#some days i feel so sick over it that i can barely eat

[killerplink]

HOME

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Female Reader

Words: 5,7k

A/N: This one's for the bestie who suggested a part two for the previous chapter. I absolutely loved writing it, and I hope you guys enjoy it just as much! Thank you for all the love on "Fractured" and for wanting to see more of this story. Writing this soft, protective, doting Dick Grayson was everything, and I hope it gives you all the warm, snuggly feels. Let me know what you think, besties 🥹

Previous chapter here

You're in the hospital bed, waiting to hear if today's the day you finally get to go home. The hospital is top tier—private room, plush bedding, the best care money can buy—courtesy of Bruce, obviously.

But no matter how nice it is, you just want out. You want your bed, your things, and more than anything, you want to be wrapped up in Dick's arms.

And speaking of Dick—he's been here every day, every minute, like he doesn't trust anyone else to take care of you properly. He's brought you food when you didn't like the hospital meals, kept you entertained when you were bored, and basically hasn't let go of your hand since you came out of surgery. Even when you sleep, you wake up to find him still there, sometimes stretched out uncomfortably in the chair, sometimes curled up beside you on the edge of the bed when the nurses aren't looking.

He's been so patient, so sweet, but you can tell he's been on edge this whole time. Watching you closely, waiting for any sign of pain, tensing every time a nurse comes in like he's expecting bad news.

It's not just protective, he genuinely hates seeing you hurt. And while he trusts the doctors, he won't be able to really relax until you're home, safe, and finally snuggled up with him like he promised.

Dick barely has time to register the way you shift before you're whining, your voice soft and just a little bit dramatic as you shift against the pillows.

"Baby... when is the nurse coming? I wanna go home."

Your bottom lip juts out ever so slightly, your brows furrowing like you're personally offended by the wait. And honestly? You are. You've been waiting since seven in the morning, and it's now two in the afternoon.

That's seven hours of staring at the same white walls, listening to the beeping of machines you're sick of, stuck in this stupid hospital bed while the promise of going home keeps dangling just out of reach.

Dick, who has been watching you with the softest eyes this whole time, leans in without hesitation, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

"I know, my love," he murmurs against your skin. "She'll be here soon, I'm sure."

You huff, flopping back against the pillows, arms crossing over your chest. "She better be, or I'm gonna start walking out myself."

He chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Baby, you literally just got permission to start walking yesterday without me hovering over you like a lunatic."

Your pout deepens. "Well, maybe I wouldn't be so antsy if they didn't make me wait all day for an answer."

His hand finds yours, fingers tracing absentminded circles against your palm. "I know," he soothes. "But we wanna make sure you're really good to go, right? No setbacks, no unnecessary risks."

You groan, head lolling to the side as you stare at him. "I just wanna be in our bed, in your arms, eating something that isn't hospital food."

Dick laughs, squeezing your hand. "You'll get all of that soon, I promise."

And thankfully, finally, he's right. After what feels like another eternity—but is really just half an hour—there's a soft knock at the door before it swings open, revealing your nurse, a kind faced woman in scrubs who steps in with an apologetic smile.

"I'm so sorry for the wait," she says immediately. "We had some unexpected delays with the discharge paperwork, but I come bearing good news. You're officially cleared to go home."

Your entire face lights up, and the relief in your voice is palpable when you gasp, "Oh my God, finally!"

Dick, ever patient, rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, smiling at the way you practically vibrate with excitement.

The nurse chuckles. "I know you've been waiting all day, so let's go over everything quickly so we can get you out of here, yeah?"

You nod enthusiastically, and she flips through her tablet, getting straight to business.

"Alright, so, first things first. You need to keep an eye on your stitches. The incision looks great right now, but we don't want any infection, so you'll need to keep the area clean and dry. No soaking in the bath for at least two weeks. Showers only, and be gentle when washing around it."

You nod, taking it all in, but Dick is already a step ahead, reaching for his phone to set a reminder. He's been memorizing every instruction since day one, because if you forget even one thing, he won't.

"On pain management, you've got your prescription, but if you don't need the heavy stuff, regular over the counter painkillers should work just fine. Just don't overdo it, and if the pain gets worse instead of better, call your doctor immediately."

"Got it," you mumble, already reaching for Dick's hand again, and he laces his fingers through yours instinctively.

"No heavy lifting, no strenuous activity, and I know you'll feel better soon, but that doesn't mean you should rush things. Your body still needs time to heal. And if anything feels off—pain, dizziness, fever, anything—I want you to call us, okay?"

"Okay," you promise, feeling a little overwhelmed but so ready to leave that you'd agree to just about anything.

The nurse gives you a warm smile. "And last but not least, take it easy on yourself. Healing takes time, and there's no rush to bounce back overnight."

Dick hums in agreement, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry," he assures her. "I'm not letting her lift a finger for anything."

And honestly? You believe him.

With all the instructions laid out, the nurse makes her final notes before grinning at you. "Alright, looks like you're all set. You get dressed, and I'll go grab your final discharge papers. I'll be back in just a bit."

And with that, she's gone, leaving you alone with Dick, who is already helping you sit up, hands careful, movements gentle.

"You hear that, sweet girl?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "We're going home."

And God, it feels so good to hear that.

The hospital might've been top tier, but nothing—nothing—compares to being out.

It's been a full hour since the nurse gave you the green light, and now, finally, you're in the elevator, tucked firmly into Dick's side as you descend toward the exit. The elevator is packed, people standing shoulder to shoulder, and the last thing you need right now is someone bumping into your healing wound.

Dick knows it too. That's why his arm is wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close, a silent promise to keep you safe from any accidental elbows or shifting bodies.

He leans down slightly, murmuring against your hair, "Almost there, baby."

You hum in response, breathing in the familiar scent of him, grounding yourself in the warmth of his touch. And then, finally, the doors slide open, and the fresh air hits you the second you step outside.

You didn't realize how stuffy the hospital had felt until now, but God, you breathe so much easier out here, like the past few days had been pressing down on your lungs, and only now are they able to fully expand.

What you don't expect, though, is the sight waiting for you just past the curb: Alfred.

Standing prim and proper beside a sleek black car, the older man is already moving, one hand reaching for the door handle, the other resting neatly behind his back.

"Miss," he greets, his lips curving ever so slightly as he looks you over. "It is good to see you up and about. I trust you are feeling better?"

You blink, momentarily stunned, before offering him a sheepish smile. "Uh, yeah. Thank you, Alfred. But..." Your head tilts slightly as your brows furrow. "Why are you here?"

Dick chuckles softly beside you, clearly having expected this reaction. Alfred's expression doesn't change, though there's a small glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Master Bruce wanted to ensure you made it home safely."

Your eyes flicker to Dick before darting back to Alfred, your brows shooting up in mild disbelief. "Really? Damn, didn't know Bats was this concerned."

Alfred lets out a knowing sigh, his voice as even as ever. "Ah, yes. You will never hear him say it, but he was rather... stressed."

You huff out a laugh, the idea of Bruce pacing his cave, brooding even more than usual, just because of you being in the hospital, making you grin.

"That's kinda sweet," you admit, stepping forward carefully as Dick moves to help you into the car.

Alfred's lips twitch slightly, like he wants to say something more, but instead, he simply dips his head. "Do try not to make a habit of this, miss. Gotham's hospitals are good, but not that good."

You snort, settling into the seat as Dick slides in beside you, his arm immediately wrapping around you, guiding your body into his.

"No promises," you joke, leaning against him as he presses a kiss to your temple.

The car pulls away smoothly, and you can't help but relax into the ride, the world passing by in a soft blur of familiar Gotham streets. It's a little cloudy, the sky a dull gray, but there's something so comforting about it, something that feels like home.

Dick's fingers trace light patterns against your arm, his warmth seeping into you, grounding you in a way that makes your chest ache. You close your eyes for a moment, just listening to the hum of the car, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

God, you missed this. You miss the comfort of your shared apartment, the familiarity of your bed, the quiet intimacy of just being with Dick without the sterile, impersonal walls of a hospital around you.

"Almost home, baby," he murmurs against your hair, his voice a quiet promise.

And you can't wait. The moment your building comes into view, you're practically buzzing, fingers twitching against your thighs as you fight the urge to bounce in your seat.

Dick notices, of course. His lips quirk, his hand finding your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Excited, sweet girl?"

You nod, not even trying to hide it. "You have no idea. I just wanna be home, in my pajamas, in our bed, with you."

His smile softens at that, and before he can say anything, Alfred smoothly pulls the car to a stop in front of your building.

"Here we are," he announces, shifting into park before turning to face you.

The second he steps out, you move to follow, only for Dick to beat you to it, already out of the car and rounding the front to your side. But before he can get there, Alfred is already opening your door, standing with that ever composed expression of his.

"Thank you for driving, Alfred," you say earnestly, flashing him a grateful smile.

He nods, ever polite. "It was my pleasure. I—"

He doesn't get to finish because before you even think twice about it, you're leaning in, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. You feel the moment it surprises him—his body tensing slightly, his breath catching—but after only a second, he's hugging you back, firm and steady.

"Take it easy, miss," he murmurs, his voice a little softer than usual. "And do try not to get into any more trouble."

You snort, pulling back to grin up at him. "No promises."

He lets out a long suffering sigh, though there's a flicker of fond amusement in his gaze as he steps back. Dick chuckles beside you, reaching for your bag in one hand before slipping his fingers through yours with the other.

"C'mon, baby. Let's get you upstairs."

The walk up is slow. It's frustrating because honestly, you just want to move, want to get inside and collapse into your own space, but your body still isn't fully back to normal yet.

Dick knows this. That's why he stays right beside you, keeping his pace even, his grip firm but gentle as he helps you up the steps.

"I hate this," you grumble under your breath, pushing through the dull ache in your side.

He huffs a laugh, squeezing your fingers. "I know, my love. But you're doing great. Almost there."

You sigh, leaning into him slightly as you push forward, and sure enough, before long, you're standing in front of your door.

Home. Finally. With a deep breath, you unlock the door, pushing it open, and freeze.

The air is different the moment you step inside. Not because something's wrong, but because something is... off. It takes you a second to process, but when you do—

Holy shit.

First of all, the entire apartment is spotless. Not that you're a messy person, but let's be real, you were in a rush the night you got stabbed. There were definitely dishes in the sink, a pile of unfolded laundry somewhere, a few things out of place.

But now? It's pristine. Everything is neatly arranged, the air crisp and clean, like someone went through every single room with a fine tooth comb. And then there are the flowers. So. Many. Flowers.

Bouquets upon bouquets of them, filling every available surface with splashes of soft pinks, vibrant reds, delicate whites. Your mouth parts slightly as your gaze sweeps over them, taking in the sheer amount of stuff surrounding you.

There are gift baskets—luxurious ones, filled with high end chocolates, fruit, bath products. There are wrapped boxes, little notes attached to some of them. It looks like a goddamn florist's shop exploded in your living room.

"Baby..." you breathe, turning wide eyes to Dick. "What is all this?"

He rubs the back of his neck, looking mildly sheepish. "Well... let's just say the Batfam was a bit... worried about you."

You blink. "This is more than a bit worried, Dick."

He chuckles, pulling you closer. "Yeah, well. They've been crazy busy, so they couldn't visit, but they wanted to make sure you knew they were thinking about you."

Your heart clenches. You step forward, running your fingers over the petals of one of the bouquets, overwhelmed in the best way.

"They really did all this for me?" you murmur, glancing back at him.

Dick smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Of course they did, baby. You're family."

And just like that, you feel like you might cry. But not now. Right now, all you want is to finally settle in.

You turn to him, eyes still a little wide from the overwhelming display of affection filling your apartment, but when you look at Dick—all steady warmth and love, watching you like you mean the world to him—something inside you softens.

Slowly, you push up onto the tips of your toes, fingers curling into the front of his shirt as you lean in. He meets you halfway, his hands settling on your waist as your lips press together in a kiss so sweet it makes your chest ache.

His lips part for you just enough, letting your tongue slide against his in a slow, gentle glide, the warmth of it sending a shiver down your spine. He tastes familiar, like mint and something inherently him, and when he deepens it just a little, just enough to make your breath hitch, you let out the softest whimper. That's what makes him pull back.

His thumb swipes across your cheek as he exhales, shaking his head with a fond smile. "Okay, that's enough for today."

You giggle, still a little breathless. "I'm fine."

He levels you with a look. "No, you're not. Don't downplay this." His fingers trace gently along your jaw, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. "It's not a scratch, sweet girl."

You pout, lips puckering. "Baby, I'm okay."

He huffs. "We'll see about that."

Before you can argue, he asks, "Are you hungry?"

You nod. "Yeah, but.... I really wanna take a shower and change first."

He smiles, already taking your hand. "Okay. C'mon."

You barely get a step inside the bathroom before he's kneeling at your feet, hands already reaching for your sneakers.

"Dick, seriously, I'm—"

"Don't be stubborn and let me help," he interrupts, voice firm but so gentle.

Your mouth snaps shut because yeah, you knew this was coming. You knew he'd be extra protective, hovering over you like you might fall apart at any second. And honestly? You'd be lying if you said it didn't do something to you—seeing him like this, so serious, so sweet. So instead of fighting him on it, you nod.

"Good girl," he murmurs, slipping your sneakers off with care.

You whine instantly. "Baby, you can't say stuff like that. You know it makes me horny."

His chuckle is deep, amused, as he gets up, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "We'll have plenty of time for that. When you're feeling better, I promise."

You sulk, but he just grins, guiding you toward the shower before turning on the water, making sure it's warm but not scalding. And before you can even move to start undressing, he tsks.

"I've got it," he says, reaching for the hem of your top.

He's so careful, peeling the fabric up inch by inch, making sure it doesn't tug too much against your wound. His touch is reverent, like you're made of something delicate, something precious.

Once your top is off, he makes quick work of the rest, helping you step out of your bottoms, sliding your underwear down your thighs with a level of patience that makes your stomach tighten.

He guides you into the shower, waiting until you're under the warm spray before the rustling of fabric behind you makes you freeze.

"Dick—"

And then he's stepping in behind you. Completely naked. Completely hot.

You groan. "Dick!"

He blinks, feigning innocence. "What?"

You glare at him over your shoulder. "You're naked."

"We're in the shower, baby," he says, biting back a grin. "That's kinda the point."

You huff, muttering under your breath. "Just standing there, all hot, and I can't even do anything about it—"

His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you gently against his chest, his lips finding your shoulder in a slow, deliberate kiss.

"You don't have to do anything, baby," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the side of your neck. "Just let me take care of you."

And then he's turning you to face him and he's kissing you again—slow, lazy, deep, and it only makes you burn. Because fuck, you want him so bad. But right now, all you can do is let him spoil you.

