#Joint Pain Relief for Dogs

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it. 

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something. 

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken. 

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel." 

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for. 

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge. 

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" 

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration. 

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring. 

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me." 

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you. 

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch. 

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708. 

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda. 

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.” 

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.” 

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?” 

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.” 

“Miguel, what the fuck—” 

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.” 

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.” 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?” 

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.” 

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?” 

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?” 

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal. 

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count. 

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you. 

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side. 

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat. 

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste. 

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core. 

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo." 

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass. 

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had. 

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

#spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction

[lethalchiralium]

Three hours. Three straight hours of screaming and you were itching for the moment Simon walked in from work. You loved little Mellie being this small, but teething all night and day has you physically and mentally drained. You never remembered Winnie being difficult at all, but Mellie was pulling, kicking, biting, and screaming. Your gentle little baby was in pain and was temporarily a rabid dog with no teeth poking through.

The best weapon you had to combat Mellie’s reign of terror was a frozen teething ring, her little eyes pricked with tears. She couldn’t even look at you, she looked anywhere but you as the time ticked down - you were desperate to hear Simon’s footfalls. Mellie still squealed with pain, little hands gripped the teething ring for dear life.

Simon was on cue at that point, the short walk across the porch to the door opening, relief flooded through you before dread, realizing your mistake. As soon as Mellie saw Simon, her hands threw down the teething ring and she let out a blood-curdling screech, hands out and tears running down her face. You held her out a little, Simon didn’t even take off his shoes to come pluck his daughter from your hold. You bent down and grabbed the ring, expecting to have to hear Mellie scream for another few hours - but her voice quieted when you stood back up.

You grew agitated when you watched Mellie silence, all because she was staring at her dad’s face with curiosity.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

Your eyes stung with tears. “Get her to settle like that instantly.”

“You’re a part of her right now, love. The whole ‘Mum is an extension of me’ thing.” He placed the joint of his pointer finger on Mellie’s gums, allowing her to gnaw on his hand with drool dripping down his arm. “She sees you as a part of her, so when she sees me, she sees her dad. She thinks baby and Mum are one.”

You took a breath there, comforted by his words. You gave him a nod, letting tears fall as you spoke, “I’m so tired, Simon.”

His hand reached up and rested on your cheek, wiping away tears. “I know. I’ll handle the rascals and dinner.”

You melted into his touch for just a moment before pulling him to you - Mellie slobber barely grazing your face as he kissed you, kissed your cheek and forehead. His dark eyes kept their unwavering stare, like always, but it carried a warm undertone.

“Go rest, love. I mean it.” Another kiss to your lips and he pushed you away towards the staircase, not without a gentle rub on your back.

#happiness series #happiness #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley call of duty

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ PICK UP, DAMMIT. ❞

— suggestive beginning (it's not what you think), jealous satosugu if u squint, shoko x reader (?), poly! satosugu verse, thinking about calling her sho..........constantly

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ i bought a wax kit recently and it was the worst pain just ever, kms

“O-ow, fuck!”

“Shoko, please, not so har- ah!”

“Do you need me to go slower?,” she asks with hints of a mocking tone.

“…No, it's fine. Just stop pulling them so hard, I can't take it.”

"Aw, come on. I could be much rougher than this, ya know?"

"Sho, cut it out!"

She laughs as you suck in a deep breath, giving her a look that says you’re ready, and Shoko yanks upwards in one swift motion. Yelps fill the air, loud and a lot, like you’re a kicked dog. The pain eases when you slap a palm over the skin, soothing the burn. Shoko pats your head to console you, though the way she looks into your eyes is also a little patronizing, teasing. Your phone buzzes nearby.

“Only a little more to go, ya ready?”

“Shit, I guess.” You roll the joint of your arm to reduce the soreness in your shoulder. This was taking a lot longer than you’d planned.

“Alright, I’ll count down this time.” Taking hold of the wax strip, Shoko catches your gaze before speaking. “3…2…” You inhale and brace yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “1!”

Another cry as she yanks the remaining wax away from your armpit, setting it down on your leg and placing a gentle hand on the burning skin. Your head falls back as relief floods your system. A deep sigh frees itself from your lungs.

“Finally.” You blow out a breath, traces of a whistle come out with it. “That shit hurt.”

“I told you it was gonna be bad. But nooo,” Shoko rolls her eyes as she coats your armpit in the after-wax spray. “Big, bad y/n didn’t wanna listen to little ol’ me.”

“Shut up.” You elbow her in the side. Your phone buzzes again, and there’s a knock on the door before Shoko can comment on it.

“Is that them?,” she asks. “Damn, did they run over here?”

You pick up your phone and read the pile of texts, mostly from Gojo, that they sent after your last reply.

sugar🫶🏾: ???

pretty boy!!💙: WTF

pretty boy!!💙: NO WAY IN HELL

pretty boy!!💙: WE CAN DO A WAY BETTER JOB

sugar🫶🏾

missed facetime video call

sugar🫶🏾: y/n r u being serious rn…?

pretty boy!!💙: SHE BETTER NOT BE

(After you never answered)

4 missed calls from pretty boy!!💙 1 missed call from sugar🫶🏾

pretty boy!!💙: PICK UP DAMMIT

pretty boy!!💙: BABY YOU CAN’T LEAVE US HANGING LIKE THIS

sugar🫶🏾: im coming over

pretty boy!!💙: ME TOO

Shoko giggles at the texts over your shoulder, both of you ignoring the rapid knocking at your door. “Why are they so worried, did they want to help you try out your new kit that bad?”

A smile spreads on your face. “I told them you were giving me a Brazilian.”

tagz: @anthoosies @staryukis @mysugu

#it took me like fifteen mins for one armpit…..terrible #me hyping myself up going ‘I’m not a coward I’m not a bitch’ #only for tears to start forming when I tried to pull….embarrassing #satosugu x reader drabble #shoko x reader #poly! satosugu #jjk x reader #shoko x reader drabble #suguru geto imagine #satoru gojo imagine #shoko ieiri imagine #jjk imagine

[champawattigress]

I have personally witnessed so many instances of pet owners forcing beloved animals to continue living far beyond the point of their quality of life hitting zero that the whole "Deux Face" situation was absolutely nothing new to me, except for the wave of genuine nausea I experienced at the social media reaction to her existence.

I can honestly say that I feel a palpable sense of relief, knowing that that calf is no longer being forced to live in that condition, and there's no amount of "well, she had vet care!" or "it doesn't seem like she's in pain!" that would have mollified me. I have been in hundreds of QoL consults with clients who parrot the exact same sentiments while their animal lies, completely recumbent and unresponsive, on the examination table. It's the exact same thing, except compounded by the ghoulish addition of the calf's value as a sideshow act.

Any normal presenting newborn calf that failed to thrive as she did would have been euthanized on welfare grounds long before the 26 day mark. A dairy calf is literally supposed to be able to walk away from its birthing site, a calf whose only developmental milestone was that it "can kinda lift its head" is a calf that has something inherently wrong with it. If Deux Face wasn't deformed in a way that makes well-meaning assholes spout that stupid poem, then she probably would have been put out of her misery ages ago. I keep thinking of the grotesque congenital deformities that domestic cattle can present with, twisted spines and fused joints and extreme hydrocephalus and cleft palates, and how, if Deux Face had presented with QoL reducing examples of any of those conditions, people wouldn't have even batted an eye at her euthanasia. She was literally forced to keep on living, just so people could keep "consuming" her continued existence. She was forced to live, not because it was to her benefit, but for the benefit of the farm, who romanticised and profited from her, and the benefit of idiots who think a goddamn newborn calf should be a source of inspiration in their own lives.

The people on this site who mourned that we didn't get to gawk at this animal a little longer disgust me. The only difference between you and the woman who keeps her 19 year old constant DKA, cushingoid, and severely arthritic Shih Tzu alive is that she, at least, has the excuse that this is an animal she has loved and cared for for decades. She's blinded by love, and needs to be counselled towards the realisation that the dog's existence is now more for her benefit than his. You're just upset that there are no more juicy pics of a recumbent, half-dead calf that you can caption with "TWice aS MaNY STArs As UsuaL!!!!!" in goofy ass fonts.

