#Fluff Fanfiction

[anhedoniawrites]

all those dreams where you’re my wife

gif by @reidgif

inside your mind - the 1975

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

summary: coming down from the highs of sex, Spencer and Reader talk about his brain and its thoughts.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 2.1K

warnings: no use of y/n, proofread, this is an old piece of writing.

masterlist!

Panting softly, your breath mingled with his, your chest rising and falling in tandem with Spencer’s. Your body felt weightless, the afterglow of your shared passion wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Sweat clung to your skin, and the soft hum of his heartbeat echoed in your ear where your head rested against his shoulder. The intimacy of the moment felt sacred, a shared silence that spoke volumes without words.

Spencer was unusually quiet. Not that his silence was uncommon—he often retreated into his mind after moments like this, his thoughts working in overdrive as if the endorphins had unlocked new pathways in his brilliant brain. He’d once explained to you that post-coital clarity often helped him connect dots he’d never considered before. You’d always found it endearing, a quirk that made him uniquely Spencer.

But tonight, something was different. His quiet wasn’t contemplative—it felt heavier, like the weight of his thoughts pressed down on both of you. You couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers hesitated as they traced lazy circles on your back, the way his chest rose with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“What’s wrong, handsome?” you murmured softly, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze. His chin, which had been resting lightly against the crown of your head, shifted as he tilted his face toward you. His eyes, usually warm and filled with an endless stream of curiosity, now held a flicker of something else—something guarded.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just looked at you, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as if he were weighing his words. You could see the gears turning in his mind, the way he struggled to reconcile his thoughts with the honesty that had always been the cornerstone of your relationship.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice soft but unconvincing.

It was a lie—a glaring, obvious lie. Spencer was many things: a genius, a profiler, a man who could recall entire books word for word. But a liar? Never. You knew him too well, knew the way his eyes darted away for just a fraction of a second when he was trying to mask the truth. He knew you knew, too, which made his attempt at deception almost endearing.

You propped yourself up on your elbow, your fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his damp forehead. “Spence,” you said gently, your tone a mix of affection and concern. “You’re a lot of things, but a good liar isn’t one of them. Talk to me.”

His lips parted as if to protest, but the words caught in his throat. He sighed again, this one deeper, as though the act of holding everything inside was physically exhausting. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t scare me,” you replied, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He let out a breath, his gaze darting away for a moment before returning to yours. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “It’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

You frowned, leaning closer. “Try me,” you said softly. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just tell me what you’re feeling.”

His hand moved softly, almost reverently, to the back of your head. His fingers threaded through your hair with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine, pausing now and then as though he were mapping the curve of your skull. There was something purposeful in the way he touched you, something that felt more like exploration than comfort.

“I wish I could know you the way you know yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. His fingers continued their journey, tracing invisible patterns that only he could see. “I want to be able to have your brain all laid out in front of me, every thought, every memory, every piece of you.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, his voice soft but steady as he continued, almost to himself. “The back of your head is at the front of my mind.”

He fell silent for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to untangle the thoughts swirling in his mind. His hand didn’t stop moving, the gentle rhythm of his touch grounding both of you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice tinged with hesitation. “Sometimes, when you’re asleep, I’ll just… watch you breathe.” His eyes flickered toward you, searching your face as though bracing for judgment, but his hand never faltered.

“I’ll watch the way your breathing slows, the way it evens out. It’s like… proof. Proof that you’re real, that you’re here with me. And then I start to wonder…” His voice trailed off, but the weight of his thoughts lingered in the air.

His fingers stilled briefly before resuming their gentle path, tracing the base of your skull as though it held the answers he was searching for. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost fragile. “I wonder if you dream of me, or of the things you love, or the things you want in life. And I can’t help but think about how much I want to know every part of you. What makes you happy, what makes you sad, what you think about when no one’s watching.”

His other hand came to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. His gaze was intense, those wide, earnest eyes searching yours for understanding. There was no shame in his vulnerability, only a raw, unfiltered need to be known and to know you in return.

“I don’t want to miss anything,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re the most important person in my life, and sometimes it terrifies me how much I feel for you. Like… like I’ll never be able to express it the way I want to.”

The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. His hand lingered on your cheek, the other still cradling the back of your head as though he could hold your thoughts in his palm.

He let out a soft, shaky breath, his forehead lowering until it rested against yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, the words almost too quiet to hear.

For a moment, he stayed like that, his eyes closed, his breathing syncing with yours. His hands stayed gentle, as though he were afraid of breaking the moment. And then he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation that spoke of a love too big for words.

In the quiet that followed, his touch said everything he couldn’t, and you let it.

In the gentle quiet of the room, Spencer’s voice broke through like a fragile thread, hesitant yet determined. “I mainly watch you sleep because I’m terrified of my mind,” he admitted, his tone a mix of vulnerability and unease. He hesitated, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as if debating whether to pull the veil back on his inner torment.

His gaze dropped to the floor, his breath catching slightly as he continued. “When I sleep…” he started, the words trembling on the edge of his lips. “I dream that you’ve been taken. It’s always the same. I’m helpless, paralyzed—every step I take feels like wading through quicksand, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t reach you.”

His voice grew quieter, a raw edge creeping into it, but he forced himself to keep going. “By the time I finally get to you, it’s too late. You’re lying there…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, as though the very memory of the dream clawed at his throat. “You’re lying on the ground in a pool of your own blood. And the only thing I can see, the thing that haunts me even after I wake up, is the ring on your finger.” The room seemed to close in on you, the silence heavy and suffocating. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to such a confession. You’d never talked about marriage—not explicitly, at least—but there had always been an unspoken understanding between you two. You both wanted it, you both felt it in your bones, but life had never given you the time to explore that possibility.

But hearing Spencer speak of the ring, of the symbol of everything you meant to him, in such a terrifying, haunting context—it shook you. The dream wasn’t just about losing you; it was about him failing you. About the one thing that represented his commitment, his love for you, now twisted into something horrific, something he couldn’t escape.

Your mind raced, trying to process the weight of his words, the depth of his fear. You could see it now—the desperation in his eyes, the vulnerability in the way he held himself. Spencer was afraid. Afraid of losing you, fearful of not being able to protect you.

In that moment, the love between you felt both fragile and immense. You reached out to him, your hand finding his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in the storm of his emotions. You didn’t need to say anything—he already knew how much you cared. But still, you squeezed his hand, hoping to convey everything that words couldn’t.

Spencer finally looked up, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s supposed to be a symbol of everything good, everything I’ve ever wanted to give you. But in that moment, it feels like a mockery—a cruel reminder that I couldn’t protect you. That I failed you.”

The room fell silent, his words lingering in the air like a fragile echo. He looked at you then, his gaze pleading for understanding, for some assurance that the horrors of his subconscious didn’t define him.

“Spencer Reid, you could never fail me, not ever. Don’t ever think that,” you said softly, your voice steady but full of the weight of everything you felt. Your hands found their way to his face, cupping his cheeks gently, guiding his gaze to meet yours. You could see the self-doubt in his eyes, the fear that had taken root there, and it made your heart ache.

He opened his mouth to protest, but you pressed your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to hear you, to understand. “You’ve given me so much in this life, Spencer,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, but every word carried the depth of your emotions. “So much that I never thought I deserved, but you showed me that I do. You showed me that I’m worthy of love, of happiness. That I’m worthy of you.”

You could feel the weight of your words sink in as Spencer’s breath caught, his eyes flickering with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. It wasn’t just the love you had for him—it was everything he had done for you, everything he had helped you realize about yourself.

You gently pulled one of your hands away from his face, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for his hand, placing it over your chest, just above your heart. “This…” you said, your voice catching in your throat as you pressed his hand against the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. “This is because of you. Every beat, every breath—it’s because of the love you’ve given me. You make me feel alive in a way I never thought was possible.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, his gaze dropping to where his hand rested against your chest. The quiet intensity of the moment wrapped around both of you, and you could feel the weight of everything he was carrying—the fear, the guilt, the love—and you wanted to lift it off him, even if only for a moment.

You leaned in slowly, your lips brushing against his forehead in a soft, lingering kiss, a silent promise that you were there, that you always would be. Then, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, you whispered, “Spencer, you don’t ever need to worry about failing me. You’re everything I’ve ever needed. And I’ll never let you forget that.”

Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed, and without thinking, he leaned in to kiss you, his lips gentle against yours, a kiss that spoke of gratitude and love, a kiss that grounded you both in the present moment. When he pulled back, you couldn’t help but smile, brushing your thumb lightly over his cheek.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. And before you could respond, you kissed him again, this time deeper, letting the weight of everything you had just shared hang in the air between you like a promise, unspoken but undeniable.

thank you for reading!

please like & reblog if you enjoyed!

masterlist!

taglist! @pleasantwitchgarden

[miange1]

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 — domestic life

tw: male reader, they have a kid(you can determine if the reader had mpreg, adopted, or is ftm), uraume is still a servant just domesticated, based off of trin's videos on tiktok, sukuna calls reader 'husband' never by his name(unless during sex then why not, sukuna is still a cursed being just humanizing himself

note: fun fact: on my first tumblr account sukuna was my first fic i ever wrote digitally

there were a lot of sounds sukuna hated. people talking, babies crying, constant nagging, complaining, people chewing far too loud. but even as much as he hated it, he heard it almost everyday.

sukuna's arms stayed wrapped around you tightly, he was a clingy sleeper whether he would admit it or not. his face tucked underneath your chin, breathing in your scent and listening to your heart beat with each calm breath you took.

then there was that blasted alarm, the loud sound of feet pitter pattering onto the hardwood floors and the door bursting open.

"dad! dad! wake up! today's my game today!" right, suko had his baseball game today. the kid was probably up all night just to do that.

"wake up, wake up!" he climbed onto the bed, his little body pushing with all its might to bounce on the two half asleep figures.

"alright, alright! enough suko, you're going to give your father more back issues." there it was, your lovely voice he just adored, especially in the mornings. he hated those other noises, but yours is what he would listen to all day even after death.

sukuna grumbled, his eyes officially opening so he could see your face. perfect. absolutely perfect. "you are far too close, move away." as perfect as he found you, he would never admit it.

you snorted, detangling yourself from his embrace. "you say that but you're the one who refuses to let me move." he shook his head, sitting up with you. "untrue."

another sound of footsteps was heard, the white haired figure of uraume coming to take suko from the bed. "i apologize for letting him loose," they spoke as if he was some wild animal, which was a valid comparison.

"i looked away for one moment while cooking breakfast and he was shooting from his seat." suko seemed to whine as he was dragged out of the room. it was like he wanted to starve the rest of the day.

it was somewhat silent, just the two of you. your body weight shifted the bed as you slid over to him, your arms wrapped along his shoulders and your lips kissing at his cheek.

"good morning," his head would lean into the small kiss, returning it to your lips. what a sweet thing. you got off the bed, putting some reasonable clothes on so you could go eat at the table.

"also, i'll need you to pick up suko's new bat from the store, and some snacks as well." his brows furrowed in annoyance, he didn't want to do that.

"husband, that's a foolish task. why must i do it?" you blinked slowly, your head snapping over to him. that told him all he needed to know.

the store was hot and humid, too many people. he just needed to get the bat, and have zero distractions– "excuse me?" he paused, hearing a woman's voice. for some reason, he already felt what was going to happen.

he looked down, eyes squinting with agitation. the woman had her phone in her hand, he could see the phone dial app open and a faint blush on her cheeks. god save him.

he didn't want to waste time and get yelled at if he was late. not only would his son be upset if he had no baseball bat and missed his game, but you absolutely would not pleasure him after this very very long day.

"i am happily married. move out of my way." it was like she didn't see the ruby ring on his finger that could be bigger than someone's eye.

he shoved past the woman, and pulled out his own phone. when you answered, he was already speaking before you could say hello. "husband, where are the bats."

you paused for a moment, then your voice came through. "sukuna, are you in the sports section?" he looked around..no. no, he wasn't. "goodbye." why would you send him off to buy things if he never even knew what section they would be in. modern stores just got on his last nerve.

on the way home, he went to a snack store and got much more snacks than you intended. but what's wrong with going a little overboard?

finally, what felt like hours he was home. the smell of it hit him first, then the warmth and the sight of you sitting on the couch with suko on your lap with a cartoon playing on the big screen sat on the large dresser.

suko's head turned to the door, and he was instantly up on his feet running to his dad(more so the bat in his hand). "welcome back sukuna," your lips touched his in a loving kiss, and you had taken the bags of snacks to go put them away.

"you got the one that i wanted!" suko exclaimed excitedly, swinging it around as if to try it out. his eyes were wide with happiness, a big smile on his face.

"do not swing it around in the house! that vase costs over five-hundred dollars, go outside." his large hand came to his son's head to lead him outdoors. "uraume, go outside and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

then, his attention was only to you. he went behind you, grabbing at your waist tightly to embrace you in what was a loving hug. at least to him. it was just a little too tight for you, but you didn't mind it.

so sure, he hated the noises, the ridiculously hyper child, the constant errands he had to run. but this is maybe, just maybe what he needed to be truly at peace.

[chrissssssmut]

Hi hello sir, I kindly ask a story with popular girls Asa and Ahyeon asking shy+nerdy mreader for help studying. No smut obviously and no need for yandere. Just fluffy stuff

Perks Of Being The Nerd

Asa & Ahyeon x Nerdy Male Reader

You didn’t expect much out of sophomore year.

Not fame. Not a girlfriend. Definitely not two.

Your goal was simple: survive AP Chem and keep your manga collection hidden from the occasional hallway tormentor. You were painfully good at blending in—until they happened.

Asa and Ahyeon.

The reigning queens of the junior class. Known for their looks, wit, and tendency to dominate literally every school event. Asa was sharp-eyed, tomboyish, and had a habit of chewing gum like it owed her money. Ahyeon was sweeter, mischievous, and occasionally so charming it felt like she was glitching the simulation.

And somehow, through some cosmic joke, they were now sitting at your kitchen table, flipping through your perfectly highlighted notes like they belonged there.

“Okay, so explain covalent bonds again,” Asa said, squinting at the textbook like it had personally wronged her.

“They’re the ones where atoms share electrons,” you muttered, pushing your glasses up and refusing to make eye contact. You could feel both of them looking at you.

“That’s so cute,” Ahyeon said suddenly.

You blinked. “...Covalent bonds?”

“No,” she giggled, “you. When you explain things like you’re afraid we’ll break.”

“I—I'm not afraid,” you said, then immediately regretted it. “I mean, not of you. Just, like. Talking. In general.”

Asa smirked and leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “You talk more when you’re passionate. Like, just now. You went full anime professor mode.”

Your heart skipped.

You were going to die. Right here. In your kitchen. Surrounded by girls way out of your league and a stack of flashcards.

It all started three days ago when Ms. Kim paired you up for peer tutoring. Apparently, Asa and Ahyeon were “slipping” in chemistry. You’d expected them to blow you off immediately.

But instead—

“Hey, you’re that smart kid, right? The one with the cute notes?” Asa had said, cornering you after class.

“You have the best handwriting I’ve ever seen,” Ahyeon added, eyes twinkling. “Can we study at your place?”

You said yes before your brain could stop you.

Which brings us back to the present.

“You make this stuff sound easy,” Asa said, tossing a pencil up and catching it. “I swear, if teachers explained things like you do, I wouldn’t be failing.”

“I-it’s not really hard,” you mumbled. “Just patterns and logic, mostly. Like code.”

Ahyeon tilted her head. “You code too?”

You nodded. “A bit. Mostly games. Visual novels, sometimes.”

“You’re like, the most interesting guy here and no one knows,” Asa said, stealing one of your erasers.

“Maybe because he’s hiding behind his bangs and hoodies,” Ahyeon teased, leaning toward you slightly. “We’re gonna fix that.”

“Fix what?”

“You,” they said in unison.

Somehow, “study sessions” became a regular thing.

They always brought snacks. Ahyeon liked lying on the floor with her feet up on your bed, whining about reaction rates. Asa always claimed the desk chair and spun in it until she got dizzy.

You tried to stay professional.

Tried.

But sometimes, Asa would lean over your shoulder and ask about a formula, her breath warm against your ear. Sometimes Ahyeon would rest her head on your arm while you explained things, and it was impossible to focus when your heart was beating like a drumline.

“You’re blushing again,” Asa said one afternoon, grinning like a shark.

You immediately buried your face in your hoodie.

“No fair,” you mumbled. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“But it’s cute,” Ahyeon chimed in. “And you never tell us what you think.”

“I—I do!”

“Okay,” Asa leaned in, eyebrow raised. “What do you think of us?”

You froze.

“I—I think you’re both…” You swallowed. “Very…good at learning?”

They stared at you.

“Wow,” Asa said, snorting. “That’s the nerdiest compliment I’ve ever received.”

“I love it,” Ahyeon said.

You peeked up at them.

And found two girls smiling at you like you’d just given them the moon.

“Hey,” Asa said quietly, after a silence. “You ever think about, like…dating?”

You choked on your juice box. “W-what?!”

“Not like that!” she added, laughing. “Okay, maybe like that. It’s just—we were talking, and you’re…kind of great?”

You blinked.

“You help us study, you’re smart, you make the best snacks, and your dog loves us.”

“And,” Ahyeon added, sliding closer to you on the couch, “you make me feel calm. Which almost never happens.”

Your face felt like it was on fire.

“Are you saying… you like me?”

“We like you,” they said in unison again.

“I—I don’t know how to—”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Ahyeon whispered. “Just let us hang out with you more. Maybe hold your hand sometimes. That okay?”

Your voice came out small. “Yeah. That’s okay.”

So that’s how it happened.

One minute you were the quiet nerd with an anime wallpaper and a carefully curated pen case, and the next you were dating the two most popular girls in school.

Well. “Dating” might be a strong word. It started with long tutoring sessions that turned into movie nights. Hand-holding during breaks. A cheek kiss here, a forehead bump there. Soft “good luck” messages before tests and chaotic selfies from their classrooms.

Sometimes you caught people whispering when you walked down the hall with them on either side.

But then Asa would glance at you, bump your shoulder, and smirk.

Ahyeon would flash you a grin like you hung the stars.

And suddenly, you didn’t care what anyone thought.

Because somehow, impossibly—you were their favorite nerd.

End.

(But they definitely make you teach them anime intros next week.)

[enzosbabyangel]

ཐི⋆♱⃓⋆ཋྀ This pic is sooo Mattheo vibes !!

a/n: been a hot minute since i’ve been on this blog due to business but i am back !

The music was loud, but that did little to your ability to sleep as you laid ontop your boyfriend, Mattheo, who was sat with a cup of whatever alcohol in his left hand. Right hand holding your waist. Your friends spread out in the Slytherin dormitories.

