#shes so baby i need to wash her clothes and tuck her into bed

[calikitters]

"percy tried to kill himself!!1!1!!1" "leo killed himself!!!!1!1"

HAZEL KILLED HERSELR and she was thirteen HELLO???? let's talk about her too ☹️☹️☹️ baby girl ☹️☹️☹️

[peachesofteal]

Light On Simon Riley/female reader (mama) & Emmaline Valentine's Day special This was heavily requested when I was still writing for these three. Light On is finished, but holidays make me sentimental. Consider this a little treat for Valentine's Day

The aquarium is a zoo.

Once, the throngs of people, masses of children and parents swirling around and screaming, running and jumping all over the place would make him uneasy, unsettle him, drive him back to his apartment, to the dark.

Once.

Now, he navigates it well. Confidently. He's here with his family, his girls. He even enjoys it, taking in all the tanks, the fish, the stingrays, the sharks, and he's proud, when Emma manages to screech out the word fish here and there, giving her positive encouragement, sliding the cloth mask down to place a quick kiss to the top of her head.

He grounds himself with one hand on the small of your back, the other pushing an empty stroller. Having you close, within arm's reach, numbs the anxiety constantly buzzing in the back of his mind, and he tucks you into his side every time you'll let him. Emmaline occasionally peers at him over your shoulder, or when he's not immediately in her line of sight, whips her head back and forth, trying to figure out where he's gone.

"'m right here." He soothes, rubbing her back. "Right here, baby girl." You roll your eyes, smile sweet for him, for her, and lean forward, smacking a big kiss on her cheek before pointing at the curved glass of the tank.

"Look, Emma!" A group of jellyfish drift weightlessly in the middle of the room, and he urges the two of you forward so she can see, unbothered by the five and six year olds that jostle one another around his legs. She shrieks with glee, giggling like mad when she smacks her hand against the glass as hard as she can, earning her an immediate, soft redirection from you.

"Gentle, baby. Gentle." Her little brow furrows, frustrated, and she bobbles in your arms, turning again to find him. He's about to reach for her, give your back a break, when she starts to babble, high pitched sounds gurgling into a jumble of words and-

"Dada." Your eyes go round. "Dadadada..."

Simon's heart breaks open inside his chest, torrent of emotion crashing over him, washing him away in the wake. A palm claps over your mouth, dropped open in shock, and he sees joy in your eyes, joy and pain, the presence of a ghost still haunting your happiness, like one haunts his.

"Here, uh." you lift her into his arms, and he stares down at her sweet, cherub face, cheeks swelling with an almost toothless smile, tiny fingers stretching for his mask.

"Dada!" He doesn't answer, his silence frustrating, and she grows more demanding, happy pitch changing into a growl of dissatisfaction. "Dada, dada!"

"Shhhh, hey. It's okay." He bounces, cuddling her close. "I'm here." You stand back, expression heavy with grief, light with happiness, and he locks eyes with you.

He doesn't need to speak, to ask.

Are you okay? Are you okay with this?

Your hands clasp together, and you nod.

After a beat, he clears his throat. "How did she..."

"I might have been calling you dada, at home, when I refer to you, you know?" You're wearing the mask of a million emotions, embarrassment and shame, sadness, and elation. They all mix together to bring more tears to your eyes, and you laugh uneasily as you wipe them. "I... I'm sorry. I don't know how to feel, about her saying it, and I didn't ask you, either. It's... it's, I,-"

"I know, sweetheart. I know. It's okay." He steps close, Emmaline chewing on the edge of his mask, burrowed in his chest. His forehead taps yours, and he closes his eyes. He doesn't know how to thank you, for this gift, this love, this life you've given him, so all he can say is the three words he says all the time, the three words he whispers into your skin at night, the three words he gives Emma when he tucks her into bed. "I love you." Your fingers hold tight to his, watery smile lighting up the entire room.

"We love you too."

[bluesidez]

Hello!!! Love that you’re taking requests now 🫶🏽 would you write a domestic!miguel fic? Like showing the chaotic but fluffy dysfunction of the O’Hara household. Miguel and the reader already have two kids, maybe reader is pregnant with the third (if you’re comfortable with writing that)

I just really need some fluff in my life lol 😅

[Five Peas In A Pod]

lab taster: @scorpihoooe 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Pregnant!Reader

summary: No family's life is exactly perfect, but it doesn't make them any less beautiful.

content warning: lots and lots of fluff, mentions of vomit, mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy cravings, mentions of food, could possibly be suggestive? but not enough to warrant a huge warning, a lot of crying but I promise it's not sad

word count: 4.3k, not proofread

a/n: I apologize for this being so late! But I'm really happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it as well!

“Finally.”

Miguel slid under the covers, grunting as he inched towards your back. His breath was warm on your head as he positioned one arm under one of your pillows and another around your waist.

“How are we feeling?” he kissed your scalp and rubbed down your stomach.

“Not too great, she’s been kicking for the past forty minutes.”

“That’s no good,” Miguel shifted to place his mouth on your shoulder. “What’s wrong, mija? Did you miss me?”

Your baby girl brought her feet to where Miguel held his hand, tapping away like there was there was no tomorrow. Miguel chuckled and wrote a pattern into your skin with his thumb.

“I’m glad you two are having a lovely reunion, but I’d like to go to sleep.”

Miguel kissed up your shoulder and neck as you sighed.

“Hear that Gabi? Can you calm down until tomorrow? Mama needs to sleep so you can keep growing. We can talk in the morning.”

Like magic, Gabriella’s little feet slowed to a halt.

“She hasn’t even seen you yet and she’s already a daddy’s girl,” you weave your fingers through his over your stomach. “What’s next? She’ll look like you too?”

“Mm,” Miguel placed his lips behind your ear. “I hope she looks like you. She’ll be the most beautiful in the world.”

You smiled, “Yeah?”

“Of course.”

Miguel took his hands down your body and massaged your hip and lower back. You groaned and melted into your pillow, arching your body into Miguel’s hold. With his ministrations and your daughter giving you a break, you start to fade into dreamland.

You could almost visualize your next craving you were going to make tomorrow. A big bowl of mashed potatoes with chunks of pickles, bacon, and caramel drizzle. Maybe some sprinkles too.

The door of the bedroom creaked, Miguel looking over his shoulder.

“Daddy? Mommy? I threw up.”

Miguel’s hands paused and he heaved a heavy sigh.

There was a dip in the bed and a shuffle of slides across the floor.

“Is your stomach still feeling funny, bub?”

You turned your body to watch Miguel bend down and check your second oldest for soiled clothes. Daniel shook his head and tucked his chin into his chest, eyes welling up with tears.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was shaking. “I didn’t mean to.”

You got up on the edge of the bed and walked around to the other side. You sat on your knees next to Miguel and pressed the back of your hand to Daniel’s forehead. He wasn’t burning up, but he was trembling.

“We know you didn’t mean to, honey. Sometimes, we just get sick. It’s ok!”

“Yeah, buddy. Papá gets sick all of the time.”

“Really?” Daniel looked to Miguel with big doe eyes, a baby picture of Miguel brought to life.

“Absolutely.”

“And Mama has to nurse him back to health-”

“Ok! Here,” Miguel tugged at the sleeves of his shirt while you laugh. “Let’s clean you up and get you some medicine. It was probably really scary, huh?”

Daniel nodded his head as Miguel helped him take off his pajama pants.

“C’mon. Let’s take a quick bubble bath. How does that sound? No need to be sad,” you gave Daniel a hug and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll get the sheets and clothes in the washing machine and join you.” Miguel said as he helped you up. So much for cuddles before bed.

Miguel was quick to scope Daniel’s room. Any smell of tonight’s stir fry mixed with the chocolate milk from lunch and your waves of morning sickness might come back. He was quick to transfer the sheets to the washing machine and spray the room down with disinfectant. Luckily, the damage wasn’t drastic, so a quick change of sheets and a mop to the floor was all that was needed.

By the time he got to the bathroom, Daniel was wrapped up in a green dinosaur hoodie towel with a smile on his face as you blew raspberries into his cheek.

Miguel gasped, “Are you two having a party without me?”

Daniel folded his hands under his chin and nodded meekly, face rosy.

“Nonsense!” Miguel swept him up in his arms. “There’s no party without Papá, no?”

The hall filled with giggles as Miguel airplaned Daniel back to his room. The chatter amongst them filled the noise as Miguel reassured Daniel that he and mommy would only be a room away if was feeling sick again.

He ran lotion over his body and placed him in paw print pajamas. He wrapped him tight in the covers and shifted the star night light on the nightstand. With a whisper of goodnight, Miguel inched his way to the door.

However, the crumbling face of the five year old as Miguel looked through the crack tugged at his heart. He opened the door, swept Daniel up, and trudged back to his own bedroom.

Walking into the room, you were laying down with the opposite side of the duvet flipped up and an extra pillow in between yours and his.

Your face was knowing, a shake in your shoulders as you watched Miguel rock a clingy baby in his arms to the bed.

“Joining mommy and daddy, Daniel?”

“Uh huh,” he crawls to the middle and pulls the covers up. You lay a hand on his tummy over the duvet as Miguel slips in with a deep sigh.

He turns and places his hand over yours, the two of you acting as a shield. “I love you’s” and “good nights” are exchanged and a kiss between the two of you is shared before Daniel whines about wanting a kiss too. Both of you laugh and kiss him on his cheeks as he settled into his pillow.

You rub his chest lightly, something that put him to sleep easily as a baby.

His eyes start to close, almost gone to the world, before he jerks back up, startling Miguel whose eyes were just as heavy.

“Papá, can you sing the night-night song?” Daniel pleads.

A soft breath escapes your nose as you watch Miguel blink his eyes open and comply.

“But you have to go to sleep after this, bub.”

Daniel promises to do so as Miguel starts up a lullaby about a baby that wants to sleep but can’t.

It works on you too, the low drum of his voice holding you in his arms as you held your baby in yours.

Gabriella moved, and as softly as you can, you take his hand to your stomach. With this, she taps softly to his palm.

Miguel smiles sleepily as he watches you take a little breath, the rise and fall of your chest showing that you were in a deep sleep.

He only stops singing when he’s sure all three of you are asleep.

“Jaime, I’ve asked you five times to get up already. Get it together.”

There was only one more hour left before everyone needed to be out of the house or else you’d be late to your appointment.

The lump in the bed only moves a bit before it’s still again.

“Jaime, please. I don’t want to have to pull you out of the bed.”

Today was already starting out all over the place. You woke up sweaty and achy, the heat radiating from your furnace of a husband and your snuggly son was too much. Your ankles felt a little more swollen than usual, and you wanted chewy spicy rice cakes with extra cheese, but the heartburn wouldn’t be worth it.

You sighed as your eldest stayed put. A soft pat to the bed only earned a whine and a wiggle from him.

Looking towards the growing footsteps at the door, your husband was frantic and glaring at his watch as if it cursed him.

“What’s the holdup? We need to be in the car soon and Daniel has to be at school early for a field trip.”

You held your hand out to the bed, face defeated.

“Son.”

Jaime shot up with a wobble to his lips and a scrunch to his face at the tone of Miguel’s voice.

You folded your arms, half concerned, half offended.

“I know you hear your mother asking you to get up.”

“But-“

“Jaime O’Hara.”

The tears start to fall as he shuffles out of bed and goes to the bathroom, his cries pitiful and broken.

He swings the door like he’s about to slam it only to close it softly at the end, the sound of his voice carrying through then hallway.

“Was I too hard on him?” Miguel’s shoulders drop.

“No? I don’t think so. But I think there’s something he’s not telling us.”

“Is there something going on at school? Did we miss an important date?”

The two of you stare at each other as Jaime continues to sob in the bathroom.

“There’s no award ceremonies. He hasn’t said anything strange about his classmates. His birthday isn’t until the end of the year. He does have his game coming up.”

Miguel gasps and runs his had through his hair, “He’s been worrying about his 3-pointers nonstop. He’s probably nervous about it.”

