pittsick

[pittsick]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: spencer x reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: morgan thinks that spencer has been closing himself off more than usual, so him and garcia come up with a plan to get him to meet someone new.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 / 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff. first meetings. nerding out over edgar allan poe.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this layout took an embarrassing amount of time but i wanted to try something new 😭

SPENCER MASTERLIST ♥︎ 5K MASTERLIST

everyone at the BAU had noticed the way spencer had been acting. sure, he was never the most social person in the world, someone could tell that with one glance at him. but lately... he was more withdrawn, more distant. when the team tried to coax him to go out with them, spencer simply smiled and told them that he was tired 'but maybe next time'.

"baby, you think reid's been acting more doomy and gloomy lately?" derek asked, cocking his head to the side, his eyes on spencer, the curly-haired man deeply immersed in his paperwork. derek then turned to look at garcia, the woman sitting at the edge of his desk with her unicorn mug in hand, narrowing her eyes, "maybe it's seasonal depression. now that i think about it, i've also been feeling a little low-energy."

"you? low energy?" derek raised his brows in slight amusement before turning to look back at spencer, "i dunno, mama. i think he's lonely." "lonely? why would he be lonely, he has us." "yeah, but does he have anyone else? i mean, outside the BAU, i don't think he has anyone other than his mom."

"true..." garcia looked at spencer with a frown, "what should we do? i think we should do something." she thought for moment before letting out a gasp, "maybe we should suggest a blind date!"

"hmm..." derek chuckled lowly, "that's not a bad idea. but he'd never agree if either of us suggested that he goes on a blind date."

the two turn to each other with matching grins, "are you thinkin' what i'm thinkin', handsome?" "if you're thinking of setting him up, then yeah, i am. now we just have to figure out who we could set him up with."

garcia smiled, "i think i know just the person."

although penelope adored theater with her heart and soul, you practically had to beg for her to attend a play based on a few of edgar allan poe's short stories, your friend never too fond of the macabre. but now, as you were standing in the middle of the lobby of the theater, she was nowhere to be seen.

your phone pinged with a notification, and you pursed your lips, pulling it out to see a text from her. 'so so sorry! the cat i'm catsitting started throwing up and i have to take her to the vet :( please try to have fun on your own! tell me how it goes <3' you frowned, but after sending her a quick message telling her it was okay and that you hoped everything was alright with the cat, you started to make your way towards the auditorium.

although spencer was bummed that morgan had to cancel due to a pipe leaking in his apartment, especially since morgan had been the one to get the ticket for him, spencer couldn't help but buzz with excitement; he could remember all the times when he was young and he’d lay under the covers, holding up a flashlight to a copy of poe's compiled short stories.

"sorry." a woman mumbled to him apologetically as she walked past him, and spencer simply nodded to her with a tight-lipped smile, but instead of sitting a few seats away, the woman sat right next to him. on the seat that was supposed to belong to morgan.

as you were settling down on your seat, the curly-haired man on your left cleared his throat, "i'm sorry, i don't mean to be rude..." he said quietly, making you turn to him with a soft hum, "that seat's... supposed to be reserved. my friend was going to sit there."

"no, this is my seat." you said with a slightly stunned chuckle, showing him your ticket that indeed showed that you were in the right seat, your brows furrowing when you realized something. he was sitting on a seat you'd reserved for penelope, "actually, the seat you're in was supposed to be my friend's seat."

"what?" the curly-haired man said, taking his ticket out of his jacket pocket and showing it to you; he was also in the right seat.

"oh, i know what this is!" your furrow eased up and you rolled your eyes, "they must have double booked these seats. this has happened to me before, the computer sometimes messes up."

"that's why i don't trust technology." he mumbled quietly, but you caught his remark, your lips quirking up into a tiny smile, "really? me neither."

"well, in any case, my friend can't make it, so if there are seats available, i can just move over once your friend comes." the man smiled warmly, "oh, she can't make it either. vet trip."

"well, i promise i'm not the kind of person who talks during shows. i'm spencer." "thank god, i can't stand those kind of people. nice to meet you, spencer." you chuckled softly, telling him your own name, "so, spencer, which story are you the most excited to see?"

"i'd say... the tell-tale heart. it's been my favorite since i was young. always made me shiver. what about you?" "i thought i was the only weirdo who read poe as my bedtime story." you laughed softly, "but i'd say the oval portrait. i always thought there was something romantic, yet... inredibly depressing about it."

"this is indeed life itself." spencer quoted softly, your smile widening as you looked into his hazel eyes, the man looking right back into yours as if you were having a conversation without words.

