myliteralhyperfixations19

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

a/n; your favorite boys are very needy hehe, hope you enjoy! thank you for reading!!! and my messages have been acting wacky (T_T) if you sent a message and I didn't reply, please send me again! have a good day/night!! slow updates still (ノωヽ)

pretty nails, pretty back. fluff. very suggestive. fem!reader. | not proofread.

when he pays for your nails just so you'll scratch his back.

♡ For all your ("Gimme back scratchies") favorites.

more of your favorite boys!

more reads!

જ⁀🏐ᯓ⚽⋆⭒˚.⋆🌌

You don’t think much of it when you tell him you’re getting your nails done. You toss it casually over your shoulder as you stand in front of the hallway mirror, fixing your hair—

"I’m thinking of doing that pastel pink, y’know? Something summer-y.”

He looks up from the couch, protein shake in hand, about to go for his run. His expression doesn’t change. There’s maybe a faint twitch in his brow. Or maybe that’s just how his face is when he’s trying not to care too much.

“You want me to pay for it?”

“Hm? What?”

“Your nails, baby,” he says. “Put it on my card.”

“…Yeah, but why?” you ask, pouting up at him. “I can pay.”

He shrugs. “I got it.”

“You never just ‘got it,’” you accuse, squinting at him suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

A familiar smirk tugs at his lips. “No catch. Just wanna spoil my girl. That so bad?”

Okay… it wasn’t not believable. He did like to spoil you in that quiet way of his—“just because” flowers left on your desk, his hoodie thrown over your head when you shivered, snacks from that shop you mentioned once four months ago. But still, something about the way his voice curled at the edges made you wary.

You narrow your eyes. “I think… you want something.”

“Mm. Maybe.” 

He pushes off the couch, stretching lazily, then leans down to kiss the top of your head. His hand lingers on your hips for a second before giving your ass an encouraging little pat.

“Just come back looking pretty for me,” he murmurs, already heading for the door, earbuds in hand, leaving you stunned and flustered like always. 

So here you are, hours later—home from the salon, nails gleaming as you slip your shoes off at the front door. 

You went full girly for this one: baby pink with little white daisies on your ring fingers. Something sweet. Something soft. Something that, stupidly, kinda makes you want to bounce up to him, like look how pretty I am. 

Instead, you walk in quietly. He’s already on the couch, shirtless, sprawled out sore from his run. 

You swallow.

“Hey,” you say, slipping your tote onto the hook by the door. “I’m home.”

His head lolls toward you. “Yeah? Lemme see.”

He reaches for you, fingers curling gently around your wrist as he tugs you closer between his legs.

You bite your lip, cheeks warm, and hold out your hand, giggling softly. “Aren’t they pretty?”

His eyes flick down, then back up. Something dark settles in his gaze.

“Yeah. Real fucking pretty, baby,” he murmurs, almost too quiet. He lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

It’s uncharacteristically gentle and makes your chest ache a little, the way he lingers there, like he’s going to say something deeper—

“Butttt,” he drawls, still holding your hand, thumb lazily brushing over your fingers, “you owe me now. You know that, right?”

—Okay. Maybe not. 

“Oh, here we go.”

“I paid for your nails, so I need my return on investment.”

You’re unamused as you raise a brow. “What kind of return, exactly?”

He leans back into the couch, the perfect picture of entitlement. “Back scratches. Obviously.”

You blink. “That’s why you paid?”

“Why else would I do something nice?” he teases, flashing you a grin. “I’m a simple man. I see pretty nails on you and think ‘yeah, she should drag those down my back.’”

You gape at him, but he just pats his lap. “C’mere, baby. Put ’em to work.”

You try not to overthink it as you straddle him slowly, knees on either side of his thighs, heart pounding. But the moment you settle, he shifts and flips you over gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck in the process until you’re lying along the couch with your head on the armrest.

He slots himself between your legs, arms wrapping around your waist. His head finds a home on your chest—right between your breasts. His back is bare, golden, toned, and waiting.

“Perfect,” he mutters, nuzzling in with a sleepy sigh. “Now mark me up.”

Your breath catches. “But—”

“Hmm?” You feel the rumble of his voice against your sternum. 

“You said you’d scratch my back. So scratch.”

Your lips twitch as a sudden wave of boldness flutters in your chest. Instead of obliging right away, you lift one hand and gently tangle your fingers in his hair—soft at the nape, slightly damp from his shower—and give a light tug… just enough to make him lift his head and look at you.

“Actually,” you tease, voice soft, “I never agreed to anything.”

He stills, then scoffs, expression utterly unimpressed, brows quirked up in that classic really? look.

“I paid for your nails.”

“And that’s the bare minimum, yeah? Not princess treatment.”

“Oh baby,” he drawls. He lifts his head to smirk down at you, eyes half-lidded. “You wanna go there?”

“Mhm,” you hum, pretending not to notice the way his weight shifts between your legs. “Since it’s the bare minimum… you don’t get prince treatment.”

He lets out a breathy little laugh, more of a heh, and cocks his head to the side, surely about to ruin you.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he warns. “You don’t wanna go there.”

“Why not?”

“Who suffered through Tokyo traffic and drove three hours to Nagano to bring you back ramen takeout?”

“You didn’t have to—!”

“Who got you and your girls plushies because “we’ll die without them.”

“Hey! We chipped in—!”

“Who gives you a daily allowance just for looking cute? Hm? Who lets you use his card for ‘stress shopping’ every time work gets too much?”

“...Okay, that is not—”

“And,” he says, leaning in even closer, voice dropping an octave, “who fucks you when you’re needy, baby? Who makes it better when you’re all whiny and worked up and can’t sleep unless you’re dripping on cock?”

Oh. 

Shit. 

Your face heats, and you suck in a breath.

He grins smugly; he’s got you right where he wants you. His nose brushes your cheek, lips barely grazing yours. “So, go on, princess. Tell me again how I don’t get prince treatment.”

You glare up at him, cheeks flushed, voice a whisper now. “You’re such a dick.”

“Your dick, though,” he agrees. 

You hate how true that is; you hate it almost as much as you love it.

So you shut him up the only way you can.

By finally scratching down his back.

It starts slow—soft drags of your fingertips down the expanse of his back, nails tracing lazy, teasing paths along the tip of his spine, across the swell of his shoulder blades. You’re delicate, painting affection across him one scratch at a time.

He lets out a deep breath and shudders slightly, his body sinking heavier against you. And for the first time tonight, that smug, cocky exterior of his begins to fade. All that usual teasing melts into something quieter, something raw. 

“That good?” you ask shyly, unsure.

“Shit… yeah,” he mutters, rougher now, a rasp curling around his words. His shoulders slump, jaw slack against the curve of your chest. “Keep going.”

You drag your nails a little deeper this time—scratches that leave a warm sting behind. He shivers under your hands, breath hitching every time you hit a spot just right. His fingers grip your waist, grounding himself, holding you tighter.

“Harder,” he says suddenly, voice hoarse, almost pleading. “Baby, go harder.”

You pause for a moment only to dig in a little more with each stroke, scratching firm lines down the length of his back. The pressure leaves faint, blooming pink trails in your wake. He groans softly, barely holding it back, and the sound makes your stomach flip.

“That’s it. Fuck, that’s it… pretty girl. Just like that.”

His hips press down into yours steadily, a lazy grind that feels unconscious, chasing relief without realizing it. You gasp softly as the pressure hits just right, but you let him... let him move with you.

Your legs part a little wider. You meet the next slow rut of his hips with one of your own, your breath shallow as your bodies find a rhythm—unspoken and messy.

And when he moans your name, your touch grows bolder… needier. You let your nails bite into his skin, not enough to break it, but enough to leave you were here carved into him.

And you want it to be known you were here—

So you move with intention, tracing the first letter of your name just beneath his shoulder blade. One letter. Then another. And another.

He stiffens.

You finish the curve of the last letter, your name now scratched—subtly, possessively—into his back.

He feels it.

“Baby…” he breathes out, voice shaking, wrecked. “Did you just—”

You nod. “Mhm. Wrote my name.”

He groans, guttural, forehead pressing harder against your chest. “Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re so hot...”

And then—like he needs to do something, anything—he tilts his head and kisses the exposed skin just above your neckline. But it’s not soft… it’s hungry.

His lips part, and he sucks rough, teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper. His hand slips under your shirt to steady your waist as he works at the spot, trying to leave a mark; his own name written in bruises, just like you scratched yours into his skin.

You sigh his name in bliss, barely holding back the shiver. “Feels good.”

“Yeah? It’ll feel more good if you keep goin’, baby. Scratch me up.”

You do.

And if that means keeping your nails pink and pretty for him to groan under your touch every day?

You’re in.

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

National Girlfriend Day Celebration

18+ | Fluff | Established relationship | just pure fluff |

wc: 2059

a/n: I am still taking requests! Enjoy! :)

The faint hum of your favorite playlist drifted through the apartment, low and sweet like a serenade. The smell of your perfume hung in the air, warm and floral, mixing with the scent of the fresh roses Nanami had brought home that morning. A dozen blush-pink blooms, delicately arranged in a glass vase on your dresser.

It was National Girlfriend Day, and although you joked about it being just another silly internet holiday, Nanami treated it with reverence.

He always did when it came to you.

You stood in the bathroom, staring at your reflection. Your curves filled out the soft, black satin dress you’d picked out hours ago. The neckline dipped just enough to be flirty, and the slit in the side showed off the roundness of your thigh when you moved just right. You smoothed your palms down your waist, trying to push down that little flutter of nervousness that always crept in on date nights wanting to look beautiful for your kind wonderful boyfriend.

Behind you, the door creaked open slightly.

“Still getting ready, sweetheart?” Nanami’s voice carried in, warm and deep like honeyed bourbon.

You could see his reflection in the mirror now sitting on the edge of the couch behind you in the living room, suit jacket tossed over the armrest, crisp white shirt rolled to the elbows, collar unbuttoned like he’d rushed home just to get to you sooner. His tie was loosened but still clinging to his neck. That clean, quiet power he carried in his shoulders never faltered even when he was relaxed.