Theo chuckled as he took a puff of the blunt him and Pansy was sharing. Sitting on the couch right in front of you guys. “She out cold already?” He hummed.

Mattheo laughed, looking down at your sleeping form against his body. “Yep.” He sighed. Bringing his free hand up quickly to move some of your hair out of your face. Speaking with a softness reserved only for you as he smiled down at you. “My sleepy girl.”

[ladybyakuya]

| WHITE DRESS + JING YUAN.

+cw. — f!reader, established relationship, arrange marrige, fluff, pining, banter, teasing, suggestive content , mention of feixiao :D

+wc. ��� 1k

+syn.— a peek in general Jing Yuan's married life with you.

+notes. —can be read as stand-alone but if you wish to read the other parts can be found in my masterlists | redirect to blog navigation.

Jing Yuan had a very mundane morning routine before you walked into his life. That’s how he used to keep his sanity at bay. Being the General of Xianzhou Alliance's Cloud Knights for centuries, fighting and protecting his people he had rather grown comfortable in it. He is just too used to zone uproars and war turbulence but it has been peaceful for a while. He likes that. That’s why he is taking it easy. But when you came into his life he was on edge again. He has something to protect, something belonging only to him. It was like walking on a wire again. Surprisingly, you filled the boring gaps in his mundane morning routine.

Jing Yuan wakes up at seven o’clock in the morning, like he usually does but he is naked under sheets ever since he got you as a wife but that is not the case on all days. But often he wakes up to an empty bed running his hands on your side of the bed with a soft smile over his face that has a warmth of morning dews because he gets to spend the whole night with you after work. It’s not easy to have this abundance of mundanity for a man of such power, wealth, status, and responsibilities. He is more happy than he was before. He waters the plants, sinks in the lap that nature has to offer, and then gets ready for work— and that is when he first sees you. He used to wear his armor all alone before he married you, thinking that if he died people would mourn him, people would miss him, people would remember him but that is all they will do for the rest of the generals too. He is not something special. But with you in his life, he feels special. He has someone to come home to, someone who would be too devastated to live if he died on the battlefield. He does not do anything except coordinate his movements so that you can easily put on his suit but there are days when he throws tantrums. The whole corridor gets filled with giggles on days like that, your giggles especially.

“Wait,” Jing Yuan grabs you pulling you into his body. His hands immediately lock you in an embrace. “Let me take a good look at my wife.” This. This few minutes where there are no lingering staffs or any sort if interruption is an absolute bliss for him. He touches his forehead with yours as you refuse to look at him, playing with the brooch on his collar. He knows you feel shy at first. He always have to get you a little worked up to be comfortable but that denotes him off because it might be just a kiss to you but he is going to think of it for the rest of his day, wide awake— no dull moment in his life. You are the cure to his boredom. Despite such yeaning agony swelling in his heart, his lips wrap around yours. It's wet, coated with longing. One of your palms moves under his jaw and he knows his time is up. He pulls away with a groan. 

“I’ll set the table, yeah?” you mumble unlocking his hands easily now. If you hadn’t given in so easily like how you used to he would have ended up having you cave in to his cravings before he goes to work. Yeah! That’s how he is. You leave him in the room to get to work as thinks back to one of his most fond memories of you. Ever since he caught you having a midnight snack alone in the kitchen after few months of marriage,he demands to eat the food cooked by you. It was one hell of a night. It wasn’t the sex that set this night apart from others. Sex was good, of course, but amongst those dim lights, when you were busy stuffing your mouth with the food you freshly cooked as he stood beside you holding the plate for you, all he wanted was to protect you, your happiness, and your sadness — everything related to you.  

Jing Yuan sits to dine as the staff sets the table while you stand aside keeping rapt attention if anything is amiss. “Wait! you forgot something. he calls you out. You tilt your head and wait as he adds, “a kiss!” You immediately look around to see if any of the staff heard your husband or not but now they are all gone. They know better than you. Did he really forgot what happened in the dressing room? You saunter towards the table thinking its better just to give in rather resist; as you stand by his side, and lean to place a dry kiss on his cheek and then you turn on your heel to walk away.

“Just on my cheek?” Jing Yuan enquires with surprise in his tone as he stops you by grabbing your hand. Finally, you chuckle— ah! what a time to be alive. 

“Feixiao is waiting. I got her message.” You sit on his lap encapsulating your free arm around his shoulder while he refuses to let to of your other hand. “I have already made her favorites. Your too, love— He kisses your hand as you keep going on— and it's packed. I do have a lot to do today. The staff are getting lazy. . . ” Ah! He remembers how you were so silent during the first few months of marriage. Not that he is complaining but he is just. . .blessed to see this side of you. He does not particularly fancy sweets yet is but he feels nauseous at this point since you are too sweet for him. Oh! How can he ever deny you? He can deny sweets but not you.

You feel the gaps of your fingers being filled by his fingers. “can we stay like this a while longer?” Jing Yuan asked as he kisses the back of your hand. 

“You know we can’t.” You watch him pout a bit so you are compelled to add, “Come home soon.”

[killerplink]

COMFORT

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Female Reader

Words: 2,9k

Plot: You're on your period and feeling all kinds of crampy and grumpy. Dick's already made you a cozy meal, but when the pizza cravings hit, he doesn't hesitate to make it happen.

Dick's all proud of himself, watching you take your first bite, waiting for that little happy hum you always do when something tastes good. That's his favorite part, seeing you enjoy something he made, watching your shoulders relax as you melt into a warm, home cooked meal.

He loves the way your eyes flutter shut when a flavor hits just right, the little wiggle you do when you're especially pleased, the way you lean into the warmth of the food like it's wrapping you up in a hug. It's domestic, it's sweet, and it makes all the effort in the kitchen more than worth it.

He swears, that little hum of satisfaction? It's like the highest form of praise, even better than a thank you. It's like his whole heart swells hearing it, knowing he put a little bit of his love into every bite. It's his thing with you—cooking something up and waiting for that sound like a reward, like a little piece of happiness wrapped up in a soft noise that's just for him.

But then... nothing. No hum, no little wiggle of contentment, not even a pleased sigh. Just you, sitting there, poking at your plate like it personally wronged you, looking guilty as hell. That's his second clue.

The first was when he walked in the door and found your favorite fuzzy blanket crumpled in a sad little pile on the couch, not wrapped around you like it usually is. Then there was the half empty tea mug sitting on the coffee table—your comfort drink—cold and abandoned, which meant you tried to soothe yourself but gave up halfway. All of that put a little thought in his head, a quiet hmmm, but now? Watching you fidget with your fork, pushing the food around without actually eating?

Oh yeah, he has a pretty good idea of what's going on.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

You freeze for half a second, just a split second, but it's long enough for him to catch it. He sees the way your shoulders tense, how you keep your eyes glued to your plate like maybe if you stare hard enough, the question will disappear. Then, you shake your head, mumbling something about how the food is great, that he really outdid himself, and you're just not that hungry tonight.

Mhmm, no. That's not gonna fly with him.

He watches you, eyes narrowing slightly like he's dissecting every detail, his brain slotting the clues together piece by piece. It's not even about the food. It never is when you get like this. It's about you, about whatever's swirling around in that pretty head of yours, tying your thoughts in knots and making you feel like you've got to downplay it.

So he doesn't say anything at first. Just tilts his head a little, gaze soft but knowing, scanning your face as you do everything in your power to avoid looking at him. He can feel the guilt rolling off you in waves, and honestly?

He doesn't even know why you'd feel guilty in the first place. Wanting something else to eat isn't a crime, but you always get like this when you think you're being difficult, even though you're not. Not to him.

So he just waits. One brow raised, head slightly cocked, patience practically radiating off him as he sits perfectly still. It takes ten seconds—maybe fifteen—and then...

"It's really good, baby, I swear, I just..." your voice goes soft, almost sheepish. "I kinda want pizza."

There it is. The way you say it is so small, like you're confessing to some horrible crime, and Dick watches the realization click into place in real time. His whole face softens, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a barely there smile because oh. Baby's on her period. Of course.

And God, he gets it. Cravings are cravings, and sometimes, no matter how good a meal is, your body just wants something else. He's not mad. Not even a little. If anything, he finds it kind of adorable how nervous you got about it. Like he wouldn't gladly throw that food in the fridge, grab his keys, and pick up whatever you wanted. Hell, he'd order three different kinds of pizza just to see you smile again.

His head dips slightly, like he's holding back a fond laugh. "That's all?"

He's already reaching for his phone, thumb pulling up the app for your go to pizza place like it's the most obvious solution in the world. "Why didn't you just say so?"

And that's when you really start fidgeting, squirming a little in your seat like you really don't want him to do that. Your hand reaches for his wrist, fingers curling around it gently.

"Dick, no," you whine, voice soft with guilt. "You cooked."

He pauses, glancing up at you, and yep, there it is. That look in your eyes, the one that says I feel like an ungrateful little shit right now. And really, he should've seen that coming.

Because you know how much effort he puts into cooking for you, how much he loves making sure you're eating well, especially when you're not feeling your best. He cares, puts thought into every meal, every little ingredient tailored to what you like, what you need. And now, here you are, sitting at the table like some kind of traitor, ready to toss his hard work aside just because your hormones decided they wanted something else.

But instead of being annoyed, instead of rolling his eyes or telling you to just eat what's in front of you like someone else might, he just gives you a look. A soft, easy look. The kind that says Baby, you know me better than that.

"Sweet girl," he says simply, flipping his phone so you can see the pizza app. "I don't care. If you want pizza, we're getting pizza. Simple."

And you do want it. God, you really want it. Like you can practically taste the grease and melted cheese just thinking about it.

"But you made such a nice meal—"

"And I can put it in the fridge and eat it tomorrow. Not a big deal."

His fingers slip between yours, squeezing gently, and ugh, it's really hard to argue when he's looking at you like that. He knows how stubborn you are, how you want to show appreciation for the things he does, but right now? All he cares about is making sure you feel comfortable and happy, not guilty over something so small.

"I'd rather you actually eat something you want instead of sitting here feeling bad about it," he adds, voice warm and steady.

Your shoulders drop a little, the tension easing out of you, lips pressing together like you're trying to hold back some kind of emotion. It's dumb—you know he doesn't mind, know he'd bend over backward for you in a heartbeat—but still, the guilt lingers in that annoying little way it always does.

"Okay..." you mumble, voice small. "Pizza sounds really nice."

He smiles. "Yeah?"

You nod, and honestly, that's all he fucking needs.

"Good."

Next thing you know, he's tugging you up from your chair with zero effort, making you squeak as he drags you over to the couch. He plops you down gently, grinning as you blink up at him.

"Alright," he says, already pulling up the menu, "go lay down. I'll order it, and while we wait, I'm grabbing you the heating pad."

"Dick—" you start to protest, "but—"

BOOP. His finger flicks your forehead, just enough to surprise you.

"Shhh," he grins.

You stare at him, stunned, one hand flying up to rub at the barely there flick. "Did you just—"

"Yep," he smirks. "And I'll do it again if you don't stop being difficult."

You huff, but your lips twitch, betraying you. You're not actually mad, and you both know it.

"Let me baby you," he says simply, already turning toward the bedroom. "Just let me."

And ugh, fine. Fine. You sink back into the cushions, arms crossed but face warm, heart doing that soft, fluttery thing it always does with him.

By the time the pizza's ordered, Dick's gone full overachiever mode. You've got a heating pad pressed against your belly, fuzzy socks on your feet, and a cozy hoodie draped over your shoulders—his, obviously, because he knows you love stealing them, especially when you're feeling like crap. And because he can't help himself, he also grabbed your favorite snack, just in case.

When he hands it to you, you stare down at it for a second before mumbling, "You're so nice to me."

He grins, flopping down next to you. "Uh, yeah?" One arm hooks around your waist, tugging you into his side. "You like me, remember?"

And... well, he's got a point.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings, and you practically launch yourself at the pizza box when he brings it over. First bite? Absolute heaven. You let out a happy little mmm, sinking deeper into the couch, and Dick just sits there, watching you with a soft smile like you're the best thing he's ever seen, pulling a slice for himself, watching you finally relax for the first time all night.

You glance at him between bites, swallowing before mumbling, "You're really not mad?"

He frowns, chewing for a second before swallowing. "Why the hell would I be mad?"

"Because I didn't eat your food."

"Baby," he sighs, setting his pizza down so he can turn toward you fully. His fingers slide under your chin, tilting your face toward him. "You don't need to force yourself to eat something just because I made it." His thumb rubs along your jaw, voice warm, low, and sweet. "I like cooking for you because I love you. And if you tell me you don't want something, I'm never gonna be upset about that."

Your eyes drop slightly, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"I just want you happy, sweet girl." Another kiss. "That's the real win in my book."

Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, squeezing gently as something warm and annoyingly emotional bubbles up in your chest. Goddamn hormones. But if you're being honest, you think it might be more of a him thing.

For now, though, you let yourself melt into him, sighing when his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest. You don't even think about it, you just shift closer, hands curling into the soft fabric of his shirt, pressing your face into his collarbone like it's instinct.

And yeah, maybe you're being a little clingy. Maybe you've been clinging to him all night, really, grabbing at his shirt, leaning into his side, frowning whenever he shifts even an inch away. But you don't seem to notice, not fully.

He does, though. Dick loves this part. The way your body automatically seeks him out, the way you hold onto him like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to comfort. Your fingers curl into his shirt, face tucked into the crook of his neck, and he swears his heart melts a little.

You get like this every time, without fail—extra soft, extra needy, extra pouty about everything—and it's cute as hell. Like, impossibly cute. He'd never admit it out loud, not unless he's trying to get that adorable little glare you give him, but he lives for it.

And he knows that if he points it out, if he so much as teases you a little, you'll get all flustered. You'll wrinkle your nose at him, try to pull away, mumbling under your breath about how you're not clingy, you're just tired.

Like you're not literally curled up against him like a little koala, legs tangled with his, clinging like he's the only safe place your body knows how to lean into. But he doesn't say a word about it. Not because he doesn't want to—God, he does—but because he loves this too much to risk you pulling away.

So he just holds you closer instead, running his fingers through your hair, tracing slow, lazy circles against your back. His touch is gentle, soothing, like he's content to stay like this forever. And really? He is.

If you want to spend the whole night tucked into him, being all soft and snuggly, he's not complaining. Hell, he's already planning to pull the blanket tighter around you both, maybe press a kiss to your hair and whisper something low and sweet, just to hear that little content sigh you make when you think he's not paying attention.

The rest of the night is spent on the couch, eating pizza, watching dumb movies, and basking in the fact that Dick Grayson is actually the best boyfriend in the universe. He insists on letting you pick the movie—even if you choose the cheesiest from com or the dumbest action flick—and doesn't complain once.

Not even when you steal the last slice of pizza or hog the blanket. He just grins, pulls you closer, and throws out some playful commentary about the movie that makes you laugh until your cheeks hurt.

And maybe, just maybe, you fall asleep curled up against him, your body warm and soft against his side. You make a soft little sigh in your sleep when he adjusts his hold, and God, it's the kind of sound that tugs at something deep in his chest.

His fingers run lazy patterns down your back—absentminded, slow—and he barely even realizes he's doing it. It's just habit at this point, a way to soothe you, to make sure you stay comfortable. His other hand rests gently on your hip, thumb brushing back and forth as the glow of the TV flickers across the room.

He glances down at you, taking in the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, how peaceful you look nestled against him, and he can't help the soft smile that pulls at his lips. Yeah, he thinks, this is perfect.

There's nowhere else he'd rather be, no place that could ever compare to having you right here, safe in his arms, completely at ease. And even when the credits roll and the room goes quiet, he doesn't move. Not when you're breathing so softly, not when you're so perfectly content.

So he just holds you tighter, presses a tender kiss to your temple, and whispers, "Sweet dreams, baby," like you can hear him, even if you're already lost to sleep.

Because this—this part right here—is his favorite. Taking care of you. Making sure you're okay, making sure you never feel weird about needing him.

Because he knows how you get, how you always feel a little embarrassed when your nightmare periods hit. It doesn't matter how long you've been together; every time, without fail, you try to downplay it.

Like you don't want to bother him, like he's not your boyfriend, like he wouldn't literally drop everything if you needed him to. But the thing is, he would. You always brush it off with a small smile, mumbling something about being fine, but he sees right through it. He always does.

If you need pads, he's out the door without hesitation, keys in hand, grabbing not just the essentials but also your favorite snacks and a heating pad refill, just in case. He knows your go to comfort foods by heart, always remembering that extra treat you try to pretend you don't want but secretly do.

His voice is soft, low and tender, wrapping around you like a safety net. He even heats up your favorite comfort item without you asking, holding it against your belly himself if you're too exhausted to move.

And if you cry because sometimes the hormones hit hard and everything feels overwhelming, he doesn't say a word about it. He just holds you closer, wiping away tears with his thumb while reminding you, "You don't have to be tough for me, you know. Let it out, baby."

No matter what it is, he never makes you feel awkward about it. Never rolls his eyes, never tells you to suck it up, never makes you feel like you're asking for too much. Because to him? You never are.

Never too much, never a burden. You could ask him for the smallest thing, like grabbing a glass of water, or the biggest, like holding you through the worst night of your life, and he'd do it without hesitation.

If anything, he thinks it's an honor to be the person you trust enough to lean on. He wants to be that person. Your person. The one you turn to when things get hard, the one who can make things even a little bit easier. Taking care of you isn't some chore to him, it's something he genuinely loves. Something that makes his heart feel full in a way nothing else does.

So yeah, he smiles. Of course he does. Because taking care of you is his favorite thing to do. Always has been, always will be. And if you nuzzle in closer without even realizing, nose tucked against his neck, breathing him in like he's the safest place you've ever known, complete with soft snores and a tiny bit of drool?

Well, that's just a bonus. His arm tightens around you automatically, thumb brushing soothingly along your back as he lets out a soft breath. There's this warmth that blooms in his chest—a quiet, content kind of happiness that sinks deep into his bones.

He tilts his head just enough to press a gentle kiss to your hair, lingering there for a moment. "God," he murmurs, "I love you so much it's fucking ridiculous."

And yeah, he knows you're asleep, knows you can't hear the words, but he says them anyway—soft, tender, like a little promise.

[qlossytbh]

𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 after a long day working on a specific murder case, all you want is to do was fall asleep, next to your boyfriend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fluff fluff and more fluff, established relationship, fem reader, brief mention of insecurity (spencer’s side), general cm content

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.4k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 started criminals minds and i fear this man is gonna push me down a rabbit hole. inspired on season 4 spence

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Longs days at work were usually your favorite— unless they induced an unhealthy amount of stress on you.

