#vitamin A tablets for eyes

[ssahotchnerr]

okay but hear me out: hotch and bau!reader are married and she absolutely is the mom friend so the team calls them mom and dad

simultaneously

i LOVEEEE that cw; fem!reader, brief talk of illness, sweet domestic fluff (i'm crying)

interrupting the current, comfortable silence of the car - mind the radio playing lightly - spencer erupted into a sneezing fit, one that lasted at least a good ten seconds.

once his sneezing had ceased, you turned in your seat, allowing you to peer into the back at him. aaron's eyes quickly darted towards you, double checking your seatbelt was still properly laid across your chest despite your movement - just by force of habit.

"do you need tissues..?"

spencer weakly nodded his head in response, you plucked a few from the package you had conveniently stuffed into your pocket.

"how about a throat lozenge?" spencer croaked quietly and hopefully after he blew. the congestion was clear in his voice, as well as on the hoarse side.

"here." aaron didn't skip a beat, answering immediately. he dug into his pocket to retrieve a few, reaching his arm back behind his seat to hand the cough drops off to reid, all while keeping his eyes set on the road ahead.

emily snorted out a laugh, surprised, but not surprised at the same time. "you just happened to have some on you?"

"cold and flu season," aaron shrugged, flicking on his blinker and taking a right turn.

"and," you finished for him, looking out the window as he turned through the intersection, "with jack, the amount of germs he brings home from school. then you add his age to the mix - being more susceptible and all - you can never be too careful." you too shrugged, mirroring aaron's to a tee. "same goes for a team of profilers."

"speaking of," aaron searched through his other pocket, retrieving a pocket-sized container of purell and handing that back as well. "best we try not spread it if we can. the last thing we need is everyone calling out simultaneously."

"or," you reached into yours, grabbing a small hand gel also. "this one's scented. warm vanilla sugar, if you'd prefer this over the generic. and you know what," you adjusted in your seat again, facing aaron a little more head on, "we should probably stop and pick up vitamin c tablets for everyone before we get back to the pd. just to be on the safe side."

"ugh you two are so married and so mom and dad," emily feigned disgust as aaron nodded his head in agreement to your suggestion, but was still immensely entertained nonetheless, "it's sickening, pun intended. are you going to do the forehead check next?"

[revasserium]

waiting for winter (我期待的不是雪)

zayne; 1,616 words; fluff, pining, gn!reader, no "y/n", spoilers for lads ch.4, whipped!zayne

summary: he has never loved the winter

a/n: yes, this was inspired by that one chinese tiktok song. no, i will not elaborate.

He has never loved the winter.

But he remembers the first time he watched the snow fall reflected in your eyes — your cheeks kissed pink by the unforgiving wind, the sky a smear of white as the cold sunk into his bones. He remembers the silver bell ring of your laughter as you’d dragged him by the hand out to build a snowman, the look on your face when he’d remarked that your snowman’s nose was crooked because there were no carrots at the corner store so you’d had to make do with a potato instead.

“Look! It’s snowing!”

Zayne shakes himself into the present, glancing out of his office window at the cotton-soft flurries spinning by his windows. Across from him, you’re sitting with a muffler thrown haphazardly around your shoulders, watching the snow with an open, child-like wonder that makes his entire chest twist tight with —

He clears his throat.

“All the more reason for you to be careful — make sure to bundle up when you go outside,” he says, dropping his eyes back to your most recent health report.

You’re not sleeping enough, and your vitamin D levels are lower than he’d like. He’d hoped that becoming a Hunter would at least expose you to a decent amount of sun but then again, you had told him that Jenna’s been keeping tight reigns on you since the explosion.

“Yeah, yeah — I’ll be careful.”

He looks up, his eyes dark as he looks over the shape of you, fingers curled in your lap as you look up at him from beneath your lashes. He holds your gaze and fights to keep his expression neutral as you blush and look away, somehow reverting back to a much younger version of you — the memory of it superimposed upon the look of you now.

“You’re just as bossy as you were back then,” you say, sighing as you shrug up your shoulders like a scolded child.

Zayne scoffs, affording himself a small laugh, “Except I have a doctorate to back it up now, don’t I?”

You pout, pursing your lips. Zayne wonders, for the millionth time that day, how soft they might be beneath his own.

“I liked you better before you got your fancy creds,” you say, still pouting.

Zayne sighs, flicking off his tablet and putting it down on the table.

“Alright, what do you want?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide enough to convince anyone else of your innocence. But he knows better. He’s always known better.

“What do you mean?”

He ticks his tongue against his teeth and leans back in his chair, checking his watch.

“It’s almost lunchtime — c’mon.”

He pushes up from his desk and tugs his doctor’s coat from his shoulders, rolling them loose of the tightness that had gathered there all morning.

“Huh?”

He rounds his desk and tugs his winter coat from the back of the door, turning to fix you with a look.

“The noodle shop around the corner has your favorite as a lunch special.”

He counts down from five in his head — four, three, two —

“Really?” your face breaks into a grin wide enough to split your face. He chuckles.

“Yes, really. Are you coming?”

You stare for a second longer before leaping to your feet and bounding to his side. He reaches out to adjust your muffler, tying it tighter over the front of your chest, swatting your hand away when you try to loosen it.

“I’m going to choke!”

“Better that than for you to get sick again.”

He tugs open the door and watches you walk into the hallway, a bounce to your step that he hasn’t seen since you were both kids and he’d promised you he’d buy you sweets on the way home from school.

“How’re you so sure that the lunch specials gonna be my favorite?” you ask, pivoting on your heels and fixing him with a look, halfway down the white-washed hospital halls. Zayne takes his time buttoning up his own coat and locking his office door behind him.

“Because,” he says, voice steady as he strolls by you, glancing down with the shadow of a smile crimping his lips —

“I know you.”

* * *

He has never loved the winter.

But, he thinks as he watches you slurp down a bowl of wide-cut noodles, your cheeks flushed red with joy, he might just learn to love a winter like this.

You don’t question it when he reaches out to swipe at the corner of your mouth with this thumb, licking off the excess with a contemplative hm. But he revels in the way you swallow and blush and look away.

He wonders if you know.

He wonders if you know that you haunt him like the cold haunts him on the nights when he’s alone. He wonders if you see him the way he sees you, cast behind his eyelids like the frames of an old film whenever he closes his eyes, your smile more familiar to him than his own.

“Full?” he asks, watching as you wipe your mouth on a bit of napkin, lips stained red by the chili sauce.

“Mhm!” you nod, smiling up at him.

The noodle shop smells of chicken stock and green onions and the sharp dampness of snow on winter coats. You push the noodle bowl away and stare down at your hands.

“Are you — I mean… you have to go back to work, right?”

He can’t help but notice the note of reluctance in your voice, the way you look up at him as if hoping he’ll say no. He nods, folding his napkin into halves, and then forths. Outside, the sun is already falling toward the far horizon, casting everything in a goldenrod glow. Shadows fall long and sure along the pavement and Zayne doesn’t want to think about the endless hours of darkness ahead.

“Are you going home after this?” he asks, nodding stiffly to the waiter as he hands over his card, wordlessly pushing your hand away as you make a feeble attempt to try and snatch the receipt.

“I… was thinking about going to see a movie,” you say, thumbing at a stray thread along the edge of your coat. He watches you tug at it for a while before reaching out to take your hand in his.

“Go home,” he says, his voice level.

Your brow creases in a slight frown as you look up.

“But… I wanted to see —”

“We’ll see it this weekend,” he says, giving your hand a quick squeeze before letting go, thanking the waiter as he takes back his card and scribbles his signature on the receipt.

“We will?” you ask, blinking up at him as he stands up.

“Yes. It’s showing Saturday at 2:30 — we can get lunch before, or dinner after.”

He’s tugging on his coat when you reach up to loop his scarf around his neck, standing too close, so close he can smell the caramel milk and whipped cream of your skin. He fights down the shivers that threaten to shake down his spine as he goes still, waiting as you tuck his scarf securely around his neck.

“You never tie your scarf right,” you say, dropping back down onto your heels even as you shoulder on your own coat, cheeks dusted the most darling shade of pink Zayne has ever seen. As he watches you, he thinks it might just put the winter sun to shame.

He thinks he might thank you, or he might just bend down and kiss you — he’s uncertain all the way till you make it outside and you turn to smile up at him. And like this, with the dying sun caressing the edge of your cheek, the line of your jaw, you are nothing short of ethereal.

Zayne reaches forward, his thumb and forefinger catching your chin as he leans down.

Your gasp is little more than a hiccup of breath —

“Don’t be late,” he says, stopping mere inches from your lips, whispering the words against where your lips might be if he were a little more daring.

You hold perfectly still, your eyes round as you stare up at him, searching his face for… something — anything.

When he pulls back, he thinks you almost make to chase him. But you let his fingers drop from your skin and you tug at your muffler, toeing at the slushed-up snow on the sidewalk.

“Winter’s my favorite season, y’know,” you say. And Zayne doesn’t dare to hope. But he does — he watches you out of the corner of his eyes. Above you, all around you, the afternoon sun flickers and fades, a daytime aurora, like tendrils of some long-gone magic, coaxing willing believers toward their untimely doom.

“Hn,” he says, not trusting himself with more. He waits; you take a long breath before turning to look at him.

“You wanna know why?” you ask. And finally, finally he turns to you, his eyes catching your eyes — and in them, he sees the twisting colors of the sky reflected there, serpentine and sinuous. Ancient and inexorable. Reds and yellows, pinks and purples, bleeding into an endless, endless winter blue.

He wets his lips and swallows hard, “Why?”

You smile, and it is like the first glimmer of sun after an arctic winter’s night, and he can’t breathe for the sight of it.

“Because… it reminds me of you.”

lads requests r.... open lol

[cerridwen007]

Hard pill to swallow.

*pics above are from pinterest and are used for aesthetics only.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 2.4k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: Joel helps you fix your problem with swallowing pills.

Notes/Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Soft!Joel vibes, lowkey daddy Joel vibes too, Joel being a teasing, filthy mouthed menace because I said so, mentions of pills (vitamins and hayfever), mentions of gagging/gag reflex, Joel lifts reader, but Joel is huge and hella strong so he can lift anyone, cumplay, oral (m receiving), finger sucking, praise/ nicknames, swearing, no y/n.

A/N: Disclosure, this is fully self indulgent and based on my struggle with swallowing pills and me wanting Joel Miller's dick in my mouth all waking hours.  Was meant to post this before Valentines, but time got the best of me. But I suppose you can consider this my Valentines present from me to you, even though it's not related to valentines at all. I swear this is the second time that writing about my struggles in a fic with Joel, it’s pretty much solved them. He is truly that man. Quickly edited, as always, so sorry if there are any mistakes. Anyways, enough babbling, I hope y'all enjoy, and any interactions with posts are very much appreciated, and I love yall so much. Have a good day bebes. 🫶❤️

*********

You were embarrassed, to say the least, and annoyed and frustrated. For all of your life, you could never do that one thing that was a simple skill for most people, a simple and usually essential at that. You couldn't swallow pills for the life of you. Many frustrated mornings, well into your early adult years, were spent at the breakfast table with your parents, growing more and more impatient and irritated at your ‘talent’ for not being able to swallow pills no matter how hard you tried. And It's not like you didn't want to swallow pills. No, not at all. 

In fact you wish you could, it would have made your life a hell of lot easier. You would take swallowing pills over having to grind up the assorted pills for hayfever and vitamins into your drink and being forced to intigest the horrible tasting yet beneficial substances, the ones that made your eyes water and your stomach gurgle with just how bad they tasted. 

And trust me you had tried everything, sticking the pill right down your throat, damn near breaking your neck with the force you tilted your head back (to catch your gag reflex “off guard”) nearly watering boarding yourself a couple times, thinking the more water you swallow the easier right? You felt like the oblong white tablets were just ridiculing you at this point. 

You had achieved so much in your life yet you were brought down by your inability to swallow a tiny little thing for your benefit. You had not managed to find a shortage of adults and family members alike telling you, “it's all in your head” and suggesting unwarranted advice. Advice you ended up trying over and over again, knowing it wouldn't work. “It's just like swallowing food” they would say. But you knew damn right it wasn't. I mean you couldn't even swallow gum, so how were you supposed to swallow this?!

Because of all these judgemental looks and passive aggressive comments when it came up in conversation that you couldn't swallow pills, you tended to avoid the topic of conversation completely. It wasn't till a handsome man named Joel Miller came into your life, did you finally manage feel comfortable and unjudged about your inability. 

It had been a while that the two of you had been dating, nearly a year and you had never felt happier. Recently you had moved into his place and had just unfinished packing. It was a peaceful morning in Joel’s and now your own house, the morning sun shining down, warming up the frosted green grass as the birds chirps and, the smell of fresh brewed coffee filled your nostrils. The two of you sat opposite each other, drinking in the peaceful morning. This movie-like paradise was soon brought down in mood as you remembered it was time to take your daily vitamins and tablets. 

You sighed, a frown growing on your face as you anticipated yet another painful morning attempting to swallow some tablets. Joel's face mimics yours when he looks over at you from across the breakfast table. 

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked, concerned.

You sigh before explaining yourself.

“I just..I just suck at swallowing pills and I almost always end up having to crush them into a drink or whatever I'm eating and then it's disgusting. I know I'm an adult, I should be able to swallow them by now but I just can’t.” 

You try to blink away the tears from frustration as you talk, not wanting Joel to see you get so upset over something so little and stupid.

He listens with a soft frown on his face and you half expect him to scoff at you and belittle you for not being able to do something so easy. Then he locks eyes with you and sees your watery eyes and instantly his face softens.

“Aww baby, come here.” He holds out his arms and you quickly get up walking round the table to straddle his lap, burying your face into his shoulder, seeking his warming embrace to comfort you. You look up at him, when you feel the tears aren't going to spill out.

“You're not making fun of me or think that I'm being a baby?” 

He cups your face, forcing you to keep his warm gaze. “Now what would make you think that I thought that darling?” He questions.

You feel your throat constricting as you try to explain yourself, cheeks growing hot with embarrassment.

“I don't know…I just thought maybe before… you were frowning cause you don’t believe me or something.” You softly respond, embarrassed over the state you're in all over some silly little pills.

