#Reader Insert Masterlist

[drewswife]

summary — spencer left his lunch at home and u bring it to the bau and meet the team (not really..)

pairings — s2!spencer x gf!reader

warnings — fluff, teasing from morgan and gracia,

You sigh, looking at the neatly packed lunch sitting on the kitchen counter. Spencer, bless his brilliant but sometimes absentminded heart, had done it again. He’d rushed out the door for a BAU case, leaving his carefully prepared meal behind.

"Looks like someone's going to be very hungry later," you mumble to yourself, grabbing the lunch bag. You know how focused he gets when he’s on a case, and a growling stomach is the last thing he needs.

A quick drive later, you're navigating the familiar halls of the FBI headquarters. You push open the door to the BAU bullpen, and sure enough, the team is huddled around a whiteboard, a flurry of papers and profiles spread out.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Morgan's voice booms, a smirk already forming on his face as he spots you. "Bringing Dr. Reid his daily sustenance, I see."

Gracia, ever the tech wizard, spins in her chair, a playful glint in her eyes. "Oh, is it lunch delivery time for our boy wonder? Did he forget his blankie too?"

You roll your eyes, but a smile plays on your lips. "He forgot his lunch, you two goons. And he's going to be starving if he doesn't eat." You walk over to Spencer, who is deeply engrossed in a file, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Spencer," you say softly, placing the lunch bag on his desk.

He jumps slightly, looking up with wide, slightly unfocused eyes. "Oh! hi! What are you doing here?" Then his gaze falls on the bag. His face lights up, a genuinely delighted smile spreading across it. "My lunch! Oh, thank you, I completely forgot it. I was so wrapped up in…" He trails off, gesturing vaguely at the case files.

"I figured," you say, reaching over to gently brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "Eat something, okay? You're going to burn yourself out."

He nods, already reaching for the bag. Morgan whistles from across the room. "Look at that, Reid. Getting special treatment. Some of us have to buy our own food."

"Don't worry, Morgan," Gracia pipes in, "I'm sure if you were as cute and helpless as Reid, someone would bring you lunch too."

Spencer flushes a little, but he's already unwrapping his sandwich, a contented hum escaping him. You just shake your head, a warmth spreading through you. Fluff, indeed. But you wouldn't have it any other way. Watching him eat, you know this small act of bringing him his lunch means more to him than any grand gesture. And that's all you need.

You watch Spencer take a bite of his sandwich, a small, pleased sigh escaping him. Morgan and Gracia's teasing continues good-naturedly in the background.

"I should probably get going," you say, starting to turn.

Spencer looks up looking like a kicked puppy, a bit of food still in his cheek. "Already? Thanks again for this, angel. You really saved me."

You smile. "Anytime, Spencer. Just try to remember your head next time." You lean in, quick and light, and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He freezes for a split second, a faint blush rising on his pale skin. Morgan and Gracia, surprisingly, fall silent. Then Spencer grins, a genuine, unburdened smile that reaches his eyes. "I'll try," he promises.

You give a small wave to the team and head out, leaving Spencer to his lunch knowing that morgan and Garcia is going to tease the mess out of him poor boy.

🏷,: @sleepysongbirdsings @spencerreid66 @khxna @raysmayhem-72 @multiversefanfics @starrii-sturns

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Never Been Kissed

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: You've never been one to kiss and tell.

A.N. - This one is for all my The Prophecy Girlies... also known as the most self indulgent thing I've ever written.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

"Come on," Sam coaxes. "Tell us or take a drink."

You swipe up the shot set before you, downing it without so much as a wince. You cross your arms, keeping your chin defiantly raised as you settle further into the couch, "I'm not telling you anything."

“Boo,” Sam playfully heckles, his drink sloshing in his hand. “Come on, it’s not that big a deal. Just tell us.”

“Absolutely not, I already took the damn drink.”

Sam quirks an eyebrow, refusing to back down, “Unless it was someone here?”

“Oh my God.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Sam, I did not hook up with anyone in this room.”

“Yes!” Sam teases. “That explains everything! That’s why you drank!”

“Or maybe I just don’t kiss and tell.”

“You’ve been drinking all night. And there’s only one reason you won’t tell us anything - because it’s someone in this very room!”

“Settle down, Sherlock,” Bucky cajoles.

You swipe the glass from Sam's loose grip, “You’re drunk, Sam.”

Sam boops your nose, swiping the glass back, “I’m not the one that’s been drinking for every question.”

“And yet, I'm still not nearly as drunk as you are," you shoot back, setting your drink on the table. You pat Bucky's shoulder, standing up from the couch, "And now, I’m going to bed. Goodnight, children.”

“Come on,” Sam drunkenly whines. “Don’t be a sore loser!”

“I have a debrief first thing, and I’m the only one of you assholes that won’t need to be carried to my room.”

Sam shouts after you, “Boo!”

Not a moment later, you feel a warm hand tap your shoulder, “Hey, wait up! I’ll walk you up.”

“Oh, sure.”

As you walk together, Bucky leans in conspiratorially, “So… now that it’s just us… Who was it?”

You groan, “Not you too.”

“Come on! It’s me! You can tell me!” Bucky cajoles.

“It’s none of your business.”

"I’m not asking for details. I just wanna know."

"You’re pushy when you’ve been drinking that Asgardian stuff, you know that?"

"Come on. It really can't be that bad. I probably don't even know the guy... unless I do?"

You hold his gaze for a moment, silently pleading with him to just drop it, "Bucky... enough."

"Was it Sam? Steve? Come on, I won't judge you if it was."

"Bucky, stop."

"Come on, just tell me!"

"No! Now drop it!" you snap.

Bucky freezes, his eyes widening, "I'm - I'm sorry, I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

You start to storm off, tossing a sharp retort over your shoulder, "Maybe not to you."

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry." He jogs after you, resting his warm, gentle hand on your forearm to stop you, "Really. You don't have to tell me. I was just being a dick. You’re right, it’s none of my business."

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the guilt pooling in the pit of your stomach for yelling at Bucky. "I can't tell you."

His brows furrow, "What?"

This was it. This was when everyone found out your deep, dark, embarrassing secret. You take another deep breath, bracing yourself for Bucky’s laughter and ridicule, "I can't tell you... because it hasn't happened yet."

His worry and confusion only compounds. His neck cranes slightly, almost like he believes his super solider hearing failing him is more plausible than your complete and total inexperience, "What?"

You take another massive breath, your cheeks heating, "I've never - it never happened for me."

“Huh?”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

"Wait, wait, but earlier - earlier Natasha asked you about your first time. You said - you said it happened later than people might think."

You couldn’t believe he really wasn’t getting it. It was something you had come to accept about yourself. There was just something fundamentally wrong with you. Something not quite right. Something unloveable - at least in the romantic sense.

Shame heats your face, and you have to clench your fists in some hopeless attempt to keep it together in front of Bucky.

You try to shrug as casually as you can, "It's not technically a lie. Most people don't think someone can make it this long without your first kiss happening."

“Wait, wait.” If he was struggling to understand before, this may have just broken him. “You haven’t had your first kiss?”

You swallow the knot in your throat, hoping the word doesn’t sound as strangled as it feels, “No.”

Your shoulders sharply rise with a forced intake of breath as you wait for it. You wait for the litany of platitudes. The halfhearted consolations and excuses.

While you’d never told anyone about this missed rite of passage, you had mistakenly confided in a select few. You never said too much. Never said that you hadn’t ever been kissed. You usually offered something offhanded about not really dating much.

They didn’t need to know just how deep your inexperience ran. It didn’t matter anyway. The response was always the same. Some surface level words of comfort or dismissal.

You could practically hear the words falling from Bucky’s lips.

'It'll happen when you least expect it.'

'You just have to stop looking.'

'Put yourself out there.'

'You should lower your standards.'

'You're not missing out on much.'

The words you know all too well never come.

He chews on his bottom lip, his own mental turmoil as clear as day on his face. He didn’t know what to say and that was clear. He opens his mouth and your brace yourself for impact.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

You freeze, a little shocked by his response. “Don’t be.”

“No, no, I was being a dick and pushing you to talk about something you’re not comfortable with. I should understand that better than anyone else here.”

“I just - I don’t really tell people. It’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?”

“Yeah, Bucky,” you scoff, a little too defensive. “It’s a little embarrassing. I’m a grown ass woman that’s never been kissed. I’m a grown woman that no one’s ever show the least bit of interest in.”

His hands stop mid air, “I’m sorry, what?”

“What?”

He quirks an incredulous brow, “No one’s shown interest?”

“No…”

His entire head twists with disbelief, “No one? Really?”

“I’ve never even been asked on a date before,” you confess.

“What?”

“Will you quit saying that?”

“Sorry, sorry! It’s just a little hard to believe.”

You can't help but roll your eyes, “Why is that hard to believe?”

“Because it’s you! Look at you! Someone must’ve shown interest at some point.”

You try to shrug it off again, desperately hoping that Bucky doesn’t see how much this actually does hurt, “No. It’s always just been me.”

“Not even like a schoolyard crush or something?”

“Well, I had crushes, sure. That doesn’t mean that anyone had them on me.” Bucky’s face remains frozen in that confused, disbelieving grimace for a beat too long after you’ve finished speaking that you feel desperate to paper over the emotional cracks. It’s fine. That’s what you’ve told yourself your entire life, and that’s exactly what you’ll tell him, “Listen, I’m fine with it now. I’ve come to terms with it. I’m content. Maybe romance just isn’t in-“

“Can I kiss you?”

Now, it was your turn to look confused and taken aback, “What?”

“Can I?” he offers again, his eyes flicker to your lips so quickly you can’t be sure you didn’t just imagine it. “Kiss you?”

You immediately begin to backtrack, taking a half step back to put some distance between the two that seems to shrink with every passing moment, “Bucky, you really don’t have to do that.”

“What if I want to?”

Your eyebrows pull together in disbelief. “Do you?”

“Yes.” His answer is so immediate and reflexive it’s hard not to believe him. “I want to. Please.”

His whispered ‘please’ is your undoing. You nod ever so slightly, your voice nothing but a choked whisper, “I won’t be good at it.”

“I don’t believe that.” At this point, he’s staring at your lips more than anything else. His flesh hand raises to your cheek, softly cupping it. “Just relax.”

Your breathing comes faster as his breath dances across your cheeks, “Bucky…”

“I want you to remember this.” You’re not sure he meant to say that out loud, but the words sent a pleasantly unfamiliar shudder down your spine.

And without another word, his lips gently brush yours. For a long moment, you just stand there, not moving an inch. Until your hand moves of its own accord to rest on his chest. It slowly trails up his shoulder and down to the nape of his neck. Your mouth hesitantly moves against his, slowly becoming more relaxed with each little breathy sound he pulls from you.

It feels like forever and a split second all at once. Especially when he slowly drags his lips away from yours. As he pulls away, he licks his lips like he’s savoring the taste of you while it still lingers on his lips.

He rest his head against yours for a long moment. His lips are puffy and glistening under the low light of the Compound hallway, “There. Now, you’ve been kissed.”

AnonymityIsFun MasterlistBucky Barnes Masterlist

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarnes @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan @marvelatthem @capswife @1-akira-2 @generalmoonpolice

[pedgito]

𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 — series masterlist

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Summary: Joel has remained the only constant in your life. Absent parents and Joel's willingness to be the guide that you need only becomes more confusing as you grow older and one harmless camping trip changes the trajectory of your relationship with him forever.

series warnings include — dbf!joel, virgin!reader, age gap (early 20s/mid 40s), daddy AND mommy issues, terms of endearment (sweetheart, kiddo) power dynamics, abandonment issues, reader has a defined major in college, mention of inappropriate relationships, joel has a distorted sense of right and wrong, inappropriate but NOT wasteful use of alcohol (and one (1) sleeping bag), this started as a smut series but quickly gained plot, there's so much sex in this (detailed with chapters)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — Chapter List (updates every Sunday)

One: Moon

Two: Sun

Three: Mercury

Four: Venus

Five: Neptune

Six: Mars

[sixeyesonathiel]

RED STRING OF FATE m.list

— alternative universes, same lovestruck idiots.

a collection of love stories woven through time and fate, where every twist and turn leads you back to him—gojo satoru. from childhood bonds to fleeting encounters, soulmates to strangers crossing paths, each moment is tied together by an invisible thread. no matter the distance or detours, love always finds its way home, and satoru is the heart of it all.

♡ generally fluff + happy ending 𔓘 some gn / mostly fem reader-insert

♡ satoru gojo being obnoxiously in love with you <3

♡ different aus, same red string

codes. path = oneshot. routes = series. completed = navigated, ongoing = navigating. word count = miles. personal faves = stellar. fan favorite = landmark.

── .✦ FATE’S ITINERARY

♡₊ path #001 ⌇ free throws and figure drawings

⤷ satoru gojo is a basketball star, the campus menace, and undeniably the best-looking guy in any room—but he’s definitely not a model. so when you, a quiet, intense art student with nothing but a flyer, ask him to pose for a painting, he laughs and says no. but when you mention paying him? suddenly, he’s reconsidering—because easy money might just turn into something far more complicated. <– navigated, 22k miles. stellar, landmark.

♡₊ path #002 ⌇ roses bloom the prettiest in ruin

⤷ as the princess of a fallen monarchy, you were raised to uphold tradition, while satoru gojo, the son of the prime minister, was taught to rule. your families have always been at odds—yours clinging to the past, his shaping the future—but satoru has never cared for politics when it comes to you. despite the lines drawn by power, satoru’s never been one to follow the rules, and from the moment he met you, he knew your story wasn’t meant to end in polite distance. <– navigated, 8k miles. stellar.

