 29

After spending the night at my place, Jake and I decide to switch locations. He’s the first to step into the apartment, setting his things down on the sofa. He looks around, nodding to himself, and says “Well, everything seems to be in one piece,” before he settles down in his arm chair.

I drop my overnight bag next to his stuff on the couch before I open the window near his bed. He holds out his arms and I accept the invitation, carefully settling myself down on his lap. I run a hand through his hair and grin down at him. “See? I am a good house-sitter. Well, apartment-sitter. Your plant is still alive and thriving. The place is clean. Your mail is over there.” I point to the pile of mail on his coffee table, the bundles held together by rubber bands. “Ooh! I almost forgot the best part.” I get off of his lap and walk into his kitchen, waiting until he can see what I’m about to show him. He leans against the doorframe and I open the refrigerator door, gesturing to its contents with a flourish. “Ta-da! I even restocked your fridge with the essentials.”

Jake chuckles as he walks toward me, pulling me into an embrace. “Look at you. Buying me groceries. Organizing my mail. Watering my plant. You are so thoughtful.”

“I am.”

It’s Monday, which means that both Jake and I have to go back to work. We’re both reluctant to leave the warm cocoon that is Jake’s bed, and we even joke about calling in sick. We shower together and eat a light breakfast, and then we’re off to work.

Jake and I join the rest of the group at Family Dinner, and Simone’s absence is noted. There’s the usual gossip and speculation, of course. Jake gets fed up at some point and leaves, dropping off his plate in the bus tub. Well, this is going to be a fun shift.

“So, what actually happened to Simone?” Will asks as we deposit our plates and utensils in the tub.

I sigh, wondering if I should tell him. “Apparently, she got back together with her ex.”

“Is she coming back?”

I shrug. “No idea. If she doesn’t, I’m sure there will be at least three people chomping at the bit to fill her position.”

Will shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. Yeah, I can see Sasha and Tess trying for it. But Ari seems content where she is.”

“That’s true. If it’s between Sasha and Tess, I’m rooting for Sasha. He’s wanted it for so long.”

He nods in agreement. “I’m sure Howard will make the right call.”

“I hope so. Well, off to work. See you later.”

I join Jake behind the bar, watching him closely as he sets out containers of lemons and limes. “How ya doing there, partner?” He sighs, jaw clenched as he cuts into his first lemon. I take a knife out of one of the drawers and set down a cutting board, slicing into a lime. “It’s just talk, you know. They didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Yeah. Well, they need to mind their own business.”

I raise a brow. “You’ll get no argument from me. Sometimes, they make me feel like I’m back in high school. I know it bothers you. I just ... wish it didn’t.”

Jake nods in acknowledgment. “I’ll be fine. Just wish I could kick this jet lag.”

“You will.” We slice our respective fruits for a while, and I grin. “Look at us. Team Kincaid and Holt, back in action.” I look over at him, hoping his mood has lightened a little. I know I’ve succeeded, because he’s shaking his head and smirking.

“It’s ‘Team Holt and Kincaid’. I was here first. Remember?”

“Whatever you say. I bet I can finish off these limes before you can finish cutting your lemons.”

“Oh! We’re betting now. Huh? When did this turn into a competition?”

“When I decided to make it one.” We stop what we’re doing, and I walk up to him so only he can hear. “If I win, we do whatever I want in the bedroom. Within reason, of course. And if you win, we do whatever you want. Again, within reason.”

He laughs, trying to find out if I’m serious. “Are we counting the ones we’ve already cut?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“Is this thing going to be timed, or ...”

“No.” I hold my hand out to him. “So, is it a deal?”

“All right. Fine. Deal,” he agrees, taking my hand in his and shaking it.

We end our handshake and return to our cutting boards, exchanging a glance. He winks at me and I grin at him, and we begin our competition. We look at each other every now and then, keeping track of each other’s progress. It’s a close race, and there’s a moment when I think Jake is going to win. But fortune seems to be on my side.

I set my knife down in triumph and declare “I win!”

Jake looks over at me and then down at his remaining lemon, letting out a sigh of defeat. He sets down his knife and walks over to me, arms folded across his chest. “All right. So, what does the winner want?”

I step closer to him, speaking softly, and tilt my head to the side. “Ever see 9 1/2 Weeks, Jake?”

He raises a brow, seeming intrigued. “Yeah.”

“Think that, but ... even better." I give him a mischievous look and put my hands behind my back, turning on my heels and walking away.

After I clock out, I venture into the locker room to change into something a lot more comfortable. I slip into a cute floral print peasant top and a pair of black denim jeans, sliding my feet into a pair of boots. I pull on my leather jacket, apply some makeup, and put on a pair of hoop earrings. After I let my hair down and run a brush through it, I turn to head out the door and run into Ari on the way out.

She looks me up and down, frowning. “You can’t wear that to the club.”

“Club? I thought we were going to Home Bar.”

“Nope. We decided that we’re going to the club tonight.”

I raise a brow at her. “We? Who’s this ‘we’ we’re talking about?”

Rolling her eyes upward, she ticks off each person on her fingers. “Me. Heather. Sasha. Tess. Will. Scott’s not going, though.”

“Jake and I don’t have a say?”

“You and Jake were busy doing ... something. If you don’t vote, you don’t get a say,” she reasons with a dismissive wave of her hands. “Now, come on. Let’s find you something hot.” Latching onto my wrist, she proceeds to practically drag me toward her locker.

“But Ari, Jake doesn’t dance,” I protest, leaning against a set of lockers.

Ari opens her locker door and looks at me. “So? You do. You love it,” she reasons..

“Yeah. But what is he supposed to do while we’re out on the dance floor? Watch our things?”

She shrugs. “Or he can get over himself and join us,” she comments, rooting through the seemingly neverending pile of clothes and accessories that she has stored in her locker.

I scoff. “Yeah! Like that’s going to happen. It took me four months just to be able to convince him to slow dance with me in my apartment, Ari!”

“What you two do in the privacy of your own home is none of my business,” Ari mutters, handing me one piece of clothing after the next. “Here. Try this on. Oh! And this, too. Ooh! This one would look great on you.”

