#like little snot LOL

[willowser]

you call the baby growing in your belly a multitude of things, like lovebug and gum drop and sprout. cute things, that remind you of how tiny it is and how full of joy you are, and the names don't stop even after you find out what you're having.

katsuki doesn't follow along—at first. every silly little term out of your mouth is only met with an arched brow and a small shake of his head, the occasional roll of his eyes and the even rarer uplift of the corner of his lips.

"he," katsuki always continues. "he ain't gonna care what color his room is, do whatever y'want."

there aren't many appointments he's able to make, something you think eats at him more than you. being involved with a pro hero requires all kinds of sacrifices and you both knew that before your relationship started—but facing the realities isn't always easy; it bothers him, in some deep, dark way he's not able to talk about. even with you.

it's hard to tell how he feels at the first one he comes along for: he stands, quietly, eyes glazed over and lingering on the grainy image of your ultrasound, unmoving. when two little feeties are made clear in the picture, he silently crosses his arms and raises a hand to pick at the skin of his bottom lip—a nervous habit, one that gives him something to do and that hides his face just a bit.

he doesn't say anything for a long time. not until you're out in the car with your pictures in hand, going over them in the passenger seat.

"sooooo," you prod, "what'd'ya think? he's kinda...blobby, huh?"

he casts you a lazy glance, comes alive with a slow inhale before holding his hand out for the photos. the one with the little feet sticks out to him and he snorts, the corner of his lip raising. "yeah," he murmurs, before turning his attention back to the road. "but he's just a little bean, ain't he?"

[blaithnne]

Anders has inordinate amounts of annoying little brother energy, which is ironic considering the main person you see that dynamic unfold with is his ex-wife.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

And so begins the epic quest of finding as many Sassy Sky responses possible

[lavenderjewels]

JJK s2 ep20 Previews

Welcome to nonstop sadness and misery for the rest of the season

[caterpillarinacave]

I want words with the parent who decided to bring their kid to an intro to skating lesson while Covid positive.

[aaronsguccitie]

Safety fort

----

Your son is scared during a thunderstorm; collectively, the whole family tries to ease it for him.

Cw: fem!mom!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort (?), Jack being the best big brother, no use of yn, reader is actually present in this lol

Word count: 1.6k

----

It’s no secret that you love the rain. Drizzles, summer showers, thunderstorms and downpours all put you in a cozy mood. Something about gloomy weather inexplicably makes you happy, always fighting back a smile at the next roll of thunder. Jack also shares your enthusiasm; Aaron is mostly indifferent except for his annoyance at the way it dampens his clothes.

But in this moment, both you and him vehemently resent the rain.

Elliot is nestled in Aaron’s arms, his thready cries somewhat stifled into his shoulder. Thunder cracks and he hiccups, his whole body shivering as Aaron rocks him back and forth, gentle reassurances falling from his lips to deaf ears. His choked sobs are somehow louder than the thunder, and the sight makes your heart twist into furious knots. 

It’s been like this for half an hour. At first, Elliot wasn’t bothered much by the rain, influenced by yours and Jack’s excitement, but then thunder boomed, lightning struck, and he crawled into Aaron’s arms, his frightened whimpers like a knife through your gut.

The blinds to your bedroom are shut tight, blocking out the lighting, but nothing softens the rumble of thunder as it seeps through the walls. The earbuds you’d tried to make him wear are lost somewhere in the bed, hidden under the endless sheets. 

Aaron’s shirt is wet with snot and tears, but it’s the least of his concerns as he rubs Elliot’s back and gently shushes him, to no avail. Tear tracks are visible on your son’s cheeks, his eyes damp and bloodshot as he sniffles at another roiling of thunder.

“Eli, it’s not scary,” Jack tries to soothe his little brother. He touches one of the fists tightly bunched in Aaron’s shirt. “It’s just rain.”

Aaron gives him a small smile. “He’s scared of the thunder, buddy,” he says softly. “You used to be, too, remember?”

Jack frowns. He shakes his head and the brief confusion on his face makes you crack a worn smile; this is news to you, too. 

“When you were really little,” Aaron says, his shoulders slumping against the headboard. His hand is firm on Elliot’s back as the toddler buries himself under Aaron’s jaw, away from your eyes.

“But I’m not scared anymore. It went away.” Jack says.

“It could go away,” you agree, brushing his hair away from his forehead, “but it could also stay, even as you get older.”

He tilts his head. “Even when you’re a grown up?”

“Even then.”

Jack hums thoughtfully and settles against your side, slotting between you and Aaron. His attention goes to the movie you’d put on in an attempt to distract Elliot, and your eyes slide to your husband. He’s now murmuring sweet nothings into your son’s forehead, too low for you to hear over the TV and wet sniffles. Both his hands are wrapped protectively around his body, his lips pressed to Elliot’s hair as small fists clutch his shirt with surprising strength.

There’s a few minutes of blissful silence with just the rain pattering against the windows, after which Elliot tentatively lifts his head from Aaron’s shoulder. His face, blotchy and tear-stained, comes into view, and you reach over Jack to wipe the wetness from his cheek.

“Hey, baby,” you smile softly at him, catching a tear with your thumb. Aaron wipes at his other cheek, then lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe under his nose. “How about you watch some Toy Story with Jack? We’re getting close to your favorite part.” The movie plays at least three times a week in your home, but now you’re desperate for him to be distracted by it.

Elliot blinks his wet lashes at you. “Is the rain gone?” His raspy voice breaks your heart.

“Not yet, Eli.” Aaron murmurs, rubbing circles on his back. “You can watch the movie while we wait for it to go.” He nudges gently, his voice low and soothing. Elliot still frowns, fear creased above his brows.

“The rain won’t hurt you, Elliot.” Jack joins in. Aaron’s eyes meet yours and a shadow of a dimple appears in his cheek as you both hold back matching smiles. “It’s just loud, but it won’t hurt ’cause we’re inside.” He says earnestly.

“He’s right, baby,” Aaron says, endlessly gentle as Elliot’s lip wobbles. “It’s not gonna—”

A loud boom rattles the windows. A deafening crack follows, and a few seconds later you see lightning flash from the gap between the blinds and the floor.

Elliot scrambles back into Aaron’s arms with a choked sob. 

“Make it stop, Daddy.”

You can audibly hear Aaron’s heart crack. His face falls, a helplessness to it that makes you stand suddenly, sick of watching your son suffer. 

“Okay,” you announce, your mind rushing to come up with something as Elliot wails. “Let’s…uhh—let’s make a fort, yeah?” You snap your fingers and Jack nods in agreement. “We’ll make it around the bed—c’mon, grab the blankets from your bed and I’ll get the ones from Eli’s.”

Ignoring the rattle to the windows, you and Jack set to work. Elliot’s cries reach you as you gather blankets and cushions and lamps, making several trips to and from your room with the supplies in hand. 

When you walk back in for the last time, you find Aaron pacing around and holding a hand to Elliot’s ear, the other one pressed to his chest. His hand spans Elliot’s whole head and he cups it carefully, his fingers steady on the back of his neck. Elliot quiets a bit as his father rocks him gently, swiping kisses on his forehead as the rain lashes on. By the time you and Jack are done assembling the fort, he’s worn himself out, limp in Aaron’s arms. He sniffles as you approach and rubs a small fist into his eye.

“Elliot,” you say gently, wiping under his nose with your sleeve. His bloodshot eyes meet yours and you have to force a smile, your gut twisting. “See this fort Jack and I made?” 

He nods sluggishly. 

“I’ll tell you a secret.” You hold out your hands. He reaches for them, accepting the invitation into your embrace and settling into your arms. Automatically, he slots his head under your jaw, his arms wrapping around your neck as you rub circles on his back. “Nothing bad can reach you here. Not even the thunder or the rain,” you whisper as he nuzzles further into your neck. “We’re gonna go in and we’re gonna be safe, okay?”

Elliot sniffles as you duck inside the fort and crouch-walk to settle on the edge of the bed—with some difficulty, but the low hanging canopy of the blankets seems to help calm him down. You and Jack had set lamps across the small space, so it’s lit up with a warm glow.

“Promise?” Your son mumbles, curling into you when the windows rattle.

“I promise, sweet boy.” You kiss his forehead as Jack and Aaron duck inside.

It’s almost comical, how Aaron has to bend over double and crawl to the edge of the bed. He looks at you and gives you a self-deprecating smile, to which you respond with a small wink. Jack kneels next to him too, placing his elbows on the mattress and holding his years old stuffed orca in hand.

“Willy will keep you safe, Eli.” He gives it to Elliot.

His brother’s face lights up in turn as he clutches the orca. Two of Aaron’s dimples lightly press against his cheeks and he smiles hesitantly, his fingers curling into its soft fur. The fear momentarily leaves his eyes, wonder replacing it as he holds the stuffed toy to his chest and nuzzles his face into it. 

You comb your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching along his scalp and watching as his lashes flutter, exhaustion weighing heavy on him. Aaron presses his smile to Jack’s forehead with a kiss. “Thank you, Jack,” he murmurs, pride coloring his voice. 

Jack shrugs and reaches for his tablet, opening up a game that Elliot pays half an eye to. You almost forget the storm, sitting in a small circle with your Hotchner boys, all of them drenched in warm light. The fort does seem like a safe haven, you think, the quilted insides of the blankets surrounding you in downy softness. 

Beneath the blankets, with the orca held to his chest, Elliot grows steadily drowsy in your arms. Aaron straightens and climbs up next to you on the bed, his knees cracking—you stifle a laugh, him a groan—and Jack sprawls on the floor, the low sound effects of a game echoing through the small space.

Careful not to jostle Elliot too much, you scooch back onto the bed until you meet the headboard. Aaron lays his head on his pillow; his hand meets yours as you absently comb through your son’s hair.

His breaths start to even out and you exhale slowly, relief palpable in your bones. Your eyes meet Aaron’s and you find a similar relief there, swirling in honey brown eyes. His fingers briefly link through yours and you squeeze, pausing your scratches on Elliot’s scalp as the two of you share a smile.

When thunder rolls around again, your son’s eyes crack open, a hazy fear in them. 

“You’re okay, Elliot.” Aaron whispers. He softly runs his knuckle over Elliot’s cheek. “It can’t reach us here.”

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” you lightly trace the soft skin between his brows. The more you do it, the more his lashes flutter as he tries to hang on. The thunder is distant, retreating, chased away by the fort and its safety.

“Kiss, Mommy.” Elliot mumbles sleepily.

“Of course,” you smile softly, leaning down to kiss his forehead. One doesn’t suffice; you brush two, three, on his temple and next to his now dry eyes. “Daddy too?” You murmur into his soft skin.

He nods. 

Aaron also obliges, his lips pressing tenderly against Elliot’s cheek. “Sweet dreams, buddy.”

When thunder rumbles again, Elliot doesn’t stir.

[aakeysmash]

hii, first time writing a prompt :)

maybe a drunk reader and sukuna has to take care of her and take her home, she forgot her jacket and he lends her his sweater. maybe established relationship?

(i love your sukuna fics hehehe)

i made this a bit angsty lol

"you look like a spider."

sukuna rolls his eyes, then turns around and keeps on dragging you by your hand, just like he has been doing for the past 10 minutes. "what the fuck are you saying now?"

you trip on your own two feet, again, and you have to stop, again. you see him closing his eyes and taking one big inhale. he's really close from breaking your neck. you wobbly get in front of him, squint and poke his chest with your freshly done nail. "you- *hic* have eight eyes. ouch!"

you frown, massaging your forehead. he just flicked you.

"spiders have eight legs, not eight eyes. and i do not have eight fucking eyes," he tells you, annoyed.

"okay but still," you pout. you look at him and- damn, he's really fucking pretty. even if he's blurry he looks like a king: he's only wearing a sweater, but he's the hottest man you've ever seen. you try getting on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek, but you almost fall face-flat on the concrete you're walking on.

