hargreeves-duncan

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[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ HARGREEVES-DUNCAN ✩･ﾟ

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[zomquette]

Bites and Scratches

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sneaking around with your secret relationship with Daryl proves harder and harder with each passing day. It wasn't that you were ashamed or embarrassed of each other - you just didn't want the others knowing that part of your lives when so much was already in the open. However, after a particularly rough night and awkward post-morning, the cat's out of the bag. But not in the way you'd hoped.

Main Masterlist

warnings: Sex injury, suggestive dialogue, smut flashbacks, graphic smut (blowjob, m!receiving), injury, swearing, probably. Kenny is an antagonist character I made up, who is basically a prop lol.

You woke to warmth. Not just the kind that came from the scratchy blanket tangled halfway down the bed, but the kind that breathed against your bare skin, slow and steady. Daryl’s arm was slung low across your waist, rough fingertips ghosting over your stomach in lazy, unconscious strokes, his breath brushing the curve of your shoulder. His leg was half-draped over yours, anchoring you to the mattress like he didn’t trust you not to up and leave.

The guard tower wasn’t exactly luxury living, but it had two things you both craved more than a decent mattress—privacy and a lock. After three days of him being gone on a hunting run, privacy had become very necessary.

Your thighs ached. So did your hips. And your voice, judging by the way it cracked the second you tried to clear your throat. Jesus.

You barely managed to blink your eyes open before Daryl stirred behind you, his mouth pressing sleepily to your shoulder blade, then lower—across your spine, trailing kisses like breadcrumbs. You shivered.

“Mornin’,” he rasped, voice all gravel, the low drawl rumbling through your spine as his hand slid up under the blanket to cup your breast—slow, possessive, and so damn familiar it sent a shiver down your aching thighs.

His thumb dragged over your nipple, coaxing it to a hard peak with infuriating gentleness. You sucked in a breath, your body twitching under his as his knee slid between your legs like muscle memory, his hips already starting that lazy grind against your ass.

“Daryl—” your voice broke off in a strained gasp as his teeth found your shoulder, biting down just enough to make your hips jerk. “Oh, fuck—baby…”

He groaned into your skin, rolling his hips again, slower this time, deeper. “One more time, cmon…”

You didn’t have the heart to stop him at first. The heat in your stomach lit fast—your body wanted him, wanted to forget how sore you were and let him take you again just because it felt so good to be under him, with him.

But your thighs trembled, already overworked, and there was a dull, nagging throb in your hip from how hard you’d gripped him last night—maybe from when he’d half-dragged you back up the wall after you’d collapsed around his fingers, begging for more.

“Daryl,” you rasped again, twisting to catch his face with your hand. His eyes were hazy, already half-lost in the feel of you, pupils blown wide as he kissed a slow line down your neck. “I can’t baby—I’m too sore.”

He froze mid-motion, forehead resting against your shoulder, panting quietly. You felt the exact moment guilt settled over him like a wet blanket.

“Shit,” he muttered again, softer this time. “Sorry. Didn’t mean—I thought…”

“You thought right,” you said with a breathless, teasing smile. “I want to. I just physically can’t.”

His face flushed as he leaned up, cupping your jaw to kiss you—slow, apologetic, worshipful. “M’sorry. Just—got home and you were already waitin’ in bed, lookin’ at me like that…”

“I was naked,” you reminded him, laughing weakly.

“Exactly.” He kissed your cheek. “What was I supposed to do? Be a gentleman?”

You laughed again, softer, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed down your chest, nosing at the curve of your breast like he wasn’t ready to let go of the idea just yet.

You turned your head just enough to catch his guilty expression. “Don’t apologize,” you rasped, still half-smiling. “Just… maybe gimme a day to re-learn how to walk.”

You gazed at him then; his hair was a mess—flattened on one side, sticking up on the other, the kind of disaster only deep sleep (and other activities) could make. Yours… probably matched. Longer, wilder, and currently hiding most of your face when you peeked up at him.

“I really thought we were gonna break that bed frame.”

“We did.” He grinned into your skin. “You didn’t hear it snap when I—?”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.” He pressed another kiss between your breasts, slow and warm. “Totally worth it.”

His voice softened then, the humor fading just slightly. His lips brushed over the faint bruises he’d left on your ribs, fingertips moving with featherlight reverence like he could soothe the ache from the outside. “You really hurtin’?”

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” you murmured, combing your fingers through his tangled hair. “A very sexy, grunting truck that doesn’t believe in pacing himself.”

He snorted, the sound muffled against your belly. “Told ya I missed ya.”

“I missed you too,” you said, threading both hands into his hair and tugging gently to guide him back up. “But I swear, if you even look at me with that face right now, I’ll kick you in the balls to even the score.”

He grinned, and gave you one last, lingering kiss—soft and slow, all lips and breath and whispered apology—before finally pulling back and reaching for your shirt. “Alright, alright. You win. But tonight?”

“Tonight I sleep.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t even think about waking me up with your dick.”

His expression was utterly unrepentant. “I’ll be gentle.”

“You never are.”

“Takes one ta know one,” he muttered against your skin. “I ain’t never seen you like that. Was like you were tryna kill me last night.”

“I think we both tried to kill each other,” you murmured back. “Four times.”

“Five times,” he corrected. “You don’t remember the time where you bit me?”

You blinked, confused. “Bit you?”

He leaned up, pulling his hair back with one hand to reveal a faint purpling crescent just under his jaw. You stared at it.

“I don’t remember that.”

“Oh, I do,” he said with a crooked grin.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. “Oh my god I’m so sorry.”

“S’fine,” he said grinning.

Faint now—barely a shadow of purple—but when his fingers brushed that mark, fresh out of bed and still hazed in the best possible way, the memory hit like a fuckin’ freight train.

He could still feel it. The pressure of your teeth sinking into that tender spot where his neck met his shoulder. Not sharp. Not cruel. Just desperate.

You didn’t mean to. You were barely there.

One minute he’d had you on your stomach, cheek pressed into the pillow, hands curled into the sheets like they were the only things keeping you tethered. He was over you, in you, grinding so deep and slow it was less a thrust and more a claiming—rhythmic, relentless. Sweat dripping off his skin onto yours. His thighs snug to the backs of yours, his hand gripping your hip so tight his knuckles ached the next morning.

Your body was boneless, trembling, oversensitive from everything he’d already done to you. He’d taken his time—fingers, mouth, words. Wrecked you soft first. Had you sobbing into his chest with nothing but a hand between your legs and his voice in your ear telling you how good you were, how sweet you tasted, how long he was gonna take his time tonight.

And then he’d flipped you.

And then he sank into you.

He hadn’t even meant to go that deep. But your hips arched into it, seeking more without words. Your mouth had fallen open in a soundless moan. Your hands fluttered—reaching for him, for the pillow, for anything—but settling on nothing. It was like your body couldn’t decide what to hold onto because it was too busy falling apart.

You didn’t say his name. You whimpered it.

And he’d lost it.

“Yeah, baby,” he’d growled into your hair, the tip of his nose dragging along your scalp. “That’s it. Doin’ so good. Attagirl.”

Your only answer was a sob. Not from pain. From need.

And then it happened.

Your head tilted. Just barely.

And your mouth latched onto the side of his neck.

Not hard. Not deep. Just enough to bite. To mark him. To hold onto something solid while your brain turned to static.

It startled him. For half a second, he paused—not his hips, not the thrust—but in his mind. That flicker of shock. Of fuck.

But then he groaned. Deep in his throat. Low.

Because it was you. Biting him like that. Because you were so far gone, so soaked and soft and open for him, that you needed your teeth to ground yourself.

And he couldn’t stop.

Wouldn’t stop.

Your cunt clenched around him like a goddamn vice and he drove into it like he was trying to become part of you. His hand slid up to the base of your neck, not to push you away, but to hold you there. Keep you close. Keep you biting.

You moaned against his skin, mouth still open, teeth still sunk into him like you didn’t even realize what you were doing—like it was just instinct. Just need.

His rhythm picked up. Harsher. Filthier. The slap of skin, the creak of the mattress, your muffled cries against his neck.

“You want it that bad?” he’d rasped, eyes shut, trying to keep himself from blowing then and there. “That gone already, huh baby?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but bite down again, just a little tighter, and whimper something that didn’t even sound like language.

He felt you break around him right there.

Felt the way your whole body tensed. The way you gasped against his neck. The way your walls fluttered around his cock like your body was trying to keep him, pull him deeper, own him.

It undid him.

He buried himself to the hilt, groaning your name into your shoulder, chest caving in with the force of it. It was one of those orgasms that left him shaking—like his body didn’t know how to hold itself up anymore. It felt like it went on forever, the way he kept filling you—

“Daryl?” you mumbled, voice raw and sleep-rough, laced with that hoarse rasp that hadn’t quite left since last night. “You good?”

He flinched, blinking hard—ripped clean out of the memory, the phantom feel of your teeth still tingling beneath his skin. His hand dropped immediately, and he turned slightly, eyes darting anywhere but your bare, tangled figure behind him.

“Yeah. M’fine,” he muttered, clearing his throat a little too fast, a little too loud, like that’d somehow cover up the very obvious problem still tenting the blanket.

You stirred against the sheets, shifting slow and ginger like every muscle ached. “Where’re my clothes?” you croaked, trying to sit up before groaning and falling flat again. “Oh my god. I can’t feel my spine.”

Daryl still couldn’t look at you directly. Not yet. Not while his dick was throbbing against the fabric like it had plans.

Your eyes fluttered open, searching blearily for him. “Daryl?”

He glanced toward the window to avoid the sight of your completely naked body spread out like a goddamn painting—and that’s when he saw it.

Your bra.

Swaying gently from where it had somehow ended up hooked on the balcony railing, one strap dangling out into the open air like it was waving good morning to the world.

He stared at it.

Then blinked.

Then let out the quietest “shit” under his breath.

“What?” you asked, brow furrowed.

He didn’t answer right away. Just scratched the back of his neck and nodded toward the open window. “Uh. Found it.”

You followed his line of sight.

Saw it.

And groaned like someone had punched you in the soul. “Oh no. Tell me that wasn’t out there all night.”

“Dunno,” he muttered, already moving toward the door. “Wind must’a caught it or somethin’…”

“Or you threw it,” you countered, burying your face into the pillow with a muffled scream. “Oh my god.”

He got up, throwing off the blanket and stepping out completely naked without a care in the world, grimacing slightly as the morning sun hit his bare chest. He grabbed the bra and yanked it off the railing like it had personally offended him, muttering, “Least it didn’t land in the fuckin’ tomato patch.”

You saw the moment his mind wandered. He paused there, bare back rising and falling with each deep breath, cock hard and heavy between his legs, bobbing faintly as he stood in the sun.

You watched him cross the tower, completely bare and unbothered, like the sunlight wasn’t striping every muscle of his back in gold. His steps were loose, fluid, still heavy from sleep and the kind of night that left you both bruised and breathless.

Your body ached—hips sore, thighs humming with the kind of exhaustion that edged into satisfaction—but your mouth; that still worked just fine.

And you moved.

Blanket slinking off your skin, your knees dragging slowly over the cold cement floor, crawling towards him like some animal, naked and hungry. You knelt behind him, letting the early light warm your back, and reached around him with both hands—one to steady yourself, the other to wrap around the base of him, hot and pulsing in your grip.

He twitched.

You leaned forward and kissed the tip. Soft, reverent. He didn’t say a word—just braced his palms on the railing and let you have him.

Your lips parted and you took him in slowly, dragging your tongue along the underside, feeling him swell in your mouth as his breath hitched, chest tightening. You worked him deeper, steady strokes of your hand matching the hollow of your cheeks, spit glistening as it slipped down your chin, but you didn’t care. You loved him like this—quiet and coiled, trembling under your touch, too focused on keeping still to remember how to breathe.

And then—

“Daryl?”

The voice struck like a match.

Rick. Of course.

You froze. Only for a second.

He didn’t.

His hands flexed hard on the railing. You felt every muscle in his thighs tense, the sharp pull of his stomach, the way his cock jumped against your tongue.

But he didn’t push you away.

“Yeah?” His voice cracked and he coughed, tried again. “Y-Yeah?”

You didn’t stop. You licked a stripe from base to tip, then sealed your mouth around him again and sucked slow, just to see if he’d twitch. He did.

“What’re you doin’ up there?” Rick called. “Ain’t your shift.”

Daryl’s jaw clenched. You could see it even from below. One hand stayed planted on the railing. The other dropped down to your head, fingers threading into your hair, not to guide you—just to ground himself. You weren’t sure if he was about to come or pass out.

“Laundry,” he said gruffly. “Flew up here.”

You grinned around him. He could feel it.

There was a long beat of silence.

You slid down further, taking him deeper. Your nose bumped his skin, your tongue pressed firm and flat, your hand twisting in rhythm just below your mouth.

“You alright?” Rick’s voice again. “You sound winded.”

“I’m fine,” Daryl bit out, throat straining. “Hot up here. Sun’s right on the damn glass.”

You moaned, low and thick, letting the vibration hit the base of his cock like a shockwave.

His breath stuttered. His hips jolted forward.

And you felt it—the shift.

That sharp tremble that raced up his legs, through his stomach, into his hands. He was close. Fighting it. Losing.

Rick’s voice droned on in the background, something about the southern fence line, something about wood supplies, but Daryl wasn’t listening. Couldn’t.

His grip in your hair tightened—not rough, just desperate. His body hovered on the edge, every muscle locked down, trying to stay still while his cock twitched in your throat.

And then—

Rick turned. Walked away. His boots echoed down the pavement. The sound faded.

Gone. Finally.

And Daryl broke.

He came with a groan that shook loose from his chest like it had been trapped there, hips jerking forward as his release spilled hot and fast down your throat. You took all of it—held him deep, swallowed hard, one hand still moving, coaxing every last twitch from him until he was sagging against the balcony like it was the only thing holding him up.

His breath heaved in ragged gasps, body gleaming with sweat, legs shaking.

You pulled off him with a slick pop, wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and kissed the sharp jut of his hip.

He looked down at you like he couldn’t decide whether to collapse or kiss you stupid.

You were already smiling.

Still on your knees. Still wrecked from the night before. But pleased. So fucking pleased.

You arched a brow. “Still hot up here?”

He swallowed thickly. “You’re an evil woman.”

You got up, snatched the bra from him, feeling his eyes on you as you walked away. “That’s why ya love me.”

He mumbled in response, something in between a a hum of agreement and ‘shut up’.

He gave you an exasperated look before shaking his head. You just sucked him off and you're acting like it's just another Tuesday?

"It is Tuesday," you said, still smirking.

Had he said that out loud!?

“We didn’t sleep,” he said with a shrug, tugging his pants on. “Ain’t my fault.”

“You’re the one who kept saying ‘just one more time.’”

“Yeah, well…” He looked down at you and gave the softest smile, all warm and wrecked and adoring. “I missed ya.”

You stared up at him for a long second, eyes soft, before reaching out and curling your fingers around his wrist. “I missed you too, Dixon. Just… maybe tonight we try sleep instead of cardio?”

“No promises,” he muttered, bending to kiss you once more—slow, sweet, and maddeningly deep.

He bent to grab his shirt from the chair, the morning light catching the planes of his back — and your breath caught mid-inhale.

“Oh… my god.”

He half-turned, brows drawing together, but you were already moving.

“Turn around,” you murmured, low but firm, your hands already finding his hips and guiding him to face away from you.

The sight made your stomach tighten — angry red lines raked across the breadth of his back, some shallow, some deeper, all raw against his skin, with the faintest shadow of a bite mark blooming at the base of his neck. You stepped in close, the heat radiating off him soaking into your bare skin, your palms smoothing over his sides before trailing up his back, fingertips skimming the raised welts like maybe your touch could erase them.

“Baby… oh my god, does that not hurt?” The words came out soft, almost guilty, your hands still roaming over his skin like you were cataloging every mark.

“Ain’t nothin’,” he said with a shrug, but that casual dismissal only made your chest tighten more.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, stepping around to face him fully. Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat under your palms, before you hid your face behind them. “I didn’t even realize I—god, that’s embarrassing.”

Before you could retreat, his larger hands closed gently around your wrists, pulling them down until your face was bare to him again. One hand lingered, cradling your jaw, his thumb stroking along your cheek. “Ain’t nothin’,” he repeated, quieter now, like he wanted you to believe it.

You huffed, half-guilty, half-bewildered. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

His other hand slid from your wrist to your hip, holding you close enough that the warmth of his bare chest pressed against yours. “Didn’t wanna,” he muttered, eyes darting away.

Your brows lifted.

“Not ‘cause it hurt—” he rushed to add, gaze skimming over your shoulder, “just… means you were feelin’ good.”

A slow smirk tugged at your mouth, and your hands smoothed up into his hair for just a second before you pulled away toward the shelf.

“Where you goin’?” he asked, following you with his eyes.

“Still getting the aloe,” you tossed over your shoulder.

He scoffed under his breath, but didn’t move — and you caught the faintest hint of a smile, like he wouldn’t mind if you came back and fussed over him some more.

⸻

The midday sun beat down hard against the metal fence as sweat slipped past your temples, soaking into the collar of your shirt. The walkers had been pressing harder against the perimeter lately, enough that the mesh was starting to bend inward, groaning under the weight of too many rotting bodies with just enough instinct left to keep pushing. Reinforcements were long overdue, so the plan now was brute force—wedging thick wooden beams against the metal at key points to keep the wall from collapsing entirely.

“Kenny,” Daryl grunted, his shoulder wedged up beneath the weight of the log, “if you drop this damn thing, I swear—”

“I’m not gonna drop it,” Kenny shot back, clearly straining. “This thing weighs more than a truck.”

“Then maybe you should’ve stayed with the tomato plants,” you muttered as you crouched low, ducking beneath the beam. “Hold it steady—I gotta mark where we need to dig.”

“Yeah, yeah, just make it quick,” Kenny puffed, the whites of his knuckles visible as he shifted his grip.