He puts his face in his hand and mumbles through his fingers.

“How could I forget?”

You pat his shoulder, “Don’t worry about that right now. What’s important is that we talk to him. Check up on him, calm him down, explain things to him, and encourage him. Right?”

“Absolutely,” Miguel kisses your temple. “You’re so good at this.”

A snicker follows his statement, “And so are you. Now, can you go stop his crying while I make sure Daniel hasn’t made a mess in the kitchen? He’s too quiet.”

Miguel’s eyebrows shot up again as he realized he left the kindergartner to his own devices. The last time he did that, he walked onto a floor covered in flour and dusty, giggly baby.

“Smart idea.”

“Mm hm.”

Miguel turns and heads towards the bathroom, giving it two knocks before asking to come in.

Jaime takes a deep breath and pushes out a yes.

Miguel opens the door to him crying in the mirror while he puts up his toothbrush. If it were anyone else’s child or baby brother, it could have been funny and dramatic, but Miguel sees himself in the way his entire chest jumps when he breathes in.

He hopes Jaime always feels that home is a safe place to cry and yell, something his own parents never offered him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

He left his frustration with the frantic morning at the doorway and stepped inside. With one hand on the counter and another arm resting on his thigh, he squatted down to Jaime’s level.

His son rubbed his eyes from the inside of his elbow to his arm, “I kept messing up.”

“Messing up what? Your shots?”

Jaime nodded his head, curly hair bouncing along with it.

“At practice, Coach made us do Around-the-worlds and the further from the goal, the more I kept missing. But the game is soon, and I can’t mess up at the game.”

His voice reached its highest point and he bit his lip in order not to cry again.

“Oye, está bien. That’s just practice, mijo. The game isn’t until a few more days. There’s plenty of time for us to get to a court and do some more drills. I know it feels like a lot right now, but we can always work to be better. Understood?”

Jaime nodded his head.

“Can you look at me?”

Jaime pouted as he turned to Miguel.

“I apologize for not giving you the space to explain yourself this morning. I was rushing and I didn’t take the time to check on you. For that, Papá’s sorry. Lo siento, mijo.”

With a calmer demeanor, Jaime forgives him. No whines and no hesitation.

“Still, when you’re feeling like this, you need to communicate, ok? Mamá was there and you could have told her that you were worried. You could have even called for me and I would have come running.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt Mamá.”

Miguel bit the inside of his lip in order to not coo, “I know you didn’t. Would you like to apologize to her like I did to you?”

Jaime collided with Miguel’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck. He could feel the movement of his head nodding.

“Ok, buddy. Let’s go find her after we get your uniform on.”

Jaime wasn’t budging from his spot so Miguel let him cling off his neck as he got up. One day his eldest might not want to do things like this again, so for now he’ll cherish it.

One blazer, some knaki shorts, and a button down later, Jaime was all ready for school.

“And what do we say when we’re feeling down about ourselves?” Miguel asked as he tucked in the end of Jaime’s belt.

“Nothing can stop me from the path I want to take, not even my doubts.”

“And?”

“O’Hara’s may make mistakes, but O’Hara’s bounce back. O’Hara’s succeed.”

“¡Exactamente!” Miguel patted his back.

“¿Papá?”

“¿Sí, mijo?”

Jaime held his hands up, silently pleading with Miguel.

With an easy tug, his son was in his arms. As tall as he was getting, he was still Miguel’s baby.

In the kitchen, you were leaning over the island as you listened intensely to Daniel talk about types of dinosaurs. You looked up to your son in your husband’s arms and you knew they had a good talk.

Miguel strode up to you and looked at Jaime expectantly.

“I,” he picked at his uniform tie. “I’m sorry for not listening to you this morning Mamá. I was sad but that- that doesn’t mean I was supposed to ignore you.”

Your eyes started to water, “I forgive you, Jaime. I’m glad you were able to figure out what was wrong. Can I give you a kiss?”

“Yes, please.”

With that, you kiss his cheek and place a hand on his head.

“Papá, pick me up too!” Daniel huffs out.

Miguel complies, holding him in his other arm like nothing. You giggle at the three of them, all very similar in some way. Their skin, their hair, their smiles. Your precious, precious boys.

A sharp kick to your stomach causes you to suck in through your teeth.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Miguel asks with a pinch in his brow.

“No, I just think a certain someone wants your attention, too.”

You gently press your stomach to your husband’s, hoping that he could feel Gabriella’s tap dance performance.

“She’s going crazy in there,” you mumble.

Miguel can kind of feel her little feet through his shirt, but really, he was staring at you.

Even as you frowned at your stomach, you were still so beautiful. Your skin was glowing, you were giving him more smiles than ever, and the pregnancy was treating your body right in his eyes.

���Mírame.”

You peer up at him and it’s like a halo appears above your head. He’s quick to slot his lips against yours and hold it, the feeling of warmth settling into his bones.

“Eugh,” Jaime scrunches his face up in disgust.

You pull back and shake your head with a heated face, brought back to reality. Daniel is giggling behind his hands.

Miguel turned to Jaime and bombarded his face with kisses to, leading the 9-year-old to scream bloody murder. You joined Miguel on his attack, not stopping until Jaime waved his white flag.

The two of you looked at each other and then at Daniel simultaneously who squeaked when he saw you grin. Laughter filled the kitchen as the three of you gave Daniel some love.

Mornings were for chaos, but they also brought you together.

By the time Miguel was walking to the car with his kids, it was far past his estimated time.

He turned and looked at you still standing by the kitchen counter.

“Baby, c’mon.”

“But,” you pause, smile growing on your face. “The baby wants to be carried, too.”

You think he’s about to brush the comment off with a sigh but he gives a “One sec” and disappears into the garage with the kids.

You go to gather your purse and your water, checking that all of the lights and appliances are turned off.

“Ok,” Miguel rushes back in and claps his hands, “vamos.”

Three blinks at his wrestler stance and it clicks. You walk to him and your feet leave the ground.

“You’re so silly,”

“Just in love, mi amor.”

The gel was still as cold as ever, you could never really get used to it.

Looking to Miguel, you could see that he could never get used to sitting next to you in these rooms either. His grip on your hand was tight and solid.

The obstetrician slid the transducer on your lower stomach, her eyes sliding over the screen.

Gabriella’s little heartbeat bounced through the room, fast and strong.

Miguel’s grip on your hand loosened as he smiled at the screen.

“Baby girl is looking good,” the doctor says. “Everything is in place and she’s growing perfectly. You both should be proud.”

She paused and looked at you both, specifically at Miguel, “I would be worried about how she big she’s getting at this stage, but I can see why. How tall are you?”

“Uh, 6’9.”

A whistle passes her lips, “Godspeed, Mama. You’ll need it for the next several months.”

“Two boys and my only girl is going to give me a run for my money,” you mumble.

Jaime and Daniel were so tiny when they came out, both of them barely showing at five months. Gabriella is close to being almost twice their size at this rate, and the soreness all over your body was showing it.

At least your husband made time to make you feel good in more ways than one.

“Is there anything that she should look out for? Other than the obvious?” Miguel asks, always the worrier.

“No, I think you guys are good to go. I’ll get you some pictures of the baby and get you checked out. Just keep taking your vitamins, get plenty of water, get those feet up, and stretch as much as you can while you still feel like it. The least stress you have, the better.”

Your stomach is wiped clean and in no time, you’re back in the car trying to decide what to get for lunch.

“I feel like I should have asked more questions,” Miguel’s fingers tapped on the wheel.

“I’m sure you’ll have more that you can call her for later, baby. Right now, I want a milkshake.”

“You need some nourishing food, too.”

“Is that what you want Gabriella?” you ask your stomach. No taps, no spins, no twirls. “What about a milkshake? Chocolate oreo? Extra whip cream?” Gabriella thumps three times.

“My girl is already so smart,” you say to Miguel who scowls.

“Already so spoiled.”

“You love it, though.”

“Mm.”

Miguel swore he would never be like those fathers that only connected to their children through their own expectations of them, and to be fair, he was the complete opposite.

Though seeing him stand at the bottom of the bleachers with a baseball cap, folded arms, and a stern face gave the impression that he was that type of dad.

“¡Ay, eso es faulta!”

“Babe. Maybe let’s let the coach and the referee do their jobs.”

“They don’t know what they’re doing. That was clearly a foul and my son should be holding the ball right now.”

You sighed and continued to chew on your nachos with Daniel who was just happy to be out of the house later than usual. Miguel was about to burn a hole in the gymnasium floor with how stiff he was standing.

Behind him was a family that couldn’t see, leaning around him.

“Miguel, honey, please sit down so everyone can see.”

He sits and folds his hands under his chin. His muscles bulge through his jacket as his legs bounce.

You place a hand on his leg and put a water bottle to his lips. He takes a few sips and focuses back on the game.

“Let’s go, Jaime! Make it count!”

He’s back on his feet again as Jaime gets ready to shoot some free-throws.

Jaime looks at Miguel, a hint of fear in his eyes. Miguel brings his hands up and pushes them down, motioning a deep breath.

“You got this, mijo. Just like we practiced.”

Your son dribbles once, twice, and takes the shot.

The basketball flies through the air and brushes the rim of the basket. It spins and the gym goes quiet. You don’t realize your holding your breath until it comes back when the people behind you stomp on the bleachers.

Jaime looks to Miguel with the brightest face he could muster. Miguel almost springs through the ceiling with how high he jumps.

“That’s my son,” he claps his hands like thunder, chest puffing up. “That’s my son!”

The game continues with Miguel milliseconds from fighting with the official, Jaime looking to Miguel for encouragement, and you smacking the back of his thighs whenever he was standing too much.

When Jaime made the final basket, you were scared Miguel might do a backflip.

Jaime ran to him and jumped in his arms, Miguel spinning him around and laughing with glee.

“I did it, daddy! I did it!”

“¡Eres increíble, mijo! I’m so proud of you.”

“Did you see me, mommy?”

“I did! I couldn’t take my eyes off of you!”

Daniel jumps up and down, “You made the ball go whoosh! And, and, and when it went in everybody screamed!”

Jaime and his brother played together as the gym started to empty out.

“What do you say we celebrate with some pizza?” you ask Miguel as you watch Jaime help Daniel dribble.

“I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“And what do you say to carton of cotton candy ice cream after the kids go to bed? Maybe even a soak in the bath?”

Miguel looked to you as you blinked your eyes at him. You slid your hands down his arm and tilted your head.

“You want vanilla wafers too?”

You nod.

“And strawberry syrup?”

“You’re such a good husband.”

You pull him down to kiss him, heart soaring.

“Mamá! Look what I can do!”

“No, Daniel! Don’t jump off that!”

“If I hear that raccoon sing that song one more time, I’m going to lose it,” Miguel bit into a slice of pizza.

You reached across the table to wipe some ranch off of his lips and lick it away.

“I like the song! He’s a little off-key, though.”

Miguel had a grimace on his face, the energy from the building overwhelming. Or perhaps it was Daniel clinging tight to his side whenever the mascot came close to their table.

A couple of kids ran by, running towards the line for laser tag.

You listened to them go over strategies, all very serious coming from them.

“God, I can’t believe he’ll be 10 soon. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You poke the straw of your cup in and out, pout on your face. It felt like just yesterday you and Miguel were setting up his nursery.

“I remember him grabbing my finger at the hospital. So strong for someone who couldn’t eat solids yet.”

“Now he’s running around and blooming into this perfect little boy,” you sigh, watching him catapult into a ballpit. You should definitely make him take some vitamins later, just to be sure.

“And this little boy is the sweetest,” Miguel kissed the top of Daniel’s head, who seemed to be pre-occupied with a coloring book you packed.

“And once our little girl is in our arms, it’ll be so special,” you say. “She’s already making an impact.”

“I’m already crazy about her,” Miguel grins.

“And I’m ready for her to come out,” you snicker. “I have a feeling that whatever she’ll do will involve these rapid fire feet.”

“I need to get some new running shoes then,” Miguel replies in all seriousness. Daniel interrupted him with a drawing of a T-rex.

