#get yer tissues

[cosmic-ships]

{ Uncertain }

Ship: Adam Sackler x Kaden

Words: 1,293

cw: ANGST! ;;

Summary: How many time does this need to rinse and repeat?

Hey, if you aren't a self-shipper please dni, nothing against ya, I got anxiety lol

A heavy weight on the chest, a sinking feeling, going lower and lower it reaches the bottom. Gut punched. The heart jumps into the throat and it feels like you're drowning without water, wanting to scream but not a sound is heard. The eyes sting and when their eyes blink they glass over but there are no tears that fall.

Your heart feels like it wants to stop, you forget how to breathe and the deep inhale causes the breath to stutter.

"We're just old friends that's all."

Brought back to reality.

"old friends that used to be together romantically.."

"Why are you so upset? I hugged her that's all."

"It wasn't the hug….it was the look you gave her when you pulled away…" Kaden's voice was quiet they were afraid to be any louder for the fear of tears falling.

"Fucking hell, you're still all paranoid and shit? Really?"

"You can't blame me-" Kaden huffed, standing to their feet "You've got a track record you know."

That stung, like drinking a poison that burned all the way down into the depths of his stomach. His jaw clenched, eyes piercing daggers through them.

"When are you going to trust me? What? You think because I supposedly gave her a 'look' it means I want to fuck her?"

"N-- I…." Kaden glanced to the floor, that was the thing… Kaden didn't know. Their green eyes gazed back up, locking with his. Kaden remained silent and shook their head. It wasn't an answer to his question, it was defeat.

"I…." Kaden felt pressure on their chest a heavy weight that couldn't be lifted with words or actions. an ever-growing pressure that would ultimately make them collapse if they didn't get out of there. "I think…."

Adam waited with bated breath, anger was clear on his face. How many times did they have these same fights? The same back and forth until one of us gave up? It was exhausting. Kaden felt like they were trapping him, that he would be better off if…

Kaden's tears pricked their eyes and spilt over their eyes, rolling down their face but their expression was almost stoic "Adam I think.."

"No." He quickly walked over and gently placed his hands on Kaden's upper arms and Kaden froze, their eyes closing as more tears fell. "Don't say what I think you're going to say. Just…fucking don't."

Kaden's throat went dry and Adam could feel the slight tremble in their body, his grip tightened a little.

"D-Don't--" Adam's voice cracked a little, it no longer held anger, his amber eyes secretly pleading with Kaden, don't say it.

"I need to go.." Kaden whispered.

"Kaden. Don't. Please…stay…Please.." Adam attempted to close the distance to hug them but Kaden stepped back, getting out of his grip with Adam reluctantly let go of them.

"We're not good…" Kaden choked out a small sob. "I mean Christ, every other week we're right back here. Except this time I'm thinking clearly-"

"I can't let you go." He felt a terrible pang in his heart, it felt like he was being crushed from the inside and he didn't know how to fix it. He just wanted this to be better.

"Why? So we can make up and then have this happen again? I've trapped you..it's clear to you this wasn't serious. You've shown time and time again that to you it's not real to you…It's not fair to me and it's not fair to you.."

"How do I fix it? Lemme fix it." Adam was panicking, he just didn't want them to leave.

"…..You can't." Kaden walked towards the door. "I'm sorry I couldn't be someone you wanted.." Kaden's voice carried in a whisper, their vocal cords strained as fresh tears rolled down their face.

With that, Kaden left, closing the door behind them and all they could hear was Adam losing his mind from behind the door, cursing and smashing. He wasn't good at handling his emotions that well but he never did it when Kaden was there.

Kaden walked the night streets, in a daze, phone turned off because of the millions of calls and text messages from Adam. their eyes heavy and exhausted from crying for what felt like forever. They no longer had any tears to shed, they felt numb, and empty like a part of them was left up there with him.

They knew this was for the best but their heart ached, they wished they could be stupid, to just forget it and run back to him but they weren't, they knew it was a cycle that they couldn't stop. Kaden trailed through the dimly lit park, finding a park bench. They sat on it, slumped forwards.

The weight of everything finally crashed down as they thought about all the fights and then their mind thinking of the what ifs. He was going to move on in a few days and in a few days have someone else. It was an assumption but it was an assumption that plagued their thoughts and poisoned their soul. Kaden leaned all the way forward, their arms raising and their hands covering their head as they let out a loud sob. it felt like their soul was being ripped out repeatedly, it felt like they were dying in the slowest possible way

They stayed like that for a while and before they knew what was happening arms were around them. Kaden jumped to see Adam was there, arms wrapped around them tightly.

"Don't run." He stated and Kaden lifted their head, it was hard to see him but his eyes looked puffy..did he cry?

"I know what you said. I respect it. We don't have to be…" Adam inhaled deeply "We don't have to be together but I don't want you out of my life. I don't know how to fix it and I might not be able to. I just want to keep you in my life in one way or another. Please.."

Kaden couldn't help it, no matter how hard they wanted to scream, to yell in his face and call him an emotionally unavailable prick they couldn't all they could do was cling to him and sob because the fact of the matter was, Kaden didn't want to be completely out of his life either. It might be hard at first, and it might hurt but they needed him.

After a few moments, Adam released his hold on Kaden once Kaden had stopped crying. "I won't walk out of your life-" Kaden spoke softly, their voice almost returning to normal but Adam's heart clenched because the once bubbly voice he grew to love sounded dull, almost as if their life had left them.

"But I need space right now…I don't know how long but…I'll…I'll call okay?"

Kaden and Adam stood up together and Adam sighed heavily, he hated the idea of them not being in contact all the time but for once he was listening and decided to give them the space that they needed.

"…Okay" Adam mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Kaden cleared their throat as they went to turn away from him "Don't get mugged on your way home" Kaden gave a small chuckle despite their laugh sounding a little awkward and sad.

"hah.." Adam feigned a laugh. "Right…"

"Goodbye, Adam."

Adam said nothing, he was afraid if he opened his mouth he would either break apart completely or say something incredibly stupid. His eyes were glassy so he simply nodded his head.

They parted their separate ways, uncertainty looming above them both as they both walked to opposite exits of the small dimly lit park. Not knowing if anything would ever feel normal or the same again…

I PROMSIE IT WILL GET BETTER T_T

Taglist: Lemme know if you wanna be added!

@ama-ships || @heatobrienswife || @kylars-princess || @dragonsmooch || @mahitosoulmate <- I didn't know you changed your name and panicked lmaoooo

[educatedsimps]

— "ctrl+C, ctrl+V" sakusa kiyoomi

≪ back to fics masterlist

sakusa kiyoomi x f!reader

a/n: saw a fanart of chibi sakusa and this came to mind so i just had to write this out to get it out of my head 🫠 sorry if my writing's not perfect i wrote this in like an hour HAHAHDHDJSJSHD

cw: FLUFF, parenting au, atsumu being annoying

wc: 586

Kiyoomi had always expressed how much he wanted your kids to have your features - from your hair, your eyes, your smile, your laugh, he wanted them to inherit everything about you. He essentially wanted his kids to be mini clones of you, the person he loved and admired the most in the world.

However, when your first child was born, it was pretty clear that she'd take after her father. Immediately, you noticed birth marks at almost the exact same spot as her father, and as she grew older, her hair started to curl at the ends just like her father's. Unsurprisingly, they had similar personalities too. She was probably the most educated six year old when it came to personal and public hygiene.

And when Reina's little brother was born, you swore they could be twins. That is, if you ignored the eight year age gap between them. Akimitsu, like his sister, took after Kiyoomi. He had the same dark curly hair and sharp eyes as his father, but one difference between him and his sister was that he had a much more outgoing personality. Even at six months old, he was already smiling, laughing, pointing and waving at everyone he passes by.

Today was no different. Strapped to his father's chest, Akimitsu was excitedly pointing towards his older sister practising volleyball in front of him and babbling incoherently. Next to him, the one and only Miya Atsumu was seated on the bench watching his twin boys practice their volleyball skills with Reina. You watched as your husband fished out a pack of tissues and wiped away the drool on his baby's chin.

"Dude, what's up with your sets today? Even Reina can't spike your shit sets and she's a better spiker than me!" Ryūjin exclaimed, pointing accusingly at his brother.

"Shut yer trap, Ryū! Yer just jealous 'cause my sets are still better than yours!" Ryōta retorted. Turning to his friend, he apologised, "Sorry, Reina, I'll work on my sets."

Reina scrunched her face in slight annoyance but acknowledged her friend.

"Y'know, Omi-kun, yer daughter somehow looks even more like you when she does that," Atsumu chortled.

Confused, Kiyoomi looked up at the blonde setter. "Does what?"

"THAT!" Atsumu screeched, pointing at Kiyoomi's face, which was, of course, scrunched up like his daughter's. Kiyoomi hurriedly covered his son's ears at the sheer volume of Atsumu's outburst.

"Will ya keep it down? My kid's gonna go deaf at this rate," Kiyoomi huffed, glaring at Atsumu. The latter sheepishly apologised.

"But for real though, your kids are basically your clones," Atsumu continued, "Guess ya don't have to worry about 'em not bein' yours, right?"

That earned him a hard slap on the back of his head by both you and Kiyoomi.

"THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?" Atsumu cried, rubbing the back of his head to relieve the pain.

"Excuse me, sir, what are you insinuating?" You spouted, glaring at him. For all the years you had known him — since high school, to be exact —Atsumu had never failed to come up with the most insensitive lines.

"I'm just sayin'! It's cute that yer kids look so much like you!" Atsumu sulked.

"No shit they're mine, baka," Kiyoomi grumbled, the annoyed scrunch once again making an appearance on his face.

Hearing a fit of giggles, you all turned to Akimitsu who was pointing at Atsumu with a gummy smile on his face.

"Ba...Baka!"

The six month old happily clapped and cheered as Atsumu was left dumbfounded.

a/n: sakusa’s children would 100% inherit his curly hair YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE like it’s literally so cute. they’d have the same scrunched face when they’re annoyed AND IT'S FREAKING ADORABLE anyway i titled this one ctrl C ctrl V for obvious reasons HAHA

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarise any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Simon got a flu]

Yes, Simon, who is always proud of his immune system and strong-built body, got a damn flu.

1.

You watch him take a tissue and sneeze the 10000 times today.

”‘m alright.” He mumbles when he notices you knit your eyebrows and staring at him.

“yeah yeah you’re alright huh?” you poke his forehead “Look how your skin reddened and scraped below your nose.”

“not a big deal.”

He takes another tissue to blow his nose, but he frowns when the tissue touches his skin doesn’t escape your attention, so you go take an ointment from the medkit and come back to his side.

“sit still, okay?” you command before you start smearing it on his skin.

you can feel his eyes lock on your face the whole time, so when you finish, you don’t let go of his face.

“Anything on my face, Si?”

you watch his eyelashes flutter, and those beautiful chocolate eyes soften, without his usual tension in them.

“jus’ think yer beautiful,” Simon responds softly.

“I know.” You giggled.

“How about me?”

“You are...” You feign that you are contemplating, before shoving him playfully “You’re an idiot, go get some sleep now, handsome.”

2.

You can’t move even an inch.

Simon insists on having you sleep with him, or he won’t stay in bed obediently and have the rest he needs.

His arms locked tightly around your waist, his head buried in your chest, and you could feel his hot breath fanning on your skin.

You wriggle out of his embrace as softly as you can, you really need to go to the bathroom now, and you turn around and have a glimpse of Simon, seeming still asleep. Nice.

After using the toilet, You wash your hands before you open the door, what you don’t expect is bumping into a brick of the wall, well, a brick of man.

“Jesus, Simon.” you yelp “Why do you get up?”

“I thought’ you’re gone...” His voice is still hoarse from the slumber, but you can sense the fear inside.

“I'm here, baby, no one will take me away from you, okay?”

Taking his hand in yours, you lead him back to the shared bed.

“now rest, I will always be at your side.” you place a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

“Hmmm...”

With a long groan, he shoves his face back into your chest, arms snaking and caging you in his hug again.

After a few minutes, his breaths become steady again, indicating he’s back to dreamworld.

The anxious and unsafe emotion on his face when you open the bathroom door has long gone, he wore a face mask to prevent you from getting infected too, but you swear his mouth is slightly agape under the cover, the thought makes you grin and chuckle in your mind.

Returning his hug by wrapping your arms around his shoulder, you drift into your dream.

3.