He takes his time with you, washing you with a care so tender it makes your heart swell. His hands glide over your skin, careful and reverent, smoothing soap over your shoulders, your arms, your back. And between every few motions, he kisses you—soft pecks to your shoulder, a lingering press to your cheek, the tip of your nose, your forehead.

By the time he reaches for the loofah to lather up your front, your stomach tightens, breath hitching at the way his hands skim over your waist, over the swell of your hips, dipping down between your thighs just long enough to make you shiver.

"You're killing me, baby," you mutter, voice low.

He grins, tilting your chin up to meet his lips in a slow, teasing kiss. "Not my fault you're so cute."

He finishes washing you with practiced ease, rinsing away the soap, making sure not a single sud lingers. And then, while you lean back against the warm spray, letting the water soothe your tired body, he quickly gets to washing himself.

Or at least, he tries. Because you don't miss the way he angles himself away from you, his movements a little stiff, a little too focused.

You smirk. "Baby."

He stills. "Yeah?"

You reach forward, trailing a single finger down his spine before wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, pressing yourself flush against him. "You hard?"

His laugh is sheepish, breathy. "I—"

Your hands dip lower, teasing over the firm cut of his abs, feeling the way his muscles twitch beneath your touch.

"Baby," he groans, shifting on his feet. "Not fair."

You giggle against his back, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. "You really couldn't keep it down?"

He sighs, turning in your hold, wrapping his arms around you again. "Can you blame me? My girl is hot, what can I say?"

You beam, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before he gently turns you back toward the spray, rinsing you off one last time.

When you step out of the shower, the air is thick with steam, the scent of the body wash still clinging to your skin. Before you can reach for a towel, he's already got one in his hands, wrapping it around you and gently rubbing you down, taking care not to be too rough over your wound.

"Dick," you sigh, even as you let him.

"Shhh," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

He moves slow, drying you off completely before reaching for one of his t-shirts, slipping it over your head with careful hands. Then, he helps you into a fresh pair of panties and your softest sweatpants, tugging them up your legs before pressing a kiss to your stomach, just above the waistband.

You let out a tiny whimper at that, but before you can act on it, he's already pulling on a pair of boxers and sweatpants himself, taking your hand and guiding you back to the living room.

Outside, Gotham is drenched. Rain patters steadily against the windows, the city skyline blurred with mist. Most people hate this kind of weather—the endless drizzle, the way the sky never really clears—but you love it. The sound of it, the smell of it, the way it makes everything feel a little softer.

Dick gets you settled on the couch, easing you down before draping that ridiculous cow print fluffy blanket you love over you. You sigh happily, snuggling into the warmth.

He grins, brushing a few damp strands of hair from your face. "What do you wanna eat, baby?"

You hum, considering. "I don't know. Something comforting. Something good."

He watches you, waiting, and then, you both say it at the same time.

"Tacos!"

His grin widens. "On it, my love. Anything else?"

You pause, then nod. "Some tea, but I can—"

Before you can even move, he presses a firm hand to your shoulder, pinning you to the couch. "I've got it. No need to move around so much."

You pretend to huff, arms crossed. "You're so bossy."

His brows lift, a teasing glint in his eyes. "You like it."

You try to glare, but then he tickles your side, and you break—giggling, swatting at his hands until you're breathless.

He kisses you, quick and playful, before standing. "I'll order the tacos and get your tea, okay?"

You nod, still smiling as you watch him go, warmth pooling in your chest. The rest of the afternoon passes in a warm, easy blur.

The tacos arrive, and you don't even try to pretend you're not excited, sitting cross legged on the couch with your plate balanced on your lap, sipping on your tea between bites. Dick sits beside you, his own plate in hand, watching you with that familiar, soft look in his eyes.

"Good?" he asks, grinning when you let out a tiny moan of satisfaction.

"So good," you say, licking a bit of sauce from your thumb before reaching for another bite.

You eat together, wrapped up in the comfort of each other's company, the rain still falling steadily outside. And when you're done, Dick doesn't even let you lift a finger, gathering up your plates and setting them aside before you can protest.

After that, you start unpacking some of the gifts, curiosity getting the best of you. The sheer amount of them is honestly kind of overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

"I still can't believe they sent all this," you murmur, eyeing the bouquets, the neat stacks of wrapped packages.

Dick hums, handing you a small box first. "Well, you did nearly die on them. They worry."

You snort but take the gift, unwrapping it carefully. The tag reads From Damian, and when you pull out what's inside, your heart melts.

It's a book—a first edition of one of your favorite novels, the pages edged in gold, the cover smooth beneath your fingertips.

"Oh my God," you whisper, running your hands over it.

"Kid went all out," Dick notes, eyes twinkling.

You smile, already making a mental note to hug the hell out of Damian the next time you see him. Next is Tim's gift, which makes you laugh the second you unwrap it, because of course he sent you a ridiculously expensive, state-of-the-art, all in one smart mug that keeps your drinks warm at all times.

"He's so practical," you giggle, holding it up.

Dick chuckles. "Yeah, and now you'll never complain about your tea getting cold again."

Barbara's gift is a weighted blanket—deep blue, soft as hell, and heavier than you expected.

"Ohhh," you sigh happily, pressing it to your face before draping it over your lap.

The weight settles over you instantly, grounding, comforting in a way that makes your shoulders relax.

Dick chuckles beside you. "Babs knows you too well."

"She really does," you murmur, already imagining how good it'll feel to curl up under it later.

Cassandra's gift is a gorgeous silk robe, the fabric light as air, with delicate embroidery lining the edges—cherry blossoms stitched in soft pink and white. It's the kind of thing that makes you feel effortlessly elegant just by touching it.

You hold it up, eyes wide. "Oh my God, this is so pretty."

Dick hums, running his fingers over the silk. "Yeah, you're never taking this off, are you?"

You grin. "Not a chance."

Stephanie? A basket filled with every single one of your favorite snacks, plus a personalized playlist on a tiny USB drive labeled To keep you entertained while you heal. Love you, bitch!

Wally's gift is a custom comic book featuring you and Dick as superheroes. The comic is hilarious, with Wally's signature sense of humor, showing you both getting into ridiculous situations, like trying to save Gotham while barely avoiding getting caught in superhero mishaps. There's a note inside:

Figured you'd need something to distract you when you're laying in bed, recovering. Plus, thought you'd enjoy seeing Dick and you kick butt. Don't try to get any ideas from the comic though...

You hold up the comic, eyebrows raised, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. "Look at this," you laugh, flipping through the pages. "Wally really went all out. I can't believe he turned us into superheroes."

He glances over your shoulder, shaking his head in amusement as he looks at the comic. "Oh, you better believe it. That man has no filter. But I gotta admit, it's pretty impressive. His art's getting better."

You point to one of the panels, where the two of you are depicted mid fight, surrounded by goons. You're holding a ridiculous oversized hammer, and Dick is dramatically flipping through the air, all muscles and heroism.

"I look like I could take down a building," you joke, smirking.

Dick chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder. "Well, that's a fitting look for you, don't you think?" He reaches over to flip through a few pages, stopping at a particularly funny moment where you're both getting tangled up in a huge net. "Seems like Wally gave us the perfect fight scene... I'd say it's accurate."

You snicker, leaning into him, and shake your head. "I swear, he's gonna be the death of me with his antics," you pause, flipping through more pages. "But this? This is actually really sweet of him."

He wraps an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "He cares. And you mean a lot to him, even if he's terrible at showing it."

You grin, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek, the comic still clutched in your hands. "I think it's one of the best gifts I've ever received."

Dick pulls you closer, resting his chin on your head. "I'm not sure about that, but I'm glad you like it. I think you're his superhero too."

You both sit there for a moment, flipping through the comic, as if the world outside doesn't exist—just you, Dick, and your silly superhero alter egos, surrounded by love and laughter. As you smile, still holding the comic, you start to unwrap the next one.

Jason's gift surprises you the most—it's a hoodie. One of his own, worn in and warm, clearly something he's had for years, the fabric soft from countless washes. A little note is stuck to the front.

I figured you'd like something comfortable, since you keep stealing my hoodies when you come over. Don't get blood on it this time, dumbass.

You grin, holding it to your chest. "Jason, you soft bastard," you murmur.

Dick just shakes his head fondly. And then there's Bruce's gift. Of course, Bruce sent something insane—a fully paid vacation for whenever you feel up to it, a little envelope containing a sleek black card with your name on it.

Your jaw drops. "What the—"

He leans over to read the note inside. "Take some time off when you're ready. Everything's taken care of."

You stare. "Bruce is out of his damn mind," you whisper.

Dick just smirks. "Yeah, but you should probably accept it before he changes his mind."

You shake your head, placing the envelope aside before sighing, reaching for him instinctively.

"Come here," you murmur.

He doesn't hesitate, shifting closer, letting you burrow into his warmth. You sigh against him, fully relaxed for the first time in days, his arm curling around your shoulders as you tuck your head beneath his chin.

For a while, you just exist like that, wrapped up in each other, the TV playing some random movie in the background. He presses soft kisses to the top of your head, his fingers tracing lazy patterns down your arm.

You tilt your head up slightly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He turns, catching your lips in a slow, sweet kiss, his fingers tilting your chin up to deepen it just a little. When you part, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

"Comfy?" he murmurs.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut. "Mmhmm. Love you, baby."

He squeezes you tighter, his voice soft as he whispers, "Love you too, pretty girl."

Dinner is another lazy, indulgent affair. Neither of you has the heart—or the will—to let go of each other long enough to cook, so Dick orders sushi, making sure to get all your favorites, plus mochi and bubble tea, because he knows exactly how to spoil you.

You eat curled up together on the couch, still wrapped in that fluffy cow print blanket, sharing bites between quiet laughter. He feeds you pieces of sushi with his chopsticks, smirking when you moan at the taste, and you return the favor, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth after slipping a piece between his lips.

The past few days—full of pain, fear, and far too many sleepless nights—fade into the background, replaced by this warmth, this steady, endless love between you.

It's late when you finally pass out against him, somewhere between half watching a movie and listening to the rain.

Dick had felt your body go lax first, then the soft, slow rhythm of your breathing, your cheek squished against his chest, warm and safe in his arms.

He doesn't have the heart to wake you.

Instead, he moves carefully, shifting just enough to slip one arm under your legs and the other beneath your back, lifting you with all the gentleness in the world. You don't even stir, still snoring softly against him, your arms instinctively curling toward his chest.

He carries you to bed like you're something fragile, something precious, setting you down with deliberate care. His fingers brush over your hairline as he tucks the blankets around you, watching the way you sigh in your sleep, your lips parting slightly as you settle into the warmth of the bed.

He slips in beside you, and immediately, you find him in your sleep, curling toward him, seeking out his warmth. It knocks the air from his lungs. Because God, he loves you.

He's loved before, he's cared before, but never like this. Never in a way that shakes him down to his bones, never in a way that makes the mere thought of losing you feel unbearable.

And for a brief, gut wrenching moment, he lets himself go there. Because he almost did. He almost lost you.

He thinks about how worried everyone had been, even Jason and Damian, who don't usually give a fuck about just anyone. They have sisters, sure. But you? You're different.

You're the one who gets away with shit no one else does. The one who drags a grumbling Damian into a hug and makes Jason tolerate sappy pet names. And they'd burn Gotham to the ground before they let this happen again.

Bruce had no luck finding the bastard who stabbed you. But Jason did.

Dick doesn't even have to ask. He just knows. Knows Jason didn't waste a second before hunting him down, knows he didn't stop until he found him. Knows he tortured the bastard for days before finally putting a bullet in his head.

Dick should care. Should ask. Because usually, he's against killing. But he doesn't. Because if the roles were reversed? He might have done the same. Maybe not as brutal, maybe not as messy, but there wouldn't have been a second chance. Not when it comes to you.

He doesn't wake you when his grip tightens slightly, when he buries his face in your hair, breathing in your warmth, your scent, grounding himself in the steady beat of your heart. A sound, a feeling, he almost lost.

He doesn't sleep. Not even for a second. Instead, he holds you, just like he promised. His fingers trace slow, absentminded circles against your back, like he's mapping out proof that you're still here. And every time you shift, every time you whimper in your sleep, he's right there, pressing soft kisses to your temple, whispering I'm here. I've got you.

And he does. He always will.

[theangrypomeranian]

I just want my passion back man idk why that's so much to ask for

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pictures and things

[cherryite]

i'll tr(eat) you better

summary. your boyfriend cheats on you and after a long time coming, you break up with him. your best friend mark comes to comfort you in your time of need, and he shows you what's been in front of you this whole time (word count. 2.3k)

content. fem!reader x mark grayson, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, you get cheated on, confession of feelings, beginning of relationship

warnings. MDNI!!!, smut, oral sex (fem receiving), some fingering, cum eating?

author's note. i hope no one has done this already because i thought the name was so funny i had to do it heheh

Getting a ‘hey girly’ message on your Instagram was not how you wanted your Saturday to start. Photo evidence of your boyfriend Luke, making out with another girl from your chemistry class. Your eyes can barely believe it when you survey the picture, your eyes canning for recognizable features. There’s no denying the way Luke has her shamelessly pressed against the dimly lit brick wall of one of the campus bars, his hands gripping her waist possessively.

The worst part? He didn’t even deny it when you texted him about it to confront him.

Sitting in your bed, waiting for your boyfriend of eight months to say anything about the pictures you had just sent him, eyes glued to your phone. Three dots pop up, then disappear, then pop up again. Finally, his response comes through: 'It was a mistake’.

Oh please, your eyes nearly rolled out of your head. They probably would have if you hadn’t been crying. You and Luke had had it rough, even though the relationship wasn’t long, he genuinely was not a good boyfriend most of the time. He forgot your birthday, brushing it off with an excuse about being “too busy with schoolwork.” On several occasions he would get upset with you when you were around other men, specifically your best friend, Mark. If you were being honest with yourself, the relationship had been dead long before this moment. You had just been clinging to it, clinging to the idea of having a first real boyfriend, like some naïve, lovesick girl.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt that he cheated though. After texting him that the relationship was over, chewing him out, blocking him, and crying for half the day about the impending loneliness of being single, your phone starts ringing. Half expecting it to be Luke, you groan audibly, rolling over in your blankets to grab your phone off your nightstand. You are happy to see it’s not Luke, but it’s Mark.

Your heart beats uncomfortably in your chest, a pang of affection surging through you. One of the only reasons you even said yes to going on a date with Luke is because you were trying to stomp the feelings you had for your best friend that stirred in your chest when you saw him. After the date with Luke, you really did like him, he was charming, nice, and really into you. Which is why you said yes to the second date, and then the third, and eventually said yes to being his girlfriend. It had worked for a few months, you were happy with Luke, up until he started dropping the ball on all his boyfriend duties.

