#cramped kiddo

[strang3lov3]

Catnap

Joel interrupts your nap on his thighs. (1.5k)

Tags - dubcon, pervy!joel, blowjob, joel jorkin’ it just a little, manspreading, napping Fic help - @beefrobeefcal thank you for giving me your eyeballs! A/N - for @toxicanonymity’s Manspreading Olympics. I realize this has only a smidgeon of manspreading but I figure better some than none, right? That’s the general rule of thumb with manspreading anyway.

On Joel’s worn, overstuffed couch, you find your eyelids becoming heavy as the old movie plays on an old CRT TV; the screen looks fuzzy and the sound is tinny. Joel’s right next to you, and unlike you, intently watching the movie. He pays you no mind until he feels your head gently fall to the side, now resting on his shoulder. He looks down at you and feels your cold hands wrap around his thick forearms as you snuggle into his side. “Hey, you,” he whispers. “You fallin’ asleep on me?”

“Mm-mm,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck to shield your eyes from the light pouring in from the window. You inhale him, the sweat on his skin and the faint smell of his soap. The wiry, graying hairs of his beard scratch and tickle your forehead. “I’m not even tired.” 

“Oh, sure you aren’t,” Joel teases. He nudges you with his shoulder, “Why don’tcha lay down, kiddo. I know you need it.” 

“Mm-mm.” 

You’re speaking in just syllables now, low-effort hums and mumbles as your head becomes cloudy and Joel’s voice feels like it’s getting farther and farther away.

“Just a catnap,” he urges, speaking in a low and gentle tone, “Twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes. You can do twenty minutes. An hour or more is too much, you’d be waking up even more tired than you are now. Ten minutes is too little, doesn’t give you enough time to actually drift off into sleep. Twenty minutes is perfect. “Okay.” 

“Hop off’a me for a second,” Joel gently pushes you in the opposite direction and gets up from the couch to adjust the blinds. He twists the rod until the blinds block out most of the light coming from outside, then sits back down at his place on the couch and pats his lap. “Lay down.”

You lay down and rest your head on Joel’s thick, meaty thighs, your face turned toward his soft belly, where you can see the trail of hairs traveling down his abdomen. You hadn’t noticed before that his jeans were undone. “Go to sleep, now,” he murmurs. He pulls an old crocheted blanket off of the armrest of the couch and lays it over your body, making sure it’s tucked over your shoulders and under your toes. Joel then snakes his hand beneath the blanket and tugs your shirt up your back to gently scratch your skin, lazily dragging his fingers up and down your spine. With his free hand, he turns down the volume of the TV. It’s not five minutes before you’re sleeping peacefully on his lap, curled up like a kitten. 

When the movie ends, Joel peers down at you. Your lips are plump and parted as you breathe steady, short breaths. You look so relaxed, so innocent and peaceful as you sleep. Joel can’t help but to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand, push some hair out of your eyes. He chuckles quietly when he notices that you’re drooling on him, soaking a little damp spot right onto the crotch of his jeans. Joel uses his thumb to swipe some of that spit away and fuck, there’s a lot. 

He finds himself staring at your lips, all wet and warm. He thinks about that warm, wet mouth of yours, how good your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. He sighs and palms his growing erection, massaging his member over his jeans. But it’s not enough, and Joel’s growing anxious to relieve himself. 

Delicately, cautiously, Joel reaches beneath his jeans and pulls his half-hard cock out, not-so accidentally brushing the head across your lips. He spits into his palm and begins to stroke himself, sliding his hand up and down his length. But it’s still not enough - he’s cramped, limited like this. What he really needs to do is spread his legs, give himself room to breathe, room to cup and gently squeeze his balls. He spreads his legs and he knows he should be careful not to wake you, but his mind quickly changes. At this point, that’s his intention. To wake you up, slide his cock down your throat. He strokes his cock, deliberately nudging your face with it. 

It works like a charm. You stir a little, brows knitting together before you wake up with slightly bloodshot eyes, staring in confusion as Joel touches himself. “Shoot, I didn’t mean to wake ya,” he lies. You sit up a little, Joel notices the indentations of his denim on your cheek. He rubs his thumb over the marks, soothing them. “M’sorry, kiddo.” 

Joel continues stroking his length as you watch. “Oh, fuck. Goddamn,” he curses, then presses his thick, blunt head against your lips, smearing his precome on them. “Open,” he tells you, making the decision for you. “You’re gonna take care of it.” 

He adjusts you a little, then pushes his cock harshly into your mouth so that you gag and sputter on it. “Ohh, I know,” he coos. “You’ll get used to it.”

Joel tangles his fingers in your hair, eyes rolling back into his skull as you take his length down your throat. He rocks his hips up and down, drawing in and out of your mouth. His cock has now stiffened to its fullest size, and you have to open your mouth wide to accommodate him. “Fuck, baby. That’s it, that’s it.” 

His cock pulses under your tongue as he rolls his hips, doing the majority of the work himself. He can see it on your face that you’re not entirely lucid, with your droopy, glassy eyes. He fucks your mouth all the same, head leaning back onto the couch, a little bit of sweat begins to gather on his tummy and on his forehead. You let out a quiet, sweet little moan for him. “Atta girl, baby. Make some noise for me,” he grunts. “Tell me how much you like my cock down your throat. S’it feel good, pretty girl?”

“Mm,” you hum, nodding your head as your eyes flutter shut. 

“Makin’ such a mess of me,” he murmurs. In your drowsy state, you’ve completely soaked him. Spit dribbles down your lips, down your chin, matting that thick patch of graying curls that surrounds his shaft. He fumbles around and reaches for one of your hands, then guides you to cup his balls gently. You squeeze them gingerly, rhythmically as he fucks your throat. 

Joel yanks the crocheted blanket off of your body and slides his hand down your back, then tugs your pants down your thighs, exposing your ass to the cool air. His hands are warm as he gropes fistfulls of your flesh in time with each of his thrusts. He feels your tongue traveling along his shaft, tracing up and down that swollen, pulsing vein that climbs the underside of his cock, causing him to gasp and bite down on his own moans. “Oh, fuck. You take it so good, kiddo.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut as he revels in the feeling of being enveloped in your heated mouth, absentmindedly pushing you down on his cock, then pulling you back up again. He’s losing his gentle touch as he approaches climax, but he can’t help it. Your mouth, your tongue. It’s all so velvety, so warm and inviting and wet. “Fuck, right there. Right there. Don’t move, sweetheart, just stay like that. I’m comin’.” 

His fingernails dig into your skin, dangerously close to your pussy as he rolls his hips at a quicker pace. You’re whining, crying softly as he fucks your mouth. With a few more shallow, quick thrusts, Joel feels that warm, sticky feeling in his gut. His balls tighten and his cock twitches between your lips and he lets out a deep and guttural groan, emptying himself down your throat. You swallow every drop of that salty, warm spend that he gives you, humming when he finally pulls out of your mouth. Joel’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, and you press a couple of kisses onto his heavy balls. “You’re a good girl, baby,” he praises. “You’re so good.” 

Joel notices a stray bead of his come sitting on your swollen lips, then collects it with his thumb and pushes it back into your mouth. He tucks himself back into his jeans, then helps you adjust to a comfortable position on his lap, similar to the one you rested in before. “There you go,” he mumbles. “That’s all better, hm?”

You lazily nod your head, “Mhm.” 

Joel pulls the blanket back over your body, just like he did before. “Alright, honey. Go back to sleep.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog, send an ask, tell me your thoughts! Your kind words keep me motivated to write.

[cradle-quill]

"But I don't need diapers!"

You say it with a whine, kick, and a pout. With all the conviction you can stir up in that meek voice of yours. As if saying it with more force will somehow make it more true. Fake it 'til you make it, right? Except that hasn't worked for you so far.

Daddy rolls his eyes at you. "You do need them, kiddo. Or have you forgotten about all those accidents you've been having?"

"I haven't had any accidents!" Your cheeks burn, but you insist on trudging down this course of argumentation, even if that means you won't be going gently. No, you'll go kicking and screaming, like a child having a fit and throwing a temper tantrum.

But Daddy sees through your false bravado. He stands there, smirking at you, as if he already knows every word you're about to say before even you do. "Oh really? Then who's been wetting your bed every night lately?" He points to a pile of your wet sheets on the kitchen floor, stinking of urine and begging to be washed.

"I... I..." You tighten your fists and stomp your feet. The anger boils up inside you, building and building, until it's ready to overflow.

"Aww, what's the matter? The little baby can't find the words? Or are you just out of excuses, kiddo? Go ahead, tell me how that pile of wet sheets isn't your fault. Or tell me how you've had six daytime accidents in the last four days. Come on, Daddy wants to hear it."

"Daddyyyyyyyy!" You let out the longest whine, a release from all the tension building up within you. But right as you let out your frustration, something else releases too. Your stomach cramps, forcing you to hunch over. Before you know it, a warm wetness is spreading over your crotch and flowing down your pants, followed by another sensation. The backside of your pants filling up as you helplessly huff and push out a big mess in your undies.

Daddy watches you, folding his arms and tapping his foot. You stand there, too afraid to look him in the eyes, but you can feel his glare all over you, interrogating every inch of your body. His eyes burn a hole in that shield of a facade you've been putting up, and once your pee stops trickling, and you've made your last push into your pants, the sudden, immense relief sends you falling to your knees.

Daddy walks over to you and rests a hand on your shoulder in a comforting pat. "There there, honey. Don't fret. You just proved what a little pants filler you are, so now we can skip the theatrics and go back to getting you in a diaper, right where you belong."

[zorosdimples]

꒰ FUSHIGURO TOJI X READER ꒱

cw: cheesy! age gap. slightly suggestive. brief sex toy mention. nicknames “kid” and “kiddo” used. reader and toji are neighbors and reader is shorter than toji. based on my earlier admission. wc: 782. notes: this was written so quickly and is cringe—please forgive me!

“Got another package of yours, kiddo.”

Toji stands outside of your apartment, a brown shipping box perched in his palms. You scowl, holding the door open with your hip before wordlessly turning around and leaving. He catches the door before it slams in his face, and—taking your silent cue—steps inside and kicks off his slides. 

He follows you to your cramped kitchen, chuckling when you yank the box from his grasp and scurry off to put it in your bedroom. When you return, he has already made himself comfortable on your couch; spitefully, you don’t offer him a beverage (not that he minds). You stiffly settle on the armchair beside him. 

“So,” Toji breaks the silence, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rises with the movement, a sliver of his waist on display, a thicket of jet hair barely visible. For a moment, your mind wanders—creeping along his happy trail, envisioning where it leads…

His gravelly, lazy voice interrupts your thoughts, and your focus snaps back to his face. “What’d you buy?”

“None of your business.” You pretend to pick at a cuticle. While you’re still upset with him, you aren’t playing coy; he doesn’t need to know what you ordered. It isn’t his business.  

Toji rests one of his hands against his head, looking at you curiously. “What’s with the attitude?” 

For the first time since he walked in, you look him in the eyes. His irises are lush and verdant—easy to get lost in. And they sparkle with mirth. Your frustration with him reaches a boiling point, but you do your best to bring it down to a simmer. “Why can’t you treat me like an adult? For fuck’s sake, I’m almost thirty.”

A smirk tucks itself in the corner of his lips like a secret. “I’ve got two decades on you, kid.”

“Okay. So by your logic, I should start calling you ‘old man’—is that right?”

He shrugs before spreading his legs wider and crossing his arms. “If you want to.”

“God you’re so…” you rub your temples and try to calm yourself with a deep breath. “You’re so indifferent.”

He scoffs. “Is that right?”

You nod. “Either that or you’re fucking clueless.”

“Clueless,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the word on his tongue. It irks you that your words don’t stoke the embers of his anger. 

“Fuck it,” you mutter to yourself. You brace your hands on your knees. “Still wanna know what I ordered, Toji?”

“I’m all ears, kiddo.”

“A vibrator.”

For a split second, you think he’s going to crack. But your confession simply wipes any and all playfulness from Toji’s expression. He stands up from the couch abruptly, brows knit, jade eyes sharp with an emotion you’re afraid to place. 

“You really shouldn’t—” he swallows dryly when you approach him, blocking his exit. 

