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I see your Huge Chubby 99th Percentile Hollanov Baby, and I raise you this:
Little Preemie Hollanov Baby
(this will be a little vague so you can interpret it as mpreg, surrogacy, or adoption)
Shane and Ilya's baby is born early, unexpectedly and suddenly. They're in the hospital before they can fully accept that today, they become fathers.
She is born, and she is little, not quite 5 pounds (~2.2kg). Everything about her seems even smaller when Shane and Ilya get to hold her. Miniscule fingers and toes. Teeny ears. She is so, so small in their arms.
The doctors informs them that she will need to stay at the hospital longer, and based on her chest movements, her lungs are likely underdeveloped, and she will need to be in the NICU.
At that point, all Shane and Ilya can do it look at their little girl through a pane of glass, sensors taped on all of her extremities, canula pressed into her nose, incubator keeping her warm and protected. Yes, they get the hold her when they visit, but every day they go home with no baby.
Shane doesn't sleep. He's up at all hours trying to make some sort of plan to make this all go away. He's going in circles with research about premature babies, risks, recovery, growth charts, gaining weight, healthy newborn indicators, respiratory distress, NICU infection rates, home newborn medical care, caring for preemie babies, baby-parent bonding stages. All he needs is a plan. A course of action. But the doctors inform him that they need to play care by ear. If Baby responds well, then she will go home, but he can't say for certain when she will be okay to leave the NICU.
Ilya is the opposite. He retreats into himself. He sleeps almost too much. When they go to the hospital, the thought of seeing and holding his daughter nearly gives him a panic attack. He will only make it worse, do something that will hurt her or make her sick. This was probably his fault to begin with. He doesn't know what he would have done, maybe just karma, but Ilya knows he played some role in Baby's less than perfect first days of life. He finds comfort in being able to leave Baby in the NICU because she is safer there than in his arms.
They're both powerless, a feeling neither of them find any solace in.
Then the day comes. Baby is coming home.
They strap her into her car seat, and despite pulling the straps as tight as they will go, they still seem loose. Everyone is packed into the Land Rover, Shane driving and Ilya in the back with Baby. Shane drives like a grandma, and every little bump or brake, he's looking in the rearview and asking Ilya is Baby is okay.
"Yes Shane, she is okay."
"I didn't see that swell in the pavement. Are you sure?"
"She is asleep. She has been asleep entire drive."
When they arrive home, Anya is losing her mind because Dads are home! They were gone! So long! Time to play! What are you holding? What are you holding? What are you holding? What are you holding?
Ilya holds Anya as still as he can manage as Shane gingerly sets the car seat carrier on the floor. Anya is whining and stomping her feet, desperate to investigate this strange creature. Ilya continues to hold her as he slowly guides her to Baby.
And Anya is all sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff "No kisses, Anya" sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff "Gentle!" sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff
Moving her from the car seat to the bouncer is like defusing a bomb. There's a lot of "support her head! Her neck!" and "is everything out of the way?" and "slow... Slow... Is she okay?" When they finally get her safety in there, Shane and Ilya kinda just stare at her. Baby is asleep, moving occasionally. Maybe this will be okay.
Yuna and David come over of course and are so delighted with the tiny bundle of joy. They're talking about bottles and diaper sizes and kid proofing the house. Unfortunately, the majority of the baby clothes Shane and Ilya got, include Shane's handmedowns are too big for baby currently, but she'll grow! Speaking of growing, did you set up your next pediatrics appointment? Did the doctor say anything about a weight gain schedule? What about vaccines? Have you looked into preschools? The good ones have ling wait lists.
Their whirlwind conversation is interrupted when Baby starts to cry, then it's all hands on deck to check on her, prepare bottle, feed her, no not like that tip the bottle more, support her head! Okay now burps why won't she burp? Do we need to call the hospital? Does she need her diaper changed? Where are the smallest diapers? How do you swaddle? She's escaped again!!
Shane and Ilya eventually post a baby announcement picture of one of them holding Baby, and the fan base goes crazy because she looks extra EXTRA small tucked into their muscular arms.
And before there's a bunch of "link pls 🩷" "omg someone write this!" "I need a fic!" I'M WORKING ON IT OKAY! Fanfics are a labor of love geeeez
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Scribbled the rest of the gang, trying to familiarise myself with 'em somewhat. Funnily enough, it started with Sam, and then quite literally spiralled out of control. Happy update day, guys, EEHEE HEE, EEHEE HEE!!!!!!
butch!agatha accidentally makes reader squirt for the first time and reader really shy and embarrassed about it, only to find that butch!agatha is into it and thinks it's hot
thank you :3
Hey, Anon! I've been letting this brew in my ask and you know what, today is the day to let it see the light. You're very welcome and enjoy!💙🍩
Music inspo: Fight For All The Wrong Reasons - Nickelback, Animals - Nickelback, Next Contestant - Nickelback, Someone That You're With - Nickelback, Just For - Nickelback
Tip Jar💰
*Don't like the warnings? Don't read! 😊
Agnes had been teasing you all day.