"oh my god!" you laughed softly as you and spencer walked out of the auditorium together, "your face was so pale when the knocking started!" "to be fair, it's very different to experience it right in front of you than just read it as words on a page!" spencer laughed softly, "and don't think i didn't see the way your eyes glistened when he was painting her."

"it was sad! imagine having a husband like that!" you sniffled, still continuing to laugh, "i'll admit, it was sad." spencer smiled softly, "uh, are you... are you in a rush?" he asked, and you pretended to check the time on your watch, already knowing your answer.

"no, i should have some time. why?" "you don't have to, but i was just wondering... if you wanted to get a cup of tea, or something?" you pursed your lips in thought, "i think i could go for some tea. i know a lovely cafe nearby." you smiled softly.

"great. great." spencer's lips turned up into a goofy smile, "uh, if you give me your coat check ticket, i can go get our coats."

you took the ticket out of the pocket of your cardigan, handing it to spencer, the man nodding before turning around and walking towards the coat check. once you were sure he wasn't looking, you took out your phone, biting down on your lower lip to contain the smile threatening to take over as you went to your message thread with penelope.

'i think i just met a great guy. we're going to a cafe.'

"oh!" penelope exclaimed when her phone pinged, quick to open it to your text thread, a pleased grin taking over her face as she turned the phone to show it to derek. "told you. dream team, babygirl." derek winked and lifted his glass of whiskey, penelope clinking her own glass of wine with derek's glass.

taglist: @purpleplumpudding @cinnamoncunt @nonietosay @bawstruly @scatorcciobabe @cynbx @ariieeesworld @dramioneforevertilltheend @esotericcangel @jjmaybankmylovee @lillied31 @finnickodairslut @lexasaurs634 @lacelottie @piatosniathenie @harryscherrysugar

join my taglist! 🤎

[pittsick]

PATRICK ZWEIG WHEN HE… DOGGY-STYLE.

It’s a game to him. Not one he plays with a racket, but with your body—deliberate, slow, wickedly confident. Patrick’s not the kind of guy who rushes anything when he’s got you on all fours. He doesn’t need to. The moment he gets behind you, the air changes.

And he’s quiet. Always quiet at first. Just watching. Studying. His head tilts like he’s analyzing the tension in your spine, the way your thighs tremble a little when he exhales against your skin.

Before he’s even inside you, he grinds against you, slow and lazy, just to feel how warm you are, how slick you’ve already gotten from the anticipation alone. His cock drags along your folds, teasing your entrance, but never quite pressing in. Just hovering there—enough to make your hips push back on instinct.

He doesn’t even flinch. Just grips your waist tighter and tuts like you’re being greedy. “Patience, sweetheart.”

Patrick’s the type to fuck slow on purpose. Long, deep thrusts that make you feel every inch—like he’s trying to brand the shape of him inside you. He’s not chasing a quick release. He wants you ruined. He wants your voice wrecked from moaning his name, your body begging for more while he holds back.

Sometimes he pulls all the way out just to watch your cunt clench around nothing. Other times, he stays buried deep and doesn’t move at all—just sits there, cock twitching, hands spreading your ass to look at the mess he’s made of you. “So wet for me,” he’ll mutter, half in awe, half in smug amusement. “And I’ve barely even started.”

He talks through the whole thing, voice low and maddening. “You like it slow like this, don’t you?” “Bet no one else fucks you this good.” “Feel how deep I am?” It’s not just dirty talk—it’s strategy. He keeps you right on the edge, pushes you into that sweet spot and keeps you hovering there until you’re gasping, twitching, begging for him to go faster.

Sometimes he snaps. Not for long, but hard enough to make you cry out. A rough thrust, a hand yanking your hair back, teeth grazing your shoulder. But then he slows again—reels it in. He likes the edge. That teasing, drawn-out ache that makes you feel like you might go crazy before you finally come.

[pittsick]

Heyyy Mika, I was wondering have you ever watched The Waterfront? It’s a fairly new one but it may be a show you could find interesting. I just started it a bit ago and I’m in love with Bree played by Melissa Benoist, her personality?? Oh my god. Love.

hi bub!!

i actually haven’t, no! but i just checked it on Google and it says i can watch it on Netflix so i’ll 100% give it a look whenever i finish Outer Banks 🫶🏻

+ i loooove Melissa Benoist so i’m sure i’ll love her character 😽

[pittsick]

top five (or ten) favorite moots

why must you do this to me… this is so hard because i love them all 🥹

@plaidcowboy @222col @faiszt @diyasgarden @jordiemeow @jesuistrestriste @lvve-talks

(warning: if you’re my moots and not here, it doesn’t mean i don’t like you!! i love you all 🥹🫶🏻)