“I’m almost done!” you called back, adjusting your earrings. “I just want everything to look perfect tonight.”

There was a pause. Then a soft sigh.

“You already do.”

He wasn’t one to shower compliments recklessly. But when Nanami said them, they landed deep in your chest, with all the sincerity in the world.

You stepped out moments later, barefoot, heels in hand.

“Should I wear the strappy ones or the closed-toe?” you asked, holding up both.

But Nanami didn’t answer.

He was staring.

Like he couldn’t decide whether to fall to his knees or pull you straight into his lap.

His lips parted slightly, brow ticking in admiration.

“That dress...” he said slowly, sitting back. “Come here.”

You blinked, one heel still dangling from your fingers. “Which one—?”

“Just come here.”

You took a few hesitant steps until you stood between his knees. He leaned forward and set your shoes down beside the couch, then ran his large hands up the backs of your calves, over the backs of your knees, until they gripped the softness of your thighs.

“Sit,” he murmured.

Your heart leapt.

“You haven’t even told me where we’re going yet.”

“We’ll get there,” he said. “But I need a moment with my girl first.”

You climbed onto his lap, knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. He groaned quietly when your body settled against him, his hands roaming up the fabric of your dress palming the generous curve of your ass before resting one hand at your waist and the other on the exposed top of your thigh, right where the slit began.

“This dress is dangerous,” he said with a low chuckle, leaning in to press a slow kiss beneath your ear. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“Only dangerous if you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you teased, threading your fingers through his golden hair.

He tilted his head and looked at you—-- like really looked.

“I don’t want to keep my hands to myself. Not tonight. Not when you look like this.”

Your cheeks flushed.

His hands traveled again, one drifting up your spine, the other curving under the hem of your dress. His palm was hot against your skin, and the way his touch lingered made you ache.

“You’re perfect to me, you know that?” he said, voice velvet-smooth and reverent. “Every inch. Every curve. You make it impossible to think about anything else.”

You rolled your hips instinctively, dragging a ragged breath from his lips. He exhaled into your neck, then kissed it softly.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he whispered. “And I don’t care what day it is I want you to feel that. Every second.”

You whimpered, burying your face in his neck as his hands slid higher over the waistband of your panties, gripping your waist, pulling you tighter against the growing heat beneath his slacks.

“You’re mine,” he growled softly. “Tonight, tomorrow always.”

You pulled back and kissed him, hard. His lips met yours in kind, fierce, adoring, hungry. Your hips moved against him as his hands explored the swell of your thighs, the softness of your waist, the curve of your breasts pressing against his chest.

Nanami pulled away, breathless, and rested his forehead against yours.

“We still have dinner reservations,” he said with a smirk. “But if you keep this up, I’ll be forced to call and cancel.”

You giggled, brushing your nose against his. “We can be a little late…”

“Mm. Dangerous,” he murmured again, trailing kisses down your throat. “Then again, so are you.”

“You wore this dress for me,” he says, more statement than question. He leans in, lips brushing the curve of your ear. “You know what it does to me.”

You hum, teasing, “You make it sound like I have too much power.”

He chuckles lowly, hands now at your hips, tugging you closer until your chest brushes his. “You do. It’s criminal, honestly. You walk out looking like this and expect me to wait patiently while you finish your eyeliner?”

You grin. “Maybe I just like teasing you.”

The air thickens between you. His hands wander not rushing, not desperate. Nanami always touches like he has all the time in the world. One hand slips beneath the hem of your dress, dragging over your thigh. The other finds your waist, gripping gently, grounding you against the growing heat between his legs.

You shift a little, just enough to draw a rumble from his chest.

“Is this really how you want to celebrate National Girlfriend Day?” you murmur, smiling against his lips.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you think there’s a better way to honor the love of my life than having her straddle me in a dress that’s ruining my self-control?”

You laugh, tilting your head back, but it quickly turns into a soft gasp as he leans forward and presses open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“I had a dinner reservation,” he breathes between kisses, “but I’m starting to think dessert came early.”

You press your forehead to his, breath shaky now. “Nanami…”

His hands still, just for a moment, and he looks into your eyes

“Don’t want you to stop.”

He exhales slowly, lips parting in a soft smile. “Good.”

Then he lifts you, just slightly, adjusting you so you're seated snugly in the cradle of his lap. He groans at the contact, hands now sliding higher under your dress, worshipful.

“You feel…” he whispers, “like everything I ever needed.”

You lean down, kissing him slow, deep. His hands find your waist again, gripping, guiding you as he rolls his hips up, slow and measured, the promise of more just beneath the surface. He kisses like he studies with full attention, no detail missed. One hand tangles in your hair, angling you closer. His other presses possessively into your lower back.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips. “Every inch of you. Every sound you make. Every look you give me. You're perfect.”

You shiver at the intensity of it, and the way his slacks rub against that sensitive part of you. His hands never stop moving, learning your body all over again.

And when he lifts your dress just a little higher and trails his fingers along the edge of your thighs, he grins. Your whole body shivers as you keep grinding down on his bulge feeling yourself getting wetter.

“You wore lace, and god you're already wet for me” he says, reverently. “You’re trying to kill me.”

You gasp. “Only a little.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses you so deeply you almost black out. “Then die I will. Happily. Repeatedly.”

You giggle into his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest, and you sit there for a long moment , heartbeats racing, breaths tangled, as you calm yourself down from the edge.

Still, he whispers, “Dinner then I'm gonna make you feel how much you mean to me.”

—---

The restaurant was softly lit, elegant but not pretentious, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The kind of place with polished wood accents, fresh flowers at every table, and a jazz quartet playing low and mellow in the background.

He helped you out of the car with a warm hand on your back and whispered, “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world tonight.”

“Tonight?” you teased as the hostess led you to your table, your dress flowing around your legs like water. You felt so good in it feminine, confident, soft and you saw the way every eye in the room subtly shifted towards your date as you passed.

“Every night,” he said simply, pulling your chair out for you. “But tonight, it’s official.”

The corner booth was semi-private, tucked in just enough for whispered conversation and stolen glances. Nanami sat across from you at first, his fingers reaching across the table to brush yours. His expression was unreadable to most, but you could see how his eyes traced the curve of your cheek, the way your lipstick made your lips look even more inviting.

“You keep staring,” you said, flushing as you reached for the menu.

“I keep falling in love,” he replied. “It’s not the kind of thing I can control.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re being dangerously sweet right now.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dipping to a low murmur. “You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you since the moment you walked out of the bathroom.”

Your thighs pressed together under the table as his voice curled around you like warm velvet.

“Like what?” you whispered.

Nanami’s eyes didn’t waver. “Like how your dress is driving me insane. How I’ve never been so tempted to skip a reservation in my life. How proud I am to have you beside me tonight. I want every person in this place to see what I already know: I’m the luckiest man alive.”

He watched your lips part, just a little, your fingers tightening around the stem of your water glass.

Then, after your appetizer arrived, he stood and slid into the booth beside you instead of staying across the table.

“Kento—” you started, surprised, but he just smiled as he reached for your hand under the table.

“I want to be closer to you,” he said softly. “Can I?”

You nodded, heart racing. He leaned in, mouth brushing just behind your ear.

“Your perfume,” he murmured. “You smell like everything I don’t deserve but crave anyway.”

You nearly dropped your fork. The words, the way his lips barely grazed your skin it was like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Stop trying to seduce me in public,” you said, voice shaking slightly from how flustered you were.

He laughed and the sound melted through your spine. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

Throughout the meal, he kept you close, his hand resting on your thigh under the table, fingers brushing up your arm, his palm pressed between your shoulder blades when you leaned in to speak. And each time you laughed or smiled at him, his eyes drank you in like he was toasting to the rest of his life. You blushed. He beamed. He wasn’t just showing you off he was worshipping and loving you in plain sight. And when the check came, he paid quickly and leaned toward your ear one last time before the night shifted again.

“You’re coming home with me,” he whispered, lips grazing your cheek. “And I want to undress you slowly. I want to memorize every new curve of this dress and then I want to learn what’s beneath it, like it’s the first time all over again.”

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

What do yall want for national girlfriend day it will be super sappy may include smut depending on the character

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

So Special

18+ | Insecurity | Fluff | Established relationship | Soft Angst with Fluff | Hurt Comfort | Body Love |

wc: 1000

a/n: This is for @supermansskin .  Let me know what you guys think, I haven't seen the movie yet and this is my first time writing him! I am still taking requests! Enjoy! :)

The library was silent at night—just the way you liked it.

Most people didn’t know librarians sometimes stayed after hours. There was shelving to finish, inventory to log, donations to sort. It was your quiet haven, a place where you didn't have to be anything other than yourself. And yet, lately, you felt like even that wasn’t enough.

You were ordinary. Painfully so. And that truth echoed louder than the overhead lights humming above you.

Especially when he showed up.

Superman.

Clark.

God, even thinking his name made your heart stumble. Clark was everything. Towering, heroic, impossibly handsome with eyes that glowed with kindness and strength. And he looked at you like you were his whole world.

Which made no sense.

You weren’t one of those glossy women with curves in the “right” places or perfectly tousled hair. You weren't anything like Lois Lane. You were soft in ways magazines didn’t praise. You were loud and angry when you could be. You wore oversized cardigans, avoided photos, and sometimes spent too long staring at yourself in the mirror wondering why he’d chosen you.

The answer never came.

Until that night.

It was almost midnight. You’d been closing up, pulling your coat on, trying to shake off the day and the doubts that came with it. 

When you felt a soft gust of wind.

And a shape outside the tall library window.

You turned, and there he was.

Hovering.

Cloaked in moonlight and midnight-blue shadows, the red of his cape fluttering behind him like some myth etched into reality. His eyes found yours instantly, glowing faintly. Not with heat vision but with affection.

“Clark,” you whispered, heart hammering.

He floated down silently, boots barely making a sound on the library floor. He always did that. Quiet like a secret only you got to keep.

“You’re working late again,” he said, voice low, rich, warm like velvet.

“I... yeah. I lost track of time.”

