#but it's amazing that he was even able to catch back up the way he did after all of that

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 09: nothing but strangers in a bed.

preview: " He wants to see, hear and feel everything. The slight twitch to your lips as he starts to thrust in and out of you at an achingly slow pace, the breathy moan as his pubic hair brushes against your sensitive clit and the flutter to your pussy when he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. 

Being in bed with you, fucking you like this, was beginning to shake Hanma’s unwavering belief that God didn’t exist. "

content warning: a very long chapter, lots and lots and lots of smut, this is filthy, dirty talk, choking, reader likes the idea of getting caught. (and you have a cat, his name is kenta)

word count: 10,1k (she's a long one)

༉‧₊˚. note: second chapter of the year :)! thank you once again to my amazing best friend @aurelianamu for being my beta reader and helping me fix areas that needed serious editing! i won't yap for too long, this isn't my best work but I am improving and I need this story to be as frustrating as it can be. enjoy the introduction of a certain character ;)

༉‧₊˚. reblogs + comments are really appreciated!

➜ MASTERLIST

The neon glow of Shinjuku flickered below your feet as you peeked your head over the edge of the rooftop. Your brothers were going to kill you, you were certain of that.

The city hummed an unfamiliar tune, one you would never be able to catch from the balcony of your room in Roppongi. Passing cars, screeching trains, distant shouts—Kabukicho was filled with night owls, different from the ones you’ve heard in Roppongi. You can see Hanma’s motorcycle parked at the entrance of the abandoned building, the purple cheetah print visible even in the dark night. 

“Come on.” 

You almost scream when you hear his voice, holding a hand to your chest as you exhale. You look up at him, a tall and imposing figure seeming intimidating as your eyes scan his long limbs and the confident smirk on his face. This was his idea, a way for you to live your life for once without the suffocating grip of your brothers. He extends his hand out to you and you grab it as you step onto the edge of the rooftop. 

It’s spacious enough for you to stand behind Hanma, peeking over his shoulder. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” Your hand grips the hem of Hanma’s white tee, scared and trembling as you hide behind the taller male. 

“Of course, doll. You don’t trust me?” He flashes you a grin, one that doesn’t seem to ease your anxiety as your other hand grabs onto the fabric of his shirt. No answer is an answer. 

Hanma, although reckless and seemingly intolerant of other people’s bullshit, reaches his hand and wraps it around your left wrist. You gasp, trying to ignore the soft flutter in your heart as you look up at him.

“You gotta trust me.”

“...I’ve never done anything like this before.” You whisper the confession, voice small and laced with a hint of shame. If it were any other person, Hanma would’ve cackled so loud, letting the person know how ridiculous they sounded. But this was you, and you were holding onto him like a lifeline. He couldn’t brush off how important he felt considering he managed to convince you to sneak out and risk getting scolded by your brothers.

“I know,” slowly, he pulls you towards the front and grips your biceps. “But it’s worth it.”

“Holy–!” you gasp, closing your eyes fast as you ball your hands in fists. “Oh my god, oh my god Shuji that’s high!”

A low chuckle rumbles from the deepest parts of Hanma’s chest as you press your back against it, your hands gripping his shirt for support. 

“I know, isn’t that so fun?”

“Fun?!” You exclaim, whipping your head back to stare at him. “This is—” Before you could finish your sentence, Shuji’s hand grips your jaw and forces you to stare forward, then you finally see it.

What he had been telling you about since your first meeting, the view from the abandoned building in Kabukicho, the city lights and the freedom that comes with standing at the edge of the rooftop. You weren’t sure how to describe Hanma beside the term “adrenaline junkie”, but you couldn’t deny it—you were starting to understand.

What a breathtaking view. 

“I feel dizzy.”

The teenager doesn’t believe you at first, he thinks you’re being dramatic, acting like the spoiled princess who lives in Roppongi. However, when he feels your hands tremble and then your hold on his shirt weakens, he quickly pulls you against him and off the edge of the rooftop. 

You melt against him, and Hanma’s hand travels up to your face as his eyes dart across your features. From your soft lips, your closed eyes to your furrowed eyebrows, Shuji doesn’t like the flutter in his chest one bit. And the gentle hold he has on your jaw turns into a playful tap to your cheek.

“Ouch—”

“You should be an actress.”

“No,” you shoot him a glare but make no attempt to let go of him. “That was genuinely so scary. I am terrified of heights, Shuji.”

He likes the way his name rolls off your tongue. 

Still, the butterflies in his stomach must be a sign of disgust from your spoiled-rotten behavior. “You gotta get over it. What if you get on a plane one day?” 

You scoff, but Hanma sees the twitch of your lips. “That’s different. I won’t have to look out of the window.”

His golden eyes widen in disbelief. “You wanna tell me you wouldn’t want the window seat?”

And when you remain quiet, Hanma pretends to let go of you just to hear your squeal.

You smack his chest. “Don’t do that!”  

He leans down, face awfully close to yours. And for some odd reason, you don’t want to pull away. 

“And where’s the fun in that, doll?” 

—

Twelve years later, you don’t dare look the man in the eye after he is done ravaging you. You stand behind him like a statute, waiting for his cue as he motions for his bodyguards to open the backdoor of the club. 

“Come on doll, let’s go home.”

The tattooed man starts to lead the way towards the VIP entrance of the club, growing aware of your sudden silence as your high heels quickly click against the tiled floor in an attempt to keep up with his long strides. You’re right behind him, but Hanma feels as though you want to disappear into the shadows. Turning around, he sees you going through your phone with a frown on your face and he raises an eyebrow as he pushes the door open for you to step out.

“What is it?”

But you’ve completely shut him out for the rest of the night and surprisingly, Hanma doesn’t push your buttons any further. He lets you get inside the car, buckle yourself and then you rest your head against the window before closing your eyes. Even if the ride back home might be short, you pray that it’s enough for you to pass out as soon as you get home. 

As soon as Hanma parks near your building, you start to unbuckle yourself from the passenger seat then your hand reaches for the door handle. However, you don’t expect him to get out of his car as well. 

“What are you doing?” You question as he stands in front of you with an extended hand. 

“I’ll carry you.” 

Hanma doesn’t like how loud you laugh at that. “Since when did you become a gentleman?” your voice drips with venom, and you eye him in a way that Hanma doesn’t seem to be fond of. Those eyes that used to shine so bright for him, reflecting the comfort and trust you had in him, now shone with something akin to hurt and disdain. 

So he doesn’t say anything, and he steps away from the car just as you expected. You scoff, putting your high heels on as you hug your coat and purse tight to your chest. You were grateful that he managed to get them for you without having to go through the embarrassment of explaining to your co-workers the lack of stockings, but it doesn’t change how annoyed you were with him. 

You start to walk away, waiting to hear the confirmation that Hanma was driving away. But when you look back, you are startled to find the man walking awfully close to you.

“Wha—”

“What?” He asks, feigning confusion while annoyance creeps back into your system.

You climb the first couple of stairs before turning to face him.“What do you want now?”

“You think I want something?” Hanma questions as he tilts his head. 

“You always want something.” 

“Ahhh,” he hisses, pretending as though your words hit his skin like a hot iron. “Don’t like what you’re insinuating, doll.”