“Sweetheart of course I believe ya. I was frowning cause I hate to see my girl upset and struggling, and I was trying to think of some way to help ya.”

You sigh with relief, before resting your head back on Joel's shoulder, you sit there holding each other for a while before you're interrupted by the soft rocking back and forth of Joel's chest as he tries to quietly chuckle underneath you. 

“What’s so funny.” You ask, feeling a little irritated.

“Oh, nothing.” He responds, still with a wide grin.

“No, tell me.” You say, pouting.

He clears his throat and before he speaks in a dark tone, close to your ear sending shivers all throughout your body.

“Just thought of how good of a girl you are when you suck my dick, and how you don’t seem to have a problem swallowing my cum, do ya honey?”

Your eyes widen with the sudden lewd topic of conversation, your cheeks heat up and you lightly slap his chest.

“Joel!” you warn him, but you can't help but let the corners of your mouth lift up a little.

“That's different though.” You say quietly after a beat.

“Oh yeah? Why's that?” His eyes pierced through you, waiting for your answer.

You feel your cunt fluttering at his question, your panties dampening.

“Cause…cause I actually want to swallow your cum.” You softly admit.

He breathes in shakily as a growl-like sound softly rips through his chest. His head falls back and he slowly grinds up into your needy clothed cunt. 

“My dirty little cum slut, aren't you baby?” He groans as he cups your face with his hand.

You nod and he puts his thumb on your bottom lip, slowly dragging it downwards. Your tongue shoots out to lick it before your head dips it to take it into your mouth. You start sucking on it, needily. Needing to have some part of Joel in you.

“Needy too, apparently. Just how I like ya.” He murmurs to mostly himself as he pushes his fingers in deeper and pushes down on your tongue.

Your cunt is throbbing now, but the only thing you can think of right now is taking Joel’s fat cock into your mouth. You try and tell Joel as his thick fingers are stuffed in your mouth, so it ends up coming out as a garbled mess.

“What was that baby?” Joel teases you.

“W-wanna sl-suck your c-cock d-Joel.” 

“Can’t get enough of this fat dick down your throat can you sweetheart?” Joel growls as he removes his fingers.

You shake your head, your hands trailing over Joel's strong chest and biceps. You suck on the spot on his neck that drives him crazy, his hips start lightly thrusting up into you as a result. You grin devilishly, seeing and feeling Joel become a vulnerable mess, under your control is one of your favourite sights in the world. 

You slowly make your way down Joel's body, feeling and touching on every part of him that you can, except where you and him both want too most. When your knees finally hit the floor, you look up at him with an innocent smile. Although Joel knows your the exact opposite, he can’t help his breath stuttering and his heart racing at the stunning sight below him.

You bite your lip as you look to Joel belt, his prominent bulge just below it, silently asking for permission. He nods, spreading his legs wider. You place your hands on his knees and slowly trace your hand over his legs up to his hips, your eyes switching between looking up at Joel and his bulge that has your mouth watering. 

You unbuckle his belt, slowly, loving to tease him. But taking your time and going slow seems to make you more impatient than Joel himself, so you make quick work of unzipping his jeans and shucking them down his thick thighs, while your mouth waters. You swallow harshly, as you uncover Joel's thick and rock-hard package perfectly framed by his black boxers. 

Reaching below his elastic waistband to pull out his cock, you find yourself transfixed once again by his beautiful cock, tip flush dark red, shaft slightly curling upwards as it heavily bobs, just begging to be sucked. Your tongue darts out to slicken your lips. Your hand carefully grasps his length, Joel softly gasps, before your thumb traces over his slit and the white drop of precum, oozing out of it. 

You grin as you lower your head, placing a few teasing kisses around his head before you raise his cock up high enough that you can lick from between his balls all the way up to his slit. He shudders above you, his hand gently caressing your hair, grounding himself and connecting himself more to you, as if his dick in your mouth isn't enough. 

You let your saliva gather to the front of your mouth before slightly parting your lips to let the warm glob drip onto his flesh. You see his thighs flex from the corner of your eye as your palm encases him, spreading your moisture all over the veiny muscle. Starting out with slow hard strokes, and building it up faster, your hand struggles to meet around his girth. 

Your mouth finally latches onto his tip, tongue swirling around the bulbous head, making Joel groan deeply. You help unleash even more depraved sounds from deep in Joel's chest when your other hand reaches out to massage his hefty balls. All this encompassing stimulation has Joel racing towards the edge, his mouth spewing out dirty words and praises as he comes oh so close to his high.

“Ugh. Fuck yeah. Atta girl.”

“Just like that baby. F-fuck me that feels g-good.” 

“Fuck… I love the feel of your hot, wet mouth on my cock.”

“Going to make my heart go out on me, with how fucking heavenly your making me feel, baby.”

He clenches the muscles in his body as he tries to starve off his release long as possible, needing to tell you something first.

“Sweetheart, look at me. I-I’m going to need you to hold all my cum in your mouth baby when I finish-h. C-can you do that for me s-sweet girl?” He chokes out.

You nod slightly and moan around him, before returning to bobbing wildly on his pulsing cock. Loving the salty, musky taste of him, your pussy clenches thinking about the even more salty and delicious load soon to be filling your mouth.

You take him as deep he will go, your eyes tearing up as your throat constricts around him. You feel his balls tighten under your hand and you let his cock out ever so slightly so only his tip is encased by your stretched lips.

And before you know it Joel’s coming, a long string of curse words and moans pouring out his mouth as he does so. Your hand continues to stroke him, milking him for all he's worth. Till he is hissing through his teeth, his now spent cock sensitive and raw. 

The urge to swallow his spend is strong, but your need to listen to and please Joel stands stronger. You keep it all in your mouth, cheeks bulging out a little with how full they are.

Joel, still breathing heavily, bends over you so he can inspect your warming checks and watery eyes, you look completely wrecked and he loves it. He hums in delight seeing you patiently sitting beneath him waiting for his next instruction.

He reaches over the table to where you were sitting before leaning down closer to you again. His thumb and forefinger reaches out and takes a hold of your chin, tilting it a bit higher.

“Did so good for me sweet girl, but I need you to do one more thing for me, okay?” He whispers, his warm and inviting eyes making you melt further into the floor.

You nod in response, watching his other hand come down in front of your face, opening up to reveal your pills. He softly demands you to open your mouth, to which you oblige, before carefully placing the few pills into your cum filled mouth.

He tilts up chin so your mouth closes and seals your lips with his thumb, before moving his hand to the side of your jaw, rubbing soft circles over your cheekbone.

“Okay, I'm going to need you to be a good girl and swallow that for me.”

You give the best soft smile you can muster with a mouth full of cum before you begin to swallow Joel’s cum in small amounts, your eyes fluttering close in concentration.

 “That's it…. Good girl. Swallow it all, baby. Don’t wanna waste a drop do ya now?” He encourages you, eyes transfixed to your throat swallowing all of his cum and the pills.

The pills going down so easily you didn't feel them shocks you, as you open your eyes to a smiling, starry-eyed Joel looking down at you softly. A wide smile mimicking his, spreads over your face, before you open your mouth to reveal it, now empty, to Joel.

He reaches down to pick you up from your armpits, placing you on his lap again. You giggle as he places lots of kisses all over your face and nuzzles his nose into yours.

“I’m so proud of you my sweet, darling girl. Did so good.”

“Thank you, Joel.” You coo back, sighing softly with relief and happiness over your achievement.

“Guess we know now how to get you to swallow your pills every morning, don't we baby?” Joel teases you, holding you close to his chest as he kisses your temple.

“Indeed we do.” You reply, giggling, before resting your head on Joel's warm and sturdy chest, basking in the love and warmth of your lover.

***********

[augustinewrites]

“your nose is running again.”

you shoot a glare at alhaitham’s reflection in your vanity, swiping at your nose and clearing your throat a few times before croaking, “it is not.”

“tch.” he has the audacity to look unimpressed with your lie, fiddling with the collar of the nice shirt you’d practically wrestled him into for tonight. “this happens every year, i don’t know why you keep trying to deny it.”

“there’s nothing to deny, because i’m a doctor and we don’t—” you pause, face scrunching when you feel a sneeze trying to fight its way out of your system. “— get sick.” 

so what if your throat was scratchy and your entire face felt hot with sinus pressure? one could claim it was allergies, not sickness. 

taking a seat to pull on his shoes, alhaitham only scoffs disbelievingly at you. he’s acting so smug, and maybe that’s because last week you’d ignored his warning about how cold nighttime in the desert got. or maybe because you refused to take the vitamin c tablets he put beside your coffee each morning because their texture was like that of chalk. 

before he can open his mouth and say these things, the sneeze you’d been fighting takes you by surprise. you immediately turn away and lift your elbow, sneezing into it not once, not twice, but five times in quick succession.

(okay, so maybe you were feeling a little under the weather.)

you turn away from the dresser with a sharp look in your eye, just daring him to let slip the i told you so that always seemed to be sitting on the tip of his tongue.

instead, you feel his fingers tugging at the laces of your dress and his lips pressing softly against your forehead. (too warm, you swear he murmurs.)

“we don’t have to go if you aren’t feeling well. nilou will understand. do you really want to be fighting a cold while you’re surrounded by a group of your friends—”

“our friends,” you correct with a sniffle.

he ignores you. “who are going to make you—”

“make us.” 

“—endure cake and small talk?”

you roll your eyes. for someone so fearsome, your husband really could be quite dramatic, brought to his knees by something as simple as cake and small talk. 

“we missed her performance last month because we were stuck with work, so we’re not missing her birthday.” you turn around to shove lightly at his shoulder. “and don’t think you can use my cold as an excuse to get out of this party.”

alhaitham pulls back to look down at you with an irritating combination of a scoff and a smirk on his lips. “ah, so you finally admit that you have a cold? maybe if you’d taken the vitamin c for your immunity like someone suggested...”

“those supplements taste like shit, haitham,” you cough, expression pinching as you recall the disgusting tablets that you’ve called ‘not as good as the real thing.’ “the only vitamin c i like is in those mondstadt imported sunsettias...”

“you’re like a child,” he scolds. “now get undressed and back in bed before—”

“undressed?” you question, swatting his hands away from your dress. “i’m going to the party.”

“no, you’re not.”

“what if i—”

“no.”

“but darling—”

“sorry, love, but you’re not going anywhere tonight,” he decides, ignoring your quiet grumbles of protest. “i know you don’t get sick often, but when you do it hits you pretty hard.”

he leaves the room briefly at that, returning with something sitting in his palm. 

you shake your head, holding your hands out to keep him back. “no. no! that stuff is worse than the vitamin c.”

“huh, if you’d taken that, then maybe you could have avoided this.” he hums, unscrewing the lid and letting that disgustingly sweet, syrupy scent flood the room. it was so potent that even you clogged sinuses could pick it up. “perhaps, doctor, one of these years you’ll learn to take your own advice. or perhaps listen to your husband’s…”

you lean backwards when he reaches for your chin. “haitham, if you make me drink that i will call the general mahamatra on you.”

“go ahead, he doesn’t scare me.”

he tries again, only for you to side-step his hand. “take your damn medicine!” 

“you’re not supposed to yell at a sick person!” 

“i’m not yelling. i’m simply insisting because you are being childish.”

maybe you were being childish, but that medicine was just so damn gross. “can i at least go down and say hi to everyone?” you try. “it’s been so long since i’ve seen them all.”

“fine, but only for ten minutes. and you have to take your medicine first.”

“but it always makes me sleepy,” you argue. “then you’ll be there enduring cake and small talk all by yourself.”

“it’s a birthday party, not a war. i think i’ll survive.”

you scowl at him, snatching the bottle and taking a gulp of the bitter liquid. “yeah, yeah. just wait until a drunk kaveh gets his hands on you and i’m not there to save you.”

the medicine starts taking effect almost instantly. you make it eleven minutes on your own feet before you’re clinging to alhaitham’s arm and leaning heavily into his side, nose still leaking and throat still tickling.

by then, all it takes is a single, ‘you don’t look too well’ from tighnari to convince alhaitham to drag you up into nilou’s spare room and into bed. 

too disoriented and drowsy to argue anymore, you thank him dazedly and reach out to pat his cheek before letting your eyes drift shut.

__________

you’re not too sure how long it’s been when you wakes, but when you pry your tired eyes open, there’s a tray of steaming food on your bedside table. the room is glowing and warm, the source being the flickering candle that alhaithm is reading his book under

he glances up when you shift in bed, closing his book. “feeling better?” 

“‘m not leaking anymore,” you shrugs, rubbing at the tip of your nose. “how long was i out for?”

“a little over two hours,” he answers, taking a seat at your bedside and pressing a hand to your forehead. “you’re not as warm as before. the medicine must be working.”

“yeah, well i still feel gross,” you mutter, not wanting to give that disgusting concoction too much credit.

“you look it, too.”

“the akademiya scribe,” you mutter, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. “charming as ever.” 

he scoffs at that, scooping up the tray of food in one hand and offering you his other. “charming enough that the amurta darshan’s sage took my last name.”

“well, don’t let it get to your head,” you huff, taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. his thumb strokes your wedding band as he guides you to sit on a fur rug positioned in front of the fire. “pretty hard to say no to a guy that practically begs you to marry him.” 

“it was not begging—”

“haitham, dearest, that’s exactly what it was.”

you burst into a fit of giggles when he tells you to save it, his cheeks turning pink at the memory. your laughter quickly dissolves into a series of coughs, to which alhaitham pounds you on the back a little harder than necessary. 

“alright, you had your fun,” he murmurs, picking up a bowl of soup. “you need to eat something. i made your favourite,” he dips the spoon into the bowl. “i already picked out the cabbage,” he adds when you open your mouth to complain. 

unable to deny the slight rumble of your stomach, you reach for the spoon in his hand, pouting when he pulls it away. “i can feed myself,” you protest, voice hoarse from your coughing fit.

“the last time i let you feed yourself when you were sick, you sneezed and ended up throwing a spoonful of soup in my face,” he reminds you, the grim look on his face making it seem as if you’d stabbed him with the spoon instead. “open up.”

you narrow your eyes at the spoonful of soup. “it’s red,” you state. the original colour of recipe was a warm, almost translucent gold. 

“good to know your eyes are still working.”