The silly contact photo you have of Mark flashes on the screen; a 0.5 of him eating a dino nugget, completely unaware of you taking it. He hates this photo, you love it. Swiping at your phone, you answer the call, Mark’s voice ringing out instantly.

“Hey! I haven’t heard from you all day,” he says, his tone carrying a familiar warmth, though there’s a slight pout underlying his words. “William said I should make sure you were still alive.”

“I’m alive,” you wince as you talk, your voice is rough from crying. Mark is quiet for a brief moment on the other line before speaking again and you know he’s caught on.

“Are you sick? You don’t sound so good.”

You scoff, rolling over to stare at the ceiling in bed, “Wow thanks Mark.”

“Sorry, it’s true!” His exasperation is lighthearted, but you hear the concern buried beneath it as he softly continues, “It sounds like you’ve been crying.”

Now it’s your turn to be quiet. He says your name softly after your silence stretches for around a minute.

“Uh,” you sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “Luke cheated on me. I told him we were done. I’m just… a bit sad, is all.”

There’s rustling on his end of the line, the distinct sound of his footfalls as he crosses his room. You frown as he speaks again.

“I’ll be right over,” he says, his tone gentle as you hear him zip up what you can only assume to be his backpack. Your eyes widen, fully aware you look like a total mess right now.

“Mark you don’t have to-” you start to say, pushing yourself upright, as he cuts you off.

“I want to, I’ll be over in like five minutes.”

You barely manage an “okay” before he hangs up. Staring at your phone, your stomach twists with equal parts panic and warmth. Then, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Upon realizing you look like you just woke up from a hundred year long slumber, you bolt to your bathroom, brushing your hair so it doesn’t look like a bird's nest. Upon returning to your room, Mark is actively climbing through your window, obviously having flown over. His deep brown eyes find your figure and immediately crosses the room to pull you into his chest. The sigh that leaves you is involuntary, simply happy to be in the presence of someone who you care about, leaning your head on his chest.

“Fuck that guy,” Mark says, his lips brush over your hairline as he speaks, his voice comforting and soft as he holds you in his arms. You nod against him, your arms slipping around his waist, feeling the lean muscle of his stomach under his shirt. The hug lingers, neither of you say anything and you're surprised your tears have run dry finally. Eventually you pull away, his hands finding purchase on the small of your back, his touch is warm and grounding. You look up at him, pieces of black hair fall over his forehead as he tilts his head to look at you.

“Wanna lay down?” he asks quietly, his fingertips absentmindedly tracing your spine. You just nod as he guides you to your bed, the mess of blankets surrounding the both of you. He rests his head on your stomach, right above your belly button, his body slotting in between your legs. His arms encircle your middle loosely, tilting his head up to look at you from where you rest against the pillows. Heat rushes through your body because he looks so pretty like this, his eyes kind looking up at you, almost like he's a puppy begging for a treat.

“Thanks for coming over Mark,” you say, your voice faint, traces of your earlier emotions still showing through. He smiles, albeit a bit sheepishly, his cheek resting on the sliver of exposed skin around your stomach where your tank top rides up.

“Couldn’t let you be alone after a breakup,” he explains, his hands drawing shapes absentmindedly on your back over the fabric that separates your skin from his.

You hum, threading your fingers through his hair. “I would’ve been fine. I’m not super broken up about it.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow up as you speak, “Why? I thought he was good to you.” He pauses, “Well, before he…” He trials off, his jaw tightening, your fingers still carding through his hair comfortingly.

“He was for a while, he just,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders, “stopped caring. He forgot my birthday, he didn’t kiss me. Stopped doing a lot of things.”

Mark mumbles something under his breath, his voice vibrates against your skin, shivers dance up your spine at the feeling. Your eyes flicker down to his face, which is now heavily flushed.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“I said,” he swallows thickly, his hand running down your side, resting at your hip where the band of your flimsy shorts are, “I would treat you better than that.” His voice is quiet, hesitant as he fingers the waistband of your shorts, his eyes drawing back up to your face.

Your breath stutters at his words and at the look in his eyes. Those pretty brown eyes of his are filled with affection, and what you can only place as desire, his pupils blown wide. From his place on your stomach, you’re certain he can feel the way your heart pumps faster, your eyes widening at his words.

“Please,” he says, his voice quiet, raspy. “Let me- just let me show you.”

Your breath stutters, your chest rising and falling in quick, uneven movements. Heat licks up your spine, curling in your stomach, spreading like wildfire through your veins. You can barely nod your head, giving him permission.

Mark holds your gaze for a few more moments, his dark eyes searching yours, looking for any sign of hesitation. When he finds none, he hooks his fingers around your shorts and underwear. Slowly, deliberately, he tugs them down, his knuckles grazing over the sensitive skin of your hips.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper as he gradually pulls the garments down your legs. His voice waivers with hesitation, his eyes unwavering in their connection to yours, as though he’s waiting for the moment you change your mind. Even in your exposed and heated state, you breathe out an answer. “Okay.”

He nods and exhales like he's been holding his breath, running his hands up your bare thighs. They come to rest on your hips, his strength effortlessly keeping you in place. Your back arches involuntarily as his breath fans over your exposed cunt. Your mind can barely process what's happening, because this all feels like a wet dream she would have had a year ago.

He presses a soft kiss to your core and you can feel your walls throb. His nose nudges against your clit as his tongue slides over your folds, hesitant but sweet. Mark’s grip tightens when you try to shift, his hands pressing down over your hips, effectively holding you still. A soft sound catches in your throat, frustration and anticipation winding together into something almost unbearable. You want to grind your hips against his face, relieving some of the tension you feel curling in your gut.

He continues to lap at your wet folds, his breath hot and warm as he adjusts his hands. One arm crosses over your hips, keeping you pinned down to the mattress. The other hand squeezes your thigh before his thumb presses against your clit, eliciting a whine from your mouth. Your hands fly to his hair as his thumb rubs circles against your sensitive nub, his tongue continuing to slip through your wet folds.

The sensation of your hands in his hair draws a moan from his throat, the rumbling of his voice hitting straight into your core. His lips attach to your pulsing cunt, sucking as his tongue flicks deeper into you, his fingers still stimulating your clit.

When Mark finally lifts his gaze, his eyes are half lidded, deep brown eyes filled with something unreadable. The sight alone steals whatever words you might have spoken, leaving you breathless under the weight of his attention.You whimper when his eyes flicker up to watch your face as it twists with pleasure. He looks like he’s memorizing your reactions, the way your mouth parts with every sharp inhale, the way your lashes flutter. His fingers slide from your clit to circle your slick hole, bringing his mouth to suck at your clit instead.

“Fuck Mark,” you breathe out, your thighs clamping around his head. He groans, plunging two fingers into you, pushing against your plushy wet walls. His voice is muffled, a breathy, needy sound brushing against your skin as he speaks.

“S’ good,” he mumbles against you, his mouth hungrily sucking and lapping at your heat. His fingers curl in you as he pumps them in and out with the rhythm of his tongue, your hips twitching with pleasure, still tight in his hold. The pressure in your belly is too much, nearly at your climax. You whimper pathetically, your eyes squeeze shut as your head lolls to the side.

“Mhm, fuck-,” you breath out, your voice is uncontrolled, pitchy and desperate as you speak, ”I’m close, ah.” At your words, he nips at your clit, your walls tightening around his fingers. His arm releases your hip, sliding his hand up your shirt to cup at your breast, his warm thumbs rubbing over the peak of your nipple, your entire body jolts. With your hips freed, you immediately grind down on his face, his fingers pumping into you faster as you chase your release. He moans when you grind against him, his nose rubbing against you causing your fingers to curl in his hair.

You feel your release snap suddenly, leaving you a mess of moans and shuddering. Mark’s fingers slowly massage against your trembling walls, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure. His mouth suctions to the spot where his fingers disappear into you, his mouth lapping up any of your release that he can get at as it seeps out, making a mess of your folds. The shaking of your body subsides as he soothingly plants kisses to your inner thighs. His lips and chin are soaking in your slick, coating your legs. Your hand that's in his hair gently pulls his face to look at you.

His skin is flushed, soft pants leaving his lips as he stares at you. He looks like he’s on cloud nine, blissed out of this world, like you just hung the stars. The sight makes you down at him, stars in your eyes.

“So, where are you taking me on our first date,” you ask, trailing your fingers through his hair, a lazy smile overtaking your face.

Mark smiles, his lips puffy and his face soaked, “I thought you would never ask.”

[ennabear]

loser! sev getting all whiny and pathetic when she eats you out, rutting her hips against the mattress, cumming in her pants, accidentally overstimulating you like crazy because she's just loves it so much.

accidentally overstimulating HERSELF from eating you out?????? GODDDDDDD

HEHEHEH i said i was gonna respond to these as small little thoughts but i wanna write a real blurb about this because. wow. so true and real it brought tears to my eyes. THANK U FOR THISSSS i wish i could keep it in my asks forever hehehe… 18+

your wife has had one of the worst weeks of her life. the undercity has just completely gone rogue ever since silco has passed, and every effort she’s made to have everyone band together against topside is just worthless. nobody wants to listen to her, too obsessed with their own personal drama to see the bigger picture.

to make matters worse, she’s had to keep jinx under control too. when sevika imagined silco’s death, she didn’t imagine him leaving jinx in the will. and as if the sudden addition of jinx into her life wasn’t enough to stir the pot, jinx has found her own stray now too.

she’s exhausted. sick of sleepless nights spent erasing and rewriting silco’s mistakes, the bitter frost lingering in the streets leaving everyone in a tense and irritable mood. of fucking course she’s the one who has to deal with it, nobody else wants to take a stand or set things straight.

seeing her this way breaks your heart. she barely comes home anymore, usually to be found slumped over silco’s desk with a half empty bottle of whiskey at her side. her arm thrown across the table, an empty promise of getting it fixed and reattached hanging over her head. what she really needs is a new arm, but she refuses to take smeech up on his offer.

god damn it, your wife is so fucking stubborn. it turns you on immensely. because she’s loyal. she’s offered a brand new arm with all of the bells and whistles she could ever ask for, as long as she turns in jinx. easiest job ever, and she’s never liked the blue haired kid anyways. yet, she stands her ground. instead she’s been taking insults like “a bird without wings is just a funny lookin’ rat.” and trying to navigate her life with only one half of herself.

but tonight, she’s gonna make her absence up to you. she wanders home through the dark streets and alleys of zaun, straight to your shared doorstep. one could barely call it a house, as there weren’t really any dwellings that have survived this long in the undercity without being overtaken by moss and vines or crumbled to pieces— but it certainly was a home. especially when she gets to walk in and see you looking cozy and domestic.

you stare up at her when she saunters through the door, a crease between her brows and wet, red eyes painting her face as usual. she sighs, walking over to you and joining you on the couch. in an instant, she’s in your arms again. just the way you like it. without a word, you massage her temples as she nuzzles her face deeper into your hold. your touch is magic, she can feel the month long migraine she’s had suddenly disintegrating.

before she can stop it, before she even realizes what’s happening, hot streams of tears leak out of her eyes and roll down her cheeks. you coo at her and swipe them all away, kissing the top of her head repeatedly as a reminder of your love. yeah, it’s been a day or two since you’ve seen her, and sure, it’s been even longer since you’ve been on a date or had any sort of alone time, but you know that it isn’t personal. she’s trying her best, even if that means stumbling over her words and tripping over her feet.

“bad day, huh?” you ask, another kiss to the top of her head.

“bad week, bad month, bad year…” she responds with a sniffle. “i just wanna be close to you.”

she peeks up at you though her wet eyelashes, some of her black eye makeup smudged around her eyes. you giggle at her, she’s so fucking adorable. and so sweet, so hardworking, so gentle. before you can muster out an ‘i love you’, she bolts forward and catches your lips in a sweet kiss, pinning you to the couch.

“sev, god, you’re so needy.” you pant when she finally releases your lips to catch her breath.

“i’ve missed you, shit. wanna taste you so bad.”

with that, she shoves your pants down, already eagerly sucking bruises into your neck. you groan, you’ve forgotten how good your wife’s touch feels. a big, warm hand wraps around your own, and although they’re rough and cracked, you’ve never felt anything softer. tears threaten to spill out of your own eyes with the amount of love and adrenaline pumping through your veins, but sevika grounds you by shuffling on top of you.

you think she’s about to sit her cunt on top of yours as she strips herself of her pants, but you’re mistaken, and you realize this when she whimpers out a little “hand me that” and nods toward one of the pillows behind you.

confused and turned on as you are, you do as she asks and hand her a throw pillow which instantly gets shoved between her thighs. she wastes no time in diving forward to lick up all of your arousal, her eyes growing starry as a little string of white connects itself from your clit to the tip of her nose. you almost faint. fuck, you’ve missed her face, even more what it can do to you. so you buck your hips up and slowly grind yourself against her face, sevika matching your pace with her own hips.

in an instant, she’s lost in the pleasure— more specifically the taste of you and the slow grind of her cunt against the pillow. moans vibrate through your folds as she buries her face between your spread legs, and you whimper, already embarrassingly close to the finish line.

surprisingly, sevika cums first, the pillow cradling her wet cunt as she humps against it in time with her licks and sucks. that doesn’t stop her, and she doesn’t even stop after you cum and start yanking her head away out of intense pleasure. she can’t stop, though, not now. she’s in too deep. literally. her tongue is buried inside of you and her nose runs over your clit with every thrust, her mind absolutely racing with emotional thoughts and horny feelings.

“sevika, please!” you grunt, her grip on your hips is relentless. “babe, i already came, that’s enough.” but judging by the way she completely ignores you, you wonder if she even heard you at all.

she whines when you tug on her hair or push her shoulders away with the heels of you feet, her face completely melted to your cunt. she never stops fucking her pillow, and now her clit is red and rubbed raw by the cloth. she doesn’t know how many orgasms she’s had, it could range between three and twenty. she lost count when she came for the umpteenth time after you pulled her hair and moaned her name at the same time.

tears spill from her eyes again, but this time they’re happy tears. god, she’s missed you, and she doesn’t ever wanna stop. you take her face in your hands when you notice the sobs and sniffles she’s letting out, along with more whimpers and groans. this time, she relents, slowing her own hips first and then licking up the rest of the cum and spit between your thighs.

“sev, baby, what’s wrong?” you ask, concerned that maybe you hurt her or she hurt herself.

“i just missed you…” she starts. “and i love you so much.” she crawls up your body and lays her head on your stomach while you both catch your breath, the pillow being discarded on the floor. your fingers work wonders on her scalp, and she almost falls asleep after half an hour of matching her breathing to yours.

“don’t fall asleep yet.” you warn, although you’ve been yawning more than she has. “you still need to carry me to bed and tuck me in like a gentleman.”

“you might have to be the gentleman tonight,” she giggles. “i don’t think my legs are sturdy enough to carry us to the bedroom right now.”