“Good grief, Ari! How do you find anything in there?”

“I have my ways. Now, try them on.”

“Fine.” I make tracks for the tiny restroom, stopping to look back at her when she calls out to me.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“Ari, all of these scream ‘no bra required’ to me. I am not going to stand half-naked in this place when anyone could walk in at any time. I’m barely comfortable standing around in my underwear. I'm not going to risk having my boobs exposed to the guys.”

“If you get something nasty on one of those, you’re stuck with it.”

“Whatever! Here. Hold onto the pile while I try this one on.”

It takes a while to narrow things down. But finally, we have a winner: a black sequined halter top goes nicely with a pair of black leather pants. I decide to keep my boots and jewelry on. After slipping into my leather jacket and tying my hair up in a ponytail, I’m ready to go.

“There. You satisfied?” Ari shakes her head, and I let out an aggravated sigh. “What now, Ari?”

“Get rid of the jacket. You have a great back and an even better rack. Should show at least one of 'em off.”

At the ‘great rack‘ comment, I pull the jacket even tighter around my chest. “I’ll take it off in the club, Ari. Just ... Can we put an end to this fashion show, please? Jake’s waiting for me.”

“Ugh! Fine!”

Jake and I follow the group to Club Phoenix, and one look at him tells me that he is not thrilled about any of this. Standing in line with him, I take hold of his hand and give it a squeeze. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you hate dancing.”

“Eh. It is what it is.” He looks down at me. “They serve alcohol here. Right?” I nod. “Good. You dance. I’ll get drunk. It’ll be a party.”

“Yeah. Just don’t get so drunk, you spend the rest of the night with your head in the toilet.”

Jake and I flash our IDs to the bouncer, and then step into the club. It takes us a moment to adjust to the blaring, thumping music and the flashing lights. I stick close to him as we weave our way through the crowd, finally managing to track our group down. We sit down on the teal-colored sectional sofa, giving our orders to the server when she arrives. A few minutes later, our drinks arrive. I barely have enough time to drink half of my piña colada when Sasha announces that it’s time to dance, practically dragging me toward the floor. I glance back at Jake to give him an apologetic look before I practically disappear into the crowd with Sasha, Ari and Will.

I dance my way through three songs, enjoying myself thoroughly. Feeling sweaty and dehydrated, I begin to weave my way through the crowd. I come to a screeching halt when I see Cody sitting with what remains of the group, directly across from Jake. Oh, what fresh Hell is this?

“Look who finally decided to join us!” Tess declares.

I do my best to fight the disgusted scowl that wants to break through, settling for feigning politeness instead. I give Cody a half-hearted wave and then motion for Jake to move so I can sit where I was before. He does as asked, and I end up settled between him and Heather. He leans over to whisper something into my ear that makes me blush, and I take a sip of my drink. All the while, I try to suppress the panic that is building inside of me. It figures that the last person I want to see would end up sharing a sofa with me.

I listen politely as Jake and Cody share stories about what happened “back in the day,” as Cody puts it. The other three members of our group return, and Jake and I move over to make room for them. It finally reaches the point where I feel a little too uncomfortable with being near Cody, and feign a need to use the restroom just so I can get away from him. Sasha grumbles about having to move, and I tell him that a tiny bladder waits for no one. I push my way through the crowd and make my way to the back of the club, where the restrooms are. I’m surprised that the line isn’t bigger, and it isn’t long before it’s my turn.

The ladies’ restroom is actually quite nice for a nightclub, with a plush-looking sofa pushed up against the far wall. I sit down on it and relax for a bit, trying to figure out what I’m going to do. I don’t want to leave, necessarily. I mean, I shouldn’t have to. But there’s no way I can just sit there with the group and pretend that Cody didn’t cross a line with me the other night. I don’t feel comfortable around him.

I take a look at the wall clock and realize that I’ve been in here a little longer than I thought. Not wanting to deal with someone coming to check on me, I let out a tired sigh and decide to face the music. I push the door open and make my way down the hallway, deciding to tell the group that I’m heading home because I’m exhausted. I walk past the crowded bar area, not really paying attention to who’s standing there, and startle when I hear Cody call out to me.

“Hey! Can we talk?”

I turn my head in his direction, giving him my patented ‘You have got to be kidding me!’ look. “I have nothing to say to you, Cody. Leave me alone.”

He gives me a grin; one that says that he’s way too confident for his own good. “Oh, come on! Don’t be like that. I apologized. Didn’t I?”

I fold my arms across my chest, glaring at him. “What do you want me to say, Cody? That I forgive you? You want me to lie to you? Is that it?”

“Hey! It was just a kiss,” he argues.

“Yeah! A kiss that you forced on me. A kiss that I didn’t want. How fucking dare you do that to me, Cody? I thought you were Jake’s friend! You know what we mean to each other."

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Look at you. You think that just because you’re faithful to him, he’s faithful to you? You really think he’s changed. Don’t you? What do you think he was doing in France with that chick, Simone?” I blink at him, and he continues his rant. “I’ll tell you what: the same thing he did with her all those years ago.” He smirks when he sees my confused expression. “Remember that woman I told you about? The ‘sophisticated, beautiful’ one? Who do you think that is?”

“I thought you said you couldn’t remember her name.”

“Her name just came to mind. The point is: you’re naive if you think he’s changed his ways. Deep down inside, he’s still the same man he always was. Sooner or later, he’s going to slip up.”

I narrow my eyes at him. I’m riled up now, and I don’t care if the group can see me. I get in his face and jab at him in the chest with my index finger. “I thought you were a decent guy. But you’re nothing but a back-stabbing, lying asshole! Leave me the fuck alone.” I turn on my heel and make tracks to leave, stopping short when he suddenly latches onto my wrist. It’s not a gentle grip, either, and I try not to panic. “Ow! You’re hurting me! Let go!” I demand, trying to remember how to get out of a grip like this.