The only sad thing about Deux Face's death is that it took so long. Fight me on it, I don't care. Your gross parasocial relationship with a dying farm animal you've never met was not worth that animal's enforced suffering.

#vet stuff #i guess #dunno if i should tag this as deux face #bc im pretty sure if the people in complaining about find this post #theyll take my skin

[magneto-was-fucking-right]

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 8

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; explicit sexual content; unprotected sex;

Chapter Summary: In which Simon and his neighbour exchange confessions (and bodily fluids).

Word Count: 3.9K

Come Monday evening, Simon Riley found himself facing his hardwood floors, strong, firm biceps holding him steady in a strong plank. 

The heavy rain splattered loudly against his windows, the howling winter wind unrelenting against the building’s edges. He had turned the small heater on hours ago, but he knew if he wasn’t settling his daily score of push-ups he would be freezing regardless.

Johnny had left the previous evening, taking the overly excited pup out of his neighbor’s hands, and Simon had busied himself with deep cleaning the flat, finishing the day with some much needed exercise to take the edge off. He both loathed and yearned for the anxious nerves bubbling in his stomach everytime he thought about his last encounter with the young woman next door.

He had found no relief in the familiar touch of his own hand, nothing nearly satisfying enough to keep his mind from wandering back to her kitchen, and the wetness coating his fingers inside her warmth. 

He felt his cock twitch in his sweatpants once again, permanently hard with the worst case of blue balls he had ever experienced, since he first felt her eager grip around his base, and the languid strokes that had almost brought him over the edge. Johnny hadn’t shut up about having caught them in the middle of something, despite Simon’s unyielding denial and threats to dump his corpse over the canal, and he knew he would never let it go.

He pulled himself off the floor, joints popping semi-painfully as he checked his watch.Simon couldn’t deny the unsettling concern twisting in his stomach as he checked the time again: Riley should have been home at least an hour ago. He admonished himself for having studied her routine so well, knowing she would most likely find it creepy, but as soon as he pulled his hoodie over his head, he heard her keys jiggle in the hallway.

As per their usual routine, he waited for her to be ready to spend some time with him, putting on his face mask and walking over to the stove, beginning to heat up dinner as he heard her move about. 

Was that…sniffling? 

He knew something was off the moment she meekly knocked on the door, and he wasn’t surprised to find tears rolling down her freckled cheeks, hair messy from the wind, still in her oversized scrubs reeking of cat piss.

“Bloody hell…” He recoiled from the stench. “Wha’ happened to you?”

“I had the worst day ever!” She cried weakly, shoulders slouched in defeat as Simon softly pulled her inside.

“I can see that, love.” He cocked his head to the right “Wanna talk about it?”

“I had to put down a puppy.” She sobbed into her hands and his heart broke at the pain in her voice, the way she trembled. “Then we got two feral cats to spay and one of them pissed all over me, I stepped on dog shit on the way home, got soaked from the rain because I forgot my umbrella and my hot water isn't working.”

She sighed, exhausted, and Simon waited patiently for her breaths to slow down, stepping closer carefully.

Then he wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, engulfing her in a loving embrace that had her head buried in his chest. At first she had resisted, palms pressed against the muscled span of his broad shoulders.

“Simon…I stink.” 

“So do I, love.” He muttered into her hair, holding her tighter until eventually she relaxed, sighing deeply at the comforting touch, her hands holding onto his hoodie as if she was afraid he would let go too soon. He wouldn’t.

“I ain’t very good with words.” He admitted, arms still secured around her back as she inhaled his scent, his chin propped up on her head. “But how about you take a shower here while I fix yours, and then we eat some dinner, yeah?”

“You can’t always be the one cooking, you know.” She frowned, lifting her head up to look at him.

“Nonsense. M’ home all day anyway.” His thumb wiped away stray tears, a gesture he had so quickly become accustomed to. “Besides, we both know I do it much better.”

“Asshole.” Riley giggled, wiping her nose, and Simon smiled under his mask in genuine happiness.

***

Riley Thomas crossed her arm over her chest, fully naked in her neighbor’s bathroom as she reached for the fluffy towel he had arranged for her. Her scrubs and underwear were discarded on a messy pile on the impressively clean tiles, and she grimaced at the view.

She shivered, freezing, despite the heater Simon had bothered to move to warm up the small space while she washed, quickly realizing she had forgotten to ask him to retrieve some of her own clothes.

“Simon?” She called out nervously from behind the door, but got no response. She sighed deeply before walking out into the hallway, towel wrapped tight around her body as she walked around the flat, trying to find him.

The decorations were overall scarce, most of the rooms in desperate need of a woman’s touch, but she couldn’t help being surprised at how immaculate he had left his home, so in contrast with the constant layer of dust and pet fur in her apartment.

She slowly walked into the last room at the end of the corridor, feeling vulnerable as she found his bedroom, just as tidy as the rest of the house. Simon was nowhere to be seen, but she felt oddly watched as she noticed a picture on top of a dresser, the dim light coming from the window barely enough to make out the silhouettes. She stepped closer, curiously.

Two very young boys smiling brightly, sitting on a young woman’s lap. A scrawny, odd looking man behind the three of them. The father, she figured. 

Riley marveled at the chubby blonde boy’s face, frozen in permanent happiness, big brown eyes so innocent and endearing. She lifted a finger absentmindedly, eager to touch the family portrait.

As her skin neared the cool glass, cased between the frame, a deep, gravely voice spoke, like a ghost in the shadows:

“I was 8. Tommy was still a little lad.” 

She startled, eyes snapping back to him, gripping the towel closer to her frame.

“I was looking for you.” She muttered, as a form of apology, but he didn’t seem even remotely upset.

“Just fixed your shower.” He lifted her apartment keys, turning on a small lamp and stepping closer, setting them down on top of the dresser.

“Did you check on Milo?”

“‘Course. Big geezer. Sleeping on your pillow.” Simon kept a respectful distance, but frowned at her bare feet on the cold floors.

“I forgot to ask you for my clothes.”

“Thought about’it. Didn't wanna touch your stuff without your permission, though.” He shrugged apologetically before pointing at his dresser. “Make yourself at home, take whatever you need.”

Riley turned away from his gaze shyly, looking over her shoulder at his room.

“Your bed is huge.”

“I’m a big man.”

“That you are.” Her eyebrow rose in delight as she quickly looked him up and down, and Simon didn’t miss the mischievous glint in her eyes at the double meaning of her words.

He blushed, trying his best to keep his eyes on her face, taking the initiative to pick warm, comfortable clothes for her to wear.

“Your mother is beautiful.” She spoke softly, careful of what her words might trigger.

Simon froze, silent for a whole minute, before he replied:

“That she was.” His heart ached at the thought, but Riley’s presence seemed to somewhat soothe the deep, unforgiving pain of grief. 

She went quiet, afraid she had overstepped some unspoken boundary, but Simon was quick to dismiss it as he passed her a pair of thick woolen socks.

“Put those on, before you catch yourself a cold.” 

“You know…I didn’t expect you to own face wash.” She tried to change the subject as she sat on his bed, dismissing his command.

Simon turned, offended.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know…big, broody, mysterious guy…just didn’t seem like the type to worry about skin care.” She shrugged, teasing him.

“I’ll let you know I have wonderful skin.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Who taught you about skin care?” Riley leaned back on her arms, less worried about holding the towel as she relaxed further into his bed.

“Why? You jealous?” 

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Maybe.”

“Hm.” Simon stepped closer, slowly kneeling in front of her bare legs. Her heart skipped a beat as his calloused fingers casually wrapped around her cold ankles, grabbing the socks and pulling them gently over each of her feet. 

“I’m not the one going on dates.” He fired back, and she felt her cheeks heat at the accusation, removing a foot from his grasp.

“Never thought it’d bother you.” 

“Never said it did.” He countered, heavy gaze challenging hers.

“Well, did it?”

“Did it what?”

“Bother you?”

He cocked his head to the right, considering his next words carefully. He was about to stand up, but she pressed her foot into his shoulder, holding him down. Simon’s breath quickened at the bold gesture, fingers digging deeper into her calf, teetering on the edge of self control.

“You’re a single woman.” He grumbled, noncommittally. “You’re free to do whatever you please.”

“That right?”

