#for the love of all things cozy i just want him to have a moment of peace
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Summary: Fox has always followed the rules. As Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard itâs required to keep himself, and his men safe. Itâs too bad that the only rule he isnât able to follow is the only one that could protect him from emotional harm.
Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader
Word Count: 997
Warnings: Uh...kinda bittersweet, some minor discussion of the clones not being considered people
A/N: I wanted to write a Fox fic, and so I wrote a Fox fic.
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Fox is an idiot.
The worldâs, no, the galaxyâs biggest idiot.
As Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard he knows that the rules that he, and Cody, have crafted for their brothers were designed to keep them safe, and alive, while on Coruscant. Designed to protect them from people who see the clones as less than the dirt beneath their feet.
He knows this.
Which is why heâs an idiot.
If he were smarter, or even better at following the rules, he would be back at the barracks, and probably asleep, or trying to sleep in the small bed that he can call his.
He definitely wouldnât be here, in front of a small apartment, keying in a door code to see the one person on Coruscant who would ruin his life if she said the wrong thing to the wrong person.Â
The door slides open as he finishes keying in the code, and he hurries into the apartment before anyone notices him, turning and locking the door behind him.Â
The apartment, her apartment, is warm and cozy. Itâs a studio apartment, barely big enough for one person, let alone two, but it feels like home to him. The walls are painted in warm creams and yellows, and every surface is covered with paintings and carvings.Â
One wall of the hallway is covered by a massive shelf, which she bought specifically for him to store his armor on when he comes to visit, though it also doubles as a bookshelf.Â
He finishes pulling his armor off, stashing each piece in a cubby, then he stores his blaster in the gun safe she also bought for his use, and then he steps further into the apartment.
Fox turns a corner, and there she is.Â
Standing in her small kitchen, dancing and singing along to the music filling her home, all while decorating cookies on the tray in front of her. Thereâs flour in her hair, and on her apron, but she doesnât seem to care as she swings her hips in time to the music.
Sheâs beautiful. Sheâs perfect.
Fox loves her.
And heâs completely fucked.
He leans against the wall and watches her dance for a moment, until she turns her head slightly and finally sees him. Her entire face brightens when she sees him, and Fox falls in love with her all over again.
âFox! You came!â She wipes her hands on her apron, and then crosses over to him in several large bounces so sheâs able to throw her arms around his neck.
He folds his arms around her, âDid you think I wouldnât?â Fox shivers when she buries her face in his neck.
âI saw on the news that you all had a busy day,â She replies against his neck, âI wouldnât have minded if you didnât.â
âI needed to see you.â
She pulls away slightly and reaches up to brush her fingers against his jaw, âDid you?â
âI missed you while you were gone.â Fox adds as he lightly bumps his forehead against hers, âTwo weeks is far too long for me to not be able to see you.â
She laughs softly, âMaybe Iâll bring you with me next time.â It wonât be possible, and they both know it, but itâs nice to pretend. âHow are you?â
Horrible. Terrible. Iâm starting to think that I wonât survive the war.Â
The truth would scare her away, and losing her would destroy him, so he smiles and lies. âIâm alright, I just missed you.â
âWell, Iâm here now.â
Fox pulls her closer, âYeah, you are.â He decides that any more talking is unnecessary as he pulls her into a kiss. A single kiss that turns into another one, and then another one.Â
He might very well be addicted to her.
âHow long can you stay?â She asks, her voice slightly breathless.Â
He shouldnât stay for long. If anyone found out about this, about them, about her, he would be decommissioned and force only knows what would happen to her, but with her in his arms, Fox finds himself uncaring about the potential consequences.Â
âYou have me all night.â He whispers against her lips.
Delight flickers across her face, âReally?â
âReally.â
Laughter falls from her and she jumps into his arms, something that Fox was expecting as he effortlessly supports her weight while she hooks her legs around his waist. âYou never stay all night.â She says against his lips.
âI am now.â
She kisses him properly, her arms tightening around his neck, âGood.â
Fox doesnât even hesitate before he walks her across the room to drop her on her bed, and he doesnât hesitate before he climbs over her, settling himself between her spread legs.Â
There, stretched out beneath him, with her hair spread like a halo around her head, sheâs never been more beautiful. He catches her hands and pins them over her head, before he leans in and kisses her, âI love you.âÂ
Itâs not the first time heâs told her that he loved her, but her face brightens every time he does. If he ever meets the person who told her that sheâs unlovable, heâll kill them.
But thatâs a thought for later.Â
For now, though, heâs going to spend his night physically showing her how much he loves her.Â
As he peels her apron and shirt off, tossing them to the side to be dealt with later, Fox kisses down her throat to her collar, âI wish,â He mumbles, âI wish we could live anywhere else. Somewhere where I can kiss you in public, without having to worry about someone seeing.â He looks up at her, âSomewhere where us isnât forbidden.â
âMaybe someday,â She whispers, âAfter the war. It canât continue forever, and then youâll be free to choose.â
An optimistâs view, perhaps, but Fox is happy to cling to her optimistic hope while heâs in her arms.
And so his original point remains.
He really is the galaxyâs biggest idiot.
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#star wars#tcw#commander fox x reader#fox x reader#star wars fanfiction#x reader fanfiction#f!reader fic
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Novembers are for cuddles
#for the love of all things cozy i just want him to have a moment of peace#john doe malevolent#pikachu#malevolent#malevolent podcast#malevolent fanart#john doe#the king in yellow#kiy#pokemon#pokemon fanart#fanart#digital art#my art#is it a plushie or is it the real pikachu you decide
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read asoue to weeman as a bedtime story he liked it YAYYYY
#i set up a oneblock mc workd 4 him bc hes been obsessed w them#took me a while bc im an idiot FJFBFNN but i got it. nd he was having fun but itsba school night#but he was in my room playing so eventually i convinced him to turn off mc (meryl my computer came in with an assist (battery low warning so#i could say I think meryl is getting tired....)) so then he helped me turn it off but was still so sad#so i offered for him to stay cozy in my room 4 awhile and we sat together and then i said we could read a story together#so he read his favorite book 2 me (not a box if anybody is curious) and then i relized my copies of asoue r in storage at current moment#Which was the bummer. but i checked out the ebook from my library in wa YAYY I LOVE LIBRARIES#so i was reading that to him :] and he was super into it asking me abt words i didnt know he even asked me Why is his last name snicket...#as if the name lemony isnt weirder NRNTJFNhes funny#but ya. and he was asking me questions abt the story (How did that fire start.... Maybe they left the oven on too long đ„đ„đ„) but he was#rly into it... i was a bit worried itd be a bit too sad 4 him But i underestimated him . he was very sad when their parents died but very#invested. we got abt midway through chapter 4 (klaus had just said the thing abt olaf only giving them one bed) and then he started#fake snoring. so i carried him to his room and then unfortunately he noticed that his phone was charged so he decided to play on that a bit#before bed . sigh . I did my best#nd then i told my mom and she had the gall to be like Sigh when i said he grabbed his ohone and its like. Well thatis bc you gave him a#phone to play on and whenever you dont feel like listening to him when he wants to tell you things you distract him with any screen in reach#like. yk. itis entirely your alls fault. and i feel bad#hes such a sweet kid and yes he does have a tendency to talk a lot bc hes . an autistic 6 year old who loves a lot of things and is excited#to share. yk. but most everyone just ignores him and i feel bad...#i try my best to listen sometimes i have trouble following but like. yk.#and a lot of the stuff is abt whatever youtubers hes watching which. sigh. but whtevr#idk. i worry abt him having a phone with internet access like. hes only got kids youtube and stuff but. well i dont love kids having access#to the internet so young <- guy who was doing erp with strangers online at age 7.#but. waghhhhhhfhfhrbfufbfjr. wtvr#anyways. im glad he liked the story at least im hoping i can get him into reading more#he likes reading but im gonna ask my mom if i can get all my books out of storage#theyre like. hes still quite young for most of them but ive got some old junie b jones#and i think tag would like a lot of them as well ... neither of them read a lot it makes me sad but its. understandable. my parents didnt#teach tag to read like at all and they still struggle with it#so i cannot blame them. but i think the books i liked at their age r things theyd like so ! yk.
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â â đđđđđđđđ. a relaxing day at the beach w/ toji ân little megumi, accompanied by their usual bickering and precious moments
tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. honestly just the beach episode toji deserves w his family t_t not proof read!
the beach is a beautiful place to rest after a tough week. toji lays on the towel besides yours, bulky arms resting behind his head as he enjoyed the gentle breeze, the smell of the sea mixed with his wifeâs perfume.
the peace is quickly disturbed when he feels a small fist claw at his mouth.
ââgumi, donât feed papa sand,â your muffled laughter echoes through the busy beach. you watch your husband attempt to fight off megumiâs tiny hands as they pry his lips apart.
toji grunts and moves his head multiple times, but the toddler is determined to get what he wants. âbratââ the dark-haired man scoffs while his hands wrap around megumiâs torso, lifting the little boy in the air as his final resort, âwhatâs this all âbout? wanna kill yâr daddy or sum?â
your son pouts and furrows his brows. âno, i made papa food. burger,â he defends himself and kicks his legs while being held up at arms length. megumiâs tiny fist full of sand manages to reach his fatherâs lips again, ânow papa eat!â
toji lifts megumi up higher, as far away from his face as possible. he takes a second before realising that he indeed had made a request for a burger just moments ago, when his son asked him what he should make out of the sand.
toji totally forgot to play along with megumiâs pretend restaurant game, thinking the boy would halfway forget about it anyway. childrenâs attention spans are short after all.
seems like his kid is an exception.
âi ainât eatinâ shit, boy,â toji grunts and turns megumi away, putting the boy back down in the sand between the two beach towels. youâre about to reprimand your husband for his behaviour before your child interrupts.
âthis not poo poo!â megumi jabs a finger at his fatherâs chest, his voice a bit louder. heâs taken great offence to the comment about his imaginary burger, which was now but a cluster of sand particles.
toji snorts and gently flicks megumiâs hand away, âyeah, it is. bet it tastes like âpoo pooâ too.â
âno! not poo poo!â megumiâs voice rings out before a frustrated whine leaves his lips. his little hands land on tojiâs abs, physically punishing him for saying such mean stuff about his hard handiwork.
your husband sticks his tongue out childishly at his sulking son. ââyes! yes âtis poo poo!â keheh,â toji mocks megumiâs high voice, snorting as he laughs about his own joke afterwards.
the father-son duo bicker for a few more seconds before you sigh and speak up. âcan you two just get along for once now? weâre in public, so behave,â you scold them as their voices seemed to get louder. you then glare at your immature husband. he could be such a man-child when it came to arguing with his son, âand youâ youâre an adult, so act like one.â
the two of them instantly shut up and their heads turn towards you, their hands that were wrestling with each other also stopping mid-air. megumi pouts and stops attacking his father with his tiny fists. the little boy knows better than to not listen to his mother.
in turn, toji huffs and grumbles something under his breath before grabbing his son to make it up to him.
neither does the grown man dare to defy his wifeâs demands.
âyeah, yeah. câmere, son,â toji responds and places the toddler on his chest, letting the kid rest against him. megumi surprisingly doesnât pull away and instead curls up in tojiâs warm embrace. as much as the two love to (playfully) fight, they also get along extremely well.
you smile and relax back on the palms of your hands. âmuch better,â you hum in content. your heart swells with affection for your two favorite people on earth. megumi is a carbon copy of his father and itâs the cutest little thing ever.
they both have that subtle pout on their lips as they accommodate to being close and cozy with each other again.
toji runs his callused fingers through megumiâs hair, sighing as he closes his eyes. he doesnât admit it out loud, but he cares for his kid. if he had to make a choice between either saving his own life or megumiâs, tojiâd instantly draw his last breath.
âheâs still a brat,â your husband grumbles to you, sharp eyes watching the way you coddle and coo over the toddler. megumiâs chubby cheek is smushed against tojiâs chest and it was an adorable sight. you giggle and capture it on your phone.
toji scoffs, but canât help the grin tugging at the corner of his scarred lips. he gently rubs the childâs cheek with his knuckles before continuing, âbut heâs my brat. ainât that right, boy?â
megumi lets out a small, soft grunt at his fatherâs words. the kid is completely silent, content with the way things had played out. perhaps this is what he secretly searched for as wellâ to receive tojiâs attention and a glimpse of his affection.
âaww, how cute!â your smile is beaming as you snap another picture of your family. tojiâs soft look is perfectly captured on your phone, with him gently touching megumiâs chubby cheek as the boy laid on his bare chest. pure domestic bliss.
you sigh and look away for one second to change the lockscreen on your phone. humming, you go to your settings and instantly put the picture of your husband and son as your wallpaper on nearly everything.
you tilt your head back only to find toji grinning from ear to ear now, going from gently rubbing megumiâs cheek to full out squishing them between both his hands, amused at the way the fat moves. âkehehe, look at âem,â he chuckles.
the little toddler eventually gets fed up with it after squirming and grunting. megumi brings his little fist upâthe same one that still had some sand stored from beforeâand lets the content fly all over tojiâs face.
megumi giggles and scrambles off tojiâs lap with a victorious grin. he points at his father whoâs struggling with getting the sand off his face, the man sputtering and grumbling. he sticks his tongue out, âthaâs papaâs burger.â
you watch as your son waddles over to you and hides into your arms, muffled laughter echoing in your ears. seems like megumi won the battle in the end; successfully holding onto the sand he was planning to feed his dad one way or another.
toji spits out a bit of sand that flew into his mouth from the kidâs surprise attack, âyou little shitââ
well, there goes the peace again. you shake your head, but let the two play and fight it out on their own.
. . . just another day in the fushiguro family.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#toji x reader#jjk fluff#toji fluff#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#toji x you#toji x y/n#jjk x female reader#toji x female reader
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accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes
Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough đ), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired
(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)
HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
Spencerâs never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.
His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-
Itâs you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he canât just-
âSpencer?â
He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-
âUh, yeah, just a second!â, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-
He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and â
âOkay, Iâll justâŠchill with that weird plant here.â
An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.
After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that itâs not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.
And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.
For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.
âHi.â
You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesnât know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.
Youâre not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelopeâs.
âHi to yourselfâ, you chuckle, âCan I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?â
Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.
âOnly seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.â
He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you donât hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.
Spencerâs breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his bodyâs response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is⊠a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious heâs trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isnât enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.
The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what youâre thinking.
âSpencerâ, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didnât make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. âDo you hate me?â
âWha-â, he sputters your name, âNo- no! Of course, I donât- whe- why would you think that?â
You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. âBecause youâve been acting hella weird these last few days and you wonât tell me whyyyyâ, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else heâs just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.
âI havenât been acting weird, really, I donât know what youâre talking about.â
You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-
âIs it because you saw my nudes?â
Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.
âBecause, that would actually explain so much, especially the way youâve been acting and really, thatâs probably on me because Iâve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left thatâs stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess Iâm glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-â
âWhat? No, no, I didnât- What- thatâs not- what-â, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed whatâs going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that heâs so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.
âCome on, Spencer. I said itâs fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually⊠sorry. Because, well, thatâs probably not very work-appropriate⊠I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.â
Spencer thought heâd reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadnât. What. What are you even saying?
âTherapy sessions?â
You just- ignore him.