“I shouldn’t what? Be an adult and buy what I want?”

He shakes his head, murmuring, “Shouldn’t tell me something like that.”

“Why?” 

He's pinned beneath your earnest stare, a needle piercing each of his wings, holding him in place. Does he continue to struggle, to risk upsetting you, to risk harming himself? Or does he give in despite his reservations? A flash of pink darts between his lips as he wets them. “Because…”

“Because what?”

Too close, he thinks to himself, your body inches from his own. The way your chest heaves and your fingers fidget nervously at your sides—it’s too much, too close.

“Because I can’t keep acting like I’m not fucking attracted to you!” he snarls, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Do you have any idea how hard this has been on me? Pretending like I don’t live next door to the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and—”

A laugh bubbles in your throat. Once it floats past your lips, it pops—you can’t contain it. Your laughter rings through the dull walls of your apartment, and while Toji wants to be irritated, the sound is infectious; it makes his heart flutter like a damn schoolboy’s. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks. 

You smile up at him as your hands (small, cold, and soft) find his (large, warm, and scarred). “Give in, Toji. It’s okay. You know I want you—I don’t think I can make my intentions any more obvious.”

He sighs deeply, but pulls you closer. “I’m old and I—”

Interrupting him, you tease, “I’ll be the judge of that, thank you.”

He stares at you hard for what feels like an eternity before leaning in, forehead brushing against yours. “Well,” he clears his throat, “this old man wants to kiss you. Can he?”

Despite yourself, your heart soars. “I thought he’d never ask.”

[pucksandpower]

okay but all i can think of is grid kids: where y/n and sebastians’ daughter gets her period while being with the guys and they freak out while she is completely calm😭😭😭

Grid Kids: It’s Just a Little Blood

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids have always been their little sister’s role models and teachers but it turns out that they have some things left to learn themselves

Series Masterlist

“She’s bleeding out!”

Lando’s panicked face fills your screen as the FaceTime call connects.

You immediately sit upright, heart racing. “What? Where? What happened?”

“We found her in the bathroom,” Charles adds, holding up a suspicious-looking red spot on the bathroom rug.

George, on the brink of hyperventilation, rushes in, “We need to call an ambulance! It’s a lot of blood. So much blood.”

Max is basically begging, “Just tell us what to do.”

From the background, you hear your daughter’s exasperated voice, “Guys! It’s just my period! Calm down!”

There’s a collective pause. Mick, with wide eyes, slowly asks, “Period? As in ... the monthly thing?”

Your daughter rolls her eyes but is clearly amused, “Yes. Welcome to female biology.”

You laugh, trying to calm the situation. “Okay, first of all, she’s not bleeding out. It’s totally natural. Didn’t any of you take a basic health class?”

Lance raises an awkward hand, “I might’ve skipped that day ... or week.”

Sebastian is trying not to laugh next to you, “Did any of you ever have a girlfriend? Or a sister?”

Lando sheepishly responds, “It just ... never came up in conversation, I guess?”

Your daughter holds a pad up like it’s a game show prize, “Alright, class is in session. First lesson: how to attach this to underwear.“

The line goes silent for a second before George finally speaks up, “You know, I have a newfound appreciation for what women go through.”

You giggle, “As you should. Time for lesson one of many. Pay attention, boys.”

***

The phone buzzes with an incoming call, Lando picking it up instantly. “Hey, kiddo! What’s up?”

“Can you come pick me up?” Her voice, cracking with frustration as she tries to keep her tears at bay, comes through the phone. “I’m in a lot of pain but the physical education teacher won’t let me sit out despite my cramps being really bad.”

George, overhearing the conversation, frowns. “Seriously? She can’t be that heartless.”

Max grabs the phone, his protective instincts kicking in. “We’re on our way. Just hang tight.”

Within minutes, the grid kids arrive at the school, walking determinedly towards the gym. As they enter, they spot the physical education teacher, a stern woman with a whistle around her neck.

“Can we help you?” She asks, eyeing them suspiciously.

“We’re here to pick up our sister,” Charles says, stepping forward. “We heard she’s not feeling well.”

The teacher scoffs. “She’s been trying to get out of class because of some little cramps. It’s just an excuse for her to be lazy.”

Mick tries to keep his cool, “Cramps can be debilitating. It’s not just an excuse like you claim. It’s a real physical pain.”

Lance jumps in, “You wouldn’t make someone with a sprained ankle run, would you? It’s the same thing. Why make her suffer?”

The teacher is about to argue but Lando interjects before she has a chance, “Look, we get that you have a job to do but she’s genuinely in pain. All we ask is for a little compassion and understanding.”

“And maybe,” George adds, “in the future, a crash course on menstrual health and how not everyone has the same experience might be beneficial.”

The teacher nods, sufficiently cowed. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Thank you,” Max says and the group makes their way to where their sister is curled up in a corner. As she stands up, looking a little pale but relieved to see them, they envelop her in a group hug.

“Feeling okay, kiddo?” George asks with concern, carefully brushing a stray hair from her face.

She offers a weak smile, “Better now that you guys are here.”

Lance winks, “How about we go get some milkshakes? Ice cream cures everything.”

She chuckles, “I could go for that.”

***

The media room is buzzing, cameras being set up and reporters getting ready to fire questions. The grid kids are seated next to each other, patiently listening to their weekly dose of Maxplaining while waiting for the interview to start.

A reporter from a tabloid magazine, aiming for a provocative soundbite, smirks and directs a question at Charles, “Rough race today? Are you on your time of the month or something?”

The room goes silent for a moment, a few gasps and whispers are heard. Charles looks taken aback, his cheeks reddening slightly, but before he can answer, Max steps in, voice firm.

“That’s really inappropriate. Jokes like that are not only disrespectful to the drivers sitting up here but also to female racers and women in general.”

Lando nods, “Our little sister wants to be in Formula 1 one day and she should never have to face comments from people who think that they can demean her because of her gender.”

George throws his hands up, “Come on, it’s 2034 for crying out loud! You should know better than this. We should all do better than this. ”

The reporter attempts to defend his statement, “It was just a joke. No need to get so sensitive.”

Lance counters, “We’re not being sensitive. We just want you to show some basic respect. A natural process shouldn’t be turned into a sexist joke because you have nothing of substance to ask. Women deserve to be treated with dignity.”

The reporter mumbles an apology, clearly caught off guard by the unified response.

Charles finds his voice and glares at the reporter, “Let’s keep the questions related to racing.”

“And,” Mick looks towards a group of FIA officials sitting off to the side, “Someone better make sure to take away his media pass.”

***

After the press conference, back in the drivers’ lounge, your daughter squeezes between the grid kids on the oversized couch and looks up at them with earnest eyes. “Thank you for standing up for girls like me today.”

Max ruffles her hair gently, “We’ve always got your back, kiddo.”

George nods, “We haven’t always been perfect but we’re trying to learn and grow.”

Lando adds, “And we hope, by the time you get here, motorsport will be a much better place for you and all other women aspiring to be drivers.”

Charles bends down to her level, “We want you to race in an environment where you’re only judged by your talent and not anything else.”

“You’ve got the same passion and determination any of us ever had,” Mick chimes in. “Don’t let anyone ever dim that light.”

“We’ll be cheering the loudest when you make it to F1. No one should underestimate you,” Lance adds with a wink.

She beams, wrapping her arms around them in a tight group hug. “Thanks, brothers.”

[bumblinv]

--- human's period ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

platonic!various x gn!human!reader

!! in my hc, na'vi women doesn't menstruate !!

jake and your friends takes care of you during your time of the month. basically just period comfort with momma jake

part 1 part 2!

"they. peed. blood"

spider's terrified screech brings jake one thought;

periods.

and he was dammed right.

the moment he stepped into your marui, he found the kids circling around your bed. their faces contorted with worry yet suffers from cluelessness because they could only watch as you curl yourself into a ball. hand clutching your stomach as you cry into kiri’s lap.

his eyes darted to the blanket under your legs, wich were soaked with blood. jake clicks his tongue with sympathy, "poor baby"

your friends moved back, forming a circle behind jake as they watch him kneel on your bedside.

“this your first period?”

“yes. my... my second day, sir” you whimpered out a weak answer.

“they never left their marui until noon, and we found them like this”

“i never knew periods could get this worst”

“did they got shot?”

you were overwhelmed.

the staring, the murmurs, your marui being crowded. having to experience all of that stimulations mixed with your cramps, made you shake. jake could feel it once he puts his hand on your upper arm.

“will they die?”

“they wont, spider”

“bro, how do you know?”

“shh!”, finally neteyam hisses

even neteyam understand that their questions were all honest, yet stupid that jake doesn’t even spare them any care. his full attention is fixed on your vulnerable state.

“no, kiddo. don’t curl yourself up like that”

“it hurts", you groaned. another wave of pain shakes your entire body.

“baby, squeezing your stomach like that wouldn’t make it any better. lay normally”

“they would move if they can, dad”

kiri's words made his gaze soften. he could see your tiny body jerks slightly with every wave of pain that goes through you. you were sobbing, yet no sound comes out of your mouth

“im gonna help you, okay sweetie?”, jake gives your upper arm a comforting squeeze, “we’re gonna get through this together”

the warmth he offers makes you nod weakly. jake smiles, satisfied with your response. then he turned his head towards his daughter,

“do you have medicine for muscle cramps?” the girl looks at her father, clueless. but the confidence in jake’s voice sounds like he knows what he was doing. with that, kiri nods surely.

“i could come out with something”

“good”

kiri waves her hand at tsireya, signaling her to come closer. ever so gently, the beautiful metkayina moved your head to her lap so the sully could run off and complete her father’s demand  

jake puts his other hand on tsireya's shoulder, “you stay to help them clean up, okay? and neteyam” his head turns towards his eldest, “get us warm water, son”

“yes, sir”

“what can we do?” lo’ak asks as his brother went running

“you boys could help, by giving them space”

your watery eyes met with jake's, whispering a weak thank you as your marui, at last, went quiet.

if jake had let them inside longer, you would’ve broke down because even with them being outside, their noises still fills your head

“what is this period? a disease?”

“you see spider, the female human body-”

tsireya could only sigh, “they are good friends, worrying over you like that. but they were being too loud"

"you're right kiddo. now its all quieted down, lets get you cleaned up, yeah?”

"yeah..."

not long after you could feel his warm hands coming down. lifting you up by behind your knees and back. you might think that your weight would have weighted him down, but to jake, it was like carrying a mere child

“tsireya, please get the blanket for me. oh good, the blood doesn't soak up your bed”

“i put the blanket there so when i leak, my bed doesn’t get soaked”, you grin

“great thinking”, tsireya chuckles. but her laugh quickly died out.

you were whimpering in pain.

jake was only settling you down on your bed, yet you look so hurt. “sorry sweetie”, jake whispers after you flinched some more. the man was just straightening your stiffen limbs

the girl approaches you, giving your hand a comforting squeeze.

“everything’s sore, hm?” jake tucks your bangs behind your ears as you nod helplessly.

“i guess i'll wash my blanket after i get better”

“no, you stay here” he ruffles your hair, standing up and grabs your bloody blanket from tsireya’s grasps.

“jake, you don’t have to”

he laughs, “kiddo. if you’ve raised 4 children, you’ve cleaned worst”

“but its gross”

jake looks at you with confusion. why do you have to bring yourself down like that, for something as natural as breathing? he bites his lip. he remembers someone who would insist that he doesn’t need to help wash her ‘dirty’ bloody blankets.

oh how you remind him of her.

he went back to his previous position, kneeling beside you. golden eyes fixed on yours.

“baby, what’s dirty could be cleaned. after all, what’s so dirty about blood?”

you went silent.

“period blood are as natural as snots, tears, and other body fluid you have. so, no biggie, yeah?”

“no... biggie” you repeated after him. a small smile on your lips

“atta girl” jake grins, his hand went up to wipe away your last tear. “i'm gonna wash this. and while i'm gone, tsireya will help you get cleaned up, okay?” and with your nod, he smiles and walk off.

he was about to step out to the beach, but tsireya’s worried call stopped him.

“will they be okay?”

