#f: soft spot

[forgetful-nerd]

Your turtle maybe feral, but are they “bite a bitch so hard they draw blood that they then have to spit out” feral?

[larsnicklas]

your 2024 first overall pick macklin celebrini is a san jose shark!

[undefeatablesin]

The Good Boy Richter! Redraw of an old piece from 2021 lmao ✨️

[kotoal1011]

I love you messed up f/os who are a menace to everyone but immediately melt when you give them the slightest bit of affection <3

[brbaltering]

grief of a mother

[fluffypandabun]

Omg more lee Casey PLS

Alright anon :3, have some drabble as a treat :3

Casey was the best ninja, the sneakiest and quietest of all ninjas, aside from his Sensei of course, but Casey was a close second.

He creeped quietly down the hall, sticking close to the wall and in the shadows just as his Sensei had taught him. He reached the end of it and peered sneakily through the crack of the door, his Uncle Tello was still at his desk as he always was, back to the door and furiously typing on his many, many keyboards.

Casey carefully opened the door wide enough for him to slip through before pausing to see if the turtle had noticed him, he hadn't and Casey bit his lip to stop from giggling as he stepped through the door and into the room.

He stayed crouched, almost crawling, making his way further into the dimly lit room. As he got closer to his uncle's chair he slowly raised himself back up onto two legs, stretching his body up he made his hands into claws taking in a deep breath-

There was a whir of metal retracting and faster than Casey could even yelp he was being picked up by small metal hands and dangled upside down in front of his uncle's unamused face.

The boy offered a half grin, giggling nervously.

"Hehe, Hi Uncle Tello...."

The mutant narrowed his eyes, tattooed on eyebrows furrowing and giving him an even more unamused expression.

"Casey Jr."

The two stared each other down for a moment before Casey squirmed a bit in the metal arms hold, causing him to swing back and forth slightly.

"Right so, I think I'll be on my way now-

"Yeah no not happening."

Before he could even protest, Casey was being dropped into his uncle's lap. Two large three fingered hands grabbed onto his sides and rapidly squeezed up and down them, prompting the boy to squeal loudly and burst into loud giggles.

"You come into my lab, and prevent me from doing my work and expect to leave without consequences? For shame Casey." Donetello droned, his voice conveying indifference to the squirmy laughing child in his lap though the fondness in his eyes gave him away.

"Now," He continued, turning back to his screen, "Where was I...?" "Uncle Tello!" Casey squealed when the mutant's fingers wiggled their way up to his armpits.

"Casey Jr." Donetello responded, glancing down at him, "Can't you see I'm trying to work? Did we not teach you any better then to bother us when were working?"

Tiny hands pushed to no avail against larger green ones. "Your tihihickling meheheheh!" Donetello raised an eyebrow. "Tickling you? Me? Oh I would never." the turtle rolled his eyes, voice laced with sarcasm. Though when Casey let out a squeak of a hiccup he couldn't keep the slight smile off his face.

"Uncle Tehehellohohoho!" Casey giggled, smacking at muscled arms as his hands suddenly skittered back down to tweak gently at his ribs.

"Sigh, I guess if you really require my attention so badly you may have it" Donnie grinned, he shifted the boy in his arms to better secure him before he made his free hand into a claw, bringing it down onto the boy's small stomach and shaking it. Practically shaking the boy's whole body alongside it.

Casey shrieked before bursting into bright childish belly laughter, curling up around the turtle's hand.

"Ehehehehe! Nohohohoho!"

Donnie raised a brow. "No? Now you don't want my attention? You need to make up your mind Casey."

Casey kicked out his legs, trying desperately to roll over onto his side. "Your behehehing mehehehean!" "Me? Mean? Scoff! I'll have you know that I'm the fun uncle, I mean just listen to how much fun your having right now."

He used the boy's new position to skitter his fingers up his spine to the back of his neck, causing him to scrunch up and squeal.

Donnie allowed his fingers to poke a prod for a few moments longer before he let up, allowing the boy to rest in his lap as he caught his breath. As his lingering giggles resided Donnie gave him a look.

"Now, what have we learned about sneaking up on Uncle Tello?"