âOh, also, please donât tell Hotch? Heâll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, yâknow-â
Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.
He says your name and, âStop, please, please, just-â
You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesnât miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.
âAre you- is this a joke?â, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you donât actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.
Your expression changes into something panicked then. âNo, no, Spencer, sorry. Iâm- sorry. Of course Iâm not joking, Iâm so sorry. Itâs just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.â You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.
âNot joking- so⊠so, you know?â, thereâs something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencerâs chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. Heâs flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, youâre going to- youâre never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-
You mustâve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. âSpencerâ, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.
âI knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasnât actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what⊠I just wanted to wait and see what youâd do, if you came to talk to me or, wellâŠâ
You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.
âI didnât handle this situation very well. Iâm really sorry. So⊠â, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because youâd laugh and try to fight him off.
âWe can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-â, you hesitate again.
Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.
âOrâŠ?â, he breathes, voice small and unsure.
You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. Thereâs something intense in them, burning, and itâs like an electric shock to Spencerâs system. Heâd give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.
âOrâ, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot heâs burning with it. âOr we can do something else.â
âSomething else?â, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and itâs difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.
You hum in agreement. âWhatever you want. You can tell m-â
âYou.â
You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-
You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he canât take it.
âSure. You can have meâ, you say simply, as if itâs the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, âTell me what exactly you want, because Iâd give you the world if you asked.â
And suddenly thereâs hot pressure behind Spencerâs eyes, at the back of his throat. Youâre just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesnât know how to handle it.
Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like âplease touch me againâ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.
âI wantâŠâ, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. Thereâs the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because itâs just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought heâd ever get to have things like that with you but youâre here. Youâre here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but itâs still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.
âYou wantâŠ?â, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And thatâs the entire problem. Spencer doesnât know if youâd do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He canât just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way heâs never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.
âI just-â, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. Heâs so bad at this. Heâs the worst. No wonder heâs never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder heâs never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.
âHey, hey, Spencerâ, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just â there. âItâs alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. Iâll wait.â
Spencerâs face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. Thatâs the frankly ridiculous nickname youâve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasnât prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.
Itâs ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because itâs adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-
âDid you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.â
Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. Itâs always like this, it always feels like a breath heâs been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, itâs unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, itâs an unstoppable force.
Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why canât he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He canât believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.
Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.
It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.
Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard thereâll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.
âWell, that fits perfectly thenâ, you say, and Spencer doesnât understand.
âWhat do you mean?â
You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencerâs chest blooming with warmth.
âIf youâre my penguin, Iâll be your penguin.â
Youryouryouryouryour-
Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours heâd gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. Thatâs not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesnât care. Heâs never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely wonât start now.
âYou- you mean- like, as, as mates?â
You scrunch your nose in disgust. âIf you want to call us that, I think Iâll take back my offer.â
It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.
âBut you- youâd like that?â Youâd like me?
You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.
âSure. Whatever.â
And Spencer canât help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because youâre so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.
You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.
âOf course, Spencer. Iâd like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etceteraâ, you say just like that, smiling just like that.
Spencer feels like heâs dreaming. He must be. Thereâs no other explanation for it. He just canât wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. Youâre so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.
âYou- you like me? Me?â, Spencer canât hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?
Thereâs no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencerâs breath away.
You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he canât look away. âSpencer. I know itâs- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. Thatâs fine. Itâs human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isnât there to like? Youâre kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. Youâre so lovable and it kills me to know that you donât see how you are so worthy of being loved.â
Oh.
Oh.
You canât just- canât just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Canât expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.
Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesnât know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.
It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesnât because itâs you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are â
A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes â when did he close them? â to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if heâs something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He canât believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.
He never knew he needed this so much.
âSorry for making you cry, penguin. I didnât think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damagingâ, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.
Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. Thatâs probably why he does what he does next. Â
âNeither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-â
Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-
Why?
Why canât Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?
Thereâre alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencerâs head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. Heâs in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?
âAfter I interrupted you while?â, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-
Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?
âNothingâ, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. Heâd be the worst actor of all time.
âSpencer.â
The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. Heâs never felt like this before.
He loves it.
âHmm?â, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.
Suddenly youâre standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesnât have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didnât just send Spencerâs mind reeling. That wasnât just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.
You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. Heâd give it to you, no questions asked.
He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-
âYou like me?â
You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.
âYesâ, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer canât help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.
âYou- You want me?â
Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and thereâs a high noise coming from somewhere and thereâs goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- itâs him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesnât care. Nope. Not at all.
âŠOkay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. Heâs blushing, okay?
âSpencerâ, the way you say his name it- god, âI want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.â
Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. Heâs hard again, so hard, because he didnât come before and now, heâs even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you havenât even touched him more than this and heâs already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-
âI want youâ, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.
He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but thatâs- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?
âI know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?â, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- âDo you want me to touch you more?â, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-
âDo you want me to fuck you, Spencer?â
Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, âPlease yes yes yesâ. Maybe not in that particular order.
âOkay, angel, anything you wantâ, you say, smiling softly at him as if heâs the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.
Before heâs even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows whatâs happening, youâre kissing him.
Youâre kissing him and itâs- everything.
Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencerâs insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-
Itâs so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. Thereâs nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. Thereâs no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencerâs life and he has no idea what he is doing. But itâs so good.
A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencerâs soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.
âSpencer, Spencerâ, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.
âHmm?â, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.
âYouâre amazing, Spencer, amazing.â
And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But itâs impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (Heâs okay with that.)
You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.
You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. Itâs really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact â the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-
It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.
âSo good, so so good for meâ, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. Thatâs the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.
He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. âYou like being good for me, donât you, angel?â
ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. âYes, yes.â
âFuckâ, he hears you breathe against him and itâs strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? âI canât believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.â
And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- heâs pretty sure he wonât survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.
âDid you like my pictures, Spencer?â, you then ask and thatâs so not fair. You canât just ask him that while heâs so utterly in your hands that heâs sure heâd tell you about every little fantasy heâs had about you ever if you asked.
Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. âYes, I- I liked them.â
At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. Thereâs an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.
You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. âWhatâs wrong, angel?â
And well. Itâs just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasnât very good of him. Actually, the opposite. Heâs been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that thereâs suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. Thatâs mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ heâs such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.
âIâm- Iâm sorryâ, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, âI shouldâve, shouldâve said something, Iâm so so sorry, Iâm the worst friend and now Iâm- Iâm crying, oh god, Iâm so sorry-â
âHey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?â
But he shakes his head. He doesnât deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-
Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and heâs so fucking stupid-
âBaby, please.â
Spencer sobs.
Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Thatâs the best thing he has ever heard but he doesnât deserve these things.
âOf course you deserve it, silly gooseâ, you say and oh. Heâs said that out loud.
Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer canât not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because thatâs just the way it always is. Heâs drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.
âI thought weâd established that it was an accident? And if it was someoneâs fault, then mine, because no password, remember?â
Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. Heâs a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?
âSpencer, Spencer. Hey. Itâs okay, I promise you. We wouldnât be doing this, if it wasnât, okay?â, you kiss his nose. âDo you want to lay down, maybe?â
He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.
Heâs not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.
Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesnât remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.
âDo you still like me?â, he asks, and yes, itâs pathetic and stupid but. He doesnât care if you never have sex or if youâre not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.
He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. âWha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I donât care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way youâll have me.â
You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if youâd never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-
And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much heâs going to die if he doesnât-
He shuffles and turns in your arms until heâs face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-
âI want you so badâ, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.
You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.
Heâs kissing you as if heâs going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you canât live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like heâs underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.
You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and canât stop and then suddenly, youâre gone, what â
âSpencer, Spencer, waitâ, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, âSorry, sorry I just-â
You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. âIâm so sorry for making this so hard, youâre being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?â
Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. Itâs high and airy but he doesnât care. âNo, no, I havenât.â
He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.
âTell me. Do you want this, Spencer?â, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer canât believe heâs getting to see you like this.
âYesâ, he says because he canât ever want anything else, and, âPlease make me feel good.â
You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. âSpencer, youâre incredible, amazing, the best- Iâll make you feel good, okay? Iâll make you feel so good because you deserve it.â
âYesâ, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. Heâs owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? Heâll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.
âGoodâ, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and heâs on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy âahâ. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is⊠yet to be disproven. Heâs discovering so many things about himself today.
Pleasure radiates in waves from where youâre passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. Heâs never felt better. But-
âPlease.â
âPlease what, angel?â
âMore?â
âMore what?â
Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.
âMore touch?â
Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because heâs at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.
You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. âDoing so good, Spencer. Incredible.â
He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.
âWhere do you want touch, Spencer? Here?â, thereâs hands in his hair. He shakes his head.
âHmm⊠Here?â, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-
âHere?â, you ground your hips down and jesus-
âYes!â, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. âPlease.â
You exhale shakily, looking flush. âOkay. Because you ask so nicely.â Thereâre two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. âDo you want to take this off first? Or no?â
The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-
Itâs basic human decency, yes, but itâs also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that heâs not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.
You help him sit up because heâs currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, heâs half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity thatâve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.
The urge to cover himself is so big itâs impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.
Spencer knows heâs not ugly. Heâs not that bad looking actually. Canât be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that heâs teasing him. But his friend wouldnât be so cruel.
But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. Heâs heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things donât bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.
Your gaze on him though- heâs never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe thatâs the reason why he lowers his arms again.
âSpencer. Youâre a dreamâ, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if youâre hypnotized by him, and heâs flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.
âSo impatientâ, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks heâs waited long enough for this. But he doesnât say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.
You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. Itâs almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. Heâs never felt more alive.
You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.
You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep theyâll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that thereâs absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.
You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer wouldâve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but heâs also so turned on that the embarrassment doesnât feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.
When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but⊠well.
âItâs okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable withâ, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.
ââm justâŠâ, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything heâs ever wanted but that he just feels⊠insecure.
You kiss his stomach again. âHow about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.â
That⊠thatâs actually a good idea. So, he nods.
âWords, angel.â
âYes, yes. Thatâs- good.â
You look so proud of him. âYouâre so good, Spencer. Perfect.â
He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.
Thereâs a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.
You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.
Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. Thatâs definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.
When you look up at him again, youâre also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. âSpencer, Spencer, can I?â
âPleaseâ, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesnât know if heâll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.
Itâs not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything heâs ever felt before. Youâre either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.
Probably the first reason.
He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, heâs pretty sure, heâd come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. Itâs already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. Heâs happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.
Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer canât form a single coherent thought anymore. Itâs already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and youâre still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-
âTake it off?â
You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. âYou sure, angel?â
Spencer literally canât do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles youâre gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. Itâs kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but heâs waited for this for so long it feels like heâs suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.
Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.
Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, itâs been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother donât count.
He doesnât dare look at you. If thereâs anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). Heâs abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if itâs too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he shouldâve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-
âHoly shitâ, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he canât force his gaze to stay away from you.
You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.
Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.
âHoly shit, Spencerâ, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, âYouâre like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- youâre so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?â
Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.
Some of his despairing thoughts mustâve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing heâs ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you arenât wearing a bra and good heavens.
Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli couldâve adequately committed you to canvas.
Spencer mustâve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesnât remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.
Spencer kind of doesnât use the f-word that often but-
fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-
Youâre warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- itâs a miracle heâs still holding on. But-
âWonât last longâ, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldnât care. He canât care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he wonât ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.
âSpencer, Spencerâ, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. âAre you okay? Do you still want this?â
Itâs ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease â because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-
He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.
âWhat do you say, sweetheart?â
Thereâs really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. Thereâs no one else he could ever do this with.
âYes, I want. Please.â
You kiss him again. âSo good Spencer, youâre so fucking good to me. I canât believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.â
Spencer doesnât know how itâs anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.
âDo you have a condom?â, you ask and ah. Well.
âSuitcaseâ, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. Heâs being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).
Thereâs humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, âOh my god, Spencer you dog. Canât believe you planned this entire thing.â
Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. âN-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.â
You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. âIn case you accidentally saw your coworkerâs nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"
Oh my god, youâre the most ridiculous person heâs ever met. He canât stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-
âYes. That.â
âBut what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How wouldâve your plan worked out then, huh?â, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.
âRossi? Rossi?â
âOh my god, imagine it wouldâve been Hotch. He wouldâve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.â
Spencer laughs. Heâs still rock-hard underneath you, but heâs laughing because thatâs what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that heâs shocked to laughter.
He adores you with every fibre of his being.
âWhat the fuck?â, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, âIs my misery amusing to you?â
And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. âVery.â
You flick his nose. Grumble something like Iâll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Letâs out an embarrassingly high whine.
Ah well. It was still worth it.
âDonât moveâ, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times heâs wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. Heâs never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like youâve done this before, so many times that itâs just become something normal between you two. Heâs actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like heâs going to burst any second, but heâs calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesnât even matter that itâs the first time heâs doing this and heâs so clueless about all of this.
But he knows, if itâs with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.
âDo you have lube as well?â, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.
âHmm. No, Iâm sorry.â
âDonât be, angelâ, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. Heâs never going to be able to be normal again about that word.
âWeâll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.â
Spencer hasnât really registered more than next time next time next time-
Heâs pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.
With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.
He watches you take out the plastic ring as if heâs watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencerâs brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-
âYou ready, baby?â
He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. Heâs losing his mind. âPlease please please-â
âFuck, Spencerâ, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.
Itâs so good, itâs so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer canât stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and heâs inside you.
You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. âFuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.â
He feels like heâs one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.
âCan I move? Spencer, please?â, your voice is wrecked, youâre flushed down to your navel, and youâre the best thing heâs ever seen.
âPlease please please pleaseâ, itâs the only word he remembers how to pronounce.
âFuckâ, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.
You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He canât think, canât speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy heâs having troubles remembering who he is. Heâs so completely at your mercy heâd let you do anything to him.
That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.
âOh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.â
He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-
âYou like being good for me, right angel?â, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and heâs too far gone to even nod, âIt suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, youâre divine, Spencer, fuck.â
The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, thatâs been building all evening, all week, holy shit, itâs too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. Heâs going to die it feels so good.
âYou going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?â
Please please please please- itâs all he can think, all he can feel, because because-
You give a particularly hard thrust and-
Spencerâs coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. Heâs coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. Heâs never come so hard in his life before.
He might have blacked out a little. The next time heâs aware of something, itâs you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.
âWhat?â, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. Youâre both still naked.
âFeeling good?â, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-
âI almost diedâ, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.
You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. âThat was the plan.â
âKilling me with sex?â
âYep. Thatâs for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.â
He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond itâs a miracle youâve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a âwhat can you do faceâ. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.
âUffffâ, you press out. âYouâre smothering me, penguin.â
Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.
âHa! Didnât know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. Iâve created a monster.â
He canât entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.
Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the otherâs presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-
âWait-â, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. âDid you- did you even finish?â
Heâs kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesnât remember you coming and oh no, heâs such an asshole, who doesnât make sure the other person has come as well and-
âSpencer, Spencerâ, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.
âI made myself come right after, donât worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.â
Spencer flushes. âBut I wanted toâŠâ
You laugh softly. âYou can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. Weâll go on a date as soon as weâre back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.â
Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?
âReally?â, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.
You send him an unbelieving look. âUh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.â
âOkayâ, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.