“they will, kiddo" jake shoots her an assuring smile, "they are in good hands”

and he was right.  

the second he walked back to your marui, he couldn’t help to stop on his tracks. your marui was filled with joyful chatter, meaning you were getting better. and he could hear laughing too. your laughs

“bro, i thought you were dying”

“oh please”

“no offence, but you do look like you were dying” jake recognize that voice. it was spider’s

then rotxo’s iconic snickers was heard,

“when ya called jake, what was the shit ya told him? somethin' bout them peein’ out blood?”

“spider!” you exclaimed, voice full of embarrassment

“oh, cmon boys. leave them alone”

jake’s chuckle startled all of you.

your marui went silent again. even rotxo shuts his mouth.

you never knew why, but the sudden awkwardness coming over every time jake steps in is unbearable. maybe it happens because none of you were used to the usually strict man being so loose.

“i... uh, i’ve washed your blanket. should dry by tomorrow”

“thank you” you smile at him. jake returned your smile.

your friends are around you, again. but this time, you didn’t seem to bother. you were enjoying they company, even. they were all sitting down near your bedside with empty bowls around their feet.

good, they had feed you

his eyes drift to your side where he found neteyam, pressing a small water sack on your stomach. presumably filled with warm water. but the ceramic mug you were holding catches his attention the most.

the mug was filled to the brim with liquid that smells almost sour. he recognize it. and its strong yellow color, brings him back home.

“kiri made them drink pee”

“i did not, ao’nung”, the girl rolls her eyes as rotxo’s ugly snort-laugh filled the room.

“hey, i know this”

their laughter died out.

jake kneeled beside you. he was looking into your mug with his gaze so soft and loving, you were afraid he was taking a liking to it.

“there’s tamarind and turmeric in it, right?”

kiri’s mouth went agape, “never knew you know herbs, dad”

“i’m not. but i’ve made this drink all my life”

“when?”

“you see, kid,” he looks at his son with a loving smile he rarely gives. his hand went up to squeeze neteyam’s shoulder.

“back on earth, your uncle tommy and i would make this drink for your gramma, when she was on her period” his golden eyes shows such softness as he gazes back into your drink.

it was just some mere drink, yet it was able to make the former toruk makto and olo’eyktan so soft.

“but of course,” he snickers, “we don’t need to boil real turmerics nor tamarinds. they sell it on instant packages”

no one laughs.

there was one question filling their heads, yet even rotxo’s loud mouth does not dare to ask.

where is she now?

lo’ak cleared his throat. “the period, was she in pain too?”

“yes, her whole body would turn so sore she couldn’t move. my dad was never really around, so tommy and i would be the ones running errands”

“oh, so the whole cramp thing is normal?”

“right, kiddo. that’s why you need all the support you can get during your period” he ruffles your hair, making you giggle.

“i need you all kids to take care of them, you got me? its already hard having periods on earth, its even harder when you are the only one having them, in this whole village”

“yes, sir”

“good. its turning dark. they needs rest" with jake’s words, the boys gives you an acknowledging looks before one by one steps out of your marui. not forgetting to bring their dirty dishes from their previous dinner. the girls however, are squeezing the life out of you with their hugs.

“come to me when your stomach’s all messed up. i would make you that drink again”

“yes, i will kiri”, you giggle.

“you know, if its hurting you too much”, tsireya starts, “maybe i could ask my mother to try to stop your periods”

you laugh, shaking your head at the thought of loosing your uterus, “no, reya. i will not, but thank you”

one last hug and the girls were off

“well, i guess my job here is done” neteyam smiles. he was the only one left beside you. his hand still pressing a water sack to your tummy,

“your trusty hot-water-sack-holder needs to go”

his smile turns brighter when you laugh.

“we should hang out tomorrow, teyam”

“yeah”, he whispers as he press his forehead on yours. a soft smile on his lips. your moment was quickly cut off by muffled laughs, your face went bright red as you realize the rest of them were all still standing near your marui

even his dad.

jake cleared his throat, “cmon, son, lets go”

their laughter broke as soon as neteyam approached them with burning cheeks, and was met with lo’ak’s playful swats on his shoulders that even the tips of his ears went flushed.

they weren’t so far away when you could hear spider’s voice,

“jake, when will i get my period?”

“men doesn’t get periods”

“ah shit... can i though, if i try hard enough?”

“just hold your shit in for a week, then you’ll get a period”

“that’ll be my ass bleeding”

their laughter broke once again. you too, couldn’t help but giggle. upon them, neteyam’s roaring laughter stand out the most. he was just glad they had stopped teasing him.

[kaydens-agere]

caregiver logan little wade headcanons im actually begging

Caregiver Logan Howlett/Wolverine and Regressing Wade Wilson/Deadpool Headcanons!!

Headcanons below the cut!! Thank you so much for the request, I had sm fun writing these :D This does have a bit of swearing so if you're uncomfortable with that, please proceed with caution or don't read!!

⚔️-Wade was surprisingly open about it with him when they first met, he didn't go into too much detail, but he just kinda said "yeah I regress sometimes when bad shit happens." and left it at that. Logan didn't push it because he knows it can be a sensitive topic (as a secret little himself)

❤️-It first happened with Logan after the party after saving their universe. After everyone left, he ended up dropping from the exhaustion. Logan immediately fell into "dad mode" as Wade likes to call it, pampering him constantly and keeping him safe.

⚔️-Logan was very surprised by Wade's... colourful language while he's little. Logan half expected him to act the complete opposite of how he normally does. But no, he's still Wade. And he still has quite the mouth.

❤️-Logan is extremely gentle while Wade is small, often scooping him up and peppering him with kisses. Wade absolutely loves it, it always sends him into a fit of giggles.

⚔️-Logan has an abundance of nicknames he likes using for Wade. Some of them include bub (obviously), kid/kiddo, baby, his kit, etc. Sometimes he'll call him a little shit, but it's said playfully and Wade knows he's joking (that's nothing compared to the insults that Wade can throw at him).

❤️-Wade starts inviting him to his tea parties. They spend a lot of time on the living room floor with his many tea sets, talking about the latest gossip among Wade's plushies. Al will join in when she's home.

⚔️-Heres how the tea parties normally go: "Mary started yelling at Chrissy the other day." "Oh yeah, bub? Whys that?" "Because Chrissy was cheating on her boyfriend!" "Oh, motherfucker. I knew something was up with her."

❤️-Logan often takes Wade to the park, or just big open areas to run around in, he either starts dragging Logan around with him or forces him to play tag. He has a lot of energy that he needs to get out, and it's hard to do that when he's cramped up in the small apartment. They always take Mary Puppins with them.

⚔️-Sometimes Wade will struggle with his scars when he's small, physically and mentally. Sometimes they'll burn and itch and it's a lot harder to deal with when he's tiny, so all he can do is curl up and cry. However, Logan always seems to know what to do, he'll always run him a nice warm bubble bath to ease the pain. If he's struggling mentally, it's usually him thinking that he's too ugly or scary to be loveable. Once again, Logan is there. This time, he'll offer lots of reassurance, cuddles and kisses all over his scars, which will usually make him feel a bit better.

❤️-Wade is an absolute spoiled brat, and Logan definitely feeds into it, no matter how hard he tries not to. If they're at a toy store, Wade will show him a toy he really likes, and if Logan says no, you best believe that Wade will throw a tantrum until he gets it (He always does. Logan's not proud of it, but he hates seeing his baby cry).

⚔️-Wade calls Logan "Papa" whenever he's small. It shocked him when it first happened, he didn't think he was worthy of that title. Logan definitely did not have to have a cry in the bathroom after that. /s

❤️-Logan can have doubts sometimes about whether he's doing a good enough job or whether he's even worthy enough to be trusted that much by someone. Whenever Wade senses this, he'll draw him a bunch of pictures and give him plenty of kisses and tell him that he's the best papa in the world, which makes Logan feel all warm and fuzzy.

⚔️-Logan rubs his head on Wade's a lot, it's his way of "scenting" him. He wants everyone to know that Wade is his baby, no one else's. It's comforting for Wade as well, he likes the sensation of his papa's fluffy cat hair rubbing against his face.

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

Logan taking care of you while you are on your period

You held your son, Jack in your arms as you rested in bed, it was Saturday morning, and you usually slept in. You woke up earlier, the worst cramps waking you up and getting out of bed. Though you wished you could've just stayed in your husband's arms. But you went to the bathroom, took medicine before hearing your son stir from his room. Grabbing Jack and slinging him on your hip, getting your period right now was extra sad for you. You were trying to get pregnant again, so every period was a letdown.

You checked in on Bailey who was sound asleep, her noise machine playing her forest sounds. You sighed, looking over at the pretty girl as your son curled up in your chest. You felt your heart warm as you held him tight. If you couldn't have more kids, you knew it would be okay, you loved your two children more than anything in the world. But that's why you wanted more of them; you were in love with your kids in a different type of way. You just adored their personalities, the traits they get from both of you and then some all of their own. The way they learned and grew into their own beings, talking, singing, crying and dancing.

Even in the tough moments you were grateful that a tantrum was the problem, that you didn't have an outside force causing you to mistreat your children. You were calm, collected, waiting it out with them, letting them know you were there. If they got physical with you, you softly told them to stop, never touching them until they calmed down and said it was okay. Then you spoke about your emotions when you got calm, you explained that they weren't in trouble. You explained in different ways for both kids, trying to patient with them. And teaching them to not treat other people that way, that you did not deserve it and they didn't. You loved play fighting though, Logan love throwing you and the kiddos around. Letting you tackle him; he was 300 pounds of adamantium, so he usually wouldn't tackle you guys. Sometimes he would come over you, pretending to squish you, not putting his full weight down. You would laugh and try to push him off of you which was nearly impossible.

You were a bigger girl and everything but if he didn't want you to move, he wouldn't let you. Inside and outside of the bedroom. You shook your head out of your thoughts as you turned back towards the bedroom. Slowly walking in and sliding your son in the middle of the bed as Logan turned to rub at Jack's back. You slid into bed across from his your hand reaching out to rest on his forearm. Then you fell back asleep.

When you woke up, you were joined by Bailey as she laid on her dad's side, Logan gone. You frowned, getting out of the bed and wondering out of your room. You walked down the hall to find him as he stood outside with a cigar in his mouth. "Baby." You murmured, walking over to him.

"Should go back to bed."

"Not without you." You breathed, nuzzling into his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist. His hand came up to your hair, realizing how extra touchy you were, and the time of month. Logan knew that you needed him. So he stubbed out his cigar before leading you back to the bedroom. Cuddling up with the two kiddos.

During the day you rarely got out of bed, you don't really know how he did it. How Logan managed to entertain the kids and come help you whenever you went calling. Trying to slip in cuddles sessions so he could rub your belly and talk to you. He didn't know what to say most of the time but he knew you found his voice soothing. He'd do anything for you, the kids joined you for nap time before you all got out of bed for dinner and ice cream. Going out to eat with them was always an interesting task but Logan wanted to treat you. His hand clasping yours in the car, the two of talking quietly about his work trauma while the kids talk to each other in the back.

After dinner and ice cream, he made a detour to Target. Letting you pick out things for the house and a toy or two for the kids. You even snuck in a new lingerie set, something you hid until the cashier scanned in front of him. Logan lifted an eyebrow as the kids pointed at Starbucks. "Daddy." Bailey whined.

"You're not a getting a shake right after ice cream." Logan retorted as she crossed her arms over her chest. The same sass you gave him shining in her eyes.

"I wasn't gonna get a milkshake!"

"Oh really?" Logan laughed, glancing over at you for support as you shrugged.

"There's other drinks there." You highlighted

"Y/n-"

"Its on me." You hummed, as he finished tapping his credit card and you swiped it from his hands kissing his cheek as you walked over to Starbucks with the kiddos. You got him his favorite tea, something he'd never admit to anyone. You handed him his card as he scooped up Jack to put in back in the cart.

"I was gonna let you. Just didn't want Bailey's stomach to hurt." Logan mumbled as he leaned in to kiss you.