♡₊ route #003 ⌇ love comes in small sizes

⤷ you and satoru have always been something—never labeled, never defined. from jujutsu high to stolen rooftop kisses, your bond is a tangled mess of healing hands, half-confessions, and his irritating habit of getting hurt just to keep your attention. but when pride and loss tear you apart, you walk away—until six years later, fate (and a tiny, pink-backpack-wearing menace) drags you back into his world. <– navigating, 19k miles. landmark.

♡₊ route #004 ⌇ a guide to ditching the world’s most persistent nerd!

⤷ gojo satoru has been the bane of your existence since kindergarten—rejecting your chocolates, choosing studying over playtime, and making you think he was boring. years later, he’s the smartest, richest, greenest green flag at your elite university, and when you're paired for a 60% project, you think you can coast—until he drags you back to work at every exclusive club. you flirt, he humors you; you push, he pulls, and suddenly, you're falling for him in a way you never expected. <– navigating, 41k miles.

♡₊ path #005 ⌇ love thy neighbor

⤷ you’ve known satoru gojo since childhood, raised in a neighborhood where your moms’ lawn wars were as fierce as their friendship, and your dads? best friends. every morning, it’s the same—banter over the fence, competitive watering, and a rivalry you didn’t know would grow into something so much more. from your first awkward exchange to stolen glances over the years, he's the one constant you never saw coming. <– navigating, 24.6k miles.

♡₊ path #006 ⌇ bake me up, buttercup

⤷ after a grueling gym session, satoru’s thumb lazily scrolls through his feed, only to pause on a reel of the most captivating pastry he’s ever seen. it’s not just the mouthwatering treats your making—it’s the way you smile at the camera, a quiet warmth that gets to him more than he cares to admit. despite his best efforts to stick to his diet, he can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to steal a taste of your sweetness, too. <– coming soon.

♡₊ path #007 ⌇ dazzle me, darling

⤷ at school, you and satoru gojo are academic rivals—always competing for the top spot in every subject, exchanging snarky remarks, and trying to one-up each other at every turn. however, when satoru gets into trouble one fateful night, a mysterious magical girl swoops in to save him, leaving him utterly enchanted by her grace and power. what he doesn’t know is that the magical girl he's falling for is none other than you, the same person he can't stand in class. <– coming soon.

♡₊ path #008 ⌇ behind the lens

⤷ satoru gojo is the biggest heartthrob of his small town, a high school golden boy with a secret crush on you—the sweetest model in the industry. when he finally gets scouted, he expects to be the bad boy to your nice girl, only to discover you’re a lot more dangerous than he ever imagined. now, caught in a whirlwind of photoshoots and blushing, he can't decide if he’s terrified or completely hooked. <– coming soon.

♡₊ path #009 ⌇ name slips, heart skips

⤷ you walk into your favorite café, but today, something’s different. the new barista keeps misspelling your name on purpose, and it’s too adorable to ignore. the more you brush it off, the more you realize it might not be a mistake after all—he’s clearly up to something. <– coming soon.

♡₊ path #010 ⌇ boardroom chemistry

⤷ you’ve always kept it professional, flexible, and discreet with your side gig as a fake girlfriend—until your newest client turns out to be none other than your unbearable CEO. now you’re stuck pretending to date the man you despise, all while trying not to let your growing attraction ruin everything. if only he’d stop being so damn charming, maybe you could keep it together. <– coming soon.

♡₊ path #011 ⌇ no one else needed to notice

you answered a quiet jujutsu forum post to escape a restless kyoto night. late-night messages with a stranger turned into playful banter and warm voice calls. his laugh became your tether, cutting through the monotony of sorcerer life. when he suggests meeting, it feels fragile but real. something steady sparks where you least expected it. <– navigated, 6.4k miles.

more destinations to be added.

tag list : @akeisryna @esotericsorrow @prettilyrisse @cherrymoon55 @linaaeatsfamilies @k0z3me

comment to be added on the tl xx. whole collection or specify what fic.

unreleased fics might be subject to change.

[dazevi]

HEART TO HEART | series masterlist

series masterlist | vi x fem!reader | ongoing.

synopsis: vi used to never have to worry about her relationship with you. she thought you and her meant, well… forever. every dream she chased, every stage she stood on, she saw you right there beside her as her world got larger. you pretended it didn’t hurt—that the distance, the missed calls and texts, her rarely coming home, seeing her face on posters, in magazines, on tv—everywhere but next to you—didn’t leave cracks in your heart. but, now that she’s back in town, vi’s ready to face the mistakes she made.

wc: 74,731 ; so far

content warnings: MDNI (18+ content), fluff, lots of angst, modern au, exes-to-lovers, more like exes-to-fwb-to-lovers, friends with benefits (it’s complicated), rockstar!vi, writer/bookshop owner!reader, past high school sweethearts!vi and reader, slow burn?, KINDA LONG CHAPTERS, pining, sexual tension, lots of unspecified time skips, vi is down baaaaaaad, suggestive themes, eventual smut; top!vi but also switch!leaning, bottom!reader, oral, fingering, strap-on sex — will update as i go.

also fanart by bunimint_ on ig ✿

navigation | ko-fi (grateful for any support!)

⸻ CHAPTER INDEX

prologue. dreams I. ghost in the room II. by your side III. can we pretend? IV. apocalypse V. tell her more chapters coming soon!

please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the taglist for this series! (ageless blogs will not be tagged. if you do not have your age in your profile, please include it in your comment.)

[animamii]

even while locked up, Toji will make Valentine's day special for you. He already has a letter sent to you every day leading up to the 14th. Some of them sweet, romantic. Others just straight up dirty. He also has Shiu get you some things, spending the money he has in an offshore bank account.

February 1st

There's a ring at your doorbell, and you sleepily open the door.

"Shiu!" You happily greet before you realize he's holding one of those giant ass bouquets of roses. One of those ramos buchones with the pretty gemstones and your initial spelled out with baby's breath. Flashy as hell. "What's all this?"

"Jus' read the damn letter," he nods to a red envelope, a cigarette dangling out his mouth but away from your precious gift. Toji would kill him even from the inside if he were to find out Shiu got even the slightest of ashes on his girl's gifts. You take the envelope, tracing your name written in Toji’s bold, messy scrawl. You barely close the door before sliding your finger under the seal.

Didn’t forget, baby. I never do. First day, first gift. You better love it. Had Shiu pick out the biggest, most ridiculous thing I could find. My princess only deserves the best, right?

February 2nd

The letter today is simple. Too simple.

Baby, I hope you didn’t think I’d only spoil you with flowers.

Your stomach twists in anticipation. Later that day, you hear a knock. This time, it’s a delivery service. You sign for a package, confusion written all over your face—until you open it. Inside is a velvet box. You slowly open it, and it catches the light, casting rays of color—a necklace, a gold figaro chain with a diamond pendant. Looking closer at the pendant makes your breath hitch.

His initials.

You press your lips together, heart thudding. The note beneath it is shorter this time.

Wear it. Every day. I’ll know if you don’t.

February 3rd

On your front porch it a tiny pink box with another letter perched on top. You open the box first, the whole collection of a lip gloss you wear, one Toji said was his favorite because he loves the scent and the taste when he kisses it off your lips.

I was gonna wait, but fuck it. You know I don’t have patience. I’ve been thinking about you too much, baby. Can’t sleep. Can’t focus. All I can think about is that pretty mouth of yours.

You don’t even finish reading before you slam the letter shut. Your face is on fire. He’s ridiculous. But your fingers linger on the page, gripping it tight. You’re not going to reread it. You’re not.

February 4th

Another gift. This time, it’s a designer perfume. You spray it on your wrist out of curiosity, inhaling the scent—rich, warm, deep. A little spicy yet still sweet. Just like you. A folded note is stuck in the packaging.

This is how I want you to smell when I have you under me.

You hate the way your breath catches. The way you tighten your grip on the bottle, as if that’ll stop the way his words sink under your skin.

February 5th

Shiu hands you the next letter without a word. You expect something dirty again, but instead—

You been eating, baby? Sleeping? You better be taking care of yourself. I’ll be real pissed if I find out you’re not.

You blink at the paper, stomach twisting. You don’t even like that he makes you feel this way. Cared for. Wanted. As soon as you look up, Shiu hands you the bags from behind his back. It's takeout from the place you always went to with Toji. Your favorites are inside, every single thing down to the drink. You knew Toji meticulously picked out each menu item. In the other bag Shiu hands you is self care items. Your creams and serums and even the face masks you force Toji to wear with you.

February 6th

You shouldn’t be looking forward to these letters as much as you do. But you do. This one is short.

You dream about me? Bet you do. Wonder if you wake up wet, missing my hands.

You rip it up, toss it in the trash.

Then, minutes later, you dig it back out, smoothing out the pieces.

You hate him.

February 7th

Another knock at the door. Another gift. This time, it's a dress—silky, short, scandalous.

The note?

Wear this when you come see me.

Your breath catches. He hasn’t mentioned seeing you yet, hasn’t even implied it. But now, it lingers in the air.

February 8th

A different kind of letter today.

If I was there right now, what would you do?

You should throw it away.

Instead, that night, you sit on your bed, staring at it in the dim glow of your bedside lamp, heart pounding in your chest.

February 9th

A small box sits outside your door in the morning. This time it's a velvet pouch. You pull the string, letting the contents slide onto your palm—an anklet, delicate gold with a tiny charm dangling off the chain. This one matches your necklace, his initials are on this one too. You don’t even hesitate this time. You clasp it around your ankle immediately.

This one's gonna be dangling over my shoulder soon.

February 10th

Shiu shows up again. Another box.

Inside? Lingerie.

Red. Lace.

The note is just one line.

Think about me when you put it on.

February 11th

You better be missing me, baby. I know you are.

This time the gift is a whole outfit. One of those flowy white maiden-style off the shoulder dresses, pretty sandals, and even an innocent enough white bra and panty set with cute little bows.

It doesn't go with the letter, which leaves you a tad bit confused.

February 12th

This letter is filthy.

Explicit enough that you don’t even know how he got it past whoever checks his mail.

You have to sit down after reading it.

And take a very cold shower.

February 13th

Another envelope. You open it, expecting a letter. But nope. Just a single ticket to Italy for February 15th. Weird.

February 14th

A single rose sits outside your door, a final letter tucked beneath it.

You should know by now to lock your windows, ma. Don't know what kind of scary men could climb through your window.

What the?? Slowly you turn around, and there he is, in the flesh. All smug and cute like he knows he did a damn good job at surprising you.

"Happy Valentine's Day princess."

[misswynters]

Ma Meilleure Amour

featuring. ekko x fem!reader

a/n. doing my duty as a writer to fill the ekko tag with fics of him only (it’s translated to my best love)

inspired by. the song Ma Meilleure Ennemie and the scene with ekko and jinx in act iii (listen to it while reading)

Everything felt different. The streets of Zaun had the ever-present haze of smog seem softer, its grim edge dulled by the warm hum of neon lights. The streets bustled with life, as they always did, but the night gave the chaos a certain charm. The glow of green and pink signs reflected off damp cobblestones, while the occasional flicker of a malfunctioning lamp sent ripples of color through shallow puddles.

You walked side by side with Ekko, your steps slow and aimless, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. You didn’t, of course. With how Zaun always had a way of reminding you that the clock never stopped ticking. But right now, under the swirl of lights and the faint hiss of steam vents, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

Ekko’s hand brushed against yours every so often, and though he wasn’t one to initiate touch easily, you could tell he didn’t mind the closeness. He always had this way of being effortlessly cool, his swagger and wit making it seem like nothing fazed him. But you knew him better than most. You saw the weight he carried, the pressure of being a leader, a fighter, and a kid all at once. And tonight, you were determined to remind him what it felt like to just…be.

“Ever think Zaun’s kinda pretty at night?” you mused, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ekko glanced at you, one eyebrow raised, before looking around. “Pretty? Dunno if I’d call it that. More like…gritty with a side of a green glow.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the one waxing poetic about this place,” he shot back, his grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, maybe I’m seeing it through rose-colored glasses. Or maybe I just like walking around with you.”

That earned a chuckle from him, the sound low and warm. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned closer to you. “Well, when you put it that way…” The two of you wandered through winding alleys and across rickety bridges, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil. Every so often, Ekko would point out a shortcut he’d used for one of his time-bending escapades or share a story about an adventure with the Firelights.

But then he led you down a narrow path you hadn’t noticed before, his fingers brushing yours briefly to guide you. At the end of the path, you stepped into a beautiful hidden oasis. A rooftop garden tucked away from Zaun’s usual grit and grime. The first thing you noticed was the lights. Strings of mismatched lanterns crisscrossed the space, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. Tiny fairy lights were woven through the vines that climbed up makeshift trellises, their warm flicker like little stars in the night. The plants themselves were a mix of scrappy greenery and surprisingly vibrant flowers, their colors popping against the muted tones of the city below.

“Woah…” you breathed, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a spot I’ve been working on.”

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filled with awe.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from yours. “Figured it’d be nice to have a place to get away, y’know? Somewhere quiet.”

You stepped forward, taking it all in. A small wooden bench sat in the center of the garden, its surface worn but sturdy. Around it, the plants swayed gently in the cool breeze, their leaves catching the light just enough to shimmer.

“Come on,” Ekko said, his hand lightly brushing the small of your back as he guided you to the bench. “I didn’t bring you here just to stand around.”

You sat down, the wood creaking softly under your weight. Ekko settled beside you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the lights and the distant sounds of Zaun filling the space. It was a working pattern. There was always a comfortable silence between the two of you.

“How long have you been working on this?” you asked softly.

“Couple months,” he said, leaning back with his arms stretched across the bench. “Takes a while to get plants to grow in a place like this. But I dunno…it feels good to build something, y’know? Instead of just tearing things down.”