"you stink, don't get close to me," he says, serious, dodging your attempt to grab his forearm. then he turns around and leaves you there, standing. you open your mouth to say something, but no words come out, so you just stare at his retreating back. you know you're annoying him badly. it's not like receiving a messy text saying your girlfriend is drunk and that she needs a ride could be pleasurable for anyone, especially if you told her to be careful while she was out with her friends and if the text was sent in the middle of the night. and especially if you fought before she got out.

you're a little bit lost in your thoughts, and walking has become really hard, and when you look up you don't see sukuna anywhere. you feel like crying. you hate when he gets angry, especially because you never know how to say sorry properly. you didn't think he'd leave you in the middle of the street, though.

you sit down on the sidewalk and decide to take off your heels. they're hurting your feet and they make you seem like a drug addict for the people that see you walk. not like you could care less without sukuna making fun of you for it. you went a little overboard, sure, but you don't leave a girl alone at night.

you start crying. you don't even remember why you fought in the first place; maybe something that had to do with mowing the lawn this saturday? or was it about last night's tv series? anyway, you start missing him badly, you just want to go to sleep and stop your head from hurting. plus, it's so cold tonight. why does he have to be this difficult?

"the fuck are you doing?" a voice comes from behind you. you jump a little and try turning around, but you're suddenly brought up by two massive arms, finding yourself face to face with your boyfriend. he's looking at you weirdly. it's so cold.

"oh. hi," you say, sniffling and trying to wipe your tears, only creating a bigger mess on your face from your mascara streaks. your feet are touching the bare concrete and you feel like a mess. you fidget while avoiding the eye contact he's trying to make.

"why are you- nevermind," he answers himself, exhaling hard. you close your eyes and try not to let more tears out, feeling like he's going to tell you you need a break of some sort, when a weird warmth engulfs you. you look at your shoulders, now covered by the jacket he always has in his car "just in case he gets cold". but you know he never gets cold, he always runs warm. he keeps that jacket in his car for you.

he gets one of his hands on your cheeks, angling your face towards him, then tries cleaning up your snot and make-up with a tissue. you look up at him, big eyes observing his every move. you're warmer now. his hand touching you is warm too, and he makes little circles on your skin. you know it's his way of saying he's sorry.

"you're so messy," he mumbles, his face extremely close to yours, kissing your nose lightly. you burst into tears again.

"yo what-"

"i- i thought you lef-left me here," you sob, leaning your head on his chest. he's paralyzed for a moment, then gets one hand on your small back and caresses your head with the other.

"baby, you were freezing, i just went to the car to get your- my jacket."

"i know but you were so-so annoyed *hic* i thought-"

"then stop thinking," he interrupts you. you still, then lightly nod, brushing your face on his shirt.

"not too much, pretty girl, this shirt is white," he chuckles in your ear, still massaging your scalp. you hum.

"let's get you home, m'kay? i'll run you a really nice bath. i'mma make sure you take aaaall your medicines and get you to bed, mh?" he mocks you, almost like he's talking to a child.

you softly punch his chest, then mumble, "the bath sounded nice."

you're swept off your feet, then he squats to get the heels you left on the sidewalk.

"then i'll run you one for real. everything for you."

you're already dead asleep when you get to his car, and he makes sure to kiss your forehead before closing the passenger door, a little smirk on his lips.

[rkivedpages]

❛ CALL OUT MY NAME ❜ ♱ ོ⁩ ABBY ANDERSON

‎ﻬ˚౨ৎ so call out my name ( call out my name, baby )

‎ ﻬ˚౨ৎ so call out my name when i kiss you, so gently

PAIRINGS: top!abby + blkfem!reader

SUMMARY: you haven’t been sleeping well, you can’t think straight and you didn’t even have the stomach to eat most days. all because it’s been way too long since you’ve seen your girlfriend.

WARNINGS: 4.6k, [contains nsfw wlw content, m+mdni 18+], angst, smut, vulgar language, intimate sex, shower sex, making out, crying, hair pulling, fingering [r!receiving], oral sex [r!receiving]

J4Y SPEAKS — this was way longer than i expected but, here ya go lol

𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓! + 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐘 𝐓𝐋𝐎𝐔/𝟐! + 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒!

‎ﻬ˚౨ৎ a bright strike of lightning crashed against the night sky, seconds behind it, the boom of thunder that shook the building. aches and pains sparked through your body, a knot forming in the middle of your shoulders irritated you as you stumbled through the empty hallway. the sounds of your wet footsteps echoed, accompanying the off and on sounds of the leaky pipes no one has been able to fix since settling down here. you looked over to the right, glaring at the few fish that were left swimming around behind the glass. the water grows more green and dirtier by each day, and more fish die in the tank and no one could stop it.

outside, the heavy rain continued to fall. the water proceeded to mix with the dry dirt, making the runny mud you just came back from trudging through.

your arms not quite touching your sides, your cargos sticking to your thighs and calves in uncomfortable places. a black tank top dripping with water, your nipples pebbled through the thin materials of your top and sports bra. the once white shoelaces trailing behind the loose shoes on each foot. holding onto the damp strap of your backpack, you drug it along with the rest of your rain doused clothing. your curly hair is riddled with dirt, rain and sweat — maybe even a little bit more than that. a strained gulp of saliva struggled to slide down your throat when you came closer and closer to the room you shared. dreading to see it empty once again.

muddy footsteps left a trail for anyone who wanted to find you. easily.

scratching the bottom of your chin, you threw your head back to mindlessly walk towards the closed door, finding the strength to twist the gold knob open. reaching to the side, your cold fingers skimmed the wall to find the flat light switch. the room was emitted with the light, the bed messy but the messy you left when you left early this afternoon. you stared at the dark gray sheets crinkled on top of the mattress, the pillows everywhere but the head of the bed.

your hands balled, fingernails digging crescent marks into your pale palms before you let go and dropped the backpack in one of them. hearing the bag hit the ground, you began to slide the thick boots off of your feet, bending down to position them at the door by your other shoes. you sniffed the snot running down your mouth, feeling like your body is coming down with something as a result of the harsh weather that kept most of the group from going outside.

going over to grab your towel and the bar soap in the cubby by your bed, you wanted so badly to drop on the bed and let it all out—the tears, the heavy breaths. but you were dirty and needed to wash the dirt, sweat and sadness away.

though it doesn’t seem like the sadness would go away any time soon.

your eyes simply fell shut on your way towards the showers, the squishy feel of the wetness between the toes of your socks. left more footprints leading to the showers when you let another shaky breath slip from your dry lips.

more downpour spouted from the dark sky, pelting against the side of the building and the trees scratching against it as well. you wanted to stand outside and get drowned out by the cold rain, but the minute you stood still, your friends wouldn’t allow that to happen. claiming that you would’ve caught a nasty cold if you stayed outside any longer. but what good is being in good health if you don't care about it? if you didn’t care whether you got sick or had stamina like an ox? you’ve been on a three week schedule of heading out and looking for her, finding nothing and coming back to an empty room, with an empty bed and you sleeping with a full heart.

you then reached the showers, throwing your towel over the glass door right before you began to undress, tossing your damp clothes onto the floor beneath your cold feet. the soggy socks came off next, pulling on top of the mound of discarded clothing, your naked body now cold and ready to get this over with and go to sleep this night away. stepping in, you immediately started the water, flipping it to the closest hottest setting it can reach without blowing the hot water out for anyone else. you walked into the water pouring down over you, covering your body in warmth and settling the goosebumps riddling your limbs and back.

you looked over at the bar soap sitting sadly on the small seat in the corner of the shower. reaching over for you, you started to lather the fresh scent over yourself. foamy soap suds ran down your arms and down your back as you rubbed the small piece of bar soap over your skin. the start of the warm water cradled in your arms, you placed the bar back down to finish washing the suds off.

in the next minute or so, it will be a full three weeks since you’ve seen or heard anything from your girlfriend. three weeks ago, you would send her off on another normal run with a smile on your face and a long kiss that was placed on your plump lips. her hair tucked neatly into the braid that you did, her backpack full of snacks and her boots laced tightly, along with the blue shoestring that came from your shoes tied in with hers. just so she doesn’t forget to come home to you. even though she never forgets anything when it comes to you. tears welded your eyes shut at the mere thought of her not coming back into your arms. on the fourth day, you were a complete mess, not coming out of your room, snapping at anyone who even tried to give you the time. it wasn’t like abby to take more than three days to come back from a run.

it wasn’t right.

she was supposed to come back home. she was supposed to be waiting for you in the room on the bed and in the room that you two shared. but she wasn’t there every time you entered through the door.

every day you went out to look for her, you always came back with nothing. aside from the one time you came back with a torn piece of the jacket she left in. that broke your heart into pieces, sending you into a downwards spiral from there.

it was rare that you talked to someone. if they didn’t have any whereabouts of abby, you didn’t want to hear a thing coming out of their mouth.

your salty tears mixed with the hot water that burned your skin, but it wasn’t like you really cared about the temperature in this state. you ran the water over your hair, wetting it and freezing there. you didn’t want to move, you didn’t want to get out or turn the water off—you just wanted to stay there and let out everything you had built up.

there have been some days where the only thing you would see through the day would be the four walls of your room. the same posters, the same workout routine abby had on the clipboard at the end of your bed, the dumbbells that abby owned, the shoes that lined up at the end of your door. you didn’t want to see any of those things anymore.

mindlessly, you nibbled at the soft knuckle on your right hand, staring off into the distance of the shower tile that covered the wall you stood in front of. the sound of the heavy bathroom door opened, shutting behind the person that supposedly came in and walked along the slippery flooring. it snapped you out of your slump, finally paying attention to the little fog that the boiling hot water made, as it filled the stall you stood in. you turned your head every which way, left and right, up and down, just to listen to the weighty footsteps walking around the bathroom, over the tile and walking up to stop somewhere near the stall you occupied. your eyes darted over to the wall where the shower seat was embedded, as quickly as a knock came crashing against the opaque shower door.

“occupied.” you spoke meekly, tightening your arms around your naked and soapy body, the soap suds have now washed off, leaving only the sleekness of the water running over your skin. gulping, you then heard another knock collide into the door, heavier the second time.

heart beats pounding behind your chest and skin, your arms dropped a bit from the tightness of you hugging yourself. “i said it’s occupied.”

a minute passed by, it seemed as if the person couldn’t hear or tell that you were even saying anything to them. you didn’t have the guts to look back at the door, to see if the person was still standing behind the door, to see their legs peeking underneath the large space under the door.

you heard the sound of the boots move, the footsteps faded a bit, probably moving to a different stall, a small ruffle of clothing being removed over the harsh sounds of water against your ear. a rush of relief came and went when you thought the person was finding another stall to use, but that was only before you heard the door of your stall open and close, indicating that that person is now standing in the same stall as you. your lip trembled, going to bit it to stop it from moving so much and your body tensed up at the thought of being in the same stall as someone you probably barely know. “please.”

“please what, baby?” a raspy and amber voice emitted from behind you, your eyebrows fell into a certain position and your arms fell fully to your sides, your lips parted as you took in another big breath before slowly turning around.

that voice.

when you turned around, your eyelids were heavy when you opened them back up to see who was standing behind you. she was covered in scratches, probably from the bushes and tree branches, a massive bruise formed on the top of her shoulder, all while she was beginning to take her hair down from the loose braid it was kept in. a shudder took over your body and you could sense the tears forming on the waterline of your brown doe eyes. you watched her dirty brown hair wave up from being in the braid for so long, her face looked so tired and worn out from the long-lasting run she just came back from. you reached out your hand, feeling the tips of your fingers brushing up against her skin just to make sure that seeing her and feeling her were real and not just a hallucination from you missing her. she brought her hand up, grabbing at your wrist and pulling it up her face as she puckered her lips out and kissed the palm of your hand, the tears in her eyes swelling as well as her pulling your body close to hers. “abby.”