He took a step closer. You took a step back. You couldn’t help it. In his presence, all your doubts surged forward like waves.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted.

His brow furrowed. “For what?”

You looked away. “For not being… I don’t know. What you deserve. You're Superman. And I’m just… me. A librarian who drinks too much coffee and gets winded climbing stairs.”

He was in front of you in an instant, gently tilting your chin so your eyes met his. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“But it’s true,” you whispered. “I don’t understand why you’re here. Why you keep coming back to me.”

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them, fierce with emotion.

“You think I don’t see how extraordinary you are?” His voice cracked with something raw. “I hear the way your heart speeds up when you read something beautiful. I know how you cry quietly at sad endings because you don’t want anyone to see your softness. I hear your laugh in my head when the world gets too loud.”

You blinked, speechless.

“I hear everything,” he said gently. “And nothing is more grounding than the way you whisper my name when you think I’m not listening.”

You stepped back, overwhelmed. “Clark, I’m not perfect. I’ve got stretch marks and soft arms and days when I hate what I see in the mirror. I'm not Superman. I'm painfully ordinary. I’m…”

“Real,” he interrupted. “You’re real. And beautiful. Not despite those things. Because of them.”

He floated up slightly, then hovered back down, placing a small, folded piece of paper in your hands. You unfolded it.

Your handwriting. A quote from a novel you shelved last week. “Even the stars are not immune to gravity.”

“You wrote that on a scrap of paper and left it behind,” he murmured. “I found it. And it made me realize I'm the star. And you're my gravity.”

Tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them. His arms were around you a moment later, warm and sure, pulling you against the S on his chest like you were the most precious thing in the universe.

“I don’t love you in spite of who you are,” he whispered into your hair. “I love you because you see me not the cape, not the powers. Me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

You looked up at him, cheeks wet.

“I don’t need perfect,” he said. “I need you.”

And in that quiet library, while the world outside buzzed with its noise and chaos, your Superman kissed you slowly, like you were the answer to every question he’d ever asked the stars.

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

Boo, Baby- Ghostface AU

 18+ | Mask Kink | Plus-Size Worship | Teasing | Possession | Rough & Soft | Praise + Obsession | Body Love | Fluff | Smut 

wc: 1336

a/n: This is for personal pleasure use your imagination! Let me know what you guys think and if you want a part 2! I am still taking requests! Enjoy! :) Also heavily inspired by caught up by navessa allen! 

It started with the creak of the hallway floorboards.

You froze mid-step, popcorn in one hand, phone in the other. You were alone or so you thought. But the lights had been flickering all night. The wind outside was howling like a banshee, and you swore the door had been locked when your boyfriend left earlier for “snacks.”

You should’ve known better. The man thrived on games.

Twisted, thrilling, borderline-dangerous games that made your skin crawl in all the best ways.

And now… your heart skipped.

The hallway was dark. Too dark. The overhead bulb had blown out earlier, and all that remained was the soft blue hue of the TV casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Then came a buzz.

Unknown Number: “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You stared at it, unamused, standing in the hallway with your robe slightly open and popcorn in your hand.

“Really?” you muttered. “That’s the best he’s got?”

You sighed dramatically and texted back.

You: You left your phone on the couch, dumbass. Try harder.

No response.

“…Baby?” you called out cautiously, trying to keep your voice level. “Okay, babe. Joke’s over. Not cute.”

Then came the creak of the upstairs floorboards.

Your stomach dropped. “Oh hell no,” you whispered.

But then a voice, low and distorted, filtered through the hallway shadows:

“Boo.”

You dropped the popcorn with a yelp. “Oh, hell no! I am too thick to be running through this house like I’m in ‘Scream 6,’ dude!”

A tall, broad figure appeared at the top of the stairs: Ghostface mask, long black robes, knife glinting in one gloved hand.

Your voice came out shaky: “Babe, I swear to God—”

He didn’t answer. Just tilted his head slowly... and charged.

You screamed, laughing in spite of yourself, and ran, feet flying across the hardwood. “You’re such a sick freak!” you shouted, dodging around the couch as he pursued with heavy, stomping steps.

He chased you down the hallway like a hunter, letting the dull edge of the fake knife scrape along the wall for added drama. “Run, baby girl,” he called out through the mask, voice modulated and rough. “Let me catch you.”

“You’re gonna catch these hands!” you shouted back, ducking into the dining room.

He rounded the corner, growling playfully. “I love when you fight back.”

You laughed breathlessly, pulse pounding, heat beginning to pool in your core despite the thrill. He knew exactly what this was doing to you.

The tension. The chase. The danger.

You heard him stomp behind you. “Faster, princess,” his voice rasped through the voice modulator. “Make me work for it.”

You spun around the island. “Work for what? Your cardio?”

“You’re the prize,” he growled. “You know how long I’ve waited to catch your pretty body?”

You gasped as he grabbed your wrist and yanked you toward him, then immediately spun you, slamming you back against the wall. Chest heaving. Eyes wide.

Mask inches from your face.

“Idiot,” you panted, “you scared the shit out of me.”

“You liked it,” he said, his voice cold and sweet like poisoned honey. The knife dragged down your chest, sliding beneath your robe, parting it just enough to let the cool air kiss your skin.

“I like parts of it,” you huffed.

“Oh yeah?” he breathed, leaning in closer. “What about the part where I make you scream first?”

Your thighs clenched.

He leaned down slowly, dramatically, still fully masked, and knelt at your feet.

“Let me taste you,” he rasped. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about. Couldn’t stop picturing your pussy under my tongue the entire time I planned this little fucking game.”

You choked on a gasp. “Fuck…”

“I’ll beg,” he said, voice sincere, desperate, obsessed. “I’ll beg on my knees with this mask on if that’s what gets you off.”

You stared at him, mouth parted. Body trembling in anticipation and arousal. 

He groaned full-body groaned and gripped your thighs, pushing them apart slowly.

“Oh, fuck, baby please,” he hissed, running his tongue along the inside of your thigh. “Please let me taste you”

You nodded, fingers carding through his messy hair, tugging him closer. “You started the game, Ghostface. Now finish it.”

You looked down at him kneeling in front of you, large hands gripping your  thighs, mask pushed up, voice ruined with hunger and your knees damn near buckled.

"God, you're such a freak," you muttered.

"Your freak," he said, with a wide smile,  pulling your panties down and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. 

His mouth met your core with zero hesitation. breath hot and ragged beneath it, he buried his face between your legs like he belonged there.

“Fucking dripping for me,” he moaned into your pussy. “God, I’d kill for this taste.”

You moaned loud and broken as he sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking mercilessly. He alternated between slow teasing licks and deep, devouring strokes, hands pinning your thighs wide open.

And when you came, shaking and crying his name, he didn’t stop.

Didn’t let you recover.

Because next thing you knew he was standing again. Because he wasn’t done.

No, this was only the beginning.

“I need to fuck you, my pretty girl,” he whined, voice distorted and wrecked. “Right now. Against this wall.”

You gasped as he spun you, bending you forward, robe sliding from your shoulders. He yanked his sweats down just enough to free his cock already leaking, thick and heavy in his hand.

You obeyed, body buzzing and already aching for more.

He stepped behind you, dragging the flat of the knife along your shoulder, down your spine. Not cutting. Just reminding you who was in control.

“Fuck, you make me insane,” he panted, dragging the tip through your folds. His hand comes down to grip and smack your ass hard.  “My pretty girl. My favorite.”

He pushed inside you slowly, filling you inch by inch. The stretch made your eyes roll back.

“Om my god—fuck, you're—”

“Yeah, you feel that?” he growled. “That’s what happens when you make me so feral. I don’t just fuck you, baby—I ruin you.”

You cried out, hands flattening against the wall, hips jerking back against him.

“That’s it,” he groaned, holding your waist tight. “So fuckin’ tight. You were made for this cock. Made for me.”

He thrust into you hard and deep, setting a brutal rhythm, skin slapping against yours as he reached around to rub your clit, coaxing more filthy sounds from your lips.

“I love this body,” he snarled. “All this ass. These thighs. The way your pussy sucks me in like it needs me.”

“Because I do,,” you moaned. “I need you. Always.”

That cracked something open in him. His thrusts slowed but grew deeper, more intense. “Say it again.”

“I need you,” you cried out. “I love you, so fucking much!”

He slammed into you one last time, groaning as he came deep, spilling inside you with a raw, broken sound.

You sagged against the wall, completely undone, breathless and trembling.

When the silence settled, broken only by your heavy breathing, he leaned his forehead to your back, mask still in place.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice warm behind the modulator.

You laughed breathlessly. “You just made me cum so hard I might see through time. So yeah. I’m great.”

He chuckled, slowly pulling out and pulling you into his arms. “Next time… I wanna leave the mask on. Make you scream in our bed.”

“Next time?” you teased, kissing his cheek. “There’s a sequel?”

He grinned under the mask. “Baby… there’s a whole franchise.”

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

Date night

warnings:18+ | fluff | romance

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem!Reader

wc: 1000

a/n: This is for @toji-bunny-girl. Fulfilling your romantic toji request. Let me know what you guys think! I am still taking requests! Enjoy! :) Also side note Horimiya is my favorite romance anime I recommend it.!

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Toji didn’t give you a choice.

“Pack some things to get ready at my place,” he said over the phone, voice thick with a lazy grin. “I'm on my way over and I wanna watch you turn into the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered like a moth near a flame, you love spontaneous dates.

—-----------

His apartment smelled like him and the lights were dim, soft golden glow spilling over the dark wooden floors.

Toji leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping from a glass, watching you walk in with that look. That look that said you were his. That he couldn’t believe you kept coming back to him.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured, placing the glass down and walking toward you, slow and sure.

“I'm not even wearing anything cute since you said I had to get ready here.”

“Yeah, but you would be pretty in a garbage bag,” he smirked, slipping his arms around your waist.

You swatted at his chest, but he kissed your temple. “Mmm. You smell good. Feel even better.”

“Toji—”

“I’m serious,” he said, leaning in close. “You haven’t even gotten dressed yet and I already wanna cancel dinner and eat you instead.”