Unfortunately, today had been one of those days. To start off, Hotch called you in earlier, around six in the morning, due to an emergency statement issue he needed you to put together regarding your recent Unsub. You spent all day talking to witnesses, finally being able to establish a profile for the specific serial killer the BAU was hunting down.

You were utterly exhausted. You hadn't been sleeping entirely well, being kept up by nightmares regarding the current case and since it had been an eventful day, not only were you physically tired but mentally as well. Talking about woman getting raped and murdered and left in the middle of the streets wasn’t the most soul-fueling aspect of your job.

Your body begged for a nap— So did your brain.

The Unsub was attacking woman throughout the city of New York, so the BAU team opted on staying situated at some random hotel for the remaining of the week in order to get advances on the case. The end of your shift was intended to be around seven thirty, but Hotch once again asked you to stay behind and help Prentiss and Morgan with a few files. Being the person and colleague you were, you agreed without protest.

As another crack in your neck echoed throughout your head, you began questioning if your job was actually paying you enough.

Those extra two hours felt even longer with the never ending teasing of Morgan, whom to you resembled very close the figure of a brother. Irrevocably, excruciatingly annoying, but someone you cared for deeply.

Except for right now.

It was now ten. It was dark outside as you practically dragged yourself into the hotel lobby with Morgan and Prentiss tagging along much more actively, chatting endlessly about some irrelevant topic your head couldnt entirely latch onto. The heels of your feet were pulsating and you desperately needed to close your eyes. Your back felt terribly cramped due to being hunched over for so long at your desk so it came to no one’s surprise when you grimaced as you put a hand on your lower-back.

"Back problems?” Morgan dared, voice coming dangerously close to a tease. “At your age?"

You glared back at him, sending warning signs through your piercing gaze that he should be very careful with where he stepped.

"No,” Your voice was clenched. “These stupid hotel mattresses are utter crap and I was in some weird position last night."

“What kind of positions?” Emily eyed you from the side. You looked over at her, thinking you may of heard some suggestiveness laced in her tone. You caught a familiar evil glint in her eyes and realization dawned upon you, realizing what she had meant.

Your cheeks buzzed with heat as you jumped to your own defense. “Sleeping positions!”

You cringed internally, feeling mortified and annoyed and— tired. The two of them clearly had enough hours of sleep the night before to be in a cheery enough mood to tease you.

“I’m too tired to deal with the two of you,”

"Looks like someone's past their bedtime" Derek remarked while patting your head. You scowled, swatted his hand away urgently.

"I'm not gonna even fight you on that since all I want to do right now is sleep and not hear you guys make fun of me,” Emily checked her watch and elbowed Derek’s side.

"We should probably go get some rest too," She stated, finally putting you out of your misery. She jerked her chin in the opposite direction of the lobby, which was where her and Morgan’s rooms were.

There had been some sort of room distribution problem upon arrival, leaving half of the team on the left side of the building and the others on the right.

"You need me to walk you to your room?" Morgan asked without any teasing in sight, like he was genuinely concerned.

"I think I can make it to the second floor," You shrugged. "But thanks tough guy. Reid’s probably still up waiting for me."

Emily made a face before they nodded to themselves and with one final goodbye, headed off to their respective rooms in the other direction. You turned and made your way to the elevator, body heavy with sleep. Once inside, you closed your eyes and sighed heavily, leaning against the wall behind you with a thud. Your head was pounding and your legs desperately begged you to stop moving them.

The elevator came to a stop and you pushed yourself off the wall, waiting for it to open. Once it did, the eerie setting of the empty hallways settled in. You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling fear trickling throughout your spine. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. Your job was bound to leave you with an unsettling feeling of being alone, but you weren't going to ever live down letting Morgan walk you to your room.

You hastily made your way to the door of the hotel room you shared with Spencer, slipping the keycard out your back pocket and opening the door.

Once inside, you slid off the heavy coat that hung on your shoulders and slipped it on the rack near the door. You heard the sheets shuffling in the room with a bit of urgency.

"It’s me Spence," You reassured, walking into the hallway and leaning against the wall that led towards the room.

You took in the sight in front of you and smiled happily. Satisfaction tan deep within you, knowing only you had the pleasure of seeing Spencer like this. So casually relaxed

His back was propped up against the headboard, hairs flying across his forehead showing the contrast between his usual somewhat tamed hair. He had his glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose and a book he had decided to read in his hand. Your smile was tired when he looked over at you, setting his book down.

"Hey," He started, smiling amiably. There was a familiar glow in his gaze that usually lit up when he looked at you. You sucked in a breath through your nose.

“Hi,”

“It’s late,” He said, almost as if coming to the realization of how late you had actually come back.

"Me, Prentiss and Morgan were at those files longer than expected— I'm exhausted." He patted the spot next to him.

"Then come sleep," You pushed yourself off the wall.

"I will, let me change and I'll be right with you,"

You turned grabbing your shorts and long sleeved shirt you usually slept in on the way to the bathroom. Some would debate the actual benefits of sleeping in shorts in New York winter were zero to none. Spencer had done so the first night you arrived, giving you all the reasons it wasn't beneficial and how likely you were to catch a cold. But long pants made you fidgety and caged. You hated how it felt to turn around in bed a few times and already feel the fabric getting twisted and stuck around your legs.

Besides, Spencers body temperature radiated enough heat to keep you warm, which was another beneficial reason of wearing shorts to sleep. Why avoid the cold when you had your very own personal human heater?

You looked at yourself in the mirror, failing to avoid the bags that were beginning to appear beneath your eyes. You promptly slipped off your turtleneck, sweater and jeans and put on your sleeping clothes. Once done, you left the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door behind you.

You reached up, pulling at the hair tie and freeing your hair from its low bun. Wordlessly, you made it to Spencers side of the bed and he innately threw the duvet cover backwards, allowing you enough space to climb in and rest yourself soundly between his legs, resting your head against his chest.

The silence that surrounded the two of you was enough to put you to sleep in that very moment. The comfortable surface of his solid chest was cozier than any mattress— even though you always unconsciously hoped you weren’t squishing him.

Spencer tossed his book onto the nightstand, slipping his glasses off his face as he quickly turned his attention to you. You placed your palms flat against his chest and rested your chin above them, allowing yourself to look up at him with a tired smile.

"Hi." You said. He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and smiling down at you with his familiar infamous dopey smile.

"Hi," He answered back, smile growing wider. "You look pretty,"

"Don't even," You groaned, not believing a single word that came from him. "You were so lucky Hotch didn't call you in after hours— or before.”

“I’m getting the sense that you’re angry with me,” There wasn’t an ounce of malice in his voice, facetiously regarding your angry look.

“I’m not angry, i’m jealous.” You explain, pouting your lips at him. “You have no idea how jealous I am of the fact that you've been lying in bed since eight,"

Although joking around, you didn’t fail to notice the traces of empathy lingering beneath his gaze. There wasn’t anything Spencer hated more than knowing you were exhausted. He let his hand linger around your face, tracing patterns on your jaw while you looked up at him with big tired eyes. "Jealous of me? Being able to lay in these mattresses?"

You let out a laugh. "How many of your muscles are cramped after last night?”

“Because of sleep or…?” He trailed, pursing his lips in thought. You groaned, placing your palm across his face to either smother him or prevent him from seeing how flustered you got. You were usually the one making vilgar jokes. It sat differently when Spencer did it, it made you more nervous.

“You’re so stupid,” He laughed underneath your palm and muttered out.

“Actually—“

“Don’t ‘actually’ me,”

Spencer’s teasing, even in your state of utter exhaustion, didn’t leave you cranky or annoyed. It never did, It always did the opposite. You became all mushy and soft when it came to Spencer and every gesture was laced in nothing more than absolute adoration.

He grew quiet as he let his thumb linger across your cheek, realizing the joke had died down. He gazed your face so lovingly, it almost hurt. You closed your eyes and basked in the comfort of his gaze.

You and Spencer had been dating for over a year now. The two of you met when you became part of the BAU not long after he had started. Your proximity in age had been the initial reason for a friendship, but then it started shifting into something beyond that and before you knew it, you started seeing him outside of work, weekends… The majority of your time was spent beside him.

You still recalled with humor how it took a while for him to make a move. It didn't take long for him to become your friend, not at all. But the second the two of you realized things were moving beyond a friendship, he forgot any notion of how to operate like a normal human being. You had found it extremely endearing realizing how much of an effect you had on him— you still did.

Slowly falling in love with each other was probably one of the most cathartic events of one another’s lives because it distinguished such a firm before and after.

Working in the FBI had always felt so loud and caotic, but ever since Spencer, the world became a little more quiet and a little less stressful.

Spencer leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips, savoring any and every second he could with you. You sighed happily into the kiss, realizing how all your muscles began melting into his touch.

You pulled away, pecking his lips two more times just for desperate measures.

"I missed you." He hummed, placing a small peck to your forehead before allowing his hands to travel down the side of your ribcage and onto your back.

You crooned lowly, letting your eyes flutter close as you let him trace small patterns onto your back with his fingertips. Your body erupted in a string of goosebumps, feeling nothing but overwhelming pleasure seep into every muscle and joint in your body. The jolts of electricity seeped through your spine. It made your heart flutter and swell, feeling how light his fingers danced across your skin and how gentle he was with you.

It had taken a lot for Spencer to open up to physical touch, so that being said, all these small gestures from him were all the more special.

You knew there was a side of him that loved being connected to you through any sort of physical contact, wether it be holding his hands, a kiss on the cheek, linking your arms together, saying hi in the morning with a hug or a soft peck. His insecurities in the beginning of the relationship prevented him from letting that side show.

With time and patience, and lots of reassurance on your side, physical contact with you began nearly as necessary as breathing to Spencer.

Spencer always enjoyed giving you back scratches. He loved how your body immediately fell into his when he dragged his fingers along your back. Like he could physically see the knots of stress unfold. He sometimes grabbed your arm to himself and traced patterns across while you were watching movies or when you woke up.

There won’t be a day he forgets to greet you at your desk before heading to his own, despite always trying to avoid being seen by Morgan, who’d typically tease him endlessly.

Nevertheless, he’d still always bend over your slouched position at your desk chair in the morning and say hi. He’ll let his hand linger on your back and trace repetitive circles. Even if it was just thirty seconds, your body responded incredibly well to his soft touches.

Spencer was extremely good at reading you, and he responded to your needs in a way no one else had ever managed. Seeing just how close to collapsing you had been when you got to the room, he desperately wanted to draw circles onto your back until you fell asleep.

And god, were his back scratches just what you needed.

Right now, with his hands trailing around your tired body and aching back, you could practically hear yourself purring. His hand travelled along your shirt, reaching the hem and peeking his hand underneath it in order to feel the smoothness of your skin— that and knowing you loved it even more.

When he felt your body deflate he chuckled softly to himself. You mumbled quietly, sighing contently. “Hmm,”

"Did you know that when someone cratches your back, your brain releases Serotonin?" He started. You looked up at him with a sleep induced smile as his hand continued traveling along your back.

"No, I did not."

"It's a neurotransmitter that promotes positive feelings. Our skin is abundant with sensory receptors which are called mechanoreceptors. When stimulated, specifically by human touch, they send signals to the brain which triggers pleasurable sensations. It's kind of like a light therapeutic touch, some people even call it scratch therapy." His hands traveled mindlessly, along with his words down at you.

"Its primary purpose is to enhance one's mood for the better since it mainly releases endorphins and serotonin, hormones that tend to fight off cortisol. It's also said to relieve muscle tension, since the repetitive motion stimulates the natural release of these mood-boosting hormones. Your muscles respond and alleviate all the discomfort and stiffness on their own."

"Most importantly, it mimics gestures of affection and care. This specific type of touch motivates a sense of connection which can foster trust and bonding. Most people turn to this form of therapy because of how soothing the sensation can be both mentally and physically." He expounded as you watched him with nothing more than complete awe.

Spencer rambling about anything and every topic you could bring up was your favorite thing about him,— other than his smile.

Unlike many people who knew him, you actually listened and soaked up every single word he said. Hell, you learned more with him in the past year than the first five years of your adulthood.

"So thats why you always scratch my back, huh?" You pointed a finger at him and he smiled.

"That and because I love you,"

"I love you— And when you go all wikipedia on me," You kissed the corner of his jaw and positioned yourself sound against his chest. One of his arms held you against his chest while the other continued its repetitive patters. "Don't you dare stop with this scratch therapy stuff, I was just starting to feel sleepy,”

He kissed the crown of your head as you rested . "Wasn’t planning on it.”

[bvrnesher]

the fact you have no harry potter requests scare me. anyway just know I'll probably be spamming requests every day (sorry)

I really want more ron weasley (I'll take anything wholesome) like imagine spending christmas at the burrow!!! and having to sneak around the creaky floors because Molly doesn't want you sleeping in the same room

❝ Sneaky visits ! ❞ ― ron weasley !

tap here for my cbh masterlist ! here for reqs info

warnings: fluff. comfort. domestic chaos. sweet kisses. soft!ron. light humor.

— ✦ pairing: ronald weasley ! fem. reader

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗦𝗠𝗢𝗞𝗘 and citrus hit your nose the moment your boots met the creaky floorboards of the Burrow—home of the very chaotic, very lovable Weasley family.

Fairy lights blinked lazily while floating brooms swept the floors in sync with dishrags scrubbing countertops like it was some kind of magical symphony of domestic chaos.

A soft breath escaped your lips, cold and quiet, right as a smile threatened to tug at your mouth. Your eyes swept over the familiar space.

You took one careful step forward, boots making the wood groan beneath you, and gave your body a little shake, brushing snow off your warm clothes. It hit the ground with a soft pat, melting almost instantly into the heat spilling from the crackling fireplace—where flames danced peacefully in total contrast to the mess of Christmas decorations scattered near the hearth.

You gently pushed the door closed, but of course it had to groan like a banshee, announcing your arrival with zero subtlety and absolutely ruining any chance of a surprise entrance.

The surprise was yours instead.

Loud, hurried footsteps thundered down the stairs.

You turned, lifting your head just in time to catch sight of a shock of red hair darting toward you like Longbottom fleeing from Snape.

Ron. Your Ron.

You gave him a sheepish smile—half guilty, half shy—with a little shrug that screamed “surprise?”

His eyes, already wide, went impossibly wider. And then that grin—that grin—spread across his face like it couldn’t wait another second.

Guess you had surprised him after all.

You opened your mouth to say something, your voice ready to spill out a gentle hi—but the words never made it. His hands were already cupping your frozen cheeks, and suddenly, your lips weren’t yours to use.

Second surprise of the day.

You smiled against his kiss, which ended with a quick peck to your cheek before he tucked his face into the curve of your neck like it was the only place in the world he wanted to be.

“What’re you doing here?” he mumbled into your neck, voice muffled and shaky as he started to pepper kisses along your skin.

“Molly invited me to spend Christmas with you guys,” you answered, gently pressing your hands to his chest to put just a little space between you.

He gave you a slightly embarrassed smile, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while the other stayed firm at your waist, keeping you close—but not close enough, if you asked him.

The second your words really sank in, something shifted in his face—equal parts excitement and disbelief.

He raised a brow, voice full of pure Ron energy: “We’re talking about my mum? Because that… doesn’t sound at all like something my mum would do.” He paused, and a teasing smile curled on his lips. “In fact, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even like you eno—”

You smacked the back of his head.

“She likes me more than she likes you,” you muttered under your breath.

Ron let out a dramatic groan, rubbing the back of his head like you’d just knocked a bludger into him.

“That was assault, you know,” he muttered, his bottom lip jutting out in the most ridiculous pout. “I could report you to the Ministry for magical domestic violence.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shame we don’t live together, huh? Doesn’t count as domestic.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, because of course you did.

He laughed—that snorty, half-suppressed laugh that always made you want to bottle it up and save it for rainy days. And then—of course—he had to go and make it worse.

Both arms wrapped around you without warning and suddenly, your feet weren’t on the ground anymore.

You let out a startled little squeak that was definitely not dignified.

“I missed you,” he whispered as he set you back down, gentle like you were something breakable.

“Not more than I missed you,” you murmured, fingers threading into his hair—still messy, still warm, still softer than you remembered.

And for just a moment, the world hit pause.

The creaking floors, the wind outside, the distant clatter of pans in the kitchen—all of it melted away.

But peace and quiet in the Burrow? Yeah. As if.

“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!” Molly’s voice rang out from somewhere deep in the house, sounding halfway between war cry and welcome. “IS THAT YOU AT THE DOOR? AND WHO ARE YOU WITH?”

Ron tensed like she’d just caught him red-handed sneaking out after curfew.

“Oh no,” he whispered like he was sharing a prison cell with you. “She’s gonna get excited. Then she’s gonna ask if you’ve eaten. And if you haven’t eaten, she’s gonna make you three full meals.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And if I have eaten?”

“She’ll make two more. Just to be safe.”

You didn’t even get a chance to laugh—because the Molly Weasley experience had just entered the chat.

Her silhouette rounded the corner with a dramatic gasp, eyes going wide the second she saw you.

“Oh, darling! You’re here! And without warning—honestly!” she scolded, even as her arms wrapped around you in a hug that could only be described as life-threatening.

You made a muffled sound somewhere between “hi” and “help.”

“Told you,” Ron muttered behind you, not even trying to hide his smirk.

After a flurry of cheek kisses, bone-crushing affection, and rapid-fire plans involving hot chocolate, Molly turned to Ron with a look.

Not a look. The look.

“And you, young man, will be sleeping in your own room tonight. Don’t think I don’t know how your brain works.”

Then she turned back to you, all maternal warmth and boss-level charm, hands landing gently on your shoulders.

“You’ll be staying in Ginny’s room, sweetheart. It’s all ready for you.” A beat. Then—eyes flicking between you and Ron—“And if I catch even one of you sneaking around to do Merlin-knows-what—”

You flushed so hard you were surprised your face didn’t combust.

“Mum!” Ron practically shouted, horror written across every freckle. “We’re not Percy and his seventh-year girlfriend!”

“Don’t drag your brother into this,” Molly huffed, already marching off like a one-woman army of festive chaos.

Silence.

Then Ron slowly turned toward you with the energy of someone accepting a tragic, unavoidable fate.

“So... plan B?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“Sneaking around the loudest, creakiest house in the magical world.”

A grin tugged at your lips—sharp, wicked, absolutely in. “Perfect. I live for danger.”

Ron kissed your temple, laced his fingers through yours, and whispered like it was a sacred oath:

“Then welcome to the most dangerous mission since Fred and George tried to steal the Christmas pudding.”

You both started up the stairs in hushed giggles, dodging garlands and rogue gnome ornaments.