"I know just teasing you baby." You assured, patting his chest. As he gleamed down at you with a smile that reached his eyes as he brought his tea up to his mouth.

tags:@ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

note: old man logan coming soon yall i got a couple going missed doing family fics

[mountainsandmayhem]

hey hun!! for your 500 followers celebration could you do 📝, of a scenario in which joel comes home to find you all cramped up and in pain since you began your period and he decides to be the comforting little man and cuddles you to death??

(no pressure!! 🥰🤗)

-vii💗💗

Joel: Period Master

18+, but mostly fluff

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

AN: Thank you sweet Viv for this ask. This is based in the Little Dove universe, but Sarah and Ellie are teenagers and living at home. 💋 also, I 100% did not edit or proof read this. Sorry!

Joel has had a long ass day. A joke of a day really. First the concrete was late, then someone broke the powered wheelbarrow so they were moving gravel by hand. Then it started raining and they scrambled to cover everything, the job site soon became a muddy mess. He’s desperately looking forward to a hot shower and a glass of whiskey.

He pulls into the garage to see your vehicle already parked, which is strange since you had plans with a friend for after work drinks.

He trudges from the truck to the back door, mud still breaking off his work boots along the shiny concrete floor of the garage. He toes them off before heading into the back entry. Your heels are tossed on the floor, work bag and jacket haphazardly placed on the bench.

“Babe?” He calls from the back door, walking around to the family room to find his two daughters curled up on the couches.

“Hi girls. Where’s your mom?”

They both shoot daggers from their eyes, Ellie clutching the blanket tighter around herself and Sarah flipping the ice pack that’s draped across the back of her neck.

Shit, already that time.

The joys of living with all women….they’ve synced up. His usually sweet teenagers daughters turn extra moody, but Joel is the supporter of this family in every way, so he is always prepared for this time each month. Sarah, usually the sweet tooth, needs salt and chocolate milk. Ellie, usually the salty one, needs Diet Coke and green gummy frogs. All things Joel keeps tucked up in a cupboard, or in the back of the beer fridge in the garage.

He sneaks quietly back into the living room, putting the emergency supplies for the girls down on the coffee table as they watch Dirty Dancing.

Ellie looks up at him with sad eyes, tears welling in the corners. “Thanks, dad.”

He crouches down beside her and rubs her lower back through the big fuzzy blanket she’s cocooned in. “You’re welcome, kiddo. Do you need anything else?”

Sarah’s head pops up from her couch, “Mom’s not doing well. You should go be with her.”

He kisses both his daughters on the foreheads, taking a big breath before walking down the hall to your bedroom. Nothing in this world breaks his heart more than seeing you in pain. He knows some months can be worse than others, he knows about the bloating and the large clots you deal with. He knows that you can be insatiably hungry one minute and throwing up the next. He knows that your cramps can have you on the floor in the matter of seconds most of the time.

He opens the door as quietly as possible, finding you curled in a tight ball under the down filled duvet, just your hair peaking out the top. The room is stifling hot, the air almost thick, it feels like being in Phoenix in July as he pads over to the bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, carefully climbing up beside you, trying not to disturb you. A lesson he learned a few years ago when you had finally gotten comfortable, only to be brought to big crocodile tears when he moved a pillow that was tucked against your back.

A sad groaning whine leaves your throat as his large palm dips under the blanket to cup your forehead. “Sweetie, you’re burning up.”

“I’m freezing,” you whine, pulling the big blanket tighter around you.

“Ok, baby girl. I’m here now,” he says, standing and stripping down to his boxers briefs. You peek your eyes over the blanket, watching the way his strong body flexes and relaxes, the muscles ripping as he moves. The summer sun has tanned his arms a beautiful golden brown.

He wanders around to lay behind you. “Let me in, honey.”

You let go of the blanket so he can slip under, his warmth immediately sinking into you, heating your sore and achy body all the way to the bone. “You’re practically naked under here, Little Dove.”

You sink back into his heat. “Don’t look, I’m wearing the worst granny panties and one of those super pads.”

His hands trail around your slides, a large palm resting on the very bottom of your belly where the cramps are, hand sliding under the band of your incredibly unattractive panties. “You’re sexy to me no matter what you wear.”

Joel begins kneading the muscles of your lower abdomen, simulating the contracting of your uterus and the pain begins to ease. You moan and relax more into your perfect man.

“That feel good?” He says in a deep, gravel filled whisper.

“Mm-hmmm,” you hum, closing your eyes and finally feeling relief from the debilitating cramps.

Joel pulls you in tighter and kisses your shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re suffering, baby. I’m going to take care of you. Anything you need, I’ll do it or get it.”

“DAAAAAAD!!” Sarah and Ellie call in unison from the couch. “PIZZAAAA!!!”

You snort a little laugh. Poor Joel, having to deal with all these uterus’s.

“Pizza party?” You ask.

“Anything for my girls.” He hums, stubble grazing the shell of your ear.

“Anything?” You say mischievously.

“You’re not painting my toe nails again”

“Damn. I have this new hot pink that I think would really suit you,” you tease.

Joel’s quiet for a moment, still kneading the muscles absentmindedly, but with incredible care and precision. “I’ll lend you my favourite sweats and t shirt if you stay away from my toes.”

“Deal,” you say with a wince.

“What’s wrong?” Joel says, pulling you onto your back so he can look you over. Concern etching his eyebrows.

You reach up and rub the creases spot with your thumb, his eyes meeting yours. “Butt hole cramp,” you say flatly.

Joel smirks down at you, at this angle your swollen, heavy breasts are on display for him. “Want me to kiss it better?”

“You’re a menace, Joel Miller. And our daughters will riot if we don’t get them pizza soon.”

Joel lends you his clothes and helps you get dressed before sliding on his jeans and t shirt. He kisses your forehead and helps you to the lazy boy chair, brining your king sized duvet with him to wrap you up.

“I’ll be back with pizza,” he says to the group.

As soon as he’s out of ear shot Ellie pipes up, “do you think if we play this up we can get him to let us paint his toe nails again?”

[bits-and-babs]

i’m so sorry for your loss. i hope you’ve received a lot of requests though and are managing to stay distracted 💛

could i please request some soft period sex with din djarin? i’ve been loving your din fics lately and there really aren’t enough people out there writing for him, so thank you for doing god’s work!!

𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

» PAIRING : The Mandalorian x f! Reader

» CONTENTS : established fwb relationship, feeeelinggggs, period sex (duh), p in v sex, he talks you through it, cream pie (must I say it again, *wrap it kids*). He removes the helmet but you don’t see his face. Romantic as Mando can get. 18+, kiddos.

» AUTHORS NOTE : thank you for your condolences sweet pea. I’m doing much better with all these asks to work through!

» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here

“You’re in pain.”

For a man that doesn’t like droids, the voice that floats through The Mandalorians modulator sure sounds droid-esque. His tone is flat, devoid of emotion as he tries to ascertain the reason for your scrunched-up brows.

“I’m fine,” you dismiss awkwardly. The Mandalorian would have to set you alight with his flamethrower vambrace if he wanted to pry the information out of you.

Your period has started, settling a creeping pain across your lower back that kicks into what you can only describe as cramp-hyperspace. You’re both irritable and needy simultaneously, desperate for his attention yet frustrated by his presence all at once. Besides, you couldn’t call what you and The Mandalorian had a ‘relationship’. Sharing a cot every once in a while to ease the frustration built in a tin can in hyperspace wasn’t exactly marriage, was it?

A leather-clad hand gently finds its way onto the small of your back, rubbing slowly against the tight muscles there and soothing the ache that’s so intense it feels like it may pull away the flesh from your spine.

“I heard…” The Mandalorian hesitates for a moment, a twang of nervousness sounding from the tip of his tongue. “I heard that release is… is good for the pain.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach when his visor tilts to you, taking in your expression. His hand slides along the curve of your ass ever so gently, a ghost of a touch that feels more likely to be a figment of the force than something the big, burly Mandalorian could muster.

“Mando-“

He’s on you in a second, grabbing underneath your ass and hoisting you upwards in a strong lift that makes your head spin. You push your forehead to the smooth, cold metal of his helmet as he struggles to pull your pants down. He doesn’t get them past your knees, pushing your back against the wall and groaning as he works at his flight suit.

“I-I’m bleeding, Man-“

“I don’t care,” he rasps, voice dripping with arousal as he pulls his cock out from his pants. You can hear him work at it for a moment, his breath picking up as you whimper. “If you want me to fuck you- if that’s what you need- stars- I’ll give it to you, pretty baby, give you anything you need.”

He’s babbling, pushing your panties to the side and swiping his gloved fingers through your folds until the leather catches on your clit. You gasp loudly, the slight friction enough for your hips to jump off the wall.

Mando doesn’t hesitate, lining the head of his cock against your entrance before pushing into you with such ease. You take him so well, your body desperate to be filled by him that it offers no resistance at all. A groan tears from his throat like someone had punched him straight in the gut, wheezing slightly when he feels the head of his dick bitch against your cervix.

It should hurt, and it does, but stars, it feels so good, too. Your back is arching against the cool durasteel, tears welling in your eyes as he rolls his hips impossibly deeper. The coarse hair on his pubic bone grinds just right against your clit, and your walls clamp around his cock while you whine out his name.

“I know, Baby Girl, I know,” he breathes, his hips starting a languid, steady pace that has you digging your fingernails into the pauldrons on his shoulders. It stretches you out just right, your hips raising to meet each thrust as you sigh out his name in what could only be described as some kind of prayer.

“MmmMando,” you moan, head tilting back until your crown hits the wall behind you. Eyes cast to the heavens, they tear up as tendrils of pleasure work their way up your spine, Mando’s hips already working you towards bliss in a way only he could.

“Close your eyes, Pretty Baby,” you hear him groan, his voice gravelly. You do so without question, eyelids heavy already with the intensity of the pleasure building between your thighs.

There’s a shift, a mumble of ‘keep ‘em closed’ that sounds too loud to be him, and then his lips are on your neck. Nando’s lips are on your neck, kissing and sucking at your skin as he ruts into you at a blinding pace.

“Ohmy- Mando-“ you choke out, tears streaming down your cheeks at the overwhelming rush of adrenaline, of emotions. The coarse hair of a trimmed beard you didn’t know he had bristles your skin, and he whispers a moan against the junction of your shoulder.

“Fuck, Baby,” he chokes out, his hand gripping at the flesh just beneath the curve of your ass where he holds you up. “So fucking wet, so tight for me, Baby. That’s it, I know, I know, I can feel it-“

You’re arching into him, moaning louder. The sound of your keens bounces off the walls of the hanger, ricocheting back into your ears as you feel your orgasm work its claws into your abdomen.

“I’ve got you,” Mando soothes you, even with the strain in his voice, “I’ve got you, m’here.”

It sends you dropping through space, plummeting past the stars and the planets as he hits something vital inside you. You’re cumming, bliss spilling through your body and momentarily blinding you as everything blurs before your eyes. It roils through you, tears you apart at the seams like you’ve been stretched and ripped open in the best way.

You must be screaming, must be wailing and sobbing his name, because Mando is offering you a chorus of ‘I know I know I know’. You’re so tight around him, gushing on his cock and his hips stutter, spitting out your name against the column of your throat in a voice that’s unmodulated and crystal clear as he cums, filling you up when he spills inside of you.

You’re both panting heavily, legs like jelly and bodies buzzing with a burning afterglow that could compete with the twin suns of Tatooine.

“M-Must have made a mess,” you whimper, voice cracking. Your eyes stay firmly shut, even when you hear him chuckle and feel him press a kiss to your jaw.

“That’s what a shower is for, isn’t it?”

You share the shower, share a cot in your moments of frustration on this tin can in hyperspace. Mando takes his helmet off for you, kissing and whispering utter bantha-shite while he smoothes your discomfort… Maybe it is a marriage proposal, after all.

[daisyblog]

Birthday Twin

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN and Harry welcome their baby girl into the world.

Warning: labour, delivery, child birth, gas and air

11th of April 2024

35 weeks and 5 days pregnant

The Tomlinson family had all travelled to Doncaster for a few days of celebrating YN turning thirty. 

“Your last couple of days of being twenty nine Kiddo!”. Louis gently ruffled YN’s hair as he walked by her in their grandparents kitchen. Both filling their plates with some more food from the buffet spread their Nan had made. 