Rolling your eyes, you don’t bother with him anymore. You start to walk towards your elevator, completely ignoring Hanma’s footsteps behind you as he tries to catch up to you. However, the elevator doors closed right before he could step in and the tall man could’ve sworn there was a hint of an amused smile on your face as the elevator went up.

You think you finally get rid of him when you step onto your floor, but to your shock, Hanma is standing near your front door with a new cigarette dangling from his lips.

“...do I need to ask?”

Hanma makes a gesture towards his legs. “Long limbs.”

“Ah,” you simply nod before reaching for your purse. 

You can’t find the right word to describe the vibe between the two of you. Despite needing your own space, the wave of disdain and nausea you felt towards him earlier completely dissipates and is replaced with a gaping hole in your chest and an insatiable need to bicker with Hanma a little longer. You don’t deny the attraction, only a fool wouldn’t be able to see that the two of you got along really well.

(And your shared moment in the bathroom of his club is a testament to that.)

So the two of you walk into your apartment, stepping out of your shoes as you toss your keys on your kitchen counter. Hanma finally learns his lesson as he mirrors your actions then follows you into the kitchen.

“What?” you glance over your shoulder. “Are you hungry or something?”

“Not really.” 

You leave the conversation there. You grab a bottle of water from your fridge and the man is still standing right behind you even as you pour the liquid into the glass. The silence is finally starting to bother you, and you turn to fully face the tall man.

“Seriously, what is your problem?”

“Kinda miss the view from behind.” His words are filthy and the grin on his face reflects just how much he enjoys toying with you, watching your expression twist and your lips twitch as your brain conjures up a witty come back.

You can feel the heat creeping up your neck and you chug down some water before slamming the glass down on the counter. “You really need to work on your timing.”

Hanma tilts his head, a finger sliding under your chin as he slowly towers over you. “Why? I don’t think it bothers you.”

The small of your back collides with the marble of your kitchen counter, staring up at the man with bright eyes before swallowing thickly. “You’re too close,” you whisper, a hand sliding up his chest. 

Despite wearing a suit at all times, the tattooed man rarely ever feels hot. No straining physical activity or hot summer night ever bothers him. But being in your presence like this, like he hadn’t bent you over a couple of hours prior, as though he hasn’t seen you naked on so many occasions—it makes the fabric feel like lava against his skin. He wants to take it off, to tattoo the spot where your hand was resting on his chest as a reminder of what you two have. He’s never felt this way before and maybe it would’ve scared him had he not been so close to you.

In a flash, he crashes his lips against yours and pins you harshly against the kitchen counter, swallowing your pained gasp. You cringe at the feeling of his glasses against your eyes, whining when he pulls away for a moment. You open your eyes and you swear you’ve never felt as hot and bothered as now, watching the tall man remove his glasses and toss them to the side. You’ve kissed Hanma before when the two of you were having sex, but it felt new to be up against him so soon after your ordeal in his club. 

Hanma’s hands find the hem of your dress, pushing it up to your stomach. He groans at the sight of your ripped tights, letting his hands grope your ass before sliding up to your hips where he grips them.

You whine against his lips, melting at the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin. “Are you gonna stay?” 

Hanma grins against your skin. “You don’t want that?” But even as he utters the words, you can tell that his self-control was slowly slipping through the cracks of his mind. 

“I do,” you whisper as your hand grips his hair. He presses his forehead against yours, and you can’t get over how filthy and primal it feels to feel him grind his bulge against you. “Please stay–”

“Pretty girl,” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, then your tongue swirls around the finger. “Never thought you’d be this filthy.”

“I’m not who I was twelve years ago,” You try to glare at him, but you’re too fucked out to sound threatening.

The grin plastered on his face should’ve annoyed you, but instead your heart flutters as he wraps his other hand around your throat as he leans closer. “I know that, doll.” 

—

The night at the club is what solidifies your situationship  

You had become far more comfortable expressing your sexual needs with the man and he couldn’t deny that it excited him. Instead of him seeking out sex as a way to distract himself from your very first time together, it felt like you were on equal footing in terms of wanting to fuck like rabbits. Although, you still refused to send him nudes and were very clear that you wouldn’t think of it, even if he were to pay you. 

When asking you about it as he watched you clean yourself up after fucking you on your couch, you simply replied with. 

“Who knows what you’ll do with them. You’re a dangerous guy.” 

Fair enough.

But this also meant that sexting between the two of you wasn’t as often as the man had hoped. For the past month, Hanma was not sent on any mission outside of Tokyo which worked perfectly with his agreement with you. He would visit you at 2 in the morning after coming back from his strip club, all riled up and horny, he would fuck the frown off of your face as you try to scold him about the importance of getting a good 8 hours of sleep and how waking you up for sex was just selfish of him. Once he’s done with you and you’re drifting back to sleep all satisfied, you mumble something about how good dick is always worth it. All he can do is chuckle and put his clothes back on. 

He is gone before the sun rises, and you grow used to an empty bed in the morning.

You learn to accept that asking him to stay was a one time thing, and he would never do it again.

He stands in the snacks aisle with a frown on his face. He looks…so out of place doing this. He doesn't even buy groceries for himself, so what was he doing buying snacks for the two of you? 

Christmas was just around the corner and you had mentioned something about not finding your favorite snacks from when the two of you were still teenagers. Naturally, he thought it would be a good idea to finally shut you up and buy you everything that you needed. In return, he hoped that you would give him a proper blowjob this time. 

“Pretzels.” Your school uniform was probably Hanma’s favorite thing on this planet. A cute, short skirt with the most adorable and tempting pair of thigh high socks. A white blouse and a baby blue tie which you proudly admit you tied on your own. He is distracted by how cute you look in your school uniform that he doesn’t hear a single word you say.

“What?”

“I like pretzels, but even better when you dip them in–” you gasp, clapping your hands before staring up at the boy.You point to the aisle behind him, and he notes how this is the most excited he’s seen you while talking about food. “Chocolate! There they are!”

Adult Hanma now stands before the snack section and grabs a family sized bag of chocolate dipped pretzels, before heading to the front of the store. He scans the item, missing the way the cashier gives him a bewildered stare when he pulls out his black card and then walks to his car. 

You already know it’s Hanma when you hear your doorbell repeatedly–a habit that is so uniquely his given the lack of consideration for your poor doorbell. When you open the door, he’s grinning at the scowl on your face.

“One day, you’ll pay for a new one.” You don’t even wait for him to get in before walking away to your living room.

“I was hoping you’d say a new bed, can’t believe we haven’t broken it yet–” he starts to walk towards your kitchen before feeling something soft hit his side. 

“No shoes in my house.” He raises his arms in the air, sliding them off in the middle of the hallway before putting the plastic bags on the kitchen counter. “And no shoes in the middle of the hallway!” 

You’re sitting cross legged on your living room floor by the time he joins you, staring at you in confusion when he sees the show that’s playing on your large screen.

“Criminal minds? Didn’t that shit come out in 2005?” He scoffs as he throws his head over the couch, bouncing his leg as he releases some air and reaches for his pocket to grab a cigarette.

“Is a show supposed to have an expiration date?” you throw him a dirty look from over your shoulder. Hanma catches it and you gasp when you feel his foot on your back. 