The stairs creaked like they had a personal vendetta against you.

You and Ron froze in sync halfway up the second flight—your hands still intertwined, your breath caught like two kids caught red-handed sneaking biscuits before dinner.

Ron leaned in, his voice a whisper against your ear. “That step always squeaks. It’s like… cursed or something.”

You nodded solemnly. “A protection charm. Designed by Molly Weasley to keep hormonal teenagers in line.”

He huffed a laugh but clamped a hand over his mouth right after. “Shhh—don’t make me laugh. She’ll hear. She always hears.”

You waited a beat, listening. Nothing but the crackle of the fire downstairs and the distant sound of George laughing at something on the wireless.

You took another step. It groaned like a ghost with a grudge.

Ron winced, looked up at the ceiling like he was begging the universe for mercy, and then shot you a look. “Alright, new plan. I go first. If I fall through the floor, save yourself.”

“Chivalrous. But we both know you’d trip over your own feet and take me down with you.”

“Probably,” he admitted with a sheepish smile, then motioned for you to follow him.

The two of you finally reached the upstairs landing, where dim fairy lights still blinked lazily along the banister, casting a soft golden glow across the walls.

Ginny’s door was just ahead.

But Ron didn’t stop there.

He tugged you past it—past Bill’s old room, past the crooked family portrait wall—and into his own bedroom, gently closing the door behind you with exaggerated care.

You blinked. “I thought your mum said—”

“She definitely said,” he cut in. “But hear me out.”

You crossed your arms. “This should be good.”

“I thought maybe,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck like it was a nervous tic wired into his DNA, “we could just talk a while. You know. Before sneaking you back to Ginny’s. Like... fifteen minutes. Tops.”

You stared at him, and something warm bloomed in your chest.

There was his bed, slightly messy. A weird assortment of Chudley Cannons memorabilia scattered across every surface. A half-eaten chocolate frog on the desk. A single slipper with no known partner. And Ron, standing there like he wasn’t sure where to put his hands, like maybe asking you to sit on his bed was the equivalent of proposing marriage.

You smiled and walked in, sitting down with a soft floomp onto the edge of the bed.

Fifteen minutes, huh?

Ron sat beside you, just close enough for his knee to brush against yours. For a moment, the quiet returned—warm, comfortable, humming with all the unspoken things that didn’t need to be said.

He nudged your shoulder with his. “So. Best part of today?”

You tilted your head. “Seeing your face when I walked in.”

His ears turned a very satisfying shade of pink. “Yeah? Same.”

You leaned back on your hands, looking around. “And the worst part?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Mum threatening to separate us like first years caught in a broom closet.”

You laughed, and he did too—soft and quiet and lovely.

Then, after a beat, he reached out, intertwining your fingers again, his thumb brushing lazy circles over your skin.

“I know it’s chaotic here. Loud. A bit overwhelming sometimes. But…” He glanced over at you, his expression shifting into something softer. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just scooted a little closer until your shoulder pressed fully against his. “Me too.”

Another pause. Another little pocket of peace between the cracks of Weasley chaos.

Then—

A floorboard groaned loudly in the hallway. Followed by the unmistakable sound of Molly muttering something about “wandering children” and “for Merlin’s sake.”

You both stiffened.

Ron’s eyes went wide. “Operation: Retreat?”

You nodded. “Go, go, go!”

You bolted out the door hand-in-hand, trying not to giggle, dodging the squeaky step, tiptoeing like pros through the flickering shadows—two partners in crime on a mission to beat Molly’s bedtime patrol.

Because sneaking around the Burrow might’ve been a terrible plan…

But it was also kind of perfect.

Especially with Ron.

a/n: I know it's spring, but I loved the idea and had to do it. ! words count: 1,859

[avaawritess]

Delicate-by Taylor swift😛

Honorable mentions

18- one direction

Shameless- Camilla Cabello

Aged up college au

Childhood friends to lovers, sunshine x grumpy, female reader,lowkey short

Spotify

Apple Music

Fluff, angst,smut

Warnings: Rough sex, desperate Bakugo, praise kink,overstimulation, pussy drunk Bakugo, missionary,aftercare😁

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Bakugo had a very huge reputation not in the best way a lot of times. Most it was he was too rough, too cold, too...mean. At least that's how others see it, see him. They don't see the soft, sweet version he rarely shows.

How he gets you your favorite chocolates when your on your period or will go out of his way to get multiple boxes of pads and tampons just because he didn't know which one you used (he got regular and heavy flow and MAXIMUM) what the hell was maximum he thought. "Tch I don't think she needs all this" he mutters to himself as he willingly checks it all out bringing five hundred bags of just stuff you crave and need.

Your eyes lit up and he got the fluttering feeling he grew used to assuming it was happiness to see you happy.

Never understanding that it was because you're genuinely his favorite person to be with.

One time you two were at the fair. He was dragged along but came just to see the bright smile take place on your soft lips. Oh how he adored the way your eyes shone with sparkles which he thought he was hallucinating and grumbled looking away.

You both were walking around as you talked about recent drama at the college and how your friends boyfriends acted and how they made you mad. He really didn't care, he just liked hearing you talk with that sweet melodic tone.

"Hey let's go on that one" you pointed at a large rollercoaster. "No," he said with a straight face. Before a pout took place of that bright smile,"why not?" You asked and he sighed knowing you,"because you'll get sick after the first drop and after I'll have to get you a water and we wouldn't ride anymore rides" he says.

You pout grumbling incoherent words, that was until he let out a reluctant sigh,"fine but if your dumbass gets sick don't complain to me" he grumbles crossing his strong arms, his back muscles flexing in the light.

He was right, obviously. The first drop didn't do you justice your stomach curling uncomfortably with the taste of disgust lingering on the edge of your tongue.

Well he was right to an extent he would definitely help you. He was worried to no end rushing and barking orders to people that you were gonna die (you weren't) and finally he got you water with a cold rag. "Fucking dipshits wouldn't get out of my way acting like their dip n' dots was more important than my... I mean you" he grumble shutting up as he placed the cold rag on your forehead letting you sip from the water.

You both obviously left no more rollercoasters just as he said but he would do anything to see your smile so he'd do anything in a heartbeat even if it was for a second he saw your eyes lighting up in delight.

He dropped you off at your shared apartment with Mina. He carried you bridal style making sure you were okay and whispering comfort words in your ear as he held you and your water bottle in his arms.

Mina opens the door surprised seeing a worried Bakugo holding an almost passed out y/n,"What happened?" She asked opening the door wider. Bakugo stepped in setting you on the couch comfortably pulling blanket over you tenderly. His eyes flashed with care and adoration as he placed your belongings on the side table with your water bottle.

"She got sick at the fair" he said shortly, dryly as if Mina didn't deserve his time. She looked at him deadpanned as an annoyed sigh left her lips. Glancing at you she notices you're asleep so when Bakugo goes to leave she stops him,"you ever gonna confess or what you two are in this push pull type of situation like you should just ask her out" she said seriously a small grin tugging her lips upward as she noticed Bakugo stiffen.

He turned slowly glaring at her with a hushed whisper he talked back,"what the fuck are you on about pinky" he says almost defensively.

"You know you treat her differently than anyone, your softer it's kinda sweet in a way...a weird disgusting hopelessly In love way" she says humming loving the way she got flustered almost proving her theory right.

"Tch just shut up you don't know what you're talking about" he said grumpily before storming away before she could say more to actually get him thinking.

He thought he was safe honestly, that he could keep this whole charade of just friends. But his friends had another idea in mind.

He was so fucked.

A couple weeks later they all sat in the cafeteria chatting and catching up while he texted you since you were in your lecture missing lunch.

This freaking sucks she's talking about chemical bonds are super important remember all of them! As if I haven't already who does she think I am stupid?? :(

She's probably mad that a 23 year old is smarter than her 63 year old ass.

Don't call her that >:( but I totally agreee she's so uptight

He smiled softly chuckling to himself, the group turned their heads to him in surprise.

"Did he just laugh?"Denki asked quietly chewing on a snack,"Forget that he's smiling so big I think he's constipated" Kirishima whispers back all of them indulged in the way Bakugo was texting back with so much speed.Mina sat in the corner a smirk plastered on her face cause she knew why he was smiling.

"Our boys in love with his best friend" Mina says loud enough to make Bakugo look up and stiffen the group looked surprised. "YOURE GAY?!!" Denki yelled before Mina hushed him but before Bakugo could speak Kirishima cut him off,"dude you should've told me you liked Midoriya" not knowing it was his other best friend.

Bakugo just groaned telling them to quiet down before he blasts them."No his other best friend y/n" Mina grinned. "I don't like her she's just a friend pinky" Bakugo glared but before Kirishima hooted,"oh no dude your whipped I was confused if it was midoriya but y/n makes more sense your always staring at her like she hung the moon and stars"

He glared fiercely, silently threatening them as they wore shit eating grins snickering like middle school girls.

After that incident he really started to think back, did he really like you?

I mean he did like the way you smiled, they you laughed, the way your eyes twinkled with amusement from a crappy dad joke, the way you'd smile when talking about anything and everything, and it was all for him.

It was his to have.

But he was scared that's what you didn't want that you didn't like him or even see him the same so he did something any stubborn scared person would do.

Push the person they care about the most the farthest away from them to just have space to think correctly.

At first you took it well assuming he was going through something. But the longer it dragged out the more you worried.

Had you have done something?

You're more sure, you don't remember offending him or anything, fuck the last you saw him you both got coffee together like usual.

So what was going on?

Soon it affected your mood and how you dealed with anything and everything. Mina was the first to notice the tension, the drift between you two that was so out of the blue. She noticed how sad and gloomy you were, to how you stopped attending lectures Bakugo would usually scold you for skipping.

She knew you loved him genuinely.

Even though you never voiced it, she knew just how much he meant to you. And how affected you seriously were.

Finally you had enough, after a month of silent treatment and vague conversations. Your heart burned with pain and heartache as you finally gathered the courage to knock two firm knocks on his apartment door.

It was raining outside, cold, gloomy, the raindrops dripping slowly down the window as if trying to hang on to the one surface they could be on.

As if once they fell that was the end, and maybe you were scared that was gonna be you and Bakugo soon.

Like the raindrops, you were scared he was your surface and you were the raindrops. Holding onto something that will never be enough to hold you, to support you.

After some time that felt like long torturous hours,your heart in your throat.

He opened the door, his hair frizzled and down far from his usual spiky proud look. He had intense eye bags, wearing a crumpled up t-shirt and sweatpants that had stains on them. You glanced inside his once clean apartment that held opened cans of soda and food lying around as if he couldn't sleep.

"Are you okay?" You managed to croak, "yes I'll be fine you can go" he says shortly as if too scared to say too much.

He tries to close the door but you stopped in your lip trembling in fear,"did I do something, I'm sorry.....I...I'm so sorry" you said fear taking over as your voice cracked.

He looks up at you eyes wide with suprise as he looks away the fear in your eyes eating him away as he feels so guilty, frustration building.

You mumbled out apologies one after the other as you ramble on about what you could do better and how you'd improve. God, sometimes he hated when you rambled talking down on yourself as if your nothing but a mouse to him.

"Shut up" he says lowly but you kept going and his frustration snapped it at you but himself,"shut up" he said yelling fingers entangled in his hair pulling the roots to bring him pain as if to forget the way his heart aches in sadness for you.

You go silent watching him fight his internal battles inside his head. "I'm not...shit.. I'm not mad at you I'm mad at me" he says his voice croaking going down an octave.

You stood there scared,"Fuck...shitty hair and pinky were right...I fucking like you... like a lot like so fucking much I want to kill every person who looks at you wrong... I hate that stupid smile that you give me and how I get so giddy over your fucking adorable laugh and just how you brighten the room..brighten the world with your smile it makes me feel shit I'm not used to" he says spitting out a confession he never meant to.

"I just used to think it was cause we were child hood friends but I don't do any of this shit for Deku or stupid raccoon eyes" he says.

"But fuck I like you..love you even your the most important person in my life an I...I don't know what'd do without you" he says the words weighing heavily on your shoulders.

The silence ate him apart as he stood there silently.

His heart was laid out, bare, raw, and vulnerable just for you.

"I..love...you too" you said slowly loo trembling a smile taking a hold of your lips. Fuck his heart ramped up seeing it greave your lips like a blessing meant just for him.

He stepped forward looking down at you adoration filling his face with a hint of desire glinting in his eyes. You felt his breath fan over your lips. They parted, heart racing.

"Can I...kiss you?" He asked hungrily. Fuck he would've loved to just devour you right then and there but hearing your consent he was fucking hard from that thought of you trusting and telling him what you want.

Your lips purse together scared before nodding slowly and as you did his lips crashed onto yours, making you le to a sharp gasp he ate with delight.

His fingers dug into your hips while your hands held his face.

He pulled you into his apartment lips never leaving yours as he shut and locked his apartment door pushing you up against it.

"Fuck your beautiful" he said huskily glancing over your flushed features the way your chest heaved up and down from how intense he was. Just from the look you gave him he felt his balls tighten already needing to cum but he'd save that for you.

"Fuck come on gorgeous" he says gently leading you to his bedroom before pushing you up against his door not waiting any longer,lips clashing with yours as if to memorize your mouth.

He presses flush against you making oh squirm from his overwhelming body heat. "Fuck" he groaned against your lips.

"Tell me what you want" he says hoarsely his forehead against yours staring deeply into your eyes. You bite your lip shyly,"u-um I want you" you say. He grins almost teasingly,"well I hope so beautiful but what do you want me to do" he hums patiently.

You grumble embarrassed, "I want you to eat me out" you said glancing away as he grinned proudly, kissing you once more before pushing you lightly on the bed.

He smiles as he left small love bits in your jaw as he helped you undress, finally after years he pulls off of you to see your gorgeous body beneath him,"fuck look at you, so ready for me so beautiful" he says leaving kisses down your neck to your collarbone across your perky breast teasing the area around your nipple before going down your soft stomach and down to the inside of your thigh.

Your legs tried to clench to hide yourself from him as he hummed as if disappointed,"no sweetheart, imma need you to stay open for me" he says.

You whimper embarrassingly as you glanced away from him, he took a long lick of your cunt. "Look at me with those pretty eyes of yours" he demands grinning against your cunt as you listen.

He hums making you squirm from the vibration. He ate you out slowly teasingly, as if to make you beg for something he'd wait to give.

He slowly got faster tounge delving into your slick folds. Earning loud moans and meals from your pretty mouth.

His thumb teased your clit going fast before going slow earnings a frustrated huff from you that almost made him laugh at how needy you were .

He loved seeing you squirm and look at him with those lust-filled eyes begging him for more.

Your hands dug into his head gripping his hair as if to pull you down back to reality. Earning a groan against your wet juicy cunt as he went faster bringing you closer to your climax.

Finally you came but he didn't stop his rough tongue dragging out your orgasm.

He grinned watching your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

He softly laughed lapping up your juices from his chin and around his mouth.

"Fuck beautiful you did so well but come on you can give me another one right?" He hums almost evilly. Forcing tow digits into your sopping wet cunt.

Earning a loud mewl from you. As he slowly fully pulled the out before shoving them back in."Look at you so willing to take my fingers pretty girl" he hums satisfied. Before picking up his pace using his thumb to push down on your clit earning more pleasure from you. He could tell you were close again from the way your velvety walls clinched onto his fingers.

"Fuck princess cum for me, come on my fingers with your pretty cunt"

Once he said that you let out a loud moan he slowly thrusted them in praising you, "how about one more princess" he kissed your temple. It in fact was not one more but three leaving you trembling and overstimulated.

He grinned at his artwork sucking your juices away from his fingers tasting you. Before kissing you so you'd taste yourself.

Tears pooled your eyes from exhaustion and the overstimulation.

"Just one more baby I know your tired but I mean it" he says humming pulling off his pants and his boxer revealing his hard fat cock as it slapped onto your stomach.

Your stomach curled with pleasure at the sight, but too overstimulated to care.

You let out a noise as if to say fine. He hummed happily a teasing smirk plastered on his face.

As he rubbed his dick up and down your folds lubricating it with your juices making you whine and whimper.

Finally he looked at you for the go ahead still wanting you consent not wanting to push boundaries.

You nodded your lip trembling,"hey it's okay sweetheart I'll be slow...that is if you want that"

He said that as he slowly pushed in his breath becoming ragged letting out a grunt of satisfaction as he pushed himself all the way in.

Fuck he loved your pussy it was so sweet and fit him so well.

He waited for your nod before slowly thrusting in and out. Pulling all the way out before slamming himself back in earning loud moans from you.

You let out babbles as you force yourself to say "faster" it came out more strained then you meant.

He nodded before listening to your demand going faster pistoning in and out of your greedy cunt.

He let his head fall back as his hips set a bruising pace against your sensitive hips."Fuck sweetheart your perfect" he grunts while you let out more rambles that fall silent and drool leaves the corners of your mouth.

Finally his thrusts became sloppy and he pulled out dumping his seed all over your stomach before laying on top of you both of your chest heaving sweaty bodies conjoining as one.

"Fuck you did so welll for me" he hums giving you a slow sweet kiss. Before rolling off,"come on let's get you cleaned up" he says dragging you to the bath cleaning both of your dirty bodies off as you two softly tiredly chat earning soft laughter and smiles from one another.

Once you two were finished you layer in his arms as he put on one of your favorite romance movies on,"shit this is fucked yo after we had sex" he groans into your hair as he kisses your head,"but y/n will you be my girlfriend" he asks shyly his ears tinting pink.

You smile softly laughing at his awkwardness,"yes I will" you hum nuzzling closer to him hungry for his warmth.

He grunts,"idiot" he says before softly smiling kissing your head once more.

Maybe he was a rough cold guy but he just needed his own person to love to take down those walls. At least that's what he thought.

Bonus scene

"YOUR TOGETHER" Mina shouts letting the whole campus know as you two sat side by side his arm wrapping around your shoulder pulling you closer.

Bakugo ignores her eating his lunch silently letting the chaos unfold.

"You two fucked didn't you?" Denki asked a shit eating grin plastered on his face. You both stiffened your face red and well Bakugo shot him a glare.

He laughed,"what it's not my fault I can basically feel the pheromones and testosterone in the air, so how was it y/n Bakugo rough in the sheets?" He ask grinning before earning a smack from Bakugo himself.

You were so flustered you groaned and nuzzled your face into Bakugo chest hiding yourself. "Shut up Denki and none of you better tease her or I will fucking blast you into fucking oblivion" he threatens.

"And here I thought he'd change but no" Kirishima said before grinning,"we get it bakubro we're happy for you "he says.