“haitham,” you groan. “you know i don’t handle spice as well as you.”

“it’ll help clear up your sinuses,” he reasons, though there’s something teasing twitching at the corner of his lips. 

your body is wracked by another series of sneezes, each one stronger than the last, making him laugh.

“are you sure you’re done?” he teases, handing you a tissue.

“a good husband would just say, bless you,” you pout, blowing your nose and weakly tossing the soiled tissue at him. 

defeated by a clogged nose and a smug husband, you reluctantly open your mouth and let him spoon-feed you the eye-wateringly spicy soup. it slides down your throat like fire, and it…kind of does help with your sinuses and throat. 

you’d never admit that, though. it’s a new low you’ve discovered, a doctor taking medical advice from a semiotics major. 

the universe always finds ways to keep us humble.

when the bowl is half-empty and alhaitham is convinced you’ve eaten enough, he sets the bowl aside and wraps a blanket around your shoulders before he goes. your eyes are drooping again, the result of a warm blanket enveloping you and a satisfied stomach. 

he returns with a glass of water and a cool washcloth, gently pressing it to your forehead before situating himself behind you. “need anything else?”

letting yourself relax against his chest, you shake your head. his arms are warm around you, the steady sound of his heart and the soothing light of the candle slowly lulling you to sleep once more. 

“shouldn’t you get back to the party?” you murmur sleepily. but you’re already snuggling against him, hands curling greedily into the soft material of his shirt to keep him close.

“not particularly. i’ve already greeted nilou and done my share of…small talk,” he explains quietly. his small sigh is heavy, his posture deflating slightly. it wasn’t that he disliked your shared friends or their company, it was just that his social battery ran out faster than others, and without you there to keep him afloat? two hours was more than enough for him. 

“besides, i can’t exactly relax if i know that you’re up here positively suffering.” 

“you’re teasing me, but fine, i’ll let you stay.” 

no medicine or soup could do to you what a warm blanket and your annoying, teasing husband could for you, anyway.

[mikkomacko]

I need mob nico with reader being super sick and how he would act and take care of her

Nico doesn’t get sick. Not really. He got the occasional cold as a child, the flu once when he was a teenager, and yeah he has spring allergies now, but he’s always been the lucky guy with the good immune system.

So, no he wouldn’t say he’s experienced in the realm of sickness. He knows injuries, knows just how to hit someone to make a bone break, or just light enough to make it hurt and bruise, but not damage. He knows the right places to place a knife or brass knuckles for maximum damage without fatality.

In terms of injuries to the human body, yeah Nico’s a fucking expert.

Colds? Not a fucking clue.

Which is why he’s lost when he wakes up at 5 am because you’re shivering against him, arms wrapped around your knees and calves pressed to his side as closely as possible. And you’ve stolen all the blankets from him, cocooned in the fluffy duvet but still shivering, somehow.

In the faint reflection of the night light across the room, he realizes that your forehead is shiny with sweat, particularly along your hairline. The more he watches you, bleary eyes focusing on your oddly sleeping form, the more apprehension bleeds into his gut.

You’re sleeping fitfully, bottom lip trembling just slightly and nose scrunched like you’re in pain. Unsure of whether he should wake you up or not, Nico gently peels himself away from you and sits up.

Almost instantly your eyes are fluttering open, red rimmed and swollen as you take in the sight of him leaning over you.

“Nico,” you murmur, voice hoarse and he’s not sure if you’re asking for him or simply saying his name because it’s all you can think right now. By the glazed over look in your eyes, he’s not sure you’re entirely awake.

“M’here baby,” he assures. He presses his palm to your forehead, wincing at how hot your skin is and knows immediately that something is really wrong.

“I don’t feel good,” you tell him anyway, a whining tone bleeding into your words. What he really wants is for you to sit up, to look him in the eye and tell him that you need him to do this and that. What medicine to get, what to drink, how to break a fever.

But your eyes are already slipping shut again, lips jutting out into a pout as you press your cheek to his thigh, left arm wrapping around the meaty part just above his knee. With how tightly you’re holding him, he thinks he could get up and walk down the stairs, and you’d stay put exactly where you are.

Pushing your damp hair out of your face, Nico reaches over to the nightstand and flicks on the lamp. You turn your face further into his leg, shielding your eyes from the light.

He grabs his phone, quickly pulling up Google and doing some research. Worse case scenario he calls Jesper and wakes up Nicole so she’ll tell him what to do. Luckily for him, it doesn’t come down to that because ten minutes later Nico has a mental list of things to do and get.

Prying you off of his leg, Nico tucks you back into the bed with his pillow as placeholder for his body. Worried that you’ll wake up while he’s gone, he leaves the lamp on so you know he’s still in the house before padding down the hall and stairs.

You’ve always been good at keeping medical stuff together in case of emergencies, so Nico is quick to find the medicine box. He collects the Tylenol, nighttime cold and flu capsules, vitamin C tablets, and a Gatorade from the fridge.

Balancing everything in his arms, he carefully climbs the dark stairs. He stops by the linen closet to fetch your heated blanket, and then he’s quickly moving back towards the open bedroom door.

You’re exactly where he left you, curled into his side of the bed and squeezing his pillow tightly. Nico sets everything up on his nightstand, plugs in the blanket and turns it on medium before laying it out on the bed.

As careful as possible, as if he were touching the delicate petals of a flower, Nico slips his hands under your shoulder and moves you fully to his side of the bed. You stir, sliding your legs over for him and he breathes out a sigh of relief.

Now for the hard part.

Tugging his own shirt off, he lays it on the bed and peels the blankets back.

“Baby,” his fingers ghost over the side of your face, skin flushed and sweaty. “Baby can you get up for me?”

He calls your name softly, smiling when you blink your eyes open to find him kneeling by the side of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, taking ahold of his hand and sitting up. “Why are you up?”

Taking his abandoned pillow, he places it behind your back and shushes you. “S’ok, everyone’s fine, ok?”

Letting out a heavy breath, you nod and lay back against the headboard. Nico sits on the edge of the mattress, stroking through your hair for a moment to allow you time to wake up.

“I don’t feel good,” you say again, and he chuckles sadly.

“I know baby, I’m gonna make you feel better, ok?”

“Ok.”

He gets you to take the Tylenol and cold medicine, holding the gatorade to your chapped lips so you can take in little sips. When he’s fairly certain you’ve had enough liquids, he places it back on the nightstand.

“Arms up for me beautiful,” he requests, frowning when you do as he says with no risqué little remark. Your shirt is damp with sweat as he slips it over your head, using a dry spot on the hem to dab at your forehead and cheeks.

Then he tosses it towards the hamper, grabbing his shirt from the bed and maneuvering it over your head. You look at him with big, moony eyes as he wrestles your arms into it, combing your hair down with his fingers and taking your face between his hands.

“What?”

You blink slowly, gaze lazily lulling across his face. “I love you,” you murmur, “thank you for taking care of me.”

His heart melts, relief seeping into nervous system as he realizes that this is all working, that for now he’s doing enough.

“Love you,” he says back, leaning in to kiss your forehead. You lay back into the pillows and Nico tucks you back in, pulling the heated blanket up to your chin.

“Can we watch tv?” You ask timidly, peering up at him from over the covers. Nico turns the tv on, shutting off the lamp and using the glow of the infomercial to find his way to your side of the bed.

“Here my love,” he coos, giving you the remote and you pull up Netflix. Already knowing what title you’re going for, he climbs in beside you, adjusting the pillows and trying to hide his smirk when the opening tune of Gilmore Girl plays.

Your comfort show, of course.

Nico slides closer, throws his arm around your waist and his foot over your legs. You’re already looking sluggish from the cold medicine, blinking heavily and chest rising and falling steadily.

Pressing a kiss to the pulse point in your neck, Nico snuggles into your shoulder and lets his eyes fall closed.

“Be here in the morning?”

He strokes his thumb across your hip, tucking his nose into your neck and humming.

“Of course I’ll be here in the morning baby.” He promises, having already texted Timo and turned off his alarm. The last thing he wants is to wake you in a couple of hours when the medicine has just started working.

“M’kay,”

“Ok baby.”

“Goodnight Neeks.”

He smiles. “Goodnight.”

[lamamasjamas]

Love at First Sight: A Complication (3/9)

A/n: LOL LOL LOL, continuation of the first pregnancy. Again, if you read this before uhm... no ☺. I changed some minor things. I already liked this part so it was fun to reread and revise.

Warning: Dark!Din, Dub-con smut, breeding/pregnancy kink, very heavy with the kinks in this one, Stockholm Syndrome, dark fic!!!

Love at First Sight Masterlist

You watched Din from the kitchen, washing dishes as you were softly reclined against a rocking chair. He gathered enough credits for it after a few bounties off world, he said it was to help you relax, to help you feel better.

You glare from where he stood, drying his hands on a towel at the side of the sink and turning to you slowly with a warm smile. You couldn’t help but think he looked smug.

His eyes roam over your form that you kept hidden with a blanket. His gaze stays on your belly.

You wince as you shift, trying to find a method to have the least amount of pressure on your back. The pain has been building up for months. It was hard to find relief now so late in your pregnancy.

You were slightly overdue. He wasn’t as worried as you and you were practically trying to get him to do something about it since the first few days the complication occurred.

You’ve been begging him to see a doctor for the past month before your due date, but he denied, stating that he knew a lot about pregnancy and birth and that he was practically prepared for anything. You were a bit frightened when he came to you with a vial of pills and tablets one day, claiming they were vitamins.

He said he asked a physician for them but you had a feeling the barrel of his blaster did most of the persuasion. Especially since you only went to the doctor once to confirm your pregnancy and Din refused whatever they wanted to prescribe you, even denying them the chance to talk to you in private and to schedule another appointment.

You didn’t think it was healthy being cooped up in a ship for most of your pregnancy. Ever since he took you, you’ve been idly waiting for him to return each and every day from his missions. You had nothing to do, nothing to think about except him, him, him.

And the child. But taking care of the green baby was more effort than it was before. It used to be a reprieve. A solace. But he stays the same age. He was fifty and he still toddled like a three year old.

He constantly needed attention and care. He’d wander and get himself hurt if you weren’t vigilant. You often wonder if the mandalorian knew he subjected you to constantly be a mother. If you were stuck with him for the rest of your life that is…

That may have been his plan after all.

Din stays longer because of your restrictions in mobility as the child inside of you grew. It makes you feel suffocated. Although everything does at this point.

He moves towards you and you think you would have liked it if he had his armor on. It made him seem less human. As if his depravity was justified.

Your hands shake when he pulls you up from your seat carefully. You’ve been on the verge of crying lately, one because you physically were exhausted and two because he refuses to take you to a doctor or even a midwife often causing you to shun his advances tries for conversation.

He guides you to the bedroom and you pass by the nursery, slightly peeking inside to hear the soft snores of Grogu bundled up in his blankets. Your hand goes to your stomach as you stop for a moment watching the rise and fall of his breaths.

To think soon there would be two little noises of gurgles and giggles in the house. You almost laugh at the predicament. You would have never thought you would be here months ago.

A part of you believed that you would have travelled the galaxy before settling down. You glance at the mad beside you. Maybe in another life, one where he was normal, where he was sane… you would have travelled the universe together, willingly had a family together.

Dins hand puts pressure on your back and you groan. The bedroom seemed like a good idea now, you wanted to lay down. Dins heavy steps creak against the wood as you shuffle to bed, reaching out for the blankets and attempting to crawl to your side of the bed.

He chuckles as you struggle to get comfortable, rearranging and moving things around and then sighing again when it didn’t look or work right. He stops and his face falls when he could see the tears drop against the pillows below you, making the covers darken.

His hands roam frantically over you, finding nothing physically wrong. He frowns and smooths a hand over your head and face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks panicked, his words short and quiet. You sniffle. You couldn’t help but start to ramble.

“I’m so tired and I feel heavy and I need to see someone, something might be wrong with the baby, with me, I just-“

He stops you, holding your hands gently.

“Hey, hey, we’ll go tomorrow, yeah?” His voice was shaky. He was desperate to placate you.

Your tears stop and you calm instantly. He narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“Okay,” you respond and lay on your side. You really were worried, and scared. You also wanted to go outside. It was a chance to see the world again before you inevitably had to hide in your wooden spacious cottage.

He wrapped you up tightly in winter clothes. He said it was cold when you started to complain, and he was right, but he didn’t have to know that as you stepped out into the snow your teeth clacked slightly before you willed them to stop.

The planet was covered in a soft blanket of white. The homes expelling fumes from their heaters and fire places. You’ve never experienced snow in your home world.

You stared at the open door suddenly feeling nervous to get to know this new village.

The 'trip' was going to be to Grogu's school, since you've never seen it, and straight to the local midwife's home.

Grogu was wearing his mittens and his boots, and you gushed over him when he huffed and puffed from Din putting a hood over his head, protecting his sensitive ears.

You couldn't bend down to pick him up, but Din brought him to your arms and he stopped his whines considerably. Your mobility was further restricted from the fur lined coat placed on top of your shawls.

The sheer amount of clothes you were enveloped in made you look hearty, rather than expectant.

As you shed your layers once entering Grogu's classroom, you still felt as big as before, especially as everyone started to crowd and lean over to watch as the mandalorian carried your coats for you. You sigh, watching as Grogu twaddles off to his friends, giggling and happy.

Everyone was surprised by your presence. They’ve never seen you before, except for the time you arrived a few months back, your stomach was still small, at least smaller, and only a select few were able to catch a glimpse of you if ever when you were out of the house to get some air.

Still, your cottage was located further away from the others. It was bigger as well, with plenty of land around it. Din cared for privacy and only the neighbors were able to keep up with your outdoor appearances.

Rumors spread quickly of the Mandalorian and his “wife”. They thought he was very protective of his family by the way he scoped everyone out the first few days he brought his son to school, almost cold in his demeanor when he asked about the classrooms and their policies.

Din had gone momentarily to speak to a teacher assistant. A droid. You’ve learned of his distaste for droids early on. He keeps you far from them if he can.

He leads the assistant to the side as they try to greet you. Your mouth opens in a polite greeting but Din’s sharp tone cuts the droid off midway.

For a moment you stood there, suddenly feeling your heart beat rapidly in a mix of embarrassment and anxiety.