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

[foldingfittedsheets]

Truly, one of the greatest love language is someone agreeing to eat something atrocious for your benefit.

My first experience with this was in college. My friend Charlie invited me to a jazz club. One would think he’d learned his lesson. I thought nothing of this and agreed to a fun night with a guy friend. We arrived and I saw nothing romantic in the outing.

The menu at the club was very traditional date food- steak, oysters, romancey food. But still, I didn’t catch on. This food didn’t sound like what I wanted. In fact, what I wanted was a hummus plate. Charlie took this turn of events with a slight wince but ordered one for us.

The hummus plate arrived. Sitting politely on the corner of the garlic bomb was a spicy pepper. Laughing, I teasingly dared Charlie to eat it. You see, this kind of rough humor was common among buddies. I thought we were in Buddy Rules. But Charlie was operating under Date Rules; eating the pepper would be a romantic test of his bravery.

He bit the pepper.

His skin was almost as pale as mine and he went bright red instantly, tears stood in his eyes as sweat broke out across his whole body in protest. He barely managed to swallow as he began coughing, his body reflexively trying to spew forth the poison in his mouth.

I was doubled over with laughter and didn’t feel bad until a few days later when Brendan informed me it had been a date. I scoffed initially and only slowly realized Charlie had been intending it as a date. I repented the pepper and promptly dated Brendan in self defense.

Charlies act of romantic heroism went unappreciated but the spirit was there.

Many years later when I’d given up on boys I was dating my beloved wife. Together we took a trip to Taiwan. One of the wonderful things about new places is the food. I still dream about the food in Taiwan. Even the humblest train station cream puff was several orders of magnitude better than any I’ve ever had in the states.

But one place we went was like. Italian food as interpreted by Taiwanese cooks. Some of the combos were as bizarre to me as many Italians probably feel American Italian food is. Specifics escape me, but it felt like I was dreaming some of the menu at the time. At the end we decided to get a chocolate fondue, because why not. We were on vacation.

The liquid chocolate was served with all the things one would normally expect, strawberries, sweets, the usual chocolate accompaniments. And then we saw the tomatoes. Tomatoes and chocolate. We all stared at the tomatoes in horrified fascination.

Now, I hate tomatoes. I can stand a tomato sauce but raw tomatoes and I have nothing to talk about. So I knew that if I tried it I’d find it as repugnant as I’ve always found tomatoes. But I was haunted by the idea that someone who actually liked tomatoes would like tomatoes in chocolate.

My beloved loves tomatoes. And chocolate. I turned the biggest puppy dog eyes on them and begged to know if the combination was actually somehow delicious. My wife insisted that it would be heinous. Still, they speared a tomato sacrifice and coated it in chocolate, for me. For me, they ate it.

It was so wretched that their face collapsed into instant regret. But they didn’t spit it out. They knew I got sick if people spit out half chewed food. So they soldiered on and swallowed the cursed chocolate fruit.

Their devotion utterly delighted me, and even years later I adore that they suffered that tomato to reassure me that indeed, it was bad.

[soulwrencher]

i'm feeling dizzy and sick so domestic!vi anyone?

i just think vi would look really good in an apron. way too good. and she knows how to cook, she'd never let you touch the stove, she tries at least not to... and then one day, when you come home and she notices you're sick, vi is a hot mess. her baby is sick, this can't be! where does she even start? running you a hot bath, making you your favorite hot beverage, cooking you porridge even though you hate it? too. much. to. stress. about. so you watch her walk up and down the kitchen while you almost pass out on the couch from the headaches you're having, "i'm not dying, vi," you murmur, "just hand me my meds please?"

and suddenly vi has her act all together. did it take a hit to her ego? maybe. but were you escorted into a hot tub with just the right amount of foam? hell yeah. "just scream if you're done or dying," she yells from the kitchen. it felt nice, she poured eucalyptus oil into the bathtub, since when did you have this? about to nod off in the bathtub you hear a soft voice calling for your name.

"come on, doll. hold on tight, okay?" she whispers as she wraps your arms around her neck to pull you out of the tub. careful this, watch out that, you were barely listening as you use the last bit of strength in your body to get out of the tub. and then she dries you off, you felt like a lost, wet puppy. her eyes were on you though, the whole time, making sure you're not actually dying, because that's what her eyes were giving away. you have her undivided attention, you really do, because she almost burns the chicken for the soup she is going to make for you, which frankly, never happens. so 7:1 for you! well, for her. (the score in your head to keep track of all the times you burnt food, in hopes to beat her one day. maybe you should get sick more often?)

and then you're in bed, you barely remember her dressing you but you do remember vi tucking you in bed, placing a soft kiss onto your forehead. "just stay with me a little more," she whispers. she's hovering over your shuddering body, her eyes searching for yours. you can feel the worry seep off her face, so you nod before she rushes off into the kitchen once again.

"careful, hold it, wait—" vi props you up so you can eat the chicken soup she made for you. "you have to eat before you sleep, doll." you tried your best to eat some of it and vi was impressed by how much you actually got down before you handed the bowl back to her. you whisper a small 'thank you' after vi who left for the kitchen with the bowl in her hand. but she comes back, of course she does and lays down next to you. suddenly you feel much warmer, blankets don't compare to vi's warmth.

"can i?" she asks, and you nod, there's nothing you want more than vi cuddling you into sleep right now. so she does, strong arms around your body, her chest against your back, you feel her breath on your shoulder.

"i won't ever leave your side," vi whispers into your neck as she wraps her arms a little tighter around your body, she thinks you're asleep by now. you forgot how clingy she can get, but you loved it more than anything. so you smile to yourself before you doze off to the sound of vi's steady breath and to the warmth of her palms on your hips.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

I’ll Take Care Of You

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: sick Lando, smut

You weren't supposed to show up at the Las Vegas GP because you had your own business commitments, but knowing the state Lando was in, you decided to drop everything and come with him. You knew he needed you there and there wasn't a second of doubt in your mind whether or not to go with him when you saw how sick he really was.

After Brazil, Lando was not feeling well mentally. He couldn't sleep, he wouldn't eat or drink, his mood was at zero and all of this affected his immune system which resulted in him falling ill just before the Vegas GP.

Your heart ached seeing him like this because you knew there was nothing you could do except be there for him until he got through it. The only good thing about all of this was taking the pressure of being a world champion off his shoulders until next season at least.

Before the Vegas race, Lando could barely function, to be honest. His nose was blocked, his head was pounding, and he could barely hear in one ear.

As you closely followed the race in the garage, it no longer mattered to you which place he would take, you just prayed that he would finish the race safely and successfully so you can get him out of there.

So once the race was finally over, you were relieved, and so was he. When he got out of the car and took his helmet and balaclava off his head, he immediately looked for you with his eyes.

"Baby.." You looked at him sadly, approaching him and extending your arms towards him. "Are you alright?"

"Hey, love" His head fell onto your shoulder as he buried his face in your neck, pulling you closer to him. "I feel so sick" He sighed quietly and you immediately put your palm against his forehead to check his temperature.

"Lan, you're burning"

He was exhausted, so tired he could barely keep his eyes open and head up. He desperately needed to rest and all you wanted was to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Go get changed and we're going to the hotel, okay?" You tell him.

"No, I don't wanna go to the hotel, I wanna go home." He says.

"Lan, you can't get on a plane like this. You need to get some rest first and then we're gonna go home"

"No, please baby, I just wanna go to our home, please. I really need it. I know I'll feel better as soon as we get home." He whines. You sigh for a moment just looking at him as you ponder if this really is a smart decision. "Please" His eyes plead and you finally agree.

He was clinging to you the entire flight, holding his head in your lap and trying to sleep. He still had a fever so you improvised compresses to put over his forehead.

Lando wasn't sick often, but once in a while when he caught a cold, it would wipe him out. It was the same this time. He was bedridden for a week, and you were there every day taking care of him. He wasn't even exaggerating, he was really sick and you were worried he would get dehydrated or his condition would get worse. You even wanted to take him to the emergency room, but he promised he was fine and just needed you by his side.

Once he finally felt well enough to get out of bed and go further than the bathroom, you felt a pair of arms hug you around your waist as you prepared lunch in the kitchen.

"Hey, baby" Your eyes lit up when you saw him.

"Hey" He smiled nuzzling his head into your neck and leaving a kiss.

"Are you feeling any better?" You asked.

"Mhm. My throat is still a little sore, but I feel much better." He says in a hoarse voice.

"Well, good then." You rise on your tiptoes to leave a kiss on his cheek. "You have no idea how happy that makes me. You really got me worried."

"Thank you for taking care of me" He smiles putting your face between his hands.

"You don't need to thank me for that. I enjoy doing it."

"I know, but that's my job - to take care of you and me."

"You know how they say, 'in sickness and in health'." You both laugh considering you're not even engaged yet, let alone married even though people around you keep asking you about it all the time.

"Do I hear the wedding bells?" Lando asks.

"I don't know, do you?"

"I think I do." He smirks biting his lip before pressing his lips against yours knowing it's only a matter of time before he proposes to you.

Although he felt better physically, he still hadn't mentally recovered from the 'defeat', even though he didn't want to admit it. But it gave him away when you looked for him on his side of the bed in your sleep and couldn't find him.

You squinted at your phone to see what time it was and when it showed 2 a.m. you found it strange that he wasn't there because he usually sleeps all night.

You headed straight for the living room where you found him on the couch in front of the TV. He was lying down in his boxers, watching TV, but his gaze was thoughtful and you knew something was bothering him.

"Lan?"

"Baby, what are you doing awake?" He asks extending his arm for you to lie down next to him.

"I have the same question for you." You say taking a place next to him and leaning your head against his chest.

"Couldn't sleep, I was tossing and turning the whole time. I got up so I wouldn't wake you up."

"And why couldn't you sleep?" You ask, but he stays silent. "Baby, what's bothering you? Talk to me, please."

"You already know what it is" He sighs tracing his fingers over your shoulder. "But I don't wanna talk about it anymore. I really don't, I just need to get through it."

"Is there anything I can do about it?"

"You're here with me. That's all I need." He says placing a kiss to your forehead.

But you were determined to do something, anything, to make him feel at least a little better. And what's better than satisfying him to relieve him of frustration and tension.

Besides, it's been over two weeks since the last time you fucked. You'd be lying if you said you didn't need him in the same way and you thought tonight was the perfect opportunity for both of you so you straddled him and started kissing him gently.

He gave in to the kiss, not yet realizing what you were up to. It was only when you slowly started grinding your hips against him that he smiled into the kiss.

"What's on your mind, baby?" He asked gripping your hips.

"Just wanna make you feel better" You said moving your lips to his neck. He moaned throwing his head back and you felt him starting to get hard underneath you.

You soon positioned yourself between his legs and pulled his boxers down. He quickly got rid of them, throwing them aside, and you began to kiss him around his length.

"Wanna please you" You said between kisses.

He took his cock in his hand and tapped it against your lips. You stuck out your tongue and licked his tip making him groan in response. You teased him by slowly licking him up and down and he was starting to get impatient.

"Baby, please" He whispered stroking himself against your lips.

"Please, what, Lan?" You asked innocently, stopping his hand and cupping his balls.

"Put it in your mouth"

His breath catches as your lips finally wrap around his cock. He collects your hair into a ponytail and tilts his head to get a better look at you taking him all the way in.

You keep taking him deeper and deeper until his tip hit the back of your throat and you gag around him.

"Oh fuck.." He moans while his fingers keep raking and twirling in your hair. Your hand soon replaces your mouth as you spit on his tip and stroke him up and down. You don't want him to cum this way, you want him to cum inside you and you know he's close so you straddle him again guiding his cock to your entrance.

"Fuck, baby, fuck" His hands are pulling your night dress up to reveal your ass and grab it. He lets out a low groan as you slowly sink down on him. Leaning back, he shifts his hips up to adjust how he's sitting.

"You feel so good, so big inside of me" You whine as your rock your hips back and forth.

"Yeah?" His eyes are stuck on you as he grips your hips tighter and presses his lips against your neck.

"Stretching me out so good, Lan, shit" You make special effort to compliment him tonight as you keep on riding him quickening your pace.

He grips your ass tighter pulling you down harder on him. His breath is ragged in your ear and it makes you take him deeper and harder needing him to lose control. And you know what's coming next when you feel him twitch inside you.

"I'm cumming" He chokes out triggering your own orgasm. You clench around him as he fills you up biting his teeth into your skin.

He hugged you tightly, kissing your forehead while you lay leaning against his chest, barely catching your breath from the sweet release you both needed so desperately.

"I love you" He whispers. "I love you more than anything"

[missmatchablossom]

summary: you've been helping your neighbor, gojo satoru, out by babysitting megumi. when megumi's catches the flu, gojo relies on you for help.

a.n.: megumi is ~4-5 years old, and is extremely attached to you. a little angsty, mostly fluffy, a sprinkle of smut at the end. cursing, female reader.

~

The first time Megumi got sick, Gojo panicked. Not the frantic, frenzied sort of panic, but the quiet, desperate kind that he did his best to hide. But you noticed it - the way his fingers trembled, the way he barely looked you in the eye, the way he repeatedly ran his hands through his hair.

It was usually you who made the elevator trip up to Gojo’s high-rise loft to babysit Megumi a couple of days a week. That’s why it took you aback to see him at your door at 11:53 at night, looking stricken as he told you Megumi refused to eat all day and started throwing up. 

You followed him to his place immediately, your heart squeezing at the sight of Megumi bundled up in his bed, his little face scrunched up in discomfort.

“Hey sweetie, you’re not feeling so good?” you cooed, kneeling as you placed your cheek against his warm forehead. He shook his head, though his flushed cheeks and labored breathing were enough confirmation that he was sick.

“He’s running a fever. Probably a cold, but you should take him to the ER just in case,” you told Gojo, watching as his shoulders tensed. He was slightly older than you, but still young to have a child; you could imagine how anxious he was feeling about Megumi’s first ER visit.

“I can come with you,” you offered, watching his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

“Please,” he said lowly, looking at you like you were his salvation.

You made quick work changing Megumi out of his sweat-soaked clothes and prepared a small bag of his favorite snacks and toys. You caught a glance at Gojo’s awe-stricken face before you scooped Megumi into your arms and followed Gojo to his car. 

The silence in the car ride was heavy, Gojo’s stress was obvious in the way he gripped the steering wheel so hard his fingertips turned white.

“He’ll be okay. I’ll be here until he is,” you said gently.

His eyes flicked to you for a second before he swallowed roughly. He nodded, murmuring his thanks before you lost him to his thoughts.

Megumi was seen within the hour, the perfect patient as he allowed himself to be examined without a fuss (As long as you held his hand the entire time).