Denki snickers,"yea for growing a pair and listening to us" and before he knew it Bakugo blasted him away from the table.

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Authors note

Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it.

[s0ulja-g1rl]

Late-Night Drives & Mixtapes

Rodrick Heffley x Fem!Reader | Fluff | 1.2K words

The low rumble of Rodrick’s van was the only sound in the stillness of the night. The neon glow from passing streetlights cast fleeting shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel. You sat beside him, your legs tucked under you, basking in the comfortable silence that only came with being around him.

It was past midnight, and the world felt softer, slower, as Rodrick drove with no real destination in mind. The cool night air seeped through the cracked windows, carrying the scent of asphalt and pine. Your town always felt different at night—quieter, almost like it belonged to just the two of you.

Rodrick exhaled through his nose, tapping the dashboard with his palm. “Alright, Y/N, serious question,” he said, his voice scratchy from a mix of exhaustion and whatever energy drink he’d chugged before picking you up. “If you had to listen to only one band for the rest of your life—like, no skips, no variety—who would it be?”

You hummed, pretending to give it deep thought. “Löded Diper, obviously.”

Rodrick groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That doesn’t count. You’re just saying that ‘cause you feel bad for us.”

“Maybe.” You grinned. “But also, I like your music, okay? So sue me.”

He side-eyed you, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he flicked on the stereo, and the van filled with the opening chords of a song you didn’t recognize.

“What’s this?” you asked, shifting in your seat as the steady drumbeat kicked in.

Rodrick shrugged, gripping the wheel tighter. “Just a mix. You’ll like it.”

You didn’t miss the way his knuckles flexed, how his knee bounced as if he was waiting for you to say something. His usual cocky attitude was nowhere to be found—just nerves, poorly hidden under the dim glow of the dashboard.

You leaned closer, letting the song wash over you. It was a mix of classic rock and some heavier alternative stuff, but then, a song that was unmistakably different played through the speakers—something softer, melodic, almost sweet.

You turned your head slowly. “Rodrick… did you make this?”

He snorted. “What? A playlist? Yeah, Y/N, that’s not exactly rocket science.”

“No, I mean… for me?”

Rodrick drummed his fingers against the wheel, gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I dunno,” he muttered. “Maybe.”

A warmth spread through your chest, something soft and fluttery. You had known Rodrick for years, and despite his general ‘I don’t care’ attitude, there were always these moments where he’d surprise you—where he’d let that tough exterior slip just enough to show the messy, endearing boy underneath.

“Rodrick,” you pressed, smiling despite yourself. “Did you just make me a mixtape?”

“I didn’t put it on a tape, did I?” He groaned, but you saw the tips of his ears go pink. “Just—ugh, don’t make it weird, okay?”

You let out a small laugh, watching as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was so bad at this—at being soft, at admitting when he did something thoughtful—but that just made it all the more endearing.

“I love it,” you said simply, because you did.

Rodrick peeked at you, and the tension in his shoulders eased, just a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of the engine and the music filling the space between you. The city lights faded as Rodrick turned onto an empty backroad, the kind lined with trees where the only illumination came from the headlights slicing through the dark.

He ran a hand through his already-messy hair. “Alright, your turn. One band for life—not Löded Diper.”

You tapped your chin dramatically. “Hmm… Nickelback.”

Rodrick gasped, swerving the van slightly. “Take that back.”

You cackled, throwing your head back. “Make me.”

Rodrick shot you a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re lucky I don’t pull over and leave your ass on the side of the road.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you challenged, poking his arm. “You’d miss me too much.”

Rodrick rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” But his grip on the wheel tightened, and there was something softer in the way he glanced at you, in the way his lips parted like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t quite figure out how.

The mixtape—his mixtape for you—kept playing, the tracks bleeding into each other, each one carefully picked by him. It was so painfully obvious now, what this was. He hadn’t just thrown together a bunch of songs he liked.

He’d picked songs with meaning. Songs that told you things he didn’t know how to say.

The van rolled to a stop at the edge of a hill that overlooked the town. It was a spot the two of you had come to before, but tonight, it felt different. The lights below twinkled like tiny stars, and for the first time in a while, everything felt… easy.

Rodrick leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms before resting one over the back of yours. He was pretending to be casual about it, but you could feel the warmth of his fingers, just barely brushing your shoulder.

“You wanna know something?” he asked suddenly.

You turned to him, resting your cheek against the seat. “Always.”

Rodrick licked his lips, drumming his fingers absentmindedly against the dashboard. “I, uh… I don’t really do this. Like, the whole, y’know…” He waved a hand vaguely. “Feelings thing.”

“I never would’ve guessed,” you teased.

He shot you a look. “I’m being serious.”

“I know,” you said, a little softer this time. “Go on.”

Rodrick exhaled sharply, like he was bracing himself. “I just—look, I like having you around, okay?” He squirmed, like the words physically pained him. “And not in, like, a ‘you’re cool to hang out with’ way, but in a ‘shit, I think about you all the time and it’s annoying’ way.”

Your heart stuttered, heat creeping up your neck. “Rodrick—”

“Wait, I’m not done,” he interrupted, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before forcing himself to look at you. “I made the dumb mixtape because every time I hear a song I like, I wonder if you’d like it. And I wanna know what you think about it, and—ugh, this is so lame.”

You laughed, but it wasn’t mocking—it was light, breathless, because God, he was a mess, and it was adorable.

“Rodrick.” You reached over, slipping your fingers through his. His breath hitched, and he tensed, but he didn’t pull away.

“…Yeah?”

You squeezed his hand. “I think about you all the time, too.”

Rodrick blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

You grinned. “Yeah, idiot.”

For a second, all he did was stare at you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, with a sudden burst of confidence, he leaned in.

The kiss was quick—just a hesitant brush of lips, warm and a little clumsy—but it made your stomach flip all the same. When he pulled back, his cheeks were red, and he was trying so hard to act cool about it.

“Well,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t terrible.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him back in.

This time, he kissed you properly.

And if the mixtape continued playing softly in the background, with lyrics about love and late-night drives and stupid teenage feelings—well, neither of you were complaining.

[skzstarl0ver]

I know you did a long distance Felix but can you maybe do an in person one. It would make me really happy. and if you would allow me I'd love to reblog it if you do. But over all I absolutely love your work ♡

if you do accept my request please make sure to tag me if you can.

Love, Ember_Fires ♡

ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

Hii @emberfiresbitchy I wasn't 100% sure what kind of fic you prefer so I just mixed a little bit of smut and fluff, I hope you like it xx

Lee Felix x reader / classmates to lovers / slow burn / smut / fluff / one shot

**involves!!** sex, strong tension, cursing, teasing, dirty talk

enjoy xx (request open)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

There’s a rule in our class that everyone hates, except for maybe two people.

Every Friday, Ms. Jang makes us add one song to the shared class playlist. She says it “fosters emotional intelligence and communal bonding through sound.” I say it’s just a way to expose everyone’s deeply embarrassing music taste.

But fine. Whatever.

At first, it was funny. Someone added “Barbie Girl” ironically, another added a 12-minute Norwegian death metal track that played at full volume while we were doing worksheets. But then..

The first time I notice it, I’m curled up in my dorm bed at midnight, trying not to cry over a theory exam I definitely failed. The shared playlist starts auto-playing, and instead of some chaotic EDM garbage or meme audio clip, it’s… soft.

Lo-fi. Gentle. Intimate.

The lyrics?

“I keep noticing you.” “How you laugh. How you lean back in your chair like you own the world.” “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

The title is even worse: “if you knew what i felt, would you smile?”

My heart clenches.

I glance at the username. felixlee

We barely talk. He sits a few seats behind me in class, always in hoodies, always with that quiet, raspy voice that makes you want to lean in closer. He laughs easily. Smiles like he means it.

We’ve had small talk about—coffee machines, shitty printers, dumb assignments—but never anything real.

So why does this song feel like a secret he accidentally let slip?

The next week, he adds another one. And then another. Every Friday night like clockwork, after everyone else has already dropped their songs, he adds his: quiet confessions buried in dreamy lyrics.

“You smile at me like I matter. I don’t think you know what you do to me.”

I don’t say anything. I pretend I don’t notice.

But I do.

I start listening alone in my room, legs tangled in blankets, headphones in, heart in my throat.

I start looking at him differently, too.

The way he drums on his desk absentmindedly. The way his hair flops into his eyes. The way he’s started waiting at the classroom door for me.

I tell myself it’s a coincidence.

But when I laugh too hard one day and glance behind me, he’s staring.

And smiling.

We get paired for a midterm project.

Three weeks of working together. Study sessions. Shared notes. Coffee runs. Him leaning over my shoulder to look at my screen. Me catching his scent—clean and warm and a little vanilla—and pretending it doesn’t do things to me.

He teases me constantly.

“You always chew your pen when you’re stuck. It’s cute.”

“Is that a playlist of sad girl indie music? On brand.”

“You gonna steal another one of my pens?”

I roll my eyes. I call him annoying. I think about kissing him every goddamn day.

It finally breaks one night, deep into our last project session.

We're sitting side by side on the floor of an empty practice room, laptop between us, snacks spread out, low music playing from his speaker.

“I like your taste in music,” I say casually.

He glances at me. “Yeah?”

I nod. “I’ve been listening to your playlist songs.”

A pause.

His voice drops, quiet. “What do you think they’re about?”

“I don’t know,” I lie. “Someone you like?”

He looks at me. His eyes are soft and unreadable. “Yeah. Someone I’ve liked for a while.”

My breath catches.

He leans closer.

The air between us snaps.

And then he kisses me.

It’s soft. Gentle. Warm.

His lips move against mine slowly, like he’s giving me time to pull away.

I don’t.

I kiss him back—harder, messier. My hands in his hoodie. His fingers sliding into my hair.

We’re breathing into each other’s mouths, flushed and panting, when he pulls back just enough to whisper, “Do you wanna—?”

“Yes.”

We stumble into his dorm thirty minutes later, soaked in rain and adrenaline.

He shuts the door behind us, then pins me to it—gently, hands braced beside my head. He kisses me again, slower this time. His tongue slides against mine and I groan softly.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he breathes.

My shirt is gone before I realize it. His hoodie follows. I run my hands down his chest, and he shivers under my touch.

He lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist. He carries me to the bed and lays me down like I’m something delicate. Then he kneels between my thighs and just looks at me.

“Been thinking about this for weeks,” he murmurs, fingers sliding under my waistband.

I whimper. “Then stop teasing.”

He grins—and pulls everything off me.

His mouth on me is heaven.

He licks slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on mine while he holds my hips in place. I moan shamelessly when he flicks his tongue just right. His name slips from my lips like prayer.

When I come, it’s with his fingers inside me and his tongue still working my clit.

He climbs up my body after, kissing his way up my stomach, chest, throat, lips. “You okay?” he asks softly, voice hoarse.

“Condom,” I whisper.

He grabs one from the drawer. Rolls it on. Lines himself up—

And sinks into me with a groan that sounds like he’s been holding it in forever.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, forehead pressed to mine. “You feel so good.”

He moves slowly at first. Deep, languid strokes that leave me gasping. He holds my hands above my head, kisses my mouth every time I moan. It’s not rushed. It’s not just sex.

It’s him saying everything the playlist couldn’t.

When I come again, I cry out his name. He kisses me through it, whispering how beautiful I look, how much he likes me, how he can’t believe he finally has me like this.

He follows right after—hips stuttering, breath catching, forehead pressed to mine like he never wants to let go.

We lie tangled in his sheets after, sweaty and breathless.

His arm is wrapped around my waist. I’m tucked into his chest. He kisses my forehead and murmurs, “You know they were all about you, right?”

I smile against his skin.

“I do now.”

The next morning, he adds a new song to the playlist.

“your name tastes better than coffee.”

And that’s when the class group chat blows up.

I feel like this one was kinda short but I still hope you liked it xx

[anhedoniawrites]

it’s not a date, we just kinda fuck around.

gif by @reidgif

june baby - victoria canal

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader.

summary: the two youngest BAU agents go on a first date

genre: fluff💌

word count: 8.5k

warnings: no use of y/n, proofread, none! (this is all foreplay for the smut that’s coming)

masterlist!

You never thought Spencer Reid would actually work up the courage to ask you out. Yet here you were, standing in your apartment with only ten minutes to spare, staring at your closet like it held the answer to life itself. Nothing seemed good enough, and you still had no idea what to wear. If you’d had even the slightest inkling that this day would come, you would have pre-planned outfits for every possible scenario—a casual coffee shop, a romantic dinner, even an impromptu museum date. But you hadn’t, because as much as you’d daydreamed about it, you never thought it would happen.

Spencer Reid had always been a harmless work crush. Brilliant, kind, and charming in his uniquely awkward way, he was the type of man you admired from a distance, assuming he was far too shy—or uninterested—to make a move. Yet somehow, against all odds, you were, nervously getting ready to go on a date with him.

The memory of how it all unfolded still made you smile. You’d been in the work kitchen, fixing your usual afternoon coffee, when Spencer had wandered in with his signature blend of distracted focus and nervous energy. You glanced up as he approached, expecting nothing more than a quick hello and maybe some small talk about the latest case. Instead, he surprised you.

“Hi,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost hesitant. He stood a little too close to the coffee pot, fiddling with the lid as if it held the courage he needed.

“Hey, Spencer,” you replied, smiling warmly.

They chatted about nothing in particular—books, coffee, the endless intricacies of caffeine preferences—until, without warning, he blurted out the question.

“Would you, um… would you ever want to get coffee together? Like, outside of work?”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t a grand gesture or a sweeping declaration, but it was undeniably Spencer—quiet, earnest, and completely endearing. You’d barely managed to contain your excitement as you said yes, feeling like a teenager with a crush all over again.

Now, standing in your room, you glanced at the clock. Seven minutes. You grabbed a dress—something simple yet flattering—and slipped it on, your mind racing. You’d been waiting for this moment since the day you joined the team, and now that it was yours, you couldn’t help but wonder how the evening would go. Would he be his usual awkward self? Would he surprise you again with something bold and unexpected?

Whatever happened, you knew one thing: Spencer Reid had already managed to surprise you once.

Seven agonising minutes—each second stretched out like an eternity. The silence was suffocating, gnawing at you from the inside out, until the sudden knock at the door broke the tension. Your heart leapt in your chest. He was here. Spencer was finally here, and your nerves threatened to spill over.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, before opening the door with a forced smile. The sight of him standing there, his hands fidgeting nervously, only made your own anxiety rise. He looked just as uneasy, maybe even more so. His usually confident posture was slightly hunched, his eyes darting to the floor, avoiding yours for a moment before he met your gaze.

“Hey, Spence,” you greeted, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to sound calm.

“Hey, I- um…” Spencer hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His voice was soft, uncertain. He stepped forward, pulling a bouquet of lilies from behind his figure. The delicate white flowers were a perfect match for your taste, and you couldn’t help but smile, your nerves easing just a little. “These are for you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, your smile widening. “Spence, you shouldn’t have,” you said, reaching out to take the bouquet, feeling a warmth in your fingertips as you touched the smooth, delicate petals. The scent of the lilies was intoxicating, and for a moment, you were lost in the fragrance.

He shifted awkwardly, his eyes darting around as if searching for something to say. “I, uh… I thought you’d like them.”

You stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. “You thought right. Come in, Spence.”

He followed you into your apartment, his presence oddly comforting despite the tension still hanging between them. You quickly moved toward the kitchen, trying to focus on something, anything, to distract yourself from the storm of emotions churning inside you.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. The apartment was far from pristine. The cluttered coffee table, the dishes piled up in the sink—it wasn’t the welcoming space you’d imagined showing him. “I’m so sorry the place is a mess,” you said, your cheeks warming with self-consciousness. You carefully set the lilies down on the counter, your hands trembling slightly as you arranged them.

Spencer’s eyes softened as he glanced around, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “It’s fine,” he reassured you, his voice gentle. “You should see my place.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound soft and nervous. As you filled a vase with water, you thought back to the little things he had taught you, like how to properly cut the stems of flowers to help them last longer. You carefully angled the scissors and snipped each stem at a diagonal, the sound of the cut echoing in the quiet kitchen. You remembered him telling you that the angled cut would help the flowers drink better, and you did it now without thinking. The thought of him lingered in your mind as you worked, a smile playing on your lips.

The bouquet was finally settled in the vase, its elegant white petals standing out against the cool glass. You stepped back, admiring the flowers, but it was Spencer’s presence in the room that made everything feel just a little bit brighter.

“Much better. Thank you, Spence,” you said, your voice soft with appreciation as you glanced at the flowers on the kitchen counter. Their vibrant white petals stood out against the cool, clear glass of the vase, the room suddenly feeling a little warmer, a little brighter. You grabbed your bag from the chair, the familiar weight of it grounding you. You turned to face him, your nerves still fluttering, but your excitement growing as the moment approached.

“You ready?” you asked, your voice light but with an undercurrent of anticipation.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flickering to the floor for a split second. He wasn’t sure if he was ever truly ready, especially not when it came to dates. His stomach twisted in knots, but that nervous energy was overshadowed by the excitement of being with you, of sharing a moment like this.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he replied, a nervous but genuine smile tugging at his lips.

With that, they were out the door, stepping into the crisp air of Washington. The city felt alive around them, the hum of the streets, the distant chatter of people, the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. They strolled side by side, both holding their coffee cups, yours an iced concoction with a splash of cream, his steaming hot with a swirl of cinnamon. He wasn’t usually one for aimless wandering, but as he looked over at you, he realized that this moment was worth it.

Your face, illuminated by the golden afternoon sun, was pure contentment. Your eyes sparkled as they took in the world around you, lighting up at every little thing. Whether it was a street performer, a stray cat lazily sunning itself, or the way the city skyline framed the horizon, you had a way of making the mundane seem magical. And he, well, he would do anything to keep seeing that smile on your face, to be the reason your eyes shone with that infectious joy.

As they passed a little street corner, your gaze drifted across the road, and your eyes lit up once again. There, nestled between a café and a bookstore, was a small record store with a neon sign flashing softly in the window.

“Can we go in?” you asked, your voice filled with excitement, your fingers already tugging gently at his sleeve.

Spencer followed your gaze, his heart doing a little flip at the eagerness in your voice. You had that effect on him—the way you made even the simplest moments feel special. “Of course,” he said with a smile, his voice soft but sincere. “Lead the way.”

And just like that, they crossed the street together, the world outside fading into the background as they stepped into the warmth of the record store. The air smelled faintly of old vinyl and coffee, and the soft hum of music played in the background, creating the perfect atmosphere for them to lose themselves in.