There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isnât that bad.
--
Bonus
âSo, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?â
Spencer chokes on his coffee.
âWhat?â
âNothingâ, his âfriendâ says, smirking and leaning against his table, âYou just seem to have figured out that little problem thatâs been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.â
Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.
âOhhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?â
Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.
âShut up, Morgan.â
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a
i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)
#tinywrites#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader fanfic#criminal minds smut#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x y/n#tinywrites:accidents#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#criminal minds x reader
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ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.
soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)
interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?
"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."
soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.
"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.
soap nods. "ah'll be there."
"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."
yeah, he'd hate to have that.
soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.
maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.
"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.
simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"
soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."
the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.
you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.
"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."
you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."
your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-
"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"
he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.
"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."
you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.
"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"
#this got away from me sorry yall!!!#yeah i had so debated having ghost be like nope pricentaught ya better than that but#simon seems the type to get things done on the first time#either you learn or your arsecheeks learn#something will give soon enough#price says he's coming back for seconds tomorrow#kyle gets his on saturday#all for one strikes AGAIN i'm afraid#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#x f!reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#soaps shaken after in the group chat like yall uh yall got dessert too or-#simon ghost riley smut
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I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending
"And? What are you running away from?"
"Excuse me?"
You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.
"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."
What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.
Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?
He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.
"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."
You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.
One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.
"Would you like to meet?"
You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.
As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.
The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.
"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."
You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.
It's your watchtower.
You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.
"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"
You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.
Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.
You're out of breath.
"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.
"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.
It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.
"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."
The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.
You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.
"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."
You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.
"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."
"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"
You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.
"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."
Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?
You blush.
"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.
[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere monster#monster x reader#monster x human#forest monster#yandere imagines#monster imagine#monster romance#monster boyfriend#terato#teratophillia#monster fucker
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I absolutely adore the fic you just put out with Rafe! Hit me deep as someone that has been cheated on. You have a talent! <3 Rafe request idea! It just hit me, but I bought a sweater today from the Mens section at a store (better quality). Maybe you could do Reader and Rafe dating. He is falling hard and is super infatuated with her, one day she forgets that certain sweater at his place (which clearly on the label is for men from a mens store) and he is absolutely heartbroken thinking that she is cheating on him. Maybe he snaps, but more so in a super heartbroken, teary eyed and soul crushing way, lots of angst since you are so good at it!!!!
SWEATER WEATHER! âž» rafe cameron
notes: tysm for the request!! i loved writing this. may have gone overboard and made it a bit too dramatic but we love us some angst in this household !
content: fem!reader x bf!rafe, angst, rafe with trauma, established relationship, accusations of cheating, comfort
You loved oversized sweaters. Feeling like a cozy hug you could wear. So when you wandered into the mens section one afternoon and spotted the perfect oversized sweaterâsuper soft, way too big, and in a deep gray colorâyou couldn't resist. It was perfect for cool evenings with Rafe, wrapped up on his couch while you two watched a movie or just talked about anything.
You bought it on impulse, smiling to yourself as you imagined Rafe teasing you about how it was big enough to fit him. You wore it the next time you visited him, but totally forgetting to mention it as you were too caught up with other things.
Rafe was everything you wantedâstrong, confident, but sweet in a way you hadn't expected when you first met him. He made you laugh with his rough exterior and soft heart. He made you feel safe, loved.
While Rafe, for his part, was falling deeper and deeper in love with you every day. He'd catch glimpses of you in moments you didn't even realize he was watchingâlaughing softly to yourself at a text, tucking your hair behind your ear, or wrapping yourself in one of his sweaters. You were everything good in his world, and he'd do anything to keep you close.
So that evening, like so many others, you two stayed up late, talking until you finally kissed him goodnight and headed home, too tired to remember to grab the sweater you'd draped over his chair.
Rafe found it the next morning, and at first, he smiled. It still smelled like youâvanilla and something sweet, something comforting.
Then he saw the label.
Men's store. Size large.
The words hit him like a slap to the face. He knew you loved oversized sweaters, but this... this wasn't just big. It was from a men's section, clearly not something meant for you, at least not at first. His heart started to pound, thoughts spinning out of control. Who had you gotten this from? Who were you spending time with when he wasn't around?
He tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to him. He could see it in his mindâyou smiling at someone else, laughing, falling into someone else's arms, and it tore him apart. The relationship you guys had built, now felt like a lie, like it was all an illusion.
When you came over the next day, something was off. The moment you stepped through the door, you could feel the tension in the air. Rafe was a mess of nerves and heartbreak. He tried to keep it together, but the moment he saw you, something inside him broke. The sweater was still in his hand, crumpled and worn, and without thinking, he tossed it towards you.
"Who is he?" he choked out, his voice raw, filled with anger he could no longer control.
You stared at him, confusion in your eyes. "What? Rafe, what are you talking about?"
"This. It's not yours. It's from a men's store. You left it here... you're seeing someone else, aren't you? Someone gave you this."
For a moment, you couldn't speak. You could only stare at him, confusion turning into realization. He thought you were cheating on him. Your heart sank, seeing how much pain he was in, how deeply he was hurt by something that wasn't even real.
"Rafe," you whispered, reaching out to him, but he pulled back, his face crumbling with heartbreak.
"Don't lie to me, y/n," he said, his voice breaking. "I can't take it if you lie to me."
Tears brimmed in his eyes, and you felt your own chest tighten at the sight of him like thisâso vulnerable, so broken by his own fears. You hadn't realized how much you meant to him until now, seeing him overreact like this over a sweater.
"Rafe, it's my sweater," you said gently, voice steady despite the ache in your own heart. "I bought it from the men's section. I liked how big it was, that's all. No one gave it to me. I promise. I would never do that to you."
But Rafe couldn't bring himself to believe you. Not yet. His mind was trapped in the fear of losing you, of being second in your heart to someone else. Like it was with his dad and Sarah. The tears fell then, and he couldn't stop them.
Without hesitation, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him despite his resistance. He was stiff at first, but you didn't let go. "I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, voice soft but firm as you rested your head against his chest. "It's just a sweater, Rafe. You're the only one I want."
He stood there, frozen in your embrace, and slowly the truth began to sink in. You weren't lying. The sweater wasn't a sign of betrayal, just a silly, oversized piece of clothing you liked. And he had let his fears nearly destroy what you two had.
Slowly, his body began to relax, his arms came up to wrap around you, and you could feel the weight of his emotions in the way he held you, like he was afraid you might slip away.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with regret, his face buried in your hair. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean toâ"
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes soft and full of understanding. "It's okay," you said quietly, brushing a tear from his cheek. "We're okay, Rafe."
He nodded, his eyes searching yours for reassurance, for any sign that what you two had wasn't slipping through his fingers.
"We're okay," you repeated, holding him close, letting him feel your warmth, your presence.
And for the first time since he'd found that sweater, Rafe allowed himself to believe you. He needed to trust you, to get over the fear of being abandoned. And deep down he knew that you could be the one to take his pain away.
#writers on tumblr#drabble#rafe cameron x you#rafe obx#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x you#rafe fic#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe obx 4#request#requested
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⎠DID I RIZZ YOU UP? HOT THINGS THEY DO.
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€đđ. enhypen unintentionally using rizz like it's their second nature. contains fem!r, fluff, kinda suggestive pg 15. wc 648, 90 something each. check out the dđŸrectory? stat my fogged up brain.
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if there's one thing heeseung lovesâ it's eye contact with you. staring at your eyes, taking in every detail on your face, every expression you make; you name it. he loves knowing exactly how you are feeling in the moment, loves reading the silent words bouncing right off your pretty eyes. and that is precisely why he more often than not grabs your jaw or lifts your chin and says,"look at me," his gaze boring into yours, sometimes trailing off and focusing on your parted lips and squished cheeks.
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to jay the feel of your ass and thighs on his own is the best feeling in the world. the warmth of your skin reaching him through his pants when you are wearing something short. the pride, the possiveness, the sense of contentmentâ it flatters his vanity. his girl, on his lap. always manspreading and patting his thigh to offer his lap as a seat. whether within the walls of privacy or right in the middle of a room full of friends, he is always apt, way too eager under a mask of poise.
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is he even your jake sim if doesn't have his hand on you at any and all points of time? not touching you is a living nightmare for him. every chance he gets, he has his hand on your thighsâ at all times, caressing and squeezing. when he has you against his chest, holding you by your waist; he squeezes. when you are cuddling, cozied up together; he caresses. when you are in the midst of a family dinner, under the table; he caresses and squeezes. it's like a habit, a primitive tendency.
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sunghoon revels in control, being in charge, wearing the pants in the situation. it's like a part of his personality, the hottest thing about him that he probably has no idea of. and that just makes it hotter. never realizing how dominant he sounds and looks when he merely tells you "come here" or simply pulls you by your waist. never using too much words, just lucid commands and prompt actions. not caring about where and when, only aware of the fact that he wants you near him and as quick as possible.
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98% of the times, sunoo is a sweet saccharine boyfriend. always making sure you are the most comfortable person in the room, being the little cozy space of your life. but even a yang has a yin in it at it's strongest. and that's kim sunoo, cornering you into things when he has something serious to discuss. rolling up his sleeves and brushing back his hair as his voice gets deeper and the smile vanishes off his eyes. a person so in contrast to your usual boyfriend but so hot.
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this guy has no cool when you are on your feet. he just has to be the one to escort you around, help you with things, make sure you do not have to use too much energy. always having his hands on your hips while he guides you along. a normal date in the neighborhood or a vacation overseas, an empty alley or a crowded streetâ crowded room even, right infront of everyone. jungwon just wants you to shut your brain down when you are with him, to let him do it all for you.
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one thing riki can't ever hate about being tall is getting to tease the shit out of you. but one thing he always does with no intentions to fluster you is lean down to hear you, face closing in on yours in a stare. his already deep voice going a tone lower as he grows serious, all ready to hear whatever you have to say. your words mean business to himâ absolute vip business. sometimes even crouching down when you are seated, eyes trained on your face like âyeah baby? what is it?â
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The Things I Would Do, Just To Be Here With You
Summary: Amidst the whirlwind of movie premieres and busy schedules, you and Pedro Pascal, both thriving in your respective careers, find ways to celebrate each other despite the distance. While Pedro promotes Gladiator 2 in London, he longs for your presence at the after-party.
Or, you two would scream at the stars for keeping you apart... and the government too.
âPedro Pascal x f!reader, Pedro is promoting Gladiator 2, and reader is in Wicked (Elphaba or Galinda of course!) for the screenplay of Wicked, and they are just really supportive of each other but also joke about their own movie being the best. Finding time to come to each otherâs premiers. Posting behind the scenes or visiting each other.â â From @imaginemixedfandom
Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader
Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, Iâm not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please donât come after me T^T,
Word Count: 4.4k
A/N: Ty @imaginemixedfandom for giving the idea! I didnât really want to replace the reader with the cast of Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo. Those two are just too iconic. So instead I will make the reader a writer for the screenplay adaptation of Wicked tehe. You all should listen to brent iii by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler, itâs absolutely one of my favorite albums of this year. Lastly, remember this is all fictional and for fun! Enjoyyyy my loves!
Side note: Iâm dyslexic and English isnât my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!
Song: and the government too! By Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler
gif by @andrew-garfielld
| Main Masterlist |
NEW YORK, NEW YORK â EVENING
âHi.â Your voice was soft as you nestled deeper into the duvet, your body cocooned in its comforting folds.
âHola, mi amor.â Pedroâs face lit up on your phone screen, the warm timbre of his voice washing over you like a balm. âI miss you.â âI miss you too⊠so much,â you replied with a little pout. The time difference between London and New York was merciless. Between his packed schedule promoting Gladiator 2 and prepping for Fantastic Four, and your whirlwind of work with the Wicked movie premiere, your conversations had been reduced to stolen moments like this. Still, even through a screen, Pedro had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. âYou look cozy,â he said with a lopsided grin, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. âMeanwhile, Iâm freezing my ass off here on set. I think my nose might fall off.â You laughed softly, the sound tinged with longing. âIâd trade you, you know. Iâll take the cold if it means I get to see you.â
âDonât tempt me.â He leaned closer to the camera, his face filling your screen. âIf I werenât contractually obligated to be here, Iâd hop on the next flight and show up at your premiere tomorrow. Red carpet and all.â You smiled wistfully, your fingers brushing against the edge of your phone as if you could reach through it to touch him. âYouâd outshine me. Imagine the headlines: âPedro Pascal steals the show at Wicked premiere.ââ âPlease. Everyoneâs going to be talking about you. âBrilliant screenwriter dazzles Hollywood!ââ He paused, his tone softening. âYouâre incredible, you know that?â Your throat tightened at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. âStop, or Iâll actually cry, and my face will be all puffy for tomorrow.â He chuckled. âOkay, okay. But seriously, mi amor, Iâm so proud of you. Youâve worked so hard for this.â âAnd so have you,â you countered. âThe Gladiator 2 trailer broke the internet, and you still found time to send me flowers last week. Youâre amazing, Pedro.â âYeah, but flowers arenât the same as being there with you.â His voice dipped, a hint of regret slipping through. âI hate being this far away.â You sighed, your heart aching in tandem with his. âMe too.â
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the unspoken tension of your shared longing. Then, Pedroâs grin returned, bright and mischievous. âSo,â he said, leaning back in his chair, âwho do you think has the better movie? Be honest.â
You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. âAre you seriously asking me to compare Wicked to Gladiator 2? Oneâs a heartfelt, magical adaptation, and the other is a testosterone-filled epic. Theyâre different.â
âUh-huh,â he teased, crossing his arms. âSounds like youâre dodging the question. I knew you were scared to admit Gladiator 2 is better.â
You scoffed, sitting up straighter in bed. âScared? Please. I just donât want to hurt your feelings when Wicked inevitably becomes a global phenomenon.â
Pedro laughed, the sound rich and contagious. âYouâre lucky I love you. Otherwise, this would be grounds for war.â
âLucky? Youâre the lucky one,â you shot back, smirking. âIâll prove it when I finally see you in person again. But until thenâŠâ
You brought the phone closer, pressing a soft kiss to the screen. Pedro mimicked your gesture, his lips brushing his camera lens.
âGoodnight, mi vida,â he murmured.
âGoodnight, Pedro.â Your voice was tender, laced with all the love you couldnât put into words.
As the call ended, you clutched the phone to your chest, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Despite the distance, despite the chaos of your lives, you knew one thing for certain: Pedro Pascal would always be worth the wait.