The chirping of birds outside the window awakes Simon.

The headache and running nose seem to disappear after a proper rest, but he notices you aren’t beside him, so he quickly gets up from the bed, only to find you cradling a box of tissue, glaring at him with dead eyes while a pile of used tissue is beside you.

Looks like it’s his turn to take care of you today.

[irisintheafterglow]

can i put in my two cents on girldad!bakugo whose daughter got mom's quirk

cw: prohero!bkg, swearing, fem!reader, fluff and crack with a small side of angst

"yer mom's gonna fuckin' kill me if we don't get this out," he mumbles, furiously scrubbing at the splotches of rainbow paint covering his three-year-old daughter's previously white dress.

"fuckin!" his daughter echoes and he flinches.

"no, no, no. we can't say that," he says softly, kneeling down on the tile of the laundry room where she was watching him work. "mama's gonna kick my ass if she hears you swear, so we can't say that word...yet. m'kay sweetheart?"

"kick ass!" she laughs innocently, giggling as his face contorts into a mix of horror, shock, and joy. "dada, you funny," she babbles, reaching up to grab at his face. he fights the instinct to pull away, afraid of how she'd react if she looked too closely at the scars covering his face. you'd talked him through it numerous times before, but he was still scared she would be scared of all the battles etched into his skin. it was his own anxiety talking, he knew, and she must have received her empathy from you because she reached up toward her dad anyway. her little eyebrows pinch and her stubby fingers brush over the rough, discolored tissue. "dada ouchie?"

"dada ouchie long time ago, bubs," he murmurs, taking her hand and kissing her tiny nails. "but mama saved dada. and now," he lifts her from the floor and positions her comfortably on his hip, her head leaning against his shoulder, "baby needs to help save dada from mama."

"mama angry?" his daughter frowns and he nods, staring frustratedly at the pastel stains on the white fabric. "what dada do?"

"oi! it's not always my fault," he protests, leaning closer as his daughter tries to tug his hair. "though, i do admit, this is my shit to clean up."

"shit!" she repeats brightly, grinning up at him as he fondly rolls his eyes.

"i think you're doing this on purpose, you gremlin," he grunts and she smiles up at him mischievously.

"gremlin!" it's the same smirk he does, the only difference being her eyes match yours instead of his.

"you got yer dada's dirty mouth. mama's not gonna be happy, but i," he pecks a kiss on her forehead, "am ecstatic." his daughter's eyes temporarily flash emerald green and she points to the front door.

"zuzu," she informs him. he groans and bites back another curse, throwing the stained dress into a basket and hoping for the best.

"that dumbass isn't supposed to be here until six," bakugo grumbles. he adjusts his daughter and moves into the living room in time to catch a car pulling up at the curb of the house.

"dumbass!" he doesn't have time to scold her because, unfortunately, her quirk isn't done yet. while he hurries to kick any toys under the couch and wipe the faded paint off his hands, her eyes flash pink, red, and yellow a split second before a knock at the front door.

"mimi! eiji!" his daughter squeals in excitement. he sets her down so she can rush to the door, opening it to reveal a half-dozen pro heroes squished onto the front porch. she jumps straight into kirishima's open arms, a string of drool dripping from her wide smile.

"you're early," bakugo deadpans while his high school friends toe off their shoes. "wasn't expecting her to alert for another half hour." his daughter transfers from kirishima to mina, who throws her up into the air like a beach ball. "oi, watch it with her, pinky. don't be giving her a concussion."

"lighten up, bakugo," mina replies without missing a beat, tossing the squealing child again. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

"did her flight get delayed or something?" denki asks, taking the baby from mina and flying her around the room while making racecar noises. bakugo watches his daughter like a hawk, never more than five feet away from her. he won't admit that he trusts his friends, but he also knows he could never be too careful.

"nah," he frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "i jus' fucked up, is all."

"how so?" bakugo mindlessly unpacks the various packages of chips and soda, organizing them on the kitchen counter and punching a stray balloon out of his way.

"accidentally sent her to school with the wrong dress on," he grimaces. "thought it was a different white one, but it was supposed to be the one for today." he disappears momentarily into the laundry room, re-entering with the stained white dress in his hand. "she was screamin' and cryin' about not having anything to wear for her school's paint-a-thon thing, so i just put this on her without checkin..."

"yeesh, she really did a number on this, didn't she?" kirishima says, examining the various spots of pink, blue, and green. "her mom say anything about what she was supposed to wear?"

"i didn't wanna bother her," he mumbles in shame. "you know how important this gig was for her." his friends nod, wracking their brains for how to improve the situation. it was mina's idea, originally, to host a welcome home party after you'd been overseas for a reconnaissance mission, which was why they'd all congregated at your house.

"if it means anything, i think it looks even better," she assures him with a pat on his shoulder. "the colors are nice."

"thanks, pinky. i'm just not good at this shit."

"what, being a dad? like it's hard?" kirishima clicks his tongue, lightly slapping denki on the back of his head.

"dad of a girl," bakugo corrects with a scowl, "you got sons, pikachu. don't even try me."

"i think what he means," kirishima gently interrupts after shooting denki a look, "is that you should be a little easier on yourself."

"she's just got her mom's quirk, y'know? i don't want her to grow up with a shitty dad that doesn't know how to help her develop her quirk." though your daughter could only track up to six people and locate them when they're within 100 feet, your ability to track up to 65 people and locate them on a country-wide scale made you highly desirable to agencies around the globe. with you gone, it was up to bakugo to take care of his daughter and keep the house in order, but he found himself struggling to know what decisions were the right ones.

"you're learning, bakubro, and so is she." denki gestures to your daughter sitting on the living room floor, concentrating on stacking wooden ice cream pieces. "she doesn't know what a 'bad dad' is. she just knows you, and i don't think you're a terrible dad at all." bakugo nods in lieu of answering, his cheeks heating as the rest of his friends echo their agreement.

"if this little ball of spunk is any indication of how much of you she's got in her," mina says with a fond smile, "then she's gonna be just fine." any further thoughts are halted by the front door swinging open again.

"i got the cake! we gotta put it in the fridge, though, since it might've been smushed during travel," deku announces, handing off a stack of gift boxes and catering platters to denki. "now where's my favorite girl?"

"zuzu!" on cue, she comes waddling around the corner of the couch and helps herself to her favorite uncle's shoulders, finding two fistfuls of green hair as handles.

"you better not drop my fuckin' daughter, izuku," bakugo warns. "i'll blast your ass to mercury."

"do you always swear this much with her around?"

"fuckin!"

"that's exactly what i don't think should happen," kirishima states, unsurprised. "have you been teaching her that stuff?"

"she's a smart girl. picks up on things quick, like her mama," he dodges. "speaking of, you got eyes on mama yet, baby?"

"no mama, dada," she replies. "mama home soon?"

"yeah, mama home soon, so we gotta get you ready." he's about to take his daughter off deku's shoulders when he hears mina gasp. he'd known her long enough to know that sound meant she had an idea, and those ideas weren't necessarily good ones. "you got somethin' to say, pinky?"

"let me get her ready, and i'll fix your little dress problem for you," she says cryptically. bakugo doesn't have much time to protest as his daughter is already stretching from his arms to mina's, giggling while they disappear down the hallway.

---

forty-five minutes and a handful of inflated balloons later, his daughter's eyes flash neon orange, the same color your eyes flash for him. she doesn't know any other color to assign me, you theorized one night as you laid together in comfortable darkness. i guess she just associates me with you.

"welcome home!" denki excitedly opens the confetti shooter while kirishima bombards you with a sizable flower bouquet. you're standing speechless in the doorway and he watches your eyeline; it scans the room and its many shimmering balloons, paper streamers, and hero friends until it lands on him and your daughter, holding tightly to his pinky by the kitchen table. when the glitter settles, he gives her a nod, an okay to let her run to you.

"hi, my darling!" you beam, picking her up to hold her close and meet your husband's eyes over her shoulder. "and hello, my love," you murmur as his hands find your waist, pulling you close and pressing his lips to your forehead.

"missed you," he hums, his breathing finally returning to a steady rhythm for the first time in weeks. "she's been a handful."

"i'm sure she has." katsuki's expression is soft, only reserved for you and the child in your arms.

"how was the job?"

"a lot," you admit, allowing yourself to decompress now that you're home. "i can't tell if my head hurts from my quirk or the ten-hour flight," you smile tiredly.

"you got enough in the tank to entertain our friends? or do you need me to kick 'em out?"

"if it's these guys," you say, looking at the rowdy group of guests passing around plates and flatware, "of course i can."

"i guess we got more incoming," katsuki observes as another carload full of his friends arrive. "can we get you some food? baby and i will handle being welcome committee."

"well, do you, uh," you chuckle, finally acknowledging the pink-splattered elephant between you two. "do you wanna tell me why your shirt looks like you hugged a rainbow? and why her dress' stains look older?"

"oh, right. this." he looks down at his previously white button-down, now colored various shades of orange, blue, yellow, and pink to match his daughter's dress. you raise your eyebrows knowingly, already amused even before he answers.

"yeah," you smirk. "that." he shrugs, snaking a hand behind your back and leading you to the platters of dinner on the counter.

"it was paint-a-thon day."

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[azzo0]

Summary: Time and time again, Bakugo swears on every fiber of his being, you're the most beautiful woman to walk this planet.

Pairing: Bakugo x f!chubby!reader

cw's: fluff with nsfw themes, reader has long hair styled into curls, feel free to lmk more in tags

The first time he met you was at Kirishima's housewarming party. He didn't really want to be there when he could be deep asleep in his bed at home after a nice meal and a long, warm bath. He stood by the window alone, sipping on his drink from the plastic cup. He saw a few faces he didn't recognise. Probably one of Pinky's or Shitty Hair's friends, he told himself.

Crimson eyes shifted to the window, tuning out Denki's annoying playlist as he stared at a random spot and zoned out. He snapped back to reality when someone bumped into him, causing him to spill his drink over his new button-up. Lips curled in a scowl, he turned around to tell the stranger to open their eyes and watch where they were going. His words never got to leave his mouth when he laid his eyes on the woman in front of him.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" She apologised, grabbing a box of tissues from the little table by the window. She handed it to him, but he was too busy trying not to blush as he admired the woman. She took his lack of response as a sign of annoyance, took out a few tissues from the box and wiped them over his chest as she profusely apologised. 

Bakugo watched the way her loose curls bounced over her shoulders, some falling over her ample breasts. His eyes trailed down the little red dress onto her beautiful curves and the soft roll of her tummy, a gentle whisper of feminity and warmth.

"Er- are you alright?" Your voice brought his eyes up to your face again, wild crimson the same shade as his eyes, dusting his cheeks at being caught staring. 

"I'm fine," he replied gruffly, "Just watch where yer goin' next time." 

"I'm sorry," You smiled. That damn smile that woke up butterflies in his chest, "It's a little hard to walk in these."

"Whatever," He tried looking anywhere but at you unless he wanted to stare again. He couldn't help it. Something about you drew him in like a moth to a flame. He could tell you were shifting awkwardly as you still stood in front of him. 

He watched you make a move to leave, his jaw clenching. Out of all his friends, he was the only one left single, something that worried Mitsuki and his friends a lot. He'd gone on dates set up by Mina and Mitsuki, but it never went past the first date. How could he continue something that had no spark in the first place? 

But this. This was different. 

Something told him it'd be a waste to let you go without another word, "Are you one of Alien's friends?" He blurted, internally cringing. 

"Alien? Is that a nickname for Mina?" you grinned at him, unaware of the effect it was having on him, "Yeah, I'm a friend of hers."

"I'm Y/n, nice to meet you." You smiled, extending your hand. 

"Katsuki." He shook your hand after a moment of hesitation. 

Thinking on it years later, he was glad he made a move to talk to you back then. Because now here he is, with you in his arms, with someone to call his. 

Over the past few years, he's made it clear how much he loves you and how obsessed he is with every inch of you. He's said it in between sweet kisses, steamy makeouts and long nights making love. 

He loves buying you skimpy and expensive dresses that show off your soft, velvety thighs that his hand keep latching onto whenever he sits next to you. You've told him to stop buying you these because they always end up getting burnt or torn when he gets too impatient, but no. He'll keep buying you these over and over again. It's his money; he buys you whatever the fuck he wants.

He loves the squishiness of your breasts, groping them from the back with a sly grin. He could knead them on and on forever if you don't swat his hands away.

