hargreeves-duncan

she/her ✩ welcome, lovelies!

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ HARGREEVES-DUNCAN ✩･ﾟ

blog header/masterlists ib: @mariasont

blog header/masterlists art featured: @/by_emmzonn on ig

⎯⎯ welcome to my blog!

she/her. bisexual. multifandom girlie.

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[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 🌸

⎯⎯ 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. 

[wokeupinmars]

Love on the Weekend

Pairing: Holland March x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Holland finally address the flirty nature of your relationship when a last minute case sends you two on a weekend gateaway.

Warnings: flirty and suggestive comments, idiots in love, kissing, fondling (not reader or Holland), overall fun, fluffy, and flirty with a hint of angst if you squint.

Word Count: 2.5K

Author’s Note: My submission for the @goosegroupiechallenges' first theme, Beach/Pool Day! I’m using the prompt: “If I find any sand in my sheets tonight I will kill you.”

Please comment and/or reblog if you enjoyed this!!

RG Masterlist

Holland’s knuckles rapped repeatedly against the door to the motel’s bathroom, “How long does it take you to put on a one piece? You’ve been rushing me all morning but are taking your sweet ass time—“  

His hand was brought to an immediate halt as the door swung open, revealing you in bright blue bikini bottoms and a matching top that you clutched to your chest with one arm. It was obvious from the dainty straps dangling behind you that it was undone. “Will you please quit your whining and help me tie my bikini?”  

The request makes his throat go dry. This was supposed to be an easy weekend with the two of you gathering tangible evidence for a housewife whose husband was cheating on her with his secretary. It was as open and shut as cases come, especially when the wife, Mrs. Watson, provided the booking information on where her husband would be staying on his “work” trip. But you? You were making this case much harder than it needed to be. 

First, you confiscated his flask when he picked you up and made him promise not to drink so he’d have a “sound mind” while working (whatever that means). Then, you told the desk clerk not to worry when he sheepishly told you there was a double booking and that the two of you would share. And now this…how was he supposed to keep a level head when you were half naked in front of him? How was he supposed to focus on anything, knowing he’d be sleeping beside you over the next two days? 

It felt like you were doing it on purpose to fuck with him; you had to be. He knew that you knew about his less-than-subtle crush on you, but having you so close and seeing you like this without the ability to act on it felt like a punishment.  

“Holland?” The sound of your voice and the wave of your free hand in front of his face bring him back to reality. “Mhm? What’d you say?” He asks, his eyes trailing over your figure.  

You turn and glance at him from over your shoulder before repeating yourself, “Can you help me tie my bikini? It doesn’t feel secure enough when I do it.” 

“I can help you take it off, too,” he mumbles while grabbing hold of the strings. Flirty remarks from him were the norm, drunken or not, his attraction and need to be around you were always apparent. Compliments, suggestive comments, and light touches were far from unusual. He liked you and made it known, and given that you never passed up the chance to make him blush, you liked him too.  

“If you keep your promise to lay off the booze this weekend, I just might let you.” Your teasing prompts a groan to escape his lips as he pulls and knots the strings together. A part of you is grateful that he’s seemingly caught up in envisioning the scene to notice the slight shiver that travels down your spine from his fingers grazing the skin of your back. “Well, in that case, Sweetheart, I’ll be on my best behavior.”  

“I’ll hold you to that, Honey,” you hum, turning around to face him and tying your matching sarong around your waist.  

“Jesus,” he says under his breath as he gives you a one over again. 

“Now, I know this is a difficult thing to ask, but can you stop staring at my tits so we can go over the game plan? Just for a second?” You watch Holland’s eyes dart up from your chest and to your face, the pink hue that had already covered his face darkening. Despite his flushed cheeks, he remained quick on his feet even if he did stumble a bit, “They looked at me first.” The excuse, as quick and idiotic as it was, made you smile. This man was a fool, and you couldn’t help but love it. “And I remember the plan,” he states with enough conviction that you believe him.  

—  

The plan in question was simple and admittedly formed last minute while checking in and overhearing the affair partners discussing their plans for the day which consisted of only three things: going to the beach, dinner at Rossini’s, a fancy and popular Italian restaurant that you was unable to book a reservation after finding the number in yellow pages and giving it a call, and of course, sex!  

Strategizing was easy and followed the standard protocol that you and Holland often followed after taking on affair cases, with the two of you agreeing that your best bet would be following them to the beach and sneaking pictures of them canoodling under the guise of taking photos of each other, and then staking out the restaurant for more evidence. 

Everything was going smoothly, excluding Holland’s constant complaining about the sand burning the soles of his feet after refusing to keep his flip flops on after almost tripping while carrying the webbed chairs Holly insisted he pack. The beach was big, but spotting the couple wasn’t as difficult as you both anticipated due to them choosing to stray too far from the entrance of the beach.  