Casey giggled a bit before answering. "To not get caught next time."

Donnie gave him an annoyed look at he poked him in the side. "You've been spending too much time with that Sensei of yours."

Casey giggled and pushed the turtle's hand away, settling back to lean against his chest, tilting back his head to grin up at him.

"I mean it! Next time I won't get caught."

Donnie glanced down at him and patted his head. "Uh huh, I'm sure you won't." He wheeled himself back over closer to his desk.

"Now if you promise to be quiet I'll let you stay with me while I work."

The boy's eyes immediately lit up."Will you let me use the soldering iron again?" "Ha!......Only if you don't tell Mikey." 

[kiddphel]

i know miggy was/is the hot Internet Special Boy and he was just topical and relevant so ofc a lot of ppl shipped with a hot popular man but know that im not fucking around. im in this for a long ass haul. when i post abt popular at the moment men it is a game and im not quitting.

remember me posting viktor during arcane hype? viktor has been my f/o 10 years. percy during tlovm s1 hype? hes my 2nd most important husband.

miguel is gonna be special forever and thats cuz if im kissing the popular boy of the hour im doing it cuz im damn serious abt it and him and hes gonna be smth special

[villain-in-love]

I've mentioned him a bunch of times before, but generally tried to stay away, to avoid falling into my old obsession. However, it seemed that I'm back at my bullshit again, regardless of my efforts.

Anyways, allow me introduce you properly.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the myth, the legend, the man himself, the one that caused me so much heartache!

Fucking Xerxes Break

I am so going to spoil you his entire character right now because you need to know this information because from now on I won't shut up about him.

So, Xerxes. In this story, that heavily references "Alice in Wonderland", he represents both the Mad Hatter and the White Knight. He's an extremely weird mix of a cunning bastard, cinnamon roll, and grouchy old man, all at once. Xerxes Break is known by many for his eccentric behaviour and unparalleled fighting skills, being simultaneously the best and the most insufferable swordsman in the entire Pandora organization. Other than that, he's a loyal servant of the Rainsworth dukedom, and an important mentor figure to the main characters.

Most of the time, he acts like a clown. When he's not acting like a clown, he acts like a moody bitch.

He made a bunch of terrible decisions in his youth and is still dealing with the consequences of his actions, even fifteen years later. Break's past is dark and bloody, and he's not proud of it.

At first you might think that he's an untrustworthy manipulator with a few screws loose, but then throughout the story you realize that he's easily the person with the most common sense in this entire freakshow, as well as one of the very few people you can actually rely on. Also Xerxes has always been a better fighter than a manipulator.

In any case, just don't listen to a single thing Break says about himself – his actions often contradict his words. He tries to portray himself as a far more horrible person than he actually is.

He doesn't know how to deal with children, but he keeps accidentally adopting every child he meets. Claims that he doesn't care about anyone but himself, yet actually cares about everyone except himself. And if you dare to hurt people that are dear to him, I hope you already have your place at the graveyard reserved, because he does not forgive that... and because he's a former serial killer (bad decisions, bad decisions).

All that comes in a complect with sugar addiction, creepy ventriloquist doll named Emily, pride that blinds (ha!) him to everything else, thinly veiled suicidal tendencies, trust issues, massive guilt complex, undying devotion, obnoxious tendency to poke his nose into everyone else's business, and completely nonsensical fashion sense!

.......

Also he is quite literally rotting on the inside (what did I say about the consequences of his own actions?), then he loses his eyesight closer to the middle of the manga, and dies by the end of the story, right after finally realizing that he's actually not ready to die.

In short, this man is a walking disaster and I adore him with my entire being.

[cordeliawhohung]

Soft Spot - Part 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part thirteen of "soft spot"

taglist | playlist | dissection links

you're so used to the teeth that they don't even hurt anymore

warnings: childhood trauma, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past torture, threats and unkind language

wc: 4.4k

Some part of you always knew you’d see him again, but you never imagined it would be like that.

In your pitiful daydreams, you always envisioned things would be darker; scarier, even. You’d find him again in some dim corner where he would trap you and would lurk and stare until he was ready to pounce. In the version of yourself in your daydreams, you were stronger. You knew exactly what to say, how to convey how you felt, but most importantly, he would pay. He would pay for every single transgression he wrought upon you and your mother. You would never have to see him again. But it was wrong. You weren’t supposed to run into him there. Not on a perfect day like that. 

