#write your dessert

[marlynnofmany]

Thanks to whoever it was that had the post about "writing your dessert."

I just finished writing a delightful mix of things that I've enjoyed reading about in other Good Omens fanfics, and I think it turned out great.

Other people who enjoy unexplained nesting instincts in creatures with wings, demon summoning with a side of snark, and getting mistaken for the wrong kind of cryptid entirely will probably enjoy this particular trope cake.

[jadewritesficshere]

Cool Down

Steve Harrington x reader

Synopsis: Steve comes in after working outside in the heat and you help him "cool off"

Contains: oral (m receiving), ice play, slightly sub!Steve

18+only

Steve comes in the kitchen after mowing the lawn in the summer. "It's a scorcher out there," He mumbles. He's sweating bullets, chest heaving from breathing. He grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it up to his brow, his stomach and happy trail on display for you.

You are distracted at the sight for a moment before getting a pitcher out of the fridge. You pour a glass of lemonade and hand it to him. Steve thanks you with a wide smile, brisk kiss to your forehead. "I'm gonna cool down for a minute," He points his thumb over his shoulder towards the living room," But then I'll come in here and help finish dinner."

Which, is so sweet of him. He made the lemonade this morning, mowed the lawn, and was offering to help cook dinner on the night that was your designated night to cook, not his. You can't help but admire his ass as he walks out of the room. Your mind is blazing with thoughts of showing him how much you love him and appreciate him. How you would use your mouth and kiss him. But he's too hot right now...

Steve's eyes are closed, head back against the couch. He can hear your footsteps come in the room. You setting a glass on the side table. He can feel you sit next to him, your body heat.

He can feel you kiss his neck, right at his pulse point. He smiles slightly, but God is it hot. He's about to move away when he feels your tongue dart against his neck. He gasps at the ice cold feeling.

Steve's eyes fly open and he looks at you. You pull back enough, open your mouth, and stick you tongue out slightly. Steve can see the ice cube melting on your tongue. You close your mouth, moving the ice cube around, before open mouth kissing Steve's neck again.

Steve groans as you swirl the ice cube against his neck. The melting ice dripping down his skin, the way you lightly suck against him. You pull back when the ice cube is melted, which doesn't take long as you had only half filled the cube tray to try and mimic crushed ice (it didn't work).

You grab the hem of his shirt and lift slightly. It takes Steve a second to catch on, but as soon as he does he is immediately peeling it off and tossing it somewhere to deal with later. You lick your lips as you stare at his torso, before placing another ice cube in your mouth.

You kiss him, which Steve tries to deepen- he wants to steal the ice from your mouth and push it back in- but you pull away. Steve would pout except you're kissing and licking his chest. You spend extra time at his nipples, which harden when the ice comes in contact with them.

You continue your descent, replacing the ice cubes as they melt. The combination of heat and cold is tantalizing. Steve gasps and moans, trying not to writhe beneath you. When you reach his shorts, you glance up at him. Your gaze makes him feel like he's burning alive. "Please," he whispers, voice strained.

You grin as you peel down his shorts, Steve lifting his hips to help. His dick immediately springs up from being released from the fabric holding it back. He's thick and curved slightly to the left. A few freckles on the underside along with a prominent vein. He's flushed a deep red, the tip turning almost purple.

"Hot here too?" You ask, popping an ice cube into your mouth to let it melt slightly. Steve nods his head rapidly," Uh-huh so hot." You grin as you get off the couch onto your knees in front of him. "Wait-" Steve reaches over and grabs a throw pillow, handing it to you," your knees." God he really is the sweetest. You wonder how sweet he would be if you made him beg for it.

But now isn't the time for that. You slide the pillow under you, grinning up at him. Steve swallow thickly, eyes filled with lust as he gazes at you. You lean forward and lightly lick the tip.

Steve gasps, hands clutching the couch cushions. You wrap your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue and the almost melted ice around him. Steve throws his head back with a groan, fingers flexing. You can feel him twitch in your mouth, a spurt of pre coming out.

You lick the pre from his slit, careful to watch him. You don't want to push from pleasure to pain at this moment. You want Steve to enjoy it.

Which he is. You can tell by the way his breaths quicken and his face flushes. The way his mouth drops open, little gasps and moans and groans escaping. You slide your tongue around him, taking a little bit more in your mouth. You want to say you can take him all, but he's so big. You have to practice more because of your gag reflex, but you don't think Steve will mind the practice.

"I'm not," Steve breathes heavily," nng not gonna last-" Steve cuts off with a sharp gasp as you suck. His hand darts out and settles on the top of your head. He isn't trying to push you further on him, just keeping his hand touching you in some way.

"Fuck I'm close. I'm gonna come in your mouth unless you pull off," Steve opens his eyes to look down at you. You smile the best you can around him and wink. "Fuck," Steve whimpers. You don't have much more warning before his thighs tense and abdomen flexes. Warm spurts of come hit the back of your throat and you swallow quickly.

His face is a site to behold. The slight scrunch of his eyebrows, his mouth wide open in an 'o', face flushed. You swallow all he gives you. When he's done, you carefully lick him off to ensure not an ounce is left behind.

You let him slide out of our mouth, gently kissing his thigh. You lay your head against his thigh, smiling up at him. Steve's eyelids flutter as he opens them, gazing down at you. A dopey grin spreads across his face," I love you." You giggle lightly," I love you too." Steve nods before licking his lips," Can I uh return the favor?"

As if you have to think about it.

[victorie552]

Just had a thought, it's completely half-baked: So, um, NoME I think, said that there totally could be hröar without any fëar running around, right? Translating: there could be moving bodies with no souls/occupants left.

Zombies. Middle Earth has zombies.

And when would be a better time for zombies to roam around than after Nirnaeth Arnoediad? Even more after Second and Third Kinslaying. You know who would have a perfect opportunity to fight zombies to the point of habit? Fëanorians.

So I imagined the situation where Maedhros and Maglor fight some zombies, successfully turning them into parts (I mean, duh). Then Maedhros says something self-hating like "Surely there's more good to them than was left of us(me) as it hunts and hurts without consent, intent nor will, unlike us(me)."

And Maglor looks at him, then at the zombie's head he holds. He reaps the skull open (with his hands, yes), takes zombies' brain out, and throws it at Maedhros with "We also have an evidence he had a brain, unlike some brother of mine."

Cue Medhros releasing the MOST Older Brother Sigh.

[the-raindeer-king]

(have so much fun on that concert next week✨️)

What do we think about Simon suprising us with a picnic date near a lake?🥺 bonus points if there are little ducklings around

This has been in my inbox for a week 🙈 and I feel so bad!! But the concert was fantastic, thanks!!! As for a suprise picnic with Simon..... (as always, this is gender neutral, and happy pride month)

He'd take you to a park, but not one near your flat because you've already gone there together before. But he knows there's one near where Price lives, a really nice park with lots of flowers and a pond, a pond with ducks. And Simon knows you're going to be so excited.

He didn't tell you where y'all were going, just that it'd be outside and there was no need to get all dolled up. He wants you comfortable, and let's be real, this man is so down bad. You could show up in literal rags, and he'd still think you were the most attractive person he's ever seen.

You think that maybe you're just taking a stroll through the park. Simon's just recently gotten back from deployment, and you don't want him to overwhelm himself just to make you happy. But the park is quiet, mainly older folks. There's a family by the pond, the children talking with excitement as they toss frozen peas into the water.

It's peaceful, and it's a perfectly good day for a picnic.

You pick a spot with a good view of the pond, watching the ducks, as Simon gets the blankets set up. He barely has time to put the basket down, before you're grabbing his hand, almost frantic as you drag him away.

"Simon, come look! Come look!" You loudly whisper, excited but cautious, not wanting to scare the ducks. "There's babies!"

And sure enough, swimming in a little yellow cluster, there's a group of ducklings on the side opposite to where y'all have set up. They're so small and fuzzy, and you fawn over them for a second.

Simon let's out a small huff of amusement, wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you closer to him, your back to his chest, and he presses a kiss to your temple. Sure, the ducklings are cute, but he thinks you're far cuter.

[witchofthesouls]

How tiny would the second set of sparklings be after Overlord?

Very tiny and delicate as they're really premature. Their saving grace was that their forms were nearly settled and had begun the bulking phase.