“Smell that?” you asked, your nose lifting to the air as you inhaled deeply, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “That’s the smell of the best way to listen to music.” The scent of aged vinyl, dust, and nostalgia filled the space, wrapping around them like a cozy blanket. You laughed at yourself, a light, airy sound that seemed to match the atmosphere of the record store perfectly. Spencer couldn’t help but join in, his laugh a little quieter but no less genuine, his eyes softening as he watched you.

“You spend too much time with Rossi,” Spencer teased, his fingers flicking through the rows of records, his gaze scanning the colourful covers. He was looking for something—anything—that caught his attention, but his mind was more on the way you lit up in places like this, surrounded by things you loved.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offence as you met his gaze, your hand pausing mid-air over a stack of albums. “I am offended by your words, Dr. Reid,” you replied, your tone playful, your eyes sparkling with a teasing edge.

Spencer smiled, the edges of his mouth curling up into something warmer as he continued flipping through the records, pretending to be serious. “You should be. That’s a direct quote from Rossi himself,” he said, holding up a record sleeve and giving it a quick glance before setting it back down.

Your laugh filled the space again, bright and free. You pulled another record from the shelf, this one with a faded cover you recognised from years ago. “Well, if I spend too much time with Rossi, then I guess I’m doomed to become a vinyl snob,” you joked, flipping the record over to check the tracklist. You ran your fingers over the edges of the sleeve, feeling the familiar grooves of the cover, the little imperfections that only came with time.

You glanced over at Spencer, watching him for a moment as he flipped through his own stack. There was something so easy about being with him here, in this small, dimly lit shop filled with memories and melodies. “I mean, how else are you supposed to listen to music?” you asked, raising an eyebrow dramatically as you glanced down at the album in your hands. Then, with a theatrical flair, you placed your free hand on your hip and tilted your head back, doing your best (and rather exaggerated) impersonation of Rossi. “It’s the only way to really appreciate it. The crackle, the warmth… it’s like you can feel the music,” you said, making a show of puffing out an imaginary cigar and letting the smoke trail into the air.

Spencer’s laughter was immediate, loud, and genuine, as he looked over at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh my God,” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are way too good at that.”

You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself. “I’ve been practicing,” you said, striking a mock pose, your hand still poised as if holding the cigar, before you finally broke into another fit of laughter. Spencer couldn’t help but join you, his smile wide and full of affection. “Rossi would be proud,” he teased, his voice light, but there was a fondness in the way he looked at you.

You winked, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Well, if I’m ever in need of a new career, I think I’ve got this down.”

By the time you reached the end of your long search through the endless rows of records, you had carefully chosen a couple you were willing to splurge on. Cradling the records against your chest, you joined the line at the register, the buzz of the store humming around you.

When your turn came, you placed the records on the counter, chatting casually with the cashier as you fied through your bag for your wallet. Your voice was light, a touch distracted as your fingers rifled through your belongings.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer had stepped closer, the faintest hint of a mischievous smile on his lips. Without a word, he slipped his card onto the reader. The machine beeped, signalling the completed transaction just as you finally found your wallet and looked up.

Confused, your gaze darted between the cashier and Spencer, who was already sliding his card back into his wallet with an air of nonchalance.

“Spencer!” you gasped, stepping out of line with him as they headed toward the exit. You gave him that look—the one that said he didn’t have to do what he just did. Your lips parted to speak, but he beat you to it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, your voice laced with both gratitude and protest. Your hazel eyes darted to the floor for a moment before flicking back to him, catching the warm, self-assured look in his own. You didn’t like people spending money on you when you had plenty of your own. The records weren’t cheap, either.

Spencer, however, shrugged it off with a quiet confidence that surprised even himself. “I wanted to,” he replied simply. His voice was calm but firm, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a gentle smile. “I asked you to come out with me, didn’t I?”

You sighed, your protest melting into a small, affectionate smile as they stepped out into the crisp air. It was such a Spencer thing to do—thoughtful and kind, but completely unnecessary. Yet, as they walked side by side, you couldn’t deny the warmth his gesture left in your chest.

You glanced up at him, your eyes twinkling with a playful edge as you broke the silence. “You’re lucky I agreed,” you teased, a grin tugging at your lips.

Spencer chuckled softly, glancing down at you. “Oh, I know,” he said, his voice low but filled with humor. “Trust me, I’m very lucky.”

They continued to walk aimlessly, the crisp evening air brushing against their faces as they strolled. Spencer was mid-thought, caught up in some internal musing when your voice broke through.

“Oh my God, Chinatown, Spencer!” you exclaimed, your voice brimming with excitement, like a child spotting a candy store.

Your eyes lit up as they landed on the colourful archway marking the entrance to Chinatown. You couldn’t quite explain it, but Chinatowns had always been your favourite places to visit. Maybe it was the vibrant atmosphere, the intricate details of the buildings, or the way everyone seemed to know one another, creating a sense of community that felt warm and welcoming. You loved every bit of it.

Without realizing it, you grabbed Spencer’s hand and tugged him along with you, your excitement bubbling over. Your grip was firm but warm, and Spencer—despite the suddenness—didn’t resist. In fact, he found himself smiling as you led him toward the bustling street.

Your face glowed brighter than he’d ever seen as you took in the sight of the ornately decorated gate ahead, its vivid reds and golds shining under the string lights that crisscrossed above the street. He didn’t know if it was your enthusiasm or the way your joy seemed to radiate outward, but he was utterly mesmerized, trailing behind you like he was under a spell.

“We should get noodles—if you’re okay with that?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Spencer blinked, realizing he’d been staring at you with a soft, almost dreamy expression. The way you looked at him then—like he was the best person in the world just for being here with you—made his heart skip.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, his voice steady but his heart racing. Without thinking, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

Your cheeks flushed at the small gesture, and Spencer caught the faintest flicker of a smile as they continued walking hand in hand. The streets were alive with energy, from the scent of freshly steamed buns wafting from carts to the hum of chatter in the air.

Eventually, they stumbled upon a quaint bakery that led to an underground noodle bar tucked just below it. The combination was irresistible. As they waited for a table, your eyes lit up when you spotted cheese-filled mooncakes in the bakery display.

“I have to try one of these,” you said eagerly, placing your order while Spencer watched you with quiet amusement.

Moments later, you held the warm pastry in your hands, your face glowing with anticipation. “This is going to be the best cheese pull you’ve ever seen,” you declared, laughing with a childlike excitement that made Spencer’s chest tighten.

You took a bite, and as you pulled back, the melted cheese stretched from your mouth to the mooncake, just as you had promised. Your eyes widened with delight, and your laughter rang out, light and contagious.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh too, shaking his head in amazement. You were like a child in the best possible way, unguarded and full of joy.

“You were right,” he said, still chuckling. “That’s definitely the best cheese pull I’ve ever seen.”

Your grin widened, and for a moment, Spencer forgot about the bustling streets around them. All he could see was your—glowing, carefree, and absolutely captivating.

The waiter called out, “Sī bīn sài Ruì dé?” his tone polite and slightly accented as he scanned the small crowd in the restaurant’s waiting area. Spencer Reid’s head lifted, recognizing the sound of his name rendered in Mandarin. He gave a small, sheepish smile, adjusting his scarf as he turned to look at you.

You arched an amused brow, gesturing toward the waiter with a tilt of your head. “That’s you, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer nodded, his hand lightly brushing against your lower back as he led the way down the narrow staircase into the cozy, warmly lit restaurant below. The rich scent of soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil wafted through the air, mingling with the quiet murmur of diners enjoying their meals.

The waiter guided them to a private booth tucked into the corner of the room, its dark wooden walls offering a sense of intimacy. Spencer gestured for you to slide in first, always the gentleman, before settling across from you.

The two opened their menus, the glossy pages filled with enticing photos and descriptions of diyous written in both Mandarin and English. Spencer scanned the list with the precision of someone cataloging data, while you took a more casual approach, letting your eyes linger on the pictures.

“What are you thinking of getting?” Spencer asked, glancing up at you. His hazel eyes held a mix of curiosity and hesitation, likely calculating the probabilities of making the wrong choice in an unfamiliar culinary landscape.

You smiled, leaning slightly over the menu to point at the dishes you had your eye on. “I was thinking Beef Noodle Soup and maybe a fried rice platter. If you wanted to share?”

Your suggestion was casual, but you knew Spencer well enough to recognise that sharing food might not be his first choice. The germaphobic tendencies you’d seen surface in the past made your offer feel like a gamble. If he declined, you’d simply adjust your order—no harm, no foul.

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the menu. “Sharing…” he began, his tone thoughtful. “It’s not usually my preference, but—” He paused, studying your face as though weighing the pros and cons of stepping out of his comfort zone. “I think I could make an exception. Just… no double-dipping,” he added with a faint smile, his attempt at humour not lost on you.

You chuckled softly, your shoulders relaxing. “Deal. I’ll even promise to use the serving spoon if it helps.”

His smile widened, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “That would be appreciated.”

As the waiter returned to take their order, Spencer let you take the lead, quietly observing your interactions. The way you spoke with ease, your smile lighting up the space between them, was something he never grew tired of.

After the waiter left, the two settled into conversation, the hum of the restaurant serving as a comforting backdrop. You caught him glancing at you from time to time, his expression soft and unguarded.

“Two Beef Noodle Soup and fried rice,” he mused after a moment. “Good choices. Did you know Beef Noodle Soup is considered a national dish in Taiwan? There’s even an annual festival where chefs compete to create the best version of it.”

Your eyes sparkled with interest. “I didn’t know that. How do you even know things like that off the top of your head?”

Spencer shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I read a lot.”

You laughed, leaning forward slightly. “Of course you do. But that’s one of the things I love about you, you know. You always have the most random, fascinating facts tucked away in that big brain of yours.”

His blush deepened, and he ducked his head slightly, fiddling with the edge of his napkin. “I’m glad you think so,” he murmured.

Their food arrived not long after, the diyous steaming and fragrant, the aroma instantly making your stomach rumble. You reached for your chopsticks, but before you could start serving yourself, Spencer gently took the plate from your side.

“Allow me,” he said, his tone soft but resolute, as though he had been planning this move.

You blinked in surprise, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Wow, chivalry isn’t dead after all. I was starting to wonder.”

Spencer shot you a mock-offended look as he carefully portioned out some of the sizzling stir-fry onto your plate. “Hey, I can be chivalrous. I just… don’t get much practice. Sharing food isn’t exactly in my top five skills.”

You laughed, nudging his arm. “You don’t say. Should I feel honoured or concerned?”

“Definitely honoured,” he replied, finishing your plate with an exaggerated flourish. “This is a rare occurrence. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Oh, I’m definitely documenting this,” you teased, pulling out your phone and snapping a quick photo of him mid-serve. “The great Dr. Spencer Reid, putting others first. What’s next, you’re going to offer me the last bite?”

Spencer smirked as he served himself. “Let’s not get carried away.”

As they began eating, you picked up a particularly long noodle with your chopsticks and dangled it in front of your face. “Do you think this could double as a jump rope for ants?”

Spencer nearly choked on his bite of rice, laughing. “That is… an incredibly specific visual. Why ants? Why not, I don’t know, mice?”

“Too predictable,” you replied, twirling the noodle like you were considering its durability. “Ants have more finesse. They’d appreciate the artistry.”

“Ah, yes, the ant gymnast community,” Spencer said, adjusting his glasses and leaning forward as though about to deliver a lecture. “You know, ants can actually carry up to fifty times their body weight, so a noodle would be the perfect workout tool.”

You grinned, using your chopsticks to make the noodles “jump” across your plate. “You’re making my case for me. Ant Olympics, here we come.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you,” you said brightly, slurping the noodle up with a playful flourish.

Spencer raised an eyebrow and then, without a word, picked up a dumpling with his chopsticks and held it in front of his mouth. He narrowed his eyes, suddenly serious. “If I were an ant, this would be like carrying a wrecking ball.”

You burst out laughing, nearly dropping your chopsticks. “You’re so weird!”

“Only because you bring it out of me,” he replied, popping the dumpling into his mouth with a small, triumphant smile.

They continued their meal, each taking turns to make the other laugh with increasingly absurd food-related jokes. Spencer even attempted to balance a broccoli floret on his nose, which ended with you snorting and him losing the floret mid-laugh.

By the time they finished, your sides ached from laughing, and Spencer looked more relaxed than you’d seen him in weeks. As he reached for the bill, you caught his hand and grinned.

“See? Sharing isn’t so bad,” you teased.

He smiled back, his eyes warm. “Only with you.”

Once they left Chinatown, the streets of Washington, D.C. buzzed with life, but Spencer and you were lost in their own little world, laughing uncontrollably over the events of the day. Every inside joke and playful jab sent them spiraling into fits of laughter, their shared energy a bright spot in the bustling city. For Spencer, the date had already been perfect, but he wasn’t ready for it to end just yet. He had one last plan to cap off the evening, though it wouldn’t come into play for hours. Until then, he just needed to keep you distracted.

You nudged him playfully as they strolled along. “Alright, something you never got to do as a kid but always wanted to,” you said, your tone suddenly serious despite the twinkle of curiosity in your eyes.

Spencer hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile creeping across his face. “I don’t know,” he began, his voice soft. “I’ve always liked reading books and spending time with my mom.” He glanced at you, embarrassed by how ordinary his answer sounded.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, grounding him. “That’s sweet, Spence,” you said softly. “But come on, there’s gotta be something.”

He exhaled a small laugh, his gaze shifting to the pavement as he admitted, “Well, I always wanted to play Laser Tag.”

You stopped in your tracks, your hazel eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait. You’ve never played Laser Tag?”

Spencer shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “I mean, no, not really. It just never came up.”

You were already shaking your head in mock horror. “That’s unacceptable. We’re fixing this right now.”

“It’s fine. We don’t have to—”

But you were already tugging him along with determined speed. “Nope. This is happening. You’re about to experience the childhood you missed out on, and it’s going to be amazing.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm, your energy was contagious. Before he knew it, they were standing at the counter of a nearby arcade, you grinning ear to ear as you requested two tickets for Laser Tag.

Spencer tried one last time to protest. “Really, you don’t have to do this—”

“Consider it my treat,” you interrupted, handing over your card to the cashier. “A thank-you for the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

The sincerity in your voice silenced his objections, and he felt his heart swell. As the cashier handed them their gear, you turned to him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Alright, Dr. Reid,” you teased, strapping on your vest. “Let’s see if all that genius-level intellect helps you out on the battlefield.”

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. “You’re going to regret this. I may not have played before, but I’m pretty sure I’m about to win.”

“Bold of you to assume,” you shot back with a smirk, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the arena.

As they stepped into the dimly lit room filled with neon lights and fog machines, Spencer felt an unexpected rush of excitement. You turned to him, your face illuminated by the glowing lights, and he couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he’d been missing out, but with you by his side, he was more than ready to make up for lost time.

The neon lights flickered, casting an otherworldly glow over the Laser Tag arena. Fog swirled around Spencer and you as they ducked behind barriers and navigated the maze-like layout. The sound of distant footsteps and laser beams zipping through the air made it feel like they’d stepped into a sci-fi movie.

Spencer crouched low, trying to strategize his next move, but your sudden battle cry made him jump. You darted out from behind a glowing pillar, your laughter echoing through the arena as you fired your laser, landing a direct hit on his vest.

“Gotcha!” you shouted triumphantly, your grin wide and uncontainable.

Spencer stumbled back in mock defeat, his hands raised. “Okay, okay, truce! I’m still learning!”

You rolled your eyes, playfully wagging a finger at him. “No mercy, Reid. You’re my bitch now.”

You turned to sprint away, but Spencer surprised you by diving behind a barrier and quickly firing back. The red lights on your vest lit up, signalling a hit.

“Ha! Who’s the genius now?” he teased, standing up with a victorious smirk.

You clutched your chest dramatically, pretending to be mortally wounded. “Betrayed… by my own date!” you gasped, collapsing onto a nearby barrier.

Spencer burst into laughter, his usually reserved demeanor completely melting away. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head as he helped your back up.

“And you love it,” you quipped, sticking your tongue out before taking off into the maze again.

The game continued, a back-and-forth of sneak attacks, exaggerated reactions, and endless laughter. Every hit was met with playful banter, and every moment felt like peeling back the layers of their guarded hearts. Spencer, who had always been so serious and calculated, found himself letting go, caught up in the pure, childlike joy of the moment.

At one point, they both ended up crouched behind the same barrier, breathless and laughing so hard their sides hurt. You leaned your head against his shoulder, your face flushed from running. “Okay, I admit it,” you said between giggles. “You’re pretty good for a first-timer.”

Spencer glanced at you, his hazel eyes sparkling in the dim light. “I had a good teacher,” he replied softly.

For a moment, the chaos around them faded. They were just two people, sitting side by side, finding solace in each other’s company.

You nudged him gently. “See? Childhood dream fulfilled. What’s next on your list?”

He chuckled, his gaze dropping to the glowing floor. “Honestly? I think this might be enough for one night.”

“Enough?” you teased. “We’ve barely scratched the surface! Next time, we’re doing bumper cars.”

Spencer laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I think I’m going to need a lot of next times with you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your expression softened, and you reached out to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Then we’ll make that happen,” you promised.

As the game timer buzzed, signalling the end of their session, Spencer and you made their way out of the arena, still laughing and teasing each other. A leaderboard lit up on the screen near the exit, and Spencer froze, his eyes widening.

“No way,” he murmured, stepping closer to the display.

You leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. Your jaw dropped when you saw his name at the top of the list. “You won?!” you exclaimed, grabbing his arm and shaking it excitedly. “Spencer Reid, first-time Laser Tag champion! I’m so proud of you!”

He turned to you, his grin almost bashful but undeniably proud. “Beginner’s luck, maybe?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, your face lighting up with genuine excitement. “You crushed it out there! I mean, I’m a little salty that you beat me, but still—you’re officially a Laser Tag legend.”

Spencer laughed, the sound bubbling out of him with pure joy. “A legend, huh? I’ll take it.”

You playfully bumped your shoulder against his. “You better. This is a big deal! You’ve got bragging rights now.”

As they stepped out of the arcade into the cool night air, you looped your arm through his, your energy still electric. “Okay, next time we’re teaming up. Imagine what we could do together!”

Spencer looked down at you, his heart warm and full. “I think we’d be unstoppable,” he said, his voice soft but confident.

As they walked down the busy streets, still laughing and recounting the best moments of the game, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like he’d won more than just Laser Tag. With you by his side, he’d found something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing—a piece of joy, of freedom, of connection that made him feel whole again.

As they continued down the lively streets of D.C., Spencer’s smile lingered, a quiet sense of contentment radiating from him. You were still buzzing from the Laser Tag victory, your hand resting comfortably in his as they walked.