[pittsick]

— ALL DIRT BIKE, NO DREAMS

fawn!reader x jj maybank

summary: jj was the lost boy of town, betrayed and abandoned too many times to even think of trusting anyone new.

cw .ᐟ fluff, religious themes, mentions of blood, abandonment

his hands stained with oil, shirts dirty and hair messy. the town could hear him coming before they knew it was him. the dirt bike spoke before he did.

you prayed for him every night, always kept him in your conversations with god. the poor, lonely boy on the edge of town. living in the abandoned trailer, with not a soul to keep him company. your father had tried to help him, but jj was too far gone.

been left behind too many times, treated like dirt. unable to trust the hand trying to feed him, watched it snatched back too many times before to ever accept again.

he came to church sometimes, more for the free coffee and bread. never spoke to anyone there, always alone on the final pew. you always watched him, and never paid any mind when he took a few bills from the collection. he needed it more than the new roof did.

sometimes you'd put your own allowance into the pot, just to feel as though you were helping him without his knowledge.

you often walked past his trailer, watched him work on his bike as you did. he never warned you away, but it felt like trespassing. felt like walking on forbidden land, being anywhere near the maybank trailer.

jj was forbidden fruit. you so desperately wanted to speak to him, offer him kindness. you wonder the last time he'd felt it— kindness. the last time he smiled, or laughed even.

he looked like the shell of a boy. waiting for the dust to come and carry him away.

you weren't subtle, or as you thought. walking past his trailer for the third time today, twiddling your thumbs as your long skirt blew in the wind.

his movements paused, wiping away the sweat from his brow, replacing it with oil from the back of his hand. his eyes met yours, as you bit back a smile.

it was so uncommon. for him to be met with a smile, not the usual disapproval or judgement he was so used to.

"what ya lookin' at me like that for?" he asks, voice gruff. the boy stays sitting upon his bike, hands on the handlebars— ready for a getaway. "got oil on your forehead." you murmur softly, voice almost too quiet for him to hear. too soft to be heard by his ears.

the gentleness almost distracts him from actually listening. but he does, quickly lifting the bandana from his back pocket to remove the stain.

it's strange. normally he'd be scowling, mumbling profanities, especially at that little giggle you're directing at him. but he finds himself smiling, unable to help the act.

"yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he chuckles, leaning back, his hands on his thighs. no longer in fight or flight mode. he can't remember the last time someone came this close and he didn't want to run. "y'the pastor's daughter, right?"

nodding your head softly, tentatively walking over to him. "mhm." you murmur, pausing closer to him than anyone had been in months.

"gonna tell ya daddy that you were laughin' at me," jj taunts, eliciting another giggle from your lips. "not very neighborly of ya."

you know he must be joking, but this much conversation from the blonde was rare. your lip is between your teeth, as you try desperately not to let the blood distract you from biting too hard.

"oh, i- um, i didn't mean—"

"now we're even." he smirks, as the swipe of oil exchanges from his fingers to the curve of your neck. your eyes are wide, and you're sure your cheeks must be pink.

jj chuckles at the sight of you, shaking his head as his hands return to the bike. the dust remains where he leaves, stood alone before his trailer. black swipe of oil on your skin.

you daren't move it. daren't wipe it away, because somehow that would be wiping away the interaction. it stayed there as proof on your walk home, that jj maybank wasn't as tough as he seemed.

© 222col

꒰ taglist ꒱ @khartalks @funkycoloured @bluestrd @appleaali @donteventry-itdude @gublerstylesobrien1238 @peachyparkerr @stanart4clearskin @lvve-talks @shahabaqsa0310 @imperishablereverie @pinkpantheressluver @sweetestfaiszts @cokewithcameron @h3nt41sarchive @dumbbandpoetic @pittsick ( to be added )

[pittsick]

hi mika! since we are now moots (hopefully soon to be friends!) i thought i’d find my way into ur ask box to introduce myself and say i love your work (what i have stumbled upon so far!) i’ve been on vacation for the last couple of weeks but i found your jj bot drop right when i got on the plane to go on vacation and whenever ive had some time on this trip to come back to them i have! i hope you’re having a great day/night, i will keep interacting with your content when i can, and i hope you can check out some of mine when u can cuz id love to hear your thoughts! <3

zoooooe hi!! <33

omg you’re actually so sweet, i’m crying /lh

i’m so so so happy that you liked my jj maybank bots and hopefully i can make some more in the future! (i have a few obx bots that should be out sometimes soon hopefully) 🫶🏻

and yes of course omg, i’d love to!! i’ll go check it out as soon as i can or you can even give me links if you want to! 😽

[pittsick]

did not even realise u had a cai WHAT THE HELL

gonna take a look now 😋

ur amazing btw!!!

aha yes!! i’ve been creating bots on c.ai since the app first launched (back to when we only had 500 characters for intros omg… og time) 😆

but thank you omg!! you’re so sweet 🥹🫶🏻

[pittsick]

‎— ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎✸ ׂ ݂ ୨ ‧ ׅ JUST FOR ME ﾟ ꒱

# — art donaldson x afab!reader

♡ tags / warnings — 18+ — oral. (m. receiving). hair pulling. choking?. recording. + ..