From the second you got to work, your phone had blown up with messages from her. Some of them cheesy and stupid; memes that were obviously outdated but still deemed funny by her. This was, you reminded yourself, came from a woman who still had Candy Crush on her phone.
Until those cutesy messages turned dirty real fucking quick.
You had to put your phone screen down on your desk for the rest of the afternoon and prayed that your mind didn't want too far away from you that it would be unbearable.
The last thing you fucking needed was to be caught with your hand down your pants while on the clock because your girlfriend was sending you lengthy descriptive paragraphs about the way she wanted to press her tongue to you and how she wanted to fill you up with her fingers.
It was like walking through a landmine.
You managed to get through the rest of the afternoon without any hiccups. Grabbing your phone from the desk to shove into your coat pocket, you gather up your things to head home for the evening.
Agnes' home.
You had been living with her for just over a month now and you highly doubted you were going to go back to your own little apartment near her favorite coffee shop in Westview.
It was how you had met her.
Knowing your apartment was now sitting empty, you knew that once the least was up you were certain there wasn't going to be a need for renewal.
Agnes O'Connor became a dead-set relationship and there was a very rare chance of going back to a life without her.
You check your phone once more before getting into your car and see a rather recent text from Agnes. You hold your breath as you open it and you swear if you weren't standing beside a hunk of metal on wheels to support you, your knees would have given out.
Agnes had beaten you home.
You don't know how and you don't know why but the image she had sent was almost unbearable and you seriously wondered if you should drive over the speed limit the entire ride home.
You wanted to be devoured by her with nothing left. No notion of time or space; your legs and arms rendered useless. Your brain and mind are a pile of mush in your skull.
Agnes brought out this side of you you had no idea was there; something deep and intimate and innate.
You throw open the car door and get inside. You're out of the work parking lot in seconds and never let your foot ease off of the gas. The image of Agnes in nothing but her flannel shirt and boxers with an obvious bulge behind them, lounging on your side of the bed with what looked to be (even though you knew it in your heart) a pair of your underwear in her hand was just something a little extra.
Something a little daring even for Agnes.
It had only been a little over a month.
You pull up into the driveway in record time; parking and basically jumping out of the car. You leave your work bag on the passenger seat and for once, don't worry about tomorrow.
All you need is lying in wait for you inside of that house in front of you; up the stairs and to the right.
You dig out the key Agnes had made for you and unlock the front door, slam it shut behind you so you know she'll know you're finally home to her.
You kick off your shoes and drop your coat to the ground; the keys in your pocket make a thud. You don't care that you're leaving things in a mess, in a rush. You pull your sweater up over your head before you even hit the stairs to go up.
You leave your bra on however. You know how much she loves pushing her hands up underneath it; grabbing fistfuls in a heated urgency you had never seen in anyone but her.
There isn't any time to fucking waste and you want Agnes to see the urgency in you; the need to be fucked within seconds of walking into her bedroom.
You hear Agnes cough and the slight adjustment on the bed as the box springs creaks in a way that's become familiar to you now. You smile to yourself as you make your way to the door frame and stop before crossing the threshold.
She's exactly how she was in the picture she sent you; the purple pair of underwear still tight in her left fist.
"You're not usually home this early."
"You don't usually send me a picture of yourself that creates an instant wet spot in my underwear but here we are..."
The air in the room was charged and there was no other way around what was about to happen.
Agnes had been dangling a carrot in front of you all goddamn day and you had taken the bait on her final push.
You close the gap from the door to her bed as you get on top of her. It's only then that she realizes you're without a shirt; her eyebrows knitting together and that beautiful crease between her brows reveals.
You lean down towards her to gently kiss that spot and her hands rush up just like you knew they would; fingers wriggling underneath your bra to grab and squeeze and push the fabric away from your skin.
You seethe through your teeth as you suck air and revel in the sensation of her rough hands all over your skin. You lift yourself away from her to get a better look of her underneath you.
You take the time to roll your hips ever so slightly to rub against the bulge in her boxers.
"Fuck..."
Agnes hisses through her teeth as she grabs a little harder and uses the moment to push herself up. She uses her right leg to push against your side to help you roll over onto the bed. You follow her lead and find yourself both underneath Agnes and your bra pushed up over your tits.
