#on the other side i was very amused about it as well

[tojisteddy]

Sweet Ride | smut, 18+ MDNI, 1.2k words, softdom!Toji x sweetheart!reader

You’d been 3 months into your relationship when Toji Fushiguro finally realized that you, for some odd reason, loved letting idiots fuck you.

It must’ve been where that very minuscule masochism kink came from. Had to be.

He’d noticed the way you’d get shocked when he went to pay for— well- everything. Didn’t matter if he lost a shit ton from gambling and losing that day, didn’t matter if you went over your own set budget, didn’t matter that you didn’t ask because you didn’t want to look money hungry or if you quickly pulled out your card and paid. He’s sending $300 to you to make up for it. The man. Was going. To pay.

Toji also noticed the way you’d shy away when you realized he was actually listening to the words that came out of your mouth. Informing you that he hated that coworker of Sherl just a little bit more than you did. Plainly telling you ‘no’, he didn’t just want to see just your hair bone straight- he wanted to see your curly hair that framed your face (when you wanted to of course) and that he thought you would look good with any hair color not just the jet black. Or when you only went to make food that he liked,

“But this is what my ex-“

“—Mama, what do you really wanna eat? Tell me or we’ll both starve tonight.”

Truthfully, it irritated the fuck out of the man.

He didn’t get it, how someone so precious got treated like shit on multiple occasions. He kept reminding himself that you weren’t the problem, those fucking dick wads were.

But the irritation jumped back out when you rode him. He knew after that first time (just a week ago) that those fucking idiots didn’t know what the fuck to do with you. He’d cock his eyebrow up at you because he simply couldn’t hide the vexation of it all.

“You don’t like it Toj?” Your voice was hoarse, curls falling over your face, a pout forming.

It was clear the way you moved your hips back and forth, held yourself and didn’t use him for leverage, you rode your ex’s to get them off and nothing more.

More sins against God.

There had to be a scripture about it somewhere, “Never let thou spouse ride-ith you in cowgirl without her cumming.” Or something— the man didn’t know. He knew for a fact, only a bitch would never let a woman cum while she’s riding him.

“Toji? ‘M sorry, it must not be good.” You let out a shaky breath, trying to relax, not be too touchy. “ ‘S just harder cause you’re so… so big. ‘Nd I- fuck- mmm- don’t think I’ve ever had time to relax like this. I must be takin too long.”

Shit, you frowned, big brown puppy eyes looking down at the green eyed monster and his heart ached. He nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck, his poor pretty baby. Sweet doll, don’t you worry your little head. Your Toji would fix this little problem tonight.

And when you two were done, he’d beat the fucking breaks out of each and every single one your exes.

It would cleanse the soul.

“ ‘S okay baby, yer doin good. Need you to relax f’me. Want you to take a little bit more though, hm? You can take it, right? You’re a good girl.”

You bit your lip, nodding in agreement.

Such a good girl. Toji’s sweet ‘nd good girl.

Tojis hands pulled you closer. “How do I get ya to relax then? Can you tell me?” You felt your cheeks heat up, shaking your head and attempting to hide yourself in his neck. But Toji kept you still, playfully bumping your foreheads together with a chuckle.

“Let’s find out then,” His hands wandered, up and down your sides, then one staying at the small of your back, the other making its way to your pretty tit in his hand. Slowly massaging it in his palm. “Maybe you like it here?”

You whimpered in his mouth and Tojis scar moved upward in amusement, green eyes low. He left a trail of kiss from your cute cheeks, down to your jaw. “Or here?” Down to your neck, taking a few nibblies here and there. “Or here?”

You let out a soft moan, finally nodding your head.

“Words, mama.” He was stern but you felt the grin against your neck.

“T-there feels— feels so nice Toj.” The man hummed at your words, being sure to praise you with an array of kisses and hickeys for the world to see tomorrow on your neck.

“I-I can move now?” You asked. You felt so full with what he was giving you, but you felt so good with every little kiss the aching tip and veins of his member gave to your walls.

“Course doll.” He enterwinted your fingers, “Gotta take it nice ‘nd slow baby, don’t gotta go fast.”

You gulped, gradually lifting yourself up and down and rocking your hips back and forth, then repeating the motion. Your hands left his large ones, starting to use his shoulders as leverage, “There you go ma, there you fuckin go.”

He hissed, you were a god damn waterfall down there. Toji didn’t even know how the fuck you were still managing to keep him insider everytime you’d move up so just the tip was in, and slamming back down. When you tried to go faster a large calloused hand came down to your ass.

“B-but Tojiii,” you whined, slowly swiveling your hips one time to get a curse out of him. “Wanna make you feel good too.”

“ ‘Nd I ‘ppreciate Doll, I do. You feel so fuckin good too ma, but it’s not about me tonight, ‘s about you. Need you to really feel it deep in your pretty pussy.” He gave you a few thrusts, matching your rhythm creating the most beautiful smack smack smack your bedroom has ever heard.

“Take what you need babygirl.”

Toji had a way with words, he’d gotten a pornographic moan from it alone. Your nails dug into his shoulders, the meat of your thighs jiggling every time you came down. Slick drenching Toji’s cock, your thighs were burning but you kept moving. Chasing your high with every bounce on his fat fuck.

“Goooood girl, now you got it doll.”

“I can— I can take more Toji.” You stammered out.

“I’d loooove that sweetheart— shit ma- but not tonight. Ngh— This is just enough.”

“But—“

“-Aht,” he grumbled, helping you move your hips as you got just a tad too slow for his liking, “don’t bite more than you can chew. Come on, you can make yourself and your boyfriend cum, can’t you?”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, you were grinding and slamming yourself down what you could take as hard as ever getting a loud from Toji. You were such a good and fast leaner, the man would have to keep you. Train you to do other things, soon enough you’d be able to take all of him. You were fucking pulsing like a over worked heartbeat around him as a wave of emotions smacked you over the head, a string of fuck fuck fuck and Toji Toji Toji leaving your mouth.

The man growled, giving your ass a few harsh smacks as he rapidly thrust into you. You never knew when you were cumming so you never vocalized it.

You’d work on that too.

Quickly pulling out, spurts of his cum hit your stomach. You both were panting messes, Toji’s pink lips meeting your temple, then your soft full lips.

“Good fuckin job, mama.”

a/n: ride the dragon by fka twigs

most recent masterlist

[true-blue-sonic]

I finished the fanfic ^-^ I'm still not over Silver's utterly unamused facial expression, I love it so much <3 XD I hope you like the fic!💙🤍

☆☆☆☆☆

Only Fair

With a grin Sonic sneaks closer to his unsuspecting upcoming victim of mischief.

One day, when Tails had been a few weeks shy of turning five, he’d didactically insisted to Sonic that foxes were Predators who Hunted, and he thusly was also Very Skilled at Hunting. Sonic had laughed and urged him to show off his best hunting tactics… and he’d promptly ended up with a fox cub flinging himself right at his face before getting two fluffy namesakes stuck in his quills.

Sonic doesn’t have any large tails to get snagged in Silver’s, but that is only beneficial for the cheeky idea forming in his mind at the unexpected sight of the psychic.

It’d been a while since they’d last seen each other, a few days of Silver being in the past but not being around. Sonic thus also had had little opportunity to talk to him, and even less to tease and play coy. But that all will change imminently: Silver’s eyes are trained on the horizon above, the psychic sitting sprawled against a tree trunk with his legs crossed and arms sprawled out next to his sides. Enjoying the sky and the warmth of the afternoon sun, Sonic knows. Silver is plenty focal about his enjoyment of little things like that.

But it does mean he’s distracted entirely too. Silver already is a perfect participant for the silly ideas Sonic has sometimes to amuse them both, but his current lack of attention spared for the surroundings only work in Sonic’s favour. And thus, the speedster crouches… presses his feet into the ground and shifts them minutely to check if it won’t make any sounds…

In one fell swoop he shoots over, and Silver has been snagged off the ground and hoisted into his arms in the blink of an eye.

Grey quills spike right up, the hedgehog’s body tensing in Sonic’s arms and a sharp breath drawn. But Sonic grins his most coy, suave smirk, giving Silver the smallest of jostles. “Heh. Gotcha! Long time no see, Silver.”

Golden eyes blink. Then move up and down and up to regard Sonic all over, one of Silver’s eyebrow raising in a manner perhaps best described as unamused. The silent seconds stretch out between them as Sonic gets beheld, the speedster wriggling his own brow in turn all smugly…

Before a grin forms on Silver’s face as well.

And Sonic blinks, his whole body enveloped in a liquid-like cool before he can so much as react.  

“Heh. Is this a joke?” Silver smirks back… and Sonic squeaks as he gets yoinked away from his pal, off the ground and into the sky as well, and he’s left floundering his arms and legs to get a grip on nothing.

“Awwww, Silver!” he protests at his companion, who is also floating; but where Sonic is forced into an undignified struggle, Silver’s one hand moves casually behind his head and the other twists its fingers to make Sonic spin slow, teasing circles. “That’s not fair! That's cheating.”

Silver leans back a bit into the air, looking altogether smug. “Is not. And why are you trying to get the jump on me?”

“Just testing out my hunting skills,” Sonic’s grinned response comes. It earns him a curious look and a shrug, those fingers curling back towards Silver and the speedster bobbing over to him anew.

“But I captured you now,” the psychic remarks. “So you failed."

With crossing arms Sonic huffs. “I did get you first.”

“Yeah, for like ten seconds.” Carefully Sonic gets lowered onto Silver’s chest, psychokinesis dissipating around him. “So that makes my hunting skills better.”

“I’d love to see you try out your hunting skills without your powers next time,” Sonic grins back, leaning closer so their noses brush together. A challenge and a loving nuzzle combined, though for Silver it seems to be the latter, considering the happy rumble that reverberates in his chest as he smushes their foreheads together.

“After I’m done enjoying the sunset. Wanna join me?”

Shyly Sonic’s head falls in the crook of Silver’s shoulder; he’s no stranger to being held by the psychic, but his cheeks always grow red at how easily those touches and actions come to the other. But the speedster smiles all the same, shifting until he’s found a comfortable way to lie. Who cares that it’s in the air and on Silver, and not on the ground? “Anytime,” he assures his pal, enjoying the gentle bopping in the air and the way Silver’s chest rises and falls and the sunbeams that caress his fur, until the sky has long turned dark and Silver gently deposits the both of them onto the ground anew.

And very suspiciously keeps dilly-dallying beside the tree despite Sonic’s statement he’s gonna go away now, the speedster barely able to stifle his chuckles as he pads into a random direction.

Mercifully Silver does not have two long tails either: the way Sonic goes from walking with fake carelessness to crashing right into the ground from the weight slamming into his back with a triumphant cry is enough to mess up his quills anyway. “Gotcha!!” Silver croons from atop of him as Sonic spits out a handful of grass. “I am the best hunter!”

“You are,” Sonic agrees, a tad muffled… before huffing in amusement as the weight dissipates and he gets picked up by psychokinesis once more. Though, instead of being made to float slow, teasing circles, now it places him most snugly in Silver’s arms instead, bundled right into that downy white mane of his.

“That’s only fair,” the psychic grins as Sonic raises an amused eyebrow, before getting off the ground and flying into the night. With a laugh Sonic slings an arm around the other’s neck to keep him steady, comfortably dangling his feet and thanking the cover of the night for hiding his blushes every time Silver’s breath caresses his cheek.

Even if it’s flustering, he can accept becoming an unsuspected victim of mischief himself if it’s from Silver, after all.

☆☆☆☆☆

carry

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 13

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose. Also Discussion of toxic media/fandom/death threats.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando knew this was going to be a mess, but at this point, he had no choice. He’d been bullied into this.

He slouched in his chair, arms crossed, waiting for the right moment to speak up. Zak Brown was reviewing sponsorship commitments, Andrea Stella was making notes on the schedule, and Sophie, McLaren’s head of PR, was rattling off media obligations. Across the table, Oscar was watching him, barely holding back a smirk.

Lando cleared his throat. “By the way, I’m bringing my girlfriend to Silverstone.”

The room went silent. Heads turned, eyebrows raised, and even Zak looked up from his paperwork. And then there was Oscar, unable to bite back his smirk any longer.

Sophie was the first to regain composure. “Girlfriend?” she repeated, clearly caught off guard.

"Yeah," Lando affirmed, trying to sound casual, but the tension in the room was palpable. "I've been seeing someone for a while. And she's coming to Silverstone."

There was a pause, an awkward beat of silence.

Zak narrowed his eyes. “And when exactly were you planning on telling us this?”

Lando shrugged. “Now?”

Sophie sighed, already dreading the impending PR nightmare. "Alright," she said, pushing up her glasses and steeling herself. "Who is this mystery girlfriend?"

“Elizabeth Treshton,” Lando said casually.

The room exploded.

Sophie looked like she was malfunctioning. “Wait—Elizabeth Treshton? As in—”

Zak leaned forward, looking genuinely shocked. “The Elizabeth Treshton?”

Andrea, who usually stayed calm, looked almost rattled. “The author?”

“Yes, the author,” Lando confirmed, rolling his eyes. “Why is everyone acting like I just said I’m dating the Queen of England?”

Sophie groaned, already rubbing her temples. “Lando, do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

Zak was still shaking his head, somewhere between impressed and exasperated. “You’ve been secretly dating a bestselling fantasy author and didn’t think to mention it?”

Sophie looked like she had a migraine. "Lando, you’ve just added a whole new layer to your public image. And you have no idea what kind of circus the media will make out of this.”

Andrea sighed. “Lando. You realize that this means—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando cut in, waving a hand. “Social media chaos, headlines, fans losing their minds. Trust me, I know.”

Not like he hadn’t thought about it…constantly.  

Sophie, now frantically typing away on her laptop, let out a sharp exhale. “You do understand her fanbase is massive, right? You’re dating one of the most popular fantasy authors in the world. This isn’t just a random reveal. This is—this is—”

“Huge,” Oscar supplied helpfully, still looking thoroguhly amused. 

Lando nodded, feigning nonchalance. "I’ve seen the numbers. I know she’s a big deal. But you’re acting like it’s a bad thing."

Zak raised an eyebrow. "It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it makes things… complicated."

Andrea nodded in agreement. "Treshton’s fan base is extremely passionate. They’ll be watching your every move. And given her genre of books, well… let’s just say they have… very active imaginations.”

Lando couldn’t help an amused smirk. "You mean they’ll write fanfiction about us?"

Sophie looked more pained at the mention of fanfiction. "They’ll do so much more than that, Lando. Interviews, gossip sites, fan theories—the media will have a field day with this. Her privacy is going to be nonexistent, and so is yours."

Lando shrugged, trying to look unperturbed. "I can deal with the press. I’ve been doing it for years. And honestly, her fans can’t be any worse than some of the crazies online."

Andrea sighed again, muttering something in Italian under his breath before looking at Sophie. “How do we handle this?”

Sophie, now looking more exhausted than ever, replied, "We handle this very carefully. We’ll need a statement, some approved talking points, and a ton of media training. This has the potential to be a PR nightmare if we don’t get out ahead of it."

Lando let out a long sigh, regretting his decision to mention anything. "Great, just great."

"And we'll need to meet her," Sophie continued. "And probably her team."

Zak leaned back in his chair, a small smirk on his face. "I can’t wait to meet the woman who’s managed to tame our Lando."

Lando rolled his eyes. "I’m not tamed," he muttered, ignoring the smirks from his teammates.

"Sure, you’re not," Oscar said, clearly amused. "You are just reading romantasy books and getting her dog Ferrari bandanas."

"I wanted to talk to you about that," Zak said drily. "Lando...why?"

Lando groaned, slumping back in his chair. "Don’t start with that."

Zak smirked, all too pleased with the subject. "I’m just curious. Lando Norris,  McLaren race car driver, getting a dog a Ferrari bandana. Also, I am going to put my foot down and say that we are not having the dog in the garage in a ferrari bandana."

Lando huffed, but there was a reluctant smirk on his face. "Yeah, yeah, I get it, it’s a PR nightmare. But the dog is innocent. Lizzie has been a Ferrari fan since childhood. The dog is literally named Maranello."

Zak’s eyes widened, and he looked to the rest of the room. "You’re kidding."