♡ — once again, leaving for a tournament that you just couldn’t attend. He suggest the idea of something new, something he can keep on his phone to watch while you’re both so far from each other.

♡ taglist — @pittsick @nozhdyved @forgetmenotnympho @lov3lylxvender @museboos @cinnamongmm

♡ notes ! — new layout..hmm do we like it..tbh not sure I do !! + this is so short .. 😣

“come on, I just— one video and that’s it. one video to keep while I’m away from my beautiful girlfriend.” he whined against your neck, making you groan.

you gently shoved him away. “you just won’t leave it alone, will you?” you replied, earning a small chuckle from him. “No, definitely not baby. I need something to look at while im gone.”

“I mean..what if something happened to either of us?” He spoke, shrugging as if his stupid argument could actually work and newsflash..it did. he watched as you lined yourself up infront of his crotch, inbetween his legs and you watched as he got his bright red phone ready to record you. “you’re seriously crazy.” you murmured, a grin on his face as you finally let him free. His throbbing cock springing out of the barrier that were his boxers. It looked almost painful,

He groaned and you hadn’t even started, you hadn’t even touched it yet but you saw as his grip on his phone tightened. His bottom lip stuck inbetween his teeth, he huffed out in slight frustration at you. Watching as you didn’t start, just to tease him. “Don’t tease me.” He murmured, earning a sly grin from you.

you gently grabbed it, making him hiss through his teeth. you gently licked a stripe, his grip on the phone still tight and trembling and when you finally took it into your warm mouth. He gasped. “oh my..fuck, baby.” He whimpered, looking down at you making eye contact with him. He could literally cum just from that, just from the eye contact.

his whimpers filled the room and probably were gonna be the only thing you could hear in the video. He threw his head back as you took him deeper, his free hand immediately going to your hair. Gripping it like a damn lifeline, he watched as your nose hit the base. Your eyes filling with tears as you took him all way.

his grip on your hair was tight, his eager whimpers were dirty. “ohh..mph— m’so beautiful like this.” He mumbled, guiding your head. your head bobbing at the speed he wanted it to be and suddenly, his moans got louder and his grip got tighter if that was even possible. “oh oh! ohh! oh my— I’m gonna fucking cum.” He whimpered, babbling on. “okay baby?— I’m gonna cum so fucking hard.” He gasped, immediately pulling his cock out of your mouth. You quickly stroked him which resulted into his release.

he painted your face white, his chest moving up and down quickly from his panting and the grip on his phone still tight.

a few days after that, it was time for him to go and now that he was away, he walked into his hotel for the time being. It was fancy and expensive, he had the amazing idea of watching over the video.

he slipped into the sheets, pulling it up but was met with extreme disappointment. The video? was shaky and you couldn’t see much. Fuck—

so much for begging you to film a video.

[pittsick]

Ever since you posted the head cannons about Ozzy, I wanna know what his wild side is like, like I love he takes his time, but I wanna know what makes him snap

🦈🥥🪼

Ozzy always takes his time with you.

He’s the type to undress you slow, to kiss down your stomach like he’s counting freckles, to whisper “You okay?” before slipping a hand beneath your waistband. He’s measured. Gentle. Patient.

Until you push him.

It starts small—how you kiss him a little rougher than usual. How you grind against him just to hear his breath catch. Or how you look up at him from where you’re stretched out on his mattress and say, half-smirking, “You gonna fuck me or keep making out with my thighs?”

That’s what does it. You being bratty.

His expression doesn’t change right away, but something shifts behind his eyes — something sharp and low. He stares at you for a long, quiet second, like he’s deciding whether or not to let you keep talking.

Then he moves.

Suddenly you’re flipped onto your stomach, his hand braced between your shoulder blades, voice low and rough at your ear. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he mutters, dragging your hips up just enough to make you gasp. “Actin’ all sweet and then mouthing off like that?”

He doesn’t stop kissing you — but they’re deeper now, biting, messy. He nips your shoulder, sucks a bruise just beneath your jaw. His hands aren’t wandering anymore; they’re gripping. Pinning. One pressed into the small of your back, the other dragging your panties down your thighs with practiced urgency.