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his voice. Ekko didn’t let people see this side of him often though. I mean this was the boy who dreamed of a better Zaun, the one who carried the weight of his community on his shoulders.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “Just like you.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and a little shy. “You’re laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just telling the truth,” you said, closing your eyes as his warmth seeped into you.

The two of you sat like that for a while, wrapped up in the stillness of the garden. Ekko’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, like you were always meant to fit together.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For, y’know…being here.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Of course,” you said softly while winking. “You’re worth it, Ekko.”

His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, the golden light casting shadows across his face. Then he smiled. It was real, genuine smile that made your chest feel light and full all at once.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you leaned into him.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little muffled. “It is.”

There it was again, the comfortable silence. The garden was quiet, bathed in the golden light of the mismatched lanterns. You rested your head on Ekko’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you. His fingers were still intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing small, absentminded circles against your knuckles.

It was peaceful, almost too perfect for Zaun, where tranquility was a rare luxury. The hum of distant machinery and the faint chatter of the streets below were a backdrop to your own private world. You thought this was it, that the night couldn’t get any better. But Ekko had other plans.

Suddenly, he shifted away from you, his weight leaving the bench as he stood. His warmth leaving your body. You blinked up at him, confused as he turned to face you, his signature grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He extended a hand toward you, palm up, the glow of the garden lights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice soft but brimming with an irresistible playfulness.

You tilted your head, a laugh escaping you. “Dance? Here?”

“Why not?” He wiggled his fingers, urging you to take his hand.

You hesitated, glancing around. “Ekko, there’s no music.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Reaching into his pocket, Ekko pulled out a small, beaten up speaker, a relic salvaged from some forgotten corner of Zaun. He fiddled with it for a moment before a warm melody crackled to life, filling the air with a gentle rhythm.

You stared at him in disbelief, your lips parting in surprise. “You planned this?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but failing miserably as a proud smile broke through. “Maybe.”

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his palm grounding you. “Alright, Clockstopper,” you teased. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Ekko pulled you to your feet, guiding you to the center of the garden. The music swelled around you, soft and sweet, a contrast to the chaos of Zaun. His other hand found its place on your waist, and he held you close, his movements easy and unhurried. At first, you tried to match his rhythm, your steps tentative as you followed his lead. But it wasn’t long before your foot accidentally landed on his.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, pulling back slightly.

Ekko winced dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “You’re killing me here,” he said, his voice laced with mock pain.

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Baby?” He laughed, spinning you unexpectedly. You stumbled slightly but caught yourself, the sound of your shared laughter echoing in the garden.

The two of you continued like that, swaying and spinning under the lanterns. Every so often, you’d step on his foot again, and he’d exaggerate his reaction, making you laugh until your cheeks hurt. But then, as the song shifted to a slower melody, Ekko’s movements became gentler, more deliberate. He pulled you closer, your bodies impossibly near. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the faint scent of zauns atmosphere lingering on him. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The golden light reflected in his eyes, making them shimmer like they held their own constellation. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something raw and real that made your heart stutter.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with everything words couldn’t express. Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around your waist. The world seemed to tilt, the glow of the lanterns and the soft hum of the music swirling around you in a haze of light and sound.

Time felt irrelevant—ironic, considering who you were with. All that mattered was the way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lights around you. Smiling, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too,” you said, the words as natural as breathing.

Ekko grinned, his hands tightening around your waist as he pressed a series of quick, playful kisses to your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. Each kiss was accompanied by a soft giggle from you, his affection spilling over in a way that was so uniquely him.

“Ekko, stop,” you laughed, trying to pull away as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Never,” he said, his voice full of mock defiance as he caught your lips in another kiss.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. The music played on, the lights flickered, and Zaun’s ever-present hum seemed softer, almost distant. As the night stretched on, you found yourselves back on the bench, your head resting on Ekko’s shoulder as he absentmindedly played with your fingers. The garden felt like a dream, a little slice of peace carved out of the chaos. And in that moment, with Ekko by your side and the glow of the lanterns above you, everything felt right. Almost perfect.

banners. @anitalenia

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

[l0standn0tf0und]

Spencer Reid ❀ fic recs

♡ = smut, 18+ only 

part 2.

part 3.

take a picture, it'll last longer

different phone, who dis?

extraordinary measures

language of devotion

a drawn-out lullaby

wait until breakfast

five more minutes

lovely love letters

where hands lead

strawberry laces

first fall of snow

a little timid

sobriquet

♡angel

♡bambi

♡insatiable

♡addicted to you

♡bringing your work home with you

♡early season spencer and his first time

♡the enormity of my desire (disgusts me)

All credits and support to original authors: @mariasont @drowning-rabbit @enderlovez @pathologicalreid @nereidprinc3ss @re1dsb1xch @as-sweet-as-a @3verythingiknowaboutlove @gghostwriter @siriuslylantsov @spencerreidenjoyer @brattyspence @mggslover @vatelixx @amorre1989 @certifiedlovergirlsstuff

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[sunnypopoki]

━ 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 : P.1

(𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺. 𝘎𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯… 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶? 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨.

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

P.2 / P.3

When you first saw him, you were left breathless.

That was years ago though, back when you were a teenager in high school who was only worried about the acne on your forehead and the 'F' you got in your math class. Now, you were preparing to head into college to become a psychiatrist.

You met Kieran as a freshman and started dating him months after. You weren't sure why you started dating him at first, you couldn't remember what he said that left your cheeks on fire, but the feeling next stopped.

Kieran grumbled curses under his breath as he heaved the last of the groceries through the door. His long black hair was messier than normal, tied into a low bun that curled strands around the nape of his neck. His tanned cheeks were red from the cold outside and a button on his shirt was popped open. Did he tousle a bear to get inside? He put the items on the counter and turned to face you.

"The groceries didn't want to come inside," he mumbled.

"You didn't give me a chance to help you carry them in."

His dark green eyes softened. He didn't look at anyone else the same way he did you. There was a time after you got married that you were afraid that he'd leave you because the two of you were yet to be intimate... but he didn't seem to care. You were glad he didn't care. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead.

There it was again. Breathless.

"But you've been working all day, Котик," he cooed, his Russian accent thick whenever he muttered the pet name he always used for you. "You deserve to rest."

All you wanted to do was melt into his arms. You couldn't deny that some part of you already was, sinking further into his embrace, eyes closed—but something was amiss.

Ever since high school, Kieran has been odd. He was a transfer student from London but he was born and raised in Russia, so he was always the popular kid in any class he was placed in. Even after he got in trouble multiple times for delinquent behavior. Sure, his behavior was better than what he was in high school and he was mature, but he was a lot more secretive now. So secretive that he refused to tell you where he went whenever he disappeared for "business trips" for days on end.

Now, you were a trusting wife, but you weren't naive. He worked as an editor for authors and yet he disappeared for days on end because of work? Even a baby could realize that was odd!

That wasn't the only thing though.

You've only been married to Kieran for six months but you were already starting to see signs that he wasn't entirely focused on the marriage anymore. Whenever his phone rang, he scrambled to pick it up before you had a chance to answer it for him. On the days you scheduled to go on dates together, he always arrived late with his clothes tousled about and his hair was undone. Late, late, late! He always seemed to be late for every activity the two of you scheduled together. Of course, he'd apologize over and over again, but the behavior never changed.

So maybe he did look at someone else the same way he did you. The thought left a bitter taste on your tongue.

Is he cheating on me?

It was a thought you never thought you'd have with Kieran. Whenever the two of you were dating in high school, he was loyal to a fault. You couldn't erase the memory of whenever a girl started smack-talking you and he yanked her hard so hard that a chunk of hair came from the roots. Even now, looking at him and being held by him, the thought felt distant. But it was there. That gnawing worry got worse and worse each time he got a call, text message, or left the house.

Well, who'd he be cheating on you with? He refused to have female friends in school because he always claimed that you were the only "woman" he wanted in his life. Of course, you didn't care if he had female friends or not, but you doubted it was someone the two of you knew from high school.

Your jaw clenched. Maybe he's bothered I haven't been intimate with him and he's been going to see someone?

The bitter taste worsened. Making out and slight touches wasn't the same as sex, you knew that, which is why you were so nervous to do it, even if it was with him. He never rushed you and he hadn't ever made comments about it. You listened to the thudding of his heart against his chest and pursed your lips.

You couldn't bring yourself to ask him if he was cheating on you. What if he said yes? What if he wasn't and left you because he thought you were a psycho? What if he lied and continued to cheat? Your hands scrunched up the fabric of his shirt as you hugged him tighter. You didn't want your first love to cause you heartbreak by something as revolting as cheating.

A cold hand pressed against your cheek. Kieran tilted your head back and his eyes flickered across your face. His brow creased in worry.

"Are you okay?"

No, not really. I'm worried you might be cheating on me.

But you couldn't say that.

"Yeah! I'm fine," you beamed and pulled him closer to you. "I just missed you, that's all. It was your day off but you've been out doing errands since this morning. You first went to the pharmacy to get our medicine, then the bank, then to get groceries... aren't you tired?"

He didn't look convinced. Then again, he'd known you since you were fourteen years old, so he knew how to read you like a book. His green eyes darkened momentarily and his teeth nipped at his bottom lip. His fingers traced lines above your cheekbone, jaw, and the shell of your ear.

"I'm sorry. I should have spent more time with you today."

"No, Kieran, what are you even saying? Errands need to be run so I'm appreciative that you did them," your hands fiddled at the button that came undone on his shirt. "That can't stop me from missing you though. I just feel as if you've been..."

His fingers stopped. "What?"

You regretted saying anything at all. You should have just said you missed him after a long day and went on with it, dragged him to the couch, and asked him to watch a movie with you. Your hands pulled away from his shirt and you saw the way his body tensed up like a spring. It wasn't too late to change the conversation. Maybe lie to him and say it was just a joke, that you weren't really worried. No, no, that'd be an asshole thing to do to your spouse, to make them worry you for nothing.

"(Y/N)?"

He never says your name unless he's serious or mad. Your eyes dragged back up to meet his and his jaw was clenched. He didn't look mad, he looked worried. Almost like you just punched him in the gut and he was doing his best to stay upright.

Why did he look like that? Based on all your rushing thoughts, worried about the possibility of him cheating on you, you were the one who was struggling.

"...I just feel as if you have been distant lately," you confessed with a tight smile, "but it's okay. I know you've been busy with work and I've been busy with getting ready for my upcoming lectures next week. I'm probably just being clingy again."

He didn't say anything. You weren't sure if you were supposed to feel hurt that he said nothing or relieved, but you knew that he didn't buy a single thing you just said by the way he was looking at you. He wasn't moving from the position he had on you; hand on your cheek, tense jaw, stiff muscles, darkened gaze. He breathed slowly out through his nose and opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it.

You saw a flicker of something else in his eyes whenever he closed his mouth. Guilt.

Why does he feel guilty? you thought, dread creeping up your spine. Am I right? Is he cheating on me?

You blinked in surprise whenever he pulled you into him again. His nose nuzzled into your neck and you almost suffocated with how tight his arms wrapped around you. His lips pressed little kisses against your neck and he breathed in deeply. For a split second, you almost forgot what you were so nervous about, you almost let the worry of him cheating on you slip from your mind.

"Котик, I'm sorry you've felt so lonely. I'll be able to spend more time with you soon. It's just... work, it gets in the way of so much. But I swear, I'll be able to hang out with you tomorrow without doing anything. I promise, okay?" he let go and cupped your cheeks, "me and you can do whatever you want to do for tonight. A date? I'll do it. Go to bed early? As long as you're in my arms. Anything."

Lies were best told with a sweet tongue. You weren't even sure if he meant well by telling you that, not whenever this wasn't the first time he'd promised something like this. In the end, he always got a call which caused him to leave the house for a couple hours (or sometimes a couple of days). You were used to it by now, so you only forced a smile and nodded. His face lit up.

"We can go ahead and watch a movie now if you want?"

You blinked. Now? He usually put things off whenever it came down to sitting down and watching something. You refrained from glancing at the clock. You wanted to spend time with him but you were already fearful of how much time you could before he was called away or got distracted with something. You couldn't remember the last time you sat down and watched something with him. Though, you supposed it was better than him not being there.

"And what movie do you want to watch?"

He grinned. "I believe I said whatever you want. Maybe we can watch a horror movie? So I can..." he twirled you around and hugged you from behind, "wrap my arms around you like this and protect you from evil. Hm?"

You felt your cheeks warm. "That sounds just like an excuse to hold me."

"I'm your husband, I don't need an excuse for something like that," he kissed your cheek. "truthfully, I adore it whenever you depend on me. That includes each time there's a jumpscare and you almost shit your pants each time."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. I don't get that scared."

"You cried when we watched The Haunting of Hill House together."

"Okay, there's a difference between a demon that you can't fight and some serial killer breaking into your house! I'd rather take the serial killer. Plus, that was years ago when it first came out and it was a sad show."

You didn't miss the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. Maybe the term 'odd' wasn't the best way to describe him with the way he has been acting recently. After the two of you graduated high school, he started to get touchy about certain topics about crime. He always had a fascination with crime back when he was a teenager in high school, but the topic suddenly became grim for him whenever he got older.

You weren't sure why. Honestly, you've never asked. The topic wasn't something you'd be able to bring up with ease, especially when he tried to change the topic each time someone wanted to talk about true crime or the news with him. You remembered that he was worried when he found out you were going to school to become a therapist... worried that you'd get stuck with a patient who did bad things.

You didn't even want to get into how paranoid he was about the police. That was a different topic entirely.

"I find something real to be much more terrifying than a fictional ghost," he murmured.

"But demons could be real!"