Sophie just shook her head in disbelief, while Andrea let out a low whistle. "Damn, she’s really committed to being a Ferrari fan, isn’t she?"

Lando just ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. "Yes, I know. I’ve made my peace with it."

***

Lizzie had been in her fair share of nerve-wracking meetings—editorial reviews, publisher strategy calls, even a few intense negotiations about movie rights—but nothing quite prepared her for sitting in McLaren’s conference room, facing Zak Brown, Andrea Stella, and the entire PR team.

She sat up straight, hands folded in her lap as she tried not to let her nerves show. It wasn’t every day that she was the center of attention for an entire Formula One team.

Zak Brown looked directly at her. “Ms. Treshton—”

“Lizzie, please.” She interrupted, cringing internally at just how nervous she sounded.

Zak folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “So, Lizzie. First of all—welcome. I have to say, this is a bit of a surprise.”

Yeah, it was. Not just for them. If someboy woul have told LIzzie a year ago that she was going to sit in a team meeting in the MTC and discuss her romantic relationship with Lando Norris, she would have started laughing hysterically. 

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” she settled on saying. 

Lando squeezed her hand under the table. 

Sophie, McLaren’s head of PR, sighed, already scribbling notes. “Okay, let’s get to the important stuff. You’re a bestselling author with a massive online following. Lando is one of the most popular drivers on the grid. When this relationship goes public, it’s not going to be small.”

Lizzie nodded, trying to keep her face neutral. She knew all too well the scrutiny that came with being a public figure. But hearing McLaren spell it out, in the context of Lando’s world, was still a bit jarring. “I’m aware of the attention it will bring,” she agreed. 

Zak nodded. “We need to prepare a few talking points, a plan for the media, and figure out how to approach this. Given your...passionate fanbase, we’re expecting some fallout.”

She took a deep breath, trying to sound assured. “I understand. I’ve been in the public eye for a while, so I have some idea of what to expect. But I’ll do my best to handle it.”

Zak nodded, glancing at Lizzie. “Which brings me to my next question. Are you prepared for that?”

Lizzie met his gaze evenly. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

There was a moment of silence as the team digested her answer. She could almost see their surprise.

Sophie, ever the media manager, pressed on. “Publicity can be ruthless. The media will dig into your past, speculate on your relationship, and try to find any angle they can to sensationalize the story. You’ll have cameras and microphones in your face, people demanding interviews, autograph requests. Are you ready for that?”

Lizzie considered the question for a moment. Ready? Probably not. But was she willing to face it?

“I’ve dealt with the press before. I know how to handle myself in front of cameras and microphones.” It was at least partially true.

Andrea, who had been silently watching her this whole time, finally spoke. “You have a service dog. Lando mentioned that you have epilepsy.” His tone wasn’t unkind—just careful. “Do you have any concerns about attending a race weekend?”

Lando stiffened slightly beside her, but Lizzie appreciated the directness.

“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted. “It’s a high-stimulation environment—loud, crowded, unpredictable. But I’ve managed fine at other big events before, and I wouldn’t put myself in a situation I couldn’t handle.”

She glanced down, where Mara lay calmly at her feet. “Mara will be with me at all times. She’s trained to alert me before a seizure, and I trust her completely.”

There was a long silence as the McLaren team absorbed this new information. Lizzie could see the wheels turning in their heads, weighing the pros and cons and determining how this added new variable would affect their strategy.

Sophie finally broke the silence, her pen still scratching notes across a pad of paper. “This definitely adds another element to consider.”

Zak looked thoughtful. “We’ll need to ensure that Mara has access wherever you go on race weekends. And our medics will need to be briefed on your condition in case of an emergency.”

Lizzie nodded, feeling a wave of relief that they were taking this seriously. “I can provide them with all the necessary medical information beforehand.”

Sophie, however, still looked concerned. “The press is going to latch onto your condition. We need to be prepared for that.”

"It's not a secret," Lizzie said drily.

"Lizzie has been openly talking about her epilepsy online for years," Lando said quickly.

The words hung in the air for a beat. It was true. Lizzie had been open about her epilepsy on social media—but that was to her fans, to people who loved her books and cared about her as an author. This was an entirely different beast.

Sophie frowned slightly, clearly worried. "Yes, but this will bring a whole new level of scrutiny. The media will ask invasive questions, demand to know every detail—"

"I know," Lizzie said calmly. "I'm aware of how relentless the press can be. I'm not naive."

Andrea nodded, his frown slightly softened. "We'll do everything we can to protect your privacy, but—"

"There's only so much you can control," Lizzie finished for him. "I get it. I know what to expect."

Lando on the other hand already looked murderous.

He hadn't said a word, just sitting there in brooding silence. But one look at his expression, at the muscle in his jaw clenching, told Lizzie he did not like this angle of questioning at all.

Zak noticed too. "Lando, you've been unusually quiet."

Lando was bristling now. "What? You think I'm happy that the press is going to exploit her medical condition for headlines?"

Zak raised a placating hand. "No one said that. But it's something we have to consider. We need to be prepared for the questions they'll ask."

Lando's glare could've melted steel. But Lizzie, knowing him too well, gave his hand a subtle squeeze under the table. A nonverbal plea for calm.

It worked. Lando took a deep breath, managing to tone down his scowl to a slightly less homicidal expression.

Zak, noticing Lizzie's silent intervention, gave her a look that clearly said, "Nice one."

"Okay," Zak said, clearing his throat and redirecting the conversation. "There's one more thing we need to discuss."

Lizzie braced herself, wondering what could possibly be left.

"Ferrari. Really?!"

It was the last thing Lizzie expected to hear.

She bit back a laugh, trying not to show her amusement, while Lando groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Here we go," he muttered.

Zak was shaking his head, clearly torn between exasperation and amusement. "I can't believe one of my star drivers is dating a die-hard Ferrari fan."

Lizzie couldn't help herself anymore. A soft laugh escaped her lips.

Sophie, seeing her reaction, rolled her eyes, but a hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth.

Andrea, the most composed of the group, raised an eyebrow at Lando. "Did you not think we were going to bring this up?"

"I promise not to wear Ferrari Merch in the McLaren Garage?" Lizzie suggested, trying to stay serious.

Lando snorted, looking both horrified and amused at the thought.

Zak, clearly torn between amusement and protectiveness over his team, ran a hand through his hair. "I'd prefer if you didn't, yeah."

"But no promises about Mara's Bandana. I am not putting a McLaren Bandana on Mara. That would be treason," Lizzie said seriously.

There was a round of disbelieving chuckles from the McLaren team. It seemed like the ice was finally broken.

Sophie bit back a laugh, looking slightly more relaxed. "I can't believe we're discussing your dog's loyalties in a serious strategy meeting."

"This is a very serious topic," Lizzie said dryly, trying to keep a straight face. "Mara is very attached to her Ferrari bandana. I don't think she'd take kindly to switching allegiances."

Lando looked at her aghast. "How have I managed to fall in love with a woman who has a Ferrari dog?"

Zak chuckled. "You just know the press is going to have a field day with this."

[angelesca]

d d d d dddd d DATING ANAXA HEADCANONS 🗣️🗣️🗣️ bc im proper insane, bonkers even (oh blimey she escaped the asylum again)

full art plug here😎

did i draw this and imagine a million scenarios during it? yes. yes idid. this post is the result. btw havent played 3.1 so here are my wrong headcanons (more mischaracterisation? love that) (w/ gnreader as usual!) bc i love my men bratty and smart. WARNING!! i broke my sfw rules for anaxa LMAOOO💔💔mix of sfw + NSFW ahead guys look OUT ITS NOT A DRILL THIS IS HAPPENING AAAAA😭🙏

starting off strong. i ant hold it in anymore ANAXA'S EROGENOUS ZONE IS UNDER HIS EYEPATCH🗣️🗣️🗣️ I HAVE SPOKEN MY TRUTH‼️THIS IS WHAT MADE ME QUESTION MY SFW STATUS I CAN FINALLY RELEASEMY DEMONS

i imagine he lowkey loves it when you have your finger under his eyepatch and. penetrate it. into his cosmos space thingy. and like he breathes really heavy, flushed cheeks, some tears, def some stifled moaning, and will hold your wrist to nudge your finger further in. basically bro is getting off to it. will clean your finger with his tongue after the session, but you have to help him walk around since his legs are deffo jelly after that DO YOU GUYS SEE WHAT IM SEEING PLEEEEASEEE SOMEONE WRITE THIS DONT MAMKE ME DO ITTT😭😭😭😭😭����🙏

EDIT: ANAXA HAS A "G-SPOT"/PROSTATE IN HIS SPACE CHEST🗣🗣🗣

WILL TAKE OFF HIS RINGS AND PUT IT ON YOUR FINGERS RAAAAAAAAAAH and he def teases you by sliding it on your ring finger, gauging your reaction as he smirks (that sly sod omggg)

"hmm, this finger looks a little lonely... i could change that."

interlaces his hand with yours to stretch it, like a massage. knows all the pressure points to help de-stress you

uses his wind powers to do fun magic tricks and play with you like imagine he only has to flick his finger and the wind pulls you closer to him HUUUUUUUUUUU SICKCCKKKK. will also blow a calm, soft breeze if you need to relax and take your mind off things.

literally gets a kick off of flustering you (it's his love language) every time you ask him why his response is: "so? don't like it?" mans not embarassed💔

if you have any texting habits, like sending cute stickers or kaomojis, anaxa will copy it bc he thinks its cute and amusing. always replying to your messages, although the same can't be said with the chrysos heirs who nag at him for ignoring theirs

anaxa: where are you? i've been waiting for ages ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴ you: ??? that's my kaomoji??? anaxa: ours now anaxa: (҂` ﾛ ´)︻デ═一 you: ＼(º □ º l|l)/

idk why i feel this so strongly but anaxa just does many smaller kisses, like pecks to the cheek. kinda playful, fleeting but always returning. i also feel like he's a neck kinda guy, always brushing his fingers along it or placing kisses. will secure you in place with a hug just to kiss the nape.

even though you two are together, anaxa will still give you stinky side eyes. loves to hear your gossip for sure, he doesn't say it but he loves chatting shit about others. will be the quietest ever when you have juicy stories.

will flame anyone who has made you upset to bits and pieces. bro's mouth is like a machine gun

likes to tilt your chin, moving it so you face him whenever he wants your attention.

he likes it when you take control, that brat taming typa shiii brooo00 he likes it when you rough him up, always a cheeky grin on his face. prods you as well, like "is that it?", "c'mon, harder my love..."

loves when you give him hickeys, or any markings like scratches. its like staking your claim on him and he fw with that😎

one sure way to get him flustered is straight up telling him "i love you". it forces him to confront his feelings head on and anaxa can't deal with that. will lightly flick your forehead, or anything to stop you from staring at his reddened face.

a/n: so. this is what happens whne im menstruating. how we feeling guys. it was jsut a few very insane headcanons tbh, the rest were fine, bit of an overreaction looool this is tame in comparison to my ao3 works. my god i need my daily cuppa where is it. this reminds me of when i was a wee teenager and experienced akechi from p5 for the first time. changed my trajectory fr. thanks akechi goro u saved ruined me

[moriwood]

Flower Puff Boy — p.js

park jongseong x male reader fluff with very lil angst 2.3k words

Over the past year, people have come to know you as the guy who always gives flowers. You’ve used every occasion as an excuse to purchase flowers from Jay, your neighborhood florist, and each time you walked in, you always ended up with a free flower from him. As Valentine’s Day nears, you realize what flowers truly mean to him and you.

includes: flower language! (might be wrong, i’m not good with flowers myself); a call back to my other xo era-inspired fic (pls read it too if u haven’t yet :’3) warning: n/a

You were never well-versed in the language of flowers. No special fascination, no favorite blooms nor scents growing up. But over the past year, you have come to be known as the guy who gives flowers. For friends who started new jobs, relatives who celebrated their birthdays, and even your coworker who merely complained about the blandness of her beige desk, flowers had become your go-to gift.

You first stepped into Flower Puffs on a whim, a small shop tucked into a side road with little traffic. Despite its humble appearance, its color always stood out against the dull low-rise apartments beside it. The chalkboard outside boasted seasonal arrangements and flower meanings scribbled in neat, cursive letters. It started simple: a gift for your mother on Mother’s Day.

—

Behind the counter, a young man arranges a bouquet. His sleeves were rolled up, and the veins along his arms were like vines growing on a trellis. He glances up at the sound of the bell jingling above the door. His eyes lock onto yours, lips stretching into a smile as charming as the flowers that surrounded him.

“Hey there. Mother’s Day?”

You hesitate by the entrance. His directness catches you off guard, though it makes sense—most of his clients for the day were probably here for the same reason.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Good call,” he replies, his smile reaching to his eyes. He wipes his hands on his apron and steps around the counter. “Something classic or something unique?”

You shift on your feet, glancing at the rows of flowers neatly arranged on wooden displays. “Uh… I don’t really know flowers.”

He chuckles softly, approaching the nearest display to you. “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

He hums as he gestures at his different floral arrangements, voice filled to the brim with enthusiasm. It’s quite captivating—the way he spoke about flowers—detailing their scientific properties, from colors to scents, then unraveling the messages they somehow conveyed without words.

He picks up some delicate stems, their green, fuzzy leaves adorned with tiny yellow flowers that spiral upward along its length. Oddly, they remind you of the herbs you use to season food. “Agrimonias mean gratitude and protection. Old legends say that if you sleep with agrimonias under your pillow, they ward off evil.”

He then picks up another few bright yellow flowers, bigger than but as slender as the agrimonias. “These hawksbeards here mean something similar—protection and contentment.”

“And some Peruvian lilies,” he says, picking up some flowers in a darker shade of yellow, with lines of purple decorating its petals. “They mean a lot of things: wealth, fortune, and devotion. If it’s for your mom, you probably want the most for her, right?”

You nod. There’s a strange intimacy in the interaction, listening to someone speak about something they’re clearly passionate about in such a quiet environment. You reach out to take the bouquet he’s begun assembling, and for a split second, your fingers brush. 

He doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, his eyes flicker to your face in amusement then he steps back with a grin. He plucks a white flower from one of the nearby displays and twirls it between his fingers.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to you. “A calla lily. Consider it a welcome gift.”

“What does it mean?”

“Magnificent beauty,” he replies smoothly, “like you.”

You freeze, caught between surprise and amusement. The confidence in his delivery makes you think that this is a regular schtick he does with his customers; however, for a beat too long, you consider if he could be as genuine as the flowers that he sells. 

A laugh bubbles up in your throat as you notice the board on the counter that reads Flower Puffs in colorful chalk.

“Well, thank you… Flower Puff Boy,” you finally reply.

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” he cackles, slapping a hand over his eyes. “But Jay would probably be better,” he corrects. “And you?”

—

It all began there, and you kept on coming back. Every occasion has become a perfect time to come visit Jay’s shop.

And each time, he gives you a flower. Even on days where you decide not to purchase anything and just pass the time at his shop, you always leave with a single flower in your hand. You keep them all, pressed in between pages of your books, tucked into vases by your windowsill, like tokens of each visit. In your mind, you’ve authored a tiny dictionary of all their meanings.

Wood sorrels for joy, when a childhood friend came to visit you in the city.

Mayflowers for perseverance, when your boss just recovered from a major surgery.

Lemon geraniums for unexpected meetings, when you welcomed a new guy in the workplace.

Then he gave you a lily of the valley for the return of happiness, because he hadn’t expected you to come back so soon.

Then milkvetches, because, as he put it, your presence softened his pains—something he didn’t explain further.

Then French marigolds for jealousy, after you mentioned to him how attractive the new guy at work was.

He didn’t seem to lie about what his flowers meant, yet you never took the time to question if the flowers really meant anything to him—to you. After all, he’s just a merchant, and you’re just a customer. Assuming otherwise would be foolish, especially when, after nearly a year of frequenting his shop, you knew nothing much other than his name and his line of work.

What do you do outside the shop? What else do you like other than flowers?

Were those even questions you could ask?

And yet, you still return. Not exactly for him, but for the giddy feeling you get when you learn something new about a flower—or so you tell yourself.

The bell rings as you step inside, and as always, the familiar florist stands behind the counter, carefully arranging a bouquet. He’s leaning over the counter, speaking with a customer—a guy around your age, donning an oversized sweater and smiling brightly. Jay notices you, glancing at you, but his attention is swiftly drawn back to the man he was talking to.