“Of course.”

“What if I want to do you?”

The tension between the two only deepened as she leaned forward, chest heaving under that damn towel he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

“Choices have consequences.” He muttered, gaze unfaltering as he gently grabbed her ankle and slowly lowered it from his shoulder. Instead, he yanked it forward, pulling the young woman closer to the edge of his mattress. If he so much as looked down he would have the perfect view of her naked sex, kneeling there so menacingly between her parted knees. His eyes, however, wouldn’t leave hers as he awaited for her next move.

Riley’s breath caught in her throat as she quickly held the towel against her breasts, legs trembling slightly. Goosebumps littered her skin as she bit her lip, considering his words.

“I want you.” She whispered, as if afraid the words would force him to retreat and hide behind his cold and detached demeanor. “I don’t care about anything else.”

“You should.” He leaned closer, fingers trailing up her calves and the back of her knees. “There’s lots of things you don’t know about me.”

She cradled his face carefully, looking down into his eyes so adoringly Simon felt his heart skip a beat. And then her fingers were hooked on the sides of his mask, pulling it down ever so carefully. He saw her hold her breath in anticipation.

A strong nose, probably broken one too many times, Riley noticed as she traced the small bump with her pointer finger. A massive scar that went all the way from his left ear to the underside of his chin, splitting the side of his chapped lips in a pinkish and white trail of skin. She felt her hand tremble as she softly grazed it with her nail, feeling his fingers gripping her legs tighter. Her thumbs caressed the sides of his stubbled, strong jaw as she admired his features in a trance.

“Then tell me.” She begged, face so close to his they were sharing avid breaths.

“For starters” His dark brown eyes finally moved down to her lips, incapable of facing her potential judgment “I’m 35 and I ain’t never been in a serious relationship. Not that there haven’t been any deserving women. I just thought they deserved better than me.”

Riley opened her mouth to speak, but he shushed her with a gentle finger to the lips, silently willing her to listen.

“Don’t have much of an education either. After I was done with school I was a butcher’s apprentice, and then I joined the army. All I was ever good for was a night of quick fun. No strings attached.” Simon admitted, large hands now back on her legs, rubbing soothing circles on the cooling skin.

“I don’t care.” She whispered, joining her forehead to his, fingers delving into his blonde locks.

“You’re not listening.”

“I am! I just-”

“I’ve killed people, Riley.”

Simon could physically feel the change in demeanor. He expected it. He noticed how her shoulders slouched, how dozens of questions flashed through her mind and her fiery persistence was considerably doused when faced with reality. People always preferred to ignore what being a soldier actually meant.

“I’m damn good at what I do.” Her fingers tightened in his scalp. “And my performance solely relies on the premise that I have nothing to lose. If I allow myself to indulge in this, as much as I’d love to - and trust me, I fuckin’ want to - I won’t be able to keep doin’ my job. And the job is all I know, all I’ve ever had.”

A long minute of silence ensued, their foreheads still joined together.

Simon’s stomach twisted with anxiety, and he could feel cold sweat starting to bead on his back. He was trying to mentally prepare for her rejection, but he realized he couldn’t. He had never cared this much about anyone before.

What he wasn’t expecting was the feel of her soft, tentative lips pressed against his own, cold on warm skin as her fingers locked him into place in a determined kiss. Simon groaned into her mouth, blood immediately rushing down as her tongue slowly explored his parted lips, fingers pulling on his scalp.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fight it any longer as Riley pulled him impossibly close, hands descending into the hem of his hoodie and tentatively roaming under the fabric. She sighed contently into his lips, feeling the firm muscle and the soft trail of hair she was so eager to explore.

She gasped, tilting her head back as his warm lips moved to her neck, calloused hands secured around her thighs, kneading the flesh slowly. With eyes shut, thoughts lost in the bliss of finally feeling his tender touch, Riley pulled down the towel, baring her round breasts and letting it pool on her navel.

Simon’s lustful gaze darkened, descending his trail of wet kisses all the way down to her collarbone, lovebites marked upon her cooling skin as his hand reached up to knead her tit.

“You sure about this?” he murmured against her skin.

“Are you gonna make me beg?” She sighed deeply in pleasure as his thumb and pointer finger rolled her peaked nipple carefully. He licked a long stripe between the valley of her breasts, humming softly with eyes shut as if he was savoring her taste, before his lips left sloppy kisses along her other mound.

“Maybe.” He teased, tongue darting out to circle her left nipple, wetting it for a few seconds before retreating as soon as he felt her fisting the comforter, a strangled moan barely having left her pretty lips. “I think I’d enjoy the sound of that.”

“Simon, please…”She whispered as he licked the other one, this time for longer, before suckling on it, a deep groan rumbling in his chest.

“I was right, I do enjoy it.” He taunted before sucking her tits patiently, and agonizingly slow.

Riley trembled under his touch, trying not to seem too desperate as warm slick pooled between her naked thighs, fingers tangling in his scalp and pulling roughly as he reached a particularly sensitive spot that made her walls clench.

“Fuck” She moaned as his mouth parted from her chest, thumbs rubbing circles on her nipples, coated in his saliva. “Please…”

“Please what, love?” She sighed in desperate frustration, grinding her hips into the air when he pinched her sensitive skin.

“I need more.” She pawed at his hoodie, trying to pull it over his head.

“Greedy little thing.” Simon rumbled as he helped her strip his torso, a mass of muscle, scars and tattoos that left her breathless as her hands eagerly reached for his abdomen. But Simon wasn’t done yet, palm pressing against her chest, softly coaxing her to lay back down on the mattress.

“Simon…”

“Hm.” He grunted, lips already pressed into her inner thigh as he lifted her knees, placing her calves on each of his shoulders. He felt her legs tremble uncontrollably as he removed the towel from her lower body at once, exposing her glistening cunt, and making his half-hard cock twitch in his briefs.

“You don’t have to” She muttered as he sucked a hickey into her supple flesh, nearing the apex of her thighs, stubble tickling her sensitive skin. Riley’s fingers dug into the comforter, eyes shut in anticipation and nervousness as she felt his open mouthed kisses almost reach her folds.

“Don’ worry, love. This will be the best meal you’ll ever serve me.” She smiled shyly, cheeks heating at his gravely words.

Simon stuck out his tongue, but instead of placing it where she needed him most, he gave a series of slow, calculated licks to the delicate skin right next to her folds, as if he mimicked what he would do to her bundle of nerves in a few seconds. Riley whimpered at the tease, trying to wiggle her hips to reposition them under his mouth, but his hands held her down firmly.

“Where were we?”

“Huh?” She groaned in frustration, and he chuckled against her skin.

“With the begging.”

“Simon!” She whined as he licked around her folds once again, humming contently as he avoided the center of her sex. “Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please, eat me out!” She sighed deeply, cheeks bright red at the filthy words, but the embarrassment was quickly forgotten as he placed a delicate kiss on her clit, slowly building it up with languid movements of his tongue, side to side, as if he was making out with her cunt.

Riley let out a strangled moan, slack jawed and back arching from the bed as he carefully kissed, licked, and sucked on her soaked folds, tongue circling the small bud expertly, before moving down and teasing her entrance. Her hand reached down blindly, and he was quick to hold it with his own, fingers interlacing as he lapped at her sex hungrily.

The young woman was burning up under his touch, breath quickening too soon, too easily, and she felt embarrassed at how fast she’d crumble if he kept up his ministrations.

“Simon..”A warning.

“Hm.” He grunted into her, lost in her pleasure before he aimed his tongue lower and licked her from hole to hole, and then hole to hole to clit.

“Oh fuck.” She moaned loudly, and he hummed in approval, repeating the action again and again until he felt her tightening her grip on his hand, the other hand firmly gripping his locks.

“Please.” She begged, and he couldn’t refuse, using his thumb to collect the wetness at her entrance and sinking it into her tight hole slowly.

“I’m gonna cum.” Her voice broke, chest heaving.

“I know.” He latched his mouth onto her swollen clit, tongue gliding on it from side to side in quick movements as his calloused thumb slowly massaged her inside.

The pleasure blinded her as she reached her peak. The way her whole body trembled at once, toes curling and breath caught in her throat, back arched as she fisted his hair painfully tight. Simon didn’t care, he didn’t stop for one second, even when his tongue began cramping.