Your cheeks burned as you smacked him lightly. “Let me get ready, perv.”

You stepped out of the bathroom twenty minutes later in a dress that hugged you just right, hair curled, a little gloss on your lips. By the time you walked back into the living room, heels clicking and nerves fluttering, Toji was already waiting, now in a crisp black button-down and slacks that clung to his thighs just right.

When he looked up and saw you, he froze.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “Baby…”

You did a slow spin, blushing. “Too much?”

Toji walked up slowly, like you were a miracle he didn’t want to scare off. His hands found your hips. “Too much? You look like a fuckin’ fantasy. Like somethin’ no man should be allowed to touch.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were warm. “You’re ridiculous.”

His hand slid along your waist, up your back, into your hair. “You look like sin and heaven had a baby.”

You snorted. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Doesn’t have to. I’m stupid in love right now.”

You laughed, but it caught in your throat when he dipped his head to your neck, kissing softly beneath your ear.

“I mean it,” he whispered. “You’re… everything. And I’m gonna show you that tonight.”

You leaned into his touch. “And you’re laying it on thick.”

He smirked, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “You haven’t even heard the half of it. You could wear this every night and I’d still look at you like it’s the first time. You’re so sexy it hurts.”

The kiss he gave you then was a slow and deep promise.

-------------

The restaurant was candlelit, with a quite booth tucked in the back. The server didn’t even finish setting the bread before Toji was back to whispering in your ear.

“You look so damn good with candlelight on your skin,” he said. “Almost made me cancel the reservation again.”

You giggled, gently kicking his shin under the table. “Behave.”

“I am,” he smirked. “You should see the thoughts I'm not saying.”

All throughout dinner wine, appetizers, shared bites and soft conversation he was on you. Not physically, not in public. Just with you. His eyes didn’t leave you. His compliments were endless.

“You’re so smart, baby. Like, people should pay to hear you talk.” “Every time you laugh, I swear I get butterflies like a fuckin’ teenager.” “Your thighs in that dress are driving me insane.” “Can’t believe you’re mine. What the hell did I do to deserve this?”

You rested your chin in your hand, smiling dreamily. “You’re being awfully sweet tonight.”

Toji tilted his head, his voice low. “Because I feel it. I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

You reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I love you, y’know.”

The look on his face went soft and warm and just a little glassy-eyed.

“I know,” he said, lifting your hand to his lips. “I love you too, baby. More than you’ll ever understand.”

-----------

Back at his place, the moment the door clicked shut, his lips were on your neck.

“Still lookin’ like a dream,” he whispered, hands sliding to your ass, pulling you close. “And still makin’ it really hard to behave.”

“Then don’t,” you whispered, grinning.

He grinned back, devilish and sweet all at once.

The dress hit the floor moments later, and he stood there in awe like you were carved from stardust.

“Goddamn,” he breathed. “You don’t even know how much I want you. Every single day. I could spend the rest of my life makin’ you feel good.”

Toji laid you back on his bed like you were glass, kissed his way down your body like a man worshipping a goddess. His mouth was slow and reverent, his praise endless between every moan you gave him.

“You taste better than any fuckin’ dessert at that place.” “Look at you, baby. So pretty when you fall apart.” “You were made for me. Every part.”

After, when you lay curled into his chest, his fingers tracing lazy shapes on your bare back, he kissed your temple and whispered:

“You ever think about forever?”

You blinked up at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. “With you?”

“Yeah.” He looked at you like you were the moon and stars. “’Cause I do. Every damn day.”

You smiled, slow and real and full of warmth.

“I’d say yes,” you whispered. “If you asked.”

He smiled too. “Then I guess I’m the luckiest bastard alive.”

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

when reading smut and y/n says “daddy”

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

Everyday for the rest of our lives

warnings: 18+ | Smut | Fluff

wc: 1250

a/n: This is for fun! I had a very inspiring night lol! Let me know what you guys think! I am still taking requests! Enjoy! :)

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The motel room door clicked shut behind you, barely a second before you were pinned against it.

Dean’s mouth found yours hungrily, hands already tugging your dress up, your heels clicking against the wood.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” he growled into your mouth between kisses, hot and rough, tongue sliding deep as his fingers dug into your thighs. “You look so fuckin’ hot, I could’ve taken you over the damn restaurant table.”

Your laugh was breathless, already whimpering at how tightly his body pressed against yours. His erection throbbed against your core through layers of fabric, and you rolled your hips instinctively.

Dean groaned, low and filthy, dragging his lips down your neck to suck at that sweet spot behind your ear. “Gonna ruin you tonight, sweetheart. Wanna see how many times I can make you cum before you’re cryin’ for mercy.”

His voice dropped low. “Bet it’s a lot.”

Your breath hitched.

Dean didn’t waste a second. He walked you to the bed and threw you down like a man possessed, peeling your dress off slowly eyes dark with lust as he stared at your flushed, eager body.

"Fuck, look at you. Dripping already? Didn't even touch you yet," he smirked. “Mouth’s waterin’ just thinkin’ about how sweet you’re gonna taste.”

He knelt between your thighs, spreading them wide, and licked a slow stripe up your center. The moment his tongue hit your clit, your back arched. He groaned like a man starved, diving in deeper, sloppier, wetter.

“Goddamn, you taste so good. Fuckin’ addictive,” he murmured, voice muffled by your thighs. “Gonna make you cum on my tongue, then my cock, then again and again until you forget your own name.”

You writhed, gasping, fingers tangling in his hair as he worked you open, as if he had all night.

You didn’t even make it halfway onto the bed before he was on you again.

He grabbed your ankle, dragging you closer to the edge of the mattress like you were his to use and tonight, you were. His eyes were damn near black with lust, chest heaving from the restraint it took not to tear your panties off with his teeth.

“You’ve been drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy all night, you know that?” he whispere, yanking the soaked fabric down your thighs. “Lookin’ at me with those eyes. Smilin’ like you don’t know what you do to me.”

You whimpered, biting your lip, the room already spinning with need. His hands were everywhere rough palms gliding up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the plush of them as he opened you wide.

Dean dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, nose dragging along the inside of your thigh. “I missed this pussy,” he murmured like a prayer. “Missed the way you taste… the way you fuckin’ fall apart for me.”

Then his mouth was on you. Tongue flat and filthy, licking you like it was his favorite meal, like he could never get enough. He groaned against you, low and deep, shaking his head as he sucked your clit between his lips. You arched off the bed instantly, a high moan ripping from your throat.

“Dean—fuck!”

He didn’t stop. Not even when your legs started to tremble. Not when your hand gripped the sheets like a lifeline.

“Nuh uh, sweetheart,” he said, voice dark and slick with hunger. “You’re not goin’ anywhere. I’m not done.”

You’d barely come down from the first orgasm when two fingers slipped inside you, curling just right, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. He kept you wide open with one arm over your hip, holding you down when you tried to squirm away.

“Shit, it’s too much—”

“You said you wanted me to take care of you tonight, didn’t you?” he rasped against your skin. “Said you wanted it rough.”

You nodded desperately, breath hitching, body jerking with every flick of his tongue.

“So come on baby, take it,” he snarled.

Your second orgasm hit harder and faster leaving you gasping, crying out his name so loud the headboard rattled. You barely had time to catch your breath before he crawled up your body and kissed you, tongue licking into your mouth with your own taste still fresh on his lips.

“Goddamn, baby. You taste like heaven,” he whispered against your lips. “I could spend the whole night down there.”

But his cock was hard, pressed thick and heavy against your thigh, and he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Dean sat back on his heels and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. His belt clinked open a second later, jeans shoved just low enough for his cock to spring free. He wrapped a hand around it, groaning as he pumped himself once,just enough to make you moan at the sight.

Then he lined himself up and pushed in so agonizingly slow, watching your eyes roll back as he filled you inch by inch.

“Jesus Christ, you’re tight,” he hissed, gripping your hips. “So wet I could drown in this pussy.”

Your legs up on his shoulders, pulling him deeper, and he started to thrust hard, deliberate, each stroke dragging moans from your throat like he owned every sound you made.

Dean leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “ Does that feel good babygirl? Can you feel how deep I am?”

You nodded, whining, eyes far back in your head.

“That’s it. Take all of me. You were made for this cock.”

He fucked you like he meant it. Like he was staking a claim. Slow and punishing, then fast and deep, flipping you over and dragging your hips up until your knees buckled and your cheek pressed into the sheets. He held your hand in one hand and your ass in the other gripping it hard enough to leave a mark, thrusting into you from behind with filthy words being mumbled into your neck. 

“Not done yet, sweetheart,” he warned as he slapped his hand on your ass. “Gonna cum for me again. Right fuckin’ now.”

You did.

Your body locked up, scream muffled into the pillow, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of your delayed orgasm. Dean kept moving, chasing his own release, hips snapping against yours until he finally groaned and emptied himself inside you with a moan of your name like a curse.

But even then… he wasn’t done.

Dean stayed buried in you, pressing hot kisses to your spine, whispering filth and sweetness both.

“You’re doin’ so good for me, baby. That tight little pussy’s takin’ everything I give her.”

Your body was trembling, soaked and sensitive, but he didn’t stop touching you. His fingers slid back between your thighs again—slow, gentle, but with that same teasing edge.

“Wanna see you cum one more time,” he whispered against your neck. “One more, and I’ll give you all the cuddles you want. You’ve been my good girl tonight.”

That praise, his fucking voice, sent you spiraling again.

Your thighs shook, mouth falling open in a silent scream, body clenching around nothing while Dean watched you from above with a smug, hungry grin.

“Goddamn,” he whispered, brushing sweaty hair from your forehead. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

He pulled you into his chest, wrapping you up in the warmth of his arms, kissing your temple softly.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he said. “I plan on making you feel this good every year… every damn night if you let me.”

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

Spaces Between Us

warnings:18+ | Angst | Hurt/Comfort

wc:1510

a/n: This is for @reidshairtie. Fulfilling your 2nd Spencer Reid request. I always enjoy writing for spencer! Also this one kind of grew legs and got away from me.  Let me know what you guys think! I am still taking requests! Enjoy! :)

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The silence in the apartment was sharp.