There was a long pause. You felt his muscles churn around you, squeezing you tighter, refusing to let you go and he mumbled seriously. "Promise me that if anyone broke into our house and you had to pick between going with them or a demon, you'd go with the demon."

"What are you on about?" you deadpanned, "I thought were talking about movies, and Kieran, I doubt a scenario like that would ever happen."

"Promise me, (Y/N). Demon or not,  you won't go with anyone who breaks into our house."

Your eyes narrowed. "Keiran, I don't have to promise you something that is common sense. I obviously won't be going with anyone who breaks into our house. You act like you think someone will."

He huffed and let go. The warmth of his embrace leaving left goosebumps all over your body. You didn't get a chance to say anything before he flashed a blinding smile, chuckling.

"I was just making sure. You've always been a daredevil, so I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't try and challenge anyone who barged into our house. I doubt anyone would break in anyway."

It was only natural that you didn't believe him. There were a lot of stories where people said that their partners changed after marriage, sometimes for the better or the worse, and you weren't sure if Kieran's change was good or bad. His paranoid nature only made it hard to believe that he wasn't cheating on you. He was clingy before he married you, but he was overly clingy and sweet now. Which was odd because he was often out of the house or on phone calls...

It was just, well, odd.

"Oh... okay then. Do you need help putting up the groceries before we watch a movie?"

"No need, Котик. You can prepare the movie for us to watch. Choose anything you want."

There was a game you played. Each time you noticed Kieran avoid looking you in the eye, you took three gulps of breath. It was mostly a game you played to calm yourself down from the rush of anxiety you felt each time he did. It left you wondering if you did something wrong, if you made him pissed and he didn't want to look at you anymore. Your lips curled into a frown.

He could just be watching a movie so I wouldn't complain about missing him.

You nodded silently and turned on your heel. It would be best to ignore that entire conversation happened. Worrying over his suspicious and paranoid behavior wouldn't change the fact that he was acting that way. You glanced at him one more time as he placed the milk into the fridge. Yeah. Don't worry about it. Just don't worry.

The living room was down the hallway to the left. The floorboards squealed at the weight and you sighed whenever you walked to the couch, picking up the remote and turning it on.  The two of you didn't have a lot of streaming services so almost everything you watched was on Netflix. Your fingers tapped around and you absentmindedly scrolled through the list of movies.

You were tempted to throw on a movie that you already watched. However, it was supposed to be time spent together and you knew he'd get bored if you clicked something that he had already watched. You clicked a random scary movie. The name was confusing and it looked like a found-footage aesthetic, something about the catacombs under Paris and the philosopher's stone.

"I'm sure he hasn't watched this..."

"Watched what?"

You jumped whenever he clamped a hand on your shoulder. Whipping around on the sofa, Kieran was leaning over the back with a sly smirk on his face.

"Already scared?" he chuckled, "I have a gut feeling you're going to be clinging to me throughout this entire movie."

You pursed your lips. He already got all the groceries done that fast? You knew that he didn't like to waste time but he was insanely fast doing that. He massaged your shoulders whenever he noticed the frown you had, his smile growing wider by the second. He jumped over the back of the couch effortlessly and plopped down right beside you.

"Why are you frowning, my sweet Котик?"

"You got done way too fast with putting the groceries away" you squinted. "It's not normal."

He inhaled. There was a rasp in the back of his throat whenever he leaned forward, his breath tickling your skin. The air was knocked from your lungs whenever his gaze flickered to your lips and back up to yours. "Would you believe me if I told you that I have been craving to be close to you? Especially to kiss you..."

Heat crept up the back of your neck. All the worries you had melted away whenever he pulled you closer to him and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He wasn't avoiding your eyes, now he was staring so intently that you were afraid that you were going to become a puddle of goo in his arms. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip.

"Mm, can I kiss you?"

"...do you have to ask?"

He chuckled breathlessly, "Yes. It's polite."

"But you're my husband."

"Yes, I am."

His lips smashed against yours. Anything you wanted to say was thrown out the window whenever his hands gripped your waist and yanked your body against his. His hand brushed up your spine, up your neck, brushing over your hair and going to cup your face. His lips were cold and his nose was too, breath smelling like the mint gum he always seemed to chew. The hint of his cologne tickled your nose.

Your hands ran up his arms and you tugged at the collar of his shirt. He was still a ruffled mess from when he came in from outside. His hair was a knotted mess that needed to be brushed out, but that didn't stop your hands from tangling in the strands and tugging at them. A groan tore through his lips.

"God, you're so fucking perfect," he whispered against your lips. "I don't want to stop kissing you now. Mmm, do we have to watch the movie? I want to give you more kisses."

You almost agreed. "...But the movie is already waiting to be played."

He licked his teeth and his hands ran up and down your back. He swallowed and you noticed the dip of his adam's apple, his eyes staring at your lips again. "Of course, we should watch the movie, but..."

"But what?"

"Can I kiss you even more after the movie?"

The fire in your cheeks felt like your skin was melting off. There were times when it felt like you were in high school again, getting all flustered because of his needy nature. Ever since you have known him he has always been the type to enjoy kisses. Even something as chaste as a peck on the forehead, he was a sucker for it. Whenever the two of you first started dating, he'd get so red each time you kissed his cheek, stammering over nothing and quickly kissing your cheek back and scurrying away.

Now look at him. He was pulling you in, begging for more, kissing you like you were his only source of oxygen. He even kissed you like that on your wedding day. His entire family was whooping and cheering after that, and your few family members who attended frowned. You remembered being embarrassed at the time... but you were glad that something like that didn't change.

"Very well. You can kiss me all you want after the movie. Don't try and sneak some in while we are watching, because then you won't focus on the movie at all," you mumbled.

"You're flustered so easily, Котик," he grinned. He leaned into the couch and placed his arm around the back, fiddling with your sleeve as he rested his cheek against your head. "But fineeee. I guess I'll obey your orders for now."

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. It only took you a couple of seconds for you to get comfortable and curl into his side, shuffling to find the remote as he tugged a blanket over you both. You never got an answer on if he watched it before or not but by the way his eyes were glued to the screen whenever you clicked play, you assumed not.

Time became a blur. Now and again he'd comment on the movie or just something toward you, but his arm never moved from its spot behind you. He curled his legs up on the couch and mumbled complaints under his breath whenever he saw the characters do something stupid.

You started to forget your anxieties. Even just for a short while, it was nice to relax with him and to feel him close without having to worry about him leaving to go on some 'business trip'. You were focusing on him too much to even care about the movie. The way his lips formed a thin line whenever he was annoyed, his rapid blinking each time something shocking happened, bouncing his leg up and down.

It was impossible to not love him.

He noticed you staring. His cheeks turned a little pink. "What?"

"Nothing."

His ego would explode if you told him you were staring at him just because he was fun to watch. Hearing his endless teasing wasn't something you were in the mood to hear, so you just feigned looking back at the movie to watch it. His eyes burned into the side of your head for a second long before he looked back to the screen.

You glanced back at him. He was sucked into the TV again. He chewed on the edge of his knuckle and you let your eyes wander. You stared at the tattoos that peeked out from under his collar and sleeve. All those colorful tattoos were hidden away. He had some of them before you met him, which you always found surprising that he had tattoos at such a young age, but he just said "It ran in the family".

It was addicting to trace your fingers over them. Kieran liked laying around shirtless whenever it was summer. You always used to visit his old apartment to sit with him and let him read his books while you doodled on his arms and called them 'new tattoos' while you colored in his blank tattoos. Butterflies fluttered whenever you remembered the way he smiled at you each time you drew on him.

He had so many tattoos that you weren't sure how many he had. Some were in Russian, but a lot of them were creatures from folklore and mythology. Like Baba Yaga, who came from Slavic Folklore, which was tattooed on his right hip. You always used to doodle accessories onto her face.

"Котик, are you going to continue staring at me or are you going to watch the movie?"

You quickly avoided his gaze and looked at the TV. "I am watching the movie."

"Surreee."

Everything was fine for a while. A while, you said, because it didn't take long for all that built-up hope and affection to come back down from its high. Soon enough you'd be feeling the withdrawal. You were in the middle of watching the characters climb through a tunnel of bones whenever a phone started to ring loudly. It bounced off the walls and jarred Kieran out of his trance.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Your smile fell. Kieran cursed.

The arm slung around your shoulder tensed, his hand curling into a fist that turned his knuckles white. His jaw flexed, and the phone rang for a couple more seconds before he moved from the couch and grabbed his phone from the cushion.

It was bad luck. You were convinced that you were cursed with bad luck. A sour taste bubbled in your chest and coated your tongue. Biting at the inside of your cheek, you shut the TV off completely as that swell of expectation came back. The remote was tossed to the side and the blanket slipped to the floor.

You caught a glimpse of the phone screen before he answered it. UNKNOWN. Of course, it was another random number that he didn't have saved to his contacts. You clutched the blanket in your lap and a lump formed in your throat. Seriously? Why were you going to cry? You knew that he wouldn't be focused on you forever. It also wasn't like you knew he was cheating on you, you had no proof, it was just a suspicion. But that didn't stop the familiar sting of tears welling up behind your eyes.

You knew it was a lie whenever he promised to spend the rest of the day with you, you weren't sure why you let your hopes get up. But it still hurt.

He pressed the device to his ear and snapped.

"What?"

Just who was it that made him sound like that? You've never heard him sound so hateful, so nasty, to just some random caller on the phone. That meant he knew who was calling him even when the number popped up. The random person he didn't have saved in his phone. Someone he possibly didn't want to be linked to.

Thousands of questions tumbled through your mind. Kieran wasn't interested in men, so if he was cheating, it wasn't a man... unless he was interested in men and hasn't told you? He has a lot of male friends. No, no, having friends of any gender doesn't just mean that you'll sleep with them or have a second life with them behind your partner. So if it was a woman... where would he have met her? Maybe it was a client and he was editing her book?

He did read a lot of articles. There was always the possibility that it was a writer of those, right? Wait—

I'm not being a good wife right now, you thought. Your nails picked at your cuticles. I'm just assuming things without any proof. Am I being like one of those psychotic, obsessive wives? Is there something wrong with me? What if I'm the issue?

Your bottom lip wobbled. You clamped your teeth on it to keep Kieran from noticing.

He started to pace and ramble around the room in Russian. He didn't seem to be talking to anyone, mostly to himself in frustration, as his hand was placed on his hip and he cursed under his breath. There were many times in your life when you wished you knew Russian; when you first met him, to impress him, to have conversations with him, to learn his culture and language... now you were more concerned if he was frustrated about a girl or not.

The only Russian word you knew that he actively said around you was 'Котик', a Russian term of endearment meant for a lover which meant "kitten" or "kitty". You didn't need to jump leaps to guess what it meant even if it was a somewhat cheesy term to use (at least in your opinion), but you never argued, since he has called you it since the two of you were teenagers.

"I thought I told you to—"

Kieran cut himself off quickly whenever he realized you were still in the room with him. He dragged the phone away from his ear and his eyes snapped to you, his face falling into despair whenever he noticed the TV was off and you were staring up at him. Another broken promise. Another lie. Another phone call he just had to pick up, that he couldn't ignore for one night. Just how many more broken promises were you going to take before you finally asked him why he couldn't keep them?

Damn it. You really wanted to cry.

Even if it wasn't him cheating on you, even if it was work, some part of you wished that he included you in it as well. You were aware that you weren't supposed to be in every single part of his life. The two of you were supposed to be comfortable in the relationship, not joined at the hip breathing down each other's necks.

You just didn't get it. It wasn't like 'work' was going to straight up kill him if he didn't answer the phone for one night!

Kieran didn't know what to do. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at you with so many open emotions on his face that you couldn't read all of them. But he knew what he had done. He picked up the phone and that alone was enough to break a promise, even if he hadn't left the house. Yet. You knew how it worked—he always left the house after late phone calls like this. You were slowly starting to get used to the feeling of falling asleep without him there. And some mornings, he wasn't in bed either, only a note left on the counter with breakfast he made.

His shoulders sank. "Котик, I... uhm, I need to take this phone call real quick so I'm going to step into the other room, okay? I'll be right back though and me and you can finish the movie—"

Liar.

"Uhm... I think I'm just going to go to bed. I'm starting to feel tired anyway. Uh, make sure to lock the door behind you whenever you go out."

He always did. You weren't sure why you were reminding him.

Deep down, some part of you wanted him to feel guilty. It was that small whisper of hope that if he felt guilty then maybe he'd start changing things for the better, to start telling you why he was so secretive, and to start sleeping in your bed again. You missed the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. Sure, some nights he did fall asleep in your bed. But some nights weren't most nights, and most nights weren't every night.

I miss a man who's right in front of me.

His entire expression crumpled. He opened his mouth to say something but faltered, watching as you got up and threw the blanket the two of you were sharing back on the couch. Oh how badly he looked like he wanted to say something. And how badly you felt about yourself whenever you saw his expression, because seeing him feel guilty didn't bring satisfaction, it only made your heart hurt more.

"(Y/N), I—"

"It's okay," you flashed a smile, "I'll talk to you tomorrow morning."

If he'd be there tomorrow morning.

You didn't give him a chance to respond before you turned on your heel and scurried to the bedroom. The house which you picked with him seven months ago now felt cold and lonely compared to the warm idea you had when you first saw it. Tears sprung forth whenever you closed the door behind you, choking into your elbow as you did your best to muffle the small sobs that let your lips. You couldn't hear him anymore or the muffled rambling over the phone.

The room was dark. The floorboards were ice cold and you didn't bother to brush your teeth, wash your face, or change into pajamas before you crawled under the covers and hid.