“When she gets here,” Miguel comments in between his praise for Daniel’s skill, “how do you want to celebrate afterwards?”

“I don’t need anything. Just maybe a plate of food I couldn’t eat and a comfy bed.”

“Mamà, c’mon,” Miguel held your hand across the table. “That can be arranged easily. I mean something especially for you for doing something so amazing. It can be anything. I’ll make it happen.”

Your heart sped up, a bit giddy.

“Well the last time we took a trip to an island and,” you panned to Daniel, “we both know how that ended. Maybe the mountains?”

“We can do the mountains. Or just you and your friends if you want.”

Miguel thought about you all bundled up and cozy, enjoying s'mores and wine in a sweater and a blanket. Peak cuddling form.

“That would be very nice. Thank you, Miggy.”

“Of course. Now what do you say to a friendly game of arcade racing?”

“There’s nothing friendly about leaving you in the dust.”

Miguel scoffed and slid Daniel into his arms.

“It’s on.”

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! This was very sweet to write!!

[fictionalmenxyn]

—𖥞𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𖥞—

Pairing: frat!rafe x sorority!reader

Warnings: language and nudity (no deep description, just showering together, nothing more)

Summary: after a long day at college, all you wanna do is sleep.

(Rafe is so sweet in this 🤭)

𐬾𐬿𖥞𖥞𖥞𐬿𐬾

Your bedside alarm clock beamed 3:26pm, with its bright white light. You currently lay on your bed, stomach to the mattress. Your AirPod maxs played music as you slept. Wearing your comfy baggy football jersey and sweatpants.

You had been asleep for almost two hours.

Meanwhile Rafe had just finished his football practice. He and his team had worked on game plays and drill for almost four hours. They were versing their rival team in a few days; so their coach wanted them focused and ready.

Rafe was sweaty and in need of some attention from his favourite girl. So he drove over to your sorority house. Parking his black pick up truck out front. He walked over to the front door and knocked. Your friend also roommate, Harley, answered the door “oh hey Rafe, what’s up?” He gave her a small polite smile “hey, is uh, Y/n in??” She smirked and nodded. Stepping aside to let him in, she spoke “she’s up in her room, go ahead.”

Rafe jogged up the stairs and walked down the hall. He was used to them both coming to each others rooms unannounced and never knocking. So he just let himself in, putting his gym bag next to the door. He kicked off his air forces, looking over to you.

Your arms tucked under your pillow, fast asleep. Not a care in the world. He smiled softly at the sight. He walked over and leaned down slightly. He placed a hand on your shoulder and softly shook you a little. You stir awake. Your eyes still shut and you’re still half asleep as you mumble “Brooke…I hmmfucking told you… my notes are on the desk… take ‘em” Rafe chuckled softly. “I’m not Brooke… but I may take those notes, when I need them..”

You turn your head, squinting as your eyes adjust to the light “Rafey??” He nodded “that’s me, princess.” You see he’s in his gym clothes “you done with practice??” He nodded and answered “yeah, gonna use your shower…” you nodded.

He pulled the grey nike gym shirt over his head. Tossing it into your laundry basket. Revealing his tan and toned chest and back. He soon discarded his shorts, leaving him in his black Calvin Kline boxers.

He walked over to the en-suite door, looking over his shoulder, at you. He spoke “you gonna join me, princess??”

You shook your head “hmm don’t wanna get up…” he smirked “oh come on, doll, don’t you wanna spent some time with Rafey?” He knew he’d get you to, especially by the way he phrased it.

You sluggishly get out of your comfy bed. Walking into the en-suite. Taking your clothes off and putting them in the counter for later. You open the glass door, turning on the shower. You step inside after you get Rafe in first, so he can test the water.

As Rafe washes his body, you just stood there. You already had a shower when you got in after your classes; so you didn’t really bother washing all over again. You were there mainly for his company. You gently press your hands on your face, sighing to yourself.

Rafe looked down at you, “what’s wrong, princess?” “‘m so fuckin’ tired.” He opened his arms, bringing you into a hug. He softly rubbed up and down your bare spine. “Aww is my baby tried? Had a long day, baby?” You nodded against his chest. He smiled softly, resting his chin on your head. He noticed your tired and almost exhausted appearance. He knew you had a long day. He kisses your forehead a few times, every so often. “M’sorry, sweet girl, you must be exhausted huh??”

He spoke “aw, baby… once we’re out, how about we have a nap? That sound good??” You nodded and mumbled “thank you, Rafey..” he smiled and kisses the top of your head. He mumbled against your hair “anythin’ for you, my girl..”

Soon after your shower, you were in your clothes from earlier. As Rafe changed into clean boxers that he would keep over at the sorority house. For back up and also a subtly warning for any guy. You didn’t brother asking him way that was a reason. He just did it.

Rafe flopped onto your bed, lying on his stomach. He tucks his arms on top of the pillow. He turned his head and watched you move around your bedroom for a moment. “What’re you looking for, princess?” “My blanket…”

He smiled to himself, one thing he always always found cute about you. Was your blanket. It was a comfort blanket. Red, blue and white checkered blanket. You’ve had it since a child. And although you were a popular, mature and responsible nineteen year old. All of that goes out the window when it comes to that blanket.

You wrapped it around your back. Climbing onto the bed. You lay on Rafe’s back. Your head between his shoulder blades, your legs either side of him.

You feel him turn you both over after some time. You laid on his chest. His arms wrap around you, knowing that comforted you.

He gently rubs your back with one hand as the other rubs circles into your hip. He kissed the top of your head, whispering in your hair “go to sleep, baby… I’ve got you… I’ll be here when you wake…”

You close your eyes, in minutes you were out like a light. He smiled, feeling himself get sleepy, just watching you. He too fell asleep.

Some time later…

Rafe stirred awake. Opening his eyes, he looked down at your nightstand. Seeing your alarm clock read ‘6:37pm’. He looked down at you. Rubbing you back again, just a little firmer, to gently wake you.

You lift your head up a little, rubbing your one eye. He smiles, running his fingers through your hair. “How you feeling, baby? You look better.” You give a tired smile and nod.

“‘m so much better…” he smiled “good to hear…”

“Hey Rafey?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can we get chick-fil-a?”

He chuckled softly, still playing with your hair “of course, sweet girl, I’ll order you some food. We can eat it while you watch Chicago fire? How does that sound?”

“Sounds like I’m in love…”

He grinned, god… the softie you made him… he honestly loves it… only for you though… his favourite girl.

𐬾𐬿𖥞𖥞𖥞𐬿𐬾

[ddejavvu]

hi mei, i was curious if you could write about reader hiding like their childhood stuffed animal or comfort item like a baby blanket from maybe hotch or peter parker the first time they come over cuz they r embarrassed

this is not age regression shit, just to justify LOL

this works with any peter (hopefully) - the first time my bf came into my room i hurled my decrepit old childhood teddy bear into a corner and when he left i grabbed him like i'm so sorry man i couldn't let him know about you and me.

It's a testament to Peter's natural curiosity that you've been sprawled out over your bed for twenty minutes and he hasn't taken the bait and kissed you yet. Instead he's walking around your room inspecting every nook and cranny, peering into picture frames and opening drawers to paw through their contents.

"Peter!" You laugh, watching him duck beneath your desk, "The only things under there are cords; what are you doing?"

"I'm just looking around!" He insists, "My aunt always tells me you can find a lot out about a person by the space they keep."

"Oh? What are you finding out about me?"

"You have terrible cable management," His nose wrinkles as he ducks out from beneath your desk, "But that's better than what May says about me. She says my room tells her that I'm a pig person with no standards for cleanliness."

"Ouch," You snicker, "May doesn't hold back, does she?"

"Never," Peter grins, and does a final lap around your room before finally succumbing to the call of your mattress. He flattens himself out beside you and sighs, "Your room is boring."

"Hey!" You jab him in the ribs, "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's so clean!" He groans, rubbing his side, "There's no- there's no personality here, there's no trash on the desk, there's no clothes on the ground, there's no comfort blanket on the bed."

"I don't have a comfort blanket," Your cheeks rouge, and Peter zeroes in on it with an eagle's eye.

"Yes you do," He accuses, leaning up on one hand to tower over you, "Where is it? Show me!"

"It's not a blanket!" You insist, but you've implicated yourself, "It's- it's a teddy bear, okay? And I put him away because he's... fragile."

"Mhm. Fragile." Peter nods, "I'll be careful. Show me."

"He's kind of hard to get to."

"Show me."

"He's- uh, he's falling apart, too, not pretty to look at."

"Show me."

"He needs to be washed."

"Show me."

"No!"

"Come on!" Peter groans, "I'm not gonna make fun of you! I've got a stuffed animal too."

Your glare is perhaps made less effective by the way that your cheeks are on fire. Peter isn't deterred in the slightest, and the second you grumble, 'He's under the bed,' Peter's swinging himself over the side and jamming a hand beneath it.

"Got him," Peter laughs, peering at the plushie that he's dragged from beneath the bed, "This is your special one?"

"Mhm," You nod, watching warily as Peter surveys him, "Like I said, he's- he's kind of worn out and he needs to be washed, and-"

"He's great." Peter smiles, tucking the bear to his chest as he gazes fondly up at you, disarming the nerves bundled tightly in your chest, "You can meet mine the next time you come to my place."

[fairysongs]

౨ৎ pretty scary﹕spencer reid .ᐟ

summary: you're having an awful day and your boyfriend is kind of the best person ever.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

includes: reader struggles with bpd, reader has slight mommy issues, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, depictions of overstimulation (NOT the sexy kind), reader has slight mood swings, established relationship, silly fluff, spencer reid is the perfect boyfriend, hurt/comfort KINDA? (reader is upset, spencer soothes her), lowercase writing sorry it's a habit/my preference, Fiona Apple Mention <3

word count: 3.1k

a/n: omg.. hiiii! this is my first silly post on this silly blog and its a very self-indulgent one as someone who has bpd and is told OFTEN how irritable i can get -_- .. im so nervous.com right now bcos ive never posted my writing on here but also excited..? yes yes.. on a huge spencer reid kick so if u liked this and have any requests they are open!! likes/reblogs/any feedback much appreciated :3!

today was just not your day.

the morning started out fine. it was actually kind of perfect. you spent the night at your boyfriend’s place, waking up just in time to see him getting ready for work. there was a smile that crept over your lips as you watched him adjust the tie hanging around his neck. you propped yourself up against the pillows as he caught your eyes in the mirror adjacent to the bed. your heart swelled at the sight of a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“why are you staring at me like that, weirdo?” there was a little morning gravel in his voice but his tone was lighthearted enough to make you giggle. you fell back against the pillows, tucking one under your arm as you kept your gaze on him.

“what? i’m not allowed to stare at my boyfriend anymore?” you replied, a yawn falling off your lips. he playfully rolled his eyes in response, walking over to your side of his bed. he sat at the edge, one of his hands brushing some of your hair from your face.

“actually, no. they just passed that law last night while you were sleeping through coraline again.” you bit your lip, vaguely remembering begging spencer to put that movie on only to fall asleep on his shoulder twenty minutes in. you can only assume at some point he carried you from the sofa to his bed. you blushed at the thought, as if he hadn’t done it at least twenty times by now. clearly you weren’t used to the ‘princess treatment’ he liked giving you.

“oh, my fault then. please don’t arrest me, mr. fbi agent.”

“it’s dr. fbi agent, actually.”

“right…” you giggled again, beaming as he smiled down at you. “do you know if you have a case?”

“paperwork day.” his fingers started tracing small shapes against the skin of your arm. “of course if that changes, i’ll let you know. but hopefully it won’t. you can come over again tonight if you want. maybe we’ll finally finish coraline.” his voice was soft, ringing harmonies in your ear as you let your eyes flutter shut in the comfort. “need me to take you to work today?”

you hummed, reaching out to your phone sitting on his bedside table. you quickly rechecked your schedule and shook your head. “no, it’s okay. i go in a little later. it’s close enough to walk.” you tilted your head as you felt him tangle his hand in your hair again. spencer scratched delicately at your scalp.