NEW YORK, NEW YORK â MORNING
Today was the day. You were walking the red carpet for the Wicked movie premiere. A sea of celebrities, producers, fellow writers, and editors would surround you. The sheer magnitude of it all left you feeling both giddy and utterly petrified. Â
You smoothed your hands over the silk robe you wore, your palms damp with nerves. While you loved the craft of storytelling, the spotlight had always felt daunting. You preferred to let your work speak for itselfâa tendency that paired surprisingly well with dating Pedro Pascal, the literal human embodiment of charisma and charm. Â
âThere, all done,â Laura, your makeup artist, said with a satisfied grin. Â
You blinked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin glowed, your eyes were accentuated just enough to look striking without overwhelming, and your lips were painted a perfect shade of confidence. Â
âYouâve outdone yourself,â you said, giving her a warm smile. Â
âOf course I did,â Laura replied with a wink. âBig night for my favorite screenwriter.â Â
Mia, your stylist, emerged from behind a rack of gowns, holding up the dress. âSpeaking of big nights... Ready to put this beauty on?â Â
You nodded, though your smile wavered. âI just wish Pedro were here,â you admitted, your voice quieter now. Â
Laura and Mia exchanged sympathetic glances before Laura gently squeezed your shoulder. âYouâre going to look incredible, and heâd lose his mind if he saw you. How about we take some pictures to send him? A little preview for the man himself.â Â
You hesitated, glancing at your phone on the vanity. âI donât want to distract him. Heâs busy with interviews and set work. London and New York arenât exactly next doorâŠâ Â
âAll is fair in love and war,â Laura teased, her giggle breaking the tension. âCome on, babe! If anything, itâll be motivation for him to hop on the next flight.â Â
Mia chimed in, smirking. âOr just to remind him what heâs missing. Trust me, teasing Pedro is a public service.â Â
You laughed despite yourself, feeling the nerves lift slightly. âFine, fine. But if he complains, Iâm blaming you two.â Â
They ushered you into the dressâa masterpiece of emerald silk and intricate detailing that clung perfectly in all the right places. As Mia zipped you up, Laura stepped back, her hands pressed dramatically over her heart. Â
âPedroâs going to lose his shit.â Â
âYou look like a literal goddess,â Mia added, spinning you toward the mirror. Â
For a moment, you hardly recognized yourself. The reflection staring back radiated elegance and confidence, even if you didnât entirely feel it yet. Â
âOkay, okay. Take the pictures,â you relented, biting your lip as you tried to contain your grin. Â
Laura grabbed your phone and started snapping. You struck a few playful poses, twirling and laughing as Mia adjusted the hem of your dress. It felt silly, but imagining Pedroâs reaction warmed your chest. Â
Once the photos were taken, you grabbed your phone and hovered over the message screen. You debated for a moment, then attached the best photo and typed a quick message. Â
You: Wish you were here. But since youâre not... Enjoy this. Donât let it distract you too much, cariño. Â
You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, the familiar swoosh of the message sending making your heart race. Â
The reply came faster than you expected. Â
Pedro: Distract me? How am I supposed to do anything now? You look like an angel. No, better than an angel. Drop-dead stunning.Â
You couldnât stop the grin from taking over your face. Â
Pedro: Red carpet better be ready. Theyâve got no idea who theyâre dealing with tonight. Â
The butterflies in your stomach multiplied tenfold. Before you could reply, another message appeared. Â
Pedro: Iâm so proud of you. Go knock âem dead, mi amor. I love you. Â
Your throat tightened, and you had to blink back the sudden tears threatening to ruin Lauraâs hard work. You tapped out a quick reply. Â
You: I love you too. Now go back to being the coolest man alive. Â
âYou okay over there?â Mia asked, watching you with a knowing smile. Â
âMore than okay,â you said softly, tucking your phone away. Â
As you prepared to step into the whirlwind of the premiere, Pedroâs words echoed in your mind. Even from thousands of miles away, he made you feel invincible. Â
Tonight wasnât just about the red carpet or the glitz and glamour. It was about celebrating what you lovedâand knowing Pedro would always be your biggest cheerleader, no matter where in the world he was. Â
UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON â AFTERNOONÂ Â
Pedro sighed deeply, his head resting against the back of his chair. The steady hum of activity on set felt like background noise, the voices and clatter muffled by the ache in his chest. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the motion absent-minded, a physical echo of the restlessness he felt inside. Â
He missed you. Â
It wasnât the casual longing of someone who hadnât seen their partner in a whileâit was the kind of yearning that settled into his bones, heavy and persistent. A few hundred miles of ocean separated you, but it may as well have been an entire galaxy. Â
He opened his phone and scrolled back to the picture youâd sent him that morning. The emerald dress, the way it hugged your form, the way your eyes sparkled even in a still imageâit took his breath away. You looked like a dream. His dream. Â
âIf I were there right nowâŠâ he murmured under his breath, running his thumb over the screen as if he could touch you. Â
If it were as simple as hopping on a flight, heâd already be on his way. He imagined the way youâd light up when you saw him, how youâd rush into his arms. Heâd bury his face in your hair, inhale your scent, and hold you so tightly that heâd forget about the world outside. Â
But it wasnât that simple. The timing was off, as it so often was with both your careers in full swing. He was tied to the production schedule of Fantastic Four, and you were in the spotlight for Wicked. The universe seemed determined to keep you apart, and for the first time in years, Pedro felt the cracks in his patience. Â
He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. âDamn stars. Damn schedules. Damn⊠government,â he muttered bitterly. The laugh that followed was humorless, the frustration thick in his voice. Â
If he could, heâd scream at the stars for conspiring against you both. Curse the invisible forces that made life so complicated. Heâd barter with time itself, twist it and stretch it, just to have you here with him for a few stolen moments. Â
He wondered what you were doing right now. Were you nervous about the red carpet? Did you feel as hollow without him as he felt without you? Pedro clenched his jaw, guilt gnawing at him. You deserved to have him there, to walk that carpet with you, to hold your hand and beam with pride as you took in the applause for your work. Â
âPedro, theyâre ready for you!â Â
The call from a production assistant jolted him from his thoughts. He blinked, the weight of reality crashing back down as he stood and stretched. Â
âBe right there,â he called back, tucking his phone into his pocket. Â
As he made his way back to the soundstage, he couldnât shake the thought of tomorrow. The Gladiator 2 premiere loomed ahead, another milestone he should be celebrating with you by his side. Instead, youâd be halfway across the world. Â
But one day, he promised himself, one day, nothing will keep us apart. Â
NEW YORK, NEW YORK â EVENINGÂ
The flashing lights were relentless, casting an almost blinding glow over the red carpet. The screams of fans and the constant click of cameras created a symphony of chaos, one you werenât entirely comfortable navigating. Youâd always preferred the quietâcurled up with a book, tucked away from the worldâs prying eyes. Â
But tonight, you smiled and posed alongside your cast and the production crew. You owed it to them, to yourself, and to the story youâd helped bring to life. Â
âBeautiful, isnât it?â Winnie Holzman, the original writer of Wicked, leaned in with a smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the crowd. Â
You nodded, though your voice was tinged with nervousness. âItâs incredible. Overwhelming, but in the best way.â Â
âYouâve done amazing work,â Dana Fox chimed in, her excitement infectious. âWe wouldnât be standing here without your screenplay tying it all together.â Â
Jon M. Chu, ever the cheerleader, clapped you lightly on the back. âTonightâs your night too. Own it.â Â
You laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease with their encouragement. Together, the four of you posed for the cameras, sharing a few candid laughs before heading closer to the press area. Â
As you stepped into the spotlight for interviews, the questions started flying. Â
âHow does it feel to see Wicked finally come to life on the big screen?â Â
âIt feels surreal,â you answered, your smile genuine. âEveryone on this project has poured so much heart into it. To see it come together like this is... overwhelming in the best way.â Â
âYouâre known for being quite private. How are you handling all the attention tonight?â Â
âItâs definitely out of my comfort zone,â you admitted with a small laugh. âBut Iâm surrounded by such a talented and supportive team, which makes it easier.â Â
Then, inevitably, came the question youâd been bracing for. âWe couldnât help but notice that Pedro Pascal isnât here tonight. Do you miss him?â Â
The question tugged at something deep inside you. âI miss him so much,â you said softly, your expression softening. âHeâs busy promoting Gladiator 2 and filming in London. I know he wishes he could be here, just like I wish I could be there for him. Weâre both incredibly proud of each other, though.â You grinned, a playful sparkle in your eyes. âBut, of course, Wicked is better. Donât tell him I said that.â Â
The interviewer laughed, and you followed with a wink before stepping away. Â
AFTER THE PREMIEREÂ Â
As the credits rolled and the crowd applauded, you walked alongside Jon, Winnie, and Dana toward the exit. The night air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the theater. Â
âYou were glowing on that carpet,â Winnie teased, nudging you gently. Â
Jon smirked. âBet itâs because of a certain someone who couldnât make it.â Â
You flushed immediately, your cheeks warming. âStop,â you mumbled, though your smile betrayed your embarrassment. Â
âOh, come on,â Dana added with a laugh. âYou were gushing about him earlier. Just admit itâyouâre head over heels.â Â
You sighed dramatically, though your heart raced just thinking about Pedro. âOkay, fine. I miss him like crazy. I justââ You paused, glancing up at the stars. âI wish I could be there for him, you know? For his premiere. Heâs always so supportive of me. It feels wrong not to do the same.â Â
Jon stopped walking, turning to face you with a thoughtful look. âSo go.â Â
âWhat?â Â
âGo to him,â he said with a shrug. âTake the jet. Iâll make the call.â Â
You blinked at him, stunned. âYouâyouâd let me do that?â Â
âOf course,â Jon said, waving off your concern. âYouâre part of the heart of this project. If being with him makes you happy, itâs worth it.â Â
âBut I donât have a ticket, and I need to pack, andââ Â
Dana held up a hand, already pulling out her phone. âRelax. Iâll call a car, and weâll pack together. You just focus on getting there.â Â
Before you could protest further, Jon had already stepped aside, dialing someone on his phone. Dana grabbed your arm and started steering you toward the waiting car. Â
âYouâre really doing this,â she said, grinning. Â
âIâI guess I am.â Your voice trembled with excitement and nerves. âWhat if I donât make it in time? What ifââ Â
Dana cut you off with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. âYouâll make it. And even if you donât, just being there will mean everything to him.â Â
AT THE AIRPORT Â
The private jet was waiting for you, its sleek frame illuminated by the glow of the runway lights. You quickly texted Pedroâs manager and assistant, letting them know you were on your way. Â
You: Iâm coming to London. Please donât tell him. I want it to be a surprise. Â
The response was almost immediate:Â Â
Franklin Latt: Got it. Heâs going to lose his mindâin the best way. Â
As you settled into your seat and the jet began to taxi, your heart raced. Seven hours separated you from Pedro, but for the first time in days, the distance didnât feel insurmountable. Â
You leaned your head back against the seat, clutching your phone tightly as you closed your eyes. You could already picture the look on his face when he saw you. Â
Just hold on, Pedro. Iâm on my way. Â
UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE â EVENING
The energy in Leicester Square was electric. Fans filled the barricades, the roar of excitement nearly drowning out the camera flashes as Pedro made his way down the red carpet. Dressed in a sharp black shirt, the top unbuttoned, slacks, his signature charm, and a warm smile lit up every interaction as he stopped to greet fans and pose for photos.
The press area was bustling, and soon Pedro found himself standing in front of a journalist holding a microphone.
âPedro, congratulations on Gladiator 2! How does it feel to be here tonight celebrating this film?â
Pedro grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. âIt feels incredible. This is one of those projects you dream about as an actor, and to see it all come together, to see everyoneâs hard work pay off, itâs⊠itâs a real honor.â
The interviewer nodded. âYouâve had an amazing year, between this and your other projects. But we couldnât help but notice that someone special in your life had a big night recentlyâthe Wicked premiere in New York. Did you get a chance to see any photos?â
Pedroâs face lit up instantly, a laugh bubbling out of him. âOh, I did. Believe me, I did. She sent me some pictures, and Iâve seen the ones floating around online too. I mean⊠she looked absolutely stunning. Like, knock-you-out, breathtakingly gorgeous. I might be a little biased, but still.â
The crowd nearby caught wind of his gushing, and a few cheers erupted. Pedro laughed, scratching the back of his neck.
âHonestly, Iâm so proud of her,â he continued, his voice softening. âShe poured so much of herself into that screenplay, and to see her get the recognition she deserves? Itâs the best feeling in the world.â
The interviewer smiled. âThereâs definitely a lot of love and mutual admiration between you two. Word on the street is youâve got a bit of a friendly competition going onâGladiator 2 versus Wicked. Any truth to that?â
Pedro chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. âOh, itâs absolutely true. Weâve got a bet going. Sheâs convinced Wicked is going to sweep the box office, and I, of course, have complete faith in Gladiator 2. Letâs just say the stakes are highâwinner gets breakfast in bed for a week.â
The interviewer laughed along with him. âThatâs adorable. Whoâs winning so far?â
Pedro smirked. âLetâs just say sheâs got me a little worried. But Iâll never admit that to her.â
LATER, BACKSTAGE
Pedro leaned against the wall, sipping from a glass of water while chatting with Paul Mescal. Their conversation flowed easily, but Pedroâs gaze kept drifting toward the entrance, as if hoping for some sort of miracle.
âYouâve got that look again,â Paul teased, nudging him with his elbow.
âWhat look?â Pedro asked, feigning ignorance.
âThe âIâm desperately in love and missing my girlâ look,â Paul quipped with a grin.
Denzel Washington, who had just joined the conversation, chuckled. âHeâs not wrong, man. Youâve been staring off into space like a lovesick teenager.â
Joe Quinn walked by, overhearing the exchange and throwing in his two cents. âItâs cute, though. Very romantic. Someone should write a movie about it.â
Pedro rolled his eyes, though a bashful smile crept onto his face. âOkay, okay, I miss her. Can you blame me? Sheâs halfway across the world, and I canât stop thinking about her.â
Frank, Pedroâs manager, stepped in, giving him a supportive pat on the back. âYouâve got it bad, buddy. But hey, itâs not a bad problem to have.â
Frank couldnât help but smile to himself, already knowing what Pedro didnâtâthat you were on your way. He could only imagine Pedroâs reaction when he saw you walk through those doors.
âAlright,â Pedro said with a dramatic sigh, âcan we please focus on the fact that weâre here for Gladiator 2 and not my love life?â
âSure,â Paul said, smirking. âBut if she shows up, weâre all watching you lose it.â
Pedro laughed, shaking his head. âIâll take that bet.â
Little did he know, he was about to owe a lot of people a round of drinks.
UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE â EVENING Â
The crowd in the after-party buzzed with excitement, a mix of A-list chatter and glasses clinking. Pedro stood near Lux, their conversation about the nightâs success lighthearted, though his gaze kept drifting toward the entrance. He wasnât sure what he was looking for, only that the ache of missing you hadnât dulled, even amidst all the celebration. Â
Lux, sharp-eyed as always, caught the slight shift in his expression and smirked. âYouâve got that look again,â she teased. Â
âWhat look?â Pedro asked, feigning nonchalance as he sipped his drink. Â
âThe one that screams, âI wish she were here.ââ Lux nudged his arm playfully. Â
Before he could muster a witty retort, Luxâs eyes darted toward the entrance, widening in surprise. âWell, speak of the devilâŠâ Â
Pedro turned, following her gaze, and the breath left his lungs. Â
There you were, stepping into the room, your black silk gown catching the dim lights perfectly. Your hair, slightly tousled from the rush, framed your face with an effortless beauty that made his heart stop. Heads turned as you walked in with Frank, but Pedro didnât notice anyone else. Â
He froze, jaw slack, his mind racing to comprehend that you were actually here. Â
âPedro,â Lux whispered, amused. âClose your mouth before you catch a fly.â Â
But Pedro couldnât move. Couldnât breathe. All he could do was watch as you walked toward him, the soft smile on your lips turning into a grin as your eyes met his. He vaguely registered Joe, Paul, and Denzel laughing nearby, but he didnât care. You were here. Â
When you finally stopped in front of him, your grin widened, and you quipped, âSorry, Iâm late. Traffic was terribleâthereâs a movie premiere happening, and Iââ Â
Before you could finish, Pedro moved. Â
He swept you up in his arms, lifting you off your feet as a chorus of cheers, whistles, and laughter erupted around you. You let out a surprised giggle, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he held you close, burying his face against your shoulder. Â
âDios mĂo,â Pedro murmured, his voice thick with emotion. âYouâre here.â Â
âIâm here,â you whispered back, your fingers threading through his curls. Â
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with love. âI canât believe this. Youâre really here.â Â
You smiled, tears threatening to spill as you cupped his face. âI couldnât let you have all the fun without me.â Â
Pedro didnât hesitate. He closed the distance, kissing you with a fervor that made the entire room fade away. The kiss was deep, all-consuming, and when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. Â
Your laughter broke the moment, and Pedro pressed his forehead to yours, his hands still firmly around your waist as if afraid you might disappear. âThank you,â he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. Â
âFor what?â you asked softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. Â
âFor being here. For being you. For⊠everything.â His voice was low, reverent. âI donât know what I did to deserve you, but Iâll never stop thanking the universe for it.â Â
You kissed him again, a soft press of lips this time, and smiled against his mouth. âYou donât have to thank the universe. Just let me love you.â Â
Pedro let out a soft laugh, his arms tightening around you. âYouâre incredible, you know that?â Â
âYouâve mentioned it once or twice,â you teased, resting your head against his chest as the room slowly came back into focus. Â
From the sidelines, Joe nudged Paul, chuckling. âThink heâs gonna let her go anytime soon?â Â
Paul smirked. âNot a chance.â Â
Denzel clinked his glass against Joeâs. âNow thatâs a man in love.â Â
And Pedro? He didnât care about the laughter, the cameras, or even the early morning call time tomorrow. For now, you were in his arms, and nothing else mattered.
#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x f!reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x ofc#gladiator 2#pedro pascal#wicked#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal masterlist#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut
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i Beg you i mean BEG YOU to do more chubby person x jinx or vi or something BECAUSE IM LITERALLY FATTT and i love the hcs
DROP ANOTHER ONE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS đđœââïž
[Arcane preference] with a chubby s/o pt.2- cuddle time
The second request of the week. Honestly, as someone who isn't exactly slim, I write these headcanons for those who ask me but primarily for myself. Requests are open, as usual, I ask for your patience because English is not my first language. I'll leave you the link if you'd like to follow me on Bluesky (I'll be posting Arcane content there soon as well, i want to build a 'public' meanwhile).
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Jayce:
- Starting with the fact that this man is built like a wardrobe, and his clothes are already pretty roomy, heâs started buying even bigger shirts just to make sure you can borrow them, theyâll be oversized on you, and youâll be happy.
- So when youâre at home watching a movie or cuddling in bed, he strokes your belly with a smile, pretending to be surprised.
- âIs that my shirt?â
- This himbo, who handles a hammer that weighs as much as a horse, means no arguments when it comes to cuddles: youâre sitting in his lap.
- And when things get a bit heated, heâll hoist you up with your knees on his shoulders, pressing you against the wall just to flex his strength and remind you that itâs absolutely no problem for him.
- After the dirty deeds, expect him to bring you something to eat (and especially drink) in bed, and donât expect to be able to say no.Â
Viktor:
- When youâre relaxing on the couch, it takes a moment to find a position thatâs comfortable for both of you: usually, he sits upright with one leg stretched out, the other (his weaker one) draped over yours, and you either facing him or lying on your side with your head on his shoulder.
- The focus here isnât on clothes, but blankets. Theyâre all queen-size, so the two of you can wrap yourselves up as comfortably as possible during cuddles without anyone getting cold.
- And when you stand up with one draped around you like a cape, he canât help but chuckle and call you âYour Majesty.â
- As for clothes, youâd never think heâs clued in to your needs, but then you see the socks he buys for you both: to avoid any circulation issues, he only buys soft cotton and wool socks without elastic, so even at home, you always have cozy socks that match the season, like festive holiday ones.
- His secret move? Sliding his hands between your thighs when theyâre cold, and playing with the little rolls there, pinching them when youâre cuddling.
- In your most intimate moments, he stops to kiss and nip at your thighs, leaving little constellations of marks that he traces over with his fingertips in the days that follow.
Ekko:
- Cuddle time is sacred.
- If he walks into the room and sees you sprawled comfortably on the bed waiting for him, a bomb alert goes off in his head: he shuts the door and runs to gather everything he might need.
- Water, snacks, extra blankets, anything he can think of.
- When he gets back and shuts the door behind him, he has a ridiculous grin on his face, warning you that heâs about to pounce with a playful growl, as if to show you just how much he wants to nibble you.
- Ekko is a huge fan of having your knees on his shoulders while you lie down, rubbing his cheek against your calf, and kissing it while youâre busy squirming.
- His favorite hobby? Getting his head caught between your thighs and becoming âdeaf.â
- Heâs always the big spoon because he has to protect you, hug you, and nestle his arms and hands into every soft spot.
- After any wild night, expect breakfast in bed and a hot bath waiting for you.
Vander:
- Zaun has a dreadful climate because the smog creates a thick layer of heat, but being underground and surrounded by cold materials, temperatures can drop sharply. So sometimes he shows up with a blanket, hands you a corner, and asks you to hold it for a moment.
- As soon as you take it, he calmly wraps it around you, picks you up, and carries you over to the fireplace, keeping you wrapped like a burrito on his lap while he enjoys his pipe for half an hour.
- Because of the cold, intimacy often happens right there in the living room, in front of the fire. Sometimes, heâll give you the armchair and kneel in front of you, or youâll both find yourselves on the rug.
- Heâs a good lover, but donât expect him to do much after expending all that energy at his age. On a good day, heâll be a gentleman and carry you to bed; then it will your turn to cuddle and soothe him with gentle strokes as he enjoys them with his eyes closed.
- If itâs not a good day, heâll pull the blanket over both of you and set the guard in front of the fire, resigning himself to the fact that youâll be sleeping cuddled up either on the chair, the sofa, or even on the rug.
- In exchange, the next day, heâll make it up to you with a long, hot bath and a massage.
Silco:
- This man has money, and he knows how to use it well.
- When the cold sets in Zaun, your bedroom becomes a place youâd never want to leave. Fur rugs are laid out on either side of the bed, soft, warm robes in matching colors appear in the closet, and if you want to stay in your den waiting for him while he works without freezing, you can even light the in-room fireplace.
- After he finishes his work, he washes up, dons his robe, and heads straight to bed, sometimes he doesn't even waiting, and begins going over his paperwork under the blankets while he absently strokes your shoulder or hair.
- If you complain enough, heâll carefully gather up the papers, set them aside, and hover over you to kiss your neck and collarbones, sliding your robe aside so his lean, wiry body can press against yours.
- Heâs incredibly gentle in everything he does, from how he touches to how he kisses or nibbles. Every movement makes you shiver, but he remains composed. Occasionally, between kisses, the cold tip of his nose brushes your skin, making you giggle; he then returns to your lips, asking for forgiveness before continuing his slow exploration.
- Heâs the type for wine and a cozy dinner under the covers, a break for cuddles, and then back to work.
- If you protest that youâre eating too much, heâll feed you himselfâno time for nonsense (but always with a touch of tenderness).
Jinx:
- The most chaotic thing Jinx does is cross out or draw over posters that show people who are too skinny. They canât make you insecure if you donât see them, and any excuse for vandalism is a good one.
- With the cold setting in, her hideout transforms into a true nest: a heap of clothes and fabrics covered in blankets and throws to make everything softer and warmer.
- Jinx has cold feet, but itâs not her problemâitâs yours. Sheâll press them against your stomach, your back, and if you react, itâll only get worse.
- Sheâll start laughing, and itâll become personal. The only way to fight back is with tickling, but that would be a declaration of war.
- When you both finally calm down, sheâll wrap herself around you, clinging with her whole body, inhaling your scent deeply, and digging her fingers into your side.
- Donât expect too much delicacy in intimate moments; if she needs you to move, sheâll grab and pull you into whatever position is most comfortable for her. She holds your legs up, and handles you like youâre her personal doll.
- For her, this is princess treatment; and the effort sheâs putting in is what counts.
Vi:
- She buries her face in your chest, first and foremost. Feeling sad? Face in your chest. Happy? Face in your chest. Deep in thought? You guessed itâface in your chest.
- Her go-to stress reliever is squeezing your thighs and hips.
- During cuddles, she rests your head on her shoulder, strokes your back, kisses your forehead, and speaks softly.
- She always plays with your hair, and if itâs long enough, youâll find small braids everywhere.
- When youâre cuddling in bed, sheâll either hold you close or be the little spoon herself, with one hand in yours and fingers intertwined.
- When things get more intimate, she becomes completely dependent on you, pressing her fingers so deeply into your skin that they leave marks, as if even that isnât enough and she wants to be inside you, to reach into your very core.
- She never imposes anything; if you donât feel like washing up, sheâll clean you up with a warm cloth, and if you donât feel like getting up, sheâll carry you. Whatever you want, sheâll go along with it unconditionally.
- Occasionally, sheâll climb over you, propping herself on her arms, just to steal a flurry of kisses.
Caitlyn:
- Caitlyn can cook, and she will.
- Her way of cuddling starts at the table, with an evening set up like a royal banquet. Anything you like will be there, along with sweet and savory snacks, which, if there are leftovers, sheâll take to the coffee table or the bedroom so you can enjoy them later.
- Thereâs no rush; if you want to go for a walk or relax after eating, itâs fine by herâshe just wants to be with you. She might ask a housekeeper for a bit of help, or sheâll clean up on her own while you get ready.
- If you lie down in bed, sheâll absolutely take the chance to gently knead your stomach like a cat, making you laugh but also helping you fall asleep rather quickly.
- Sheâs the ultimate big spoon, nestling her face into the crook of your neck and holding you tightly.
- When things get more intimate, she loves to look you in the eyes while she touches you, so she can savor every reaction, every shiver, watching your body melt with every move she makes.
- She becomes mesmerized by the way your body ripples under her touch, like thereâs an ocean beneath your skin.
Mel:
- The real issue with Mel is that the rich never have anything better to do, so morning, noon, and night, theyâre constantly organizing events. Breakfast at a nobleâs home, brunch with the councilors, and of course, everyone must dine together. Tea at five with the Kirammans is absolutely sacred, and dinner is a moment for sharing ideas.
- Intimacy is this strange, almost absurd thing, as though everything is designed to give you no second of solitude.
- But when she does find a moment, she sits down and signals you to come into her lap or rest against her, cuddling you, playing with your earlobes, and winding her fingers through your hair until your eyes cross.
- She prefers giving affection to receiving it, simply because it feels like the only way she truly knows how to show love.
- Only in the deepest intimacy does she allow herself to do less, to enjoy your presence lying with her, to let go of control.
- She adores the way your body moves artistically, like it follows lines painted in oil, and these are the few moments where she can fully admire you.
- Sheâs quite strict afterward. You must drink those two glasses of water, and as you get up, sheâll call for someone to change the sheets and make the bed, so by the time youâre done showering, everything is ready and perfect.
Sevika:
- Bluntly put? She works with the chem barons, who are mostly old, misogynistic men with monocles embedded in their skulls, grotesquely altered rats with spider-like mechanical limbs, a very interesting gang of women in latex with disturbing port attachments, people with mechanical noses that pump in toxic stuff directly, and other highly modified, not-so-pleasant characters.
- I mean, sure, you have every right to feel insecure, but when she tells you youâre the best thing thatâs ever happened to her, sheâs being quite literal.
- Her delight in the fact that not only are you entirely flesh and blood but actually soft flesh is beyond wordsâshe feels like sheâs hit the jackpot with a premium relationship.
- Thereâs hardly a moment when sheâs not touching you, holding your arms or cheeks in her hands, or kissing your skin.
- During cuddles, she prefers you on top of her, and if sheâs calm and has enough time, sheâll even remove her arm.
- Itâs a controversial choice, but she doesnât want to be around you while wearing a weapon, and she doesnât want you to see her the way she sees the chem barons. Itâs almost a moral decision on her part.
- In bed, she can hold you easily with just one arm; sheâs strong, itâs not an issue for her. But first and foremost, she wants to lie down with you, feel your soft arms, your chest, your waist where she can let herself sink in, and when you laugh because sheâs tickling you, she kisses you.
- For her, the hardest part isnât functioning with one less limb but letting herself appear calm, not on the defensive, even vulnerable.
- But she doesnât regret it for a single second.
#jayce x reader#viktor x reader#ekko x reader#silco x reader#vander x reader#jinx x reader#vi x reader#caitlyn x reader#sevika x reader#mel x reader#jayce talis#viktor arcane#ekko arcane#silco arcane#arcane vander#jinx#vi arcane#caitlyn kiramman#mel medarda#sevika#arcane x reader#arcane headcanon#arcane 2#arcane writing#arcane caitlyn#caitlyn arcane#mel arcane#jinx arcane#arcane jinx#arcane silco
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When You Randomly Turn Into A Cat- The Love And DeepSpace Men
parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader synopsis: a day where you randomly turn into a cat and how they love and deep space men would take care and spend the day with you ! genre: silly and cute a/n: hihi lovelies! sorry this took so long to write i had to channel in all the cat videos i loved and seen and put it into each scenario for each men ! (á”âáŽâ) i also had to make sure some cat facts were true or not just in case and also because i don't own a cat but i rlly want one (âąáŽâą,, ) i hope you all enjoy ! ^âąï»âą^àž
⥠If any new readers are here you can read where the men turn into cats here; When They Turn Into Cats any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!
âïœĄâ§ËÊâĄÉËâ§ïœĄâ
Xavier /á Ë”- Ꭰ-Ë”ă ᶻ đ đ° :
Xavier wasn't particularly shocked that you would turn into a cat but truly surprised him was the timing of it. You both speculated that his transformation one time might be linked to his recent handling of a Protocore and it would eventually spread to you. He just didn't anticipate that this would happen in the middle of a mission. Fortunately, he managed to defeat the remaining Wanderers, scooping you up along with your clothes, and bring you both safely back home.
There were no answers on the internet on what to do when your partner turns into a cat. He doesn't understand how you did so well when you took care of him when he randomly turned into one. He only wishes that he can do the same for you as you did with him.
The first step Xavier does is search for any leftover cat food but finds nothing so he takes you along to the grocery store. He'll gently place you in the baby seat of the shopping cat, determined to find the best options for you. He scrutinizes every brand of cat food and snack, carefully considering what you might like. To ensure you would have everything you could possibly need, he ends up buying far more than necessary, his cart basically overflowing with a mountain of cat supplies.
When you both return home, there is no doubt that Xavier showers you with affection. He lavishes you with cuddles and kisses in between your ears. He finds your feline form to be cute and can't help but pet you, his fingers gently brushing through your soft fur. You enjoy in the soothing touch, arching your back in contentment as he continues his gentle caress. The two of you settle into a cozy spot for nap, as he drifts off to sleep to the comforting rhythm of your adorable purrs and you fall asleep to his gentle caress. You've always been a source of comfort for him and you still are even in this tiny cat form.