At last, Riley grabbed his shoulders, still panting as she reached for him, and he made an effort to get off his knees.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He groaned as his joints popped painfully.

She was already grinning and giggling as he held her gaze.

“Not a word, kid.” He warned and she laughed even harder, reaching her arms up for him to join her.

Simon pulled down his sweatpants and briefs, rock hard cock springing free before he carefully placed his body on top of hers, forearms bracing his weight.

“Hello, love.” He kissed her nose tenderly, before kissing her cheeks, her chin and her forehead, as she had once done to him on that drunken night. She smiled happily, before pulling him in for a passionate kiss that tasted like her pleasure, legs spread to accommodate him.

“Hello, Lieutenant.” She teased and he nibbled on the side of her neck playfully, making her giggle. “Getting a little too old to stay on your knees for so long?”

“I didn’ hear ya complainin’ two minutes ago.” He taunted, hands rubbing the sides of her thighs as her nails grazed his muscled back. 

“Fair enough.” She reached down between their bodies, pumping his thick cock with a lustful gaze.

“Still up for it, love?” Simon tried to not act as eager as he felt, so close to his peak that he’d be lucky if he gave her three good pumps.

“Get inside of me.” She commanded firmly, spreading further.

“Yes m’am.” 

Simon Riley obeyed, always good at following orders. 

He rubbed his leaking tip on her sensitive clit, eliciting a low moan from her pretty lips, before trying to sink it in slowly.

“Bloody hell…you’re so tight.” He groaned into her ear, stopping slightly as he heard her hiss in pain at the stretch of his thick shaft.

 “You okay, love?”

“It hurts…” She whispered, legs trembling at the intrusion once he penetrated a few inches deeper deeper. “It’s okay, I’ll get used to it.”

“If you need to stop, we stop, yeah? No questions asked.” He reassured, kissing her sweaty brow.

“Please don’t stop.” She begged, readjusting her hips for a smoother entrance.

Simon kissed her neck tenderly, letting his cock sink into her wet heat a little deeper, feeling her breath quicken with his own.

“Relax, love. It’ll make it easier.” He coaxed into her ear, feeling her nod against his skin as her body slowly loosened up under him.

He began a series of shallow thrusts, working his way inside her tight hole inch by inch, feeling his meaty length get progressively wetter, movements becoming sloppier as he finally bottomed out, the sound of skin slapping on skin almost drowning out their moans.

“Oh. My. God.” She whimpered in between thrusts, Simon’s pace quicking as he felt her moving past the pain and into that fucked out expression he had dreamt of seeing so many nights.

“If you keep moaning like that, this is gonna be over sooner than expected, sweetheart.” He panted, body now slamming forcefully into hers, her tits bouncing with each rut of his hips.

“I hope your pullout game is good” She blurted out, eyes rolling back as he hit a lovely spot inside her walls, wrapping her legs around his hips.

“Yeah, princess, me too.” 

Simon couldn’t take it anymore. Her breathy moans, the headboard slamming, his heavy sack sticking to her sweaty skin each time he moved, the tight grip of her walls around his fat cock and the vulgarity of her spread legs were sending him spiraling.

But it was the adoring way in which she looked at him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him intensely, before looking at him with hazy eyes and uttering the four most terrifying words he had ever heard, that made him shoot a load inside of her.

“I love you, Simon.”

Fuck. 

He came apart.

A/N: You guys already know the drill...so sorry for taking forever to post! As always I love your feedback, messages and asks, so please keep them coming <3

TAG LIST (I hope I haven't forgotten anyone)

@xaestheticalien @bossva @missmae3004 @yyiikes @lillysfrogsandbogs @missmae3004 @spicyspicyliving @shuttlelauncher81 @generaldestinychild @semendreaminsblog @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @iloveghost900 @anaromanov9 @flaminghotcheetosinhaler @cigsm3rcy @lucycastlesworld @idkimjusthere100 @impossiblyshycollector @bigfatpumpum @coldmuffinbanditshoe

#ghost cod #ghostxreader #cod #ghost imagine #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #modernwarfare2 #neighbor!ghost

[ytsunodabrainrotbaybee]

Honey, If You Stay, I’ll Be Forgiven

-> Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance

Verstappen x Reader, in which they were once karting rivals. A long time ago.

Snow falls outside, just on the other side of the window you slouch against. Shadows cast themselves against the pages of your book.

A coffee sits on the table in front of you stopped letting off steam a few minutes ago. The half drank peppermint mocha tastes great, the book in your hands is just a little bit more interesting.

Across the shop, just missing you when he walked in, Max pays for his own coffee. Probably the first time back after the end of his F1 season.

Your eyes follow him. All the way until the two of you make eye contact.

He breaks eye contact as soon as he sees you.

You turn back to your book, and your cold coffee.

Nearly too engrossed in your book, you almost don’t notice another coffee cup setting itself on the table across from you. The chair pulls out and the man imposing himself on your time alone finally grabs your attention.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he says. His eyes are joking, his tone doesn’t agree. He sounds almost accusing. In spite of the faint smile on his face.

“Sorry, I’m not doing autographs right now,” you spare him a glance before looking back at your book.

Banter still comes naturally. The two of you got on because of it. A similar humor, dry and sarcastic. Got on like fire on trees. That’s what your family would always say. Fought like cats and dogs, absolutely adored each other until-

“You could be a driver,” he pushes your book down out of your face, “signing plenty of autographs yourself.”

The question he meant to ask is thick in the air. You gave him no excuse when you quit. Neither of you can even recall the last words you said to him.

“But I’m not.”

You try. You ignore his eyes. You debate some cold remark, something to push him out. Even sitting in front of him brought you back.

“I used to think about us.”

You want to shut him down, thinking hard about getting up and leaving him in the shop. Leaving him in the dark. Separating yourself even further from the dream you once had. The dream that you would be reminded of, every time your joints ache in the cold.

His hand covers yours, “I’m not mad.”

His voice is a whisper. You stare down at your hand. The one pained at the contact.

“I couldn’t have continued if I wanted to,” your fingers slip through his by then.

“Why not? You were-“

“I was injured, Max.”

“Was it that bad?”

You pull your hand back, flexing your fingers under the table. “Everything hurts, my joints, my doctor said I’m well on my way to developing some form of arthritis.”

You pause for a beat. If anyone knew how devastating news like that could be for a kid with the dreams you had, it would be Max.

“I couldn’t admit it.”

You look back up at him. His expression is blank. His mouth open and close, not really finding anything to say.

“I’m also prone to dislocating joints. They’re all stiff, but hyper-mobile at the same time it’s- it’s super weird.”

You deflect into a joking tone. Maybe a conversation change could follow.

“What about we go for a drive,” he cocks his head toward his car, the Aston Martin he’d been bringing around, “change the subject.”

“Mine isn’t as fast,” yours parked two spots down. A stock early 2000s Mustang wouldn’t touch his Valkyrie.

“It’s not a race,” he says, standing up and holding a hand out to you, “just a drive. Take the lead?”

You grab his hand, you use him to steady yourself as you stand. Mild relief from sitting on the hard coffee shop chairs is overwhelmed by the stiff joints adjusting to being forced back into use.

The two of you walk out. In your separate cars, you make eye contact. Just like you used to before cart races as children.

Your dreams as a child came crashing down around you, but you could build them back up, just adjusted. With Max hopefully staying in your life, maybe he could help.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #chronic pain reader #Verstappen x reader #Verstappen x rival reader #max x childhood friend #mv1 #mv33

[wannaeatramyeon]

Ryuhei Kuroda x Reader: Flirtations

G/N. You, a lil dense. Ryuhei is Ryuhei.

Ryuhei hasn't made up his mind whether you're dense or deaf... Or selective hearing is more like it.

When he turned his so-called charms on you, you always plastered on an innocent smile and asked him to repeat again what he said.

Well, doesn't that lose its impact the second time round. He rarely repeats his words and slinks away, pride and ego wounded.

Other times you would just outright ignore him. Which is fine, he supposes. He's used to that after pining after Mitsuki for years.

Yet sometimes he would catch you watching him with a look that would make his own face burn.

Sigh. What is a Kagiroi supposed to do?