“okay, my love. i washed the clothes you left here the other day. they should be in the second drawer of my dresser.” you nodded in response as he leaned in to press his lips to your forehead. you caught his jaw in your hands and pulled him downwards, giving him a proper kiss on his lips. he laughed quietly as you both pulled away. “have a good day, angel.”

“you too, baby.”

well to put it simply you did not have a good day. you got ready for your job at a local cafe and made it to work fine. it was when you got there that it started going downhill. you genuinely loved being a barista. you definitely had the personality for it. friendly, outgoing, kind and patient. it’s actually how you met spencer in the first place. but sometimes it was hard. especially with certain needy customers. most of your regulars were chill. you were actually friends with many of them, always asking about the new things in their lives whenever they’d come in. of course, though, there were always a few bad apples.

like this one particular older man. he came in every now and then and ordered the same thing every single time. black decaf coffee with a blueberry scone. he was always in a rather grumpy mood, not even your tender words could help that. so this morning when you gave him a black regular coffee by an honest mistake he made sure to let you know just how stupid and idiotic you were. you stood there at the counter, expression apologetic as he continued to berate you. eventually your boss told you to go in the back for a bit while she took care of things.

you practically ran to the bathroom, locking yourself in the tiny space as you tried to control your breathing. you could already feel the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. you absolutely despised how sensitive you could get. through shaky breaths, you pulled your phone from your back pocket, unlocking it with a small sob. you had a few texts and one missed call from your mother. one of the texts was from spencer, letting you know it was just gonna be a paperwork day and inquiring what you wanted to order for dinner tonight. the other texts were from your mother, reminding you about a family party that was coming up soon. there was another text after her missed call.

- Guess you’re too busy to talk. Just let me know if you can make it.

you closed your eyes, feeling the passive aggressive tone through the message. the best way you could describe your relationship with your mother was that she was both your best friend and your worst critic. she tried to support everything you aspired to do, but also hated the way you did them. it was... complicated but her text was enough to leave you in a sour mood for the remainder of the day.

you felt like you couldn’t catch up. you couldn’t get over that bump setting you back from having a good shift. your head felt like it was elsewhere and no longer attached to your body, your movements becoming monotonous and your words dull. to make things worse, your eighteen year old coworker was coming in for their shift an hour before you were leaving.

and you loved them, you really really did. often times you would joke about them being your work child, taking them under your wing. but they talked. a lot. most days you could keep up no problem but with the way your mind was on a downward spiral today, all you could feel was immense overstimulation as they yapped in your ear about the latest tv show they were binge watching. soon it was all too much for you to handle and you end up snapping at the poor kid.

“dude i’m sorry but i don’t really care. can we just be quiet for, like, five minutes?” you interrupted them mid-sentence, tired eyes looking over with a slight glare. you immediately softened, eyes wide with guilt as they looked towards you like a kicked puppy. you tried your best to stammer out an apology but was met with silent treatment until you clocked out.

they would soon accept your apology in the next coming days and you’d go back to normal because that’s how you guys were, but the guilt would eat at you for quite a bit. when you were a kid, your parents often praised you on how self-sufficient and respectful you were. in your adolescent years, with the help of an untreated personality disorder and your regular teen hormones raging inside your cage of a body, your behaviour would suddenly change. you found yourself more irritable. more prone to overstimulation. you internalized a lot of what you were going through because every time you tried to bring up your feelings, your mother would shut you down and it’d turn into a fight.

you expressed yourself through slammed doors and screaming matches. you bottled things up until they overflowed. it was how you handled the thunderstorms behind your skull. you would eventually get better in time, finally attending therapy and finding solace in little things like journaling. and when you started dating spencer, he helped a lot too. your brain could sometimes make a lot of irrational judgements and spencer would help you see reasoning instead. he was also insanely patient with you. especially in the first two months of you guys dating where you broke up with him upwards of five times. each time because you didn’t believe you deserved him. (you still don’t believe it, but at least now you’ve stopped trying to fight the good coming into your life.)

you would never forget the first time spencer met your parents. the night was going well up until dinner time when your dad decided to pull out your old high school yearbook. at first it was just classic embarrassment as spencer looked at your school photos. but then your mother, after one too many glasses of wine, brought up your old struggles with anger.

“be careful getting on her bad side, spencer!” she had said, waving a finger in the air. “she’s got a scary temper for sure! remember when we had to replace her bathroom mirror because she threw her hairbrush at it?" she spoke like she was a comedian telling her greatest joke in the world as she turned towards your father. "i can’t even remember what made her so upset! but i remember how expensive that fix was…”

“oh i’m sure i’ve dealt with far worse at my job, ma’am. i think i can handle her just fine.” he was quick to reply and the hand pressing on your bouncing knee beneath the table calmed any nerves of him looking at you differently. later that night he’d hold you as you sobbed in his arms, retelling different memories of your past. he made you a promise that he’d never see you as a bad person as long as you promised him you’d talk to him whenever you started to feel like one.

you were finally walking home after this exhausting day and it wasn’t until you were changed into your comfy clothes and curled in bed that you realized you hadn't texted spencer back at all. with your knees pulled to your chest and a low hum of a fiona apple album playing from your record player you reached across your bed for your phone. you had four texts from him and one missed call.

- Hi angel. Haven’t heard from you all day, just checking in. - Hi, you should be clocked out by now. Just wanted to know if you still wanted to come over? We can order from your favorite italian place. - One missed call from spencer ♡. - Are you having a bad day, my love? Or did I do something wrong? - I’m gonna come over. See you soon, angel.

your brows furrowed together at the last text, sent just about ten minutes ago. you could feel your eyes well with frustrated tears. you felt like shit for unintentionally ignoring him. you couldn’t even think of what to say to him, but you had to think fast because soon you heard a gentle knock at your bedroom door. with a sniffle, you stood to your feet and slowly opened it.

you met spencer’s eyes, they were desperately searching your face. trying to figure you out, trying to see what was troubling your mind. you hated it sometimes when he profiled you, but most times you were grateful he could just know when you weren’t doing okay. saved you the shame of having to actually vocalize your feelings. you stepped back as he entered your room.

“your roommate let me in. she said you went straight to your room after work and have been listening to nothing but when the pawn… by fiona apple.” he was still in his work clothes, the same ones you watched him get dressed in just that morning. felt like an eternity ago at this point. before you could even let your face fall to the ground, his hands were holding your jaw, tilting it upwards and keeping it in place. he always held you like you were made of glass. “bad day?”

“you could say that.” you words were short and you didn’t mean for them to be. you were just so exhausted. “sorry i forgot to text you back. it’s just been…” you let your words fall off, waving your hands in the air with an annoyed huff. you pulled away from his touch, slumping back into your mattress. he just watched as you ran your fingers through your hair, eyes shut tight as if you were trying to talk yourself down. he bit his lip, taking a cautious step forward.

“you look like you’re trying to compute a million things at once right now inside that little head.” he shrugged off the sweater draping over his work shirt, tugged off his tie and kicked his shoes off besides your bed. you laughed sarcastically at his words but bit your tongue from replying with a snarky comment. “did you know that one of the brain’s primary functions is to collect and process sensory information? it’s kind of like there’s a little guy in there, sitting at his desk and filing through every bit of information that gets thrown at you throughout the day.” your eyes were still shut but you felt a dip in your bed as his voice grew closer to you.

“when there’s too much sensory input, it can make the brain think there’s danger, sending off signals to the body to escape. that’s when your fight-flight-freeze response gets triggered. aka that little guy’s desk is suddenly on fire and every file has been thrown all over the place and the little guy, well, the little guy is running around screaming for help.” you feel two arms wrap around your waist and maneuver your body until you felt your head resting against the warmness of his chest. soon enough you also felt slender digits running through the locks of your hair.

“you seem to resort to a fight response i’ve noticed. your body feels like you can overpower the danger your brain thinks you’re in. resulting in intense feelings of anger. which can lead to irritability.” you feel him tracing shapes, the same ones he made on your arms earlier that morning, deep into the small of your back. he always did the same movement pattern and you always wondered if that was intentional or just a coincidence. “do you wanna talk about what’s going on in here?” he poked an index finger to the side of your temple. you shook your head. “okay. we don’t have to. but i will ask about it later, is that okay?” you nodded this time.

you didn’t realize it when it was happening, but the combination of spencer pulling you into his arms and his soft voice spewing factual information at you was enough to make your head feel almost empty. your body was melted against his, curled up in his touch. you let out a shaky breath, slowly raising your head, resting your chin on his chest as your eyes opened. “how did you do that?” you whispered, soft hues scanning his face as he just smiled down at you.

“a magician never reveals his secrets, my love.” you rolled your eyes, laughing quietly as his hand lightly brushed your cheek. he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. your lips twitched in thought, a tiny frown suddenly taking over your features. spencer tilted his head. “what is it, baby?”

your eyes fell to focus on his chest, your finger tracing over the fabric of his work shirt. “do you think i’m scary? like… when i get upset?”

“scary?” he repeated, voice in small disbelief that you’d even feel the need to ask. “no, i don’t think you’re scary. i think you’re beautiful. and i think your mind can be pretty mean to you sometimes. but that’s not your fault. hey, look at me please.” you let him guide your head back up, eyes meeting each other again. he smiled at you and it made you feel warm. “why do you think you’re scary?”

your shoulder shrugged with an exasperated sigh. “because it’s what i’ve been told my whole life. when i get too overwhelmed and i just feel nothing but anger i… i feel like i can get mean and i hate feeling that way. like, i always get too snappy and i always say something that’s gonna hurt someone i care about and i…” your breathing hitches. your lashes quickly blink, trying to fight any tears from spilling yet again. “i’m so scared i’m gonna get that way with you and you’re gonna leave me.”

he was shaking his head, thumb swiping underneath your eyes at the few tears that betrayed you and fell down your cheeks. he sighed out your name. “i don’t think you understand just how much i love you. if you think i’d leave you at something so silly like that. you know, i started reading up on borderline personality disorder after that night i met your parents. i wanted to understand it more. i wanted to understand you.” he continued wiping away your tears as they kept falling.

“i can’t even imagine what you go through inside your own head every single day, but i can acknowledge how hard you’re trying to cope with it. i see it all the time. i see it in the kindness you like to spread to strangers. i see it in the way you push yourself to learn new things and the way you stopped beating yourself up if it doesn’t turn out perfect. i see it in the way you love me, and more importantly in the way you’ve allowed yourself to let me love you back. you’re such a beautiful person, my love. it’s okay to have bad days and it’s okay to let yourself be a little mean sometimes.” he laughed quietly, noticing the way your lips were fighting a smile. he leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “as long as you just communicate with me when you’re feeling bad. that’s all i ask.”

you sat there for a moment, admiring the way his big brown eyes stared at you. your eyes fell for a moment before picking back up with furrowed brows. “i snapped at my coworker today.”

“the teenager?” you nodded. “ah,” spencer’s hand resumed circling around your back as he hummed. “they’ll forgive you, i’m sure of it.” there was a pause and then a small hum coming from his throat. “are you hungry? hm? let’s order some food.”

he ordered you your favorite pasta dish from your favorite italian restaurant and you fell asleep in his arms in the middle of coraline again. he couldn’t help but admire you resting so peacefully in his arms and continued tracing the words ‘i love you’ over and over again into your back for the rest of the night.