He loves the softness of your tummy, where he often rests his head after a tiring day. He loves your gentle voice, lulling him to sleep with your fingers dancing in his hair. He feels at home with his head on your stomach and hand in his hair. 

Of course, he loves you from head to toe, but, oh, god, he loves your thighs. It drives him insane when you wear his boxers. He loves how the stretchy fabric clings to your ass and thighs, inviting him to drag you over to the couch so he can press soft kisses and bites to the insides of your thighs. He gives you the most mind-blowing head just so he can hear you scream his name and squish his head in between your thighs. 

Most of all, he loves it when you're safe and sound asleep in his arms with your head on his chest. He still feels butterflies the same way he did when he first met you. Looking down at your serene, moonlit features, he moves some hair away from your face, tracing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. As he strokes your hair, he swears on every fiber of his being that you're the most beautiful woman to walk this planet.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡The Morning After｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Ghost was a big man, he loomed over everyone in the squad but you never dared to imagine how big he was everywhere until you accidentally walk in on him in the shower

Warnings: nudity, Ghost is fucking massive, horny thoughts, reader’s callsign is Pyro, implied smut, size difference WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You couldn’t look your LT in the eye, not that you could before but now it was even worse. You knew that he knew something was wrong but you were too damn stubborn and too damn embarrassed to clear it up. You could feel those striking brown eyes staring at the back of your head as you poured yourself a coffee from the ancient coffee machine. His gaze followed you as you bypassed your usual seat next to him and instead sat beside Soap, expertly positioning your body beside the Scott as to not see your superior.

“You’re next to me today then lass?” Soap threw an arm over your shoulders, shaking you with his excitement. 

“Regrettably, yes.” You snapped back, your exhausted state only adding to the annoyance you felt around the man you called your friend. He smirked, dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What’s up yer ass today?” He asked right as you took a sip of the shitty coffee causing you to choke on the dark liquid, drawing the attention of the whole table to you. Soap beamed as you coughed and for a brief moment, your focus was not on the piercing gaze of Ghost.

“Nothing! Nothing, just didn’t sleep well.” You forced your attention to the front of the room where Captain Price was beginning his morning debrief.

Getting lost in the monotonous tones of the Brit, your mind began to wander to the events of last night.

Your entire body was covered in a layer of grime and sweat, a consequence of having to test out the new training course for the recruits coming in next week. You had been chosen ‘at random’ but knew that it was because you were the youngest of the 141 and thus at the bottom of the pecking order.

All you could think about after being in the cold mud and rain for a solid three hours (you had to run through it multiple times of course to make sure it was sound) was a steaming hot shower and maybe a quick version of your skin care routine. 

Your feet dragged as you made your way to the showers, confident that you would be able to enjoy the room to yourself considering that it was nearing 1 in the morning, not hearing the gentle cascade of water already running over the sound of your own self-pity.

You beelined for your favourite stall but froze when you finally noticed the man standing under the steam. There was no question of who stood before you, the sheer size of him pointed to only one person on your squad.

Water rolled down his broad back like a river, snaking its way over scar tissue and muscle, reddening his skin with its heat. His shoulders rolled as his hands worked through his short dirty blonde hair, washing away the standard issues shampoo that clung to his locks.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes drift lower, settling on the pert cheeks of his ass and his strong, thick legs. Heat crawled up your neck and it was only partially because of the warm temperature of the shower. You held your breath as he turned to reach for the bar of soap sitting on the shelf beside him, exposing his profile to you.

Your eyes went wide and wetness pooled between your plump thighs. Good lord he was so-

“Pyro, we need you to run through the training course again. Ghost will help you out.” You were physically shaken from your daydream by your captain’s voice with the accompanying laugh from the man next to you. Your eyes flicked back up to your commanding officer.

“I must’ve run that thing 50 times sir. It works fine!” The older man raised an eyebrow at you before crossing his arms over his chest and levelling a disappointed look your way.

“Fine is not good enough. You’ll run it until Ghost thinks it’s enough.”

Soap, obviously finding amusement in your torment, said. “You’ll be runnin that course blindfolded if Riley has anything to do with it.” You groaned in annoyance and let your head fall to the table with a thud, ignoring the jeers of your teammates. 

The rest of the day’s tasks were dolled out and the team was quickly dismissed, leaving only you and Simon in the room. He cleared his throat but before he could speak, you shot up. “I’ll meet you down there, I gotta hit the head.”

You scrambled from the room, leaving the giant alone smirking under his balaclava. 

——————

“Faster!” Ghost barked, his voice booming between the obstacles. You growled in frustration, redoubling your efforts as you scaled the 12 ft wall in the centre of the course. You had already beaten your record three times over, yet this seemed to not be enough for your LT.

You reached for the rope at the top, your fingertips just grazing the braided fibres but right as you were about to grab for it, your other arm finally gave out after hours of work and you began to fall backwards. 

Before the scream could escape your lips, your body was cradled in something warm and comfortable. When you were sure that you hadn’t just slammed into the ground, you opened one of your eyes and came face-to-mask with Ghost.

You could tell he was smiling behind that caricature of a skull by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. You huffed and attempted to wriggle out of his arms, desperately forcing yourself not to think about how warm and fucking massive they were. “Now where ya goin there Pyro. That was a big fall, I’d hate to see ya hurt.” His voice was even deeper than normal, husky and raw. It made your cunt clench around nothing.

“I um-“ You started to say but you were quickly cut off by a tut from your superior officer.

“I think we’re done for the day Sergeant, you’ve obviously proved your… endurance.” He said the last word like it was dirty, his brown eyes growing even darker as his biceps flexed, keeping you pinned to his chest. Something in your stomach fluttered. Even holding you up to him, Ghost was still looming over you, the shadow of his bulk blocking out the sunlight that licked at his broad shoulders.

Your gaze flicked to where the black of his mask clung to his lips before you caught yourself and forced your eyes elsewhere. “Yes lieutenant.” Simon chuckled and lowered you, more gently than you would’ve thought him capable, to the dusty ground of the training area. 

“Good girl.” He purred and for a second, you thought that maybe you had actually bashed your head and now you were hallucinating. Ghost kept a paw-like hand wrapped around your elbow, preventing you from sprinting off.

“S-sir?” 

“Ya know ye aren’t as sneaky as ya think ya are Pyro. If ya wanted ta join me for a shower, ya coulda. Don’t cha deny it, could feel those pretty eyes of yours searing inta me from 50 paces.” Your heart dropped.

“Oh god sir, ‘m so sorry, it was a total accident. It’ll never happen again.” His grip tightened, making your mouth snap shut with an audible click.

“Now when did I say tha I didn’t want tha?” His head tilted, the deep brown of his eyes glinting mischievously as he lowered himself closer to your face. “How ‘bout I show ya what ya missed out on a give ya a proper reward for bein such a good little girl?” 

It was all you could do to nod your head and not collapse to the ground with a pathetic whimper. The edge of his mask shifted as he smirked down at you. 

——————

“Sorry I’m late Captain, won’t happen again.” You limped into the briefing room, dark bags marring your cheeks. Price nodded at you and continued his debrief for the day. You winced as you plopped down in the only open seat, ending up right next to Soap for the second day in a row.

“Ye look li shite.” He leaned over to you. You jabbed your index and middle fingers into his ribs, making Johnny jump slightly and earning him a glare from Price. “Jausus, Ghost musta really battered ya ta make ya so bitchy today.” 

You smirked and caught said lieutenant’s eye. “He really fucking did.” 

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Modern Warfare

@joyfulfxckery

Simon Riley

@mandythemint @babygirl-riley

[peachesofteal]

Maybe Johnny ends up in the hospital.

Maybe he ends up with a spine fracture, broken arm, shattered pelvis, deep tissue burns all over his stomach and chest. Maybe he hemorrhaged, has internal organ damage. It’s bad, bad enough that he needs multiple, complicated surgeries. Bad enough that it’s a struggle to stabilize him, and keep him conscious. Simon is there the entire time, doesn’t leave his side, sleeps sitting straight up in the uncomfortable chair that he’s dragged next to Johnny’s bed. He’s Johnny’s next of kin, and advocates for Johnny when he’s not able to do it himself. It’s grueling, every second feels like a lifetime. Johnny’s in so much pain every time he comes to, and Simon can’t do anything to help him, to take away his pain or make him feel better. All he can do is sit by his bedside and hold his hand. Anytime he’s handled by doctors or aides, nurses or respiratory therapists, Simon watches their every move, ready to shove them away the second he see’s Johnny face crumple in agony. Ready to swoop down and remove them the moment he feels like something’s not right. Hospitals make his skin crawl, make him feel like a big bug under a microscope and he hates it. He doesn’t trust this place, doesn’t trust anyone in here to take care of Johnny.

But then there’s you. You, the ICU nurse that works the floor four nights a week on graves. You, who he notices, checks on Johnny (and Simon) more than the other nurses do. Who takes the time to make sure the lights in the room aren’t too bright, or that Johnny’s blankets are not tucked in too tight across his stomach. You always knock on the sliding glass before coming in, and you’re always smiling at him, and Johnny, even though he’s hardly ever awake to see it. It’s not a forced smile either, it’s something soft. Something precious, something kind. You don’t look away from Simon, even when he scowls at you from above the mask when you wake Johnny in the middle of the night, for some reason or another.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know.” You soothe him, gentle hand on his good forearm before you swab his arm for a blood draw. Simon’s muscles inadvertently tense, because he can’t help, because he hates sitting here, completely helpless, watching Johnny grimace in pain.

“‘s alright, bonnie. Not yer fault.” He assures, eyebrows knitted together, jaw gnashed tight.

“Just need to get some blood, okay?” You intentionally look at Simon, like you’re waiting for his go ahead before you start, and he nods his approval before you push the needle through his partner’s skin. “And then maybe we’ll get you some more pain meds, I’ll make a note for the next shift to let you sleep unless it’s dire.” Simon nods again, gratefully. Maybe Johnny will be able to get some uninterrupted rest this morning. You give Johnny one of your sweet smiles, and then directs it to Simon too. It makes his mouth go dry a little bit, and he’s too entranced by the eye contact, the curve of your lips, to notice Johnny’s eyes flicking back and forth between him, and you.

So maybe he doesn’t mind when its you, in particular. Maybe it’s not so bad, when you slip inside the room with an extra smoothie for Johnny, or when you flick the lights off when you think they’re both sleeping. Maybe he doesn’t mind that when he comes back from the cafeteria, you’re sitting in a different chair, reading from your kindle because Johnny had asked you stay a while between versed doses. He’s enchanted by the way you care for Johnny, the tenderness you show him, the way you’re gentle and sweet with him, to him, the way you take the time explain everything that’s happening with Johnny’s medical care to both of them, patiently answering the questions, even the ones Simon worries are dimwitted. Simon tells himself that it’s your job, you’re just doing your job, but he can’t help but perk up a little bit whenever you linger, or try to engage him in small talk. You ask him about their lives (busy) their job (classified) and how they fell in love (“it’s a long story-“ “it’s really not, LT.”)

He also notices little things about you too. Some nights when you come in, you seem happy, bubbly. Refreshed. And others, you’re dragging a bit, posture slumped, circles under your eyes. He sees the way your scrubs are usually a little wrinkled, the day you wore two mismatching socks, the small little bruise, impacted skin, on the inside of your arm… and it makes him wonder. You take such good care of Johnny, of himself… but is anyone taking care of you?

Simple Math masterlist

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) non-canon addition

pet!au | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list

designer doll

cw: non-con (body modifications, sex, groping) body horror, needles and piercings, blood, wounds

Johnny’s been whining for days. 

Nothing but babbling nonsense spills from his lips as he mutters something that you’re not even sure is English. It gets worse when you’re in his grasp. Meaty hands groping your breasts at night while you attempt to sleep in the den of these beasts. In the very bed that holds their sweat and your tears. He’s quiet. Stilly enough that he doesn’t rouse Simon as he mouths his desires against the back of your neck.

“Would be so pretty. Yer so pretty, Bonnie. Please…” 

You think nothing of it. Just more scattered remnants of Johnny’s dilapidating mind — his words are nothing more than the creak of a long abandoned home. Yet, it grows. Squealing wood and snapping nails, he’s more adamant with his whining. This pathetic beg with eyes just as dull and doltish as a dog. It’s annoying enough that it even irritates Simon who does nothing but grunt as he grabs a fist full of the dumb mutt’s hair. 