Am I losing my touch, Ryuhei thinks, Did I even ever have a touch? He looks down at his crotch glumly. Looks like it's just you and me.

.

.

"Hey cutie~" Ryuhei grins, leaning over your desk and wanting attention.

(Ryuhei's style of flirting is less harassment and more playful with you. Sorta.

Him and Mitsuki are one thing, but even Ryuhei knows where to draw the line with most people. It would be a pain if HR got involved, or god forbid, that little bastard Eugene.

Why that twink has taken such a liking to you, Ryuhei would damn well like to know. Hell, why Ryuhei himself has taken such a liking to you, he can't figure out either.)

Brushing his tie out the way, you don't bother peering up at your blonde coworker. You're this close to finishing the document. Just a couple more paragraphs and you can clock out for the day.

You hear him chatter away over the top of your head but your focus remains firmly on the papers. Eyes skimming over the last line, you sign it with your signature and breathe a sigh of relief.

Done.

His voice drifts over as soon as your pen lifts from the page, "You're finished?"

A nod. Ryuhei returns your gesture with a smile. He was aiming for salacious but it comes out sweet.

Then returning back to form, his eyes greedily rove over your figure as you stretch, elongating your body and hands reaching high over your head, hearing your joints crack and pop.

The smile on your face matches his, a bit too sentimental for his heart to take. Your words, however- "So all those times you said you wanted to play, what did you have in mind?"

"W-what?"

"Wanna go for a ride?"

Goddamnit, those are his lines. Did he hear you right? You wanna ride him? Ride his d- "Ride?! Right now?"

"Yep!"

"Me and you?!"

"Sure!"

Ryuhei looks down, feels the first stirring since forever of his little attack dog-

You stand up, legs stiff after sitting down for hours, and pull on your jacket, "You're always going on about it, let's go get your bike!"

Shit.

You meant an actual ride.

Fuck!

Ryuhei plops down on a nearby chair, crossing his legs to hopefully conceal his growing interest.

"...Give me a moment." He mumbles as you tilt your head in confusion.

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism fic #ryuhei kuroda #ryuhei kuroda x reader #ryuhei x reader #wannaeatramyeon

[beenjen]

Friends. How’s everyone doing? The holidays are behind us, spring awaits.

It’s been a special kind of challenge here. We’ve had some ups and downs with my dad. With all his treatments and medication shuffles, his cortisol level plummeted. He’s had all the symptoms of low cortisol - depression, anxiety, fatigue, brain fog, inability to handle stressful situations, lack of focus. With the chemo, it’s hard to know which is coming from what honestly. Then with them increasing cholesterol medications and anti-depressants, him having joint pains, muscle aches, him having suicidal thoughts and crying jags that are so out of character, it’s been a tremendous stress and fear.

Glad to have a hopeful resolution and doctors who are paying attention. So. Watching such a strong and powerful man struggle, it’s humbling. In a way I can’t put into words. Too though, it’s coming up on a year without mom. Their house had a water leak that caused us to have to clear out mom’s clothes and such. Her dog passed. His shop roof has had some leaking that the company sent to fix it has been sluggish in doing so, which has lead to now more needed work. His side effects from the medications/hormone imbalance, has left him not getting out much, no motivation, in pain. So many factors, it’s been a course for sure finding our way to answers. Keep us in your thoughts as we navigate these times.

We had the difficult conversation to ascertain if he was thinking of hurting himself, had a plan. It was actually hubs who asked him flat out. I’m so lucky to have such an amazing man as my partner. Dad said he doesn’t have a plan and he made a pact with us, because of our kids, so, we will be close.

Too, this has brought my brother and I back into alignment. The estate is settled. He and I are talking daily. It’s been a tremendous support. A relief. We both have talked about how we want to have a relationship despite our differences, and it’s best case scenario. Fingers crossed.

Work is well. I’m in a stage of really enjoying my work and colleagues. There have been some salary adjustments that put us in a comfortable position where so many I know are not. Hubs too had a long overdue adjustment that rewards his long hours and efforts. Feeling so fortunate. Proud of how far we’ve come, not just financially and professionally, those are nice accomplishments too though.

C and I have it feels, evolved? Question for my long term committed relationship peeps, is this something you also feel you do as you grow together? Level up? Become closer through trials or talking, laughing? It keeps sneaking up on me, how much I have, with this marriage. That I chose well and we BOTH prioritize supporting one another and our family/relationship. It’s beautiful.

The kids are good. We had the magical snowpocalyse here. Since last week, it has literally rained EVERYDAY and gone from being ice and below 20 for a week to 60s and showers. Typical Tennessee weather. We could still have another couple rounds of winter. Guess we’ll see. School is back in and the yearly testing required of students is ongoing. It makes me nervous because the age group J falls in has had a lot of fallout because of delays with Covid. He’s worked so hard and did tutoring last year, I feel he has it in the bag, this mom ‘stress’ where you are constantly thinking and worrying is just another level of it all I suppose.

Valentines is coming up friends. What are your plans? Do you celebrate? We’ll be doing our tradition of making shepherds pie together. Also bought Lilith mommy and me dresses - she’s been asking and while I feel a bit silly, I think she will be so excited.

//C bought a pickle rick for his office.

//Our elderly cat has come out of her self imposed seclusion in the upstairs and is hanging in our room with one of our other cats and the kids. It’s been fun. We’ve had her 15 years? She was a rescue from Cs job parking lot.

//we took the kids for sushi and even though they didn’t love it. The chopsticks were a hit.

//Lilith is in an obsessive mommy snuggle/need stage. I’m working to enjoy this time as I know it will pass.

//busted my ass chasing c when he took off the the frosting for some cupcakes the kid and I made. I slipped on a pad for our old girl (doggo) Luna, and hit the footboard of the bed hardcore. Funny story, I’ll share one of these days. Nothing is broke so, win?

#catch up #east nashville #long post #real life #cancer support #fuck cancer #love you guys

[mandana-the-service-pup]

Methotrexate Update

Doctor got back to me about my labs. My absolute monocytes are high but she isn’t concerned. She didn’t explain why (my best guess it’s bc my exercise has increased so drastically in such a short amount of time but idk) She says I can stay at the same dose and she doesn’t need another lab for three months. I have been doing GREAT on it. Hardly any negative side effects.

The stomach pain I’ve had every night for a year is gone.

My post-exercise chest pain that I’ve been going to cardiologist and ER for since Oct 2022 is completely gone (playing and shoveling snow 100% would have set that off)

TMI // My period has been freaking purple since Sept 2022 and I’ve been bleeding so much that the OBGYN thought I had a fibroid rupture. Well I just had my first period on Methotrexate and it’s all back to normal now and the amount was 1/3 what it has been which is a huge relief. It still hurt but I was able to eat and drink which I usually struggle with for the first few days. Maybe the pain will get better over time.

My gums don’t bleed any more when flossing. It just stopped as soon as I started methotrexate.

I’m able to eat and drink a lot more than I was which is great.

I have way more range of motion in my joints (which is making me have more problems with my hypermobility but whatev)

I still have muscle and joint pain but I honestly think most of it is bc I’ve been able to do so much more. I was taking 600 mg ibuprofen 2-3 times a day and my pain was still 7-7.5/10 and now I’m not taking any ibuprofen except maybe once every couple days and it’s a solid 6-6.5/10

Oh and I can take deeper breaths. Like I’m still having low oxygen show up on my oxymeter but for most of my life my ribs have felt like I’m wearing a corset and they can’t expand when I breath in and that has improved so much that I just walk around the house thinking “wow. I can take a breath. Wow” I’m not sure if this is due to my joints and ribs having more range of motion or if it’s connected to the hyperinflation of my lungs that showed up on the X-ray. Idk but it’s awesome and I’m making an appointment with pulmonologist again to double check lung stuff

The only con I’m currently having is the high absolute monocytes which my dr says is fine and I’ve been having really bad night sweats (actually I’m sweating a ton all the time) but I think my body is just like…recalibrating. Usually effects are really seen after a few months so I’m super excited for 2024!