[poppy-metal]

it’s your birthday and you weren’t expecting your husband to do anything for you. he usually forgets and then buys you an expensive present weeks later, out of guilt, but tonight, he promised to take you out for dinner. after getting your makeup done professionally and dressing to the nines in a tight black dress and sleek black louboutins you head to the restaurant he told you to meet him at. after waiting for hours, you decide to go home where you find him pumping into a gorgeous woman, who you later on find out, is his secretary. you silently head to your walk in closet, pack your bags, and head to your range rover in the garage. with tears streaming down your cheeks, you call patrick after settling in a suite at a nearby five star hotel. wall street patrick immediately cancels his dinner meeting with a major potential client and speeds down the highway.

after arriving at the hotel, he finds your bare faced with your glasses on, wearing a silk nightgown and some fuzzy slippers. for a moment he’s taken aback. you always look so high maintenance and put together but to him this is the most beautiful you have ever looked – puffy eyes, pouty lips, wet lashes and all. you look up at him and beg him to hold you. he rushes to the couch you are seated on and lets you cry on his armani suit. he doesn’t care that you’re getting tears and snot on it. seeing you so comfortable and vulnerable around him makes his dick painfully hard. all he cares about is being there for you and probably ordering a hit on your soon to be ex husband tbh.

after you fall asleep on his chest he gently carries you to the bedroom, kissing your temple before tucking you in to sleep. you awaken from your short nap and ask him to sleep with you, it’s been so long since someone slept next to you, and he almost cums in his pants, the thought of you asking him to sleep with you consumes his mind, but after taking off his suit and washing up, he lays in bed with his undershirt and his boxers. he apologizes for not having any clothes with him because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or scare you off but you jokingly reply “usually i sleep naked…you’re fine”. being in his boxers, it gets harder for him to hide his thick bulge.

it’s 2am in the morning and patrick startles awake. you’re talking in your sleep and he’s worried. you’re having a nightmare…or so he thinks. you’re whimpering and moaning and he thinks it’s so hot. poor baby hasn’t been fucked right in so long, the only action she gets is in her dreams. he giggles a little until he hears you moan his name. to him, it sounds like a choir of angels singing the most divine melody to ever exist. he ends up rushing to the bathroom and spitting into his hand to take care of his problem.

you wake up to shlick shlick sounds and groaning in the bathroom. could patrick be touching himself? he forgot to close the door all the way and you could peep into the bathroom through the crack. you probably shouldn’t, it would make you a bad friend, but ever since the first day you saw him, a part of you has wanted to sit on his cock and fuck yourself through an orgasm. you slowly walk towards the door and see him in the shower, sniffing the used panties you left in the bathroom while furiously stroking his giant veiny cock. it looks so scary with its angry red tip but your mouth starts watering. you rush back to bed feeling guilty for overstepping boundaries and for wanting to gag on your friend’s dick while rubbing your clit. patrick on the other hand, being a calculating master manipulator left the door open to make sure you would hear him and see him, hoping that he would have the same effect on you, that you have on him.

- alien anon

so I need to touch myself .

[sixhours]

Postpartum

A one-shot set in the One Day at a Time universe. This probably won't make sense unless you've read that, but you do you.

Rating: Teen Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, soft!Joel, no really super soft!Joel, mostly follows canon, angst, hurt/comfort, fluffy baby stuff, babyfic, postpartum depression-ish (not really, but could be triggering), ppd, hormones are wild y'all, breastfeeding is hard, mentions of Sarah and her being black so obviously leaning hard into the tv series and maybe racial themes if you squint? Word count: 1.8k

Notes: Sometimes I just can't get these characters out of my head.

You can also read Postpartum on AO3.

Joel wakes to the sound of crying, and not the baby’s this time. It’s Charlie, sitting up in bed with Anna at her breast, curled over the child’s nursing form and sobbing.

“Hey, whoa,” he rasps, sitting up and fumbling for the bedside lamp. “S’wrong?”

“She’s not getting enough,” she says through tears. “I don’t know…I just…it’s been three days and she needs to eat and there’s no letdown and I can barely squeeze anything out–”

“Hey, shh, s’okay,” he says. “Midwife said that’s normal, ‘member? Can take a few days for everythin’ to…uh…work.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What if I’m b-broken? What if she’s starving and she can’t tell us?”

He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and sliding over to tuck her under his arm, careful because she’s sore and tender everywhere.

“You’re not broken,” he says. “You’re just…tired. And–”

“If you say I’m hormonal I will hurt you,” she hisses, then her eyes go wide and apologetic in the dim light, lower lip quivering.

“I’m sorry,” she moans. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that–it’s these fucking hormones, isn’t it? Fuck.”

“S’alright, I know–”

“You don’t. You really don’t. Everything hurts and I’m wearing a goddamned diaper –and these fucking cloth pads are worthless, I think I’m leaking on the bed again–”

“S’why we put a towel down. It’ll wash out—”

“...and my vagina is fucking ruined . It’s g-g-grotesque.”

“Midwife said you didn’t even tear,” he says, biting down hard on his cheek to stifle a chuckle. “I’m sure your, uh…your…um y’know…is just fine.”

She doesn’t appear convinced, tears catching on her lashes and streaming down her cheeks.

“My nipples feel like they’re being rubbed with broken glass. She doesn’t even have fucking teeth yet, how can it hurt so much? And she’s not getting enough, I just know it–”

He swallows hard and rubs her back like when she was in labor, firm strokes at the base of her spine.

“I can’t do this,” she whimpers, rocking forward over the baby. “I can’t…I wanted this so bad and now I’m just going to fuck it up.”

Another sob and now the baby starts to fuss quietly. Salty tears drip from the end of Charlie’s nose and land on the shell of Anna’s tiny ear, catching in her hair, dribbling down her forehead.

“Oh, great, now I’m crying on her,” Charlie sniffs. “Take her, Joel, before I drown her, she’s gonna be soaked–”

“You’re not gonna fuck it up,” he murmurs, but he lets Charlie slide the baby into the crook of his free arm. He bounces Anna for a few seconds, watches her tiny hands and fingers flex, then relax. Soon she’s fast asleep, entirely unaware of the drama unfolding around her.

“You’re doin’ just fine,” he says, kissing the damp curl of hair at Charlie’s temple. “S’only been three days.”

“I’m so scared,” she whimpers. “How are we supposed to do this? The world is fucking over , and we’ve gone and–and brought a child into it. What the fuck were we thinking ?”

“We weren’t. We were really fuckin’ drunk,” he quips.

She glares up at him with swollen, red-rimmed eyes. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, biting back the urge to laugh as he redoubles his backrubbing efforts in a silent apology. “But…you’re doin’ so good. She’s safe. She’s healthy. Look–she’s snorin’.”

Indeed, Anna’s tiny sniffles have deepened into soft baby sighs that puff against Joel’s bare chest. He finds himself unable to look away, drawn into a trance by the subtle rise and fall of her ribs, the rapid pulse of her heart thrumming under her delicate skin.

“She’s perfect, see? You’re doin’ great. Could use a little more sleep is all.”

Charlie whimpers miserably and presses her face to his side. “She can’t sleep if she’s starving, Joel.”

“She’s not gonna starve. We’ll call the midwife in the morning. She said they have—what is it, donors? If you can’t—“

This elicits another wail from Charlie. “You mean if I’m broken .”

Shit.

“No, no, that’s not what I—I meant just to—I’m—fuck,” he grits out, decides he’s better off shutting up. Instead, he rocks his daughter in one arm and holds the mother of his child in the other, waiting out the storm.

“Was it like this with Sarah?” Charlie murmurs after a while, voice laden with exhaustion.

“A little,” he says, hesitating. “Her mom was a lot younger than you an’ she wasn’t…wasn’t ready. She was a kid herself, and I prob’ly wasn’t the best partner. Hell, I was only 22. S’not an excuse, but…y’know. S’what it was.”

He shifts uncomfortably, remembering the long nights, the fighting, the abrupt dissolution of his family’s future before it had even begun.

“Anyway, she uh…she couldn’t handle it. Left when Sarah was a few months old.”

Charlie makes a sound in the back of her throat, then reaches over, gently grasping one of Anna’s impossibly small feet, rubbing at her little toes until the baby spreads them wide and pushes against her fingertips.

“She’s so perfect, I’m worried I’ll…I’ll ruin her, somehow,” she whispers. “But I can’t imagine leaving her.”

He meets her eyes, the next word rolling tender from his lips, tightening his hold around her shoulders to emphasize the point.

“Exactly.”

They stay like this until her breathing slows, until they’re drifting in that liminal space of exhausted new parents. Charlie wipes at her eyes, lets out a drained sigh.

“I wish he could have met her,” she says, her words muffled against Joel’s chest. 

He . Her late husband, one of many ghosts that floats about the edges of their lives, caught in the periphery. Joel feels a twinge of something like envy, but it’s hard to be jealous of a dead man, so he brushes it aside.

“You’ve never told me his name, y’know,” he says instead.

“I didn’t? Oh,” she trails off. “It was Marcus.”

He rumbles an mmm in acknowledgment and rests his chin on the top of her head, marveling at how perfectly she fits there, wondering if he could fill that space for her someday.

“Sometimes I could swear I see him in her,” she continues. “Isn’t that silly?”

“I dunno,” he murmurs, swallowing hard. “Sometimes…I think I see Sarah in her, too.”

She blinks up at him. “Well…at least that makes sense .”

“Not as much as you’d think,” Joel sniffs, tracing a thumb down Anna’s cheek, lost in thought. “Sarah took after her mom…she was half black. Looked nothin’ like me.”

He regards their daughter–pale complexion, silver eyes, straight dark hair. But still, she’s in there; his Sarah, his baby girl. Something about the slope of her nose, the arch of her eyebrows, the curl of her thumb against her bottom lip.

“What was Sarah like?” Charlie murmurs sleepily, nestling further into the crook of his shoulder.

“Stubborn as hell,” he says immediately, the words pouring out before he can lose his courage. “An’ you don’t have to tell me she got that from me. Already know.”

“You? Stubborn?” Charlie says, and he can feel her smiling against him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he smirks. “When Sarah was about three, she threw a fit in the store. Wanted…somethin’ or other, I dunno. A toy, prob’ly. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I had to drag her outta there kickin’ and screamin’.

“Except…she doesn’t really look like my kid, y’know? So she had the whole store convinced I was tryin’ to kidnap her, and they got security askin’ me questions, and she doesn’t understand, just keeps…keeps cryin’ and holdin’ on to me–”

He breaks off, surprised at the clarity of the memory; his flailing, sobbing kid in his arms as the security guard grilled him, the creeping shame and anger at being singled out, him and his girl against the world. A lump lodges itself in his throat and he blinks back tears.

“Got us outta there as fast as I could,” he says. “God…haven’t thought about that in forever.”

“That’s…awful.”

He shrugs. “Losin’ Sarah was awful. The rest was just…life.”

“You don’t talk about her,” Charlie whispers.

“S’hard, but…this helps,” he murmurs, stroking Anna’s dark hair, ducking his head to place a gentle kiss to her crown.

“Anyway,” he sighs, a deep, shuddering breath as he brings himself back to the flour-sack weight of the baby girl in his arms, the warm comfort of Charlie’s shoulder against his ribs. 

“All that to say…I get it. Hell, sometimes I catch myself thinkin’ Ellie has my eyes,” he chuckles. “Makes no fuckin’ sense…but maybe it don’t have to.”

Charlie shifts, rests her head against his chest, slurring her words slightly. “Mmmm…she does, though, doesn’t she?”

“Sure, let’s say she does. And this li’l one has…Marcus’ smile or ears or somethin’, maybe. He’s part of you…so he’s part of her, too.”

“Maybe,” she murmurs, yawning. Soon her breathing is slow and even, her body relaxed and pliant against his.

He allows himself the luxury of staring, struck by the way Charlie’s dark lashes fan over her cheeks, the mirror image of Anna’s.

Within minutes, they’re both asleep in his arms.

“Joel…Joel, wake up. I think–”

Charlie’s voice is soft and calm, no longer frantic, her words nuzzling gently against the dim reaches of his brain. He’s vaguely aware of the weight of the baby being lifted from his chest. He blinks, stretching, neck and shoulders tight where he’s dozed off against the headboard. The light is still on and a soft early morning dawn filters through the bedroom window.

He watches with heavy eyes as Charlie puts the baby to her breast, watches Anna’s little mouth eagerly searching for the nipple, bobbing against it greedily before latching on, drawing a soft hiss from her mother at the initial sting.