The detective doesn't bother helping you remove it as her hands move lower not higher; yanking down your slacks over your ass to get what she really wants.
You feel those same hands that were just on your breasts push past the band of your underwear because you know the detective needs to see for herself if you were lying or not.
You watch it with utmost pleasure as her expression changes over to something you can only describe as pleased.
Her fingers had made contact with your wet cunt; fingers dragging over your skin and the wet patch in the crotch of your underwear.
"You really couldn't wait until you got home, huh?"
"It was a wet drive."
Agnes snorts through her nose as she pulls her hand out from your underwear and brings that hand up to her mouth. She licks herself clean and pretends not to notice the moan that's escaped your lips.
She keeps pushing you over that edge and she knows you love it.
Same hands, now wet from her saliva and your cum, pull your underwear down to meet your pants. Agnes shifts lower down your body; no longer directly on top of you know. Her body bends, folds low and her head dares to disappear between your thighs.
She looks up at you with those icy blue eyes and you moan again in response; your hips rolling towards her face with impatience.
"I want your fucking tongue inside of me..."
Your words are whispered but rushed; full of desperation as you continue to grind against the open air. You don't care how this makes you look or sound but the mere image of Agnes eating you out after the day you've had of dodging her horny texts was more than enough to plead for this release.
And she gave it to you because that was also part of the game she was playing.
Her left hand held your left thigh and pushed it wider so she could get her face properly aligned. The crown of her head and elastic that held her messy ponytail were all you could see from your angle as you felt her warm breath tickle your wet skin.
You knew this was going to fucking destroy you.
You knew you wanted this more than anything else in the world.
Agnes doesn't start with niceties as she closes her lips over your clit and starts to suck. Your hips buck in sudden reaction to the sensation that is almost too much all at once.
Sometimes Agnes would tease for hours until it felt like you were going to burst. This evening however, she went in right for the goddamn kill.
You keep your hips in motion as you grip onto the sheets beside you; knuckles turning white while your face blushes red. You let go of the deep breath you've been holding and feel your thighs start to shake under her grip; against the side of her head.
The messy hair that falls from her ponytail tickles the inside of your thigh but it's all overshadowed by the way her lips and tongue continue to work. The suction only increases and grows more desperate; rough in its nature.
You hear Agnes breath heavily in through her nose before she lifts her head and breathes out through her mouth; gasping for fucking air before she bows her head back down to shove her tongue up your cunt.
You had been lucky you were looking down at her.
You hadn't missed the sheen that coated her lips and chin.
"Ohmyfuckinggod...Agnes...fuck..."
Your eyes close and your head falls back and the image of how messy Agnes is when she eats you is enough to almost send you over the edge.
The muscles in your body burn and your legs can't stop shaking. You need so desperately to let go, to come all over her face but you can't.
Not yet.
You still want to relish in how fucking good Agnes' tongue feels deep inside of you; licking and coaxing you. Tasting you and only you on her tongue.
You feel her shift ever so slightly and that grab at your thigh turns to her nails digging into your soft skin. You whine loudly, desperately at the sudden infliction of pain.
You push your thighs a little harder against the side of her face as retaliation for her roughness.
She only uses that as an excuse to go deeper; as deep as she possibly can. Her nose is pressed against your skin and now and again, rubs against your already engorged and oversensitive clit.
The throbs of light start up behind your eyelids as your body goes rigid; the pressure in your body is no longer able to contain itself.
Your release is nothing like you've ever had before.
You sit up to watch, half in horror and the other in curiosity.
The wetness between your legs and underneath you, now soaking through the sheets, was nothing you had ever felt before.
Not this much, not this wet.
You feel the warmth across your face and realize it's not a fluster of arousal but shame. Your hands release from the sheets to come up and try to hide your eyes as you both feel and hear Agnes lifting up from between your legs.
You don't want to see her expression; afraid that you had done something embarrassing.
The gentle tap on the inside of your thigh gives you the courage to pull your hands away and look at your girlfriend.
"Did you know you could do that?!"
Agnes is out of breath as her words fly out from her mouth. She's soaked; the sheen is no longer visible. Instead, it looks as if she's simply splashed water over her face.
"...I'm not even sure what I just did...what the fuck was that? I've never done that before! I swear!"
Frantic, your voice raises higher in pitch as you sit up a little more. Everything in your body is telling you to run and hide. There's no coming back from this now.
"Never, ever?"
Agnes' tone doesn't sound mad or even disgusted and it's from that you start to slowly settle down. Your heart still hammers away but there's at least a glimmer of hope as Agnes raises up from between your legs and gives you the slyest, coyest grin as she licks her lips.
"Ever."