Nickel was able to drop them inside an incubator, so their bodies could stabilize more and hopefully get more weight on them. And had a screaming match with some 'con medical personnel. She stole joints and sliced cabling since she's at the perfect height for knees and ankles before kicking people out.

It's unfortunate that the Decepticons don't have a blacksmith that's experienced with neonatal care, but there's a Prion medic and Camien nurse from Order the Luminara that made some plans.

Because the three are itsy-bitsy, they wear onsies for better thermoregulation. They're either sleeping or eating as they have severely limited reserves.

Tarn has upgraded to perch since all three can curl into the nook between his neck and collarfare, which is far easy to keep track of them since all three can fit in his palm and still have room to squirm around. The split-sparks are grumpy because that was their favorite spot, and they got kicked out to his chassis.

Nurse is grumpy because of the healing process, and the lack of biolights on their armature means Tarn's cozier to all the sparklings' senses.

[wifeiy]

who up thinking about devoted knight akaashi

[hungnitan]

HSR x Fate UBW coming in Q3 2025 !

(I write these in mind for anyone doesn't know Fate series at all)

For now it's unknown will it come with stories or just skin or full pack with playable UBW character

Not long ago HSR had interview with FGO team, the magazine only release their Q&A but considering both side love each other project, these collab shouldn't really suprising. If there's suprising fact is why only UBW not FGO directly ? Since there is no info about collab details, let's make some analysis for now :

FGO especially Fate series is really big world ! If you need comparasion, it's not only Honkai Impact world but all Hoyoverse become one and you need to know at least a bit of each title to make sense about Fate series !

Continuing point above, which is the reason they gave us years for this collab ! Their developer consider years should be enough for player to quick read most Fate series franchise (lol)

Fate as whole already into their 20 years old now so it's kinda impossible for anyone to learn that series from start (even I only know fifty percent of it). So to make it simple, they just pick their well known franchise but not making players too confused about their world building which is Fate Stay Night. UBW is decent choice considering what's happened with other two.

If anyone need comparasion, UBW kinda like GGZ in term of popularity and reminiscing (lol) while FGO kinda like former Genshin in term of popularity.

I kinda saw FGO pretty desperate nowdays or maybe they're already out of idea to promote Fate series onward. For anyone doesn't know, FGO was the king of mobile gacha games but after Genshin release their revenue drop sharply and with more Chinese gacha games out lately, you can say now it's their lowest situations so to be honest Fate series feels like gonna dying sooner or later which is this collab came.

I can say for sure that this collab came from HSR side since those otaku ops growth like now while watching/reading Fate series (lol) so I think there's no way HSR or even Fate team will slack off especially for storytelling since it's Fate main selling (if there's one for collab later lol)

Onto collab prediction since it's specifically UBW, means the main character is either Rin or/and Emiya. Maybe anyone still not read questionable leaks but there's info this collab need two version to finish means there's at least four and max six new character avaliable later. Considering UBW stories, I can think of Saber and Gilgamesh or maybe Kirei can join the roaster too.

Now for everyone who doesn't know Fate series and need pointer for later collab, first please watch Fate Stay Night, it have three titles with same story premise but different PoV with different ending (Fate Stay Night 24 episode -> Fate Stay Night Unlimited Blade Works 1 movie -> Fate Stay Night Heaven's Feel 3 parts movie). Next it's Fate Stay Night prologue, Fate Zero 24 episode and you're good to breakthrough the collab only.

Sounds simple right, which is the reason they choose Unlimited Blade Works for collab. If FGO, you could swarm yourself with 9 years FGO lore materials + other works with and without "Fate" titles on it (lol)

[savage-rhi]

THIS IS A STICK UP!! GIVE ME ALL YOUR YAPS!!

NOW!!

EASY

EASY

Finefinefinefinefinefinefinefinefinefinefinefinefine! Here's some fucking yaps!

I'm writing some scenes of ahead of Duality and I have this (what I consider cool) metaphor/deep thing/pretentious (if ya'll wanna be a bitch call me that last one [not you in particular mal, its general ya'll...ya'll]) that involves Two Legs (plaga!luis) and Sawyer watching The Fly (YES WITH THE JEFFIE GOLDBLUMS) together in Spanish and poor screaming worm boi has an existential crisis (the parallells between Seth and Luis are 🤌🏻💯) and my girl who still has no idea wtf is up catches on the boy ain't doing too right and goes out of her fucking way to get them the hell outta there and distract and its cute and it doesn't fix everything (cause screaming worm boi is seeing some of Geenas Davises in Sawyer which makes shit worse) but he feels ✨seen✨even though I don't feel like I'm doing a great job at writing the damn story about "what if a parasite had human feelings?" I'm still having fun.

Revamping my new Death Stranding fic outline has been ✨F U N ✨ it has everything: Gene being a sweetheart, Gene losing her absolute shit (justifiably), giant black tar gods, Egyptian Gods living vicariously thru humans, Mighty Morphin Power Rangers Zords energy, sexual tension, sexual tension (not the kind you're thinking), Murica' fucking up...again, personal covid 19 near death experience incorporated into the plot, existential horror, existential horror 2 electric boogaloo (Gene mostly, and arguably Higgs when shit hits the fan), ssssSSssssSSSSsnakes!, blood, darkness, Gene serving cunt, Higgs serving cunt, The DUAT serving cunt...everyone serves cunt at least once (they're all slices of cake), "that one beach party that turns into a rave party", a dash of everything everywhere all at once, and the password is🎶 Aruba, Jamacia, ooo I wanna take ya🎶 (this is gonna probably get fucking more lit when DS2 comes out and I get drugged on chilarium and weed that week [fun story about chilarium and weed I might share later I had with a friend])

I'm slowly building back up to working on some novel ideas I've been cooking. One, with cryptids living in a 4 plex with a human protag and its kind of slice of lifey but there's an overarching BIG PLOT (which I'm still trying to figure the fuck out) and the second one is my zombie/monster story where all the main characters are named after Beatles songs, the latter is a little difficult cause I'm putting a lot of trauma and shit I went through in it, BUT the creatures/zombs are so fucking twisted and go for the gut on my tokophobia among other things and I'm loving how even though its difficult, being able to turn trauma into something tangible (like a monster thing) has been therapeutic (also, its been acting as my counter fuck you to "the kiss" in TLOU HBO cause while I do like the horror element [especially in the context of sex cause I think it did a good job evoking the same ick as the Alien franchise does with the xenomorphs and their reproductive cycle], the whole, "...They’re violent because we resist, but what if you don’t? What does it look like if you just stand perfectly still and let them do this to you?" and, "...what we are may look disgusting and the way we reproduce may be horrifying and violent but it is tender, when this man comes to her it's not violent because she is not fighting, if she ran, if she fought back they would have taken her apart but she's just standing there and he shares of himself" **can't find the damn link but it was something along the lines of this was said in the podcast** commentary rubbed me the wrong way as an SA survivor sooo...THERE AIN'T NOTHING "PRETTY" IN THE SHIT IM COOKIN. (don't get me wrong I like me monster and horror stuff but...yeah...no words).

Ardyn Izunia is still #1 husbando and Karl Heisenberg is right up there with him. I love these two old men and their fuckitry. I'm very saddened they are not within my hyperfixations shooting range right now, but they'll come when they need to come (pun intended).

I've been drawing more RE monsters and I'm getting back into drawing dinosaurs again (and crocheting lgbtq themed scarfs!). Its been an uphill climb and I want to post but imposter syndrome x burnout are making sweet love in my brain and they haven't paid the rent.

I'm just fucking psyched for DS2 hmmkay?

....I need food

[doverstar]

elevenrose friends rejoice; I just got four more elevenrose prompts. prepare for a veritable fanfic buffet

[mushiemellows]

Too many stories in my brain too many stories in my brain aaaaaaah

[glowettee]

30 Ways to Romanticize Your Life 🌸

Life is more beautiful when you slow down and notice the magic around you. Here's how to romanticize your everyday moments:

 Wake up early to watch the sunrise.

Use your favorite mug for morning tea or coffee.

Write love letters to yourself in a journal.

Go on a solo date to a cozy café.

Light a candle while you work or study.

Play soft instrumental music while cooking.

Take a walk in nature without your phone.

Organize your desk with pastel stationery.

Capture small moments with a disposable camera.