Nothing comes to mind, and I can barely hear someone in the crowd say something along the lines of “Let her go, man!” Well, that’s not very helpful. Now, is it? Finally, my self-defense training comes back to me. My wrist now free of his grip, I haul back and slap him as hard as I can. I’m about to do much worse when Jake shows up, latches onto the collar of Cody’s shirt, and yanks him away from the bar.

“What the fuck did you just do?”

“Look. I’m sorry, man. It’s just a misunderstanding. I --”

Cody doesn’t have the chance to finish his excuse, because his face finds itself at the wrong end of Jake’s fist. I watch in shock as Cody stumbles backward and tries to right himself, only to end up being pounced on by my very pissed off, very protective lover. I’m barely aware of the rest of the group rushing up to me, as I’m too busy screaming at Jake to stop what he’s doing.

“Jake! No! Please stop! He’s not worth it! JAKE, STOP!! PLEASE!” I finally resort to tugging at him, hoping that I can maybe snap him out of it. It doesn’t work, and I have to dodge his elbow as he takes another swing at Cody. I move a little too quickly, though, and end up landing hard on my tailbone.

“Oh, shit! You okay?” I hear Heather say as she and Tess rush to my side.

I don’t respond. I can only sit on the floor, dazed, as Cody begins to fight back. I feel myself being helped to my feet, and Sasha and Will work on pulling Jake away from Cody. They manage to do so, maintaining what looks like a death grip on him as he tries to lunge toward Cody again. Cody sits on the floor, touching a finger to his busted-up lip as he glares up at Jake. I notice that there is a trail of blood flowing from his nose, and his left eye isn’t looking so great.

Cody pulls himself up off of the floor, and he looks at me as he says “She’s not worth it,” spitting out blood in my direction to emphasis his point.

Jake is still trying to break free of our friends’ grip, and I move so I’m standing in front of him. While Cody’s part of the fight didn’t last long, I can see that he’s done some damage to Jake’s bottom lip. There’s a bloody cut on Jake’s left cheekbone as well, and I’m pretty sure Jake is going to end up with a black eye. Hoping I can get through to him, I reach out and touch him. I stroke his right cheek with the pads of my fingers, leaning in close and trying to look him in the eyes.

“Jake! Baby, that’s enough. Let’s go.” He’s still struggling, but I decide to keep trying. “Jake, baby. Please. Let it go.”

It takes some effort, but we finally talk Jake down. Heather, Ari and Tess gather their things while Will pays our tab. Meanwhile, Sasha and I work on coaxing Jake into coming outside with us. Once everyone is gathered outside, we all agree that we’ll tell cops the same story if they come after Jake: I felt that Cody was a threat, and Jake was only trying to protect me. It’s the truth, technically. We just hope Jake won’t face any legal action.

After a while, Jake and I take a cab back to my place. He sits down on the sofa and I rush into the kitchen, wrapping a towel around a bag of frozen vegetables. I hand it to him, and he presses it to his right eye. I open up a little container and dip my pinky into it, dabbing some of the white powder onto Jake’s swollen lip.

“Ari gave this to me. Said it’ll help numb your lip.”

Jake looks at me, concern filling the depths of his ocean blue eyes. “You okay? He hurt you?”

“I’ll be fine,” I answer, reaching out to run my fingers through his hair. “Just scared me. That’s all. I’m sorry, Jake.”

He lowers his makeshift ice pack, giving me a dumbfounded look. “For what?”

“For putting you in that position. For letting him get to me.”

“What did he say to you?”

I shake my head, not wanting to look at him. “Nothing. Nothing that matters,” I lie.

Jake puts a hand on my chin and gently coaxes me to look at him. “Hey. What did he say?”

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activate-shadow-of-the-window · 1 year

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Hermittober Day 3: Fortune

Pearl didn’t consider herself to be rich.

Oh sure, she technically controlled several years’ worth of grain and perhaps an ocean of ale and wine, but none of it belonged to her. Similarly, she didn’t personally own the vast majority of the artifacts and antiquities that adorned the halls of her nation’s temple complexes.

But she did consider herself fortunate. Fortunate to have been chosen High Priestess for Great Blackwood, the most powerful of the Acacia Divinities. Fortunate to have settled her grievances with the Sitter Sunset, and fortunate to have survived that encounter with her life and dignity mostly intact.

And especially fortunate to have Hypno on speed dial.

“I don’t even want to know how you know that.”

Pearl smiled. “I have my methods. My question still stands. Are you available?”

A slightly distorted laugh came out the warm coin in her hand, after the expected time delay. “Yes, I’m available. But for what is the real question. What would you have me do, priestess?”

“Observations. Reconnaissance. Nothing active, nothing incriminating. Just watching.”

“Watching who? Or what?”

Pearl sighed, not even bothering to muffle the sound of exasperation. “Two places, and two people if you can find them. Technicolor City, Forge District, and Umbra, Twilight Sector. Two weeks at each, four cycles over eight weeks.”

“Uh-huh. And what would I be getting out of this?” The smile was clear in Hypno’s voice; he knew he’d be taking this job no matter the pay.

“A very goodly pile of diamonds, at least a stack. And whatever I can weasel out of either Grian, X, or Tango’s coffers, within reason.”

Hypno gave a low whistle at the offer. “You must want this badly, Pearl. I’ll take it.”

“Good. The people you’re looking for is an albino humanoid in Technicolor, who usually claims to be a native of the Maw, and who uses a sword, and a hoof-folk with blond fur and either horns or antlers in Umber, who speaks with a Spires accent, and who prefers to fight with a blowgun.”

“Ooh, they sound suspicious. Who put you up to this, priestess?”

Pearl winced, despite the fact that she knew Hypno would figure out eventually. “No-one you need to know, bat. You know what? I’ll tell you if you can find both people of interest.”

“Hah! Challenge accepted, Pearl. I’ll get you your results within the month.”

The priestess sighed as the coin cooled down in her hand. She tucked it back into a hidden pocket, picked up her scythe, and walked out of the courtyard to put her stress somewhere deep in the stuffing of a combat dummy.