Agnes breathes hard through her nose as she nods her head and you can see from the look in her eyes that she's quite literally gathering up her strength to bow back down and start it all up again.
"Fuck, Baby...I didn't take you for a fucking squirter but holy fuck, that was hot."
Your mouth opens to try and formulate some sort of explanation, some sort of response but you're met with those daring blue eyes before they disappear back down along with the rest of Agnes between your legs.
When I think about Mikey, this scene always comes to mind.
As soon as they step foot in the library to save Mayhem, Angelo instantly disqualifies himself…hilariously.
On first watch, I found it interesting that he made this decision with no hesitation, especially given the stakes.
At the time I just resigned to him being a silly silly boy, but now I know better.
Yet, before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s explore who Mikey is.
Michelangelo Hamato is the youngest turtle in the family, and it shows.
Consequently, he seems to possess a certain “youngest brother privilege" that his other brothers just can’t help but reinforce. This is the role that Mikey was born into. Therefore, he doesn’t have to push himself to be the smartest, or cleverest, or strongest turtle.
Instead, he decides to be the artist of the family. He’s a creative! He expresses himself everywhere, from stickers on his own shell, to tagging the lair, as well as on paper. The world is his canvas!
Michelangelo also expresses himself in virtually everything he does, so it’s easy to understand why he’s the most open, honest, caring, and emotionally expressive turtle of the bunch. To some it could be seen as a weakness, yet Mikey uses his emotional intelligence as a pillar of strength, of which he utilizes to uphold his brothers when they need support the most.
In the show, Michelangelo often takes on certain personas; Doctor Feelings and Doctor Delicate Touch.
(For some reason, they are all doctors, but that’s beside the point.)
At first glance, the personas could be seen as silly bouts of make-believe. But I think that placing these roles upon himself for his brothers' sake is Michelangelo’s way of helping them cope with the world by offering them what they each individually lack.
For instance, Raph, Leo, and Donnie have trouble voicing their discomforts when someone does something they don’t like.
In other words, they have trouble putting their foot down.
But here is Mikey to the rescue!
Dr. Delicate Touch has no such hang-ups.
Similarly, when Donatello runs into trouble, as he is unable to recognize his own emotions, it’s up to Doctor Feelings to help his desperate client in need.
Through taking on these roles, Mikey is able to support his brothers and fill the emotional gaps in his teammates, which, inevitably makes them all stronger.
How is Mikey able to do this and how does he have the strength to take on these roles?
You could think that it’s just in his character, meaning, it’s just how he is. I don’t think so, though. He’s a free thinker, and a creative, but there’s something about these roles that is specifically catered to the needs of his family.
Then I realized, the only reason that Mikey is able to help his brothers in this way is because they first helped him.
Let me explain.
All four of the boys grew up in the same household. Although Splinter tried his very best (there is no Splinter hate here), a single depressed parent doth not a stable child make. Raphael struggled with the burden of his responsibilities as an ad hoc leader (see Being Big Red), Leo struggled with expressing his natural talents as a middle child (see Being Baby Blue), all while Donnie struggled with carving out his place on the team and his feelings of uselessness (see Being Purple Part One and Part Two).
Well, what does Mikey struggle with?
In my humble opinion, nothing.
The struggles of his brothers all related to each turtle coming to terms with themselves and coming to terms with their place on the team.
Yet, due to the love and support of his brothers and father, Michelangelo never had to ask himself if he belonged, struggle with his role on the team, or make huge life-changing decisions that could affect everyone.
Michelangelo is free to just be Michelangelo.
And as a free spirit who is completely in tune with his own emotions, he is able to do things like this:
and this,
and this.
Let’s get back to the scene in the library.
Angelo sees the high stakes of his friend’s pet disappearing forever if they fail but makes the decision to disqualify himself anyway. Why? Because he knows that no matter what he does, it will all be ok.
He has complete faith in his brothers and their ability to solve the problem at hand, so he might as well have some fun.
This not the first time he’s come to this conclusion.
Through out this entire scene, Michelangelo plays in the background.
It’s scenes like this that makes me believe that Mikey’s faith in his family knows no bounds.
Altogether, his brothers and his father were everything he needed to become who he is. Reciprocally, he is free to be everything that they need him to be and more.
Over…
and over,
and over again
he trusts them completely.
And through this unwavering trust in his family, he is able to trust himself and his instincts. He knows that with everything they’ve poured into him, he can save them from, well, everything. Over…
and over…
and over again.
Hence, due to all of this evidence, I believe that through the collective love of his family, Michelangelo became the best version of the Hamato spirit, and thus, the best Mystic Warrior of all time.
All because, he’s Orange, baby!
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Previous | Being Big Red • Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two