You dropped to lie down on your back in the dirt, fingers dragging through the dry soil as you carved out a rough guide with the blade of your knife. Daryl’s boot was inches from your head, the edge of his shirt hiked up just enough to expose the shallow curve of his lower back—and the faint red streaks etched into the skin there. Your scratches. Last night’s scratches.

And then there was also the very noticeable bite mark which he had tied a bandana around, which had now shifted to reveal it.

Kenny’s eyes landed on them.

The bite. The scratches.

And then everything went to hell.

“Holy shit—is that a bite?” he barked, his voice slicing through the air like a gunshot.

You didn’t even have time to react. The beam jerked violently in his grip, and before Daryl could rebalance it, the weight tipped sideways—crashing down hard onto your ribcage.

The sound that tore out of you wasn’t quite a scream—it was a crack, and then a wheezing grunt as the air got knocked clean out of your lungs. You folded instantly, body trapped awkwardly beneath the log, head lolling back into the dirt as pain shot like lightning in your torso.

“Shit!” Daryl bellowed, his voice already ragged with fury. “Get it off her!”

A blur of boots surrounded you—Rick, Maggie, Tyreese—all rushing to help. Hands grabbed the beam and heaved, straining against the weight until it finally lifted just enough. Daryl dropped to his knees and yanked you free, cradling your body to his chest like it weighed nothing, like you were made of feathers instead of broken bones.

Kenny staggered backwards, pale and jittery, eyes locked on Daryl. “I—I saw scratches, man! Guys, he's got scratches and a bite!”

“You dropped it on her—’cause of that?” Daryl’s voice was pure fire now, a sharp growl ripping from his throat as he lunged.

Kenny stumbled, tripping over his own feet. “I didn’t mean to—!”

“Daryl!” Rick barked, intercepting just in time, shoving a firm arm across Daryl’s chest before he could close the distance. “That’s enough! Where’d the scratches and the bite come from?”

Everyone froze. All eyes were on him.

Daryl’s jaw was clenched so tight the tendons in his neck stood out, his hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them now that he wasn’t throttling someone.

You sucked in a shallow breath from the dirt, ribs screaming, and rasped out, “It was me, alright?”

Confusion rippled through the group.

You forced yourself upright with a grimace, brushing Daryl’s hand off as you tried to sit but failing miserably. You collapsed halfway again, coughing, and Daryl was immediately back beside you, kneeling so close his thigh pressed against your hip.

His voice dropped to that soft gravel only you ever seemed to get. “Hey. You good? Look at me.”

You turned your face toward the sound, your expression pinched but dry-eyed. “Might’ve cracked a rib,” you muttered, only half-joking. “Feels like something’s doing jazz hands in my lung.”

His hand cradled the back of your head gently, fingers weaving into your hair as his thumb brushed along your cheekbone, eyes scanning your face like he needed to memorise every twitch and wince.

“Lemme see,” he murmured, already tugging your shirt up slowly, carefully, as if touching too fast might break you further.

The collective silence behind you stretched long. You were aware of every set of eyes watching as Daryl pushed your shirt up to reveal the angry red welt blooming across your side, his palm skimming up the bare skin of your waist to brace you steady while he looked.

And that was the moment it all clicked—for everyone.

Daryl’s hand was on your bare skin, thumb moving slowly, reverently over the rising bruise like he could soothe it just by touch. The way he held you—tender, intimate, like someone he loved—left no room for confusion.

You caught Rick’s glance toward Maggie, the slight raise of her eyebrows, and Tyreese's shuffling.

Daryl didn’t care.

“You should’ve stayed back,” he muttered, still crouched beside you, still holding your shirt like he hadn’t noticed half your stomach was on display. “Told ya I’d do the damn marking.”

“Yeah, well.” You winced, leaning into his touch. “Didn’t wanna make Kenny feel useless.”

“Think he managed that all on his own.”

“Still gonna punch him?” you asked, breathless but smirking through it.

Daryl’s jaw flexed, his voice low and flat. “Later. Let’s get ya to Hershel.”

Before you could protest, his arm slid around your waist, hauling you up from the dirt like you were weightless. His palm stayed warm and steady at your side, guiding you away without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

The three still by the fence just stared at Kenny.

“What?” Kenny said, holding his hands up. “Hey, how was I supposed to know those were not walker scratches?!”

“Because he got them while he was in the watch tower, dumbass,” Rick muttered.

"But the bite-"

"He would have gotten a fever by now," said Maggie.

Kenny blinked, then his eyebrows shot up like the penny had just dropped. “Ohhh,” he said slowly, a grin spreading. “Ohhh. So that’s what that was. Damn, Dixon—”

From up ahead, without turning around, Daryl growled, “Shut up, Kenny.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, leaning a little heavier into Daryl’s side. “Guess the secret’s out,” you murmured.

“Uh-huh,” he muttered, but his hand on your hip didn’t loosen one bit.

[velvetdevastation]

Hiii! I really like your content and i was wondering if you could write something about daryl like maybe he was married before the apocalypse and had a kid but he thought they died or something and never brought it up but then he saw them in alexandria as soon as he walked in and couldn’t believe they were alive and mybe some fluff or smut with that if you want i read something like it somewhere but it didn’t feel complete

My Way of Life

pairing: Wife!Reader x Daryl

summary: After being separated from his wife and child for almost 6 years, how will Daryl react when he suddenly finds them safe in Alexandria?

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, fluff, soft!Daryl, dad!Daryl, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), mating press (sorry I had to), YEARNING!Daryl, kissing, mentions of drugs and alcohol, angst!!, 8.5k words.

author's note: I hope you like this because I had so much fun writing it (and cried a little, but it's okay). I made the daughter unnamed because I want this to be inclusive to everyone. In my mind, Daryl is absolutely a girl dad. I hope that this was to your liking!! :) Also sorry it took so long, I go through my requests chronologically for my own sanity because apparently I can only work on one fic at a time or I'll explode.

Daryl burst through the door, stumbling through the threshold of your apartment. The sound made you jump in your seat, eyes fluttering open.

It was 4 in the morning.

A sick, twisted feeling coursed through your stomach. Daryl moved inside, with Merle in tow. A dry laugh escaped your lips. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Hell, any idea what day it is, Daryl?" Approaching him, the smell of alcohol filled your senses.

His voice slurred as he started speaking. "S'late. Tryin' to go to sleep. Merle's gonna crash here tonight." Daryl spoke like he had any authority in this moment, like he owned the place.

Like he owned you.

"The hell he is! I don't want him here." Wordlessly, Merle collapsed onto your couch and snored into the cushions. Your jaw tightened as you listened to Daryl's excuse.

"Sweetheart, we can talk in the morning." He rubbed his face and groaned softly in annoyance.

"You've been gone for 3 fucking days, don't sweetheart me." You fought back the tears that threatened to fall down your face, stinging your eyes.

Daryl frequently went on lengthy benders, spent days drinking and smoking with his older brother Merle. You would have broken up with him, divorced him.

If not for the 5-month-old that lay sleeping in your arms.

"You're gonna kill yourself. Merle's making you do these things, making you act like your father." The mere mention of Daryl's father from your mouth made him shut down.

"You shut your damn mouth." He mumbled.

"No, because you and I both know that this shit is going to kill you. And then what, you're just gonna leave me with her?" You looked down at your daughter.

His daughter.

"Are ya' gonna step up and be there for her? She doesn't even know what you look like." You stroked her cheek gently, a sad smile on your face.

"You don't-" His voice broke, breath hitching as he watched her. The baby's sleeping frame wriggled, closed eyes flicking around. She was dreaming.

"I'm gonna go to my parents' house in Virginia for a month. Takin' her with me, she'll get plenty of love from her grandparents." You heard almost a strangled whimper from Daryl, quickly pushing it away and moving to your shared bedroom.

Where you had a suitcase packed.

"Were you planning this? Wanted to leave all this time?" Daryl followed you close behind, sifting through all the things that you had already packed away, his hands shaking.

"I want to make this work, Daryl. I do, for her." You set your daughter in her bassinet.

"But I can't be the only one raising her. She needs a father who is here." You packed the rest of your items that you'd need for the trip.

"When you can handle this. When you're sober, we'll come back and try this again. That's all I want." You stopped in your tracks when you noticed what Daryl was doing.

He stood by the bassinet, staring at his daughter with sad eyes. Reaching down, he pulled a blanket over her body, tucking her in gently.

"Daryl, you can do this. You can move past this and be in her life again. But you gotta show me you can change." You grabbed the sides of his face gently.

He didn't respond. He accepted it, without pushing back.

That morning, Daryl watched you leave. He hadn't slept that night, and couldn't look you in the eye.

The world ended shortly after.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Phones went down within the first few days; he didn't even have a chance to call you.

Never got to see you or his daughter again.

As he moved from camp to camp with Merle, he searched the surrounding area outside of Atlanta. Looking for you, for any sign that you were here.

Any hope that you and his child were alive. His brain was frantic, coming to the worst conclusions. Realistically, how could someone raise a child in this?

When Daryl and Merle finally found Shane and his group, it was the first day that Daryl fully felt the weight of what was missing. Seeing the children in the camp, the families that were fighting through this, it made his chest tighten.

He silently cried to himself in his tent that night.

Merle caught onto his longing to see you and his baby girl right away. Watching the way Daryl would stare at Lori and Carl, like that was something he wanted.

"Bet you miss your piece of tail right about now, huh?" Merle laughed to himself. Daryl's stare shot daggers into Merle.

"Don't call her that." His stomach churned at the mention of her. She wasn't a piece of tail. She was the mother of his child, his wife.

"Just sayin', man! You oughta move on, ain't nothin' you can do about her now." Merle shrugged as he skinned a squirrel they had found, his brows furrowed as he focused on the task.

A flip switched in Daryl, and he quickly shoved Merle away. "Shut your damn mouth." His breath was rapid now, emotions heightened. "And you-" His voice cracked ever so slightly. "You're the reason she ain't here-"

Merle was the reason they had that fight that night. But Daryl knew that fight wasn't the only reason you had left.

Merle wheezed a laugh at him. "Now you know it ain't my fault, brother, that's all yours." He eyed Daryl as he was breaking into a heaving mess.

"Don't you blame me for bein' a deadbeat, did a mighty fine job of doin' that all on your own."

Deadbeat. Like his father.

The word hit Daryl like a truck, smashing his heart into pieces. Because it was true. You had spent weeks begging him to pull himself together and be there for his baby girl.

And now he'd never have the chance to see her again.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Daryl carried that guilt with him past the farm, the prison, and the horrific events that followed the group like a plague. His silent burden that would never be shared with another soul. Each tragedy, each person they lost, made Daryl feel heavier inside.

After Judith's birth, he saw Rick as the man he could never be. He showed up for her every time and was able to be who Judith needed to survive.

It reminded Daryl of what he was missing. Would his daughter have smiled up at him with big precious eyes? Would she have looked like you, with gorgeous hair and the cutest face?

When the group had been approached by Aaron to come live in Alexandria, Daryl had a feeling that this would just be another community that would fall to the circumstances.

To the dead outside.

By the time the group had reached the gates, Daryl had accepted the fact that you were gone. That he'd never wake up to see your sleeping frame next to him. That he'd never get to press a kiss to your lips again.

And that his daughter was gone, no longer alive. Even if she was alive, what kind of life was this for a child?

The gates of Alexandria slid open wide to let the group through. Daryl eyed the men who surrounded them with narrowed eyes.

Although Aaron had already explained the 'amenities' that the community boasted, it was surreal to see it in action. People were walking by pushing wheelbarrows of flowers and crops, and children of varying ages were playing on the front lawns of their homes.

Homes. The word felt unfamiliar in itself. Deanna cautiously approached the group, accompanied by her two sons.

It was almost too good to be true, like this was some kind of front for evil actions that lay behind the clean rows of housing, behind the trees that cornered every sidewalk.

"Welcome to Alexandria. I think you'll find that we are a good group here. My name is Deanna, I am the leader here. Before we do anything, I want to make sure that everyone is safe, so I'm going to have to ask all of you to drop your weapons off."

Daryl felt an immediate surge of caution. Leave his weapon?

"Y/n!" Deanna called your name to signal that she was ready for you. You were in charge of the weapons inventory in Alexandria.

A task you took seriously from the moment you came knocking on Alexandria's door near the start of the whole thing.

Daryl swallowed at the sound of your name, remembering how your name felt leaving his lips. Like pure honey.

A small sliver of hope rose in his. He knew that you were in Virginia when everything went down.

Maybe this is where you ended up?

"That lady over there is Y/n. She's our weapons inventory. She knows all there is to know about guns, bows, you name it. We will briefly take your weapons while we interview you." Deanna pointed to you.

Daryl followed Deanna's eyes, his breath stopping.

It was you.

You were here.

Breath hitching, he felt as if time had stopped in its tracks. You were alive.

Daryl's jaw went slack; he felt like the air had just been punched out of him.

Eyeing your cart, you began your speech about weapons. "Alright, everything you got, just toss it in here. We'll make sure everything goes back to the rightful owner."

Daryl couldn't even process what you were saying. His eyes went blurry, tears welling up before his brain caught up with what he was seeing.

He watched your movements, watched you fumble with your shirt nervously.

Like you did before.

A hand on your hip, you glanced up at suspicious eyes from their leader, Rick. "And I mean everything. I don't wanna have to search-"

A shiver ran through you as you made eye contact with him.

With Daryl.

Daryl stepped out from the group, his steps unsure and shaky. He felt as if his legs could give out at any moment.

Tears broke from your eyes, a hand gently slapped across your mouth to stop the loud sob that came out of you.

Nothing else mattered. The rest of the group could come in and ransack the place for all you cared. Daryl was here. This was real.

Dropping his crossbow without a second thought, he crossed the distance between you in a few long strides. He stopped in front of you, his dirty face stained with tears now.

Glancing you over, it was as if he was making sure you were real.

Daryl practically collapsed into you, enveloping you in a tight embrace. Your arms flew around him instinctively, sobs now wrecking you and coming out without thought.

His hands were shaking as he took your face in his hands. No words were shared, just a longing look that you hadn't seen in him.

Not since the two of you first shared your vows.

In the sound of the intense emotions both of you felt, Daryl just looked at you, admiring your features. His thumb brushed over your cheek, clearing the teary mess that had accumulated. He pressed his forehead to yours, one hand coursing through your hair, the other tightly wrapped around your waist.

"You-" Your voice was hoarse and barely audible. Speech felt impossible, like all you wanted to do in this moment was feel him.

Feel his hands on you, feel that he was actually here.

Daryl didn't even care about the eyes on him; he could only think of you. He pulled away to get another look at you, like he needed to check that you were still here.

Saying nothing, he then pressed a desperate kiss to your lips. One that you returned immediately, humming into his mouth. The kiss wasn't hungry, but it was deep nonetheless.

You were convinced that the man you loved was dead. That there was no way of ever seeing him again. This whole time, you spent feeling guilty, feeling like you robbed him of something.

But he came to you.

"Here. Kept them all this time." You spoke in between gasps as you grabbed your necklace, on which sat two rings.

The ring you had secretly packed away. That you would have returned to him once he got sober.

Daryl was breathing heavily, adrenaline and emotion rushing through him as you handed him the wedding band. He slipped it on after several seconds fumbling with it, his shaky hands making it hard to do much of anything.

It was all too much. Daryl buried his head into your shoulder to just hold you.

Rick stared at Daryl in confusion. Daryl had never mentioned any woman in his life. Deanna recalled your interview when you first arrived with your 1-year-old daughter.

You mentioned your husband, a man named Daryl. A soft smile came to her face as she recognized what this was.

A reunion.

"Alright, Y/n is a little busy, so I'll take over for her. All weapons go in here, don't betray our trust, and we won't betray yours." Deanna eyed the pair of you before taking over your job temporarily.

It was like there was a bubble in which the only thing that Daryl could focus on was him and you. Nothing outside of that was important right now.

After everyone had put their weapons away, Deanna approached the two of you. "Listen, I'm going to have to be mean for a second and pull him away to do an interview to make sure he's a good fit. Is that okay?"

Daryl pressed soft kisses into your shoulder, swaying you gently as he just stood there. Allowing himself to feel, to hold you in what felt like a lifetime.

"Daryl-" You tapped him. The sound of his name from your lips almost made his knees collapse from underneath him. He'd dreamt of that sound, longed for it to ever fill his ears again.

"Honey, it'll just be a second." You managed to get him to pull away from you.

You watched while the group walked with Daryl to go to where the interviews were taking place.

Rick pulled Daryl aside. "I'm assumin' you knew her?"

Knew her? What a goddamn understatement.

"My wife." Daryl felt tears well up at the mere mention of you.

Rick's eyes widened. He ran a hand over his face in shock. Daryl hid this for years. Hid his immense grief.

"We'll talk about it after your interview. We will all be right outside. If anything goes wrong, just holler for us." Rick gave Daryl a quick nod before sending him in.

Daryl was barely focused during the interview, staring out the window at you, eager to get back and make up for missed time.

Once it was over, he was practically running to you. "See? Quick." You pressed your forehead to his as his shaky hands found yours.

Daryl asked a question that had been burning in him since he saw you. "My girl?" He prayed with bated breath that she was alive, that nothing had happened to her while he was hundreds of miles away.

"She's alive." You smiled at him as he let out a shaky breath. He let tears fall again, kicking himself for being such a mess.

But he couldn't help it. It was like somebody had sifted through his dreams and made one of them a reality.

"She's here?" Daryl knew that his daughter wouldn't remember him, but just seeing her would make all the difference.

Knowing that you've kept her safe all these years.

You nodded. "Wouldn't go anywhere without her. She's a little badass, you'll see." You laughed to yourself.

Daryl closed his eyes, absolutely melting at the sound of your laugh. Hell, he hadn't heard you laugh since he started going on his benders after his baby girl was born.

Only, his baby wasn't exactly a baby anymore. He missed everything.

Her first steps, her first words.

"She won't remember me," Daryl spoke softly, like this was a dream and he'd wake up to a walker growling above his face at any moment.

"She does. Been showin' her pictures of you and tellin' stories. She asks about you every day." Your words made him fall apart all over again.