You really didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the shop is too small not to overhear everything. Turning to the wooden displays, you pretend to browse through the flowers, testing yourself on the meanings you’ve learned.

“With a love letter and everything,” the guy says.

Jay chuckles. “Sounds… romantic… Who’s the lucky guy?”

Mustards. Greenish-yellow, as in the plant with the seeds that are used to make the condiment with the same name. It meant indifference, Jay said, when you wanted to buy something for a leaving coworker who you really didn’t care about.

“No idea. The flowers had me thinking they got it from you.”

Jay hums. “Sunoo got one. Then I think Heeseung?”

Cobaeas. Large, bell-shaped, and violet. Gossip, like you tuning in more to their conversation. Who are these people that they’re mentioning?

“Heeseung?” the guy repeats.

“Said he’s getting ‘em to cheer someone up. Maybe it’s him?”

The guy laughs. “I don’t think he swings my way. If it’s Sunoo or Heeseung, then this person probably bought it elsewhere.”

Goldenrods. So small, Jay just uses them to fill up his flower arrangements. He said they could mean precaution, but for what exactly?

“I hope you find out soon, or maybe not. Then I’ll make you a better bouquet. No secret messages though, just a delicate arrangement of flowers from your favorite florist.”

French marigolds. Jealousy. Huh.

You turn back to the couple by the counter, finding the guy chuckling and shaking his head. “I’ll take that offer when the mystery turns exhausting. But I’m pretty invested right now.”

Jay smiles at him, all easygoing and warm as usual. “Let me know how it turns out then.”

The guy waves goodbye, taking one last look at the bouquet in his hands before heading out. Jay then exhales, fingers tapping against the wood. He notices you again, now with his full attention, and grins.

“What’re you doing over there? Come tell me your excuse for visiting today. Don’t tell me it’s Lunar New Year.”

You force a chuckle, stepping closer. “Birthday of a friend. Was just testing if I remember the botanical stuff you’ve taught me.”

Jay tilts his head. He points to some oxeye daisies, petals white with a yellow center. “What do those mean?”

“Patience. Purity. The he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not flower.”

“Correct,” he replies, picking one and twirling it between his fingers. “Is this friend you’re talking about a friend-friend or…”

“Or?”

“Friends with ulterior motives,” Jay laughs. “Friends from a different dimension.”

You shake your head, chuckling. “No. A real, very existing friend.”

Jay studies you for a moment, an embarrassing warmth creeping into your face. You might make every occasion an excuse to visit Jay, but you won’t stoop so low as to invent stories about imaginary people. 

“You have to stop giving out flowers on a whim like that, your friend might misinterpret,” he says.

You hesitate briefly, then you roll your eyes in realization. “I could say the same thing about you giving free flowers to all your customers.”

Jay furrows his brows. “I don’t?”

“Huh?”

A beat passes.

“I don’t give free flowers to all my customers,” Jay repeats.

“Just me then?”

If not all customers, then maybe just the ones who buy a lot. That makes sense. Definitely not just you, don’t be delusional.

“Just you, yeah.”

“Oh.”

The guy from earlier left with his bouquet and nothing else. Another beat passes. Then Jay claps his hands together.

“So! A birthday bouquet. Got flowers in mind or you want my floral magic again?”

You blankly nod, mind still reeling from what Jay has just told you. “You do your magic, I’ll watch.”

Jay begins to work, slow as he selects the first few flowers, then fingers moving more efficiently as the flower arrangement grows into something more colorful and “meaningful.” You shift your weight from foot to foot as you watch him, letting the faint snip of scissors and rustling of wrapping paper fill in the silence.

After a moment, you find yourself asking: “Do you really believe in it?”

Jay glances up, pausing from cutting a length of pink ribbon. “In what?”

“Flowers and their meanings,” you clarify.

“Well, they mean something if you want them to,” he replies, before resuming what he was doing with the ribbon, gently tying it around the bouquet. “I mean,” Jay hesitates. “Flowers are just like any other gift or gesture. They only matter as much as you let them.”

He pushes the finished bouquet towards you, giving you a warm smile. “Or maybe you just like giving beautiful people something beautiful, and that’s as valid as any other reason,” he adds. “I’ve never been good with words anyway, so I’d appreciate flowers even if they really meant nothing other than pretty, colorful things.”

You nod, smiling back in understanding. Then the words tumble out before you can think too hard about them, a joke too sincere, a humorous statement that’s been stripped of its humor. Because you’re just that good with words unlike this Flower Puff Boy.

“Would it be fraternization with the enemy if I brought you flowers for Valentine’s?”

Jay stills, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Then he catches on. “I guess I’ll give you white catchflies then. Betrayal!”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, prodding at the bouquet on the counter. “Have to check out the competition.”

Jay gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “After all the free flowers!?”

Your lips twitch. “Wasn’t exactly a fan of such a manipulative business tactic,” you joke.

He clicks his tongue in mock offence. “Guess I’ll have to stop the freebies then.”

The playful banter comes easily, but your heart stutters, thumping in your chest and wavering your voice in the process. For almost a year, you thought that Jay’s easy charm was just part of customer service. Maybe it was, but now, it definitely doesn’t feel like it.

“Valentine’s, huh?” Jay grins. “Receiving flowers on that day instead of selling them would be a change.”

You glance at the long-forgotten bouquet for your friend, your fingers idly brushing over the brown paper wrapped around the flowers.

“Actually,” you start, voice a little quieter, “could you make another bouquet for me? To pick up on a different day? Forgot something.”

Jay lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? What occasion?”

You smile, keeping it light. “Secret.”

Jay playfully narrows his eyes. “Am I gonna be jealous of another ‘friend’ of yours?”

“Should you?” you laugh, making Jay grumble in fake frustration. “I’ve got specific flowers in mind.”

“Okay, tell me what flowers you want,” he sighs. “I’ll prepare them by the date you need them.”

White chrysanthemums. Moss rosebuds. Peach blossoms. And lastly, yellow jonquils.

“Do you know what these flowers mean?” Jay slowly asks, as if he’s still processing the list of flowers you just gave him.

You nod, heat once again rushing to your face. “Do you?”

Jay shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We might have different dictionaries. Spell it out for me, please?”

You take a moment, the words spilling as if it came from a script, though your voice shakes. “I’m not lying when I say that this is a confession. You have captivated me and I desire a return of this affection.”

“That’s quite a specific message,” Jay replies, exhaling. “Who’s it for then?”

You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of what this scene means. “You.”

Jay shakes his head, but you see the fondness in his expression. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters. “When will you be picking it up?”

“On Valentine’s, of course.”

He laughs. “I’m a florist. Wait for my reply in flowers by then.”

A sense of ease washes over you. “I’ll see you by then, Flower Puff Boy.”

Jay watches you with a smile as you turn toward the door, the familiar chime ringing once again.

For the first time, you leave the shop with no free flower to take home. And for the first time, you’re comfortable admitting that it wasn’t just the flowers that you were always looking forward to.

author's note: it’s over 2 weeks too late for valentine’s but hey i made it! would y’all believe me if i said i broke my arm a few months ago and it stalled everything for a while 😭 i hav a lot of drafts ongoing so let’s hope i don’t disappear for another few months ADF:gpzicvbpzpvo sorry for always slacking y'allllls

references: Flower language taken from the 1867 book “The illustrated language of flowers” by Mrs. L. Burke: https://archive.org/details/illustratedlang00burka

— moriwood.

[megumismyhusband]

A+ for annoying

ᝰ.ᐟ chapter: 04

waking up was… weird.

for a second, you forgot where you were, the warmth of the blankets and the steady breathing beside you lulling you into a false sense of peace. then it hit you.

you were in a hotel. sharing a bed. with karasu tabito.

your eyes snapped open. and that’s when you noticed it.

his arm. around your waist.

holding you way too close.

you froze. like, full-body, heart-stopping, what-the-actual-hell froze.

karasu was still asleep, completely unaware, his grip loose but definitely there. his face was inches from yours, his stupid, annoyingly perfect hair a mess, his breathing even. he looked… peaceful. almost normal. almost.

but that didn’t change the fact that his arm was on you.

very, very carefully, you started to inch away. but the moment you moved, karasu let out a sleepy, half-awake groan and tightened his hold on you.

nope. absolutely not.

“karasu,” you hissed.

nothing.

you poked his side. “karasu, wake up.”

he let out a sleepy grumble, eyes barely opening. his grip didn’t loosen. if anything, he seemed comfortable.

your eye twitched. “get your arm off me.”

karasu blinked a few times, clearly still groggy. then, as realization dawned, his expression shifted. he glanced down at where his arm was, then back up at you. and then, because of course he had to make this worse—

he smirked. smirked.

“aww, are we cuddling?”

you shoved him. hard. “absolutely not.”

karasu finally let go, laughing as you practically threw yourself to the other side of the bed. “relax, it’s not a big deal.”

“not a big deal? you were clinging to me!”

he stretched lazily, completely unfazed. “i was asleep. can’t control what happens.”

“well, control it next time,” you snapped, grabbing your pillow and chucking it at him before scrambling out of bed. “i’m getting ready. don’t talk to me.”

karasu just laughed as you stormed into the bathroom, absolutely done with everything.

—

breakfast was painfully awkward. at least for you.

karasu? completely normal. he sat across from you at the table, scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t just invaded your personal space all night. you were still fuming about it when a familiar voice called your name.

“hey, there you are.”

you turned to see reo approaching, tray in hand, flashing you an easy smile.

“mind if i sit?” he asked.

“oh—uh, yeah, of course.”

reo took the seat next to you, and almost immediately, he started chatting. he asked how you were feeling about the next round, what you thought of yesterday’s competition, even joked about how intimidating some of the teams looked. he was easy to talk to—relaxed, confident, the kind of person who could make a conversation flow effortlessly.

but while you were focused on reo, you weren’t focused on the way karasu had gone completely silent.

he hadn’t looked at his phone in minutes. hadn’t even made one of his usual snarky comments.

he was just watching. expression unreadable, jaw tight, eyes flicking between you and reo.

not that you noticed. but if you had, you might’ve realized that karasu tabito?

he definitely wasn’t amused.

chapter 03 𐃘 chapter 04 𐃘 chapter 05

series MASTERLIST

taglist: @x3nafix @kaidostwin @dontmindtheevie @katzline @yzzxo @reyoony @aztec-ahuizotil @arlecchinoftl @elliehenry24 @dantwls @whosliu @midnight-drives-with-sunarin @fierceastheocean@chmeesecake@sindulgent666 @notmayseepetah @mo072806 @p1z-d0n7jud6em3

[valentine-cafe]

the crime towards the lack of vinicio content is murdering me, i have to fix that.

so ! he wants a cat, right ? 👀 how about, he started dating reader, and one day they decide to show him the small home they have and then, when they go to cuddle in their bedroom, he sees two cats sleeping there, and reader goes "btw, forgot to introduce to you my babies !" and start telling cute stories about the cat.

(gender neutral reader please ! also, keep up the good work, mwah)

˖⁺. ﹙ obscure shadow monster bf x gn reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . It licked my nose !! 🍒 :  inhuman ˖ monster artist ˖ demon ﹙ verse 781 vinicio ﹚

Vinicio finally gets to meet your cats, which he had no clue you had in the first place! Being the cat lover he is, how can he hold himself back from picking them up for cuddles immediately and wanting to learn more about them?

dull forest green eyes light up with such immense amounts of happiness at the sight of the big balls of fluff napping on your bed. His hand immediately reaching out to pet one of them but hesitating.

"Oh my god. Do they like being pet?" He asks quietly, scared of waking them up.

How much more adorable can he get? It is gravely amusing to watch one of the men around town everyone deems scary, cold and stoic, melt at the sight of your two babies. You can't not let out a little laugh of affection and reach out for the cats to pick one of them up and very gently hand it over to him.

His spine shivers with excitement at the little meow it lets out when he takes it in his hold and frowns at how adorable it is.

"She's actually only 2 years old now- found her on the side of a street with her brother. The poor things. . ." You murmur, picking up the other cat to give him some scritches behind his ear. The cat's ear twitching while he stretches out on your lap and nuzzles into your tummy to go back to sleep.

"You found these two all alone?" The man feels his heart break into pieces at the notion of these two being left all alone. Cold and abandoned. Thank the gods that you found them at the end of the day. They're happy and healthy now clearly.

You give him a simple nod and share with him a lovely little smile as you gesture for him to sit down next to you on the bed.

It does not take long for him to join you. His ears open to all of the stories you have to share and tell about the cats which both betray you as they crawl onto him. As though he's a magnet to them!

"Well they sure seem to be getting quite fond of you quick." You chuckle and fold your arms, leaning your head against his shoulder. The tip of your finger gently pokes at the brother's nose and gets napped gently by the sister's.

"They were on the side of a road. . . I assumed someone dropped them off to make sure someone found them." You explain, hand reaching over to grab two packs of tuna sticks for them.

As you drop one into Vinicio's hand, he rips it open and starts feeding the cat he first received, while you feed her brother and sit and continue to tell the story of how you found them and raised them. Which eventually turns into sillier stories to lighten the mood.

"He rolled over her so hard both of them tumbled into the small pond and flew out of it almost immediately after." You snort, barely noticing that his own laugh joins the beautiful symphony of yours. His hand moves to squeeze at your waist and brings you closer to feel the way you vibrate when you chuckle and lean back against him for support.

[airandyeah]

Animals (Alpha!Sukuna X Alpha!Toji X Omega!Reader) Pt.2

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, suggestive comments or actions, just generally Minors DNI-just in case. This will be similar to Pink Pony Club and Sins, where I just mark every chapter as 18+

The tow truck rumbled down the road, the weight of your car dragging behind it. Sitting in the cab between Sukuna and Toji was not how you imagined spending your morning, but here you were—arms crossed, jaw tight, and very aware of the warmth radiating from either side of you.

The ride was quiet for a while, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the tow hitch. You hoped it would stay that way.

Of course, that was wishful thinking.

"So," Toji drawled, one hand on the wheel as he glanced at you, "what’s a stubborn little Omega like you doing all the way out here?"

You sighed, staring out the window. "Just needed a break."

Sukuna scoffed. "From what? Civilization?"

You rolled your eyes. "Something like that."

"How long you staying?"

You hesitated. You had an answer, but something about saying it out loud felt… final.

"A while," you finally muttered.

Sukuna hummed, watching you from the corner of his eye. "So, not just a weekend getaway, huh?"

You shrugged, giving them as little as possible. The last thing you wanted was for them to know too much.

Toji smirked. "Didn’t peg you for the type to play mysterious, sweetheart."

You scoffed. "Maybe I just don’t feel like answering your questions."

Sukuna laughed, head tilting back slightly. "That’s cute. You think you’ve got a choice."

You turned to glare at him, but before you could snap back, Toji cut in. "You staying alone?"

Your lips pressed together, pulse kicking up just a bit. The way he asked—so casual, yet so pointed—made it clear they were reading between the lines.

"Yeah," you said finally. "I am."

Sukuna clicked his tongue. "Kinda dangerous, don’t you think? An Omega alone in the woods?"

You gave him a look. "I can handle myself."

"Sure." His smirk deepened, voice dipping into something amused and interested. "Bet you can."

You rolled your eyes, shifting in your seat. "Just focus on getting my car to town."

Toji chuckled but didn’t push.

For now.

And as the truck rumbled on, carrying you further into whatever mess you’d somehow walked into with these two, you had the sinking feeling this wouldn’t be the last time they pried into your business.

You hopped down from the truck, arms crossed as you watched Sukuna and Toji get to work. The moment they started pushing your car into the shop, you really wished you hadn’t.

Because, fuck.

Their muscles strained under the weight, arms flexing, shirts stretching over broad chests as they made easy work of moving the dead weight of your car. Toji’s biceps bulged, veins running down his forearms as he grunted, shoving the car into position. Sukuna, smirking as always, made it look effortless, a cocky little gleam in his eye as he caught you staring.

Your Omega instincts purred in appreciation, a hot pulse settling low in your stomach.

You forced yourself to look away, clearing your throat as if that would help shove the feeling down. Absolutely not. You were not about to let your biology win here.