Many of the parents approached you, asking which child was yours. You pointed towards Grogu, and they gawked, looking to the Mandalorian and wondering what he looked like under the helmet.

They initially thought you were the green one. Now they were wondering if it was him.

As many of the parents chuckled softly and began to pull you into a group of gossipers, your nerves died down.

You appreciated being talked to, maker knows how long it had been since you’ve interacted with anyone.

You gasp when they ask to touch your stomach and you’re suddenly pulled back into a cold and hard chest. Some swooned at the protectiveness and some looked at you in pity, especially when he stared down at the parents talking to you.

You rolled your eyes. They took it as you showing your annoyed fondness towards his actions.

——————————

The walk to the midwife was short, and you didn't have to wait long to be admitted into her makeshift office.

You appreciated the padded chairs and the homey feeling inside. The warm brown walls and the vibrant plants inside made you feel safe. But the midwife, not much older than you, watches in amusement.

Din complains when she orders you to undress quickly after shaking your hand, not yet being told the problem but looking smug as she puts on her gloves.

Your eyes blink up at him pleadingly as you start to shrug your many layers off and she pats on a medical table located further into her cottage. Her warm smile invites you onto the table easily. He sighs loudly, passing over his blaster at his waist pointedly before leaning against the wall next to the doorframe outside.

She rolls her eyes before closing the door softly.

"Very protective, hm?" she mutters cheekily. You nod, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"When was your last check up?"

She sits in front of you, a rolling chair whose creaking wheels make your eyes shift.

"Eight months ago."

Her brows furrow slightly before relaxing again.

"You're really far along, sweetheart," she scolds softly.

You wanted to cry. You felt guilt build up in your stomach, even if it wasn't entirely your fault. Her eyes glance from her notepad to you and she pauses at your anxious state. Your hands shake as you place them over your stomach.

"I think I'm o-overdue..." you stutter worriedly. Her brows shoot up and you start to panic, your eyes start to water, and your breathing picks up. She shushes you gently, her eyes glancing towards the door.

"I'm going to do a checkup for you, okay?"

You breathe in deeply and exhale. Nodding along to the instruction to calm.

The checkup took about an hour, Din was practically pacing outside of the door by the time you came out, smiling tightly and fully dressed again.

The midwife sat you both in her office, which seemed almost comically small for Din's bulking form.

"The baby is fine," you both sigh in relief and she smiles at you, she turns to Din, "I performed a membrane sweep on your wife-"

"I'm not his wife," you interrupt quickly, fiddling with your fingers over your bump. He turns to you in slow silence, obviously irked by your comment. She stares between you both, clearing her throat and continuing.

"Like I was saying, I performed a membrane sweep on her and-"

"What is that?" he demands.

She sighs deeply, maintaining her smile with a strain.

"It's a technique where we take the amniotic membrane off by sweeping over the cervix. Helps her body know that she’s ready."

He nods as if he understood. You sigh.

"The success of the procedure isn’t certain. I suggest other methods of inducing labor as well."

She smiles cheekily as she leans her elbows on her desk, Pressing her hands over her chin and grinning fully at your confusion.

"Of course, the most enjoyable method is to have sex, but there are other methods."

You tense, Din shifts in his seat, watching as she writes down on her notepad and rips the sheet off loudly.

Before she pushed you both out of her door she winked.

He was relatively silent on the walk home and you were buzzing, practically bouncing on your feet as he started opening the door.

He was expecting you to jump him the moment he took off his helmet and you started shedding your coats to the floor. But he was shocked at the way you practically ran, more like waddled, to the kitchen, taking out ingredients for spicy stew.

You didn't even notice him walk out the door to pick up the kid from school, too busy pacing around the house and eating fruit.

During dinner you breathed in and out your mouth wide open, pouring water down your throat from the excess amount of spice you put in your own serving. He shook his head gently at your antics, especially when you went to sleep without even looking in his direction.

——————————

It's been two days; the membrane sweep did not work, and you were getting antsy. You've checked off every single thing off the list, except for the ones that needed a certain partner.

You were getting antsy, your hands were constantly on your belly, almost pushing down as if that would make the baby come out.

The house was warm, Grogu was playing in the common area, gurgling half mumbled numbers as he pushed building blocks and toy ships one by one.

For a brief moment you imagine a baby next to him, a human baby. Brown hair, brown eyes. Playing along.

You brush the window curtains open, the slight chill of the glass migrating to your cheeks. You shiver as you see the image in front of you.

You watch Din's deft fingers work over the panels of his ship, hyper focused on the way they flexed against the metal and the way they gripped tools.

Sparks flew, illuminating his armor and helmet. He grunts in irritation when a weld didn’t come out as well as he’d liked.

He turns. His hands making their way to his hips as he watches you back.

You retreat further into the house when he quirks his head in question of your stare. The moment he entered the household he was met with you waiting at the table for him, food ready at the table and steaming.

Dinner was relatively silent; you were unfocused, and you ate mechanically. You hurried to the bedroom the moment you finished and placed your plate in the sink.

You take a yawning Grogu from his seat and hurriedly strode to the nursery.

He sighs, getting up to wash.

He stood in the hallway, dishes done and left to dry in the rack, watching his son sleep peacefully. The crib next to his empty and half of the room vacant. He sighs, wishing the baby would come soon.

There were two separate bedrooms apart from the main bedroom, each big enough to accommodate two or three children. Grogu had chosen his little siblings toys. The color of the walls.

He was just as excited.

"Din, I need your help," you shout from your bedroom. He comes in immediately.

"What happened?" he shouts back, looking frantically throughout the room.

You were in the bathroom; he ran towards you only to see you in your underwear twisting and turning in front of a mirror.

"Why did you take me?" you ask, tracing over the trimming of lace lining your panties. Your ass looks incredible as you pulled up the waistband over your hips, it bounces as you poke at it, wincing when the cellulite emphasizes over the lighting.

You sigh, looking towards him in a heady stare. He walks over to you, envelopes you in his arms and sighs as you turn your face away from his chest.

"I love you."

"Do you? I don't think you can fall in love so quickly-"

"Well, I did," he says shortly.

You sigh, his hands smooth over your abdomen and you stop his hand, watching him through the mirror intently.

Something was wrong with him, he knew. You drove him to do things he wouldn't do otherwise. It was as if the moment he saw you, something was triggered in his brain. He couldn't function without you now, he would get angry, depressed, demoralized.

You were a necessity now.

"Would you fuck me, Din?" you ask innocently. He shivers at the way your eyes lift lazily up to meet his in the mirror.

You lead his hands under your underwear grinding against his palm as he cups your mound.

His fingers get sucked into your cunt and you sigh. You rest your head against his shoulder.

"Please..." you beg. A quiet okay was said behind your ear and your feet shuffle in anticipation.

His hand quickens and his fingers work you over slowly and firmly. It was as if you were being rocked by a wave, back and forth his palm connects with your clit, rubbing it firmly and then sliding across it, letting it go and doing it over and over again.

You gnaw on your lip, you could feel heat build within you ever so slowly, so gently that you sigh in content. The pain and throbbing of your body was soon forgotten as he led you to the bed, his fingers gliding over your folds and moving to your opening mouth languidly.

You suck his fingers as he laid on the mattress pulling you on top of him. He imagines your sucking motions to be akin to your lips around him, you look into his eyes deeply as your tongue swirls over his digits. He groans, slowly pulling away from your lips and trailing his fingers over your neck and towards your breasts, cupping underneath them and making your eyes roll up.

His chest was firm underneath your hands as you closed your eyes and moved your hips to an invisible rhythm.

The next morning, he would finally notice the red marks marring his skin, as he glances towards you, watching him as you pull the sheets up to your breasts, covering them in an innocence he knew was a farce.

His cock bumps against your cervix repeatedly, and you speed up, feeling him open you up each time your hips met.

You whine when your thighs start to cramp from your desperate movements.

"I-I can't -"

He flips you making sure you bounced and landed carefully on top of the sheets and pillows.

"You want it hard or soft."

You moan.

“Hard. Please.”

He has you with your back against his chest, your legs spread wide as he spears his cock into you quickly. You gasp with each thrust, arching your back against him as he sucks bruises against the tender skin of your neck.

His hips plop against your ass loudly, you had to cover your mouth from the feeling of your slick running down towards his thighs and making you slide easier against him.

You feel pure pleasure, almost as if your body is renewed and numbed down to a form in which pain doesn’t exist. You cum harder than you ever had before in your life and as you fall limply against the sheets, your belly atop a comfy pillow placed under you by Din, you sleep instantly.

He was convinced he made you pass out and for a second he worries, almost sliding his cock out of you before you whined, gripping his hand and pulling him so that his arm would wrap around you, effectively forcing him to stay put.

You shivered when you felt him shove himself deeper inside of you because of the proximity. Eventually when you were deep in sleep, which hasn’t happened in a long time, he pulled out, his seed and your slick rushing out of you.

You woke up that day feeling better than ever, albeit a little sore, but you don’t think you’ve felt that much relief in a while.

As you sit up you groan, the weight of your bump finally getting to you. You look to your side seeing the outline of his half erect cock through the sheets and hold your breath.

He woke up with his cock in your mouth, already hard as you climbed on top of him and started grinding.

He was elated at the fact that you were initiating this. It made him feel as if he was wanted, as if he had a purpose.

You couldn’t agree more as his thick cock stretched you that morning, making you see stars and replacing the aches in your body with pangs of intense pleasure.

——————————

It felt good to be fucked. It felt good for him to tire you out and to sleep from satisfied exhaustion. So, you did it each and every night until you would inevitably go into labor.

It had gotten to the point where you didn’t even worry about how overdue you were, you just wanted the excuse to have him inside of you all of the time.

He was feral for it. He loved your body; it was so plush and swollen and his. The fact that anyone from the outside, when you make him take you out for walks to aid in your predicament, could see that you were carrying his baby made him want to ravish you then and there.

You would often have mothers come up to you now, saying that you were going to have a big baby, and that they would probably be as strong as their father. It made him keen.

The whole village knew you belonged to him, especially as you stuck to his side and huddled for warmth from the heavy winds and the freezing air and especially as you hold his son as if your own, close against your chest as if you haven’t seen him for years even though he was just a walk down a path the whole day.

Everyone thought you were a happy family. They thought that when you wrapped your arm around his you were cherishing your time together, you were, in a way, it was just that you only wanted his cock. He usually took that as a signal to hurry up home, especially when your hands started to wander over his chest plate, supposedly wiping off dust or snow from his armor.

A big and happy family is all he wanted. He was just missing a member at the moment.

——————————

“Fuck, Din, h-harder.”

It's been three days so far. The midwife said you were dilated 1 centimeter. It only made you more desperate for his cum.

Sperm softens the cervix, and a soft cervix prompts dilation.

"I can't-" he groans, holding your hips still and leaning away.

"Please-" You press your ass against his crotch, pressing him deeper into you and making yourself gasp out against the pillows, your drool accumulates and spreads against the pillowcase, prompting you to lick your lips.

"We're so close..." you say pleadingly.

He squeezes your waist, stilling you from bouncing your hips against him.

"Close to what?"

"Our baby," you whine.

You knew him well. You knew what made him tick, and how well you could manipulate your way for something you wanted. That being, getting plowed into the mattress, with the bonus of speeding up the process of labor.

Your voice echoes in his head. Our. You usually referred to them as yours, because you're carrying them and you're going to be the one taking care of them. So you thought.

Also, because you didn't want him, at all and in any form, out of sexual pleasure.

He twitches and you swear you hear him growl. A shiver runs down your spine and you push him further.

"I want to give you a baby. Don't you want me to?" you murmur moaning and whiny, mimicking the women in holos usually seen in your same position.

Your hand moves under the swell of your belly, making you wince from the uncomfortable position and connect with your clit. You circle your hips, feeling him start to thrust lightly against you.

"You can put another in me after..."

His fingers meet yours and rub with you. You almost scoff against the pillow from his sudden eagerness, but your breath catches from a particularly hard thrust.

"I'll give you as many children as you want," you blurt out as you feel your body heat up quickly. You didn't have a filter anymore, your mind was shrouded in the feeling he was giving you, in the need to reach completion.

"Please- I want to expand- mph, our clan-"

He hushes you, thrusting into you with precision and pushing you into the sheets below careful to not put pressure on your stomach. You didn't even notice that he turned you over, your back hit the mattress, his hands pinning you beneath him. His mouth glides along the valley of your tits.

His tongue slides over to your swollen and dark nipple, helping him engulf your fatty tissue into his mouth. He sucks in pulses.

He lifts your ass in the air, pressing himself as deep as he could go before pulling out and thrusting in again. His pelvis slides against your clit each time his cock meets your cervix.

You come apart with a tremble and a high-pitched whine. He groans into your breast, sucking until your milk coats the inside of his mouth. Your back slowly lowers back into the soft blankets and he holds himself up, his head buried in your breasts.

You sigh, pressing your hands against his hair as the pressure on your chest was being relieved. His cock was pulsing in time with his suckles.

Your nails were scratching behind his head, caressing his brown locks and smoothing a thumb over his cheekbone.

He came with a long groan, still inside of you, when you tug on his locks after he bit you lightly.

He lifts his head, his eyes search your own blissed out ones, half lowered and drowsy. When he kisses you, you respond back sensually, slowly and as if you meant it.

It stung him.

The only way he could get you to show him affection was if you were in a state of euphoria and not your complete self. You grumble as his lips start to part yours.

"I'm tired," you mumble. He chuckles, nodding his head, helping you shrug some pillows under yourself and placing his body behind you. You hum as you press your head against the pillow.

His lips meet your earlobe and you smile lightly, still in a daze. You pause when he speaks, lowly.

"I will get you swollen again. I know you; you seem to forget that. I know your using me to get off, but any words said to me are a promise."

Despite yourself and despite everything else you clench around him, a quiet moan escaping you as he presses himself against your back and slid back into you slowly.

The very next day the contractions hit, he carried you to the midwife across town and you met a very beautiful, yet slimy, chubby baby.

Your eyes softened when he first handled her with gentle care, as if she were made of glass. He smiled, almost grinned, when she gurgled and moved her head from side to side, looking for you.

You forced your hands to stop shaking when you gently cradled her to your chest. Staring into her eyes as they opened slowly, you truly started to believe it wasn’t unbelievable he fell in love with you so quickly.