Make your bed every morning.

Wear an outfit that makes you feel confident.

Add fresh flowers to your space.

Watch your favorite childhood movie.

Dance in your room to nostalgic music.

Try a new skincare routine.

Write down three things you're grateful for every day.

Learn calligraphy or start a creative hobby.

Keep a collection of your favorite poems.

Use a fancy pen for your daily notes.

Take a luxurious bubble bath.

Treat yourself to your favorite dessert.

Read a book that inspires you.

Keep a vision board of your dreams.

Watch the stars on a clear night.

Use aromatherapy oils for relaxation.

Write a letter to your future self.

Wear perfume even if you’re staying home.

Set up a cozy nook for reading or journaling.

Look for beauty in small details.

Smile at yourself in the mirror every morning.

[kurooh]

☆ US AFTER POUNDTOWN ! — JJK

⊹₊˚. what aftercare looks like with gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, intimacy, cleanup, fluff, no graphic smut, pillowtalk, showering, brief discussions of pregnancy and kids. i needed to write this okay

GOJO SATORU.

silky pink ribbons slide off of satoru’s wrists, curling into themselves once they hit the bedsheets. he can’t help but watch you, more wide-eyed and teary than he should be, as you take each wrist between your fingers and rub gently. his skin is flushed where he’d been securely tied to the headboard, and it doesn’t hurt in the least, especially when compared to fights he’s been at the center of.

you hum, thumb kindly sweeping over his pulse point. “you okay, ‘toru? i know that went on a little longer than usual.”

you watch as he blinks, diamond eyes glassy with traces of euphoria. he’s still coming down, he realizes, when your words bounce around his brain after you speak them, echoing endlessly in the space.

“i’m okay, sweetheart,” satoru replies, feeling something in his chest begin to melt when you settle beside him on the bed. the air still smells faintly of sex, though the scent rides away on the breeze filtering in through an open window. it is almost completely dark in the bedroom, to make the strain on his eyes a little easier after a long day—he closes them, automatically wrapping a strong arm around you.

“there’s a new restaurant a few blocks down,” you begin, fingers reverently stroking over the curve of his side, “many of the reviews mention the dessert and sweet treats. it’s supposed to be good.”

fully nude, satoru curls against you, taking note of how easily you fit in beside him. like you were always meant to be here, something whispers in the back of his head. “heh, sounds like you’ve already vetted ‘em. i’ll take a day off next week and we can go.”

“you’re always so busy,” you tease, pulling him closer as though he might just slip away when you fall asleep. as you breathe, satoru feels the swell and sink of your back beneath his palm, and he considers maybe not going to work tomorrow. as if he could take days off on a whim—he might be the strongest in the jujutsu world, but he can’t even make his own choices. then, more quietly, you murmur, “i hope you aren’t overworking yourself too much, satoru.”

when he replies “‘m not,” reflexively, your body momentarily goes rigid, as if he wasn’t meant to hear you. before you can look up and refute him, satoru tugs you closer, making sure to sit his chin atop your shoulder. “really, angel, i’m okay. i can totally handle it.”

he totally can’t, even if he won’t admit it to himself. but satoru doesn’t want you to worry, get caught up with his issues during your day to day—this is simply what comes with the weight of ‘the strongest’ as his title. you huff like you don’t entirely believe him, although you don’t pull away.

“if i don’t pry any further, do you promise to sleep more than three hours tonight? and in this bed, not at work.”

you’re not even asking that much of him. if satoru can wipe out hundreds of curses in less than five minutes, he can definitely try to sleep until sunrise. at home. when there’s work to do. right?

he bites his lip, protesting weakly, “i don’t need to sleep, though, baby. i’ve also gotta get in early to deal with the first years.”

the coolness of sheets in an empty bed flashes through your head, and you decide to push, though there’s a tinge of selfishness behind it all. “please? you still need to rest and let your technique cool down.”

it’s not that difficult to convince satoru to stay after all, especially when he’s feeding off your body heat and you his. the bed does feel more comfortable than his office chair, and just as he comes to this realization, a headache has the nerve to come on, only persuading him further. slowly, like he’s submerging himself in a pool, his body begins to succumb to the comfort of the queen bed, the softness of your skin, the sweet smell of your body wash.

“fineeee. but only because you asked so nicely, angel.”

GETO SUGURU.

“i’ll get the water started for you, honey.”

so he does, turning on the faucet and letting the water heat up as it rushes through the pipes, then out of the shower head in a warm spray. from your seat on the toilet, you can’t help but feel a lovesick, fuzzy warmth building in your chest.

muscle ripples in suguru’s back as he carefully takes down his hair, undoing the band to allow the dark tresses to fall past his shoulders. his hair is impeccably taken care of—he lavishes it in only the best shampoos and conditioners every few days, his side of the shower almost overtaking your own. it’s made up of hair products and a few scented bars of soap, the way a shower should look. (not barren and home to a single bottle of two in one, two dove bars, and a dull razor, like satoru’s.)

when the glass door slides shut and suguru steps into the spray, you hear him exhale with relief. the toilet flushes and you stand, joining him in the shower.

“i’ll wash your hair,” you say, as if it’s second nature. though it seems simple on the surface, he’s allowing you to touch one of the most intimate parts of him—his scalp has only known his own hands, and yours, on the occasion that you help him wash it. “shampoo, please.”

suguru laughs, angling the shower head down so you don’t get too wet. shampoo is squirted into your extended, expectant palm and the ritual begins.

“are we taking more showers after sex specifically so i can wash your hair, suguru?”

there has been an increase in the amount of showers after sex. he’ll make a mess of you on the couch, drink some water afterward, and carry you to the bathroom like a princess to her chariot. you can’t quite place your finger on when, but you’d started washing his hair at some point during your baths.

“the curses really have been . . taking a toll on my arms,” he says cheekily, settling on that excuse just to hear you laugh, “perhaps i’ve been having difficulty reaching back and dealing with my hair.”

suguru’s got quite the mane, which anyone could surmise just from looking at him. but as wet hair slides through your fingers, you can see why he likes your help so much. you’re gentle with him, making sure to never yank on anything as you make your way through his hair. even the light sensation of your nails raking along his scalp relaxes him deeply, and all the tension in his shoulders bleeds out and washes down the drain, along with the suds.

“yeah, okay. if i mess up one of my arms, you’re outta luck.”

“we could take epsom baths together, so then you’d have no excuse.”

it’s endearing, the way he’s able to come up with a solution so quickly. you laugh again, light and airy in the thick steam, and suguru decides he never wants to leave this place.

“wash my back while the shampoo sits, sugu?” you ask, switching places with him to get your back thoroughly doused with water. white suds slip down his temples and he pushes back his hair from where it’s piled on top of his head, looking like a child’s sloppy sand castle on the beach.

“want me to pick the body wash this time?”

“that’s a trick question,” you say, eyes sparkling when you look at him, “you’re just going to choose peppermint vanilla like always.”

suguru already has the bottle in his grasp and is squeezing the wash out into his palm, but he still manages to look affronted. “no, i wouldn’t.”

you turn around, stepping out of the spray to playfully wiggle your ass at him. “i can barely smell it anymore, that’s how much you’ve worn it out.”

“it’s your smell,” he shrugs, shoulders rolling with the motion, “it’s your signature soap scent. you can always cover it up with perfume tomorrow anyway, it’s not that strong.”

“is that why you’re always sniffing me at night?”

you can hear him breathing you in when you’re cuddling at night? embarrassing! still, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “it’s comforting, so sue me.”

you sigh in relief when his hands coast over your skin, palms firmly pressing the soap into your back to both wash you and make the scent stick. a comfortable quiet settles between you, and he continues to lave your back with the wash, fingertips tracing the dents and lines of muscle.

it’s domestic, and entirely him.

he pauses, sputtering and gracelessly coughing on the water. “i’m sorry.”

you turn, helping him rinse the bubbles away from his face. “what’s wrong, sugu?”

“not to ruin the moment, but, well, i got soap in both my eyes.”

NANAMI KENTO.

