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justiisms · 9 months ago

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“I can’t believe the Kokobros’ birthday is right after Uncle Yakou’s! What are the odds of that, haha~!”

“Looks like the Kokonuts really don’t fall far from the palm tree.”

*there’s an excited look on kaito’s face as he turns and spots the twins in question, rushing over and grabbing the two by the arm and dragging them further into the living room, mondo looking incredibly smug as he looks over the two!*

“I wanted to make you a coconut cake but bro not only refused to help me, but actively stopped me from making it! I was stuck in a burrito for almost a full hour while he went and made something else! Hmph!”

“Yeah, no shit. I want them to actually enjoy their birthday instead of worryin’ about whatever nightmare you were gonna force them to eat. Plus, you wouldn’t want them to eat themselves, right?” *mondo laughs as kaito quickly goes from annoyed to shocked before landing on his usual bright and happy smile!*

“I guess it wouldn’t be a nice present if they accidentally engaged in Kokobalism on their birthday, haha~!!“ *it’s then that kaito sits them both on the couch and zooms over to the nearby coffee table, carefully plopping a tray on their laps that is full of chocolate cupcakes topped with vanilla frosting and sprinkles!*

*however… despite mondo’s words, mixed in with the cupcakes are a few with a different frosting, although not even mondo knows which are which as the coconut buttercream blends in with the others, an ‘innocent’ smile on his face as he reaches over and ruffles both kokos' hair*

“Hey, after they’re done eating let’s go somewhere together! You take one Koko on your motorcycle and I’ll take the other on my bike! I’ve gotten a hang of the engine on mine so I bet I can go just as fast as you now! Let’s go out and have a fun time, just the four of us!!”

“Only if they want to. It’s their day after all. Let’s let the birthday kings decide.”

"O-Ohh, geez... they're already starting with the jokes, huh?" Mutters Yuta to his brother with a wry smile, before letting Kaito drag them both in, and gives a brighter smile at him and Mondo!

"H-Hah, why did I joke in my head that's exactly what you would have made if you had the chance? Mondo, our savior... just kidding. We would enjoy our birthday no matter what you guys made! ....But I'm still glad you didn't let him go completely crazy in the kitchen." He smirks, before rolling his eyes and jabbing both of them in the side at those puns!

"If you both keep it up, we'll be wrapping you both in burrito blankets for an hour!" Then as he and his brother are sat down, his eyes widen in delighted surprise when the tray of cupcakes is placed onto their lap! "Oh! Cupcakes! These look good... thank you guys so much! If it's alright, I'd love to try one right now." Grabbing one and taking a bite, Yuta hums at how fluffy and sweet they are! ...Along with a raise of the eyebrow when he tastes....coconut buttercream?! "I..Is this...!? H-Hey, I thought you said you stopped him from making coconut anything! M-Mondo!!! I should have known you had something up your sleeveee...." He squints at that 'innocent' look on Mondo's face!!! Though he's not actually annoyed, of course, in fact breaking into a small giggle when his and Yuma's hairs are ruffled~ "G-Geez...you and Kaito are such a mess! B-But since these cupcakes are very good, I'll let it slide, juuust this time. Heh heh heh..."

As he finishes the rest of his cupcake, Yuta perks up at the idea Kaito proposes. "Oh? Yeah, that sounds like fun: let's do it! I see: I don't mind whoever wants me to ride with him. There usually tends to be something happening in the downtown area, so I bet we'll find something nice and fun to do. I'll be fine with anything! With you three, it will be fun, no matter what! Is that okay with you, Yuma? It'll be great!" Then once he is done with his cupcake, Yuta will stand up and give Kaito and Mondo a tight hug! And if Yuma finished at the same time with him, he's of course pulling him in one, too~

"Mondo...Kaito...as much as pains in the butt you both like to be, aha: I'm so happy we have such awesome and amazing big brothers like you two. Love you guys! Thank you for the cupcakes, and for the only continuing amazing day we'll all have, together! I can't wait to have a blast with you guys!"