“Enjoying the view?” Sukuna drawled, brushing his hands off as he turned to you.

You scowled. “Not particularly.”

Toji chuckled, wiping his forearm across his brow. “Lyin’ won’t get you anywhere, sweetheart.”

You crossed your arms tighter, nails digging into your sleeves. “Just let me know when my car’s fixed.”

Sukuna tsked, shaking his head. “So cold. You’re stuck here for a while, Omega. Might as well warm up to us.”

You scoffed. “I’d rather freeze.”

Toji grinned, leaning against your car with a lazy ease that did not help your predicament. “Suit yourself. Just don’t expect us to stop being friendly.”

Sukuna stepped closer, not enough to crowd you, but enough to make you feel watched. “Yeah. We’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other.” ~~~ You had not planned on leaving the house today.

In fact, you had every intention of staying curled up inside, away from a certain pair of smug, infuriating Alphas who thought they were the greatest thing to walk the earth.

But the sound of tires crunching over gravel outside shattered that plan instantly.

Frowning, you shoved open the cabin door, stepping out onto the porch—pajamas still on, hair an absolute mess, and a mug of coffee clutched in your hands. You had not prepared to see anyone, and you definitely had not prepared to see them.

Because there they were.

Toji leaned against the side of his truck, arms crossed, eyes immediately trailing over you with slow amusement. Sukuna, standing beside him, had the audacity to whistle low under his breath, lips curving into a smirk.

“Well, well,” Sukuna mused. “Look at this. Not so tough now, are we?”

You resisted the urge to chuck your coffee at him. Barely.

Instead, you took a long sip, pretending you weren’t standing there like some half-awake mess in front of two very amused Alphas. “What are you two doing here?”

Toji shrugged. “Checking in.”

You narrowed your eyes. “On what?”

Sukuna grinned. “You.”

Your fingers tightened around your mug. “I’m fine.”

Toji’s gaze dropped pointedly to your sleepwear, the oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder, shorts barely peeking beneath the hem. His eyes darkened just a little before he smirked. “Yeah, you look real put together.”

You flushed, standing straighter, pulling your shirt back up into place. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Sukuna clicked his tongue. “Tsk. You wound us, sweetheart. We did offer our services, remember?”

Toji nodded toward his truck. “We were heading into town. Thought we’d see if you needed anything.”

You hesitated. You did need a few things, but the idea of being stuck in a car with them again?

Absolutely not.

“I’ll manage,” you said stiffly.

Sukuna’s grin widened, like he knew you were being stubborn just for the sake of it. “Suit yourself, Omega.”

Something in his tone made your stomach tighten—annoyance, irritation, and maybe, just maybe, something else.

Toji gave you one last slow, knowing look before turning back to the truck. “Call if you change your mind.”

You didn’t answer, just watched as they climbed back inside.

But as their truck rumbled down the driveway, you let out a breath.

Because for a moment—just a moment—your Omega instincts had whispered something absolutely traitorous in the back of your mind.

You should have gone with them.

Huffing out a breath, you stepped back inside, shutting the door behind you with more force than necessary. Idiots. Smug, cocky, far-too-attractive-for-their-own-good Alphas.

You stomped over to the couch, flopping down as you pulled out your phone. The notifications from their texts—sent after giving you their numbers yesterday—still sat unanswered. You had ignored them out of sheer stubbornness, refusing to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, they had been genuinely offering help.

But now, staring at their blank contact names, you figured it was time to at least label them properly.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you typed in Toji’s number first.

Grease Monkey #1

You snorted to yourself before moving on to Sukuna.

Walking Ego #2

It was fitting. Rude, but fitting.

Satisfied, you tossed your phone onto the coffee table and stretched out on the couch, arms behind your head.

You were not going to call them. Not now, not later, not even if you were stranded in the middle of the woods.

...Probably.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced over at the screen.

Walking Ego #2: Bet you’re thinking about us already.

Your stomach dropped. You scowled. And then you did the only logical thing. You threw a pillow at your phone.

With a groan, you snatched your phone back up, flipping it over in your hand before deciding you needed a real distraction.

Ignoring Walking Ego #2’s text, you scrolled through your contacts and tapped on the name that mattered—Dad.

The phone barely rang twice before a familiar deep voice answered.

“Well, if it isn’t my runaway daughter,” your dad teased. “Finally remembering you’ve got a family back home?”

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see. “I didn’t run away, Dad. Just needed a break.”

A loud noise crackled through the speaker, followed by an unmistakable shout—one of your brothers. Then another, arguing in the background.

You sighed. “Are they fighting again?”

Your dad let out a heavy exhale. “When aren’t they?”

“Who is it this time?” you asked, already dreading the answer.

“The usual suspects—your wonderful brothers decided to wrestle in the living room and broke your mother’s vase.”

You winced. “Oof. How bad is the damage?”

“Let’s just say she’s threatening to mount their heads on the wall.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Another crash echoed through the line, followed by muffled cursing and someone yelling That didn’t count, you cheated!

You shook your head. Same old, same old.

“So,” your dad continued, his tone shifting just a little. “How’s the cabin? You settling in okay?”

You hesitated. For all your complaints, the little town had its charm. And the quiet was… nice. Well, when a certain pair of Alphas weren’t showing up unannounced.

“It’s fine,” you said, leaning back against the couch. “Peaceful.”

Your dad chuckled. “You sound bored.”

You scoffed. “I am not bored.”

“Uh-huh.” His voice was full of disbelief. “Met anyone interesting?”

Your mind immediately flashed to Toji and Sukuna, to the way their muscles flexed as they shoved your car into the shop, to the cocky smirks they wore like second skins, to how Sukuna always seemed to know exactly how to push your buttons—

You scowled. “No.”

Your dad hummed knowingly. “That was too quick of an answer.”

You groaned, scrubbing a hand down your face. “Goodbye, Dad.”

He laughed. “Alright, alright. Be safe, kid. And don’t let your brothers hear you say you miss them, or they’ll never let you live it down.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, kid.”

Hanging up, you exhaled, staring at the ceiling.

Your dad was wrong. You weren’t bored. You were just… stuck. Temporarily.

And the last thing you needed was distractions.

Your phone buzzed again.

Grease Monkey #1: Change your mind about that ride yet?

Your head fell back against the couch with a groan.

You stared at the message from Grease Monkey #1, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You could ignore it. Pretend you were perfectly fine being stranded at the cabin. That you didn’t need them.

But… groceries. Supplies. And if you had to spend another day pacing the same four walls, you might actually lose your mind.

With a begrudging sigh, you typed out a response.

You: Maybe tomorrow.

You didn’t give them anything else. No pleasantries, no thank you, and certainly no emojis. If they were going to be smug about this, you weren’t going to give them more fuel.

Your phone barely had time to rest in your lap before another message popped up.

Walking Ego #2: Knew you couldn’t resist us.

You scowled.

You: I can and I will. I just need a damn ride, not your ego in my face.

A pause. Then—

Grease Monkey #1: You sure? We can arrange to have something else in your face instead.

Your entire body locked up. Heat prickled at your skin before you aggressively turned your phone face-down on the couch.

Nope. Absolutely not.

You weren’t going to engage. You weren’t going to let them get under your skin.

…You really shouldn’t have given them your number.

With a groan, you yanked a blanket over your head, pointedly ignoring the next buzz of your phone.

Whatever it was, you didn’t need to see it.

Tomorrow was already going to be a headache. ~~~ The next morning, you almost considered texting them to cancel.

But then you caught sight of the near-empty fridge, the sad excuse of snacks you had left, and the fact that you were one power outage away from eating plain bread for dinner.

So, with a heavy sigh, you pulled yourself together.

Hair brushed. Jeans and a T-shirt—casual, comfortable, non-inviting. No makeup. No effort beyond basic hygiene.

You weren’t trying for them.

By the time you heard the low rumble of a truck rolling up the gravel driveway, you had already prepared yourself.

You grabbed your phone and stepped outside, arms crossed as the truck rolled to a stop.

The driver’s side door swung open, and Toji hopped out first, stretching lazily, arms lifting just enough to show off a strip of toned stomach beneath his black tee. Sukuna followed, rounding the hood, eyes flicking over you with a slow, appraising smirk.

“Well, well,” Sukuna drawled. “Look who actually cleaned up for us.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just don’t want to look like a cave gremlin while running errands.”

Toji chuckled, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Shame. Thought maybe you dressed up just for us.”

You rolled your eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sukuna leaned against the truck, arms crossed. “You have been in my dreams.”

Your jaw clenched. “Do you always flirt like this, or is this some kind of contest between you two?”

Toji grinned. “Bit of both.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. It was too early for this.

“Are we actually going, or did you guys just show up to annoy me?”

Sukuna shrugged. “We can multitask.”

You turned on your heel, yanking open the passenger door and climbing inside before they could get another word in.

Toji smirked as he followed, settling into the driver’s seat. “Buckle up, Omega.”

You shot him a glare. “Drive, Grease Monkey.”

His grin widened, and Sukuna chuckled in the back seat.

This was going to be a long trip.

The ride into town was mostly quiet, aside from the occasional rock music humming from the truck’s speakers.

You kept your eyes on the passing trees, arms crossed, mind wandering. It wasn’t until curiosity got the better of you that you finally broke the silence.

“So…” You shifted in your seat, glancing between them. “How do you two know each other?”

Toji snorted. “Why? You jealous?”

You scoffed. “Hardly. Just curious why you two are so close. It’s kind of weird.”

Sukuna let out a low chuckle from the back. “You think we’re weird?”

“I think two Alphas living together in the woods like an old married couple is a little odd, yeah.”

Toji grinned, throwing a glance at Sukuna. “She’s got jokes.”

Sukuna smirked. “You’d be lucky if we were married.”

You rolled your eyes. “You gonna answer the question or what?”

Toji sighed, adjusting his grip on the wheel. “Met in high school. Got into a lotta shit together. Fights. Trouble. That kinda thing.”

Sukuna hummed in agreement. “Then we got older, figured we didn’t want to deal with city bullshit, so we got our own place. Built the cabin ourselves. Lived there ever since.”

You blinked. “Wait—you built it?”

Toji smirked. “That a little admiration I hear in your voice?”

You huffed. “No. Just surprised you two actually have skills outside of being cocky assholes.”

Sukuna chuckled. “We’re full of surprises, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, but the small spark of interest lingered.

Two Alphas. Best friends since high school. Living out in the woods, away from everything.

It was strange. Different from the usual possessive, competitive nature you expected from Alphas.

And despite yourself, you found that little fact… intriguing.

You shook the thought from your head, shifting in your seat. “Well, congrats on the domestic life. Glad you two found each other.”

Toji grinned. “Thanks, Omega. Maybe we’ll find a third to complete it.”

You choked. Sukuna laughed.

“Relax,” he teased. “We’re just messing with you.”

Your face burned as you turned to the window. Assholes.

Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Taglist: @tojislongshlong , @jaxawinchester , @ectomotive Perma Tags: @thenightperson

[teamrv]

i woke up from a nap and saw that jamie had tweeted about the hate comments situation. i think that the same message should have been posted on instagram rather than twitter. (also jamie, ask maria to write it in spanish too if you want to talk to the real people who partly leave hate comments)

this is probably my first time addressing this issue and i want to address it from both angles:

first, there are people who don't really care about franco but find it amusing to post those comments—as f1 fans, we can't really do anything about that, it's pretty obvious to me the best we can do is to ignore them. however, there are others who genuinely believe that commenting like this will change "the situation", much like when a well-known fandom sent emails to mercedes ~ i'm not just talking to those who annoyingly comment on instagram posts hoping that alpine will sack jack pre-season, but also to those who trash franco for doing activities for alpine as their reserve driver thinking it supports jack's case.

i believe we can help these people understand the situation and the comments from those people will die down.

second, alpine is also to blame. they created this situation, and now they're blaming people for being confused? they signed and paid money to another team for a very promising driver (who is ridiculously popular) as a reserve for five years while their main driver and the other two reserve drivers are under a one year contract. alpine's team interrupted the press conference to ask the english and spanish press not to bring up questions about their own reserve driver (they were mean to jack but well the press is like that sadly and i guess alpine should have known?) while at the same announcing a sponsorship with mercadolibre (franco's main sponsor). now in bahrain, they brought aron instead of franco, and of course, that looks suspicious. people are going to talk and react to it if they don’t even act like it’s a normal situation (it's not) and that everything is clear...

third, they geoblock and segregate their target audience on instagram and expect people not to be annoyed? why are you hiding one of your drivers if he's just a driver? again, people will get annoying if you don't act normal

people from both sides annoy me honestly. i just need alpine to be normal about this and the situation will calm down naturally

[glowingbadger]

Sick again, but what else is new. Being immunocompromised I feel like I spend a stupid amount of time with the common cold. Anyway, for fun, I'm ranking how well each of my personal Top Tier Husbandos from all of my big fandoms would take care of their lover when they're sick. A shockingly fluffy premise by my standards, I know, but I need some comfort slop right now. Also this is a great way to self-report that the only types of dudes I'm into are chaotic fuckboys and serious older men.

Going from WORST to BEST, How well they take care of you when you're sick:

8. Kishibe Rohan (JJBA) - I think this is an uncontroversial pick, since being an emotionally stunted asshole is like, an enormous part of his personality. At best, he grabs some medicine at the store while he's picking up his own things, and while he does insist you rest, it's mostly so that you're not hacking and coughing near him- he really can't afford to get sick (nevermind that the man churns out manga pages in mere minutes). The only caveat I could see to this is if he's able to use Heaven's Door to simply make you stop being sick- but A. I'm not certain that's within the scope of his Stand, and B. I don't know if he'd even want to get close enough to you to do that if you're sick.

7. Soren (FE 9/10) - Listen. By all accounts, Soren is very much capable of feeling quite tender and even nurturing towards someone who has managed to work their way into his heart. But he doesn't have a lot of practice with caring about other people, much less in the material sense. He'll ensure that there's a healer on-call for you at all times, but he feels there's really not much he can directly do, and so takes a very clinical standpoint on it. You need rest, fluids and nutrition, and he hardly sees how him hovering over you will help with any of those things. He's most likely to commit himself to the practical side of things, keep things moving smoothly in your absence so you have less to worry about, as he's well aware that his bedside manner is miserable. He will, of course, be very relieved in his own way once you've recovered.

6. Kaeya Alberich (Genshin) - while Kaeya does hate to see you feeling under the weather, and will show he cares in his own way, he's not exactly used to being responsible even for himself, let alone someone else. Hell, when he watches Klee, half the time he ends up swept in whatever she wants to do to amuse herself and is just there to make sure she doesn't get hurt or upset. He'll have some great book recommendations to keep your mind busy, and he'll have flowers sent to you, but his bedside manner is just a touch too casual and cavalier to be overly comforting. Frankly, he'll likely spend most of your recovery time planning something fun for the two of you to do to celebrate and get you back on your feet once you're feeling better. (He's also probably the most likely on this list to get himself sick in the process)

5. Axel / Lea (KH) - we are finally getting into the tier of guys who would actually be fairly good at this, given Axel is a protective sort at heart, and truly takes on the "team mom" role in his own friend group. While he's not exactly brilliant when it comes to the medical side of illness, he is openly worried for you, and will be at your side as often as he can. He'll do his best to distract you and keep your mood up with light conversation and funny anecdotes- though you may have to be the one to tell him when you just need to rest for a bit. Overall, he's very big on indulging in your comforts when you're sick, making sure you have your favorite sweets, plenty of blankets, a plushie to snuggle, and whatever books, games, shows, etc. will get you through.

4. Elliott (SDV) - in a strange way, Elliott is all-too eager to dote on you and take care of you when you're sick. It's something he'd mentally prepared for, as caring for one's lover in their time of need is exactly the sort of romantic thing that he'd envision when picturing being with the love of his life one day. His heart breaks to see you suffering, of course, but he's practically excited at the prospect of expressing how he cares for you by going above and beyond to help as much as he can. He's another who's not exactly knowledgeable when it comes to illness, but he likely has a few home remedies, a favorite tea, a special soup, all of the small creature-comforts that he puts his heart into preparing for you. His sheer sincerity about it all is uplifting in itself; when he tells you you're every bit as beautiful with your hair out of place, bags under your eyes and sinuses congested, he truly means it.