“Don’t remind me!” YN groaned as she reached over and put some extra sandwiches on her plate. 

“Fookin’ ‘ell, is baby girl hungry tonight?”. Louis joked as he watched his sister continue to fill her plate that was already slightly full of food. 

YN laughed as she looked at her plate compared to Louis. “Your niece is a foodie, what can I say?”. She naturally ran her hand over her large bump. 

“Can I?” Louis gestured towards her tummy, his way of asking if he could touch. When YN nodded, Louis placed his hand over bump. “‘ello little one, are you gonna come and meet us soon?”. 

“You’re going to spoil her rotten aren’t you?”. YN couldn’t help but smile at the small interaction. She had witnessed her brother as a brother, dad and uncle already and she could tell how much love he already had for her little girl. 

“Uh obviously, I just hope she comes before tour starts again.” 

---

12th of April 2024

35 weeks 6 days pregnant 

8:30am

YN suddenly woke from small niggles in her lower stomach, something she had been experiencing for a few weeks. She tried to ignore the dull ache and go back to sleep, but after tossing and turning, she gave in and got up. 

As she entered the kitchen she noticed her grandmother sitting at the table with a cup of tea in her hand. “Morning my love, you’re awake early!”. 

YN began to make herself a cup of tea, as she sat beside Jen. “Morning Nan, yeah braxton hicks again!”. 

“You’ve been having them a lot haven’t you darling?”. Jen had a concerned look on her face as she watched her eldest granddaughter stir her tea. 

YN only shrugged her shoulders. “Apparently it’s normal at this stage, I just didn’t realise how painful they could be”. 

11:00am

As the morning went on YN noticed how the niggles only continued and become a tad more painful. But not wanting to draw attention or to cause everyone to worry, especially Harry, she suggested her and Harry take Teddy for a walk.

They were walking through the quiet field, Teddy running just a bit in front of them, when YN stopped suddenly and held her tummy as a sharp pain caught her off guard.

“What’s wrong babe? Are you alright?” Harry immediately went into panic mode, worry evident all over his face. His hand protectively wrapped around her smaller frame. 

“Yeah, just cramp that’s all”. YN noticed Harry’s worried look, his eyebrows in a tight frown and tried her best to hide how much pain she was really in. “I’m fine, it’s braxton hicks again.”. 

Although Harry wasn’t fully convinced, they continued their walk before heading back to the house. 

2:00pm 

Within a few hours, the pain had gotten worse with YN baring her weight on anyone or anything to try and ease the pain. It was when YN cried out in pain, as she grabbed onto Louis’ hand, that Harry decided to take matters into his own hands. 

“I’m phoning the hospital, this can’t just be braxton hicks!” Harry announced as he began to dial the number on his phone. 

“Harry’s right Tiny, you’re in far too much pain for this not to be real labour”. Louis agreed with Harry, taking note at how much his sister was squeezing his hand. 

After phoning the hospital and explaining everything to the midwife, Harry was told that it sounded like YN was in early labour and they needed to monitor and time how quick she was having contractions. 

At this news Daisy, Phoebe and the other men decided to take Lucky and Olive to Phoebe and Jack’s house to give YN some space before she had to go to hospital. 

“Ahhhh!” YN cried out in pain as she held onto Harry for support. “This hurts so fookin’ much!”.

Harry rubbed circles on YN’s back, trying to comfort her as much as he could. “I know baby…but you’re doing so well.”.

“You’re doing so well YN”. Lottie praised her sister from where she sat next to Louis. “All the pain is worth it in the end, trust me”.

“Lottie’s right Tiny…just think you’ll be holding your baby sooner than you thought”. Louis gave Harry a small smile, knowing how special that moment will be for them both. 

5:30pm

With her contractions lasting around a minute and only being five minutes apart, YN found herself in the hospital with gas and air being her new best friend. 

YN was lying down on the bed, the gas and air attachment in her mouth as she breathed through another contraction. Harry sat on one side of the bed telling her how proud of her he was and saying how it wouldn’t be long until their little one would be here. 

“Harry…baby…I can’t do this!”. YN’s head hit the white plump pillow behind her, as the contraction ended. “I’m so tired already.”.

“You can do it and you are doing it”. Harry brushed some of her away from her face. “You’re making me so proud!”. 

“YN, you’re doing amazing and just remember nothing worth having is easy”. Lottie encouraged her sister, having been through labour and birth herself, she what to say. 

“Listen to your birthing partners YN, you’re doing amazing”. The midwife smiled proudly at how supportive and calm they both were. “How about trying to the birthing pool?”. 

Harry helped YN into the pool and instantly YN’s once tense body was now relaxed. In between contractions she began to make jokes about how she’s glad she had shaved her legs before that day. 

When the next contraction hit, Harry was quick to kneel down beside the pool and hold onto YN’s hand as she took in the gas and air to numb the pain. “That’s it, keep breathing through the pain, you’re doing so well love”. 

8:00pm

“So how did you two meet?”. The midwife began to make conversation with the couple as another contraction ended.

YN was back sitting on the bed, the attachment still in her hand whilst her other one held Harry’s. “He was my brother’s best friend”.

“Oh how interesting!” The midwife leaned forward in her chair, eager to hear more. “How did that go? You know breaking the news to him?”.

“Not well but he came around pretty quickly”. Harry explained as YN worked her way through another sharp pain. 

“I wouldn’t have listened even if he didn’t come around”. YN allowed the gas and air to do a little bit of talking. “Couldn’t resist the charm”. 

Before anyone could respond, a gush of water surrounded YN and turned the blue sheet below a darker shade. “And that’s your water breaking!” The midwife announced before she helps YN to clean herself up. 

11:45pm

The contractions were coming thick and fast, YN was attached to the gas and air more than ever and Harry tried to hide how hard she was squeezing his hand. 

“YN I’m going to exam you, is that alright darling?”. The midwife stood at the bottom on the bed, gloves covering her fingers ready for the examination. With YN’s permission, the midwife began to see how far YN was dilated. “Oh darling, I can feel baby’s head, do you feel like you-“.

Before the midwife finished; YN let out a small groan as she bore down and began to push. Harry was overwhelmed with joy, excitement but also nervousness that any minute now their whole world was about to change. 

“Keep listening to your body YN, you’re doing amazing my darling” the midwife encouraged as she continued to watch the baby’s head begin to crown. 

“Aww I can see her head!”. Lottie’s excited voice could be heard as she took in every moment of watching her niece being born. 

YN took a rest in between contractions before she needed to push again. “I love you  “. Harry placed a peck to YN’s forehead. 

“I love you too!”. 

0:01am

After several more pushes, Harry and Lottie were in awe as the tiny little baby appeared and was placed on YN’s bear chest. The tears streamed down YN and Harry’s cheeks. 

“Hello baby girl!”. YN held her daughter tight, and kissed her head gently. Despite all the pain YN was still in, a large smile covered her face as she looked down at the small version of herself and Harry.

“Baby girl born one minute past midnight on the thirteen of April, weighting six pound exactly”. The midwife announced to the three of them. 

Harry smiled down at his wife and newborn daughter. “Happy birthday baby!”. It was in that moment that YN had realised that their little girl was born on her thirtieth birthday. 

---

13th of April 2024

6 hours old

“Thank you.” Harry spoke into the quiet and calm room as he held their newborn in his bare arms. “You’re a real life superwoman for doing all that and bringing our girl into the world!”.

“I’d do it a thousand times again because she was totally worth it”. YN watched as Harry’s hand held onto the tiny newborn fingers. “I couldn’t have done it without you or Lotts though.”.

“She’s your double”. Harry smiled as he observed the little’s one features, all resembling her mother’s. “She looks like your Mum too!”. He gave YN a sad smile. 

YN didn’t want to get too emotional at the thought that her Mum wasn’t there to meet her daughter, so she tried to remain positive. “I think me Mum sent her as a birthday gift and it’s the best gift I’ve ever had”. 

---

Instagram Reel:

Made by Lottie

The black and white video begins, the sound of Heartbeat by James Arthur playing over it. 

YN is sat on the birthing ball, her hips moving slowly, in her grandparents living room. Harry kneeling down in front of her, holding her gently and whispering how well she’s doing. Louis is sat to her side, holding onto her hand and being a support whilst he can. 

In the hospital corridor, YN has her neck tucked into Harry’s chest as they stop to allow her to breathe through a contraction. Harry places small pecks to the top of her head. 

Sitting crossed leg on the bed, YN takes in the gas and air that she’s holding up to her mouth. Her eyes are closed as she’s breathing through each contraction. 

YN is in the birthing pool, the gas and air still attached to her hand has she takes in another breath, Harry is kneeling down by her side. She holds onto his hand, he looks on with a slight frown on his face as he watches his wife work through another contraction. 

Now lying on the bed, YN cradles her new born daughter to her chest, tears running down her and Harry’s face as they meet their little baby for the first time. Grace Johannah Robyn Styles had stolen their hearts and YN couldn’t have asked for a better birthday gift. 

---

ynstyles

liked by annetwist, lottietomlinson, and 5,634,543 others

ynstyles Grace Johannah Robyn Styles🤍 View all 15,788 comments

niallhoran Aww my little bestie❤️Can’t wait to meet her xx ⌞ ynstyles Little Grace is excited to meet her Uncle Niall!!

gemmastyles I’M AN AUNTIE🥰❤️Thank you both for blessing me with the most beautiful niece xx ⌞ynstyles AUNTIE GEM🩷

annetwist My family grows and my heart is so full❤️Congratulations my darlings! Grace is a beautiful little girl and I love you all very much xxx ⌞ynstyles We love you😘🥰Thank you for being the best Grandma already❤️

lottietomlinson Our beautiful Grace!! What a magical moment watching her come into the world. Love you all ❤️ ⌞ynstyles Thank you for being there every step of the way Lotts!! I’m so glad I got to share that special moment with you. Love you lots🩷

louist91 Can’t wait for more cuddles!! Proud of you both!! Grace is amazing!!xx ⌞ynstyles Grace loved her snuggles with Uncle Lou xxx ⌞harryfan3 Uncle Louis🥹 ⌞louisfan7 I bet Louis is the best uncle!!!!

zayn congrats guys! So happy for you. Big love x ⌞ynstyles Thanks Z! Hope to see you soon xx ⌞1dfan6 OMG!!! WE’RE GETTING A REUNION!

louteasdale 🥹🥹🥹Congratulations babes, can’t wait for a cuddle xx

liampayne Congratulations both. Can’t wait to meet her!

the.daisytomlinson Another precious niece to love🩷 So proud of you sis xx

thephoebetomlinson Olive’s little bestie🩷🩷

marktommo1111 Beyond proud❤️Another chapter begins!xx

mrlewisburton Congratulations to both of you. Welcome to parenthood❤️

sallietommo A precious baby girl! So proud of you beautiful girl❤️❤️❤️

perrieedwards Congratulations babes🩷Welcome to motherhood xx

pillowpersonpp Wow! What a cutie🥹

daniellepeazer Beautiful name🤍Can’t wait to meet her☺️

ryan.viggars ❤️

jefezoff Congrats guys! Very happy for you both!

j_corden A huge congratulations. Can’t wait to meet the little one

jack.varley7 Congrats guys!!

brianasrealaccount Congratulations Auntie YN and Uncle Harry. I can’t wait to meet baby Grace. I love you so much, love from Freddie❤️ ⌞ynstyles We can’t wait to see you Fred! Grace can’t wait for cuddles from her big cousin. Love and miss you soooooo much😘

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl @buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream @treehouse-mouse

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bittersweet Symphony 4

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Thor

Summary: you meet a god in real life but he’s not the saviour you think.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Is Thor coming over?” Joanie asks. 

You try not to sigh. It’s the third day of her visit and the second morning she’s asked after the Asgardian. You hate telling her no. She’s not very good at hiding her disappointment. You smile. 

“Kiddo, I think he’s pretty busy. Saving people and all--” 

“Do you think he’s really friends with Captain America? And Iron Man? Mom said that it’s all fake,” she asks. 

You put the bowl of cereal in front of her, “well, mom thinks everything is fake, doesn’t she?” You shrug. “Come on, eat up. We’re going to hit Central Park today. Got a long way to go.” 