#HEHE THE BIG BROS SPOILING THEIR TINY KOKOBROS~#KDFJNDFKJNJDFK WHILE BEING SOFMT BUWWYING NERDS WITH THEIR KOKO JOKES AND LITTOL PRANK WITH THE CUPCAKES!!!! PLS!!!#ONLY BC IT'S ~THEIR DAY~ THAT YUTA WON'T 🧂🧂🧂 THEMMM TEE HEE~#REALLY THOUGH HE'S SO HAPPY~ and can't wait for them all to have fun together!!!!#Yuta answers;;#essenceofjustice

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anyhurricane · 4 days ago

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oh why haven't I seen half of these vids

Hozier 🩷s cupcakes

Sources: Hozier Latinoamérica and hozier_coicoi_welcome on instagram

#I need to eat cupcakes with him pls #he's such a dork i love him #the wb and urue cupcakes pls those are so cute

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tinythebunni · 24 days ago

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thinking about overstimulating Clark Kent!

Clark had always been strict with his morals. he knew what was wrong and right and tried very hard not to stray from that path. he wouldn’t even kill a spider in his room, simply letting it out the window and onto a tree. i guess you could say he was a goody two shoes.

He’s been used to girls fawning over him but he never paid much attention. he feared what would happen if someone noticed his inhuman like abilities. or what if he got too excited kissing someone and he accidentally lasered their eyes out?

Clark kept to himself and never tried to date. it was as if he was uninterested in it entirely.

you took this as a challenge though. you met him at the daily planet, around end of March. you were a cute little thing, almost 5’11, his ideal height for a girlfriend. he loved the tall girls as he himself was almost 6’6.

dressed in pink and white skimpy outfits, heels that could break someone’s neck, and a glare comparable to his heat vision. everything about you made him nervous. he couldn’t figure out why you had this effect on him, but he knew he needed to stay away from you. before he broke his own rules.

you always said hai to him and batted your lashes in a way that would make his cheeks flush and his dick twitch is his oh so cute slacks!

he couldn’t seem to get away from the overwhelming smell of your vanilla cupcake perfume and the slight smell of arousal that came from you everytime he was around.

it was like you were his own personal nightmare.

it took around 3 month for him to crack, for him to finally say yes to your dates that always had an innuendo to them. he couldn’t tell though, he thought maybe if he went on a date with you that it would end his torment. but he was so wrong.

—————-

“wait, p-please slow down! fuck-i can’t take it!!“ he moaned out, forehead slick with sweat. you had Clark undressed , with only his tie and white socks on. he looked so cute and innocent like this.

you were riding him, your cunt gripping him like a vice. you could feel his balls hitting your ass as you bounced up and down, the feeling only spurring you on more.

his heels were digging into the mattress of the shitty motel room you dragged him to. with each movement of your hips he seemed to slide down further on the bed, but your feet kept him grounded there, making sure he didn’t fall.

“i can’t, bunny please! f-fuck needyouneedyou” he whimpered out through moans, his hands trying to lift you off of him. you moved your hand to rest on his neck, your perfectly manicured claws forcing him to lay back down. he didn’t notice the strange amount of strength you had, nor the way your eyes flashed white for a second. “stop trying to run from me clarkie! jus-oh god, take it like a good boy. i know you can.”

the smile you gave him seemed almost sinister, as you sped up and kept him down. he cried out, hopelessly trying to pry you off him and keep you close all at the same time. you leaned down and licked the sheen off his chest, taking your time over his pink raw nipples.

his tongue lolled out his mouth, eyes glazing over and body getting increasingly more and more warm. your hand reached down to grip his balls in grip almost painful to him, tugging and massaging as he writhed underneath you. moaning out pleas that fell on deaf ears, he came inside of you, plugging you up nice and full.

he thought you’d finally stop, he’d already came 3 times and he was sure he had nothing left in him, but you leaned down, muffling his moans that slowly turned into wails. “waitwait! i came, mmm pl-please i can’t! it hurts! gimme a break, jus 5 minutes!” the overstimulation had him turning dumb. mind fuzzy in ways that only he knew kryptonite could do. it was almost supernatural.

you pulled him up into a sitting position, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, you kept fucking him deeper and deeper inside of you, chasing your own release. your hands were surely leaving dents in his back with how sharp your nails were.

shaking and spasming, you looked at him with blown pupils and a wicked smile, staring him in the eyes before you bite into his neck as you came all over him.

he was scared, understandably, as no one usually was able to penetrate his skin, but that was taken over by the immense amount of pleasure he felt after the bite. the slight warmth as you let go and kept grinding yourself down on him, overstimulating yourself. he looked down at were you were connected and saw the creamy white ring around his cock, dripping down his balls. he finally came for the last time with a dying out moan as he blacked out.