“You wanna see what happens when I don’t take my time?” he growls, lining himself up with no more teasing. “That it?”

And when he finally thrusts into you — it’s deep. Brutal in its precision. He’s not careless, never that. But he fucks like he’s been holding back for weeks. Like every restrained touch and soft murmur before this was him bottling it up just to ruin you now.

No more slow circles with his thumb. No more lazy kisses through fabric. Just Ozzy panting against your spine, hips snapping into yours, voice dark and tight. “Should’ve been grateful,” he mutters, fingers digging into your waist. “But no—you had to push.”

He keeps you bent forward, fucked open, jaw slack and eyes blurry. You don’t even have the words to taunt him anymore — just breathless gasps, nails clawing at the sheets.

But even wild, Ozzy’s still Ozzy.

Between thrusts, his voice slips back into something softer, more cracked. “Still feel good?” he murmurs. “Still my pretty thing?” He kisses your back like an apology he doesn’t say out loud. But he doesn’t stop.

Not until you’re shaking, begging, body limp beneath him. That’s when he slows again. Rubs a hand down your spine. Presses a kiss to your shoulder blade.

Back to soft.

But he’ll remember what made him snap.

And so will you.

[pittsick]

RODEO BRUISES .ᐟ

summary: It took only a few seconds for you to fall down that horse. Legs, hips, back and the aching feeling of bruises already forming on your body. And Dodge, your boyfriend, is worried. But a massage and some fingering later, you both end up relaxed.

pairing: dodge mason x afab!girlfriend.

cw: +18. mdni. 2.8k words. praise. overstimulation. fingering. multiple orgasms. dirty-talking. aftercare.

taglist: @blastzachilles, @lvve-talks, @jordiemeow, @222col, @soulxinxthexsky, @diyasgarden, @jinxedbambi, @lexiiscorect, @religionlost, @bluestrd, @jclolz22, @museboos, @imperishablereverie, @lovefaist, @shahabaqsa0310, @prismozo, @jesuistrestriste, @grimsonandclover, @nozhdyved, @artstennisracket, @yardofbrunettes, @hangels, @sweetheartfaist, @lacelottie

You should’ve seen the fall coming. The way your horse twitched under you, the crack of something in the trees, the second of stillness before the storm. But you didn’t. One sharp jolt and you were airborne—then earthbound. Shoulder first. Hip second. The wind punched out of your lungs like a slap to the chest.

Now you’re lying on your stomach in Dodge’s bed, your body aching in a dozen places, skin flushed warm from the hot bath he insisted on drawing for you earlier. You’re wearing only an oversized t-shirt—his—and a pair of soft cotton panties. The arnica oil sits on the nightstand beside you, and he’s rubbing it into your sore muscles with quiet, focused intensity.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he mutters, kneeling beside the bed as his hands press gentle circles into your lower back. “I thought—I don’t know what I thought. You weren’t moving.”

“I’m okay now,” you murmur, voice muffled by the pillow. “Thanks to you.”

His thumbs press along your spine, just enough to stretch out the ache without pushing too far. Dodge’s hands are warm, rough in all the right ways. You can feel the calluses catch on your skin now and then, but they don’t hurt. They remind you of who he is—of how many times those same hands have steadied you, cupped your face, tugged you close like he didn’t trust the world to keep you safe.

“Can’t believe you’re still lettin’ me touch you,” he says softly, like the guilt’s still pressing into his chest. “I should’ve kept a better eye on you.”

You exhale a sleepy sound. “You weren’t the one who spooked the horse.”

“Still.”

His touch lingers at the small of your back. The room is dim—sunlight gone, leaving only the amber glow of the bedside lamp. You hear him open the oil bottle again, feel the warmth of it as he rubs it between his hands.

He starts again, slow and purposeful. First at your shoulders, then your back, kneading the soreness from your muscles in long, deliberate strokes. But this time, he doesn’t stop there. His hands slide lower—tracing the curves of your hips, then down, until his palms are resting over the swell of your ass. He does it in a way that you know is not sexual.

You shift slightly, breath hitching, still. Because it’s Dodge, and every little attention coming from him makes your body boil. Hot like summer, heat pooling inside your stomach without permission from your brain.

“Still okay?” he murmurs, low and close to your ear.

“Yes,” you whisper, and your body betrays you by arching into his touch just a little.

His thumbs move in careful circles across the soft flesh there, rubbing out the tension like he has every right to touch you this way—and he does. It’s tender. Reassuring. But there’s something else behind it too, simmering slow. The edge of want.

“You’ve got the prettiest ass I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs like it’s a confession. “Soft, even when you’re bruised.”