A/n: Reblogs and Comments much appreciated lol. 🥰❤️ mwah! 💋

[theblueflower05]

These Violent Delights: Chapter One

A/N: Thanks for bearing with when it came to getting this first chapter out! Work has been dragging me by my hair, but i'm going to try to get this story updated every week. At least until I’m able to work through this Spike Fearn brain rot I’ve got going on rn.

Warnings: This story is pretty heavy from the jump. I mean, check the source material. Talks of suicidal thoughts and tendencies. Loneliness. Smut coming later!

Pariring: Bjorn x Reader

Summary: A friendship is formed under the most unlikely of circumstances.

✨Masterlist

✨Playlist

Next Chapter

Every day is exactly the same.

The sentiment runs through your head as you blearily blink up at the water stained ceiling. The comforter is tangled around your legs and your mouth is dry- a side effect from the sleeping pills. The shrill ringing of the alarm is the only indication that the morning has rose on the horizon, outside the singular window in your apartment it is still black as pitch. Your joints crack when you finally force yourself out of bed.

You go through your morning routine in an almost mechanical manner. Shower. Brush teeth. Get dressed in the standard issued trousers and blouse you’d been given when you got your assignment- the holes you’d sewn up yourself are barely noticeable. Barley. Clip your hair back. Even the movements as you eat the tar like oatmeal feel too practiced. Fake.

Lately, you’ve found you dont feel very real anymore. There’s probably droid’s walking around, wires for veins, that feel less hollow than you do.

Jackson Star is a planet in the Alfeios system, and in the 11 years you’ve been stationed here you’ve realized, that it is a planet that should've never been colonized. It’s harsh, by nature. Sweltering summers followed by frigid winters, and the ever present, extremely active volcanoes. The atmospheric processors can only do so much.

And they cant do shit about the lack of sun.

They can try to replicate it; expensive lamps and vitamin C tablets acting like a cheap knock off. Like Weyland-Yutani Corps way of saying sorry we dropped you in hell- here's the shittiest consolation prize in the galaxy.

This particular Friday is gloomier then usual, rain accompanying the dark. The walk down the cluttered streets feels even more…hopeless than usual. Like maybe this is all there is. Blurring lights of neon signs and the ruddy faces of children that hold out their hands on corners, begging for their next meal.

Like maybe if you stepped in front of the bus in this cross walk- then it would end the loop. You’d be able to get out of this eternally dark purgatory.

They aren't new thoughts, but you lifting your foot to step of the curb is. You go numb, not thinking or feeling as you step into oncoming traffic.

Theres the blaring honk of a heavy hand on a horn and then you're being yanked backwards, hard.

You gasp as you’re pulled back onto the sidewalk and out of the way of oncoming traffic. You’re equal parts grateful and disappointed. But mostly you’re shocked.

The girl is small statured, her brown eyes wide behind unruly curls. She curses filthy and fast in Spanish.

Her gaze makes you feel uncomfortably scene. Its assessing and…worried. Its been a long time since anyone worried about you. “Are you alright?”

You’re taken aback by her question.

“I’m fine. Didn’t see the cars coming” you don’t understand why you’re explaining yourself to this stranger. It’s probably the hot embarrassment that’s pointing your face red.

She doesn’t look amused by your answer but nods slowly “Okay…”

The signal turns red, the cross walk sign lights up and you’re gone, fast as your feet can take you away from your unlikely savior. Leaving her standing there, confused.

“You’re welcome!” Comes her snark filled holler. You don’t blame her. But with the shame filling you, you also can’t look at her. You just give a haphazard wave behind you. A piss poor thanks, you know.

You hope you never see her again.

-

After the blip this morning, the routine persists- until it doesnt.

The office is how it always is. Bleak. The yellow lights flickering and the wallpaper peeling. Patty, a heavy set woman with an acidic smile sits at the front desk. The grim reaper at the mouth of the river Styx. It’s pleasantries, your badge is scanned and then you find your way back to your cubicle. As ready as anyone can be to stare at a screen and four walls for the next twelve hours.

Maybe it’s something in the damp air, but once again, the day deviates from the norm.

You only ever work with electronic filing. Sorting piles and piles of e-documents into they Weyland/Yutani system. An office grunt you’ve been called. And yet today they want you up front, something about “Yolanda from zoning and housing” missing a day because her son is dying from black lung. God forbid she want to be by his side. It leaves the office understaffed.

“I’m not trained for that position” you try to reason but it falls on deaf ears. There are numbers to be punched, and your lack of true no how doesn't really matter. You begrudgingly leave your familiar desk, taking only the thermos of hot coffee with me. Small mercies, really.

Front desk is as hellish as one would think it would be. Between having to interact with real human beings, not the computers you’re used to combined with Patty’s snooty remarks; you’re absolutely jonsing to get the fuck out of there and go home by the afternoon.

In the back office the digital copying machine is down for the fifth time this week. All of the filing systems have honestly been off- a result of the shitty outdated tech on this planet.

“Ugh- they really dont know what they're doing back there” Patty sighs, muttering under her beath about how she doesnt get paid enough for this shit “Im going to go help. Again. Keep your head down and follow the guideline on the forms” she gives me stern instructions and a side eye “And dont touch my stories”

She cares more about the trashy soap operas she watches on her tablet then the mother she just evicted from her apartment.

Where’s a fucking droid when you need one? This is most definitely a job that shouldn't be done by anyone with a conscience.

With dread in your stomach you put on a brave face as the security system announces the next client;

Oh.

It’s a girl. With a small stature and wide brown eyes. Ones that reflect the same recognition you feel. It takes a moment for you to swallow the surprise.

“Name” You demand in a practiced voice. The shakiness you feel not transmuting to your tone. Or at least you hope it doesnt.

“Kay Harrison” and just like that, she’s not a stranger anymore “I’m here for an appointment”

You type quickly, plugging in the details on the keyboard. Pulling up her file. Scanning the information quickly. “Yes, I can see that. Here to formally request an eviction extension”

Damn. Thats tough.

“Yes. But only because we truly will be able to pay it next week. I brought not only mine but my brothers work logs and proof of direct deposit-” she pulls out a beat up old tablet and slides it under the glass. “We’ll be able to get the rent paid in full by the fourth”

What kind of cruel fate is this? The most twisted form of serendipity. She saved you this morning and now you have to co-sign on her eviction this afternoon.

You know it doesn't matter, you saw their file. The Harrisons arent newbies to being late for rent and their landlord is chomping at the bit to get them out.

“I’ll scan these into your case but at this point in the process it really doesn't matter” at your words, panic induced tears fill her eyes.

“No- because. We’re late. But we always pay. We’ve never been negligent, not on purpose. Since my dad died we’ve done our best” Kay rambles an explanation that doesn't matter and you feel frozen. Stuck. Conflicted in a way that you we’re supposed to have trained out of you.

“I cant-” you sigh and she looks pathetic. Drained…void.

A feeling you know all too well. That had almost led you right into the grill of a bus this very morning. And yet- she’d stepped in.

You gnaw on your lip and as discreetly as possible, your eyes scan around the empty office. Your co-workers still not back yet. You’re the only one in here. Its madness, but if there was any time to act on madness- it would be now.

You begin typing furiously, entering in codes that a normal front desk clerk wouldn't know, it isn’t in their training. But you’d been trained for filing.

“An extension wont be needed” You speak purposefully, giving Kay a pointed look “The landlord marked the eviction for the fifth. That gives you three more days to get a payment in before the constable is scheduled to come for the lock out”

There’s a moment of heavy silence.

The landlord had actually marked the second but well. It’s an easy enough over turn. Easy, but extremely illegal. You just did something that could not only cost you your job but risk your contract. Land you in jail-

“He marked the wrong date…” Kay chews the words, like she cant believe what she’s saying.

“Yep” I say quickly, finishing up, covering my ass by copying multiple files into the system. It would be hard as shit to uncover it, if anyone cared to bother. Kay’s just another file in the hundreds today. “Here you go, Miss Harrison. You have seventy two hours to get the payment to the respective party. If not the constable will be there to conduct the eviction”

I slide her tablet back towards her.

“I- I don't know what to say” She stutters and you give her a glare. You don't have the time for groveling, for un- needed thanks. As far as you’re concerned, you are now even.

“Don't say anything. Take your things and go”

I don't look at her again, not even when she leaves. Instead I refocus on my computer screen. Trying to breathe through the nerves that wrack my body. That was just about the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.

Your heart beats furiously and it’s the most alive you’ve felt in months.

-

After that it seems like something has been broken. The pattern no longer functions.

Jackson Star is by no means a small colony. Thousands strong, full of unfamiliar faces. And yet. You keep running into the same one.

“Here, I grabbed you a coffee. Extra sugar, like ya like, even though it’s going to rot your teeth out” Kay waits for you at the same corner that the two of you had met on. Weeks ago. She’d hunted you down after that fateful day and had shown that she wasn't giving up on showing her gratitude so easily.

Having friends in the colony is a dangerous game. Every friend you’ve ever had has either been transferred off planet or died. And yet here you are, eagerily bounding over to Kay. Taking the paper cup full of cheap coffee.

“My teeth are my own business thank you”

And it goes like this; the train station where Kay catches her ride to the mines isn't far from your job so the two of you make your morning commute together, gabbing about nothing. It's nice. It feels familiar, you used to have loads of friends.

Kay’s easy to talk to and she shares so much of herself so freely. Her little stories about her family make you smile. Make you feel warmth, and secretly longing. And yet still, every time the topic of you meeting everyone comes up you shy away.

Being friends with Kay is one thing. Meeting the most important people in her life is another.

She offers again today. Dinner at her house, ya’ know, the one she still has because of you. It’ll be lowkey. Just the friends. Fun.

Although you crave it, you’re scared of it too. That’s why you’re shaking your head, giving another of those flimsy excuses. Kay just pats your arm.

“If you change your mind, you’re still more than welcome to come. I’ll text you the details, okay?” She’s got this way about her. Gentle but not condescending, a hard balance to strike. Too bad she’s on this near barren planet, she’d be a great mother.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you”

When the two of you hit the proverbial fork in the road- you go your way and she goes hers. You to the office and her to the mines. Both prisons in their own rights.

You watch her cross the street and join a tall man at the train station. His skin’s the same shade as hers, his eyes the same almond shape. He’s handsome in a way that you’ve only seen on screens, in those old movies your mom used to watch.

This must be the older brother she talks so much about. Tyler.

He says something you can’t quite decipher to her and then looks over her shoulder, across the street at you, and beams.

Its not a normal smile. It’s pearly whites flashed at you in a way that makes your heart skip a beat in your chest. When he gives you a smooth wave you feel like you might be knocked over.

You just know the grimace and jerky hand motion you give back is as awkward as it feels.

If you obsess about how much of an antisocial weirdo you are all day, that’s your own prerogative.

I mean come on? You can’t even manage to wave back at someone? You truly need to get it together.

You think about that as you eat dinner at your makeshift table that night. Maybe, you’re just out of practice. You’re not awkward, just dusty. You just haven’t spoken to anyone for more then five minutes since your upstairs neighbor had a pipe burst.

It’s what leads you to pulling out your phone, to pulling up Kay’s contact. It’s still new. Still fresh.

Is there anything I should bring?

You don’t have to wait long for a response.

Kay: Nope, just yourself!😊 [location attachment] see you tomorrow.

You stare at her response on the small bright screen until your eyes burn. This is the change you had craved so badly.

So why are you so scared?

This chapter kind of took on a life of its own. I so desperately wanted to have Bjorn in this but there was just- a lot of ground to cover. Next chapter we’re jumping right into introducing him (and smut towards a the end of that chapter to!)

Big shout out to @spikedfearn for letting me ramble like a crazy lady in her inbox. Her Bjorn content literally makes me salivate.

If anyone else is still going through Romulus hyperfixation please feel free to comment or send asks! I’m always here to chat!

[squeakadeeks]

Can I be nosy and ask how you got scurvy. In exchange you can take anything you want from my fridge vegetable drawer

oh totally. the fact that i had scurvy remains one of the weirdest twists in this ol life o' mine.

part of this story is funny, the other part not so funny. (TW EDs)

the not so funny part is I got to the point of developing scurvy in an insanely predictable way. I've had a clinical ED all my adult life and a lot of the PSAs warn you about the surface level stuff like "your hair will fall out!" "you'll be tired all the time!" which....yeah. but if you restrict hard enough and long enough youre basically doing a "stranded on a desert island DIY POV" simulation. not to sugar coat it but I was deeply unwell and doing some absolutely Insane things. i was living hot Sir Ernest Shackleton boy summer. except it wasnt hot it was horrible and Shackleton probably wouldve been deeply disappointed and confused by the whole situation.

but as one would naturally imagine if you are tit for tat nutritionally larping as a castaway, you will. Develop Diseases. I remember suddenly noticing that my teeth looked like straight ass and I was getting mouth sores but I wasnt sure why. I developed a fever for weeks that i couldnt shake, the skin on my hands kept chafing off and my fingers would lock up, in general my skin was really bizzare looking with weird scabs and dark spots, and overall i felt utterly awful. Ive been struggling with this for awhile so some of that was my ""normal"" at the time so I didnt really connect the dots until I was reading something about scurvy and went "haha funny sailor disease" only to pause and realise that with my dietary habits, i hadnt eaten fruit or anything containing vitamin C in well over a full calendar year. this caused me to look up the symptoms of scurvy with dawning horror that this mystery onset of symptoms was disturbingly close to scurvy, prompting me to go to the dr and low and behold I basically had la croix flowing through my veins with how terrible my blood levels were.

I was moving out for grad school within the season and i really didnt want to start that with a goddamn captain hook ass disease so for months I had to macrodose on vitamin C like I was a prized guinea pig. seeing those huge tablets still gives me flashbacks.

what gets funny is literally within the week of learning I had scurvy....I also had a major ocular melanoma scare. of which one of the treatments is to surgically remove the eye and/or have eyepatches involved. so for a few months in the summer of 2021 i was hobbling around with scurvy and an eyepatch on this beautiful green world of ours.