————————

when he finally came to, he was back in his apartment, in a nice robe clean and perfectly manicured, as if last night never happened. the only indication that it did? the mark on his neck and the note you left for him.

“i enjoyed last night, ill see you at work superboy! oh, and make sure to cover up that bite, don’t want anyone asking questions do you?”

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notlongtolove · 2 months ago

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like a lover

he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t even look at you again. he just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. by the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: hurt comfort

content: student!reader gets drunk after a brutal final and spencer is beyond mad. very brief mention of abduction. lowkey spencer is in the right bc #safety but he made reader cry n for that he is found #guilty!!!

word count: 3.1k

note: based off this ask! random fact the last line of this fic was the inspiration for empty my soul but idk why i just couldnt fit it in there, anyways i hope you guys like it! (pls tell me if u do i was struggling with a resolution for this)

a line: Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again.

I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. I am trying to be truthful. - carol ann duffy

You probably should’ve stopped five drinks ago—maybe four if you were feeling merciful. That last Vodka cran? A spectacularly bad idea. But whatever. You earned this. You’re young, you’re fun, you look good, and for the first time in weeks, you have no deadlines clawing at you. The final had been a nightmare. You knew your fate was sealed the second you flipped to question three. What the hell is textual and symbolic environmentalisation? But it’s over now. That’s all that matters.

The wind bites at your bare legs as you stand by the curb, aimlessly kicking a pebble. You hug your arms close, fighting off the chill. Maybe you should’ve brought a jacket. Spencer had suggested it, but you’d waved him off. He’s usually right.

You frown, glancing up at the street sign. He said he’d be here. Right? Your phone’s dying battery blinks at you in its final moments, mocking you before shutting off completely. Definitely should’ve taken his offer of a portable charger, too. You sigh, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

A man stumbles by, reeking of booze. You don’t need to look to know.

"Hey," he calls out, voice slurred and gravelly.

You keep your eyes down, pretending not to hear.

“Hey,” he says again, louder this time.

Where the hell is Spencer?

"D’you know when the bus starts running again?"

You hesitate, half-relieved that he’s asking something semi-coherent. "I—I’m sorry, I’m not sure."

He nods to himself, swaying on his feet.

"I told you to wait by the bodega on 3rd," a familiar voice mutters. Spencer’s hand closes around your arm, already steering you away.

"Oh, hey," you say softly, relief washing over you. "Is this not—" You glance at the street sign overhead—4 Maple Drive. Shit. "I—sorry, I thought—"

"It’s fine," he says, but the sharp edge in his voice tells you it’s not.

The car ride is suffocatingly silent. When he pulls open the passenger door for you, there’s no trace of his usual warmth. No soft smile, no gentle tease about your perpetually dead phone. Just a click of the door and the quiet thud of it shutting behind you.

You hate this. Hate the tension humming between you, the way his jaw is set tight as he drives. He was so different this afternoon, greeting you after your final with those cupcakes he knows you love from the bakery on the other side of town, his lips brushing yours in endless, giddy kisses. This Spencer is nothing like that.

"They played ‘Dancing Queen’ tonight," you venture, voice tentative. He knows it’s your favourite. Knows it always pulls you to the dance floor, no matter how tired or tipsy you are. "It was so funny—some guy bought us a round of shots—"

"And you drank it?"

The question lands heavy. His first words to you since he’d started driving.

"Well... yeah?"

"What else did you drink?"

"Not a lot," you say quickly, tripping over your words. "Just vodka, tequila, a bit of wine—"

"You mixed?"

The way he says it makes you bristle. There’s a hint of disbelief, maybe even disappointment.

"Spence," you say softly. "I’m not that drunk, I promise."