“Ew! Get off!” 

“Ew?” Hanma narrows his eyes. “I know for a fact my feet don’t smell.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I don’t want your feet anywhere near me.”

“Yeah yeah,” he motions for the spot near you and you narrow your eyes as you glance to the side. You see the snack bag and Hanma is certain he’s never seen you this excited over food like now. 

“Chocolate dipped pretzels?!” 

He winces as he brings a hand to his ear. “I think even dogs heard that.”

You throw yourself over his lap, and Hanma’s breath hitches at the proximity. His hand hovers over your head momentarily, unsure as to where to place before giving your back a gentle pat.

“Thank you, I haven’t had them in a while!”

And after a long beat of silence, the tattooed man speaks up. “Don’t thank me, it’s fucking weird.”

You smile before patting his knees. “Still as awkward as ever,”

But before Hanma could come up with a reply, you’re pushing yourself up. “Ugh, now I’m hungry. Do you want to eat?”

“You made dinner already?”

“It’s like…7:30PM.” You frown at the man who raises an eyebrow at you.

Hanma shrugs. “Do I look like I have a routine to you?”

“Oh yeah right,” you walk closer to him, grinning at the man as you lean down to remove his glasses. Hanma watches with amusement as you wave the accessory in the air, walking towards the kitchen with a little sway to your hips just to tease him. “The only thing that’s consistent about you is your dick.”

“Is that so?” your stomach flutters when you see him push himself off the couch, all height and broad shoulders as he approaches you. He throws the cigarette pack on the soft cushions, suddenly consumed by something far more carnal than the need to smoke.

“Mmmhm. It’s not a bad thing.” you look over your shoulder with his glasses sitting on the bridge of your nose, trying to brush off the heat pooling between your legs as you stand near the stove.

“I know that,” stepping behind you, rough tattooed hands quickly find your bare skin under your shirt and he gropes your boobs. “Your body speaks to me, doll.” 

“Does it?” You try to muffle your moans when one of his hands travels down to your shorts, pushing your panties to the side to cup your pussy.

“Loud and clear, baby girl.” You wish you could say something in return, poke fun at the man or say something smart–but it’s all thrown out the window when he starts to rub at your clit while his lips press against your pulse. You’ve gotten used to not seeing his face while he pleasures you. Even when you ride his face, you’re more focused on gripping the headboard for dear life than at the lust reflecting in those gorgeous golden orbs. 

“What’s…what’s up with you and doing it in the kitchen?” you ask breathlessly, hissing when you feel his teeth bite at your neck.

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“No–”

“I know,” you can hear the grin in his voice, fingers messily rubbing your clit. “This pussy is soaked.” 

It’s safe to say that the two of you did not eat that night.

You’re always the first one to pass out after having sex with Kisaki’s right hand, not that he minds. But he quickly finds out that as long as you don’t hold him or talk to him after sex, he doesn’t feel the urgency to leave. 

The intimidating man sits up against the headboard, foot shaking slightly as he realizes where he had left his cigarette pack and curses under his breath. Then he turns his head to the side, and his eyes fall on your sleeping figure. Something so familiar yet so guarded. He knows every inch of your body like the back of his hand, is able to have you unravel beneath him with the flick of an experienced hand–but your heart is as guarded as it can be. His fingers twirl the loose strands of your hair, watching as your chest slowly rises then falls, lips parted to allow air in–until they get too dry. You lick them, pink muscle peeking out so adorably. He takes note of the constant twitch in your face muscles, how you have the same expressions you give him and he can’t help but chuckle. 

Still, the heavy feeling in his chest comes back and he pushes himself off the bed to grab his clothes. Why does it bother him so much? Why was it that the longer he spent time with you, the more unbearable it was to breathe? 

Hanma doesn’t feel guilt, he finds some lame excuse for the ache in his chest as he drops his pants to the floor. His feet drag him towards your living room where he finds his pack of cigarettes and he steps out onto your kitchen balcony to have a smoke. 

The city isn’t foreign to the criminal, he practically lives during the night, but it feels strange to watch it from above like this and from your kitchen balcony. It almost feels like he is seeing things from your perspective, although he highly doubts you’d stay up this late. 

An amused chuckle escapes his lips as he takes a whiff of the cigarette, leaning forward with his elbows on the metal railing and his head hangs between his shoulders. Suddenly, he feels something soft rub against his ankle and his body jolts up.

“What the fuck–” It’s dark, but he makes out a pair of bright eyes glaring daggers at him from the balcony door. Squinting, he leans down to make sure his eyes weren’t betraying him. “Is that–are you the fat fuck?”

A sharp hiss cuts through the dimly lit space of your kitchen, and Hanma laughs when your pet bares its fangs at him, its whiskers flaring in defiance. “Oh sorry, how does round motherfucker sound?”

“See, you and I don’t really have a good history.” Hanma squats to be eye level with your cat. “You cockblocked me, but I still got to fuck your mom though.” 

When your cat hisses at him again, Hanma’s grin turns devilish. “I guess that makes me the motherfucker–”

“Kenta?” your sleepy voice cuts through the one sided tension between the two, and Hanma’s eyes shift towards you. His blouse is hanging loosely over your nude body, with your hand holding it together so it doesn’t fall open. He can’t pull his eyes away from your bare legs, as though he didn’t have them wrapped around him hours prior, but he forces himself to stare elsewhere to soothe the ache in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” he hears the panic in your voice as you speak to your pet, and steps into the kitchen. You hold a hand to your chest, clearly taken aback by his presence. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Did I wake you up?” Hanma brings the cigarette back between his lips, inhaling the smoke as his eyes keep shifting from your bare legs to your visible nipples.

“Oh, mmmm,” you rub your eyes sleepily and Hanma bites down at his cigarette bud. Your lips were extra pouty, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so harmless, so small. Not even when you’re whining beneath him. “It wasn’t you, I heard Kenta’s bell. He doesn’t go to the kitchen a lot at night,” he sees you lean down to pick up your pet, golden eyes flickering down to your butt as the blouse rides up and then back at you. The cat sits comfortably in your arms, but its disdain for the man is evident as he hisses again. 

“Oh! That’s not nice,” your voice is soft as you rub your cat’s nose, but it’s clearly done with the man as it wiggles in your hold before you place it down and watch it run away. “He doesn’t like men.”

He chuckles, clearly amused. “Yeah, you told me that.”

You glance towards the clock on your microwave before staring at him in surprise. “It’s 2AM?” 

Hanma nods. “You got work?”

“No, it’s Saturday.” You rub your eyes as you yawn and Hanma pulls his eyes away from your bare face. He’s grown used to seeing you like this — all bare and vulnerable, willing to show him a side of you he dreamed of seeing as a teenager. But the more he thought of it, the quicker he could feel bile rising to his throat. So he clears his throat. 

“Oh yeah, right.”

You shiver slightly when the wind hits your body, hugging yourself tightly. “Lucky you, you don’t have a corporate job.”

Hanma leans against the door frame. “I wouldn’t consider myself lucky, doll.”

You shrug before continuing. “No 9 to 5, no meetings–”

“We do have meetings.” He interjects and you roll your eyes at him as you open the fridge to grab water.