“It’s the stomach flu, pretty common for this time of the year. I’ll send you home with some medications, just be sure to keep him hydrated,” the doctor said.

“Let mom and dad take care of you, alright Megumi? You’ll get better in no time,” she said kindly, patting his head as he nodded sleepily. You looked at Gojo, waiting for him to correct her. But he didn’t.

As soon as she left the room, Gojo sank into the chair, exhaling heavily as he placed his head in his hands. It was strange to see a man so proud and confident to look so…tired. So human.

You stood between his legs, gingerly laying your hand on his shoulder.

“See? Megumi will be just fine,” you said, swiping your thumb back and forth over his skin.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt scared like that,” he admitted, reaching up to cover your hand with his.

“It’s how you know you’re a parent,” you said, moving your hand to cup his cheek.

He finally looked up at you, a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and something else painted in those eyes of his. You watched him wordlessly as he leaned into your touch, his long lashes fanning across his cheeks. 

After a beat, his eyes snapped open, looking downwards as a sleepy Megumi tugged at his pant leg.

“Home now please?” he asked groggily, barely able to keep himself upright.

The two of you laughed as Gojo lifted him into his arms, Megumi settling his head on Gojo’s shoulder. 

“Let’s go home,” he said, wrapping his jacket around Megumi. You could’ve sworn he was looking at you as he said it, though.

~

Sick Megumi was unexpecedly clingy. The first few times you babysat him, you were taken aback by how quiet and independent he was. Most kids his age demanded constant attention, but he was happy to be left alone with his two dogs. You did find out that shadowpuppets was a surefire way to get him to laugh, though. 

You tried getting Megumi to rest in his bedroom, but as soon as the preschooler realized you weren’t right next to him, he’d get up to wander Gojo’s loft, tearfully calling your name until he found you. That's why you decided to settle down on the leather recliner in the living room, Megumi asleep on your chest with a blanket draped over the two of you. You were immersed in your Kindle before the sound of the front door unlocking dragged you back to reality.

Gojos strolled in, stopping in his tracks when he noticed the two of you. His sharp eyes eyes softened as he approached.

“Welcome home. You’re back early,” you greeted quietly, your heartbeat quickening as Gojo lowered himself to a crouching position so he could sneak a look at Megumi’s face.

His eyes flickered to yours, full of emotion you couldn’t quite place. He swept a few strands out of Megumi’s eyes, studying him like he needed to confirm that he was breathing.

“I may or may not have snuck away,” Gojo mused, eyes full of warmth and mischief.

“Careful, or this one will begin picking up some bad habits,” you teased, rubbing Megumi’s back as he stirred.

“Nah, he’s too much of a goody-two-shoes. Besides, there are more important things than work,” he said fondly, and the way his eyes flowed between the two of you while he talked, it felt like he was talking about you too.

You averted your eyes as you blushed, thankful that Megumi chose that moment to wake up. 

His little fists rubbed against his half-closed eyes, looking between you and Gojo like he was wondering if he was dreaming. 

He reached his hands out towards Gojo, who readily scooped him into his arms.

“Alright, I’ll get going then. I already gave him his meds and a bath so he should be okay for the rest of the night,” you said, gathering your things as you sat up.

You leaned forward to kiss Megumi goodbye, only to be stopped by the tears welling up in his eyes and the grip his hand had on your own.

“Don’t go,” he said, almost making you cry with how sad and adorable he was. 

“Not fair Megumi. You don’t even cry when I leave,” Gojo teased, rubbing his back as you laughed.

“Gojo is home now my love, I’ll see you tomorrow though! I’ll already be here by the time you wake up,” you promised, wiping the tears from his soft cheeks.

Megumi sniffed as he shook his head, reaching his arms out towards you. You took him back into your arms, giggling at Gojo’s feigned hurt expression.

“I’m hurt, Megumi,” he said, making a show of wiping fake tears from his face.

“Oh no, look how sad he is Megumi! Don’t you want to spend some time with him?” you said, inching closer to Gojo, whose arms were outstretched.

Megumi looked at him for a second before shaking his head, burying his face in your neck. 

You laughed even harder at Gojo’s expression, unable to find Megumi anything except utterly adorable. 

“Fine, I get it. I would’ve chosen her too,” Gojo said, throwing you off with the affection in his smile. 

“I can stay untill he falls asleep,” you mouthed to Gojo, hoping he could read your lips. He smiled at you before leaning into your space, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

“Or you could stay for dinner. As a friend, not a babysitter,” he whispered, sending shivers down your spine. 

“I couldn’t impose,” you replied, a bit more breathlessly than you intended.

“Nonsense. I’ve been dying to cook you dinner while you sit prettily in that chair,” Gojo said, seemingly pleased at the blush revisiting your cheeks. 

How could I say no to that?

~

The sun had set long before you were finally able to get Megumi to bed for the night, the moonlight seeping into Gojo’s living room through the enormous windows.

You allowed yourself to sink down onto his couch, the exhaustion from the day wearing on you. Though Megumi’s fever finally broke, he could barely keep his food down today, forcing you to go back and forth bathing him, changing his bedsheets, and cooking different meals to see what he could stomach.

The click of the door being unlocked made you jump, the familiar sight of Gojo making you forget about how tired you were.

He sauntered towards you, looking so enraptured that he didn’t speak a word. 

You froze as you understood why. The usual modest clothes you had on were long forgotten after repeated trips to the bathtub to wash the vomit and sweat off Megumi. The chaos of the day left you in your underclothes -  a thin tank top and cotton shorts - which Gojo seemed to be studying as though he’d never seen them before.

“Welcome home,” you began shyly, sitting up as you attempted to cover yourself with a pillow.

“Sorry about the outfit. Long day,” you continued sheepishly.

Gojo’s eyes finally snapped up to yours, somehow making you feel more naked than ever.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, something unreadable in his tone. 

He changed out of his work attire - taking off his watch, loosening his tie, and stripping off his jacket. Completely normal things to do when you get home. But he captivated your attention, unable to tear your eyes away from him. 

“I can’t believe I’m jealous of a child,” he said to himself as he sat to join you on the couch, looking sinfully handsome with his hair tousled and the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“What do you mean?” you pressed, feeling your self-control begin to slip as you smelled as his cologne wafting towards you.

“Megumi gets to be with you all day. Gets to hug you, hold you, lay his head on your chest. I’m jealous,” he drawled.

You heard it again. That voice in the back of your head begging you to give in to the pull you constantly felt towards Gojo. 

You dared to inch closer, well aware of his gaze roving up and down your body.

“You can do those things,” you said slowly, never breaking eye contact with him. And just like that, he snapped.

He was on you instantly, pinning you to the back of the couch as his lips moved against yours, desperate and demanding. 

You kissed him back with the same fervor, shamelessly roving your hands over the smooth expanse of his chest, until you reached his hair. His silvery locks were just as silky as you expected, and you couldn’t help yourself as you gave them a light tug.

The deep, guttural sound that came out of him sent a wave of pleasure throughout your body. You felt your breath leave you as Gojo laid you on your back, positioning himself between your legs.

“I’ve wanted you since the day I saw you,” he murmured against your ear. His lips began moving from your jaw down your neck, causing you to gasp and squirm as he smiled against you.

“I kept myself on a tight leash for Megumi’s sake,” he started, trailing kisses across your shoulders.

“But you in that outfit? Fuck, I knew it was over for me,” he said, pulling back to admire how flushed and breathless he made you.

You grabbed the edge of his collar, tugging his lips to yours to return the favor. You wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him even closer to you, his ragged breathing music to your ears.

“Fucking finally,” you said between kisses.

The sound of a thud coming from Megumi’s room caused you both to freeze. You rushed over to check on him, relieved to see he kicked his water bottle off his bed in his sleep. Sighing, you dragged the blanket back over his sleeping form, walking back to where Gojo sat on the couch.

His pupils were blown out, his lips bruised and swollen. 

“Maybe we should continue another time, I don’t wanna wake him up,” you said, surprised at Gojo’s lack of protest. Instead, he tugged you into his lap, placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Free your schedule next week. Megumi’s gonna spend a day with Uncle Nanami, and I’m taking you out on a date. And we’re gonna end the night in my bedroom, where you can be as loud as you want.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

i am sick rn ;((((( so how about pure vanilla and shadow milk (separately) taking care of a sick reader? i need my silly lil guys doing their best (or worst LMAO) to take care of their beloved -galaxy

Here you go! Hope you feel better soon :(

.....

Pure Vanilla

As a healer, it's only natural that he's the first cookie you called when you started feeling under the weather.

You're certain that you caught a cold from the snowy mountains of Dark Cacao Kingdom while accompanying him to a meeting a few days ago, as your doughy body hasn't stopped shaking since your return despite all attempts to warm yourself up.

Today, you woke up feeling achy all over, barely able to finish your tasks around the kingdom without becoming dizzy or getting sudden chills.

So you've put on bedrest until you feel well, asking one of the bluebirds to send PV a message.

Within the hour, he shows up at your place, bringing some good natural remedies to your bedside.

He also brought some hot jelly soup for when/if you feel like you could eat something light.

While his healing magic mainly extends to injuries, it's able to relieve the aches that plagued your dough.

But he discourages you from jumping up right away, as it took time to work.

Even though you think he's worrying too much over your simple cold, PV admits that he felt partially responsible for getting you sick because he asked you to attend the meeting in the first place.

You tell him that's not true, as you wanted to go and he couldn't have possibly predicted the weather that day. You promise him that you'll recover in no time, and you thank him for being here.

That cheers him up, as he promises to stay with you until you're well enough to move around, assuring you that whatever tasks you had could wait.

Shadow Milk

Despite being an inhabitant of Beast Yeast for years, you weren't familiar with the weather patterns within the Land of Spice...

Until Shadow Milk dragged you into his fellow Beast's domain at the peak of a spice storm one day.

He only wanted to annoy Burning Spice, although after you kept sneezing nonstop during their banter and being the one who annoyed him instead, the jester pouted and decided to warp back to his Spire with you.

Unfortunately, the storm made you terribly sick, with your eyes constantly burning and your throat feeling scratchy.

Shadow Milk only realizes something MIGHT be wrong with you when you refused to come out of your chambers that evening.

He invites himself inside and sees the sorry state you're in, laying in bed with spice particles in your dough and your toppings looking like they're gonna melt at any moment.

He doesn't understand why you're pouting and blaming him for dragging you out into that storm.

He even starts whining like "so you hate me now???? you want me to leave??????"

When you deny that and tell him he can stay, he's suddenly all smiles like "hehe I was gonna stay whether you wanted me to or not, doll. You're gonna have to depend on me now! But then again....you always have, and you always will~"

Sinister undertones aside, he's actually genuinely concerned for your health, taking care of you in-between his duties within the Spire.

He shapeshifts into a doctor/nurse persona, looking up cures for spice-related sicknesses and speaking in medical jargon the whole time he's with you.

He'd gather natural remedies and medicines out in the town no problem, demanding them from every vendor/storekeeper--and of course they listen.

After all, those same folks would gladly give him their left arm in exchange for a comforting lie.

You didn't mind playing the patient role, and you don't question how or where he got all those remedies, as you recover pretty quickly.

He definitely wouldn't dote on Black Sapphire or Candy Apple like this if they ever got sick, so you considered yourself very lucky.

[berry-potchy]

Dad's Best Friend!Miguel O'Hara blurb because I'm obsessed

UPDATE: Part 2

I love the DBF!Miguel O'Hara scenarios that have you sneaking around and fucking while your family is around and unaware BUT consider:

DBF!Miguel O'Hara who offered to let you stay at his place when you moved out for college. You don't have to worry about rent or anything because he'll take care of everything. He'll take care of you.

It all seemed so good and innocent at the start. You even got to have the place to yourself most of the days because of his demanding job. Miguel said you can bring your friends over but no romantic partners or flings allowed. Not that you had anyone in that way when you're so busy yearning for Miguel. You've had a crush on him since forever and every time you tried to get into a relationship or have sex with anyone, anyone your age, your mind always compared them to Miguel. For the longest time you were hopelessly yearning, convinced that he'd never return your feelings until one night.

You were lying in bed trying to catch your breath after fucking your pussy raw with your vibrator thinking about how hot Miguel looked that morning in his nice suit, ready for an important business meeting he had. You were about to fall asleep when you felt the bed dip and suddenly Miguel was pulling you close to him, your back against his chest. Your bare ass still wet from your own slick, flushed against his erection and the only barrier that separated you was the same sexy suit you had been fantasizing about. He was so big, he felt bigger than how you imagined him and your cunt throbbed, seemingly ready to be used and abused again.

He kissed your neck, licking and sucking, marking you as his while murmuring how long he had been wanting to do this. He heard you moaning his name when you thought he was going to come home late and he immediately called in his office to tell them he's taking a sick leave. He's going to spend that time fucking you, on every surface in the house, making up for all those times you teased him in the mornings just walking around in an oversized shirt and no bra. You didn't even wear shorts around him, gave him a show of your cute ass, trying to reach mugs from the high kitchen shelves. He had to go shamefully jerk off in his car just so he didn't have to go to work with a very obvious boner. How'd he explain that to your dad when he inevitably bumped into him in the office? His precious little daughter living under the same roof as this pervert?

Hearing you moan his name while you fucked your slutty cunt was the last straw, all his self restraint went out the window. He took your vibrator from your hand and let it overstimulate your swollen clit but immediately take it away when he feels you almost going over the edge. You whine and beg him to let you cum but he just laughs. He promised you'll cum plenty of times, more than you can handle.

Of course he eats your pretty pussy out and fuck you all night in so many different ways, in positions you never even heard of. Your pussy was swollen and oversensitive, and you're pretty sure your cervix is deliciously bruised. Miguel kisses your pussy as an apology but gets distracted and tongue fucks you and makes you cum again.

You slowed down some time in the morning. Miguel made you breakfast but soon enough you found yourself bent over the kitchen counter getting railed again. You don't know how this man had that much stamina at his age. You were getting close to cumming when you heard your phone ring. Your dad was calling you. You helplessly looked back at Miguel, expecting him to stop so you can pick up the call but he didn't stop and clicked the answer button for you. Your dad happily greets you over the phone wondering how you're doing and you tried to keep your voice steady and told him everything's good and uni was going great. Miguel leaned over, pressing his chest on your back and driving his cock deeper and harder into you. It took everything in you not to cry in pleasure and you wondered if your dad can hear the erotic sounds of Miguel's cock abusing your sopping wet hole and his balls slapping your aching clit.

Your dad told you he heard Miguel was taking a sick leave which he has never done befor. He was convinced that he must be really sick for that workaholic to finally take a break so he asked you to take care of his best friend for him. You told him not to worry because you were taking really good care of him.