“A park?” She whines, “but I wanna see Thor!” 

“Kid,” you utter. 

“He likes you!” She chirps, “I saw him smiling at you.” 

“He smiles at everything. By that logic, he was in love with his cupcake,” you snort. 

“Mhm, I saw the message he sent you too!” She bobs her head defiantly. 

“Joan-- you read my texts?” You sputter. 

“Your phone lit up, I don’t know.” 

“You're nine years old, you shouldn’t be worried about my phone,” you rebuke. 

“He got your number. I watch those old movie with mom and I know what that means,” she grins. 

“Enough,” your cheeks burn. 

“I told you, he likes you,” she sings. 

“Joanie,” you cross your arms. 

“Are you gonna get married?” 

“Joan! We haven’t even gone on a date--” 

“You’re going on a date?” She bounces in her chair. 

You huff and drop your hands to your hips, “you are sneaky.” You shake your head. You shouldn’t let her get to you like that. “Eat your cereal, I need to get dressed.” 

You turn and stride away as she giggles into her bowl. You untie your fleece robe as you enter the bedroom and pick out a burgundy circle skirt and black tank to go with it. It should be pretty hot so you’ll only bring a light sweater. 

You pick out some clothes from Joanie’s bag; her pink jeans and a lilac shirt with some child’s show on the front. You go to clean up her empty bowl as she changes. You brush your teeth and make sure she does the same. She’s easy enough to manage but when she’s hyper, she’s hard to rein in. You’re hoping a day of exploring can tire her out. 

Once you’re cleaned up and ready to go, you head out to catch the train. You tell her not to let go of your hand and you’re sure to take your own advice. When your stop comes, you’re relieved to be free of the cramped train car and the smell of body odour. 

You point out the Museum on your way and don’t mention the Zoo further down. That would be another tangle of strangers you’re not in the mood to deal with. You enter the park under the archway and take a few pictures to send to your mom. 

As you set off further into the park, your name booms above the city buzz. Joanie jumps in her shoes and you both turn to face the baritone. Thor sprints up with a wave. 

“Ah, what fate,” he stops in front of you with a triumphant puff of his chest, “I was only on my way to see a friend and I happened by.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head skeptically. 

“How could I miss those ears,” he pinches one of the cat ears on Joanie’s hat. 

She smiles and wiggles giddily, “Thor!” 

“Yes, little one,” he laughs, “I hope I am not intruding very much.” 

“No, we’re just going on a walk,” you explain. 

“A walk? May I join you?” 

“What about your friend?” You wonder. 

“Hm, yes, well, Tony is not answering my calls. Nor is my brother. They’ve been elusive as late so I must admit I find myself restless,” he admits, rather forelorn. 

“Ah, busy, I guess,” you suggest. 

“Likely, yes,” he agrees. 

“Well, no point standing around I guess,” you grab Joanie’s hand and pull her along the trail. Thor comes up on her other side and she takes his hand too. 

“It is a lovely day,” he says. “I am gladdened to have found good company for it.” 

“Thor?” Joanie squeaks, “when you say Tony... do you mean Iron Man?” 

“Joanie,” you chide. 

“He is a friend, yes. If you are not too busy, I could arrange a visit to his tower. Perhaps tomorrow?” He offers. 

“Oh, really, we couldn’t--” 

“That’s awesome!” Joanie hollers. You hide your embarrassment. It’s all so exciting to her but you hate to take so much when you don’t have very much to give. 

“Yes, awesome,” he agrees. 

You walk on as Joanie rambles on about Iron Man and Cap and her other favourite, Black Panther. Thor informs her that he is not sure he could just walk into Wakanda but that T’Challa may just show up. You listen in dread. He’s so nice but he shouldn’t do all that just for her.  

“Ooh!” Joanie hops and rips her hand away, “I wanna ride the pony!” 

She points at the horse and carriage. You catch her before she can run ahead. You have a fearful vision of her getting caught under the clopping hooves. 

“Joanie, hold up,” you say. 

“Ah, yes, I would also like a ride,” Thor agrees, “princesses.” 

He gestures you ahead of him and you send him a look. He grins and bows his head. You keep your grasp on Joanie and take her over to the carriage as it slows.  

“Thor,” the driver ignores you for the man at your back. 

“Ernest!” The boisterous man greets him familiarly. “Shall we?” 

“Sure thing, buddy,” the driver agrees. 

You glance between the two men, surprised. You help Joanie up and put your foot on the step. You grab the side of the carriage to haul yourself up and feel your skirt brush against Thor as he stands close. You quickly hurl yourself onto the bench, overly conscious of your body. 

He gets in sits across from you. He thanks Ernest and claps his thighs excitedly. 

“You come here a lot?” You wonder. 

“Ah, yes, I love horses. Most creatures. Your planet has many endearing ones. There is a little chipmunk outside my window. He is not fond of the sparrow that nested in his tree.” He shakes his head. It sounds as if he can understand the critters but surely that’s absurd. 

“Cute,” you comment. 

“Oh, yes, very cute,” he agrees. “I’ve found many cute creatures here on Midgard.” 

He stares at you and Joanie leans into you. She tugs on your arm and you peer down. She wiggles her brows and you shake your head. He definitely doesn’t mean you. 

[alnilaem]

a toxic ghoap wip i had in my drafts from months ago but will no longer be continuing. i just wanna dump it here lol

cw for misogyny, smut, (internalized) homophobia, hedonism, sacrilege, prostitution mention, ghost is an ass

pls heed all tags, this was a vent fic, and also bare in mind im never gonna finish this lmao

-

Johnny's world is asymmetrical.

His world. His beginning and his end. Humvees and Dauphin 2 helis and deployments around the globe. Undercover operations, saving women and children, the comforting carbon steel of a rifle in his hands. 

It’s an unspoken stigma, but it’s there. Materialising as insults while his lads take the piss out of each other, and in the form of dishonourable discharges. 

The stigma has always been there. It has no start and no finish, so Johnny can’t remember where it came from, but he knows it was there since primary, where boys would kick girls at the bends of their knees and yank on their pigtails, squatting to the floor to get a look-see up their chequered skirts and cackle, all while Johnny stood off to the side, overtly uncomfortable. 

Mum’s complained. Teacher’s were involved. Dad’s simply said, “Boys will be boys,” and the situation was brushed under the carpet.

The stigma tailed Johnny into secondary school. His older cousin lent him a suit for formal, which prompted Johnny awkwardly standing on his doorstep with his date—a pretty lass named Rory—as his mam snapped a spate of photos. 

Johnny’s disposition was a grave juxtaposition to Rory’s. She was all grins and giggles, cantered into Johnny’s arm, while he was inelastically poised with tight lips. 

His mam wouldn’t stop pinching his supple cheeks, trying to shepherd a smile out of him. She gave up, throwing her hands in the air and wheedling them off the porch, tacking on an ornate, “Have fun, kiddos!” as they pooled into Johnny’s scrap metal car. 

Johnny felt as if he was lacking something. As if his wings had been clipped by the world a little too soon. It’s always been like that. A piece of him plucked from his wracking ribs and stolen, ever since he was a little boy. So in a lapse of judgement, in order to prove himself, to shatter the bubbling stigma, Johnny sought out the most masculine thing to offset his failure: follow in the steps of his cousin, and enlist. 

It was a rashly undertaken decision, but a decision he stuck with, because, for the first time in forever, Johnny’s old man clasped his shoulder in pride. 

But stigma was an incessant little thing. Because even in military school, it followed him closely. As Johnny’s school brothers had Playboy rafts and pin-up girls folded into their pillow cases, he would blunder upon being asked, “Who’d ye shag?” by his mate. 

In boot camp, he was a lowly private, whose hands would jade and cramp from cleaning rifles. They gave him blisters. And so his bunkmate—a nice lad from Glasgow with a crooked nose—would tend to his fingers during their lunch routine. Hidden somewhere in the corner, making jokes about their Drill Instructor. Callum, was his name. He’d swathe Johnny’s hands in gauze and garnish it with a lopsided smiley face. It always sucked, fell apart half way, but he did it anyway. 

That’s when Johnny started blistering his hands on purpose. 

Wedging his thumb in the dip of a garand and not pulling it out until it was swollen. Then he’d snivel, seeking Callum out in their barracks. There was a pull in Johnny’s stomach, half of an ebb that finished Callum’s flow. It would give him rashly undertaken ideas—such as fixing his hand in the lid of an armoury shell—for Callum to fix up. Johnny would find him among their other friends, beseeching with his cobalt eyes, holding out a hand.

In enlistment, his confusion ripened into a gravely miscalculated realisation. That it wasn't an affinity for men Johnny wanted to be—to attract ladies with his chest candy and the brandished title of military man—no, it reared its ugly head when Johnny finally became his own private. Grinning, at the time, clean-shaven and giddy as his mother snapped a spate of photos of him saluting in his new uniform, plaintively whining when she reached out to adjust his garrison cap because “It’s lopsided, pumpkin!” To which Johnny, under the searing gaze of his fellow privates, would clip, “‘Cos it’s meant to be like tha’, ma!”

Johnny didn’t know when it started. He just remembered realising how good Callum looked one day at the range—sweat sluicing down his pale neck, disappearing behind his lapels, ass filling out the space of his pants as he would squat to the ground and aim for the faraway target. Before he knew it, Johnny was seizing lights out. Using the time to sneak off to the bathrooms and cramp a fist around his leaking cock, beating his dick to the thought of him. Him, him, him. 

Johnny’s sordid thoughts didn’t emulate what his granny had planned for him—to pass down her old wedding stack once he “Found the right lass,” to bring home to her; it wasn’t what the Orthodox spiels of sermons and hymns and praise on Sunday’s drilled into him; it wasn’t what his uncle was anticipating—“Got a girlfrien’ yet, Johnny-boy? Ah, why’re ye frowning! Soon enough, ye will.”

His fantasies rivalled those of his squadmates. Because on his first tour, a summer ten years ago in the chilly expanse of Northern Ireland was a woman that approached them. Denim skirt and a mulberry red halter top. Kitten heels, sunglasses. Shiny lipgloss. She tried to ply them by batting her eyes, offering her services. She was smart. Military men always paid. It’s the desperation that got to them most of the time, a tinge of worry, and a hint of entitlement. They took the bait. Rode her back to camp and took their turns with her.

When it was Johnny’s turn, he listlessly declined and hung his head. He said he had a lass waiting for him back home—Rory—that’s the first name that popped in his head. His secondary school girlfriend in which he sobbed on when he tried kissing her. Johnny said he had a bird, just like all his other lads, with pictures of their wives and girlfriends pinned to the massive cork board in the middle of their camp. But they had no problem indulging themselves. 

They were shoving him around, calling him all sorts of names, bullying him into following them. And that’s when Johnny caved. A cacophony of hollers flared out around him as he ducked into the tent where the woman lay, thin bed sheets hiked up to her collarbones, her previous lipgloss smeared over her chin.

Johnny said, “Hi, how are you?” Because that’s what his mother taught him. She softly giggled. 

Not at him, but with his overdue respect.

Johnny shucked off his uniform with trembling hands, mounting her with his dick flaccid and stomach flipping. He remembers ruminating, “Why don’t you like it? You should like it. Love it,” but his heart leapt to his throat and his navel twisted, heart seized as the head of his cock kept slipping around her messy opening, poking her thigh. His throat constricted, dry, then slackened. A muffled sob wracked through him. Barely concealed by the threshold of his thin lips. He pushed his tongue into the roof of his mouth and buried his face in the crook of her neck, collapsing into her bare chest, furiously wiping his tears into the inflatable mattress.

Then, the body beneath him quivered. Johnny hoisted himself up, a spiel of apologies curling off of his tongue, when he realised she was crying too. The same type as him—wrung out, jaded, tired. She blindly reached out for him and pulled him close. Not reaching for his dick nor biting sensual whispers into his ear. They held each other for a little while, coalescing as their cries muffled into each other’s skin. Then, she pushed him off. Slid off the mattress and snaked her into her clothes. 

They both left the tent shaking. She was still sniffling. His lads cheered as she walked away and clapped him on the back. 