It would have been a perfect day. 

The warmth of the sun on your skin, the laughter of everyone around you; you had every right to enjoy that day. To bask in the beauty of the trees with their singing, fluttering leaves, and to soak up the fragrance of tulips and freshly trimmed grass. But behind it all, there was always something lurking. A second layer you hadn’t yet exposed. The rotting carcass of a bird nestled by the trunk of a tree. Musty hot car exhaust from the street on the other side of the park. A man too angry for his own good and his daughter petrified on the bench. 

The smell of cigarettes. 

Your eyes had no choice but to stay glued onto the man in front of you. So many years had gone by, and though his age caught up to him, that unbridled rage that festered within him was painfully distinct. It was his eyes, it always was. You could see every thought and intention that came to fruition in his thoughts, and though he smiled, you knew none of it was good. It alerted some primal instinct in the back of your mind that screamed at you to run, to fight. All you could do was place your hands on your stomach and hope Simon would return soon. 

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” The words flew out of your mouth of their own volition, like some sort of ghost had taken control of your body and given you the strength to say them. 

Your father snorted as he took a step closer to you, and you had no choice but to watch him sink down into the seat next to you. His movements were slow, frail even. There was something wrong with him, as if he rotted from the inside out. Perhaps all his wrongdoings had finally caught up with him, and you took an odd sort of comfort in the thought he looked too sick to properly hurt anyone other than himself. 

“Haven’t seen each other in years and you have nothing to say? Bullshit.” He coughed. It sounded wet, and you could make out the sticky sounds of it clinging in the back of his throat. “Though, the last time we talked you didn’t have anything to say to me but a threat.” 

He was right. A threat. A promise. Maybe both. Whatever it was, you had meant every word of it at the time when you said you would kill him if he ever hit you again. That felt like forever ago. Some other lifetime. Really, you were surprised he even remembered it at all. No, of course he remembered it. He would always remember the worst parts of you; the parts of you he could twist and use against you. 

“I still mean it,” you said. 

It was an empty promise. You knew that, and he knew that too. 

“Sure thing, darling,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ll do a whole lot of damage in… this state.” 

No surprise bloomed in your chest at his comment, but disgust did. Having to see that vile man again was already bad enough, but seeing him while you were pregnant was a different form of degradation. It felt violating to be perceived in such a disgusting way, especially by the man who fathered you. Him seeing your mother pregnant hadn’t pulled on his heartstrings to save her from the terrible fate of his fury, and it certainly wouldn’t save you. 

“So, who’s the dad? Some rich American? Surprised to see you back here after you ran off to play school girl in the States,” he sneered. 

“You don’t have the right to ask that,” you snapped.

“Don’t I?” he challenged. “You’re my daughter.” 

“I’m nothing of yours.” 

A heavy sigh left your father’s lips as he adjusted his position on the bench. You hadn’t moved an inch since he approached you, and even your son seemed to know well enough to stay dormant inside of you. 

“You always have to be difficult,” your father huffed. 

“What the fuck do you want?” you bit. Intense eyes landed on the pathetic figure next to you, and you found your hands balling into fists in your lap. “We haven't spoken for years, and you think it’s okay to just stroll up to me in the damn park for a conversation?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said with a glare. “Remember, you were the one who cut contact with me, not the other way around, darling.” 

“Because you are a piece of shit, and you know it,” you retorted. “You’ve never been useful for a goddamn thing in your entire life. You beat my mother, beat me, and then left her to die when she got sick like she was a fucking toy you were tired of playing with. All that shit and you think you have any right to talk to me? To approach me and act like nothing happened?”

“Don’t raise your voice at me, girl,” your father warned. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re knocked up, you don’t get to speak to me like that.” 

You weren’t sure what made your body move the way it did, but suddenly you were on your feet with your back facing him. Everything happened of its own accord. The way your feet moved along the pavement. How your heart thundered in your chest so violently you swore it would break your ribs. A sense of self preservation consumed your body and its senses as it did its best to get you away from the threat of your father. You were in no shape to fight, and you couldn’t afford to freeze, so you took flight. 