#horizon to horizon au #hermitcraft au #fanfic #fanfiction #microfiction #hermittober #hermitcraft

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daysofourlivesrecaps · 1 year

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Tuesday, 18 July 2023

Li, recently released from police custody since they couldn’t pin the “complicit in the near-assassination of Stefan” thing on him (despite it being true, albeit to a lesser degree than they originally accused him of), sits around shirtless in the apartment that he shares with Wendy and Tripp.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I think Li is a boring character played by a performer with no charisma or apparent intelligence. But he is, at least, good-looking. So, like, if he has to be onscreen, I’ll take the half-naked version over the clothed.

Then Gabi shows up at his door.

“I was just thinking about you,” says Li. And that’s definitely what you want to say when you’re in a severe state of undress and you’re talking to your ex, whose fiance you recently attempted to murder. No possible way that could be misinterpreted!

Then Gabi pulls a gun on him.

Not for the pervy implications of what he said. For entirely other reasons. And in true Li fashion, he has no idea what to do with this (or any) information.

Gabi’s here because she knows Li was involved with the aforementioned plot, despite his being released by the cops. Also she heard that we’re waving guns around now (more about this in a moment), so why not threaten and/or possibly kill this guy? I mean, even if she got caught, she’d probably walk. Her brother is the police commissioner! (He’s not anymore, but I don’t think Gabi knows this yet.)

As he begs for his life, Li tries to convince Gabi that he’s definitely over her because he’s hired a matchmaker!

This was actually the very lie he told Wendy a couple of weeks ago, but apparently it’s true now. Why the show went with “matchmaker” and not just “dating site” is beyond me. But I know he’s not lying this time for reasons I’ll come back to in a minute.

You can conclude from this that Gabi does not shoot Li. Which… maybe was her plan all along? It’s hard to tell because Gabi’s fucking nuts and I suspect she didn’t entirely know what her plan was herownself for at least a minute there. (I’m really gonna miss her when she leaves.)

If you were wondering if Dimitri and Leo were still boning, the answer is “very yes.”

This particular bit included some actual pelvic thrusting and, while I still think Dimitri can do so much better than Leo, I love that middle American housewives (whom we all assume are still the core audience of soaps, right?) are getting a bit of softcore gay porn whether they want it or not. Three cheers for The Gay Agenda!

The two of them share a tender-post coital moment and remind us that Leo must keep Dimitri’s shameful secret so he can marry Gwen.

Who, incidentally, is the exact person Leo came here to help out in the first place. He even describes her as his “ride or die,” so it’s a bit weird that he interprets this to mean “it’s okay to fuck her fiance. And also not to tell her about it when I return to the hotel room that we inexplicably still share as a home.”

And that is exactly what happens. He doesn’t tell her. They do the usual I HAVE SOMETHING VERY IMPORTANT TO TELL YOU ABOUT DIMITRI thing, then he naturally swerves and says WE’RE PALS NOW AND WE’RE PLANNING A SURPRISE PARTY FOR YOU!

Poor Gwen.

Then we deal with the whole “Brady threatened Kristen with a gun” thing. First, Belle, who is a step behind all of this, shows up to retrieve the signed custody agreement she hastily threw together because her mother said it was okay to give in to blackmail. (Or is it extortion? I can never remember and absolutely cannot be bothered to look it up or even care very much.)

Kristen tells Belle about the whole gun thing. Belle essentially says “well, if he did do that, you probably had it coming BECAUSE YOU KEEP KIDNAPPING YOUR DAUGHTER AND PULLING THIS KIND OF BULLSHIT.”

But this is no kind of defense, which Brady discovers as Jada starts asking questions about the incident and then, because she’s a fucking narc now, Rachel tells her where the gun is.

So he finds a sitter for Rachel (and I would love to know who the hell could possibly watch her well enough to ensure she doesn’t just run back to Kristen somehow) and goes down to the police station for questioning.

Belle, desperately catching up with the plot, shows up and advises him not to say anything.

But Brady thinks it’s a good idea to just come clean and admit everything he did. Because… you know, endless kidnapping and extortion or blackmail or whatever.

Astoundingly, Jada seems about ready to just let him go (possibly because she’s literally the only cop working right now and she just doesn’t have time for more DiMera-related bullshit) but uh oh! Here comes District Attorney Trask!

And if there’s one thing she likes even less than people having basic Constitutional rights, it’s punishing people who are abusive to women.

…which, okay, fair enough. She’s a complex character, okay?

“Let’s hurry this up,” she says. “Because I have dinner plans.”

…and they’re with Li!

And finally, EJ and Stefan enjoy a drink together and decide to call a truce.

They discuss Megan’s plot to kill Stefan and the fact that Megan’s son, Dimitri, shouldn’t be living in their house. So they return home to confront him with this.

Unfortunately, Kristen got to Dimitri first. Armed with the knowledge that he and Leo are shacking up (brought to her by Rachel) and desperate to do something with her blackmail blueballs, she’s managed to convince Dimitri to cut her in on the Von Leuschner fortune in exchange for not telling Gwen about it.

So now she’s on his side in the whole “keep him in the house” thing.

She dresses all of this up in an argument about family loyalty, which Stefan actually falls for.

Which means this alliance with EJ lasted… two segments? Maybe three?

And look, I’m always in favor of the path that leads to the most melodrama but I was really hoping these crazy kids had finally put their differences behind them, you know?

#days of our lives #dool #peacock #soap opera

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coochiequeens · 2 years

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If the new dad goes to birthday parties, the gym and walks without his wife or child to give her some time alone he is not really a good dad or husband.

Dear Care and Feeding,

I am finding it hard not to resent my husband for being able to return to normal life after the birth of our child. Don’t get me wrong, he is very active and present in our child’s life. We have a happy 4-month-old, and he is always playing with him, holding him, caring for him etc.; he’s definitely pulling his own weight where the baby is concerned. He also works full time from home, so I am happy to care for the baby while he earns money.

I think, though, that I’m realizing the massive gulf between being a primary and secondary parent. I regularly have to hold our child while going to the toilet when nobody else is around. My idea of socializing is having someone come over to hold the baby while I fold laundry. If I want to have time away from my son, I need to decide at least 24 hours before, pump milk, find a suitable babysitter and then pump while I’m out. He can just… leave and know I’m here. He’s been able to go to birthday parties, to the gym, for walks on his own, just because he wants to. And while I’m happy for him to do things that make him happy, I also resent that freedom.