“hi, sweetheart.” she mumbled, her other arm snaking around your smooth waist and pulling you flush against hers. not caring that she’s dirty and bruised, you didn’t care that she smelled outside, you have her back in your arms. she reached up with her other hand, moving a curly piece of hair out of your face, so you could see her a little bit better. more so, so she could see the entirety of your gorgeous and tired face. tired because of all the long nights you wished she was there next to you, wrapping her large arms around your body, wanting to smell her scent in the middle of the night and you couldn’t. you were so tired of missing her and waiting for her to be home, that you deprived yourself of sleep because you wanted her to be safe so badly and were praying that she made it back to you.

“i missed you.” you watched her gulp in your wet appearance, peering down at you and taking in everything she hasn’t seen in three weeks, her thumb rubbing over the skin on your lower back while you reached up and grazed your fingers over the purple and green bruise covering over her freckled skin. the cuts riddled over her face and cheeks, you steadily rubbed over them like she didn’t feel a thing, though she was mentally flinching at the subtle touches of your fingers while she rubbed your cheeks with her thumb.

“i. . .missed you too.” a couple of tears fell down your cheeks, mixing in with the hot water spouting from the shower head. you pulled the both of you further back into the water, to where abby was now being drench under the hot liquid, her hair color darkening from it and the dirt from her body washing off and down the drain of the shower. you reached over and grabbed the bar of soap, skimming it over her skin, creating the clean suds that you did to yourself, she sighed in pleasure at your hands rubbing over her body, abby’s eyes dropping at the euphoric feeling. dropping her arms to her side, she allowed you to do everything for her, not because you needed to do everything, just because she missed the feeling of your fingers over her skin and being in the presence of you. she could feel the burning of your eyes on her as her eyes struggled to pry back open to get a look at you, but she had to force them to open, not wanting to miss a moment of looking at you.

soon, the dirt washed off of her body and rinsed down the silver drain, along with any dried blood that covered her as well. the cuts and nicks washed out before they could get any type of infection from being caked in mud and anything else from the outside. silence filled the air of the close stall, surrounding the two of you in it comfortably, as you both stood leaning up against each other for more warmth than you probably needed. abby began to smell like you, the more you rubbed the soap into her skin and the more she rubbed against you. she finally pulled away, boring her sapphire blue eyes into yours, they faded over to a darker blue, breaking the eye contact to get a quick glance of the water droplets dripping from your plush and parted lips, her stare on your lips had gotten longer and longer too the point where she wasn’t even looking into your eyes anymore.

abby leaned down, her muscles sore from the strenuous activities she endured, they tensed as she craned her neck to level out with your face and brace her lips centimeters away from your own. you rushed your fingers through her wet hair, combing through it just to take handfuls of it and press her face into yours, colliding your lips with hers. a gutted grunt filled the space from her, a hearty moan erupted from your throat when you got to taste her again, the same taste you missed when she left you for three weeks. your eyebrows furrowed when she pushed the both of you over, arching your back and body into her as you felt her calloused hands grip every inch of skin she could get them on. you two walked backwards into the tile wall, next to the seat as you continued to messily move your lips against one another.

pressed into the wall now, abby’s hand rubbed down the side of your hip to your thigh, latching her fingers onto the back of your thigh, pulling it up to rest on her hip. moaning at the way you felt against her, you could only feel the heat coming off of her and not the heat of the water anymore while she locked her other hand on the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to hers if that was even possible. carelessly, you started to grind your wet pussy onto the air, desperate to feel something touch you. you were desperate to feel her touch you.

she pulled away, lips red from being smashed against yours, her eyes filled with lust and neediness towards you. the grip she had on your thigh was harsh, her nails digging into your supple skin with intent. “can i show you how much i missed you?”

there was nothing in your head to prompt you to say no to her question. “yes. yes, abby, please.”

she took the chance to kiss over your face, gathering a giggle that slipped from your lips. reaching your jawline, abby’s kisses became more sloppy, filled with more love and more care, more spit she placed on your skin with the water rolling down you skin. you could also feel the hand that was latched onto your thigh slip further upwards, closer to the place where you needed her fingers to touch you. abby’s tongue slipped out past her lips, trailing up and down the side of your neck, you couldn’t at all help release the moan building up in your throat. she continued to assault your neck with her wet tongue, latching her lips around the spots she licked over and over. abby pulled away to look at the masterpiece she made of you and your neck, you felt her fingers graze over your wet opening with a small smirk on her face knowing that she did that to you. “abby. . .”

abby took ahold of your face in her free hand, puckering your lips out and leaning in to kiss them again, this time, harder than the first. her tongue moved past her swollen lips, groaning once more at the taste of you and something flipped inside of her. the animalistic tendencies took over as she deepened the kiss, swirling her tongue around your mouth and rubbing her against yours. you could feel the indents of her nails on either side of you face when she took control of the kiss. you just followed along. she pulled away once more, with your bottom lip in between her teeth before she released it with a pop. abby licked her lips, watching you intensely when she dipped her middle finger into you a couple of times, all the way to her knuckle just to pull out and circle your clenching pussy for fun. “please what, baby?”

“what do you want from me?” you tried to pull her closer towards you, if possible, you dug your nails into her lower back with pleading eyes, you looked up at her, you wanted-need to feel her.

“i want you to fuck me.”

abby stopped the movement of fingers, her ocean blue eyes bored into your head with the slow smirk that appeared on her lips when she pulled away fully. you watched her place a singular kiss upon your collarbone before she dipped down on her knees, feeling the wet tile underneath her. the deep thump of her hitting the floor just made it feel real for the first time in ten minutes. you took in a harsh breath, sealing your lips closed when you watched her lift you leg and rest it over her shoulder, staring up at you with the most vulgar look in her dark eyes,the feeling of not seeing you for half a month was really overtaking her brain.

she rolled her lips in, moving her hand back and forth against the skin on your thigh, tilting her body forward the start placing small but lingering kisses on the skin that she rubbed previously. her eyes still bored into yours.

her head close to your heat, eyeing it before she looked back up at you, catching a glimpse of how much it dripped with anticipation. how much it missed her and her touch. the tip of abby’s nose nudged your clit, moving it around to hear another quick moan fall from your mouth. “abby. please, i need you.”

“oh, such a needy girl.” abby smirked, taking whiffs of how you smelled, the fresh bar of soap scent taking over.

you bit your bottom lip, just wanting to feel her mouth on you. “ don’t do this, abbs.”

abby’s lips straightened out, continuing to move her head back and forth, enticing the feel on your clit even more. you began to rock your hips back and forth just to get more friction, but you could also feel abby grabbing your hips to halt the movements they mindlessly made. “how much did you miss me, sweetheart?”

you dropped your head backwards against the tile wall of the steamy shower. “abby, i-”

she cut you off with her middle finger circling your entrance, hissing when she felt you drip down her forearm. “how much. did you. miss me. sweetheart?”

“so very mu-” abby wrapped her plump lips around you perked up clit, sucking on it like a straw as she still circles your entrance, feeling you desperately wanting to clench around her fingers. you raked your finger through her wet dirty blonde hair, grasping it to keep yourself grounded, especially when she dipped her finger past your walls. her finger drew back slowly, pulling out almost at the tip until she slipped in another finger, fastening the pace just as quickly as she sucked on your clit.

abby continued curling and scissoring her finger inside of you while you pulled on her water absorbed locks, the stinging feeling against her scalp pushed her to go further in lapping up everything you had to offer her at the time. sticking out her tongue, abby licked your now puffy clit, with her eyes on your contorting face. you felt the harsh little smack she gave to your thigh, wanting you to look into her eyes as she brought you to the brink of coming undone. your breath shaky and uneven, trying to conceal your sounds if anyone were to come in and hear you two. thought it’ll be just you being so loud.

even on her knees under you, abby noticed how quiet you were trying to be and she hated that. she wanted people to know who was making you feel so good, which made her tear her fingers away after coming to a complete stop and giving your clit one last lick before taking her tongue away also. “abby.”

“shh, i know, baby.” abby went in for another kiss, sloppy like the one before, she eyebrows knotted as she reached over your hips and down your ass. groping the plush flesh and kneading it to her liking, probably likely to leave a bruise with how hard she was gripping.

you felt abby’s hand flip you around, pressing your front to the cold tile, your nipples rubbing against it as you sucked in another breath. abby trailed kisses down the side of your neck and over your shoulder while she ghosted her fingers over your hips and pushed you harder against the shower wall. you reached behind you and placed your hand on top of her head, moaning at the little feeling of her lips again.

abby slid her left hand in front of you and her right hand behind you, her fingers rubbing over different spots simultaneously. the fingers on her left hand found your puffy clit once more, rubbing it in large circles while the fingers on her right hand found your wet hole again.

“shit. you’re so wet.” she mumbles, her brain so occupied by the euphoric feeling on her fingers that she didn’t even mean to say that out loud. the sentence alone made you wetter than before, if it was again possible. she dipped them into you wetness, copying what she had done beforehand, dipping her middle finger in and pulling it out to the fingertip and adding another finger. all while still setting open mouthed kisses on your shoulder. “i love how easily i can slip my fingers in you.”

your other hand gripping the top of the shower wall and the other hand still entangled in abby’s hair, your nails digging into her scalp so painfully good, according to her eyebrows that stayed knotted. her fingers never once moved in their spot, they sat there gathering more of your wetness while abby carried on with the kisses she wanted to put on you. the needy whines and the push back of your ass on her fingers gave her more than enough go head to start pumping her fingers into you.

abby removes her hand from your clit to bring it up and tilt your head backwards so she could watch your pretty face turn up at how she’s making you feel, before finding her place back on it again. the circles becoming tighter, firmer.

she moaned at how hard you were clenching around her fingers, wanting more from her and just wanting her to make up cum as hard as you can. “oh fuck, abby!”

“fuck, yeah. call my name out again, baby.” you feel the tip of her fingers bump your g-spot over and over again.

“abby, i-i’m-” you could barely think words anymore from the stimulation on your clit and abby thick fingers dancing inside of you. the steam from the water that was still spewing from the shower head and the exhilarating feeling of abby made you dizzy. your head swaying from side to side, not knowing what to do or say next. everything was getting to your head.

you couldn’t see the fat grin on abby’s face when you said what you said, since your eyes were screwed shut with your head thrown back on her shoulder.

she watched you with hawk eyes, from your bitten lips to your bobbing throat, she mentally jumped to the roof for making you look a mess. “what was that? you’re gonna what?”

“i’m g’na cum, ab.” your finger harshly gripped the top of the wall for balance, though your grip was slipping, so was your sanity.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty. s’wet for me, wanting to cum all over my fingers.” abby’s fingers fastened in their pace, whispering dirty nothing in your ear while you felt the tight ball coil in the pit of your stomach as she felt like you needed to endure the harsh pumping. the circles on your clit grew tighter and tighter. “ask me if you can and i’ll let you.”

“please! abby, can i cum, pre-pretty please?” you chewed on your bottom lip, your eyes opening up to peer at abby who was already looking down at you with such admiration.

if it wasn’t for her and her heavy hands, you’d probably be face down on the floor because of your buckling knees and wobbly thighs that could barely keep balance, clearly unable to hold up your own weight in this state.

“of course you can, baby. cum all over my fingers for me.” the last pump was enough, abby could feel the absentminded clenches you gave her fingers as you let go, dripping down her fingers which were finally slowing down but not to a stop. your eyes still closed, you only felt the continuing pump of abby’s fingers and her hot lips setting themselves on yours. tempting you in another heated kiss, sloppy and full of spit, just to her liking.

the overstimulation of her fingers made you buck your hips, your hand still tangled in her hair, her hands still touching your sensitive areas. abby pulled back, her fingers finally stopping to take them out and slip them in her mouth, to steal the taste of you once more.

“i’m glad you missed me.”

© rkivedpages. j4y’s works are all reserved. i do not give permission to copy or publish my works on any other sites.

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[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

What would the joestars (part 1-9) reactions to their darling (gender neutral) skirt getting lifted/flinged up by a kid?

( I got inspired from that one scene from frieren where a boy lifts up her skirt...and i personally wanna see the yandere joestars reactions lol.)

https://youtu.be/gd8kDrA9bi8?si=7UVFjAViup42cxZw

There’s the resounding thought of “is it wrong to beat up a child?” going through the Joestar’s heads.