3. Seteth (FE3H) - I'm sure some of you are shocked he's not number one for me- and to be fair, he is absolutely wonderful to have at your side when you're not well. His unusual biology means he almost never gets sick, so he'll have no qualms about bringing some paperwork with him so he can continue his work while staying at your bedside for as long as you'll allow him, ready to fetch you more water, more medicine, a healer, more pillows, anything at all. He's also used to caring for others, so he'll check your temperature and monitor your fluid intake himself, all while gently but firmly encouraging you to do what's best for your health. The only issue is that, predictably, he can be over-bearing about it. Flayn may even need to intervene at times to coax him away from your side and remind him to take care of himself as well. Seteth is also the type to snap at anyone who disrupts your rest in any way. Overall, very helpful and nurturing, but absolutely a worrier.

2. Kurama (YYH) - To be honest, having Kurama around is like having your own personal nurse and pharmacist wrapped up in your beautiful and caring lover. He has plenty of experience caring for his loved ones through illness, and while he's no healer per-say, he's well versed in exactly what kind of rest, hydration and nutrition you need, and will keep you on a healthy regimen while attending to you with that calm and steady demeanor. I wouldn't be surprised if there are even some plants from the demon or spirit worlds that he'd have access to with fairly advanced healing qualities, so you may even have a cheat code to a fast recovery through him. That said, he's familiar enough with human biology that he knows not to rely on "miracle cures," and will do all he can to help your recovery while keeping you comfortable and remaining by your side so you won't start to sulk or feel lonely.

1. Welt Yang (HSR) - Really his place at the top of my ranking comes down to balance. Welt is protective, kind, and nurturing, but will also keep you on a firm but gentle regimen of medicine, fluids, and so on. He's mature and calm enough to be your rock while you're suffering, and won't over react to your illness, but he's also in touch with his emotions enough to show you he cares and be there for you through it. He's got an extensive catalogue of fun shows and movies in mind to recommend to keep you distracted and pass the time, and hell, if you just want to relax and watch him sketch for a bit, that's fine too. He's proactive about asking what you need, and what would be most helpful and comfortable for you in the moment, but he's also sensitive to your mood and good enough at reading you that he'll be able to tell whether March and Dan Heng constantly coming to check up on you is actually helpful, or just stressing you out. Overall, just 10/10 vibes, he's got the practical know-how and the bedside manner, no notes.

[theladyofshalott1989]

"Every Rose Has Its Thorn" 🌹

An Ominis Gaunt & Rose Blackthorn Valentine's Day One Shot

For my Secret Valentine, @lilredcamaro14!!! <3

It was such a joy getting to know you and your MC this month! Here's a sketch and one-shot, just for you. Enjoy!

Rose wasn’t herself today; Ominis could tell. 

She’d been quieter than usual, which was always the first sign. Then, she’d skipped lunch, which had confirmed his suspicions. But what really unsettled him was when she didn’t stand next to him in Care of Magical Creatures class. That had never happened before.

“Did you see Rose in class today?” Ominis asked Sebastian as they walked back to the castle.

“I don’t think so,” Sebastian replied, sounding far too nonchalant. “Maybe she’s feeling under the weather.” 

Ominis’s jaw clenched.

“You’re cross with me,” Sebastian said, misreading Ominis’s expression entirely.

“I’m always a little bit cross with you.” Ominis held back a laugh. “But no. I’m just worried about her. That’s all.”

“Rose is a big girl. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Right.” Ominis knew better than to argue. Sebastian could be oblivious, especially about girls, and by now, their seventh year at Hogwarts, Ominis had made his peace with it. Mostly. It was better than nothing at all, he supposed.

“Well, see you around,” Sebastian said. “If you need me, I’ll be in the library.”

“Not the Restricted Section, I hope?” 

Sebastian merely let out a wry chuckle, then darted away.

Ominis rolled his eyes, then resumed his steady stroll toward the castle, his wand extended before him, guiding his steps. He navigated with ease, relying on the familiar cadence of his schoolmates’ voices to orient himself.

Where to? Rose, of course. And Ominis always knew where to go. 

Rose stood in one of the four vivariums in the Room of Requirement, scattering food for her Nifflers. 

She always sought solace here when her spirits were low. 

“Jean, please leave some pellets for the others,” she murmured, watching as her most mischievous Niffler, Jean, once infamous as the Irondale Pilferer, crammed a pawful of pellets into his mouth. His puffed-up cheeks made him look utterly ridiculous. 

Rose might have found it amusing on a better day, but today was not one of those. A knot of frustration tightened in her chest, because today, she was upset. 

Valentine’s Day was fast approaching. She had never been particularly fond of the holiday. But this year in particular was especially nerve-wracking. Why? Well…

The go-to gift among her friends was always sweets, which she couldn’t enjoy due to her mallowsweet allergy. She could never be sure if it was added to the treats, and more often than not, it was used as a sweetener in the very things that were popular.

And this year, unlike the others, she was being courted. As much as she enjoyed that fact, there was the matter of Ominis. She hadn’t yet told him about her allergy.  

Her mallowsweet allergy was so unusual that it was embarrassing, at least to her. But she realized now she hadn’t quite thought her silence about it through. Ominis would likely give her something she couldn’t enjoy, something she couldn’t consume, and it was too late to explain it to him now. The thought of doing just that, and so close to Valentine’s Day, made her palms sweat. 

Rose sighed. On second thought, if he did give her something she was allergic to, she supposed she could always thank him for it and then claim she ate it in the privacy of her room. Or, better yet, she could simply never mention it again.

“Rose?” 

Rose’s troubled thoughts came to an abrupt halt at the sound of Ominis’s voice. 

“I’m here, Ominis! Just a moment, I’ll be right with you.” She finished feeding her Nifflers, shooting Jean one last stern look, before jogging over to Ominis’s side. 

Rose still found it wondrous whenever Ominis visited her in her vivariums, ever since she had introduced him to the Room of Requirement last year. Ominis and Poppy were the only two of her friends she’d confided in about the secret room, though she was considering telling Sebastian… eventually. She was starting to tire of their meetings in the Undercroft, with its irritating dust, sticky cobwebs, and stale air. 

Ominis had settled on the grass, waiting for her, his wand resting beside him as he lounged on his back, his hands behind his head. At the sound of Rose’s footsteps, he quickly scrambled upright. 

“What’s Jean been up to today? His usual shenanigans?” he asked, a delightful smirk curling his lips.

Rose plopped down on the grass beside him. “Always.” 

They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute or two before Ominis hummed thoughtfully. He cleared his throat and said, “Rose, is everything okay?” 

Rose blinked. “Erm—”

He quickly cut back in: “Because, if so, you know you can always tell me.”

Rose’s eyes began to sting. “I know,” she whispered. As short as her reply was, she had to muster all her strength to get the words out. 

“And?” Ominis said, turning his head to face the sound of her voice. He waggled his eyebrows. Rose nearly laughed. Nearly.

“And,” she said through a sigh, her gaze drifting off, just past Ominis’s perfectly coiffed head of dark blond hair, “it’s almost Valentine’s Day.”

“You don’t like Valentine’s Day?”

“It’s not that, exactly. It’s more just…” She hesitated. Should she tell him after all? She really didn’t like keeping things from Ominis. Perhaps she should just get it over with. 

Ominis answered for her. “You’re allergic to some sweets.”

Rose’s eyes went wide. “How did you—?”

“I’d like to think I’m more observant than most of our schoolmates.” He chuckled. 

Rose’s cheeks warmed. “How did you figure it out?” she said, genuinely curious. Yes, Ominis was more perceptive than most, but she’d always been so careful, so cautious when it came to keeping her vexing allergy a secret. 

“Well,” he said, “I’ve noticed you always find an excuse to leave when Sebastian is chomping on his Every Flavor Beans. At first, I thought it was because he chews with his mouth open—annoying, to say the least—but then, a few months ago, just before Christmas, I believe, I was eating them, and you did the same thing.” 

Rose’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t realized Ominis had been so aware of her habits.

“So, I asked around, and did some more sleuthing of my own, and that’s the conclusion I came to. Mind you, I don’t know the specifics of your allergy—”

“I’m allergic to mallowsweet,” Rose said quickly, before she could convince herself otherwise.

“Mallowsweet!” Understanding dawned on Ominis’s face. His mouth formed a straight line, until he said, “I’m sorry. That must be hard.”

“I’m used to it by now.”

“Well, I have some good news for you.”

“I’d like some good news right now,” Rose replied, a hopeful spark in her eyes.

“Sweets are far too commonplace a gift for Valentine’s Day, at least in my humble opinion.”

Rose laughed. “Oh? Celebrated a lot of Valentine’s Days, have you?” 

It was a light tease, but she knew it would hit the mark. This was her first holiday with Ominis since they started courting, and she was aware he hadn’t been with anyone before her. Over the past two years, Rose had noticed how much Ominis enjoyed banter, particularly with Sebastian. So, while it was something she wasn’t particularly skilled at, she’d throw him a bone every so often, always making sure her words remained playful, careful not to overstep.

"Not quite," he said, "but I do enjoy going against the grain every now and then." A mischievous smile crossed his handsome face. 

“I love that about you,” Rose replied, surprising herself.

“Oh, do you now?” Ominis leaned in closer, his voice a soft murmur near Rose’s ear. He raised his hand, fingers outstretched, and gently reached toward her. Rose, caught up in the moment, instinctively followed his lead; the grass tickled her face as they lay down, together. He then brought her into his chest, delicately, as if he were asking permission. She allowed it, even guiding Ominis's hand to the crown of her head and her long hair, currently cascading in loose waves across her shoulders. He sighed contentedly as he began to stroke. 

Rose summoned all her courage and said, “So, what did you get me?” 

“It’s a surprise, my dear,” Ominis replied. “I won’t ruin it. But I hope it helps to know that it’s not sweets.”

Rose smiled. “It does. Very much. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Silence fell once more. Rose reveled in the soft touch of Ominis’s long, slender fingers in her hair, his warmth grounding her. But, eventually, as he was so often wont to do, his gentle stroking stuttered, then stopped. His breathing deepened and slowed, signaling that he was drifting off to sleep. 

Before he was lost to her entirely, Rose added, her voice a soft murmur, “I don’t need anything extravagant, by the way. Just being here, with you, is more than enough.”

A quiet, sleepy sound escaped Ominis’s lips, something between a sigh and a hum, but he didn’t give a verbal reply. And he didn’t need to. While it was a relief that her secret was now revealed, when it came to her feelings for him and Ominis's feelings for her, sometimes, words weren’t necessary. In Ominis’s arms, Rose felt safe and more content than she’d been in a long, long while. And who knew? Perhaps this year’s Valentine’s Day would be… fun. At the very least, she’d keep an open mind.

[thedrotter]

i depend on you (based and very much inspired by @/sometimes317 's piece on twitter)

process pics in read more!!^^

you can tell the moment it struck me that i was practically drawing ship art www

[mostly-imagines]

La Vie en Rose

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason wildly preferring you over everyone else

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: standard batfam arguing etc.

You sit curled up embarrassingly close to Jason on the couch, head on his shoulder. The team is still in their gear as they filter into the living room, masks and helmets discarded in scattered locations between here and the cave. The mission had been fairly simple and with all of them together it only took a couple hours to finish up.

As you waited, Alfred had kept your mind busy in the kitchen while he taught you how he makes his famous ice cream from scratch.

The clamor of the heroic party’s return had made itself known sooner than later, and you think your face must have displayed your emotions nicely because Alfred nodded you away with a small smile and no second thought.

You’d walked into the living room, weaving through the mess of siblings until a hand snuck out on your left and grabbed your wrist. You barely had time to look at him before Jason pulled you down to sit next him on the sofa. He wrapped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in and leaving virtually no space between you. His armor sits heavy against you, but a welcome weight on your shoulders.

Tim plops down on the couch across from you and you can just make out a bit of blood on the side of his head, aptly accompanied by an irritated look sprawled across his face. It’s not enough blood to be concerned about—not for them—but you can venture a guess that whatever they were up to shouldn’t have called for any injuries and his pique is likely directly related to that.

Though Dick’s goading aura might have something to do with it too, as he comes crashing down next to him a second later, partially sitting on Tim’s cape and pulling him into an awkward angle. 

Nightwing doesn’t seem too perturbed by the younger vigilante’s agitation and curt manner of pushing him off.

The others are too caught up in chatter to pay much attention to you, and you can be certain that’s why Jason takes that moment to press a kiss to the side of your head. He lets his lips linger there for just a second as you lean into him.

Alfred’s own entrance is the only thing able to subside the flurry of conversations skirting around the room.

“A job well done,” he commends with a nod. “A selection of ice creams awaits you in the kitchen.”

He gives you a sly wink before retreating back through the swinging door, leaving Stephanie and Cass to practically trip over themselves trying to beat each other to the kitchen. Robin follows after unhurried, mask still on, with his hands behind his back.

Jason kneads your thigh before pushing himself up to stand. He turns back, looking down to you. “What do you want?” he asks softly.

You hum, "Just strawberry's good."

Tim sits up, "Can I—”

"No, you've got legs,” Jason grumbles, stalking off to the kitchen.

Dick barks out a laugh and you bite back a smile.

Tim looks absolutely aghast. 

“That’s such bullshit. You know, he used to be nice.”

“No he didn’t,” Dick laughs, shaking his head. “Not since you’ve known him.”

Stephanie stumbles out of the kitchen then, the door hitting her back on the way, as she mutters a curse behind her. You can vaguely makeout Jason grunting something back before she rolls her eyes.

Steph looks at you, shaking her head as she returns to her seat, “You live like this?”

You shrug, “He’s nice to me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Tim grumbles.

Jason returns after Cass a minute later with a bowl of strawberry ice cream and two spoons. He expertly ignores Tim’s unwavering glare as he resituates himself beside you.

He scoops your legs up over his lap and positions the bowl in between you, wrapping the sleeve of his jacket around it so that the cold porcelain doesn’t make contact with your skin.

The others have set themselves up so that the four of them are stuffed up against each other on the sofa adjacent to you, very obviously examining you both. 

And while you’re willing to acknowledge the amused stares and singular glare, Jason only sighs heavily, rolling his eyes as he glares at the coffee table.

Only a few seconds of this are allowed to go by before he pulls over a throw pillow and sets it over your knees, so that it rests atop your heads like a mini-fort, successfully blocking out his siblings' view of the two of you.

You smile and press a light kiss to his shoulder as he simmers.

Regrettably, you miss the way Damian side-eyes the pillow above you as he re-enters the room, perching himself atop the back of the couch behind the others.

“This is so nice,” Dick preens. “He used to just leave the room when too many of us gathered in one place. Now he has to stay.”

Stephanie watches the makeshift fort with wary eyes, scooping ice cream into her mouth. “Yeah…I don’t wanna freak you guys out but, uh…”

It’s quiet for a moment and you guess Cass is speaking. 

You’re proven right when Stephanie starts up again, “My thoughts exactly.” Her voice drops into a raspy whisper that isn’t really meant to go unheard, “I don’t know who the hell that is, but it is not Jason.” 

“This is unprecedented,” Damian mumbles, dipping into his own chocolate cup.

“Do they always talk about you like you’re not here?” you ask Jason quietly. 

“Yes,” he grumbles with a scornful look directed at the bowl.

A low hiss can be heard immediately after, “I’ve never heard him whisper before, what the fuck?”

You can’t hide your laugh as well as you mean to, but you know Jason’s light swat to your thigh is nothing more than a rib.

Mumbles continue along the other couch, mostly going unacknowledged, until Tim busts out, “He doesn’t even like strawberry!”

Jason snaps the pillow out of the way, “The fuck do you know about what I like?”

Tim resets his posture with one hell of an attitude, snarking, “Well I can name one thing you really seem to fucking—”

Jason grabs the pillow harshly and chucks it at Tims head which connects with a loud thwack.

Damian swats it away before it can knock him off balance, though his scowl is only half worth what Tim’s is. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he says with a sneer. “This is why you don’t get invited to movie night anymore.”

Jason doubles back at him, “Sorry, is this not your own fucking house?”

Tim huffs, “Yes, which i—”

“Then get your own goddamn ice cream!”

Tim huffs as he stands, sending Jason a pointed look. “I’m going because I want to.”