Whenever I try to think of a practical change my husband could make to support me, I can never think of anything. He’s so good at responding when I ask for help. I just want to stop feeling resentful all the time. Is how I’m feeling just a normal stage of motherhood?

— Missing Spontaneity

Dear Missing,

You’re correct about the massive gulf, and your feelings are not only valid, but probably familiar to many readers (and to myself). I will start by telling you that it does get easier with each milestone of independence. Once you are no longer breastfeeding and/or pumping, leaving the baby is less of a gamble. Once he is potty trained you can ditch the cumbersome diaper bag. And so on. Some families handle these early infant days more equitably than others (or they have hired help to get them through it), but yes, in my experience this is a normal stage of motherhood for many mothers. It’s hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, because you feel tethered to the baby, and even tethered to the house.

The most important thing you can do is talk to your husband about how you’re feeling. Loss of independence is a really big adjustment for new moms, but its impact isn’t tangible and easy to see to our partners and friends. I can recall a conversation when my first son was a baby, and I asked my husband if he minded if I went over to HomeGoods or something; he looked at me like I was a crazy person when I profusely thanked him for the opportunity. I’m sure he was completely baffled by why I was so grateful to go to the store—but of course, the trip wasn’t about the destination, it was about the ability to spontaneously leave with only my wallet and keys in hand. I swear I have never felt such freedom before or since. The conversation with your husband doesn’t have to put any blame on him or ask him for any alterations of his behavior; it’s just helpful to know that, even if you can’t change certain things, someone is at least listening to you.

But is there anything you can change? Yes. Remember that it will be incremental at first. That’s OK though, because you’ll be creating habits that you can build on as your baby grows up. First, when you, your husband and baby are all in the same room, get up and leave. I don’t care what you do—pluck your eyebrows, make a coffee, pull some weeds, hide in the bathroom. You’re training yourself and your husband that parenting duties can trade off. He’ll get more solo time and practice with the baby, and you’ll get a few minutes where you can remember what it is like to be an independent human being.

The other idea is to establish a night or two where he’s the primary parent. You can do something social, or go out and run errands, or just sit around the house knowing that you don’t have to be keyed in to hear baby’s cries. This isn’t about dad “babysitting” (a phrase and concept that I know enrages many of us on principle) but rather just about recreating that sense of independence that is no longer always available to you.

Finally, you say your husband is a great helper, which is awesome. You may find, with time, that you get tired of feeling like you have to ask for help. I don’t know what the chore breakdown is in your home, or how involved your husband is in making/attending doctors appointments, beginning new milestones (like solid food), switching out the clothing sizes, and other baby-related tasks, but many women come to find a few years down the road that they got into the habit of doing all the “kid stuff” and most of the “house stuff” simply because birth and breastfeeding (and maternity leave) put them in the primary parent role from the start and they never left it. If you think that might be you in a few years, I strongly suggest doing what you can to curb those habits now. My friend really enjoyed the book Fair Play: A Game-Changing Solution for When You Have Too Much to Do (and More Life to Live) by Eve Rodsky. It might give you some ideas for ways you and your husband can ensure equitable participation in both your home and parenting responsibilities.

There is no reason for this guy to attend parties without his wife. I know the kid is young but there must be a way to either take the whole family or find a trusted sitter for a few hours like a grandparent? That’s not even trying to include his wife.

And someone should tell them about an amazing invention called .....the stroller. It’s something that will let the guy take a walk with the baby. Both get fresh air and new mom gets time to herself.

#The Slate #Care and Feeding #the new dad is not pulling his weight #It’s just rude to go to parties without your spouse #Unless there’s a very good reason #and not bothering to get a sitter is not a good reason #The bar for dads is too low #There’s no reason he can’t stay home and let het get some exercise for every time he goes to the gym

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erwinsvow · 3 years

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𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

summary: your summer job babysitting for the kirstein's takes a turn.

warnings: dilf!jean x babysitter!reader, adultery/infidelity, age gap, rough sex, wrists being tied up, panties used as a gag, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, creampie

author's note: this is literally the most fun i've had writing a fic and i hope everyone likes it <3 <- is what i wrote the first time i posted this! unfortunately it gotten taken down so here's a repost <3 tagging @dilfphobes and @thegetoufather since discord is down </3

It was almost obscene, really, how wealthy Mr. Kirstein was.

The kind of rich, successful adult you had only ever seen represented in television shows and shitty movies, where some poor small-town girl falls in love with a handsome millionaire who has no qualms about paying for everything. It was sickening, really, that the girls in the films were so dependent on this guy, not even retaining any dignity before they just handed over their life to him.

You weren’t like that, though. When you had heard from your friend, the one that babysat in the summer for a slew of wealthy families, that one of their rich friends was looking for a summer-long sitter, you had wondered how bad it could really be.

You knew the families would pay well, on account of their kids being spoiled brats most of the time, and what’s giving up one summer in order to stockpile your savings account?

Yeah, the parents were probably assholes who couldn’t be bothered to spend five minutes with their child, and yeah, your life would be a noisy, sticky hell for three hot months that could be better spent at the beach.

But then you thought about how good it would feel to not search for an on-campus job in September, how you’d be able to focus on your studies and maybe even splurge a little, or finally invest in that tablet you wanted so badly.

Before you know it, you’re writing down the Kirstein family’s number and dialing it when you get back home. It rings twice, before the butler picks up (geez, how rich are these people?) and puts you on hold for a moment. Your heart’s pounding a little, which you dismiss as anxiety about talking to a stranger, but it’s almost a premonition.

When a deep, handsome voice (can a voice be handsome? you wonder) comes through on the line, you nearly jump from your seat. For some reason, you had been expecting Mrs. Kirstein to pick up.

“Hi, this is Jean, how can I help you?” the voice asks, and you’re at a loss for words for moments before it registers that you have to say something back.