[paddockbunny]

“You’ll Survive”

Summary : Toto comes home from Australia sick. Toto being a big baby! Rating : N/A Pairing : Toto Wolff x Reader Word Count : 500 - one off blurb Trigger Warnings : this is pure fluff! Common cold/sickness if you don’t want to engage with that

The second the door closed and his heavy bags were dropped on the marble floor you already knew what was coming. As soon as Toto landed in Nice an hour ago he messaged you to say how unwell he was. At first you panicked because one thing you knew for sure about Toto was that he was rarely ever sick - the man took too many vitamins and supplements to be catching all the bugs that regularly went around the F1 grid - but upon listing his symptoms like you were his own personal Meredith Grey, you calmed down when you realised it sounded like he just had a case of the cold. Toto insisted (in lock caps) it wasn’t “just a cold” and he might have the plague or something equally as contagious and nasty. So the moaning and groaning that echoed through the halls of your shared abode made you get up to go check he would survive.

When you reached him you were actually quite surprised at how bad he did actually look. He was a slight pale grey colour and his brow was glistening in the early beads of sweat - essentially he looked like one of those shiny, creepy vampires from that late 2000’s teen novels but you decided not to tell him that and annoy him.

He coughed a few times which you thought was more for dramatic effect than actually coughing and turned to face you. “Help me.” He sniffled and you instantly thought how badly you would make him suffer if you caught whatever cold he had brought back from Australia with him.

The next day, after sleeping straight through his two alarms and never leaving the bed, Toto was no better and although seeing him so miserable tugged at your heart strings you hated him for keeping you awake with his constant coughing and spluttering most of the night. You fetched him some medicine and water from the kitchen and found him groaning again when you got back to your bedroom.

“I think I need a Doctor.” Toto overdramatised when he had to lift his head off the pillow to take the tablets you had brought him. “You don’t need a Doctor for a case of man flu.” Your eyes nearly rolled straight out of your head you eye rolled that hard. Toto never caught it. He was too busy sneezing into a tissue to notice. “I never get sick. Why is this happening to me?” That’s it. It was official. Toto was a pure bread drama queen. This performance was Oscar worthy. “Relax babe, it’s just a cold. You’ll be fine, you’ll survive.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he was staring up at you with big full “help me” eyes. Exactly the same way as he did it the night before when you put him to bed like a toddler.

Toto may have been the man, the “trouser wearer” as such, the boss, the one in command and control at work AND in your home. But you realised that the man was one big ass baby when he wasn’t well.

[shiyorin]

I was quite surprised when someone sent me a warhammer request on marshmallow, but here we go.

#Modern au. You are a designer who oftens works from home.

#Just a normal morning with primarchs

#Menu: Imperial Secundus

#I promise it only has romcom

Lion El’Jonson

Lion's eyes fluttered open. The alarm blared, jarring him from a dreamless sleep. He groggily fumbled along the nightstand, groping in vain until his palm struck the clock itself, knocking it to the floor. Finally, blessed silence.

He rolled over with a grunt, hugging the blanket tighter and started to drift back under. But a relentless pounding on his door shattered the tranquil haze.

"Lion!! Wake up!! You told me to wake you up early today!" came your insistent voice from the door.

Ugh, did he say that? Of course, he must have, you never would have disturbed his rest otherwise. Lion pulled the covers over his head, letting out a petulant growl. He'd finally gotten some leave time, intended to sleep it away after months of grueling deployments. But apparently obligation called once more.

There was an important PR ceremony today, some ribbons and handshakes to help soothe the civvie politicians. A necessary, but not how he wished to spend his brief repose. For a treacherous moment, the stubborn soldier considered ignoring your wake-up call.

But no. You would only escalate your reminders, and he cringed at the thought of what inventive method you might employ next time. Best to acquiesce... for now.

Lion threw off the sheets with a resigned sigh and swung his feet to the floor. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he padded into the bathroom, glaring at the haggard reflection in the mirror. His beard had grown considerably during his absence, an unruly rug framing the sharp angles of his jaw and cheeks.

He grabbed his trimmer and set to taming the wilderness, meticulously shaping it back into a crisp military cut. Freshly groomed, he tugs on the crisp dress uniform laid out the prior evening. Drab olive tones that do nothing for tired but befit the solemn occasion.

One last lingering look in the mirror confirms his stone-faced professionalism. No one would ever suspect the churning sea of doubts and regrets that dwell behind those cold eyes.

With a resigned sigh, he steps out into the living room. Immediately he's greeted by an unexpectedly enticing sight, you lounging on the sofa in minimal loungewear.

You were sprawled on one end of the sofa, some oversize tee and cotton shorts clinging to your languid form. A tablet danced in your delicate fingers, your face a mask of fierce concentration for whatever design you worked on. Lion couldn't help his treacherous eyes from tracing your curves, taking in expanse of naked legs on a sumptuous display.

On impulse, he crept closer behind your perch, locking onto that elegant neck arching so invitingly. He bent low, baring his teeth ever so slightly as a humid breath rolled across your flesh...

"What are you doing?!" 

You flinched bodily, whipping around with wide eyes. Lion recoiled slightly, caught like a schoolboy playing mischief. But your shocked expression melted into an exasperated look as he feigned innocence with lofty indifference.

"Nothing."

Lion cleared his throat.

"You know, you could go outside once in a while. A little sun might be beneficial."

You shot him an icy scowl over the edge of your screen before shrugging elaborately. "I get plenty of Vitamin D, thank you."

He snorted inwardly at the subtle double entendre. Of course you did. Drawing near with an exaggerated sigh, Lion jerked his chin down in clear expectation. You dutifully rose without comment and began smartly knotting his tie, making a few last tidy adjustments before stepping back to appraise your work.

Your bright eyes raked over his crisply-attired form, sparkling with unreadable thoughts before giving a slight nod of approval. "Very handsome. I'm sure they will like it."

"If only..." Lion muttered "I'll be counting the hours until I get cut loose from these."

His gaze subconsciously drifted to the framed awards and photos lining the shelves, stark reminders of his true calling, a life of struggle and valor amidst the echoing guns. And here, he felt like a caged beast, bored, aimless and shackled.

"Speaking of eating..." He turned back to you "What say we go out for a nice steak dinner tonight? I should be done with this whole circus by mid afternoon."

You cocked one shapely eyebrow, unmistakably intrigued. "A prime rib does sound tempting... and you're paying of course?"

"Better than tofu and kale, right?" Lion's eyes crinkled at the corners, indulging his rare playful side. "We could even get a nice bottle of Cabernet to go with it." 

You said with a smirk "Wait... Is this a date, sir?"

A delicate flush colored his cheeks for just a moment as he turned away dismissively. "Well, I'd say it's just dinner."

You chuckled "Alright sir, it's time to go.."

He shot you an incredulous look as you give him a wink.

"As if you're one to lecture anyone on getting out more..." He muttered under his breath once the door clicked shut.

But a smile played across his lips as he grabbed his keys and cover, already counting down the hours himself.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius slowly peels open his eyes as the first rays of dawn filter through the bedroom window.

Despite being a morning person in theory, his body protests at the early hour, muscles tight and eyelids heavy from a restless sleep. He drags himself out of the tangled sheets, padding wearily to the bathroom.

The hot shower does little to shake the lingering weariness. It clings to him like cobwebs as he towels off and slips into a plush silk robe, a small indulgence. He catches a glimpse of himself in the foggy mirror, pausing for a beat. His chiseled features and athletic physique betray no hint of the pain that gnaws at his insides lately.

Pushing those nagging thoughts aside for now, Sanguinius drifts out to the kitchen. He uncorks a deep Cabernet Sauvignon decanter to pour himself a generous glassful. Not exactly the most typical breakfast beverage, but he's long past caring about societal conventions.

When he turns to join you at the dinette table, he's greeted by the sight of his disheveled roommate cradle-hugging a steaming coffee mug. You're barely awake yourself, straggles of hair framing your bleary eyes. Despite your almost comical morning disarray, you're still the most gorgeous thing Sanguinius has ever seen.

Instinctively he opens his arms for an embrace, a silent good morning routine. You merely stare at him through slitted lids before downing the last of your coffee. Then, with neither word nor warning, you thrust the empty cup into his hands and turn to go.

Sanguinius is left bemused for only a heartbeat before chuckling softly. He rinses the mug out, refilling it with the last of the coffee and offering the fresh cup which you accept with a grateful nod. You vanish into the living room, curled up on the sofa mere moments later. Your bright LED monitor casts a blue glow across those striking, angular features, already immersed in rendering textures for another character model no doubt.

Padding over, Sanguinius gingerly retrieves his portfolio from beside the armchair. He sinks back into the plush cushions, leafing through page after page of Renaissance and Baroque masterpieces. Yet he can't seem to focus on the brushwork or chiaroscuro artistry today.

He finds his gaze drifting from the pages time and again, stealing glances at the beauty, studying the delicate shape of your lips, the color of your eyes, the effortless fluidity with which your graceful fingers fly across the keyboard.

"Don't stare at your phone and eat at the same time," He chides warmly as you start scrolling through work emails with one hand. "You'll choke."

"Fair point, from the man sipping wine at 7 AM."

You arches one shapely eyebrow but doesn't deign to reply further. Sanguinius drains his own goblet and rises to clean up. He takes his time, puttering about the loft tidying this and straightening that, all while keeping you in his sights through stolen glimpses.

Once finished with his little chores, he finds himself drifting over to your place without even thinking about it. You don't seem to notice or mind as he leans over the back of the sofa, studying your latest creation in-progress.

"Impressive," Sanguinius murmurs, genuinely awestruck by the master-level craftsmanship. "Truly remarkable."

You pause for a beat, gracing him with the faintest of smiles before turning back to the grindstone, lost in your creative zone once again. He remains looming over you for a long moment, close enough to catch the faint scent of your hair's jasmine essence and feel the soft warmth of your body heat.

Then, finally, Sanguinius straightens up with a heavy, wistful sigh. He pads across to collect his folio and jacket from the armchair.

"Well then, I should get going. I've got a gallery walk-through this afternoon for the new exhibition."

On impulse he leans down, throwing his arms around your shoulders to pull you into a tight embrace from behind. You stiffens for the briefest heartbeat before your body seems to melt and settle into him. He nuzzles his nose into your fragrant tresses for one fleeting, delicious breath.

"I'll see you this evening."

*****

Sanguinius sighs heavily, doing his best to focus on the massive abstract canvases arrayed before him. But despite the confrontational slashes of color and impassioned brush strokes, his mind keeps wandering.

Wandering to thoughts of your legs and hair as wild and as unkempt as the paintings themselves. To the smirking cupid's bow of full lips perpetually pursed in sardonic amusement at his romanticized notions.

A shiver runs down Sanguinius' spine as he recalls their very first encounter in vivid detail...

Perhaps today he might finally dare to put brush to canvas, crafting the masterpiece that's been swirling in his mind for months now. 

It may very well be the only art that truly matters in this life.

Roboute Guilliman

The pre-dawn stillness hung heavy over the apartment as Roboute Guilliman stirred awake. His body clock was precisely punctual, never requiring an alarm. But it had become a morning ritual nonetheless.

Rolling over, he lay motionless in the darkness, his soft breathing was the only sound. Exactly four minutes before the jarring beep of the alarm was due, Guilliman's hand shot out and silenced it. 

With a quiet sigh, the politician slipped from the bedsheets, feet touching down soundlessly on the carpet. As the sheets were tucked with crisp military corners, he pulled the curtain across the bedroom before retreating.

Down the hallway, he rapped his knuckles firmly on your bedroom door in passing. Just a simple courtesy to avoid catching you if you happened to be awake and roaming.

A low grumbling seeped out from behind the door. Apparently his roommate was still very much entombed in slumber at this hour.  

He shook his head with a sigh as he made for the apartment's main living area. You could easily sleep till noon if permitted. But you needed to get on a decent schedule, your deadline for that game company's new character model was rapidly approaching.

Guilliman shrugged into his robe and settled into his daily routine. First a pot of strong coffee set to brew while he goes out to the lobby for the morning paper. The brisk chill of the morning air roused his senses fully. 

As the newscasters on the television in the living room prattled about yesterday's legislative victories and this morning's planned protests, Guilliman flipped through the paper's headlines. A frown creased his brow as his eyes scanned snippets:

*...divisive new social policies expected to be blocked yet again as party ties remain locked in stalemate...*

*...public trust in elected officials is at all time low amidst deluge of corruption scandals...*

He shook his head with a weary sigh. The political realities of governance had proven far more vexing than any military campaign ever faced back in his service days. Compromise and incremental change seemed the agonizing order of the day, no matter how dire the situation.

The timer's shrill beep indicated the coffee was ready. Muscle memory took over as Guilliman retrieved the carafe, split the hot brew into two mugs, then poured in the respective milk and sugars to each's preferred taste.

Almost on cue, a sleep-tousled you shuffled into the dining room with a jaw-cracking yawn. Your silk robe hung open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the matching negligee beneath. 

"Mmmmmorning..." you mumbled groggily, bare feet padding across the linoleum.

Guilliman turned at the exact moment you wrapped your lithe arms around his midsection from behind with a contented sigh. Your cheek nuzzled against the flat planes of his back as he stiffened self-consciously.

"What's for breakfast, hmm?" Your voice was blissfully sleepy, still thick with half-dreams and warmth.

Clearing his throat, Guilliman gestured to the set table with a prim nod. "Belgian waffles and seasonal fresh fruit compote, as requested. With the coffee you prefer."

Your answering hum of delight vibrated through his robe pleasantly. "Love you."

Guilliman felt his face grow warm as you giggled, returning to slather the unappetizing bread-slab with sugary condiments. Best to ignore such needling - especially when you have a point. He couldn't help but spoil you.

… Besides, how many other politicians were roomies with a character model designer? He couldn't be too harsh.

Before he could react further, you released your lingering embrace and flopped bonelessly into your seat. Guilliman blinked, momentarily flushed, before joining you at their customary places across the small table.

They ate in a relaxed quiet broken only by the newscasters' prattling drone. Guilliman couldn't help noticing the elegant,delicate way your lips pursed around each forkful...

A loud slam from their neighbor's door shattered the reverie, making them both jump slightly. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a shake of his head. "Honestly, can people not control themselves for five minutes..."

You reached over to give his clenched fist a reassuring squeeze. "Any luck with the proposed housing reforms? I saw it was on the docket again this week..."