Xavier can't help but feel a little jealous when he finds you curled up on the plushies that he won you in the claw machine, instead of you nestled comfortably on his lap or cradled in his arms. It stings a little to see you so content with the plushie and wishes that it was him to provide you with that comfort. Same thing when you knead your plushies with your paws, he can't help but feel envy, wishing that direct attention was towards him instead.
To keep you entertained as a cat, Xavier downloads a few interactive cat games on his phone. He places the phone down, allowing you to paw at the moving images and you pretend as if you were catching them. Another way he can play with you is using playful revenge on your plushies. He watches with amusement as you pounce and swat at the plush toys, your antics providing both of you with entertainment.
Whenever Xavier grabs a snack, he makes sure you feel included in the moment. He helps you to select a treat you want to try by holding it out and shares it with you, making sure you have your own little snack to enjoy alongside with him.
When it was night time and time for bed, even though both of you took several naps the entire day, he prepares for bed. He settles beside you, gently reaching out to stroke your fur with a soothing touch. Carefully, he pulls the blanket up, tucking it around the both of you to create a comfy cocoon. As he holds you clos, he presses tender kisses to the top of your head. "Goodnight honey. No matter what form you're in, you'll always be my partner for life." He whispers, eagerly waiting for the morning to come so you'll be back in your human form.
Zayne /á - Ë -ă :
It was Zayneâs day off and he was in the kitchen, preparing a delicious and nutritious meal for the two of you. Meanwhile, you were in the living room, browsing through DVDs or anything you can find on the TV to watch for your movie marathon. You both chatted back and forth while he worked in the kitchen as you continued to browse in the living room until minutes ticked by and he noticed you were quiet. Out of curiosity, he peeks through the kitchen and sees the living room empty. He calls out for you but he is met with no response. A wave of concern washes over him as he quickly turns off the stove and makes his way to the living room to find a bewildered cat.
He sighs deeply, knowing this all too well. He had experienced this bizarre transformation himself not too long ago. A smile creeps up on his lips as he crouches down, extending a hand to your feline form. âI guess I have to make a different lunch for you now.â He murmurs as you brush against his hand.
Heâll find the cat food that you fed him when he once turned into a cat randomly one day and heâll feed that to you. He knows that the mixed kibble was unappetizing but as he scooped up a portion and placed it in front of you, he gave you a reassuring soft smile. He gently pats your head, his fingers brushing through your fur to offer some reassurance as you hesitantly ate the food. As you eat, he promises that heâll buy you some yummy foods when youâre back to normal.
Since it was his day off, he'll finish up any chores around the house. He gathered all the freshly laundered clothes out of the dryer as you trailed after him. When he sets the basket down in your shared room, you couldn't resist the inviting warmth of the freshly dried clothes and hopped right into the basket. You nestled inside the fluffy pile, your body curling up into it. The warmth and softness was irresistible and not too long you find yourself drifting off into sleep. His gaze would soften when he finally notices you inside of the basket, smiling fondly at the sight. He scoops you up, cradling you carefully before placing you gently on your shared bed.
Once he finished folding the clothes, he returned to you. Your eyes slowly flutters open and to help ease you into waking up, he carefully extends your limbs, stretching your front paws upwards.
Zayne would make sure to play with you so you're not bored the entire day. Sometimes when he has do some other chores, he'll leave the TV on so you can go watch. Or he'll gather a selection of plushies you both had won from the claw machine and toss them around as you pounce and batted at the plushies. If you weren't feeling the plushies anymore, he'll reach for the laser pointer he uses for panel discussions and watches in amusement as you chase it around.
Although it was his day off, he still chooses to do a couple hospital reports. While he's busy typing away on the computer, he lets you curl into his lap as he finishes up his work. Despite his best efforts to stay concentrated, you made it a habit of hopping in front of his computer, inserting yourself in front of him to grab his attention. It seems your stubbornness remains even if you were a cat because this goes on for a couple of minutes. "Behave." He would gently scoop you back into his lap or nudge you aside and you would end up back in front of his computer, blocking his hands from typing on his keyboard. It was impossible to ignore you, melting at the small feline form in front of him. Folding, his hands instinctively find their way to scratch the back of your ears. He would take this as a sign to finally take a break and enjoy his day off with you, even if you were a cat.
As nightfall arrived, you trailed after him into the bathroom where he began his nightly routines. You were perched on the counter, watching him do your skin care routine that you both normally do. He made sure you felt included, using a small brush and gently groomed your fur.
He scoops you up after he finishes his routine and carried you to the bedroom. He places a gentle kiss between your ears, right on the top of your head. He placed you gently onto the bed, arranging the covers and settles beside you. "Even though you're adorable as a cat," he murmurs softly, "I miss you. Come back soon, my love." He whispers, eagerly waiting for morning to come when you return back to your human form.
Rafayel àž
ášàž
:
A wave of emotions washed over him. Fear. Panic. Uneasiness. His lover has turned into something he had feared the most. A wanderer? No. Worse. A cat. What gods has he upset for this too happen? Why must he go through so much feline presence in his life? For him to be one and now you?
Rafayel would snap out of his daze as you began to nuzzle against his legs. Slowly, he'd start to come to terms with the idea of having you as a cat for a day might not be as daunting as he initially feared. Nuzzling against his legs gave him a reassuring contact of your soft fur and helped him realize that you wouldn't do anything to harm him. You were still his caring and beloved partner and he will continue to love you even if you were a cat. It wouldn't be so bad or so he thought.
In this cat form it seems you have the zoomies. He expected you to be a laid back cat but instead, you had turned his entire day into a constant adventure. Not only are you darting around the house with enthusiasm but you're also sneaking into every nook and cranny. You've slipped in behind shelves, climbing into fragile small statues around his studio, and even perching on the edges of delicates vases.
Rafayel would constantly be on the move, trying to keep up with your mischief. One time you had darted into the kitchen cabinets, where all his expensive glassware was located. You refused to come down despite his pleas and he wonders if you were just being stubborn or if you were just having too much fun teasing him. When he manages to catch you, he wraps you into a blanket, like a burrito to keep you still. He smirks as you meow in protest and he returns to his painting, chatting with you softly as he works.
When you're finally out of your zoomies, he'll let you go from the blanket but he'll only regret that later. You approach him, holding out a fish plushie and he thought you were hungry but truly you just wanted to play. "Hey fish aren't food!" He huffs, a pout forming on his lips as he gently removes the plushie from your mouth and crosses his arms in mock disapproval. "I want my cutie back....this cat is slowly turning her into a monster....."
He'll take this as a sign to go find you some food. Food that isn't fish related. He'll make sure to find something that's good and the best rated cat food for you.
Whenever there a fly or bug that made its way into his studio, Rafayel would make you help to catching it. In your human form, you'd be squeamish about dealing with insects and would leave the tasks to him. But now since you're a cat, you're fascinated by the challenge of catching it. He would gently lift you into the air, holding you up so high so you could get a better shot at the tiny intruders. He'll give you a mix of encouragement and amusements as you grab the bugs with your paws.
You are Rafayel's muse and he's determined to keep you in that role. He'll position you on a stool where you stand tall, ready to be the subject of his art. You meow in protest, growing fatigued but he urges you to stay still just for a little longer. The finished sketches of you s a cat turned out to be truly adorable once you see them later. You don't know how he's so uneasy around cats.
As nightfall came around, he settles beside you in bed. Typically you would be curled up together, foreheads against each other but tonight is different with your smaller, feline form. He stays close, tenderly brushing your fur as if it were your hair. His eyes were growing heavy with sleep and he whisper softly, "No matter if you're a cat, a goose, or anything else, my heart's deepest wish is to be with you in every form in every life time. Sleep well my beloved. I shall see you again in the morning."
Sylus âœ^-Ë-^⌠:
Sylus would be informed by Mephisto that you turned into a cat. He was initially be taken aback but quickly settled into a knowing smile, knowing this experience of a similar transformation himself. He would immediately find you and when he does, he tries his best not to snicker from how amusing this was but it came out anyway. It seems you have taken the nickname Kitten, a little to seriously. You would protest in meows and his snicker would turn into a louder laugh and your cat ears turn into airplane mode.
He reaches for his phone and scoops you up to settle you into his lap. He adjusts the screen so it was perfectly angled for you to also see as his other free hand gently stroked your fur. He scrolled through various stores, adding items to his cart with things you might enjoy or need in this temporary form. He'll know you were interested in it when you paw at the screen, lowly chuckling in amusement as you do so. Not wanting to leave your side, he orders Luke and Kieran to pick up what he ordered.
You didnât think it would be even possible for this man to be more affectionate with you even if you were a cat. He would pepper your head and nose with lots of kisses and he would find it even more amusing when you would place your paw on his mouth to stop. He doesnât listen and continues to do so anyway, finding this cat form of you to be adorable. He also loves to brush his fingertips against your paw/ toe beans. Heâs careful to not apply too much pressure on them so he doesnât hurt you.
Mephisto may not be your biggest fan ever in your human form, but he's definitely not warming up to you as a cat either. In this cat form of yours, you have an enhanced agility that helps you jump and try to catch him on his perch. Your attempts to chase him around the house seem to get intense that Sylus had to step in and separate you two so you both can behave.
In this cat form, it seems as your cat senses heightened, driving you to explore the house in new ways you havenât before. You find yourself climbing onto high shelves and underestimating just how high up you were up. Sylus noticing your predicament, he would sigh and grab a basket to help you climb down. However, your fear of falling to your demise, you meow in protest as you tremble at the idea.
You tried to place a paw into the basket, in hopes to provide a safe descent but looking down and how light the basket was, made you freeze in place. You backed away and retreated further into the shelf. âItâs okay. I got you,â He would reassure you, his voice calm and soothing. Despite his efforts of holding the basket out for you to jump into, you continued to meow in protest, clearing preferring the direct approach of being lifted down by his hands instead. He finally caught on when you ignored his third attempt with the basket and instead reached out with his hands as you crawled towards his forearms. Once you are finally safe in his arms, he strokes your fur with tender care. He lets out a soft sigh, âYou really donât want to make it easy for me donât you kitten?â He murmurs, "meow."
When it was dinner time, you'd perch on the kitchen counter beside Sylus, watching with curious eyes as he hummed contentedly while preparing his meal before preparing your cat meal. He carefully selects the best rated cat food, ensuring it was packed with essential nutrients and vitamins. After serving you with the cat food, he would spoil you with a few tasty cat treats, hoping they would be a little more enjoyable for you than the cat food. His attention to your needs will always be attentive even if you were a cat.
After you both settled into bed, Sylus lies on his back, inviting you to curl up on his chest. As your eyes fluttered close, a content purr rumbles through your body and he can feel the gentle vibrations against him. He strokes your fur tenderly, his own eyes heavy with sleep. He murmurs as he wishes you a goodnight, "Goodnight princess. I hope to see you in my dreams and see you back in my arm again when I wake up."
#xavier x reader#xavier x you#xavier x y/n#zayne x reader#zayne x you#zayne x y/n#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#rafayel x y/n#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#xavier love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#sylus love and deepspace#xavier lads#zayne lads#rafayel lads#sylus lads#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace fic#love and deepspace scenarios#lads x you#lads x reader
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can we have a little honorary wag blurb where sheâs freaking out about meeting charlesâs entire friend group but when she does , she gets along with them really well and baby chiara ADORES her đ„č
thank you for sending this request, i really missed writing about these babiesss đ„șđ„ș i hope you like thisss
READ THE HONORARY WAG HERE
A few weeks had passed since Kika and Pierreâs wedding, and life had settled into a pleasant routine for you and Charles. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you were sprawled on the couch in Charlesâ living room, a cozy blanket wrapped around you as you watched TV.
Charles was in the kitchen, making coffee. You could hear him humming to himself, a soft, contented sound that made you smile. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, but you were finally finding your rhythm together, and it felt perfect.
Being his girlfriend felt perfect.
âDo you want anything with your coffee, mon coeur?â Charles called out, his voice carrying into the living room.
âJust some cookies, if we have any,â you replied, stretching out and snuggling deeper into the blanket.
Charles appeared a few minutes later, balancing two mugs of coffee and a plate of cookies. He handed you your mug and placed the plate on the coffee table before sitting down beside you.
âThanks,â you said, taking a sip of the coffee. It was perfect, just the way you liked it.
Charles smiled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. âI could get used to this,â he said, his voice soft and full of warmth.
You leaned into him, feeling a sense of contentment. âMe too. Itâs nice to have some time to just relax and be together.â
He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment. âSo, I've bee thinking."
You turned to look at him, curiosity piqued by his tone. "Oh? About what?"
Charles took a sip of his coffee before continuing, "Well, we've been together for almost a month now, and things have been going really wellâŠ"
"They have," you agreed, smiling up at him.
"And I was thinking," he continued, his fingers absently playing with a strand of your hair, "maybe it's time for you to meet my friends. My whole friend group, I mean."
You felt a small flutter of nervousness in your stomach. You'd met some of Charles' friends in passing, of course, but the idea of meeting his entire friend group felt significant.
"Your whole friend group?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice casual.
Charles nodded, his eyes searching your face. "Yeah. Joris, who you've already met a few times, Riccardo and Marta, and a few others. They're really important to me, and⊠well, you're really important to me too. I'd love for you all to get to know each other better."
You almost melted at his words, his green eyes looking at you with a tenderness that made you regret not looking at them for so long.
It wasnât just the idea of meeting his friendsâit was the way he phrased it, making you feel special, like you were becoming an integral part of his life. But at the same time, your nerves fluttered in your stomach.
âCharles, that sounds⊠great,â you said, trying to sound confident, but the slight edge in your voice gave you away.
He narrowed his eyes at you, gently setting his coffee cup down on the table. âBut?â
âI donât know. I guess Iâm just a little nervous," you sighed, shifting so you could look at him fully, "Theyâve known you for so long, and I donât want to feel like the odd one out, you know? What if I donât fit in?â
âMon amour, youâre not an outsider," Charlesâ expression softened even more as he reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers with his, "Youâre my girlfriend, and that means youâre already part of my world.â
You bit your lip, still feeling a little unsure. It was a lot of pressureâmeeting the people who had been with Charles through thick and thin, who knew sides of him that you were still discovering.
âIâm sure theyâre great,â you said, leaning into him a little, âbut itâs still kind of intimidating. I mean, Riccardo and Marta have a baby. What if Iâm awkward around Chiara?â
Charles let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. âChiaraâs a baby. All she cares about is who makes her laugh and who gives her food. And knowing you, youâll have her wrapped around your finger in no time.â
You couldnât help but chuckle at that, imagining a tiny baby giggling in your arms. âYou think so?â
âI know so,â Charles replied, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. âLook, I get it. Meeting new people, especially people who are important to me, can be overwhelming. But I promise, theyâre going to love you. And more importantly, Iâll be there with you the whole time.â
His words calmed the nervous buzzing in your mind, and you found yourself nodding slowly. âOkay. Letâs do it. Iâll meet them.â
Charlesâ face lit up with that boyish grin you adored, and he kissed you softly on the lips. âThatâs my girl. Iâll talk to them, and weâll make a plan for next weekend.â
You smiled against his lips before pulling back. âNext weekend, huh? No pressure, right?â
He winked, squeezing your hand, âNone at all. Just you, me, and my crazy friends.â
The following weekend came quicker than you expected, and before you knew it, you and Charles were standing outside Riccardo and Martaâs house, your heart beating a little faster than usual. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted out from the backyard, and you could already hear Chiaraâs high-pitched giggles.