You sat on the couch, arms crossed tightly over your chest, leg bouncing in frustration as Spencer shut the door behind him. He was late like always. And not just physically. Emotionally. Personally. Entirely.

He shrugged off his coat and set down his satchel, not even sparing you a glance. “Rough day.”

You didn’t reply. Not immediately.

Then, you said flatly, “You know what’s rough, Spencer?”

He stilled. You called him by his first name. Your voice wasn’t angry, not yet. It was the kind of calm that meant the volcano was simmering. Ready to blow.

“What’s that?”

“Being the person you supposedly love and not knowing a goddamn thing about your life. Being the “love of your life” and feeling like I’m second to everything”

That got his attention. Slowly, he turned to you.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your team. you know, the one you spend more time with than you do with me? I’ve never met them. Not one. I’m talking about how you don’t take me out, don’t post a single fucking picture of me, and avoid introducing me to anyone in your work life like I’m some secret shame.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed. “It’s not like that”

“Don’t. Don’t fucking say that. Because it is exactly like that, Spencer.”

“You think I’m ashamed of you? Really?” he snapped, voice sharp. “I don’t post you because it’s dangerous, not because you’re not enough.”

“Don’t twist this into you doing me a favor,” you barked. “You don’t get to play protector and then act like I should be grateful you’ve made me invisible.”

His jaw clenched, anger flashed in his eyes. “You don’t understand what I do.”

“No. I don’t. Because you don’t let me.” You stood up now, voice rising. “You don’t talk to me about your cases. You come home broken and bloody and shut me out like I’m some stranger who doesn’t get to know what’s going on.”

“I’m trying to protect you!” he snapped, the words exploding from his mouth. “Jesus, Y/N, do you think I want you tangled up in this shit? You think I want you meeting people who’ve stared into the eyes of serial killers? Who’ve lost teammates? Who get weekly reminders that love is a vulnerability, not a fucking strength?”

You stared at him, stunned, blinking tears that burned hot and fast. Your face red in anger. 

“So I’m your vulnerability, then? I’m just a soft spot that makes you weak? I'm just some damsel in distress? Fuck you spence!” 

Spencer ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to,” you said, voice cracking. “You hide me because you’re scared. But newsflash, Spencer, I’m scared, too. Scared I’m just a body you come home to after you bury yourself in a world I’ll never be allowed into.”

He looked at you like you'd just slapped him.

“You think that little of me?” he said quietly.

“No. I think that little of the way you treat me,” you snapped. “You get to choose this and you’ve chosen to box me into the safest, quietest, most invisible corner of your life.”

“I box you in because I love you!” he shouted, louder than you’d ever heard him. “Do you get that?! Do you even fucking get it?! Every unsub, every stalker, every goddamn nightmare I’ve ever profiled has made me scared shitless that if I'm not careful you’ll be next.”

“I am not your victim! I'm not a victim period!” you yelled back, voice shaking. “You don’t get to make my choices for me! I’m not some glass doll you have to hide away on a shelf to keep whole. I’m a grown woman who can handle herself, who wants to handle herself, with you.”

Spencer’s chest heaved as he turned away, eyes shining with tears he refused to shed. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered. “You don’t know what it’s like to walk into a crime scene and wonder if the next body could be someone you love.”

Your voice turned sharp again. “So what? You’d rather let me sit alone every night wondering if you’re coming back? You think that’s easier for me? You don’t even look at me some nights, Spence. You hold me like I’m a pillow. You kiss me like I’m a routine.”

That gutted him. You saw it in the way he stepped back, like the words physically hurt.

“You don’t think I love you anymore,” he said, voice flat. “Is that what this is?”

“I think you love me in theory,” you spat. “I think you love the idea of me. The version of me that doesn’t inconvenience your fear.”

“That’s not fucking fair.”

“What’s not fair is being in love with someone who doesn’t think I can handle the full weight of who they are. You don’t see me, Spencer. Not really. You see what you want me to be. Someone happy. Someone quiet. Someone who waits for you and never asks too many goddamn questions.”

He finally snapped. “Would you rather I exposed you to it all? The blood? The stories that don’t let me sleep? The guilt I carry when we lose someone? Is that what you want, Y/N? Because I promise you, once you see it, you can’t unsee it.”

“Then show me anyway,” you said, eyes wet and voice steady. “Let me fucking choose. Because I’d rather know the monster you're fighting than be treated like one you’re hiding.”

The silence after that was deafening.

You turned away first, wiping your face, your whole body trembling.

“I shouldn’t have to beg to be seen,” you muttered.

“I see you,” Spencer said, his voice hollow. “I see you so clearly it hurts.”

You looked at him then, your lip quivering. “Then act like it. Because right now? I feel like your dirty secret. And I don’t know how much more of that I can take.”

He stepped toward you slow, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he moved too fast.

“You’re not my secret,” he said. “You’re my everything.”

“Then why don’t you treat me like it?”

“Because everything I love gets taken from me,” he said, finally crying. “And I don’t think I’d survive if it happened to you.”

That did it. Your anger cracked, replaced by something heavier. You reached out and touched his face, feeling the warmth of his tears.

“Spence… You don’t protect people by hiding them. You protect people by loving them fully while you can.”

Hands trembling, he fell into your arms, holding you so tight it was like he needed you to keep breathing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know,” you whispered back. “I’m not asking you to stop being scared. I’m asking you to let me be scared with you.”

He nodded into your shoulder, clinging to you like the tide.

“I’ll introduce you to the team,” he said quietly. “I’ll start bringing you around more. I’ll… I’ll stop hiding. You deserve better than that.”

You held him close, feeling the way his weight melted against yours—soft, vulnerable, real.

“I don’t need fancy. I don’t need perfect. I just need us,” you said into his hair. “Out in the open. As we are.”

You sat together on the edge of the couch for a long time, breathing in sync, tears still fresh on your cheeks.

“I mean it,” he whispered after a minute. “I want them to know about you. Not just know, but meet you. Understand why I come home every night. Why I fight to come home.”

You looked up at him, eyes tired but softer now. “You sure?”

He nodded against your temple. “Yeah. I’ve been a coward… and you’ve been patient. I don’t want to be scared anymore.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him fully, fingers brushing his jaw. “You’re allowed to be scared. But you can’t shut me out and call it love. That’s not how love works. Not for me.”

“I know. I think I was protecting an idea more than a person,” he said. “This idea that I could keep you completely safe if I just compartmentalized well enough. But you’re right. That’s not protection. 

You nodded slowly, heart still raw. “It’s been killing me, Spence. I see the bruises on your body, the ghosts in your eyes… and I’ve had to pretend they don’t exist. Because you didn’t let me in.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, this time stronger. “You should never have felt like you weren’t enough. Or like I was ashamed of you. That’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

“I know that now,” you murmured. “But I need more than words.”

“Then you’ll have more,” he promised.

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

Come Home to Me

warnings:18+ | Smutt | Fluff | Hurt/Comfort

wc:800

a/n: This is for @reidshairtie. Fulfilling your 1st Spencer Reid request. First time writing a dominant character I think. I always enjoy writing for spencer!  Let me know what you guys think! I am still taking requests! Enjoy! :)

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The apartment was quiet. You’d left the lights dimmed low, the TV on some barely-audible true crime documentary, the warm scent of vanilla and lavender drifting through the space from a candle you lit an hour ago. You wore nothing but one of Spencer’s old cardigans, a black bra and your favorite black lace panties, thighs comfortably spread on the couch, a book half-finished in your lap.

He was late again, and you knew why. Another case. Another victim. Another monster.

The lock finally clicked just past midnight. You didn’t even look up, you just listened. The gentle way he shut the door, dropped his go-bag by the wall, and breathed like the weight of the world still sat on his shoulders.

“Hi, baby,” you said softly.

His head turned immediately, eyes catching yours in the dark. Spencer didn’t cry in front of just anyone. But with you? He could let go. And right now, he looked like he needed that more than anything.

“Come here.”

He walked over wordlessly, stepping between your open thighs and leaning down to bury his face into your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You pulled him into your lap, letting him melt into you, hands threading into his curls, stroking them gently.

“I hate when it’s someone who reminds me of you,” he finally whispered, voice ragged.

“I know,” you murmured back, kissing the side of his head. “You’re home now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

His hands gripped your thighs suddenly, hard fingers digging in like he needed to hold something solid or he’d fall apart. You felt him shiver. Then he pulled back and looked at you, something primal under his sadness.

“I need you,” he said, desperate, his voice low and tight. “Let me have you.”

You cupped his jaw. “I’m yours.”

He kissed you then rough and hungry, like he needed to taste everything to remind himself he was still alive. You parted your lips for him, your thighs spreading wider in invitation. He groaned into your mouth, hands sliding under the cardigan to grab your waist, your soft, perfect stomach and pulled you tight against him.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he growled, lips trailing from your mouth to your neck. “All of you. Every inch.”

Your back arched as he slid the cardigan off your shoulders, quickly taking the bra off and baring your chest to him. He stared, eyes drinking you in like water in a desert. Then he sank to his knees, tugging your panties down slowly and pressing kisses to your plush thighs, your hips, your belly tasting every inch.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, voice trembling. “My beautiful girl. This body is mine. This softness, this strength, everything.”

“Spence—” your voice broke, but his tongue silenced you, licking a long, slow stripe up your pussy, sucking your clit with devotion and purpose.

You moaned loudly, hands gripping his curls, thighs trembling around his head. You were his salvation, and he needed to drown in you.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless and aching. He stood, lips glistening, eyes dark, and picked you up with a strength that made your heart stutter. You gasped as he laid you on the couch, bending over you.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he said, voice low and commanding. “And you’re going to take it because you’re strong, because you’re everything I need.”

You nodded, as he entered you in one slow, perfect stroke. Full. Deep. Right.

He didn’t rush. His thrusts were firm, controlled, his hand wrapped around your throat, not tight, just holding. His other hand gripped your thigh, watching the way your body gave under his, soft and beautiful and strong.