Nothing.

His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. The silence in the air is almost tangible, a crackling, oppressive thing. When he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, he doesn’t move to open your door. He always does that. But not tonight.

You’re pretty sure he’s mad at you, though you’re not entirely sure why. It’s not like you go out that often, and you can’t even remember the last time you let yourself get this drunk. Tonight was an exception, a celebration. He understands, doesn’t he?

You follow him inside, trailing behind like a shadow. He doesn’t head to the kitchen like he does after you get back from a night out—no tea, no toast, no quiet ritual of making sure you’re okay. Instead, he walks straight into the study, his back to you. Yeah, he’s definitely mad.

"You’re mad at me," you say, standing in the doorway.

He doesn’t answer. His hands grip the back of his chair, his head bowed like he’s trying to gather himself. You’re not one to push, usually giving him the space he needs when he gets all broody like this, but the alcohol that’s running through your system is making it hard to practice patience.

"Why are you mad at me?"

Still nothing.

When he finally moves, it’s only to brush past you, heading for the bedroom without so much as a glance. "We’ll talk about this tomorrow," he says, his tone flat, clipped. "I can’t talk to you when you’re like this."

This. The word hits like a slap, sharp and dismissive. It irks you.

"If you didn’t want to come, then you shouldn’t have come," you mutter under your breath, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I could’ve gotten a ride—"

"You were slurring on the phone." He stops in the hallway, turning just enough for you to see the tight set of his jaw.

"Yeah, no shit, Spencer. People slur when they drink," you fire back a little too harshly, the alcohol fueling your irritation as you cross your arms defensively.

"Don’t," he warns, his voice low, dangerous in a way that makes your chest tighten.

You glare at him, heat rising in your cheeks. "Don’t what? Don’t point out how ridiculous you’re being right now?"

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at you again. He just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. By the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. Fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

You head to the bathroom without a word, your movements jerky as you swipe at the remnants of your makeup. You grab your moisturizer, fingers fumbling with the cap. A sharp tug and it goes flying out of your hands, clattering to the floor.

"Fuck," you mutter, bracing yourself for a bout of instability as you bend down to retrieve it.

Before you can grab it, Spencer moves. He scoops it up, straightening with an ease that feels almost mocking. When you meet his eyes, they’re unfamiliar. It’s not the Spencer you know. Not the Spencer who covers your eyes during scary movies or kisses your forehead when you’re half-asleep. No, this Spencer feels distant, cold.

"And I’m supposed to believe you’re not that drunk," he says flatly. Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat as heat flushes your face. He offers a hand as you steady yourself, trying to rise to your feet, but you brush him off, snatching the bottle from his grip with a bitterness you don’t try to mask.

"What the hell is your problem?" you snap.

"My problem?" he repeats, incredulous. "I’m not the one blackout drunk on a Wednesday night."

"I’m not—"

"Would you—would you just stop!" he barks, the words sharp enough to make you flinch. "You’re slurring your words. You got the streets wrong. You couldn’t even get the damn moisturizer open," he snaps, gesturing toward you harshly with a mixture of frustration and exasperation.

Your knuckles whiten as you cling to the edge of the sink, unsure if you’re holding on for balance or just to keep from breaking. You spin back toward the mirror willing yourself not to cry. The frustration, the confusion, the ache in your chest—everything wells up at once.

"God, you’re being so—"

"So what?" he interrupts, his voice rising as he steps closer. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to say it. "So concerned? So worried? So—"

"So fucking mean!"

The silence that follows deafening. For a moment, he freezes, the hard edges of his expression softening into something else—shock, regret, guilt—but it’s fleeting.

"So what if I’m drunk?" Your voice cracks as the words tumble out, your frustration too overwhelming to contain. "And yeah, maybe—" You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you glare at him, "Maybe I’m slurring a little but forgive me for wanting a drink after the final I’ve been stressing over all fucking month."

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. "It’s not about you having a drink. It’s about you not knowing your limits—"

"Oh, for fucks sake," you interrupt, throwing your hands up. The movement makes you sway slightly, and you hate how it only seems to prove his point. "Newsflash, Spencer, I’m a university student. Sometimes we get drunk. You don’t get to make me feel like shit just because you don’t drink.”