âYou okay?â Charles squeezed your hand as you stood at the front door.
âYeah, justâŠ" you took a deep breath, nodding, "You know, trying to remember how to be a functioning human.â
"Mon coeur, it's fine!" Charles gave you a huge grin, "Just think bout the first time you came to a race with Kika and met everyone. You were a natural."
You chuckled at the memory. "Yeah, and from that moment, I thought you disliked me for the longest time."
"Baby, we've talked about this," Charles raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "I was just... reserved," he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of sincerity.
You nudged him playfully. "You were cold! Barely even smiled at me. I thought, 'Great, Pierreâs friend is grumpy and doesnât like me at all.â"
"And now, look at me," Charles laughed, pulling you closer, "Head over heels for you. Who would've thought?"
You felt a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. His eyes softened, and before you could respond, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a gentle kiss.
When you finally pulled away, Charles rested his forehead against yours. "I promise, theyâll love you. Just be yourself, like you always are."
You nodded, a small smile on your lips. "Okay, Iâm ready."
With that, Charles opened the door, and the two of you stepped inside, the lively sounds of his friends filling the space around you. The air was warm, the atmosphere welcoming, and as soon as you stepped through, Joris waved at you from across the room, and Marta smiled brightly, holding little Chiara.
"Well, well, if it isn't the girl who used to roll her eyes every time Charles spoke," Joris teased, approaching you and pulling you into a friendly hug.
You laugh, feeling some of your nervousness dissipate. "What can I say? He grew on me."
"Like a fungus, I'm sure," Joris winked, earning a playful shove from Charles.
Marta spotted you both and beamed, making her way over with Chiara balanced on her hip. Riccardo followed closely behind her, grinning widely.
"Ah, there he is," Riccardo greeted, pulling Charles into a hug before turning to you with a bright smile. "And this must be YN. Itâs so great to finally meet you."
Charles stepped to the side, his hand still holding yours as he made the introductions. "Riccardo, Marta, this is YN, my girlfriend. YN, these are two of my closest friends in the world."
You smiled nervously but warmly, offering your hand to Riccardo, who brushed it aside to pull you into a friendly hug. "We do hugs around here," he said with a wink.
Marta followed suit, hugging you carefully while balancing Chiara in her arms. "Itâs so nice to meet you, YN," she said, her smile warm and welcoming. "Charles has told us all about you. Itâs about time we finally get to meet the girl whoâs got him smiling all the time."
You chuckled nervously, your cheeks flushing a little. "He exaggerates."
"I donât think so," Charles teased, his arm slipping around your waist again as he beamed at you.
Another one of Charles' friends raised his glass from where he was standing. "And here she isâthe woman who tolerates Charles better than any of us."
You laughed at that, feeling some of the tension slip away as everyone welcomed you with open arms. The introductions continued as more of Charlesâ friends trickled into the conversation, each one greeting you warmly, making you feel like part of the group in no time. It was clear that Charlesâ friends were just as kind and friendly as he had promised.
âIâm so glad you could come," Marta said as she sat down next to you, little Chiara still in her arms.
âThank you for having me,â you replied warmly, already feeling more at ease with her friendly demeanor.
Baby Chiaraâs curious eyes darted toward you. You waved at her with a soft smile, and to your surprise, Chiara giggled, her little hands reaching out toward you.
âSheâs been so excited all day,â Marta said with a chuckle, adjusting Chiara on her lap. âI think she knew we were having company. You want to hold her?â
You hesitated for a moment, but before you could even reply, Chiara was practically leaning over to get closer to you. You couldn't help but laugh, your heart melting at the sight of her small, chubby hands reaching out.
âI think sheâs made up her mind,â you said, taking Chiara from Marta. The little girl settled in your lap immediately, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes before giving you a sweet, toothy grin.
Charles, who had been chatting with Riccardo and Joris nearby, turned around just in time to catch the scene. His expression softened as he watched you interact with Chiara, his heart clearly in his eyes as he leaned against the counter, completely mesmerized.
âShe loves you already,â Marta said softly, watching the way Chiara kept reaching for your face, fascinated by your hair and earrings.
âSheâs adorable,â you said, your voice equally soft as you gently played with the little girlâs hands. Chiara giggled again, her laughter filling the room, and you couldnât help but beam at her.
Charles crossed the room, his eyes still glued to the two of you. "Sheâs not the only one," he teased, placing a hand on your shoulder as he bent down to kiss your temple. "Sheâs got good taste."
"You're such a sap," Joris called out from where he sat, grinning as he popped another cookie into his mouth. "Look at you, all gooey and soft."
âCareful, Joris,â Charles replied, smirking at him. âDonât make me start telling embarrassing stories about you."
âOh, Iâd love to hear those,â Marta chimed in, clearly enjoying the playful banter.
âHey, Iâm not the one who once locked himself out of the house without pants,â Joris shot back, earning a chorus of laughter from everyone around the room.
Amidst the laughter, Marta leaned closer to you, her voice just above a whisper. âYou know,â she said, glancing at Charles, who was still gazing at you and Chiara with that adoring smile, âIâve never seen him like this. I can tell heâs really happy with you.â
Her words made your heart skip a beat. You glanced up at Charles, feeling a warmth spread through you as you caught his eye. He winked at you, completely oblivious to Martaâs words, but it only made the moment more special.
"Thank you," you replied quietly, feeling a bit shy under her knowing gaze. "That means a lot coming from you."
Marta smiled, patting your hand. "I'm really glad he found someone special. You fit right in."
Before you could respond, Chiara began fussing slightly in your lap, clearly looking for something. Charles noticed immediately and knelt down beside you, offering the small toy she had dropped earlier. As soon as you handed it to her, Chiara calmed down, grabbing the toy and happily gnawing on it.
"I told you she'd love you," Charles grinned as he watched the two of you.
"You're right," you replied with a smile, gently bouncing Chiara in your lap. "She's perfect."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. You found yourself quickly settling into the group, enjoying the way everyone seemed so at ease with one another. Joris and Riccardo were relentless in teasing Charles, often making jokes about how smitten he was, while Marta continued to shoot you knowing glances, clearly pleased with how everything was going.
At one point, as the evening wound down, Chiara started to get sleepy. She nestled into your arms, her little fingers curling around your shirt as her eyes fluttered closed.
Charles, who had been watching the whole time, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Youâre amazing with her," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.
"Sheâs the sweetest," you whispered back, glancing down at the tiny girl fast asleep in your arms.
Charlesâ gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his heart completely full. He had never imagined that watching you with Chiara would have such an effect on him, but here he was, absolutely melting at the sight.
As the night drew to a close, Riccardo and Marta thanked you both for coming. âNext time, weâll have to do it at your place, Charles,â Riccardo joked, clapping him on the back.
âSure, as long as you bring Chiara,â Charles replied with a grin, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you stood by his side.
Marta gave you a quick hug before you left. "Seriously," she whispered in your ear, "We're really glad you're in his life."
You smiled at her, feeling the warmth and sincerity behind her words. "Me too."
#charles leclerc au#charles leclerc x y/n#the honorary wag#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc fake instagram#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1#formula one#charles leclerc fanfiction#harrysfolklore#f1 x reader#charles leclerc smut#f1 grid x reader#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine
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đđ synopsis. after being married to satoru for two years, you still giggle and (secretly but not so secretly) fangirl about him whenever given the chance. your husband absolutely loves indulging you.
tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw, tiny bits of angst. tooth rotting fluff yeah. reader gets called âprincess, babyâ. inspired by this ask.
âand and and, his smile âs just so beautiful,â you sigh dreamily, resting your head on satoruâs lap. youâre both enjoying the cozy night in your shared apartment. with no one bothering youâwith no regards for the world thatâs continuing its cycle outside.
satoru chuckles as he pats your head slowly, taking his time to appreciate every feature of yours. from your pink-ish lips to your pretty eyes. heâs so in love with the creation god has gifted him. he nods attentively, âyeah? what else?â
you giggle as he indulges you. itâs a habit of yours, to fangirl over your husband like youâre not literally his wife. satoru finds it absolutely adorable. plus, it boosts his ego. in a very good way.
âaaaand, heâs caring. thatâs the one thing i love most about him,â you continue to ramble about your little âcrushâ on that so-called mysterious white-haired sorcerer. satoru wishes he could capture this moment and keep repeating it over and over in his head.
the way you talk about your crush - him - is filling his stomach with butterflies. the tall man canât deny the faint blush on his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. you keep getting cuter and cuter the more time passes.
when he thinks youâve reached a state of perfection in his eyes, you once again prove him wrong and go beyond that. âcaring, hm? he must treat my princess real good then,â satoru hums and continues petting your head. his other hand rubs your stomachâfingers creeping under the material of your nightgown.
âhe does,â you nod in agreement, âhe treats me so well. i donât know how i got so lucky to have met him.â you squirm a little as you feel satoruâs slender fingers graze your midriff, going back down to your belly and then back up your chest again. his touch is so intimate and loving. youâre spoiled. spoiled rotten by his affection.
satoru sighs. his white lashes flutter shut for a second. hearing you say such stuff makes him want to check if itâs reality heâs in. if it isnât another too-good-to-be-true dream of his. no one had loved him as much as you did.
it feels good to know that heâs wanted. needed.
âno, i think he is the lucky one,â satoru continues. his hand petting your head stops and he moves it to rub your cheek tenderly. he leans his head down, the tips of your noses touching. he whispers, âhaving a pretty girl like you love him so dearly⊠yeah, heâs won the lottery.â
your heart skips a beat. satoruâs words leave you speechless. you donât know if you can keep up the little silly act anymore. his flirting, the teasing and the genuineness behind his wordsâitâs all too much.
you grab the back of his head and push his lips down against yours. satoruâs breath hitches for a second before he gives in to you. he visibly melts, eyes closing and hands tightening their grip around your body.
âmmh,â satoru lets out a content moan. he loves you. heâs glad heâs met you and heâs glad he made you his wife two years back. youâre the only one for him. death wonât do you apartânoâhe promised you on your wedding day that it wouldnât.
you kiss him like itâs your last kiss on earth. the spark between you is still as warm and strong as it was when you met. the people whoâve warned you about the âhoneymoon phaseâ are clearly all wrong. they arenât aware of the strength your bond with satoru has. youâre inseparable.
âi love you,â you sigh against satoruâs glossy lips and he deepens the kiss after that.
somebody loves him. somebody cares for him. thatâs all he needs in life. his life is complete with you in it. he smiles against your lips and says the three words back, with more passion than ever before, âi love you too, my angel.â
nothing will ever separate you. not fate. not anyone.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#jjk x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x y/n#jjk fluff#gojo fluff
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To kill a king, to fuck a dragon (Day 8/8 of 10k followers event)
A/N: Hi there people! Iâm so, so glad that all of you took time to read all the stories I post, especially these past 8 stories that had been super exploratory for me. I think I did good enough, at least yâall seemed to like it. For this last one I added a bit more plot than usual, this is a tiny bit longer and I think the story is really good. I hope yâall love it as much as I do. Also, and once again, I want to thank ALL OF YOU for following this little corner of the internet and being so supportive and great, special thanks to all my patrons to make my life a little bit easier <3, this has been a blast so far and I hop yâall keep reading, hopefully this account is just the beginning of a much longer exploration of monsterfuckery for us all. (PS: If someone catches the very subtle Greyâs anatomy reference please let me know so we can be friends)
Dragon x fem!reader || size kink, slow-burn (kinda), sex with feelings, magic saliva, spit on pussy, multiple orgasms, overstimulation || tw: mentions of murder
You enter the cave and are surprised to find a door, a normal human door caved into the rock. It looks like a house, a house on the rock, but still normal. What the fuck? Your hopes and dreams of finding the dragon slowly disappear, your eyes teary.
Someone chooses that moment to speak behind you: âWho are you?â You turn around so fast you fall to the ground with a scream. The stranger looks at you like you are a bug he needs to squeeze, and you feel a tear running down your cheek. Fuck. You promised yourself you wouldnât cry even if there wasnât a dragon. âAgain: who are you?â His tone is harsh and you want to cry even more, but you bit your tongue.
âI- I came to find the dragon,â you confess, swallowing around the knot in your throat.
He looks at you like you are a joke, not even trying to help you to your feet. âWhat dragon?â He asks, his tone amused.
You get up and look at him, trying to look as serious as you can when you say: âThey- They told me there was a dragon here.â You fail.
He chuckles, inspecting you up and down, his eyes zeroing on the few tears that escaped your eyes. âNo dragons, just me,â he finally answers, his tone a lot softer than before.
âUh-oh⊠Sorry. Iâll be on my way, then.â You try to get pass him, sniffling as you do so, trying really hard to get out before you start sobbing.
He sighs, and adds: âdo you want some tea?â He offers you his hand, and weirdly enough, you donât feel threatened or scared, you feel calm around him.
âReally?â You donât want to sound too hopeful but you are thirsty and tired and you want to cry because there is no dragon and you basically lost hope of everything.
âYeah, come on.â He motions you to follow him inside the rock house, and you are surprised about how cozy and homey it feels inside, like out of a fairy-tale kind of thing.
He makes some tea as you lean against the door frame of the kitchen, trying to look around as much as possible without looking too snoopy about it. Not that he seems to care that you are curious about everything, he just looks at you every once in a while like making sure you are still there.
âWhy were you looking for a dragon?â He asks when he sets the tea cup on the table in front of you. A similar one in front of him. You sit and start sipping on the best tea youâve ever had.
You sip the tea for a couple seconds, trying to decide if you can trust him, at the end you decide why not, your life is already ruined. âTo kill the king,â you say. He chokes on the tea heâs drinking, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop from giggling.
âWhat?â He asks again when he recovers, his face red from the coughing.
âTo kill the king,â you repeat. He still looks stunned so you give him more context: âI- I was bought when I was in the womb. My parents promised me to him in exchange for gold, and the day we marry is approaching. I donât want to do it, heâs a foul man, and I didnât choose this. I overheard some servants talking about the dragon in the mountains, and I though⊠I thought they would help me.â You try not to sound too bitter about it, but you canât keep the despair out of your voice.
He looks at you like you are suddenly the most interesting specimen of a bug. âYou escaped the castle and came here?â
âYes,â you answer truthfully. There was a lot more implied in that simple question. You escaped, but not only that, they are probably looking for you and the king would probably kill those guards you ran away from. You try not to be too sad about them, they were cruel with you, laughing at you every time you passed, talking about how the king got a new hot wife.
âAre they still looking for you?â He asks, a lot smarter than you give him credit for.
âProbably.â Itâs the truth but it still carries a lot of pressure as you say it. You understand though, you know itâs not his problem and you shouldnât even be there. Youâd find another way to escape the king. âIâll be out of your hair, I promise. You didnât sing up for any of this.â You realize the sun is setting in the horizon and you donât know if you could find your way back to the village. Fuck. âI need to go. The village is a long journey from here,â you try not to sound scared, but an edge of fear permeates your voice.