“i can’t believe you made me breakfast, ken.”

kento returns to the bedroom with one of those lap trays made for eating at the couch, carrying a plate of fluffy waffles garnished with a colorful array of sweet berries. there’s even a full cup of syrup on the side to pour to your heart’s content.

he’s pulled on his boxers, the ones that are tight around his ass, and an apron with kiss the cook in calligraphic script embroidered across the front of it. a smile plays on his lips, the kind he wears when he’s biting back an ear-to-ear grin, and he takes a seat beside you. your excitement is something he thinks he’ll never get tired of. with a creak, the bed dips under the newly added weight, and you carefully slot the tray over your lap.

“how’d you know i was craving something sweet?”

“sweetheart, i know you,” kento shakes his head, laughing around the words. “go ahead and try them, i added something new.”

red blooms around the bite marks littered across his collarbone and around his chest, only becoming visible with his occasional shifts beside you. kento watches you eat with a distinct softness in his eyes, his heart swelling in his chest as your face lights up with every bite.

light and sweet as can be, the waffles burst with flavor, although a small tweak has been made to the recipe. maybe kento’s added finely chopped coconut or a few extra spoonfuls of sugar?

“you’re staring,” you point out, cheeks growing warm. his gaze is obviously lovesick, and strong enough to make you feel the littlest bit shy—a hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck, and he looks away with a short chuckle. “we can share, ken.”

“that’s okay, honey. i had some while i was making them earlier. so, how do they taste? have you figured out the extra ingredient yet?”

“i’ve got no idea,” you reply after a large bite, setting the fork back on the tray before gently nudging it away. kento’s forearms flex as he lifts it, placing it on the bedside table for later.

he unties the apron and scoops you into his arms, pulling your giggling form close to his chest. “i decided to add more buttermilk.”

a warm kiss is pressed to the space beneath your ear. through your back, you can feel his heartbeat syncing up with your own—relaxed and content in the presence of one another.

“thank you for this morning,” kento whispers, adding, “was i too rough with you, angel?”

“perfect, ken. you almost put me back to sleep, though.”

you share a laugh with him, curling up in his warmth. kento’s fingers trace mindless, ticklish doodles into your side as he begins to slip further into a state of drowsiness. “i don’t like to make excuses, but i find it difficult to hold myself back with you.”

the admission isn’t inherently sexual, not in the way it’s said so delicately. kento is right, he does have difficulty holding back, but only because he’s so known. you’re essentially on the same wavelength, finishing his sentences for him before even he’s able to conjure up the word he’s looking for; you understand him wholly, in the kind of way that transcends the surface and physicality of it all. unspoken feelings make no difference—kento’s open like a book for only your eyes to pore over.

even now, in this embrace, it’s nearly impossible to tell where one body begins and the other ends.

“all mine?”

“all yours, ken. pinkie promise.”

“pinkie promise?” he sighs without exasperation, letting you loop your pinkie with his own. if this wasn’t something he was doing with you, kento would be the first to ask something like isn’t this a bit childish? but this isn’t like making an agreement with gojo; this is a promise he wholeheartedly intends to fulfill. after all, what would he be if he wasn’t yours?

“pinkie promise.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“on your stomach.”

you turn back to throw him an incredulous look, eyebrows drawing together in surprise. “more? toji, i thought you—”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes and motioning toward the couch cushions. “yes, ya heard me. on your stomach, doll. don’t make me ask again.”

“don’t make me ask again,” you mimic him, flopping forward onto your belly as requested. it’s odd that toji’s even vying for more when he’s the one who tapped out first, panting so hard he could barely form a sentence of explanation beyond a few muttered words.

instead of positioning himself at your ass, toji remains sitting beside you, though he turns to press his hands into your upper back. faint as can be, the scent of lavender curls in the air as the worship begins—toji’s suddenly a professional at effleurage, palms circling upward near your shoulder blades.

slow and firm, his hands seem to iron out any aches that may have taken root there. lotion spans almost the entirety of your upper back, serving as both moisturizer and lubrication for the easy glide of skin against skin.

“really, toji?” you ask, lips curling up in amusement, “you wanted to give me a back massage?”

you completely expect him to retort something sassy and annoying, maybe even call you a damn brat or start torture tickling you. instead, toji’s voice rumbles low and meaningful from his chest. “had ya laid out on your back for a while, and on the couch, no less. jus’ wanted to make sure you’d be able to sleep comfortably tonight.”

toji’s answer does something that it never has before. it shuts you up, and at the same time, makes heat rush to your cheeks. embarrassment and a particular fondness, of all things, stir in your chest at his thoughtfulness. you haven’t messed around on the couch in many months, and yet he still remembers the small, almost unnoticeable hunch of your back after getting up last time.

he laughs at you, feeling proud to have finally ‘won’ all the bantering.

“didn’t expect that, huh?” toji pauses, fingertips lightly dragging down the planes of your back. before he even speaks, you can already hear the smirk in his voice. “anyway, i wish ya could see how pretty you look right now.”

“you can’t even see my face, toji.”

a huff escapes him, and he makes sure to dig his fingers in, just so he can hear you squeal in both laughter and pain. “just can’t take a compliment, huh? you’re such a brat, swear to god.”

“your brat,” you remind him cheerfully, feeling his hands slide to the middle of your back. “as much as i’m enjoying this, i wouldn’t mind taking care of you, baby.”

he snorts. you’re calling him baby like he isn’t 6’3 and nearly 200 pounds of muscle—but there’s something endearing about the idea of being taken care of too. toji actually . . . wouldn’t mind it.

“oh yeah? and what do ya plan to do to me?”

you hum thoughtfully, turning your head around to fix him with a playful look. “i’d turn on one of the movies i’ve been telling you we need to watch and then scratch your back so you wouldn’t get up in the middle of it.”

“this better not be about—”

before he can begin trashing on your favorite movie, the one he hasn’t watched yet, you bulldoze right over him. “as the movie starts, i’d be whispering sweet nothings into your ear.”

“wouldn’t that just make me bend ya over? kinda defeats the purpose of aftercare, doll.”

“the key word is sweet, toji,” even with your clarification, he still looks a little lost, making the same confused face he does when shiu cracks a sly joke at his expense in front of you. “sit down and i’ll show you what i’m talking about.”

the comforting pressure on your back lets up, and for a split second, you almost wish you hadn’t suggested to demonstrate. toji sits down, remote looking dwarfed in his closed palm, and smirks expectantly, like there’s something funny to say. “i was just thinking. what if all the aftercare turns me into a spoiled brat?”

you scoff as he turns on the tv, settling on your knees behind him. “we can’t both be spoiled brats, toji.”

KAMO CHOSO.

“did i hurt you?” is the first thing to come out out of choso’s mouth when you finally return to yourself, a few crystalline tears starting to dry on your cheeks. you hadn’t quite noticed them during the pandemonium, too wrapped up in the overwhelming sensations of sex to focus on something so unimportant. but now, there’s a warm stinging that you trace to your neck—where he’d been biting and sucking the most in the moments before orgasm.

“‘s okay, cho. i’m okay, just tired now,” you laugh breathlessly, watching the worry drain out of his face, “i’ve gotta get up and wipe off, or i’ll end up getting pregnant.”

choso’s eyes are shining. “our kids would be so pretty, all ‘cause of you.”

you sit up on your elbows, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. this is the same look you give him every time he mentions it, and not wanting to nag you too much, he remembers himself. “okay, i know. have to wait more than five years first, i got it,” with the mildest degree of resignation making its way through his huffed words, choso slips off of the bed and pads toward the bathroom.

shortly after, he returns with a damp washcloth and settles on his knees between your thighs. even in the low light, his movements are perpetually delicate and skillful, a direct result of his understanding of your body, built through touch. with the way he’s comfortably wiping cum off your inner thighs, it’s hard to believe that choso had once been so awkward he’d stalked off mid-sex to let out a few tears of embarrassment.

“it’s not too hot, is it?” he checks in, more worried than he should be. it isn’t difficult to imagine him as a father, gasping as your child toddles around recklessly, jumping off of the couch and into his awaiting arms. he’s the type to always come to the rescue, no matter what.

“no, it’s just right,” you murmur, feeling the sweep of the lukewarm washcloth at the top of your thigh. “no need to be so concerned, choso. i trust you, baby.”

pink blooms in the apples of his cheeks at your words, just as it always does whenever you pay him an innocent compliment. he takes comfort in your relaxed sigh, folding the washcloth into itself and setting it on the bedside table before sliding himself up to lay his head on your chest. “you need to stop indulging me so much,” he groans when your fingers slip into his hair, combing gently though the dark strands, “keep up the ‘put a baby in me’ and i might actually do it.”

choso feels his entire face burn once he repeats a line that’s supposed to be yours, a shudder rippling through his body when a memory from earlier flashes behind his eyes.

