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#my dog has been limping
fadewalking · 1 year
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I think my lizard is going to die :(
Hey guys, my pet lizard is pretty sick, and I cannot afford to take her to a vet because my dog has also recently been sick and all of my money has gone to his vet bills. My dog is fine for right now, but the lizard is not.
She is open mouth breathing (really bad sign), has been refusing food, and thus has lost weight. I suspect she has a respiratory infection. If I were to be able to take her to a vet, I believe they would prescribe her Baytril (antibiotic to fight the infection) and Critical Care to increase her weight, and maybe also something special to soak her in rather than just warm water, just to help keep her hydrated as she is also looking dehydrated. With all of this, I imagine I would be looking at a bill of around $150-$200, or maybe even a little bit more, which i simply do not have right now, especially since I cannot work for the next 4 weeks.
I really don't want to lose her. So I am asking for money to take her to a vet. If I can raise at least $150-$175, I can find a way to cover the rest if it ends up being a bit more than that.
I started a fundraiser on paypal, so if y'all could please consider helping her, or sharing/boosting this post, I would really appreciate it. https://www.paypal.com/pools/c/8Rv9LhIQz9
In the meantime, my plan for her care is twice daily soaks in warm water to keep her hydrated, keeping her in a smaller quarantine tank so I can easily monitor her health as right now she is in a larger one with a mate. She might be eating, but i can't really tell since the other one may be the one getting the food, but I've just moved her to the smaller tank, so I will try to give her some food. If she doesn't eat over the weekend, I have some liquid meal that I can syringe feed to her, but she hates being handled like that. But keeping her fed and hydrated is really all I can do to help make her more comfortable while she tries to fight the infection. There is nothing I can do for her respiratory infection without medical treatment. If any reptile owners out there have any advice for me, i'd appreciate it.
This is her:
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quietwingsinthesky · 6 months
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prev post samifer version of that curse scenario where lucifer is the one cursed. play with me in this space, yeah? let us take the torture in the cage as the product of the cage itself, lucifer’s actual involvement in it either nonexistent or minimal with no agency — his own torture being made into a tool to inflict so much pain on sam as to make any connection they have forever tainted by it. when sam gets out of the cage, he goes through all of the canon aftermath, including hallucifer, the obvious face of his trauma whether or not lucifer wanted anything to do with it, and lives with it for years until lucifer finally gets out again and they have to go through the slow and horrible process of coming to terms with everything. but crucially: they ARE coming to terms with it.
they’re finding that they can still have a connection, even if the idea of sam being lucifer’s vessel again is enough to make him lock himself in the bathroom and make himself puke again and again like he can purge the memory of being filled with power, demon blood and angel grace both. even if lucifer freezes up whenever sam makes the slightest sound of pain while they’re in the same room, even if all he did was burn his finger on a hot pan while lucifer wasn’t even near him. they’re working on it.
and then lucifer gets cursed. and the curse lowers everyone’s inhibitions around him to zero. (maybe he’s still an angel and that means he ends up getting stabbed seven times before he’s even gotten to the kitchen to make sam coffee because dean will follow him around and attack him. casual and constant violence, you know. or maybe he’s human, and it’s genuinely dangerous for him to even be in the bunker around other hunters or castiel or anyone at all, because they will try to kill him.)
but the worst of it is when it comes to sam. for both of them. because sam “i’m dealing with the devil being the face of my trauma just FINE guys im handling it so well i have no lingering resentments” winchester really thinks that he won’t be a danger to lucifer. that if he is, it actually reflects on him and his failure to Deal With It. because he would never want to hurt lucifer, would never want lucifer to feel as scared and in pain and trapped as he did in the cage, not when he knows that it wasn’t even lucifer’s fault that he did, right?
and then when they’re alone, cooped up in a cabin far away from everyone else for lucifer’s own safety, lucifer has to fight sam off when sam immediately tries to handcuff him down and start torturing him. the curse fucking with sam’s head until all he can think is how, just once, he needs lucifer to understand, he can’t forgive lucifer completely until lucifer understands, if he hurts lucifer enough then it’ll be fair.
even better, imagine the aftermath of the curse being broken (maybe by cas & dean & whoever back home working on it, breaking it at the worst possible moment for sam & lucifer) and sam being flooded with guilt over the fact that he did this, thinking that having the impulse to at all must mean he wants to deep down, what a monster he is for it. (or maybe worse, feeling almost. satisfied. vindicated. even if only for a moment, even if only a little, staring down at lucifer when he’s cuffed and bleeding and curled in on himself trying to get away from sam.) sam having to be the one who takes care of lucifer’s injuries that he caused <3 and who knows how long it took for the curse to be broken, maybe they’ve been at this for hours or days or weeks, maybe sam doesn’t even know because time started blurring just like it did in the cage (or they both forgot that they weren’t in the cage anymore.) and it obviously isn’t anywhere near the length of time that they actually spent in hell, but still.
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bleaksqueak · 1 year
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Well, I feel a bit like a Dumb of Ass. Maybe you remember me hurting my back some months back and that slowing my art production down? I never *fully* recovered from that. It would get better, but then it would flare back up if i so much as blinked wrong (or slept in a Very Normal pose - like for example, a cactuar pose or Hail unto Gloria (Gloria a Las Plagas, maybe even). I've been fortunate my whole life not to ever deal with back, arm, shoulder or hand pain despite the lifestyle of drawing like a manic art weasel, so it turns out, due to that, I might not have known how to deal with back pain after hurting myself... and for extra stupidity points, "it's just a mild thing, so I need to rest, it's not worth a special doctor visit and complaint" ... so guess who took resting too far on top of far reduced physical activity o nthe heels of lockdowns and got into a severe inactivity loop that trapped them in a recurring pain loop due to it. (Hint: It Were Me) SO UH. PSA, DON'T DO THAT TO YOURSELF. Good news is I'm doing something about it because I reached my breaking point of annoyance over being Slowed Down and Achey. My brain going 90 miles a minute and wanting to slather everything down does not mix well with a body LARPing as a bedridden victorian urchin boy: "Oh, what tragedy.... A Breeze [Contorts Into Pain Pretzel]"
The rest of the good news (but also maybe the sad part) is just after getting back to doing basic stretching and getting back into exercise break routines, I already feel way better with way less pain. My back/neck/traps had become a giant (and possibly sentient) knot.
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mooodyblue · 1 year
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life really continues to test me over and over again yall. like. [interally screaming]
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pumpkinstabs · 7 months
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i am........ very very very stressed out and not doing great mentally rn, like even worse than the usual LOL so ummmmm i might be sparse, sorry ;_;
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It's a special kind of fun when you walk into your living room and think "Fuck I should be worried about something but I forget what." I'm now having anxiety over not knowing what I'm supposed to be anxious about.
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eqan · 2 years
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assorted pups from the last few days
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chatsukimi · 11 days
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ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ
featuring: protective!heian!sukuna, kindhearted!servant!reader. slight angst/hurt -> comfort. synopsis: you're sick. to your surprise, you're rescued by the man second closest to death himself. masterlist
you should've known he wouldn't come. sukuna has never set foot in the servant's headquarters in his life, let alone to chase after a sick servant. you lower your head, trying to ease the headache that has plagued you through the day.
sukuna loves his bloodshed and his gore. him and death would be good friends, you think to yourself. he wouldn't care if your body was burnt or buried, you think to yourself; wouldn't care if you died at all.
the room the others put you in is empty. ash spreads neatly over the cold floor. the scent of kibble haunts the atmosphere. it's where they put the dogs before sukuna killed them.
ever since you took care of the king of curses while he was sick, the other servants had been careful in keeping a distance from you. not in ill of heart; they're simply terrified at what you must've done to survive in your week long stay with the monster. honestly, you don't blame them.
but now when you're laying on the freezing ground, struggling to breathe, it's hard not to.