But you had never been very good at getting away. 

The brutal cycle of getting caught continued in the same way it always had; with a hand around your wrist. Your father’s grip was just as unforgiving as Bukin’s had been, and the same as Eric before him. Just like all the other times, you turned to face the aggressor with a bewildered glare on your face, incapable of holding back neither your fear nor your anger. 

“How long do you think you can keep running? Huh? Before your legs stop working? Before someone breaks them?” he asked, his tone all but demanding an answer from you. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Truly?” you questioned. 

“I’m your fuckin’ father,” he retorted.

Hot breath fanned across your face and you could almost taste the rancid tobacco leftover in his lungs. It was enough to make your stomach turn, and with the anxiety pooling in your stomach you nearly puked, but you held strong as you wiggled your wrist out of his grasp. 

“You are nothing to me. Not my father, not my family; nothing,” you spat. “I know you’ve got it in that thick skull of yours that you have some odd ownership over me because you fathered me, but that’s where our relationship ends. Do you understand me? I’ve lived my life fine without you. I’ll continue without you. I’ll have this kid that you’ll see no part of. I’ll get the life I always deserved while you die, alone and unloved, and nobody will fucking miss you at all.” 

A heavy silence weighed on your shoulders as you watched your father’s face morph in front of you. He was always an angry man, but his true nature was something your nightmares could never quite capture. They could never paint the twitch of his lips or the flexing of his jaw, or the way his fingers buzzed with anticipation. Your fuzzy childhood memories paled in comparison to the real, unbridled enjoyment your father experienced when instilling fear and pain in someone. 

Maybe that’s why you never learned. Not because violence wasn’t a good teacher, but because you could never remember just how bad it hurt. Not until you were there in the maw of the beast. 

Whatever you thought was there lurking in your father’s features vanished faster than it had formed. Your father’s eyes scanned every inch of your scowl and you watched them light up with something sinister and wicked the moment they landed on the corner of your lip. A grin replaced the anger on his face as he took in the sight of that unsightly scar that still plagued the corner of your lips even after all those years, and you almost flinched. As his quiet and sour chuckle sounded, you knew exactly what he thought. He hadn’t given you that scar, which meant you had never truly escaped trouble as much as you wanted to pretend you did. 

But you did. You climbed away from that life, fought tooth and nail just to live without violence, and you made it. Each night you were able to go to bed in the arms of a man who had never once caused you harm. In the mornings you would wake up to fresh air and a chaste kiss before you ever even slithered out from underneath the covers. The only bruises that tainted your skin were ones caused by unseen table corners, not the fists of an angry man. 

Yet you knew he would never believe you. Abusers always had to come out victorious, even if that meant dipping their mind into their own delusions. You would sooner turn to dust and bone before your words would ever reach him, and he seemed to hold himself with pride over that fact. 

He chuckled again, louder that time, and looked down at the ground for a short moment as he shook his head. His eyes landed on you again with humor before he shrugged. “Keep telling yourself that, darling.” 

A large hand settled on your stomach as you felt a looming presence gently pull you away from the monster of your childhood. You didn’t even have to look up at the figure to know it was Simon; you knew him by touch alone. Your body did not untense at all even with him there, and the distilled anger was palpable on your husband. Dark eyes glared at your father, who hardly bothered to look Simon up and down. 

All it would take would be one word. Something to anger your father, to get him to lose his judgment, to get him to lunge. A vile, dormant anger inside of you wanted to. Wanted to goad your father into attacking just to watch what Simon would do. You’d seen what he was capable of. Watched him break a beast’s arm and stomp on it just to feel the bone crunch under his boot. It was so easy for him to pull that trigger and end the life of a man simply for calling you darling. If only he knew half the things your father had said to you. 

How much would he have to bleed to make it feel better? How many bones would have to break? Would it ever be enough? Could more violence ever satiate the need for revenge that stowed itself away inside of you? Did that make you just like your father? Did you even care? No, it would never be enough. There was no penance he could offer you that wouldn’t just turn your stomach sour. 