“i know, cho,” you hum, nails lightly raking against his scalp in your odyssey through his hair. it’s painfully intimate, and impossibly soothing for him—he could say just about anything to you, even confess something deep and dark without the usual constraints of your daily routine. this is just you and him, simple and naked.

then you giggle, “but i also know how crazy it makes you.”

it does make him more wild than it should, the idea of getting you pregnant and then the concept of raising the baby itself. choso pauses meaningfully before he answers you, letting his eyes close. “maybe something’s fundamentally wrong with me.”

a gooey hybrid of affection and sadness races through your veins upon hearing his words. it’s hard to say something—even anything at all—when you know just a little about his struggle being half-human, half-curse. choso is constantly feeling guilty about taking the easier path in life as a human, wondering if someone like him could possibly deserve something greater than himself to love and care for.

it’s quiet now, save for the steady hum of the fan and sweep of your fingers through his hair, loose and languid. “sorry,” choso exhales softly, tilting his face to the side, “i didn’t mean to become so negative.”

“there isn’t a thing wrong with you, choso. i know you’re wanting a family of your own, and i don’t disagree with that in the slightest. i see a future with you, but there’s no shame in taking it slow, is there? we aren’t even engaged yet, baby.”

“engaged?” he echoes quizzically, voice low.

“it’s when two people agree to get married in the future after a proposal with a ring,” it’s hard not to smile at the thought of the two people being you and him, even though choso’s baring his soul to you right now, raw and all himself. he hugs you tighter, arms straining as if he’s trying to prevent you from slipping away. “don’t worry, cho. we both still have a lot to learn.”

[nightplvmes]

pregnancy cravings (fluff)

sylus one shot (love and deepspace) sylus would spoil his wife, even if she weren't pregnant with twins⋆｡° | pairing : sylus x fem!reader ⋆｡° | word count : 1.5k (1,500) ⋆｡° | fluff, pregnant reader, husband sylus, twin pregnancy ⋆｡° | autor note: hi, i wrote this a long time ago and honestly i feel sylus would just take the damn car (spoiler) to not worry his wife and that's it, but i wrote this months ago and i didn't want to not post it, especially with all the time it takes me to write, edit and translate, so… you can read it with that in mind just as entertainment :) likes and reblogs are appreciated!! :) ★ masterlist here

you carefully slid to the other side of the bed. Sylus had fallen asleep again while reading, or so you thought because his glasses were still on the bridge of his nose.

"Sy��" you murmured softly but he continued sleeping. you knew your voice hadn't been audible enough to wake him anyway. "Sylus!" you touched his shoulder this time and although you had raised your voice slightly it had perhaps been too much.

Sylus opened his eyes immediately. he turned to look at you almost without blinking and quickly straightened up. it had all happened in a matter of seconds, was it just his reflexes that were stupidly fast? "what's wrong? is it the baby?" you pressed your lips together and nodded, somewhat embarrassed. "what happened? we're going to the hospital. get up."

"what? no! I'm fine." you shook your head, settling back down on the bed. "I'm just hungry."

Sylus raised an eyebrow in confusion and stood still. it took him a couple of seconds to understand what was happening around him and that his wife was not about to give birth. "you woke me up because you were hungry?" you nodded. it wasn't that Sylus would mind but he had gotten scared. "why didn't you just go to the kitchen?"

Sylus put one of his arms around your hips and gently pulled you towards him. you looked at your baby belly where their twins were growing. it seemed like yesterday the pregnancy test had come out positive and now you could give birth at any moment.

"remember that cafe that's open 24 hours and sells desserts?" Sylus nodded, his face buried in your neck, smelling his wife's scent. "well… I'm craving that amazing red velvet cake." you felt your mouth water just thinking about it.

Sylus sighed and lifted his face. he would fulfill any craving his wife had even if she wasn't pregnant. he had told you that you were doing enough carrying their twins.

"okay, I'll get your cake." he sighed, rubbing his eyes. he was still a little sleepy, although he had to admit that hearing his wife wake him up made him think you were about to go into labor, and that scare had helped wake him up.

Sylus moved around the room, grabbing something to protect himself from the cold while his wife watched his every move. it was cold, and more than once you had made it clear that he needed to stay warm; you didn't want him to get sick.

"where's my helmet?" he asked, looking around the room.

"your helmet? will you use your bike?" you quickly sat down on the bed and pulled the covers off you. your face was now utterly worried, and Sylus quickly noticed.

"I'll go faster that way," he nodded. he knew you hated when he used the bike. ever since you found out you were pregnant, you'd practically forced him to stay off his motorcycle unless absolutely necessary and to use a car like a normal person. you were afraid something might happen to him, especially since they were expecting twins. Sylus had seen how worried you were that he'd agreed.

"Sy…" you got up quickly, and he smiled at you. you were wearing one of his favorite sweatshirts that you'd stolen from his closet, but he loved seeing your baby bump even when the sweatshirt was too big for you. "you said you wouldn't do it anymore."

"I'll be okay. I'll be right back," he murmured, letting you wrap your arms around him. he closed his eyes for a few seconds, thinking that after all, you didn't need that cake so badly and could survive one more night.

"I don't want the cake anymore. you don't have to go."

Sylus laughed, knowing you were lying, especially because you loved that cake. "you don't know how to lie." he placed a kiss on your forehead and finally pulled away. he felt a little guilty about leaving you worried like that, but he knew it wouldn't take long.

you followed him through the house, down the stairs, and to the front door, following his every step like a duckling.

"you still have time to change your mind and go by car. there's no traffic at this hour." Sylus stopped when he heard her words, turned to look at her, smiled, and then shook his head.

"it'll take less than ten minutes." you nodded, still unsure. your eyes drifted to the helmet in his hand. you didn't know when you'd become so paranoid, maybe the moment you'd realized you were actually in love with him.

"be careful, okay? you can't leave me alone with two twins!" Sylus nodded, though he tried to hide the fact that it hurt him to think of leaving you alone. He would never leave you alone.

he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, his fingers brushing your belly as a silent farewell. he turned to walk to the door and glanced over his shoulder one last time before leaving.

you started counting the seconds the moment Sylus stepped outside the house. why were you so nervous? he'd been riding his bike for many years and wasn't a beginner; nothing bad was going to happen to him.

you sighed and headed to the kitchen, trying to distract yourself. you began to make some tea in silence while your thoughts wandered, and you made a short mental list of things you had to do.

you needed to go to the doctor to make sure everything was in order with the twins. you needed to buy more clothes. you needed to prepare the bag you would take to the hospital on the day of delivery. there was still a crib to be assembled, but Sylus said he would take care of that himself.

you smiled as you remembered how you had tried to get the pieces out of one of the cribs, but it hadn't been more than five minutes before Sylus entered the room and forced you to stop. he hadn't let you do much of anything since you found out you were pregnant.

when you came out of your thoughts, several minutes had passed, and you were holding a cup of hot tea. you looked at the clock on one of the walls and felt your heart sink when you noticed that almost 20 minutes had passed. the cafe was close; it usually didn't take more than ten minutes, what was happening?

you felt a lump in your throat as you walked to the living room. you looked out the window hoping to see some light in the distance from Sylus' bike, but everything was too quiet. too quiet.

you walked back to the bedroom and rummaged through the pillows, looking for your phone. when you found it, you looked for your husband's number and pressed "call" but your hopes crumbled when you heard Sylus' phone ringing in the room. you sighed, trying to calm down. you was too paranoid, and the doctor had already told you a million times that you needed to relax.

but… what if something had happened to him? what if you were right? you sank down onto the bed and suddenly felt short of breath and like crying. you couldn't raise twins alone. the only reason you were calm now was because Sylus was by your side. he had taken it upon himself to reassure you when they found out their babies were twins.

one of each, he'd said. you covered your face as a sad smile formed on your lips. what would you do without the father of your babies? most importantly… what would you do without the love of your life? the only person you'd ever felt comfortable with, the only person who—

"sweetie?" you quickly looked up and rubbed one of your eyes to wipe away the tears that had begun to form. your whole body relaxed when you saw him standing in front of you with a box in one hand and a bag in the other. had you been so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't even heard him come in?