'this is where you live?'
your eyes look up. shock. then, with all the strength you can muster, you heave yourself one step away from the man at the doorway, which only serves to piss him off more.
sukuna ryomen, in all his glory, looks down at you. bending down to pick you up like a limp doll to be seated against the wall, he seems to revel in his regained strength. you can't help but feel happy for him, to have survived this fatal disease. not many men can attest to that...
then again, he is no ordinary man.
'i asked you a question.'
you nod, a small thing, barely a movement. he seems to clench his teeth.
he takes off his long white coat, flaunting a layer of dried blood, and drapes it over your shoulders.
yet it doesn't end there. he retrieves from his pocket a bottle of what looks to be a golden syrup.
you know exactly what it is.
he takes your hand and wraps it around the flask, making you hold it, sparing, not one, but two of his eyes, to stare at you, making sure you do as he commands.
'swallow.'
you shake your head. you know he's asking you to do. this is a medication is so rare for your disease that no sorcerer has found in over a hundred years. he's brought this thing of myth right to your very lips. now he's asking you to drink it, and thus take away any chance of it saving anyone else's life.
you scowl, but the tickling sensation in your throat grows stronger, eventually erupting out of your mouth in a harsh cough. you look away from sukuna.
'leave,' you whisper, weakly. 'don't wanna infect you.'
'i survived the illness already. i've developed an immunity.'
you shake your head again. you couldn't threaten your king's health with your own weakness. you just couldn't.
'i can't take this.'
he growls. without any notice, he swallows your lips in a kiss. in the momentary haze, you could hardly resist, fisting the front of his kimono to ground yourself. then, you feel something sweet, honey-ish, hit your tongue.
with his hand locked on your chin, it forces you to swallow.
you pull back, pushing him away. he groans.
he wipes his mouth, still with two eyes staring.
no... no, why did he do that?
'y-you- how? no... why did you waste it on me?' you whisper, desperately searching his face for an answer. 'i'm just a servant. you could've given it to a princess, or a scholar, or priest-'
he grabs you by the arm and forces you into his arms. its heat astounds you, and you find yourself crawling closer. a vague thumping sound seems to press against your ear-
oh. you calm your breathing.
it's his heartbeat.
alive.
'sleep in my room tonight,' he demands.
what did he say? you strain your mind, trying to replay what he said earlier. no... maybe you heard correctly.
'but i'm no concubine,' you respond, instantly.
his arm supports your waist, helping you up effortlessly to your feet. he then directs two of his eyes to the doorway, his cadence low and domineering.
'it doesn't matter.'
he leads you placidly through the servant's quarters. you notice all conversation cease at your entry, bodies dropping into a low bow. a small voice in you whispers that it's where you should be too. you tug at sukuna's arm.
'i'm only a servant, sukuna.'
you know what it looks like, a servant clutching onto a man, more god than human. a man who has slaughtered villages, blood staining the base of his kimono crimson, and turned half a province on its head, just to save you.
'whatever you are in my eyes is what you are to the world,' he states, his expression unchanging. 'if i deem you a queen, that is who you are.'
exiting the servant compound, you know you can't say no- not like you wanted to. the wide expanse of his chest is comforting.
yet however sweet this feeling remains, you can't help but gulp. perhaps this is the closest a human has ever come to courting death.
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ozzgin · 6 months
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I love your reader insert stuff!! The yandere yazuka series was vvvv entertaining, I wish I had a big scary gangster to scare away my stalker lol
If you are open to requests, how about Idol!Reader x Yandere!Bodyguard. I love the trope so much, and I'm interested and what you'd do with the idea. No worries if you're not interested tho!
Best wishes
-🌟
I just finished writing it and you've got me punching the air with your prompt. It wasn't really my thing but I'm now sold. Thank you for the trope idea. :’)
Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (I)
Short scenario featuring your bodyguard that takes his duty a little too seriously. Not that you’d mind…
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]
TW: violence
(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)
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"Fantastic show tonight!"
The older man guides you in and closes the door behind him. You smile warmly and seat yourself on the sofa. He quickly follows, although at a terribly uncomfortable proximity. His legs are pressed against yours and he extends an arm behind you, pretending to stretch. You shuffle awkwardly and lock your hands in your lap. You can already tell where this is going.
"With your talent, I'm confident we could triple the number of attendants. We just need a bigger venue." He nods at you and taps your thigh with his other free hand as encouragement. You notice the wedding band digging into his skin. 
"Alas, let us not waste the evening with business talk. I'm sure a stunning lady like you has better things to do." He laughs at his own compliment and ponders for a minute. "In fact, why don't we have dinner together? I know a great restaurant in the area."
You open your mouth to speak, but are distracted by the sudden, mild pressure on your leg. Somehow, his greasy fingers have wandered further up in the time you listened to his shameless offer. You've been in this career for long enough to guess what such proposals entail. If you say no, best case scenario he presses further, calling you a stuck up bitch and reminding you who has the power in this partnership. Worst case scenario, he leaves the room and the calls and invitations to perform will gradually drop. 
Yet your situation is special, benefitting from an additional possibility. A loophole, if you may.
Should you scream? Oh, he always gets so angry when you act scared. It's an immediate trigger. He really has a soft spot for your glistening, frightened eyes. You glance up one final time at the perverted smirk silently disregarding you. If you are to be honest with yourself, you'd very much enjoy seeing it wiped off forever. Why not? You're feeling particularly mean today.
So without hesitation, you release a high pitched yell of help. The door bursts open and the hinges creak. A tall, toned man walks in, and without a word he lunges at the manager, pulling him by the collar of his cheap dress jacket. You hold your cheeks dramatically, and bat your eyelashes at your bodyguard.
"H-he tried to molest me..." you mumble between sobs.
That's all he needs to proceed. Now the real fun begins. You can hear the muffled screams of protest. The bones crack and the flesh bends under his iron fists. Standing before your bodyguard, they all end up looking like ragdolls. Comically limp and weak, folding and breaking with no resistance. It amuses you greatly.
When did it all begin? You can't remember anymore. You were in your early years and this scary looking stranger entered your little backstage room. His explanation was brief and to the point: as your fame increases, so will the threats to your safety. He was appointed as your bodyguard. You couldn't care less, so you just shrugged. 
You've always been on the playful side. Not necessarily rude, just some innocent tease and banter wherever it's well received. Seeing him so quiet and stoic, you couldn't help but try to push his buttons: changing in front of him and requiring his assistance, occasionally asking him to pick you up and carry you because you could no longer walk. Naturally you would've stopped at the first complaint, but that's the strange part: no reaction ever came. He went along with everything. You assumed it's part of the job. Celebrities aren't known for their good manners, so hiring someone that loses their temper easily would be a fast ticket to termination.