“Then something about your job is more fun than mine.” 

“Uh…it doesn’t feel like someone’s fucking you in the ass?”

You wince at the image, shaking your head as you bring the glass of water to your lips. “Yeah, I mean you don’t have to sign a contract or something.”

“The only contract you’re signing is that if you betray us, then you’re fucking dead.” he puts emphasis on the last part with a dark chuckle, puffing out smoke in the air. He leans against the railings of your balcony and soon enough, you join him. 

However, Hanma is a man with a good memory — and he recalls many instances where he had to lend you his very thin jacket when it would snow, and lie to you that he wasn’t cold just so he could see your cheeks turn pink from getting warm. So he glances to the side and true to his recollection, you are trembling from the cold. 

“You’re shivering.”

You shake your head, determined to fight your body’s need to slide in your warm bed. “I’m fine now.”

It wasn’t everyday that Hanma stayed, let alone have a conversation like this. You were willing to sacrifice body heat in order to stay up with the nocturnal man, and pray that he would be the one to suggest going back inside and… talk. 

Hanma’s eyes shamelessly travel down to your erect nipples, the way they harden in the cold and how your bare thighs seem to tremble as you lean against the cold railings. Naturally, Hanma’s brain leads him down a dirty path.

 “You sure someone can’t see you from here?”

“I’ve lived here long enough to know where to stand naked,” you joke around. You don’t know when throwing jokes and jabs at one another became fun around Hanma, all you know is that it doesn’t feel awkward anymore. 

“You’re not naked though,” he flickers the cigarette to the ground, and you give him a nasty side eye for it. “At least, not enough.”

“What do you mean?” your heart is racing in your chest, but you don’t pull back when he starts to lean down before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He pushes you against the cold railings, but you make no attempt to grab onto them as devours you. He smells of cigarettes and a hint of sandalwood, a combination your brain has adjusted to over the weeks. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, and you gasp into the kiss when you feel his hands grope and smack your ass cheeks. You pull away with a whine, staring up at him behind your eyelashes. 

The action causes the man to hiss, and you could’ve sworn you saw his pupils dilate as he pecks your lips.

“You’re into shit like that?” his hot breath fans over your mouth, forcing you to stare at his lips for a quick moment. 

“Shit like what?” You breathe out and Shuji’s hands grip your ass cheeks. 

“Someone possibly catching us?”

You don’t give him a direct answer. You peck his lips once, twice then the third time seems to have the man unravel as he goes from kissing you passionately to devouring you in a split second. 

Hanma feels your fingernails dig into his scalp, and it ignites a fire in his stomach — a need to destroy you in front of the whole world to see. He pulls away from the kiss to bite down at your neck, and you gasp as your grip tightens around his hair. 

“As long as you make me cum.”

Challenge accepted.

You knew better than to test the man, you should’ve expected him to be determined about listening to your demands — but nothing could’ve prepared you for how shaky your legs would be by the end of it.

Hanma pulls your arms behind your back as he drills his cock into you, his nose nestled against the crown of your head as you push your ass back against him so sweetly. Your chest rests against the railings, digging uncomfortably into your rib cage but it didn’t matter — not when he was fucking you like this. 

“Filthy fucking girl,” he hums, using his other hand to wrap itself around your neck and pull you back against his chest. “I can feel your fucking pussy—she’s a messy one,” you can’t see his face, your vision blurred with tears as you fight back the loud noises threatening to spill from your lips. 

“O-Oh my g-g– Shuji–”

“Yeah baby, say it. Say my fucking name.” His thrusts become sloppy, erratic but he seems to be adamant on bruising that sweet spot. “Say my fucking name loud and clear. Tell people who’s fucking you right now.”

“Shit!” 

“Who’s fucking you? Who’s ruining this fucking pussy?”

“Shuji please!”

“Say it!”

“It’s you! It’s you Sh-Shuji it’s you, it’s you, it’s you—!” you blabber, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth and you hear Hanma curse under his breath as an orgasm washes over you in violent waves. He holds your body against him as yours shakes and trembles, kissing your neck through the tremors of your euphoric state. 

And soon enough, he is reaching his orgasm as well before melting against your back. 

Hanma carries you to the bathroom where he lets you do your business as well as clean yourself. He watches intently as you wash your hands and you shoot him a questioning look through the mirror. 

“Just thinking.”

“That’s never a good sign.” You yelp when he delivers a smack to your ass and you turn to pout at him. “You’re mean!” 

The tall man chuckles before approaching you, and at first you think he is going to try to grope you or push you against the sink. Suddenly, you see the world upside down.

“Shuji!” You gasp, holding onto his shirt as a giggle rips from the back of your throat. “Put me down!”

Another loud smack bounces off the walls and you let out a pained moan. “That really hurt!”

“Let’s go to bed.”

“I can walk!” 

You hear the playful chuckle right before Hanma drops you to your mattress. “Then I gotta fuck you harder.”

—

Over the last few weeks, Hanma’s presence has become a constant in your life. The tattooed man would stay long enough for the two of you to make breakfast together (or attempt, at least) and then he would leave. 

Naturally, that meant that the two of you had developed a sort of…routine together, one that neither of you wanted to acknowledge nor disrupt. 

7PM - He pulls up to your apartment building, and as he looks up to your living room window, the lights are on. 

It takes him about 5 minutes before he is abusing your door bell, and when you open the door to scold him, he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss and hopes that it distracts you. 

(It does sometimes).

Afterwards, it goes something like “did you eat yet?” “not really” “Shuji, how many times should I tell you–” and you proceed to scold him about the importance of getting three meals a day, staying hydrated enough and getting a good night of rest. Obviously, Hanma isn’t listening and only nods because is distracted by your small shorts. 

7:30 PM - The two of you are done eating dinner and he helps by drying the dishes. You tell him you are still not used to him standing in your kitchen and he complains about how small it is.

8PM - You try to get him to watch an episode of Criminal Minds, and he tells you it’s stupid. He says he doesn’t understand the concept, and that they’re probably not even smart. After an episode or two, he changes his mind but only half-heartedly and without ever admitting that he likes the plotline of the episodes. 

The next 20 minutes are spent making out on the couch, with Hanma whispering into your ear lines from one of the characters. You are always surprised by how good his memory is. 

9PM - Hanma asks you if you should start getting ready for bed, but you are still needy from the makeout session and he can’t hide his amusement as you drag him to your bedroom. He watches as you make a poor attempt to switch the roles in bed and take control, but a single thrust up of his hips has you melting on top of him and surrendering to the pleasure. You are usually knocked out by 10:30 PM. 

The tall man wants nothing more than to experience this right now — but it’s all cut short when he hears his phone buzzing. He fights back the urge to go through your older messages, questions of what he wants to have for dinner and some sneaky pictures you’d send each other when you’re both busy at work. Then his eyes find the latest message.

—I have a work dinner I need to attend. sorry :( 

The brightness of his phone casts a shadow over his face, and a frown sits heavy on his features as his eyes scan the message for multiple seconds. His thumb hovers over his keyboard, unsure of what to type as a response. 

Have fun? He hopes someone chokes on their food, but he knows your kindness and how willing you would be to stay with the co-worker in the hospital until they feel better. 