[aurorawritestoescape]

ALL THE GOOD GIRLS GO TO HELL

Stepdad Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,7k

part 3 of A Step Into Hell || can be read alone

Summary: you can't stop thinking about your stepdad so you do something risky to have a little more of him. But Joel is not the "little more" kind of guy.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel's POV, reader’s pov, still technically dub con but reader's very into it, big legal age gap, dark!Joel, perv!Joel, possessive!joel, f!oral, both holes pronouns, cock pronouns, corruption, object insertion, fingering, creampie, degradation, anal, praise kink, daddy kink, pussy spanking, cum eating, swearing. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions. Joel can lift reader.

A/n: huge thank you to my love @milla-frenchy for this inspiring ask, for beta-ing and for the title. ILYSM❤️ also thank you to everyone who enjoys this naughty series, I’m grateful for your love, your asks and your thots! I hope you’ll enjoy this part❤️‍🔥 dividers by @/saradika-graphics

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

”Joel, wake up.”

Joel opened his eyes, startled by a figure standing next to the bed in the darkness of the bedroom. He cursed under his breath when he realized it was just you.

“Hmm?” all he could muster to say, groggy with sleep.

“Can you — can we talk?” you whispered and beckoned him with a hand.

Joel was blinking at you for a few seconds and then his eyes slid over your barely clothed figure. Even in his half awake state he realized that it wasn’t normal - you, standing in his and his wife’s bedroom in your tiny pajamas like a slutty ghost, your voice shaky with nerves.

Joel got up, moving carefully so as not to wake up his sleeping wife. As he was following you downstairs a scary thought passed through his mind - what if your guilt brought you to him in the middle of the night? Did you feel bad for sleeping with your mother’s husband and decided to break your thing off? No! He’d just found a perfect fuck toy in his own backyard and he wasn’t going to let you slip out of his paws. So he decided to intimidate you and remind you that he had you by the pussy.

You

You thought that Joel was hot the moment your mother introduced you to him but when you started living under the same roof, his rough nature, gruff voice, piercing eyes and broad frame became your obsession. You wanted him to be with you, not with your mom. It was so filthy and naughty to think like that about your stepdad and your heart skipped a beat every time he was staring at you. You were scared that somehow he had read your mind and realized that his stepdaughter was a cock-craving freak. Needy and desperate for him.

You would have never confessed your feelings but somehow you got what you wanted anyway.

Yet your thirst wasn’t satisfied, instead it grew and grew until it took over your mind and body. You couldn't sleep any more - your nights were spent tossing and turning, sweating against the clingy sheets and thinking of Joel. Remembering his hands greedily exploring your body, his lips, too mean to give you a long kiss, but hot enough to brand you as his, his cock so deep inside you, it was hard to take a breath.

Tonight was especially hard. He hadn’t fucked you in three days - you were busy with the college, he worked late and your mom always seemed to be around. You were dying to get filled by his him, to feel his body pressed to yours. But most of all you craved to be degraded by him. Whenever you saw each other, he was cold, indifferent, looking through you and it was understandable - he had to keep your sick relationship a secret, especially in front of your mom, but it elevated your need even more. You wanted him to be mean, to call you a slut, to manhandle you, to give you anything to satisfy your twisted thirst for his attention.

All you had was your pink dildo; after Joel prohibited you from getting some on the side, the toy was your only respite. The one that still had Joel’s fingerprints on the shaft. No way you’d wash him away. You were so desperate you slept with it like with a damn teddy bear, it was always in your hands when you were alone in your bedroom, feeling empty without your stepdad’s cock plugging you, cold without his arms around your body.

You’d been fucking yourself sensless every night but all in vain. Your body and mind demanded him, your attraction turned into a fixation. You must have gone completely crazy with ‘the horny’ but on the fourth day in the middle of the night, surprisingly even for yourself, your feet carried you to his bedroom.

Joel

You led Joel to the kitchen and when you both entered, you turned on a little light over the cooker and stood a few steps away from him. Joel shivered, feeling chilly only in his boxers and a white tank top, and grumbled with an intention to intimidate you,

“What’s up?”

You looked anxious as hell, shifting on your bare feet, chest heaving under your cute pajama top, restless hands fidgeting with the lace on your shorts. You looked so small and vulnerable in front of him, that Joel’s cock twitched.

“I— Joel — sorry for waking you up but — I can’t sleep.”

Your stepdad furrowed his bushy brows.

”Want me to sing you a lullaby or some shit? How the hell is it my problem?“

He glanced at the clock and then glared at you, his hands on his hips.

“I have to get up in 3 hours.”

Avoiding his stare, your eyes slid down his broad torso and landed on his bulge. He followed her line of sight and smirked at his hard cock creating a glorious tent in his boxers.

“What a little slut. ‘s called morning wood. Don’t be flattered, jus’ nature.”

You quickly looked away, but he didn’t miss the way you bit your soft lower lip and pressed your thighs together.

“Wait...” His breath hitched. With his eyes narrowed he took a step towards you.

Could it be…? No way! Did you wake him up because you were horny?

Suddenly Joel was 100% awake.

You shifted back and pressed your body to the counter, looking embarrassed. And there was something else in the way you moved. Need.

‘Fuck. Me.’ Joel thought, staring at you, as a mixture of triumph and relief expanded his chest.

The bitch didn’t want to break up with him, she wanted him to break her back. A wolfish grin twisted his face as he cooed, inching closer,

“Aww, someone needs daddy’s milk to sleep better?”

He grabbed himself by the heavy balls and gave them a shake, stepping up closer to you. “Have it all right here for ya.”

Now there were mere inches between you and him. You looked so delicious - your eyes downcast, your body almost trembling out of your clothes, fast breaths making your chest flutter.

“My cock-hungry girl,” he whispered.

You shook your head, still not daring to look at him, but stayed silent. Yes, it must be hard for you to deny the obvious — you were madly horny for your stepdad.

Joel tilted his head and his smile faded. He shifted his jaw, suddenly serious and concentrated. There were so many ways he could ruin you tonight and he had just a few hours. Why did he always have so little time with you?

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispered in your ear and bucked his hips against your lower belly, making you gasp. “Your pussy keeps you up at night?” —his hands slowly pulled down your shorts— “She wants my meaty cock?”— he lightly slapped your folds and you moaned his name — “Poor thing.”— He massaged your wet pussy —“Hungry cunt, always drenched.”— Slap!

“Ahh!” you cried out. Slap—slap—slap!

“Joelllll….”

Your hands grasped his strong biceps, nails hurting him like a little kitten would, while he was spanking your damp folds with his paddle of a hand.

“A few days without daddy’s dick and you run to him —,” Joel pushed his index and middle fingers between your folds —”in the middle of the night…riskin to wake up your mother.”

Joel shoved his thick fingers inside you and started fucking you slowly and steadily. Soon you were whimpering and shaking, eyes shut, lips parted, almost drooling.

“What if you woke her up, huh? What’d you say? ‘I need daddy to fuck me to sleep?’”

“Nooo, Joel—“, all you could do was to moan.

“You know what I like to be called.”

“Daddy -ohh, daddy…”

You spread your legs wider, watching his hand work your pussy until Joel spat,

“Eyes on me.”

You followed his command and he almost came in his boxers.

“Look at you, dirty slut, you love it. Love bein finger-fucked by your stepdad.”

Your beautiful face was twisted with pleasure he was giving you and he pressed his lips to yours and licked possessively into your mouth.

Joel was rubbing his clothed hard-on against your side, working himself up, and then pushed your clit with his thumb and started rubbing it up and down in rhythm with his fingers, that were knuckles deep inside you. You mewled into his mouth and soon your pussy began clamping on his digits hard and fast.

Joel parted from your lips and watched you closely, reveling in the way your body was succumbing to his dirty actions. He still couldn’t believe that he got to do that to his hot stepdaughter. Corrupting you felt so damn good.

When you fell into his arms, exhausted from the hard climax, he lifted you and helped you to wrap your weak legs around his waist.

“Daddy’s turn, sweetie,” he huffed, carrying you to the door, and after checking that the coast was clear, stepped into the hall.

“Lie down,” Joel ordered, locking the laundry room door behind you two and turning on the dim lights. There wasn’t much space but it was enough for him to have some fun with you.

“Right here? On the floor?”

“Damn! Ain’t ya a fucking princess,” he grumbled. “‘k, I guess my knees could use a little padding too.”

He grabbed a basket with dirty laundry and unceremoniously dropped its contents on the floor. Then he scattered the clothes with his bare foot and motioned for you to get comfortable.

You looked at the messy makeshift bed with a pout and then at Joel but his dark eyes told you to do what he’d said and soon you were lying on your back in front of him.

“Good girl,” he sneered, palming himself at the sight of you. Then he kneeled down with a grunt, settled between your legs after spreading them wide with his bear paws.

“Oops, daddy ruined your shorts, babydoll.“ A dark spot between your legs made him salivate and he quickly slid your bottoms off.

The view of your naked cunt, wet and pretty, was the last drop. His desire skyrocketed and took control over him completely. He didn’t care about anything else at that moment, he wanted to grab, thrust, squeeze, bite, eat you whole. He’d never felt anything like that before, the animalistic need to claim your every inch.

“Top up. Show me the girls.”

You exposed your breasts and he ogled your body for a few moments.

“Fucking ‘ell. I hate you. You can’t be this fuckin hot.”

Your little smile was cute but soon your lips parted and you gasped when he leaned down and pushed his nose right between your folds. He took a deep breath and growled, sending vibrations through your tense body. You jerked with overstimulation but Joel didn’t care. Keeping your thighs apart with his palms, he was busy sliding his nose like a credit card up and down your cunt, coating his face with your juices, collecting some with his plush bottom lip and tasting you greedily.

It didn’t take long for your thighs to tremble and when Joel sucked in your clit between his lips with a loud slurp, you came again. Joel drank everything your pulsating cunt had to offer, then sat back admiring the way your pussy clamped around nothing.

”Fuck. This cunt. Wish I could put you in my pocket and carry you around. Fuck you whenever I want. Wouldn’t it be nice?”

Your eyes were closed, chest heaving, and Joel lightly slapped your mound to get your attention.

“Ouch… Yeah, yes, daddy.”

Joel’s cock was rock hard, his boxers soaked with prefuck juice, but he wanted to keep playing with his stepdaughter as long as he could.

“Ya know I still have your panties. They were handy when you were studyin. Jizzed all over them. Now they’re ruined.”

He glanced at the stacks of clothes on the dryer and picked up one piece.

“These yours, right?”

You nodded slowly blinking at the pink lacy thong in his hand. He pressed it to his nose and mumbled with disgust,

“Clean.”

Suddenly his face lit up.

“Let’s make a souvenir for daddy, uh?”

“What?”

Joel answered your question when he brought the thong between your thighs and began wiping your pussy with it, soaking the fabric with your cum.

“Here we go, now they gonna smell of your tasty snatch.”

You were mewling, jerking again and again when he’d graze your puffy clit with his hand, but your legs stayed open for him. At one point Joel slid the panties over your entrance, that was stretched by his fingers, and without any thought in his mind he began pushing the thong into your glistening hole.

“What are you doing?!” You gasped, lifting yourself up on your elbows, your eyes wide.

“To soak ‘em better,” he mumbled, inserting the panties into your soft hole with his thick fingers. “Nice ‘d wet.”

He tilted his head, admiring the view of your cunt sucking the lace in, fluttering around the fabric, while you both were panting, aroused to the max at the sight.

When his hand was working, Joel’s eyes would fall on your asshole, winking at him from time to time.

It was calling to him - ‘Fuck me, Joel. Stick your fat cock right here.’

Joel stopped stuffing you with your thong only when the side string was sticking out of your hungry pussy.

He took a deep breath and looked up at your face.

“I’ll let it sit for a bit, ‘k? Ya pussy full now so… I’ma fuck your ass, baby.”

You

Joel looked crazy— eyes blown out, curly hair disheveled, mouth parted, lips and chin wet with your slick, so when he announced that he was going to fuck your ass, all your holes clenched extremely hard. You’d never done anal before but you could imagine that taking such a huge cock would split your ass in two. And you loved your ass. You didn’t want to go to the ER in the middle of the night.

‘Help me, doctor. I ...I fell on my stepdad's cock.’

Yet Joel was too hot to say ‘no’ to. His broad chest, stretching his tank top with every mighty breath, his monstrous bulge between the thick thighs, his handsome face, his muscular arms, his veiny hands…you could come just from staring at him. And the best part was that he wanted you. So much that it made your head spin and your knees buckle.

He probably noticed your scared expression, you weren’t really hiding it, and gave you a faux sweet smile. Then he cooed at you with the weirdest tone of voice — sugary and calming, that was so not like him, it made you even more anxious.

“I’ll be careful, sweetie.”

Suddenly he got up and went to the door.

“Joel?” you called but he pressed a finger to his lips, opened the lock and went out.

Joel came back a minute later holding something in his fist. He took his place between your legs, your pussy still full with your panties, and you saw a little bottle in his hands.

“Got us some lube, sweetie. Bought it the next day we fucked. For your ass. And we both know your pussy can drown the whole neighbourhood.”

A pathetic ‘aww’ almost escaped your mouth. You were down bad for him but you couldn’t show that you took ‘buying lube to ruin your butt’ as a sign of affection.

Meanwhile Joel was already opening the bottle and pulling his hard cock out. You almost moaned when you saw it. He was throbbing, his veiny thick member looked engorged and ready to destroy you. Your asshole clenched and pussy squeezed the wet thong.

”Daddy, fuck my mouth instead. Please.”

Joel, who was already pouring the slick liquid on his palm, shook his head.

“Nah, babydoll. Been there, done that. You woke me up so now face the consequences. Or rather let the consequences fuck your ass,” he chuckled and you whined, slowly closing your legs. Your inner thighs clamped against his hips and Joel froze, his eyes boring a hole in you. He clenched his jaw and his expression turned dark. A cold shiver ran down your spine. ‘He’s gonna make me,’ you thought in panic, ‘he’s gonna make me do it.’

Joel

‘Fuck! Joel thought. The bitch was about to say ‘no’. She woke him up, made him hard, made his cock leak like a fucking fountain into his boxers and now she was gonna leave him high and dry. Two orgasms spoiled her. Why the hell was he always so generous to this ungrateful brat?’

Yeah, your pussy was bomb. Yeah, you let him stick a dildo and his cock inside you, ate his cum like crème brûlée and at that moment were lying in front of him with your panties sticking out of your hole. You were a perfect slut. And yeah, your fear was valid - his schlong was huge and intimidating. But Joel knew that your ass would be heaven-like so he had to do a little ground work. Anal was worth it. You were worth it.

Joel sighed and glided his hand over your thigh.

“Ya scared?”

You nodded with your eyes glossy, lips trembling.

He sensed that you needed some sugar. So he could get your sweet ass.