You and Holland opted to set up camp a few feet ahead of them to ensure clear shots of any lewd behavior. The wait, as it turns out, wasn’t very long. Mr. Watson proved to be a rather handsy man, fondling his mistress mere minutes after you and Holland settled into the folding chair. Holland stood, taking off his sunglasses and stuffing them into the breast pocket of his short-sleeved button down, and brought the camera up to his eye as he pretended to take a shot of you.  

Maybe it was instinctive because there was a camera around, but you felt the need to smile and pose even if you knew the focus wasn’t on you. “Big smile, Sweetheart, big smile,” Holland ribs, egging you on.  

“Are you getting them?”  

His face contorts into a disgusted scowl from observing Mr. Watson slip his hand through the cutout of his mistress’s swimsuit to cop a feel, “I feel like I’m shooting the start of a bad porno.”  

You turn your head just enough to catch a glimpse of the woman’s hand dipping under the waistband of shorts through your periphery before looking back at your partner, “Didn’t realize there were good pornos.” 

“They exist. You're just not a connoisseur like I am.” If you weren’t preoccupied with attempting to hide the laugh bubbling to the surface, you would’ve noticed the frequent clicks of the camera and the soft smile that brightened Holland’s face as he watched you giggle.  

It wasn’t until the sizzling afternoon slowly started to simmer once the sun began disappearing over the horizon that the lovers packed up their belongings and headed back to the motel, with you and Holland waiting a few minutes before following their lead.  

The walk back to the motel was short, the only highlight of it being Holland nearly walking into oncoming traffic, and you hold his hand the rest of the way back. “How come I’ve never seen you wear this before?” The inquiry fell from his lips once you made it to the parking lot to pack the folding chairs back into the trunk of his car. 

“It’s new, I ordered it from the Sears catalog a few weeks back,” you answer.  

He puts a cigarette between his lips, lighting it and taking a drag before speaking, “Suits you.” 

“Thank you.” You stretch your hand out for him to take. “You have the key to the room, right?”  

He fishes the key out of his pocket and takes your hand again, allowing you to lead him up the steps. “Do you want to shower first?”  

“No, you should go first. I know you well enough to know you’ll want to sit or lie down on the bed, and if I find any sand in my sheets tonight, I will kill you.”  

“You can do whatever you want to me, Sweetheart. I don't mind.” He flirts, unlocking your shared room and motioning for you to enter first.  

“Careful, one of these days I might just take you up on that.”  

“A man can dream,” he mumbles, walking in behind you and closing the door. “You sure you don’t want to shower first?”  

“I’m sure, Holls.”  

He hums and b-lines for the bathroom, closing the door and then opening it back up just enough to poke his head out, “And you’re sure you don’t want to join me? I won’t bite…unless you like.” 

You walk over to the bathroom, and for a second, you can see his face light up. The spark, however, dims when you push his head back. “Go shower, their dinner reservation is in less than an hour.”  

He lets out a huff, retreating fully into the bathroom and closing the door with a pout. 

–  

You sink into the driver’s seat and let the camera hang around your neck. You and Holland had been parked across the street from the restaurant for about forty-five minutes, and the only bit of evidence worth snapping a photo was of the pair entering the restaurant, arm in arm, and the kiss on the cheek Mr. Watson received after pulling out the chair for his mistress.  

Holland had left you to get dinner from the takeout spot he saw when turning onto the street. He’d been gone for a while, and a part of you hoped there was just a long wait, but you’d also spotted a bar neighboring the store, so you had your doubts and were bracing yourself for disappointment just in case your partner came back tipsy with no food in hand.  

You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel, making sure to keep a watchful eye on the couple inside. “Why are you in my spot?” You nearly jumped out of your skin upon hearing Holland’s voice.  

“Jesus! You scared me,” you say, pressing a hand to your chest.  

“You put the roof up,” he points out after rounding the front of the car and climbing into the passenger’s side, a white plastic bag in hand. “Did you get any more shots of them?” 

“No, they've surprisingly been modest so far.” 

He nods and reaches into the bag, the plastic rustling as he unpacks the takeout containers. “Did you get–” 

“Chicken and broccoli with white rice?” He finishes for you, passing you two of the white boxes. “One of them might be the chicken fried rice I ordered, but I did get it.”  

“What about–”  

“I got your extra fortune cookie and sauce packets too, Sweetheart. Asked the guy at the counter for ‘em. He said no, but I nabbed it when he wasn’t looking.”  

“Thanks, honey.”  

“Of course.” 

A comfortable silence falls over the car as you both start to dig into your meals. You nudge him slightly, extending a forkful of white and chicken to him, which he happily accepts, offering up a sip of his soda in return. His gaze was fixed on you, more than usual, as if he were trying to read your mind. “I didn’t go into the bar, y’know. I’m keeping my promise to you.”  