Swallowing hard, he mustered a tight smile. "Well, progress remains...incremental." His eyes flicked to the  mobs of irate citizens wielding placards and crude banners on television screens. "The special interests dig their heels in deeper every time."

"Just give it time." Your tone was soothing even through your usual wry inflection. You sipped your coffee thoughtfully, ruby lips leaving a perfect imprint on the porcelain mug. "They're going to feel awfully silly someday for not listening to you."

"I certainly hope--"

Guilliman glanced down at the time on his portable cogitator, eyes widening. "Blast! I'd best get moving if I'm on time for the morning session."

He rose swiftly, tucking in his chair and gathering the dishes in one practiced movement as you watched with bemused detachment. Within moments he was already depositing the load in the sonic dishwasher, suit cuffs neatly buttoned. 

At the door, he hesitated with one hand on the knob. Glancing back, Guilliman called over his shoulder, "I may be late this evening. There are deliberations scheduled on--"

"I know, I know." You waved him off with a little smile, one foot tucked under your thigh as you sipped your coffee. "More stuffy old men yelling and accomplishing nothing, as usual."

Lips pursing tightly, Guilliman simply grunted before slipping out into the corridor. Your teasing was affectionate but still stung just a bit.

Carefully straightening the crisp lapels of his suit, Guilliman cleared his throat. "Do try and not bury yourself in laptop too deeply today, yes? Your health is as important as any project deadline."

You waved an airy hand, taking an uncouth slurp of your coffee. "Yeah yeah, mom, I know the drill. Now get going before you're late for all your super important senatorial meetings."

Pausing at the door for one final longing look at that adorably disheveled figure, Guilliman repressed a smile. He truly was a lucky man, even if his roommate could be his pain at times.

As the oaken portal swung closed and his strides carried him off to another long, grueling day of civic responsibilities, the statesman couldn't help but look forward to returning home this evening.

[himalayan-organics]

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[barefoothighlander]

Howdy, may I request some ghost with a GN reader that sick and stubborn like. Will not go to the doc because :fear: and thinks sleeping it off always works

howdy hun, serving you some fresh simon fluff as he's my absolute fav, this one's pretty short but I thought it was cute, lil bit of domestic simon.

warnings: none just fluff, gn pronouns, typical cold symptoms

Your hoarse coughs echo through the house, a testament to your current state, your head ached and burned as you lay weak, wrapped in the bedsheets, Simon moves toward your body, placing a warm mug of tea beside the large glass of water that sat undrunk on your nightstand. He rests the back of his hand against your forehead,

"You're burning, and you haven't drunk anything since this morning" He looks at you apprehensively, "I think it's time to go to the doctor love"

You shake your head, the movement increasing the thrumming between your ears, "No, I'll be fine tomorrow, it's just a cough" you managed through wheezed breaths.

He skates a feather-light hand over your form, feeling the sweat gathering on your skin.

"You've been stuck in bed for three days, I'm starting to worry"

You stare at him, eyes half closed from your wary state, "Do we have any medicine"

His lips pull into a tight line as he sighs lightly, nodding and leaving to find some sort of cold medicine, "This is all we've got" he says raising a plastic bottle of pink liquid, your stomach churns at the mere memory of its taste, your face contorting.

"If you won't go to the doctor the least you can do is take it"

You purse your lips, reaching a hand out to grab the bottle before twisting off its cap and swallowing a mouthful, you smack your tongue at the taste.

"God that's awful," you say as Simon huffs a laugh,

"I'm serious, one more day like this and I'll carry you to the clinic myself"

Your eyes widen at his threat, a pool of anxiety settling in your stomach.

"I said no doctors Si"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to alright, I don't like being there, getting poked and prodded" you sigh, "Please just, drop it"

He nods in acknowledgement, "Did you want something to eat"

You shake your head "No, I'm just gonna have a nap" you say as you pull the sheets to cover your body, head falling back against the pillow.

He let you sleep for 30 minutes before he pushed his way into the room, setting a tray of soup and water in front of you, you sit up at the sight, face turning towards him.

"I know you said no but you need to eat something, this will help your throat, and I want you to take these after," he says, holding up a small cup of vitamins, "It's some vitamin c and ginger, they'll help"

You give him a meek smile as you scoot forward to pick up the spoon, before you can dip into the warm bowl he stops you, "Wait one sec", you're confused as he rushes out of the room, you hear clattering in the kitchen before he returns and seats himself on the edge of the bed.

"Crackers" is all he says, crushing a few in his hand before dropping them into the soup,

You smile, "My favourite"

He brushes the crumbs from his hands, opening his palms flat to direct your attention back to the food, you take a large bite, humming at the sensation easing the rough tickle in your throat as he just watches,

"It's really good"

"Made a mess of the kitchen but, best I could do"

"You aren't having any?"

"No, I uh, I ate earlier"

The truth was he had been so occupied in nursing you that he had forgotten to take care of himself, his clothes unchanged from the previous day, his hair a mess from lack of grooming, a slight stubble appeared around his chin, but you loved the way he looked no matter.

"You know, I get nervous in places sometimes too," he says quietly, you arch your eyebrow prompting him to continue,

He stutters for a moment, "I'm just saying I understand is all, the avoidance, wanting to tough things out"

You nod, a smile forming on your lips as you continue to eat the meal he prepared for you, chewing the small tablets he had given you after you finished.

"Thank you Si, I feel better already"

He laughs, he knows your body still aches but all he can do is help ease it, not wanting to push you into anything you were uncomfortable with, he removes the tray from the bed, placing the glass of water next to the growing stack of cups beside your head before sliding in behind your form, draping a loose arm over your waist and nuzzling into your neck, placing a soft kiss to it.

You hold him against you, letting his warmth ease the chill that had set in your body as you fall asleep laying next to the man you loved.

[astarlightmonbebe]

the appeal of yeojeong as a normal guy who’s just a little bit off. not enough that you would notice when talking to him, of course, but it’s just there, under the surface. a disturbance. and i think it’s interesting because typically you have two types of guys somewhat adjacent to this: guy who seems totally normal but is secretly sadistic/a psychopath, and then guy haunted by a traumatic/troubled past, who has that secret layer of torment running beneath the surface of their image. but yeojeong breaks through these archetypes, and i think part of it is because he’s just so...calm. it’s not that he’s living a double life (kind doctor by day, killer by night) or hiding part of his past (everyone he worked with knew about what happened to his father, and watched his downward spiral during his college days). he’s not the typical male character who is, at every attempt, trying to outrun his tragic past (even though he does run once or twice); he’s not haunted by flashbacks, or suffer from PTSD in the way that is usually portrayed in dramas. and i think part of that is because the glory is a story about victims. it’s dongeun’s story, first and foremost, even though it is also yeojeong’s story, and hyeonnam’s story, and sohee’s story. but it’s a story about dongeun’s pain, and when it’s not about her pain, it’s just about the pain of victimhood - unlike other dramas, this isn’t a show where male pain outweighs the rest.

so yeojeong is just a normal guy. he’s handsome. he has a good career. he’s a plastic surgeon, an interesting choice when both his parents were/are hospital directors, and his father seemed to have worked in the er or something of the sort prior to his death (or at the very least wasn’t a plastic surgeon). something could be said here of yeojeong choosing the ‘safe’ path as a doctor, a path where he cures pain and makes people happy without the added risk of being attacked by one of his patients. there’s no proof of that in the show - why he chose to be a plastic surgeon - but it’s an interesting thought path to travel. 

dongeun says he must have lived a good life. that he’s never had to worry about the path that he’s on. and that’s true, to a certain extent. to everyone, including her in the beginning, yeojeong is perfectly friendly. he’s perfect, but not the perfect that people perceive as too perfect (i.e. the guy who’s hiding things); he has his moments where he spazzes out, gets into fights, goes crazy over dongeun texting him back, teases his mom. he’s perfectly well adjusted (a perfect contrast to dongeun’s ‘maladjustment’). he wears flip flops to work and gets the same coffee order daily. he plays go with old men in the park.

he likes to listen to the fizzing of vitamin tablets in water because it calms him down. is this a strange thing? only because he thinks it’s important enough to mention to his therapist. he does it at work too - drops the tablet in, closes his eyes, rests his head. he does it at home - drops the tablet in, opens the drawer, draws a knife. it’s about the noise. bubbles rising to the surface, like bubbles rising from underwater. he stays underwater until the last possible moment, when he has to break the surface in order to breath. dongeun makes him feel like he’s at the eye of a storm - a deceptively calm center, while everything else rages outside. and i think it’s kind of important that he makes that comparison, when he’s someone always seeking that calm. the soothing noise, that makes him feel lonely.

so he’s just a normal guy. a normal guy who receives letters on a regular basis from the prisoner who brutally murdered his father. he doesn’t like letters, he tells dongeun. who knows what he does with the letters - does he keep them? does he throw them away as soon as he sees them? he must have read some of them; maybe you only need to read one to know what is in the rest. maybe he’s still reading them; maybe he keeps them without reading, an invisible torment. it’s not what he does with the letters that matters, but that he receives letters at all. 

can you still call it a haunting if you’ve almost made your peace with it? if you’re living with it? 

he’s just a normal guy, who looks his therapist right in the eyes and tells her that she couldn’t fix him. he diligently attends therapy for years on a regular basis, even though it doesn’t work. he finally abandons it when he moves to semyeong, because he chooses to embrace dongeun’s revenge. he chooses his own revenge, too, in a way. the dark part of him that he can’t escape. the one that makes him pick up the knife, who asks dongeun who to kill before she even tells him she wants any of them dead, even when he’s a doctor from a family of doctors, and doctors don’t kill - they save lives instead. 

you couldn’t fix me, he tells his therapist calmly. so calmly. as if there’s not a bloodied man sitting next to him, a man he dreams of killing. the man is just life to him, just like the letters are life to him to. a dulled numbness. an acceptance of it. 

is your son going through hell? can you even tell it’s hell, if it’s what you’ve become used to? is it hell when you’re a doctor dreaming of murder? is it hell to no longer be tormented by dead men and living murderers who send you letters? is it?

[hoenoredone]

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH – nanami kento

a/n: sorry for the inactivity, exams have been kicking my ass

contents: nanami is starting to get old. he used to be able to withstand nights of drinking until he passed out and the subsequent work day, but now the a/c gives him a cold. tags: sfw, enstablished relationship, married au, non sorcerer au, fem!reader, talks of snot and fever, unbelievably self indulgent.

unbelievable. un-believable. you knew something was wrong when nanami had made himself a cup of chamomile tea with a spoonful of honey the night before. he had told you he was just tired from work, but – realistically – who wants to have hot tea in the middle of july? he had been clearig his throat way too often before going to bed, and he looked like he was struggling to swallow whatever food you offered.

after years of marriage you knew better than to ask him about it, he'd only deny feeling unwell. so you do the next best thing: slip him a tablet for his sore throat with the usual vitamins he takes every night. he fell asleep almost instantly, his body already tired from fighting off the illness. he unintentionally woke you up at around 4am from blowing his nose a little too hard, causing him to cough into the tissue.

he struggled to fall asleep again after that, tossing and turning every couple of minutes, no doubt from not being able to breathe properly. it's in that precise moment (5:33am) when you decide that he's taking the day off tomorrow. he's an icredibly responsible worker, he has more than enough sick days accumulated to be able to use at least one.

you wake up before him – miraculously, considering how little sleep you got – and make him some breakfast as quietly as possible. you decided not to turn off his alarm clock because you knew he would not listen to you and simply rush straight to work if you had done that. so you opt to set the table and place the freshly squeezed orange and ginger juice next to his green tea and a bowl of honey-banana oatmeal.

you hear the familiar beeping of the alarm clock as you're pouring yourself a cup of coffee, and patiently wait for your husband to come into the kitchen. you must be lost in thought because you almost don't notie him until he rests his head on your shoulder and tries to stifle a cough.

"morning," he groggily says.

"sweetheart," you coo while turning to face him, "did you have trouble sleeping? i heard you coughing at some point. here," you place your coffee down on the counter and raise your hand to his forehead, "let me see."

you almost gasp at the heaviness of his eyelids and the unusual warmth of his forehead.

"kento, you look ill," and he knows you're serious, you never call him by his name.

"i feel fine," he tries, but he knows that it's useless. he doesn't feel too bad, just congested. and he has a headache. and his throat is killing him. he can power through.

"have some breakfast and go back to bed, i'll text your boss and bring you some medicine after," he can't even protest, the thought of having to get ready and go into that cold, cold office where his cubicle is inches away from the a/c sending chills down his spine. not like his protests would matter much, regardless, as you're already sprinting to his phone. so he sits down, alternates between sipping his tea and the juice you had made him (the ginger burns his throat but he forces himself to swallow). he tries to eat most of the oatmeal but his stomach just doesn't agree with him, so he leaves a little less than half of it in the bowl.

he's a good man, tidies up after himself even when oh so horribly sick, and goes back to bed. once you hear the rustling of the covers you know you've succeded. you exit the bathroom, a smidge of eye cream unblended on your cheek, and hand him a glass of water and some ibuprofen. you make sure he has enough tissues by the bed and leave him a bottle of cough syrup and a spoon on his nightstand. you tuck the comforter all the way up his chin and grab some clothes to get ready for work.

once you're ready you come back into the bedroom and almost decide to leave without giving him a kiss in fear of disturbing his rest. you opt against that, knowing how unusually whiny your husband gets when he's sick. so you place a gentle hand on his arm and leave a peck on his forehead.

"i'll try to be back for lunch," you whisper, "but if i don't make it there should be some leftovers in the fridge if you feel up to it."

he groans in response as you make your way to your shoe rack, a barely audible "love you" from him painting a smile on your lips as you quietly close the door.

[moni-logues]

Germs

Pairing: Hoseok x reader (gn)

Genre: comfort, sick fic, established relationship

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: When you come down with the flu, the last thing you expect is your germophobic boyfriend to come to your aid. But Hoseok is full of surprises.

Content: I mean, honestly, nothing, reader is ill.

A/N: I'm feeling rusty and tired so the aim is to get out some short little drabbly bits! this is one of them! I have just written it in the last hour; it is unbeta'd and honestly, not thought through at all and not edited lmao but it's Hobi and it's cute so.