Yandere! Jonathan Joestar

He’s fast enough to pick up whatever kid did this to his poor darling. No amount of smacking and thrashing will make him let go until they apologize, and Jonathan is pretty upset and makes it clear never to do it again. He appears to almost be a very stern parent talking to them, but there’s just a little bit of an intimidating aura behind it that it scares the kid off. Not to mention his large muscular stature helps fend them off as well.

He’ll probably walk you home after and make sure the kid doesn’t try jumping you (He knows how petty an angered person can be sometimes).

Yandere! Joseph Joestar

He can play petty, and he’s not going to let some snot nosed brat just upskirt his darling like that. (that’s a view he’s only allowed to have) The kid doesn’t get far at all, and probably even trips with whatever hamon trick Joseph decides to play off. He flicks the kids nose, maybe even pinches it.

“Cheeky little….you think you’re clever, but you’re not getting far with me, go home already”

He’s absolutely petty enough to give the kid a shaken up soda, and have it explode all over him later, (and maybe pants him, himself at some point). He’ll deny it later when you bring it up

Yandere! Jotaro Kujo

Under normal circumstances he’d be pissed, but being obsessive puts that anger through the roof. Star Platinum grabs the kid by the collar, and pulls them backwards. His stare is cold as ice, there’s zero patience in his voice as he also trips the kid with his stand by the feet. “How about you run home before something that you don’t like happens punk” is about the most restrained Jotaro can be at this point. He’s definitely tempted to punt the brat into the sun

The kid likely has a bloody nose, freaks out and books it out of there in a blink of an eye terrified. Alternatively there’s a chance Jotaro catches the kid early with a little use of his time stop, and smacks the kid in the back of the head with his hand. (Nothing concussion worthy) but it still sends the perpetrator packing.

Yandere! Josuke Higashikata (P4)

It irritates him almost instantly as insulting his hair, he’s on a similar level as Joseph when it comes to these things and the kid is going to have something not quite looking right after the use of Crazy Diamond. Who knows how the kid ended up in a fountain later, it totally wasn’t him! There might be a few other embarrassing stints and the kid eventually never walks your or his way ever again.

Yandere! Giorno Giovanna

His reaction would be interesting here, there’s a weird mix of calmness and pettiness wrapped into one. Firstly the blonde likely manages to pickpocket the kid right off the cuff. Tells the kid he forgot something while waving a wallet or a small amount of money around. Giorno has an obviously fake smile on his face, talks to the kid for a moment or two out of your earshot, perhaps you see an ear pinch out of your peripheral vision.

Though a scream erupts shortly after and the kid is running off slapping insects off themselves.

Yandere! Jolyne Kujo

She’s not the type to take stupid crap like upskirting happening to you (much like her father). The kid almost instantly gets caught by stone free, tripping him up. “What do you think you’re doing kid?” She’ll be asking them if they think their age is a get out of jail free card for acting like a brat. Jolyne will absolutely clever enough to make it look like she’s a sibling of this kid while giving him a taste of their own medicine.

Since they likely cant see stone free, the kid keeps tripping over and over. She might keep him still enough for a few birds to come over and do their business. Maybe hold their mouth open a bit, and suggests not telling anyone about this unless they want their parents to know them as the town pervert.

Yandere! Johnny Joestar

He’d pretend to almost not even notice this kids antics, but the kid quickly gets tripped up by spin. If there is any objects around they would just happen to trip into them. “Not sure what you’re trying to pull there, but it’s not a smart idea to pull that stunt to someone I like” Johnny tells them bluntly. This kid probably ends up “falling” again in mud or another unsavory mix from horses. He just gives the kid a cold stare and gestures them to leave for their own safety.

Yandere! Josuke Higashikata (Gappy) Part 8

There’s some soft humming as he goes to stop the kid who decided to upskirt you. There’s a dark look in his eyes as he grips the kid’s wrist firmly. He makes it clear he’s upset, and likely embarrasses the kid by messing with their hair, making it an obnoxiously ugly style or generally dumping something on them. With the bonus of the kid walking into a pole before rushing off, ( all of that may or may have not had to do with Soft & Wet)

Yandere! Jodio Joestar

There’s really no going back when you mess with his darling. Anything he does to this kid, he doesn’t regret in the slightest. “Want to see my sense of humor?” He’ll probably ask almost mockingly. He asks how’s the weather to kid, and casually uses November Rain on them. If he has food or a drink he doesn’t hesitate to dump it on the kid either. “I don’t think I want a sorry honestly….seems too…insincere for what you did” he shrugs.

[ahhhwomen]

Frostbite.

Vampire Empire

Part 4

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: I am so tired lol

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death  Minors DNI 18+

Summary: Is this what death feels like?

Word Count: 2.5k

Taglist

*ACHOO*

Snot dribbles down your nose, but with a scrunch of your face and a deep inhale, you manage to sniffle it back.

As the weeks closed in on winter your enclosure had become unbearably cold, to the point where your water bowl was frozen over each morning.

After the fourth time of getting your tongue stuck on the icicle your metal bowl had become, you decided to share your heating lamp with it, the red light barely doing anything to keep you from freezing to death as you curled around the little bowl.

As you feel a tickle in your nose, you go to relieve it yet again, but before you can do that-

A hand grabs you by the back of your hair, and you clumsily falter in your path, with your arm blocking your knee, you aren’t able to sit down even as she tries to drag you downward. You can’t stop exactly where she wants you to, so she pulls harder, her fingers digging half-moons into your scalp. The pain is sharp and prominent.

You quickly right your limbs, and seat yourself on the chilling ground.

“Do that one more time and I am going to shoot you,” Carol tells you in an awfully calm tone. She towers over you, her long fluffy coat obscuring your view from anything but her.

You have been continuously sneezing and coughing the past few days and it was starting to piss her off.

Chills prickle your blue-ish skin and you can’t help but shiver as a blow of wind passes by. Your hands and knees feel numb, and you have to squint to stop the wind from making your eyes tear up.

Tires screech against the asphalt as a dark, red, Lamborghini pulls into the parking lot.

The wide frame of the car closes in on the spot beside Master´s SUV, you can see your owner clench her jaw and pull herself higher in posture. As she stands beside you her coat lays against your side, it brushes your shoulder and thigh, the soft material doing nothing to soothe you as the infamous clan leader steps out.

A high heel comes into view first, as her leg bends out of the vehicle and takes a solid footing against the dark pavement. There is a clinking of metal as a delicate hand, adored with golden jewelry, takes hold of the car’s exterior.

Your hands clutch and grasp the ground in hopes of finding a substantial piece of material to distract yourself with. It’s pointless.

The feminine leader steps out of the car with more diligence than any other posh woman could hope for. Wanda has her hair down, her amber curls cascading down her crimson, leather, jacket. Her piercing gaze is hidden behind sunglasses so dark you can’t tell where she is looking, and it makes you tense.

You feel as though she is inspecting you, the scrutinizing power dangles over your head as you replay the influence her eyes hold.

Neither you nor Carol were expecting to see Wanda, usually, it is one of the clan’s goons that meet for this sort of thing. You wonder what changed.

Carol slightly lowers her head in greeting, and you feel obligated to do the same. Your stiff neck struggles to bend past the upper half of your throat, but you bite your tongue and force it down lower. You don’t even realize you are uncontrollably shaking until Wanda speaks up.

“Carol,” Wanda points to your small frame leaning against Master´s legs, too tired to hold yourself up, “the girl is freezing to death. Get her something to put on then we can get started.” Wanda walks past the both of you, her strut unfaltering as she steps inside the construction area.

The scent of her grazes your stuffed nose and you have to resist the need to slump lower and close your eyes for just a moment. It smells warm, like a summer day on the beach, or at least what you envision the scene to smell like.

It’s a shame you will never experience it.

After the shorter woman has walked past, Master kicks her knee out and you topple off balance, your elbow collides with the loose pebbles beneath you as you fall. A small stone is lodged into the skin just beneath your elbow, and when you sit up you can feel the stone shift and dig deeper.

You grit your teeth together in pain and resist the need to hiss as hot flashes shoot up your arm.

Carol throws her head in the direction of her black SUV and states a simple “There is a sweater in the backseat.” Then her army boots stroll forward, leaving you to pick yourself up.

You don’t know when you crawled over, but now you sit just beside the car.

Getting the door open turns out to be a challenge. You grunt to yourself as you can’t seem to lift your arms high enough, the position on your knees is difficult to manage when your muscles are this stiff. And the shaking hasn’t stopped either, it makes no sense to you.

With a huff, you shake it off and push yourself just that little bit farther.

Just as your pale fingers grasp onto the cool metal the scenery around you shifts and morphs.

Suddenly you are sitting beside Carol with a half-knitted sweater hanging loosely against your frame.

You whip your head from left to right, the tendrils in your neck stretching and aching. Your vision lags, one moment you are looking at the far-left wall, then in the blink of an eye your eyes are dizzyingly close to the far right one.

You want to shift from one hand to the other, your palms are raw and painful, but your arms are stiff and heavy.

Nothing makes sense as you study the heels of the woman in front of you, you can’t decide on what color they are, too blurry and confusing to look at you try to think back to when you saw her…

When you saw her...?

Her…?

Who…?

Saw who…?

Wait.

You blink, your eyelids stick together, then with a determined raise of your eyebrows, they slowly peel apart, every lash untwining one by one.

How did you get here?

You can hear the two women talk amongst themselves, but your head is killing you. Every word sounds like an obscured radio speaker, you can’t pull focus and the words drift away.

You feel strange.

At least you aren’t cold anymore.

The tower of paper collapses beneath her desk as another piece of crumbled tree falls on top of the others. Ink stains the flooring as the undried sheet drags across the path of Wanda’s swishing leg.

Red hair falls like a waterfall down the back of her office chair as she throws her head back and huffs to herself. Wanda was dying from boredom, who knew peace could be so troublesome?

Ever since the peace offering was accepted by the clans in this area, Wanda didn’t have much to do. She stretches her neck back and forward, the tense tissue loosening slightly.

With a groan, Wanda pulls her phone out of her left pocket and decides to check on Natasha for the fourth time today. Her thumb taps against the glass screen rapidly, she opens her message app and finds the usual:

Wanda:

Hey lovely, just checking in, how is it going?

Sent

Just me again, are you coming home for dinner tonight? I can make your favorite ;)

Sent

How is the project coming along, any progress?

Sent

If Wanda didn’t know any better, she would think her wife was ignoring her. She sighs and pockets her cell phone. Slowly rising from her seat, the leather chair groans as she uses her legs to pull herself up.

Her desk is a mess.

Case files of all sorts lay unorganized atop, they had been hastily pushed to the side, between the previous fights and the unruliness of other clans, Wanda never had much time to deal with it. Her fingers delicately push the files into a compromised pile, the paper feels dry and bothersome against her pale hands, but it will have to do.

When she turns to place them inside her drawer, her foot slips on the wet ink coating the floor beneath her slipper. Her hip bumps into the low desk and she curses herself as the files fall and scatter before her.

“Just my luck,” she murmurs under her breath as she goes to pick one of them up, then she halts, her head turns as another file grabs her attention.

She remembers that one, it had been a project she wanted to start decades ago but never found the time, it was just recently that her members had started construction.

Leaning under her desk Wanda stretches her hand out and picks up the discussed rapport.

In a spur-of-the-moment, she had plucked her phone back out and called up her most loyal worker, who was supposed to meet with the Thor clan for planning today.

Wanda grabs the desk and places the phone against her ear, keeping it balanced with her raised shoulder, while the tone rings, she continues to pick up the offending objects and place them in their rightful place, just as she is closing the lower drawer he picks up.

“Mrs. Maximoff, what can I do for you?” Clint speaks on the other side of the phone, his voice gruff and masculine.

Wanda’s much more feminine voice answers with an uncaring tone, “The meeting with the Thor clan, that is today, correct?”

Right to the point Clint answers clearly, “Yes ma’am, I was just about to get in my car now.” Wanda takes hold of the phone against her ear; she shifts it to the other side as she opens the file and skims through the content.