You let out a shaky laugh, still face-down in the pillow. “You’re not helping me rest, you know.”

“You want me to stop?”

You shake your head. Of course you don’t.

Dodge hums like he already knew the answer. His hands glide over your thighs, up again, then closer—until his thumbs brush along the crease where your thighs meet your core. The fabric of your panties is thin, barely separating his hands from the heat of you.

“You’re warm here,” he says quietly, almost reverently. “Real warm.”

You bury your face deeper into the pillows.

“You’re blushing,” he teases softly like he knows without needing to see your face, and he’s kissing the back of your thigh. “What, just from a little massage?”

“It’s not just the massage,” you mutter, and he laughs against your skin—low and fond.

He’s careful as he touches you, rubbing slow circles over your clothed pussy. One hand slips under your shirt again to rest warm on your lower back, grounding you. The other moves between your legs, teasing along your slit through the dampening cotton.

“You’re wet already,” he murmurs, voice dipping even lower. “All this just from me touchin’ you like this?”

You nod against the pillow, your breath shuddering.

“You’re so fuckin’ soft, baby. You always get like this when I take my time with you.”

A soft whimper escapes your throat, hips twitching as he touches you through your panties with maddening patience. He presses a little harder over your clit with his thumb, the pressure slow and steady, and you make a strangled sound into the sheets.

“That’s it,” he praises. “Let me take care of you.”

He slides the fabric to the side then, baring you to the warm air of the room. His fingers glide between your folds, wet and hot and already pulsing for more. When he dips a finger just against your entrance, you whimper.

“God, you’re so ready,” he groans. “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

His fingers stroke back up, teasing around your clit again before he leans down, breath hot over the curve of your ass. “You make the sweetest sounds, you know that? Every little cry just for me.”

You cry out again as he presses a finger inside—just one, slow and steady. It slides in easy, thanks to how wet you already are. You clench around him instinctively. “There we go,” he whispers. “That feel good?”

You nod, moaning into the pillow. “Yes. Yes, Dodge—”

He adds another finger, stretching you carefully, curling just enough to make your thighs tremble. The hand on your lower back strokes comfortingly, holding you in place as he fucks you slow with his fingers.

“You’re squeezin’ me so tight,” he groans. “So fuckin’ needy tonight.”

“I c-can’t—” your voice cracks as you try to hold still. Your hips grind back into his hand on instinct. “You can,” he coaxes, voice going impossibly soft. “You always can for me, baby. Give me that first one. Let it out.”

It rises fast—so fast your breath can’t keep up. You come with a cry muffled in the pillow, your body shaking as you fall apart under his hand when his fingers hit your spongy spot multiple times. Tears slip down your cheeks and Dodge catches them with his thumb.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing the dip of your lower back. “That’s it. So fuckin’ good.”

He keeps going—slow, unrelenting—and the overstimulation hits like a wave. You whine, writhing against the bed as his fingers work your soaked cunt. “You’ve got more,” he whispers, low and certain. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I—it’s too much—Please—More…”

“It’s perfect,” he counters, and his voice is full of something warm and molten. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry.”

The second orgasm crashes over you, harder than the first. You sob into the mattress, trembling as he talks you through it, rubbing slow circles over your clit with his free fingers as your cunt pulses around his digits.

“There she is,” he murmurs. “That’s my girl.”

You lay there panting, body shaking. He slows, finally withdrawing his fingers, and you hear the wet sound of it, slick coating his hand. He presses a kiss to the small of your back, then one to your thigh, then higher. “You alright?” he asks quietly, hand smoothing over your back.

You nod, still breathless. “I’m so good.”

He kisses your shoulder. “That was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” You let out a laugh, exhausted and floaty. “You’re gonna kill me with compliments.”

He chuckles, laying down beside you and resting a hand on your lower back. “Only if it gets you to cry like that again.”

You’re still trembling beneath him, cheek pressed into the pillow, your body limp and warm with the afterglow of two back-to-back orgasms. Your skin feels tight and glowing, like you’ve been cracked open and poured full of honey. Dodge’s hand is now resting between your shoulder blades, gentle and grounding.

“You alright, baby?” he murmurs again, his voice a little hoarse with want.

You hum a breathless yes, too gone to say much else. But your hips twitch when his palm trails back down, between your thighs again, where you’re slick and aching. He groans softly at the sight.

“Goddamn,” he says low, reverent. “You’re even more soaked.”

You bury your face deeper in the pillow, embarrassed—but it only makes him smile. He leans over you, kissing the back of your neck, your shoulder, the warm patch of skin just behind your ear. “Don’t go shy on me now,” he teases softly. “Not when your pretty pussy’s beggin’ for more.”