His fussing relents with a fat cock in his mouth, but the need is still there. It ignites in his chest, swelling until you can make out the glow of his ribs as he immolates his heart. His mouth can’t beg anymore, but his eyes can. You can see it glisten somewhere in that bright blue hue as you make yourself as small as you can on the other side of the bed. It reflects in the tears that trickle down his cheeks as Simon grunts, thrusting into his mouth. 

“Want it that bad?” Simon questions. His question pitches up at the end as Johnny’s throat tightens, choking the head of his cock. “Yeah? Fine. Bein’ a good boy. Might as well.” 

That night, after Johnny’s satiated enough, he whispers again. Hot breath against your ear, he shares how excited he is. Pawing at your chest, yanking your nipples through your shirt until you wince. His excitement reverberates through him like the shockwave of a bullet. Its shiver traverses along your body. Attempting to ripple through your bones. Trying to get you to understand why you should be afraid. 

But you are always afraid. Even if you’re not yet sure why. 

You learn why you should be worried the moment Johnny’s pathetic blabbering is muffled behind the bedroom door. For once, he is alone. He is alone, and you are trapped with Simon. The tables turn. You would give anything to be on the other side of that door. 

“Shirt off,” he orders. He’s faced away from you, shoulders curving forward as he hunches over something on the nightstand. Plastic, rubber, and metal rustle together. It’s sterile. As if you’re in a hospital. Trying to look past him is futile, but when he turns around to face you, he’s adorned black latex gloves hardly large enough to cover his stupid, meaty hands. “C’mon. Take it off.” 

Knowing your only options are to do it yourself or have it ripped off your body, you comply. Without any bra to save yourself and your decency, you’re completely bare to him. Chest on full display without pesky fabric in the way. The air is thick when it hits your skin. Its heaviness weighs on you as Simon nods toward the bed. 

“Lay down. On your back. C’mon now.” 

Yellow aging marks polkadot the ceiling as you stare at the space above you, but it isn’t long before your vision is obscured by the hulking mass of the beast next to you. Thick thighs dip into the mattress on either side of you as you’re straddled, and Simon is none-too-polite about resting his weight on your pelvis. You fawn beneath him, allowing him to manipulate your body until you’re positioned exactly how he wants you. Body straight, legs pinned beneath his knees. 

Your heart beats so furiously you can see the way it rattles your chest. Soft tissue rises and falls, dancing with each thud against your sternum. Have you done something wrong? Something to upset him? You’ve been good, haven’t you? Always try to be good — behave well enough that you don’t catch his attention. Has it worked too well? Is he about to show you the same devotion he shows Johnny? You attempt to wiggle underneath his uncomfortable weight, limbs yearning to flail and lash out, but he hums and shakes his head. 

“Gonna wanna stay still for this, Bonnie,” he advises. 

He begins to poke and prod at your nipples, and the traitorous tissue begins to harden on their own volition. Using a wipe, he cleans them with something that smells faintly like alcohol and you feel the blood in your body begin to coagulate and clot in your veins. Your eyes widen so far you nearly feel them bulge out of their sockets. 

“What are you doing?” you question with a trembling voice. 

Before answering you, he leans over to grab something off the nightstand. To your horror, you realize it’s a needle. Not a small one. Something thin and flimsy to poke into your skin for a vaccine or to draw blood. It’s large with a wide, fat bevel — one thick enough you could drink through it like a straw. Simon grips it between gloved fingers as he stares down at you. 

“Just close your eyes and breathe.” 

You try to be good. Try not to cry or squirm, but the pain that follows overwhelms you. The razor sharp tip of the needle pierces through your nipple, and you’d scream if it wasn’t for the way your jaw clenches shut. It persists. Burns and sears as the skin splits and cracks. The needle keeps going, and going, and going… You know it happens quickly, but your brain is stuck in this moment. Forever trapped with this pain until it eventually wanes to a dull throb. When your eyes open, your vision is blurred with tears. Simon is bored as he inspects his work, dull eyes focusing on your fresh wound as he works the jewelry through. 

Hot ichor seeps out of the piercing and dribbles down your side. You feel it trickle like a creek as it burrows underneath your arm and soaks into the sheets below you. Something tells you to look at it, but you refuse to. You stare up at Simon with watery eyes, attempting to search for the reason of this torture. He doesn’t even bother to clean you up before he’s focusing on the other nipple. 

“Please,” you beg, voice tight. Your legs begin to kick and writhe, as if you could do anything to push this beast off of you. He hardly jostles. “I can’t. Please, Simon that hurt. It hurts so bad, please don’t make me do this.” 

“Quiet down,” he barks. His thighs tighten around you as he leans over to retrieve a new needle. “Handled the first one plenty fine.” 

Johnny is pawing at the door again, hand jiggling the knob but it won’t budge. Darkness clouds the edges of your vision, and you silently pray that you’ll pass out. That you can slip away and not have to feel what’s about to come next, but you’re viciously shoved back into the present the very moment the needle pierces your other nipple. This one hurts more. Nothing short of an intense pang that shoots throughout your entire body. It fries every nerve along the way. Ripples through the entirety of your breast until it all feels scorched. Raw and abused. 

It’s over just as quick as the first, but you feel empty and hollow as the blood gushes forth. You can’t bring yourself to look at them. Not even as Simon’s weight lifts from your body. He’s modified you. Changed you in some way you’ll never be able to revert to. 

“There,” he grunts, gloves snapping free from his hands. “Wasn’t so bad. Quit your whining.” 

He locks you in the kennel afterwards. Lets you bleed all over the bedding. At first, you think it’s some sort of odd punishment. Cruel and unusual. It isn’t until he unlocks the bedroom door that you realize it’s to keep you safe. Johnny bursts into the room, already on his hands and knees next to you as you curl in on yourself. He’s ecstatic. Begging you to let him see. He has to see. Won’t you let him see, Bonnie? 

“Let the bitch rest,” Simon huffs, yanking Johnny back by his collar. “Won’t do any good if you’re pawing at her.” 

The aftermath of it all is worse. Simon doesn’t trust you to keep yourself clean, so he does it himself. Gently rinsing you with antibacterial soap in the bath, thumb gently prodding over your now too-sensitive nipples. Spraying the piercings down with saline water. He washes away the scabs and the crust that forms along the beads. Too gentle. Too doting. As if he truly cares. You know he doesn’t. He’s only worried about infection. Only worried about the hassle it would be. 

Johnny can hardly keep his hands off of you. He stares at you. At the way your aching nipples poke through the shirts you wear and the metal that now adorns them. Simon continuously barks at him. Worried about the dumb mutt yanking on things he shouldn't be. Grumbles about how much of a pain in the ass it was to do it in the first place, and how he doesn’t want to do it again. As if he was the one who suffered the most during the whole exchange. 

Healing takes time, but it’s not enough to save you, and it isn’t long before you’re spread out naked on the bed like a luxurious meal. The only reason you haven’t been devoured yet is because of Simon’s grip on Johnny’s collar, holding him back like a reactive dog that wants to put the other mutts in their place. Neck craned back, Johnny looks up at his owner, blue eyes as deep and wide as the ocean as he struggles and begs. 

Simon’s thumb brushes over a dark patch of fabric clutched in his hands. His expression is indistinct with tight lips and slow blinking eyes. He gives a firm tug on his collar — a silent command to stay still — before he begins to unfold the fabric. 

“Don’t need ya slobberin’ all over her, yeah?” he instructs. “Keep that fuckin’ mouth off ‘er. Don’t wanna deal with infections, you hear me?” 

A mask is placed over Johnny’s face; a balaclava; a muzzle. Like a dog that won’t stop biting. It’s dark, but the pattern on it is odd. Chalky white drawings of a skull face adorn his chin, and you half expect to see nothing but empty sockets for his eyes. Instead, it’s the same wide blue you’ve grown accustomed to. That fervent desire that tingles in the tips of his fingers as he waits for Simon’s queue. 

“Yeah… good boy,” he hums. Fingers run between the locks of Johnny’s overgrown mohawk as he rustles his hair before shoving him forward. “Go play.” 

[llamagoddessofficial]

How would Farmer Sans handle hearing that MC was sick? Maybe they usually meet up a certain time while managing their morning chores and they’re just.. not there, only for him to later find that they’re bedridden

"hey, pumpkin."

The sound of Sans' voice, regardless of how soft it was, made you panic.

You sat bolt upright from your spot curled into the couch, jolting out of your strange fever dream. A cooling pack fell off your head, and a blanket you didn’t remember grabbing slipped from your shoulders to your lap.

Immediately, you could tell that you weren’t on your home couch. You didn’t recognise the blanket someone had tucked you under. You weren’t cold, you couldn’t smell the usual mix of dust and gradually fading damp - in fact, there were many wonderful scents mingling in the warm air, soup and tea and a sweet bread aroma that made your stomach rumble. 

It certainly wasn’t where you expected to wake up, after you fell asleep in front of the dodgy TV once the painkillers finally kicked in. This was someone else’s couch. And after a few bleary moments, you recognised it all. 

... It was Sans’ couch. You were in his house.

You looked up a little to see the man himself, as handsome as ever, leaning over the back of the sofa and looking at you. A gentle flicker of relief passed over his face. 

“rise and shine,” he said, voice as warm as the room. “how’re you feelin’?”

Huh? 

...

Your eyes widened. "S-Sans!?"

Bad decision. At such a sudden vocalisation, your body decided that was the perfect moment to send you into a horrendous coughing fit that made the inside of your throat feel like someone had gone at it with sandpaper.

Sans just put a big gentle hand on your back, letting you work through it, quiet as you hacked your lungs up.

Eventually the coughing eased off; once you had control of your body again, you turned your gaze back to him.

"Y-you...” Your cheeks were starting to burn. “why am I...?"

“you weren’t answerin’ the phone. i got worried.” As he spoke, you kept messing with your shirt, nervously pulling it down over yourself. “came to check on you, an’ you were totally out of it, could barely answer me. i had to go work, but figured i should bring you somewhere me an’ pap can keep an eye on you.”

... Oh no. You put your hands over your face, slowly getting quieter and quieter as the situation dawned on you. “Y-you really didn’t need to...”

“course we did. ain’t safe for you to be so sick all on yer own.”

This was a nightmare. Now, on top of being sick, you were absolutely mortified at Sans seeing you in this state. Tired, achy, sweaty... you were dressed in a stained old shirt and pyjama pants, visibly unshowered and pretty much as ungroomed as one could get. You distinctly remembered throwing stuff on your floor before you fell asleep, too weak to get up and go put it in the garbage - empty blister packs and used, crumpled tissues. Did he see all your dirty trash when he came to find you?

You wanted to melt into the couch. He had seen you delirious and ill, at your absolute greasiest and grossest. Stars, what did he think of you now?

“I-I’ve been out for hours?” you asked.

“mhm.”

Your whole world was coming down around your ears. Why couldn’t Sans have just let you die at home, where no one would see your shame?

“you didn't tell me you were sick,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear. There was a strangely... sullen edge to his tone? 

Your face was on fire. You had already intruded so much on him and his brother’s kindness over the last few weeks. Sans had repaired your stove and water pipes, bought you fresh food from the farm, helped fix a leak in the roof, not to mention when you asked him to stay the night like you were a frightened baby. Now here you were; being sick and disgusting right in the middle of his house. 

Before he could say anything else, you pushed the blanket off you, swinging your legs over the side of the couch and scrambling to your feet.

“I-I should get home,” you said, hoarse.

Immediately, Sans’ brows raised. You didn't look at him for long, walking unsteadily and trying your best to concentrate on not tipping over.

“I’m so sorry to intrude. I’ll just-”

... Your feet went out from underneath you. 

You squeaked, loudly - but Sans didn’t care, he scooped you up like you didn’t weigh a thing. To him, you probably didn’t weigh a thing. You could feel his massive strength through his clothes, and you immediately knew that if he wanted to, he could’ve thrown you straight into the air like a child.

You couldn’t tell if it was the height that was dizzying, how close your face was to his, or if you were just way weaker right now than you realised. But immediately your hands balled in his shirt.

"... easy," he murmured, one arm under your thighs. "i don't bite."

... Your face filled with so much heat it felt as if the tips of your ears were going to set alight. You tried to say something, but when you opened your mouth, literally nothing came out. Not a sound. All you could do was hold on to his shoulders.