He would get his turn. One day. If you were lucky, you would never even hear of it. 

“I never want to see or hear from you again. I mean it,” you said as your eyes locked on him. 

Your father’s eyes flickered up to Simon, where he finally seemed to understand the weight of the situation. He was old; a stupid drunk with nothing to fight with but a decayed body and rotten core — something Simon could shatter in an instant. Perhaps he finally realized he didn’t have as much power over his little girl like he thought he did, or maybe his self preservation instincts kicked in, but your father finally took a step back with a shrug. 

“Whatever you want,” he said. 

It wasn’t until you were halfway back to the car that you realized Simon tried to grab your attention. Your name fell from his lips hushed and even, yet no matter how hard he tried it was impossible for him to mask the worry it was drenched with. His pace was slow compared to usual, but then again it wasn’t like you could move as fast as you would have liked. You wanted to run — run to the edge of the world and never look back, yet you were so painfully present on earth. 

“Sweetheart, slow down,” Simon said, trying to calm you. 

“I’m fine.” 

Those were the first words you were able to choke out, and you hadn’t realized how tight your throat felt until you said them. Still, you continued to push ahead, chest heaving with anxiety as you got closer to Simon’s car. All you wanted to do was go home. It seemed that’s all you ever wanted to do. 

“Who was that?” Simon then asked, still trying to pull answers from you. 

“Your father-in-law.” 

There was no need for further explanation. Simon was well aware of the horrors you had to fight when you were a kid. A storm swirled in your mind so violently even he could feel the raging wind, and rather than try and fruitlessly fight it off, he chose to weather the storm with you instead. 

The ride home was a blur with your thoughts so full to the brim yet simultaneously empty. Numb. It had been a long while since you had felt that way, and it didn’t wane until Simon unlocked the door to the flat where you pitifully shuffled over to the couch. Boo beat Simon to your side, and he instantly attempted to climb up on top of your stomach as if it were a perch and not where your child rested inside of you. You wanted to smile at him, but all you could manage was a quivering bottom lip. 

“Sweetheart,” Simon tried again as you pushed your overly zealous cat off your lap. “Talk to me.” 

Instead of sinking into the cushion next to you, he crouched on the floor where his hands quickly found yours. Every nerve in your body felt fried, too hot for you to exist properly. It traversed up your body in painful waves until the pressure built up so much behind your eyes you swore they would burst from your skull. 

“I hate him,” you said, voice trembling. “I hate him so much. It’s been years and- and he shows up now? When everything is good? Wh- When I’m like this?” 

You paused for a moment as the rush of hormones nearly suffocated you. Eyes overflowed with tears as you sniffled back the snot that started to run in your nose. You wanted to take your hands out of Simon’s in order to rub at your eyes, but his thumb running along your knuckles was too comforting for you to deprive yourself of that feeling. 

“And I want him to pay. For everything. For all the years of bullshit he put mum and I through. But it feels so far out of reach because no matter what it’s not good enough. I just hate feeling like this, so fucking useless.” 

Simon’s hands moved up from your hands, across your arms, along your shoulders, and all the way up until he cupped your cheeks in his hands. Everything felt heavy, yet he held your head high as he shifted closer to you. 

“I know it’s hard. It’s never easy running into monsters like him,” he said. “But he’s never gonna see you again. Never layin’ a fuckin’ hand on you either.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… he makes me feel like a kid and I hate it,” you said in a near whisper. 

“I know,” Simon shushed as he moved up to sit on the couch next to you. His arms wrapped around your body as he drew you as close to his chest as your body could comfortably contort. His warmth was all consuming, settling your frayed nerves as his hand traced along your waist. “I know.” 

His chin rested on the top of your head while you did your best to calm your breathing into something more manageable. That simple action — breathing — had already grown to be so difficult those days with the extra weight on your diaphragm, but the crushing feeling of being reduced into nothing but a scared little girl again was unbearable. 

“Family is bullshit, anyway,” Simon suddenly chirped. “Don’t have to keep anyone around that you don’t want. Could just be me and you, if you want. You, me, and our boy.” 