Jason barely gives him a sardonic nod as he stomps off.

“Get me some too!” Dick calls back, only for the back of his head to be met with a sideways grimace from Tim.

As he leaves, the focus of the room seems to shift towards Damian dripping chocolate onto his cape and it fades away from there.

You turn to Jason, lowering your voice to just below a whisper, “If you don’t like strawberry—”

“I like it,” he tells you, leaving no room to argue as he takes a bite.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Declined.

Voicemail.

Declined.

Declined. 

“I swear to God, he better be dead,” Stephanie mutters to herself.

She shuts her phone off and tosses it into the passenger seat with a huff. Her fingers drum against the steering wheel as she scans the sidewalk across from her car.

The night before the majority of the team had been involved in a less-than-successful plan, which some have called “a display of complete idiocy and inability to circumspect.”

Then Tim had to go and make a joke about that word choice in what was apparently a bad moment. This gave way to a harsher punishment of the team being forced to clean the batcave foot by square foot—notably, an impossible task.

So naturally, they had to retaliate.

The plan was to dismantle the batmobile piece by piece and leave it a collection of parts for Bruce to find. Problem being, the group as it stood didn’t possess the capability to do so without doing a great deal of damage to the parts. Damage, that the family was not willing to face extra retribution for.

Fortunately, they knew just the man for the job. 

Unfortunately, said man has devoted his life to ignoring their messages, favoring to live peacefully and distantly from them. And because that peace and distance does come with an add-on of borderline complete secrecy from his family, no one had any idea where to look for him.

So, Stephanie decided to do the next most rational thing and track down your location. She’d hoped he would be with you like he always is, but for seemingly the first time in the last year—he’s nowhere to be found.

Now, was revenge for a minor-slight by Bruce so important that it required Stephanie to take all of these steps to get a hold of Jason? No, absolutely not. She’s pretty sure that the others have already given up on it by now and started cleaning. But it’s about the principal. And also, she does not want to clean the floors of a cave.

She jumps up in her seat when she spots you exiting a store, scurrying to unbuckle and pry the car door open.

She’s across the street in half a second, running directly into your line of sight. It actually would’ve been very difficult for her to miss your line of sight, considering she’d landed only a good six inches in front of your face. “Hey!”   

“Oh, fuck—” you jump, grabbing your chest. You take a breath when you realize who it is, less surprised now by the theatrics of the introduction. “Hey Steph.”

“Hey,” she smiles casually, like she didn’t do what she just did. “So Jason’s been ignoring us and I need to get a hold of him,” she tells you.

You nod, still collecting yourself. “Oh. I don’t know where he is—”

She shakes her head, “That’s fine. Can I use your phone to call him?”

You frown, “Is something wrong?”

“With him, yeah,” she snarks. “I called him, Tim called him, Dick called him, Cass called him, Damian called him, we used Bruce’s phone to call him—that was a bit of a long shot, but still. This is our last option. Well, not our last option, if this doesn’t work I could get really invasive, but—” She shakes the thought from her head, “Nevermind.”

You nod blankly, taking in the mountain of information she’d just handed you. “How’d you know I was here?”

She scans your eyes back and forth for a second before her own widen in realization and she’s shaking her head. “No, no, don’t worry we’re not tracking you! I just hacked into the traffic cameras to find you.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, nodding some more. “Okay.”

You hand her your phone without any further questions—for your own sake—and she happily accepts. 

“You know I texted him 115 times?” she tells you as she scrolls through your contacts.

You furrow your eyebrows, watching her click his name and press the phone to her ear. “Did you count?”

“Well, I had the time, di—you son of a bitch! One ring?” Stephanie scorns into the phone.

You can hear Jason groan on the other end of the line. 

He says something to Stephanie that she follows up with a firm shake of her head.

“No,” she says defiantly. “She let me use it.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes, not pleased with his response. “What if it was an emergency?”

She listens for a second, skeptical look on her face.

She gasps suddenly, “I am not overstepping, we thought you were dead!”

Over the course of about ten seconds the shock on her face drops into just-been-caught guilt. “Well, I mean we considered it.”

You imagine Jason’s telling her to give you your phone back as she stands her ground, pushing, “If you promise to text me back.”

A short response on his end.

“Promise to text me back!”

There’s a brief lull before she’s giving a self-satisfied nod and jostling your phone back into your hands. “Here ya go. Thanks, babe!” She smiles wide at you before jogging back across the street, not waiting for the cars.

You smile as you watch her go, putting the phone up to your ear, “Hey Jay.”

You can hear the relief on the other end of the line. “Hey sweetheart. You know if you see Steph in public, you can just walk away?”

“I’m not going to walk away from your family.” You look again across the street, “Also I don’t think that was an option for me this time.”

“That thing is fucking scary.”

Cass smiles fondly, signing, “I think he’s cute.”

Tim eyes the way Salem traipses around his feet, yellow eyes staring up at him. “Why’s it even here?”

Jason rolls his eyes, continuing to scroll on his phone. “He’s hers. Deal with it.”

Tim scrunches up his mouth. “She knows I hate it. And she, unlike you, wouldn’t subject me to this just for the hell of it. So again I ask: why is it here?”

Jason huffs, looking up from his phone. “What do you want me to say? He wants to be.”

Tim scoffs at that, “‘It wants to be’? You’re the one who put it in the car.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jason says factually.

Tim looks at him sideways as Salem leaps onto Jason’s lap and nudges his hand up. Jason follows along as requested, petting the top of Salem’s head with an open palm. 

Tim squirms to the other side of the couch with a look of disgust on his face. Salem watches him the whole time.  

A smile adorns Cass’ face as she signs, “She says he can read people’s energy.”

Tim huffs, resting his head against his fist. “What does that even mean?”

The conversation is cut off by the clatter of you and Dick stumbling into the room, carrying a freshly painted headboard. Blue paint coats both of your hands and has no doubt stained your clothes.

You’re clearly struggling a bit to keep your grip on your end, the weight of the wooden frame dragging your arms down.

Jason stands and Salem flows along with his movements easily, leaping down onto the hardwood. He comes over and helps you lift your end of the frame with a stupid amount of ease, to the point that you’re not even holding any of the weight up anymore. The three of you—less so you—move the headboard and lean it up against the wall. After it's set down Jason steps back and looks over it gingerly.

“It looks good,” he murmurs to you, quiet enough to not give his brother the satisfaction of his approval.

Dick had asked you over to help him paint Damian’s bed frame as a surprise for him for not getting in any “altercations” at school this semester. You’d decided on coating it with his favorite color first and then fill it in with a collection of what Dick has “on good authority” are his favorite animals. It’s a fairly random assortment that you’re not sure adds to or disproves Dick’s credibility. You’d spent the better half of the afternoon googling animals you’d never heard of just to make sure you projected their likenesses accurately. Dick had been very clear that you had to be precise on the details because Damian would know if he was really looking at a komodo dragon painting or if it was “some common lizard.”

You sigh, “I hope he likes it. I’m worried we did it too childish for him.”

“He is a child,” Jason says plainly.

“But he is not childish,” you counter. And he sure isn’t. You’d had a hard enough time convincing Damian to watch cartoons, adding a colorful animal mural to his bedroom might be one step too far. You’re still trying to figure him out.

“He’ll like it,” he says firmly.

You smile, slipping around under his arm and tucking yourself into his side.

Not a moment later, Dick slings an arm around Jason's shoulder, grinning as he pulls his brother in close.

Jason’s immediately louring. "No, get away from me."

Dick, unfazed and still smiling, removes his arm and takes a big step to the right. You do the same, figuring he needs his space, but you get caught by the wrist before you can do more than sway to the side. 

“Not you.” 

He pulls you back under his arm, wrapping it around the front of your shoulders. You hook your fingers around his forearm, letting your hand hang.

You hear a double-clap from the other side of the room that has you both turning around to face Cass. 

She signs something to Jason with a fond smile on her face. 

You look back and forth between them as Jason waves her off. “What?”

He shakes his head, “It’s nothing. She said—she said we’re cute.”

You smile up at him and he deflects—not so subtly—and starts nudging you back towards where the group is gathered, now all standing. 

Dick’s quick to start bragging off to the room about how great of a job the two of you did and how really complex and daunting it actually is painting animals for a child.

As he talks, your eyes find Jason, who’s definitely about to roll his eyes any second now. A bit subconsciously, your hand comes up to brush Jason’s white streak of hair back, away from tickling his forehead. 

On the other side of Jason, Tim does the same, sweeping Jason’s hair back in a much more mocking manner. 

This gives way to Jason smacking his hand away, harder than he needed to.

"Wha—You let her do it!" Tim protests, overplaying how much the slap hurt.

Jason scowls, "She can do whatever she wants."

Tim drops his shoulders, looking at Jason as if he’d been scandalized. “Oh but I can’t?”

“Not if it involves touching me,” Jason grumbles.

Tim steps closer, putting a finger to Jason’s chest. “You’re such a—”

From the floor, Salem hisses up at Tim, successfully startling the teenager. “Auahh—”

He stumbles backwards, grimacing at the cat. 

“Fucking demon,” he hisses, walking away.

When Tim’s far enough away and Salem’s seemingly satisfied, he brushes up against your leg, purring. 

You peer down at him with a furrowed brow. 

“What’s Salem doing here?”

“I’m not doing this shit with you.”

“No, come on, 9 out of 10 times is what you said. How ‘bout just once? Beat me one time at anything, Jaybird.”

“Anything?” Jason asks like he knows damn well Dick can’t swear on that word.

Rightly so, Dick backtracks. “Something agreed upon.”

Jason throws his hands up, partially in exasperation, partially relenting.

Dick smoothly turns his back to him, announcing, “Opening up the room for ideas.”

Damian’s eye roll is almost audible from the corner armchair, where his attention is unmoved from intently sharpening a blade he’d recently come into possession of.

Bruce similarly remains unbothered in his seat, trying to read despite the distractions. 

“Ooh, okay. Okay.” Stephanie wiggles up a little on the couch. “You could race!”

Dick shakes his head negatively, “I literally just busted my knee up two days ago, Steph.”

“Convenient,” Jason mumbles.

“You were there!” Dick exclaims with an open mouth.

Steph continues, “Um…”

Cass waves to the room from her position upside down on the couch, head hanging down next to Stephanie’s legs. Attention successfully acquired, she signs, “Staring contest.”

Jason grimaces, “That sounds like a nightmare.”

Dick gives him a faux-smile.

“You should play chicken,” Damian chimes in, holding up his knife.

“No,” Bruce drones monotonously as he flips a page. 

“Tic tac toe?” Steph suggests.

Cass is already shaking her head as she scrunches up her mouth in thought.  

Jason rolls his eyes, “What are we, five?”

Dick nods, cracking his knuckles as he thinks. “No, we need something that really proves our worth.”

Bruce looks up from his book, staring numbly through his brow, but remains silent.

“You could arm wrestle,” Steph suggests.

The elder brother twitches at that, “Uh, no.”

Cass moves past that before a joke has the chance to be made. “Handstand contest?” she suggests.

Jason shrugs, “Yeah, sure.”

The elder brother looks at him incredulously. “You’ll do a handstand contest with me?”

“That’s what I just said.”

Dick scoffs, “Jaybird, I’m an acrobat, you’re just some guy.”

Jason, not giving him the courtesy of eye contact, pulls his sweatshirt off from his back. “Well, you’re a lot of things, aren’t you?”

Dick throws his head back with a squint.

Jason fishes his phone out of his pocket and Dick follows suit, offended stare maintaining all the while. 

No exchange is required as they both toss their phones across the room, landing together with a rough clatter on Damian’s lap. Damian’s resulting glare is borderline disgusted.

Dick starts them off, “Alright, go. One…two…”

Both men push up onto their hands, muscles flexing as they find their balance. Dick’s form is better, of course, but Jason looks to have a stronger foundation.   

They both hold strong as several minutes go by with the brothers only maintaining the attention of some of the room, and the interest of none of it.

Stephanie huffs and tilts her head, thoroughly unentertained with the consistency they’re both managing. 

“Starting to wish they’d picked something that moved along a little faster,” she murmurs to Cass.

Dick glances over at the younger brother, clearly displeased with his lack of trouble keeping up with him. He shuffles closer one hand at a time, using the decreased distance to poke at Jason with his foot, trying to knock him over.

Jason kicks him back harder, “Hey! Don’t be a dick—”

“Very funny,” Dick leers.

They both end up finding a struggle to keep balance and are forced to mind their own.  

A chime rings out from the corner that has heads turning briefly in his direction before coming back to the competition. 

“Whose was that?” Dick calls out.

Damian leans over and inspects the screens with disinterest. “Todd’s.”

Jason adjusts his position, “Who is it?”

Damian responds with your name. 

“And?”

He picks up the phone shrugging like he couldn’t care less, “She wants to know if you want to go see some movie.”

There’s a brief silence before Jason drops out of the handstand, standing up. 

Dick’s blood-flushed face peers up at him, bewildered. “Wait, what?”

The family watches with wide eyes as Jason picks his sweatshirt up off the floor and tugs it back on.

Stephanie gawks, bordering on laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he says simply.

Dick lets himself fall into a kneeling position with a huff, “You would rather go to some movie you don’t even know the name of than win a bet?”

Jason moues at him, “Uh, yeah.”

He tosses a twenty at Dick, and plucks his phone from Damian’s hand as he strolls past him, typing out a reply.

Cass sits up a bit and signs up to Stephanie, “Does he even like movies?” 

Bruce, now attention now fully removed from his book, watches Jason exit with the slightest hint of a smile. Dick sits dumbly on the floor, staring after him with an open-mouth. 

Damian twists the knife in his hands around contemplatively before rising to stand. 

“I will go,” he announces, dropping his blade onto the seat of the chair. Jason grumbles a no but Damian follows after him just the same.

you know what happened to the last guy that didn’t reblog? … 🔪🧨💥😵⚰️🪦

[tonycries]

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You - T.F.

Synopsis. When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company! 

Pairing. Bartender! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, strangers to lovers, unprotected, pússydrunk Toji, cúmplay, oral (female + male receiving), créampie, some heinous things with pantíes, dirty talk, spitting, whískey, neither are drunk, absolutely filthy, pet names (doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Was originally gonna be Nanami but Toji mmmm

“So, that date of yours is late, huh?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the question, or the voice from behind the counter - so very deep, tinged with just a bit of amusement.

Tearing your eyes away from the clock at the other end of the bar, it takes a second - and one look around the almost-empty room - for you to realize that shit the hot bartender was talking to you. Sputtering out a quick, “Oh, yes, um-” quickly reading that faded nametag, “-Toji. He’s a bit late.”

The man in front of you raises a brow, dark green eyes locked on the way you shift in your seat. He seemed a bit older, and - you gulp, eyeing the way his arms flex as he fumbles with the shaker - so undeniably attractive. Plowing on obliviously, “Boyfriend?”  

You sigh, pinching your nose, “No, some guy from a dating app. It’s supposed to be our first date.” 

“First date?” Toji lets out a low whistle. “Way to make an impression, dunno what type of asshat would keep a pretty lil’ thing like you waiting.”

Cheeks flaring, you don’t know what it is about him that makes you want to defend yourself, but it doesn’t matter anyway - because whatever rambled excuse gets stuck in your throat at the sharp scrape of glass against the counter. Large hands gently placing a pretty pink daiquiri in front of you, Toji gives you a reassuring nod. “S’on the house till that dumbass shows up. Until then, you can keep me company, doll.”

Playing with the straw between your fingers, your eyes flit to the clock again - 8:10pm.

Well, there was still time. Right? 

Nonsense, maybe.

Because it’s around 10:21pm when you conclude that no, there really wasn’t still time, and your date seemed well and fully intent on completely embarrassing you. And now, him still nowhere in sight, lips a bit looser, you were having the time of your life complaining all about it to Toji.

“-no, I swear.” you groan over his low chuckle. “He really gave me the ‘sorry, my dog ate my keys’ gem. And you know the best part?” Beckoning him over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear - heart stuttering at the heat of his proximity, “The man doesn’t even own a dog.”

Shaking his head, Toji seemed like he was drinking in your every word. “Classic. If yer gonna be late, at least make it interesting. Like, ‘I accidentally joined the circus on the way here.’”