Sans’ voice became normal again, jokingly stern. “sorry. not goin’ anywhere on my watch, pet. you need to rest. look at you - yer burnin' up.”

Your whole body had tensed up. But not out of fear. You just stared into his eyelights.

He very gently sat you back down onto the couch, putting the cold pack into your hands. “you stay right there, ok? i’ll getcha some soup. it should be ready by now.”

"O-ok," you helplessly replied.

Sans moved away, disappearing into the kitchen.

...

There wasn't much else you could do, but lay down and put the cooling pack back on your head... trying to figure out how to make your heart slow down.

[random-thot-generator]

Reverse trope prompt: Fake amnesia

Full prompt list here by @out-of-jams

Soap x reader

Maybe? NSFW - Soap gets a wee bit handsy with reader, nothing sexually explicit, profanity, soap is a sneaky lil shit

dividers by: @saradika-graphics

"Where's me bonnie lass?"

"She's comin', lad," Price murmurs, giving Soap's shoulder a gentle pat. He squats down beside his wheelchair to peer into his sergeant's eyes. "Ya feelin' alright? Head hurtin' ya?"

Soap squints at his captain, suspicious. "Oi! Yer no' another one o' them doctors, are ye? Feckin' numpties willnae leave me alone."

Price sighs, shakes his head and stands. "No, lad. I'm— just visitin'."

Soap's face splits into a grin. "Oh. Well, tha's a'right, then. Dinnae mind visitors. Do ye ken tha' big bloke tha' wears a skelly mask? 'E comes t'visit meh, too." Soap leans in, voice dipping low. " Bit of an odd duck, tha' one. Tol' meh 'e was a ghost." His eyebrows arch high on his forehead. "An' the docs say I'm th'one wit' brain damage."

Price huffs a short laugh despite himself. "That's his callsign, lad. Do ya remember yours?"

"Callsign?" Soap repeats, looking confused.

"Never mind. 'S not important right now."

Soap nods, his eyes trailing back to the door. "'Ave ye seen the gas man about? Mehbeh he kens where me lass is."

"Gas man?" Price mutters, frowning, then understanding dawns. "Ah. Ya mean Gaz. He's uh— at work. Won't be around for a few days, I'm afraid."

"Oh. Tha's too bad. 'E's good at findin' m'lass fer meh." He raises a hand to scratch at the scar tissue on the side of his head. "Doan s'pose ye'd be willin' t'ave a look 'round fer 'er, would ye? Ah miss 'er." His blue eyes shine bright and luminous with hope.

Price nods, chuckling. "A'course, lad. I'll see if I can find her f'ya."

Price turns on the telly for him before he leaves, flipping it to a cartoon channel. Soap's loud guffaw follows him out into the hallway. Passing the nurses' station, he gives a nod to a couple of the nurses as he heads towards the cafeteria, where he last saw you. He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots you sitting with Ghost, a cup of tea in your hands.

You watch the captain's approach, taking in his expression, then grimace. His look is apologetic when he murmurs, "He's askin' f'ya, again, lass."

"Bloody hell," you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

Ghost grunts, eyes narrowing. "Funny, tha'. Johnny can't remember any'a us, but he's got no problem remembering 'er?" He tilts his head. "Bit strange, innit?"

Price shrugs. "Hard t'say, with an injury like that. Docs say he might regain some of his memory, he might not. No way t'tell."

You sigh, turning your weary gaze on Ghost. "His memory of me isn't perfect, either, ya know? You remember how he used to give me hell all the time. Now he thinks I'm his bloody girlfriend, for Chrissakes! He told Gaz we were engaged yesterday. It's bloody mental."

Ghost hums but says no more.

Blowing out a tired breath, you push yourself up from your chair. "Guess I better get back up there before he comes looking for me again. Thought that head nurse was going to string those other poor nurses up by their heels when Johnny gave 'em the slip."

Price laughs lowly. "And in a wheelchair, no less. Made it all the way to the exit before they caught up with him."

Ghost grunts as he stands, shuffling away from the table to join you. "I'll go wiff ya. Johnny might behave himself better if I'm there."

You snort at that. "Yeah, right. Might as well restrain him, because he won't keep his hands to himself, I can promise ya that."

As soon as you enter Soap's room, he beams a huge smile, his arms up, grabby hands reaching for you. "There ye are! C'mere, bonnie. Gie us a hug."

You point at him, a stern expression on your face. "Promise you'll behave, first. No feeling me up this time."

He gazes up at you, looking like a whipped pup. "Ayre ye mad at me, bon? Did I do somethin' bad? Ah'm sorry."

His pitiful pout melts your resolve instantly. "I'm not mad at you, Johnny. Don't get upset. Everything's alright," you soothe, voice soft as you step close to smooth your hand over his shaggy mohawk.

Ghost doesn't miss the mischievous little flash in Soap's eyes before he grins and grabs you by the hips, pulling you into his lap. You yelp, trying to be careful of his head as you try to push his face from between your breasts. The man doesn't let up, wallowing you like a fussy toddler, his big hands holding you in place. You give another yelp when he gets hold of your ass cheek and squeezes.

"Oi, ya cheeky git," Ghost barks. "Yer bein' too rough!"

Soap cuts a sly glance his way before settling his chin on your chest, smiling sweetly up at you. "Ah dinnae hurt ye, did I, bon?"

You sigh, flustered, trying to be patient. "No, Johnny. You just— startled me." You puff out a breath, prying his hand off your ass.

Soap gives Ghost a smug little smirk, hugging you so tight, you squeak. "See, LT? Ah wasnae bein' too rough. Ah jus' startled 'er."

You lay a hand on his cheek to get his attention back, melting a little more at the open adoration in his gaze. "You should still be more careful, Johnny," you chide him gently. "You get excited and grab my bum too hard sometimes. You leave bruises."

He perks up at that. "Aye? Bruises, ye say? Can ye show me? Ah promise t'kiss 'em all better."

You can't help but laugh. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

Soap nuzzles your chest and grins. "Aye, but ye love meh anyway, doan ye, bon?"

You only manage to escape when one of the nurses finally comes in to give Soap his medication and check his vitals. You scurry out the door, looking a right mess, disheveled and breathing heavy, mumbling something about getting some water.

Ghost stands by quietly as the nurse takes Johnny's vitals, eyeing him intently the whole time. Once she exits the room, Soap turns a guileless expression to his lieutenant. "Somethin' the matter, Mr. Ghost?"

Ghost huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "Give it up, Johnny. Ya fucked up, mate. She didn't catch it, but I did." He comes closer, leaning down to whisper at Soap's ear, "Or did ya jus' suddenly remember I'm yer LT?"

He chuckles lowly when Soap sucks in a sharp breath. He straightens back to his full height, looming over the now worried looking Scot.

"I'll keep m'mouth shut, so long as ya come clean wiff the captain. Poor sod's been worryin' 'imself sick over ya."

"A'right," Soap grumbles, bottom lip poking out.

You return moments later, a bottle of water in one hand, a pudding cup and spoon in the other.

"Look what I nicked for ya, Johnny. Butterscotch pudding. Your favorite."

He gives you a hangdog look. "Can we lay in bed while ye feed it t'meh? Ah'm feelin' a wee bit tired."

"Sure, love. Ghost, will ya help me get him in the bed?"

Ghost helps put him to bed without comment, but pins the sergeant with a knowing look while you're climbing into bed with him.

Soap slants a mischievous look up at his lieutenant, teeth flashing in a quick grin, and winks.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

You line the end of your stick up with the cue ball, your tongue poking out from between your lips in concentration. Playing pool was never your strong suit, but you’re not trying to win this game per se. You’re interested in something far more valuable.

TOJI FUSHIGURO approaches you from behind, hanging his head to the side to get a good gander at your round behind. The baby tee you wear rides up from how you bend over, revealing the dimples at the small of your back. Not at all brief, and in great detail, Toji imagines other contexts. Circumstances in which his thumbs would find a handle on those divots, yanking you back onto him when you run away from a good dicking. Looking at you now, dressed up in a pink outfit two sizes too small, you wouldn’t know a good dicking if it hit you in the face, and he sure was considering batting your pretty cheeks with it.

You wiggle your hips, subconsciously rearing to prepare for your shot, and he chases you. Without thinking about it, he lines himself up with you, rolling his tongue between his lips as mere inches separate the bulge in his pants with your backside strapped in by that teeny skirt. His hand itches to fix onto your tailbone, steadying you so he can nudge up against you. Jus’ a little, wouldn’t even know he was there. Tuck his thumb in the crevice to give your asshole a massage while he did it, he’s really thinking about you here, you should be grateful.

You wind back, and flick your stick forward, pool balls knocking together in snapping sounds as you watch your move play out. He sniffs and swipes his nose pinching it between his index and thumb real quick, adjusting his pants by the back of his belt as he rounds you. A hand at the top of his stick allows him to lean on it marginally, the pool balls slowing to a stop under his gaze.

“You’re bad at this.” he tells you.

The curl to your lips deepens, popping your hip out as you tilt your head at him. He notes the flirtatious body language, the knowing glint in your eye. “Am I?”

His gaze darkens. “Can show you a few things. If you promise it’ll get through that thick skull o’ yers.” A small smile on his mouth stretches out the scar tissue overlaying his lips, and you visualize tracing it with your tongue.

“Oh, don’t be a brute.” you respond as he passes behind you, forcing you to follow him with your eyes. As he picks his target, he holds your gaze, hunching over the table as he lines up his stick. Powerful shoulders confined in a thin black t-shirt has you biting hard onto your lower lip. He breaks the eye contact long enough to hit the ball, but you don’t bother watching them scatter, focused on taking in every marginal move he makes, straightening to his full and dizzying height. The end of his stick comes to your exposed midriff, and hooks under the hem of your baby tee, flicking it up.

“You like it when I’m a brute.”

Indignantly, you tug your shirt back down. It’s clear he wanted to fake you out, make you believe he was gonna get away with flashing himself and any lucky stiff at this bar. You swat his arm scoldingly, but all your dumb brain can think about is how hard and thick his bicep is. “I do not! Why do you insist on bullying me?”

He grins, canines glinting in the dim and smoky light, snickering through his nose. “Easy to bully when you’re bite-sized.”

Bite-sized. That’s all that goes through that thick skull of yours when Toji’s pulling out your brains and shoving ‘em back in with every fuck into you later. Powerful and harsh thrusts, nailing your abused cervix so hard you’re sure it’ll bruise. “The fuck are you thinking about, hah? You rememberin’ those pool tips? Got ya to lay down real low on that table. Bet everyone saw up that stupid little skirt.” Toji jeers at you while he’s pinning you by your head, big hand on your hair to pin your cheek to the mattress. “Everyone saw you leave with me. Saw a slice of cherry pie get pushed around by mean ol’ Toji, only to hang off my arm out the door. A little slutty, don’t’cha think?” He’s amusing himself, you can tell by the sound of his deep voice he’s got that wolfish grin on he wears so well. Wickedly, his reckless pace speeds up so you can’t form a response.

Your limp body has no choice but to move with him, rippling with each sheath into you. Poor cunt puffy and agitated around him as his mean cock brutalizes it some more. Tears sting your eyes but you can’t tell if they’re of pain or pleasure.

“T- Toji—“ you choke out, reaching back to finger timidly at his thighs. He won’t have it, picking himself up to a kneel so he can yank you back on him. Thumbs slot onto your dimples as fingers tuck between the folds of your pelvis and thighs. That perfect ass of yours smacking against him so hard, your skin pebbles and blushes.

“Huh?” he mocks. “What’s that? S’this the part where you lie and tell me you can’t handle it? Nah, little girl, I’m looking at the way this cunt’s slurpin’ me up. Fucking take it.”

[fraserbraw]

home again, to his love.

john mactavish x f!reader

nsfw, MDNI, chubby reader, oral fem receiving, suggested p in v, johnny being so obsessed with his pretty little plush wife

john & johnny used

1.3k words

nsfw below cut <3

his footsteps sounded softly against the dirt pathway leading to your house, his heart beating from out of his chest.

john’s throat works at the sight of you in the distance, eyes drinking up your figure as if he was the desert and you were the ocean.