“I get it,“ Joel sat on his butt and offered you his hand. You took it, looking confused, and he gently pulled you up and manhandled you to sit on his lap, your knees pressed to the floor. Your stuffed pussy snuggled up to his hard cock and Joel clenched his teeth and gathered all his will not to stick it in any hole that would be close enough. He needed to fuck something soon or he’d explode.

“It’s ok. I won’t make you do it. I'm big.”

”Yeah, so big, daddy,” you mewled, nuzzling the crease of his neck. His hands were gliding over your juicy asscheeks, soothing your nerves but also intentionally turning you on. You whimpered and he smiled in his mind. The slut was getting needy. Already feeling the tight squeeze of victory around his dick, he cooed,

”But listen… I know how to make it easy, sweetie. Know how to make it feel good for us both. You’ll feel so fuckin good, I promise.”

“Mmm,” you hummed against his skin, the sound unsure. Joel wrapped his arms tight around you and pulled you closer to his torso. Your thighs spread wider around his hips, your back arched and your butt stuck out more. Perfect.

“I also know that —,” his hand shifted to the crease of your ass and you jerked in his arms when his lubed up finger caressed your asshole, ”— she wants me too.”

Joel glided the pad of his finger over your tight ring, teasing it, spreading the lube over your puckered hole while you were moaning softly, probably fighting the urge to beg for more. But you will. Bet your cock-fearing ass you will!

“All your holes were made for me, babydoll. And this one too,” — his middle finger gently pushed on the ring — “I’ll work her open, carefully, sweetie, don’t worry, and in no time she’ll be able to take me.“ Pouring sweet honey into your ears, he inserted the tip of his digit in and your body tensed.

“Shh, relax, baby, relax. Gimme those sweet lips.”

Joel knew that you loved kissing him, always melting in his arms when his tongue was fucking into your mouth. So he gave you what you wanted - a long and passionate kiss while working your tight asshole open slowly but steadily, relaxing your muscle, making room for his fat cock.

When Joel was deep inside you to the knuckle, he moved his finger in and out a few times until you broke the kiss. You parted from his lips and searched for his eyes, almost frozen in his embrace.

“Oh, fuck, you’re inside me, Joel… daddy… I..”, you were choking on your words, your voice breathy, and he gave you a saccharine smile.

“Yes, tell me, sweetie, what do you need?”

“I need … need your cock there. Please.”

That was almost too easy but after playing with you for so long, Joel’s jizz wanted out and he was happy that your cock hunger took over your fears.

“ ‘course, babydoll. Get back down.”

He wanted to see you take him in your little ass lying on your back, wanted to see your pussy chew on your panties when his cock would neglect her and instead fuck another hole.

You were trembling, probably still scared but your eyes were screaming for a good fill.

“Hngg, like that. Hold your knees—yeah, good girl.”

“Please, be careful, Joel,” you asked with a timid voice.

Joel didn’t reply, busy applying more lube on his cock and groaning at the sensation.

“Daddy, please, be gentle.”

“I will, I will.”

Joel was hovering over your torso, his cock finally at your asshole, his wet hand guiding it. His head was empty, occupied only by you. All his being was taken over by the instinct to pierce his stepdaughter with his cock. But at the back of his mind a tiny voice reminded him that he needed to be careful with his favorite toy so he could play with it as long as possible.

Wanting you so badly that his balls were buzzing, Joel bit his lip hard to stop himself from busting just from the sensation of his cold cock-head pressed to your warm skin.

“More lube.” Yeah, he needed more.

Only when his schlong was slippery enough to fuck a whole cheerleading team, he stopped lubing it up. Your ass was worth it and he really needed you to enjoy it.

Joel pushed the tip against your hole but you weren’t letting him in.

“Babydoll, relax. Breathe deeper.”

You nodded but your chest was heaving, panic swimming in your eyes. You needed him close so Joel leaned down and covered you with his body, not putting his weight on you, just sharing his warmth.

Your eyes were inches from his, nervous, glossy, turned on.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, fuck being sorry. Just relax. Enjoy it.”

Enjoy my cock in your ass.

His tip knocked at the heaven’s door again and you finally granted him the access.

“Yeah, oh yeahhhh, baby, ahhhh—“

Joel didn’t care that he sounded needy and ecstatic, that was exactly what he was feeling at that moment. His tip was inside your glorious ass, your warm ring squeezing him hard, and to stop himself from coming, Joel closed his eyes and imagined his wife. He’d been imagining you whenever he was fucking her for some time now and he could have chuckled at the irony but at that moment only grunts and moans were leaving his mouth.

Your nails were digging into his biceps, widened eyes darting between his, your lips parted in a silent moan until you whimpered loudly, too loudly for a quiet house.

“Ahhdaddydaddydaddyyyy!”

He shut you up with a kiss and rocked his hips forward, slowly nailing your ass with his stiff cock.

If anyone had stopped him at that moment, he’d cry, that’s how amazing he was feeling. He’d fucked a fair amount of asses in his life but yours was definitely in top three.

“Need to see her take me,” be mumbled feverishly as his lips left yours and you whined.

“Quiet, needy slut. I’m still here.”

Joel was careful as he sat up and lifted your hips, wishing to stay in your tight hole and also not to rip you in two. When he dropped his head, his hands on your juicy asscheeks spreading them wider, the sight made him curse,

“Fuck— you seein it?”

He was mesmerized, watching your tight ring flutter around his glistening shaft while your stuffed pussy was squeezing the drenched panties. Your thighs began trembling when he fumbled with the wet fabric sticking out of your hole.

“Shit, baby. You’re somethin else.”

Joel slowly moved his cock, in and out, dipping it further with every forward thrust. You were watching him ruin your butt, breathing fast, and then murmured, choking on air,

”Oh my god—I feel like I’m gonna explode— don’t go deeper— please.”

Joel really wanted to push further, wanted to feel your tight ring hug the base of his cock but he was already on the verge of ecstasy, ready to empty his heavy balls. He was a glass-half-full person so half of his cock in his hot stepdaughter’s ass was enough for him. Yet wishing to keep you on your toes, he growled, “Don’t tell me what to do,” and slapped your pussy. The hit was light but his hand grazed your puffy clit and it electrified you like a bolt of lightning. You cried out through your teeth, your body tensed up and you squeezed him hard.

“Hnnnggg, yeah, choke ‘im, c’mon,” Joel grunted at the feeling and slapped your folds and clit again.

Slap- slap- slap!

“Daddyyyyy,” you moaned as you came, shaking in his arms, both of your holes contracting fast.

A string of curses left Joel’s mouth as he was watching your soft pussy nibble on your thong, making it dance over his cock.

“She’s droolin even gagged, fuckin ‘ell.”

While the orgasm was still rippling through you, he pinched the string of your panties with his thick fingers and began slowly pulling them out. It seemed to be prolonging your climax as you rolled your eyes at the sensations and kept jerking against the floor.

Joel immediately brought them to his lips and licked the fabric, breathing in your scent.

The sound he emitted was animalistic. The taste and smell of you, your asshole gripping his fat cock, the image of you, ruined and fucked out, finally made him let loose and explode inside your ass. He grabbed your hips tight and began fucking you with shallow thrusts, staying half-cock in just like you wanted. His balls were bouncing, slapping your asscheeks as their contents were flooding your channel like a tsunami.

“Take it— take it — take it,” Joel chanted through clenched teeth and you did take it — your asshole sucked in and swallowed every drop of his hot cum.

Joel slowly pulled out and dropped your butt on the pile of clothes. He tucked his cock back into his boxers and got up with a grunt, knowing well that his knees would hurt like hell the next day. It was worth it. As always after playing with his favorite fuckdoll, Joel felt greatly satisfied. As always after being fucked by him, you looked completely wrecked.

He offered you a hand and helped you to stand on your trembling legs. Then he pinched your chin and tilted your head up, searching for your hazy eyes.

“Ya good?“

You nodded with a drunk smile and he sneered. He really found a perfect slut.

“‘k, clean yourself up and go to bed. You’ll sleep really well now, babydoll.”

He pressed his body to yours and snaked his hand to your naked ass. He found your hole and gently prodded it. It was leaking his cum.

”Say ’thank you for the milk, daddy,’” he whispered, looking into your eyes with a sneer.

“Thanks for the milk. Daddy,” you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath.

Joel brought your panties to his face and took a deep whiff.

“And thank you for the souvenir, little slut,” he winked at you and then left the room.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!<3

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

People who were interested in pt 3; no pressure to read, bbs: @tateypots @amyispxnk @filetofishfan @lilac-boo @toxicanonymity @sunshineispunk @thundermartini @arcanefox207 @tammythr

[luveline]

hi jade! I remember a while back you wrote a drabble about hotchner!reader having a really bad panic attack and Spencer and Aaron helping her at the hospital, and it gave me a lot of comfort to read it. would you be interested in writing something about Spencer and Aaron taking care of hotchner!reader as she adjusts to her new meds?

—Spencer and your brother, Aaron, take care of you when your new prescription gives unexpected side effects. fem (adopted) 2k

When things got quiet at home, you’d get tense. 

Your apartment is silent. No whir of the heating, no washing machine clatter, no voices. You sit on the couch with your legs pulled up, turned to the armrest with your cheek pressed to the seat's backing. Your phone is in your hand at a low percentage. You’ll get up to charge just as soon as you can remember what you’d wanted to be doing in the first place. 

Spencer was going to call you. He’s sweet, really. You didn’t expect for love to feel easy; you never thought someone could like you without allowances. You’re quiet sometimes, your nerves are shot. You ask for reassurance too much, too often, and you don’t believe them when they’re given. 

You aren’t smart, or funny, or particularly hard-working. 

But Spencer loves you, you’re almost certain. Or maybe he’s just content to be half happy. It wouldn’t surprise you if he called you to break up with you —what use have you been to him lately? You’re tired everyday. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, you never want to go out. You can barely make it through the working day. 

Your phone beeps in your hand. 

Outside, it says. If Spencer’s there, please make sure he’s fully dressed.

You manage to smile weakly. Aaron saw Spencer once getting out of the shower, and he was dressed, thank you very much. You hadn’t done anything salacious as he might’ve assumed from the situation, just showered together, but Aaron always lets you know before visiting now. 

Doesn’t ask, by the way, but you don’t actually want him to. He’s like, the only good thing in your life beside Spencer. 

Aaron lets himself in and finds you immediately. “Hey, honey,” he says. 

He slipped into the affectionate older brother role not long after meeting you, and he’s been worse since you were in the hospital. Which is to say, gentler with you. 

He slips a bag of groceries onto the counter. He pans around the room. It’s cleaner than usual here, but none of the lights are on, nor the TV. You can see him notice it. 

“You okay?” he asks, pulling groceries from the bag. He’s brought milk, bread, eggs, and fresh soups from the nice store nearby. “It’s quiet in here.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Yeah? Any wobbles?” 

He’s asking if you’ve had a panic attack or anything like it, but for the last few days you’ve felt veritably numb. “I’m okay,” you say. 

You should bring up your symptoms. Clearly, lexapro either isn’t right for you or the dosage is too much; you’re a zombie these last couple of days. Medications don’t always work straight away, so for a time you’d felt like your script was useless, serving only to make you nauseous, but the sickness has finally gone away. 

He opens the fridge to put away the groceries. He’s sliding the bread into your bread box when he says, “Honey, aren’t you gonna answer that? Your phone?”

You blink down at your phone. Spencer’s contact glows in front of a green background. 

You click answer and pull it to your ear. “Hello?” you ask softly. 

“Hey, angel. How are you feeling today?” 

You clear your throat. “Fine.” 

“I was thinking I’d come over?” 

“You’re outside?” you ask. 

“How’d you know that?” 

“Must be something in the water.”

“I’ll come up now. I brought some things for dinner.” 

You manage your first laugh that dreary day. It’s nearly normal. “Okay. I might not have room.” 

Spencer promises to be up quickly and disconnects the call. You lift your chin to find Aaron already looking at you. “Do I look okay?” you ask. 

“Beautiful, don’t worry.”

“Is this an ambush?” you ask. 

“Not an intentional one. Can I make you something to drink?” 

He’ll make you something you like, you trust. You try to sit properly on the couch before Spencer gets here, rubbing under your eyes, checking there’s nothing on your t-shirt and sweatpants. It might not matter if there were, you know Spencer thinks you’re pretty without makeup or fancy clothes, but he doesn’t necessarily have to be truthful about it. 

“Aaron,” you say, before you can forget, “did… was Jack’s soccer okay?”

He passes you a mug, squeezing your shoulder lovingly. “It was great. I’ll show you the photos.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t go.” 

You were supposed to. Spencer even drove to pick you up, but he got here and your meds weren’t working and your heart was beating wrong, so you stayed home. 

“It’s okay.” Aaron looks like he wants to hug you, but he doesn’t. “Nobody’s mad at you for that.” 

“For other things?” 

“Nothing.” 

Your door opens again. Spencer bursts in with two things, a brown paper bag of groceries and a bouquet of flowers. It’s a pretty huge bouquet, as they go, white and pink flowers, cornflower blue chrysanthemums spotted throughout, the end of his scarf stuck in the flowers and his coat unbuttoned in the struggle. “Hey. Hi, Hotch.” 

“Spencer,” Aaron says, which is strangely warm. 

Spencer shoves the bouquet aside to see you. “Hi, you okay?” 

You force yourself to stand. It’s obvious you’re not feeling right, your head whirring, but you have to make sure he still wants you. “Spencer.” 

He puts the bouquet down. The groceries next. “Angel,” he says, meeting Aaron’s eyes quickly, then back to you, where he smiles sympathetically, “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

You’ve only taken a few steps toward him when he catches you for a hug. It’s nice and polite, but not without tenderness. He doesn’t pull your weight in like he would if you were alone, but he holds your back and sits a quick kiss against your cheek as he pulls away. 

“I don’t really know, a few days?” you suggest. 

“You could’ve told me. Or Hotch, you know?” 

“I know, I was going to, just–” You press your hand to your eyes. “Didn’t really notice it was happening.” 

“Don’t get upset,” Aaron says, coming to join you both in the kitchen. “It’s alright. Spencer isn’t scolding you, he just wants you to know we’re here for you no matter what happens.” 

“I don’t feel like myself,” you say.

“That’s okay,” Aaron furthers, holding you by the shoulder, his hand settling behind the nape of your neck, “we can talk to your doctor again, this isn’t permanent. We’ll talk to them today, if it’s what you need.” 

“I’m sorry. Not many people have such an adverse effect to lexapro, I was hoping you wouldn’t be an exception,” Spencer says. 

To your surprise, Aaron answers for you, “You couldn’t have known. This is just something we’ll have to keep doing together.” 

Someone sits you down. Aaron warms his fancy soups and toasts the bread he brought, making a plate and bowl for each of you without asking. Spencer barely balks. You manage another laugh, for which you’re rewarded with two smiles. 