Emotions were a complicated thing. You hated how they felt and how it was so hard to understand them. All you wanted was for Kieran to come to you and have a conversation about what was going on, but now you were dreading that he would because you didn't want him to see that you were crying. He always got so panicked whenever you cried. Always brushing away your tears, cooing sweet things in your ear, kissing your face and neck anywhere he could.

Which made you wish he did see you cry.

See? Emotions were complicated.

You don't know how long you laid in bed. You only heard the whir and popping of heat rushing through the vents, warming up the room until you were toasty under the thick blankets. There were times when you swore you heard a shout from the other room, muffled and something you couldn't understand, but then it was gone. Possibly a figment of your imagination, maybe it was Kieran shouting over the phone.

Your day started with a good start. Then everything deescalated in a whirlwind of emotions that you didn't know how to control. All the suspicions you had about Kieran were becoming worse and worse.

If he is cheating on me, you thought. What would I do?

The idea of divorcing him left your heart aching. Ever since you started dating him, you've never wanted to leave him, but cheating would mean you'd have to. While you loved him, you didn't love him enough to stay if he was living some second life with another woman. You gnawed on the edge of your thumb and curled your legs up to your chest.

If you divorced him, you'd have to find somewhere cheap to stay where you could still go to college and not sleep in the streets. No way your parents would let you stay with them until you got back onto your feet, they didn't like you marrying Kieran in the first place because of his delinquent behavior in school and the fact he wasn't going to college. They'd probably tell you 'I told you so' and let you rot.

The part-time job you had now wasn't enough to live in a decent apartment. The two of you lived on the outskirts of the city,  you wouldn't be able to afford a good apartment in the city closest to campus so you would have to settle in one of the apartment complexes near the beat-down part of the city, where a lot of reports of trafficking and crime were made.

A shiver shot down your spine. While the apartments there weren't the cleanest or nicest, the issue of rampant crime was the most concerning. You'd have to buy a taser or pepper spray, something like that. Or learn martial arts? You'd have to find a teacher that wasn't expensive.

Why am I even thinking about this?

Guilt crashed into you like a barreling stampede of horses. Tears blurred your vision as you nuzzled into the pillow and whimpered, muttering soft apologies under your breath. You hated how your mind worked. One thought and you'd take it and run, not giving the chance for hope and optimism to spark. You had to remind yourself for the umpteenth time that you didn't have any proof that Kieran was cheating.

You were the bad one for treating him like he was whenever you didn't know. At least, that was what you believed. Other wives acted better than you. They trusted their partners, but here you were, already daydreaming about your life if Kieran was cheating on you. Just a was.

Soft footsteps broke you from your thoughts.

The door creaked open and light poured into the dark. You stayed still under the blankets, face hidden away in the pillows to keep the sight of your tear-streaked face away from him. The floorboards creaked a little bit the bed shifted whenever you felt him sit down and lean across. His familiar touch grazed your cheek and traced the contours of your face. He sighed.

"Котик, are you awake?"

You didn't respond. Not this time.

He tugged the blankets down and there was another sigh. His fingers trailed farther downward and rubbed circles on your back and patterns that only he understood. He mumbled under his breath to himself. "She didn't change into something comfortable... not even the belt."

It took everything in your power to not move whenever his fingers fiddled with the metal clasp of your belt and he slipped them from the loops. He put the belt on the other side of the bed and the mattress shifted whenever he got closed, strands of his hair tickling your cheek whenever he leaned over. He pressed a kiss on your jaw.

"Ah fuck," he grumbled.

What is that supposed to mean?

Then there were more kisses; jaw, cheek, forehead, lips. He attacked you in kisses and every now and again he'd sigh and stop to trail his hands across your head or over your back. You could tell he refreshed his cologne. It was subtle but it was there, tickling your nose each time he moved to kiss another part of your face.

"Котик, if you're awake, I'll be back tomorrow evening and we can watch all the movies you want. I'm sorry I'm heading out again, but some people at work are being really stupid right now," he whispered against your ear. He kissed it tenderly. "I'll buy you your favorite ice cream on the way back home too. I know you'll be happy with that..."

There was a long pause. He didn't move.

"I love you."

Maybe he waited for you to respond, to say 'I love you' back, but you didn't. It wasn't that you didn't love him... god, the one reason why everything hurt so much was that you did, but you didn't dare to confess that you were pretending to sleep just to avoid talking to him. You didn't want Kieran to hear your voice cracking from crying. Especially since now, you knew he was leaving the house again.

You didn't believe him when he said it was work and you felt guilty that you didn't. He was an editor, he worked from home or his rented-out office, and it wasn't like he had people who worked underneath him.

"Котик, I'll make it up to you, I promise," he whispered.

He didn't say anything else except for a lingering kiss on your temple before he got off the bed. The weight of his body leaving felt more familiar than him being there. Kieran blew a breath and muttered something in Russian before he left the room. The door clicked shut behind him and you were left in the dark alone once more.

The emotions you felt earlier surged back up to the surface. Your nails bit into your palms and tears trickled down your cheeks and dropped onto the pillow. All you wanted was for him to get in bed with you, hold you, fall asleep, and still be there whenever you woke up the next morning.

So instead of facing them and bawling, you swallowed the lump in your throat and closed your eyes. Sleeping it off was better than facing it. Soon enough, you'd find out what he was hiding and what this "work" meant. Your small cries were muffled as you did your best to fall asleep before you got too heavy into your thoughts and cried even harder.

Luckily for you, sadness was exhausting, and you crashed before the clock hit midnight.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N ;

So you might have noticed the reader isn’t a Mary Sue or know it all. I tried to make her realistic, someone who’s insecure in her relationship, etc. So I hope that came across well. If you don’t like her, remember she’s human, she can change and develop in the story. She isn’t going to be perfect.

But anyway, did you enjoy this first chapter? You can also find it on my Wattpad and Quotev, which is listed on the top of my account. My discord server is also listed there! Remember to comment and heart if you enjoyed it.

[ Read P.2 ]

[misserabella]

bloody and needy

just thinking about spencer being the kind of MAN that doesn’t care about blood. you want period sex? you’ve got it. that’s it. that’s the prompt.

cw: +18, minors dni!, period sex, blood duh, spencer being a service king, praising, lots of pet names and dirty talk, breeding kink, overstimulation, creampie, allusion to a second round…

it’s all a blur. you don’t exactly remember how or when spencer took off your clothes, but you’re laying completely naked over a couple of towels on your shared bed as his large fingers pump into your squeezing cunt.

“fuck.” and you’re moaning, cause it feels so fucking good you want to cry. it’s been over a week since you two have had sex, since he’d been away for a case, and just when he was finally coming back home and you hoped you’d finally get some release, that time of the month tagged along. so there you were, horny, desperate, and bleeding. but your boyfriend doesn’t care about blood. ‘it’s natural.’ he’s told you before. ‘tell me what you need and i’ll give it to you.’

so here you were now, legs spread as he adds another finger, your own in his hair tugging at the feeling of him stretching you so nicely… spencer kissed and sucked at your neck, his cock throbbing at the sweet sounds you’re making and the squelches that come from your cunt as he pumps in and out.

“spencer…”

“god baby, you’re so pretty like this…” he muttered, needy to be inside but waiting for you to give him the go ahead. his hand is a mess of crimson but he pays no mind to it.

“need you.” you breathe out, your back arching as his lips latched to your nipples.

“yeah? you need me?” he lapped at one of them and you nodded, whimpering. “should i take my fingers out then?” you nodded once again, but still whined at the loss of pleasure. “i know, i know baby. so needy for me.” he was quick to make work of his clothes, throwing them aside with your own and positioning himself in between your legs.

your hips and legs trembled when the tip of his cock teased you, and his tongue wetted his lips at the sight of the face you made when it bumped against your clit. “so sensitive huh?” he smiled and you nodded, eyes hazy.

“feels so good…”

“im gonna make you feel better, angel.” he said as he pushed inside with one single thrust, what made you scream. “fuck. you’re so warm…” he gritted his teeth as he started to move, leaving kisses on your neck. “so wet for me. you feel like heaven, love. so good for me.” he praised as he fucked into you, your legs surrounding his hips and your nails digging on his back. “you needed this, hm? baby? you needed me to fuck you, huh? my poor pretty girl. i’ve always told you that you just need to ask and i’ll give you anything.” your cheeks blushed, and you whined. “see what being a good girl and speaking up gets you, baby?” he pecked your lips and you moaned at a partially harsher thrust. “like that?”

“harder.” you desperately asked and he complied, fucking into you at the same speed yet harsher. you couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers falling from your lips. “spence…”

“i know angel, you’re so sensitive, doing so good for me…” one of his hands found your clit, circling it. “you can cum, pretty girl.” you moaned, your back arching. it was almost too much, until the overstimulation faded and you were grinding against his touch and cock in a daze. “jesus. if you could see yourself right now baby, so fucking hot… gonna make me cum so hard…” you whimpered at the thought. “yeah? you want me to cum for you baby?” you nodded. “where?”

“inside. cum inside please.” you babbled, your whole body tensing at the approaching of your orgasm. spencer groaned.

“you want me to fill this pretty pussy? make a mess out of it?” you cried and hiccuped in answer, muttering a ‘yes’ that almost made him bust in the spot. “want me to get you round and pretty for me?”

“yes! please, spencer, please…!” you begged and he moaned.

“i’m gonna cum baby, gonna fill you up so much it’ll be dripping out of you for a week.” that made you unravel, the tight band in you stomach snapping as you screamed in release, moaning his name over and over. “fuck, angel, fuck.” he groaned as he felt you clench, and after three stuttering thrusts, he spilled everything inside of you, kissing you sloppily as he fucked the two of you through it.

after the two of you came down, he caressed your cheek. “you okay, baby?”

“more than okay.” you smiled, and he couldn’t help but do the same.

“i’m gonna go find something to clean us up, okay?”

yoy looked down to find his thighs and v line along with his lower stomach stained in your blood. it only made you throb and him hiss.

“or maybe not.” he replied as he felt you starting to rock your hips against his already hardening cock.

“maybe not.”

-

❤️🩸i’m on my period, SO WHAT

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Better Than Fiction

where y/n picks Harry up from the airport and reveals what she does when she’s alone.

word count: 5.1 k

content warning: cursing. SMUT. Probably the smuttiest thing I’ve ever done.

You tap the steering wheel with your thumb, eyes flicking between the road and the dashboard clock. The sky is a soft blue-gray, the kind that only happens right before sunset, and the air feels thick with the kind of quiet that only comes when something good is about to happen.

You haven’t seen him in two months. Eight weeks. Sixty-something days—not that you’ve been counting, except you absolutely have. Every time you dropped your phone on your face watching his interviews in bed. Every time he sent a blurry backstage photo with a caption like “thinking of you.” Every time you climbed into your empty sheets and curled your body around the pillow he left behind like that would make any kind of difference.

Your stomach flutters as you take the exit for the airport, the big green signs snapping you back to reality. His flight landed about fifteen minutes ago. You know it’ll take time to get through customs and baggage claim, but still. You’re suddenly nervous. You check your reflection in the rearview mirror, smoothing your hand over your hair even though the curls won’t settle, then press your lips together to check for smudges. Natural. Low effort. Like you’re not buzzing in your seat just thinking about him.

You keep wondering what version of him you’ll get today. The soft one with sleepy eyes and heavy limbs who tucks his head into your neck and hums when he breathes you in. The quiet one who just wants to be close. Or maybe the cheeky one who teases you in the car the whole way home and can’t keep his hands to himself once the door clicks shut.

Either way, he’s here. Finally.

You pull into the short-term parking garage and kill the engine, heart thudding now. This is it. He’s just a few hundred feet away. Probably dragging his duffel bag behind him, scrolling his phone or yawning through his last wave of exhaustion. You sling your purse over your shoulder and head toward the terminal.

Your boots echo across the pavement. The air inside is warmer than you expected, and loud. Rolling suitcases, babies crying, someone’s name being paged overhead. You scan the arrivals board as if you don’t already know—Flight 202. London to New York. Landed.

He steps through the sliding doors like he’s walking into a scene that’s been waiting for him.

Loose brown trousers, soft white tee, sunglasses hanging from the collar. His hair’s shorter than when you last saw him, brushed back with that casually undone look that somehow makes it worse—makes your heart thud harder in your chest. There’s a little color to his skin, a post-tour flush like he’s been somewhere warm, somewhere you weren’t. His duffel hangs from one shoulder, hand gripping the strap, and he scans the crowd like he’s looking for something he lost.

Until his eyes land on you.

He doesn’t smile at first. Not really. His whole body just seems to pause, his gaze locked on yours like he forgot how loud the world is. You feel it like a pull—an ache that settles low in your belly, sharp and immediate. Because it’s not just recognition in his eyes. It’s hunger.

You don’t move. Neither does he. The space between you hums.

Then someone breaks it.

“Harry?” A man, maybe in his twenties, stepping hesitantly forward with a phone in hand. “Sorry, I know you just got in, but—could I get a quick photo?”

Harry blinks. Just once. Then turns to him with a practiced, polite smile.

“Yeah, of course.”

He poses without effort, one hand still gripping his bag. The smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

You watch him thank the guy, watch the fan beam as he walks away. And then Harry’s looking at you again, already moving toward you. Slower this time. Like he’s trying to stay calm. Like he knows he won’t be, not for long.

He doesn’t say anything.

Not at first.

He just lets the strap of his duffel fall to the floor with a quiet thud and steps into you, arms winding tight around your waist like it’s instinct. You barely have time to breathe before he’s pressing you close, his body all solid warmth and tension, chest rising fast against yours.

Then he leans in.

Not for a kiss—not yet. He presses his face into the side of your neck and just breathes. Long, slow, deliberate. Like he’s been holding off for this exact moment, saving it, needing it more than he let on.