Mandana’s Health Update

Surprise surprise the new vet doesn’t want to prescribe LDN/s

I get why. There are no studies on using LDN for pain in dogs (there are a few cancer studies in dogs which include LDN for pain relief and QOL but whatev) I humored her and tried to use Carprofen but Mandana doesn’t do well on pain meds and always gets an upset stomach after a couple days. This time was no different and she was miserable and vomiting so I took her off it. We discussed all of our options which I’ll list now for reference:

Decrease carprofen from 75mg twice a day to 75mg once a day // not gonna work bc the original dose wasn’t even very effective for managing her pain and I imagine if she’s already having problems with NSAIDs then taking even a small dose every day for years will hurt her.

Try a different NSAID called Meloxicam // we expect the same problem we have with carprofen

Try a different type of pain relief called Amantadine // Used along side NSAIDs (which we can’t do) so not very effective on its own and can have a side effect of urine retention which Mandana is prone to (she gets this as a “rare” side effect of both apoquel and Benadryl so I would rather not risk it, esp since Proin gave her high blood pressure and we had to discontinue it so there would be no back up if she got incontinence again)

Try the new type of pain relief that was just approved in the US called Librela // This is what we’re going to do next. She has an appointment for her first injection 1.5 weeks from now.

Consult with a Neurologist and get an MRI // After we get her back pain approved by our PetsBest insurance we will make an appointment for a neurologist consult and MRI. The two X-rays we have are 9 months apart and show a narrowing of the disc space between L4-5 but the general consensus is that it shouldn’t be causing as much pain as she is in so an MRI will give us a better idea of what’s going on and the Neurologist might have more treatment options for us.

We really want to wrap up some of these big health concerns for both of us before 🐾2025🐾👀 and we are already making a lot of progress so I’m super hopeful!

#belgian malinois #3 years #canine rehabilitation #sick dog #vetblr #service dogblr #dogblr #new medicine #methotrexate #disability blog #good health day #2024 #inflammatory polyarthritis #ehlers danlos syndrome #hashimoto thyroiditis #postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome #dysautonomia #gastroparesis

[potsmart]

What’s the Deal with Kush? The Origin of a Classic Strain

Before we get into the article about what the deal with Kush is, here is an actual deal on Kush, delivered to your door in Canada. Rad.

Everyone knows Kush means quality. There’s a built in expectation that the weed should slap if it bears the classic name. It’s also a well known parent to many classic varietals. Before the names O.G. Kush, Chem Dog, and Cookies became household among growers worldwide, there existed a time when the Kush strain remained relatively obscure. Let’s look into the intriguing history of the Kush strain and its transformation into one of the most renowned medical marijuana varieties globally.

Just like any other modern cannabis seed strain, landraces played a pivotal role in establishing the fundamental genetic foundations of everything we smoke today with the Kush name on it. Numerous countries harbour a diverse array of marijuana landraces, thriving particularly in regions characterized by hot climates and mountainous terrain. In these areas, expansive fields of landrace cannabis plants flourish organically. Owing to the cannabis plant’s inherent robustness, these fields have been subject to countless generations of natural backcrossing over the span of hundreds, if not thousands of years.

Among the most well-known Kush varieties today are Hindu Kush, Master Kush, and Afghan Kush, all originating from these locations as original landraces. Through meticulous backcrossing efforts, breeders sought to unearth the quintessential phenotype for cannabis cultivation. Since its introduction in Amsterdam nearly three decades ago, numerous seed banks now offer a broad spectrum of landraces and hybrids, with many of the original landrace strains still available to enthusiasts.

The Kush cannabis strain found its way to Amsterdam during the late 1970s or early 1980s, carried by intrepid cannabis enthusiasts who ventured through the rugged landscapes of the Himalayas, spanning Pakistan, India, and Afghanistan. They returned with seeds sourced from the Hindu Kush mountain range, nestled between northern Pakistan and Afghanistan. The name “Kush” derives from this region and intriguingly translates to “killer” in ancient Persian.

The aromatic profile, taste, and effects of Kush strains are the key attributes that make them highly sought after both in the context of a coffee shop’s offerings and for growers. The scent of this medical marijuana variety is unmistakable, often likened to the odour of jet fuel and characterized by a pungent, dank, and lemony quality. The potency of the Kush aroma is such that even the tiniest dried bud can fill a room with its distinctive fragrance. When it comes to taste, a well-cultivated Kush strain mirrors its aroma but adds a lingering jet fuel undertone that lingers with every puff, creating a truly unique and memorable experience. Typical of other heavy Indicas, real kush plants stay short with tight internodal spacing, creating dense foliage and buds. The plants finish quickly and produce well, making them a favourite for more modern growers all over the world for decades.

A joint of OG Kush, like I posted above, will transform the surrounding air, saturating it with a dense, rich, and almost viscous quality. A few puffs of this potent strain with its unmistakable jet fuel aroma will promptly initiate a profound shift in your state of mind and body. The initial effects manifest as heavy eyelids and an almost immediate sense of being pleasantly stoned. Energy levels plummet, and motivation wanes, ultimately leading to a state of complete relaxation and tranquility. Notably, the THC content in Kush varieties has consistently been subjected to testing, with results often exceeding the 20% threshold.

Kush strains are renowned for their robust pain-relief properties. Whether smoked or incorporated into edibles, the medicinal impact of Kush is often likened to a nearly narcotic experience. It proves highly effective in addressing a range of conditions, including insomnia, appetite loss, and anxiety. Patients grappling with pain stemming from bone, nerve, or muscle issues also find considerable relief through Kush usage. For those coping with conditions like Multiple Sclerosis, Parkinson’s, and a multitude of other illnesses, medicating with Kush and similar indica strains has proven to be indispensable.

Cancer patients, in particular, derive substantial benefits from Kush, often experiencing relief that surpasses the effectiveness of pharmaceutical resources. Many report improved appetite, better sleep, and the restoration of regular bowel function when incorporating this cannabis strain into their treatment plans.

While sativa strains are typically favoured by patients seeking heightened energy levels and motivation, Kush continues to hold appeal for many due to its potent anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving effects. Recognizing this, numerous breeders, including Spliff Seeds, are now focusing on developing Kush hybrids that aim to preserve its distinctive medicinal potency while mitigating its pronounced couch-locking effect. One such example is Spliff Blue Medi Kush, a strain developed in collaboration with medical marijuana users, tailored to serve precisely this purpose.

If you’re looking for a classic you can’t miss with a well grown Kush strain.

By Meso Potamia, Ganja Guy, for Potsmart

#Cannabis #Cannabis Lifestyle #Kush #Marijuana #Order Weed Online #THC #Weed Strains

[gothvis]

your dog is SO cute. i seem to remember a post ab his health some time ago, hope he’s doing super now

awww that's so kind of you to ask, thank you 💜 he's doing a lot better! his ear infection has cleared up and he's on pain medication for his joints now. all in all he seems much more comfortable so that's a relief :-)

he's just a sleepy lil guy!

[doberbutts]

First off, as someone with an injured hip, I would not want this for a dog. It fucking sucks man. I should eventually be healed, but inflicting this upon a dog for the rest of its life? With no relief? It’s fucking cruel. No thanks.

Second, a lot of people don’t seem to understand that working crosses are relatively common (at least in my area) various gun dogs are crossed often based on the merits of their parents. Same with the various herding breed mixes that are common here. The key tho is that the parents are proven and that they are kept within their job type

Same- my dad has the human version of hip dysplasia and a few years ago got a total hip replacement and he said realizing now his chronic "back pain" was coming from his bad hips he would never have made Mocha, our dysplastic dog, suffer for as long as she did with it.

[ironically, he fell a few weeks ago and started complaining of back pain again this time too painful to walk, and when he eventually went to the doctor about it discovered he'd BROKEN a hip]

I will never agree to breeding a dog with any sort of joint dysplasia.

And, same here, in PA there's a lot of herdy hunty dogs who are basically 🤷‍♂️ hunts good 🤷‍♂️ and 🤷‍♂️ herds good 🤷‍♂️ as far as breed goes. I wish they had more health testing but the dogs do work, sometimes better than their purebred variants. Working crosses are great! They just have to, you know, actually fucking work and not be "well it's x breed so it's good at y work :)"

[firespirited]

There's a tumblr ad with a maker's "cute puppy" pic and it's the one dog (ok ok I do rant about brachycephalic dogs too - this one is a twofer) that'll send me infodumping in full gruesomeness:

(tw: dog illnesses)

6 ancestors total for the breed. Drops dead before 8 from a genetic heart defect. If they're lucky enough to not get 'brain grows too big for your skull' agony disease. Among other defects. Only 12% die of old age.