Then you had your first encounter with one of the unpleasant fans you've been warned about. You could only stare in terror at your bodyguard's feral, unhinged reaction. The unfortunate fan's face was so disfigured, you wondered if anyone could ever manage to fix it back into shape. The bodyguard was panting and you could see the sweat coating his face and chest. You were rather confident there were many other ways to deal with it and this wasn't on the recommended list. Thus you felt compelled to ask the million dollar question:
"You act like a jealous spouse. Do you have a crush on me or something?"
You kind of regretted your audacity towards a man that had just nearly killed someone. But his features softened instantly and he turned to you, wiping his forehead and straightening his collar. 
"I suppose so. Is that an issue?"
As you stared ahead, processing his unbothered act, you sensed your cheeks feverishly burning. Uh oh. You hadn't anticipated such a nonchalant confession. You thought back to all the times you stood before him, bare and flirty. Was he merely holding back his urges the entire time? Or was he finally paying you back for all the teasing? Then again, his face didn't betray any hint of humor.
"I've never heard you joke before", you decided to test the waters.
"I'm not. Why would I joke about something like this?" He gazed at you incredulously. 
As somber and honest as ever. Well, that would indeed explain why he'd let you get away with the cheeky behavior. The more you considered it, the more entranced you became with the idea of indulging in such a relationship. As a famous idol, you couldn't be seen dating anyone. One rumor of you having a boyfriend and the agency would've had your ass suspended. But no one said anything about messing around with your bodyguard. He has to be with you all the time, so no one would suspect a thing. And you could definitely expand his list of responsibilities. You'd been terribly stressed lately, after all, and an outlet to release your frustrations would be most welcomed. Your bodyguard would never refuse pleasing his beloved.
You chuckled and pulled him towards your dressing room, giddy with excitement. Something about his imposing presence, like a wild animal that had just escaped from the leash, aroused you to no end. You've had your share of crazy fans, but this was the cherry on top. 
"Should we leave?"
You're jolted out of your daydreams by his low, rough voice. Ah, you missed the grand finale. Too bad. The bodyguard approaches you, with the shirt wrinkled and the top buttons popped open under the shuffle of his vicious attack. You can feel the knot forming in your stomach.
"Not yet. You know how I get when you act like this..." You pout and look away. "You need to take care of me first."
He grins at your last statement.
"Of course. Is the sofa okay?"
You nod.
"Then let's get you undressed, miss."
Is this what they call a scary dog privilege? 
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evie-sturns · 27 days
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dinner - Chris Sturniolo
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summary: you and your boyfriend chris have just had your one year anniversary, to celebrate chris's family invites you and your parents round for dinner! but when chris gets worked up by your touch he has to take you to the bathroom...
contains: smut, bathroom!sex, semi-public, fluff, teasing, stomach bulge.
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in honor of chris and i's one year anniversary, his family is deciding to throw a huge dinner party. i'm not too sure if his extended family will be there but my parents and siblings are coming.
"chris?" i call out, spraying my face several times with setting spray after finally finishing my lengthy getting-ready process. i hear his excited footsteps sprinting up the stairs before the bedroom door swings open.
"you look so pretty," chris smiles, walking over to me and wrapping his arms around me.
"oh- chris! careful, i don't want to get makeup on your shirt!" i laugh while chris smooshes my face onto his white shirt from his deadly tight hug.
"right so were gonna go pick up matt and nick- i think everyone else is meeting at mary lou's." i say, pulling away from the hug and grabbing chris's hand.
chris nods before dragging me downstairs, my high heels click against the wooden floors as i adjust the straps of my white sundress.
i turn my phone on do not disturb while unlocking the front door, "how long are we going to be there?" chris asks, stepping out into the afternoon sun.
"only a couple hours, you might get a little bored." i tell chris before jumping into the drivers seat of our car.
"no- i'll be fine," chris defends himself with a sigh.
i look over at him "you okay?" i ask, rubbing his shoulder as i drive down the driveway.
"just.. really fucking nervous" chris laughs.
"chris no. you know my family loves you so much, all your brothers will be there its a happy thing!" i try to lift his enthusiasm with a confident tone.
-
i pull into the driveway of chris's parents house, ever since we picked up matt and nick, chris has cheered up. hes been laughing dramatically while making stupid jokes.
"you guys ready?" i ask with a grin, switching off the car.
"yes ma'am." nick jokes, swinging open the car door and jumping out, matt follows close behind. chris get's out of the car and instantly starts walking up to the front door, i run up behind him.
the front door opens slowly, mary lou's face peeks out and instantly lights up "hello!!" she sings, wrapping her arms around me.
"your children are here too" matt scoffs, she wraps her other arm around matt nick and chris, squeezing us all together. the sweet smell of her floral perfume flooding my nostrils.
"come in! come in." she hurrys us inside, the kitchen has my older brother and younger sister in it, roaming through the pantry. the dining room has tens of adults around all chatting happily around the table.
"look whos here!" jimmy calls out from the dining table, everyones heads snap up to me and chris. dramatic hollers come from the people round the table, chris and i burst into laughter.
“come! come sit” my mother smiles widely, tapping the two seats left for chris and i. i look over at chris and flash him a quick smile before sitting down
chris sits down right next to me, our shoulders brushing briefly.
"its been so long! hows molly?" i ask, molly is my dog. shes getting old but shes my childhood dog.
"oh shes doing great, you know still limping but we took her to the vet a couple weeks ago." my mom replies with a small sigh,
"anyways- and chris! i've missed you darling congratulations on 1 year! hows that youtube going?" she continues, looking up at chris with a wide grin.
"thank you! it's going great thank you, my career now- yeah!" chris speaks, his hands resting comfortably on his lap.
"ahh- youtube i remember when you were just starting a couple years ago!" my dad laughs, before chris and i dated we were friends since high school. my dad always loved chris, he says that chris is a 'sweet boy'.
all heads on the table turn towards mary lou and my cousin james, bringing over several dishes to the table.
"this looks awesome thank you." matt smiles up at mary lou.
i look over at chris, who is now shifting in his seat. he locks eyes with me and instantly breaks eye contact, looking down at his lap.
i serve up some food on my plate,
suddenly i feel chris's hand on my thigh as he talks to one of my cousins, his long fingers trace small circles on my inner thigh under the table.
i stab my fork into the cabbage on my plate, glaring over at chris as he happily chats with various members of my family while his fingers slowly shift up my thigh.
he drags his fingers just under the hem of my dress, i can feel myself growing more sexually frustrated, my panties dampening by the second. his pinky lightly grazes my panties.
"chris." i whisper, he turns to me with an innocent face and a small head tilt.
as soon as he wraps up the conversation with my cousin he leans over, his lips just below my ear before he whispers subtly
"you're gonna excuse yourself to the bathroom and i'm going to meet you there in a minute okay?"
i nod, squeezing my thighs together.
"i'm just going to pop to the bathroom" i smile warmly at my parents like my boyfriend wasn't just teasing me under the table.
i scoot my chair back and stand up, swiftly walking upstairs and taking the first door into the large bathroom.
the walls in chris's parents house are paper thin, last time i was hear i could hear conversations from each bedroom clearly, so now i hear chris making up a lame excuse to meet me up here.
"hey- i don't know if y/n's feeling very well she was nauseous on the way here" he lies through his teeth "i'm going to go check up on her." chris says, i hear his chair shift before footsteps running up here.
he swings open the door with a stupid smile. "yes?" i say with a roll of my eyes.
he walks over to me, grabbing my ass and lifting me up onto the marble countertop. my back presses against the mirror as chris steps between my legs.