You feel it before you hear it—the way his exhale trembles just slightly, the way his fingers grip a little harder at the small of your back. Like maybe this hit him harder than he was ready for.

“God, I missed you,” he mumbles against your skin, the words thick and barely there.

Your eyes flutter shut. Your hands slide up his back, curling in the fabric of his shirt at his shoulders. He’s here. He’s really here.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing the hem of your shirt where it meets your jeans. His eyes roam your face like he’s memorizing it again, slower this time, softer. His voice is a whisper, the accent heavy and real in a way you’ve only heard on the phone lately.

“Y’look so fuckin’ good, baby.”

Your heart trips. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

He tilts his forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded, and smiles like he’s already thinking ten steps ahead.

“Been thinkin’ about you non-stop. Every night. Every bloody city. Drove me mad.”

You laugh, soft and breathless, and pull back just enough to see him clearly.

“I missed you too,” you say, grinning now, the weight in your chest finally loosening. “Even the dramatic part of you.”

He smiles like he’s proud of that, dimples deep and eyes flicking to your mouth like he’s thinking about kissing you again. But instead, he slips a hand into yours and starts walking, his duffel back over his shoulder, your fingers laced like they’ve never been apart.

Outside, the sky’s shifting to gold. The kind of light that softens everything, that makes moments feel like memories while they’re still happening.

As you make your way to the garage, you glance over at him. “D’you wanna stop for food before we head home?”

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Nah,” he says, voice low, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Only thing I wanna eat is you.”

You choke on a laugh, your whole face heating. “Harry.”

“What?” he says, eyes wide like he’s innocent, but his hand tightens around yours. “I’m starvin’, love.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile as your stomach flips. Two months apart, and of course this is how he comes back. Cocky. Gorgeous. Starving.

And apparently, not for takeout.

The elevator ride to the garage is quiet, but only because his hand won’t stop wandering—thumb tracing slow circles into your palm, pinky brushing your wrist like he’s trying to remember every inch of you without making a scene.

Once you reach the car, he tosses his bag in the back like it weighs nothing and slides into the passenger seat, reclined and smug. His legs spread a little wider than necessary. You try not to look, but he catches you anyway.

“Eyes on the road, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you pull out of the garage.

You roll your eyes. “You’re the one sitting like you’re in a Calvin Klein ad.”

He grins, slow and wicked. “Don’t act like you weren’t lookin’. Missed that face of yours when you get all flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“You are,” he says, tipping his head against the headrest. “Little pink right there.” He lifts his finger and brushes it under his own cheekbone to show you. “Cute.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose and flick on your turn signal. “Do you want something quick? Like drive-thru? Or—”

“I meant what I said,” he interrupts, voice a little lower now. “Didn’t spend nine hours on a plane just to ruin my appetite with fries.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

He hums like it’s a compliment. “Reckon I’ve had that dream at least five times. You. Couch. No clothes. Me starvin’.”

You grip the steering wheel tighter and do your best to keep your eyes on the road. It’s not going well.

“Harry,” you warn.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll wait till we get home.”

A pause.

“Probably.”

You glance at him, lips twitching. “Bold of you to assume you’re the one doing the eating.”

He turns his head slowly, that smug little smirk faltering as his eyebrows lift. “Yeah?”

You shrug, eyes back on the road. “You’ve had dreams? Babe, I’ve had entire scenarios planned. You don’t even know.”

He’s quiet for a beat, and when you look over, he’s staring at you like you just flipped the game on its head.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters under his breath, shifting in his seat. “I’ve been gone too long.”

You bite back your grin, suddenly enjoying how the air in the car feels thick now, humming with that delicious tension. Payback feels good.

He leans closer, voice like gravel against the warm press of sunset through the window. “Tell me one of ‘em. Just one.”

“Nope.”

“Please?”

“You can earn it.”

His head falls back with a groan, one hand dragging down his face. “You’re evil.”

“And you’re desperate.”

He lets out a soft laugh, low and turned on. “That I am.”

The car ride softens after that.

He reaches over and rests a hand on your thigh, fingers splayed warm against your jeans. Not moving, not teasing—just there. Grounding. You drive one-handed the rest of the way, stealing glances at him whenever the road lets you.

He looks more like himself now. Less performer, more person. His eyes are a little heavy, his curls ruffled from the headrest, his body sunk deeper into the seat like it’s finally catching up with him—how long he’s been gone, how much he missed this. Missed you.

You slow as you turn down your street. Familiar trees, familiar windows. The kind of quiet that tells you you’re nearly home.

He shifts beside you, eyes opening again as he recognizes the corner. “Flat’s still standing, yeah?”

You nod, lips tugging into a smile. “I only set it on fire twice.”

He grins, squeezing your leg gently. “Knew I could trust you.”

The car rolls to a stop outside your building. The sun’s dipping lower now, casting long shadows across the pavement. You don’t move yet. Neither does he.

There’s a beat of silence, heavy in a different way this time.

Then, softer—

“You sure you’re ready for me?” he asks, like he’s only half-joking. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks.”

Your heart stutters, but your voice stays steady.

“Been ready since the day you left.”

The lobby is quiet except for the soft hum of the overhead lights and the echo of your footsteps on the tile. You feel him behind you—close, so close—his presence brushing up your spine like static. Neither of you says much. There’s nothing left to say, not right now. It’s all waiting just under the surface.

You press the elevator button. The light flickers on, then nothing. You glance at him.

His eyes are dark.

The elevator arrives with a slow chime, and you both step inside. The doors slide shut and it’s just the two of you now, standing side by side in the warm silence.

You can feel the way his fingers flex at his sides. Can hear the slow rhythm of his breathing. There’s a twitch in your own hands—an urge to touch, to reach, to give in already—but you keep still. Barely.

The numbers tick up. Seven. Eight. Nine. It’s excruciating.

He leans in, whispering just loud enough for you to hear. “This thing’s takin’ the piss.”

You bite your lip. “Almost there.”

When the doors finally open, you step out first. You don’t wait. Not this time.

You lead the way down the hall, heart pounding harder with every step. You reach the door, slide your key in with a hand that isn’t quite steady. The lock clicks.

Before you can even reach for the light switch, you hear the thud of his bag hitting the floor.

Then he’s on you.

His hands are on your hips, your back, your waist, pulling you into him as the door shuts hard behind you. His mouth finds your neck, warm and hungry, and your gasp fills the dark hallway. You don’t need the lights. You just need him—right here, right now.

He lifts your shirt slightly, lips brushing just beneath your jaw.

“Couldn’t wait another bloody second,” he mumbles against your skin.

And then he kisses you like he means to make up for every second he’s been gone.

Your back hits the door with a soft thud, the wood cool through your shirt, but everything else is heat. His hands are everywhere—one at your waist, the other sliding up your side beneath the hem of your top, rough fingertips skimming bare skin like he’s rediscovering you inch by inch.

His mouth crashes into yours before you can speak, and all the air leaves your lungs at once.

It’s not frantic. It’s not rushed.

It’s worse than that.

It’s slow. Intentional. Full of that maddening kind of restraint that only comes from someone who’s been imagining this in vivid detail for weeks. His lips move over yours like he’s tasting a memory—soft, then deep, then soft again. He kisses you like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

You melt into him without meaning to, hands sliding up under the hem of his shirt, fingers grazing the curve of his waist, the slope of his back. He shivers under your touch.

When you pull away just enough to breathe, his mouth doesn’t stop. He trails kisses across your cheek, down the curve of your jaw, to that spot just below your ear that makes your knees go weak. He knows it does. He lingers there, mouth warm and open, the scrape of his teeth just enough to make you gasp.

“Fuckin’ missed this,” he breathes, voice thick and rough, his accent slurring the edges of every word. “Missed you.”

You don’t even try to answer. You just kiss him again, harder this time, your fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.

He presses closer, slotting a leg between yours, the weight of him pressing into every line of your body. You feel the tension in his muscles, the way he holds back, jaw tight like he’s clinging to control by a thread.

And God, it makes you want him more.

His thumb strokes the underside of your breast through your bra, slow and teasing, while his other hand cradles the back of your head like he can’t bear to be any further from your mouth.

When he kisses you again, it’s deeper. Wetter. His tongue slides against yours and it’s all heat now, all need. You arch into him, breath catching in your throat.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispers against your lips. “Yeah?”

You nod, eyes locked on his, and he presses one last kiss to your mouth—soft, like a promise—before guiding you away from the door.

His hand stays at the small of your back as he walks you through the flat, steering you gently down the hallway. The air feels warmer here, more still, like even the rooms missed him. When you reach the bedroom, he nudges the door open with his foot and leads you in like it’s something sacred.

He stops at the edge of the bed and looks at you, eyes dark and steady.

“Sit down for me, love.”

You do, heart hammering as you settle on the edge of the mattress, legs just barely parted, your eyes tilted up to him. He steps between your knees, fingers reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. Then both hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt.

“Arms up.”

You raise them without hesitation, and he peels your shirt off slow, knuckles grazing your skin as he lifts the fabric over your head. It drops to the floor behind him, forgotten.

He leans in again, mouth catching yours before you can speak. His kiss is deeper now, slower, hands resting just beneath your ribs as he presses into you. Every inch of him is warm. Grounded. Certain.

Between kisses, his fingers move to the button of your jeans.

You feel the faint pop of denim giving way, the soft drag of his knuckles as he works them open. He doesn’t look down. Doesn’t break the kiss. Just keeps kissing you like he’s starving, like you’re the only thing he’s craved since he left.

You lift your hips for him and his hands slide around to your thighs, easing your jeans down, dragging the fabric slow over your skin. The kiss never falters. His lips move with yours like he’s drinking you in, like nothing—not time or distance or fabric—should’ve ever been between you to begin with.

When he finally pulls back, your jeans are on the floor, your chest is rising fast, and his mouth is pink from how long he’s kept it on yours.

His eyes rake over you, voice low and ragged.

“Fuckin’ hell, look at you.”

You laugh softly, a nervous little sound that slips out without warning. He catches it right away, eyes narrowing like he’s just found a crack in the wall.

“What’s that for?” he asks, voice low but amused. His hands rest on your bare thighs, thumbs brushing lazy circles into your skin. “Somethin’ funny, sweetheart?”

You shrug, lips twitching like you’re trying to play it off, but he doesn’t buy it. Not for a second.

He leans in, mouth brushing just beneath your ear. “Tell me somethin’,” he murmurs, breath warm on your skin. “What do you do when I’m not here? When you’re feelin’ like this. D’you take care of yourself?”

You go still. Not because you don’t know the answer. But because you do.

His lips curl against your cheek. “You get shy on me now?”

“I don’t—” you start, then falter. Your voice is soft when you finally speak. “I don’t really do that.”

He pulls back just enough to see your face, one brow raised. “Liar.”

You flush.

“C’mon,” he coaxes, brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been gone two months. Don’t tell me you haven’t done a single thing. That’s cruel.”

You hesitate.

Then, barely audible—

“I read.”

His brow furrows, amused. “You read?”

You nod, eyes flicking down to his collarbone. “Stuff online.”

There’s a pause.

And then, his voice drops, accent thick with curiosity and something darker.

“Fan fiction?”

You nod again, smaller this time.

He stares at you like he’s just been handed a gift he wasn’t expecting.

“No fuckin’ way,” he murmurs, smiling now, a little breathless. “You read fan fiction about me?”

Your face burns.

He leans in closer, one hand cradling your jaw.

“Gonna need you to walk me through that, baby.”

Your eyes dart away from his, and your fingers fidget with the hem of your underwear, suddenly very aware of how little you’re wearing—and how close he is.

He watches you carefully, waiting. Patient, but barely.

“It’s just…” you start, then trail off, chewing your bottom lip. “Stuff people write. About you. About… you and someone like me.”

His brow arches. “Someone like you?”

You nod, embarrassed. “Normal. Not famous. Not anyone special. Just… someone.”

You feel his hand tighten slightly on your thigh, and when you glance up, there’s a glint in his eye. He’s not laughing at you. He’s fascinated.

“And what happens in these stories?” he asks, voice soft, coaxing. “You get shy? Or do they make you do filthy little things?”

You press your lips together, face flaming, but he can see it. The answer written all over you.

He chuckles, low and warm in his chest, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “You’re tellin’ me you’ve been sittin’ in our bed at night, readin’ about me fuckin’ you senseless?”

Your breath hitches.

He pulls back just enough to look at you again, eyes sweeping your face like he wants to see every flicker of reaction. His voice is husky now, rough with interest.

“That’s so dirty, love.”

You try to speak, but he’s already leaning in, pressing a kiss just below your jaw.

“And you just sit there with your little phone,” he murmurs, lips brushing your throat. “Readin’ things I haven’t even done to you yet.”

You swallow hard, eyes flicking down before you can stop yourself—and there it is. The outline of him, straining against his trousers, the fabric doing nothing to hide just how much he wants you.

Your breath catches. The sight makes your thighs press together involuntarily, a quiet ache growing where his hands haven’t touched yet.

He notices.

Of course he does.

His smirk deepens, dark and lazy. “Gettin’ worked up just from that, are you?” he teases, thumb brushing the inside of your knee. “Didn’t even have to touch you yet.”

You exhale shakily, your voice soft. “I want you to.”

He stills for a beat—just one. Then his expression shifts. The playfulness doesn’t vanish, but something darker, more focused, settles into his eyes.

“Yeah?” he murmurs. “You lettin’ me take over now, baby?”

You nod, already breathless. “Please.”

That’s all it takes.

He leans in and kisses you again—harder this time, deeper, like permission unlocked something in him. His hands are on your hips, your waist, your ribs, sliding up until they’re cupping your breasts through your bra. He palms you there, slow and firm, like he’s been missing the weight of you in his hands.