“God, you feel like heaven,” he whispered. “You always do. My girl. My good girl. So perfect for me.”

You gasped his name as you clenched around him, and he kept going driving you to the edge again and again until you couldn’t take it anymore. When you came, it was with his name on your lips like a prayer.

He held you through it, kissing you through the trembling, thrusting until he spilled inside you with a shuddering moan. Then silence. Breathless. Warm.

—------------ 

Later, you lay curled together on the couch, his head resting on your chest, his hand absently rubbing soft circles on your belly.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered into your skin.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whispered back, kissing the top of his head. “Come home to me. Always.”

“I will.” His voice was soft. Sure. “Always.”

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

A day in your life with steve

warnings:18+ | Smutt | Fluff | 

wc:1076

a/n: This is for my bestie @hibyenosi again. Fulfilling her Steve harrington request! This is the longest but kinda hottest fic ever!  Let me know what you guys think! I am still taking requests! Enjoy! :)

______________________________________________________________

It started the way it always did with Steve — soft touches and even softer eyes.

You were sitting on the bed in one of his oversized t-shirts, legs draped across his lap while a cheesy movie played in the background. He wasn’t even pretending to watch. Head tilted to the side, that messy, post-shower hair of his still damp, sticking to his forehead. He wore nothing but a pair of soft grey boxers and a grin that said “I’d do anything for you.”

You sat up beside him, brushing your fingers across his thigh. “You’re always super amazing for me to look at” you sighed softly, eyes tracing the line of muscle in his stomach, the little mole under his ribs, the faint blush spreading down his chest.

Steve gave you that bashful smile, the one that made you melt. “I like when you look at me like that.”

“You’re so good to me,” you murmured.

Your words hit him harder than any touch could. It always made him so pliant. Who could resist such simple praises. 

“Say it again,” he breathed, voice low and a little shaky.

You straddled his thighs slowly, pressing your weight into him on purpose. His hands flew to your hips, but not to move you—just to hold. Like he needed to ground himself. You leaned down, lips brushing his ear.

“You’re so good for me, Steve.”

“You feel so good,” you whispered against his lips, rolling your hips slowly over him. He gasped, fingers tightening on your waist.

“Please,” he breathed. “Let me make you feel good.”

His hips bucked up involuntarily. Whimper. God, you loved the way he reacted to you. The way his hands roamed over your waist, down to your thighs, as if he couldn’t get enough of how real you were. You weren’t some paper-thin fantasy—you were soft, and warm, and everything he craved.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, wide-eyed. “Fuck, I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

You pulled back just enough to look down at him, at the way his chest rose and fell in shallow, desperate breaths. His hair was a mess, curls falling over his forehead. His eyes were wide — nervous and eager, full of want and trust.

“You always take care of me, Stevie,” you said gently, cupping his cheek. “Tonight, I want to take care of you.”

His breath caught. “You—you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

You reached for the hem of his sweatshirt and tugged it up over his head, revealing smooth skin and a trail of dark hair leading down his abs. He looked up at you like you were something sacred. His voice cracked when he asked, “You wanna be on top?”

You nodded, slowly grinding down again just to watch him shudder. “Yeah, baby. Gonna ride you till you can’t think.”

His head dropped back against the bed, a low moan escaping his lips. “Fuck. Please. Do whatever you want to me.”

That was all the permission you needed.

You stood only long enough to tug his boxers down, freeing his cock — thick, flushed, and leaking already. You could feel how badly he wanted it, the way his thighs tensed, hips twitching like he was holding back from begging harder.

“You’re always so hard for me baby” you teased, running your fingers slowly over his length.

He let out a broken moan. “Been hard since you sat in my lap. You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart.”

You straddled him again, teasing his tip through your folds, letting him feel how wet you already were. He whimpered, biting his lip.

“You ready, baby?” you whispered in his ear.

“Yes. God, yes.”

You sank down on him in one slow, deliberate motion.

Steve’s hands flew to your hips. His eyes rolled back as he let out the filthiest moan you’d ever heard from him. “Fuuuck, you feel so good—so warm—holy shit—”

You rocked your hips, savoring every inch, every sound. The way he filled you, the way your thighs squeezed his sides, the way his hands gripped you like you were the only real thing in the world.

“Look at me,” you said, voice firm but soft.

He blinked up at you, pupils blown wide, lips parted.

“You fit inside me so well,” you murmured. “So deep. You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

He nodded frantically, already breathless. “Love it. Love you on top. Love watching you like this. Fuck—”

You rode him slow at first, letting the friction build. Each grind had his breath catching, each bounce of your hips had him gasping out praise like he couldn’t stop himself.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, over and over. “So tight. So good to me. You make me feel like I’m yours.”

“You are mine,” you growled, leaning down to kiss his neck, biting lightly. “All mine.”

His moan was ragged, needy, loud. You could feel him twitching inside you, hands shaking where they gripped your waist.

“I’m close,” he gasped. “Please don’t stop. Please keep going. Wanna come inside you so bad.”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” you purred.

“Yes—please—fuck, I can’t—”

You picked up the pace, slamming your hips down harder, faster, grinding in a way that made him cry out. His mouth dropped open, head pressed into the pillows, body shaking beneath you.

Steve howled.

He came hard, hips bucking, arms clinging around your waist like he’d fall apart if he let go. His whole body shuddered beneath you as he spilled into you, hot and desperate and loud.You slowed, rolling your hips gently as he came down, watching the blissed-out, fucked-dumb look take over his face. He blinked up at you like you’d just given him a religion.

He smiled up at you before flipping you guys over. His fingers trailed under your shirt, reverent. You let him undress the rest of you slowly, his mouth grazing every new inch of skin like it was holy, biting and sucking on the soft skin. He kissed the slope of your stomach, buried his face in it, moaning like the taste of your skin was making him drunk. 

“I love all of this,” he murmured, voice thick with arousal. “You’re perfect, baby. Let me make you feel good, please?”

You nodded, breath catching as he slid down the bed, pulling you with him until your thighs were draped over his shoulders.

“You smell so good,” he said, almost dazed. “Been thinking about this all day.”

And then he buried his face between your thighs.

His tongue was slow at first, deliberate. He knew exactly how to worship you—how to lick long and deep, how to suck on your clit with just enough pressure to make your toes curl. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you close, as if he needed you to suffocate him.

“Fuck, Steve—don’t stop,” you gasped, hips bucking. His eyes fluttered closed at the praise, groaning into you like it was his reward. He moaned your name, messy and desperate, and you felt the vibration deep in your core.

“You taste so fucking good,” he panted, pulling back just enough to speak. “Am I making you feel good, baby? Tell me I am. Please…”

You tugged his hair, eyes heavy with lust. “You’re doing so good, baby. So good” 

Steve practically whimpered again, eyes fluttering shut in bliss before diving back in.

It didn’t take long before your thighs were trembling, your body shaking as he coaxed you over the edge with a mix of praise, fingers, and that perfect mouth. You came with a loud cry, back arching, nails digging into his scalp. And he just kept going, moaning into you like your pleasure fed him.

When you finally tugged him up for air, his lips were shiny and swollen, his cheeks flushed red, and he was hard again  

“You’re gonna kill me,” he laughed breathlessly, pressing kisses to your jaw. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”

You pulled him in for a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. “Then fuck me,” you whispered. “I want to feel all of you again.”

That was all it took.

He slid in slow, groaning as he filled you. The stretch made your eyes roll back, and Steve’s head dropped to your shoulder, whispering every praise he could think of.

“So tight, baby. So warm. You were made for me. Fuck. I’m not gonna last.”

“You don’t have to,” you breathed, clenching around him. “I want you to come. Show me how good I make you feel.”

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he whined, thrusts getting faster, sloppier. He was so close, so gone for you.

He came with a loud cry, hips stuttering, body shaking above you. He collapsed into your chest, panting, kissing every inch of your skin he could reach.

“I love you,” he whispered. “So much. You’re everything.”

Steve’s breath was still ragged as he laid on top of you, the both of you tangled in the sheets and in each other. His heart thudded fast against your chest like it was trying to sync with yours. He was still buried inside you, twitching every few seconds, body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“Jesus,” he murmured against your collarbone. “I blacked out for a second there.”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his damp hair. “You okay, baby?”

He looked up, eyes big and glossy, so full of you. “I’m perfect. You ruined me. I mean that in the best possible way.”

You kissed the tip of his nose. “Didn’t ruin you. You’re still so very good for me.”

Steve melted. Literally melted. He groaned, burying his face into your neck again like a flustered puppy. “You can’t say stuff like that unless you’re trying to get me hard again.”

“You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, hips giving the smallest lazy roll into you. “Don’t tempt me.”

Eventually, he pulled out with a soft whimper and a kiss to your lips like an apology. He disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a warm, damp towel. You propped yourself up, watching him gently wipe between your legs and along your inner thighs. His hands were steady, but his eyes were reverent. Focused. Loving.

“You always take such good care of me,” you whispered.

He smiled, slow and lopsided. “Yeah, well. You let me worship you. It’s the least I can do.”

Steve tossed the towel into the hamper and slipped back into bed, pulling you into his arms without hesitation. Your body fit perfectly against his — your thighs against his, your back pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around your stomach. He loved how soft you were. How solid. He couldn’t keep his hands still.

“I love this,” he murmured, trailing his fingertips down your waist, resting his hand over your stomach like it was something sacred. “I love you. Every inch.”

You turned in his arms, cupping his cheek. “I know I don’t always believe that… but when you say it? I do. At least for a while.”

He blinked, gaze serious now. “You don’t have to believe it all the time. I’ll keep saying it until you do.”

You bit your lip, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his voice. “You’re so amazing to me.”

“And you’re so amazing for me,” he replied instantly. “You make me feel like I matter. Like I’m not just some guy with good hair and daddy issues.”

You let out a choked laugh, and he grinned, leaning in to nuzzle your nose. “I mean it,” he said. “You see the parts of me I didn’t think anyone would care about. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You kissed him, slow and deep, and when you pulled back, his eyes were heavy with affection.