I spread my legs apart, causing my dress to ride up my thighs revealing a portion of my panties.
"fucking soaked." chris scoffs, my face flushes as he tugs down my panties to my ankles before putting them in his pocket. he fidgets with the belt of his jeans, letting it drop down followed by his jean.
"if you. make a sound. i will stop completely." chris speaks sternly, i nod, sinking my top teeth into my bottom lip.
"good girl." chris says, rubbing my cheek before lining himself up with me.
he pushes his tip inside of me, observing my face. he slowly gives me more, i shake my head as i press my lips together.
chris is big, its a known fact and it's almost impossible to stay silent when he pounds into me.
"you can take it, i know you can" chris mutters, bottoming out. i arch my back, breathing heavily.
he starts to thrust into me, his hands gripping the plush of my hips. the thrusts grow faster and harder, we both know we don't have all the time in the world so hes desperate to make me cum, and to cum himself.
the angle we're in allows him to repeatedly hit my g-spot.
"fuck!" i moan out, before i can even finish the word chris's hand is plastered over my mouth.
he presses two fingers into my mouth to shut me up.
i whine against his fingers, squeezing my eyes shut as i shift all over the countertop. shortly after my legs start to shake, i feel myself growing so close to my orgasm.
his hand that was on my hip moves to my lower stomach, pressing lightly. i look down, theres a clear stomach bulge.
"you feel me right there sweetheart?" chris breathes, i throw my head back with a frantic nod. he continues to press on my stomach.
i wrap my legs around his back before clenching harshly around him. i squeeze my eyes shut as i fight back all noises that are begging to leave my mouth.
my orgasm crashes over me, chris chuckles lightly before pulling out. he releases into his hand as he throws his head back.
we stay still for a couple seconds, i look down at his hand that he just released in
"gross!" i tease,
"hey it was this or on your dress so i took the practical option." chris replies, i stick up a finger and repeat what he said in a nerdy tone.
i flop down off the countertop, tugging down my dress and reaching into his pocket, digging around for my panties.
i pull them out of his pocket and slide them up my legs, chris washes his hands and redresses himself.
"that was.. hot." i breathe out, unlocking the door to the bathroom.
chris follows close behind me down the stairs, all heads turn to us.
shit. were we too loud?
"oh no! y/n were you sick?" mary lou says with a small pout. i hesitate for a second
"your hair is all messed up and you're absolutely flushed! your red!" my mother adds on,
i look over at chris who has his hands in his pockets awkwardly.
"yeah- i'm sorry guys i threw up in there" i lie with a fake sigh
truthfully, i wasn't sick. i just couldn't tell my whole family that my boyfriend was just balls deep inside of me right upstairs.
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@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @ecilphttlunar @pkfferoo @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle
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Note
if ur still taking requests could u do dbf!miguel? :3
he would be a brat tamer, change my mind.
DBF!Miguel O'Hara
(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist
DBF!Miguel O'Hara x fem reader
summary: fucking dbf!mig in a closet at a christmas party <3
warnings: Minors DNI. 18+. Brat taming, PIV, oral (f receiving), semi-public sex. established relationship? idk, this isn't the first time y'all are fucking
a/n: if you squint this is christmas themed. happy holidays everyone!
wc: 1k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dbf!Miguel but he has some semblance of a conscience. He has just enough self awareness, the wherewithal to feel guilty as he fucks you - sighing into the crook of your neck as you whine. 
And God, do you whine… simpering, breathy little moans that go straight to his cock. The way you squirm underneath him, legs shaking and shivering so he has to dig into the meat of perfect thigh just a bit more; lapping at that dip below your jaw in a frenzy. 
“Quiet.” He hisses, grinding his pelvis against yours, pushing your body flat against the wall. 
“F-Fuck, Mig… can't–”
When your head tips back, and it will - he's been fucking you long enough to know your tells, to catch every shiver and creak of bones before you come - he'll lick up those moans too. 
You keen, fucking back on his length, and Miguel shifts his hips just so - hiking up your leg even higher. With one swift movement, you've wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hand in his hair. He's pulled out, tip of his cock kissing your hole, and then he slams himself back in - a delicious curve that hits just the right place. 
“Look at me.” He says it soft, tilting your chin so your noses graze against one another, lips barely a hair's breadth away. “You're close, baby.”
He says it like a statement, so attuned to you in that little coat closet, batting away fur trim and padding. And it's intimate, tits pressed up against him, spilling out of a push up bra under an itchy jumper you wore specifically for him - but of course, you wouldn't dare say as such. 
The way your lips press against him is enough, desperate and breathy. He presses the flat of his thumb - deliciously rough, with just the right amount of pressure - against your clit, and your legs buckle under the pleasure that it brings. 
“Look at me.” He says it again, crooning and gentle. “Want you to look at me when you come, hermosa.”
Like a dog in heat, what he says, goes; and you're brought to the edge by just his words. Quiet, like he said you should, and you nip at the juncture of neck peeking out from that thickly knit sweater, biting down a moan. It rips through you, bubbling up at your chest, causing you to clamp down on his length.
“Needy girl…. O-Oh fuck….” Miguel whispers it into your ear, holding you close. 
Eyes lidded, you trace cheekbone and deep furrows, addicted to the way his dimples look in the low light. And when you tug, hand in his hair and pulling him closer, deeper, milking his cock; he rewards with you with hot cum and a sloppy kiss. 
Hips stuttering, eventually he pulls out; tucking his cock back into loose slacks. You're breathless, slumped back onto cool. wall. 
“Give me a second…” You huff. 
“Here,” He says, wrapping the limp limbs around his shoulders even tighter. “Don't be a brat.”
It’s said without any real venom, quiet protests kissed into skin. He sinks to his knees, using his thumbs to open up your cunt, marvelling at the way you glisten. It makes you hot under the collar, batting him away. Regardless, Miguel persists, swiping his tongue at your pretty hole and taking a careful taste. 
You squirm - half-heartedly, with a hand in his hair - as he presses pretty kisses, eating out his cum with a nose at your clit. You're close, tugging  That second orgasm, ever elusive, is snatched away.
“Fuck you.” You spit, watching him wipe a hand across stubble as he gets up. 
“Watch the attitude. S'why we're here in the first place.”
“No.” Adjusting your skirt, you step forward. If looks could kill, Miguel could give you a run for your money, you realise with a grimace. “We're here because you're a dirty old man.”
He rolls his eyes, arms crossed in the tiny space.
“Someone needs to teach you some manners.” He grunts.
…by fucking you in a coat closet? You raise an eyebrow. 
“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
He doesn't crack a smile, opting for a hand snaked under your skirt instead. Squeezing your ass, he presses you against him and gulps down subsequent moans. You both separate with a wet pop. 
He goes to bed with a hand down his pants, fucking his hand to the pictures you send him late at night. But you already know that. 
Miguel sighs, watching as you slip out of the little room, smoothing out the wrinkles in your skirt, adjusting a crinkly paper crown. After a reasonable amount of time, he follows the path you must have taken, across the hall and into the dining room, met with a dozen faces milling about. 
There you are in the corner, pressing manicured nails to a screen; ignoring the way half the people in the room ogle you: the boss's kid. His chest puffs up, protective. There's a line drawn in the sand, between him and them. When he looks you up and down, traces the curve of thigh disappearing under a too-short skirt…. it's different, he thinks. 