“I appreciate that, March.”  

Another wave of silence falls over the car, this one more tense than the last. You could tell that he was hurt by your lack of faith in him. “I know you're trying.” You weren’t sure if your words would provide comfort, but you wanted to make it clear that you understood that he was putting in the effort.  

When he doesn’t respond and instead lights up another cigarette, you worry that this would be how the rest of the stakeout would go, with your usually chatting partner now sulking in the passenger seat. 

“Are you ever going to let me take you out?”  

You stare at him for several moments, your mind reeling as you attempt to process what he just blurted out. “W-what?”  

“Are you ever going to let me take you out?” He repeats. “You know I’m in love with you, and always flirt back. I know you don’t want a drunk of a boyfriend, but I think I’m getting better at managing my drinking.” 

A part of you is almost bewildered by what he’s telling you. Yes, he flirted with you, but you didn’t realize just how deep his feelings ran. “You love me?”  

“Probably too much.”  

“I didn’t know that.”  

He squints his eyes at you, “You know I have a crush on you.”  

“Yeah, but I thought it was because you just wanted to fuck me. A crush and being in love with someone are very different,” you explain, your mind reeling as you replay your interactions with him. Had you been mistaking love for lust this entire time? 

“I do want to fuck you, but I want more. I want everything.” Your entire demeanor softens as you listen to him speak sincerely. “You just make everything better for me and Holly. I just want that forever, I want you forever,” he adds.  

Acting without thinking was more of Holland’s thing, but you couldn’t help but take a page out of his book as you carefully set down the drink and takeout box on the dashboard and leaned over to the passenger seat to kiss him. You could tell that he was caught off guard by the way he froze for a moment, and you're almost worried you made the wrong move, but then he melts into the kiss, his hand cupping the back of your neck to deepen the kiss.  

When you pull away, he starts to chase your lips in search of another kiss, his eyes are half shut, and his lips are curved into a dopey smile. You were just about to lean in again when his eyes flickered past you to the window of the restaurant, “Oh! Oh! They’re kissing!” He scrambles for the camera on your lap, leaning half his body on top of you to get the shot.  

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he says, sinking back into the passenger seat. You nod, “I think we have enough for the entire trip.”  

“Oh…do you want to go home in the morning?”  

You shake your head, “No…I think we should stay.”  

“Oh…and what do you want to do with our day off?”  

“Thought you wanted to take me out?”  

The corner of his mouth curls up, “You’ll let me?” 

“If we manage to make it out of our room,” you tease. 

There’s an undeniable spark in his eyes at the implication, “Oh really? Got big plans for me, Sweetheart?” 

You angle your body towards him, getting close and whispering, “Well, you did say I could do anything I wanted to you.”  

He mirrors your body language, “Such a tease,” he mumbles, stealing a kiss before you can respond.  

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ OH SUCH A SPRING

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

pairing: ryland grace x fem!reader

summary: rocky finds a photo that reminds ryland of the life he thought he never got

warnings: n/a

word count: 1.2k

a/n: caved to the phm hype and wrote a little something for ryland, hope you all enjoy

Rocky liked the Hail Mary.

He liked it more than he let on. It was oddly interesting and full of strange human ideas that he didn’t quite understand and that he spent most of his existence questioning the reasoning for.

Searching through Grace’s personal belongings was just a part of his questioning nature.

There were many silly sweaters and slogan-ed t-shirts, nothing Rocky hadn’t been subjected to before, and pictures from Grace’s children at the school he taught at.

There was one little square of Grace in the lab on Earth, posing for whoever was behind the camera.

That was it.

Boring, Rocky thought, preparing to shove everything back into its original container when something caught his attention.

Another small square, just peeking out from a gap in the box. Nearly forgotten.

Rocky chirped, leaning closer to inspect what was on it and…

“Why Grace lie to Rocky? Question,” Rocky tittered, already halfway into the cockpit, rolling towards his friend.

“Lie? I haven’t lied about anything, bud,” Grace replied, not looking up from whatever he was tinkering with.

“Grace lie again,” Rocky repeated, tapping his limb insistently on the floor, “Grace say Grace no have mate, Rocky see Grace with Mate. Look in love.”

Grace sighed, setting the tool down and leaning back slightly.

“Rock, that’s impossible. I’m tellin’ you- I didn’t lie about not having a mate. I don’t have one, and I never have.”

He sat up suddenly, pointing at the small alien, “And before you say anything, that mannequin was a one-time thing.”

Rocky sounded a low, frustrated tune, turning and rolling himself out of the cockpit.

“Hey! C’mon!” Grace called after him, throwing his arms up, “We’re having a conversation here! Can’t you be mature about this?”

“Grace follow Rocky. Now. Statement.”