The baby makes deep, wet suckling sounds and tiny, satisfied grunts, making him think of a piglet. He smiles groggily and cups her soft little head in the palm of his hand, watching frothy bubbles of milk gather at the corner of her lips as she eats and eats and eats.

“Joel, look…”

Charlie’s trying to show him something but he’s too tired, too sleep-deprived to understand until he feels her hand guiding his, placing it on her swollen breast the way she used to place it on her stomach. The flesh underneath is tight and full and definitely not broken.

He kisses her crown and breathes her in, all lavender and powder and milk, still cradling the baby’s head in his hand as he drifts off to sleep.

[olive-fics]

Maybe you could write abt older abby thats like a cowboy and her and the reader live together and their like happy n domestic?!

-Sure! Love this idea hehe (not proofread.. like usual)

Abby leaned against the wooden fence, her gaze fixed on the hills that stretched out before her. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden hue across the expanse of the farmland. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of hay and the sweet aroma of wildflowers. A toothpick sat between her teeth as she wiped small beads of sweat from her forehead onto her pants.

The sound of your voice carried from the barn, breaking the silence calling out that supper was ready. Abby pushed herself away from the fence, her worn boots kicking up a small cloud of dust as she walked towards the homestead.

Abby trudged up the porch steps, her boots heavy with the day's accumulated dirt, making sure to not track any more grime into the house. She had dirt, oil, and who knows what else on her hands from the farm work she had been doing.

"In the kitchen Abs!" You called out to her with a giggle.

You stood in the kitchen, your hand, steady and practiced, tapped a spatula against the sizzling pan of bacon, releasing a tantalizing symphony of sizzles and pops. Upon the wooden countertop, golden-brown biscuits, along with a pot simmered with corn and a plate of porkchops.

Abby walked in and leaned on the doorframe to the kitchen, she was dirty and smelled like the barn, her baby hairs stuck to her sweaty forehead and neck..

"Well, aren't you a dirty lady?" you laughed, a playful glint in your eyes as you couldn't resist teasing her. You grabbed a damp rag from the sink, moving closer to where she stood. With a gentle touch, you began helping her wash away the grime from her face.

"I can do it myself, pumpkin," Abby giggled, her voice filled with affection. She leaned down and planted a soft, tender kiss onto your forehead. Her smile held a mixture of playfulness and gratitude, as she tried to keep her dirty hands away from your clean clothes and body.

"Baby it looks too good.. I can't wait to eat." Abby murmured into your ear. "I'll fix you a plate, hon. Go sit," you insisted with a warm smile, your voice filled with care and affection. You leaned in to plant a soft, lingering kiss on her lips before she could protest.

With the plate of delicious food in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other, you walked over to the table and set everything down. As Abby began to eat, you settled into your own seat across from her, your gaze fixed on her.

"It's great, Y/N. I love it like always." Abby giggled, her mouth muffled from the food, she said followed by a genuine smile.

"Good- I know how hard you've been working and I just wanted to make sure-"

"No need to explain yourself okay?" Abby put her hand on yours rubbing it gently. "It's wonderful my love."

You smiled and nodded.

♡

Later that night you snuggled next to Abby on the couch reading a book together, "Sense and Sensibility" -Jane Austen. Abby's hums were enough to make anyone drowsy, it was like a drug to you..slowly making your eyes heavier...

"Getting sleepy baby girl..?" Abby would murmur so she didn't wake you.. Gently petting your hair and caressing your cheek, she looked down at you and noticed you were out. Her lips pulling into a tender smile..She gently bookmarked the page in the book.

"alright then..bed time it is." She carefully lifted you into her arms, up the stairs, right into bed where she too would tuck you in and cuddle right behind you holding you close.

"Goodnight, my love."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

hehe sorry for my break I've had no motivation to do anything. :,) I really like this prompt and I honestly wanna write more on it.. IDK YOU GUYS LMK!!!!! :))

ALSO. TYSM FOR 180 FOLLOWERS?? HELLO? WHERE DID U GUYS COME FROM LOL. I LOVE U ALL.

ok, peace!!

[shalomniscient]

i feel like arlecchino is the type of parent to attend all of her child's performances if they do ballet or participate in a drama club or something.

arle's constantly busy with lots of dangerous and concerning things about which her children don't really need to know, and yet she makes it just in time every time. she definitely takes a seat in the front row, so she can observe her little star without any obstructions. moreover, this way her baby will see her and understand that daddy's here to support them. this will definitely cast an extreme confidence boost! she's also the type to applause louder than everyone else. she isn't too emotional during or after the performance but she makes sure that her child is acknowledged they did their best and she is proud of them. she doesn't pay attention to other children at all, her eyes are on her baby all the time and once their gazes meet, she gives her little darling the warmest and the most reassuring smile ever. a thought about you also crosses her mind for a second, after all you were the one to rehearse all these things with your baby and arle makes sure to properly show her gratitude to you after the performance when babies are already fed, washed and tucked into their beds by you two...

arle doesn't really rehearse with her artistic children at home due to being in charge of too many things, usually you are the one who's responsible for helping them to memorize their lines ans stuff. arlecchino definitely feels a bit guilty because of it, the amount of effort you two put isn't even in her opinion. so, she takes care of providing her children with best costumes ever created by the best tailors. if you think about it, it might look funny... a big strong influential arlecchino ordering small and shiny princess dresses or puss in boots costumea with tiny artificial swords attached to them. well, that's just adorable.

– milk nonnie

i like to think that arle, as a harbinger, has a personal tailor, likely an ex-hearth member. they are functionally in charge of clothing the entire sevchino family; everything is custom made, nothing bought at boutiques (sorry chiori 😔😔😔 arle just likes to spoil her family). which has its own merits, that being all of our clothing fits really well and lasts a long ass time. honestly, even irl, if i had the money i would be commissioning nearly every piece of clothing i can get. there's just something so special about tailor-made stuff.

anyway milk my beloved this was so <3333 to read, im weak 😭😭😭 arle being sweet and soggy for the kiddos HSKJDSGKHGKDH i need her saur bad........ the next genshin update will either make me or destroy me, fr 😭😭😭

[iluvmegantheestallion]

Kitchen Sex

Mike schmidt x black!reader

Summary: Mike has been horny and been thinking about you during his shift since you've been great at taking care of his sister Abby, so when he comes seeing you taking care of Abby he just couldn't take it anymore so you have hot steamy kitchen sex.

Mike was too horny as he was thinking about you as he sits in his swivel seat checking on the monitors. He's been stressed working night shifts, his aunt, and everything, until he met you. You were new and moved in the neighborhood mike couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were so nice and welcoming. Mike was a bit nervous since he was nervous talking to women.

But you were nice, y/n introduced herself first. Mike and y/n hit it off and became buddies. Mike's home was like a second home to you. When Mike was away working, you took care of Abby when when he's away. Abby loved you. Mike had thoughts of getting you pregnant and having his babies, he always thought you would be a good mother since you love and take care of abby.

You were like a mother figure to her. Abby once told you that Mike has a little crush on you because he acts nervous around you. Mike imagined you naked as he's a moaning mess for you.

Mike looked at down at his dick it was throbbing for you. Usually, Mike would jerk off thinking about you. He wanted you. He loved how you take care of him and Abby, bringing home cook meals, how drop off Abby to school when he couldn't. The way you smiled, the way your clothes hug your curves nicely. Mike almost cum in his pants of the thought of you.

Mike looked at the clock as it was already 6:00. Mike got up from his seat making out of his office as he leaves the place and gets inside of his car driving off.

As Mike makes it home parking his car, he groans tiredly from his long day of work. He walks towards the door as he pulls out his keys, opening the door as he enters inside his home. Mike eyes were in shock seeing the house being clean. Y/n was in the kitchen washing the dishes. "Hey, y/n, thanks for taking care of Abby for me, I know I haven't been paying because of work, but I prom -" Mike rambles, but y/n cuts him off. "It's ok, Mike. I love taking care of abby. I cleaned the place a bit when you were away, and i tucked Abby in bed she's fast asleep." Y/n listed off smiling at Mike.

"I also made some food on the stove if you want some." Y/n said as she sat on the kitchen counter. Mike wanted to eat something other than the food he wanted you. "I'm not hungry, y/n you work so hard, let me take care of you." Mike whispers as he comes in between y/n's legs as shivers run down her back.

"What do you want, Mike?" Y/n says as she wraps her arms around Mike. "You." Mike answered back as y/n smirks. "Well, if you want me, you have to be a good boy and not make any noise. Your sister is in the other room." Y/n whispers as she wraps her legs around Mike's waist. "Yes, I'll be a good boy. Please let me be inside you." Mike pleads making y/n almost cum at his horniness for her.

Mike kissed y/n slowly, which turned into passion as y/n moaned into the kiss. Mike peppered kisses on your neck as you ran your fingers in his hair, making him whine. "Aww, do you like it when I run my fingers in your hair, mikey." Y/n smiles as Mike continued kissing her neck. "Yes, I love it so much, baby." Mike says as he rubs little circles down your thighs. Mike was a moaning mess for y/n.

Y/n found Mike's moans very cute. His little gasps and whines made you very aroused. But they were a bit too loud, not wanting to wake Abby up. Y/n started unbuckling Mike's pants. "Please." Mike whines in your ear as licks and nips the skin of your neck. "I need you y/n, I'm so hard for you." Mike whispers in your ear.

"I'm trying to unbuckle your pants, sweetheart, be patient." You said calmly, sitting up from the counter trying to see the buckle a little bit better. "Y/n I can't take it anymore, I'm gonna cum in my pants." He whines tent in his pants. Mike lifts under y/n's skirt as he slids down your panties as he places it in his front pocket of his jeans. The clink of the buckle drops the floor as your fingers unzipped his pants, which dropped down to his ankles. Mike took off his boxers, leaving him bare. "Please fuck me, mikey." Your voice whines as you beg. Mike inserts himself inside you cunt making you gasp as your back arches from the pleasure of his thrusts. "God fuck please... you feel so good y/n, please I'll be a good boy for you. You're so wet and warm. I want to be inside of you forever." Mike praised as thrusts harder as y/n legs hold tightly around Mike's waist for some leverage. Tears start forming in your eyes of the pure pleasure of his thrusts.

"I wanna stuff you inside until you have my babies, I'm gonna stuff your pretty pussy until your screaming with my cum inside you, you'll be a good mother since you love Abby so f-uucking much." Mike grunts. Y/n's moans felt like music to his ear as Mike slid his hands under y/n's breast as he groped it as he gasped as he caressed and thrusts inside her. "This is so f-uucking good." Y/n says out of breath. The sounds of skim slapping and quiet moans filled the quiet room. Mike was so close to finishing as his cock was being milked by y/n's tight warm folds. His grunts got a bit faster as he softly whines as Mike grunts as he cums inside of you making you pant.

Mike kneels lower in between y/n's legs as y/n looks down. "Now it's my turn to make you cum, baby." Mike whispering as he kisses your thighs. Mike kisses your clit as he eats your pussy like a starve man as he tongue fucks you making you squirm as you pant in pleasure from your lust filled sighs, as you push your cunt further to his face. He licks a long strip of your hole to your clit as he sucks on it. "Oh my God, mikey, I'm gonna cum." Y/n whines. "Cum, baby. Cum on my face I wanna see how you taste." Mike pleads as he continues eating you out. Y/n whines as he pants in pleasure. Mike leaves in between your legs, and he looks up at you. "You taste amazing." Mike says as he gets up from his knees as he kisses you slowly and lovingly. Not wanting to stop and let go from the kiss.

"Do you wanna do a round 2 in your room?" Y/n smiles as she pecks him on the lips.

"Yes, and please sit on my face next time." Mike whispering into y/n's ear as he begs.

[littlemissomega]

I'm Here

steve rogers x endometriosis!reader

Summary: Steve Roger's girlfriend has endometriosis and gets her period

Warnings: chronic pain, reader has endometriosis which causes extremely painful periods, reader gets her period, throwing up, crying, little suggestive but not really (Y/N thinks Steve is gonna do something sexual for a second, but he doesn't)

The sound of Y/N’s crying greets Steve as soon as he opens the door. He drops his back and dashing up the stairs, pushing the bedroom door open.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” Steve asks.