You shiver, and your legs part instinctively as his fingers return. He strokes along your folds again—slow, lazy, just enjoying the feel of you. You let out a soft sound, half-whimper, half-plea.

“You want more?” he asks gently. “You gotta say it.”

“Please…” Your voice is rough, sweet with exhaustion. “More.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He pushes two fingers back inside you easily, curling them deep. You gasp, your hips rolling down into the bed, your thighs twitching. “Still so fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs. “And you just came twice.” You moan, the pressure of him filling you again like a balm and a brand. He adds a third finger slowly, easing you open with care, watching your body stretch around him.

You gasp, the stretch bordering on too much—but just barely. Your muscles clench, trying to adjust, and Dodge strokes your back soothingly, kissing your spine.

“Shh, I’ve got you. Just breathe through it, baby. You’re takin’ me so well.”

He works them slowly, twisting and curling until your thighs begin to tremble again. You feel full, stuffed, stretched in the most tender way—your hips pinned to the mattress, your whole body reduced to sensation.

“Feels good,” you whisper, voice cracking. “So full, Dodge—”

“I know,” he croons. “You’re doin’ perfect. Always so sweet for me.” You sob into the pillow, overwhelmed by the heat pooling in your belly again. You didn’t think you had anything left, but the pressure’s building fast, sharp and hot and electric.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispers, pressing kisses between your shoulder blades. “Give me another. Come for me again. Let me see you fall apart.”

You try to hold it, just for a second longer—but it slams into you without warning. You cry out, hands clutching the sheets as your whole body tenses, shudders, and breaks. Your thighs are soaked now, his fingers working you through it until you’re gasping for air.

Tears wet your face, hot and steady. Dodge strokes your hip, coos into your ear like he’s trying to settle a wild thing.

“There she is,” he whispers. “There’s my girl.”

You don’t know how long you lie there, panting and shaking, skin flushed and nerves blazing. Dodge is still behind you, still touching you—gentle now, tracing circles into your skin with the pads of his fingers. His lips ghost along your spine, your shoulder blades, your ass.

“You still with me?” he asks finally.

You nod, still face-down in the pillow. “I’m here.”

“Did so good,” he says, voice thick with awe. “Let me fuckin’ ruin you without even movin’ you.”

You laugh weakly. “I don’t think I can walk anyway.”

He laughs too, kissing your hip. “Good. You ain’t goin’ anywhere.” You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh through his jeans, but he hasn’t taken his own pleasure—not yet. He’s too focused on you. Always has been. “Want me to stop?” he asks, even now. Always checking. Always careful.

You shake your head, arching weakly into his touch. “Don’t stop. Just… slower.” He hums, satisfied. “You wanna give me one more?”

You gasp, half-laughing, half-delirious. “I don’t even know if I can.”

“That’s alright, baby,” he whispers, settling back between your thighs, his hand already moving again—slow and purposeful, dragging your pleasure out like he has all the time in the world.

And Dodge?

He’s gonna make sure you remember it with every inch of your trembling body.

The room is quiet again, save for the sound of your breathing—still a little unsteady but settling, and the soft rustle of the sheets beneath you. Dodge stays close, his lips brushing your lower back, his hands warm where they rest on the swell of your hips.

You hum, soft and dazed, face still turned into the pillow. You’re boneless, stretched out and melted, your skin tingling everywhere he touched. You can feel your thighs still wet and sticky, your panties damp and clinging to the side, your body flushed with the aftershocks of everything he gave you.

But Dodge doesn’t rush. He never does.

"Alright, sweetheart," he murmurs into the small of your back. "Gonna get you cleaned up. Don't move, I’ve got it."

You feel the bed dip as he gets up, hear him padding across the room. The sound of a faucet running, a towel being wrung out. His care is quiet, reverent. Like he’s handling something precious.

When he comes back, he slides down beside you, and you flinch at the first contact—the towel is warm, wet, and soft as he eases your legs apart just enough to wipe gently between them. He murmurs something under his breath when he sees the mess, but it’s not dirty, not crude. It’s wonder. It’s pride.

“Look what you gave me,” he whispers, thumb brushing the inside of your thigh. “You were so good for me. So damn perfect.” You blink, eyes glassy from overstimulation and tears. Your lips twitch into a lazy smile.

He’s so careful as he cleans you, wiping you down with slow, tender strokes. He presses kisses to the backs of your knees, your thighs, the curve of your spine. And then, with the towel tossed aside, his fingers return—but not to tease, not to start anything new.

He starts massaging you again.