“‘m home,” he rasps out. you had been expecting him next week. “forgot t’ call.”

your breath leaves your lungs as his voice fills her your, your mind immediately jumping from the bread you were baking to him.

you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. your husband, your johnny, came home to you.

whispered prayers and thanks in gaelic left your lips as you held him close, thankful to the lord for bringing him home to you once more.

john holds you, eyes closed as he breathes in the scent of you. the smell of you brings a calmness to the turbulent sea of emotions and stress that he holds inside. “i’m home,” he whispers back—he’s back, back with you again, where he knows he belongs.

warmth fills his eyes and heart as feelings of love overflow him on this happy night, his head tilting down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. “i missed you,” he says, “too much.”

you press kisses to his neck and jaw and face, finally crashing against his lips. you hold him close to your body as you absorb all of him.

“lord i hate when you go for so long.”

“i hate leavein’. it just ain’t a choice when yer in me sorta line o’ work.” his hand moves up your back, fingers gently stroking through you hair.

“how’s me bonnie been doin’ whilst i been gone?” he asks, that familiar scottish lilt in his words.

“i hope y’ ain’t workin’ yerself too hard here. i seen how thin yer gettin’ in the shoulders. i’ll have ta fix tha’.”

that accent always made you melt. you clung to him as if he was your life force, because in a way, he was. you needed each other, almost more than you needed air.

“i’ve been alright. cooking, mostly. isn’t the same when you’re not here to eat it.”

he hums and lets his hands find your shoulders, massaging right between them as you lean against him. he presses a kiss to the crown of your head before speaking.

“y’ got any leftover, love? m’ starved.”

you let out a soft groan as he massaged the soft tissue of your neck, your head falling against his chest.

you always smelled like a bakery. you owned one, so it made sense, but herbs and flour and warmth seemed to seep from you like the air you breathed.

“i’ll make some more for you. no one i’d rather cook for.”

john’s smile is like the sun cresting the horizon, breaking through clouds of stress and worry. he holds you close in the early morning light, your breaths slowing in that cozy moment that feels like hours.

“aye, love,” he rumbles, “i’ll eat all y’ make for me.” he kisses the top of your head, pulling you in even closer. “what else have you been up to? did ya finally watch that old western i told ya bout?”

you nuzzle into him. you felt like you could never get close enough. if you could crawl inside of him, you would in a heartbeat.

“mhm. watched it last night. i liked it.” you left out the fact that you had watched it every night since he left, clinging onto any part of him that you could in his absence. you knew the movie by heart.

with your face buried against him, john’s hands roam about underneath your shirt, tracing along your skin as he begins to kiss down your neck and move lower.

“tell me, darlin’, what else you been doin’ with yerself?” he asks, his mouth reaching your shoulder and nibbling on your collarbone. “have ya been usin’ the time wisely, hm?”

your eyes fluttered closed, your mouth slightly agape as he kissed all over you neck and collar, as his hands wandered under your shirt and teased just where he knew you would fold.

“mhm.. thinking about you a lot.”

that was all you could say. that was all you needed to say. you knew he would get the message. most nights, you would try to work yourself to an orgasm, wearing something of his. it never worked. not when it wasn’t him.

“ahh, love,” he groans against your skin, “y’ been missin’ me, hm?”

his hands go for the shirt you wear, working to pull it over your head.

his face is buried in your necks and shoulders, hot breath falling against the sensitive skin as his hands run along your skin; he couldn’t believe he had been away for so long.

“y’ been touchin’ yerself for me?” he asks, his words like smooth whisky.

soft whimpers escaped you as he pulled your shirt off, revealing your bare chest. it was a rare occasion when you wore something under your shirts or sweaters, so he knew he would be greeted with the sight of your exposed breasts.

you weren’t a skinny woman, not by any means. you were plush and soft and curvy, just how he loved you. your voice was soft and sweet as you answered him.

“m-mhm.. not the same when it’s not you..”

john’s smile stretches wide; he knows he’s going to be enjoying this.

he moves to his knees, pushing your skirt up over your hips and slotting himself between your legs. he looks up at you through his eyelashes, nosing against your clothed cunny.

you let out a soft gasp as he drops to his knees and lean more against the wall he had you pinned to. you could already feel the wetness of your own arousal begin to soak into the cotton.

“johnny..” you whispered, hands holding up your skirt.

“hmm?” he hummed, pressing kisses to your cunt. his arms wrapped around the backside of your thighs and his fingers played with the soft plush of your hips.

“somethin’ the matter, bonnie?”

you bit your lip and gazed down at him. your eyes closed and you leaned your head back as he licked a stripe up the cotton, the roughness of his stubble scratching so fucking good against your thighs.

his fingers slipped into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down and off of your legs. “told ye i was starved, didn’t i?” he taunted, pressing an unusually soft kiss to the outside of your excited and very much deprived pussy.

you didn’t even think to respond as he lapped at your cunt like a man starved. he ate you like it was his last meal on earth, lapping up anything that he possibly could.

mewls and moans left your lips as he devoured you, lapping at your entrance before moving to your clit. he ran the flat of his tongue over the bundle of nerves and swirled around it. it sent shivers down your spine and trembles through your thighs.

you had to fight off the urge to clamp your thighs around his head. your hand found his hair and tugged, louder and louder moans coming from you.

“f-fuck, johnny, i’m close-“ you moaned, breathy and full of pleasure. he only tightened his grip around your thighs.

“cum for me, bonnie. let me taste you.”

his voice sent vibrations through your cunt and spiraled you over the edge, cumming all over his face. he hummed happily and drank up all that your blessed body gave him.

of course, he didn’t stop there. no, he kept going, eating your pussy and groaning at the taste until you physically pulled him off with a “t-too much, johnny, fuck.”

he let you regain your balance for a second before standing back up and pulling you into his arms. he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and flashed that devilish smile at you.

“le’ me show ye how much i missed ye in the bedroom, aye?”

(a/n: thank you all for all the support <333 i’ll do a m!reader for the next post, feel free to suggest any and all ideas)

[instarsandcrime]

Ambrosia to Go

@here-for-the-sick-fics Hi hello! I broke rather early, so thanks for the request! I'm not sure if it's what you had in mind, but I liked the challenge and I like Huskerdust! So! Here! You go! Enjoy!

Part 1

--

As the local bartender, Husk was very aware of what made the Hazbin Hotel tick. And unfortunately, that did not stop with how they handled illness.

Charlie was not one to hide it, but she would play it down and throw endless hours into her work until she collapsed. A rumor had started around the hotel that their bartender had thrown a blanket around her shoulders when she passed out at the counter. And he'll keep saying 'no, that didn't happen' until he's blue in the face because well, no one was there to prove it, were they?

As far as he can tell, he knows Alastor can get sick. Sort of. Kind of. A sniff here, a cough there. Even if, by rare chance that an overlord gets sick, he can hide those little details-- and hide them well. It would take only God themself to even catch him sneezing more than once.

When Lucifer gets hit, he gets hit hard. Denying it is somehow his go-to strategy even when the slightest cold knocks him down. Last time he'd seen the king sick he'd been working on some pretty important documents and, by the end of one of his many fits, he'd sneezed so hard that he breathed fire through the entire stack.

Niffty doesn't get sick. She's never gotten sick once since they started working together. He knows this. She knows this. It's incredibly unsettling and he'd rather not talk about it.

And today, he’s unfortunately left with...

"Angel Dust." Husk raised a bushy brow, "I'm cuttin' you off. You look like you're gonna pass out any second now."

And there sat the demon of the hour, famous porn star beloved by millions, plastered out of his mind and clutching a glass of what he calls his 'medical ambrosia'.

"Lissen! Lissen. Iii..." Angel's nose scrunched, and quickly covered it with a tissue-- which Husk nudged slightly to the left for accuracy's sake. "Hep'shhh! HET'shhhiieww. Ugh, gross."

The owlcat winced, fighting back the guilt he'd stuffed down for hours now. "Ange, I--"

"Shaddup!" Four accusatory fingers pointed, "If I had a cold I'd have it! And if I had your previous cold I'd say shhhhhaddup! Because you're-- snffff! you're a real nice guy, y'know that?"

"But--"

"Shhhhhhh!" Angel squinted, "All...all four of ya shut yer traps. You were worth it and don't you forget it. 'Kay?"

That speech was way too sincere. Oh God above he has to care again, doesn't he? Rolling his eyes with a groan, Husk swept the half empty shooter from the swaying patron’s grip.

"Hey! What gives?!"

Wordlessly he tossed Angel’s ambrosia down the drain, jumpstarting the closing time routine.

"Don't be like that Whiskers! We were just...g-gettin'...g-gettin' intehh...hih!" Angel hitched, fanning himself desperately before--

"HEP'shhhh!" He pitched forward, caught by a tissue in helping paws. The bartender sighed– then repressed a shiver when the sickly spider blew messily into cheap paper.

"Yer lucky you're cute." Husk grumbled.

"Whassat?"

"Nothin'." Tossing the soaked through tissue in the wastebasket, he snaked an arm around Angel Dust's waist. "C'mon sickie, let's get you to bed."

As he pulled Angel off the stool, it took a few seconds for his mind to buffer before sobering up a little and– here we go. Right on cue.

"Y'know this’s just allergies, right?"

"Mmmhm." Husk nodded mechanically, inching up one velvet step at a time.

"An' really, when ya think about it-- snff! Niffty's been slackin', y'know?"

"Sure." Second floor.

"I mean, missin' an hour of cleanin' today and for whuhh- what? Fightin' more roaches?"

"A shame, really." Third floor, second door on the right.

"And I...I-I..." Angel wobbled, breath hitching. Without even glancing Husk held a claw up to the spider’s nose. "Snff! Ugh. Thags."

"Shut up." Husk swore as they stumbled into the room. Purple fluorescent lights rained down on a plush bed, vanity close by. Thankfully with tissues, because he knew what was coming next. 

"Id's cold id here, isn't it?"

"Yup." Husk grunted, leaning to grab a piece while balancing Angel with the other arm. "Pretty-- ugh-- chilly."

"I mbean geez! Sub-- snff! someone should really turn up the thermos-staahhh-hheh-hihhHIHH'ATSHHHHH!" Angel pitched forward again, and Husk spread his wings to keep balance, pressing a cloth to his face before he could get sprayed. "Guh..."

"Gesundheit." Husk deadpanned. The finger under the nose trick can only work so well when it literally and figuratively backfires a few seconds later. "Alright, let's lay you down before--..." 

He tugged, but his patient wasn't moving. He was busy staring into the mirror. 

"Angel?" A paw squeezed his bicep.

"...I can't wear the robe."

"What?"

"I can’t wear the robe. He's gonna kill me." Angel Dust repeated, turning pale. "I-I…we have this scene tomorrow with this sexy lingerie bathrobe lookin' thing and-- and I look like a wreck. I sound like a wreck. When I get sick I get messy and I'm gonna sneeze all over the stubid thi’g--"

"Angel--"

"And thed Val's gudda see how gross I mbade it--"

"Hey, hey, easy." Gently guiding Angel to the bed, he mourned at the way his fluffy frame shook. “Let’s sit you down before you fall down, okay? We'll take this one step at a time. And I won’t drop you, promise."

"...I-I kndow." The patient shot him a shaky smile. Shivering and unsteady, Husk tucked the tissue box beside him and draped the comforter over his shoulders.

"Okay." He took four gloved hands in one of his own, other reaching to help Angel Dust wipe his eyes. Then moved to his nose. "Blow."

"Wh-- I cad't let you do that! It's disgustig--!"

"Good to know, ‘cause we've done this all night."

"We have?! Oh, Husgk..."

"Trust me, I've cleaned up worse at the bar."

Pink cheeks glowing red, Angel rid himself of the muck as quickly as possible-- relieved sigh quickly replaced with panic.

"It's alright." Husk kneaded patterns on the other's thigh, glancing a knowing look. "Like I said, I'm not gonna drop ya."

Understanding, Angel scooped the tissue up and pressed it to his nose. "Et'SHHHH'iiew! ep'shhhh! Ghuhh..." With another honking blow he tossed the wadded ball on the desk, flopping face first into the pillowy mattress. Husk's eyes traveled everywhere but to his partner...in...crime? Ugh. Still not sure. Instead his attention lay on Fat Nuggets while he waited, little menace snoring softly in the corner.

"...I'm gross." Angel Dust rasped, muffled through satin and lace.

"I can see that." 

"Forget what just happened. I was actin’ stupid, freakin’ out over nothin’."

"Nah." Claws threaded through tangled hair, "Fuck your boss. You should sneeze in his face."

Angel Dust snorted. Husk smirked. "Yeah. Really make 'im squirm. He wants messy fluids right?"