As if you can hear his thoughts, you look up. Catching his eye, he doesn't miss the way your thighs squeeze together, nor how you shift your red sweater to hide a blossoming bruise. 
Good. You're learning. 
Your dad asked him to take care of you - preening and dithering despite the fact you were grown; definitely not his wide eyed little girl. Spoilt rotten, sure. But Miguel will do anything to keep you safe, even if that means a few... corrective measures. 
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aplaceofnonsense · 2 years
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badjokesbyjeff · 1 year
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A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. As she laid her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird’s chest.
After a moment or two, the vet shook his head and sadly said, "I'm sorry, your duck, Cuddles, has passed away."
The distressed woman wailed, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am sure. Your duck is dead," replied the vet.
"How can you be so sure?" she protested. I mean you haven't done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something.
The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with a black Labrador Retriever. As the duck's owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked up at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.
The vet patted the dog on the head and took it out of the room. A few minutes later he returned with a cat. The cat jumped on the table and also delicately sniffed the bird from head to foot. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly and strolled out of the room.
The vet looked at the woman and said, "I'm sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck."
The vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill, which he handed to the woman.
The duck's owner, still in shock, took the bill. "$1500!" she cried, "$1500 just to tell me my duck is dead!"
The vet shrugged, "I'm sorry. If you had just taken my word for it, the bill would have been $50, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it's now $1500."
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aylish91 · 1 year
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New chapter incoming!!
Sea Of Hope Chapter 8
Previous Next SOH Master Grandmaster
This masterful piece of art was done by @aoi-kanna as a commission. They are truly talented and I appreciate all the hard work they put into making this for me. Go check them out, they are absolutely wonderful!!!
Story below or AO3 above.
~~~
While Axe checked you over, Edge grabbed Red by the back of the neck and stormed down the main hatch, loudly yelling at the rest of the crew to mind their own business as they scurried out of his way. For the most part, Red's protests went unheard as he was dragged down the steep steps. Blue, on the other hand, had hesitantly approached Papyrus, whispering something before they too turned and headed past the hatch, disappearing through a pair of doors into the upper levels of the ship. 
The clearing of a throat had you tensing and pressing closer to Axe. Black had once again gotten closer than you were comfortable with, standing only a couple paces away. “AS HEARTWARMING AS THIS IS, IT IS QUICKLY BECOMING LATE AND THE LADY STILL NEEDS ADEQUATE DRESS. MY BROTHER’S COAT IS HARDLY A FITTING SUBSTITUTE.”  
Rus chuckled beside him. However, when he made to comment, a look from Black had him looking down instead. 
Axe narrowed his sockets. “Don’t know where you’re planning on get’n somethin. Ain’t exactly swimmin in extras and you’ve refused to mend mine so I could give it to her.”  
Black scoffed. “YOU FAILED TO MENTION IT WAS FOR YOUR MARKED. YOU HAVE ALSO YET TO COMPLETE THE TASK I ASKED OF YOU. I DID NOT SEE THE POINT IN TURNING IN YOUR FAVOR WHEN MY OWN HAD BEEN UNMET.” 
“Been busy.” 
“AS WE’VE ALL.” 
Something shifted in the air, both of their eyelights brightening. Rus glared, moving closer to his brother. It took Crooks placing a hand on Axe’s shoulder for the two to back down. 
“Petty bastard.” 
“WHEN IT SUITS ME.” With a flourish of a hand and a half step back, he indicated the direction of the doors, continuing to meet Axe’s gaze. “NOW, I BELIEVE WE SHOULD ATTEMPT TO FIND SOMETHING MORE SUITABLE UNTIL NEXT WE MAKE PORT. SURELY YOU CAN AGREE IT WOULD BE IN EVERYONE’S BEST INTEREST.”  
“Fine, but we’re not leadin’.” You could hear the creak of Axe’s teeth. 
“OF COURSE.” With a tight turn, Black nodded, marching forward with Rus trailing behind with a wink. "AS YOU WISH." 
Axe refused to move at first, tugging his empty socket and prompting a sighing Crooks to nudge you both. "I Know You Don’t Like Him, But He Is Fair.” 
“Bastard never does anything fer free.” 
“And Yet, He Has A Point.”  
Neither you nor Axe was reassured but allowed him to guide you forward regardless. Crewmen brave enough to linger eyed your group with various degrees of emotion. When a dog monster growled, another was quick to slap the back of their head, nervously hunching at a glare from both of your skeleton friends. You tried not to show your fear or your growing limp as you passed, hoping Rus' long coat hid what you couldn’t. It didn't seem like a good idea to show weakness around others. The watchful eyes and aggressive postures spoke volumes to your already heightened nerves. Entering the ship did nothing to ease your discomfort.  
It felt cramped and pressing despite having more than enough space and light. Unlike the previous ship, several lanterns lit the expanse leaving no ominous shadows or darkened areas. You could easily see all the doors lining the walls as well as the beautifully carved and decorated windowed doors marking the end of the hall. Rus waited near the last door on the left.  
It was calm and warm, but you couldn’t shake off the feelings of danger. 
“Ya c’n go inside Darlin. Milord’s wait’n.” Rus stood to the side, motioning you inside the now open door. 
You looked to your companions. While Axe kept his eyelight on Rus, Crooks’ soft smile and nod gave you enough of a boost to cautiously cross the threshold. It smelled of lavender tinted with something you couldn’t quite place, the overall size relatively small. What looked like a narrow modified canopy bed connected to the wall was on your right. In front of you, under a single window, was a rather lovely desk intricately carved with polished knobs. To your immediate left was an open decorative chest shoved in the corner. Everything was of exquisite taste and quality, from the bedding and carvings on the furniture to the upholstery on the chair at the desk. The few trinkets left out were of fine gold or silver with glistening jewels. 
You jumped when the door closed behind you. Axe nor Crooks had made it inside. It had your stomach rolling with nerves. You did not anticipate having the others closed out. Having Black now between you and the only exit made it worse. His eyelights were too bright. 
Didn’t Rus call him a lord...? 
Your chest tightened at his approach, making sure to lower your gaze. 
“TRUE TO MY WORD, THAT HORROR’S GARMENT HAS BEEN MENDED. HAD I KNOWN IT WAS FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS, I NEVER WOULD HAVE HELD ONTO IT.” In his hands was a large linen shirt, neatly folded and dark in color. Holding it out, he offered it to you. “PUT IT ON. I WILL ADJUST IT AS NEEDED AFTER.” 
You froze, intently focusing on the simple article of cloth. Was he expecting you to do it here and now? In front of him? Wasn’t it bad enough you were laid bare in front of all those on the deck, or stars, when you pressed yourself against Blue? At least Axe had good reason to see you. Multiple! To willingly undress now in the presence of a man other than your husband...  
By the angel, what would Axe think of all this? 
Black must have noticed your silent panicked uncertainty when you didn’t immediately take it. Clearing his throat, something in his tone changed. “I SHALL, OF COURSE, REFRAIN FROM LOOKING WHILE YOU DO SO. YOU MAY LEAVE MY BROTHER’S COAT ON THE CHAIR WHEN YOU ARE READY.” 
It was hard not to squirm. While that was greatly appreciated, it still felt uncomfortable. Could you trust his word? You hardly knew the man. Perhaps things may have felt different if the room wasn’t quite so stifling or the door hadn’t been shut so suddenly. 