You push past him, your shoulder grazing his as you move to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and you grip the edge, willing the room to stop spinning.

"You were being reckless," he bites back, the word hanging heavy in the air. "You don’t see what I see. You’re out alone, you don’t—"

"I wasn’t alone," you say, your voice rising to meet his. "I had friends—"

"Yeah, friends who left you alone on a curb at 3am," he shoots back, cutting you off. The words land with precision, a calculated jab, but you refuse to flinch.

"Because you said you were on the way!" you fire back.

His voice is cold now, practically seething. "And what do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t reached you just as that guy was coming on to you?"

"He was asking for the bus!" you shoot back, the words ringing out louder than you intended. You hate everything about this fight. You hate how unfamiliar he feels, hate the part of you that wonders if you’re the one who brought this out of him. "Nothing would’ve—"

Spencer’s expression darkens, his gaze narrowing. "Nothing?" He scoffs. "Tell that to Nina Radha. To Caroline Wrenley. To Mindy Denver. They were all ‘just waiting for a ride home’ last week. And now? All abducted. All dead."

The room goes silent. Your chest tightens, and the fight drains out of you as his meaning sinks in.

"You’re being cruel," your words are barely audible, trembling on the edge of your lips. The tears come faster now, streaking your face, but you don’t bother wiping them away. "Why—" you whisper, weak and watery, "Why are you being like this?"

When Spencer finally turns to look at you, the sight of your tears stops him cold. They streak your face in uneven paths, and he feels something inside him splinter. Spencer never likes seeing you cry—he hates it, actually. It’s not just discomfort or unease; it’s a literal, physical ache. But knowing he’s the reason for your tears tonight? That’s pain in its most visceral form. It’s failure in its purest state.

"I—" he starts, his voice faltering. It cracks mid-sentence, and he stops, swallowing hard. His breath shudders as he exhales, trying to find the words, but all that comes out is a quiet, broken, "I was scared."

Your tears have momentarily slowed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. The anger in his voice has faded, replaced by something softer, something raw—fear, tangled with guilt, with regret. He takes a tentative step closer, then hesitates, unsure of what to do.

"I thought that… something could’ve happened to you, and I—I didn’t know how to handle it."

After a moment, he lowers himself to your level, crouching in front of you. He lifts his hand, reaching out to wipe away the tears that stain your face. But the instant his fingers near you, you flinch, turning your head to avoid his touch. The movement is small, but Spencer’s heart shatters at the rejection all the same. He hates that he’s made you cry, hates that you won’t let him near you, hates that you won’t even look at him.

"I’m sorry," he says, the words low and weighted with sincerity. He knows it’s not enough, but it’s all he has left to give.

Your tears fall, dripping onto your hands that rest limply in your lap. You shake your head, your shoulders tense, refusing to meet his eyes. The rejection stings, sharper than he expected, but he doesn’t blame you. He knows he deserves this. The room is still except for the sound of your quiet sniffles.

Spencer tries again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "I just—" His breath catches as he exhales, his hand running through his hair in agitation, the movement more to calm himself than anything else. "When I saw you standing there alone—alone and with that man, I got scared. And I lashed out. I shouldn’t have. You didn’t— you didn’t deserve that."

The silence that follows is thick, but finally, you break it. Your voice is quiet, bitter.

"I’m not them."

You’re still not meeting his eyes, still keeping that distance, but at least it’s something.

"Those girls… I’m not them, Spencer."

"I know, I know. I was—", his voice is low, the regret weighing heavily on every syllable.

"That case was tough on you, I know it was," you interrupt, "And what happened to those girls, it was horrible. But I'm not them, Spence. I'm not…" Spencer watches helplessly as you furiously wipe away a tear from your cheek.

"I'm not dead. I'm here."

“I was projecting, I—” His voice catches, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he admits quietly. You nod, grimly. Another single, heavy tear slips down your cheek and Spencer feels his heart break all over again.

"I know you’re scared. How do you think I feel every time you go out into the field?" You take a deep breath, and say bitterly, "I get it."