“Alright, Dr. Reid,” you said playfully, looking up at him. “What’s next on this magical mystery tour of a date? Because if it’s as fun as Laser Tag, I might actually burst from happiness.”

Spencer chuckled, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “Well,” he began, his voice soft but teasing, “I do have one more thing planned. But it’s a surprise.”

Your eyes widened with curiosity. “A surprise? Spencer Reid, you’re full of secrets tonight. What is it?”

He shook his head, his lips curving into a sly smile. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

“Always,” you said with a grin, letting him guide you down a quieter street.

The hum of the city faded as they walked, replaced by a peaceful stillness. You tilted your head, trying to guess where he was taking you, but Spencer kept quiet, his excitement barely contained. Finally, they rounded a corner, and your breath caught as the grand façade of the National Gallery of Art came into view, illuminated beautifully against the night sky.

“Spencer,” you whispered, awe in your voice. “The art museum? It’s closed right now.”

He smiled, his fingers lacing tighter with yours. “Not for us.”

As if on cue, a side door to the museum opened, and a man in his mid-thirties stepped out, waving at Spencer.

“Dr. Reid!” the man called warmly. “Right on time.”

“Thanks, Jacob,” Spencer said, his voice full of gratitude. He turned to you, his expression soft. “Jacob’s a curator here. He agreed to stay late and let us in. Just us.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked between Spencer and Jacob. “You’re kidding. We get the whole museum to ourselves?”

Spencer nodded, his heart fluttering at the pure joy on your face. “I thought you might like it. I know how much you love art, and, well… I wanted to do something special for you.”

You blinked back a sudden wave of emotion, your chest tightening with affection. “Spencer, this is… this is incredible. Thank you.”

He smiled, a little shyly. “You’re worth it.”

Jacob opened the door wider, gesturing them inside. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

As they stepped into the museum, the quiet echoed around them, amplifying the beauty of the vast, empty halls. The dim lighting highlighted the paintings and sculptures, making it feel like they’d stepped into another world.

You turned to Spencer, your eyes shining. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

He ducked his head, his cheeks tinged pink. “I just wanted to give you something memorable. Something… magical.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “You’ve done more than that, Spence. This is perfect.”

He smiled, his heart swelling at your words. “Come on,” he said softly, leading you toward the first exhibit. “Let’s explore.”

And together, hand in hand, they wandered through the museum, the art and the quiet intimacy of the moment weaving a memory neither of them would ever forget.

The museum was humour, the kind of quiet that invited reverence and reflection. Their footsteps echoed faintly as they moved through the halls, pausing here and there to admire a painting or sculpture. Spencer’s hand lingered at your lower back, a subtle gesture to guide you but also to stay close, as if the intimacy of the space demanded it.

They came to a room filled with sculptures, the soft lighting casting long shadows that danced on the walls. Your attention was immediately drawn to a particular piece—a sculpture of two women, one older, one younger, the younger standing on the shoulders of the older as if reaching for something just out of sight.

You stopped in your tracks, your breath catching slightly. Spencer noticed your stillness and took a step back, letting your take in the piece without interruption. Your expression shifted, your usual brightness giving way to something quieter, deeper.

After a few moments, he couldn’t help but break the silence, his voice soft so as not to disturb the moment. “How does it make you feel?”

You didn’t turn to him right away. Your eyes remained fixed on the sculpture, your hands loosely clasped in front of you. When you finally spoke, your voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of your thoughts.

“Seen,” you said simply, then paused as if to find the right words. “In a weird way. I don’t think I’d be who I am without my mother, and this piece proves it in a way. It makes me feel less alone too, like I’m not the only one who sees myself this way.”

Spencer tilted his head, his gaze flickering between you and the sculpture. He could see it now—the younger woman’s outstretched hands, the older one’s steadying stance. The balance between them spoke volumes about trust, sacrifice, and love.

“You feel like you’re standing on your shoulders,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You nodded, finally glancing at him. “Yeah. Every step I’ve taken has been because you let me stand on your foundation. Even when things weren’t perfect, you were still there, holding me up.” You smiled faintly, a bittersweet curve of your lips. “It’s nice to see it represented like this, you know? It’s like… someone else understands.”

Spencer took a small step closer, his voice gentle. “You’d be proud of you. I don’t think anyone could look at what you’ve built for yourself and feel anything less.”

You turned fully to face him now, your hazel eyes soft but shining. “Thank you, Spence. That means a lot.”

He gave you a small smile, his hands in his pockets as he glanced back at the sculpture. “It’s beautiful. Just like the way you see the world.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re such a charmer, you know that?”

“Not really,” he admitted with a small chuckle, “but I mean it.”

For a while longer, they stayed there, side by side, letting the sculpture’s quiet power wash over them. In that moment, it wasn’t just art—it was a connection, a shared understanding that went deeper.

The weight of the moment lifted as they moved on, wandering into another section of the museum. The air between them felt lighter now, a quiet understanding still lingering but giving way to the playful energy they always seemed to share.

It started with a chuckle from you, your hand covering your mouth as you stopped in front of a sculpture of a stern-looking man with an exaggeratedly large nose. “Okay, tell me that doesn’t look like Hotch when he’s annoyed,” you whispered, your eyes sparkling mischievously.

Spencer glanced at the sculpture and bit back a laugh. “It’s the eyebrows,” he said, nodding in agreement.

You gasped, pointing. “The eyebrows! Yes! It’s like he’s about to say, ‘Reid, stop overexplaining.’"

Spencer laughed, his face lighting up in a way that made your heart skip. “Okay, okay, but look at this one,” he said, leading you to a nearby bust of a man whose face was frozen in a hilariously exaggerated scowl. “Tell me that’s not Rossi after someone forgets to bring him coffee.”

You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my God, it’s perfect!” you managed between giggles.

They moved from sculpture to sculpture, pointing out ridiculous expressions and coming up with stories for each one. Spencer, ever the genius, concocted elaborate backstories for the pieces, each one more absurd than the last.

“This one,” he said, gesturing to a marble figure of a man dramatically clutching his chest, “was probably just told that his favorite gelato shop ran out of pistachio.”

You doubled over laughing, your cheeks aching from smiling so much. “Stop, you’re going to get us kicked out!” you said, though your laughter made it clear you didn’t mean it.

“You’re the one who started it,” he teased, his grin wide and unrestrained.

They rounded a corner and found themselves in front of a statue of a cherub with a particularly mischievous expression. Spencer tilted his head. “This one’s definitely plotting something. Probably planning to steal cookies from the other cherubs.”

You wiped a tear from your eyes, still laughing. “You’re too good at this. Have you been secretly practicing?”

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

As they continued exploring, their laughter echoed softly through the empty halls, their joy filling the quiet space. For a little while, they let themselves be kids again—carefree, silly, and completely immersed in the moment.

Spencer, usually so reserved and composed, felt freer than he had in years. And you, watching him let loose, felt your heart swell with happiness. It wasn’t just about the art or the laughter—it was about being together, sharing a moment that was uniquely theirs.

When they finally paused to catch their breath, leaning against a wall in between fits of giggles, Spencer looked at you with a soft smile. “This might be the most fun I’ve ever had in a museum.”

You grinned, your eyes shining. “I told you, you just needed the right partner in crime.”

He nodded, his expression warm. “I think I found them.”

And with that, they set off again, hand in hand, ready to see what other treasures—and laughs—the museum had to offer.

As they wandered back toward the grand central hall of the museum, the playful energy between them began to settle into something softer, quieter. The warm lighting of the space casts a golden glow over the room, highlighting the details of the sculptures and paintings around them. You paused by a large marble statue of a couple intertwined in an eternal embrace, your gaze lingering on the delicate way the sculptor had captured the curve of their hands and the tilt of their heads.

Spencer stopped beside you, his eyes following yours to the statue. He said nothing, but the air between them shifted, heavy with unspoken thoughts. The laughter from earlier seemed to hang in the distance, replaced by a gentle stillness.

You turned your head to look at him, your expression soft, your lips parted slightly as if you wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Spencer’s gaze flickered from the statue to you, his heart stuttering as he caught the way the golden light played on your features.

Neityour of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

Spencer’s hand reached out, slow and hesitant, his fingertips brushing against yours. The touch was featyour-light, but it sent a ripple through both of them, grounding them in the moment.

Your eyes searched his, questioning, yet trusting. He took a step closer, the space between them shrinking until it was almost nonexistent.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as his face hovered close to yours. The world around them seemed to blur, the art and the quiet fading into the background as the only thing that mattered was him—his eyes, his presence, the warmth of him so close.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flicking to your lips and back to your eyes, as if silently asking for permission. You gave him the faintest nod, your lips curving into a soft, encouraging smile.

It was painfully slow, the kind of moment that stretched on forever, but neither of them rushed it. Their foreheads brushed first, a tentative, intimate touch that sent shivers down your spine. His nose bumped yours lightly, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.

And then, finally, achingly, his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft, and unhurried, a perfect balance of tenderness and curiosity. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing your skin as if you were something fragile, something to be cherished You leaned into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself as your heart soared.

Time seemed to stop entirely. There was no overthinking, no second-guessing—just the quiet certainty that this was exactly where they were meant to be.

When they finally pulled back, their faces still close, neither of them spoke right away. Spencer’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of wonder and disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand. “That felt… right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Spencer nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “It did,” he agreed, his voice equally quiet.

And as they stood there, bathed in the golden light of the museum, they both knew they’d just shared a moment they’d carry with them forever.

Hand in hand, they made their way back toward the main entrance of the museum, their fingers still entwined as they shared quiet smiles and the lingering warmth of the kiss. The halls, now empty of their playful laughter, seemed to hum with the remnants of the night’s magic, a soft kind of peace wrapping around them.

When they reached the front, they were met by Jacob, who was standing by the gift shop, a welcoming grin on his face.

“Did you two enjoy the private tour?” he asked, clearly amused by the soft glow in their expressions.

“It was perfect,” You replied, your voice light with contentment. “We couldn’t have asked for a better night.”

Spencer gave Jacob a small nod of thanks, and they made their way toward the gift shop. Of course, you, ever the curious soul, immediately started scanning the shelves, your eyes lighting up as you spotted a section of artist books and unique prints.

Spencer stood back a little, letting you take it all in. It was clear from the way you were absorbed in the display that you were in your element. Your fingers traced the spines of the books, your eyes lingering on the vibrant art, the words, and the stories behind them. It was a rare thing to see you so lost in admiration, and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you, appreciating the way you connected with the world through art.

You picked up one of the books, flipping it open to the first page. “Spence,” you called softly, turning to him with a gentle smile. “Which artist was it who made that sculpture of the two women?”

Spencer walked over to you, his gaze following yours to the shelf where the artist’s work was displayed. He didn’t need to think twice. “Julie Rrap,” he replied.

You nodded, your fingers brushing the cover of the book titled Body Double. You seemed almost hesitant at first, as if deciding whether or not to pick it up. But then, with a quiet sense of reverence, you carefully opened the book and placed it in your hands, holding it close to your chest for a moment before glancing back at Spencer.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. There was something in your eyes—something that said this moment meant more to you than you could express.

Spencer smiled warmly, his heart swelling a little. “I’m glad you like it.”

You ran your thumb along the edges of the book, your gaze still soft as you flipped through the pages, your eyes drinking in the art and the words. It was as if the world had slowed down again, and they were both wrapped in the quiet, intimate moment of shared appreciation.

“I think I’m going to get this,” you said, your voice thoughtful, almost to yourself. “It’s… I don’t know. It feels important.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze still on you as you carefully placed the book in your arms, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s yours. You deserve it.”

Spencer reached into his pocket as they approached the counter, his hand finding yours once more, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He placed the book and a few other items you had picked out onto the counter. Jacob, who had been standing nearby, gave them both a knowing smile as he rang up the items.

“You two seem like you had a good time,” Jacob said, his tone light and friendly.

Spencer smiled, pulling out his wallet. “It was a perfect night, thanks to you.”

You turned to Jacob with a grateful expression, your eyes bright. “Thank you for letting us stay after hours. It really made the evening special.”

Jacob nodded, giving you a small wink. “Anytime. Glad you enjoyed it. You two have a good rest of the night.”

After Spencer finished paying, he gathered the items and handed them to you, who accepted them with a soft smile. “Thanks again,” you said, your voice warm.

With a final wave to Jacob, they left the gift shop and stepped into the cool night air. The city was quieter now, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. As they walked toward Spencer’s apartment, the evening felt like a perfect bookend to a day full of laughter, art, and unexpected moments of connection.

Spencer, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, pulled you closer as they walked. “So, what do you think? A quiet night in to wrap things up?” he asked, a playful note in his voice.

You smiled, your eyes glinting with excitement. “Sounds perfect.”

They continued down the sidewalk, their footsteps in sync, the world around them fading away as they looked forward to whatever came next—together.

thank you for reading!

please like & reblog if you enjoyed!

part two!

masterlist!

[writtenbyan-aries]

oh my god girl ur sam fics give my lifeee literally screamed while reading the last one

Summary: while Sam is putting your child to bed, you overhear him tell the story of how you and him met

Warnings: swearing, dad!Sam, mentions of a haunted hotel, ghosts, kinda spooky memories, mostly fluff

Word Count: 2.5k | unedited

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

As you were in the bathroom cleaning up after bath time, you couldn’t help but smile as you heard Sam getting your daughter ready for bed, “Come on, sweetheart. Bed time.”

He was such a good dad, you loved him even more for it.

You hear your young daughter, Thea, giggle as she runs and gets into her bed. You walk over to the door and peak in, watching as Sam bends down to pick out a book, “What book do you want to read tonight?”

“How did you meet mommy, daddy?”

Sam laughs slightly, turning to look at her with a big smile, “Is that the story you want for tonight?”

She giggle and nods, “Yes please!”

“Alright then.” Sam gets up and walks over, sitting down to allow Thea to cuddle up next to him, “Daddy met mommy when him and uncle Colby went on an adventure to a sp-“ he pauses, knowing anything spooky scares Thea, “We went to a hotel one day to explore it, right?”

“Right, yes.” Thea giggles, “And you found mommy there?”

“Yes, I did.” Sam chuckles, “When I first seen mommy, I knew that she was going to be who I wanted to have around for a long, long time.”

“Forever?” Thea asks looking up at him, and he nods, “Yes, sweetheart, forever.”

As Sam tells the story to the child, you found yourself reminiscing about it as well.

As you stood at the front desk, you noticed two guys walk in through the doors. Your eyes fixated on the blonde one as he looked around in awe.

You couldn’t help but smile when he looked over at you, smiling back as he nudged his friend to follow him, “Hi.” He says as he walks up to the desk, “I’m Sam Golbach and this is Colby Brock, we’re here to do an investigation.”

Sam extends his hand out and you take it, “Right, yes, Sam and Colby.” You nod, “I’m y/n y/l/n.”

Your hands linger together for a few seconds before you take a deep breath, moving to shake Colby’s hand, “I’m the manager and tour guide for the Florence Hotel. I believe it was you I spoke to on the phone about setting this up?”

You point to Sam and he nods, “Yes. That was me.”

“Great, um. Okay.” You look around, clearly growing more flustered by the second, “If you guys just want to hang out in the lobby, I’ll be out in a few. I just-I just need to get things, uh, situated back here before I give you the tour.”

Sam smiles, “Please, take your time. We have all night.”

You nod, “Thank you.” You smile and turn away, walking back through the door and stopping to take a second.

You hear Thea laughing, “You scared mommy!” Sam laughs, “Not so much scared, but I think she knew she liked daddy as soon as she saw him.”

You smile, nodding to yourself as you silently agree with him from out in the hallway.

You were embarrassed, you’ve never acted like that in front of someone before. You felt like you made a fool out of yourself in front of the cutest guy you’ve ever seen, but little do you know, that wasn’t the case.

“Your uncle Colby picked on me so much that night.” Sam laughs slightly, “He kept telling me that she liked me and that I made her nervous, but I didn’t believe him. I was scared she wasn’t going to like me back.”

Thea gasps, “Mommy didn’t like you?”

“No, baby. Mommy did like me, I just didn’t know it at the time.”

“So.. mommy did like you?” Thea asks and Sam smiles, “Yes, she did.”

You walked out from locking up the office and smiled, “Okay, so where would you guys like to start?” You looked between Sam and Colby and they looked at each other before Sam stood up, “Where ever you would like, where do you normally start?”

“I usually just start here in the lobby and then we cover bottom to top.” You swallow, praying your heart stops trying to beat out of your chest, “I will warn you that it does get a little intense, we’ve had people leave mid investigations and even in the tours during daylight hours.”

“Oh shit, really?” Colby raises his brows, “What happened if you don’t mind me asking.”

You couldn’t help but feel more nervous the longer Sam stared at you, “Well, uh, for I-instance, we had someone leave because they had scratch marks appear on their bodies and they said it burned, and then you just have the usual dizzy slash sick feelings.”

Sam shakes his head, “do you know if there’s like a demon or something that is here or is it just like an unhappy guests that doesn’t like visitors?”

You laugh slightly at his question, “Sorry, that’s not funny.” You sigh and shake your head and Sam and Colby laugh, “No, trust me. We completely joke to cope.”

You nod, “People have suspected that there’s a demon here, but..” you shrug, “Some people just have a better experience than others, I think it has a lot to do with how you approach everything.”

“Did mommy stay with you and uncle Colby all night?” Thea asks and Sam sighs, “I didn’t want her to, but she did. She made sure me and your uncle Colby were alright.”

“Mommy is so nice.”

“Yeah, baby. Mom is really nice.” Sam laughs and you shake your head with a smile.

You managed to pull it together for half of the tour. You didn’t stumble over your words or trip over the carpet that’s lifted up, you were doing good.

“So the final room that people report the most activity in is this room.” You motion to the door, “Room 308.” You pull the key from your sweatshirt pocket and push it into the lock, “Sometimes.. this lock.. gets..” you sigh, “Stuck..”

“Here.” Sam hands his camera to Colby and walks up next to you, “let me take a crack at it.” Sam’s hand slides over yours as you still have a grasp on the key. It felt like fireworks were being set off under your skin, and Sam sure as hell felt it, too with the way he looked at you.

“Did you.. get it?” Colby asks breaking the silence, and you jump slightly, “Oh, um. Yeah, Sam.. you can give it a try.”

You could tell Colby was smirking as you stepped back but you refused to look at him. Sam gives the door a good shove and he looks back with a smirk, “Yeah that wasn’t hard at all.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you walk past him and into the room.

“Did you think mommy was pretty?” Thea asks with a giggle and Sam scoffs, “Sweetheart, I thought your mom was the most beautiful person in the entire world, but you want to know something?”

“Yes!”