She hums, “No need, I will take personal care of this one, you can do as you please today.”

Before the man has time to answer Wanda’s thumb hits the big red button and she starts her path to the walk-in closet across the hall.

You look like shit.

Lying in a heap on the ground, your pale features are void of any emotion.

Your lips are blue, and your fingertips stretched out toward Wanda, have become completely still. Your breathing is slow, then erratic, then slow again.

If Wanda hadn’t seen your fighting spirit that day, she would have thought you were a mute statue. You had been lying in the same spot since you entered with that hideous sweater. It was clearly a half-finished project of Carol´s; what a bitch, can’t even dress her own plaything right.

Wanda cringes at the thought, you weren’t hers.

The redhead glances at her watch for the hundredth time. With a sigh, she closes her eyes and inhales deeply, the cold air invades her lungs and scratches her throat. Even with her lesser human senses, there was a bite in the creeping wind.

With the lack of insolation and the less-than-ideal condition of the walls, Wanda had come here to discuss the process continuing, as the building stands now it would be less than ideal for humans to be here.

Her jacket crinkles as she steps closer to you, her shoes connect with poorly polished oak, and she cringes as she feels the plastic shift and strain when a loose nail tries penetrating the weak material.

You don’t react much, Wanda steps to your side, looking you over slowly.

To say Wanda was surprised to see you would be a lie. Due to the area lying in between the clan’s territory, they had agreed to manage it together, and she knows Carol has a responsibility for the lesser projects, like this one.

But-

Wanda kicks a pebble in your direction, just far enough for any normal human to at least move their head a little, but to no one’s surprise, your glassy eyes stare into the ground just in front of her with a complete lack of reaction.

The redhead is starting to think this match-up was a poor one.

And that’s not even mentioning the disrespect that oozes from the younger girl.

Carol had stepped out of their little meeting half an hour ago, Wanda had been explaining the logistics of marketing, when the blond woman had lifted her finger to Wanda’s face as her phone rang. With no regard for the one funding this project, she had stepped out with a meek “I have to take this.”

It wasn’t long after that very important phone call that Wanda heard Carol´s car speed off the property. Leaving you behind.

Wanda tsks, her lip lifting into a displeased frown. Pulling out her cell phone she is quick to send a message to the clan leader.

Mrs. Maximoff:

Carol left.

Read 7:12

Goldilocks:

You’re kidding?!

Read 7:13

Wanda snorts, Thor is sweet, but he is also incredibly naïve, he never should have accepted Carol, to begin with. That man’s heart will be his undoing one of these days.

Mrs. Maximoff:

I’m afraid not.

If this ever were to happen again,

I hope you understand that will be the end of this agreement.

I will not extend this olive branch again.

Sent 7:15

With a shake of her head, Wanda places her phone in her dress pants and shrugs her jacket off, her hand clutches the chilled material, hoping to warm it a little. And then she gently places it atop your pale frame. She thought maybe the blond woman would come back, but it seems not. The jacket looks like an overcoat with your curled frame.

Wanda tilts her head as she just stares at you for a moment.

You weren’t even scared, or at least you didn’t act like it. The last time she had seen you, you were close to having a heart attack every time Wanda moved a millimeter, now look at you. You lay there with half-lidded eyes, body curled into a ball, no concern toward the redhead’s proximity.

Even as Wanda lightly taps you with the point of her heel, your skin denting inward directly over a bruise, your breathing stays the same, your heart rate stays the irregular pattern it has this entire time.

Wanda huffs, you are a strange creature, but she figures the cold must have gotten to you. The taller woman kneels down beside you, her knee hovers just over the flooring, and her heels groan in agony against the awkward bend. She squints her eyes before testing her faith.

Warm hands run over your back, a gentle up-and-down motion on top of smooth leather. The pressure is just enough to feel it but light enough to avoid uncomfortable pushing against your bruised, thin, skin.

Within the paddling of confusion and the water rushing in on you, you feel a warmth swallow you whole. It’s nice.

Even through the jacket, Wanda can feel your ribs jutting out, with another sigh she pats you on the head. Your hair is greasy and cold, but Wanda doesn’t mind.

Now, onto the real issue at hand, what is she going to do with you?

Taglist:

@thinking1bee

@tobiaslut

@esmeseasle

@skittlebum

@tia-thesimp

@maximilfsworld

@leenasayeed

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@itsalwaysskorpioszn

@observeowl

@tekanparadiae

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@ichala

[cvtyvvitch]

✨☁️💧💤✨Pick-A-Card: Who’s Dreaming About You?✨☁️💧💤✨

💐 Pick an image (1, 2, 3, or 4) for a message about who’s been seeing you in dreams, and maybe visiting you in the astral realm. 💐

✨Focus your intention and remain open — if none of the images light up for you, there may not be a message for you in this reading! Alternatively, more than one image might connect with you. As always, trust your intuition and take what resonates, leaving the rest.

Onto the readings!

#1: 🫧 Bubbles 🫧

The person dreaming of you might be a sister or close girl/feminine in your life. I get the image of a girl with tears in her eyes, with the feeling that they wish they could talk to you/are upset about something that has happened between you. There’s an energy of youth and feeling sorry for their action(s), and wishing to make things right but not knowing how. Literally bursting bubbles, tears spilling down cheeks.

If this resonates with you, there’s no specific path for you to take with this person — what you do with this information is up to you. That being said, the advice I’m feeling is for you to deeply consider the situation and if there can be a way forward for you, maybe with a level-headed conversation about boundaries and how to work together. I do get the feeling that the person dreaming of you is trying their best, and if they apologize they really do mean it, even if they still make the same mistakes repeatedly. There’s a sense of emotional dysregulation here or immaturity on their side, which feels hard because they struggle against it. Definitely a specific message for maybe only a few people, but I hope that at least gives some insight!

Keywords: sister, red-faced, tears/snot, roses, skinned knees, tantrum, car/car keys, drinking

PS Feel free to let me know if it resonates with you and if you have any feedback!

#2: 🌿🌞 Sunbeam + Water + Branch 🌞🌿

This is a very dreamy energy (lol), and feels very nostalgic, very different from the first group message. Maybe a school friend or someone from uni. I get the image of them looking down a bit absently, tracing their fingers over an open hardback book with a red cover. This is someone you may have not seen for a little while, or perhaps won’t see for the summer (if you’re in Northern hemisphere). I get the image of stolen glances and them looking at you while you’re with a group of people/friends, and then wishing they could tell you how they feel. It’s possible they’ve been a bit unconscious in their feelings for you in the past, but I feel they’re aware of them now. Curious, maybe pining a bit. I get the image of a 90s boy haircut, like Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic. Wants to say something but feels like there’s some kind of emotional distance to cross. Unlikely they will say anything about how they feel at this time, or even the next time you see each other if you’re away for a bit. Feeling it out for sure.

Keywords: summer, Coca Cola, red, red nail polish, sea swimming, shy, magazines, bicycles

PS Feel free to let me know if it resonates with you and if you have any feedback!

#3: 🌊 Waves 🌊

Lot more angst in this group. Someone feeling very angry with themselves over how things were left between you if you’re not talking, or how they’ve been unable to communicate well if you are in contact. This has a stronger emotional/spiritual connection than like #2, and feels more like a partner/former partner. There’s a volatility here and the image of someone frustratedly punching into their hand. The anger feels directed at themselves, and there’s the awareness of their own emotional blockage(s). For some of you, they may be trying to come up with ways to approach you or talk about how they feel/what’s going on, but it feels like they’re coming at it from a pretty rigid headspace. Trying to “fix” things and pushing against harder emotions. They don’t feel necessarily toxic or cruel, but maybe create a lot of their own problems through trying to “tough it out” or use their head to mend things instead of allowing themselves to soften and feel things through. I don’t get the feeling either way that you are in contact or not, but in either case they are trying to muscle through their frustration right now which feels hard. I don’t feel any advice for you, beyond that it’s good to remind yourself you can’t do the work for someone. Sometimes you have to let someone struggle through the hard bits on their own time and terms.

Keywords: rock, wrestle(r), tea tree, masculine, hands, thick eyebrows, clenched jaw

PS Feel free to let me know if it resonates with you and if you have any feedback!

#4 🌱🌾Sunny Meadow 🌾🌱

This energy feels very peaceful, and I get that this is either a past life connection you haven’t met yet or you have, but have not been in contact for a long, long time (potentially many years). You could also have met this person recently or briefly, but don’t know them very well yet. There’s a patient energy to it, earthy and contant. Like the way a tree experiences life and seasons, this love for you feels eternal. It’s a semi-conscious tether to you, like regardless of what this person is doing in their day-to-day life, you are on the back burner of their mind. It’s a constant, soul-deep love. I’d go so far to say it’s so deeply rooted that it connects to the cosmic river. So eternal, so ethereal while also completely in Gaia/Earth energy. Hard to put into words but if you resonate with this, you’ll know the feeling I talk about. Like so chilled out and in bliss, completely straddling human time and the eternal present.

Keywords: green, earthy, moss, stone face, wooden idol, old gods, river of stars. eternity.

PS Feel free to let me know if it resonates with you and if you have any feedback!

[rfxiii]

could I request hcs for franklin, trevor, and michael on how they would go about apologizing or making it up to you after they did something wrong (I feel like I'm not making sense lol 😆 but basically I'm asking how would they get back on your good side after messing up big time) if requests are close, I apologize!!

(This totally makes sense, no worries! And my requests are always open, so feel free to send an ask whenever you’d like- I’m just a little slow atm. Also, I’m sorry about the long wait, and I hope you like it ☺️)

Franklin, Trevor, and Michael making up with you after an argument:

Franklin Clinton:

Arguments with Franklin are fairly rare. He’s a pretty level headed, loyal partner. But, like every relationship, arguments do happen.

Despite being kind, loyal, and loving, Franklin is also stubborn. It can be the cause of several of your arguments. And can also lead to him refusing to admit he’s wrong right away.

But once he does realize he’s been wrong, and understands that he’s upset you, he’ll go to the ends of the earth to make it up to you.

He’ll come to you like a sad puppy- curling up beside and gently taking your hands in his. He’s had time to think about what went wrong, and what was done to start the argument to begin with. He wants to talk it over, wants to get to the root of the problem to make sure it never happens again. He’ll stay up all night talking with you, and apologizing, until he’s sure everything is resolved and that you’ve forgiven him.

He may buy you something small and sweet the day after the fight. A teddy bear or a bouquet of roses aren’t uncommon after the two of you have had a disagreement. And for a few days afterwards, he treats you especially gently. He hates hurting your feelings or making you mad. So, he wants to prove just how much he does love you. Even if you two do argue.

Trevor Philips:

Arguments with Trevor are fairly commonplace. He’s set in his insane ways, and always self assured that he’s right. He’s more apt to listen to reason when it comes to you. But his erratic, wild behavior, and bad, dangerous habits are normally the root of arguments between you two.

There are several ways things can go after you two argue. But more often than not, it’s a couple days of passive aggressive comments and the silent treatment, until he’s convinced that this is the fight that’s going to split you guys apart. And then comes the waterworks.

He comes, literally, crawling back to you on his hands and knees, sobbing and snot nosed as he begs you not to leave him. He’s usually fairly high when he breaks down like this, so talking to him is slightly difficult. But he babbles at you non stop- telling you how much he loves you, how sorry he is, how he’s “such a worthless shit”.

The true talking it out usually comes the next morning, or afternoon, depending on how fucked up he got. But after his tears dry up and he’s caught his breath from all the sobbing, his usual method of making up with you is desperate, clingy sex. He doesn’t have a very good grasp on such big emotions, so he shows them physically instead of verbally. And you can feel his love and remorse through every press of his lips and every touch of his rough, scarred hands.

Michael De Santa:

He has issues with loyalty and honesty. You knew that before you got with him. But it doesn’t make the arguments that ensure because of it any easier.