Eat well? Hanma knows for a fact that you would’ve eaten better in his presence and while watching your favorite show. 

Stay safe doesn’t work either, he’s not a fucking guardian angel. 

Get home soon? Fuck no. 

Hanma cannot find a single appropriate response that doesn’t make him come off as possessive and jealous, which is far from how he feels at the moment. Obviously, the knot in his stomach is from how hungry he is and you are to blame for it. After all, you’re the one who made him get so used to a routine, modified it so it would match his schedule. 

He stares at the watch and the frown turns into a glare when he sees the time. 

7:10PM

Finally, he unlocks his phone and his thumb slides across the screen as he types a response. 

—OK. 

“Look who’s visiting.” You can’t say you’re surprised he is here, but you still didn’t expect the owner of the restaurant to come to your table. All brooding, big and handsome; a pair of golden eyes lock with yours in the dimly lit space. Surrounded by all of your co-workers, you can’t hide the big smile that paints your features, and you miss the looks they all exchange as you get up from your seat to greet the man properly.

“I suggested the restaurant, actually.” You feel your phone buzz in your hand, but you choose to ignore it and place it down as you wrap your arms around the taller man’s shoulders. Feeling his big, muscular arms circle your waist, you fight back a blush as he pulls you against him slightly.“Heard you were good with seafood.” 

He smirks at your playful comment, eyes scanning all of your co-workers as their eyes shine with something he could only describe as mischievous. “I’m excellent with seafood,”

“I have a feeling that’s not the only thing he’s excellent with,” Misaki, your co-worker, teases slightly and you find yourself flushing at the comment. Shooting her a warning glare, she shrugs her shoulders and snickers when she sees you try to fan your face.

“Uh, thank you so much for coming.”

“No problem, let me know when you’re ready to order. I’ll make sure that you’re taken care of.” He places a warm hand on your bare shoulder, and you force yourself to look away from him when you catch him eyeing your cleavage for a bit too long. 

You’re not prepared for the overwhelming amount of questions and comments that are thrown at you. 

“Who was that?”

“You have a boyfriend and didn’t tell us?”

“He’s huge! I know a size kink when I see one–”

“Guys!” you try to calm the situation. “We’re not dating, he’s not my boyfriend!” 

Another co-worker, Aya, quirks an eyebrow at your reply. “Oh yeah? But he sure looks like he wants to be.”

“No he doesn’t.” You sigh, sinking in your seat as you pretend to read the menu. “Plus, he and my ex are close friends. I can’t do that to him.” 

“Please,” Misaki speaks up again. “You don’t owe your ex anything, you two have been over for a while.” 

“Aaand, if I had a man who looked at me the same way he looks at you…” Aya sighs dreamily and you furrow your eyebrows in concern. “I wouldn’t know how to act around him.”

Objectively speaking, he was an attractive man. Tall, handsome, strong and big–all of these traits combined are enough to make any woman fall face first. Well, you weren’t just any woman. You’ve known him for quite some time now, ever since his fight with Mitsuya and the whole shift in the blue haired man’s character–you watched him change entirely for his two siblings and after many years of hard work and discipline, he managed to open a chain of many successful restaurants all across Japan. So yeah, on top of being so physically charming, he was a smart man, a good flirt and he always smelled so good. 

And beside there was Hanma. Despite things not being official between the two of you, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing it to the taller man. 

No matter how charming, handsome and huge Taiju was. 

You catch yourself before your thoughts go down a dirty path, squeezing your thighs lightly before crossing your legs and clearing your throat. 

“Well you have to learn how to act around him because–”

“Act around who?” Your blood runs cold, but you quickly look up to find Taiju staring directly down at you. All handsome face and chiseled jaw. His hands were on your chair, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel nervous at the close proximity and the feeling of his body heat. 

“You said you’d send someone?” You change the topic quickly and it seems as though the taller man doesn’t mind. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he pushes himself away from your chair and grabs his phone from his pocket. “I thought about it, and I’d rather do it myself. Memorize your order and all.” He sends you a wink and you flush. His gaze was a wildfire—unrelenting, consuming, and impossible to look away from, and honestly–you’d rather stare at him forever than meet the playful looks from your colleagues. So you point to the menu as he types away. 

“Uhh I’ll take the–”

–

“You’re leaving?” The broad-shouldered man steps into your space from behind the counter and you flash him an apologetic smile as you wrap your scarf around your neck. 

“Yeah, early day tomorrow.” 

Raising an eyebrow, you don’t miss the slight twitch to his smirk as he crosses his huge arms across his chest. “Early day, huh?” 

Sensing his amusement, you roll your eyes at him and look down at your shoes, finding them interesting. 

“Shut up, it’s not bad.” 

“Not judging ya bunny.” You were grateful that your colleagues were busy with paying, and that none of them was looking at you–or else, they’d have endless questions about why your eyes widened so much and why your face looked as though it was matching the restaurant’s fancy red carpets?

“Don’t.” 

“Don’t what? Call you bunny?”

When you don’t give him an answer, only a lighthearted glare and a smile you try to suppress, Taiju’s hands find your shoulders and he starts to guide you out of the restaurant. “Alright alright, but it’s good to know it still has the same effect on you.”

“Not the same effect if it’s not the same person saying it,” you mumble only to yourself, but the tall man catches it and chuckles. 

“You’re right, lover girl, my bad.”

“I’m not a lover girl.” 

“Mhm, and I’m not a Christian man.” You feel him squeeze your shoulders playfully, but you still can’t deny how comforting it feels to have him touch you like this. Nonetheless, you pull away from his touch when you find your colleagues waiting for you near the car.

“Okay I have to go,” you shiver slightly from the cold, nuzzling your face in your scarf while Taiju looks almost unfazed by the icy, cold wind. “Thank you for tonight.”

“No problem.” But even as the conversation comes to an end, you can feel that Taiju has more to say. You tilt your head to the side, and Taiju catches onto your movement with a slight chuckle.

“Spill.” You nudge the man and he shrugs.

Taiju’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Who’s the lucky man?”

Your eyes widen. “Huh?”

“Come on bunny,” he leans down to be eye level with you. “I recognize that look on your face. Only one man has ever made you act this way.”

But you remain quiet, burying your face in your scarf as though it could magically make you disappear. You don’t want to tell Taiju or anyone about him, you like how secretive and intimate it feels to be involved with a man like Hanma. And for the longest time, you thought that you were hiding how complete and new Shuji made you feel, that your lies about having a self-care night and going on solo dates were convincing enough to your co-workers. 

Perhaps they weren’t, and maybe Taiju knows you that well and you are only learning about it now. 

Your shoes become interesting again, and you can’t control the blush that travels up to your face. You would like to blame it on your scarf, that you were breathing into it, but that wouldn’t explain the glossiness of your eyes. 

Before you can part your lips and utter a response, a loud honk makes you jump out of your skin. Taiju stays put as he stares at the fancy car parked right in front of his restaurant, his hands buried in his pockets as his eyes stay fixated on the driver of the car. 

You turn to see who the culprit is, about to complain to Taiju about how rude people have become lately and then you see him. 