“It’s not just her now, there’s someone else. Do you know who that other person is?” Sam asks and Thea gasps, “Who daddy!?”

You lean around the corner, watching as Sam boops her nose gently, “You.”

You weren’t sure if it was the room, or if it was Sam’s overwhelming charm that made you dizzy, but you needed to get out of the room either way.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks as he follows you out, “Did something happen?” You shake your head as you look up at him, “N-no, I just.. got a little dizzy, is all.”

You lean against the wall and Sam instantly moves to hold you upright, even though you were really going to be fine. You take a deep breath, nodding as you turn towards him, “That room is where the scratches happened, so I’m sure it was just the overwhelming feeling of being in there, you know?”

“Right, sure.” Sam nods, his eyes scanning over your face. You could have swore that if it was just you and him there would have been a kiss or two.

“So what about the-“ Colby starts as he walks out, “Basement? Is that something we can look into?”

You step away from Sam as soon as you see the camera come into view, “Oh yes. Sure, we can head down there now if you’d like?”

“Wait, daddy. Was it a scary adventure?” Thea asks and Sam sighs, “Yes, it was. Uncle Colby and I were going to find ghosts and mommy was in charge of where they were all at.”

“Oooooh.” Thea whispers, “you saved mommy from the spooky ghosts?”

“Something like that, Thea.” Sam chuckles, “I think it was mommy who saved me from the ghosts more than anything.”

You stayed a few hours after your shift, mainly because you had paperwork and had to retag the new keys that came in. But, a part of you didn’t want to miss out on seeing Sam. You found yourself thinking about him, wondering if he’s okay and what not.

As you walk out to hang the keys on the hooks behind the main desk, you felt a presence walk up behind you. They didn’t say anything, which, with working at this hotel, that’s a normal feeling, so you just thought maybe it was something from within the hotel.

But it wasn’t, as soon as you turned around, you let out a scared yell and your hand flew to your chest, “Oh my god, Sam!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” He holds his hands up, “It’s just me! I didn’t-“ he sighs, “I didn’t know what to say!”

“You did scare mommy!” Thea laughs and Sam laughs with her, “Yes. Yes. That time I did, but it was okay! I promise!”

You laugh, “It-it’s okay.” You walk up to the desk and set down your box, “What can.. what can I do for you?”

He motions, “We’re.. headed to the basement now.. but when we were upstairs I forgot that I never got the key to our room.”

“Oh my god, Sam. I’m so sorry. That should have- I’m sorry.” You click on the computer and pull up their reservation, “that’s my fault.”

He shakes his head, “No, it’s mine. I just-“ he laughs nervously, “you’re just really pretty and you make me nervous.”

You slowly look over at him and nod, “I know what you mean..” quickly following up, “Not that, you’re pretty, I mean you’re cute I- oh shit.” You laugh and cover your face, “I’m not good at this.”

“Mommy called you pretty!” Thea laughs, “That’s so silly!”

“Mommy and daddy were silly at that time weren’t we?” Sam laughs, smiling when he sees you peaking around the corner, “But I think that’s why I fell in love with her.”

You smirk and tilt your head, rolling your eyes as you laugh quietly.

“Is that when you and mommy got married?” Thea asks and Sam shakes his head, “No that didn’t happen for a few years after I first met mommy.”

“Oh, was I there for that?”

Sam laughs, “No baby, you weren’t there for either of those things.”

You cover your mount to hide your laughter, moving out of view as Thea looks at the door. You didn’t want to interrupt Sam telling the story, so you sat down on the floor and listened as he started telling it again.

“This is going to sound cheesy as hell, but the second I saw you I was like wow, I like her.” Sam laughs, “Sorry that-“

“No, no. That’s about where I was at, I am? I don’t know what you’d call it, but I can give you my number if you’d like?” You point to the sticky notes on the counter and he nods, “Oh yeah, that would be awesome!”

You smile as you write down your phone number and hand it to him, “Just text me. I’m probably going to head out soon, but Lewis, the assistant manager will be here until seven.”

“Yeah, no worries. If you want to maybe once we’re done in the morning, we can get a coffee or something to you know, go over what we got tonight..” Sam smiles as he slips your number into his pocket and you nod, “I’d really like that Sam.”

“Did mommy leave the hotel after that?” Thea asks and you shake your head as Sam answers, “No, she did not leave the hotel. In fact, she stayed there all night and we went out for breakfast that morning.”

“Ooooh you had a date.” Thea teases and Sam laughs, “Yep. That was mommy and daddy’s first date.”

“You’re still here?” Sam asks as he walks up to the desk, “Thought you said you were heading out.”

“I was going to, but then I managed to make more work for myself so that I didn’t have to.” You laugh, “i probably sound like a freak, I’m so sorry.”

“No, not at all.” Sam smiles, “You should go home, get some rest, I mean that’s if you aren’t already back to working.”

“No, no.” You laugh, “I have the day off actually, partially why I didn’t mind staying.” You tilt your head, “I also kinda didn’t want to leave without seeing you one last time.”

“Yeah, I was hoping I could catch you before I left.” He smiles, “If you’re not too tired, maybe we can do that coffee now? Breakfast, too maybe?”

You nod, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“And what happened after you left the hotel and went back home daddy?” Thea asks and that’s when you stand up, walking into the room, “Daddy couldn’t go a day without talking to mommy. Always calling her on the phone, texting her..”

Thea laughs and Sam shakes his head, “No, that-“ he stops, tilting his head, “Okay, maybe that’s how it was, but mommy was like that, too.”

Thea giggles as you sit down next to her and Sam smiles, “After a few weeks of talking on the phone, I went to see her and after that..” he looks up at you and you smile, looking down at Thea, “they lived happily every after.”

Thea smiles and a yawn quickly follows, “Goodnight mommy. Goodnight daddy.”

“Goodnight, Thea.” You and Sam whisper, each of you getting up to kiss her head before walking out of her room.

“What brought that on?” You ask as you wrap your arm around Sam’s waist. He shrugs, kissing your head, “No idea, but I’m happy she asked. I love talking about the first time I saw you.”

He stops at the top of the steps and turns to look at you, “I knew you’d be my everything.” He smiles and you nod, “Look where we’re at now. You’re my everything, too.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Thank you so much for reading! I got this idea last night and just had to write it! I love you all so much and I will catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[downbadace]

ೃ⁀➷𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙼𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝙱𝚈𝙳𝙾𝙻𝙻ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Pairing: Camgirl!Sophia Laforteza/Daniela Avanzini

Daniela gets to see the behind the scenes magic of her favorite camgirl...

Content: Smut, Dom/Sub Dynamic, Slight BDSM, Praise Kink, G!P Character, Fluff (at the end)

A/N: thank u guys for almost 200 followers :) and also thanks for the love on the camgirl series, please send in more thoughts and asks and whatnot cause i have so much planned for these two :3

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist • Camgirl Series Masterlist

PREV - NEXT

"You're room is so... cozy"

Daniela look around when the Filipina guides her by the wrist to sit on her bed. She had only seen the bed portion of her room so looking at it's surroundings, one wouldn't assume what it's main use was for. Sophia comes up in front of Daniela, still drunk on their previous actions from the living room. Daniela turns back to the girl staring her down and her heart starts to flutter. Sophia runs her hands through her hair, her bangs falling back into it's place. She slowly starts to climb onto Daniela's lap, her dress lifting up slightly.

"Yeah, I try to make it as comfortable as possible so I feel at ease during my streams. Do you feel at ease, Dani?" She cups the girls face, making her look at her. Daniela feels her breathe being stolen from her lungs and then replaced by butterflies. She glances at the girls lips, wanting to feel them on hers. The Filipina had read her mind and leaned in close enough for their breaths to entwine with each other. Daniela could smell the strawberry lip gloss from Sophia's perfect lips.

"Yeah... You make me feel at ease," The latina says before closing the gap between them. Sophia instantly kissed back and sighed into it. Her hand instinctively moved down Daniela, dragging her thump across her bottoms lip to allow her tongue to make an entrance and down to her neck, grasping it lightly. Daniela let out a breathy moan as she felt Sophia's hand squeeze onto her throat. The girl on top took the opportunity to interject her tongue inside Daniela's mouth, exploring what she's been wanting since she saw her.

"Fuck... Soph," Daniela managed to get out as she felt Sophia grind into her lap. The tent in her pants grew and she felt her bottoms get more and more constricted as Sophia made her moves on top of her. And it didn't go unnoticed by the camgirl, she felt her member grow and grow with every grind of her hips, and she was smiling—actually fucking grinning with pride—into Daniela's mouth. After a while of tongues dancing she pulled apart from her, and Daniela was huffing and puffing for breathe, the room suddenly became ten times hotter.

"Is my baby desperate for me? And don't lie, I have proof that you are," She says, punctuating her sentence with a grind of her hips. Daniela felt it right through her pants and moaned out, hands flying to Sophia's waist to guide her through. Sophia smirked seeing the girl under her so desperate to touch her and slapped her wrist so that her hands would come off her," Nuh-uh, you wanna touch me? Get on the fucking bed then, princess."

Daniela didn't now what to say at first but she obeyed the older girl the second she got off of her. She scooted over and layed down, head hitting the very soft pillows against the bed's headboard. She watched Sophia as she slid her dress off. Daniela's breathed hitched upon seeing the girl without a bra underneath. Sophia climbed onto the bed, straddling the girls hips like she had previously did. She went to Daniela's pants and started to undo them. The Latina didn't know what to do but watch her.

"Do me a favor and take your shirt off too, babydoll," Daniela nodded and whimpered, not even realizing she did until Sophia gave a cocky smile. Daniela sat up a little to take her shirt off and she tossed it somewhere at the foot of the bed, leabing her in only a thin sports bra. Meanwhile, Sophia was unbuckling the girls belt, the piece of leather making noise as it came undone. She looked at Daniela and the girl instinctively lifted her hips so that Sophia could remove the stripe from her. She then when to the fly of her pants, the tent below getting larger and larger with each second. She undid the button and zipper and slowly started to bring her trousers down, Daniela lifting her hips again to make it easier for the Filipina. When she completely removed the girls' pants, shd was met with the beautiful sight of Daniela's boxers featuring her cock trying to spring free, precum leaking at it's tip through the fabric.

"Mmm—fuck, your dick is so huge, I bet you'll stretch me out soo good," Sophia says, palming her member through her boxers. Daniela moaned and lifted her hips up, her length twitching within it's fabricated prison. Sophia waisted no time to make her way to the waistband of her boxers and pull them down. Daniela's member sprung up immediately, her tip swollen and wet witb need. Sophia bit her lips and went to take off her own bottoms. Daniela noticed how wet she was, even through her safety shorts, and she couldn't help but let it get to her head a bit, that she was the one that made Sophia like that. Her brain quickly gets shut up though as Sophia comes up to grind against Daniela's cock. They both moan at the content and Daniela can't help that her hips start to go up.

"S-Soph... Please," Daniela begs to her as Sophia grind herself onto Daniela. She looks down at her and sees her face all flushed out, waiting for the Filipina to sink down onto her member. She decides to stop being so torturous and lifts her hips up to align her entrance with Daniela. They hold eye contact as Sophia starts to slowly sink down on her. Both of their eyes rolled back as they felt Sophia beinf stretched out by the girl under her. Sophia had to take a second to get used to Daniela filling her up. She looked down to see a noticeable bulge peaking out from Sophia's lower abdomen and she delicately ran her fingers over it.

"Oh fuck.. You're so fucking big, baby. Stretching me out better than my biggest toy—mmph!" Sophia squeals as she moves back and forth onto Daniela. The girl under hesitates to land her hands on Sophia's sides to guide her further, but Sophia takes them and places them on her hips. She gives Daniela a knowing look before lifting herself up and slamming back down. The two moan loudly—Daniela starts feeling bad for the people living next door. Sophia winces in pain as she feels herself get stretched out on top of Dani. Her movements on the girl get gradually faster as she adjusts herself to the size of the Latina. Daniela doesn't know what to do but watch as Sophia bounces up and down, her breasts bouncing with her. It was almost like she was stuck in a trance and Sophia put a spell on her.

"F-fuck... ahh, Dani, you feel so g-good—ahh!" Sophia sinks down to feel her full length, practically in her stomach. It hits every spot in her perfectly and a knot in her stomach starts to tighten up. Daniela, still clueless on what she should do, starts to lift her hips up, planting her feet into the bed to fuck up into Sophia, meeting her halfway. Daniela lets out whimpers like a poor puppy in heat and the same cocky smirk lands upon Sophia's face,"Feels good, right? F-Fuck you're so cute, I bet—mmph! I bet I-I'm the first girl you've ever fuck huh? Hah.. More like the first girl to f-fuck you."

Sophia's teases get to Daniela's head and she turns red in embarrassment,"A-are-fuck... Are you implying I've never been l-laid before?" Sophia nods in response, leaning down to cup the girls throat again, slightly choking her. The pressure on her esophagus almost makes Daniela cum in an instant, but she's grateful she had trained herself to contain it.

"Baby, you watch camgirls. Of course I'm gonna assume you've never been laid," She finishes her statement with a giggle like she just made a casual joke. Daniela nods her head in no's and says meekly,"I've b-been laid before..."

The Filipina raises her eyebrows like she's been challenged,"Oh really? Then prove it," She stops her movements on top of Daniela just as she was about to cum,"Fuck me senseless then."

She didn't know what to say, staring up at the girl for a second trying to figure out what she should do. Embarrassingly, she remembered something from an video she had watched and decided to practice it out. She lifts Sophia up from her hips, still keeping inside of her. She plants one foot to the bed and moves her other leg to wrap around Sophia's. Then in one swift movement, she flips the girl over so that she's on top of her, pinning her down so that her front is against the bed and that Daniela can get a full view of her back.

"Hmm, cute. Wonder where you learned that from," Daniela blushes, not wanting to answer. She thinks of what her next move should be as she looks up in front of them. At the wall opposite to the bed is a mirror where one can get a whole view of what's happening on the mattress. Daniela smirks as she sees Sophia, pinned down by her. The vision makes her ego inflate and she starts moving without warning. Sophia yelps in surprise as she feel Daniela push all the way against her.

"Oh fuck... Dani keep—ahh... doing t-that," Daniela follows instructions and her hips move faster and faster against her. Daniela thanks every star in the galaxy that she has high stamina from dancing. Sophia bites her knuckles to keep her from moaning louder but is unsuccessful when Daniela starts hit at a very specific part inside of her, making her impossibly closer to climaxing.

"G-Gosh, you're so f-fucking good, Dani... Please c-cum with me—mmph! Fuck, I'm gonna cum..." Sophia's walls hug against Daniela's cock, basically trapping her inside of her as she reaches her peak. Daniela feels Sophia gushing around her and that's the thing that stills her hips deep inside of her, cumming shortly after Sophia does. The two attempt to catch their breathe, Daniela rocking her hips slightly to have them both ride out their orgasms before pulling out. Her legs betray her and she falls on her ass on the bed. Sophia sees it in the mirror and giggles, sitting up and turning around to straddle the girls hips. She gives her a drawn out kiss, sighing against Daniela's lips before pulling back and looking down at her. Daniela looks back up and then to the mirror behind Sophia. She reaches over to her pants on the side of the bed and takes out her cellphone, quickly snapping a picture before tossing it somewhere on the bed. Sophia giggles like she wasn't just fucked,"You keep taking pictures of me. You have like a secret folder of girls that you sleep with?"

Daniela thinks to herself,"That's actually not a bad idea, Maybe I'll start it now but instead of multiple girls," She kisses Sophia's neck lightly,"It's just you."

A smile came upon Sophia and unlike the prideful ones she grew on her face earlier, this one was cute. It was sweet and genuine. Daniela's heart couldn't help but stop and her voice spoke before her mind could think,"Is this going to be a one time thing?" Sophia blinks almost like she's taken aback by the question before her eyes soften and her hands cup Daniela's cheeks, kissing her forehead.

"I really hope this isn't. You're different than other guys—or girls—I've slept with. Usually after one fuck they're posting about how they just slept with someone like me or they're bragging about how good they were, asking my opinions on if they were good or not and not taking no for an answer. But you're just... different. I don't know how to describe it."

Daniela's heart starts to flutter and she goes up to kiss Sophia's swollen lips, smiling into the kiss. After a second they pull apart, foreheads touching,"Soph... I'm willing to give this a try. I swear we can go any pace you want I just.. I want to try this with you—with us."

Sophia nods closing her eyes,"Me too, baby, me too."

They stay in the position for a bit before realizing what time it was. Sophia offered her shower, some clothes, and her bed to Daniela so she didn't have to drive out late and of course the girl took the offer up. After they had gotten cleaned up they stayed in bed, slowly drifting off to sleep unaware of the journey that the two had started together.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

hope yall caught the little reference i made at the end ;) okay hope yall likes it half hazardly prood read this before posting in the middle of my lecture so yeah 😭

[blueclownsworld]

✦✧ — Cuddles with Shirou Ogami — ✧✦

Content: soft Shirou Ogami, gender neutral reader, pure fluff, mention of death in non-serious context

Plot: cuddling with Shirou. that's it, that's the plot :D

✦✧✧✦

Cuddles with Shirou in his human form were already great. But his wolf form? Absolutely amazing. Just imagine burying your head in that fluffy chest and having his strong arms around you. Wouldn't even matter if you couldn't breathe, that was the way to die.

It was one of those lazy Sundays when getting out of the bed seemed like an impossible task, and it didn't really help that you had the most cuddly boyfriend.

"Shirou, we should eventually get breakfast, you know?" you spoke while laying on his chest, his arms around you. It was past 12 in the morning, yet you were still laying in bed.

"Yeah. Eventually", his low voice answered, not exactly eager to let go of you.

In a blink of an eye he changed into his wolf form, his soft fur brushing against your face as his arms wrapped even tighter around you.

"Mmh!" you mumbled against his chest. "I can't breathe."

"Oh?" he questioned and moved his hands to your shoulders and easily flipped you around so your back was against his chest now. "Better? You're not choking on my fur anymore."

"Mhm, better", you hummed and turned around again, having your chest against his again. "But I want to see you."

Soft smile appeared on his face as you scratched behind his ears and gave him an affectionate look.

"You're so cute", Shirou said as he brushed hair out of your face to see you better.

You couldn't help but to smile as soft blush spread on your face.

Shirou changed back to his human form only to trace kisses from your forehead to your lips.

Your eyes closed as his hands cupped your cheeks and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

It lasted for a couple of seconds before he pulled away and caressed your cheek while looking at you with smile.

"Did I tell you yet how cute you are?" he asked with warm voice.

"You did", you chuckled.

"Then I'll tell you again. You're absolutely adorable."

✦✧✧✦