Y/N is laying on the bed, on top of a pillow with one heating pad on her stomach and another on her back.  Her legs are tucked under her; calves flush with her thighs.A small trash can sits next to her head.

“I-It hurts so bad,” Y/N sobs, pressing her face into the pillow, “Feels l-like I’m dying,”

Dread fills Steve, but he realizes what happened. He gently lowers himself on the bed next to her, pulling Y/N’s hair out of her face and tying it up.

“Did you get your period, honey?” he asks gently.

Y/N nods weakly, jolting as pain shoots through her.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I know it hurts. Did you take your meds already?”

Y/N nods again, sniffling.

Steve places a hand on y/n’s shoulder blades, causing her to flinch before melting into his touch. He rubs light circles in place.

“What can I get for you?”

“I…I don't feel so good,” Y/N whimpers before lunging forward, barely grabbing the trash can before she throws up into it.

“Oh baby,” Steve murmurs, “It’s okay, I’m here, just get it all out,”

Steve wipes the tears from her cheeks as Y/N heaves into the trash can. Her face is sticky and  hot

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Y/N chokes out between heaves.

“It’s okay, princess, there’s nothing to apologize for. I got you,” he soothes.

When Y/N finally finishes emptying the contacts of her stomach into the trash can, she collapses back against the pillows. Sharp pain shoots through her lower stomach, back, legs, and ribcage. She sniffles, shifting to try and ease the pain.

“I’m so sorry you aren’t feeling, well, baby. What can I get for you? I’m here,” 

“Ca-can you get me a cold w-w-wash cloth?” Y/N stutters.

“Of course, honey. I’ll be right back,” Steve voices, rubbing her back for more time before standing up. He grabs the trash can, “I’ll clean this up. Just holler or bang on the wall if you need me,”

Y/N nods into the pillow. Steve hurries into the bathroom, emptying the trash can into the toilet and cleaning it out. He grabs 2 small towels and wets them with cool water, wringing them out. 

“Steve?” he hears Y/N whimpers.

“I’m coming, baby!”

Steve hurries back into the bedroom, setting the trash can back down next to her head.

“I’m right here,” he soothes, using one of the towels to wipe her sweat-slicked face and lips clean. He takes the other one and presses it to her forehead. Y/N lets out a sigh of relief at the cool sensation. She reaches and grabs Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly.

Y/N jolts forward again, whimpering into the pillow. Steve continues rubbing gently circles on her back.

“Can I try something, baby? See if it helps you feel better?” Steve voices.

“Uh huh,” Y/N nods softly, looking over at him.

Her eyes are swollen and pink from crying, and slightly glazed over. Steve pulls his shirt off and her eyes go wide.

“No no no no, not that, no that’s the worst thing we could do right now, no-” Y/N cries.

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay, baby, I’m not gonna do anything! It’s okay, darling, take a deep breath,” Steve soothes, gently slipping her hands under her arms and shifting her up.

Y/N starts to protest, but Steve quickly pushes the pillows from under her and takes their places. He eases her down over her so her heating pad is sandwiched between them and her knees are on either side of him. She lets out a content sound and sinks into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Steve strokes Y/N’s hair with one hand, using the other to rub up and down her back.

“Is that a little better, princess?”

Y/N nods into his shoulder, clinging to them.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you too, baby,”

Taglist:

@liidiaaag

@flourishandblotts-inc

@aagn360

@smromanoff

@butyoudontlookdisabled

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for saying tomy dad he doesn't knows how to use the damn washing machine?

🎣 So I can find it later

Me (transmasc, 25) live with my parents. This is something they suggested me after I had a breakup with someone abusive, before someone jumps at my neck for living with them, immediately voting that I am the asshole. No they don't respect either my name or my pronouns, that's how bad the relationship was. I also pay a fixed amount per month that's about half of my salary+do more complex house chores. This was a while ago when mom had just given birth.

My dad is pretty big at fishing, and gets his fishing clothes pretty dirty. Fishy smell, dirt, grass, dirty water, you know the drill. Fishes a shitton of fishes and sell it for some extra money. I think it's important to mention his salary isn't bad, it's actually about 7 times the minimum wage here, he just spends in a lot of stuff he doesn't needs like getting a lot of toys for the younger sibling, a lot of fishing material he doesn't uses, paying for bills he made back when he exchanged our house for a farm and then got absolutely ridden in debt from farm expenses because he thought everything would be perfect like in those farm movies. And then had to exchange the farm again in a worse house and still pay back some money, getting pets he can't pay for the expenses like about 15-20 native birds (that are illegal btw) and canaries that cost some real money because they eat specialized food and fresh fruit+medicine. I think it's also important to mention that when I was younger my mom and him fought at least one time per month about his fishing habits that were like, leave on Friday and coke back either sunday night or monday morning. Now they're much more tamer usually capping off at one day, but still are frequent, like at least one time per week.

Now to the real deal: mom always washes his clothes, but in this specific time I was doing laundry because she just was cut open with a C-section to have the twins because of an emergency with the babies .Twins weren't home yet but it was not like she could do anything, so I was doing laundry, organizing my siblings chores (15F, 13M, 4F), taking care of the younger one, unfortunately overwhelmed from being the mom. And dad just leaves to fishing every weekend like it's no biggie and leaves their children to just fend for themselves I guess if I wasn't here. So I am making food, making chores and all of that, real mama chores including dealing with the very moody 4yo that isn't happy dad isn't home and mom can't get out of the bed and cried from about anything that mildly inconveniences her.

Then he comes home from fishing and tuck his dirty clothes god knows where, and one week later finds it again and starts bitching about how no one washed his fishing outfit and I, very tired, very overwhelmed and very stressed, say to him "why, don't you know how to use the damn washing machine?" And he gets like, really offended and says he won't even answer me do he won't offend me, and in my tired state I just answer that all he needs to do is to throw it there with soap and turn it on, he could do that and he gets more mad and storms off to fish (again yes, leaving my mom with basically a recovering surgery with the kids.)

Another detail is that a year before he did the same thing but mom had left for some christian stuff for two weeks, and when I asked him if he could load the washing machine so I could finish fixing lunch, he told me he didn't know how to use it and I taught him. He's 45. It's one of those washing machines with literally everything written on them on how to use.

I also should clarify that he's not mentally disabled or physically disabled, if the fishing trips weren't enough clue for his overall wellness. Mom acted as I should bend to his will and just washes the clothes because it's not worth fighting. My 15yo sister is with me because he makes her clean the sink he uses to clean the fishes every time he fishes. Mom is mad at both of us because we're tearing this family apart and we should just accept dad as he is and do what he says.

Tldr: AITA for asking my dad if he doesn't knows how to do the laundry even after I taught him to do so?

What are these acronyms?

[daydream-cement]

What about a sick Larissa wanting some comfort but being embarrassed to ask for it and show herself vulnerable but reader realizes she’s uneasy to ask for it…

I love your storiesssss!

My Little Patient

Characters: Larissa Weems x reader

Authors Note: I know I didn't have to be super descriptive, but everyone should get the opportunity to take care of Mommy Larissa™. This concept is adorable. Thank you, anon <3

You had gotten home early from work that day and were surprised to see Larissa's coat and shoes already inside the front door. Your girlfriend typically was at work until much later in the day.

When you didn't spot her in the living room or kitchen, you sought out the bedroom. As you stood in the doorway, Larissa was curled up in bed already which was strange. You approach her, glancing down at her face.

She looked miserable. You raise your fingers to her forehead, moving the stray hairs back into place. At first contact with her forehead, you notice she was burning up.

Larissa mumbled something to you. You couldn't quite make it out.

"Honey... Are you okay?" You hover over her, your fingers still stroking her forehead.

"Mmm, I'm fine," was all she could muster. Her eyes opened ever so slightly, but they shut just as easily as they opened, tiredness overtaking her.

She was obviously not fine.

"I think you might be sick... Do you have any symptoms?" You urge her to be more honest with you. Your eyes sweep the room for more evidence, you see tissues piled on the nightstand and Larissa's nose seems to be red from blowing it.

"Really I'm fine." She seemed grumpy at your insistence, snapping at you.

"Look at you being brave." You begin to tease her in a voice you save for pets and babies, hoping to bring a smile to her face, "My little patient needs to be taken care of."

You press kisses against her forehead and pinch at her cheeks, bringing a small smile to the woman's face.

"Seriously, Rissa... Can I take care of you?" You ask, voice returning to normal, seriousness overtaking you.

"Please..." Her voice seemed small, it looked like she was almost in pain asking for help.

"Okay good. Well first off let's get you out of your work clothes. Then I'm going to have you take a quick shower with one of these little tablets that sits on the shower floor. It will make your sinuses feel good. Then we are going to tuck you back in bed with a big glass of water and some cold and flu medicine. Later you can have some soup that I will make while you sleep."

You already had a whole game plan laid out, loving the idea of taking care of her for once.

Slowly, you helped her undress, pulling her shirt over her head and pressing comforting kisses to her now bare shoulders, "While you shower, I'll wash your clothes so they are nice and germ free."

"You've never been so attractive." She mumbled, resting her head on your shoulder as your unclip her bra.

You let out a small laugh, "Okay, honey. Time to stand up."

Larissa groaned and pouted as you took her hands, pulling her up from the bed. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders as you unzip her skirt, pulling it and her underwear down at the same time.

She then follows you to the bathroom. Larissa busied herself by unpinning her hair while you turn on the shower and find one of your shower tablets, dropping it near the drain. You take her hand and guide her to the shower, "Get clean. I'll be right back."

You busy yourself gathering her clothes and bringing them to the washing machine. You even remembered to take her bath towel and toss it in the drier to get warm while she was in the shower. While the washing machine and dryer ran, you brought a garbage can to the side of the bed, clearing the nightstand of tissues and leaving the can there for further use.

You were in the cabinet selecting a sleepy time cold and flu medicine for Larissa when the shower turned off. You rush to get Larissa's now warm towel, presenting it to her when she stepped out of the towel. Her eyes went soft at the gesture, her lip sticking out slightly.

"Get all dried off and put on your favorite pajamas." You place your hands on either side of her face and grant her with a kiss on the forehead as you busy yourself with your new caretaker duties.

Larissa dried off and changed. You shut the bedroom blinds and drew the curtains. Larissa was sitting in bed by the time you returned to her bedside. You offered her the shot of medicine and a glass of water.

"Now, you snuggle in and sleep. I'll be back to check on you in a bit." You take her glass of water and placing it on the nightstand. Larissa shifts back into the bed, obviously enjoying the fact that she was now in comfortable clothes and freshly showered.

Later that night when she woke up from her nap, you served her some of your famous chicken noodle soup. Afterwards you laid in bed with her, Larissa's head resting on your chest as you played with her hair.

"Thank you, honey." Larissa mumbled before she finally drifted off to sleep.

[abitohoney]

Sugar!Mommy Sevika in a modern AU just looking for someone to rail who can acommodate her kinks. 👀any thoughts?

Yes. Many thoughts, nonny. Many thoughts. But also, what about Sugar BABY Sevika? Hmm? What about that, nonny? I want to be her Sugar Momma. Spoil her with all the finer things as a reward for fulfilling my needs.

Haha. Just kidding! Actually, not really. I kinda want both scenarios, cause I'm an "and" kind of woman. I think I will write a separate one to cover the reverse. So for anyone interested in that, stay tuned! In the meantime, enjoy my thoughts on Sugar Mommy Sevika below the cut!

NSFW, MDNI, Explicit

I feel like even in a modern setting Sevika wouldn’t use an app to find a sugar baby. She’d want to scope out her options in person.

I could see her picking you up from a strip club she frequents where you instantly become one of her favorites. She likes the way you seem just as drawn to her as she is to you. How your eyes always lock on hers while you’re performing, despite the massive crowd to choose from.