Each word is a struggle, but you say it with conviction. He can see how much you’re holding in, the effort it takes for you to keep your voice from cracking.

You pause, swallowing hard as you steady yourself, "But you—You don’t get to talk to me like that." When your eyes meet his, they flash with both anger and sadness. "You don’t get to take that out on me."

"I know, I—That was—I was being horrible, I was an ass," Spencer admits, his voice small. "You didn’t deserve that, honey. God, I’m just—I’m so, so, sorry."

You look at him for a long moment, searching for any sign that he’s being sincere. All you see is regret, raw and heavy. And something else, something softer. Love. He reaches out, and this time you don’t pull away. Just getting to touch you is a brief, bittersweet, blinding relief. Spencer lets his fingers graze your cheek as he wipes away your tears gently, his thumb brushing over the wet path they’ve left behind.

A soft, almost bitter laugh escapes you. "An ass is putting it lightly."

Spencer’s chest tightens, a small breath of relief escaping him, though it’s quickly replaced with guilt. "M’so sorry sweetheart," he breathes out, comforted by the familiar bite in your tone. It lightens the air between you, just a little.

He shifts to sit next to you on the bed. "I didn’t—I really didn’t mean to," he says quietly. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh, the fight slowly draining out of you. Spencer gently takes your hands, cradling them in his.

"I—I never want to hurt you, never want to make you cry. Ever." Spencer's voice cracks slightly as he talks, fingers tracing your palm. "You know that, right?"

You nod, your voice small but steady. "I know."

Shifting, you tuck your legs beneath you, turning to face him fully. Your hands lift to cup his face gently, your thumbs brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. The touch is tender, almost protective, as you guide his face to meet yours. His eyes can’t hold your gaze for long, shame clearly written across them.

"I was just—I was—" He stumbles over his words.

"Scared," you finish softly, filling the silence for him.

"I—I’m sorry," Spencer’s voice falters, "I’m really sorry honey, I should’ve never—That was—"

Your hands guide his face back toward yours, coaxing him to meet your eyes. This time, he doesn’t resist, his breath shaky as he clings to the comfort you offer. "S’okay, baby. M’not mad anymore," you murmur.

"Sad?" he asks, his voice barely audible, like he’s afraid of what you’ll say.

"No," you smile faintly, shaking your head, "Not sad, baby," you whisper, leaning closer. Your thumb traces the curve of his cheek in silent reassurance. His shoulders relax just a little. "I just—" you sigh as you let out one last, quiet sniffle, "I really hate fighting."

Carefully, he coaxes you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. "Me too, honey," he says, his voice thick with emotion as he shifts closer. You don’t resist, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

"S’not nice," you murmur against him, your words muffled.

"I know, I know," Spencer whispers, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your back. You let out a shaky sigh, sinking further into his embrace. “Was awful, wasn’t it?” he says, quietly.

"Mhm," you mumble quietly, your voice soft but pointed as you lean into his touch. "Made me cry," you say, looking at him through wet lashes to prove your point. Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again. After a beat of quiet, he tilts his head just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple.

"I love you, you know that?"

You hum softly, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh, "Love you too."

"Love you so much, sweet girl," he says again, quieter this time, like it’s a truth meant only for you.

"Sap," you tease, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze, the faintest hint of a smile on your lips.

Spencer grins, soft and boyish. "Always for you," he mumbles fondly, and before you can respond, he leans forward, pressing a playful kiss to the tip of your nose.

You stick your tongue out at him in mock protest, but he’s already chasing the moment. A kiss lands on your cheek. Then another on the other side. Each one dripping with easy affection.

"Spence—" you laugh, the sound bubbling up. It spreads a warmth through Spencer’s chest.

"My sweet girl," he says quietly, almost to himself.

His smile only grows as he drinks in the sound of your giggles, tears long gone. He presses a fluttering series of kisses across your form until you’re laughing into his lips, each kiss softer than the last.

One on your cheek, two on your shoulder, a thousand on your lips.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: false god by taylor swift moon river by frank ocean

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader comfort

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fettuccin-e · 2 years ago

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Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t.

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you.

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.”

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die.

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue.

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears.

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy.

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch.

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show.

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it.