"How old is she?" Daryl felt a sadness overcome him when he thought of what he'd missed. What he never got to see his precious baby accomplish.

"She's six. And I know what you're thinkin'." You put a hand on his chest, stopping him in his thoughts.

"You have time. Time to be in her life. I think we need to give this-" You gestured between the two of you. "Some time before you see her again. Tomorrow."

Daryl inhaled sharply. What's one more day when he thought he'd never see her again?

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

The group decided to sleep in the same house for the first night, out of fear of potential safety risks. Daryl felt torn. He wanted to be able to hold you, but he also had his group to look after.

"Stay with me tonight? These are good people." Daryl was holding your hands, his affection such a drastic change from his usual grumpy nature.

"Yeah, I'll get Olivia to babysit for me."

Babysitting. In the damn apocalypse.

Daryl let out a chuckle at the absurdity of it all and reluctantly let go of your hands to let you go talk to whoever Olivia was. In that moment, Rick approached him.

"I understand if you want to stay with her tonight." He placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder.

"Nah, don't wanna disturb her."

Rick laughed softly. "Daryl, she's been through a lot. She looks like a tough woman at that. Not much you could do to disturb her-"

"My daughter."

Rick froze in his spot, his jaw wide open. "Shit." He sighed to himself.

"You've got a wife and a kid?" Rick asked, rubbing a hand over his face. "You never told us, man."

"Wasn't proud-" Daryl cut himself off with a choked sound.

"Proud of what?"

"How I ended things. Made her leave." Daryl didn't have to explain anymore; Rick just nodded in understanding.

"I'm here for you, brother. And I'm glad you found 'em." Rick smiled. It was a little funny, seeing the archer so worked up when he was usually stone cold.

"She's staying here tonight. I-" He ran a hand through his hair. "Need her here."

Rick chuckled. "I get it, man. If you trust her, I do too."

While the sun began to set, Daryl busied himself by helping the group settle into the living room. The minute you walked through the door, Daryl dropped what he was doing with Glenn to go see you.

Glenn laughed and shook his head.

"She's okay with you bein' here?" Daryl asked about his daughter. You snicker at him.

"Are you kidding? Auntie Olivia treats her better than I do." You wrap your arms around his neck.

Daryl nodded and pressed a short kiss to your forehead.

Once everyone was settled for the night, Daryl sat in the kitchen with you. It was a little bit away from everyone else, so you were able to talk in peace.

"I can't believe you're here." You breathed out a shaky laugh, sitting on the floor with him. "Feels like a dream I'm gonna wake up from."

Daryl held your hand, now quieter than he was earlier. More reserved.

Now, you hadn't seen him for 6 years. But you knew your husband and his tells.

"What's wrong? C'mon, I'm your wife, I know when you're acting weird." His stomach flipped at you referring to yourself as 'your wife'.

He could not get you close enough in this moment. Hand-holding would not suffice. "Need you close." He mumbled.

You smiled at him before moving into his lap. It reminded you of home and how you'd sit on his lap when he'd need something to ground him.

You tried to ignore the several pairs of eyes on you from the dark living room.

"Now tell me. Get it out now so we can get some sleep." You felt him melt against your hand when you held his face.

"M'just sorry." He started, his senses burning as tears welled in his eyes.

"Oh, baby." You let out a small pout and let him continue.

"Should'a been a better husband, better father." His heart was pounding out of his chest as tears were now freely flowing.

"I let you down, didn't even come lookin' for ya'." You could tell he was beating himself up for this.

Hard.

"Stop. Nobody would blame you for not comin' hundreds of miles to check if we were alive. I'd have done the same thing." You pushed some of his hair out of his face, admiring the features that had changed since you last saw him.

The hair, for one. And then the scars that were littered across his skin.

"Messed up bad. Ya' gave me a second chance 'n I never took it." He spoke through choked sobs, intentionally quiet.

The group had never seen him so emotional, and yet nobody blamed him.

"Looked for ya' everywhere we went. Promise." Daryl was holding onto you tightly now, his head lying against your chest, longing for closeness.

"I believe you."

God, this guilt was eating him alive.

"Never forgot about ya'. Thought about ya' every night." He was such a weeping mess, absolutely torn to shreds as he bared his guilt to you.

"Still love ya'." He confessed everything he could.

"I love you too. Never stopped." You held Daryl's face in your hands and pulled him in for a soft kiss, one that he melted into.

Daryl pulled away to swipe at the tears streaking his face. "Stop makin' me cry, woman." He spoke softly, partly because the group was trying to sleep.

But the other part of him felt a little embarrassed by how many times he'd broken down crying today.

"Would be weird if ya' didn't cry. Just shows how much you love me, Mr. Dixon." You pressed a kiss to his cheek, his stubble poking your skin.

"Now, we should probably get to sleep. Got a long day tomorrow, save those tears." You teased him, a wide smile on your face, hurting your cheeks slightly.

Daryl just shoved his face into your shoulder in response, utterly spent from such an emotionally exhausting few hours.

"Gotta say though, I'm likin' your new hair. It's kinda sexy." You spoke through yawns, your eyes heavy as they fought off sleep for a few seconds.

Daryl huffed against you and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder.

The two of you fell asleep in that position. With you straddling his lap, legs wrapped around his torso to be as close to him as possible.

Daryl was like a completely different person.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Morning came quickly, and Daryl's breath hitched at the sight of you when he woke up.

Because you were still here.

It wasn't a dream.

The group stirred awake with the sun, discussing plans for the day and whether they like the community.

Your eyes flickered open, locking in on how Daryl stared at you with infatuation, pure love.

"Good morning, Daryl." You stretched out of your position on his lap. "Sleep well?"

For the first time in years, Daryl could actually say yes.

"Do you think she's ready to see me?" Daryl was practically shaking in anticipation. Because today was the day, he'd be able to see his daughter for the first time in almost 6 years.

"Oh, she's ready. I'll have to let her know you're here and let her process that, but once she does, you can meet her." You smiled at the thought of how she'd react.

"Ya' think she'll like me?" He swallowed, feeling a rising shame start to make his stomach churn.

He'd missed so much. He doesn't even know what she likes.

"She will." You knew it was his insecurity talking, but you shut it down anyway.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Daryl was sitting on a bench outside your place, listening as you explained to your daughter. He fidgeted with the rips on his jeans, his eyes staring into the cracks in the pavement as he struggled to keep himself calm.

It was torture waiting for you, for her.

From where he was sitting, he was able to hear you clearly as you spoke to her.

"Sweeheart, I know that I've told you all about your dad." You could hardly contain the smile that grew on your face as you held your girl close to you.

"I want you to know that he found us. He's here right now." Hands wrapped around your daughter, you soothed her through her sudden excitement.

"Now, he wants to see you so bad, honey. But remember, the last time he saw you was when you were a teeny little baby. He's a little nervous, but you can help him be brave, right?" You thought back to all the stories you told her about Daryl.

"I wanna see him!" Your daughter was practically bouncing with excitement, a wide smile on her face. Daryl let out a breath of relief he hadn't known he was holding.

She wanted to see him. Wanted to know him.

"Alright, let's go!" You held your daughter's hand as you led her out to where Daryl was sitting, waiting eagerly.

Daryl hastily stood up from the bench and turned around to face the two of you. His heart was pounding, the sound echoing loudly in his ears.

There she was, walking out of the picture-perfect house. Her hair was done up nicely, as if the world outside had no real effect here.

And she looked like you. Your cute little smile, the same bouncy personality.

Daryl breathed out a laugh of disbelief. The odds of reuniting, of finding his family in a place like this.

Maybe there was a god out there listening to his prayers.

He had dreamed of meeting his daughter for years. And still, it looked nothing like this. She bounded over to him, her feet pounding against the pavement as she ran.

And once she was close enough to get a good look at him, she paused. Daryl's heart could have stopped right there as she stared up at him with a sweet smile.

With wide open arms, she wrapped around him tightly, as if she'd known him just as long as he'd known you.

A quick glance from her made him tear up. "Hi, Daddy."

That was more than he could handle. He fell to his knees and swooped her close, his large hands enveloping her as if she'd dissolve like sugar.

Daryl pulled away for a second to get another look at her. He couldn't believe that this was real. His daughter had scrapes on her knees, and her overalls were covered in what looked to be a mixture of dirt and some food mess.

She looked like her mother.

"Are you sad?" His daughter asked, her tiny hands grabbing onto his face, curiously feeling the stubble that marked his skin.

Daryl shook his head. "Just happy I found ya'." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the tears that had streamed down his face.

He felt as if he'd cried more in the past day than he had his entire life.

Then, she pulled a picture out of her pocket. "You look different!" She showed him the picture, crinkled and slightly faded.

As if she'd kept it in her pocket all this time.

Daryl let out a laugh. It was a picture of him from high school, his lanky frame sitting on a beat-up motorcycle. And his hair was practically a buzz cut compared to what it was now.

"Yer' right. Got more hair now, don't I?" He held his daughter on his hip as he lifted her off the ground. Daryl let her play with his long hair, warmth wrapping him up entirely.

"Mama said you ride motorcycles!" She brushed the hair out of his face, examining his facial features.

"She's right." Daryl snickered at the way she pulled his hair back, almost like she'd put it in a ponytail.

"Can I ride it? Please?" She begged, her puppy eyes a new experience that he wasn't expecting.

And they worked just as intended. Daryl was a pushover.

"That's up to yer' mama. Maybe later."

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Alexandria was holding a welcome event to ensure that Rick's group felt that they belonged in the community. It was nothing particularly large, just some food and drinks around a campfire.

The group had barely seen Daryl the whole day. He was following you and his daughter around like a lost dog.

In a way, he really was.

But the two of you had convinced him to show up for the event instead of sitting in your house and learning how you lived. With a fair amount of grumbling, Daryl agreed.

Approaching the group with his daughter on his hip, her hands braiding his hair as much as a 6-year-old could, Daryl ignored the looks of shock and awe.

"Who's this?" Carol spoke with a smile. The child was a spitting image of her mother, but she had Daryl's hair color.

"My girl, thought I'd never see her again." He was so proud, so eager to show his daughter off as his own.

"Daddy, you said I could ride yer' motorcycle. Mama said liars get grounded." His daughter didn't process the laughter that rang out from the rest of the group.

"She's stubborn like her dad." Carol took a sip of some of the wine that had been provided. "Has your dad shown you his bow yet?"

His daughter shook her head. "No, Daddy was crying too much." Daryl rubbed his face, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Carol pretended to gasp loudly. "Was he really?" She shot Daryl a teasing look, snickering at the hidden middle finger he held up to her.

"Yeah! He was crying a lot!" Daryl ignored his daughter's betrayal and kissed her forehead.

"That guy over there named Rick has a daughter, too. She's younger than you, but she's really cool. You wanna go say hi?" Daryl pointed to Rick's daughter, Judith.

"Okay, bye Daddy!" His daughter slid off his lap and ran up to Rick. She tapped his knee and then asked if she could play with Judith.

The two stayed nearby, playing with sticks and flowers on the ground.

Now that his daughter was preoccupied, Daryl turned his attention to you. "You kept her thinkin' about me. Thank you." He was so glad to hear that his daughter knew him and had heard stories about him.

"Didn't want her to feel like you didn't exist. Wanted her to know that you were a good guy."

"I wasn't." Daryl furrowed his brows. "But I've changed." Daryl hoped you could see it, that you weren't just pitying him.

"I know. You're sober, for one. But there's a difference in how much you care. About her and me." Your eyes traveled to your daughter as she played with Judith.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Daryl carried your daughter home, her eyes barely open as she fought off sleep. "Not tired yet!" She wriggled in his grasp.

"Judith needs her sleep." Daryl walked inside with you, one hand holding yours, and the other holding your daughter close.

"And you do too, missy." You lifted her out of Daryl's arms and instructed her to get ready for bed.

"Thank you for today, Daryl. She absolutely adores you. Told me earlier that she wanted you to live with us." You wrapped Daryl into a tight hug, breathing in his scent.

Cigarettes and wood smoke.

"Would ya' want that? Me living here?" Daryl had hoped you would say yes, but he'd also understand if you needed some space from him.

A small scoff came from your lips. "Are you kidding? She'd kill me if I didn't make you stay with us. I wouldn't mind if you lived here; we'd finally be together again."

Together again. Daryl melted at the thought of that.

"Daddy?" A quiet voice came from his daughter's room. You smiled and gestured for him to go see her.

Daryl was pulled in by her voice, his heart bursting when he saw her. His daughter was in her pajamas, already in bed with her eyes hanging low as she continued to fight sleep.

To talk with him one more time before she slept.

"What do ya' need?" Daryl stood by her bed, a smile stuck on his face.

"Tuck me in?" She asked sweetly, how could he refuse?

Poor Daryl was wrapped around her little finger. He just nodded and grabbed her blanket, fluffing it up and tucking the edges to her comfort.

Just like he had when she was a baby.

"That better?" He asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She nodded and closed her eyes. For a second, it seemed as though sleep had taken her under its wings.

"I love you, Daddy." That little voice. Those four words that made Daryl's heart hurt all over again.

He practically abandoned her when she was born, and yet she loved him?

Daryl pressed his hand to hers. "I love you too. I'll see you tomorrow." He sat in a chair adjacent to where she slept.

His eyes tracked her breathing, unsure of whether he might still be trapped in a very elaborate dream.

"Honey, you've been staring at her for like five minutes." You leaned against the doorway, the sound of your voice startling him a little as he was lost in thought.

"Wanna make sure she's okay. That she's real." He stood from the chair and made his way over to you.

"C'mere." You managed to drag him away from your daughter's room, closing the door gently.

"I know you think that this is gonna fade away when you wake up, but I promise this-" You press a kiss to his cheek. "It's real. We are real."

Daryl's hands found your waist, his large hands caressing your skin the same way he had done since the two of you made it official about 10 years ago.

"Everyone called me crazy, y'know? Said that I should move on." You scoffed, your body swaying lightly against his. "Never did."

Daryl felt his cheeks heat up at your confession. "I didn't tell anyone about you. Regrettin' that now, but I didn't stop thinkin' about ya' for one second."

"I sure hope so." You laughed, your eyes falling to his lips for a moment as they tugged up into a confused smile.

"You what?"

"I sure hope you weren't thinkin' about other women while I was here speakin' so highly of you." You smirked at him.

Daryl hummed in agreement. "Never." Which was completely true, his mind never strayed from the woman he thought he'd never see again. You liked that answer, running a hand through his long hair.

The woman he could never just "get over".

"Jus' thought about you. Only you." Daryl melted into your touch, his breath hitching at the way you lightly tugged at his hair.

"Oh yeah?" Her words sent a shiver down his spine. "What were you thinking about?" Your finger traced circles on his chest, your eyes glancing up at him with a revived energy.

Daryl's mind went blank. He stuttered out anything. Anything to keep your hands on him.

"Your touch. The way you feel." His hands gently squeezed at your waist, feeling the way you rolled your hips into his instinctively.

"Yeah? You wanna feel me?" You grabbed his hands, placing them on your tits, relishing in the way his eyes were glued to you.

Daryl felt blood rush to his face and elsewhere as he gently squeezed your breasts in his hand. "Need this off." He tugged at your shirt, pulling it over your head.

You obliged his desperation, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. Daryl sucked in a quick inhale, almost as if the wind had been knocked out of him at the sight of you.

"So goddamn pretty." He pressed a kiss to your neck, humming against your soft skin. "Been thinking about you like this." He spoke between needy gasps.

"Dreaming of these-" He leaned down to press sloppy kisses against your breasts, his spit gathering as he sucked on your nipples.

"Daryl-" You pulled his face up to yours. "My bedroom. Don't want to do this here." You were still standing in the living room, gasping and rutting against each other desperately.

Daryl hummed in agreement. He didn't want his first time with you since you left to be hastily performed on a couch.

You led Daryl to your bedroom, and he had slipped his vest off somewhere in between that time, tossing the heavy garment onto the floor.

"Missed ya' so much." He spoke, his words breathy against your skin as he pressed soft kisses to your neck.

"I know, baby-" You gasped as he bit at your skin gently, leaving small, pleasurable bruises. "Missed you too."

Daryl could hardly contain himself, his brain working in overdrive to comprehend what was happening. You were here, and he had the whole night to show you just how much he thought about you on lonely nights.

And he just couldn't get enough.

His hand held the back of your head, pressing a hungry kiss onto your lips, his tongue slipping in like he had kissed you millions of times before.

Like no distance had ever been between you.

The heat between you increased, the feeling unbearable. To relieve it, you tugged at his shirt, slipping it off of his chest. Your hands found his skin, the rough scars outlining the years you had spent apart.

Before it even registered in your head, you were falling backwards onto your bed. Daryl climbed over you in an instant, his large arms landing beside your face, trapping you beneath his frame.

And then, his hands were all over you. Pressing against your skin desperately enough to leave bruises as his soft kisses made their way down your chest. Wordlessly, his hands found the button of your jeans, his rough fingers fumbling with it before releasing it.

"Daryl, please-" You whined against him, pressing your hips up against his, a desperate need for friction coursed through your veins. Acting on that impulse, Daryl pushed your hips down firmly.

"Been waitin' years to see ya' like this. Gonna need some time to look at ya'." He whispered into your ear, the sickly sweet words drawing another pathetic whine from your lips.

He silenced it this time, his mouth moving with yours, swallowing your whimpers as he yanked your jeans down your legs. The sound of the fabric slapping against the floor made you wrap your legs around his waist as he made out with you.

Daryl managed to pull away from your lips, smiling at the whine that left your mouth. "Relax, sweetheart. Not lettin' you go ever again." With that, his eyes found your body, tracing the curves that looked downright sinful against the sheets.

In your blind lust, you hadn't even seen him lower his body just off the bedframe. A hiss left your mouth as Daryl licked a stripe up your clothed cunt, his eyes lighting up at the way you reacted to him.

"Been thinkin' about how pretty this pussy is." He pressed his tongue against the cotton, humming at the taste of your arousal that had been pooling since he started kissing you out in the living room.

"Gonna let me have a taste?" Daryl knew you, knew how much you adored his mouth on you.