He’s stubborn, self assured, and hot headed. Getting Michael to admit he’s wrong is like pulling teeth. And getting him to apologize is harder than winning a one man war. Once you two start to fight, it can last for days. And because of his petty, passive aggressive attitude, he sometimes tends to make things twice as bad.

It’s almost never that you hear him actually say “I’m sorry”. But eventually, after a few days of fighting, he realizes he’s being a child and understands that he was wrong. Even if he won’t admit it. So, he shows it the best way he knows how. Through gifts.

You’ll come home to find expensive jewelry on your pillow, or a new outfit hung up for you in the closet. He’ll have your favorite dinner made, and he’ll buy the wine he knows you like the best. He won’t apologize to you. But over dinner, he’ll take your hand, tell you how beautiful you look, and say something like “Let’s not fight anymore, angel. You know I hate seeing you upset.”

You know he’s too prideful to apologize. So, usually it’s just easier to cut your losses and accept that, while he’ll never verbally apologize, this is his version of saying “I’m sorry”. You know he truly is apologetic, and you love him, so you both agree to let this go and move on. He’s a good man, he’s just a little emotionally immature at times.

[atsumulogy]

WHO’S DADDY? PRANK WITH YOUR DAUGHTER. FEAT. DAD!ATSUMU

synopsis: dad!atsumu and uncle!osamu play a little harmless prank on yours and atsumu’s daughter, aki, what could go wrong? right?

featuring: dad!miya atsumu x AFAB! reader. miya osamu, hinata shoyo, sakusa kiyoomi, & bokuto koutaro.

cw: kids, mentions of pregnancy and labor, kids crying? um … yeah that’s all i think. LOL and maybe grammar errors

naia’s footnote: dad!atsumu fluff to make up for my last atsumu angst <3 this is an edited version of the one i posted in my old blog.

Soft coo’s and aww’s filled the room, as cute baby twins were laying in the crib together, looking at the people that surrounded them in curiosity as the two of them tilted their little heads in unison, consequently eliciting another batch of coo’s and aww’s from the people in the room.

“Aren't they just the cutest?” Atsumu gushed over the children that you two created, and you swore you heard him giggle like a school girl in love.

He’s beaming, pride blooming from his chest seeing the small features they inherited from him and, most importantly, you. You, who struggled every day during pregnancy with your morning sickness. You, who had to endure the pain of labor just so you could give him the privilege of loving two more new people for the rest of his life.

Osamu nods in agreement as he caresses his nephew's cheek with his knuckles, smiling at how he reminds him so much of his brother.

“Atsumu-san, what if you two do that thing where you and Osamu-san confuse one of the twins on who’s their dad?” Hinata excitedly suggested, jumping a little in his place while he looks at the twins, recalling a video on YouTube that went viral.

“Don’t plant any ideas in his head, Hinata.” Sakusa starts telling Hinata off before getting caught off guard by Bokuto backing up Hinata’s suggestion.

“Noo do it! I saw a video like that once on Twitter and it was so adorable and funny. C’mon, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“Mm, I mean, Bokkun’s right — what’s the worst thing that could happen, right?” Both Atsumu and Osamu agreed — but mostly Atsumu, curious about what would happen. While Osamu on the other hand, was dragged into the scheme.

“Come to Daddy, baby.” Osamu tries to mimic his brother’s voice, making you and the others snicker, while Atsumu scoffs in offense before rolling his eyes at his brother.

Aki, being the daddy’s girl that she is, did not hesitate to raise her arms out to Osamu after hearing what seemed to be her “daddy’s” voice, making Atsumu, once again, dramatically scoff and huff in slight offense and disbelief at his daughter’s betrayal.

“Daddy?” She tilted her head at Osamu. She looked at him with doe eyes as she furrowed her eyebrows, curious about her “daddy’s” new hair color. Lowkey making Atsumu jealous because he wasn’t the one that she was calling daddy.

“Noo baby, Aki, come here, I’m daddy.” She turned her head towards Atsumu, confused at how there were two daddies now.

Looking at Osamu again, and at Atsumu who had his arms out for her to reach for, was far too overwhelming for her and her little head to fully comprehend why there were two daddies at the same time.

And before you all know it, your baby girl was crying — fat tears running down her chubby cheeks as her lips wobbled in distress.

(And alas, curiosity killed the cat.)

“I told you,” Sakusa mutters.

“Oh shit,” Atsumu curses as Osamu cringes at the baby in his arms that was now crying with her snot and tears all over him. Both of them feeling awful that they made Aki cry, remorse setting in.

Aito, Aki’s little brother, heard his sister’s wails. And as if sensing that she was in distress, started crying too, as he empathized with whatever his sister was crying about.

“Aww, sweetheart,” you coo’d, taking him from the crib as you cradled him in your arms, rocking him back and forth, trying to ease his cries. Which, fortunately, worked as his cries died down soon after.

“I want my daddy.” Aki demanded in tears, and Atsumu was fast to grant his little girl her wish, hastily taking her from Osamu’s hold. His dad's instincts flipped a switch inside him that he didn’t know he even had.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, Daddy’s here now. Were you scared? Hm?” He slightly rocks her, whispering more apologies as he starts drying her salty tears with his free hand.

“Daddy is sorry, I’m here baby.” He assures her, making her nod her head and follow his soothing voice as she automatically wraps her little arms around his neck.

“Wow, I've never seen Atsumu-san look so distraught before, let alone this soft and gentle.” Hinata comments after he and Bokuto both apologized to you for bringing the idea up.

“I admit, Miya’s a lot more tolerable — I guess — when he's with his kids.” Sakusa hummed in agreement with Hinata, looking at Atsumu with a now merry Aki in his arms while they both beamed at each other.

As you looked at the baby boy in your arms, sleeping peacefully, and at the sight before you, you smiled. Despite the little mishap that happened just a minute ago, you were happy. You were in a state of content and tranquillity — secretly, you concluded to yourself that you wouldn’t trade these moments for anything in this world.

© ATSUMULOGY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ANY FORM OF PLAGIARISM AND REPOSTING OF ANY OF MY CONTENT IS PROHIBITED AND WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.

[propertyofkylar]

dacryphiliac - m!kylar x f!pc

word count: 1348

tags: dacryphilia, penetrative sex, pc wears a skirt and has a cunt, some light teasing, idk what else lol

Kylar was crying, and you weren’t sure what to do.

You weren’t even sure why he was crying. You had made some offhand remark about Whitney, not really thinking, and it upset him. Clearly. So now, you were awkwardly sat next to him on his bed as tears ran down his face.

You’d seen him upset before. You’d seen him furious, crazed, downright belligerent. But this? This was something different than usual. He was most assuredly not a pretty crier, that was for certain. His face was red, his eyes puffy. And yet…there was something about it.

Leaning in, you placed a hand on Kylar’s inner thigh. With a hiccup, his crying temporarily ceased as he looked at you. You took in everything about his wet face - the snot coming out of his nose, the tears clinging to his dark eyelashes, the bright red flush blooming across his cheeks. “M-my love?” He asked with a shaky voice.

Instead of replying, you reached your other hand to wipe away his tears. Kylar watched in awe as you swept his tears with your thumb and then drew your hand back to stick the salty digit in your mouth.

He was no longer bawling aloud, but tears were still streaming down his face. That only made your arousal grow, and you pushed Kylar back onto his bed. He let out a surprised oomph as he fell flat down. He tried to get up, but you quickly crawled atop him, pinning him to the bed by straddling his hips and pressing your hands to the headboard. 

Kylar’s surprise at your actions further spurred his crying, and a fresh round of tears made its way down his cheeks. “S-sorry…” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed by his inability to stop crying, turning his head away from you.

But you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you, his lips slightly parted as he blinked repeatedly, causing another cascade of tears. “Don’t apologize,” you murmured, and you could feel his cock hardening in his pants directly beneath your core. “You look so beautiful.”

“Fuck,” you groaned softly at the sight before bending over to kiss his neck. The streams of tears had made their way down there, causing his tender skin to have a slightly salty taste to it. You ran your tongue across his throat, gathering up all the wetness. Kylar shuddered beneath your touch.

You pushed up Kylar’s hoodie to scratch at his skin before dipping your hand down to free his hard cock from his pants. “You’re so pretty,” you cooed at him as you languidly began to stroke his flushed dick. He gasped and bucked his hips up subconsciously.

“Please,” he whined.

“Please what?” You smirked, adjusting your position to instead straddle his thigh. Your touch was featherlight, and your skirt splayed over his leg. You were certain you had already soaked through your panties at this point and would likely leave a giant wet splotch on Kylar’s pants. Not that either of you minded that. 

Kylar’s face grew even redder. It was so cute to see him like this, flustered and shy under your touch. It thrilled you to have this effect on him. You rubbed your thumb under the head of his cock, feeling it throb in your hand. 

His arm flew to block his face, the black fabric of his hoodie sleeve obscuring his emotions from you. Kylar let out a strangled sound and you could tell he was biting down on the cloth to keep from crying further. 

But you weren’t going to let him. With your free hand, you tugged his arm away. Kylar didn’t resist at all as he gaped at you, eyes shining with unshed tears. All the while, your fingers continued to skate across the sensitive skin of his shaft, barely even touching. You were going to tease more tears out of him if it killed you. 

“You’re just too cute,” you giggled. “I wish you could see yourself like this. Such a cute little mess.” Your thumb rubbed the head of his cock, smearing precum. Then, you brought it up to your mouth and licked it. Kylar swallowed hard. 

With his chest rising and falling rapidly, he swallowed again. Kylar blinked and tears ran down his face again - this time, not from sadness, but from need. “Please,” he whimpered. “I…I want you.”

A grin spread across your face. “How could I ever say no to you?” You peeled off your underwear, which was sticking to your absolutely drenched cunt. 

You took a moment to take it all in. His bare tummy, his heaving chest, his red face. It was all just too cute. You straddled him, rubbing your soaking folds along his twitching shaft. Kylar let out a soft gasp. “You just have no idea,” you said with a heavy sigh. His pupils were blown out; his mouth slightly agape. “You have no idea what seeing you like this does to me.”

And with that, you held onto the base of his shaft and slowly lowered yourself onto his cock. Kylar’s hands immediately flew to your waist as his hips bucked up into you. You leaned forward slightly and used your thumb to brush away his remaining tears. “I—I love you,” he said in a strangled voice. You smiled in return as you began to ride him. 

The two of you had done this act so many times that sliding onto him felt like home. There was no struggle, no pain - just two puzzle pieces slotting together. His cock filled you up and it felt right. But when he bottomed out inside you, Kylar couldn’t help but gasp like it was the first time. And the way he twitched inside you only made you want him more. “Feels good…” he mumbled and his thumb went to clumsily rub at your clit. 

There were no other words as your pace quickened. The only sounds in the room were your staccatoed breaths and skin slapping skin. From all of your teasing - and the beautiful sight of Kylar’s tears - you could feel your peak rapidly approaching.

“Kylar,” you said softly, and you could feel his fingers digging into your skin as he continued to rub your most sensitive spot. And with a cry, you came, your walls clenching around Kylar’s thick cock. 

His forehead was damp with sweat and his eyes were squeezed shut as he continued to thrust into you. And as you rode out your orgasm, he hit his own, his hot cum filling you up as he repeatedly babbled your name. 

Your heavy breathing was in perfect sync as the two of you stared at each other before bursting into giggles. Without pulling off of his cock, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around your boyfriend, cuddling into his chest. “Mm,” you said with a smile. “Cozy.”

His mouth touched your hair and he sighed softly. “Do I…” he awkwardly cleared his throat and began again. “U-um. Is it really that…you like it when I cry that much?”

“Mhm,” you said into his chest, breathing in that smell that was so wholly Kylar. You felt him twitch inside you as his cock began to soften. When you looked up at him, he was still blushing, so you pinched his cheek. “You’re just too cute. I like everything you do. It’s so sweet.”

Despite his clear shyness, Kylar broke out into a wide grin. “Thanks,” he said bashfully, trying to hide his face. 