“You’ve got no idea what that does to me,” he mutters into your mouth. “You, sittin’ all pretty, readin’ about me fuckin’ you just like this…”

His fingers reach around to undo the clasp of your bra, taking his time, letting the tension pull tight as elastic. When it finally falls away, he breathes you in like he’s starving again.

Then, without a word, he lowers himself to his knees in front of you, lips brushing your stomach, hands gripping your thighs.

“Gonna take my fuckin’ time with you,” he says, voice a promise against your skin.

He drags his hands up the backs of your thighs, thumbs brushing the crease where they meet your hips as he settles between them. You’re already trembling under his touch, legs slightly parted on instinct, eyes locked on him as he looks up at you from the floor like you’re something sacred.

“Lie back for me, love,” he says, voice rough and low.

You shift back onto the bed, elbows catching you for a second before you sink into the pillows, legs still dangling over the edge. His hands follow you the whole way—never losing contact—until he’s got your thighs open just the way he wants them.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and looks up again.

“This what you pictured when you were readin’?” he asks, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Me down here, beggin’ for a taste?”

You nod, breath shallow. “Yes.”

That’s all he needs.

He pulls your underwear down slow, eyes following every inch of skin he reveals like he’s memorizing it, storing it away. Once they’re off, he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, then your thigh, then higher—trailing heat until your whole body’s drawn tight with anticipation.

Then his mouth is on you.

His tongue flicks over you gently at first, teasing, testing. Then he flattens it, licking a slow stripe up your center that makes your hips jerk and a soft cry spill from your lips. His hands slide under your thighs, keeping you open, anchored, at his mercy.

He groans when he tastes you fully, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“Fuckin’ missed this,” he mutters, voice muffled against you. “Missed how sweet you are.”

He settles in deeper, his mouth working you in slow, steady movements—tongue swirling, lips sucking just enough to make your toes curl. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t let up. Just builds it slowly, deliberately, like he’s got nowhere else to be but here, worshiping you.

Your hand slides into his hair, gripping when his tongue flicks just right, hips lifting into him as the tension coils hard in your belly.

“You’re gonna come for me, yeah?” he murmurs against you, breath hot. “Right on my fuckin’ tongue. Let me have it.”

You’re close—so close it almost hurts. The pressure’s built tight in your belly, your thighs shaking around his shoulders, his name falling from your lips in broken pieces. He doesn’t let up. If anything, he gets hungrier, tongue working you with that slow, steady rhythm that undoes you completely.

Your back arches off the bed. Fingers tangle in his hair.

“Harry—fuck—Harry, I’m gonna—”

He groans against you like that’s exactly what he wants, like the sound of your voice wrecked and desperate is the only thing keeping him alive. And then you’re falling apart. The orgasm hits hard, flooding through you in waves, and he holds you right there, mouth never leaving you, like he wants every last bit of it.

You whimper as you come down, your body twitching from the aftershocks, chest heaving. He finally lifts his head, lips slick, eyes dark and blown.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh. “Knew you’d be sweet for me.”

You’re still catching your breath when you reach for him, fingers curling into his shirt.

“Take your clothes off,” you whisper. “I need you to fuck me.”

That gets his attention.

He laughs softly, rising to his feet. “That desperate, hm?”

“Yes,” you say, no shame in your voice. “I need you.”

He leans over you, bracing his hands on either side of your head, his mouth ghosting just over yours. You can feel him, hard against your thigh, still fully clothed, and it’s maddening.

“Could keep you like this a while,” he says, teasing. “All needy and wrecked and beggin’ for it. Could make you wait.”

You whimper, hips shifting beneath him. “Don’t be cruel.”

He grins, dipping down to kiss you slow, tongue sweeping into your mouth like he owns it. Then he pulls back just enough to whisper, voice low and hot—

“Then tell me how you want it.”

You open your mouth to answer, but he’s already moving.

“Don’t need you to tell me,” he murmurs, straightening up with that look in his eyes—confident, dark, completely in control. “I know exactly what you need.”

You watch from the bed, breath shallow, as he reaches for the hem of his shirt and peels it off in one fluid motion. His chest is golden from the sun, stomach tight, the familiar trail of hair disappearing into his waistband making your mouth go dry.

Your thighs press together without thinking.

Then he unbuttons his trousers. Slow. Deliberate. He holds your gaze the entire time, like he knows what he’s doing to you—like he wants you to see exactly what you’ve been missing. He pushes them down along with his briefs, and the second they fall, his cock springs free—thick, flushed, heavy against his stomach.

Your breath catches.

Precum glistens at the tip, already leaking, and he wraps a hand around the base with a low sigh of relief, stroking once.

“Been hard since the bloody airport,” he mutters. “Soon as I saw you. Didn’t even make it through baggage claim without thinkin’ about bendin’ you over the nearest flat surface.”

You moan, hips shifting against the sheets.

He steps between your legs again, stroking himself lazily now, eyes raking over your body like he’s trying to decide exactly where to start.

“You ready for me, love?” he asks, voice thick, teasing. “You want this cock inside you?”

You nod, desperate. “Yes. Please, Harry.”

He leans over you, pressing the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Gonna fuck you slow,” he says, kissing your jaw, your neck, the space just beneath your ear. “Wanna feel every fuckin’ inch of you.”

Then he pushes in.

He pushes just the tip inside, then stops.

Your hands clutch at the sheets. “Harry—”

“Shh,” he murmurs against your skin, brushing his nose along your neck. “Not yet.”

He pulls out slowly, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your entrance, your clit, everything but what you need.

“Wanna know somethin’ first,” he says, voice thick with amusement, but his hips stay steady, cruelly patient. “You never told me what your favorite part was.”

You blink, dazed. “What?”

“In those stories,” he murmurs, sucking gently at your throat. “The ones you read at night. About me. What’s your favorite part?”

You shake your head, breath catching as he presses in again—just barely—then pulls back.

“C’mon, love,” he says, his voice laced with a dark kind of sweetness. “I wanna hear you say it.”

You whimper. “I like when you talk.”

He stills, grinning against your jaw. “Yeah? When I’m filthy with you?”

You nod quickly, lips parting, breath uneven. “And when you—” You falter, heat blooming across your chest. “When you go down on her and don’t stop. When you say it’s yours.”

That breaks him.

“Jesus,” he groans, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna kill me.”

He shifts his hips again, just enough for the head of his cock to push inside once more.

“Say it now,” he breathes. “Say you’re mine.”

Your fingers curl around his biceps, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m yours, Harry. I’m yours.”

His mouth crashes into yours again, and this time, he doesn’t hold back.

His mouth finds yours again, hot and hungry, and he sinks into you all at once—slow but deep—his cock stretching you open inch by inch until you’re full of him, breath caught in your throat. The moan you let out is pure instinct, helpless and raw, and it makes him groan right back, low in his chest like it physically knocks the air out of him.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, jaw tight, buried all the way to the hilt. “You feel—Jesus, baby—you feel so fuckin’ good.”

Your fingers grip his shoulders, your legs hooking around his waist, trying to draw him in deeper even though he’s already as close as he can get. He stays there for a second, not moving, just letting you feel it—letting himself feel it.

Then he pulls back slow, almost to the tip, before thrusting in again, harder this time. Your head tips back, mouth falling open with a gasp.

“There she is,” he growls, one hand sliding up your body to wrap around your throat—not tight, just enough to hold you there, eyes on him. “That the part you like, yeah? When I fuck you like I ownyou?”

You nod, whimpering. “Yes—Harry—”

“God, I missed this pussy,” he says, hips snapping into you again. “Dreamt about it. Woke up hard on the fuckin’ tour bus thinkin’ about you spread out like this.”

He’s moving now, really moving, fucking you slow and deep but with purpose, every thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your vision blur. Your body meets him with every roll of his hips, greedy, desperate, like it’s been waiting for him just as long as your heart has.

You moan again and his lips find your ear.

“That what you wanted, baby?” he pants. “Wanted my cock stretchin’ you out just like this? Bet none of those fanfics made you feel like this.”

“N-no,” you choke out, nails digging into his back. “Nothing like this.”

“Yeah?” His pace quickens slightly, his voice going rougher. “Tell me whose it is.”

“Yours,” you breathe, eyes wide and glassy. “Yours, Harry.”

“Say it again.”

“Yours—fuck—yours.”

He leans down and kisses you hard, messy, full of tongue and teeth and heat, his hips relentless now. He’s grunting with every thrust, sweat beading at his temples, his whole body working to bring you right to the edge again.

“I can feel you squeezin’ me,” he groans. “You’re close, aren’t you? Gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes—don’t stop—don’t—”

He slips a hand between your bodies, thumb circling your clit in tight, wet strokes while he keeps fucking into you deep and fast.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, voice cracked and wild. “Come on. Let me feel it.”

And that’s all it takes.

You shatter around him with a cry, your whole body pulsing, shaking, coming hard on his cock. He fucks you through it, eyes locked on your face like he wants to remember everything.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—”

He pulls out at the last second, hand stroking himself twice before he spills all over your stomach with a groan so guttural it makes your toes curl. Thick, hot, and messy. He leans over you, breathing hard, eyes dark and wrecked, thumb brushing your cheek.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you again, slower now, sweeter. 

You’re still trying to catch your breath when he leans back on his heels, eyes dragging over your body—sweat-slicked, legs still trembling, his release glistening on your stomach. There’s a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it’s not just cocky. It’s hungry. Like he’s already thinking about what comes next.

“Can’t believe I spent weeks in hotel beds with my hand wrapped ‘round my cock,” he mutters, one hand sliding up your thigh again. “When this was waitin’ for me.”

You open your mouth to respond, but then he’s dipping down again, licking a slow, deliberate stripe up your stomach. You jolt, a whimper escaping your lips as his tongue drags through his own mess.

“Harry—”

He hums, like it’s nothing. Like the taste of you—of both of you—doesn’t drive him mad.

His tongue swirls over your skin, not in a rush this time, just savoring. Teasing. His hands slide back up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before he lowers his mouth again and sucks one nipple between his lips.

You gasp, arching into him.

“You still sensitive?” he asks, voice muffled against your skin. “That why you’re shakin’ like that?”

You nod, legs twitching around him. “Y-Yeah.”

He grins against your breast, mouth moving to the other. “Good.”

He slides a hand between your legs again, fingers pressing right where you’re still dripping, still open from him.

“‘Cause I’m not finished with you yet.”

He looks up at you, eyes dark and wild, fingers circling your clit again in slow, deliberate strokes.

“You’re gonna come again, baby. Just like in those stories you read. Over and over ‘til you can’t even say my name.”

[drewswife]

summary: when everyone on the plane falls asleep, now you can finally cuddle up with your boyfriend Spencer

pairings: spencer reid x bau!fem reader

warnings: fluff

The rhythmic drone of the plane's engines filled the cabin, a lullaby that had successfully coaxed the rest of the BAU team into slumber. You, however, were wide awake. Spencer, your boyfriend, was fast asleep on the opposite side of the aisle, his long legs stretched out awkwardly, his head lolled to the side.He looked so peaceful, so completely unaware of the plan you were about to execute. You'd been longing for a moment of quiet intimacy ever since the grueling case had wrapped up. The long hours, the emotional strain, it had taken its toll on both of you. Now, with the rest of the team blissfully unaware, you saw your chance.

Carefully, you unbuckled your seatbelt and stood up, glancing around to make sure no one was stirring. The cabin was dimly lit, the only sound the gentle hum of the plane and the soft snores of your sleeping colleagues. You tiptoed across the aisle, a smile spreading across your face as you reached Spencer's seat.

He was curled slightly, his glasses slipping down his nose. You gently pushed them back up, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. He stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"Spence," you whispered, gently shaking his shoulder.

His eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile spreading across his face as he recognized you. "hm" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Hi," you whispered back, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. "Mind if I join you?"

He blinked, his eyes widening slightly before a warm smile spread across his face. "Of course," he murmured, shifting to make room for you.

You slipped into the seat beside him, snuggling close. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer until your head was resting on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a soothing lullaby, a comforting reminder of his presence.

"Tired?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Exhausted," you admitted, closing your eyes. "But I couldn't sleep without you."

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your hair. "Me neither," he murmured.

For a while, you simply lay there, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. The plane continued its steady journey, the gentle rumble a soothing backdrop to your shared silence. You thought about the case, the lives you had helped save, and the bond you shared with Spencer. He was your best friend, your partner, the person you could always count on.

"I love you, Spence," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I love you too," he replied, tightening his arm around you.

You snuggled closer, the warmth of his body a comforting presence against your side. The exhaustion from the case finally catching up to you, you felt yourself drifting off to sleep. The last thing you felt was the soft press of his lips against your hair.

taglist

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere boys and their favourite positions

Yandere! Soldier likes to be intimate with you, intertwining his fingers with yours and whispering in your ear just how much he loves you. He doesn't like looking in your eyes - your tears remind him that you don't want this and yet he's helpless to stop himself. He's always on top, cosying up between your thighs and burying his face in your neck. He keeps you gagged. It's easier to block out your crying that way.

Yandere! Boyfriend likes to be as close to you as possible. He likes to take you from behind, his arm wrapped around your throat and his chest pressing you into the mattress. Skin against skin from your neck to the tips of your toes. He gets drunk on you so easily, moaning in your ear about how much he loves you, how he'll never let you leave him, how you're the best fuck he's ever had. And despite his hulking size, he whines like a puppy when you come around him. He loves you loves you loves you and he loves being inside you.