He surprises you by saying: âStay. I have a guest bedroom and thereâs no way you could get back to the village if itâs this dark.â
You want to say no, to refuse, thatâs improper, but the idea of going back to that golden prison is enough to make you say: âIâll leave first thing in the morning.â Itâs a promise you do to him, but also to yourself. That man showed you more caress that anyone in your life, and you didnât want to cause him unnecessary trouble. Youâll leave in the morning.
Problem is⊠You never do.
The next day he prepares breakfast, and insists on showing you around his house. Itâs so beautiful you are mesmerized. His garden especially. Itâs so colorful and big and calmâŠ. You feel an instant connection to the earth, and to him. Heâs so easy to be around, he treats you so differently like what you are used to. And you like it. You like it so much that you get distracted until the sun is setting once again. And he never tells you to leave.
And days pass. One day turns into another, and you⊠never leave. You know someday they will come back for you. You know you canât run away from your problems. But right there, in the side of the mountain with that nice man that took you in⊠It feels possible to run away. It feels possible to avoid the awful destiny that was set for you before you were even born.
He teaches you to cook, to take care of plants, to polish wood⊠Heâs like a handyman that can do all, and you are his new apprentice, even though he insists on doing all the heavy lifting. But on top of that, he just⊠amazing. He takes care of you, but also you two argue about stupid stuff until you are red faced and you want to hit him, just to end up laughing when he tells you a stupid joke. You have the most fun you had in ages with him.
Until one day all shifts (pun intended).
You are laying around under the tree as he does some gardening. He wouldnât let you near the roses in case you got hurt. âI have something to tell you,â he breaks the silence.
âWhat?â You ask, looking directly at him, a spark of something unknown raising inside of you, like bugs in your stomach, crawling around every time you set your eyes on him, on his beautiful smile.
He looks at you intently and says the most ominous thing: âI- I think itâs better if I show you, actually.â
âShow me what? Why do you sound so serious?â You try to joke, but it doesnât land because he still looks at you with a poker face.
He looks worried, apprehension settling on his features. âJust⊠Wait until Iâm done to say anything, please?â His tone is more than pleading, is more like heâs begging you to understand, and you donât know what could possibly be so bad.
âOkayâŠâ You tell him, anxiety spiking.
And then he turns. Literally. His body contorts and cracks, and thereâs a bunch of things happening at once, and before you realize, thereâs a dragon in front of you. A full on real dragon. What? Heâs majestic, as big as a house and skin covered in the most precious scales. He looks like a work of art⊠you are mesmerized.
âYou said there was no dragon!â Itâs the first thing out of your mouth, an edge of hysterics creeping in your tone.
You laugh then. You laugh so hard and so much you have tears rolling down your eyes. He changes back, and tries really hard to cover his manhood with his hands, failing and making you laugh even harder.
âYou are a dragon,â you say when your laughter dies down.
âI am,â he says simply, approaching you slowly until heâs right in front of you. âAnd I will kill the king for you,â he adds.
Thereâs no point in asking why he didnât tell you sooner, you understand why. Why would he? Why would he trust his deepest secret to you? But him showing you now? It meant more than the world, it made you forget about everything and anything chasing you down. It makes you happy. He makes you happy.
âNo. I donât care about the king. I just⊠I love you. I think what I feel is love, I never felt like this before.â You tell him, heat creeping up your cheeks. He looks at you like heâs surprised, like he wasnât expecting that at all. âDo you feel it, too?â You ask shyly, your hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat faster and faster.
âYe- yes. I love you, too.â His confession is followed by his hands cupping your face, so soft and tender, you feel a tear running down your cheek as he kisses you for the first time.
You should have known better than to think your life could be so perfect.
You donât hear them before you are captured. At least four soldiers appear at the edge of the garden and catch you before you can scream. You think about him, about your dragon, and lament how confused he will be when he returns and you arenât there. You worry he would think you abandoned him⊠But you canât do anything as they take you away from the only place you felt like home.
They donât even wait a whole day before they are dressing you and pampering you in the best silks and makeups. Nobody says anything as you silently cry during all the process. The servants looking worried but not arguing with anyone, three guards at the door of every chamber you enter.
You are caged once again.
You walk to the aisle in between a crowded place full of people who donât like you, nor the king for the matter. They just want to appraise his old self to gain some benefits, the same as your parents did even before you were born. He looks like a nightmare standing in front of the altar, and you want to run, to run far away, back into your dragonâs arms. But you canât, guards all around the open garden the ceremony is taking place in. You stand before your soon to be husband and have to swallow back the tears and bile, his rancid smell hitting you like a brick.
The minister starts speaking about love and marriage, and you cry during all his speech. You dream of being far away from there, as far away as possible. Or at least as close to your dragon as you could.
When you hear the people mumbling around you, you turn around, a shadow obscuring the sun. You look at the sky and sigh, so happy to see him you could cry. Maybe you would cry if you werenât so shocked that he actually showed up.
He roars as he lands, people running in all directions, hiding in every possible place. âYOU STOLE FROM ME!â He growls, breathing fire to the sky and making people cry out in fear. You look at him in all his glory, fascinated by every inch of his skin.
âWe- we saved the queen to be,â the guardâs words are short lived as your dragon looks at him and breathes fire right over his body, instantly burning him to the ground. Thereâs a chorus of screams and cries again, and you have to bite your tongue to stop from smiling.
âSheâs not yours! SHEâS MINE!â You shiver at his words, feeling them so deep inside you think you might combust, butterflies dancing inside your stomach once again.
âYou canât take her! I bought her,â the kingâs words donât help his case at all, your dragon roaring and launching for him.
It all happens so fast, one second heâs there, and the next one the kingâs head is rolling onto the ground as everyone screams and runs away. You are shocked to the core, but he doesnât let you wallow in that. He picks you up and takes flight. You realize heâs being very careful not to pickle you with his claws. You donât know where heâs taking you, but soon enough you are in a place you know, a place that brings you memories of joy and love⊠The garden.
As soon as he sets you down, he orders you to: âGo inside.â His tone is harsh, almost a growl.
âNo,â you answer, not recoiling, not moving. You approach him more, your hand softly caressing the scales of his chest.
He roars over your head, trying to scare you away: âGo inside, Iâm not in my right mind right now, I canât answer for my actions.â You arenât scared of him, though. He saved you from your most fearsome nightmare, heâs just the big monster you are in love with.
âNo,â you repeat, a big smile playing on your lips when you look up at him.
âCome on, princess⊠Please.â Him begging in that form does something to you, such a big and scary creature asking you to go inside so he can protect you from himself⊠You are more sure than anything that you are safe. Safer than youâd be with anyone else. Human or monster.
âNo. I want you. I love you.â Your words finally go through him, making his big body shiver, you feel it under your hands, a big shake that leaves you breathless. âTake me, my dragon.â You know adding that isnât necessary, but you are more than ready to be a bride, to be his bride.
âDonât joke around,â he growls, grabbing your body with his big clawed hand and positioning you to look straight into his yes, his big dragon head so beautiful you have to reach out and touch him. He scrunches his nose, making you giggle.
âMake me fully yours,â you say again.
His responding growl is so loud it makes the earth vibrate under your feet. You shiver in anticipation. He tears your wedding dress of your body, wrapping his wings around you to create a bubble, so you wonât feel a single spark of cold in your human skin.
Your wedding dress is torn off your body as he launches for your body, your naked form shivering at the cold temperature around you, but he solves that easily. He wraps his wings around your body getting you close to his much warmer scaled body. You sigh happily.
He lets you down onto the ground and you look up at him, completely vulnerable. âFuck me. Claim me. Love me.â You lower yourself to the ground, your upper body to the ground, your ass up. You know what you must look like: an offering, a sacrifice. And you are okay with that. You are okay being his.
âYou sure?â He asks again, always the gentleman, always worried about you. You are more sure of this that you were about anything else ever.
âYes. Yes. Yes,â you chant as his claw proves your entrance. You look around in time to see him biting on his fingers, two seconds later heâs claw-less and his now not-dangerous fingers enter you. You cry out and bury your face on the mossy ground, his chuckle making you flush all over.
He plays with your pussy for what feels like an eternity, making you come twice before he starts stretching you fully. He gets to three fingers, way bigger than anything you tried before, and you canât stop moaning.
You come again as he spits on your pussy, the sensation so filthy and so good you scream and fall over the edge again. You feel tingly all over after that, your pussy relenting under his ministrations and somehow widening further, accommodating one more of his fingers. âMy saliva has magic in it,â he explains, his tone amused as he keeps finger fucking you. You donât know if you can come again, you didnât even know that much pleasure was possible.
âCome on, come on, please,â doesnât matter how much you beg, he doesnât relent.
He starts scissoring his big fingers inside of you, stretching you impossibly wide, and you squirm under him, a pleasure so big you donât know how to deal with it, your body pliant under his actions, your brain completely void of thoughts. And then he stops and you curse him so loud he starts to laugh, moving your body and making you squirm under him. He grabs your hips to stop you from moving and you feel the tip of his cock against your entrance.
He enters you slowly, so slowly. You want to scream, but your brain is frozen with the over-sensitivity of his dick inside of you. He canât fit inside, thereâs no way, heâs probably just aiming for a third of his length, but right now, with just the tip inside, you feel like you are about to burst. You reach down and rub your clit, unlocking something inside of you and crying out so loudly he roars as your orgasm makes your pussy constrict around him. He pushes in a bit more, and you keep coming.
From that point on, itâs all a blur of sensations and emotions, so much pleasure you are blind to the world around you. His dick is barely inside, but it seems to be enough for him, and more than enough for you. You feel like heâs going to split you in two in the most amazing way. He feels so big inside of you that you think you might die if he keeps rubbing against all your special spots at once. And if you do⊠Youâd die happy.
âTake me. Take all of me,â thatâs all the heads up you get before heâs filling you, one last thrust inside before his hot seed floods your insides. It propels you over the edge one last time, the world fading into blackness.
You pass out.
When you come back to your senses, you are laying on a bed and thereâs a warm body behind you. You sigh happily as he kisses your forehead and makes sure you are comfortable and warm. You feel such intense love for him in that moment, that you have to turn around and try how well it would feel to fit his human dick inside of you (this time all of him).
He feels perfect.
#dragon#dragon x human#dragon x you#dragon x reader#monster#monster fucker#monster imagine#monster x human#teratophillia#monster x reader#monster boyfriend#terato#monster love#monster fuqqer#monster kink#monster lover#monster romance#monster smut#monster x you#monsterfucker#monsterfucking nsft
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oh, but you're good to me -s.r.
a/n: i continue to not know the word count- but here's pining!spencer x sunshine!reader!! very hozier coded <3
The team has gone out for drinks after a stressful week, and this is a moment where Spencer finds that his willpower does not so easily overpower his desire. Theyâd chosen a kind of kitsch place, the kind where thereâs couches where waitresses could bring you your drink under dimmed lights and music with cozy acoustic music played. Emily and Morgan were comparing conquests at their trip to the club the week prior, Penelope chiming in with warm support on either end. On the opposite table, Hotch and Rossi were discussing criminology in serious, even tones.Â
And Spencer, well. He was well-occupied.Â
His best friend is on the team, and he does not say that lightly. Sheâs earned her place in his heart, as hopelessly romantic as that makes him sound. But she did. He remembers the day he met her, warm tone seeped in patience and understanding.Â
He remembers the sight of her like its engraved crystal, carved into the basis of his mind. Her delicate features distinct in their warm kindness. Sheâd offered her hand, shook it and giggled a sweet sound when heâd said itâd be safer to kiss. Heâd blushed enough that his lack of flirtation in his intent was clear.Â
On the jet, that first case, sheâd listened to him talk about Russian literature and other obscure topics he couldnât remember now, because now, all he can recall is the color of her doe eyes meeting him in intention.Â
Heâs pretty sure heâs in love with her.Â
Which, right now, feels a bit like a drug- both painful and exhilarating. Sheâs a cuddly drunk (only with him, it seems) and heâs got a lanky arm tugged over her shoulder. Itâs lovely in a way words vex him, the weight of her against him.Â
âYou look nice today, Spence,â she muses, looking up at him. His heart is going to stop.
âYou do too,â he breathes out. This is nice. Sheâs touchy, and he likes when she touches him. Itâs a pleasure, like sipping expensive wine or decadent chocolate, sweet and a little bit sad, because you know you canât have it forever.Â
She plays with his scarf, and he is hopelessly endeared by the sight of the fabric in between her delicate fingers.Â
âThis color is nice,â she muses, and god, he wants to kiss her. This a thought Spencer has often, oftentimes at inopportune times. On the jet, in the office, at her house, in the car- always, really.Â
Except now, no oneâs looking at them. If loving her was enough to make her love him back, then he could.Â
But it isnât.Â
He chokes back the emotion rich in his throat. He brushes her hair out of her face, a tender motion that betrays his intentions with her.Â
âYou always look lovely,â Spencer says earnestly. I love looking at you, he thinks.
She smiles back earnestly and warmly.Â
âI didnât think you noticed things like that.â
âI always do, when itâs you.â
He doesnât know why this is what heâs allowed to have. Sheâs so close to him, pinned up against him and he can feel the curve of her waist against his side. He doesnât get it, why heâs not her boyfriend but he still gets moments like these, where sheâs pinned to him like velcro. Heâs addicted to them, really- craves the moments where she falls asleep on his lap on the jet, where theyâll be walking together somewhere and sheâll lace their fingers and tug him along when sheâs excited and the destination in sight.
Maybe this is just how she touches her best friends- he tries not to question it, because he doesnât want to loosest.Â
But tonight, under the low-light of the bar, shadows of her lashes thrown across the slope of her cheek- he wants to ask her.
âAre you like this with everyone?â He muses. He immediately regrets it, sees her face harden and feels the shift away from him, and the space leaves a gap of cold air. Thereâs a swoop f nerves in his stomach.
âI donât know, I think I just thought- you know, weâre like this. Weâre touchy, you and me.â
Heâs not touchy. Everyone knows this, but sheâs the exception to a rule that has held true his entire life. But he loves this, loves the feeling of this.
âI like this,â he says, intentional eye contact trained on her shaking irises. He reaches out and laces their fingers in an act of bravery that rivals some of his most intense moments, âIâm wanting inf you want more of it. Because I do.â
âYou do?â
Sheâs back close to him, now, and heâs so immensely grateful for it. She smells like lilies and her, and this might be the only time heâs brave enough to do something like this.Â
It turns out he doesnât have to, because before he can answer, she kisses him. It happens fast, and his response is all instinct- pulling her into him closer, his hands around her waist and her soft sigh into his mouth that threatens to kill him. Itâs better than his fantasies at night could have made him expect.Â
âHi,â she says, barely above a whisper when she pulls away. She looks a little adorably off-guard, in a way heâd like to create- like to instigate.Â
âHi back,â he says, a beaming grin threatening to spread over his face. He tries to memorize the feeling of this, the weight of her in his arms in case this is not something he can keep- he wants to remember it, what it felt like for her to kiss him, to be wanted by her.Â
âDo you want to go out sometime?â
âLike out of here? Itâs kind of cold outside-â
âOn a date, Spencer.â
Instead of a response, Spencer kisses her again. It is absolutely the right choice.
#spencer reid#spencer Reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds fanfic
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