“Uh, h-hi, this is, um, it’s Pieck’s friend, she told me you needed a babysitter, and I-I wanted to call about that.” Jesus.

If this were you on the other line, you would have hung up the call already. What kind of a babysitter can’t even talk on the phone? Mr. Kirstein’s deep, rumbly laugh on the other line jolts you away from your thoughts.

“Well, hi there. That was fast, I thought it’d take forever to find someone.”

You don’t know what he looks like, and you hadn’t thought to ask Pieck about it despite how the Arlerts and the Yeagers, the other two families Pieck babysat for, had incredibly handsome dads that would make babysitting all the more difficult.

“Oh, well, she just told me- and I thought it would be better to call right away, but, uh, I have lots of experience. W-with babysitting,” you clarify quickly, positive you’re sounding like an idiot now.

“Well that’s good to know. Can I ask you something, how come you’re not working for the other families this summer, the ones that gave you all that experience?” On your end, you blink rapidly, and on Jean’s end, he’s smiling.

“Well, they moved away last year, I-I watched them for a few years, on and off. They were in the same neighborhood as you, I think, the Brauns.”

“Oh yeah. Well, I guess their loss is my gain. Can you come over tomorrow, so we can work out some of the details?”

And that’s how this whole thing started. You hadn’t thought a simple summer babysitting job could really be anything noteworthy, but Mr. Kirstein was quick to prove you wrong.

You had been correct in your guess that he was handsome—almost devastatingly so, with pretty, light brown eyes and matching hair that fell onto his face in a way that made him seem like he was your age, and not a decade and a half older.

But it wasn’t just his youthful handsomeness, or his muscles that were seemingly always on display in the tight-fitting polos he wore, but just something else about him. It was a combination of a bunch of things, like his laughter and the way he put you at ease rather than alert whenever he came into the room.

The same could not be said about his wife, however. You’d like to think she was a bad person, but you couldn’t really tell since you’d only interacted with her once or twice since you were hired. You could easily label her as a bad mother, though, since she only bothered to check in on you and her two children—five year old Marcella and toddler Constance, who went by Connie—once or twice a day, sometimes less.

It wouldn’t be concerning to you if she was working a job, preoccupied at the office on or calls all day like Mr. Kirstein was in his study upstairs, but she wasn’t. She was the epitome of the silly movies you disliked, preferring to spend all her time at spin class and out with friends, spending her husband’s money freely rather than with spending time with her own kids.

And you thought maybe her lack of interaction had something to do with the kids, maybe they were the spoiled brats you’d imagined them to be, hellish creatures walking around making every day a living nightmare, or something. But they weren’t.

Marcy and Connie were perfectly fine, perfectly normal kids. Connie was close to a menace sometimes, but it had less to do with her personality and more to do with the age she was at, and her behavior was perfectly justifiable. She was just a hyper, energetic kid who liked to run around and play games and keep every moment occupied.

Her sister was quite the opposite, a quiet, shy girl who liked to hide behind her father’s legs when you had been introduced to her for the first time, shortly after your interview. When he wasn’t around, she liked to stay close to the maids, who you figured were some sort of substitute care-takers for her, but it didn’t take long at all for her to warm up to you. You encouraged her affection slowly, and by the time May was over and June had begun, she was at your side like glue, talking about her favorite books and toys and the events of the day excitedly.

So it was just strange, really, why this picture-perfect family had such a detached mother. You had to remind yourself that it wasn’t your job to pry, or try to figure anything out, just to watch the kids during the day, clean up after them now and then and make their lunches, despite how much the maid insisted you didn’t have to.

It was kind of nice, though, playing house like this. It came to you easier than you’d like to admit, with the way you reflexively knew how to get the girls to stop fighting, what time to take them outside and keep them occupied with ice cream while Mr. Kirstein had an important call, all of it.

You certainly recognized how easy, how natural it became to bring lunch to Mr. Kirstein in his study, twelve-thirty on the dot, while Connie was napping and Marcy was watching her show in the playroom.

Twelve-thirty was your favorite time of the day, because you knew he had just gotten off a call minutes before, and he’d be rubbing his temples and stretching his tense shoulders and loosening his tie, thinking about how he was getting hungry and waiting for your arrival—and there you were.

You, in denim cut-offs or simple linen shorts, long enough that no one would doubt your choices on a hot summer day, but just a breath too short to be considered modest. It was the same way with your shirts and dresses, acceptable because of the weather but bending over just a little too much would cause your breasts or ass to come into full view.

And as fun as teasing Mr. Kirstein was, you knew he was at his limit somewhere around July. The weather was hotter, almost unbearably so, and as a result your clothing choices were getting more and more revealing, tops that clung to your skin inappropriately, shorts and skirts that rode up. It was getting harder and harder not to stare when he came down to greet you at breakfast, getting harder not to touch when you’d come by with his lunch, just like a good little wife would.

If Jean had to pick a specific moment though, when he’d had just about enough, it was the hour after his call had ended with someone important. One of those calls where you’d take the girls outside and eat ice cream to avoid any noise in the house interrupting him, something else he was grateful to you for.

It was then that his kids were sleeping off their sugar rush, that the maid had left to go pick up the groceries, that his wife had checked into the salon for the day.

That was when you’d shed off your sandals and grabbed a popsicle—cherry, your favorite—and made your way to the pool deck after checking that the girls were sound asleep. You were sitting by the cool water, feet submerged and kicking around, making small splashing noises as you worked on finishing the icy treat.

And Jean’s been thinking about it long enough, practically every day since the one after that shy, stuttering phone call with you, when he saw you in person and was just as surprised at your beauty as you’d been with his.

He’s certainly been waiting long enough too, despite how difficult it’s been to keep up with your incessant teasing and the lovely way you are with his kids, the way you almost know more about them than their own mother does, at this point.

It’s all becoming too much to handle when he sees you by the pool, almost glowing in the sunlight and lips stained red with the juice from the popsicle, looking like something else that he’d like to put between your lips.

You heard the footsteps behind you, and despite how you knew who it was, you didn’t turn around to face him. You let Mr. Kirstein come sit beside you, rolling up his pants and dipping his own feet into the water, as you hummed around your popsicle contentedly.