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke.

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?”

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

#yeah so #i wrote this in a TRANCE #want this man to throw me around like a ragdoll #can you tell that im ovulating #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse fic #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader

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erineverly · 1 year ago

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“Silly, silly, silly! Can’t hear you, daddy! Can’t hear you!” Sebastian cheerfully argues, keeping his eyes closed and hands pressed to his ears to protect them from water. “Mommy, I’m bein’ drownd-ed!” He protests, but it’s plain to see just how much he’s enjoying being drownd-ed and that he doesn’t actually need Erin to intervene. And she doesn’t. She throws her head back and continues to giggle, tears of joy welling up in the corners of her eyes. She doesn’t remember the last time that bath time was this fun. “Sir? Would you mind coming over more often to drown my son before bed? He apparently loves it,” the brunette playfully inquires, gently tugging on the hem of Axl’s shirt with her right hand that’s not covered in shampoo to get his attention. A dazzling grin permanent on her angelic features, pale blue eyes marveling at the singer as though he’d just single-handedly managed to tame the wildest of beasts — which he kind of did. “Only Elmo got lucky ‘cause he’s sitting far away from the splash pad,” Erin sighs and shakes her head, glancing down at her now see-through blouse. How embarrassing, she thinks, feeling like putting on a bra was a wise choice for once. Still, her cheeks heat up and she discreetly turns away from Axl and towards the tub as not to flash him. “Mr. Little Rose, now keep your eyes closed and tilt your head back a bit please, we’ll proceed with a professional head massage and then we’ll turn the waterfall back on,” Erin babbles, pouring some shampoo onto Axl’s waiting hand before setting the bottle down and rubbing her palms together. Bubbles spilling from between her fingers. “At our waterpark, we have a professional team of masseuses. They’re the best in the whole wide world,” she giggles, carefully sinking her fingers into Sebastian’s soaked mane. Foam grows between strawberry tresses as she continues to rub the shampoo into his roots, giggling because from this angle their fingers working together kind of look like some sea monster’s tentacles moving every which way.

“Nuh uh, it ain’t silly.” The redhead grins, but because it’s adorable how he calls it the cupcake bowl and says it’s silly. Then laughter comes from him when Erin tells him he’s crazy and how she’s worried he’ll drown him, which is hilarious how she yells at him about it. “That makes it the ULTIMATE splash bucket! Huh?” The singer cackles, having just as much fun as Sebastian is having until he has to quit once his hair is finally drenched in water. All the adrenaline and laughter that came from that from all three of them is really priceless to him and he’s more than thrilled that all of his shenanigans worked on getting his hair half way washed. “Heyyy, be careful about the water kid. Dad just changed, he doesn’t want to change again and we can’t flood the room either.” Axl kindly tells him, wanting him to be mindful about the water getting outside of the tub. “Mhm.” he confirms once he looks back towards Erin, holding his hand out as eyes fall over her while he waits.

#rcsechild #main verse: 1990s.#pls this has me MELTING :'))) it's so soft and sweet how they work as a team to tame this kid #cupcake bowl and hes calling red SILLY jfsdj bye #erin's pink bra like: hi long time no see @ red :')#erin: :| can i just disappear rn?

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cupcakedoesthings · 9 months ago

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Just learned that in the revised version of TGCF, Feng Xin doesn't laugh at Xie Lian's array password.

I am in MOURNING 💔

#LET MY BOY LAUGH PLS #He deserves it.#This is a crime #and I am unwell #cupcake rambles #tgcf

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piggycyberwarrior · 7 months ago

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How the Arcane Characters would react to a smart!s/o

a/n: hey guys so yeah.. i am backkk. love you all and pls request or talk to me if you want <3 don't be shy!!

Contains: Viktor, Vi, Ekko, Silco, Jinx

Disclaimer: Okay so i know people can be smart without reading books- but reading online articles or there are different reasons BUT there is no "world wide web" in the Arcane Universe. That is why the reader's a massive bookworm-kinda-smart person (?)

warnings: itsy bitsy teenie tiny mention of mature themes (turn on; feral) but NO further description; mentions of kissing (?), goofy Jinx (like what did you expect T-T) not proof read

let me know if i missed any warnings!!