Yandere! Cowboy can never get rid of his rough side, it's been built into him after years of rough labour and bad days and bosses with tight fists and tighter purse strings. He'll always be wild with you, pulling your hair, digging his nails into your thighs, biting down on your neck. He cares for his pleasure first and foremost and it doesn't matter if he hurts you to get it. He'll take you any way he can but he loves it when you ride him. He'll put his hat on your head and call you his pretty lil' cowgirl even as he ruts his cock into you until your tits are bouncing.

Yandere! Desert Bandit has to fight his urge to fuck you raw and rotten everytime he takes you. It's a conscious effort to be gentle, to be mindful of his strength. He fails a lot at first. He has years of pent up lust to get through afterall. But someday, he'll manage to make love to you without leaving bruises. He likes to have you under him, with your legs around his waist and his clenched fists on either side of your head.

Yandere! State Trooper is a rotten, corrupt bastard and he knows it. He gets off on the power he has over you - he'll make you crawl to him on your hands and knees, spank your ass red raw and force you to thank him through your tears. He loves taking you bent over - on the furniture, on the hood of his cruiser, with your hands and tits pressed against the shower door... It's not all bad though. You haven't gotten a traffic ticket in ages.

Yandere! Incubus always comes at night. He can't let you see his face, even if you have your suspicions. He's limited by the paralysis he puts you under and usually takes you as he finds you, hands roaming and scratching wherever they can. He dreams of fucking you on the holy altar, your arms around his neck and your tits squished against his chest. He wants to pull the rosary you wear until it chokes you, your piety turned into a goddamn leash. He loves watching you at mass, kneeling under the crucifix and praying to be cleansed. He especially loves you at confession, your voice soft in the half dark and the smell of you all around him.

Yandere! Gangster is not going to fuck you anytime soon. He only has his fists and his fantasies, the poor bastard.

Yandere! Survivor likes you on your belly, your ass angled up to face him. He'll grab your hands and push them into the mattress, his mouth nipping at your shoulders, the nape of your neck, anywhere he can reach. It feels like a declaration of trust when you let him put you in such a vulnerable position. The only drawback is he can't see your face when you come but getting to grab and knead your ass cheeks is a fine consolation.

Yandere! Academic Rival is too focused on school to think about much else. If he was forced to pick, he'll say he wants you up against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist. He loves that you need to rely on him to stay balanced, that you bury your head into his neck and whine at his thrusts. Besides that, he desperately wants you on your knees but your pride ensures that never happens unless he gets down and begs first.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Babylon The Great Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, severe mental health issues, self-harm and suicidal ideation, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, eventual happy ending.

Series Summary

There's something wrong with you that's not wrong with other people. You're a hunter, and a damn good one, but you might be a monster.

There might be something in you that needs to be put down. Something broken that can't be fixed.

It's why you've had one rule your whole life. The only thing your father has ever made clear is that, no matter what, you need to stay away from John Winchester. He can't even know you exist, or he'll kill you and never blink.

And when your paths cross a hunt, you should've run, but you didn't. You couldn't. Because you looked at Dean Winchester, and something changed inside of you. Something called you to him, and you can't figure out what it was, but you know it's strong. And you know that, whatever Dean's doing to you, you don't really care to fight it. Things are broken in you, just as much is broken in him, and you fit perfectly together in a way you'll never be able to describe.

But it's more complicated than that, though. The world pulls you and Dean apart again and again.

And you find your way back, again and again.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant rewrite, but primarily plot wise. Think of it as we're cooking with all the same ingredients (i.e lore, characters, setting, and backstory) but with one change (you) that gets us to a drastically different ending.

What the means is that there will be a lot of similar plot points to Supernatural, but the further we go through the story the more it will diverge. I've also take some creative labor with the reader, adding lore that's defiantly not a part of canon, but crucial to this story.

If you have any questions about this, feel free to ask! If not, I hope you enjoy the story!

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - In My Brain and In My Blood Chapter 2 - Under My Skin Chapter 3 - I Get A Little Dizzy Chapter 4 - You Bleed Like Me Chapter 5 - If You Let Me Chapter 6 - All The Noise Chapter 7 - Something I Can See Chapter 8 - Keep Us Far Apart Chapter 9 - Does The Feeling Haunt You Chapter 10 - Look and See Chapter 11 - You Might Drown Chapter 12 - Watch You Work The Room Chapter 13 - You'll Have to Believe It Chapter 14 - Water Is Forever Chapter 15 - Before It Falls Apart Chapter 16 - Try to Catch It Chapter 17 - You Come Back Chapter 18 - You Can Start to Make It Better Chapter 19 - That's Nothing New Chapter 20 - Wait for Me Chapter 21 - If You Want To Survive Chapter 22 - I'd Go Black And Blue Chapter 23 - You've Been Waiting to Break Chapter 24 - Just Hold On Chapter 25 - And It Was Written Chapter 26 - Worth the Fight (6/26)

Pslams (In-Series Bonus Chapters)

Can You Hear Me - You sit on the roof of your car. Takes place a month after Chapter 15. I'll Keep On Waiting - Dean watches you, and Jo shares some thoughts. Takes place after Chapter 19. So Go On - Sam Chapter! Takes place after Chapter 20. Spinning Around - You, Dean, and allegedly Sam go to the movies. Takes place between Chapter 19 and Chapter 20. Just Pretend - You and Dean have some dreams. Takes place almost any time after Chapter 20. On My Way - Dean looks at some fruits. Takes place around Chapter 23.

Extras From Me

Listen to the Playlist! Memes!

Stuff By You Guys!!! (Art, Memes, and Anything more)

Meme Art by @dammbi Dean Art by @dammbi Memes 1, and 2, by @dammbi Soul Art by @youdontknowe Princess Art by @youdontknowe Language Art by @imnotmentallyst4ble Princess Moodboard by @deans-yn Playlist by @imnotmentallyst4ble Series Moodboard by @dammbi Journal Spread by @imnotmentallyst4ble Memes by @brtodd Princess and Dean Art by @youdontknowe

[crescenthistory]

Marauders Era Masterlist

💌 = fluff I 📭 = angst I 📬 = hurt/comfort I 📜 = smut I 🪧 = humour

࣪𖤐 regulus black

ִ ࣪𖤐 barty crouch jr

𖤐 remus lupin

ִ ࣪𖤐 sirius black

𖤐 marauders

includes: poly!marauders, james

𖤐 the slytherin skittles

includes: barty, evan, regulus, dorcas, pandora (& narcissa)

𖤐 the valkyries

includes: lily, mary, marlene (&dorcas&pandora)

[colouredbyd]

The Garden Gate

Mauraders Era

🌷= fluff 🌙 = angst 💌 = hurt/comfort 🌱= crack 🍄= smut ♡ = d's favs

𖤐 rom-com celebration masterlist : a rom-com coded oneshots & rewrites of your favorite films, marauders style!! soft, chaotic, sometimes bittersweet, but always full of love🎬💌🎥✮⋆˙

❤︎ poly!marauders:

A Moon For Moony 💌🌷(4.3k)

when remus admits he's never seen the moon, you create one just for him.

We Will Be Okay 🌙💌 (4.6k) (part 1)

after an argument with the boys you nearly lose your life, the marauders realize too late what their silence cost.

↳ ♡ We Heal, At Last 💌 (8.8k) (part 2) after your attack, you pull away, wounds aching. but love finds you again, gentle and patient, proof that even after ruin, there can still be light.

♡ Sweet Things Melt Slowly 🌷(2.6k)

winter comes softly, and in firelight and snowlight, three boys and their girl fall a little more in love.

Finding Rest 💌 (2.1k)

you wake hurting, but they hold you through the silence—until it hurts a little less.

♡ Secrets Have Teeth 🌙💌 (10k)

a prank Sirius sets for snape backfires, leaving ruin and silence in its wake. forgiveness flickers, but secrets still bare their teeth.

Bitter Sweetness 🌙💌 (7.5k)

in which you mistake your boyfriends worry for pity, leading you to pushing them away to prove you’re not fragile — but not all softness is weakness.

We Are All Gonna Die 💌 (3.4k)

after a nightmare where you lose your boyfriends, you wake breathless, only to find them pulling you close until the fear fades and the night feels safe again.

the marauders and flicker ( animagi!reader x marauders)

↳ The Secret's Out (5.2k)🌷💌 : you keep stumbling across your boyfriends in your Animagus form, a clumsy red panda. their gazes linger, sensing something familiar. But not all secrets last. ↳ The Secret Life Of Pets (7k) 🌷🌱: after a botched transformation, you’re stuck as a red panda, posing as the marauders' pet—but staying hidden proves harder than they thought ↳ Lost And Found (4k) 💌: after a reckless fight, you hide as flicker, overwhelmed by fear. when they find you, their gentle words and touch ease your heart, bringing fragile peace

❤︎ Regulus Black:

Soleil 🌷(7.3k)

childhood friends to lovers: Regulus overhears a quiet confession and everything shifts.

♡ "If you look closely, you'll see them!" 🌷 (3k)

you swear regulus has dimples but no one believes you. then he walks in, finds your eyes, and for a moment, your friends see it too.

Sweater Weather 🌷(4.7k)

regulus, notoriously bad at expressing love, spends an entire fall knitting you the world’s ugliest sweater, yet you wear it anyway

The Nightingale Masterlist 🌙💌🌷(88k) (series) (on going)

hunger games au: you were thirteen when your name was called. He was fourteen when he took your place, becoming the youngest Victor the Capitol had ever seen before disappearing into its glittering grip. Now, your name is drawn again for the 70th Hunger Games, and Regulus is willing to do anything to make sure you make it out alive. But the Capitol is watching, and in the arena, nothing is as it appears.

Time Cast A Spell On You 🌙💌🌷

reincarnation au: across lifetimes, two souls find each other, haunted by love and lost memories. but maybe this time, in their final life, the story will end differently.

↳ Prologue (0.8k) ↳ I: Hogwarts (10k) ↳ II: The Kingdom (12k) ↳ III: The Rockstar (22k) ↳ IV: The Art Gallery ↳ V: Silver Springs

❤︎ Sirius Black:

Off-Script masterlist 🌙💌🌷(11.8k) (series) (on going)

celebrity!au: in which one audition changes everything, and you find yourself growing up in the spotlight—alongside sirius black, a boy with a voice and a name the world won’t forget. the fame is loud, the rumors louder, and somewhere between the endless cameras, the lines begin to blur: between who you are and who you’re expected to be.

and, along the way, everything goes off-script.

❤︎ Remus Lupin

♡ Caught In The Web 💌🌱🌷(10k) (part 1)

spiderman au: when your fascination with spiderman leads to danger, secrets unravel. with regulus by your side and remus hiding more than he admits, you realize heroes are closer than they seem.

↳ Web Of Secrets 💌🌱🌷 (13k) (part 2) when danger resurfaces and secrets unravel, your fascination with Spider-Man deepens—but with remus by your side, you learn that heroes aren’t always who you expect.

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy! 🌷🍄 (5.8k) (part 1)

a sunshine-soft baker moves to town with ribbon-wrapped sweets and a voice like honey—and cowboy!remus’s been having thoughts far less innocent than her pies

↳ Hold On Tight, It’s a Wild Ride! 🌷🍄(8.6k) (part 2)

after getting caught in a steamy situation by biker!sirius, you slip from remus’s grasp—now two dangerous men and a brat are tangled in a game that’s riding straight to hell.

Unbearable, Desperate, and Holy 💌🌷 (3.6k)

remus has always believed he’s destined to break what he loves—until you. slowly, he learns that even the most guarded hearts can rest when they’re no longer alone.

❤︎ poly!jegulus

Kiss, Marry, Avada Kedavra 💌🌱🌷(6.2k)

a late-night game of kiss, marry, kill turns tender when truths surface quietly. lines blur, and something like love begins to take root.

Sweeter Than Syrup 🌱🌷(3.6k)

a lakeside weekend of soft mornings and sweeter laughter, where something warm and wordless grows between you, james, and regulus.

❤︎ poly!wolfstar

The Boy Is Mine 💌🌷(3.4k)

In which a girl flirts with remus, and despite your quiet nature, you remind everyone who he belongs to.

♡ The Names Of Real Things 💌 (3.6k)

when reality blurs and the world slips away, sirius and remus hold you steady, naming every truth until you find your way back.

❤︎ poly!moonwater

Broken Vases 🌙💌 (4.0k)

A misstep cracks open the past, and suddenly the ghosts of your childhood are too loud to ignore. Leaving Remus and Regulus to teach you that love isn't supposed to feel like survival.

Of Rain And Gentle Hands 💌🌷(6.3k)

A rough day leaves you fraying, but with Remus and Regulus, even the heaviest days feel lighter.

❤︎ poly!bartylus

oh my, love is a lie! 🌙💌 (5.2k)

Caught between Regulus's soft looks and Barty's wild affection, you almost confess until you see them walk in hand in hand. You toast to their happiness, breaking in the street when it hits different.

❤︎ The Heirs Of The Noble House Of Black

♡ Grimmauld: The House That Buried Its Children & The Ones Who Stay 🌙💌(13k) (older!brother!sirius x Black!sister!reader) (james potter x reader)

within the ancient and noble house of black, a quiet tragedy unfolds - three siblings bound by blood, legacy, and a name that never let them go.

'Til All That's Left Is Glorious Bone— 🌙💌 (10k) (part one)

being a Black means braiding silence into softness — even love. so when kindness comes, you flinch, unsure how to hold what doesn’t hurt

↳ —So You'll Bury Your Own 💌🌷🌙 (10k) (part two) what breaks can root, if given time—not to forget, but to grow where it hurt, after a night that nearly tore three siblings apart ↳ She Will Be Loved 💌🌷(7k) (part three) (extra) at Potter Manor in spring, even a Black can begin again—where healing stumbles, but sweetness lingers, and love, warm as frosting and softer than rain, finds its way home

want to plant a seed? requests are: open!