Grace frowned, but relented, pushing himself up and trailing after him down the corridor, “If this is about you judging my extremely valid coping mechanisms, I’d like to remind you-“

Rocky stopped abruptly.

Grace nearly walked straight into him.

“-that I am a highly trained-“

“Look,” Rocky said.

Spread out across the floor were the remains of one of the storage containers. It seemed Rocky had not so eloquently torn open the box in search of something.

Before he could ask what, Grace’s eye was drawn to something at the centre of it all.

Something small enough to be…

A photograph.

Rocky nudged it toward him with one small claw.

“Found hidden,” he said, “Important, yes?”

Grace crouched slowly, like he might scare it away, “I… don’t remember that,” he admitted quietly.

“Look, look, look. Look now,” Rocky repeated incessantly.

Grace picked it up.

And it was like his brain had recalibrated.

The photograph trembled in his hands, and the Hail Mary around him disappeared.

Suddenly, he was back on Earth. Not the Hail Mary. Not even the lab.

He was at home.

***

It was a Saturday morning. The three of you were getting ready to go to the park.

He was kneeling on the living room floor, trying to tie your daughter’s tiny shoes whilst she wiggled in protest in every which way, giggling like she knew how much trouble she was causing her father, despite only just turning one.

You crouched beside them both, a lock of hair falling into your eyes as you shook your head at the pair of them, laughing, “Oh my god… What has Daddy done to you, baby girl?”

“Relax. You look like you’re trying to defuse a bomb, for crying out loud,” you smiled teasingly at your husband, pressing a kiss to his cheek and laying one hand over the top of his.

“It feels like I am, with her,” he joked, only half joking about the baby’s fussiness when it came to her laces.

As if recognising the insult, she squealed, pulling away and managing to yank the loops free again from Ryland’s grip.

“Someone doesn’t like Daddy’s way of doing things, huh?” you grinned, leaning closer, other hand brushing against Ryland’s arm, “I see that little smirk, missus.”

He looked down at her, and she looked up at him, eyes shining with pure mischief. Ryland smirked, “She gets it from her mother.”

You batted his arm, mouth agape, “She does not! Look at yourself right now!”

“Look at what?” he protested, grin growing wider by the nanosecond, “I’m not doing anything, I’m just sitting here, trying to be a good father to my daughter.”

“Ryland.” you deadpanned, staring him down.

That only made him smile more.

You batted him again and he groaned dramatically, clutching his arm at his side. Your daughter laughed.

“Wow… wow, I see how it is. Ganged up on in my own home,” Ryland turned away from the both of you, clutching his arm, “To be beaten and laughed at. That’s all I’m good for. I see.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling,

“You’re a wicked woman,” Ryland smiled, cupping your face with one hand and pulling you in for a kiss.

His smile softened into something fonder, “And I love it,” he pecked your lips.

“And I love you.” you replied, sitting up on your knees and kissing his lips once more, before turning back to keep an eye on your daughter.

These days you found yourself doing that a lot.

She’d learnt how to crawl a few months back and she’d be walking any day now. You were fully prepared to turn back one day and have her be ok the other side of the room.

With a sigh, you rested each hand on Ryland’s shoulder and chest, respectively, as the two of you focused on her.

“Do you think she’ll be like me at all?” he asked quietly, glancing down at her tiny (now miraculously fast asleep) face.

You looked up at him, eyes without an ounce of insincerity, “If she’s anything like you, I’ll be the luckiest woman alive.”

***

He couldn’t breathe.

He was hyperventilating.

The memory was gone.

He had so many questions that would go unanswered.

Why had he chosen to leave when he had two people who were so important to stay back for?

Find someone to be brave for.

The words echoed in his head. Whose words were they? He had no clue.

But maybe they were the reason why he’d gone? He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

And what about his daughter? How old must she be now? How much she must hate him for leaving.

And you…

Wonderful you.

You must absolutely despise him.

He was spiralling faster than his rationale thoughts could keep up.

“Grace, what wrong? Question.” Rocky asked, voice growing increasingly worried as he circled Grace, who was now lying on the floor.

“Grace okay? Question.”

“Grace is breathe? Question.”

“Grace!”

Grace snapped upright and ran a hand through his hair, tears falling from his eyes.

“My family… I have a family.”

Rocky tilted his head to the side and tapped his limb on the floor, “Rocky no understand. Need word.”

Grace bit his lip, wiping his eyes on his sleeve as he stood to input the new word:

Purpose.

“I have to get back,” he whispered, clutching the photo close to his chest and fiddling as though it might somehow shrink the distance between him and them.

“Yes,” Rocky said. “Grace, Rocky fix ship. Grace go home. See mate. See purpose.”

Grace nodded, thumb tracing over your face in the photo.

He’d come back to you, that was a promise he swore to keep.