Luckily, heavy thumps in the hall distracted Black enough for him to hand you the garment himself, squinting at the door behind him. He was just about to speak again when another set of thumps sounded, this time shaking the door. Growling, he finally turned when the muffled voices following the noise got angrier. 
You really didn’t want to do this right now. Not here. Not with all the uncertainties surrounding you.  
Taking a slow breath in, you let it out. The sooner you changed, the sooner you could be rid of these unsettling feelings. With unsteady fingers twitching against the fabric as you took one last glance at Black’s back. 
One more breath. 
The sound of your rattling bones was louder without the security of the coat. Placing it on the chair, you did your best to quickly dress.  
The feeling of fabric against your bones was surprisingly comforting as you pulled it over your head. True to Axe’s size, the shirt almost went to your knees. It was so large the fabric pooled on your much smaller frame and reminded you of the nightgowns you used to wear back at the manor. 
If only it wasn’t so short. 
Though your more private areas were covered, it was not good for a lady to show so much… leg. You tugged at the hem, the sleeves threatening to engulf your hands.  
“I’m dressed, my lord.” 
A calculated breath was your only answer before his eyelights found you, fuzzy with a slight warble. You had to second guess if you had seen them correctly, for the next moment they were back to their bright and sharp orbs. Getting closer, they traveled over you as he hummed, the heel of his boots clicking as he circled. If you had hair, it would have stood on end at the subtle brush of his hand against your back. 
“AS I EXPECTED.” 
You startled, yelping when he came around to lightly grip your hips. Instinctively, your hands came to your chest from the forwardness, sockets wide. He paid no mind, eyelights intent on the bunched fabric. He only let go to pull a satin rope from his pocket. 
You squeaked again when he reached around you to wrap it around your waist. 
“MUCH BETTER. HOWEVER," His gloved hands touched your elbows, slowly moving up your arms to grasp your hands for inspection. “YOUR MAGIC. IT IS MUCH TOO THIN…” He turned them over. “Hmmmmm. Knowing Him…” 
Your chest clenched. He was close enough you could feel his ambient heat and wisps of breath. 
Before Black could say or do anything else, his door nearly burst off its hinges, a very aggravated Axe forcing it open. Black pulled you into him with a snarl, eyelights vanishing with the click of his teeth. Stuck in a headlock was a disgruntled Rus, resigned to the hold around his neck. 
You didn’t know if you could physically handle any more stress.  
“BY THE ANGEL, YOU WILL REPLACE THAT LOCK IF YOU HAVE BROKEN IT!” 
Axe’s voice was low, grin tight as he took in the scene. “Don’t appreciate the closed door, Black. Hell ya think yer doin’ in here?” 
Black placed you behind him, grumbling a growl. “AS I STATED EARLIER, I HAVE GIVEN HER SOMETHING TO ADEQUATELY COVER HERSELF UNTIL WE CAN PROCURE SOMETHING MORE FITTING.”  
Axe narrowed his sockets at Black’s squared shoulders. For a split second, you could see the red orb of his eyelight flick over the man in front of you before it focused on you.  
“Sure that's all ya were doin’?” 
The fabric of Black’s gloves creaked. “IF YOU MUST KNOW, I WAS INSPECTING HER MAGIC FLOW. I’M NO EXPERT, BUT EVEN I CAN TELL IT’S RUNNING LOW. A MORE IMPORTANT QUESTION WOULD BE, WHY HAVEN’T YOU—” 
“I’ve been doin’ exactly what I need ta be. Don’t need ta explain myself either.” Rus stumbled into the room when Axe unceremoniously released him to motion to you. “Now, if yer done?” 
With a snarl, Black pointed a finger. “NOW SEE HERE YOU–” 
Instinctually, you reached out, stopping just before Black’s arm. “My lord, I!” You faltered at his abrupt attention, pulling back to dip your head in respect. “I thank you for your kindness, but I should return to my lord husband before any more misunderstandings occur.” 
His eyelights stuttered. “I, I BEG YOUR PARDON?” 
There was a beat of awkward silence before Axe broke into heavy laughter, the loudest and deepest you’ve heard from him. It was enough to warm your cheeks as he beckoned you out and away from the room. Black gaped, slack-jawed and sputtering as you passed. You were already being guided onto the deck by the time he was able to call out one last time from his doorway. 
“AXE! YOU WILL… THAT… YOU WILL EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” 
Axe only laughed harder, closing the doors behind you. 
The sun had mostly set by the time you stepped out into the humid sea air. You would have done anything in the past to be able to look up, out, and around but Axe was swift in guiding you down the main hatch. You didn’t want to linger longer than necessary anyway. 
You didn’t have Rus’s coat to hide under. 
You were grateful for the darkness once you were under. The lanterns were farther spread, some empty of light altogether. It helped ease your mind against the wandering eyes. Most gathered under the brightest lamps, playing cards at makeshift tables, drinking, and socializing while others lounged in hammocks hanging interspersed between the canons. While some watched you pass, Axe was surprisingly good at slipping through the darkest areas to avoid the unwanted attention.  
The closer you got to the front of the ship, the fewer people there were until you came upon barrels and crates stacked near and around an area quartered off by familiar heavy sheets. You could even recognize the stack you and Blue had hidden next to, the sheet on that side still halfway pulled down. Axe was kind enough to hold the flap for you to enter. 
Finally, you were able to relax the tension out of your shoulders and pained joints. You wanted to climb back into the hammock and rest your aching pelvis, maybe snuggle against Axe and his warmth. The way he moved about though had you gingerly sitting on his stool, setting it upright from where it had been knocked over. 
You wondered when that had occurred. What happened after you had been taken? 
... 
A quiet curse had you looking back at Axe as he re-fastened the makeshift wall. There were a few more rips in it than you remembered. If he had any sewing supplies, you would have to mend them. It was the least you could do as thanks. 
You let out a slow breath, peering down at your clenched fists. They were cold and stiff on your lap. Black had been interested in them. The lot of them had been interested in general, but he had seemed so focused. 
Your voice was soft, hesitant as you summoned the courage to speak. “Axe? I have so many questions, but I’m afraid… I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask.” 
Axe chuckled. “Don’t gotta be afraid with me, Dove. It’s good ta ask questions around here. The more ya know the better, good or bad. Don’t let anyone tell ya otherwise.” 
You picked at the hem of the shirt, smoothing it down as much as you could. “Is that true?" Axe simply grunted. Collecting yourself, you forced yourself to ask the questions burning your mind. "What is a Banthos? What does it mean to be one? And what did Black mean when he said my magic was too thin? I don’t have magic. I’m not… I’m not even a monster.” 
It was hard not to flinch when, from your peripherals, you saw him stop. His voice had become more serious but thankfully still soft.  
“The hell yer not. Listen, I don’t know what you’ve been told, where ya come from, or what ya been through. But you’re as much of a monster as the rest of us. You’re made of magic and hope just like me.” He came over to place your hand in his scarred one, taking a knee to look directly into your sockets. “We’re the same. Dust and all. It don’t matter about anything else. As fer your magic,” he rubbed his face with a frustrated sigh, “let me worry about that. Just know ya got it and I’m gonna make damn sure ta get it where it needs ta be.” 
You didn’t know what to say to that, but it sent a comforting feeling to your chest. He was always so warm. It reminded you of your mother.  
Nodding, you were about to ask about your first question when footsteps interrupted you. Axe stood, moving between you and the flap.  