Kylar’s fingers brushed through your hair, and the gentleness of his touch made you shiver. “I love you so much,” he mumbled. Your eyes met his and you were almost taken aback by the intensity. When you smiled at him, you could feel his cock stir inside you, nearly ready for another round. 

As a response, you softly pressed your lips to his. They parted almost immediately and the kiss was dizzying. So you pulled back suddenly and Kylar squeaked. 

“Now,” you said teasingly, a smirk forming on your face. “How should I make you cry this time?”

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 6: Darling

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied sexual content, MDNI Note: PART 6 HAS ARRIVED! Thank you for all of your support! A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @peachesofteal for workshopping with me, per usual, and being my beta! Enjoy and blessed be! (p.s. ghost drinking an orange sodie lol) << Previous | Next >>

Simon could hear his daughter’s screams as he came up the walkway to their front door, duffel slung over his shoulder. He had returned from a month-long deployment an hour ago and only allowed himself enough time to debrief and return his weapons once on base before hopping in his car and heading home.

He entered the house, still in full gear (mask and all), to find his heavily pregnant wife pacing the living room, their crying daughter in her arms. Her eyes and cheeks were red when she turned to the door, sobbing in relief at the sight of him.

“Oh, sweetheart. What’s going on?” he asked, dropping his bag by the door and going to her.

“She has a-a cold.”

“I can see that.” He wiped at the snot and drool on Joanie’s lip with his glove. “Where’s Roach?”

“He went to pick König up. You didn’t see him?”

“No. Must’ve just missed ‘im.” When Price handed out assignments for their most recent deployment, Roach had offered (more like decided) to stay with Freyja for the duration of his absence. With König also deployed, it made sense for him to help her with the baby and housekeeping while Simon was gone. Better than staying on base – alone – for a month. Knowing someone was in the house with his family made him feel better about leaving for such an extended period, especially with his track record. The last time he had left the country, leaving his pregnant spouse behind…

Simon rubbed his daughter’s back, his heartstrings tugging at the thought of her being in pain. “Give ’er here, I’ll take a turn.”

“Si, no, you must be exhausted-”

“I am exhausted, which means I’m in no mood to argue. Go to bed, love, please.”

His pleading didn’t seem to affect her as she went back to doing laps around the couch. “The doctor said there’s nothing we can do. It just has to pass. I’ve tried everything. Chest salve, shower steam, saline – nothing’s working. Every-Every time we put her down or sit down, the screaming just gets worse. Can’t stop…moving, and your son is kicking the shit out of me-”

This was ironic, considering how Joan only kicked when Simon or one of their friends spoke or touched her belly. Now, their son only ever kicked for her.

“Freyja.”

She stopped her rambling and found he had stepped into her path; he firmly held her biceps and dragged his hands up and down. Freyja sniffled as another tear slipped down her cheek. No singular word could describe how she felt (and probably looked). Drained, fatigued, beaten, dog-tired; none quite did the trick.

“You look like shit. You need to get some rest.”

“No, Simon, please just go to…bed.”

Soon as Ghost took Joan and returned to massaging her spine, her wails simmered to quiet whimpers as she cuddled into him. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, little fingers hanging from the collar of his shirt to the top of his vest. Their baby was getting big, her senseless baby talk beginning to lean more toward coherent vocabulary. When Joanie cried a soft “Dada” against his neck, Freyja started to sob harder, the heels of her palms dug into her eyes. 

Shit. “What’s wrong? She stopped screaming bloody murder. That’s a good thing.”

“I’ve been trying to calm her down for hours! You come home, and after five minutes, you’ve fixed it. She hates me! She fucking hates me!”

“Frey, look at me.” He stopped comforting Joan for a moment to tilt his wife’s chin up, forcing her to listen to him. When she did, he took his hand back. “Babies see their mothers as an extension of themselves. She knows your heartbeat and breathing sounds; she gets food from you…”

“Who told you that?”

“…I read about it.”

Freyja softened, tears no longer flowing freely. “You read parenting books?”

“Of course I do. I want to be the best for them and you.” He pulled her into his chest with one arm, his covered lips pressing into her hair. “You are her mother. I could never take your place. You’re her home. But I’ve been gone for a month, and I’ve never been away from her this long. There’s something to be said about missing her dad and wanting some comfort.”

When Simon brushed her tears away, she turned to kiss his palm, then rested her cheek there. Freyja didn’t know how, but her husband sure had a way with words, always knowing how to make her feel better. 

“Better?”

“Mhm,” she hummed and, before she could reach to pull his mask up, Joanie whined in frustration, kicking her legs impatiently, about to start up again. Simon chuckled and let his wife go, his heavy boots thunking against the hard floor as he began what would be a long night of getting his steps in. 

“Good. Now do as Daddy tells you and go to bed. Don’t make me tell you again.”

.

.

.

Coming up on the end of her pregnancy, the ‘waddling’ stage was in full swing. If Freyja thought she was big just before Joan was born, she was almost certainly a whale now, and she was losing energy much faster than before. This time around, though, they were sure to schedule a c-section for the week before her due date. The OB didn’t put up much of an argument with her medical history and Joan’s early arrival.

Her phone pinged again as she rounded the corner toward her husband’s office.

And again.

Joan’s irritable whines became more evident as she closed in on her destination. “Si, I can only move so fast.”

“Oh, thank god.” Ghost detached Joan’s iron grip from his mask while she was distracted. She continued to kick her little legs against him, trying to get away. “She’s antsy. I can’t get her down for shit. She’s sick of me.”

He wheeled his chair around the desk and tugged her missing sock back on (to her protest) until he reached the other side and placed her feet on the floor. “See? Mum’s here. Go see her,” he cooed, her tiny hands gripping his thumbs for support.

“Dad Ghost” as she had lovingly coined Simon in his work attire, was a walking contradiction. An arguably massive man, a masked mystery to majority of the population on base, snapping otherwise cocky and egotistical soldiers back in line. Still, no one dared to laugh as he screamed at them for poor technique or a lackluster performance with a blonde baby on his hip or strapped to his back. It never failed to make her want to giggle, hearing such a soft, gentle tone from the big scary skull plate affixed to his balaclava. 

Freyja was halfway across the room when he stood their daughter between his comically large boots. “She won’t go that far,” she admonished. “If you give her too big of a task, she’s not going to even try-”

As if sensing her mother’s doubt, Joan took a steady step forward, still holding Simon’s hands in deep concentration. Then another, and another –

Until he couldn’t stretch forward anymore, and she let go, hobbling towards Freyja until she stumbled at her feet, letting out a soft baby grunt.

They both stared at each other in silence, eyes wide and mouths agape in shock. Neither spoke for a good minute, until Joanie pulled herself up again by Freyja’s cargo pants, babbling, “Mum mum mum mummm”, gnawing at the thick material and looking up with big, brown eyes.

“Did she just…?”

“I told you, she’s bloody brilliant.” Simon shot up to scoop the baby and place her in his wife’s waiting arms.

“My big, smart girl! I can’t believe it!” She squealed and giggled as Freyja peppered her face in fat, wet kisses and gently shook her. Ghost joined in, playfully nibbling at the rolls on the other side through the black material covering his face. Joanie smacked them both away, screaming with joy. Amongst all the commotion, Price stopped in the doorway on his way to their brief (which they were about to be late for). 

“What’s going on here?” he asked, fists on his hips in faux anger. “I thought we had an understanding! No fun at work without Granddad.”

“We officially have a walker on our hands!”

Price gasped and crossed the room in an instant. “And I missed it?!” He shoved the stack of mission folders at the lieutenant and stole his granddaughter from her mother, hiking her high up on his waist. “You walked without me? I’m offended, little miss, but I’ll settle for a victory lap.”

He plucked his green bucket hat off the top of his head and dropped it onto hers, earning a high-pitched shriek of delight when it covered her face. “Let’s roll, everybody. We’ve got a meeting to get to,” he commanded before marching down the hall. “Oi, lads! She walked!”

A chorus of cheers broke out in the distance, followed by a wall-shaking group chant, “Joanie! Joanie! Joanie!”

Freyja just stood there, pouting, arms crossed atop her belly. “Just once, I’d like to celebrate our baby’s milestones in peace.”

“You know that’s not possible, love.” Ghost chuckled next to her, offering a single pat to her ass as they headed to the briefing. While neither of them would be going, it was their job to know what was going on during their impending absence. The ruckus started to die down when the couple sat, and the others followed suit. Soap placed a mug of peppermint tea in front of her, which she thanked him for, and  Laswell, Gaz, and Soap filed around the table.

“Kӧnig and Roach should be here shortly,” Price said, bouncing Joan on his lap as Ghost passed out manila folders.

Gaz checked his watch with a furrowed brow. “It’s five past. Maybe they forgot?”

“Just give them a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll be here.”

“His office was closed, so he’s definitely in there. I can go grab ‘im. It’s no trouble,” he offered, the metal legs of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up.

“Be my guest, Sergeant,” Freyja hummed, making eye contact with John as she sipped her tea, hiding her mischievous grin behind the cup. She waited for an appropriate amount of time, about how long it would take to take ten paces up the hall before she held up five fingers. 

“You’re a demon.”

“Five, four, three, two…”

“Verdammt nochmal!” 

There’s a loud bang, eerily similar to the sound of a six-foot-six body slamming into the floor. Boots thunder against the ground until Gaz appears in the doorway again, eyes wide and blushing like a madman.

“Genau deshalb habe ich das Militär verlassen, keiner von euch hat den Anstand, verdammt noch mal anzuklopfen!”

“Didn’t knock, did you.”

“Nope.”

“How bad?”

König stomped into the meeting, red as a tomato as he jerked his long, tangled (read: freshly fucked) hair into a knot at the base of his neck before slipping his hood on. Roach walked in behind him, grinning like an absolute idiot (read: clearly the one doing the fucking), albeit a bit flush, and his clothes untucked and wrinkled as he plopped beside John. 

“At least I didn’t get knifed this time.”

“Der Tag ist noch jung, Unteroffizier.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounded like a threat.”

“It was,” Freyja sang, her body shaking as she attempted to withhold laughter.

By the time Price had finished divulging the details of the op scheduled for the end of the month (which was also around the time of her c-section, which left Freyja and those deploying disappointed), Joanie had escaped his hold to crawl across the table and landed in her mother’s lap. She sat back against Frey’s round belly, happily gnawing on a teething ring while the captain combed her fingers through her soft, blonde curls. 

John cleared his throat and leaned back, tipping the chair on its back legs. “So…In a shocking turn of events, Roach is the top–”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, CAPTAIN?!” Soap screeched after choking on his coffee, leaving a stain on his shirt as it dripped from his nose.

“Oh, mein Gott…” 

“I don’t know. What did I say, Sergeant?”

Across the table, Roach held his lips between his teeth as he wheezed, quickly signing, “Only for my king.”

“PLEASE PLÖTZE! Stop talking!” König, finally deciding he’d had enough, shot up from his seat and practically sprinted out of the room, almost bonking his head on the door frame on his way out. A moment later, he stormed back in and snagged his forgotten file awaiting him in Roach’s outstretched hand before turning back out.

Biting his lip, Soap muttered, “Interesting…” to himself, eyeing the Austrian’s retreating form before flicking back over to Roach. The Brit was already looking at him, probably having heard him being sat next to him. He winked with a devilish smirk, and practically purred, “S’alright, happens tae th' best o' us.”

.

.

.

A few days shy of their next mission, and the birth of the newest Riley, the gang gathered around their living room for one last game night before Roach, König, Soap, and John departed for another mission. Roach and König were less than pleased to be missing the birth of their godson, but it couldn’t be helped.

Kyle placed a red eight down on the stack of cards, ending his turn. “C’mon, mate, what’s the wildest thing you’ve done on a mission?” he prodded, raising a brow in Simon’s direction. “You know all our stories. It’s only fair.”

The two shared a knowing look, and Freyja giggled once before Kyle interrupted, “Besides that, you heathens.”