“Mhm, I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next no-show date.” you grin, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than you were a few hours ago. Nowhere near tipsy, but definitely high off the conversation and the addictive scent of his cologne - the expensive kind that left you wondering whether all of him smelled this delicious. 

“Or better yet, you could spend your time with someone who actually knows how to keep you entertained rather than some scrub.”

Snapping out of your little reverie, lifting your head just fast enough to catch the little smirk tugging Toji’s lips. Managing to grit out, “Smooth, huh?”

“Just sayin’.” he hums, before turning his back to organize the glasses on the shelf. And you can’t help but traitorously admire his broad shoulders, cursing that t-shirt for being so goddamn tight that you could see the way his muscles ripple with each movement. 

“Besides-” Catching the tail-end of Toji’s question, “-neat whiskey for all the failed dates?”

You chuckle, “Ah, I really shouldn’t, the other customers will probably-” your sentence dies in your throat as a quick glance at the empty room showed that everyone else had eventually left - leaving just you. And Toji. Damn. Slow day, huh?

“Well, doll?”

Heaving out a shaky breath, you nod. Eyes zoning in on the way he expertly handles the glasses, so dizzyingly inviting. It makes a sheepish smile play at your lips, letting out a quiet little, “Despite all the shitty dates, I’ve actually never had whiskey neat before.”

Oh? That made him pause. Eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he sets down the glasses and leans in a little closer, breath hot against your face. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Well.” Toji muses. “This overpriced shit can’t be your first intro to neat whiskey. If you’re up for it, I’ve got a special 1926 Macallan stashed away in the back n’ can get it for us?”

Oh. Maybe it was that slow, silent grin that curls his lips, that sinful little scar moving as he does. Or maybe it was the way he places a hand on the counter to stare down so heavily at you. Probably it was just him - because you find yourself batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Or I could just go with you?”

And shit if there was ever a time where Toji was sure he met his match then it might just be right now. Because that sultry lil’ smirk on your lips was killing him, making such a carnal little part of him twitch so dangerously. With a heavy nod, you’re following him through the dimly lit bar.

The back room is more of a VIP room than anything - cozy, lined with shelves of alcohol and leather furniture. Heady with the liquor and something so so Toji. 

You’re halfway through reading the title of a wine you could barely pronounce before he’s letting out a grunt of satisfaction from behind you, “Excuse me, doll.” It’s all that’s said before Toji’s pressing up against you. His muscular arm just inches from your head, reaching for something from the very top shelf. And oh you could feel his abs rubbing up against your back, so warm and- 

And then he’s pulling away. 

It was quite hard to stomp down the disappointed whine that almost leaves your throat, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said something about the amused little glint in his eyes. Smug bastard knew what he was doing. 

Instead focusing on the way he turns to show off a bottle with a deceivingly innocent reverence. “This is going to be a real treat.”

Well. Two can play that game.

“Is that so?” you tilt your head, reaching out to grab the bottle neck, with not as much care of concern as you should have considering this was a million dollar whiskey. Swiftly unclasping the lid, focused only on the way Toji’s breath hitches as you fist his t-shirt in your other hand to pull him close to you - so close.

Close enough that you could count every shade of green in those half-lidded eyes, long lashes fluttering as your breath fans his face. “Such a shame we didn’t bring our glasses, huh?”

Oh the devilish grin that splits across his face sends such delicious shivers down your spine - Toji gets your drift. Of course, he does. Because he’s squishing your cheeks together in an almost-embarrassing pout, fingers searing on your skin, lips ghosting yours, “Yeah, real shame.” 

Immediately bringing the bottle to his mouth, letting the burning liquid pool on his tongue, he spits into your mouth, once. Twice. 

A steady stream of whiskey, and spit. It tasted just like the acrid alcohol and sin. And Toji. 

And it was so messy, smearing across your lips and trickling down your chin. Tilting your head back, you let it flow down your throat obscenely. Locked in his greedy gaze as you loll your tongue out to show off the way you’d swallowed everything he gave. 

“Maybe I do like neat whiskey.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him because fuck Toji was intoxicating and just there. That little scar rubbing against your lips as he devours you so sloppily, all hard muscles and heated skin underneath your fingertips. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your open mouth. Setting down the whiskey God-knows-where near the couch to pick you up like a ragdoll. Drinking in the cute lil’ gasp that leaves you as you wrap your legs around his slutty waist. Groping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach. “How ya likin’ the Macallan, doll?”

“A ‘real treat’.” you mimic his earlier words, voice slightly broken as you feel his rock-hard cock through your wet panties, throbbing angrily against your cunt. Fuck, would you even be able to take him all?

“Oh yeah?”

And before you can react you’re being pushed against the hard wall. Toji’s lips dizzying on yours, fiddling with that godforsaken clasp on the back of your tight dress. 

“Shit.” he groans impatiently, wedging a knee between your legs, grinding against your wet pussy. “Such a delicious meal all f’me but I’ve gotta get through this- fuckin-” rip! “-dress”

Well, you expected your dress to end up on the floor somewhere, just not like this - tattered and hitting the ground of this back room behind the bar, faster than your jaw. And so do Toji’s - pupils blown, eyes hooded as he takes in the heavenly view in front of him. 

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking like he couldn’t stay away. “Shit, doll. You were gonna wear this pretty lil’ number for that loser?” he sounds genuinely confused. Immediately tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples through the sheer fabric. “M’so fucking glad that bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“T-Toji- ngh-” you mewl, as he lets your bra fall to the ground. Taking in one tit in his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around your areola. “Wan- wan’ more-”

“Now now,” he tuts mockingly, delicate strings of spit connecting him to your breasts. “S’rude to be the only one drinking. Unless…” Toji looks up at you through his thick lashes, “You wan’ me to drink in that pretty lil’ cunt of yours?”

And shit that sounded like everything you ever wanted right now. All you can let out is a delirious little nod before Toji’s dropping to his knees. So hard you wonder if it hurts - and maybe it’s the liquor, probably it’s the way he’s drunk off you - but he doesn’t give a fuck. 

“Yeah, atta girl.”

Pulling down your panties in one, fluid motion, he tugs them underneath your legs, disappearing between his own, fumbling with his waistband. And if you angled your head just right you could see the slightest glimpse of Toji fisting his cock. Soaking your already-wet panties with his precum.

“Aw, look at the way she’s so wet f’me already.” he coos at your dripping cunt. Absolutely obsessed with the way you’re so drenched for him already. Slick beading through the flimsy fabric at each hot breath, oh Toji has half the mind to just take you right here, right now. But no, he wanted- needed a taste. Doesn’t think he could live without it. “Wonder if she tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by Toji burying himself face-first in your pussy. Licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, pooling your slick on his tongue. 

But it wasn’t enough - it might never be. Because one taste of your pretty cunt and Toji is hooked. 

With a low groan, he’s spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering pussy. Spreading it with his thumb before he’s diving back in nose-deep. Snaking a hand down to draw frenzied little circles on your swollen clit, letting your juices glisten all down his wrist.

“Taste s’fuckin’ good. Fucking sweet.” So hot and maybe you should’ve gotten an inkling with how sloppy he was with the whiskey - but Toji was so fucking filthy. Your slick glossing his face so prettily, smearing right up to his nose and dribbling down his chin. Lewd little squelches deafening in your ears. 

“Ngh- Sh-shut up-”

“Shut up? Can’t shut up, doll, m’drunk on this sweet cunt more than I am on whiskey.” he mutters into your folds. “My favorite taste. Got me addicted, huh?”

He huffs out a dark laugh into your pussy, taking in that cute lil’ embarrassed expression on your face. Throwing one of your legs over his sculpted shoulder, Toji bullies his soft tongue into your snug cunt, past that delicious little ring of resistance. 

Making out with your pussy deeper. And his tongue was so long - perfectly hitting your sweet spots, licking all over your plushy walls. Thrusting in time with his thumb drawing on your clit, in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck, I could get used to this. Have you for breakfast, lunch, n’ dinner.”

His words were so dirty, but Toji looked so pretty stuffing his face in your cunt. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. Tilting his head just so that your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. 

It’s what has you tugging in his hair to angle him just right, using him like your favorite toy. Such cute lil’ whines of his name leaving you each time his tongue grazes that one spot that has you keening and bucking into his mouth for more more more-

“Fuck fuck fuck jus’ like that- Ah!” you let out such pretty whines, words slurring together. Delirious little ones that go straight to Toji’s achingly hard cock, angry and twitching in his fist. So needy and glistening with precum in the dim lighting.

Shit, Toji thinks he could cum at just that, which is why he’s lapping at your cunt even greedier, drinking you in like a madman. Fingers so deftly toying with your pretty clit, making you putty in his hands. He has to make you cum. Now. Or else he’s gonna fuckin’ embarrass himself in front of such a goddess. 

“Oh? So drunk on m’tongue, already, doll?” he chuckles. “Can’t speak?” Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure up your spine. It has you dragging your cunt so sloppily all over Toji’s face - and he likes it. Loves it even, only speeding up his movements. Even when his jaw is aching, walls sucking him up so desperately that it was almost difficult to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt. Even when your sweet juices are dripping down to the hardwood floor in a sinful little drip! drip! drip! 

“I- ngh- m’gonna-”

“Gonna what? You can handle whiskey, you can handle using your words, doll.”

“Cum!” you yelp, “M’gonna cum Toji- ah- feels t’good.” 

And that’s exactly what he liked to hear because Toji only gets sloppier. Alternating between stretching you out on his tongue, sucking on your clit, licking everywhere. Over and over-

“Then cum f’me, doll.”

And you are - fast and hard. So hard that you don’t even realize when you’re rocking your hips all over Toji’s face. Cunt fluttering around his tongue as if you were trying to suck him up - and he lets you. 

“Fuck. Sweeter than I imagined.” he’s slurring into your cunt. “Jus’ like that- yeah, ride out that pretty lil’ cunt on m’face.” Words muffled as he tonguefucks you through your high, stars behind your lids every time he flicks at your pussy. 

Distantly, you hear such embarrassing little whimpers of his name in time with the sinfully wet groans from below - ones you realize are yours only when you’re blinking back your vision. Heart thundering, pathetically trying to catch your breath.

The first thing you hear is Toji’s little chuckle, followed closely by a lewd pop! that has you whirling to look at him down below.

“Wh-wha-” and all you can let out is a strangled little oh! at the sight before you - Toji licking his fingers clean, sucking all your sweet juices like he couldn’t get enough. Even when he’s flashing you a devilish grin around his fingers, rising from his position on the ground to cage you against the wall.

“Told ya m’addicted, doll.”

Your back hits the soft leather before you even realize what’s happening. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw, you gasp in both shock and at the audacity of this man.

“Toji…” you warn as he looms over you on the couch, yet it comes out more breathless than you intended. But looking at him there - straddling your hips, pants pulled just below his heavy balls, tugging and teasing his rock-hard cock like he was trying to fuck something delicious out of it - how could you be blamed, really?

He was so big. Pulsing wildly in his fist and just soaked in precum - all the way from his pretty pink tip to the tufts of black at his base. Not quite wild, not quite tamed. You cunt clenches in- anticipation? Fear of not being able to walk for the next week?

And in the haze of your orgasm it takes you a second to register the flimsy panties wrapped around his hand. Rubbing against those prominent veins on the side as Toji fucks his fist. So wet and ruined that you almost didn’t recognize it. 

“Jus’ think of it as repayment.” he grins, following your line of sight. 

You scoff, eyes still traitorously stuck on his throbbing cock. So massive and mouth-watering that it makes you wish he used you instead of those panties. “Those were expensive y’know.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Four. In the color of my eyes.”

“How about…” you flash him a sultry smirk, urging his hips to shift higher. And by the amused quirk of his brow, you knew Toji liked where this was going.  “I can repay you another way.”

And before you knew it, his pants are thrown to God-knows-where, and you had two, muscled thighs straddling your face. Toji slaps his swollen cock on your face once. Twice. “Think that loser was this big?” Thumbing your mouth open as he grazes his weeping tip across your lips, glossing them so prettily. Precum salty on your tongue, all filthy and dripping down to your chin. 

“Open wide- Fuck. Tha’s it-” he hisses, brows furrowing as he stuffs his fat head into your hot mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your lips bulge around him, flicking at the sensitive tip. And it was so delicious, Toji couldn’t decide whether he liked eating you out or this more. 

“Shit, doll.” he grunts, hips fucking into your plushy tongue in shallow, quick little thrusts. “Taking me so well, huh?”

You didn’t know if you were - lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock, tears clinging to your lashes. Choking and gagging around his length in a way that made Toji twitch inside you. Shit, he liked this - liked seeing you like this. And as soon as the realization hits you, you’re moaning around his cock, making Toji’s hips stutter above you. 

Toji has to fight off that part of himself that just wants to paint your mouth a sinful white. Fuck his cum into your till it’s all you can taste - all you can feel. 

“Shit. You little minx. Ah- s’heavenly around me ngh-” pressing your head down till all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, balls twitching against your chin. Finally bottoming out and fucking your mouth in harsh, long strokes. “Fuck- Wonder if that pretty lil’ cunt of yours is gonna take me t-this well, huh?”

Oh does he love your smart mouth - but he loves it even more when all he gets in response is wet gurgle around his cock. Looking up at him so tearily and shit he could get used to this sight. “M’gonna take that as a yes.”

And then he’s speeding up, balls squeezing so painfully. God it’s so fucking hard to look at you too - precum and spit bubbling sloppily at the corners of your mouth, makeup so messy and fucking gorgeous to him. 

“Can feel m’self riiight-” Reaching out a hand to wrap around your throat, feeling his dick bulging in and out in and- “here.”

Moving faster so he can ruin your pretty face. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager to make him lose his mind too that it has been fucking into you like a toy.

“Ya like this? Like me using your pretty lil’ mouth like oh- it’s a fucktoy? Oh fuck, doll.” he groans, running his mouth like he’s drunk off yours wrapped around him. “Gonna paint that pretty mouth of yours white if y’don’t stop now.” 

And shit if he knew those words would have you eagerly bobbing your head to meet his hips a little slut then he’d have said them a lot sooner. Trying to get just a taste of him. Mascara runny now, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip every time he hits the back of your throat, so hard that it’s probably sore and bruised. Toji almost feels bad. 

…

Nahhh

Pulling your mouth off him, muttering low and dangerous. “Told ya to stop now, didn’t I?”

And oh he hates to cut off that cute lil’ whine spilling from your kiss-bitten lips, but shit Toji’s losing his patience and his sanity with each passing second that he isn’t stuffing his cock in your pretty cunt. 

Toji backs up, swiping a thumb under your lip, sucking off the remnants of his precum before capturing your lips in a searing, searing kiss. Tasting you and himself and you- 

“Liked the Macallan, huh?” Reaching blindly for the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swing. Spitting it back into your mouth because shit you looked so pretty swallowing it all up. Rutting his hips into yours, sliding his throbbing erection in between your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head, drinking in your adorable gasps.

“T-Toji.” you whimper, hips bucking up wildly. “Just fuck me already, goddamnit.”

And then he is - pressing his fat tip into your sloppy hole. Inch by fucking inch. Not even thinking of easing into it because fuck he needs it. He needs it-

“-s’bad. Ah-” Toji drawls against your lips. “Wan��ed this ever since y’walked in through that damn door.” A mess of spit and alcohol and precum - it made you feel so dirty, dirtier than the pressure between your legs as he bullies his heavy cock into your snug pussy. And all you can do is fucking take it because Toji was so unrelenting.

Thrusting in shallow, mindless little thrusts to just fit himself inside you - and you already feel like you’re being stretched to your limits. Whimpering out a tearily little, “Are you at least ngh- halfway in yet? Oh-”

If Toji was any lesser man he’d just have split you apart on his cock right now, but no. Instead settling for a smug little, “Nope”, popping the p.

But that doesn’t stop him from wrapping two arms around your waist, sitting up on the couch with you splayed out so prettily on his cock. Pulling you, squeezing his dick into your soft cunt, sliding down, down, down.

“Ah! Ah- shit shit shit s’too deep, ngh-”

“No such thing as ‘too deep’, doll.” he clenches his jaw. Hands pushing your thighs apart even further as you’re split apart on his cock. “You jus’ hafta sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” Each word is punctuated by a harsh thrust. 