“You know, it’s not very nice to not share your ice cream, especially on a hot day like this.” Oh, so he was going to make this easy, huh?

You finally turn your head to look at him, teasing eyes widening in false surprise, as though you didn’t know you weren’t being nice.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kirstein,” you say, before taking one more loud, lewd suck on the cherry-red lolly. You pull it out of your mouth, a line of spit hanging obscenely between your lips and the treat, before moving your hand closer to him. “You want some?”

Jean takes it out of your hand, using his tongue to lick a long stripe along the side of it, before wrapping his own lips around it. When he finally pulls away, you lock eyes with him.

“Mmh. It’s good, but I think there’s something else I’d like to eat.”

You take the popsicle back, brushing your hand against Jeans for the briefest of seconds. Licking another stripe just where his tongue had been, you bat your eyes up at him.

“Yeah? What’s that, Mr. Kirstein?” you ask, despite how you know his answer. Jean’s honey-brown eyes narrow, his hand making its way to your thigh and gripping firmly.

“You.”

Your mouth falls open a little, shocked at the word even though you knew it was coming, almost like realizing suddenly that this was really happening, the thing you’d been thinking about all summer.

You let the popsicle fall on the pool deck, sticky hands reaching to wrap themselves around Mr. Kirstein’s neck, as you pull him into a kiss and let your lips crash onto each other’s.

You’re not even sure when you found your way onto his lap, ingrained in such a deep kiss that you’re going dizzy. Jean’s hands feel hot and firm on your hips, holding you to him tightly as you try your best to grind against his hard cock. He won’t let you though, hands stilling your movements as you moan desperately into his mouth, entirely unsatisfied at the lack of contact.

A loud, stinging slap to your ass stills you immediately.

“Bad girl. You can’t do that out here, in the open, where anyone could see, okay?” he says, mouth finally detaching from yours and settling on your jaw, as he places little kisses on the exposed skin.

More, you want to scream, but your thoughts are drowned out when Jean’s lips find yours again, and he jerks his hips up just a little bit, just to give you a taste of what you’re asking for, and it feels so good that your head feels empty.

You’re also not exactly sure how you got back to his bedroom, the one he shares with that wife you dislike so much. Any other day, you might have stopped to consider the weight of your actions, what it would mean for you to fuck Mr. Kirstein on the bed where his wife sleeps, but you just can’t bring yourself to care.

Not when his hands feel they’re burning into your skin, every touch along your thigh and squeeze of your ass making you whimper wantonly. Not when he’s telling you to be patient, but you’re seeing stars when he finally gets you out of the flimsy top that was covering your bare, pebbled nipples and latches his mouth onto one while his fingers roll the other.

No, that has you almost screaming with pleasure, your hand finding its way to cover your mouth and stop the obscene noises from leaving, with the all-too-real possibility that someone in the house could hear.

“You like that, baby?” he murmurs from his position on your chest, letting go of one sore nipple to tease the other with his tongue. “I wanna hear you, baby, so just be quieter, hm?”

You’re nodding your head stupidly, wanting more of whatever he’ll give you, eager to please him and show that you’ll be a good girl for him.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, and before you can process the shifting of his body, he’s between your legs, spreading them wide after easily pulling off your thin shorts. There’s just one thing between him and where you want him to be, a simple pair of cotton panties, and your own fingers go to take them off when his hand grabs your wrist, making you freeze.

“Now, did I tell you that you could do that? You don’t wanna be a bad girl, right?”

“N-no! No, Mr. Kirstein, I’m sorry-” but it’s too late. He’s grabbed your other wrist too, pinning them above your head and shrugging off the loosened tie from around his neck. He undoes it quickly, using the soft material to bind your wrists together and loop one piece around the headboard, securing your arms above your head.

“Now be a good girl and let me have my little treat.”

He moves back down, your face burning with heat as you realize how exposed you are, naked and tied up as Jean looks between your legs like a man starved.

You have no way of keeping yourself quiet now, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek when he finally applies pressure to your clothed clit with his fingers. He’s going so slow but giving you nothing, just barely grazing your sensitive spot when you wish he’d just fuck you stupid already.

But you know better than to misbehave, the sting on your ass from earlier reminding you to stay quiet and take what he gives you.

Your hips are bucking up desperately with every one of Jean’s feeble touches, and you know your panties must be soaking through by now, but Jean seems more interested in teasing you like this.

In fact, he just wants to take his time. Why should he rush, when he’s finally got you exactly how he wants you, the way he’s wanted you all summer? His wife gone, kids asleep, staff preoccupied—-he’s been waiting for this chance.

“Baby, are you really that worked up from just a little teasing? How long has it been since someone’s fucked you how you deserve, huh?” he says, laughing as he notices you twitch as he licks along the lenght of your clothed slit.

“So- so long, Mr. Kirstein! Please, please, I want you so badly-” you’re trying your hardest to stay quiet, but it’s still much louder than you can risk being. You just can’t help it, his teasing and the hot weather and the sugary sweetness of the popsicle and the taste of Jean’s lips still lingering in your mouth. It’s all entirely too much, making you feel dizzy again when you feel his hands finally yanking off your panties.

He has them in his hand when he comes back to hover over you, lips meeting hotly again as his tongue swirls in your mouth for what seems like forever, before he pulls away.

“Baby, I need you to be quiet,” Mr. Kirstein says. as he shoves your ruined panties into your mouth, making you cry out, the sound muffled. “We don’t want the kids to wake up, do we?”

You shake your head in compliance as Jean makes his way back down to between your legs. Finally free of the last barrier, you let out obscene, quieted moans at how his mouth feels, licking hot strips up and down your wetness, before finally your clit and flicking his tongue.

The sensation has your entire body tense, wrists struggling against your ties as he overstimulates your helpless nub, slipping in two of his slender fingers and feeling the way you clamp down against them.

He’s saying something else to you, talking against your core, but you can’t pay attention, not when you’re so close, and your thighs instinctively tighten around Jean’s head, forcing him to stop talking and continue.