"Sy…" he quickly put everything aside and sat down next to you. he let you wrap her arms around him, and you were soon clinging to him. you'd been overthinking again. "it took you longer than ten minutes."

"I stopped by to get you some things you like," he murmured, kissing your head. he'd accidentally gotten too distracted, and now his pregnant wife was on the verge of a mental breakdown; he'd noticed it because of the way your eyes were watering. "I'm sorry."

you shook your head; you couldn't be bothered when he'd woken up to get your favorite cake and had stopped by to buy some of your favorite things.

"was there still cake?" you asked, trying to change the subject.

"I bought two." he nodded looking at your slightly red nose. you smiled excitedly and kissed his cheek; you'd have enough cake leftover for a while longer.

Sylus couldn't sleep again the rest of the night but that wasn't new to him, seeing his pregnant wife happy eating her cake was better than anything.

[aquasoftware]

★ VANILLA WITH A CHERRY ON TOP 🜼

Desc | Kento Nanami meets you at the library, recommends you filthy books, wears his fancy business suits, and kisses your hand like a gentleman. He’s patient, polite, and sweet. But when you finally give him your body, you realize there’s absolutely nothing vanilla about the way he makes love to you.

Cw | MDNI 18+ Cherry popping, soft/service dóm! Kento, súb! Reader, body worsh!p, óraI f!xat!on (f rece!v!ng,) f**t play, chóklng, brèèd!ng/cr3amp!e, overst!m, pra!sè, tùmmý buIgè, nanami has a Prince AIbert piercing, f!nger!ng, cúm pIay, d!rty tàIk, & aftercàre + ML | Drabble

“Vanilla”! Nanami is a man who you meet at a library, his gentle smile is so warm your heart completely melts everytime you glance at him and he flashes one, but you ignore the fact that he’s standing in the erotica section, glasses perched on his nose, quietly flipping through each page like it’s classic literature.

“Vanilla”! Nanami is observant to a pulp. He notices how you always ask for help reaching a book on the top shelf, even though he’s certain you’ve worn heels taller than that. He picks up on how you linger after conversations end, eyes dancing between his lips and his shirt that’s slightly unbuttoned allowing his pecs to happily greet you. How your gaze is anything but innocent, yet he never calls you out on it.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who never flirts explicitly—he just speaks in a tone so sultry and calm it makes your stomach twist.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who always has book recommendations for you, and every time they’re a little more suggestive than the last. “This one had beautiful prose,” he claims, handing you something with chapters full of longing, pinning, or toe-curling tension.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who underlines details in his books that remind him of you, then gets shy when you find them. He’ll mumble "It's just good writing,” but won’t meet your eyes when you see what he underlined is the filthiest smut possible.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who gives you his number after realizing you often come to the library just to constantly see him, he slides you his phone like he’s making a business deal with the contacts screen open uttering “let’s keep in touch.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami is the type that easily falls in love with you, your conversations over the phone nearly lure him in over the screen, your voice is so saccharine he’s desperate for a glass of wine to calm him down, he’s almost embarrassed at how weak in the knees he is for how intelligent you are, your shared hobbies and how your personality is just as attractive as your face.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who sends you photos of his open books along the cozy spots he reads in with captions like “Wish you were here.” (You wonder if he means the reading with him or his lap.)

“Vanilla”! Nanami officially takes you on a plethora of dates after a long while of talking and he’s this huge gentleman, he takes you on real dates. The kind with linen napkins, dim lighting, and soft jazz in the background. He pulls out your chair without thinking twice, gently wipes sauce from your cheek with his thumb, and feeds you bites of dessert with his fork, as his eyes never leave yours.

“Vanilla”! Nanami chuckles when he eventually meets your best friend and she mutters into your ear “I didn’t know you were into squares Y/n.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami who goes quiet for a moment when you tell him you’re a virgin—not because he minds, but because he suddenly feels the weight of your trust.

“Vanilla”! Nanami becomes careful with his words when he finally speaks “I just don’t want to overwhelm you,” he says nervously, placing a loving kiss on the back of your hand. “You deserve someone who’s patient with you… who makes it feel right.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami who tries not to become too emotional when you tell him that someone is him, his ears are tainted a rose pink. His eyes gloss over you as if you’re only someone he’d be able to find in his dreams.

“Vanilla”! Nanami tries to make things perfect for your first time, wanting things to be so memorable that he (unknowingly) ruins you for any other man. He lights coconut scented candles, decorates the entire room with rose petals and there’s a tray of two wine glasses waiting for the both of you afterwards.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who isn’t so vanilla after all, especially when you makeout with him, you’ll understand exactly why he was in the erotica section. Your cherry flavored lip gloss is only an excuse why his lips keep chasing yours for more, he holds your jaw with his fingertips like he’s unworthy of being able to touch you.

“Vanilla”! Nanami takes a deep breath when you tell him you’re finally ready, asking “Are you sure about this?” He presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead once you eagerly nod.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who bites his lip trying not to laugh when you apologize for not wearing anything sexy underneath your clothes and he undresses you to reveal a matching SpongeBob set. He reassures you by saying “You’re sexy in whatever you feel comfortable wearing.” And he gently rubs your back.

“Vanilla”! Nanami unclasps your bra, carefully planting kisses on your bare chest as if it's a delicate flower waiting to be picked. At first he acted as if he had all the time in the world, twirling your bud between his fingers, but then he instantly gave in when you pleaded for more—latching onto your nipple, while suckling as if it could produce sweet nectar.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who preps you for hours eating you out, and if you’re insecure about how you look down there? It’s just an excuse for him to eat you out like his life is on the line, sucking your clit until your thighs are shaking, until his head is practically being crushed to death by your thighs, or until you’re desperately humping his face like a needy slut.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who preps you with another hour of fingering, going painfully slow, refusing to rush things at all. His fingers are thick, so when he curls up and hits that g-spot each stroke? You nearly drool, throwing your head back into the flood of pillows, swearing it’s better than the smut you read.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who shocks you when you learn he has a prince albert piercing and you quickly learn what those hours of prepping was for. When you tell him “I would’ve never guessed you’d have a piercing there!?” He responds, shaking his head “I got it in my youth, but couldn’t bring myself to remove it.” If he notices any concern on your face he tenderly kisses your jawline and lets you hold his hand.

“Vanilla”! Nanami eases in but he goes feral when you cry “Kento, fuck! N-need you faster baby, please.” He throws your legs over your shoulders and can’t help but to suck your pretty white manicured toes, causing you to gasp out of shock, yet pure pleasure.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who thrives off the erotic books he reads, knowing it ingrained the words in his head on what to say, he feels like he won a medal each time he evokes deafening moans when he praises you murmuring “You’re doing so well for me sweetheart,” or “take all of me, mmmh, just like that.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami purposefully presses a big hand on your tummy bulge as he slows down his pace just so you can feel his piercing nudge deliciously against your weak spots.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who tries not to cross any boundaries with you but when you guide his hand to your throat it’s practically testing him, he remembers from a guide that teaches you should start off with small pressure. When you squeeze his cock at the light pressure? He considers putting a baby in you on the spot.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who makes you orgasm for the ninth time that night, when he reaches down to rub your clit while you're spasming around him. As soon as you finish, he doesn’t last long asking “Where do you want me princess?” His eyes nearly roll back when you say “I want your cum inside me baby.” He cums so deep, you’ll feel it in your womb the next day.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who watches as his cum oozes out your swollen cunt, and eats you out one last time, “for good measure.”

“Vanilla”! Nanami who has insane aftercare he cuddles with you, constantly asks if you’re okay, feeds you grapes like he worships the ground you walk on, and holds up your wine for you to drink.

“Vanilla”! Nanami who is anything but vanilla.

Divider/Boarders produced by uzmacchiato & dollywons

‹3 Masterlist!! | more nanami smut?

Song written by Koi’lani/@aquasoftware.

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND LIKES ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU <3

[poeticmusingsblog]

What’s a night without moonlight? What’s a vacation without a sweet delight?

[esote-rika]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐭 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Category: Smut 18+ MDNI

Summary: Teasing your virgin boyfriend was all fun and games, until he’s too worked up to function. When the layers of clothing fall off, you’re in for a delightfully large surprise.