Our boy. Those words had your tears falling harder than they did before. Having a child wouldn’t fix all your problems, and you were very much aware of that fact. Children weren’t supposed to be the glue that mended old wounds, like so many people wished they would be. Yet still, an odd sort of excitement flickered at the thought that you could one day erase it all. Erase all the parts of your life, and replace it with something truly worth living for. 

Like Simon. 

Like your son. 

The prospect of no longer being your father’s daughter was an exciting one. Maybe your unfortunate conversation with him had been the universe’s way of getting you to say goodbye, though you could have very well done without one. Either way, none of it mattered. It was done. You would have a child to fuss over before long, and you didn’t need thoughts of a sour old man ruining that joy. 

You didn’t even think of your father that night as you and Simon settled in for bed. There was too much love to enjoy in the warmth of his arms as he held you close to his chest that there was no room for anything else. Simon’s hands roamed your stomach, as they often did those days, where they settled at the top of your abdomen as if waiting for a good kick. For a moment, everything was still as Boo curled up against your legs with a quiet purr, and a smile curled your lips as you felt Simon’s lips press against the back of your neck. 

Except, no matter how good things got, you always seemed to end up back in that basement. Some days it was difficult to tell if you left a piece of yourself there, or if a piece of it had clung to you even after so many years. Either way, it didn’t change the fact you stood in that room with its pale lilac walls that were still just as empty and bare as the first day you woke up in that cursed place. 

However, several items were missing from their usual spot in that room. There was no door to the bathroom in which you spent so many hours hiding in, or the bed with the quilt you had spent half a day bleeding into. In fact, an entire wall had all but vanished, giving you the perfect view of the ocean with its salty waves. A comforting freshness lingered in the air rather than the rotten scent of iron, and for the first time in years, you didn’t feel scared. 

“He’s so handsome.” 

An old rocking chair creaked in the center of the room as your mother sat rocking a bundle of blankets in her arms. The back of her head faced you as her attention was soaked up by something else, something new, and your wavering feet shuffled closer to her. 

“Who?” you asked, attempting to peer over her shoulder. 

“My grandson,” she replied with a chuckle. 

Impatient eyes peered over your mothers shoulder as you tried to steal a glance at the baby boy, yet no matter what angle you tried to get, his face always seemed to be obscured by the blanket. He was so quiet, so much so that the waves crashing on the shore just beyond that missing wall drowned out each quiet whine and sigh. 

“He looks so much like you,” your mother cooed. “Good thing, too. I was worried he’d get Simon’s nose.” 

You laughed, and it was strange. You never thought you’d be laughing in that basement. 

“Simon’s got a fine nose,” you defended. 

“Oh, I’m sure he does. Underneath all the scar tissue, anyway,” your mother teased. 

Your laughter sounded in harmonious unison as she finally looked away from your son and up at you. Her eyes shined brighter than any other time you could remember in your dreams. She looked so real it was almost like you could reach out and hug her again like you used to when you were a kid. 

“Can I see him?” you asked. 

“Not yet. Just let me have this for a moment. You’ll see him soon enough,” she replied. 

She paused as her bottom lip began to tremble.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. 

“What for?” you asked. 

“Everything.” 

There was no need to ask for further explanation; it was written in her face. Despite everything that had happened to you throughout your life, there was the indomitable will to survive, even if that just meant more suffering. After so many years, your suffering finally bore fruit. You no longer had to go to sleep wondering if you’d wake up to shattered porcelain on the floor. Unlike her, you had escaped.

That’s all she had ever wanted for you — for someone to take care of you. 

Your mother’s attention wandered back to the missing wall in front of her, and your gaze followed. Fluffy clouds billowed along the horizon, and seagulls danced in the sky together while they sang to one another. That ocean was brighter than you had remembered it, like the sun had finally peeked through the clouds. 

“I think it’s time for you to go home,” she said. 

“Home?” you repeated. 

She nodded. “You don’t need to keep coming here anymore.” 

She was right. You were tired of that basement. Tired of the memories that haunted you from time to time. They would always be with you in some way, but you couldn’t wait to drown them with new memories. Better memories. 