"Anything, fuck please!" Your hips instinctively bucked up against his lips as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your panties.

"Since ya' asked so nicely." He slid the garment down your thighs, his eyes immediately glued to you, and how wet you were for him.

Daryl couldn't hold himself back anymore; he grabbed your hips with a bruising grip. Pulling your body to him, his face was inches from your soaked cunt.

Making up for lost time, Daryl's mouth began working on you, tongue flicking against your clit. He took you in his mouth, sucking at your clit as you became undone above him.

Your moans echoed around the room, your hands shakily moving down to grasp at his hair. His eyes glanced up at you as he dragged his tongue across your folds, humming against your skin. Your sounds were addictive, sending waves of pleasure down to his cock as he fought back the urge to come at the sight of you.

"Keep makin' those sounds f'me." He was practically groaning against you now, his right hand keeping your hips firmly pressed against his face as his left hand palmed his painfully hard erection. "Fuck-" His mouth left your pussy for only a second as he bit back his own premature orgasm.

Then he kept going, his tongue wasting no time in pushing into your entrance. Your whimpers got louder as your hips thrusted against him. His nose pressed against your clit, the feeling making your legs shake as you held them beside Daryl's head.

"Holy shit-" A loud gasp escaped your lips as Daryl slipped a finger in, his mouth sucking at your clit. You couldn't control your movements anymore, your hands tugging at Daryl's hair for some kind of purchase.

Daryl smirked as he felt your legs threatening to close around him, your mind clouded by the absolute pleasure he was providing you with. "Ya' like that, baby?" He thrusted his finger into you, eyes watching for your reaction.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as your hips jerked with his every thrust into your cunt. Daryl couldn't get enough of this, of your delicious reactions.

To think that he ever let you walk out that door.

"Yes! Don't stop, please!" You were begging him to continue, to bring you over that edge that drew closer with every thrust.

Daryl felt it, the way your cunt fluttered around his finger as your moans of his name got higher. He wouldn't dare stop now, a look of pure awe on his messy, soaked face.

Then he remembered something. A move that drove you crazy every time he did it.

Daryl curled his finger, hitting your spot effortlessly as he stroked it. From your reaction, he could tell he did it right. Your back arched against the bed, your whole body shuddering from the immense pleasure.

"Fuck-" Your orgasm hit you suddenly, the pleasure making your vision go white as Daryl rode you through it. He lapped at your cunt needily, taking everything you were giving him as you came around his finger.

"Let me feel it, I got ya'." He mumbled against you as he worked you through your orgasm, his eyes on you the entire time, wishing he could have taken a picture in this moment. To always know how beautiful you looked when he went down on you like this.

Once you were a whining mess, Daryl slowly pulled his finger out. God, he was a mess. His beard was soaked with your wetness, his pupils dilated with adoration for you. His hair was tangled from your frantic hands.

"Need you-" You ignored the ache in your legs as you sat up to unbutton his jeans for him. "Need to feel you inside." You felt the imprint of Daryl's cock against your hand, bulging against his pants needily as you unzipped them.

Daryl helped you by shoving his jeans and underwear off hastily. You took in a sharp inhale of breath. You remembered Daryl was hung, but not like this.

"Bet you jerked off to me through the years, didn't you?" You were genuinely curious about this, and whether you were alone in the fact that you got off to the memory of him almost every night.

Daryl's hips jerked forward as you ran your thumb over his tip, his breath hitching. "When it was safe. Thought about ya'." He left out the part where he'd barely been able to keep you off his mind, and how he wouldn't last very long thinking about your beautiful body.

"Me too. Forgot what you felt like." His cock twitched in your hand, letting you know how worked up he was. How your words made him feel. Daryl was slack-jawed now, eyes glued to your hand and how you slowly pumped him. Small groans left his mouth, his brain struggling to keep up with your words.

"Gonna make you remember-" He mumbled as he pressed soft kisses against your neck. You shuddered at his words; the anticipation was killing you.

"Come show me then." You wrapped your arms around him, bringing him down with you as you lay back onto the soft, plush bed.

Daryl's mouth found yours. His kiss was still just as hungry as before. His breaths were ragged, like he was losing control over his own actions. He brought his cock into his hand and lined the tip up with your pussy. He hummed into your mouth as he slid the tip up and down your juices.

The warmth radiating from your core made him whine against you. "Ya' ready?" He would have stopped there if you needed him to; he would have settled for whatever you gave him. Daryl wanted you.

In any capacity he could have you.

With a nod, Daryl pushed into you slowly, eyeing your reactions as you took him in by inch. You were so tight, your warm cunt fluttering around him as you tried to adjust to his size. Daryl held back the urge to kiss you as your mouth flew open in an 'o' shape in a silent gasp.

He was thick, the stretch of his cock a painful yet thrilling reminder that all you'd ever wanted was here, standing in front of you.

"Doin' good f'me. Almost there." He held his forehead against yours. He listened to your shaky exhales as you tried to relax enough to take him. Once he was buried to the hilt, he pressed a kiss to your head.

"Take all the time you need, got all night." He was lying. He was so close to losing it and cumming inside you. Because he'd thought about this moment for so long. Many nights spent with his hand wrapped around his cock, a feverish layer of sweat covering his body as he jerked off to the thought of you.

You gave yourself a few seconds to adjust to his size before you gave him the okay to move. Daryl almost let out a groan at that, his hips slowly starting to thrust into you.

"God, I forgot how good you felt." You let the words slip from your mouth without thinking, your brain fogged by the sight of him above you.

Daryl let out a quiet groan at your words, his brows furrowed as he focused on you and not the throbbing desperation coursing through him.

He didn't want to rush. Not when he finally had you back in his arms, and you had the rest of your lives together.

His pace sped up. "Can't talk like that, sweetheart."

"Why? Thought about how you'd fill me up so good-" You were cut off by your own moans that echoed around the room as Daryl lifted your legs to throw them onto his shoulders. His cock thrusted into you deeper, hitting a better angle that had your eyes rolling back helplessly.

"M'bout to if you don't stop." His words held no venom, broken by shaky breaths as he fucked you into the sheets. The sound of skin smacking filled your ears as his hips pounded into yours, at a pace that was frustratingly not enough.

"Daryl, please-" You were a mess underneath him, your chest heaving as you moaned breathily. "Need more."

He obliged your command, his thrusts snapping faster into your cunt as he gripped you tighter. You were positive you'd have some bruises tomorrow, but it made this whole situation a lot more real.

"Fuck! Just like that!" Your back was arched off of the bed as his thrusts hit that exact spot that made you scream his name. Daryl groaned above you, his hands tightly wrapped around your legs to keep you on him.

As if he couldn't get deeper, Daryl leaned forward to press a kiss against your lips, pushing your legs further back to accommodate him. His cock pressed deeper into you, your body trembling as his thrusts were relentless.

"Oh my god-" You cried out his name, your hands grasping onto the sheets for something to hold on to while he drilled into you with no abandon.

Daryl made a mental note of what drove you crazy. He hadn't ever tried this position with you, but now it had become his favorite. He let out open-mouthed groans, now focused on hanging on to make you come before him.

"Please-" You felt tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure being almost too much to bear. "Please, baby, I'm so close!" The familiar pressure rose inside you, eyes shut tight as moans flowed out of you uncontrollably.

"I know, sweetheart." He could feel it, the way you fluttered around him, the way you were writhing underneath his grasp. Your cunt squeezed around him, earning a string of curses from his mouth. He was so damn close to bursting.

"Give it to me, please. Wanna feel you." It was his turn to beg now, his voice broken and dry.

As if he had control over you, your second orgasm washed over you in an all-consuming, white-hot wave. "Oh fuck!" Your hips jerked against him, meeting his thrusts as he worked you through your overwhelming climax.

"So good- fuck!" Daryl let out a strained moan as his own orgasm hit him suddenly, his thrusts became sloppy and stuttered as he spilled into you. Short gasps left his lips as his body shuddered against yours.

You both came down from your orgasms, your brains foggy from the immense pleasure still rocking through you. After a minute of cooling down, you gestured that you wanted him to hold you.

Daryl pulled out slowly, both of you cringing at the feeling. "Wasn't too rough?" He looked at the marks he left on your skin. You laugh. "Please. You've been rougher." You remembered that time your friends were concerned about the amount of hickeys on your neck and chest after a romantic night with Daryl.

Daryl grabbed a towel from your bathroom, gently swiping at the mess he'd made on your sensitive skin. Then, he collapsed on the bed next to you, his face buried in the soft blanket.

"Not fair, you don't get to go to sleep without holding me, Mr. Dixon." You whined and lightly slapped his back. He wordlessly reached an arm out to wrap around your waist and dragged you across the bed to his body.

He buried his face into your neck, ignoring the way you stifled a giggle as his stubble ran across your skin. "I love you. So much." The confession made your heart soar every time you heard it.

"I love you too."

[taknbythewind]

soft and sweet

pairing: dad!jack abbot x mom!reader

summary: his wife brings the kids to visit him at work and to show off the new addition to the abbot family, and maybe jack is already itching for another…

wc: 1.3k

warnings: jack and reader are parents, robby flirts with reader (hardly), reader works at ptmc but no job specified, uhh thats it i think? its just fluff hehehe

summary: his wife brings the kids to visit him at work and show off the new addition to the abbot family, and maybe jacks already itching for another…

a/n: dad!jack you will always be famous. if anyone wants to see more of this little family lmk :3 (still trying to decide on names for the babies…)

Jack hears you before he sees you, his ears perking up at the familiar sound of your laugh floating through the chaos of the ED. Any other time it would make his own smile spread across his face, but now it makes his brows pinch together as he makes his way towards the sound.

You’re supposed to be at home, resting. Sure it’s been a few weeks since the baby was born, but at the very least you should be as far away from work as possible.

He rounds a corner and finally catches sight of you, along with all three of his children. The baby carrier at your feet is empty, and his eyes search the small crowd of coworkers gathered around his family and find his youngest in Lena’s arms, who’s smiling down at the newborn.

As he walks up to you from behind, his arm is already reaching toward you before he’s even close enough to touch. His gentle and familiar hand on your shoulder has you turning to him with a dazzling smile, and he momentarily forgets his worries when a face that beautiful is grinning at him so lovingly.

“Hiya, handsome,” you greet, pouting your lips for a kiss. He’s quick to give you what you want, always is, and presses his lips to yours. Something you normally rarely allow him to do when you’re both in the Pitt.

“Baby, what’re you doing here?” he cuts straight to the chase. He looks and sees his son and daughter talking animatedly to a kneeling Mateo behind the counter.

“We just wanted to come say ‘hi’ to everyone and take you to breakfast,”

“It’s so early, you should be in bed,” he frets. It’s past 7:00, the scheduled end of his shift. If he had to guess he’d say it’s closer to 8:00, a few last minute traumas delaying shift change. You roll your eyes—not without fondness—and let out a huff.

“Jack, I’m fine,” you insist, a hand on his chest that he immediately covers with his own, “I wanted to get out of the house. I was going stir crazy,” you whisper the last part.

He opens his mouth to argue, to say you still don’t need to come into your place of work when you’re supposed to be relaxing, but Lena’s voice cuts him off.

“How dare you try and hide this cuteness from us, Abbot,” she’s glaring at him over his child in her arms.

It’s Jack’s turn to roll his eyes, “Kid was just in the hospital 2 months ago, figured he didn’t need to be back anytime soon,” he grumbled.

But he can’t deny the soaring in his chest as he takes in his growing family. You are so amazing, and he’s grateful everyday and tells you plenty, but seeing you here and all his kids happy and healthy with this new addition, it’s hard not to feel an overwhelming appreciation.

“Woah, it’s raining Abbots!” Robby’s voice joins the crowd. Your daughter turns and runs toward him and he squats down to scoop her into his arms before standing again.

“Uncle Robby!” She cheers. He grins at her, walking up to where you and Jack lean against the countertop with her on his hip.

“Hi sweetie,” he coos, “have you been good for your mommy?” he winks at you and you huff a dry laugh.

“Don’t start with me, Robby.” you chastise.

“Yeah, don’t.” Jack glares at him and Robby just raises his free hand in surrender.

Lena passes the baby back to you, all the surrounding nurses cooing at him as he fusses at the movement.

“Looks like Abbot’s got another mini me,” Lena smiles.

Jack’s chest swells with pride, glancing at his eldest son who’s a spitting image of a young him; auburn curls and a goofy smile. He thinks it’s too soon to tell who the baby looks more like—you or him—but he has to admit his genes are strong, a twinge of red even showing in your daughter's hair when it catches the sun.

“He is pretty handsome, isn’t he?” He says with a smug smile.

“That’s the last thing we all need; more Jack’s.” Robby teases.

“‘m making the world a better place,” he says gallantly.

He leans down and picks up the carrier, placing it on the counter for you. You give him a grateful smile, transferring your youngest smoothly and buckling him in.

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” your oldest son says softly, looking up at you.

“Okay, my baby,” You coo and brush his hair back, hand coming around to cup his cheek gently, thumb caressing freckled skin, “We’ll go as soon as daddy’s finished,”

“Oh, daddy’s finished,” Robby says, passing your daughter into Jack’s arms, who goes happily.

Jack takes her without a second thought, but his brow pinches, “Robby we still gotta finish handoffs.”

The taller man just shrugs, “I think we got it covered. Go have breakfast with your family.” He claps Jack on the back once.

You gasp in exaggerated excitement, “Say ‘thank you Uncle Robby,’” you tickle your daughter’s tummy who giggles in her father’s arms.

“Thank you, Uncle Robby!” your son, daughter, and Jack chant in unison. Robby offers your son his fist, who bumps it with his own tiny one, and then grabs a tablet from the counter.

He’s already walking towards the first patient room as he calls over his shoulder to you, “Now get out of here, you’re supposed to be anywhere but here.”

Jack gives you a look that says told you so and you narrow your eyes at him.

Your son lifts his arms up to you and Jack doesn’t even give you a second to think about bending down to pick him up—doctor’ orders (him)—before he’s scooping him into his free arm. Your daughter giggles at the jostling, Jack settling a kid on either hip. They’re both still small enough to carry at once, but he knows it’s only a matter of time until his son is too big to be carried. He’ll savor it as long as he can—and start lifting heavier weights to prolong that time, which he’s sure you’ll enjoy. Two for one special, he thinks.

“Got him, baby?” Jack asks. You nod as you pick up the carrier, waving goodbye to all your coworkers who have already scattered around the busy ED back to work.

“Who’s ready for breakfast?” He looks between his two oldest as you all make your way towards the car, the kids shouting in agreement, “Me too, I’m starving. What took you guys so long to come rescue me?” he teases.

The sound of his kids' laughter ringing in his ears fills him with an indescribable warmth. As you all walk through the parking lot, the early morning sun shining bright on your glowing face that’s flashing him your stunning smile, Jack can’t help but fall deeper in love with you.

He thinks for a moment it’s a secret mercy his kids take after him and not you because there’s no way he’d ever deny them a thing if it was your eyes pouting at him. He shakes the thought away—cause who is he kidding? he can’t deny them now; it wouldn’t make a difference.

Still, he can’t help wondering if maybe the next one will be your mini me, and he can’t wait to find out.

You look back at him and squint your eyes at him in suspicion, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He asks suavely, lower lip drawn between his teeth and you straight up laugh at him. It’s a ridiculous question—he knows that—because he only tells nearly every waking moment.

“Wipe that look off your face, Abbot. Maybe wait till this kid can lift his head on his own before you start thinking that,” you scold, but he sees right through you.

He only scoffs in exaggerated indignation.

You know him so well…

[mariasont]

── .✦ JACK ABBOT who loves to correct your posture

★ˎˊ˗ CONTENT 18+ mdni manhandling, lowkey authority kink?, implied age gap, doggy style sex, bratty banter

MASTERLIST | RULES | INBOX

Simply thinking about Jack Abbot correcting your posture. 

He’s a doctor, so sure it starts there, in the territory of alignment and strain and long-term damage, all the tiny indignities a body absorbs when nobody’s paying proper attention to it.

And he worries about you, of course. Worries about the set of your neck and the rounded drag of your shoulders, about how you curl in on yourself over your charting like the screen might swallow you whole, about how you hunch over your phone texting those ridiculous little emoticons and memes he glances at with visible suspicion. 

So he makes an effort to fix it.

A broad hand behind your chair, angling it closer to the desk until your spine has no excuse but the lengthen. Two fingers slipped beneath your chin when you’re bent out of shape around your phone on the couch, tilting your gaze upward until the vertebrae stack properly and the ache in your neck eases. Even in transit — plate to sink, fridge to stove — he stops to cup your shoulders, easing them from your ears with a downward glide of his thumbs. 

A silent reward hums through the touch: a silent good girl, there you go.

“Sit up, sweetheart.” “Uncross your legs.” “Laptop higher.” “Relax your jaw.” 

He knows he’s a perpetual nuisance, aware he sounds like someone’s dad, can practically hear the eye-roll you swallow every time. 

He also knows it embarrasses you, especially at work, where your face goes warm when he corrects you within earshot of other people. And it isn’t that he sets out to make you squirm, though he’d be lying if he said he got nothing out of that quick little fluster he can pull from you with a word, a hand, a look. 

It’s just that once he notices you folded in on yourself for too long, something in him firms. His voice drops into that clipped, authoritative register, flipping a switch to brisk certainty and command, and by then it’s already too late to pretend you’re not going to listen. 

So when he catches you slouched at the station again, practically kissing the monitor, he doesn’t hesitate.

Steps in behind you. His palm fits against the ridge of your upper back, heat seeping straight through the thin cotton.

“Up.”

You mutter, “I hate you,” eyes never leaving the vitals grid, and Jack takes it as the green light it is.

His thumb glides from back to shoulder to nape. The opposite hand curves under your jaw’s hinge, guiding your head until your spine clicks back to neutral while the entire nurses’ station pretends their screens are riveting. 

Public proof that your posture, and maybe the rest of you, answers to Dr. Abbot’s touch far faster than to your own irritation. 

“There’s a whole skeleton under all that,” he observes dryly. “Try using it.”