That’s when Johnny realised there wasn't a place for him in his world. Johnny shrunk himself, half the light he used to be, pushing himself into a little box as his world around him clipped off his wings. 

Now, Johnny’s world consists of something a little different. 

Something sinewy and rough around the edges. Gruff, but tactical. Calm, akin to the placid sea, but could flip a switch and emulate its choppy waters if he wanted to, too. Big, striking, with eyes that could kill a sailor. A deep timbre mandated by Manchester. Wide-set shoulders but a willowy waist, hips that sway as he walks. A macabre mask and skeletal gloves—ones that have Johnny wrapped tightly around his fingers.

Johnny grew into himself between serving in the parachute regiment to selection for the SAS. He got rougher. Learned how to hide himself better. Perfectly fit himself within the Task Force, around men who would become his best friends and brothers. He’s otherwise your normal guy. Goes to the bar with the team when they’re able. Shooting darts with Gaz (“You’ve got a Marksman badge but can’t score more than two points? C’mon, mate…”); pool with Price; and drinks with Ghost.

Beer always sloshes over the lip of Ghost’s glass when they clink their drinks. It crashes up and over the Brit’s fingers, dripping down his hands, between his thick fingers. Johnny always resists the urge to lean in close and lick the wash of alcohol glistening Ghost’s knuckles. 

But they’re just friends. Apparently. Because friends don’t fuck.

It started way down in Chicago’s heart, after another op. Gaz—ever the exploiter of his puppy eyes—managed to ply Price into stopping at a bar instead of heading straight back to base for paperwork. So they stopped at a little hole-in-the-wall, still rife with adrenaline, spreading out and all doing their own thing.

Johnny and Ghost were sat around a rickety table with wobbly legs. A spread of peanut shells around them and sticky rings of alcohol from their glasses glossing the surface. Ghost raised an arm to wipe his eyes, knocking over Johnny’s beer in the process. An expletive crossed the Brit’s tongue and he apologised, grasping a fistful of napkins and scrubbing it over Johnny’s soaked shirt. 

It ebbed and flowed in long, rough strokes. Ghost’s hand gliding over Johnny’s legs, Ghost’s middle finger and thumb snapped around Johnny’s thigh, his grasp cutting into the sinews. 

It wasn’t that different from suturing a teammate up after a mission. But with the unsaid admiration Johnny had for him, tempered by the hint of alcohol on the roof of his mouth and the hazel canopy of Ghost’s lashes, over his focused eyes, arousal quickly seized Johnny.

Ghost’s hand brushed over a tent on Johnny’s jeans. One that hadn’t been there before. He cut his next stroke from the root, pausing, and blinked up at his friend. 

The Scotsman felt a wound up spring in his stomach. He turned away, smacking Ghost’s hand, and ran a hand through his black tuft of hair, slapping both sides of his shaved heads. He felt his lungs betray him—squeezing like dried fruit and refusing to expand—to yield to his sudden heavy breathing and quick succession of heartbeats.

Johnny shook his head. Sputtering. “Lad, y’know, sometimes we can’t control ‘em–” 

The words died on his tongue when Ghost flattened hand against the bend of his knee. He was testing the waters. 

Johnny looked back, gulping, and took the bait. He inched his knee closer, until it met with Ghost’s thick leg. It’s something he’s done so many times. When he was starved for friction but couldn’t make it overtly obvious—grazing Ghost’s hand passing him a flare; knocking his foot under the table during debrief (“Sorry, lad,”); applying extra gauze to a slice in his torso just to feel Ghost’s chest throb below his fingers a little more.

But this is different. Something Johnny’s chased for so long. A tangible ghost on his tongue for a flavour he’s longed for with just fantasies while he fucked his fist late into the night. 

Ghost tightened his hold on Johnny’s thigh. “Sons of bitches, ain’t they?” 

His voice was taut. As was the muscle between Johnny’s shoulders.

They exchanged a glance. Soundless, but not wordless. Then Ghost slunk his hand down and wrapped it around Johnny’s swelling cock. 

The feeling of it—a sensation so foreign, so yearned for—penetrated Johnny’s core. It made him yelp and jerk his knee into the table, sending more beer spilling over the rim of his glass and onto his pants. 

Ghost hummed, shook his head. “C’mon, Johnny, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” And he inclined his head towards the bathroom in the back. 

Johnny blindly nodded, yielding to Ghost’s hold as he hoisted him from his seat. Ghost directed them through the sea of gyrating bodies and towards the toilets. They bursted inside, and the Brit pulled Johnny into the last stall. A seedy little thing, with graffiti and the ash of cigarette butts welded into its walls. 

The succeeding acts were a blip in the streamline of Johnny’s memory. He remembers Ghost shucking his pants down, then settling himself behind him. He remembers Ghost’s gloveless hand reaching around and working over his drooling cock. He remembers a voice in his ear, “What the fuck are we doing,” and a bulbous cockhead poking his ass. He remembers the shrill rattle of the stall hinges as he withered against it, trembling under Ghost’s deft hands, the finger that swept over the slit of his cock and slipped down to fondle his balls. 

Before white-hot pleasure seared his vision, Johnny remembers emptying his come into the crotch of his denims, shaking, as it dampened his pants and as Ghost commanded him to pull it back up. 

They left the bar alongside each other, meeting everyone else on the pavement. Johnny’s lips were popped open and swollen. Peeling, from how his teeth had sunk into them. His eyes were glossy and his hair was tousled in the middle of his head. He had a wet patch on his jeans.

“Oh, you are pissed, mate,” Gaz exclaimed, “I– that’s pee?”

“Spilled some water,” Ghost lied to the other teammates, “had to sort him out.”

They made it back to base within hours, signing off to their quarters. 

The next day, Johnny didn’t see him at all. 

The day after that, too; Ghost didn’t even spare him a glance.

He tried reassuring himself. Ghost hadn’t talked about men before—not in this calibre—so Johnny told himself it’s because he was digesting what rashly happened in Chicago. 

That was, until, he was paged one night. A command from Ghost to meet him in his quarters. The message was succinct: one sentence, leaving no lines to be read between. Johnny walked ambled to his room with his heart in his stomach and his blood rushing to his ears. Nudging the door open, Ghost was on the edge of his bed, legs parted, smarting denim-washed jeans and a black pullover. A simple, soft gauze balaclava. 

His eyes slid upwards first. Then the rest of his head. Ghost pinned Johnny under his smouldering gaze, then beckoned him forward with the tilt of his head. No words were swapped. Ghost simply tugged Johnny forward, between his thick thighs, and bullied the Scotsman to his knees with a hand splayed over his half-shaved head. 

Johnny’s eyes widened. He popped his lips open to speak—lips Ghost whispers his thumb over to seal shut, uprooting his words from its step. Ghost shook his head, undid his belt with a single hand, and shucked down his jeans. He palmed himself for a while, watching Johnny’s eyes sheen over, before pushing his boxer-briefs scarcely over his meaty thighs, pinching the head of his cock. 

Ghost didn’t even bother pulling his balls out. Just his dick—long, thick, a comely vein running beneath it—better than anything Johnny’s ever wanted. Better than the images he’s fucked his fist to, memories of Ghost, freshly out of the shower after sparring, his thin towel outlining the barest hint of his dick. 

Johnny reaches out, but Ghost swipes it back. He tuts and softly smacks his cock against Johnny’s ruddy cheek, watching as a string of his precum connects to Johnny’s face. 

“How bad do ya wan’ it, Johnny?” Ghost had prompted, swiping his cockhead over the Scotsmans lips, then pulling it back whenever his jaw readily slacked. 

“Real… real bad, Lt.” He breathed. 

Ghost tapped his cheek again. “Open.”

And so Johnny did. Like it was second nature, like he’s been wanting for so long. Waiting for so fucking long. 

Johnny’s lips popped open and closed around Ghost’s wet tip. He swirled his tongue around it, clumsy in his movements, teeth grazing Ghost’s skin.

He winced. “Easy…”

Johnny blinked in a rapid succession, nodding, sucking him in a little deeper, mindful of hollowing out his cheeks and relaxing his jaw. Ghost’s eye twitched, hands digging into his tuft, hanging his head back, softly bucking his hips up into Johnny’s mouth. 

“Atta boy, Johnny, fuck– where the fuck’d you learn this, eh?”

Johnny replied with a gargled purl of precum and saliva coalescing in his mouth, gagging over the wide girth splitting his jaw open. Ghost laughed, his gloved hand settling on the scruff of Johnny’s neck, pulling him a little closer; sinking his cock a little deeper, rutting his pelvis into his squadmate's pliable mouth.

Ghost cums. Johnny laps it all up. And in an undertaken lapse of judgement, rises to his feet, puckering his frosted lips, ready to hike Ghost’s balaclava above his nose and share his taste with him. But Ghost set a hand to Johnny’s face, shaking his head. He tucked his softening cock back into his pants.

That was the first instance Johnny disregarded. One he ignored in favour of indulging himself in something he yearned after for years. He didn’t realise his grave digging began there—when he witlessly nodded in response. 

And from there, it became a cycle. It was always on Ghost’s call. Never Johnny’s. When Ghost wanted his dick sucked; when Ghost wanted a wet and tight hole wrapped around his cock. Johnny knew better. He knew he was being shepherded into something bad, but he couldn’t help himself.

Trembling under Ghost, his whole world encompassed by the Brit’s towering stature, was all that mattered to him. Getting spread over a cock he’s wanted for so long, a long ways from the taboo fantasies that’s collected cobwebs in his thoughts for so long.

Johnny was less of a teammate, more of an outlet for Ghost to exhaust his frustrations into. Even then, it was a pill Ghost had trouble swallowing. As if he’ll acknowledge it, and a relationship will materialise. So he stays still—fucks Johnny like a dirty little secret then turns the other way. 

Johnny tries talking to him. Tries telling him he struggled with the same thing. That he isn’t alone and that he belongs here. That there’s no shame in it. 

Simon collapses Johnny’s pleads with a final, resolute bark. “I ain’t gay, mate. You’re a friend helping a friend.”

-

basically it ends with Simon shepherding Johnny into some hedonistic, one-sided relationship. Johnny just accepts it bc if Simon wont love him, he’ll do it by proxy, because hes all fucked out and desperate for him🖤🖤

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hiya I have a thought stuck in my head and I thought I’d share it with you :)

Reader has a scar across his face that disfigures his face and the way he generally holds himself is intimidating, but inside he’s a real soft and kindhearted dude (like Aaron). One time the team is searching a place for a kid an unsub kidnapped and R finds the kiddo first, but because it’s dark and the kid is scared, he/she gets freaked out by R and like scrambles away from him in fear. This obv makes R sad that he looks so scary and unsafe to people, especially kids, and it’s something he doesn’t have too much control over. After that incident, he consciously tries to soften his expressions around kids. If he sees a kid near him, he’d subtly turn his face and body away from them so that they don’t notice the scar and not be unsettled by him. He’d paint his nails and, at first, he might feel self conscious around the team, but I’d imagine Aaron would join him and ask R to paint his nails as well. Idk just a sad yet wholesome thought.

Warnings: self-image issues, facial scars

A/N: Bit nervous about this one, but I hope you like it! :)

When you approach her, she immediately scrambles back, whimpering and your stomach drops. Because it doesn't matter that you're FBI, it doesn't matter that you're trying to help her, because she's seen you and she's terrified.

"It's okay," You whisper, swallowing the sour taste in your mouth. "I'm with the FBI. Okay?"

That doesn't seem to help, she keeps away, still pressed against the wall. "I've got her," You say into the radio, "I need someone else here too," is all you say.

You put your gun away and sit down on the floor, trying to look less intimidating. "My name's (Y/N)," You say softly.

She doesn't say anything, so you stay sat down - rambling about silly little things (different types of flowers, mostly), hoping that she'll get less intimidated. But she doesn't. She only relaxes slightly when the others enter the room.

When someone else is with her, you stand up, making your way out of the room so she'd feel more comfortable. You ignore the looks from your team and just head to the SUV, figuring that it was for the best.

On the flight back, you waited until everyone was asleep before you grabbed the nail polish and began to paint your nails. Granted, a pastel pink was probably not professional whatsoever when working as an FBI agent, but that didn't matter to you right now. You didn't want kids to be scared of you.