I don't want to ruin a thousand strangers' days but what we've done to dogs for aesthetics is disgusting. Doesn't matter that the dog is lovely - breeding is not just unethical but outright cruel.

Factory farming happens behind closed doors, disabled abuse is veiled in sympathy for the 'suffering' parents, but if you've got yourself a deliberately inbred dog or cat we know will probably suffer because of your choice to buy one, it's nothing but love and light and cuteness aww.

To the tumblr staffer's mom who choose a kind friendly creature that's also a ticking time bomb: put some of that merch money aside to neuter your dog, emergency euthanasia if it starts hallucinating and a place in your house where it can breathe cool air as its own cooling systems are messed up under that kyoot wittle nose. From the look of it you have less than two years to save for what will be heavy vet fees and meds for joints and eyes to give them relief from distress and pain. You're probably going to have to cut out all luxuries except the dog. No delivery, cheap cosmetics, no vacations, no subscriptions.

And for the love of dogs, people, google breeds and look at the wikipedia health section, then choose a breed that will fit well with your lifestyle (aesthetic preferences mean nothing if you and your dog are miserable together) before you buy.

#tw: animal abuse #6 ancestors. Banned for cruelty in Norway. #Dogs

[ghostussy]

Secondo x Reader (Platonic! Think of it as like, a dad moment.)

     Secondo helping a young reader with arthritis. 

     Reader does use trans tape in this fic!

     The weather? Cold and rainy. My joints? slowly dying. Enjoy the fic. The reader can be as young as you want, as long as it is around working age. I am nineteen for context. 

/ / / 

     Secondo met you at the front door of the Ministry when you finally arrived home from work. He chuckled as he watched you run from your car to meet him, becoming soaked from the pouring rain in the process. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, escorting you to your quarters as quickly as possible. 

     This ritual started when you first came to the Ministry and could not find your way back to your bedroom after work. Often it would be late, and Secondo would be the only one left awake and wandering the halls. After several days of accidentally bumping into him and asking him to lead you back, he finally began meeting you at the front door. You did learn your way around with time, but still Secondo insisted on meeting you at the door. To be perfectly honest, you looked forward to meeting him each day. 

     “Secondo, please,” you pleaded as you turned another corner, “slow down. I cannot walk that fast.” 

     “Ah, bambino, whatever is the matter? Are you unwell?”

     “No, it’s just...” you cringed, stopping in your tracks as pain shot through all the joints in your legs. He stopped walking as well. “It’s arthritis.”

     “Arthritis?”

     “Yeah. It’s just because it’s raining, and cold.”

     “I understood that part; I have arthritis as well, you see.” He looked down at you. “What I do not understand is how you, a child, can have arthritis.”

     You let out a small laugh. “You and me both.” You took a few steps forward, limping slightly until the pain in your stiff joints subsided. “I have an autoimmune disorder that causes rheumatoid arthritis. Basically my immune system is not only attacking my thyroid, but my joints as well. Very annoying, very inconvenient.”

     He started walking next to you once again, though rather slowly to match your pace. “I see.”

     “It’s normally not this bad,” you continued, “I don’t have to take any medications for it. I’m sure that will change in the future, but for now it’s fine with just ibuprofen. Hey, how is yours not flared up right now? It’s raining, and cold outside. I’m jealous.” 

     “It was earlier, but I have taken some painkillers for it. It seems as though you’re having a much more difficult time walking that I certainly did. I just cannot believe it has occurred in somebody so young.”

     “Ah, well. I have a young mind, but a body that is as old as fuck.” You stopped once again, leaning onto a table for support. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” You felt the pain radiate throughout all the joints in your legs; it was more focused on your hips, but your knees were awful as well. It was becoming difficult to stand. 

    Secondo placed a hand on your back to steady you. “Are you alright?”

     “Oh, yeah. I’m fine,” the pain was evident in your voice. “I just need a second. Oh man, I cannot wait to crawl into bed and just pass the fuck out. I am so tired.”

     “Would you like me to carry you?”

     “It’s alright, Secondo. Don’t feel obligated, seriously. I’ll be fine in a sec.” You winced again as the pain unrelentingly throbbed in your ankles now. You could tell that they were swollen, as well as your knees. Your knuckles hurt like hell, and you could tell that they were definitely also swollen. Damn.

     He moved behind you, swooping you up into his arms effortlessly. “Our definitions of ‘fine’ differ greatly, child.” 

     The sudden lack of weight sent a dull ache through your bones, followed by a wave of relief. A tired sigh escaped your lips as you laid your head on his shoulder, relaxing into him a bit. “Oh. Thank you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as he began walking to your room. You decided to make conversation.

     “Wanna know something stupid?” 

     “Do I?”

     “My elderly dog and I have one stupid thing in common. You’ll never guess what it is.” 

     “Arthritis?”

     “How’d you guess?”

     He shot you a look. “I’m just that smart, I suppose.”

     He stopped outside your door. “Do you have any epsom salt?”

     “No. Why would I?”

     “You need to take a bath with epsom salt. It works wonders,” He set you on your feet carefully. “I keep plenty on hand. Would you like me to get you some?”

     Though you hated to admit it, a hot bath sounded amazing. “Oh, please. Then I will purchase some more tomorrow.” 

     “Of course. Why don’t you run the water, and I will be right back with the salts?”

     “Sounds good to me.”

. . .

     He returned a few moments later with a hefty bag of the salt. You watched as he dumped quite a bit into the water, and you wondered if you really needed quite so much. 

     “Siamo pronti. As soon as it is full, you may get in. Would you like me to stay with you in case you need something?” You noticed the worry in his eyes. 

     You shrugged. “Sure, if you’re not doing anything else. Let me change first, though.” 

     “Ah, of course.” He stepped out of the bathroom, and you followed, moving slowly over to the dresser to find an old pair of shorts. You also grabbed a clean pair of pajamas to take with you as well, so that you could change once you were done. 

     You went back into the bathroom and changed into the shorts, then removed your shirt. You double checked that your trans tape was still in place, then allowed Secondo to enter the bathroom. 

     He held out his hand, helping you into the bathtub. You slowly sank into the hot water until you were covered up to your chin, feeling the heat seep through your aching bones and joints. You let out a breathy sigh, leaning your head back onto the side of the tub. Though the salt hadn’t begun to work yet, the heat alone was comforting enough that you felt as though you could fall asleep. Secondo watched as he took a seat next to the tub. 

     A few minutes of silence passed, and you felt the salt beginning to work. The pain relief was surprisingly fast, and liberating. It was the first time in several hours that you felt like you could move your joints freely without pain or stiffness. The aches and pains seemed to leak out of your joints, instead being seemingly replaced with a newfound drowsiness. Your head lulled back and your eyes closed in content.

     “Secondo?” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

     “Yes?” 

     “This shit is fucking amazing.” You looked at him and opened your eyes. 

     He let out a laugh. “I am glad. I would be untruthful if I said that I did not have the same reaction the first time I tried it.” He reached over to you and ruffled your hair. “I am glad it is helping.” 

     You let out a small hum as you closed your eyes once more. You felt relaxed and comforted now that your pain was almost gone. You were getting more sleepy now as well. 

     The older man took note of this.

     Gently, he ran a hand through your hair, working through the knots and scratching lightly at your scalp. You allowed him to do so, lacking the energy to tell him to stop. It felt nice anyway. Steadily, your breaths evened out, and your heartbeat slowed. You felt yourself drifting off.

     A few moments later, Secondo stopped playing with your hair and tried to rouse you. After all, you couldn’t stay here all night. 

     “Cara, it is time to wake up. We must get you rinsed, then we will get you to bed. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

     You let out a sleepy whine, then opened your eyes. “Fine.” You pulled the plug on the drain, shivering as the water emptied slowly. “I’ll take a quick shower if you want to wait out there.”

     He nodded, stepping out of the bathroom. 

. . .