“AXE, IT IS GETTING LATE. I HAVE TAKEN THE LIBERTY OF PREPARING SANS’ ROOM FOR THE LITTLE MISS. I HOPE YOU HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN.”  
Axe only slightly relaxed at the sound of Papyrus’ voice, not moving but calling out to the other skeleton. “I can take her when we’re ready. Just got a few–” he bristled when Papyrus entered and smiled down at you, hand twitching at his side –“more things ta take care of.” 
“AND WHAT MIGHT THAT BE SO I MAY HELP?” When Axe only grumbled, Papyrus took it upon himself to continue. “WELL, WHILE YOU FIGURE THINGS OUT, I SHALL MAKE SURE TO GET HER SAFELY TO HER NEW LODGINGS.” 
You both tensed. “Papyrus. Paps. At least let things settle before ya drag er away. You saw Sans. I don’t trust him.” 
Papyrus looked a little sheepish at the accusation. “I UNDERSTAND YOUR CONCERN, BUT I HAVE FAITH THAT THIS WILL WORK. I MYSELF WILL KEEP AN EYE ON THINGS IF I MUST. He Means Well. NOT THAT, THAT IS AN EXCUSE FOR HIS TERRIBLE BEHAVIOR.” He came forward to place a hand on Axe’s shoulder, humble and pleading. “WON’T YOU AT LEAST TRUST ME?” 
You couldn’t place the look that crossed Axe’s face from the question, the red orb of his eyelight quaking until his free hand brushed the edges of his empty socket. “That’s cheat’n…” There was a heaviness to the silence.  
When Axe’s shoulders sagged, Papyrus gave him back his space. “All WILL BE WELL. I’M SURE OF IT.” 
You were uncertain as to what you needed to do, but before you could stand, Axe nudged you back down. With the reluctance of a stubborn cat, he then went about gathering items he had deemed yours, going so far as draping his favored blanket over your shoulders. When all was said and done, you were left with a surprisingly intricate box full of puzzles, Axe’s blanket, and an affectionate nuzzle to your neck.  
It was with a heavy heart and a glowing face that you eventually followed Papyrus back out into the darkness. 
You did your best to keep up with his long strides, missing Axe’s purposely slowed gait. You could feel the grinding strain on your pelvis and lower joints with each step. You focused on the clack of your feet to keep your mind off the aching. Papyrus was already several steps ahead of you when he got to the steps.  
Blessedly, he turned to wait for you. 
It was embarrassing how out of breath you had become from such a short distance, especially when you knew you didn’t technically need to breathe. You were even more so when Papyrus cocked his head to look you over with a contemplative hum. 
His smile was kind. “MY APOLOGIES MISS. I KNEW YOU WERE IN ROUGH SHAPE, BUT I HADN’T REALIZED…” He glanced up the steps. “PERHAPS IT WOULD BE BETTER FOR ME TO HELP.” 
Without so much as a warning, he picked you up and draped you across both of his arms. You almost dropped your box, squeaking in surprise as he ascended to the deck. Your mind and tongue had stopped working from the suddenness. Though Axe had carried you once before and had moved you a few times, you didn’t quite know what to think of this stranger picking you up so nonchalantly. It was as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him, smile just as polite and kind as before. 
With him carrying you, it took little time to cross the rest of the way back through the double doors and down to the end of the hall. Standing in front of the windowed doors, you were only jostled a little when he turned the knob. He used his boot to kick it open the rest of the way with a bang, making you flinch when the glass shook precariously. 
You thought you saw a flash of blue, but when you looked, there was nothing there but a railed raised platform with an extravagant-looking bed, windows lining the entirety of the back wall. 
You shuddered. It smelled overwhelmingly of snow and cold rain. 
Scrunching his nasal ridge, Papyrus walked around a heavy round table with a scattering of papers and a lantern. Stepping onto the platform, he carefully set you down, turning to furiously rip the blankets off the bed to ball and fling them across the room with a fwump. 
“FORGIVE MY IDIOT OF A BROTHER. I WILL BE HAVING A TALK WITH HIM ABOUT APPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR LATER. FOR NOW, I’M AFRAID THIS WILL HAVE TO DO. AT LEAST THE BED IS EXCEPTIONALLY COMFORTABLE.” He put his hand down to pat the mattress. “IT IS A GIMBAL BED, MADE WITH LARGER MONSTERS IN MIND SO YOU WILL HAVE PLENTY OF SPACE AND WON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THE TIPPING OF THE SHIP.” 
When you didn’t move, he gently ushered you to sit before making his way to the windows. It was so dark now that the light from the lamp effectively turned them into mirrors. You were grateful, too afraid to look through them. To your relief, Papyrus closed the many curtains for each once. Once done, he gently took your box and stood at the end of the bed, bowing slightly from the waist. 
“I WOULD STAY TO HELP YOU SETTLE, BUT I UNFORTUNATELY HAVE OTHER DUTIES I NEED TO TAKE CARE OF AT THIS TIME. BUT DO NOT FEAR, I WILL MAKE SURE SOMEONE WILL BE BY IN THE MORNING TO BRING YOU SOME TEA AND BREAKFAST AND TO WELCOME YOU.” Walking away, he stopped to place your box on the table and extinguish the lantern. “SLEEP WELL MISS.”  
With a wave, he picked up the bundle of discarded blankets and walked out the door, closing it behind him. 
… 
It was frightening, alone in the dark.
Previous Next SOH Master Grandmaster
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bea-ce · 23 days
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Nobody loves me like you do
..or sweet gestures your boyfriend does for you that has your knees buckling and heart fluttering!
characters: wriothesley, childe, alhaitham, lyney
genre: FLUFF!! FLUFF!!! FLUUUUUUUUUUUUFF!!!
warning's: none really? wriothesley's can be interpreted as spicy maybe, but it wasn't intended to be taken that way. maybe obvious bias...
notes: in my healing era and my lover girl has finally gotten the courage of taking the leap of faith of love once more. this is a little tribute to that, and to my boyfriend who's the cause of it. also sorry for having been dead! real busy with school and being bombared with exams all the time (the things i do to get into medicine...)
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Wriothesley
It had become routine for you to leave the Duke's bedroom with tangled hair and knots that would only come out by putting balm in your hair when you showered. The cause of it? The Duke himself, of course.
Finding yourself with half of your body outside of his bed, having long ago accepted that this was the way you'd be handled by your big, strong lover, you hear Wriothesley chuckle and grabbing hold of your wrist to pull you up, back up on his queen-sized bed. "What are you doing with half your body outside of my bed, sweetheart?" He asks teasingly, causing you to loudly exclaim at him with mock irritation in response "you're the one throwing me around the bed like a dog with its chewing toy!" causing a laugh to erupt from his chest as he pulls you ontop of him to engulf you into another long, warm hug.
Alas, as the saying goes "there's always a peace before a storm". You feel yourself get thrown off of Wriothesley, hitting your back against the matress with a small huff before you feel his weight shift ontop of you, squeezing the air out of you as giggles erupt from you while you try shoving him off of you to no avail.
It was part of the routine for him to shove his hands under your shirt, his hands roaming across your body as if mapping every part of you out. Unfortunately for you, the Duke had also made it a habit to go on search for your bellybutton for some odd reason. You'd often find yourself kicking your legs to pry him off of you, screaming and laughing as you'd feel him tickling you as his fingers was searching for his destined goal.