Slowly moving to lean against the headboard, the spider brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he stared. Pupils shrunk to pinpricks like he was at the climax of a horror movie.

"...What? I'm right." A pointed ear flicked irritably.

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Shut up. Did you just make a sex pun?"

Husk blinked in surprise, forgetting himself. And only smirked wider.

Alright, new plan.

"Me? Do somethin' like that? C'mon Legs, you're grasping. All I'm sayin' is ya gotta take a few tissues and get real passionate with 'em."

"Hhhhholy shhhhit."

"Then stuff 'em in his chest fluff or something. He can use 'em as padding."

"Are you real?" Angel gasped teasingly.

"What? You said you were gross. If he's not lettin' you call in, you might as well snee--"

"Hp'shhhh! HT'SHHHH'hhoo! Unh..."

"Yeah. Like that."

Pausing to let his patient give a gurgling blow, the tail end of a miserable groan broke into a soft giggle. Giggle breaking into another hitching mess until--

"Hih'TSCHHH! HTCH'shhhiew! H-hih-hhhHHITSCHHHH!"

"Alright, alright, that's enough excitement for one night." Husk quickly got to work, grabbing the required fluffy sweater and pajama pants. Ignoring the disappointed pout between pulling the top over Angel's stomach with a satisfied tug.

"Aw Husk–snfff! Really? Pants? I don't wannaaaa."

"Yes, pants. I thought you said you were cold."

"But they're such a paiiinnnn."

"Do you wanna get more sick?"

"...No."

"Then I'll go back to my room so you can slip those on."

A single step and--

"Wait!" Angel blurted.

A pause filled the room, save for a few coughs dragged out by the sudden burst.

"...Need something?"

"I, uh. I'm not ready."

"Christ Ange, are you still drunk? Jus’ put on your pants one leg at a time–"

"No! What?! No! I don’t want you to leave!" An aching voice broke. Tired eyes squeezed shut. Suddenly feeling rather small, he forced his gaze down to his gloves, peeling them off one by one as he spoke. "I…I-I know it's late, so you can always say no. I just…I don't wanna be alone right now."

Another pause. “...Please.”

A sharp sigh immediately cut any creeping tension, listening to a winged back thump against the wall. "I get it. Bein’ sick is…a lot. You don't need to write me an essay. And I don't pick favorite customers, but I gotta admit. I'll keep the bar open all night if it means I get to talk to Anthony again. Just once, that’s all I need."

[sassycheesecake]

A/N: Some people wanted a part 2 of this Atsumu X pregnant!Reader Story where Atsumu doesn’t know he’s gonna be a dad, so here ya go :D. P.S. I recently watched Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 and it destroyed me.

Here’s part one ❤️

The blonde Setter has the jitters while he is sitting on the plane, excited to see you again after being away from you for so long. He watches the outside world from the plane window, your beautiful smile embracing his mind and he can’t help but daydream about being reunited with you again.

Bokuto is sitting next to him, watching 'Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3' with tears in his golden eyes while snacking on NicNac‘s for the last thirty minutes.

With each crunch and sniffle of Bokuto, Sakusa who sits in front of the pair, can feel his patience snapping with each loud crunch.

Turning around, because the ravenette had enough, he frowns at the silver-haired Outside Hitter, quite disturbed by his appearance.

Inunaki, who is sitting next to Sakusa (and the only one that Sakusa tolerates sitting next to), also gets up to lean over his seat, staring with a frown at Bokuto.

"Bo, you good man?" The Libero waves his hand in front of the usual cheerful player.

Stopping the movie, Bokuto almost begins to cry hysterically while staring at his light-haired and the black-haired teammates, trying to explain while also hiccuping with tears.

"R-Rocket h-has s-s-such a sad p-past a-and i-it’s b-b-breaking m-my heart."

Atsumu doesn’t even acknowledge his teammates, still thinking about you with a goofy-lovesick smile on his face, making Sakusa almost gag by the sight of it.

"What’s wrong with him? He looks high." Inunaki asks with his head tilted to the side while looking Atsumu.

"When is there not something wrong with him." Sakusa mumbles before sitting down again properly, Inunaki following his moves.

"I heard that Omi." Atsumu says while still staring out the window.

Bokuto finally calms down, when Hinata, and who sits behind him with Joffe, hands him a few tissues that he had packed in his backpack.

Joffe leans forwards slightly, due to his massive height he doesn’t need to stand up to see his teammates.

"Missing your girlfriend? How’s she doing by the way?" Joffe asks.

Atsumu sighs before he turns a bit to look at the titan behind him.

"Yeah, missin' 'er terribly. An' she is doin' okay, I guess?Last time I called 'er, she was vomitin' lots. Must have been somethin' she ate, accordin' to 'er." Atsumu frowns deep in thought.

All of sudden, Hinata‘s orange hair pops up next to him.

"I hope she is okay. Maybe the flu?"

"Vomiting? You better not bring this illness to practice, we have a game in two weeks." Sakusa says in a threatening voice.

"Oh please, as if missin' yer presence on da court has any effect on our performance, Omi. We have plenty of players ta cover for ya."

Sakusa slowly turns his head, Hinata shrinks in fear behind the seat.

Bokuto does not care, still watching Guardians of the Galaxy in high anticipation, eyes entirely focused on the screen while munching on his snack loudly.

"Are you calling me useless on the court Miya?" The ravenette growls.

"Well if da boot fits-"

"Say that again to my face. I dare you." Sakusa begins to get up from his seat, about to strangle the blonde Setter, when the Captain, Shūgo Meian interrupts before it can escalate.

"Guys, we still have an hour left on the flight, behave. Please." Meian, the team captain calls out tiredly a few rows behind them.

"You heard the chief. No more fighting." Joffe laughs.

Sakusa huffs, putting his AirPods in, trying to calm down when he sits back down in his seat.

Atsumu looks back out the window, being with some people for a long time every single day for hours has really brought him to his limit.

Thank goodness the airport is not far from your shared apartment and the flight is less than an hour now.

Soon, he will be with you again.

Back at home, you just came back with some grocery bags, along with some prenatal vitamins from the local pharmacy.

Honestly you’ve been constantly so tired and grouchy, you’re thanking the heavens that Atsumu is not here with you right now.

He’d be constantly worried for you.

Putting away the groceries, you cut yourself some apple slices with honey as a dip and some rice waffles with strawberry Joghurt as dipping sauce.

Stocking the vitamins in the med cabinet, you begin to munch on your food when your phone rings.

Seeing Atsumu’s silly face on the screen, you put your food down and answer it.

"Hello, my handsome Setter." You greet him happily.

"Heyyy, my sexy girl. How’s it goin'?" Atsumu cheers back.

"Going good, missing you a lot. Just got back from the store to make some Japanese curry later on."

"Sounds delish. Hey, uh can ya open the door? I got some flowers in one hand an' my luggage in the other, kinda hard to open the door like that." Atsumu grins on the phone when he hears you gasp and run towards the door.

Highly confused at his saying, he hangs up all of sudden and you put your snacks down to run to the front door.

When you open the door, a 6'1 tall, athletic guy with messy blonde hair grins excitedly at you, a grin that you missed terribly.

Throwing yourself in his arms, Atsumu drops his luggage to the side, wrapping his strong arms around you while still having the flowers in one hand.

You breathe in his familiar scent, the smell of his expensive Ayurveda body scrub fills your nose and you almost tear up with how much you missed him.

Walking you backwards very carefully, Atsumu pushes his suitcase inside, while still holding you and closes the door, so the privacy between the two of you remains.

Remembering he got you flowers, he parts from you a little bit to hand them to you with a dazzling smile.

"Awww Tsumu, you shouldn’t have. They’re beautiful." You take in the beautiful smell of your favorite flowers but the usual lovely scent makes you nauseous.

The Setter sees your happiness turn into a wince and he immediately is worried again.

"Ya okay? Still feelin' bad from last night?"

"Yeah, uh the paella really did a number on me last night. I promise I’ll be fine." You chuckle, trying to convince him that it’s just the food making you feel bad and not the pregnancy.

"Mhm, okay, if ya say so." The Setter says unsure but doesn’t question you any further.

"I promise, I will be fine." You assure him once more with a long promising kiss and the Olympian practically sighs in bliss to feel your soft lips against his own after being apart from you.

The rest of the evening, you spend the time in each others arms, making up for being away from each other for so long.

Atsumu told you more stories about Argentine and his teammates, his stories make you laugh and appreciate that he is back home.

It’s late at night, due to Atsumu’s body still being used to Argentine’s time, he needs to get adjusted to Japan’s time again.

But not only the time difference is keeping the young Olympian up, your weird food eating habits, your extreme tiredness and your all of sudden sensitive smell to your favorite flowers is making him worried.

So he does what he always does, when he seeks out for advice, even if it physically pains him sometimes.

He texts his brother.

The next morning, you do feel a little bit better but for some reason, Atsumu is not his usual self.

He looks deep in thought, he looks very distracted since last night.

During breakfast, Atsumu pushes his food around a little bit, not really much eating any of it.

So you decide to break the silence.

"You’ve been awfully quiet, you okay?" You ask him in a quiet voice.

"Can I ask ya somethin'? An' promise ta be honest please." The blonde says, playing with his fingers a little bit.

For some reason, you have a feeling what this is about.

"Go ahead." You look at him and push your plate a little bit away.

"Are ya pregnant?" He looks at you with serious eyes, a small hint of fear behind those chocolate brown eyes of his.

You feel your breath hitch in your throat, surprised that he figured it out.

But Atsumu has always been direct, didn’t matter in what terms.

You gulp down nervously and you reply so quiet, that he barely hears it.

"Yes, I am." You confess.

Atsumu looks to the side shortly, shakily breathing before getting up and looking out the window, running his hand through his hair.

"I-I know we’re still young and y-you’re still focusing on your career… I am sorry this happened, I-I know this isn’t what you imagined when you got home, I will leave and I won’t bother you-" You start to panic, tears coming into your eyes, your hormones acting crazy.

Shocked by your sudden panic, he rushes to you in a heartbeat.

"Hey, hey… calm down okay? If anythin' we’re both at fault but we’ll get through this together kay? And honestly, this is the biggest and happiest surprise I have ever gotten home to. And I wouldn’t trade you or junior for anythin' in this world, my love. I love ya two more than anythin'."

"More than volleyball?" You ask teasingly with tears in your eyes.

"Maybe that’s pushin' it but yer high up there." Atsumu sticks his tongue at you cheekily.

You laugh with him, calming down that he looks happy about this pregnancy.

"How far along are ya?" He looks at you, intrigued as he caresses the lower part of your stomach.

"About 4-5 weeks I think? Still pretty early."

Atsumu takes your hand in his, still having his other hand on your stomach, indirectly asking you to stand up.

Following his lead, you get up and he rests his forehead against yours.

"I won’t leave ya side okay? I will stay by yer side and protect ya from any harm."

Sharing a deep, passionate kiss, you can’t believe that you and Atsumu made a life together and like Atsumu promised, he will share every moment of it with you.

[blingblong55]

Improper -141

Based on a request:

I'm currently sick with the flu🤧 And made some tea this morning, but the American way lol. And it got me thinking about how upset the British guys would get watching an american!reader try to make tea (puts a mug of water in the microwave, then adds the tea bag to the hot water) Would they be gentle and show reader the correct way or would they stare at reader appalled and disgusted 😂😂

A/n: The gasp I let out, babes why would you do us brits like this!! you're breaking my heart here, but since you're sick I'll give you this pass, also a special delivery pookie<3 Get well

GN!Reader, american!reader, trigger warning for my brit readers, sick!reader, platonic!relationship, soldier!reader

You have been volunteering at the medic bay, wanting to help some of the new recruits get over this sickness and just 2 days later, you laid in bed, sick with the flu. Your nose is all red, tissues pilling up on your desk. "Fuckin' shit, it's always me." You complained and got up from your bed. You walked to the common room where the team was. "Hey guys" your voice raspy and low. "Mate, you al'right?" Gaz asked from the sofa and all you gave him was a thumbs up.

You grab your designated mug and pour water from the bottles of water by the fridge, You open a packet and put the tea bag inside the mug. The microwave does the work and as you stand and wait, Price walks up to you, getting a piece of the snacks Soap made. "You looked like shite, kid." he chuckles and eats some of the food. "Feel like shit too."