Content: 3.2k words, virgin!Spencer, kinda sub undertones, he’s hung af and really fucking whiny, fingering, hand jobs, raw p in v but reader is on the pill, multiple orgasms, Spencer cries because he needs it so bad, reader wears lip gloss, dacryphilia (lemme know if I missed anything)

a/n: Truly just 3.2k words of filth. I wrote this instead of the next chapter for my thesis and I have no regrets. Also, a lot of my italicized words got lost because formatting on the app truly is the bane of my existence, but I reached a personal milestone and wanted to celebrate! So yay, here's a fic as a thank you for supporting my blog and writings ❤️

Sometimes dating Spencer Reid meant throwing subtlety out the goddamn window; the man wouldn’t know subtext if it hit him square on his beautiful, perfectly sculpted face. All your subtle attempts to seduce him have all been entirely unsuccessful, and you're beginning to wonder if he even wants you that way. 

In your defense, you've been dating for over two months now and he still hasn't initiated anything beyond making out. It’s been making you antsy. Of course, his hesitation is nice. It comes from a place of respect after all, and there’s something endearing about his gentle touches, large hands ghosting over your body. You appreciate this easy, steady pace you've set for the relationship. 

But after a particularly busy week for both of you, you've been left aching and needy for something more. 

When you finally found a time that works for both of your schedules, you decided it would be time to make your move. Fuck waiting for him to initiate. You can do it yourself. You'd been subtle about it at first—a hand on his thigh, a few inches higher than where you'd normally place it, lips running over his jaw. 

The man had simply laughed nervously, and returned with a kiss to your forehead.

Briefly, you wondered if it truly is because he's not into you that way. However, that thought flits right out of your pretty head when you see the unmistakable tent slowly forming in his pants. 

So you’d upped your actions, nibbling at his earlobe in the middle of dessert, fingers trailing up his inner thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. Screw subtlety. (And hopefully, him too.) By the time you two sat in the back of the cab, he’s a squirming mess.

“S-stay the night?” he’d been so shy about it you debated teasing him a little more. Maybe if you weren’t so horny, you would have, but relief had simply flooded your veins. Finally. So you nod, teased him a little more in the back of the cab until he had to grab your wrists and hold them in place, because he swore he’d probably come in here just from one more brush of your palm. The lightest pressure and he’d be a goner, a pathetic mess, and you hadn’t even really done anything. 

There had been no build up once you got into his apartment. Simply an exchange of quick, sloppy kisses, Spencer pushing you deeper into his house until the couch hits the back of your knees and both of you came tumbling down. He’s already rutting his hips against your thigh, his erection hot even through his slacks. Clumsy fingers strip off fabric and shoes, leaving them strewn haphazardly on his living room floor.

You had pushed him away then, grinning enticingly as you went to straddle his lap. You ground your hips in circular motions against his still clothed crotch, gasping as the obvious bulge gives you even more traction to rub on. 

“No fair,” he whines, fingers leaving crescent shaped indents on your hips, “P-please stop teasing, you’ve been doing it all night.”

He’s so tightly wound it’s almost pathetic. He’s lucky you’ve some semblance of mercy left in your body, because you could probably come undone just from the friction that came by dry humping him. But you relent, sitting back on his thighs as you tug at his underpants. 

“All right baby, since you asked so nicely.”

Thus exposing what’s going to be the small issue of the night.

Rather, the large issue.

His cock springs free and for a moment you just stare at it. Red, veiny, pulsing and huge. Larger than anyone you’ve been with, larger than even the toys that hide in that one drawer in your bedroom closet.

“W-what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You paled a little.”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips, “You didn’t tell me you were hung.”

His eyebrows scrunch, so ridiculously adorable you have to bite your lip to stifle another giggle.

“Hung?”

“Yeah, like, your dick is huge.”

Red blooms across his cheeks, “It’s - it’s certainly above average—”

“You know what the average length is?”

“I-in North America, yes.”

“I didn’t know you swung that way, baby.”

He groans, moving to hide his face into the crook of your neck, “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I know, I’m kidding.” You manage to shift and catch his head before he has a chance to press it to your neck. Your lips land on his, and he’s pushing his tongue inside your mouth sloppily. When you pull away for air, you add, “You’re just bigger than what I’m used to.”

“Is that bad?”

Is it? One hand wraps around the base of his cock, stroking up delicately, testing out the girth and the weight of him. He shudders, muscles tensing. His fingers dig into your hips. With a grin, you reply, “On the contrary, I think it’s exciting.”

You position yourself over him then, letting the blunt tip run up and down your slick folds. The friction makes you both shiver. Every single ridge and vein of his cock catches on your sensitive flesh, and you can’t help but start moving your hips up and down, rubbing your folds over the length of him. 

“You’re - ah - so wet.” his tone is wretched with desire and awe.

“All for you baby.” You continue your ministrations, letting his length part your folds, the tip hitting your clit at certain angles. His cock is covered in your slick within moments and your poor boyfriend looks like he’s about to combust. You feel the twitch of his cock, the shift in the way he moves his hips—rocking up desperately against you—and you know he’s close. So you stop.

You’re rewarded by another whine.

“Please,” his grip is hurting you now, palms clutching handfuls of your ass. You don’t think he’s even aware of how tightly he’s doing it. “Please, I’m so—”

“Spence, do you really want to cum without even being inside me?” That shuts up his whining. “Mhm, didn’t think so.”

“Can I— please, just—”

“What?”

“Wanna touch you.”

Your lips tug into a smile. At your nod of assent, one of his hands let go of your ass to move to your pussy, the pads of his fingers quickly locating your clit.

“Fuck, Spence,” your head falls forward, forehead meeting his, “Faster, baby.”

He obeys, tilting his head forward to capture your lips. Your mouth opens to him, muffling your moans as you begin to move, shamelessly riding his hand. His finger finds your entrance, dipping shallowly, hesitantly, but you’re so wet that, with a quick thrust of your hips, the digit slips all the way in. 

Spencer pulls away from the kiss to watch, the pupils of his eyes nearly eclipsing the ochre irises as your pussy swallows his finger greedily. Transfixed, he adds another finger and it’s your turn to squeeze and mark up his alabaster skin with crescent marks. 

“Yes,” you groan, gasp, writhe in his lap as his fingers curl and find the sweet spot inside you, “Oh god, Spencer, yes!”

He’s entranced as he pumps his fingers in and you, mouth hanging open as your pussy parts and accepts his fingers so prettily. To reciprocate, your hands—plural, yes both hands—wrap around his cock, starting a slow, lazy pace. That throws his rhythm off, fingers stilling inside you.

“Keep going,” you urge him, hands slowing to a stop as well, “Spencer.”

He whines, hips bucking up into your palms, but something in your voice seems to set him straight. Fingers thrust in and out of you again, long and elegant and stretching you for what’s about to come. Satisfied, you pump your hands over his cock again, twisting them every time you motion up, and squeezing as you go down. It doesn’t take long for him to fall apart, his cock twitching before cum shoots from the tip. Because you’re straddling his lap, it makes a mess and lands on both of you—his stomach, your chest, some even on your hair. 

“Oh god,” he’s whining again, embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I’m so—”

You silence him with a kiss, still stroking him, as your hips move over his hand. His brain manages to work, curling inside your fluttering walls. The movements are messy, uncoordinated as you chase your orgasm and he struggles to catch up. A whine leaves your lips, soft and needy. Something about it must trigger the neurons in his beautiful brain, make him remember you have the perfect bundle of nerves being neglected and he has more free fingers. 

With a slight shift, he presses his thumb to your clit. 

“Fuck, baby, yes!” you cry out breathlessly, head falling forward on his shoulder. 

“Good?” he asks, increasing pressure on that sensitive nub. Small, quick circles. You wonder when he became so dexterous.

You nod, thighs clenched and quivering as your climax nears, the pleasure in your stomach building and coiling into something white-hot and— “Oh, Spencer!”

His other arm wraps around your waist, crushing you to him as he helps you through your orgasm. In the steady comfort of his arms, the rocking of your hips slow to a stop. You feel his lips at your temple, not really kissing the spot, just resting there. Heavy breaths rifle strands of your hair. 