There was no need for a goodbye, as you had said them years ago to that wretched place. Instead, your feet trudged forward until carpet turned into grass. Cold wind moved freely around your body as it beckoned you closer to the crashing waves on the sandy shore. When your feet got close enough to the water that it nearly kissed your toes, you turned around only to find the house, and its terrible basement, had vanished. 

That was the last time you ever looked back. 

Searing hot pain ripped through your body when you woke up. It rippled all throughout your abdomen in a wave so vicious it took your breath away. Boo, who had been by your feet when you had fallen asleep, pawed at your face as he purred and bashed his head against yours. The pain left you nearly incapacitated for a moment until the wave eventually waned, and it was only then that you were able to slowly push yourself up so that you sat with your legs over the side of the bed. 

Sticky sweat clung to your body with little remorse for your comfort, and you tried your best to calm your racing heart with a steady breath. In some poor attempt to assist you, Boo pawed at your aching stomach with an annoyed meow. You gently pushed him away, only for him to whine. Simon grunted, half awake yet still irked by the creature’s impressively loud demands for attention. 

Simon didn’t fully wake up until a second wave of pain hit you, and you were unable to hold back the squeaky wince that it forced out of you. The bed shook as Simon’s hulking frame tore the blankets off of his body and scooted so that he sat next to you. His hand rested firmly against your back, yet he almost retracted when he felt your muscles tense and nearly tear with the strength of your contractions. Had it not been for the little human in your womb blocking your way, you were certain you would’ve been doubled over in pain. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart. What do you need?” Simon urged. 

It was impossible to get any words out with the intensity of it all, and for a moment the only thing you could do was pant sharply as you tried to keep yourself from hyperventilating. You leaned your head to the side where it rested on Simon’s shoulder while your teeth nearly shattered as your jaw clenched. Eventually, the pain diminished once more, allowing your brain to clear just long enough to form a proper thought. 

“He’s coming,” you panted. Your hand reached up to wipe the sweat from your upper lip, and your entire body shuddered with a sigh. “Fuck, we gotta- gotta go.” 

“Okay, yeah,” Simon said. 

He slipped off of the bed to stand in front of you, hands quickly capturing yours in his. His voice was calm and even, and not even his grip trembled as he helped you to your feet. Simon was always strong. Never one to show when he was nervous. But even then, you swore you could feel his racing heart pulse in his fingertips. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

[sk1fanfiction]

writing Narcissa Malfoy like one of those extremely paranoid Tory MPs gives me dopamine

[stellerssong]

user stellerssong what is Your Girl? i took to the snippet like fish to water.... is it an abandoned WIP? thank you so much for answering and sharing, and apologies in advance for horizonposting in your asks

oh sorry that wasn't super clear! i meant "Your Girl" as in "Beta, A Girl Who Is Loved By You, Tumblr User Fauxpsa"—the title of the wip is actually "ocher, crimson, azure blue," known to some as "the sleepover makeover fic" or "swan stellerssong got really into the face paints round about halfway through her hfw playthrough." and, yeah, it's inactive at the moment as i'm traversing other fandoms, but i'm really glad you enjoyed what you read of it! fond of that little thang.

[subtract-me-from-your-heart]

I watched the first two episodes of Hazbin Hotel and I'm on the fence at the moment as to whether I like it or not. I like it enough to keep watching and see how it goes, though!

[ghost--girlfriend]

taco has a crush on me but its okay i have a crush on her too(we are dating<3)

[jocelynships]

Anyways I hope if y’all followed me for an F/O that wasn’t Kurt or D.raxum I apologize bc let’s be honest I very VERY rarely talk about my other F/Os ever.

[diablescharmants]

some quick and simplified sexuality headcanons

Mirajane: pansexual (preference for women)

Evergreen: demisexual

Cana: bisexual

Freed: bisexual (preference for men)

[toadallytickles]

Do you ever use someone's body hair (a la a happy trail) as a means of tickling them? if so, are they even more ticklish cuz of it?

Like tickling and playing with their body hair to tickle them? Yeah~ I like to do that especially with armpit and leg hair at the start of the session.. just lightly tickle and play with the hair to tease right into the nerves~. Works wonders if they’re susceptible to light tickles~.

“Wow, if teasing and tickling just your body hair gets you this giggly, just wait until I dig my fingers in~.” 🤭