You bat at his hand, a half-hearted slap. “Stop manhandling me at work.”

He ignores that, drops the chair one notch (ignoring your surprised squeak too), angles the monitor to proper eye level, then squares your shoulders with both palms. A measured squeeze follows, equal parts reassurance and warning.

“Better,” he decides. “And if I catch you bent over that phone again, I’m taking it.”

He likes the line of you best when he’s the one arranging it. 

You figure that out later, breathless and flushed, forehead buried in his sheets while he kneels behind you, two sure hands repositioning your ass in the air like he’s smoothing kinks from an instrument only he can tune.

“Uh-uh,” he grunts, and you’re too far gone to know what he means until his palm presses between your shoulder blades and eases you down, down, down, your hips staying high as your face sinks into the pillow. “Arch for me — c’mon, deeper bend, don’t cheat your lower back.” 

Your breath catches when he palms the dip he’s just created, fingers splaying and then he’s sliding his cock in your folds slow. It earns a pleased mewl from you, angle perfect because he’s engineered it that way. 

Every push has a tiny corrective tap — shoulders down, knees wider, perfect girl — until your pussy clenches and drips all over his rigid stomach and he finally lets you break form, hips snapping while his palm settles, triumphant, at the very spot that first straightened you hours ago.

MARIA NOTE hello this is my trying out little blurbs/drabbles bc this random thought rlly evoked something in me... don't know how to feel it ab. it feels naked without my fun graphics but alas! and the tiny text??? what do we think?? yes or no i'm in the middle right now so feel free to share opinions... it looked a little strange as regular but idk i'm lowkey having an existential crisis over this ok bye

YOU CAN FIND MY JACK ABBOT MASTERLIST HERE⭑.ᐟ

[kiffycreative]

notes: inspired by this post by @sipofchai. i saw it, i had an idea, i ran with it. hope you like.

description: you and ryland are seniors in undergrad and have been friends for years. then, ryland mistakenly leaves you a not-meant-for-your-ears voicemail. oops.

pairing: ryland grace x f!reader

rating: mature

word count: 1,461

"Hank, I'm home," you call out into your apartment as you kick the door closed behind you, unceremoniously dropping your backpack against the wall and toeing your shoes off. Your fat grey tabby, Hank, is already waiting at the end of the hallway. He wastes no time in attempting to lead you to his pitifully empty food bowl, screaming the whole way.

"It's not dinner time yet," you inform him, which earns you another raspy scream. "Sorry buddy, you gotta wait a little longer." Your feline companion musters one more attempt at convincing you, but when you head for your couch instead of his precious food bowl, he seemingly gives up. You're left to check your phone in pointed silence while Hank glares at the back of your head from where he's sat next to his bowl.

You flop on your back onto your beat-up thrift store couch, grunting when the timeworn cushions fail to properly catch your landing. The stiff wooden frame digs into your middle back as you shift around in a futile attempt at comfort.

As you pull out your phone you shoot a glare at the armrest your feet are now propped up on, as if your couch might somehow understand the depths of your loathing. Honestly, you had never hated an inanimate object more than you hated this couch, but it was cheap and it was small enough to fit your cramped aparetment and it was what you could afford on your shoestring budget. You tried very hard not to think about the mystery stain that you had tried - and failed - to remove from the (what was now the) bottom of the left cushion.

You unlock your phone and see you have one missed call and one text from Ryland, both from a half hour ago. It's Friday, so you figure he's calling to make sure you're still on for your weekly movie night tomorrow. He's called or texted you nearly every Friday afternoon for the past three and a half years to ask the same question, and you've given him the same answer nearly every time. This semester you've been particularly looking forward to these weekly get-togethers after spending all week listening to Professor Maynard deliver the driest lectures on Biochemistry you've ever heard.

"Pick up, nerd," the voicemail starts, Ryland's tone somehow firm and teasing at the same time. You snort and roll your eyes, but the amused quirk of your mouth belies the exasperation in your expression. A brief pause, then Ryland's voice resumes: "Ugh, fine, I'll text you instead."

You press the home button on your phone, the voicemail screen banished to the background as you pull up your texts. Sure enough, there's one from Ryland: still on for tonight? There's no need for him to ask your place or mine because you both know you'll end up at your place - it's nicer than Ryland's, if only by the most minuscule of margins, and has the added benefit of being home to Hank. Hank and Ryland shared what you could only describe as an interspecies bromance. You tried not to be jealous of Ryland. Or Hank.

You tap out a quick yep, see you at 7 and send the text on its way. You glance at the clock - Ryland's always early, so you estimate you have about fifteen minutes till he comes knocking.

You're going to check your email when you realize you're still connected to your call. Huh. A quick swipe pulls the voicemail window back up. It's still playing, but there's been nothing but 30 seconds of silence. Curious, you listen for a little longer. Thirty more seconds pass with nothing but Hank's heavy breathing filling your ears. Then, a noise from your phone's speaker: a sigh, a metallic clink, and the rustle of what you think might be fabric.

There's a beat of silence. Then, a breathy "fu-uck."

You freeze.

What. The hell. Was that?

You clutch your phone tightly in your hand as you stare at the screen, watching the seconds on the voicemail tick by. One, two, three… another breathy noise meets your ears. A sigh, you think, that seems to take the shape of your name. Your fingers tighten around the edges of your phone, your mind spinning. Was Ryland-? Was he really-? No, he couldn't be. But then: another bitten-out a curse, followed by your name - for real this time, there's no mistaking it - that tapers off into an airy moan.

Oh. He definitely was.

You're still immobilized, stuck between throwing your phone clear across the room or bringing it closer to your face. Your fingers begin to ache with how hard you're gripping it, fingertips turning red under the pressure. No doubt matching the blush that has stained your cheeks and crept its way up to the tips of your ears. You should hang up. Yes, that would be the correct thing to do. A good friend would respect the privacy of their peers, even if that privacy apparently included fantasizing about you. Especially if that privacy included fantasizing about you.

Besides, this was Ryland. Ryland. The person you'd met at freshman orientation and forged a bond with over late nights at the library and shitty cafeteria coffee before a 7am class. He was your go-to lab partner, your Friday night movie buddy, your shoulder to lean on when things got rough. He was your best friend. And for as special as he was to you, he'd never been more than that: a friend. And that was great, you recognized how blessed you were to have someone like Grace in your life. You were happy, thrilled even, with just being friends.

Still, you'd be a liar if you didn't admit you'd had less-than-platonic thoughts about him. He was attractive, you were grown enough to admit that to yourself. He had beautiful blond hair and striking blue eyes and the pinkest lips you'd ever seen and so what if you had, on occasion, thought to yourself, 'I wonder if his hair is as soft as it looks' or 'I bet his lips would feel good on my-'

Nope. Nope. Nuh-uh. You stop yourself there, determined not to board that particular train of thought. You realize, belatedly, that the salacious voicemail is still playing. The timestamp indicates you've been listening to Ryland get himself off to you for the past three minutes. Another moan, louder than the others, makes its way from your phone to your burning ears. If you listen very closely (which you totally aren't), you think you can hear the slick sounds of his hand on himself, the tempo increasing at the same steady pace as the cries of pleasure that are flowing freely from him now.

Mindlessly, you rub your thighs together. You're wet - you can feel it soaking the gusset of your panties, the slide of fabric against your clit sending a shiver sliding up your spine. 'Hang up, hang up,' you think to yourself, but you can't bring yourself to. Ryland's moans and pants and sighs are growing in frequency and he's begun to babble on, his voice pitched down the most delicious way.

'Fuck, you feel so good,' you hear him groan to fantasy-you. A whimper bubbles from your throat and gets caught behind your lips. You can picture him there, his hand wrapped tight around his cock, his head thrown back and his pretty pink lips parted around a deep moan. A frisson of excitement crawls along your skin. You shudder and clench your legs together in search of friction.

The timestamp reads five minutes and seventeen seconds. You're seriously considering riding this out and seeing how long it takes Ryland to finish. And maybe how long it takes you to finish as well. You're just giving in to temptation, your free hand sliding down your stomach and slipping towards your waistband, when a knock at your door interrupts you.

With an undignified squeal you smash the end call button and throw your phone to the opposite end of the couch. Then you pick it up again and check the time. 6:47pm.

Fuck. Ryland is at your door. The same Ryland who just unknowingly left you the most delicious, debilitatingly erotic voicemail you've ever gotten in your entire life (not that there have been others). A voicemail that could have the power to ruin the friendship you two had treasured with one another for years. A voicemail you could never, ever unhear. And now you had to look him in the eye and sit through two and a half hours of a movie about some guy stuck on Mars, and somehow act normal about it.

Right. You could do that. You could totally do that.

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ KINKTOBER DAY 26 - BONDAGE/BLINDFOLDS

visual is for vibes only, reader's appearance is nondescript!

pairing: shepard leopold x fem!reader

summary: you put shepard on display

warnings: SMUT - MDNI, silk restraints, dom!reader, p in v, orgasm denial, sort of semi-public??, mild humiliation kink

word count: 2.0k

a/n: i’ve decided im going to release the rest of the kinktober fics out of order otherwise they’ll never see the light of day sooooo here’s day 26, enjoy!

find the rest of Kinktober 2025 here!

As he found himself bound to the banister of his family home by red silk, Shepard couldn’t help but think back to the comment that had gotten him there.

Dinner had gone perfectly.

At least, he’d thought it had.

Partnering discussions with Elliot were finally under way, Ridley had taken herself off to bed before causing any irreparable damage to the evening and you had been seated pride of place at the centre of the table for it all.

You looked nothing short of angelic.

Your white dress fell elegantly from your bare shoulders, embroidered with delicate flowers that had everyone else in the room convinced that you wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Everyone except Shepard, of course.

He knew better.

As the evening went on, conversation drifted naturally from business to personal matters and Shepard, never one to shy away from talking about himself, settled comfortably into his chair.

“So, Shepard,” Elliot began between bites of dinner, “the engagement. You two must be excited.”

“We are,” you answered before Shepard could, your hand settling over his with an effortless smile.

Shepard glanced sideways.

He’d been about to answer.

“I’ve already started the guest list,” you continued brightly.

“I’ll bet.” Elliot smiled, his thumb brushing absently across his wedding ring before his expression softened. “I hope I’ll be getting an invitation.”

“Of course you will,” you replied easily, “We couldn’t have it without you.”

Shepard cleared his throat, cracking his knuckles, “Well… you know, we’ve still got loads to organise. Nothing’s confirmed yet-“

“Shep.”

Your voice was sweet but your eyes said anything but as you looked over at him.

“What did I say?” Shepard asked and you sighed, feeling Odell’s business deal slipping away by the second.

You shot Elliot an apologetic smile before Shepard could say anything else.

Odell waved a dismissive hand, “Now, now, Y/N. He’s only teasing.”

“Right. Of course.” you smiled sweetly, appearing to agree with your in-laws.

Under the table, however, the heel of your shoe found Shepard’s foot with delightful accuracy.

“Ow!” he pouted, looking over at you with a frown.

“Keeping him in line already?” Elliot laughed, pointing his fork at Shepard, “Marriage is all about compromise.”

You laughed, pointing your knife right back at him, “Oh, believe me, I-“

Shepard guffawed, wearing that irritatingly smug grin that usually got him out of trouble, “Please.”

He waved you off, leaning forward, “I keep her in line far more than she keeps me in line.”

He leaned back confidently, sighing, as if pleased with himself, “Yep. I wear the trousers around here, Elliot.”

You looked up from your steak, eyes flaring dangerously at your fiancée.

Shepard? In charge of you? Oh, you were going to stab him for simply having the audacity.

Across the table, Belinda dissolved into laughter, “Oh, darling…” she managed between giggles. “I don’t think she liked that much.”

“No…” Shepard stabbed at a potato, “I don’t think she did.”

He had forgotten about it almost immediately.

It was just how the two of you worked.

He said something stupid, you got annoyed. You argued. You kissed. Life moved on.

Except that wasn’t what happened when you closed the master bedroom’s door that evening.

You had waited, patiently, until every sound in the house had faded to get your own back.

Complete and utter silence. A green light for your revenge plot on your fiancée.

Shepard, blissfully unaware of said plot, finished unbuttoning his shirt and tossed it over an armchair.

“You know,” he said casually, “I don’t think dinner could’ve gone any better.”

You looked up from where you were removing your earrings, raising an eyebrow at him, “No?”

“No,” Shepard smiled to himself, running both hands through his hair.

“I mean, come on, Elliot loved me,” He shrugged, “Practically closed the deal for Dad.”

“Hm…” you mused, focusing on your reflection in the mirror instead of him.

One syllable and Shepard instantly sensed your shift in tone.

He frowned, “Babe, did I… say something at dinner?”

“I don’t know.” you replied, spinning out of your seat and traipsing into the walk-in closet, “Did you?”

Shepard followed obediently behind you, “I don’t think I did.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, bending over to reach into some trunk or other. Shepard had to resist staring.

His expression quickly shifted as he caught sight of the crimson silk ribbon you were pulling out.

“…Babe.”

“Yes?”

“…What’s that?”

“Mm… What does it look like?” you purred with a pleased smile.

“Rope.” Shepard swallowed, watching as you wound the ribbon around your hands. Tightly.

“It’s ribbon.” you replied, walking past him and out into the bedroom.

“Uh-huh… That somehow feels worse.”

“It should.”

You began to slowly wind it around your fingers.

Each loop seemed to tighten the knot already forming in Shepard’s stomach.

Then you looked up, “Come here, baby.”

“No.”

Your smiled widened and you laughed, “Just come here...”

“No, thanks. I choose life.”

“You chose death the moment you told Elliot that you wore the trousers.”

Shepard laughed nervously, already backing away towards the bedroom door, “You know… communication is really important in relationships.”

“It is.”

“So maybe we could communicate-“

“You can.”

You took just one step closer.

“After.”

“…After what?”

Your smile widened and you looked up at him lustfully, “After I remind you who actually wears them.”

Shepard didn’t wait to hear another word.

He bolted into the corridor — wearing nothing but his underwear.

His socks betrayed him almost immediately, sending him sliding across the polished hallway floor.

“Oh, you’ve got to be-“ His feet shot out from underneath him.

He landed flat on his back with a spectacular thud, sliding several feet before crashing into the banister.

You folded your arms.

“That,” you observed, “could’ve gone better.”

“I hate this house,” Shepard groaned.

You strolled over, entirely unhurried.

He barely had time to prop himself onto one elbow before you were kneeling over him, your leg over brushing his crotch as you shifted in his lap.

“Sorry, baby.”

You weren’t sorry in the slightest.

“I have to make my point somehow.”

Before he could protest, you guided his wrists behind one of the bannister posts.

The ribbon slid effortlessly through your fingers.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa-“

“Stay still.”

“Please, babe… I’ll listen, I will, I…” his words melted into a symphony of groans as he tried to reason with you.

“Mm… I know you will, baby.” you cooed, pecking his cheek and cupping his face with one hand.

“But I don’t just want words, I want to see it.”

Your voice grew husky as you slid off of Shepard’s lap, already reaching for the slick elastic of his waistband.

“Y/N…” Shepard’s eyes widened, frantically looking around the dark corridor, “What if somebody comes down here?”

You shrugged, smiling amusedly, “Better hope you can be fast.”

Your fingers ran tantalisingly over the growing bulge in his boxer shorts and Shepard shivered, hips already bucking up.

“I will be…” he groaned, rocking his hips into nothing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d properly had you.

What with wedding and business planning taking up every waking second, there’d been no time left for things of this nature but now… in the dark of the early hours, he had you all to himself.

The thought alone had his cock twitching.

“Take them off already.” Shepard groaned, any remaining apprehensions about fucking on his parents’ staircase disappearing in an instant.

“What’d you say?” you teased, leaning closer and purposely applying pressure to his clothed crotch.

“Take them off already, please.” he flashed you a sarcastic, strained grin and you tutted, but complied.

His cock sprang free and a shiver ran through his body as the cool air hit him.

“So demanding.” you huffed, rubbing your fingers painfully lightly over his sensitive skin.

“Mmph… Y/N…” he huffed through his nose, trying and failing not to squirm under your delicate touch.

“Keep telling me what to do and you’ll get nothing at all.”

Shepard’s mouth snapped shut.

“Good,” you praised, hoisting your dress up around your waist and settling onto his lap.

You leaned in, groaning yourself as you felt him brush against your folds. Shepard’s eyes widened, “Oh my God… you aren’t wearing anything under that, are you?”

You shook your head with a smirk.

Shepard practically growled, tossing his head back against the bannister in his frustration of not being able to touch you.

You laughed softly, reaching beneath your skirt to rub your thumb over his head, “Surprise.”

“Best fucking surprise ever, babe.” Shepard groaned, hips snapping up, chasing after the feeling of your fingers, wanting more.

You grinned, giggling to yourself and cupping his face with both hands as you leant in for a kiss.

His lips responded with feverish haste. His eyes scrunching shut and his hands straining against their binds as he tried to get closer to you. To consume you.

You sighed, pulling back and leaving your neck for him to dive into.

Shepard leaned as far forward as he could, nipping and suckling at the bare expanse of your neck, eager to see you covered in reminders of him.

A small clatter was heard from upstairs. The low rumble of the pipes running started.

“Someone’s awake.” Shepard whispered, trying desperately to sink in on himself.

You shook your head, lifting his head back up and pushing his bare chest back against the bannister, “Uh-uh, you’re going to finish this, Shep. I don’t care who’s up.”

“Ngh… Jesus, alright…” he sighed, breathless and wanting.

“We just have to be quick, that’s all,” you smirked, squeezing the side of his face as you adjusted yourself, letting his tip breach your walls.

You sighed, eyes falling shut as you readjusted to the full feeling of your fiancee inside of you. You couldn’t think of a better sensation if you tried.

Shepard whined, rocking his hips up into you. He was already getting impatient just being inside of you… but this wasn’t about him.

You knew Shepard inside out, and that included every inch of his body, but today all that information was out the window.

He liked it when you rode back and forth? Tonight, that didn’t matter, because you liked to grind up and down. To feel the force of his cock strike deeper inside of you with every stroke.