"What's wrong with you?! Why are you so fixated on my navel?!" You'd yell at him between laughs, squirming and fighting against his freely wandering hands that come to a halt upon your words and being met by his icy grey eyes staring softly down at you before he so casually says the sentence that has you limp and melting into his touch.
"I'm fixated on you. All of you, and I'm trying to appreciate and love all of you. Am I so wrong for doing that?"
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Tartaglia
There wasn't any special occasion today as far as you knew. No anniversary to be celebrated nor a sappy couples holiday to rub in all the singles people's faces with, so why was it that you could spot your boyfriend with a bouquet of roses in his arms from afar as he waits at the spot the two of you would always meet up on before heading out for your date?
"Am I not allowed to spoil my girl with flowers whenever I feel like it?" He had responded with a mock offended laugh as his free arm wrapped around your waist to return your gesture of pulling him into a tight hug (in all honesty you had just wanted to burrow your face into his chest to hide your teary eyes from him). You can feel his hand rub your side comfortingly, traveling its way up to pet the top of your head before pressing his lips against your forehead reassuringly, an unspoken 'I love you' before pulling you away from his chest to show you his soft smile, reserved just for you.
Inspecting the lovely roses enthrusted upon you, taking in their lovely red, almost pinkish, color as you walk besides Tartaglia. You can't imagine them having been cheap, given both their look of long stems, healthy leaves and from just how fresh they look, along with just how strongly they smelt of roses. Tartaglia's hand finds your free one as you aimlessly walk. A lighthearted laugh that escapes Tartaglia makes you turn your focus to him, noticing the way he's beaming at your fondness of the flowers. "You know I looked a really good while for those flowers you said that you liked, only to have the florist tell me that they only grew wild in another nation. I was super upset that I couldn't get you your favorite flowers!"
He'd give you the world if he could.
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Alhaitham
Matching Alhaitham’s thirst for knowledge, you’d often find yourself searching for new subjects to learn about. It wasn't uncommon that the facts you had learnt for the day were things Alhaitham already were somewhat versed in, but to immerse oneself further into a subject was anything but adverse, and even if nothing new was added to his knowledge a bit of repetition never hurt either.
It did happen from time to time that you’d come across information that would never come to any use. Just fun facts to share with someone, and Alhaitham would often fall victim to your ramblings (not that he minded, much less had any complaints about that). As always, you find yourself walking hand in hand with the scribe, your mouth having gone dry from how long you had passionately held a monologue with yourself of a new useless fact you had learnt. Thinking that Alhaitham couldn’t be bothered with trivial, impractical information and that his silence was a sign of that, you can’t help but let a thought slip past your lips. 
“Are you even listening?” you had asked him with a whisper, your hand giving his a light squeeze as your footsteps had come to a stop, halting the man beside you and forcing him to face you. His light turquoise eyes scan over yours, softening before a faint smile traces his lips as he nods. “Of course I’m listening. Don't mind me if I just want to listen. It's where I find the most comfort."
Alhaitham’s unwavering focus is on you. It’s always on you.
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Sitting across you at the small café Lyney can be seen fiddling with his tissue, his plate having long been empty with only crumbs left behind of the pastry that had formerly been there. Too distracted by the scenery around you, you fail to notice the magician's hands working away on a little surprise for you.
"Tada!" You hear his voice burst your little bubble, a curious hum erupting from you as you glance in Lyney's direction. A faltering swan is handed to you from him, looking soggy and sad due to the tissue's soft material and perhaps even because of the magician's untrained hands from lack of practice of origami. You don't miss the way your boyfriend smiles at you before staring intently at you, awaiting your approval of his creation.
You can't help the laugh that escapes you, due to the cute gesture of his, causing the poor man to deflate in embarrassment and shame, mistaking your laughter as being directed at him because of how just pathetic the swan looks like- The piece of paper faltering too in solidarity with its creator.
Quickly placing down the gift from Lyney, you wave your hands in the air defensively, quick to reassure him, "No, no! I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing over how cute you are being, Lyney! Thank you."
Your encouraging words is all that he needs to regain his confidence and smile right back at you with the same adoring gaze you always have saved for him.
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ovaryacted · 2 months
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Really random but dad bod DI Leon🤤🤤🤤 (I really love DI Leon if you couldn’t tell) like I love Leon w abs, and his hourglass shape but just him cuddling w you and being so warm and soft😢 (or when y’all are making love and his tummy just has us fitting together like puzzle pieces and it’s LIKE OMGMGM😭😭😭😭😭)
-🐏
cw: descriptions of body changes, internalized fatphobia, smutty thoughts/acts.
OHHHHHH DAD BOD LEON IS MY VICE PLEASE OH MY FUCKING GOD. LIKE RAHHHH, I NEED IT BAD. Ram anon, I'm on to you.
The changes happen after a year into his forced retirement, he doesn't realize it until he becomes more aware of the way your arms feel wrapping around his soft torso. Once adorned with hard muscle, his body now was covered in a layer of skin that expanded over time. He still had the same physique and the same capacity for strength, but there was an added softness he’d acquired recently that sent his head in for a spin.
Retirement has been good for Leon, he no longer has to deal with the hecticness of mission briefings and assignments. He gets to actually rest, his usual overactive nervous system now rendered down and becoming more manageable. The first couple of weeks he spent falling asleep in bed or on the couch, like his body was playing catchup on the energy that's been robbed from him over the years. You didn’t bother him about it, didn’t even judge him whenever you’d find him limp on the bed and snoring in the middle of the day.
You'd use that time to run errands or do chores around your shared home, often preparing meals for him whenever he'd wake up groggily to go look for you. Eating homemade meals that were made with love certainly started to add up, the consistent intake of food was new and apparently something that his body liked and needed. The constant nausea he often experienced when he was under so much stress went away, slowly learned how to enjoy eating again like he did years before he was forced to become an agent.
He never focused on his appearance most days, but as Leon stopped to observe himself in the mirror one morning, his eyes were fixated on his body. He's certainly changed after a while, stomach a little fuller and cheeks more plump than before, hell even his arms and thighs looked bigger. His initial reaction to the change would have been disgust, to put himself back on a routine to regain the muscle he's lost and to critique every imperfection that would eventually be another nuisance.
But as he looked at himself a little longer, a smile crept up on his face, not minding what he saw for probably the first time in his life. All he saw was your love for him, how the signs of you taking care of him after all this time were starting to reflect in how he looked. He was healthy, he was alive, and that was a win in his book.
You certainly didn't mind the changes either and took every opportunity to remind Leon of just how much you adored him. Cuddling him whenever you could was something that became a ritual between the two of you, sneaking under his arm and digging your face into his chest any chance you got. He was soft, warm, and just a tad bit squishy. He was human, he was himself, not some war machine meant to work like a dog day and night.
One of your favorite things about his new appearance was the intimate moments you both shared and how he felt around you both internally and externally. You loved getting on your knees and worshipping him, sucking over his cock lavishly and running your hands over his thick thighs, biting at them when Leon found himself lost in pleasure.
Or when you were riding him and the sound of his thighs slapping against yours was louder than before, his lower tummy rubbing into you, meshing together so well one would think you were part of the same whole. It made you feral, like a primal instinct to claim him and show him that all you wanted was to make him feel accepted in this new body. Leon didn't complain, he loved how your attraction to him seemed to skyrocket.
Maybe being a bit more soft wasn't so bad after all.
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