You’re almost there, the coil in your stomach just about ready to unwind, when you feel Jean’s other hand come up to play with your aching nipples, and that’s when it snaps. You let out a scream against your panties, sound getting drowned out as Jean works you through your orgasm, not letting up. His fingers are thrusting in and out, tongue on your clit, as your entire body spasms uncontrollably.

Even after your shaking has stopped, when you’re trying to catch your breath and keep your eyes open, he doesn’t stop, letting out a laugh at your small twitches.

“Oh, baby, you haven’t cum properly in a while, huh? Look what a mess you made.”

And you want to care about how you’ve just come in rivulets over sheets that his wife picked, sheets that she sleeps on besides him, sheets that you’ve just ruined, but you just don’t. All you can think about is how if Jean isn’t inside you in the next few minutes, you’re going to lose your mind.

You whimper against the cotton in your mouth, unable to say anything except look at Jean with those big, doe eyes you know he can’t resist, all watery and teary as a result of your intense orgasm. It’s when a fat tear rolls down your cheek, eyes blinking up at him, that he finally decides he’s had enough teasing.

“You want my cock so badly, don’t you, baby?” he asks, your head moving up and down quickly as you moan again. Jean unzips his pants, not even taking off any of his clothes as he takes his hard, throbbing dick out and runs it along your sensitive slit a few times, collecting your wetness.

It’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had any experience with and so pink and veiny that it makes your mouth water. Your body shakes at the contact, cunt clenching hard on nothing at all, as he continues his motion.

“You’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you? Teasing me all these months, wanting me to fuck the babysitter like some kind of cliche? Huh?” and all you can do is nod, gasps getting caught in your throat as you feel his cockhead prod against your tight hole.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll fuck you how you want, I’ll make you mine,” and with that he pushes his dick into your soaking cunt, making you scream out and causing him to let out a beautiful groan.

“Oh, fuck-” Mr. Kirstein says, bottoming out and holding still for a minute, letting you get used to the stretch before continuing. “God, you feel that? How you’re sucking me in, god-!”

His thrusts are shallow at first, making you move your own body to get more, when he suddenly stops.

“Such a greedy little slut, aren’t you? My baby’s so greedy, it’s okay though, I’ll give you what you want-”

And suddenly his hips are slamming against yours, each thrust bringing his hip bone to yours crushingly fast, the whole room filled with the obscene noise of pants and squelching.

You’re not even sure what to think anymore, because every thought in your head is gone and all you can focus on is how good it feels, despite how wrong it is. Your limbs already feel limp and boneless from your first orgasm, but Jean isn’t giving any signs of letting up. Each thrust is more powerful than the last, making you see stars as he hits that sensitive spot inside you over and over again.

You know you won’t be able to hold out much longer, cunt clenching against his thick cock as his fingers find your oversensitive clit and nimbly rub circles on it.

It’s getting to be too much, you think you might black out from the intense pleasure you’re feeling, when finally, you feel the cotton being yanked from your mouth and fresh air in your lungs.

“Tell me how much of a little slut you are, baby, I wanna- oh- I wanna hear it-” Jean grunts between rough thrusts.

“I-I’m your slut! I’m yours, I’m yours-!” you cry out over and over again, getting closer and closer to your orgasm as Jean’s fingers don’t let up.

“Yeah, my little slut? You want my cum? You want me to fill you up and make you my wife, hm? Is that what you want?” The very thought of that—of you being his and only his, living with him and taking his cum—is enough to tip him over the edge, but he wants to feel you cum on his cock first.

“Yes! Yes! Yes, Mr. Kirstein, I want it, I want your cum, I wanna be your new wife-Oh!” You cum hard, just as the last sentence leaves your mouth, as Jean’s fingers increased their pace and his thrusts became all too much to handle.

Without the panties muffling your nosies anymore, you squeal loudly, moaning Mr. Kirstein and crying out, as Jean’s hips increase their pace and fuck into your harder than before. Every thrust has a squeal leaving your lips, and the way your cunt flutters around his cock while cumming has him just on the edge, almost there, when you speak again.

“Please give it to me, Mr. Kirstein, I wanna be yours,” you moan against the pillow, completely fucked out. Jean cums hard at his tipping point, groaning in your ear and emptying himself into you, hot cum filling your cunt. You stay like that for a moment, catching your breath before you find his lips again, desperate to latch on and never let go, if you can help it.

You feel Jean pull out of you and you let out a whine, feeling the mixture of both your cum leaking out of you, staining the sheets.

You’re a mess, entire body shaky, limbs so tired you’re not sure you’ll be able to stand up on your own, lips puffy and swollen. Your cunt is even worse, sore and aching, covered in wetness.

Jean’s not much better, his once clean and crisp dress shirt wrinkled and ruined, pants stained with fluids.

“Oh,” he says, finally reaching to undo his tie and let your wrists free, “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay,” you breath, hesitant to meet Mr. Kirstein’s eyes. All the words you both said fly through your head, unsure of what was real and what was just said in the heat of the moment.

You want to ask, but you’re so exhausted and limp-bodied, throat sore and head feeling so light you don’t think you can string together the sentence.

Jean’s hands are warm on your skin, rubbing your back soothingly as you let your eyes flutter shut. Maybe if you sleep for a few moments, you’ll feel better, and you’ll be able to tell him how you feel.

“Listen, baby-” Jean says, and you open your eyes to meet his warm, brown ones. You know it’s so terribly wrong to want this, to want a whole life with a married man, but you do, and you don’t think you can help it.

You think he wants it too, with the soft way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s been glancing when he thinks you’re not paying attention, when you’re with the girls or tidying up.

You think he’s about to say it too, when he’s cut off by the sound of the front door closing loudly.

“Honey? Kids? I’m home,” comes the voice of his wife downstairs, footsteps getting louder as they approach the staircase and make their way to the bedroom.

#sad it gotten taken down but i want to repost it bc i love this concept still #dilf jean supremacy once again <3 #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirschstein smut #aot smut #aot #attack on titan #jean kirstein imagine #jean kirschstein imagine #yassify

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