You whined, fingers reaching up to tweak your nipples through your dress as you bounced up and down, each movement punctuated with a slick pop.

You were quickly losing control over your limbs as each new stroke punctuated that spot that made you see stars with renewed force.

And that wasn’t helped when Shepard realised that, even with no hands to work with, he could still thrust his hips upwards to intensify it all.

You mewled, hands clutching desperately at his shoulders, nails digging into skin, as you moved up, down, up, down.

Sweat was piling on your skin and your thighs were beginning to ache but you didn’t care.

Nothing else mattered except for the way Shepard’s cock was devouring you.

You felt the coil in your stomach tightening and you began to clench around Shepard.

He grew louder and as his knee jerked up and into your back you felt a wave of pleasure roll over you, up into your stomach and down through your legs.

With a relieved sigh, you slipped out of him, getting up into a wobbly standing position — tonight there would be no sweet coddling.

You brushed down your skirt and turned on your heel, ready to walk up the stairs.

“No, no, no… Y/N… what?” his eyes bulged from his head, sweat slicking his chest and pre-cum leaking from his tip, “What about me?”

“What about you?” you tossed a confused smile over your shoulder.

He practically whined, nodded towards the head of his cock, “I didn’t get to-“

“Oh! Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be back at sunrise.” you flashed him a smile, turning and walking back up the staircase again.

Only this time you didn’t look back at him.

Shepard had never been so simultaneously humiliated and turned on in his life.

[b1tch1mapoet]

Shut Up, Really?

Adrian Chase x bombshell!reader

You invite your coworker, Adrian to a party and he realizes that you've met before...and you might just be Vigilante's biggest fan.

cw: swearing, no use of y/n, drinking, afab reader, fluff, not proofread oops

word count: 1.9k (its a shortie)

I love bombshell reader x adrian so much

Adrian was stuck working yet another Friday double at Fennel Fields. This was his third in a row. Dave absolutely had it out for him- maybe he thought Adrian would quit if the hours became too insufferable. Every inch of the busboy's body was buzzing with pent-up energy. He hadn't been on patrol in a few days, too busy with work and A.R.G.U.S. related missions to hit the streets on his own terms. Only thirty minutes until close, and he'd be free to kill criminals to his heart's content.

Wiping down the same empty table for the tenth time that night, he watched as you rested your head on your hand and leaned over the hostess stand. Theresa and Taylor whispered to you across the small counter. Your lips curved upwards at something Taylor said- fucking Taylor, Adrian thought. He was always hanging around you, and it seemed like his mission in life was to make sure Adrian couldn't get too close.

You'd started at Fennel Fields six months ago. The moment you walked in the front doors for your first shift, Adrian was a goner. And he wasn't the only one. Everyone loved you- a social butterfly with a magnetic personality; you made friends with everyone you met. Even Adrian's weird ass. He thought you were the prettiest girl he'd ever laid eyes on. Your curves, your smile, your laugh, your hair, god your hair. It was all perfect to him.

"Adrian!" Your voice snapped him back to reality. Realizing he'd been staring at you for far longer than appropriate, he tried to quickly go back to wiping the spotless table. Wait, shit- you were talking to him. Looking back up, he tilted his head and smiled. "What's up, Buttercup?"

Ignoring the strange nickname, you waved him over. Theresa looked at you out of the corner of a judgmental eye. Taylor leaned casually against the half wall next to him, glaring at Adrian, who hurried over, nearly losing balance on his untied shoelace.

Out of breath from running over at breakneck speed, he puffed out a "Hey guys!"

You peered up at him through long lashes. "Are you coming tonight?"

"Coming to what?"

"I'm having everyone over after work." You chuckled at his dumbfounded expression. "I told you last week, and you said it sounded fun, remember?"

"Holy shit, I'm invited?"

You'd never seen more exposed teeth in your life. His smile was stretched from ear to ear. You couldn't help but reciprocate it despite Taylor's annoyed scoff. "Yes, Ade. You're invited. Everyone but Dave is because he's pissing me off lately and he's not allowed to ruin our fun."

"Woah, I've never been to a party before."

"Bro, aren't you like thirty? It's not a party, don't be weird." Taylor deadpanned as Theresa stifled a snort.

"I'm honored to be hosting your first ever party! I really want you to meet my roommate, Liz."

He basked in the light of your positive attention. Screw patrol- he was asked to go over to your apartment. While you were there. It was his dream come true.

"I like roommates! I'll meet the shit out of your roommate."

You laughed- a genuine, full laugh that wasn't at his expense, but because you thought he was funny. Adrian beamed. "I'll see you there." Walking out from around the stand and past him toward the kitchen, he was mesmerized by the sway of your hips. "Text you the address, 'kay?" You called over your shoulder. Taylor and Theresa scattered to finish closing up the second the warmth of your presence was gone, leaving Adrian to drool into his cleaning bucket. Close couldn't come soon enough.

Part of him was surprised when his phone pinged twenty minutes after he locked the doors with a text from you:

😇❤️🧜‍♀️: 1224 irving court apt. 6B. see u soon<3333

Holy fuck, that was a lot of hearts. His felt like it was beating out of his chest as he climbed the stairs of your ritzy apartment building. He could hear the voices of his coworkers from down the hall, muffled pop music sounding through your door. He knocked, but doubted anyone could hear over the noise. Should he just walk in? He didn't want to be rude.

"What are you doing, stalker?" Taylor pushed past him, knocking both his shoulder and case of beer into Adrian as he entered the apartment, the busboy hot on his heels.

Your apartment was tidy, well decorated, and dimly lit for the occasion. Ten or so people milled around, bouncing from the living room to the kitchen and back again. Alcohol flowed freely as everyone tried to loosen up after a long day of waiting tables. He was one of the last to arrive.

"Adriannnnn!" You squealed, perched on your kitchen island, surrounded by your usual clique of waitstaff. A few of them audibly groaned as he noticed you. Jumping down, you grabbed his hand and started to drag him into the dark hallway towards what he presumed was your room.

"I'm so excited you came!" You gushed, cheeks warm from the beer you'd just finished. "You've gotta meet Liz." His eyes nearly popped out of his skull- so did Taylor's. You'd pulled Adrian right past him and into the back bedroom, closing the door behind you.

"Ta-daaaaa!!!!!" You held your arms out to the side, proudly presenting a large reptile enclosure. "This is Liz!"

A fat bearded dragon lounged under a bright lamp.

"No fucking way!" Adrian exclaimed, pushing his nose up against the glass to get a better look. You giggled, flopping onto your bed. Rolling onto your stomach to get a better look at Adrian's amazement, you noticed how muscular he was. Still in his Fennel Fields polo, his arms flexed beneath the sleeves, balancing himself against the tank.

"How old is she?"

"How many crickets does she eat in a day?"

"Why'd you name her Liz?"

You were used to Adrian's rapid-fire questions when he was excited about something.

Humming, you thought for a moment, mind hazy already. "Two years old...a few crickets, but she mostly eats veggies.....and she's named Liz because I'm not very good at naming pets. My cat growing up was named Kitty, so..." You shrugged.

Adrian stood and began looking around your room. He wanted so badly to tell you about Eagly- Chris would definitely approve of any woman that named her lizard Liz.

He wasn't fully snooping- he'd do that another time. Preferably when you weren't home. You had a desk next to Liz's tank, cluttered with books and picture frames of you and your friends over the years. Above it hung a bulletin board collaged with magazine cutouts of clothes and models and famous actors you liked. Adrian paled. In the middle of the collage was a photo of him. Well, not technically of him, but Vigilante. Clipped from a newspaper and tacked to your wall- right across from the bed that you slept in each night- was a photo of him. Red sparkly heart stickers decorated the edges. His pointer finger lingered on the thin black and white image.

You popped up from the bed, only slightly embarrassed. "We should get back-"

"You...you li-like..." he couldn't find the words. Even if he could, there was no way he would have been able to string them together coherently. His brain turned to mush.

"Vigilante? Yeah. He's my favorite hero." Taking the tack out of his tiny head, you gently placed him in a dresser drawer on the other side of the room. Adrian swore he saw a flash of teal inside. Did you have a drawer dedicated to pictures of him? He'd definitely be coming back here to find out.

"You know he saved me once," you added. "Some asshole was following me home from the pharmacy one night a few years ago, and Vigilante totally kicked his ass. It was so hot." You sighed, cartoon hearts practically forming in your dreamy eyes. "I've been following him in the news ever since."

"Shut up, really?" His head was going to explode. Adrian truthfully had no recollection of saving you. He saved a lot of women in Evergreen from a lot of creeps. He'd give anything to remember. Throwing caution to the wind, he lunged for the super secret drawer. If he didn't see inside, he'd die.

"Wha-Adrian! No!"

Thanks to your slight inebriation, it was easy to dodge out of your grasp. The drawer slid open, shaking the dresser so violently a few knick-knacks toppled onto the carpet. It was obviously your underwear drawer, but he didn't have the mental bandwidth to process that at the moment because on top of the colorful cotton and lace panties were multiple framed photos of Vigilante. Eight or nine tiny, teal rhinestoned picture frames lay in a neat row. Each photo had been printed off from the Evergreen Sentinel's website. The time he was wanted for killing a bus full of pervy priests, the time he was wanted for beating the shit out of a graffiti artist, even the time he saved a cat from a burning drug dealer's house that he'd set on fire- every single headline he'd made was framed. You weren't just a casual fan. No, you were obsessed with him. A twisted sense of pride prickled up the back of his neck and flushed his already warm cheeks. Just as quickly as he'd opened it, you slammed the drawer shut.

Pushing him toward the door and back into the hallway, you scolded the nosy busboy. "Not cool, dude! I told you not to-." His lips captured yours, cutting you off.

The kiss was hungry. Teeth and tongues clashed, fueled by your burning embarrassment and his emboldened confidence. He pushed you against the wall right outside of your bedroom, unaware of the shocked onlookers in the kitchen. Pulling back for air, you gasped, head reeling.

Adrian beamed, "Vigilante's my favorite too." You pulled him back onto your parted lips, smiling into the kiss. He'd seen your creepy shrine and wasn't judging you- if anything, it seemed to make him like you even more than you thought possible. Maybe the alcohol was clouding your judgement, but you didn't care. Adrian matched your freak. Or, rather, you matched his.

The hallway light flicked on, clueing you into the audience you'd acquired. Taylor and Theresa were speechless, looking on in complete confusion. The rest of your coworkers awkwardly watched you untangle yourself from Adrian and rejoin the party as though nothing had happened.

He stayed glued to your side all night, stealing heated glances and possessively brushing his thumb over your hip, arm wrapped tightly around you. In the early hours of Saturday morning, guests finally trickled out of the apartment, finding their way home. As Theresa got in her SUV to leave, she eyed Adrian's silver Sebring and chuckled under her breath. No chance Adrian was coming for his car anytime soon. You'd sunk your pretty teeth into him and just like every guy before him, he was doomed to fall in love with you. Not slowly, but all at once. What Theresa didn't know was that unlike every guy before him, Adrian actually had a shot at you falling back.

I'm hoping to write more for Adrian! I recently fell down a rabbit hole on @vigilantexreader 's blog and I can't stop thinking of ideas for cute Adrian drabbles!

dividers by @strangergraphics

[daeronsladywife]

Barbie Girl 🧜‍♂️

Adrian Chase x Reader

WARNINGS: smut, p in v, reader has no description

Adrian’s grip on your hips was iron-tight, fingers digging into your skin as he drove into you. Your face was buried deep in the pillows, muffling the broken cries that tore from your throat with every thrust. He had you ass up, back arched, completely at his mercy—while he fucked you like a man on a mission. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by your desperate, whimpering moans.

He was obsessed with the way you sounded when he hit that perfect spot inside you, and right now he was nailing it on every single thrust, grinding deep and rolling his hips just right to make your legs shake uncontrollably.

“Fuck, that’s it—louder,” he growled, voice low and ragged with effort, a wild grin you couldn’t see stretching across his face. “C’mon, scream for me. I wanna hear—”

The obnoxious opening notes of Barbie Girl suddenly blasted from his phone on the nightstand.

Adrian didn’t even slow down. If anything, he tightened his hold on your hips and kept pounding into you, dragging another sharp cry from your lips as he reached over and snatched the phone. He glanced at the screen, eyes lighting up.

Peacemaker.

Without missing a beat, he swiped to answer, still buried to the hilt inside you. His voice came out bright, cheerful, and utterly casual, like he was lounging on the couch instead of railing you into the mattress.

“Hey, dude! What’s up? You miss me already?”

There was a long pause on the other end.

There was a long, stunned pause on the other end. Then Chris’s voice, equal parts confused and horrified:

“…Dude. Are you watching porn right now?”

Adrian barked out a laugh, the sudden jolt making you whine and clench around him. He gave your ass a quick, soothing pat.

“Oh shit—sorry, baby,” he mumbled, half-apologetic, before immediately picking up the pace again. His voice stayed cheerful and completely unbothered. “Don’t be ridiculous, man. I would never watch porn while on the phone with you. I’m fucking my girlfriend.”

Another thrust nailed that sweet spot dead-on. Your back arched sharply as you pushed back against him with a needy moan. Adrian huffed, gripping your hip tighter to keep you in place.

“Jesus, hold on a second,” he told you, like you were the one interrupting. Then, back to Chris: “Yeah, man, she’s right here. Being very impatient, actually. You’d think she’d have some manners when I’m on the phone with my best friend.”

Chris made a strangled noise. “Adrian, what the fuck—”

Adrian just laughed again, low and breathless, clearly having the time of his life. He leaned forward, pressing his chest flush against your back so he could speak right next to your ear while still holding the phone.

“Say hi, babe,” he grinned, giving you a deep, filthy roll of his hips that ripped a loud, broken moan from your throat.

“Adrian, I’m hanging up—”

“No, wait! Did you need something? Is this about the mission? Or did you just call to cockblock me? Because that’s kinda fucked up, dude.”

You turned your head just enough to shoot him a wrecked, furious glare over your shoulder. Adrian blinked at you, looking genuinely confused by your outrage.

Chris sighed—the deep, exhausted sigh of a man who had suffered too much. “Just… call me back when you’re done being a freak.”

“Roger that!” Adrian said happily. “Might be a while though. She’s really into it tonight.”

He hung up, tossed the phone onto the floor, and immediately buried both hands in your hair, tugging your head back as he started fucking you even harder. You cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets.

“A-Adrian—you can’t just answer the phone when we’re—fuck—”

“But it was Peacemaker,” he groaned, voice strained as he picked up the pace. “I had to—ah, shit, I’m so close…”

His hand slid from your hair, smoothing down your sweat-slicked back before gripping your hips tight. He slammed into you with deep, punishing strokes, trying to bury himself as far as physically possible.

“Adrian—” you gasped.

“Don’t wanna come in you till you come first,” he panted, voice wrecked. “C’mon, baby… I can feel you getting so close—”

he shifted angles and drove in even deeper. The new position had the head of his cock dragging perfectly against that spot with every thrust, sending white-hot sparks racing up your spine.

Adrian’s grip on your hips was bruising, using the leverage to pull you back onto him in time with his punishing rhythm. The wet, obscene sound of your bodies colliding filled the room again, louder now that he was chasing both your pleasure and his own with single-minded intensity.

“That’s it,” he moaned against the back of your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—gonna milk me dry if you keep that up.”

Your fingers twisted in the sheets, knuckles white, as the pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter. Every deep stroke pushed you closer to the edge, your thighs trembling violently. A particularly hard thrust punched a raw, desperate cry out of you, and Adrian moaned in response, the sound low and filthy.

“Yeah? Right there?” He did it again, grinding against you in tight circles. “Let me hear it, baby. Come on my coc, please.”

The coil snapped.

Your orgasm crashed over you, ripping a loud, shattered moan from your throat as your walls clenched rhythmically around him. Pleasure flooded your body in pulsing waves, making your vision blur and your legs give out. Adrian cursed loudly, hips stuttering as he fucked you through it, drawing out every last tremor.

“Fuck—yes—, just like that—” His voice was hoarse, strained

Before you could even catch your breath, he pulled out just long enough to flip you onto your back. Then he was sliding back inside you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt as he braced his forearms on either side of your head. His face hovered above yours—flushed, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes, that wild, adoring grin still plastered across his lips.

“Hi, beautiful,” he breathed, like he hadn’t just railed you senseless while on the phone with his best friend. He rolled his hips slowly, savoring the way you fluttered around him in the aftershocks.

You could only whimper, oversensitive and dazed, hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders. Adrian’s pace quickly built again, chasing his own release now that you’d fallen apart for him. His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, more desperate.

“Shit, I’m—fuck—” He dropped his forehead to yours, eyes locked on your face like he needed to watch every second of your pleasure. “Gonna fill you up, baby. You ready?”

You nodded frantically, nails digging into his back.

With a guttural groan, Adrian slammed in one final time and came hard, hips jerking as he spilled deep inside you. He kept grinding through it, like he couldn’t bear to stop, whispering broken curses and praise against your lips between messy kisses.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the faint creak of the bed as he finally collapsed half on top of you, still buried inside.

Thenl he reached blindly for the discarded phone on the floor, checked the screen, and let out a soft laugh.

“Chris texted,” he mumbled against your collarbone, voice sleepy and satisfied…

Tagging everyone who commented on my wip post: @backstabbvrs @spinalcord @adoresami @scarlett-rivers @selina00kyle @loserdollyz

[hargreeves-duncan]

Post more Ryland Grace please and thank you (warning) /j

more incoming…👀

WHO SAID THAT???