After watching you for several nights (and tipping you very generously), she finally decides to make the request.

Sevika leans against the brick wall just outside the back entrance of the club, a cigarette tucked into the corner of her mouth.

As you step out through the door, a long coat covering your otherwise scantily clad body, you’re momentarily startled to find someone waiting there. Someone much larger than you. But the moment your eyes travel over the familiar curl of dark lips and meet those equally familiar gray eyes, relief washes over you.

“Hey there handsome!” you greet her cheerfully. “Hoping to get one more peek before I head home?” you tease, watching curiously as she pushes off the wall and comes to stand before you.

She tosses her cigarette to the ground, putting it out with the toe of her boot as she chuckles lowly.

It’s the first time you’ve heard her voice. It makes your stomach flutter and your core warm. It sounds so wonderfully deep and sultry. Just as sexy as she is.

“Actually, I was hoping to get more than just a peek,” she replies with more than a hint of a suggestive undertone. Her eyes drop to the bit of cleavage peeking out from beneath your coat before drifting back up to your smile.

“Oh yeah?” you ask with a flirtatious lilt. You take your bottom lip between your teeth and let your eyes drink in the sight before you as well. Your gaze travels up the length of her muscular body, intentionally slow. You want her to notice. “What did you have in mind?”

“I could use a pretty girl like you in my bed,” she replies smoothly, running the back of a thick finger over one of your warm cheeks, which only heats further at the touch.

The thrill that races up your spine is electric. And as if her request wasn’t enticing enough, she easily closes the deal with her offer for payment.

“I’d pay any price. You name it, sweetheart.” Her finger slides beneath your chin, tilting your head back to keep your gaze locked as she ghosts the pad of her thumb over the plush of your bottom lip. “Anything your heart desires.”

Your breath catches in your throat and your heart skips a beat.

How could you possibly refuse?

You assume it will just be a one-night thing. That she'll simply have her way with you, you'll receive a generous payment, and then that will be the end of it. But as you’re lying in her bed that night, mind blown and body covered in sweat, tears, and your own slick, she requests more. Much more. She wants you on call, ready to come to her bed at the drop of a hat. But you’re more than happy to give her anything she wants, whenever she wants it.

She works for some bigwig at a large corporation, so she pays you very well for each visit.

But it’s more than just money. She gifts you flowers, jewelry, fancy clothes, accessories, trinkets, and beautiful lingerie. She'll treat you to expensive dinners at high-end restaurants, and eventually, she even takes you on lavish vacations.

She proudly wears you on her arm whenever she goes out. Whether it’s going out for drinks or card games with the guys, or even just shopping, you’re at her side just beaming at all the sights and the attention you receive.

Brings you to every company dinner party dressed in the glittering dresses and sparkling jewelry she bought you. Has zero shame in how she openly smirks when she catches all the men staring in awe, and obvious jealousy.

But you'd be lying if you said you were only in it for the money and material things, or even the fun events. The way she gets that sexy, crooked smile every time she sees you, all the attention she gives you, the praise, the compliments, the touches, the possessiveness she has over you- all of it leaves you feeling high as a kite.

And the way she fucks you so damn good, leaving you completely satisfied every single time- that alone becomes an addiction you could never kick, even if you wanted to. It makes you wonder who is really servicing who in this arrangement.

With her strap still buried deep inside you, Sevika holds you against her sweat-slicked chest and hauls you up from the edge of the bed toward the headboard.

You wrap your legs around her slim waist and cling to her strong shoulders, still breathless and dizzy from your last orgasm. You try to look away when you mewl pathetically at the sudden stimulation caused by those movements, but those beautiful gray eyes of hers are locked on yours- and they're hungry.

She lies your head down on the pillows and grips the bottom of your thighs, pushing them against the sides of your chest and leaving you completely open to her. She lowers her head and brings her mouth to the soft junction where your neck and shoulder meet.

You're foolish to think she'll simply place a kiss there. You should know better after so many nights with her. Yet, when you feel her sink her teeth into your flesh, you can't help the surprised gasp that pulls from your throat. It quickly turns to a quiet whimper as she sucks and licks the mark, soothing the pain and replacing it with undeniable pleasure.

Just as your eyes flutter shut, she presses her lips against your ear.

"Ready?" She husks.

You're never ready. Never prepared for what she'll do to you next, because it's wildly different every time. But you'll never say no. Not just because you agreed to provide such services, but because your body aches for her. You yearn for that new high you reach every time she takes you. So you give her a meek nod and prepare yourself for yet another sinfully intense round of pleasure.

She fucks you in every position, never the same one twice. Uses any one of her vast collection of faux cocks, those deliciously thick fingers, or that wickedly talented mouth of hers.

She never asks you to do anything to her, not directly. She's always more than satisfied with just being the one to pull orgasm after orgasm from your body. To simply watch the way you fall apart beneath her.

And the aftercare? Top. Notch. Arguably just as addicting as the sex itself.

Lying with your head against the pillows, right where she left you after fucking you senseless, you watch in a daze as Sevika gently cleans you up with a warm, wet cloth. She's so incredibly careful as she wipes you where you're most abused- albeit wonderfully so- and overly sensitive. It warms your heart to see this large woman, who was railing you into oblivion moments earlier, now being so contrastingly tender.

Once she's finished, she crawls over your body, her massive frame completely shadowing yours. It should be unnerving, but it's the complete opposite as she begins placing soft, sweet kisses over each and every mark she left on your body. Every bite. Every hickey. Every bruise. Every scratch. Nothing is left unattended.

Then, once she's nearly lulled you to sleep with her sweet ministrations, she lies on her side next to your limp body. With her head propped up in a hand and a lopsided grin on her face, she gazes down at you and simply admires your fucked out expression.

"You did so well for me, sweetheart" she whispers, voice still husky, and you're certain that if you weren't so damn tired, she'd have you again. But she knows when to stop. When you've had all you can handle. She won't push you. There's clearly more to this for her than just the great sex and a pretty accessory for her arm.

"So beautiful," she says softly as she traces a finger along your brows. Her gray eyes drop to your mouth as she runs her thumb over your slightly parted lips. "And sweet," she adds before lowering her head to seal your lips with hers.

Your arrangement quickly becomes a bit too frequent to be considered just something transactional. She still pays, handsomely, to the point that you can even afford to quit your job. And not only that, you need to quit because before you know it, you're with her more than you're not and there's no time for another job. Not that you're complaining. You'd gladly be her permanent sugar baby.

[winniemaywebber]

oh bestie those domestic prompts are so sweet!!! Could I request 19 for Jean & Harry and 11 for Olive & Dougie?

hi pookie!!!! sorry for taking so long <3

under the cut to save space. from this prompt list (inbox is still open for these!)

19. I feel so safe and warm in our cozy little nest - Jean x Harry

“I need that heading, Crosby. NOW!”

“Yes, sir, yes, sir,” he shrieks, fumbling with the maps in front of him. “Aaah, fuck!”

“Croz!” Dougie yells. “Come on, man! Figure it out, we're going down fast.”

“I'm trying, Douglass!”

“CROSBY!” It's Kidd this time, his voice coming across as sharp as his features. Crosby jumps; a yelp would have escaped his mouth if he hadn't controlled it.

“256. TWO-FIVE-SIX.��

All Harry can think of is Jean receiving that damn letter. Who would write it? Bubbles? Harding? For a moment, whatever they had to say about him didn't matter. He imagines his wife's sweet face crumpling as her heart breaks, reading the notice of death. He feels his heart drop, the fort hitting an air pocket, Blakely and Kidd keeping the fort level with all their might. Then, a voice.

“Prepare for crash landing. Get in position!”

Harry Crosby ungracefully sits himself on the hard floor, his coccyx taking a hit, the rush of pain making him sick to his stomach. James Douglass sits behind him, tugging him back towards his chest. He hears the small clank of metal, ragged, anxious breathing as Douglass pulls the tags out of his shirt and kisses the one that bears his girl's name. As they tear and scrape through foliage, there is only one thing on Harry's mind. His eyes squeezed shut, tears spilling out, he begins to yell like a lost little boy, his throat tearing.

“JEAN! JEAN! JEAN–”

“Bing! Wake up, my love, shhh. You're at home. You're in our bed, darling.”

A sheen of cold sweat has covered his entire body. His wife's beautiful brown eyes full of concern as she hovers above him, wiping away the hair that has stuck to his head.

“Again?” he groans, taking her hand and kissing it.

“Yes, darling, again. You were calling for me.”

“Damn Bremen,” he sniffs, flipping his pillow as Jean softly wipes at his brow with a cool wash cloth.

“There, Binger. Deep breaths now.”

“Thank you, my little wife. Thank you.”

She smiles softly, her cheeks glowing in the dim light of the room. “Remember what our friend Olive taught us,” she sighs, pulling back the bedsheets to join her husband again. “Count to ten.” She sees him mentally count, breathing much less ragged than a moment before. “Better?”

“Much,” he murmurs, eyes heavy again. He feels Jean pull more blanket around his body, tucking him in and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, darling.”

“You're welcome. Remember, you are home. And I am right here beside you.”

“I know. I feel so safe and warm in our cozy little nest.”

“Good. Sleep now, my love.”

He lifts his head from the pillow, beginning to nuzzle himself into Jean’s neck. He breathes her in, arms wrapping around her as he feels himself drift off, absolutely cocooned in love.

11. Every morning I fall in love with you all over again - Olive x Dougie

A feeble cry echoes from across the bedroom, shocking Olive out of her unconsciousness. A gasp leaves her, heart pounding from the sudden transition of deep sleep to awake. Beside her, her husband wakes with a shocked snort, head rising from the pillow quickly.

“I've got her,” he sniffs, rubbing his eyes quickly.

“No, it's okay,” Olive replies, rubbing Dougie’s shoulder to soothe him back to sleep. “It's my turn anyway.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice muffled by the pillows.

“Yes,” she nods, kissing him on the cheek. “We'll see you when you come downstairs. I'll make coffee as the bottle heats up.”

“You're a dream, Mrs Douglass.”

She giggles, padding over to the small crib at the other end of the room. There, a small swaddled bundle cries mournfully, feeling awful sorry for herself and her gassy, hungry tummy.

“Hello, little chicken,” Olive speaks quietly, scooping the baby up. “Good morning. What a good sleep, hm? Papa swaddled you up good. Cozy girl, huh?” The baby's snuffles are muffled as she snuggles in Olive’s neck, the very same way her father does when he wants to be held. “Come on, little one,” she murmurs. “Let's get breakfast.”

With coffee brewed and baby Sophia’s first bottle of the day warmed to her exact preference, Olive sits in the cozy armchair with her daughter, using one finger to stroke at her face as she drinks heartily.

“Slow down, Sophia,” Olive urges, seeing Sophia's blue eyes - the same sapphire blue as her Papa's - begin to grow heavy.

“There,” Olive coos, feeling herself begin to doze too. “All done now.” She holds the baby to her chest, the warmth of tiredness enveloping her and catching her off guard, willing her eyes to try and stay open so she can properly kiss her husband goodbye before he leaves for work. The inner protestations are useless, Olive asleep with her chin resting on the baby's head.

She feels a blanket being draped around them both, and a soft hand raking through her loose curls. “Hey, mama,” James greets in a soft whisper, the hand now gently stroking his daughter’s deliciously chubby cheeks. “You look cozy.”

“We are,” she breathes. “Didn't even know I was still tired.” Patting the baby's back as she stirs at the sound of Dougie’s voice. The pair shush her gently, both of their hands colliding as they comfort their baby simultaneously. Olive looks up at him, lips pouted for her goodbye kiss when she sees his features begin to soften.

“What is it?” she asks, eyes narrowing comically before reaching up to kiss him.

“Just this. I love it. I see this and every morning I fall in love with you all over again.”

Noses touching, they smile, looking down at the small baby in Olive’s arms.

“I can't believe she's finally here. It's just surreal.”

“It really is. And it's perfect.”