     Once you were showered and dressed in your pajamas, you also exited the bathroom. Secondo was sat on the bed, reading something on his phone. When he saw you he placed it down and walked over to you. “Are you feeling better now?”

     “Lots actually, thank you.” 

     “Of course. Now, I do believe it is time, ah, how did you put it? Oh! It is time for you to simply crawl into bed and pass the fuck out.”

     “Yes, it certainly is.” You covered a yawn with your hand. “Although, do you want to stay and watch a movie with me first? It is still early yet.”

     “Ah- sure, why not.”

     Not long after, the two of you were settled in your bed amongst the large collection of blankets and stuffed animals that you kept. He sat up, leaning slightly against the headboard. You were curled up next to him, head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. The room was dark, only illuminated by the light of the tv. Quietly, you stifled a yawn; if you thought you were exhausted earlier, you were twice as tired now. The pain seemed to have taken quite the toll on you. 

     Secondo looked down at you, noticing your sleepy look. He rubbed your arm as you curled further into him. He allowed you to do so; after all, he knew better than anyone what it felt like to deal with unrelenting joint pain. He was glad that he could be your source of comfort; though he truly wished that you hadn’t needed it at your young age. Nonetheless, you suffered, and would continue to suffer with your condition in the future. For now though, you were safe and content, sleeping within his secure hold as the rain poured down outside. 

#papa secondo #secondo emeritus #secondo x reader #secondo #drabbles

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Would you give us (me :3) the boys taking care of Ron during a very bad migraine? Could be with Chris and Tom, or Daggers, or maybe before, during Top Gun... leave that to you. Make him go really ouch.

Oh I’ll write anything for you darling.

When Jake is three… I wanted to make Ron feel guilt.

-

Ron can’t remember when it started. His vision started to blur about twenty minutes ago. He can’t stop watching Jake though.

Can’t take his eyes off their kid. Work through the pain. His dog Louise whines at him, she knows he’s hurting. The toddler walks back over to Ron. Jake’s arms go up in the air. He wants picked up.

Ron is almost positive if he picks Jake up he’ll throw up. He does it anyways. Can’t ever deny Jake anything. Ron slowly lays back with Jake on his chest, “papa.” Ron can only hum. Talking makes it seem like a knife is in his head and twisting.

Jake pats his chest. He lays his own head down and slowly goes to sleep. Ron listens to their kids breathing. It’s not as helpful as he thought it would be.

He hears Tom and Chris come back in the house. They were out with the horses and goats. Tom catches that the radio isn’t on. “Ron?”

Lou whines and runs to get Tom. “Shit Chris grab some ice.” Tom comes into the living room to find them. Ron opens his eyes but can’t see Tommy.

“I need to throw up take Jake.”

Tom inhales hard. He picks Jake up, Ron slowly tries to stand. His knees give out. Chris catches him. Ron doesn’t know how long he’s been there. “Thanks.” He gets a kiss pressed to kiss head “don’t talk. Bed time.”

Chris slowly helps Ron walk to their room. Black out curtains are an incredible thing. Chris puts a trash can next to the bed. It must be really bad if Ron is voluntarily admitting he wants to throw up.

Ron whines. Everything hurts. Every single joint. He can feel the sheets on his skin. His hair catching on the pillow. “Hurts.” Chris makes a sad sound. He drops his voice to a whisper “I know baby. Want pills?” Ron squeezes his hand, “took them already.” Go be with Tommy and Jake. I’m fine.”

Chris hums. He gently brushes a hand into Ron’s hair. “I’ll be back.”

Then he leaves.

Ron knows he’s just in the other room. But they feel so far away. Pain makes it all worse. Every dark feeling he’s had slips back through the cracks.

-

He must drift off at some point because when he wakes back up he’s on Tom’s chest. He can feel Chris laying next to them.

His head is still blinding him but he thinks he won’t throw up now. “Jake.” Chris hushes him. “Sleeping over with David and Lucas. We thought baby crying would make it worse.”

Ron’s stomach drops. “Trash-” he throws up. He can’t believe he’s causing them to send their kid away. He should be the one leaving.

“Ron you with us?” His head is hanging in the can still. “Yeah.” Chris sighs in relief. “Thought you passed out for a second there.” Ron slowly shakes his head and lays back on Tom. There’s a hand in his hair suddenly. It feels good. “Go get Jake. Shouldn’t send him away because of my stupid head.”

Tom gently pinches his ear. “Stop it. He’s a loud kid. If one night with his uncles makes it better then we’ll do that. You don’t have to be perfect Ron.”

Ron flinches. Tom has always seen right through him. “I know. But still. Feel bad.” Chris quietly laughs. “If it makes you feel better we had arranged for a sleepover with them anyways it just came faster the anticipated.”

Ron nods. Chris presses a candy to Ron’s tongue, “ginger. Eat please.” Ron chews the candy. It’s good. Sweet but spicy. He knows it’ll help his stomach. He eats all the ones Chris puts to his mouth. When Tom offers him a water bottle he takes a few slow sips.

He curls back down onto the bed. He shoves his head into three pillows. “Thank you. Love you both.”

A hand goes down his back and the same time a kiss is pressed to his shoulder. “Love you.” “Love you too hon.”

Ron hopes the migraine is gone in the morning. Wants to feel like himself. He knows he’ll probably just sleep tomorrow anyways. Migraines always take all the energy out of him for a while. Especially ones this bad.

He blinks his eyes open once to see if his vision is better. Still spotty but he can see Chris’s tattoos now. Tom’s earrings. All the small things that make them, them.

He slowly drifts off to Tom humming a polish childhood song they both grew up with. It’s comforting.

#ron slider kerner #chris seresin #tom iceman kazansky #ron slider kerner x chris seresin #top gun #ron x chris x tom #chris seresin x tom iceman kazansky #tom x ron x chris #tom kazansky x ron kerner #baby jake seresin #mac writes top gun

[aguineapigcouldntdothis]

rating my self-done joint pops:

distal finger joints: 5/10. easy to pop, nothing particularly special. pinkies are especially fun to pop

intermediate finger joints: 4/10. hurts to pop sometimes but the pain is over quickly

proximal finger joints (not thumb): -10/10. so hard to pop and when they actually pop it hurts so much

proximal thumb joints: 7.5/10. sometimes very painful but usually just extremely relieving. points removed bc the relief is gone within a few minutes and the thumbs are stiff again.

elbows: 6/10. really fun movement that is done to pop them however it does either hurt or feel really weird

wrists: 45/10. post-nap wrist pops are one of the best things anyone can experience. its hard to get a truly good wrist pop but when it happens it makes the whole day better.

shoulders: -20/10. feels so so weird and its difficult to get a good, solid pop.

neck (sides): 12/10. a good neck pop is one of the best experiences known to man. bonus points for the post pop neck stretch

neck (back): 8/10. hard to get a good technique yet amazing when you figure it out.

sternum: 9/10. feels so so good yet i can only do it accidentally once i figure out how tf to actually do it ill be unstoppable.

upper back: 100/10. THE quintessential joint popping experience. a good upper back crack will make your forget you have joint problems for a few seconds.

mid back: -50/10. some of the hardest joints to pop and it hurts like a motherfucker when it happens

low back: 50/10. extremely underwhelming when done wrong and truly beautiful when done right.

inner hip (right): 3/10. really fun to scare your family with your loud hip joints. sadly it hurts so so so much

inner hip (left): 7/10. still able to scare my family but it doesnt hurt as much bc sensory nerve damage.

right knee: -100/10 loudest possible noise ever it scares my dog plus its very very very painful

left knee: -20/10 this would be completely unbearable if i had full feeling in my leg. always gotta have laying down time post knee popping

ankle (sides): 2/10. no pain, no relief, just annoying because they never ever stop popping

ankle (back) 20/10. its hard to actually do it and so satisfying if you pull it off. feels different to all other joint pops in a good way however it is an acquired taste

arch of foot: -70/10. difficult to pull off and feels weird when it happens. does reduce stiffness but theres little relief besides that

toes (not big): 5/10. kinda boring to pop because they need to be popped 24/7 so it gets old fast. it is fun to pop them all at once though

big toes: -200/10. have passed out from this multiple times. how the fuck do a few little joints hurt so much. absolutely horrible experience.

#disability #physically disabled #joint pain #cripple punk