* *

You took a stuttering breath in and then let out an unexpectedly forceful sneeze. Hoseok’s head immediately appeared around the kitchen door where he was cleaning up dinner. 

“Was that a sneeze?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you. 

“... No?”  

There was absolutely no denying but Hoseok had been telling you for two days now that you looked like you were coming down with something and you didn’t want him to be right. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, coming out of the kitchen fully. 

He threw a box of tissues at you and continued on to the bathroom, via the kitchen. When he came back, he sprayed the air in front of you with an antibacterial aerosol, he took out wipes for the TV control, your phone, the coffee table, the snacks on the table you had yet to open. He placed a glass of orange juice in your hand with vitamin C tablets and echinacea. He pressed a hand against your forehead and peered at you closely, looking for a glassy eye or unusual flush. He did all of this whilst wearing a mask.  

You had long given up trying to stop him—it was futile, which is why you had been so keen to deny the sneeze.  

When he was satisfied that you had taken the tablets and drunk your juice, he put a mask on you, too. 

“No taking chances, treasure. You are getting ill and I won’t have it.”  

You didn’t protest. You didn’t argue. Once he hit this point, there was no going back. You'd be sleeping in your own apartments for the next week at least. You also didn’t have the energy. Because you were pretty sure, too, that you were getting ill... If you were being honest.  

* 

The next morning hit you over the head with a sledgehammer. Your body was lead. Your head was an anvil. Even the blood in your veins felt sluggish. You were sweating under the bed covers, stifled. You used all your energy to smack your alarm clock into silence and pick up your phone. You sent a message to your boss to let them know you would not be coming into work. Then you let your phone drop somewhere in the bed and tried to go back to sleep. 

But sleep wouldn’t come. You tossed and turned but every position made you ache. You were too hot and too cold. Your head felt thick and muggy but you felt too alert to sleep. Everything was wrong.  

You wanted a cool flannel on your forehead and some hot, healing broth. You wanted a blanket and a blast of fresh air. You wanted a cold shower and a nice, hot bath.  

You wanted a cuddle. You accepted that this would not be coming from your germophobic boyfriend, but a stuffed animal really wasn’t cutting it. You sent him a plaintive text and received a string of exclamation marks and emojis in return. He promised to send you soup but you wouldn’t have been able to get out of bed to receive it. He promised to send you medicine, but same deal.  

You knew it wouldn’t actually make the illness leave you any faster or make any physical difference to your body; you just wanted him close to you. His heart-shaped lips on your forehead, his long arms around your waist, his clean, musky smell. The comfort you felt in his arms, the security, the safety, the softness. You knew he wouldn’t come. He was an angel in all ways but his penchant for cleanliness. You knew his care-taking could not extend to comforting you while you were ill. It was just his thing. He had never said as much but you watched him clean feverishly; you had to listen to his chastising of you whenever you didn’t clean something the right way or enough or just let him do it. He was a perfectionist and it extended into every area of his life. Including germs. And you were riddled with them.  

You left your phone ignored and sank back into the damp, sweaty sheets and tried again to find sleep. 

* 

It did, eventually, find you and you woke, hours later, to the echoing sound of knocking and a buzzing sensation somewhere near your legs. You flung your arm around beneath the duvet to find your ringing phone and answered it, speaking your very first words of the day. 

“Hello?”  

You sounded even worse than you thought you would. 

“Ohh, my girl, you sound so bad.” Hoseok sounded genuinely sympathetic. “Come and let me in, will you? I’ve been knocking at your door for ages.” 

It must have been a fever dream. Hoseok at your door? Hoseok entering the sick bay? Surely not. But the knocking came again from the other side of your apartment and his voice rang through the phone, asking to be let in.  

“Ok, hold on,” you wheezed into the phone before hanging up. 

With tremendous effort, you pulled your leaden body into a sitting position and gave yourself a few seconds to balance yourself. Then you stood carefully and shuffled to the front door. You had to pause, holding yourself up on the door frame, exhausted from the short walk there. You weren’t entirely sure you were not about to pass out and if that was going to happen, you really had to open the door before it. So you took a deep breath and pulled it open. 

Hoseok gasped and immediately put his arm around your waist, taking your weight on him as you stepped backwards and let him into the apartment. You let him lead you back into the bedroom but he took one look at the bed and steered you out again, setting you down gently on the sofa. He was still wearing a mask and you saw him click open a small bottle of hand sanitiser from the bag he’d brought with him.  

“Have some water,” he said gently, placing a bottle on the coffee table in front of you, alongside some painkillers and yet more vitamin C.  

Then he disappeared and you heard him fussing in the bedroom. He came out with an armful of laundry and put it in the washing machine. He walked back into the bedroom where he fussed some more. He took several trips back and forth between the supplies he had brought with him and your bedroom. He checked in on you to make sure you were drinking the water he’d brought. He made you a cup of herbal tea. You heard the fridge open and shut but couldn’t see what he’d been putting in or taking out.  

At some point, you nodded off again, this time sweating into the sofa cushions and shivering with no blanket. When you woke up, you had been transported.  

The room was bathed in a soft, warm glow; the sheets you were lying on were crisp and clean and smelt fresh like detergent; the air smelt fresh, too, clean, not too strong. You were too warm, again, but it wasn’t just your body this time. It was the body of the man pressed against you, his arms around you, his head resting against yours. 

“Hobi?” you asked, your voice not quite yet woken from your sleep. You cleared your throat and tried again.  

He pulled back to look at you. 

“Hey, treasure, are you feeling any better?” His voice was soft and quiet, as if being too loud might hurt you.  

His fingers were light as they brushed against your cheek. His lips were as soft as you wanted when he pressed them to your forehead. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked.  

“What do you mean? I’m here to take care of you! Of course I am!” 

You couldn’t work out if it was your flu-riddled brain that was making you stupid or that Hoseok really wasn’t making sense. 

“Why would you take care of me? I’m ill.” 

“Yes, that’s why you need taking care of. Has the fever fried your brain that badly?” 

You used what little strength you possessed to push back from him. You looked up at him with a deep frown and his pretty, open face looked back, his lips lifted at the corners in a gentle smile, his eyes sparkling, his hair falling slightly into his eyes.  

“But I have germs. You hate germs.” 

He chuckled and pulled you back into him, pressing a kiss into your hair. 

“I hate germs,” he conceded. “But I love you.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 14

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

As you choke down the iron tablets with a glass of prune juice, you wrinkle your nose and let out a noise of disgust. Worse than the vitamins and the constipation, you feel the shirt tight across the new curve of your stomach and how it peeks out in an ungainly fashion. You're only happy no one is around to witness how gross you are.

Lloyd's absence has been peaceful. A mission which has stretched on two weeks and left you anything but lonely. Quiet mornings and similar nights, only briefly interrupted by his check-ins. You keep the phone close if only stave off any concern or further interruption of your solace. You might be alright if this is the usual. If you could count on a respite from the torture of his existence.

You rinse out the glass and burp up a nasty mouthful of prune flavoured reflux. You cringe and put the glass in the rack. You have no plans but you aren't restless.

You find little things to do. Sometimes you walk on the treadmill and watch a reality show about women with overinflated lips, other times you settle down with a book, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous thrillers Lloyd keeps in perpetuity, or you simply zone out in front of the television. With your cravings running wild, your time is merely counted as hours between meals.

You make your way to the door and ease it open. Spring is coming, the snow is thawing to mud, and the air smells like rain. You take a seat on the simple white bench and rub your back as you watch the sky. You wince as the speaker beside the doorbell clicks.

"Enjoying the view, peaches?" Lloyd asks from his remote observation.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," you grumble, "I'm not that fast."

"Aw, baby, I know you're not gonna run," he taunts, "I'm just... enjoying the view myself."

You sigh and slap your thighs before you stand. You grown, keeping a hand on your hip as you move slowly. The extra weight, not much at all, is already straining in your back. You squint at the doorbell where you know the lens is.

"Dick," you utter as you pass by and go back inside.

"I didn't say you couldn't go outside," his echoed voice follows you inside, "wait, peaches... Mrs. Hansen. Give us a turn."

"Lloyd, leave me alone--"

"Wait, wait," he speaks, the noise of his fumbling rubbing against the mic, "better angle. Well, well, well, look at you. Is that junior I see peeking out beneath your shirt?"

"Stop," you hug your stomach, trying to hide it as you spin, dizzily searching for the seamless cameras.

He's quiet. You wait. The empty static dies and you think he's gone. You shake your head and go to the living room. You flop down and lean your head in your hand as you search through the menu for something to put on and fill the void.

As you hit play, the door flies open and jolts you from your comfort. You crane your head to look over your shoulder as Lloyd struts into the entryway, "honey, I'm home. And horny!"

"Jesus fuck," you snarl and turn back to the screen.

"Aren't you happy to see me, peaches?"

"Could've warned me--"

"Where's the fun in that?" He taunts as he comes behind the couch. As you drop the remote beside you he bends and kisses the crown of your head, "honey bee, I got an idea."

"Uh huh, that's always a good sign."

"Yes, you're a woman, you like simple things," he leans down and crosses his arm across the back of the sofa, "let's go shopping."

"Nah, I'm not really--"

"Look, baby, as much as I love seeing that soft tummy, you're gonna need something that fits and you're only going to get bigger."

"You think I don't know that. Lloyd, please, don't act like you care."

"Well, I do care. About my dick and how you make it feel, but nonetheless, I think by the time I get you in a cute little maternity dress, I'll be at full staff--"

"If I agree, will you be quiet?" You snap as your ears burn.

"I'll try but you know me well enough, peaches, I don't exactly know when to stop."

"For all your flaws, self-awareness isn't one of them," you mutter and push yourself to the edge of the couch.

Lloyd comes around and offers his hand. You haul your ass off the cushions and stand straight.

"Don't worry, baby cakes, I know you missed me," he winks, "that's what I like about you, the emotional repression."

💎

Your feet ache, even in the Vans you convinced Lloyd to buy you on the way in. New shoes are never comfortable but preferable to the unreasonable heels he keeps in good stock. You traipse behind him, nonplussed at the prospect of new clothes. You've never been a shopper and the last time you tried….

Well, you met him.

The memory chills you and floods your current reality. The realisation that a singular mortifying encounter became your foreseeable future. He sure had a way of ruining even the most mundane things.

Several stores down and you could collapse already. Even as he carries the load, you feel as if you're bogged down, hauling a boulder across the desert. You struggle to keep up with his long strides.

"I think we got enough," you puff, "really, not like I go anywhere."

"There's one more stop, then I'll take you home and rub you down," he winks as he nearly bowls over another shopper, his shoulder hitting theirs with an indifferent force, "get you oiled up and relaxed."

You sneer at him, even as the suggestion bubbles beneath your skin. No, he's not going to get to you. He interrupted your you time. One more he's ruined it all and for what, so you can buy stretchy leggings.

He turns into a black fronted shop, the pink moniker sending your heart into overdrive. No. He doesn't stop.

You trail behind him reluctantly. Shameless as always, he stops before the table of thongs and drops the bags by his feet, he stretches a lacy vee and faces you, holding them up to measure.

"Low rise so enough room for–"

"Lloyd, jesus," you cover yourself instinctively, "we're in public."

You feel the steady boil, the tingle that creeps up your thighs and ensnares your chest.

"Never stopped me before," he goes back to fishing through the displays, messing up the carefully folded piles, "satin… now what's the point in these?" He raises a thong that's little more than string, "well, if the point is to get me hard–"

"Quit," you beg as his words carry and the associates giggle at each other. Your cheeks burn even hotter, the sudden surge in your core surprising you.

"Let's find something to try on," he gathers the bags with one hand, several pantites clutched in the other, "hello," he greets the women behind the counter, both young and dressed in sleek back, "do you mind if we leave these? We're gonna have a look around."

"Uh, yes, sir," the blond chirps, "we'll keep an eye on them, no problem."

"I'm sure you will. Gorgeous blues," he compliments, "and that smile."

You frown. That's not cool. You're standing right there. It's not jealousy but the fact that he has no regard for you. That these young girls must assume you're some nag of a wife, easily forgotten for a pretty face.

You roll your eyes and strut away. He follows and chuckles. He's not dumb enough to think you care, surely not. Or that you would even think of dragging him out a fucking him in the backseat--

Because you wouldn't.

He take a leather corset and tests the resistance, "guess this is probably too much, we need something flowy."

"Whatever you want," you shrug.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing, grab what you want and let's go. I'm sore and hungry and tir–"

"Horny? Ah, okay, okay, sorry, I just thought… it's been two weeks."

"Don't," you growl, "I'm hardly in the…" you pause and stare at his hand as he grabs a baby blue teddy with an open front. It's like you can feel his touch already, "...mood."

"This," he wiggles the teddy, "looks cozy. Easy to rip off you."

"Sure," you swipe it away, "whatever gets me outta here." You go back to the girls at the desk, "hey, can I get a fitting room, please?"

"One sec," the blonde jingles her keys on her belt.

She comes around and you follow her to the back area. She lets you into a stall as Lloyd wanders up.

"You go to school?" He asks as you pull the curtain shut.

"Uh huh, law."

"Oh, sexy, a lawyer," he flirts, you can picture him stroking his dumb mustache, "freshman?"

"Sophomore," she replies as you strip down.

You shake your head as you pull on the teddy. You don't like how much of your stomach shows or how your tits feel like they're gonna fall out of the cups. You peek in the mirror, oh great, they also look humongous.

"Lloyd," you call as the girl giggles, "can you help me with this?"

"Yes, honey," he returns, "sorry, wifey's expecting and she's not as limber as she used to be."

"Aw, you're so helpful," the girl praises shrilly, "just let me know if you need anything else."

You face Lloyd as he comes through the curtain and you grab the front of his jacket. He blinks and gives a startled grunt, "hm?"

"Shut up and sit down," you swing him around and shove him onto the bench, "I'm should fucking smack you, you know that?"

"You should," he say brightly.

You narrow your eyes at him. He watches you boldly, mockingly. You hate him so bad but you also can't think of anything else but the way his shoulders look so broad and his chest strains his jacket tautly. You grab his belt and fumble with the buckle.

"Wait–"

"Shhhh, you'll get us in trouble," you hiss.

"Baby, it's not me making trouble for once," he sits back with a grin.