“Didn’t take you for a seafood lover, doll.” Hanma gets out of his car, marching slowly towards you and Taiju with a cigarette between his lips. “Shit, didn’t take you for Shiba’s friend either.” 

“Oh we…” you gulp as you stare between the two men in panic. Your heart is beating so loudly you can feel in your throat, but you muster up the strength to wave for your co-workers to go ahead without you before they can question the situation you were in.

Which was nothing, so you didn’t understand where the anxiety came from. 

“We’ve known each other for a while.”

Hanma tilts his head to the side. “Have you?” 

You nod, trying your best to seem unfazed by the dark look in his eyes. 

“Why is this news to me?” 

You shrug, “You never asked.” 

Taiju watches the interaction unfold with curious eyes. He can tell from your body language that Hanma isn’t a stranger, but he isn’t…just a friend either. You seem almost hesitant to talk about another man in his presence, but you are confident enough to stand your ground and not let him intimidate you.

But he does wonder, how is it that someone like you goes from Mitsuya to a man like Hanma? It seemed a little unexpected, but he continues to observe the interaction between the two of you. 

You grab onto your scarf again, eyebrows twitching as Hanma steps onto the pavement. He stands to his full height, something he rarely ever does and your breath catches in your throat. 

“You ready to go home, doll?”

You shoot him a look. “Should I ask how you found me?”

Hanma flashes you one of his playful smiles while you fight one of your own, like it’s one of your inside jokes, your own little shared secret.

“Get in the car, doll.” 

For the first time during the night, Taiju feels as though he shouldn’t be standing near you. He doesn’t voice it out, watching intently as you wave at him once you are near the car. You wish him goodnight with a bright smile, before getting in Hanma’s car. 

“Interesting.” The blue haired male tells Hanma and the latter doesn’t respond. The two stand in silence for a few more seconds before Taiju scoffs, waving a hand at you before glancing at the criminal.

“What, lost the way to your car or something?” 

A dark chuckle escapes the tall man’s lips as he retreats to his car. “You’re fucking lucky she’s there.”

—

You’ve never seen Hanma drive back home as fast as he did tonight. The entire ride feels like a blur as he pulls up near your apartment building. And when the two of you get out of the vehicle, you almost don’t register that he is physically dragging you up the stairs and inside the elevator.

“Shuji?” You whisper his name with a hint of hesitance, unsure as to why the man was suddenly as quiet as he is. But he doesn’t respond, clenching the elevator’s railings. “Are you okay?” 

Still no answer.

The elevator doors open again and the taller man is back to dragging you by your wrist. When you are finally in front of your door, you dig your hand into your purse to grab your keys then Hanma snatches them out of your hands to unlock the door himself. Your lips part and close multiple times, the coil in your stomach tightening as you take in Hanma’s body language.

Stiff shoulders, tight jaw and a dark look in his eyes. 

This could go either really bad, or really well. 

When you finally step into your apartment, Hanma doesn’t waste a single second as he pushes you up against the nearest wall and clashes his lips against yours. It’s primal, the way kisses you, pushing you so harshly against the wall that you grip his shoulders and whine against his lips. But it doesn’t shake him, instead giving him a boost to make an even bigger mess out of you.

When he finally pulls away, it is to pepper kisses down your jaw and remove his glasses as he strips you from your scarf and coat. Finally, he gets a look of the dress you were wearing.

“Work dinner?” Even as he asks, his hands don’t leave your skin. He shoves them under your dress, groping your ass cheeks before giving them a harsh smack. 

“Yes Shuji,” you bite your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I like to look good.” 

You always look good.

He hikes up your dress just enough to shove his hand in your underwear, rubbing your clit in circles until he feels the wetness soak his digits. You melt against the wall behind you, whimpering when the tip of his fingers swiped and teased your entrance. 

“So unfair,” you whine to the man and he raises an eyebrow. 

“I’m no damn mind reader.”

Grabbing his belt, Hanma seems to be taken aback as you pull him flush against your crotch. “I wanna see you”

His movements are hurried as he pulls away from you, chuckling at the whine you let out at the loss of contact. 

“So fucking whiny for me.”

“Don’t push it.” But even as you glare at him, there’s a smile dancing on your lips before you pull him back in for a kiss. 

You feel his naked body against yours, moaning into the kiss when the tip of his cock grazes your entrance a couple of times. His thumb slides down to rub at your clit, taking in the way you tense into the kiss when he finally starts sliding his cock inside you. He applies a good amount of pressure to your clit, watching with lustful eyes as your jaw goes slack and you throw your head back against the wall. 

Hanma’s hand slowly wraps itself around your neck and his fingers collide with the metal of your necklace. You can feel his hot breath fanning against your lips as you part them. His eyes are like two burning suns, pulling you towards their heat but so intensely bright that tears start to blur your vision. Your hand finds his forehead, and you brush his hair away as you press your forehead against his and moan loudly into his mouth. 

“Shu,” you whisper out, voice laced with wanton and a need for his presence like never before. Hanma finds himself groaning into your mouth when your voice reaches his ear, the hold he has on your neck tightening a bit.

“Don’t say my name like that,” his voice breaks at the end, and it’s a tell-tale that his orgasm was near. And like a pyromaniac, you love to play with fire. 

Your hand slides down to his jaw, gently cupping it. The intoxicating movement of his hips distracts you for a moment, and you hold back from tossing your head on the wall as the tip of his cock brushes against your sensitive spot. “Like what, Shu?”

Another loud groan erupts from the back of his throat, then he leans down to press his nose against your pulse. “Fuck me, doll.”

Giggling to yourself, you wrap your leg around his waist as you pull him in. 

“I am,” 

And that seems to catch his attention as he pulls away from your skin, hovering over your fucked out body with flushed cheeks and bruised lips. 

“Looks like I haven’t fucked you stupid yet.” He taps your butt and you jump, wrapping both legs around his waist as you gasp.

“If I can still talk? Yeah, you haven’t.”

Smirking, Hanma moves away from the wall with him still inside, and starts to walk towards your bedroom. He makes quick work of opening your door before laying your body down on the mattress. 

You almost miss the way he is gentle with your body.

Slowly, he starts to hover over your body and your legs pull him in closer. His hand squeezes your neck once before dragging down your chest, torso and eventually your stomach where he presses down hard enough for you to gasp. You look up at him from behind your lashes, eyes shining with what Hanma could only be described as pure lust, then you drag your hands down to fondle your own breasts. That seems to seal the deal for the tattooed man, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist to pull you even closer to him. 

You yelp at the sensation, body arching off the mattress as you throw your head back on the pillow. “Suddenly wanna show off how strong you are?” you mumble against the back of your hand, poorly attempting to cover up your flushed cheeks.

“Maybe,” Hanma shrugs, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit. “Cause I’ve seen the way this pussy squeezes around me when I do that.” 

You have no response to that—no smart retort or sarcastic comment, only a hot face and a pathetic whimper that escapes the back of your throat with so much desperation that Hanma’s eyes widen in shock.

“Oh shit,” he chuckles. “Oh fuck, you do like how strong I am.”

“Shuji stop,” you look to the side, now using your arm to cover your face. You bend your knees as you try to escape his grip, but that seems to put you in the perfect position for Hanma to fold you in half. 