Simon pressed against the kitchen chair he had dragged in for himself, seriously considering what he would consider the most outlandish activity he had partaken in outside of combat. Particularly, that didn’t involve screwing his wife in places they shouldn’t, like public places, sniper lookouts, cars, or supply closets…

Before he could drift too far, he caught the saucy side-eye his wife was throwing him from her deep armchair.

“No.”

Soap peeked up from his hand with a quirked brow. “Does Ghostie have an embarrassing secret? Now we have to know!”

“It’s not a secret, and I’m not embarrassed by it just because I don’t flaunt it around,” he said, shot back the rest of his whiskey, and replaced his mask. Simon didn’t always wear it with their friends; he just so happened to feel inclined to it that night. There was no rhyme or reason as to when he needed the comfort; the urge just came and went as it pleased. 

He tried his best to sound completely disinterested, hoping the discussion would blow over as he threw down his card. “Blue.”

Unfortunately, his plan did not work, and all interest in their game of Uno was lost. Kyle threw his hand down on the table, completely giddy. “WHAT IS IT?! TELL US!”

Simon groaned, throwing his cards at his wife, who simply laughed. “See, look what you did.” He sighed and begrudgingly unhooked his mask from behind his ears, tossing that at her too. After a beat, he let his tongue loll out, revealing a silver ball.

Several (if not all) of their jaws dropped, save for Freyja’s, who was utterly thrilled that this was happening.

Johnny was the first to speak. “Is…that…” he stuttered, staring unabashedly in disbelief. 

He snapped his mouth shut again once everyone had had a decent look. “Alright, can we move on please–”

The Scot pounced across the space, clearing the coffee table as he knocked Simon out of his chair, taking them both down into a heap on the floor. They wrestled as he tried to dig his fingers into Ghost’s mouth and pry it open again. “LEMME SEE!”

“JOHNNY!” Simon roared, bucking and thrashing his hips in attempt to get the man off, but he quickly scooted up until he sat firmly on his chest, knees pinning his shoulders as he yanked the piercing back out.

“Awe, so that’s why you’re always fuckin’ like horny teenagers! Oh, ah bet that feels good on your cu-”

“SHUT UP, SOAP!” “THAT’LL DO!” 

Freyja whipped her slipper at Johnny’s head, which he swiftly dodged. Meanwhile, Gaz was face down on the floor, having a fit and struggling to breathe. Price looked like he would actually rather die than endure another moment of the scene unfolding at his feet. Kӧnig was carefully weaving between people and furniture to remove Soap before he got hurt, and Roach stayed in his spot, mouth open in silent laughter.

Thank God Joanie was a heavy sleeper.

“Are you gonnae sit there ‘n tell meh that a’m wrong? A husband should always eat arse!”

“JOHNNY, OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

Kyle finally caught his breath and cut back in, “But does it WORK?!”

Everybody froze, including Kӧnig, whose hands looped under Johnny’s armpits, about to extract him. From underneath him, Simon glared up at his wife (who started this whole fucking mess). “Freyja–”

But Freyja, being the brat she is and loving the chaos, “…It works.”

Simon covered his face with both of his now freed hands, so utterly sick of her shit as the sergeant shook his shoulders, he and Gaz both screaming like madmen. Kӧnig still hovered over them, ready to remove Johnny if Simon called for it, his red hair up in a neat top knot at the crown of his head. A few strands hung loosely by his ears and at the peak of his forehead, framing his pale skin.

“AAAAAYYYYYY, SO YOU DO GIVE GOOD HEAD!”

He removed his shield at that, looking up at Johnny with a confused expression. “Who said I don’t give good head?”

Price flinched with a crinkled nose and grabbed his hat from the back of the couch. “That’s my cue.”

“Scary guys either have monster cock or scary good head,” Kyle stated as if it were pure fact.

“But he has both.”

“I can’t fucking take this.” Simon finally shoved at Johnny and the Austrian lifted him with ease, standing the Scot back on his feet.

Soap dusted off his pants. “Damn, you’ll have’ta get one’a those, Köni,” he teased and turned to face the giant, looking up at him with a boyish grin. 

König’s skin, ever the shy one, immediately painted itself a rosy hue, unable to be hidden by any hood or mask. Even Roach was taken by his brashness and turned a little pink himself, choosing to sip his drink. König was, unfortunately, frozen in place, wide eyes staring down at Johnny’s proud face.

Three seconds pass.

Then two more.

Then three again.

“OH MY GOD, THAT WAS THEM?! The threesome you told me about a few weeks ago, was them?”

With nowhere else to go, König collapsed onto the couch and pulled the neck of his sweater over his face. “Verdammter Himmel, Johnny…” If he could crawl into a hole and die, he would.

“What can ah say? M’services are world-class.”

“Can confirm,” Roach added, having put his glass down so he could use both hands to talk.

Johnny raised a brow and dragged his eyes from Roach’s shoes, slowly up his shins, then his thighs and chest before settling on the challenging smirk on his freckled face. “‘S that so?” he asked, stepping into the space between Roach’s knees and the table.

Roach simply nodded, looking up at his boyfriend through hooded lashes, resembling a lovesick puppy with shocking accuracy. He knew exactly what he was doing, too, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. Roach was a…talented flirt, to say the least.

His glass was carefully removed from his hand and placed on a coaster. Without a second thought, Soap wrapped his fingers around Roach’s wrist, dragged it behind his neck, and tossed the man over his shoulder. Gaz gaped, completely dumbfounded into silence – flabbergasted, if you will. He paused in the entryway, looking over his opposite shoulder.

“You comin’, Kö?”

König, still tucked away in the corner of the couch, peeked out from the cocoon he had created with his sweater. Even his forehead was tinged red, still. He openly stared for a bit before mustering up enough courage to rise again, and in an impossibly meek voice for such a large man, replied, “...Yes, sir,” and loosely tangled their fingers together.

Kyle threw his hands up then dropped them onto his head, dragging his cap back a bit. “WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

Freyja offered a sympathetic pat, her bottom lip jutted out. Poor Simon, who had returned to his seat, covered his mouth with one palm as he tried to contain his chuckles. He pulled his mask back on after retrieving it from the floor.

“Don’t worry, Gaz,” she said and poked his cheek. “We’ll find you a nice girl.”

“I GET AROUND FINE!” He swatted her hand away, glowering at her. “You’re all just a bunch of slags!”

He jumped up, abandoning his beer and putting his hat back in place. “Where’s my niece? I need to restore my innocence,” he grumbled, trudging upstairs.

“Simon, did he just call us sluts?”

“Yes, darling.”

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[dandylovesturtles]

I should be asleep lol

Immediately post-S2

———

Donnie grew up in the sewers, so maybe he has no room to judge, but Draxum’s apartment is pretty terrible.

The first night - after they defeated Shredder, with their home so destroyed they couldn’t return, Draxum had (only a little begrudgingly) offered them a place to stay - Donnie had been so tired he hadn’t given it a second thought. He’d collapsed in the nest of blankets and sleeping bags they’d made and slept blissfully through the night. He learned the next morning that Raph had not gotten much sleep at all, too keyed up and full of adrenaline, but the rest of them had conked out immediately.

The second night, Raph had joined them in sawing logs. And they’d all slept soundly through the third night, too. But now it’s night four, and Donnie’s finally well-rested enough to realize that everything is very wrong.

The sheets are a different texture. The thermostat is set too low. The ambient sounds of the apartment building are not the ambient sounds of the sewer.

His dad’s snores from the couch and Raph’s deep rumble are familiar, at least. Both of them are out, Splinter the first to fall asleep that evening in front of Draxum’s crummy TV. Even Leo is asleep again, his insomnia yet to rear its ugly head, and Donnie can’t help but be a little jealous.

And of course, Mikey can sleep anywhere and anytime, so Donnie knows without even looking that he’s asleep. It’s just Donnie awake, then, staring at the ceiling and trying to will away the persistent itch of incorrectness.

At least, that’s what Donnie was thinking, until he hears a distinct sniffling noise from the pile of sheets that is his little brother.

Donnie goes as still and quiet as he can, listening closely. Maybe he just misheard? No, but that was definitely another sniffle… and the mound of sheets is quivering, now.

Mikey is crying. Donnie’s little brother is crying, and he may not be the one who usually handles these things, but Donnie is still a big brother, and more importantly he is the big brother who is awake.

He sits up, blanket draped around his shoulders, and carefully scoots himself around Leo’s tangle of limbs. Then he flops down next to Mikey’s mound, reaching out to lay a hand on top.

“Mikey?” he whispers.

There’s some shuffling, and then Mikey’s face peeks out from under his sheets. His eyes are wet, visible even in the dim light of the room, and he keeps snorting. Donnie makes a gallant effort not to flinch at the sound.

“Dee?” Another sniffle. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was already awake.” He rubs at the mound, for all the good it will do. “Are you okay?”

Mikey snorts hard, then blinks furiously to banish his tears. It doesn’t work. “I’m fine,” he insists, but it comes out hoarse and stuffy.

Donnie holds up a finger, then pushes himself to his feet. He pads across the apartment to the coffee table they’d shoved aside to make room and retrieves a box of tissues that he brings back, setting it pointedly in front of Mikey.

Finally, Mikey sits up, letting the sheets pool around him. He pulls out two tissues and blows his nose as quietly as he can - it’s still pretty loud, but Splinter’s snoring covers it up.

“Thanks,” he whispers once he’s done, tossing the balled up tissues to the side. Donnie pointedly ignores them (no matter how gross) and focuses on the matter at hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, not giving Mikey an out this time.

Mikey chews his lip. “It’s just… hitting me finally, I guess.”

Donnie tilts his head. “What is?”

“That… that the lair’s really gone. That we’re not going back.” New tears spring to his eyes, and Mikey grabs another tissue. “It’s just… I mean, we saw it yesterday, but… I don’t know. It’s l-like I didn’t really g-get it until right now.”

His voice is wobbling hard by the end. He chokes off a sob, rubbing his nose furiously with the tissue. Donnie knows that there’s definitely snot on Mikey’s fingers and probably his arms, too, but he can’t watch this anymore. He offers Mikey a hug, his arms barely open a second before Mikey is throwing himself into it.

As Mikey holds onto him and cries, Donnie thinks about the day before (well, really the day before the day before - it’s after three AM, now). They’d gone to the lair, to see what they could salvage. Everyone had been subdued; even Leo wasn’t managing to joke like he normally would. Only Mikey was still upbeat, able to see the silver lining in every cloud, cheering over every item they found that was still intact enough to bring with them, encouraging them to come back later and look for more.

Maybe they’d been a little too complacent that Mikey was going to be okay, after all that. But of course he isn’t; he loves their home as much as the rest. Sewers and all.

“We’re homeless, aren’t we?” asks Mikey after a minute or two. Donnie hasn’t really thought of it like that, but now that Mikey has said it, he knows he can’t refute it.

“In the technical sense, yes,” he says, and regrets it when Mikey bursts into a fresh round of tears. For the first time in his life, he abhors technical correctness.

But while it may be correct in the technical sense, what about other senses?

Donnie pulls Mikey down onto the sleeping bag, then works the sheets and his blanket over the both of them. Finally, he snakes a hand around to grab another fistful of tissues for Mikey, passing them over without dislodging Mikey from his hug.

“Do you know what I think Dr. Feelings would say, if he were here?” Donnie asks, once they’re both settled.

Mikey blows his nose again, then peers up at Donnie. “What?”

“I think he would say that home is where the heart is. As long as you’re with me, and Leo and Raph and Dad, you can’t be homeless.”

He delivers this with a great amount of conviction, so he can’t help but be a smidge irritated when Mikey laughs.

“Hey! I’m trying to help!”

“I know!” Mikey giggles, burying his face against Donnie’s plastron and lightly head butting into his chin. “That was a really great Dr. Feelings, Dee. Thank you.”

“…Hm, well, I was just passing along his recommendation.”

Mikey hums. There’s still a bit of a wheeze from breathing through a stuffy nose, but he sounds like he’s stopped crying.

“Hey, Donnie?”

“Yeah?”

“Love ya.”

“I love you, too.”

Sleep doesn’t find Donnie that night. But it finds Mikey, and he considers that a win.