“Oh god,” he sighs, fingers slipping out of you with a pop, “Angel, that was amazing.”

You straighten up, grinning, “We're not done yet.”

“No?”

Eyes dart down suggestively, and his gaze follows to his own lap. Still completely erect, his cock lays flat against you, heavy and pulsating. “No, I think I need to take care of you a little more.”

“Y-you don't have—”

But you've already lifted yourself to your knees, fighting through the quake in your thighs, in order to position the tip of him at your slick entrance. His hands return to your thighs, nails clamping down on your skin.

“But I'm not— condom—”

How cute, he can barely speak. You grin, press a chaste kiss to the dimple on his cheek. “I'm clean. And on the pill.”

“You sure it’s okay?”

It's more than okay, actually. You're too shades shy of being desperate for his cock to split you open, but you're not sure if he'd survive hearing that sentence so you say, “Of course it is baby. Unless… you want me to stop?” If he catches the hint of insecurity in your voice, he doesn't show it. 

Instead, his head is shaking no, vigorously, lower lip jutting out in a pout. 

You smile, and kiss it away, “Okay then. I'll go slow, okay?”

You'd meant it as an empty warning. Really, there's nothing more you want than to impale yourself down on him and ride him like there's no tomorrow. However, as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock, as the blunt tip breaches your entrance and spreads your walls, you realize that going slow is probably more of a necessity. 

He's big. Almost uncomfortably so. 

One sharp exhale from your lips and he's suddenly looking at you in concern, “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” you gasp, although the furrow in your brows suggest otherwise. 

“You don't have to—"

“Hush, baby, I just need a moment.” You say, forcing yourself to relax and take more. The broadest part of his head pushes through, stretching you wider than you've ever been. Soft, keening sounds fill the air. It's hard to know which came from you, or from him.

You look up, and laugh when you realize Spencer's skin is dappled with large red splotches. He's staring at where the two of you are connected, his cock barely fitting inside you. With a deep breath, you roll your hips around, trying to get used to the feeling. He whines again, his torso falling back onto the cushion, “Oh my god,” he gasps, lower lips trembling, “Oh my god, please.”

“Need you to be patient for me, Spence.” you mutter, dropping down a little more. You place one hand on his thigh for balance, while the other wraps around the base of his cock, stroking him to give him some relief. The greedy bastard bucks up, involuntarily, and you hiss as another inch pushes into you before you're ready.

“Spence!”

“Sorry, I'm sorry! Just - oh god, oh god, please, oh did I hurt you?”

And then it happens. Something glimmers on his cheek as it catches the light. And then another. And again, this time on the other cheek. Your hand leaves his thigh to grasp his chin, tilt his head up.

Your boyfriend is crying. Splayed out on the couch, cushions embedded by the sharp joints of his elbows from where he's propped himself up. He's looking up at you with glimmering liquid gathered on the rims of his lashline. Dripping down his cheeks, only to be replaced by another bout. 

“Baby,” You sigh, pouting as you lean down. Soft lips catch his tears, leaving sticky residue on his cheekbones from the remains of your lip gloss, “It's okay.”

Another sob. Large teardrops crawl down his chiseled face.

Knowing that it’s your fault makes a feeling of power surge through you. “You’re so pretty like this, Spence.” 

“Angel, please—”

The sight of his tear streaked face does something to you, your walls relaxing and fluttering as you manage to accept another inch down. His reaction is instantaneous, nails sinking into your hips, head falling back. “No, no,” you say, hand coming to the back of his head, tilting his head forward again, “Look at me.”

Tear streaked and hazy eyed, he manages to keep his head steady in order to maintain eye contact. It’s a little sick, the way this turns you on, but it allows you to sheath his cock further in. 

You lift yourself up, until only the tip remains notched inside you, and his cock gleams with the evidence of your arousal. With a smile, you sink down again, walls fluttering as you take him deeper, until you have about three fourths of his length buried inside you and he’s little more than a puddle. 

A hiss escapes your lips, brows knitting from the stretch. It isn’t just that his length is impressive, it’s that he’s thick too, splitting your pussy open. But now he's buried more than halfway through, giving you enough room to lift yourself up, and sink down again.

You count that as a victory.

He groans, muscles tensing, and you know he's desperately trying not to buck up and meet your movements. With a small smile, you lean close, forehead resting on his. Large, honeyed eyes stare back up at you, still glassy with tears. You repeat the same motion of your hips, moaning as you feel every single ridge and vein of his cock straining inside your walls. 

“Feel good?” you murmur, swiping a stray teardrop with your thumb. 

“Mhmm,” he nods, breath hitching as your movements grow steady. The sting remains, but it's grown dull now that you’ve gotten more used to the size of him.

“Oh god, baby, why haven't we done this sooner?” you whine as you rock on top of him, enjoying the fullness of having him inside of you. The question is rhetorical, but he's in absolutely no state of mind to answer. His hands grip your hips tightly as he sniffles, unable to do anything else except enjoy the ride you're giving him.

Praises leave your lips, murmured in tones cloyingly sweet and half mocking. 

“Crying over sex, you're so lucky I'm so into you.”

“You look so pretty with tears in your eyes baby."

“Never had pussy this tight, haven't you?” 

That last one rips another sob from him, because you know this is his first, that you're making a mockery out of something significant for him. So you soothe with a kiss, and whispers of “I'm sorry, it's okay, you're doing so good, you feel so good.”

You punctuate it by moving faster, your pussy thoroughly comfortable and so wet that there's barely any struggle to bounce on his dick. However, you're still careful, still unable to take him all the way in. You figure it's something you both can work up to, something for the future. The thought makes you smile. 

Besides he doesn't seem to mind, moaning beneath you as you ride him. He seems to have lost all ability to articulate himself, instead just staring at you with red, tear filled eyes and a slack jaw. It makes you giggle, the way he looks so utterly fucked out. 

You clench around him, walls tightening sharply, sending sensations that make the two of you gasp. 

“I-I'm so close.” He manages to say, his hands now helping you, guiding your body as you impale yourself over his cock again and again, “Please, I'm so—”

“I know, baby, I know, you can come.”

His eyes squeeze shut, and his voice is especially strained when he asks, “Inside?”

You tug his hair teasingly, and his kids flutter open again. With a grin, you confirm, “Inside.”

A few more thrusts and he's gone, crying out, squirming desperately beneath you as spurts of his cum paint your walls. You don't stop, riding him continuously as you chase your own release. Thick, creamy liquid drips from your pussy and down the base of his cock with every movement. 

He sobs even more. 

“Touch me,” You whisper, pleading, “Spence, please baby, I'm so close.”

His fingers are at your clit in an instant, rubbing hasty circles as your pace grows erratic and sloppy. 

“Please,” He gasps, looking up at you with glassy, imploring eyes, “Please I wanna feel you come.”

Your body seems attuned to his desperate pleas, because as soon as those words leave his lips, your pussy clenches around him so tightly you both yelp in surprise. He doesn't stop his ministrations on your clit, helping you through your orgasm until you're panting. For the second time tonight, you collapse against him, face buried at the crook of his neck. 

“My god.”

He laughs, breathless, “My god indeed.” 

He shifts, moving slowly so he doesn't jostle your boneless frame too much. There's a hiss from you as he slowly pulls out. You find yourself clenching around nothing, feeling oddly empty after such an intense fullness. 

Silence wraps around both of you, heady and languid. His fingers in your hair, scratching your scalp. Soft intimacy after a whirlwind of lust.

And then he breaks it, so achingly sweet it almost makes you cry, “I'm sorry that I hurt you.”

“Mhm?”

“Earlier,” He clarifies, lips finding your shoulder and staying there. His voice becomes muffled and sheepish, “When I thrust up.”

“I didn't think you'd remember that.” You tease, fingers tangling into his hair and tugging at his curls.

“I've an eidetic memory, remember? I remember everything.” He laughs too. Relief makes his voice sound lighter. “I never want to hurt you.”

“You didn't,” You reassure him, “Well - okay, a little bit, but it's fine. I don't think you meant to.”

“Of course not,” He hums, lips traveling up your neck, “But I'll be more careful next time.”

“Next time huh?”

“Mhm,” Teeth on your jaw. Playful, teasing. “Next time.” 

It sounds like a promise. You know he intends to keep it. 

This was a request by @mggslover lol I forgot to add up top oh well