Pinning you to the mattress, his hands grab onto the back of your knees as he pushes them to your chest. You are trapped beneath him, forced to come face to face with the man who had been drilling you all night. 

“Don’t look away, doll.” And he means it. 

He wants to see, hear and feel everything. The slight twitch to your lips as he starts to thrust in and out of you at an achingly slow pace, the breathy moan as his pubic hair brushes against your sensitive clit and the flutter to your pussy when he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. 

Being in bed with you, fucking you like this, was beginning to shake Hanma’s unwavering belief that God didn’t exist. 

Hanma’s eyes seem to be fixated on your sleeping figure, on the slow fall and rise of your chest, the soft inhale and exhale and the plush of your lips. He doesn’t seem to realize, but you’ve pulled him in a trance and he can’t seem to escape. His hand traces the small of your back, a chuckle escapes him and it’s so soft, so devoid of malice or sarcasm that it leaves an ache in his dull, cold heart. And then, he feels a lump in his throat. 

The longer he stares, the more his touch lingers on your skin, the harder it is to pull away and the pain in his chest intensifies. It spreads like a wildfire, and a tattooed hand lands on his torso as he feels bile rise to the back of his throat. 

He rips his eyes away from your innocent expression, trying to distract himself from the fact that your hand was resting on his arm as a way to keep yourself grounded. Even now, Shuji was aware of the fact that you don’t cuddle to sleep, you told him once when the two of you were young and dumb and he truly believed that he could somehow end up as your first boyfriend.

“That sounds like such bullshit,” a young Hanma appears in his memories, he is going through your magazines that Ran had bought for you and a teenager version of you is trying to pry them off his hands. 

“Put them down! Ran and I spent so much time organizing them!” But when that doesn’t work, you huff and land on your desk chair with your arms crossed over your chest. “What do you mean it sounds like…”

Hanma can’t stop smirking as he repeats. “Bullshit? Come on doll, not allowed to curse?” 

“I am allowed to curse!” The defensiveness and lack of eye contact tell a different story. 

“Sure thing, princess.” He pats your head rather aggressively, but not enough to hurt you. You’re annoyed that he messed with your hair, then Hanma speaks up again. “You’re too whiny and clingy to not want to cuddle when you sleep.”

Your heart aches. “Clingy?” 

When he hears the hint of pain in your voice, he smoothly places a band-aid over it. “Like a kitten. It’s not bad.”

But you shrug, leaning against your chair. “I really can’t cuddle, I feel uncomfortable.”

Hanma sits on your bed after picking a magazine. “How?” 

“I don’t know?” you tilt your head. “Maybe with a boyfriend it will feel different.”

In reality, he doesn’t know whether or not your habit has changed. For the first time, he chooses to assume that he doesn’t know you as well as he does, that you’ve grown into a person he doesn’t recognize and that his brain was playing mind tricks on him whenever he recognized old habits that never died down.  

But your hand keeps sliding up his arm, nails digging into his shoulder as you shift closer to him in bed. 

You press your lips against his bicep, and Hanma instinctively reaches his hand down to cup your face.“Shuji?” 

“Hm?”

“What do you say we go out and have brunch tomorrow?” It’s mumbled and barely coherent, but Hanma makes out a few words and manages to piece them together. However, he doesn’t say anything in return. 

This wasn’t unusual, the two of you have made plans before. And like every other time, you expect him to reply with his usual ‘yes’ and ‘I will find a place’.

Instead, all you hear is a shuffle before your face is pressed against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and comforting, and it slowly pulls you back to sleep. 

But even with your naked body pressed up against his, and as you mumble his name in your sleep, Hanma can’t seem to brush off the discomfort that suddenly engulfs his entire being. The walls of your bedroom suddenly seem like prison walls, and the pendant of your necklace presses against his chest like the tip of a knife. 

A loud buzzing sound interrupts his thoughts, and he quickly reaches for his phone on the nightstand. 

It’s Kisaki. He brings the phone closer to his ear.

“Hm?”

“Where are you?”

Despite being familiar with your sleeping habits, Hanma’s voice is unusually quiet. “Why?”

Kisaki doesn’t need to say much before Hanma is slipping out of your arms and into his work outfit. He doesn’t cast you a glance, golden orbs fixated on the grey of your carpet as he sits at the edge of the bed to put on his socks. 

Homemade meals, soft covers and a place you turned into home with your own delicate hand; those were all things Hanma wasn’t used to, and he couldn’t afford to keep lying to himself about being deserving of something like this. 

Suddenly, the walls of your room feel foreign to him. He doesn’t see himself in any of the pictures in your living room, nor can he find a way for his existence to fit on the pillowy bed of your heart.

He steals a glance at your sleeping figure, still curled around the pillow that had cradled his head just moments ago, before tearing his gaze away. 

He was never meant to find his way into your life again, and by the time the sun rises, he will be nothing more than a shadow lost to the morning light. 

2025 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[f1-stuff]

Qatar GP '24 // P6 in Race

"Yeah, I think we got a bit of the worst of everything... We had a puncture around the last corner... This meant that we had to do a full lap on a punctured tyre, losing lots of seconds of race time. Then, we come in, we have a slow pit stop... And then, as soon as I'm coming out of the pits, a safety car comes out and all of our rivals take the [SC] to box... A very terrible kind of scenario that unravelled for me... We lost a few points there for the championship that might be important at the end of the year. But, at the same time, we can at least bring the fight to Abu Dhabi."

[shycoconutt]

It was an accident. Nanami Kento didn’t mean to cum in your panties. He was planning to fuck you properly, he was sure. But after one too many beers during your night out and your relentless groping of his hardened cock over his pants on the walk home, he was already close to the edge.

After stumbling into your shared apartment, you didn’t even make it down the main entryway before he had your dress hiked up around your waist and your panties down over your thighs. Feverishly undoing his belt, unzipping his pants, and pulling out his throbbing length just over the band of his briefs, all he wanted was to feel you.

Experimentally, he drew you in flush to his chest and lined his length up to your heat. One careful thrust forward and he was met with the pooling of your arousal between your folds. It felt euphoric. Slowly, he began thrusting his cock back and forth, nudging your clit with the tip of his head at every pass.

Your legs were already shaking, and you held onto his broad shoulders for support, wrinkling his dress shirt in the process. He felt the way you sunk your face further into his chest in attempt to hide your mewls. Oh, but how he wanted to hear you cry out to him.

Your arousal keeps dripping out of you, and soon he too is soaked with your juices. It was starting to get noisy, the sounds of your pussy becoming so lewd. He felt his face getting hot, and he was quickly becoming uneasy. It was like a fever, he just had to cum.

Not being able to take it any longer, Nanami grabs at the plush of your ass and squeezes hard. Throwing your head back, you gasp in surprise as he forcefully thrusts you forward on his cock, fully using you now to give himself a pussy job. His veiny shaft felt amazing on your bundle of nerves, stimulating them perfectly.

Soon, you were coming, and that was enough permission for him to release as well. Quickly, thick ropes of his seed were spurting out all over your pussy, inner thighs, and panties. His body jolted forward with every pulse, curling himself onto you and completely engulfing you in his embrace.