Same as before—like it’s still about your fall, still about the tight muscles and tension from the saddle and the ground. He starts at your ankles, kneading slow and steady. You sigh, letting yourself go limp all over again.

“You weren’t lyin’ earlier,” he says softly, voice full of affection. “Took a hell of a hit.”

“Mm,” you hum. “Was worth it.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Don’t say that. I’d rather you keep your pretty bones in one piece.”

His hands glide up your calves, thumbs pressing into the flesh, gentle but firm. You twitch a little when he hits a sore spot, but he kisses your ankle in apology, smoothing the tension with a few more careful passes. "You like me takin’ care of you like this?" he asks quietly.

“Mmhmm.”

“You deserve it,” he says simply, like it’s fact. “Deserve to be touched real nice. Spoken to sweet. Made to feel good.”

Your chest tightens at that. There’s so much love in his voice it makes you ache.

He continues the massage, now at your thighs, avoiding your sore hips but stroking the surrounding muscles with steady care. The sensation is grounding. His touch, worshipful. There’s no rush now—no teasing, no game. Just love.

He kneads the small of your back, gentle over the spot that took the brunt of the fall. When you flinch a little, he pauses, kisses the ache, and moves around it. “Gonna need to ice that tomorrow,” he murmurs. “But for now, I’ll be your heat pack.”

You let out a sleepy giggle into the pillow.

He eventually stops massaging and shifts up the bed beside you, slipping under the covers, arms sliding around your waist. You’re still on your stomach, too dazed to flip, but he just wraps himself around you from behind, chest to your back, one hand slipping beneath the hem of your oversized shirt to stroke your waist.

“You know I love you, right?” he murmurs.

You nod instantly. “Yeah. I know. I love you too.”

“Good,” he says, brushing a kiss to your cheek. “’Cause I do. More than I know what to do with, sometimes.” You press your hand to his forearm where it’s draped over your side, squeezing lightly.

His voice dips lower, soft and sure. “Next time you fall off a horse, don’t wait for me to come find you, alright? You come to me right away.”

You smile against the pillow. “You’d always take care of me like this?” He laughs, husky and low. “Girl, I’ll take care of you like this every night if you want.”

“You’d wear your fingers out.”

“You’re worth it,” he says without missing a beat. “Every damn second.”

You turn your head just enough to see his face—his messy hair, his sleep-heavy eyes, the soft curve of his smile. He kisses your forehead, your temple, your cheek, and finally the corner of your mouth. “Sleep now,” he whispers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

And he is. Always.

[pittsick]

bcz i can’t choose and i’m too sleepy 🫶🏻

[pittsick]

maneater!reader works .ᐟ

JJ MAYBANK

✮ OBSESSED ✮ OBSESSED P2

RAFE CAMERON

✮ NEED U BAD

[pittsick]

fairy!reader works .ᐟ

ART DONALDSON

𐦍 PREACHERS SON 𐦍 STALKER

ART AND PATRICK

𐦍 BEST FRIENDS GF

PATRICK ZWEIG

𐦍 DUMB GIRL

POPE HEYWARD

𐦍 EXTRA ATTENTION ( ft. jj && john b)

RIFF LORTON

𐦍 DANCE

ROMAN GODFREY

𐦍 GROPING 𐦍 PANTY THIEF

[pittsick]

some of you guys are so weird… newsflash, people have a life outside tumblr… we have works and families? leave ava alone and go write your own things 😭

i don't know how many times i am going to have to rearticulate this, but i am exhausted. tumblr does not pay my bills. your requests are just that: requests. not obligations. i appreciate you trusting me with your ideas. i love that you like my writing enough to ask for me to write more. i write at my own pace. if i don't want to post, i won't. if i want to post something that isn't your request, i will. i am more than just a blog. i am a human being. sending asks like these makes me want to write even less. please, please, please think before you send something.

[pittsick]

for the char when they.. series! no worries 🤍

then yes i do!! i wrote one of JJ Maybank but might post the Patrick one tonight... yumyum

[pittsick]

do you have more oc’s? or do you just make them randomly?

i do have more, yes!!

i have MILLIE; which is my first oc ever so his backstory needs to be rewritten... but he's my baby! i have multiple bots of him on c.ai already.

then i have my baby MISHRA; which is inspired by Natasha Romanoff and the Red Room... needs a refresh of her backstory as well. no bots for her yet.

and also, my love, HELLFEN; which is inspired by the universe of The Witcher! i love her so much. not sure if anyone would be interest in her since i feel like the fandom is dead...

[pittsick]

do you have any blurbs of patrick? if not anything works!

hi bub!!

sorry i'm a bit slow today but do you mean in general or for the "(char) when they" serie i have? since i posted about it...