Ghost walks in, ready for his midday tea when you take your mug from the microwave. All the men in the room gasped. "What're yer doing, mate?!" Even Soap felt offended.

"Y'all never made tea like this?"

"We have a bloody kettle for this reason!" Ghost shows you the item and tosses it on the stove. You watch as the four men all argue against you. "Bloody Americans always want the easy way out!"

"I mean the fuckin' microwave!" Gaz's voice squeals a little. "It's just tea, calm your tits." and that comment earns another gasp from the men.

In unison, "Just tea!"

You nod and reach for the sugar, Price shakes his head. Ghost reaches for your mug and dumps it out on the sink. "Bad human!" he scolds you. You laugh, you never knew the stereotype was an actual thing. "Now y'all will tell me you really got offended over the Boston Tea Party."

"It's tea, mate." Gaz looks at you disapprovingly and pats your back. "It's time we teach our little American 'ere to make proper tea, yeah?" All men nod and Ghost slowly and I mean slowly as if you were some child gives you a step-by-step on how to: use the kettle, understand when the tea is ready, that you must pour milk first and then the tea.

They all watch as you drink a sip and wait for your comment. "It's..tea, I still don't get why y'all are so pressed about this?"

"Look 'ere Hollywood, it's not just tea, we have customs 'ere for them. You must always follow these steps, yeah?" Gaz tried to talk you out of your usual American ways. You sigh, "Fine, but you better not try to change my way of fucking talking, fuckin' brits." You walk back to your room. The tea was possibly the best you've had and it did make you feel better now.

Meanwhile, the team tried to console a devasted teammate Ghost. "I can't believe I trust this person with my life on the field and they can't make one proper tea!"

Price rubs his back and shakes his head, "Shame Hollywood will go back to their ways." The four men stand there, meanwhile Gaz has already sent you four links to stores near you that sell kettles and YouTube links to teach you how to properly make tea.

Tags: @warenai

[luza-wayne]

no one knows.

Suna Rintarou x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: This one's from my FB acc. Liked it, so posted it here too. Have a good day everyone! <;33

He's there.

As usual, he has droopy eyes that seem like he's always sleepy and tired.

But, who knows if he really is? 

It's lunch and of course, he's sitting in the cafeteria with one of the Miya's, Osamu and their other classmates.

He uses his phone in one hand and the other holding the chopsticks, lazily feeding himself, while he scrolls at something on the gadget.

It seems like he found something interesting that he called for his friends' attention and showed them his phone. They all laughed together.

Despite his appearance, he's very friendly. Not the type that befriends everyone he crosses paths with, but the one that will accompany and joke around with you, once he gets comfortable with you.

I wonder if I can get close to him too— That's... impossible. I can't even talk to him! Let alone tell my friends that I like him!

I gotta keep it a secret for now.

The bell rings and it's time to go back to your room. Meaning, it's also time for him to go back.

NOO!

Lunchtime is too fast!

I wanna see Suna more! 

“(Y/n)? 'Ya okay?” Your friend asked, interrupting your train of thoughts.

Oh, shoot. That's right. I gotta keep it a secret for now, but I need to improve my relationship with Suna too! 

“Yeah! Sorry, I'm going to Sun— I mean, our room first!” You said and gave the cafeteria's tray back and slowly walked to his room's direction.

I'm going to peek at him before I go back to my room. I want some inspiration to get through this day! 

As you disappeared from the corner looking so determined, your friends looked at each other.

“Hey, about her crush on Suna…” One of your friends spoke. “How long are we supposed to act like we don't know it?” 

“Seems like she plans to tell us about it, let's just wait for her.” Another said and took the last spoonful of her meal and the rest let out a sigh in sync. “Hm?” 

“Just so 'ya know, I'm dying to tease her about her crush.” She replied as they headed to return to your guy's room.

“‘Ya know she'd die of embarrassment if 'ya tell her how she's trying her hardest to keep it a secret, when her actions speak for itself, haha.” 

“Okay, then once she admits about it, let's drag her in front of Suna!” They said and laughed. 

Eeek—! Huh? What's that?

“I just felt shivers down my spine. What's that?” You looked around and let out a relieved sigh when you thought that it was just the wind.

Before you walk through the aisle, you make sure to primp your hair and uniform.

You held your hair and placed it behind your ears, you peaked just above your hand trying to hide that you were actually looking. You immediately looked at where his seat was as soon as you passed by their door.

You see him sitting by the window, laughing with his friends again, behind him is Osamu eating onigiri.

Ugh! His faint smile! He looks so dreamy! 

Ah, shit. That's too much.

I should look away, gazing at him for too long is bad for my heart. His fineness is an overkill. He's a god sent.

I've done my mission. I gotta go back to my classroom, but I'll wash my face first. He's too hot, I think I'm sweating.

Gotta hurry, gotta hurry~ 

As soon as you passed their room, you skipped your way to the closest restroom.

Osamu looked at where you disappeared to the hallway. He finished his food first and drank his milk.

“Hey Suna,” He called to his friend.

Suna turned his head sideways, just the right amount to see the guy behind him over his shoulder. His previous chatmates went back to their respective chairs and he's just scrolling through his phone.

“So, about 'yer little admirer…” 

The middle blocker's lips immediately formed a smile.

“What? Cute, isn't she?” He answered and continued scrolling on his phone.

“‘Yer liking it, don't 'ya?” Osamu sighed as he wiped his hands with a tissue.

“What? You jealous?” Suna asks with a clear intention of pissing off the guy behind him. “I mean, I understand. Every guy probably wants to be in my position right now. Like come on, it’s (Y/n).”

“Anyways, I'm amazed how she firmly and made herself believe that no one knows about how she feels. I heard she does well in academics, but I guess it's not the same with love, seeing how she's acting. Well, I do think it's cute.” It must've been wrongly worded and maybe he didn't execute it the way he intended, that right now he can see how Suna's eyes looked at him in an icy yet deadly way.

“Don't 'ya worry. I'm not interested.” Osamu clarified and placed his elbow on the table and rested his cheeks on his palm. Hearing it, Suna's face somehow calmed down and went back to his phone.

“So? When will 'ya confess to her?” He asked lazily.

“What?” Suna asked Osamu, shock evident on his face.

“Huh? What?” The gray-haired twin asked.

“Am I that obvious? Even though I'm hiding it?” Suna put a hand above his mouth.

Gosh, they're the same. Osamu thought.

“Yes, 'ya were that obvious and I've never, even once, saw 'ya tried to hide it. Also, 'ya have an album in 'yer gallery full of pictures of her pictures from her social media. If I were her I'd be creeped out. 'Ya should ask for her permission first.” Osamu cracked out with an unamused look.

“You're right— Wait! Why do you know that?”

“When I was deleting the video of me doing dumb shits. I happened to look at it, though, I left 'Tsumu's, I only deleted mine.” He explained.

“Seems like I need to change my passcode,” Suna said and immediately went to his settings. 

“So, when?” Osamu once again questioned.

“Hm... Who knows? Maybe once she finally approaches me. She's always running away whenever she spots me walking towards where she is. If I try to approach her, she'll probably just run off as always.” Suna answered and finished changing his password.

“I wonder when that will be.” Osamu said and at the same time the door opened and their teacher came in.

•••

“It's finished!” Your friend shouted in joy as soon as your last subject teacher walked out of the door.

“My brain's fried.” The other one said and slumped on her desk, but then stood up as fast. “Let's do something fun!” She suggested. 

“Sounds nice.” You agreed and finished packing your things.

“Let's go, let's go! Let's decide what to do while walking.” Your friend said as she pulled you and your other friend out of your room.

While walking to the shoe locker, you reached for your phone and saw if you had any messages unread.

“(Y/n), what do you suggest?” She asked.

“Mhm.” You answered absentmindedly, being so focused on your phone.

“What?” Your friend asked if you were really listening.

“Yeah.”

Your two friends looked at each other and both grew a mischievous grin on their lips.

“Am I beautiful?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then, do you like Suna?”

“I do. I want to get close to him, but I get too nervous and can't speak— HMM?!” You shot your head, looking back and forth between them.

“No— I— I was just kiddi—” 

They put a finger on your lips to shush you.

“If that's your problem, then we'll solve it for you.” They said, nodding to each other. 

“Wha—!?” 

You weren't able to finish it, as they wrapped their arms on both of yours. They dragged you with all their might. You tried to fight it, asking them what their plans were but they won't answer nor budge. When you reached the shoe locker, you felt their arms loosen, your lips formed a smile, thinking they're done, but oh were you wrong.

“Ouch!” You yelped when they suddenly pushed you and your back hit someone. 

“What are you two doing?! Sorry, sorry!” You apologized to the person, bowing. You looked back at your friends without even batting an eye on the person you bumped into.

“SORRY! BUT, WE'RE NOT REALLY SORRY!” Your friend shouted as they ran away.

“I THINK YOU'LL EVEN THANK US FOR THAT!” The other one said.

“Huh? What are you talking about?!” You asked them with a slightly higher voice since they're getting farther.

“SUNA! (Y/N) SAID SHE LIKES YOU! HAHAHAHA!” The two said together in chorus and then hid from your vision.

Huh?

Huh??

HUH?!? 

SUNA?! YOU MEAN THAT SUNA RINTAROU?!

THIS GUY BEHIND ME?! THE ONE I BUMPED INTO?! NO WONDER HE SMELLS GOOD! WAIT- NO!

Wait, wait, wait... (Y/n), let's calm down. Maybe they're just joking... maybe they're just joking... maybe they were—

“THEY WEREN'T JOKING!” You spouted when you turned around and saw Suna looking at you with shoes in his hand. 

You put your hands in your face, hiding the redness of it from who knows where it came from. 

Excitement because he's in front of you? Embarrassment because of how your friends threw you onto him? Or maybe it's because of how close he is? Well, all in all, he's connected to all the reasons. 

“Hey.” He greeted and continued to put away his indoor shoes.

You peeked through your fingers to look at him, when he met your eyes, you immediately buried your face deeper, if possible, in your palms.

“Why are you hiding your face?” He asked casually.

You shook your head vigorously as if your life depends on it. 

“Hm... Okay.” He replied and it was followed by silence between the two of you. Only the sounds of the other students making, chattering and laughing and some were even looking at you two, thanks to your friends making a scene and you just standing there with your hands on your face.

What is this awkwardness?!

Should I talk about something? No! Impossible! I'm too nervous to speak!

But, he's not making any noise either. Wait. Is he still there in the first place? 

You slowly parted your fingers again and opened your eyes. 

“Oh shit!” You cursed out of surprise.

He's still there! And, he's just looking at me! What should I do?! 

That's right. I should just run away!

I can't face him right now!

You then turned around and directed your feet where your friends disappeared and were still hiding there.

Sorry, my dear friends, but for now ABORT MISSION—! 

As soon as Suna noticed you moving, he immediately thought of exactly what you were thinking. He held your wrist tight enough to not let you slip off of his hand.

“Running away? You can’t.” He predicted. You were pulled back by it but tried your best not to bump into him again. You've done your utmost not to look up at him. Why? You'd faint.

NO! MY CHANCE OF ESCAPE!

“Um... Sorry, but... go… my hands…” Damnit! My voice is betraying me!

I need to get out of here!

“Hey, about what your friends said…” You've widened your eyes at what he said.

NO! I've even tried my best not to make anyone notice! Damn messages! 

But, I'm already here. There's no way I can escape from this anymore. 

You took one deep breath, deeper than any sea in the world. You held his wrist, the one holding you, with your free hand and squeezed it lightly.

“Sorry, but I think I like you, Suna.” You finally confessed after mustering up all the courage in your body.

Another silence from him followed you.

Ugh... Is this where I'd get rejected? 

And then he chuckled.

I knew it! I'd get rejected! Should I tell him it's just a joke?

You shut your eyes tightly but then felt a finger on your chin. You opened your eyes and felt Suna's thumb just below your lips.

And finally, after how many minutes... You finally looked at his face.

Even though the thought of getting rejected was just in your mind earlier, looking at him now, you don't even care if he'll trample over your feelings.

His grayish-yellow eyes… His combed down hair… His posture that sometimes kills you… It’s all making you go crazy over him.

“I knew it.... Suna, I really do like you.” You muttered softly staring right into his eyes.

His lips formed a smile.

He pulled your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

“Yeah, I know.” He chuckled.

hope you liked it!

also, if you'd like to tip me, you can check my ko-fi acc! anything will be a big help!