And Toji’s manhandling you around while bouncing you on his dick. Drawing unhurried little circles on your clit while trying to find that one spot he knows you’d love more than any whiskey or drink. Looping a strong arm to arch you into his body and-

“Fuck!” you keen, hips grinding sloppily to milk his cock as much as you could. Walls clenching so sinfully and shit-

“Found it.”

And then it was like something snapped - because all of a sudden Toji’s no more playful teasing and letting you have your little fun. No, he’s fucking you like a man possessed - thrusting his cock up into you. All the way from his weeping tip, till his balls smack your ass. So hard he’s sure they leave such a shameful mark for tomorrow. Hitting that spot over and over-

“Aren’t ya glad you chose to ah- s-stay with me?” he hisses, throwing his head back. One hand rocking your hips deeper the other becoming faster and faster on your poor, ravaged clit. Driving you crazy. “Fuck that date ditcher, y’look all pretty like this for me.”

“Yes yes yes- s’glad.” you manage to sob out. Voice shaky and hitching at the way he was bouncing you on his cock with reckless abandon. The lewd squelches and skin-on-skin filling the heady room, making your head spin so much that you barely hear Toji’s words. 

“I’d make a much better date. Hngh-” he lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. “Would buy ya flowers n’ a-all that shit. Show up on time, all dressed up.” Drinking in your lewd little ah! ah! ah! every time he milks himself on your sloppy pussy. But oh maybe Toji was a talker when he was drunk because he wasn’t done yet. 

“Make all those other scrubs fuck- jealous. And then-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy. “Hah- at night- m’gonna fuck you dumb just like this.” he gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his sanity. Losing it bit by bit every time his veins rub so deliciously against all the right spots that make you see stars. 

Losing his sanity especially when you whine out such a cute lil’ noise of agreement. “Fuck m’close. Wanted this too, huh? I saw the way you’d been eyeing me all night.”

You can’t even be embarrassed about being caught red-handed, only looking up at his pretty face with delirious heart-eyes. Too cockdrunk and delirious at this point. And, well, maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins because you’re grabbing at the shiny bottle on the seat, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste barely hitting your lips before you’re meeting his. Making out as sloppily as he was ravaging you below - all teeth and whiskey and pure filth. 

And that answers his question. 

Messy and desperate. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - clamping down so sinfully on his aching cock. And shit it’s so heavenly that it sends him over the edge as well. 

Toji cums, and keeps cumming so hard that he can see the way his seed was gushing out of your poor, overfilled pussy. Especially not when his thrusts get sloppy, thick cum spilling all over your pretty cunt. Purposely not pulling out like the mean bastard he is to paint your walls a sinful white

Over and over, forming a wet little patch on the couch that he knows he’ll have to worry about later. But right now he doesn’t give a fuck because your bloated and so prettily all covered in his seed. 

Leisurely, he pools the cum trickling out of your cunt on his fingertips, not even wasting a second before stuffing them in your mouth, pushing through your swollen lips. And you don’t complain - not at all. In fact, you’re sucking it all up eagerly. Looking Toji straight in the eyes while you swallow it all. 

“Hmm, not as good as the whiskey.” you tease. Letting yourself be yanked into his body, as he grins against your lips.

“For that, m’keeping the panties.” 

--- 

“Toji…” a low voice rings through the closed bar. Shiu sounding like he’s absolutely at his wit’s end as he continues, “Where the fuck is our 1926 Macallan?”

The man in question was staring suspiciously giddily at his phone - either having not heard what Shiu said, or he just couldn’t give a fuck anyway. And knowing Toji, it was probably the latter. 

A warning. “Toji I’m serious, that shit costs over a million dollars.”

“Yeah yeah, congratulations or my condolences but hey, do you know any great flower shops?”

A/N. I don’t even like whiskey so much, it’s just the thought of bartender! Toji that has me feral.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[gf2bellamy]

lipgloss — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you leave a lipgloss mark on spencer's cheek content warnings: nothing a/n: i malfunction when i see glasses spencer

You let out an exaggerated sigh, slumping forward as you rested your chin on your hand. Across from you, Spencer sat at his desk, completely engrossed in his work, the soft scratch of his pencil against paper filling the otherwise quiet bullpen. His brows furrowed in concentration as he made notes in the margins of his case files. 

“Spencer,” you whined, drawing out his name. “Do you think Hotch would say anything if I just went home?” 

Spencer glanced up at you, his honey-brown eyes softening the way they always did whenever he looked at you.

“I think he might,” he admitted, tilting his head slightly. “But you could always say you weren’t feeling well. Technically, boredom is a form of mental fatigue.” 

You let out another sigh, this one even more dramatic. “I’m just so bored,” you groaned, dragging out the last word. 

Spencer’s lips twitched in amusement before he returned to his notes. You stared at him for a moment, then perked up as an idea struck you. 

“I’m gonna make myself a coffee,” you announced, standing up and stretching. “Do you want one?” 

Spencer shook his head with a small smile. “No, that’s okay. But thanks.” 

He picked up his pen, going right back to his work. You lingered for a second before stepping closer to his desk, your lips curling into a small, mischievous smile. With no one else in the bullpen, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. 

Spencer froze. His pencil slipped from his fingers, rolling across the desk. His head snapped up, his face already turning an unmistakable shade of pink. 

Your smile widened. “What?” you teased, tilting your head. 

“You—” He blinked rapidly, his blush deepening. “We’re at work.” 

“And?” You arched a brow, feigning innocence. 

Spencer opened his mouth, then shut it, clearly searching for a response. Finally, he huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head before picking up his pencil again. 

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but the small, fond smile on his lips gave him away. 

You grinned. Mission accomplished. 

You made your way to the break room, yawning as you prepared yourself a much-needed cup of coffee. The scent of freshly brewed caffeine filled the air, and just as you reached for a mug, you heard loud voices echoing from down the hall. 

Garcia and Derek. 

As you poured your coffee, you caught snippets of their conversation—mostly Derek chuckling about something Garcia had said, followed by her dramatic gasp. They had obviously just come back from their little break.

By “little break,” they meant sneaking off to grab food somewhere without telling anyone. Classic. 

Once your cup was full, you wrapped your hands around the warm ceramic, only to immediately flinch and mutter a curse under your breath. Too hot. You blew on it a few times before deciding to just endure the heat, making your way back to the bullpen. 

The second you stepped inside, you were met with two pairs of wide, mischievous eyes locked onto you. 

“Oh my god, it is hers,” Garcia said, practically vibrating with excitement. 

You froze mid-step, raising an eyebrow. “Uh… what?” 

Your gaze flickered between them and Spencer, who was now sitting at his desk, very clearly avoiding eye contact. His ears were turning a suspicious shade of pink. 

Slowly, you walked over to your desk, setting your coffee down as you eyed them warily. Garcia and Derek were standing on either side of Spencer’s desk, arms crossed, looking like they had just cracked some kind of case. 

“Okay,” you said cautiously, dragging the word out. “Why are you all looking at me like that?” 

Silence. 

Spencer, still blushing, pretended to be very, very interested in his paperwork. Garcia and Derek, on the other hand, exchanged a knowing glance before Derek let out a low chuckle. 

“You sneaky little thing,” he teased, shaking his head. 

“What are you talking about?” You sat down slowly, still staring at them like they’d lost their minds. 

Garcia gasped dramatically. “Don’t play innocent! We know what you did.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. “What—?” 

Derek smirked, arms crossed over his chest like he’d just won the lottery. “Your lip gloss.” 

You blinked. “What about my lip gloss?” 

As if on cue, your lips instinctively pressed together, feeling the slight tackiness of the gloss you’d applied earlier. Garcia let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head. 

“You left a mark,” she said dramatically. “A very clear mark, right on Dr. Reid’s cheek.” 

Panic surged through you. 

Your eyes darted to Spencer, then to Garcia and Derek, then back to Spencer again. He was already looking at you, and now it all made sense—the blushing, the way he had been avoiding your gaze, and the way Garcia and Derek were practically bouncing with glee. 

Oh. Oh god. 

You leaned in slightly, taking a closer look. And there it was. A faint but unmistakable pink smudge on his cheek. 

Spencer huffed, finally speaking up. “She’s not letting me wipe it off,” he accused, nodding toward Garcia. 

Garcia gasped, placing a hand over her heart in mock offense. “Excuse you, Doctor! It’s called preserving evidence.” 

Derek chuckled. “Yeah, man. We gotta document this. It’s not every day you get physical proof that you two are—” 

“Shh!” you hissed, eyes widening as you quickly glanced around the bullpen. 

Your relationship with Spencer was still a secret, and the last thing you needed was someone overhearing this conversation. You shot both Garcia and Derek a glare, but they were absolutely thriving off of your reaction. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” Derek teased. “It’s just us.” 

You turned back to Spencer, who was looking at you expectantly, silently pleading for help. With a sigh, you grabbed a napkin from your desk, stepping closer to him. His eyes flickered to yours as you hesitated for just a second before reaching out, gently swiping at the mark on his cheek. 

His skin was warm beneath your touch. 

You tried to focus, but you could feel Garcia and Derek’s eyes burning into you. 

“There,” you murmured, inspecting his face. The lip gloss was gone, but his blush? Very much still there. 

Garcia clapped her hands together. “Awww, that was adorable.” 

Derek grinned. “Man, if y’all think you’re still fooling anyone—” 

Spencer groaned, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Can we please move on?” 

Garcia waved him off. “Fine, fine. But just know—this isn’t over.” 

She and Derek finally turned away, giggling to themselves as they walked off, no doubt already plotting their next round of teasing. 

You sighed, rubbing your temples before glancing at Spencer. He still looked flustered, but there was a small, barely-there smile on his lips. 

“You okay, genius?” you asked softly. 

He nodded, exhaling as he glanced at you. “You know they’re never gonna let this go, right?” 

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “Yeah. We’re doomed.” 

Spencer chuckled, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile too. 

Even if Garcia and Derek were onto you, at least work wasn’t boring anymore. 

[monstersflashlight]

Magic dick

A/N: It's been a while since I posted something non-request or commissioned, so here. Also, what’s more romantic than a glory hole?

Non-identified monster x fem!reader || glory hole, free use (kinda?), oral sex, dirty talk

Ending Valentine’s Day on a monster club isn’t what you were expecting, but definitely welcomed. The dance floor is great, and you talked and almost humped a couple monsters. You are keyed up and ready to ask one of them to bring you home for the night, but when your friend asks for a bathroom break, you follow her.

That’s when you see it.

There’s a door at the back, a black door with only one sign in the front that says “Let a magic dick decide your destiny”. You turn to your friend with a smile, she’s already shaking her head.

“No,” she cuts your overexcited self. "Let's go, come on," your friend says, pulling you away from the door. But you dig your heels on the floor.

"Dude, come on! It says Let a magic dick decide your destiny. We need to try it!" You know it’s very unlikely she would say yes, but you want to. You want to end your Valentine’s on a high note, and what a better note than a monster dick.

"I don't wanna try a magic dick," she says, almost exasperated.

You look at her, clasping your hands and begging her: "But I do! Come on, pleaseee!" You try to sound as annoying as possible.

"Ugh, okay, I'll wait here. Go in, have fun, if you aren't out in 30 min I'm coming in, though." She rests her back against the wall and takes her phone out, dismissing your very happy-self.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you say as you kiss her cheek loudly and open the door.

Your excitement and anticipation can’t barely keep up with the instant joy that fills your insides. You don’t have time to process why do you feel like that, though.

At the other side there’s a colorful wall with all kinds of genitals painted in pastel colors: human, monster, alien, robot… There’s so many and in so many shapes and colors that it looks almost cozy, like something you could see in a Monstagram post or something. But you don’t focus on that for very long, because in the middle of all of that, there are three holes… and one of them is occupied.

It’s in a pretty combination of purple and green, and it has ridges under the tip, forming almost a crown that looks like it could drive you into oblivion if they rubbed against your G-spot. You lick your lips, your mouth salivating at the idea of tasting him. You don’t know what kind of monster he is, but you can almost picture him with his head thrown back and maybe… maybe horns. Yeah, you’d like if he had horns.

You approach slowly, measuring your steps so he’s at least surprised when you touch him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He starts cursing as soon as you wrap your hands around his shaft.

You aren’t expecting such strong reaction, but it ignites something inside of you that drives you a bit insane with desire. You always preferred partners that were vocal, and the monster on the other side of the wall definitely is.

He’s so big, bigger than any dick you’ve ever seen before, and it’s making you all kinds of hot and bothered. “Hi there, I hope you don’t mind if I help myself here,” you tell the monster, not expecting him to say anything else, but being surprised when he does.

“Are you... who are you?” He sounds choked out, almost as if he’s holding back already and you have only touched him.

“A human,” you simply say, amusement clear in your voice. You don’t know much about glory hole etiquette, but asking for somebody’s identity is probably not it.

He takes a deep breath, sniffing the air audibly. “You smell… Fuck, you smell so good.” He groans, as if your smell is good enough to give him pleasure. His dick twitches in your hand, and well… Maybe your arousal is clear to him? You aren’t sure, but you don’t really mind it, you want to suck his cock and get out of there.

You chuckle, not the first time somebody said that to you tonight. “You can smell me from there?” You ask back, spitting on his dick and using it as lube as he whimpers pitifully.

“Yes. Fuck, yes.” You go faster, your hands working in tandem over his shaft as he bulks against the thin wall.

The sounds he’s making are desperate, and you can feel your pussy tingling as you fall to your knees in front of the hole. You think about saying something, but you end up just leaning forward and taking his tip on your mouth, your tongue softly touching the ridges at the crown until he’s begging you to take him deeper, to move faster, until he’s crying so loud you are sure even the people on the dance floor can hear him. But you don’t even care about it.

You only care about the dick in your mouth and the pathetic sounds he’s making, bulking against the wall as if he’s trying to get as far as possible down your throat. But he can’t. You have all the power, and that excites you. That drives your desire higher and higher until you are drenched and your clit is mirroring the pulses of your heartbeat.

“You are great. Fuck. You are doing perfect. You are perfect. Such a pretty mouth, such good tongue over my shaft. Holy fuck…” He’s chanting all kinds of nonsense, but you don’t answer, too busy swallowing around the shaft in your mouth. You hum a response, making the monster groan very loudly. “Goddess, darling, that feels so good…” His voice breaks in another groan, one that makes your insides twitch and your free hand travels down.

You rub your clit over your panties, thanking the universe for wearing the cute little dress that allows you to touch yourself easily. “Are you touching yourself? Fuck, that’s so hot! Get yourself there, darling, please.” You don’t even question how he knows, but knowing he’s aware of your hand in your panties makes you swallow around him, groaning around his shaft. “Finger that pretty pussy for me. Make yourself come with my dick in your mouth.” His words are exhilarating, you’ve never been with somebody who didn’t make dirty talk sound corny, but good damn it if he isn’t helping you out with that dirty mouth.

You do as he says, rubbing your clit at the same time you jerk him off, your mouth too little to take all of him, not even half. He doesn’t seem to care, cursing and screaming for the Goddess as you drive him crazy with your mouth and hand. You push two fingers inside your welcoming pussy, rubbing the heel of your hand against your clit.

The combined sensation between your hand and the cock in your mouth is enough to make your eyes roll back into your head, the symphony of your mixed moans ascending you to heaven. Your back and knees hurt, but you don’t care, you can’t care. You are so close. So, so close…

“I’m… I’m coming. Goddess, fuck. Holy fuck. Come with me, darling, please, let me smell your orgasm…” His words mean nothing, but they are enough to drive you over the edge.

You clench around your fingers at the same time he screams and your throat is filled with his seed. He tastes sweet, almost like pie (the joke in there isn’t missed). You hum around his shaft until he’s begging and crying out, pulling back as you smile and run your tongue over your lips, catching the last drops of his release. You lick your own fingers as you get up, humming happily and sated.

“Wait there,” he grunts across the wall, the dick disappearing completely as you wipe your mouth and get your dress down.

You chuckle, walking to the door and opening to find your friend looking over your shoulder. You turn around just in time to see a very big, very scary purple and green monster barreling down the hallway, dick still wet and hanging out his open pants.

Turns out the magic dick could predict who would be your soulmate, and nobody was expecting for you to be the mate of the dick in question… Not even him.