Aaron can’t stay much longer, having to pick up Jack from Jess’, but he offers to come back. You decline, not wanting Jack to see you feeling as depressed as you are. He promises to call the doctor tonight and leaves in a rush. He must’ve stayed longer than he should’ve. 

Spencer is more forthcoming with soft touches once he’s gone. He didn’t eat much but neither did you, pushing the plates across the coffee table. He’s still wearing his coat. 

Fond, you reach for his chest and begin slipping buttons from the eyelets. “You’re staying, right?” you murmur. 

“If you’ll have me.” 

You open his coat and push it away from his shoulders. He dressed fancy even when he’s not going anywhere, it’s so strange, the button up and the tie and the sweater vest, all of it, but you love it. You run your hand down his vest. He lets his head dip forward. Not for kissing, just to be near. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Just feel wrong.” 

“It’s not really a good idea to stop taking the lexapro now. It’s technically an antidepressant, and your body won’t adjust well.” He holds your waist as you hold his. “But this is weird, huh?” 

“Feels weird.” 

“Short term, uh, I think we should just try and make sure you feel alright today. Is there anything you need?” he’s murmuring, rubbing his thumb into the soft of your stomach. “I can get anything. Or we can do anything.” 

“You don’t have to… worry about me.” 

“Are you kidding?” he asks softly.

“We haven’t been…” You trail your hand to his stomach, where it stays. “I just don’t expect you to deal with this, you didn’t sign up for this.” 

“I don’t think that’s true. I had no idea what I’d find out about you or what you might go through when we first met, but I wanted to find out. I wanted to take care of you then, and I do now,” he says simply.

“It’s not good timing for me to be like this.” 

“Stuff happens all the time. I wouldn’t want to wait for you to be perfect before we met.” He smiles genuinely. “Not that you’re not perfect.” 

“I really feel like I’m not even me.” 

“You’re you,” he says, dipping so close to you that you can’t see his face anymore, just his skin.

You slouch into his chest, coaxed by long, lithe arms cradling you, as kind as anyone’s ever touched you. He smells clean, your nose finding its way to his stiff collar. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“You don’t have to be. Nobody wants you to be sorry, okay?” 

It’s a new feeling. Spencer spends the night with you on the couch and doesn’t for a moment seem like it’s something he doesn’t wanna do. You end up laying on his chest, his fingers drawing lines like a meandering figure skater up your back. Twirls and loops, long laps around your spine. When your phone rings, he’s nice enough to click answer and hold it to your ear. 

“Aaron?” you ask sleepily. 

“Hey, honey. I’ll be by tomorrow to take you back to Dr. Chester’s office, alright? If you don’t want to keep taking your lexapro, don’t. But if you can manage it, take another tonight, and we’ll figure out the new plan after your appointment.” 

“Okay,” you say, feeling very small. “Thank you for doing that for me.” 

“I’d do anything. Jack says he loves you, he’s making you a painting of yourself. He’s very good at the colours.” 

“I bet he is,” you say loudly. In the background, you can hear Jack’s pleased little thank you. 

“Do you want to talk a while?” he asks.

“That’s okay, Aaron, I’m half asleep on Spencer right now.” 

“Good, that’s good. Tell him to take good care of you, okay? Or I won’t be happy.” 

Spencer laughs above your head. “When is he ever happy?” he jokes in a whisper. 

“Shh,” you say, giving Spencer a light shove. “He says he will.” You swallow a lump, as you’ve had to do all day, but it isn’t rawness that colours your voice now. “I love you. Thank you for, uh, calling the doctor. Thanks.” 

“I love you too. I’ll leave you to sleep now. I’ll come at eleven, alright?” 

“Alright. See you tomorrow,” you say. 

Your voice is weak. Spencer pulls the phone away and hangs it up, tossing it without force onto the coffee table, before wrapping his arm around you snugly. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” Spencer says. “You’ll see, things aren’t going to be like this forever. It’s statistically impossible.” 

“Ooh,” you croon, pressing your tired face back into his chest, “I love when you talk statistics to me. Tell me more.”

He draws shapes into your back, his voice a murmur as he starts to talk. 

[femmeroll]

please could you write sevika dating a ballerina reader??? it can be headcanons (nsfwplss) or a short fic or whatever you like, thank uuu 🩷

i adore this!! thank u for the request my lovely ♡

sevika x ballerina!reader

cw: smut & fluff, hyperfemme reader, butch sevika, oral (r!receiving)

when sevika meets you, it’s like something out of a cheesy rom-com. it’s the middle of a cold, grey winter, and there you are at the bus stop. hair in a tight bun, legs adorned with light pink tights, and a frilly leotard to match. your zip-up jacket doesn’t conceal you at all from the bitter weather.

the second sevika sees you, she starts unzipping her heavy winter coat. the temperature was piercing, but she didn’t care. there was a cute ballerina freezing to death right next to her!

“hey…would you wanna borrow this? it’s way too cold for a light jacket like that, don’t want you to get sick or something.”

and the second you see sevika, light blush on her face with a hand outstretched to offer her jacket, a thousand lightening bolts shock your heart. you don’t yet know who this incredibly kind a wickedly handsome person is, but you know in your gut that you will find out.

you get sevika’s number so that you can ‘meet up’ to give her the coat back.

sevika asks you out after texting back and forth for a few days. she invites you to a cute cafe in town, one of those pretty ones that are covered in plants and vintage art.

you bring her coat to return it, but she insists that you keep it.

she pays for your drink and your pastry without hesitation. sevika is fidgeting with her sleeves the whole time. acting all shy as if she’s some high schooler who’s about to hold hands with a girl for the first time.

the two of you spend a whole afternoon getting to know each other. you learn all about her mechanic job and her two dogs and how she really likes doing crossword puzzles. she learns about how you’re a professional ballerina and you spend all your time at the dance studio.

sevika is so smitten it’s unreal. and when she sees you wearing her jacket when your ready to leave, she knows its game over. her heart can’t take it.

dating sevika is a literal dream. she’ll take you to every rehearsal and be in the front row of every single performance.

after every performance she greets you with a bouquet of flowers and the proudest smile plastered on that handsome face of hers.

“you were amazing as always, baby. i was cheering your name so loud at the end! did you hear?”

sevika will rub your sore feet after you’ve been in point shoes all day. every dancer knows just how fucked up your feet can get from those things. she’ll help you soak them in a salt bath and raise them up while she gently massages the pain away. she’s always gentle with you.

sevika prefers date nights at home. her perfect evening with you includes cooking you dinner, eating with you in the living room while watching a movie, and splitting you open in bed.

on the topic of the bedroom…

the first time having sex with sevika is after dance rehearsal. you come to her apartment exhausted and stressed about an upcoming performance.

while you’re trying to rant to your girlfriend, she gets a little distracted. every inch of your gorgeous body is on display in your tight leotard. and the way your legs are clothed in those sexy tights…she wants to eat you alive.

“…and the choreographer was being ridiculous. my feet were sickled for maybe half a second and-”

“can i help you relax?” sevika interrupts.

she gently grabs your hips with a smirk, peeling the straps of your leotard down.

“so worked up, aren’t you babe? let me make you feel better, please.”

sevika frees you from your tight dance clothes and nearly moans at the sight of your body. bare and needy, and it’s all for her. she gently lays you down on her bed, kisses trailing from your lips and throat to your stomach and thighs.

she licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, warm tongue sending shockwaves through your veins. she groans at the taste, greedily lapping at your pussy. she can’t get enough of the sweetness of you. and your cunt is nearly drooling over the way she eats you like you’re her last meal.

“god, you taste so damn good,” she growls into you, eyes dark as she pushes her tongue inside you. her nose rubs on your clit with every movement.

you’ve never cum so quickly in your entire life. watching her eat your pussy like a woman starved, the feeling of her hot tongue, her nose on your most sensitive bundle of nerves. it’s no wonder your eyes are rolling back into your skull after only a few minutes.

you clench around her tongue, whimpering out her name as she works you through your orgasm. once you start squirming from overstimulation, she comes up to kiss you.

“that make you feel better, baby?”

[yanderedrabbles]

What are yours OCs fetishes/kinks? What type of scenarios will make them go mad?

Also how big are they?

Sweet and Sour - yandere boys and their kinks

Warning: slightly dub-con content, blasphemous misuse of a crucifix, lots of anal Shoutout to all the anons who asked for this. I love you, ya little pervs.

Yandere! Cowboy wants to fuck you in the ass. He might try and prep you a little at first, working his fingers in and opening you up. But once he's got the tip in, all his care goes out the window and he's ramming himself into you like a goddamn stallion. Part of him just wants to make you cry again but mostly he wants to be the first in all your holes. They say you always remember your first time right? And he wants to burn himself into your mind. Over and over again.

Yandere! Soldier has the biggest cock by far. A solid twelve inches and thick as a fist. He's got a thing for getting head. He'll sit with his legs spread and his head thrown back, muttering in his native language. He loves popping it out of your mouth and feeling the soft tissue of your cheeks rubbing against his tip.

Mostly, he tries to be nice to you. But sometimes - after a long day or if you give him just a bit too much attitude - he'll stop holding back. He'll grab your neck and squeeze and his lips will just barely brush yours. He loves the way your cunt flutters around his cock when he does it. And some sick part of him likes the way you push at him so desperately and still can't manage to move him. I suggest you be careful. He wants to treat you well but he's still a soldier and there's a deeper depravity to him than either of you know.

Yandere! Boyfriend can definitely last the longest. He's also probably the only one who can successfully stop himself once he's inside of you. Your pleasure and comfort outweighs his own and if you even flinch, he's almost immediately pulling out and making sure you're alright. But trust me, it sure as hell isn't easy.

He adores breeding. The thought of filling you up and starting a family is the only coherent thought he has when he's inside you.

And it's so intimate. The fact that you're letting him spill himself inside you, letting him invade your body like that, is like the ultimate declaration of trust. He also likes wiping up any spilled cum with your panties and then keeping them with him for the rest of the day.

Sometimes he can get a bit mean. Like he'll keep eating you out even when your clit is a swollen, aching mess. Its the one guilty pleasure he allows himself.

Yandere! State Trooper is such an exhibitionist. He wants you to fuck him in the back of his cruiser while he's still on duty. When his dispatcher calls in, he'll press his hand over your mouth and try to sound professional. Even if his voice is nothing more than a growl at that point.

If he doesn't have time for even a quickie, he'll make you get on your knees and suck him off while he sprawls across the driver's seat. With nothing but his open door to keep away prying eyes.

He really loves putting his fingers in your mouth. Even when his other hand is busy finger fucking you, he'll have at least three fingers pressing against your tongue. He loves seeing the drool dripping down your chin and wet fingers are all the better to fuck you with.

And if you don't want to indulge him? He's got his handcuffs and his baton and he sure as hell can make you. So just be a doll and make it easier on yourself, all right?

Yandere! Cop loves chasing you down. Usually it's just for fun, a little teasing between the two of you. But sometimes his eyes go dark and dangerous and some animal instinct makes you run like hell. He'll fuck you wherever he catches you - against a tree, on the hood of his car, against your neighbour's fence. And trust me, he always catches you.

After a night out, he wants nothing more than to fuck you on your stomach with your wrists held together in the small of your back. It's by far his favourite position and he likes ramming you into the mattress so he can fuck your party girl makeup right off.

He likes eating you out when you're on your hands and knees in front of him - so he can grab your ass cheeks and spread them and draw his tongue down across your cute, puckered ass all the way to your shivering clit.

He doesn't say it, but sometimes he thinks about breaking in when he's disguised as your stalker and wrestling you to the floor. Tearing your clothes off and using them to tie your wrists together. Just to teach you a lesson about stranger danger. Maybe then you'll be more careful when you're out partying.

Yandere! Gangster gets hard at just about anything you do. Literally just touch him and he's a goner (gooner?) He's got a major weakness for stockings and heels. They make your legs look so damn good and all he can think about is being on his back with your stilettos pressed against the delicate arch of his windpipe.

Yandere! Incubus wants secret rendezvous. He wants to pull you into the shadowed alcoves that dot the abbey and fuck you against the wall, your habit pushed up around your waist and your rosary jumping against your chest with every vicious thrust. His biggest kink is making you go about the day with his cum still inside you, leaking back into your panties as you kneel for mass and light the votives.

His biggest turn on? The thought of fucking you while he forces a crucifix up your tight little ass. He wants to feel your ass and cunt pulsing, trying to shove him out and take him in all at the same time. And the cross buried all the way to the outstretched arms of the Saviour? He wants to watch it twitch and shudder as he rams into you.

He's a demon after all. What did you expect?

Yandere! Desert Bandit might be the second biggest. He doesn't have Yandere! Soldier's girth but he almost beats him in length at twelve and a half inches.

He's got a thing for feeding you. Most of the desert cuisine is eaten by hand and he gets so rock hard watching your suck his fingers clean.

He secretly wants to share you with his second in command. Him in your cunt and his second in your mouth so they can spit roast you. He's too possessive to ever let the man near your pussy though. And a dangerously proprietary part of him wants to watch you suck the other mans dick while you're down on your knees. Both you and his second in command belong to him, either through marriage or loyalty. And he gets so turned on watching you both and knowing it's only happening because he's allowing it to happen.

Yandere! Academic Rival is surprisingly kinky for such a nerd. He has a whole draw full of toys he can control from his phone. He gets off on making your use them when you're supposed to be studying or taking a test. When he can see you're stressed or thinking too hard he immediately turns them on, usually to the highest setting. If you ever get pissy about it, he claims he only wants to sharpen your focus. If having a shatteringly good orgasm in the middle of a term paper is a distraction, that's not his fault.

He wants you to dress up a bit like his favourite characters. Not really full on cosplay, but usually something dirty inspired by their aesthetic. By the time you graduate, you have a closet full of luxurious and exotic lingerie.

Maybe it's his upper class upbringing, but he has a thing for pearls. He spent a fortune on an extra long necklace that doubles as a leash. He'll stand behind you when you play the piano, tugging at it every time you make a mistake and with his cock growing harder every second.

Yandere! Apocalypse Survivor is a voyeur, make no mistake about it. In addition to sneaking glances while you bath, he'll tell you he's going out to check the perimeter or stand guard but instead double back just to watch you change. Sometimes he'll get lucky and watch you play with yourself, your head thrown back and one hand across your mouth to stifle your gasping.

He's totally into squirting - especially if you'll do it in his mouth while he eats you out. It's filthy and depraved but there isn't really a society left to judge him, is there?

He's big on biting, which is pretty ironic considering the circumstances. He isn't quite sure how to explain it to you without sounding like he's turning into a zombie himself, but he's going to keep trying until he gets it right and you let him sink his teeth into your ass cheeks.