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

Movie Night Mischief

warnings:18+ | Smutt | Fluff | 

wc:1076

a/n: This is for @lolbooty. Fulfilling your classic golden retriever man.   Let me know what you guys think! I am still taking requests! Enjoy! :)

______________________________________________________________

It was supposed to be innocent. A chill Friday night, popcorn, a stack of VHS tapes Steve insisted were “classics,” and the familiar warmth of his arm draped around your shoulders as you curled into his chest.

Outside, the wind tapped against the windows like fingers itching to get in, but inside, you were safe. Wrapped in thick blankets and Steve’s scent — cologne, a little hairspray, and something warm and boyish that made your chest flutter.

"Ghostbusters or The Thing?" Steve asked, holding both like they were gold.

"The Thing," you said. “I wanna pretend I’m not scared just so you’ll hold me tighter.”

He smirked — that smug, crooked Harrington smirk that made your stomach tighten.

“Babe, you don’t need an excuse for that.”

Thirty minutes in, the movie was forgotten.

The TV played on, but neither of you watched. Your fingers traced lazy lines on his chest, dipping beneath the hem of his shirt. You felt him tense slightly, his breathing shallowing. The way his arm tightened around you was subtle, but charged. Tension brewed in the space between your bodies, unspoken but heavy — electric.

“You keep doin’ that, sweetheart,” Steve murmured, low and gravelly, “and I’m gonna forget we’re supposed to be watching a horror movie.”

You smirked, fingers sliding higher up his shirt. “Maybe I want you to forget.”

That did it.

His hand found your cheek, thumb stroking your skin tenderly before his mouth crashed into yours, soft but urgent. Kisses that started sweet quickly turned messy — tongues tangled, breaths stolen, hands roaming. He shifted, pressing you down onto the couch, his hips slotting between your thighs like they belonged there.

“You have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, voice thick as his lips found your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. You arched beneath him, his weight grounding you as your body begged for more.

His hand slipped beneath your shirt — warm and calloused, exploring every inch of your skin like he needed to memorize it. You lifted your arms wordlessly, letting him pull it off, baring yourself to him in the dim light.

“God,” he whispered, eyes drinking you in. “You’re perfect.”

He made you feel it too — the way he touched you like you were precious, the way his lips kissed over every stretch mark, every soft curve. His hands slid down to your thighs, spreading them as he kissed down your belly, reverent.

“Let me take care of you.”

You whimpered when his fingers dipped into your waistband, tugging your pajama shorts down slowly, exposing your soaked panties. His eyes darkened, pupils blown.

“So wet for me already?” he teased, brushing his fingers over the damp fabric. “Didn’t even touch you yet.”

“Steve,” you gasped, hips bucking.

He grinned, cocky and eager. Then he buried his face between your legs, licking you through the fabric, tongue firm and teasing until you were begging, trembling, and desperate. When he finally pulled your panties aside and sucked your clit into his mouth, you nearly sobbed his name.

He didn’t stop until you were a breathless mess, clutching at his hair and moaning as you came, shaking beneath him.

When he kissed his way back up your body, his mouth was wet with you, his eyes glazed with lust.

“Need you, Steve,” you whispered. “Please.”

That was all he needed.

Clothes were stripped off in a frenzy, skin on skin, chest to chest. You felt him — thick, hard, pressed against your thigh. He lined himself up, brushing against your slick entrance, but didn’t push in right away.

“You sure?” he asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

You nodded, breathless. “Please.”

He sank into you slowly, letting you feel every inch, stretching you so perfectly it knocked the air from your lungs. His forehead pressed to yours, his jaw clenched.

“Fuck— you feel like heaven.”

He started to move — slow, deep thrusts that had your back arching, nails digging into his shoulders. Every drag of his hips hit that perfect spot, and every breathy moan from his lips only made you wetter.

“Such a good girl,” he panted, kissing your neck, your mouth. “Taking me so good.”

You cried out when he hit deeper, harder. His pace quickened, rhythm growing frantic as the couch squeaked beneath you, the blankets tangled around your legs.

“I’m close— Steve, I—”

“I got you, baby,” he groaned. “Cum for me. Wanna feel you— wanna feel you squeeze me.”

You shattered around him, your walls pulsing, legs trembling, body arching into his. He followed with a strangled groan, burying himself deep and holding you as he spilled inside, warmth flooding you.

The room stilled. The only sounds were the fading moans, your synced-up breathing, and the low buzz of the TV still playing in the background.

He didn’t pull out right away. Just rested there, forehead to yours, hand stroking your cheek.

“You always make movie nights better,” he whispered with a lazy grin.

You giggled. “Should we rewind? We missed the whole movie.”

He kissed you again. “Nah. We’ll just pick something else to ignore.”

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

Paused for you

warnings:18+ | Smutt | Fluff | 

wc: 1076

a/n: This is for my bestie @hibyenosi. Fulfilling her gamer Levi request! This was easy because who doesn't love a submissive gamer boy;)  Let me know what you guys think! I am still taking requests! Enjoy! :)

______________________________________________________________

Levi  was in bed with his back against the headboard, headset on, controller in his lap, legs stretched under the sheets. He was already shirtless, and the black sweats he wore did little to hide how hard he was.

You leaned in the doorway, smiling.

He didn’t even notice you at first eyes locked on the screen, brows furrowed in focus, hands moving rapidly on the controller. 

“Ren,” you purred.

He flinched. Just slightly. Then paused the game, even though you both knew his teammates would scream.

“Give me one second, baby.”

“You paused?” you teased, sauntering into the room. 

His eyes dropped to your thighs bare. T-shirt hanging off your shoulders. No pants. Just those lacy green panties you knew he loved.

“For you, of course,” he murmured. ”

You crawled into his lap, straddling him right over the blanket, settling your full weight onto his cock which throbbed beneath you instantly.

“Baby—fuck.” He muted his mic with a soft click, head falling back. “You’re not gonna let me win, are you?”

"You’ve been playing for three hours straight," you whispered, grinding down just enough for him to notice. "Don’t you think it’s my turn?"

Levi groaned, hands immediately finding your waist. You smirked and kissed his jaw, slow and soft. 

“Can’t say no when you look at me like that,” he said, voice gravelly, thick with want. 

“I’m bored,” you pouted, grinding slowly against him. “I want you to play with me.” 

You kissed him. Slow and warm at first, then hotter tongues tangling, teeth scraping. His hands wandered up your shirt. 

Levi’s hands landed on your thighs big, full, plush thighs that he worshipped. He squeezed them like he never wanted to let go. “You’re so fucking soft,” he breathed, pressing kisses to your jaw, your neck. “You know how crazy you drive me?”

You rolled your hips and felt him twitch beneath his sweats.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” you whispered to him.

“I want to taste you,” he said immediately, pupils blown wide. “Wanna get on my knees and worship you like you deserve.”

You giggle softly, touching his cheek. “You always say the sweetest things when you’re needy.”

Levi just shoots you a wide smile, mumbling, “I just… you’re so fucking beautiful. All of you.”

You lifted your shirt off slowly, revealing the soft curves of your stomach and the swell of your breasts. His hands ghosted over your tits, like you were made of something divine.

“I love when you get sweet and lovely with me,” you said, cupping his jaw. 

His voice strained a little as he said. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I love how soft you are. I love how you feel when you ride me. I love how full your hips are. I love your stomach. I love everything, baby.”

He turned you guys over effortlessly and laid you down on his bed, tugging off your shirt  in one smooth motion. His eyes soaked you in like he’d been starving for days.

“Perfect,” he murmured. “My perfect girl.”

His fingers hooked into your panties, dragging them down slowly watching your face the entire time. You reached for him, but he caught your wrists gently, pinning them above your head.

“Let me take care of you first.”

He kissed his way down your body, murmuring praise between each graze of his lips. When his tongue met the inside of you, you arched off the bed, gasping his name. Levi worked you like he knew every inch because he did. He was attentive, slow when he wanted to drive you mad, fast when he needed to pull sounds from you that only he could.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned. “Could eat you for hours.”

You came hard on his tongue, trembling beneath him. He held you through it, murmuring, “That’s it, baby… cum for me.”

When he finally came up to your body and pressed his forehead to yours, you were breathless, dazed.

You stood up and peeled off his sweats, freeing his hard cock. Then you climbed back on top, helping him guide himself inside you inch by inch. He didn’t hesitate. Pushed into you slow and deep, both of you gasping at the stretch.

His head fell back with a moan. His voice letting you know how much he loved what you were doing.  “F—fuck. You’re so warm. So tight. So—perfect.”

“You love it when I ride you like this, don’t you?” you whispered.

“Yes. God, yes. I love how you take me.”

You started to bounce gently. Your thighs rippled, your body moved with power and grace, and Levi couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“You look like a fucking goddess,” he breathed. “Riding me like you own me.”

“Because I do,” you said with a smirk. “You’re mine, baby.”

He nodded frantically. “Yours. Only yours. Please don’t stop, please—I’m so close, I—fuck—”

“You feel like heaven,” he grunted, rocking his hips into yours. “So tight. So fucking perfect.”

His strokes were slow but hard, purposeful. He kissed you like he meant it like he didn’t just want to fuck you, he wanted to feel you.

“God Yes,” you whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. 

You leaned forward, pressing your full body weight into him, kissing his forehead.

“Cum for me, baby,” you whispered. “Fill me up.”

His whole body locked beneath you, his nails digging into your as he came hard, moaning your name like a prayer.

You didn’t stop moving, letting him ride the high while you chased yours, hips stuttering against his until your orgasm crashed over you. You collapsed against his chest, both of you panting, sweaty, and wrapped in each other.

Silence. Then his heartbeat, steady against your chest.

Later, you were wrapped in the blankets curled under his arm, head on his chest while the flicker of his paused game screen lit the room faintly.

“They are gonna be pissed I pulled you away from your match,” you teased.

“I don’t care, it was worth it.,” he replied, kissing your forehead.

And just like that, he grabbed the controller to get back on the game, with you snuggled against his side.