"What are you doing?" Your head snapped up, eyes widening slightly as you turn to Hotch.

"Oh, er, painting my nails," You answered cautiously.

Hotch stares at you for a moment before he nods and stands, making his way over to you. He sits in the chair opposite. "Think you can do mine too?"

"You want to match my nail polish?" You ask cautiously.

"Unless you think I'll cramp your style," Hotch jokes with a small smile.

"Just give me a hand," You snort.

Months later.

It was your first time meeting Jack. You had been on the team for six months now and had avoided it like the plague. It's not that you didn't want to meet the youngest Hotchner, merely you were concerned that he'd be scared. You didn't voice this, of course. You just said you had something else going on everything there was a family dinner at Rossi's.

Seeing the child approach, you turn slightly, angling the left side of your face away. You make a conscious effort, letting your shoulders relax, softening your expression. You didn't want to scare him.

Jack stumbles up to you, unsteady. He's only two, but from what you can see, he's a bright kid. But you don't want to scare him. So you kept your face tilted still.

Giggling, Jack reaches up, grabbing your face with his hands. "Hi!" He giggles. "Wha's dat?" His hand clumsily traces the scar down the left side of your face.

"It's a scar," You say gently.

"An ouchie?" Jack's face immediately switches to concern.

"An old ouchie," You give a small nod.

You watch, stomach sinking when Jack let's go of your face and takes a step back before running away. You swallow and turn to Haley and Hotch, ready to apologise for scaring their kid. But then Jack's running back with a small strip in his hands.

He holds up the band aid triumphantly, it's blue with a variety of different dinosaurs scattered over them. "Got a ban'aid!" He exclaims. He works quick in putting the band aid on and kisses it. "All bedda!"

You look at the toddler, jaw dropped slightly in shock, trying your best to blink back tears. "T-thanks, buddy," You managed to reply, giving him a smile.

"Dat's otay! Jack says, running his hand over the band aid gently. "You otay now?"

"Yeah buddy, I'm okay now,"

[g-xix]

🔞Eating Out HC's | Sidemen

Ethan: ~no comment~

Harry: -Wants you sat on his face  -Would grip your thighs HARD whilst you ride his tongue, involuntarily leaving little fingertip-shaped bruises on your flesh -Loves the feeling of his head between your thighs too, just squeezing and giving him that light headed euphoria -Looking down you'd just see his eyes closed n him completely blissed out, all too happy to have your pussy against his mouth

JJ: -Has you lying down whilst he goes between your thighs -Loves the feeling of you threading your hands between his dreads and pulling them whilst he works -Always edges you, stopping right before you cum, so that he can fuck you and make you cum instead -leaves a fuck-tonne of hickeys against your thighs as a reminder for the next day

Josh -Back arching from the mattress as your legs are suspended on his shoulders, got yours quads cramping up when you're coming -deffo has a long ass tongue, so he's hitting spots you haven't felt hit in your LIFE when he goes down -Beard keeps your thighs BURNING the day after, when each step has your thighs rubbing and irritating that burn between your thighs - a mere reminder of Josh's presence there the day prior

Simon ~no comment~

Vik ~No~

Tobi: -Wears rings on his fingers which are always cold against your thighs as he has his hands on your legs, spreading them whilst he works -I feel like he'd try do it somewhere different every time- like, the bedroom is for sex but foreplay? He'd eat you out bent over the table, whilst you're on the sofa, one time even whilst you were at your desk tryna work -Would test you, see how many rounds you can go and how little time you'd need to recover before he can go back in -Mf would be so big on praise every time you finished, telling you how well you did

----

it's lowkey kinda crazy how short this list is, considering it feels wrong to write ab Simon, Vik n Ethan (given they're married/have a kiddo) and this is pretty much for sure the last oneshot imma post ab Josh considering he's j gotten engaged (CONGRATS BBG!!!)

But either ways, i kinda like this concept a lot... Who shall I write it for next?:

when the poll is ended n decided, i'll post the next one! >:)

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

[zvdvdlvr]

zvdvdlvr’s ‘Criminal Minds’ Masterlist

guide:

💋 - author’s favorite

🤍 - fluff

❤️‍🔥 - spicy

❤️‍🩹- angst

📌 - concept

💌 - blurb

🎞️ - moodboard

🎱 - headcanon

🔗 - series

↬ aaron hotchner

I Love You 🤍

— 🧠. A tough case leaves you in the more than willing arms of SSA Aaron Hotchner.

ThighObsessed! Hotch 💌📌 | Hotch leaving marks on ur thighs 📌🤍❤️‍🔥

Waking up with Hotch 📌🤍

Hotch & Acts of Service 📌💌🤍

Random Hotch Thoughts 📌🤍

Hotch & Forhead Kisses 📌/💌🤍

Home 🤍❤️‍🩹

— 🧠. After being pronounced killed in action, female!reader comes back home.

The One with all the Alcohal (and Jack!) 🤍

— 🧠. Requested: would you write something about hotch collecting his drunk girlfriend? Jack Watching Aaron Take off your Makeup

— 🧠. another ending to ‘The One with all the Alcohal (and Jack!)

Thinking About Giving Aaron Head When He’s Mad 📌❤️‍🔥

Doctor!Aaron 🎞️

Hotch with a Short/Shy Reader 🎱🤍

We Regret to Inform You… ❤️‍🩹

— 🧠. Aaron is delivered news that shatters his world. (Part one of ‘Home’.)

Why’d You Have to Wait? ❤️‍🩹💋 🔗

You get kidnapped on a case. Aaron’s coping mechanism? Self isolation. But when you’re recovering, Aaron wonders if staying away from you is the right thing to do. Jack convinces him anyway. Are things too far gone for Aaron to fix?

Where Were You? Where Were You? ❤️‍🩹💋🔗

Aaron realizes how badly he messed up, but doesn’t know if he has the strength to mend the wounds he gave himself and you.

Just A Little Late ❤️‍🩹💋🔗

The day comes when Aaron realizes he has to talk to you. Is he able to repair your relationship or does he get the rejection he knows he deserves?

Good Night 🤍

Aaron knows you can’t sleep, so he offers his home to you. Just to help you sleep. Not to fall even deeper in love with you or anything- psh!

nerdy/sappy hotch+ secret relationship 🤍📌

hotch loves his deranged bau wife 🤍💋

Rainbow Aesthetic 🎞️📌

sheriff!hotch x outlaw!reader 💌🤍

Dad hotch coming home to his wife and two kiddos 💌🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Olive Garden Gift Card 💔🤍🤍

You meet your dad.

Personal Heating Pad 🤍

Aaron curls up with you- struck immobile with period cramps- and tries to soothe you. Spoiler: he always does!

Chiaroscuro 🤍

It was no doubt to anyone how attractive and smart your professor was. You recognized his jarring looks but figured throwing yourself at your professor (as other students in your class did) wouldn’t mean anything. To your surprise, Professor HOTchner wants to talk to you.

Popsicle. 🤍

request: Would love some more Hotchner blurbs. How about one where you are BAU and have a baby girl (name is up to you) and you bring in the little doll because you (and baby girl) wanted to see daddy?

singing little J to sleep 🤍💌

↬ emily prentiss

Dating Emily 🎞️

Braiding her Hair 📌

↬ spencer reid

Lunch Break 🤍

Spencer hasn’t been feeling well lately. When he accidentally gives you his lunch as well as yours, you have to leave work to make sure he gets his lunch and eats to make sure he gets better. But the thing is, no one knew Spencer had married someone. (Welder!reader)

Alive and Breathing. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Spencer gets a phone call. (Welder!reader)

Always Love U. 🤍💌

dealer!spencer + “you’re so out of it, sweet girl”

Spencer x female!welder!reader 🎞️

Learning to Live Again. 🤍

It’s been four and a half months since your fall. You’re starting physical therapy, and the team (and your husband) is there for you every step of the way- as Aaron gets started on filing a product liability lawsuit. (Welder!reader)

Relapse ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥💌

You know you shouldn’t text Spencer, but he just fucks better than anyone else can.

spencer reid x soulmate reader 🤍💌

Burn Like an Animal(or: spencer hits up the club)❤️‍🔥🤍💌🔗

Burn it Down 🤍🔗

spencer meeting goth reader 🤍

“I Didn’t Know you Liked This Stuff” ❤️‍🔥

[in1-nutshell]

First offal meeting of the old buddy club and beany because he is the mascot

This will be centered around the old bots from TFP.

Hope you enjoy!

Old Bot Buddy Club

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Takes place in AU that all TFP old bots are present in.

The club was created after the older bots wanted some time to talk to one another that didn’t concern the ‘younger generations.’

The ‘President’ was voted unanimously by the group.

They also were the eldest of the group.

Steel Mauler the Predacon.

The ‘Vice President’ would have been Boiler but was defeated by one vote.

This let Red Cross to win the position.

The club was a way to vent, ask for solutions, and to mediate any fights between them.

Red Cross was sitting in the corner with her arms crossed. Deadloop: “I said I was sorry!” Red Cross: “Sorry doesn’t cut it Deadloop and you know it!” Deadloop: “Now you’re just being—” Red Cross suddenly stands up, slightly wincing from her leg and turns around with an angry expression on her face. Red Cross: “Just being a what Loop? I suggest you choose your next words wisely before you find yourself with a bunch of eggs nestled right in your—” Boiler sitting with Steel Mauler a few feet away: “You do realize you lasses are fighting about a movie right?” Red Cross glares at Boiler: “Do you have something else to say Boiler?” Boiler looking at Deadloop: “You’re on your own boy.” Steel Mauler: “How about we just watch the movie together now?”

The club has also been used by the younger bots to get stories from.

It has also had its fair share of its ‘honorary’ members.

Agent Fowler and June were allowed to join the club when they could, being the only older humans they knew.

They don’t mind if the children join in when they are telling stories, but they do have a strict policy of no younger bots or humans on certain topics.

The children have tried in the past to eavesdrop, mainly Miko, but you can only hide for a short amount of time before two Predacon noses sniff you out.

The only other unanimous vote the club has had was for voting Beany to be the mascot.

This was mainly due to Beany’s tendency to make trouble whenever Boiler wasn’t watching him.

Especially last time…

The older bots chatting were chatting at the meeting when Steel Mauler gets a call from Raf. Steel Mauler: “Hold on Deadloop. Hello Rafael?” Raf: “Hey Steel… is there a possibility that you can get Beany’s scent?” Steel Mauler: “In the hypothetical situation yes I can. In the same hypothetical situation, why would I need to do that?” Boiler sudden jumps up. Red Cross looking at them: “Boiler, what’s wrong?” Boiler: “I don’t know how to tell ya lass, but the old joints are telling me Beany’s in trouble.” Deadloop raising an optic: “How?” Boiler: “How can you tell Red is going to have her pede cramps?” Deadloop: “…Point taken.” Steel Mauler even more nervous than before: “Raf… Where are you and the Wreckers?” Raf: “Umm…” Steel Mauler: “Raf why am I hearing wind in the background!?” Raf: “We took Beany on the ship and then he learned how to open one of the doors and we fell into an underground cave. Now Beany is chasing a lizard and the Wrecker’s have no way in getting us out because they are too big!” Steel Mauler: “Raf, Kiddo, everything is going to be okay alright? Now I need you to stay on the line with Deadloop. We’ll get you out.” Raf: “With Deadloop?” Steel Mauler: “I patched this call into the clubs comm line, they know, and we’ll be there.” Raf: “Hurry!” Steel Mauler looking over at Boiler who looked furious and scared at the same time, Red Cross stuffing her subspaces with bandages, and Deadloop with a data pad looking for their location.

Never had the group of old bots moved so fast.

Red Cross and Deadloop had to tend Steel Mauler’s back when they came back to the base.

More Red Cross tending and Deadloop distracting the larger Predacon.

Steel Mauler had gone headfirst into the cave entrance and had managed to get some pesky rocks in their sensitive joints.

Boiler was chewing the Wrecker’s out while gently holding Beany and Raf in his servos.

The old locomotive did not let go of either for a good 3 hours.

Beany after nearly sending Boiler and the older bots to the Allspark.