Viktor

LOVES IT

like really he would be so thrilled to have a smart partner

would constantely go to the library with you- buying old science books or books about stuff that you like to read.

^ he never lets you buy them tho <3

Asks you when there are some issues with his work.. like this is such an honour (my bby has some issues when it comes to asking for help)

Viktor would always and I mean ALWAYS compliment you

-"look at my smart darling"

He just feels understood and so comfortable with you as you are on the same wavelenght as him

Loves to hear you ramble to him about the most random things at night, during walks, breakfast, in the morning, just simply at anytime

peppers your whole face with kisses while you ramble to him in the morning- loves to make you laugh, giggle or chuckle

Also adores it to have deep conversations with you

He just loves you<3

it would turn her on so much to be honest

like its so attractive (fr guys)

she would listen to you all the time, rambling and or reading to her- even tho she doesn't understand shit sometimes

loves it when you put her in her place when she did something stupid

also loves that you are a walking wikipedia

"Cupcake, what do you mean the dot over the "i" has a name??"

- " yeah its called the tittle or superscript dot- not only the dot over the i but also the dot on top of the j"

"WhAt?"

would constantely brag about you to EVERYONE like its almost embarrassing stopp vi please

used to steal you books from Piltover (still does it to be honest)

sometimes asks you if that one random fact she heard was true

loves to kiss you after you answered her question- as a price for being this smart <3

Ekko

lmao i don't know why but Ekko is such a sucker for intelligent/smart people

like dis man would be on his KNEES for you.

he would be always crafting stuff with you, always making sure you've got a new book in your hand, always kissing the ground you walk on

he wastes no time getting you anything that you need for your studies, crafts or freetime.

Has no shame- will show you off to EVERYBODY ON THIS GOD DAMN PLANET (like Vi)- especially to his teammates tho

loves loves LOVES to spend time with you and teach him the things you know or learned

"So the Midas effect is about people becoming more generous after a simple touch?" "Exactely, but the effect isn't scientifically proven- its just an assumption." "I see.."

also loves your fascination for knowledge

I'm sorry but he would go absolutely feral when he sees you teaching stuff to the small kids in the HQ.

it would make him so happy ngl

He would kiss you after that everytime- praising you that you're so smart

Silco

he would think it's so hot

Lets you read or craft in his office so he can watch you

^ it calms him

i don't think he would brag about you but he would be so proud of you neverthless

tells you that too

isn't stupid himself so he sometimes reads the books you enjoyed reading- he does that because he wants to know what you're talking about- never admits that tho

"What are you reading, handsome?- "Oh.. History of the World- it's quite interesting" you looked at him dumbfounded but quickly smiled "It really is interesting- the text structur is just beautiful!" you happily cheered

he loves it when you ramble to him at night- him laying on your chest and softly carding your fingers through his hair i love this man

just stares at you with that unreadable hot gaze of his when you start mumbling to yourself about some equations.

doesnt look all that dazed but on the inside he is GONE!!

he is so in love

grabs your chin and turns it to his face- pressing your lips onto his. Loves how you squeal- suprised that he interrupted your train of thought

Jinx

she adores it SO MUCH

constantely wants you to talk to her like she sits there- criscrossed, head resting in her palms- listening as if she has nothing else to do.

always wants you to tell her anything that you learned

^ she deadass throws a tantrum if you don't

only really listens to you- thinks you are always right

just like her sister- you have to keep her from doing stupid stuff

^ you cannot tell me she wouldn't do anything stupid lmao

decorates your book covers and doesnt know why you're so stressed everytime she does it (like thats a no-no , darling pls)

like thats so weird and all but she loves to read Picture books while you read Aristotle- just to feel the vibe

"How is your book?" you asked her with a raised eybrow while flipping to the next page- hearing her hum as she was reading that picture book. "Oh it's great, pudding- the ducks finally found their home!!"- "Really, that's good to hear" you chuckled softly

gives you suprise kiss-attacks when you're absorbed in your work

brags to sevika how smart her s/o is but gets jealous when others tell you that you're smart like gurl?

please do reblog, sweetheart <3

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