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

Without a doubt

warnings:18+ | Angst | Fluff | comfort | themes of insecurity | 

wc: 1173

a/n: This is for @deanwinchestersssspie I am so excited to do my first kinda hurt/comfort  fic! Let me know what you guys think! Enjoy! :)

______________________________________________________________

After days that blurred together in stress and exhaustion, home had become more than just a place it was a person. It was him. The only constant in your chaos. No matter how drained you felt, no matter how heavy the world weighed on your shoulders, he was always there. 

With Choso, love didn’t have to be earned, it was infinite and unconditional. And each morning, he made sure you remembered that. Choso eyes lit up the moment they met yours full of warmth, longing, and something so tender it made your breath catch.

“Hii, there’s my hardworking girl,” choso coos while his arms move to hug you against his chest “and she’s still lookin’ as pretty as ever! my god — c’mere.”

Your ever excited lover cups your face in his hands and holds it like that for a second to admire. his thumb slides from your cheekbone to your lips, gently parting them before pressing a deep kiss to your mouth.

“pretty,” a kiss on your right cheek — “beautiful,” a kiss on your left one — “gorgeous,” a kiss on the tip of your nose — “amazing”, a kiss on your forehead — “sweetest,” a kiss on your chin — “hot”, a kiss on the top of your head;

Maybe it was the stress of the previous days that made you tear up. This daily routine: you come home, he welcomes you with open arms, showers you with his unending love and attention until you physically have to pull him away from your body. 

But today… you felt like a fraud.

You flinch slightly at the word "beautiful," though you try to smile. His compliments  as sweet and sincere as they always were  felt misplaced. You couldn’t remember the last time you looked in the mirror and believed even one of those words.

“stop that.” you mutter. the ‘that’ referring to the butterfly kisses and tight hugs he’s giving you. you tried not to seem in the mood for receiving his affection today.

“are you okay?”

am I okay? you’re not sure if you are, but you nod anyway. you squeeze him back, participating in the affection.  you hated feeling like this. you could feel your stomach hurt, and your heart sinks a little as you try your best to fight back the insecurities. you weren’t supposed to feel this way. you’ve talked about this before and he reassured you many times that he was dating you because he loved you. even three years later, you still couldn’t shake the thought that he could wake up one day and realize you’re not enough.

He lets out a low chuckle, going right back to giving you hugs and kisses. “Follow me” 

He grabs your hand taking you with him to the kitchen where he's spent the morning cooking.  he’s grinning from ear to ear, glancing from the covered plates near the stove and back to you.

you tilt your head curiously as you watch him grab one plate and uncover it, revealing the content like it was a big surprise— 

“open up f’me, my princess.” your dork of boyfriend hums as he’s already guiding a piece of breakfast to your lips. your favorite omelets that he makes so well. when you look back up at him, his eyes are already on yours patiently waiting for you to let him feed you. his pretty eyes are sparkling with a sense of pure excitement; one he only has around you. his love for you was almost overwhelming at times like these.

“why?” 

the simple whispered one word question made him stop in his tracks. his head cocks to the side, eyelashes fluttering lightly in confusion, though the handsome smile on his face remains. ‘why’ could mean a lot of things.  out of all the possible interpretations, your always present boyfriend knew what you meant based on the subtle cues from you today. His suspicion was confirmed the moment he saw the tears that welled up at the corners of your eyes. 

 ‘why do you care so much?’

“do i need a reason to?” his voice was smooth and soft. almost way too soft now that he’s realised just how vulnerable you were in front of him. 

“i love you, yeah, without a doubt?” he kisses the back of your hands with utmost care before planting another one on your forehead again. He cradles your head against his chest afterwards, making you rest your weary body against his for as long as you needed it; his warmth and comfort, “it’s because i love you. that’s the only reason why, princess.” 

You nod in response. But you don’t believe it — not fully. You can’t help but think he needs someone better.  Someone who doesn’t cry in fitting rooms, or compare herself to every woman he scrolls past on Instagram. Someone who doesn’t have to fake a smile just to make him feel like everything’s okay. 

He hugs you tight again. it’s like he knows just what goes on in your little head and is always updated about your changing feelings. that’s what surprises you most. He’s super attentive to every single detail about you. from your unnoticeable habits to the big facts. that is what love truly is. that is how it feels like to have a man love you unconditionally—without any underlying or ulterior motives. without expecting anything back.

 “I just… sometimes I feel like I’m not enough for you,” you whisper finally, voice cracking like thin glass. “Like you could have anyone else. Someone who’s... more.”

Choso doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t scoff or rush to reassure you. He just holds you, like he’s anchoring you in place.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he says, voice low but calm, like a storm waiting to break. “You are more than enough. You’re my everything. If you could see yourself the way I see you…”

He trails off, kissing the tears that streak down your cheek. His lips linger for a long time.

“i love you, cho. forever.” you reply eventually in a hushed whisper. He only tightens his grip around your body, hugging you closer to his chest like his personal plushie. he nuzzles his nose into your hair

“yeah,” he sighs in content and closes his eyes—allowing them to rest. all his senses are focused on making you feel better. he won’t let go of you until he’s sure you understand that you’re deserving of it all; his loving hugs, kisses, words of affirmation, gifts, comfort, cuddles and support. 

“forever and beyond that.” 

He doesn’t mind reminding you how much he cherishes you. even if he has to remind you every day until the day he succumbs. you’re his number one priority; he’ll even make sure to tell you he loves you with his dying breath when the time comes. 

he’ll make sure of it.

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

i love reading, i love thinking about what i am currently reading, i love thinking about what i am going to read next, i love being privileged enough to be able to read, read, read, and read so much that i never tire of it

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

The Annotated Version of You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

Summary: Spencer starts secretly leaving annotated books for you, each filled with sticky notes. First thoughtful, then personal, then deeply emotional.

Content: Fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, first kiss!!, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers

W/C: 956

A/N: Second fan fic!!! I think I died like 30 times while writing this. I NEED A MAN WHO YEARNS FOR ME LIKE THIS. To all my literature obsessed baddies, enjoy, love y’all fr.🩷

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I didn’t think anything of it at first.

There was just this book, The Bell Jar, sitting on my desk one morning. No note. No explanation. Just placed there like it belonged. I assumed someone left it by accident, until I saw Spencer walk by. He didn’t even say anything, just gave me this quiet little smile and kept walking.

I know it sounds dumb, but something about the way he looked at me made it obvious. It was from him.

So I took it home and that night, curled up on my bed with it, I opened to the first page and found this tiny sticky note stuck to the margin. His handwriting was small and neat, way too careful to be casual.

He’d underlined a sentence:

“I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.”

And next to it, he wrote:

“You said something kind of like this once. Back in Colorado, when everyone was talking over each other. You just sat there and saw through all of it. I don’t know, I thought of you.”

And I just… stared at it. For way too long. It wasn’t just a book. It was him. Spencer, but a version of him that said things he probably wouldn’t say out loud. Not yet, at least.

A few days later, there was another one. The Secret History. Left in the same quiet, careful way.

This time he’d underlined:

“This is the only story I will ever be able to tell.”

His note said:

“Some stories are like that. They just stick. So do some people.”

I didn’t know what to do with that. I reread it like ten times. Maybe more. It felt like something I wasn’t supposed to see, except… he wanted me to.

Then it became a thing. Every week or so, a new book. A new note. It was like this secret conversation, but only one of us was talking.

Letters to a Young Poet had:

“Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.”

His handwriting next to it said:

“You’re really good at giving people space. Not just physical space, but the kind that makes them feel safe being themselves. I’ve learned a lot just by being around you.”

I don’t even remember reading the rest of that chapter. I just sat there holding the book, thinking: What the hell is happening.

Then came Giovanni’s Room.

“He wanted to say something which would hurt me and yet not alarm me too much.”

He wrote:

“You’re not cold. I think people assume that when you’re quiet. But you’re just careful. It’s not the same.”

I had to close the book after that one. It was too much. Too personal. Like he’d figured out something about me I hadn’t even really said out loud yet.

And finally, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous. The kind of book that hits you like a punch.

“Let me begin again. Dear Ma, I am writing to reach you—even if each word I put down is one word further from where you are.”

Spencer’s note said:

“Sometimes I feel like that with you. I don’t know if I’m saying too much or not enough. But I’m trying.”

I didn’t even know what to do with myself after that one. I just sat there with the book open in my lap and my heart absolutely wrecked.

And then, because he apparently likes to kill me emotionally, he gives me Pride and Prejudice. No notes through most of it. I thought maybe the whole thing had stopped.

But then, at the end, I found it.

He underlined:

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

And underneath:

“If I were a book, you’d be the only person I’d want to dog-ear me.”

I froze. Literally just… stopped functioning. That wasn’t just flirty. That was intentional. That was a line. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, say something? Ignore it? Explode?? So I picked up a pen, hands shaking like a total cliché, and wrote back:

“I don’t dog-ear books. But I reread the ones I can’t forget.”

I left it on his desk the next morning and immediately wanted to crawl into a hole.

Hours passed. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. I spiraled. Fully convinced I’d misread everything and ruined our friendship forever. But later that night, when almost everyone else had left, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, and there he was, holding the book. His face was… unreadable, but soft. Like he wasn’t sure what to say either.

He looked at me for a long second, then said, “Did you mean it?”

And I whispered, softly, almost inaudible “Yeah. I did.”

He stepped closer, and I swear I could hear my own heartbeat. “You never wrote in the others.”

“I didn’t think I was allowed to,” I said, barely managing to get the words out.

Spencer looked at me like I’d just confessed something sacred. “You always were.”

There was this long pause. Not awkward. Just… full. Like the air between us had weight. And then he kissed me. Slow and a little hesitant at first, like he was giving me every chance to pull away. But I didn’t. It felt like finally turning the last page of a book you’ve been savoring for so long. And realizing the ending was even better than you hoped.

When he pulled back, he smiled softly and whispered. “I have more books.”

And I grinned like a complete idiot and said, “Let’s start a library”

[myliteralhyperfixations19]

i love reading, i love thinking about what i am currently reading, i love thinking about what i am going to read next, i love being privileged enough to be able to read, read, read, and read so much that i never tire of it