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ HARGREEVES-DUNCAN’S RECS LIST ✩･ﾟ

Not sure what to read next? Not to worry! I’ve compiled a list of amazing fics, by just as amazing authors, for you to enjoy below the cut 🌸

last updated: 02/07/26

⎯⎯ Misc. Ryan Gosling Characters

Daddy’s Home - Court Gentry x fem!wife!reader - @wokeupinmars - summary: after being away for weeks, your husband shows you just how much he's missed you - (SMUT - MDNI)

Love On The Weekend - Holland March x fem!reader - @wokeupinmars - summary: you and Holland finally address the flirty nature of your relationship when a last minute case sends you two on a weekend gateaway

Project Grace Find Mate - Ryland Grace x fem!reader - @aeterna-auroral-avenger - summary: Ryland Grace has had enough of being alone. he wants to find a nice girl to be with. so he calls on a friend for help. little does he know, he just has to wait for you

Untitled College!Ryland Blurb - Ryland Grace x fem!reader - @kiffycreative - summary: you and Ryland are seniors in undergrad and have been friends for years. then, Ryland mistakenly leaves you a not-meant-for-your-ears voicemail. oops - (SMUT - MDNI)

⎯⎯ Misc. Will Poulter Characters

Gally Relationship Headcanons - Gally x fem!reader - @wife-of-all-dilfs

Not With Code - Colin Ritman x fem!reader - @voidsaez - summary: Colin doesn’t enjoy how the new guy, Stefan, tries to waltz in and mess with the game you two worked on

⎯⎯ Challengers

Headcanons - Stanford!Tashi Duncan x fem!reader - @artstennisracket

⎯⎯ Criminal Minds

In Pieces - Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader - @ssahotchnerr - summary: how could Hotch be angry that you’ve broken something of his when you’re looking at him like that?

Lovestruck - Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader - @ssahotchnerr - summary: you and Hotch have just started dating and you’re not quite used to all the attention

Softened At The Sight - Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader - @ssahotchnerr - summary: Hotch is a stoic robot 90% of the time, the other 10% he’s melting whilst looking at you

Untitled Lego Fluff Fic - Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader - @ellecdc - summary: you’re obsessed with lego and Aaron can’t help but go soft watching you play with Jack

Untitled Period Fluff Fic - Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader - @ddejavvu - summary: sweet nighttime cuddles with Hotch when you’re on your period

The Glasses Stay On - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader - @dykeforhire - summary: exactly what the title says… or… Emily eats pussy with her glasses ON - (SMUT - MDNI)

Baby Girl? - Spencer Reid x fem!reader - @djodesk - summary: Derek and Emily find out about Spencer’s (unintentionally) secret kid

Kiss, Kiss, Fall In Love - Spencer Reid x implied!fem!reader - @rumplereids - summary: you can’t contain yourself when you see Spencer in his glasses - (MDNI - SMUTish)

Liquid Courage - Spencer Reid x fem!greenaway!reader - @whisperedmeg - summary: you never call anyone when you’re drunk — except tonight, you do. margaritas, glitter, and one reckless drunk dial later, you’re in Spencer Reid’s car at 1am, wearing his coat and trying not to notice how good he smells

Sweeter - Spencer Reid x fem!reader - @siriuslylantsov - summary: in which, you and Spencer try out foodplay, through use of whipped cream - (SMUT - MDNI)

Untitled Pregnancy Fluff Fic - Spencer Reid x fem!reader - @reiderwriter - summary: you’re pregnant and Spencer has turned into a fountain of baby-related knowledge

Mile High Club - Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss x Spencer Reid x fem!reader - @maladaptive-daydreamer-23 - (SMUT - MDNI)

⎯⎯ DCU

Barbie Girl - Adrian Chase x fem!reader - @daeronsladywife - (SMUT - MDNI)

Shut Up, Really? - Adrian Chase x fem!reader - @b1tch1mapoet

Clark Is In Kryptonian Heat - Clark Kent x fem!reader - @innorality - (SMUT - MDNI)

Oral Sex… And Weird Alien Anatomy - Clark Kent x fem!reader - @innorality - (SMUT - MDNI)

The Necklace - Clark Kent x fem!reader - @404superman - summary: you get Clark a silly little gift, a necklace with his ‘superman’ logo on it. he loves it when you bite it while he’s fucking you - (SMUT - MDNI)

Untitled Suggestive Fic - Clark Kent x fem!reader - @missmookie - summary: you work with Clark and you can’t keep your mouth shut about how sexy Superman is. it drives him crazy

⎯⎯ Marvel

Have You Ever Tried This One? - Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - @delicatebarness - summary: doesn’t matter if it’s over a table, on the floor, pinned to a wall, etc. you need Bucky desperately - (SMUT - MDNI)

Shelter - Bucky Barnes x gn!reader - @cheekybarnes - summary: Bucky comes home late from a storm with groceries, a guilt complex, and a kitten in his jacket

Third Time’s The Charm - Johnny Storm x fem!reader - @hatethysinner - summary: Johnny is a great husband, and an even better father to your two beautiful girls. but who said he was stopping there? - (SMUT - MDNI)

Endure It (You Drive Me Crazy) - John Walker x fem!reader - @vividxpages - summary: although John has tried his best to stop you, you might've had one or two drinks too many last night. luckily, your man is there to take care of you in the morning, but what will he do once you recover and he thinks you need to be taught a lesson? - (SMUT - MDNI)

Make Up, Make Out - John Walker x fem!reader - @vividxpages - prompts: smut prompt #6) marathon session (they just fucking keep going, babyyyy), ☆ “i missed you. that’s all.”, ☾ second chances - (SMUT-MDNI)

⎯⎯ The Bear

Girl!Dad!Luca Headcanons - Luca x fem!reader - @claraswritings

Summer Haze - Sydney Adamu x fem!reader - @baisemains - summary: you and Sydney wind down together after a long summer day

Too Sweet - Sydney Adamu x fem!reader - @fawnsfern - summary: you and Syd don't get to see each other much during the day. luckily, on fridays, the bakery you manage closes an hour before the bear's dinner service. so, you take it upon yourself to deliver some leftover pastries to the overworked staff at the bear — especially your girlfriend

⎯⎯ Top Gun: Maverick

12:29AM - Bob Floyd x fem!reader - @dearsnow - summary: your normally sober husband comes home drunk out of his mind after a party, and you can’t say that he’s any less sweet

Baby On Board - Bob Floyd x fem!reader - @callsign-bobsgirl - summary: there seems to be a misunderstanding between you and the Dagger Squad about your husband's callsign

Full of Surprises - Bob Floyd x fem!reader - @withahappyrefrain - summary: you learn some surprising things about Bob at the end of a date - (SMUT - MDNI)

The Kind Of Girl I Could Love - Bob Floyd x fem!reader - @roosterforme - summary: Bob has a secret admirer, but he's convinced it's actually Jake and Nat messing with him

Untitled Graduation Fluff Blurb - Bob Floyd x gn!reader - @peachystenbrough

Untitled Hoarder!Bob Fic - Bob Floyd x gn!reader - @blondwhxrewrites

Untitled HighschoolSweetheart!Bob Blurb - Bob Floyd x fem!reader - @lieutenantfloyd

Winner Takes All - Bob Floyd x fem!wife!reader - @totallynotashieldagent - summary: Reader is at the base to write an article, everyone's betting if Bob would get a kiss. The squad doesn't know they're already married

Husband? Never Heard Of Him - Jake Seresin x fem!wife!reader - @tw1sters - summary: when Jake stumbles into your office attempting to flirt with you, all you can do is humor the fact that your husband seems to have forgotten you

Not So Mouthy Now - Jake Seresin x gn!reader - @rootedinrevisions - summary: a night at The Hard Deck turns into a game of push and pull when your bratty side comes out to play. What starts as playful banter over pool ends with Jake making good on a promise to shut you up - (SMUT - MDNI)

[hargreeves-duncan]

heyy i know you’re requests are closed and don’t worry im not requesting anything butttt do you still write umbrella academy fics?? you are the only person i’ve seen who doesn’t mischaracterize them. i’m currently in a drought right now because of course the time no body cares about tua my faze comes back and 10x harder

awww, thank you so much, thats super sweet of you to say!!

i would definitely be open to writing some tua stuff if the right request/inspo crossed my desk as i know the feeling of the returning tua phase all too well🤣🤣

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ ADVENT CALENDAR DAY 8 - UGLY SWEATERS

visual is for vibes only, reader's appearance is nondescript!

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

summary: the first time peter realises he’s in love with you is when he sees you in your god-awful christmas sweater

warnings: n/a

word count: 1.5k

a/n: hopefully i will finish getting these out before December 2026 lol, but for now day 8, enjoy!

find the rest of Advent Calendar 2025 here!

Peter has never seen you look so beautiful as you do now.

It’s Christmas Eve, and instead of simply getting the snacks for his annual movie marathon with May on his way home, he’s standing outside a homeless shelter in downtown Queens, peering through the window like some kind of stalker.

Okay, that sounds a little creepy, but Peter hadn’t meant it to - he hadn’t even meant to stop by.

It was a completely innocent mistake.

He had gone to pick up some last-minute things from the store and his route home had just happened to pass by the shelter you worked at.

Nothing creepy about that.

Except now he couldn’t leave.

Inside, there are Christmas lights strewn across every surface and a wonderfully decorated tree in every corner.

Volunteers are running up and down tables, carrying trays of food and stopping to start conversations with the men and women there, a sound that spills onto the street every time the building’s front door swings open to let someone by.

And in the middle of it all is you, one arm linked with the arm of an older gentleman and the other carrying his plate as you guide him back to one of the tables.

A smile lifts the corners of Peter’s mouth as he just watches you exist. You really are a wonderful girl.

And what’s even more wonderful is the ridiculous sweater you’re wearing.

It’s bright blue and red and who else would be plastered on the front but a crude Spider-Man wearing a santa hat, with a bell dangling from its end, comprised of pom-poms.

It is absolutely terrible but Peter loves it because he knows about the ridiculous Christmas merchandising that Mr. Stark pushes every holiday season, and this jumper isn’t one of them.

You’ve made a Christmas jumper with him on the front and despite your lack of craftsmanship, you’re wearing it out and proud in public.

Oddly enough, it might be the sweetest gesture someone’s ever done for Peter.

He watches as you turn now to kneel beside a little girl, and help her balance a paper plate piled high with cookies. The child grins at something you say, and your own smile widens in response.

Peter practically melts.

“You know, if you stare any harder, you’ll shatter the glass.”

Peter’s head snaps around so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. What good is a spider-sense if it won’t warn him when his aunt is watching him stare at his girlfriend?

“May, hi, I wasn’t staring, I was…” Peter laughs awkwardly, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“You were staring.”

Peter hesitates for a moment, about to deny it, before he sighs, “I was staring.”

May steps up to the window and the second she spots you, a bright smile crosses her face, “Oh, that’s adorable! Look at her sweater, isn’t that cute?”

“May…” Peter can feel his cheeks flushing bright red. He wishes the ground would swallow him whole, he would happily battle NYC sewers over the teasing of his aunt.

“What?” May turns back to him, grinning, “I’m just saying… it’s sweet.”

“Oh my gosh…” Peter groaned, putting his head in his hands.

“Oh! I think she’s coming over!” May wiggled her shoulders and she was smiling like it was a good thing.

How could this possibly be a good thing? You’ve seen him watching.

May doesn’t even wait for Peter to respond before she gives him a not-so-subtle shove toward the door.

“May!” he hisses, glaring back at her.

“What?” she replies innocently, patting his shoulder and hiking her bag further up hers, “I’m being supportive.”

“Supportive? Really? May, how could you-“

The door opens up and there you are in the flesh; his gorgeous girlfriend.

Peter cuts himself off, smiling, “Y/N! Hey!”

You glance around for a moment before your eyes land on him.

Your face lights up like a Christmas tree, “Peter!”

You hurry down the shelter’s front steps, the ridiculous pom-pom on Spider-Man’s Santa hat bouncing with your every move.

“Hi,” he repeats dumbly, smiling at you.

“Hi?” you parrot with a laugh. “What are you doing here?”

Peter opens his mouth.

Nothing comes out.

Because what is he doing here?

Standing outside a homeless shelter watching his girlfriend help people because he got distracted by how amazing she is on his way home?

That sounds crazy.

Before he can formulate a response, May steps forward, a coy smile on her face, “He was staring at you.”

Peter’s eyes bulge out of his head, “May!”

He’s spent months trying to convince you he’s at least somewhat cool and May is destroying all of that hard work in one thirty second interaction.

Your eyes widen.

Then a devilish grin begins to spread across your face, “Really?”

“No,” Peter laughs, brushing it off and swinging the bag of snacks in his hand as he does, “You know May, she’s just messing around.”

“I’m not.”

“May!”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for twenty minutes and he’s been here the whole time!”

This is it.

This is how Spider-Man dies.

Not at the hands of a supervillain, but at the mouth of his aunt and the overwhelming embarrassment that is currently consuming his entire being.

Unlike Peter’s horror, you are delighted at the news.

“Twenty whole minutes?” you ask, smirk getting wider as you look back at Peter.

Peter groans. He’s never gonna hear the end of this, from you or May.

He laughs nervously and turns on his heel, “Yeah, so, anyways, we’ve really gotta head back home, movie night and everything. Plus, it’s getting late and-“

“Don’t you worry about that.”

A hand wraps around his wrist and spins him back around before he can retreat.

“I’ve got to be getting back to sort dinner,” May corrects, a smug smile on her face as she plucks the snacks from Peter’s hands, “You get back whenever.”

She casts a glance in your direction and then turns back to Peter, “I trust you’re in good hands.”

Before Peter can protest any further, May is gone down the street and he’s stood like a goldfish, mouth flopping open and closed in shock.

“So… movie night?” you clap your hands together, attempting to move the conversation forward.

Peter nods, grateful for the change in topic, and desperately avoiding eye contact with you, “Christmas tradition.”

“I remember you telling me about it a while back.”

Of course you do. You remember everything Peter tells you, and that’s saying something with the amount that he rambles.

You glance back toward the shelter, wrapping your arms around your self. The cold December breeze is beginning to settle in.

“We just finished serving dinner.”

Peter notices the slight exhaustion behind your smile now, not to mention the way your shoulders have dropped.

You’ve probably been here all day and yet somehow you’re still smiling. Peter honestly doesn’t know how he’s gotten lucky enough to call you his.

“That’s good,” he nods, looking around the street, still bustling with last-minute shoppers. He takes a breath, “I’m sorry about May, she’s… she means well.”

You shrug, “I think it’s sweet.”

Peter can’t help but laugh at how you and May think so similarly of each others behaviours. Two of his favourite people getting on so well… it’s nice to see.

“What?” you laugh in reply, wrapping your arms around yourself further as the cold creeps under your sweater.

“Nothing, it’s nothing, I-“ Peter shakes his head, smiling fondly at you.

He steps closer, running his hands up and down your forearms, instantly thawing your cold with his warm touch, “I like the sweater.”

Your smile brightens, “Really?”

You do a small spin and the bell jingles as you do. It’s nothing like the hundreds of factory-made sweaters circulating NYC this time of year, it’s perfect. It’s you.

Peter nods approvingly, taking your hand in his and squeezing, “Yeah, I really like it. It’s… awesome.”

“Well, the awesome dude on the front really gives it its character.” you shrug, tugging at the fabric and smiling.

Peter smiles right back.

His chest feels so full it almost hurts.

“I might have to commission one.” he joked, sliding his hands around your waist and pulling you in.

“Well, it comes at a price I’m not sure you could afford. I’m not cheap.” you joke, sliding your arms around his neck in return.

“I can save.” Peter shrugged with a grin, “Or… maybe I could get a boyfriend discount? If the designer would be so gracious?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back slightly and trying not to smile, “Mm… I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it?” Peter laughs, squeezing your hips, “Wow.”

You burst into giggles, pulling him in and pecking his lips, your words growing softer, “Merry Christmas, Peter.”

Peter smiled against your lips.

The city was loud around you - honking cars and Christmas music drifting from one of the stores down the block - yet somehow all he could focus on was you.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

[hargreeves-duncan]

Oh my gosh!! Thank you all so much for 5,000 followers!!

I’m sorry i’ve been so inactive recently but, nonetheless, i really do appreciate you guys’ continued support of my works!!!

Lots of love❤️

[babydiduy]

Dr. Spencer Reid

whipped pt.2 @luvlyk-13

3 time you make Spencer blush, 1 time he returns the favor @sirius-blacks-eyeliner

off the record @whoswitchybabyanyway

subtle flirting, not so much @luvlyk-13

making out with spencer reid to distract him @glossiercheek

“my wife?” pt 2 @luvlyk-13

Exile @reidrum

“statistically speaking.” @luvlyk-13

Masterlist @lis-likes-fics

Gatekeeper @lis-likes-fics

⎯⎯ EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED @hargreeves-duncan

Turning Page @spencilweidblog

“lost control.” @luvlyk-13

not her, just you @irisinlovee

perfect morning and sunshine @trashyyduckling

⭑ The Reid’s Exception. @certaimromance

We can't be friends @aliteralsemicolon

schrödinger’s relationship @mariasont

Cinnamon Sticks @mariasont

✦ Five Reasons To Date a Genius. @certaimromance

Hard launch @esote-rika

THE SHOWER PROBLEM. @reiding-writing

[hargreeves-duncan]

Thank you so much for the recommendation🥰🥰

[ssahotchnerr]

Secret relationship fic where Reader gets flowers/candy/etc on Valentine’s from a “secret admirer” bc of an office-wide candygrams initiative and the team is busy trying to detective work to figure out who its from but SHE knows it’s from her BF Aaron

'secret' admirer

SO CUTESY 💌 cw; bau fem!reader, secret relationship, SO MUCH FLUFF and bau family banter <3 wc; 1k

Five pairs of eyes latched onto you the second you walked through the glass door. You couldn’t help but instantly notice the mix of curiosity and amusement in their stares.

Here we go.

"There she is." Morgan sauntered over, a shit-eating grin on his face. “So, who’s it from?” 

You laughed gently, crinkling your eyebrows in confusion. As you peeled off your coat, you asked, "What's what from?"

"Finally!" Penelope was the next to hurry towards you, grabbing your hand and leading you right to your desk. Clearly, your usual pace wasn't fast enough for her. "Oh my gorgeous you just have to see."

A bouquet of the prettiest roses sat on your desk. Full, a soft blush color, layers folded in on themselves. Penelope was right, they were beautiful.

Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest at the sight of them, and - overwhelmed by emotion - you nearly let it slip that they were from Aaron. Luckily you managed to catch yourself just in the nick of time, but you wished it hadn’t been necessary. You valued your privacy, but at the same time, things like this made you want to brag about what a wonderful boyfriend you had. 

"Happy Valentine's Day to you, huh?" Emily chuckled as you opened the envelope that accompanied the bouquet. 

"I guess so." You grinned, reading the small card. It read: ‘Yours, always.’

Your smile widened, a faint flush warming your cheeks - utterly flattered. Aaron had always been the type to show how much you meant to him, and today was no exception.

"Isn't that the sweetest thing. Alluring. Sexy.” Penelope gushed, grabbing one of your files and using it to fan her face. "Whoever he is, he’s a romantic, that's for sure."

"You've read this already?" You laughed, playfully arching an eyebrow as you swiped the file back.

Penelope opened her mouth to speak, but stopped midway. Guilty. "No... kinda. I merely held it up to the light." You hummed in amusement and she let out a whine. "It's been there for nearly an hour. A terribly long hour. When the prettiest set of flowers show up, and the recipient is momentarily absent, you have to take matters into your own hands. Especially when your own love life is clogged down the drain and there's not a plumber in sight."

"No plans tonight, then?" Morgan teased.

"On the contrary, you and I will get up to all sorts of trouble." She quipped in return, causing him to cackle.

"Ah... Valentine's Day." Dave chimed in as he joined the huddle, Aaron with him. "Something I used to be good at."

"You have been married three times,” Aaron deadpanned, crossing his arms across his chest.

As Aaron spoke, your gaze latched onto his. His brown eyes were warm and bright, brimming with affection. No words passed, but you felt it all, the quiet pull between your hearts. The unspoken moments were something the two of you had perfected, whether on a case or just within earshot of the team. Stolen glances and subtle gestures were the best you could hope for if you wanted to keep your relationship under wraps.

Even with the team possibly - definitely - watching, you couldn’t hide the smile that spread across your face as you looked at him.

You'd thank him later, in more ways than one, but hopefully for the meantime you were able to relay how much you truly appreciated and loved the gesture. How much you loved him.

"I wonder who they could be from." Penelope thought aloud, scanning the bullpen. Ironically enough, her eyes landed on every person except for the very one it was. "Who was here early? Are they even on this floor?"

"Oh- I know." JJ chimed in, smirking in your direction. Leaning forward and crossing her arms on her desk, "Agent Carter from Homeland Security has the hots for you."

You shushed her, immediately dismissing her statement. You were well aware of Carter's feelings for you - he's only awkwardly flirted with you a handful of times. Each attempt was admittedly sweet, but obviously unsuccessful as your heart belonged elsewhere.

You shook your head. "No, I'm positive it wasn't him." You’d made it clear that you weren’t interested, and the last time he tried to sway you had ended so badly you were sure it was the last time. 

"If not, I'm sure we can figure it out by lunch." Emily scoffed, clearly opposed to the idea that an agent would be so brazen. "Sending flowers to a profiler? He's practically begging to be discovered."

"If you want, I can organize data by floor, then narrow the possibilities to single men, and sort those from most to least likely candidates based on factors such as proximal age, interests, and number of conversations they’ve had with you since you started work here.” Spencer offered, his lips quirking upwards.

You gaped at him, though you really shouldn’t be surprised. "All before lunch?"

Penelope didn't miss a beat, raising a hand. "I can get you a list."

"On that note, if you’d all like to leave early today to make your evening plans, I suggest we focus on getting our work done." Aaron redirected smoothly, in a way that hardly hinted at any personal agenda behind his attempt to steer the conversation. "Roundtable in ten."

The team let out a collective sigh and drifted apart, eager to leave early. Dave returned to his office, the others to their desks. As she passed, Penelope patted Spencer on the shoulder, reiterating that she’d get him a list.

Meanwhile, you let out a soft laugh and remained near your flowers, unable to keep yourself from admiring them for just one more long moment before you got swept up in the workday. As you did so, you could sense Aaron's presence lingering behind you. 

He discreetly leaned in to mumble in your ear, his amusement clear at the thought of you entertaining other dating prospects. "Carter has the hots for you?"

[wokeupinmars]

118. “so wet already? I barely even touched you. You must be quite needy.” with Sierra Six, please <3

Also love the Renaissance theme so bad 👽🌟

Daddy’s Home

Pairing: Six / Court Gentry x Wife!Reader

Summary: After being away for weeks, your husband shows you just how much he's missed you.

Warnings: SMUT(18+ ONLY)! Dilf!Six, unprotected p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), face fucking (?), daddy kink, breeding kink, pet names (sweetheart, baby, good girl, and honey), mentions of a gun (never fired), mentions of reader having/getting a tattoo, and even though it's implied with "Dilf!Six," I will state that reader and Six have a child.

Word Count: 2.9K

Author's Note: Thanks for the request and for complimenting my theme (Renaissance is one of my favorite albums), anon! I admittedly did get a little carried away while writing this, but I hope you like it!!

Please comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed this!!

RG Masterlist

You’ve seen enough horror movies to know this was exactly how people died: investigating a strange noise in the dark. Your heart hammered in your chest as you crept down the steps, trying to remain as quiet as possible while approaching the kitchen. Initially, it was the rustling of the bushes outside that you brushed off as one of the neighbor’s cats sneaking into your yard again, but once you heard grunting followed by the distinct squeaks of the back door opening, you knew it had to be a person.

You squeezed the grip of your husband’s pistol and tried not to let the fear of an intruder consume you. Panicking was a privilege you couldn’t afford, not when your daughter was sleeping soundly upstairs. 

You knew how to use the firearm, Court insisted on showing you how to hold, load, and shoot it back when you first got together. Safety was important, and to him, the safety of you and your child was the most important thing. He made it clear from the start that being with him could put you in harm's way and that learning how to defend yourself was necessary in case you found yourself in a situation like the one you were currently in, potentially in danger without him around to protect you.

Light pours out from the kitchen and into the hallway, the warm glow illuminating picture frames and a few toys your two year old had left on the ground that you had missed while tidying up after putting her to bed. 

The sound of footsteps approaching makes your entire body tense up. You could see the shadow of the person moving towards the hallway and you close your eyes, mentally preparing to fire when the familiar voice of your husband makes your eyes snap open, “We gotta work on your stance.” 

“What the fuck!” You lower the gun and watch as he crouches down to pick up one of the toys, a small Elmo plushie, before standing tall again. 

You move on autopilot, marching towards him and enveloping him in a hug. His arms circle your waist without hesitation, drawing you in close and pressing his face into your neck. The scruff of his beard tickles your skin as he places delicate kisses on your neck. Your body relaxes in his hold, the tension you’ve been carrying since his departure some weeks ago finally mellows out. 

“You’re home,” you whisper, caressing the back of his head. 

“I am,” he mumbles against your neck, his hand traveling up and down your back to ease your mind even further. 

Despite not wanting to, you take a step back, using the light coming from the kitchen to scan his body for any injuries. You were expecting to see dried blood and grime, but as far as you could see, he was clean, fresh even. 

“I showered at a truck stop a few towns over,” he answered before you even had a chance to ask, taking notice of the way you were eyeing him. “I wanted to be clean in case our girl was up. I didn’t want her to cry like last time when I wouldn’t hold her cause I was dirty.” 

Your heart warmed at his plan. Your toddler was going through another sleep regression brought on by the recent decision to upgrade her to a “big girl” bed after she started to repeatedly climb out of her crib. The sudden change followed by her dad going away for a few weeks made for a very anxious and fussy little girl. “She’s adjusting better.” 

“She sleeping through the night now?” He questions, reaching his hand through the doorway and flicking off the kitchen light. 

“Kinda…she’ll wake up but won't get out of her bed and come into our room anymore. She’ll go back to sleep on her own now.” 

Court slips his hand into yours, tugging you towards the stairs, “And going to bed?” 

“Still tries to prolong it to get me to stay with her, but she’s not asking for me to read as many stories anymore,” you tell him as he guides you up the steps. 

The subtle glow from under her door, courtesy of her nightlight, comes into view. He stops in front of the door, opening it quietly and poking his head in to catch a glimpse of your sleeping daughter. He lets go of your hand and steps into the room, crouching down next to her bed. 

You watch from the doorway as he tucks the Elmo plushie under her arm and places a kiss on her forehead. He stares at her for a moment before retreating back out into the hallway with you, softly closing the door behind him. “She’s going to be so giddy when she sees you in the morning, was missing her daddy.” 

“Missed her too,” he hums, resting his hands on your hips, his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. He cranes his head down and kisses up the side of your neck, working his way towards your jaw until he meets your ear. “And what about you?” he husked, nipping at your ear, “Did you miss daddy too?” 

Your breath hitches and you can feel his mouth curve up into a smirk against your skin. “Did you?” He teases, walking you backwards into your bedroom until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, “'Cause he missed you.” 

“I did,” you breathe out, taking a seat on the bed. Court moves his hands from your hips to your thighs, giving them a squeeze before leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. A warm feeling spreads throughout your chest. It had only been a few weeks since he left, but you missed him; you needed him. His bottom lip catches between your teeth, and you tug at his belt buckle. 

“Haven’t been gone long enough for you to forget the rules,” he murmurs, prying your hand away from his belt and stepping away from you. 

“Court,” you whine at the loss of contact. 

“So impatience,” he teases, flicking on the lights which casts an orange hue around the room. “Just wanted to see you, Sweetheart.” 

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, but once they do, you secure the firearm you’d been carrying in the safe that resided in the cubby area at the bottom of your nightstand. You lie in the center of the bed, watching as he shuts and locks the door with a soft click. “C’mere, please.” 

“So needy,” he coos, crawling onto the bed and hovering over you. His knee wedges between your legs, and you instinctively spread for him to give him more space. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his lips ghosting over yours as he lowers his head. 

Your hand clamps around the nape of his neck, bringing his head down enough for a real kiss. You were impatient, you wanted him, and the eagerness of your kiss certainly reflected that. 

It wasn’t often that Court had the opportunity to be selfish, but when it came to you, he couldn’t help but be greedy. He groans into your mouth, kissing back with need, his tongue brushing against yours. His hand travels down your body and caresses your curves before dipping under the waistband of your shorts and panties. 

A gasp escapes your mouth when his finger glides over your slit and his thumb circles your nub. “So wet already? I barely even touched you. You must be quite needy,” he murmured against your mouth. 

He buries his face in your neck, leaving open mouth kisses and nipping at the sensitive skin, “So, so, needy,” he adds, continuing to rub your clit. 

“Court,” you whimper, “Please.”

His finger prods at your entrance before sliding in, “Please, what, Sweetheart?” 

Your body quivers and you let out a shaky moan as he starts pumping his finger in your pussy, “Please!” 

Another finger pokes at your entrance before slipping in. He pulls his face from your neck to drink in the sight of shuddering over his touch, “Gotta tell me what you want, baby.” 

“Please fuck me,” you beg, rocking your hips against his fingers. 

A devilish smile graces his face. He loved it when you begged. “I will, I will, Sweetheart. But you know the rules: Daddy eats this pretty pussy first, and then you get fucked.”  He pumps his fingers in you a few times before pulling and sucking on them, his gaze never leaving your face. He backs off the bed and admires you all sprawled out for him from the foot of the bed. 

His hand wraps around your ankles and drags you to the edge until your legs are dangling. “Court, c’mon,” you pout. 

He sinks to his knees, his hands reaching for your shorts and underwear. You lift your hip as he tugs the clothing down your legs, tossing them on the floor, and then he sees it. 

His name inked onto your hip. 

A soft groan leaves his mouth as he runs his thumb over the tattoo. No swelling, you’ve had it long enough for it to have healed on a surface level. “When’d you get this?” 

“Few days after you left,” you answer, "Anniversary's coming up, thought I’d get you a little something early.” 

He presses a kiss to the skin and hooks your legs over his shoulders. “You’re spoiling me,” he says while kissing along the inside of your thighs, the prickly feeling of his beard scratching and tickling the skin. 

You could feel his breath fan over your pussy as he pulled you in so close your clit grazed the tip of his nose. “So pretty,” he whispers, giving your pussy a kiss. 

His mouth latches onto your cunt, lapping at your wetness. Your entire body was tingling, and you clamped your thighs against the sides of his head, arching your back as he flicked his tongue against you.

“God,” you moan, tugging a fist full of his hair and rolling your hips against his face, causing him to groan against your cunt, the vibration from his noises adding an extra layer of bliss to what you were feeling. He grips your thighs and anchors you in place as his tongue delves in and out of you. 

“Court,” you cry out, grinding your clit against his nose.

He pulls back for a second, just enough for you to feel his jagged breathing against your thighs and see how his face flushed, with the lower half of it glistening with your juices. He licks his lips before nuzzling his face back between your legs, this time putting his mouth around your clit and sucking. 

Court releases one of his hands from your thighs and brings it to your wet core. He swirls his tongue against your nub and teases your entrance with two fingers before sliding them. 

You could feel the coil in your stomach starting to build, your muscles contracting as his mouth and fingers worked to bring you closer and closer to your release. 

He can tell you’re closing when your fingers thread through his hair and grip tighter than they had before. Your thighs squeeze his head, crying out in pleasure, “Oh God, Court!” 

Your legs begin to tremble on top of his shoulders, and he lets out a strangled moan against your sopping cunt as you come on his tongue. His hold on you loosens up, no longer pinning you in place,  knowing you wanted to ride out your high on his face. 

“You okay, baby?” He asks once your rocking stops. 

“Yes, Daddy.”

Court stands, “Did so good for me, Sweetheart.” 

“I want you.” You hated how desperate you sounded, but your need to be fucked by him outweighed any pride you had. 

“I know,” he mumbles, running his thumb over your bottom lip. You part your lips, and he presses down on your tongue before rubbing your spit against your lip. “I’ll give you what you want, go ahead and lie back for me.” 

You scoot back until you are in the center of the bed and watch as he strips down. His shirt was the first to go; you almost moan once his muscular chest and arms are put on display. His pants followed soon after, his hand undoing and pulling his belt clean off before undoing his zipper and letting his pants pool at his ankles. 

Your eyes briefly scan the entirety of his body for any sign of an injury before darting towards the outline of his hard on being restrained by the material of his boxers and the visible wet spot near the tip when you don’t see any. You wet your lips at the sight, tugging your shirt off, leaving you bare and ready for him. 

He steps out of his boxers, giving his cock a few pumps, and gets onto the bed with you. He settles between your legs, “Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy?” 

You nod, “Please fuck me, Daddy.” 

He glides cock against your arousal, teasing you a little more, “Gonna let me give you another baby?” 

The question, along with the teasing, makes you gasp and look up at him with half hooded eyes, trying to gauge if he was serious or not. “You want another baby?” 

“I do. Been thinking about it since our girl turned two. We always said we wanted another,” he whispers. 

He was right, you guys did say that, and truth be told, you’d wanted to bring it up to him before he left. “I want another one too,” you confess. “Please give me another baby.” 

Court glances down, gliding his cock over your wetness before pushing his tip in. You let out a sharp moan, your walls clenching around him already. 

His eyes close, and a low groan reaches your ears as he slides in deeper. The sensation of you pulsating around him, combined with how wet and warm you were, made him dizzy. “Can I move?” 

“Please,” you plead, wanting nothing more. 

His thrusts started slow, giving you more time to adjust to his size, before picking up his pace. The bed creaked as his hips snapped against you with each thrust. His head dropped down to the side of your head, allowing you to hear every sound he made as he pounded you, “You’re so perfect, can’t believe you’re all mine.” 

“Yours,” you moan, nails sinking into his back. 

He reaches down for your legs, unhooking them from around his waist and bringing them up to his shoulders, folding you into a new position. “Oh fuck,” you curse, feeling the first stroke. 

“That’s it, Sweetheart. Taking me so well,” he praises. 

Your face contorts, your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth slightly agape as he keeps a steady rhythm. “Look at you, just falling apart on my cock.” 

The walls of your pussy clench around him, “Love your cock,” you whimper. 

“I know, taking it so well.” 

You were in a daze, “Wanna make you a daddy again,” you whisper as you begin to shake, your body buzzing with pleasure. “Wanna have all your babies.” 

His thrusts start to get sloppy, “Gonna let me fill this pussy? Let me fuck another baby into you, huh?” 

“Yes! Please, Daddy. Want it so bad,” tears were pricking at your eyes as you begged. The familiar tension you felt before returning to your stomach: you were close. 

He twitches inside of you, and you know he’s near. “Need you to fill me, Daddy. Been such a good girl for you,” you coax, clawing at his back, nearing your release. “Please don’t stop.” 

Your body trembles as you come around him, coating his cock in your juices. He gives it a few more thrusts before pressing deep into you and spilling into, “Fuck,” he swears as your walls flutter around him. 

He pulls out of you slowly, feeling a sense of pride from watching his come drip out of you and onto the bedsheets. “Did so good,” he praises, giving you a soft kiss. 

Court gathers the come that leaked out onto the sheets with his finger and lazily fucks it back into you. He brings the finger to your lips, and you take it into your mouth without hesitation, sucking the mixture of both your arousals off. He could tell you were fucked out; there was a hazy look in your eyes as you cleaned off his finger. “So good to me, how ‘bout I run you a bath and we get you cleaned up?” 

You nod your head, “I’d like that.” 

—

Your back rested against his chest as the hot water from the bath eased all your aches. “You okay, Sweetheart?” 

“Mhmm,” you hum, leaning your head back against his shoulder, “Never been better.” 

His lips graze the slope of your neck, “Good.” 

“Did you like the tattoo?” You ask softly, your hand subconsciously moving to your hip. 

“I loved it, thank you.” His hand rests on top of yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “I really missed you."

“No…really? I couldn’t tell,” you muse. 

He pinches your side, and you jump, causing a little water to spill over the edge of the tub and splash onto the floor. “I’m serious, I hated being away from you and our girl.” 

“I know, honey. I’m happy you’re home.” 

“I’m happy to be home.”

You look over your shoulder at him, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” He breathes out, kissing you on the forehead.