After catching your breaths as your orgasms died down, he turned his face towards yours and gave you a loving kiss on your temple while simultaneously sliding your panties up and back in place. You didn’t miss how he tapped your core with a hum in approval.

“We should wash up, yeah?” he smiled, still holding you close.

All you could do was nod in response, still feeling flustered from your raunchy display. After a beat, you were swept off your feet as Nanami lifted you and carried you bridal-style to your bathroom. He pampered you all night, once in the bath and twice in the comfort of your bed.

Nanami swore it was an accident, but the several times he’s come in your panties since then, maybe he couldn’t label it that way anymore.

[criminalamnesia]

the 141 x reader fic that you did was so yummy!!! pls make them suffer the wrath of reader and make 141 realise how much they need them when they leave,

your work is so amazing btw and your way with words is simply ✨chef’s kiss✨ (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

thank you!! here’s part 3 :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

angry didn’t even begin to describe how you felt as you slammed the door to price’s office behind you.

you were tense, muscles taut and poised to fight. your fists clenched at your sides, blunt nails digging into your palms hard enough to hurt. your jaw was clenched, teeth grinding together as you resisted the urge to march back in there and unleash your fury.

no. not like this. not when you weren’t a hundred percent. not when they would still look at you like you were a wounded doe, stumbling around on broken legs.

in the back of your mind, you can hear that psychologist saying ‘this anger will eat you alive if you let it. you need to let it out somehow.’

you inhaled, unclenched your fists, and made up your mind. you pulled the iv from your arm, wincing at the pinch of the needle.

you left the iv pole standing there as you made your way to the gym.

the gym was empty when you arrived, which made sense for this time of day. many would be occupied by drills or in the mess hall. others would be sleeping off long nights. you had the place to yourself, and you were grateful for the absence of watchful eyes and sweetened tongues.

you were tired of those who knew nothing acting like they knew something. of those who apologized or asked if you were okay. word spread like wildfire around base, and the subject of your ‘betrayal’ had been front-page news since the start of the witch hunt.

the gym door clicked shut behind you, and you surveyed the room. you knew your doctor would have a fit once you returned to the infirmary, and that she probably wouldn’t let you out alone again, but you didn’t really care.

you needed to let off some steam, and the best way you knew how was with your fists. either you start swinging at a bag or at a certain someone’s face. the bag won’t be condescending, and that makes your choice easy.

you approach one of the bright red punching bags in the corner. it’s scratched and taped from where someone had busted it open. scars that didn’t go away, that wouldn’t— just like yours.

you huffed. it didn’t do any good to start feeling sorry for yourself. you hadn’t done anything wrong. your team had.

you stretch your arms out in front of you, fingers interlocking to pop your knuckles. you catch sight of your severed finger, still healing. they’d recovered what had been chopped off, but hadn’t been able to save it.

just another permanent reminder, something to make sure you didn’t dare forget. you didn’t think you ever would regardless.

you shook out your hands and rolled your shoulders back. fists raised, you angled yourself towards the bag. feet spread, shoulders squared, thumb tucked under your fingers instead of inside. a stance that was second nature after years of sparring and hand-to-hand drills.

the bag was firm when your fist connected with it. you would have been lying if you said it didn’t hurt. you punched with the other hand— same results. the time you’d spent confined to an infirmary bed had done a number on you. muscles had atrophied, bones had weakened. the leg you’d suffered a bone-deep cut to shook under your weight.

you didn’t care. you kept punching, your breathing picking up as your emotions guided you. sweat dripped into your eyes and rolled down your back. you felt weak, physically and mentally. you hated feeling this way, and so you punched harder.

“slow down,” a voice grumbled from behind you.

you ignored him, continuing to punch the bag. you hadn’t heard the door open, nor heard the sound of him approaching, but you would have been surprised if you did.

simon always had a penchant for sneaking up on people, intentionally or not.

“gonna pass out if y’don’t stop,” he said after a minute. you could feel his eyes on you. you ignored him again.

you didn’t need to turn around to know he was standing there with his arms crossed, eyes full of something unreadable.

“stop,” he says firmly, and you sense his movement as he surges forward. his hand lands heavily on your shoulder, pulling you back from the punching bag. you heave in a breath before spinning around and punching him in the nose.

simon stumbles back a step, eyes widened slightly. for someone who prided himself on being so observant, he clearly didn’t see that coming. it made you feel the tiniest bit smug that you’d caught him off guard for once.

you dropped your hands to your knees then, squeezing your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed over you. damn the bastard, he had been right. you shouldn’t have even been in here in the first place, let alone exerted yourself as much as you had.

your hands were shaking as you tried to pull yourself together. you opened your eyes to see drops of blood on the gym floor, by your feet. you had split your knuckles open.

there were also drops of blood at simon’s feet. you looked up then, slowly straightening your posture. he’d removed his mask, his face bare as he stared at you. blood dripped from his nose.

“gonna have to hit harder than that if y’want to break it,” he says, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“did you follow me in here?”

“no.” he says, and you’re giving a mirthless laugh.

“oh, please. im sure price sent you, yeah? you’ve always been his little lap dog. he says ‘jump’ and you say ‘how high,’ isn’t that right, lieutenant?”

your tone is tense, angry. you throw his title in his face, seeing as he’d been so quick to remind you of yours back in price’s office.

simon watches you, and you want to tackle him. he had always been quiet, always stoic. you’d been with him for years, but you still didn’t think you’d broken down all of his walls.

he was so good at masking his thoughts, his feelings. you weren’t. soap had always called you an open book. whenever you were mad or upset, everyone knew it.

no one knew anything about simon unless he wanted them to. it drove you mad then, and it was sure as hell driving you mad now.

“you need to get back to the infirmary,” he tells you. he wipes the back of his hand under his nose, smearing red across his skin. for a moment, you want to chastise him, reach up and wipe the remnants from his face.

you quickly shake that thought from your head. what is it they say— old habits die hard?

these habits would die if you had to strangle each one with your bare hands. anything you harbored for the four men on your team, for the one you’d called yours, was dead and gone.

“fuck off,” you tell him.

“why are you so damn stubborn?” he says then, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him start to crack since everything had happened. emotions are beginning to leak through his stony exterior, whether he means them to or not.

“you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. none of you do,” you say, and you take a step forward then, eyes blazing as you stare up at him. “not after what you did.”

he doesn’t speak for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. his eyes never leave yours.

“it shouldn’t have happened like that.” he tells you. you scoff.

“like that? you mean the four of you torturing me? tying me up and mutilating me like I was just another fucking target?” your voice was rising as you took another step forward, shoving a finger into his chest.

“if I’d treated you like another target,” he said, tone even. “you would’ve been dead.”

“so you showed me mercy, is that it?” you bared your teeth, a hollow laugh escaping your throat. “oh, thank you simon. I really felt that fucking mercy when you cut off my finger, and when you cut through layers of skin to get to bone.”

you inhaled before continuing. “I should be grateful then, right? is that what you want from me? for me to recognize your fucking ‘mercy’ and take you back? take you all back?”

he just stands there. you can see his jaw clench, but he makes no move to speak. you find it funny that he hasn’t even tried to apologize. john, your ever prideful captain, had swallowed his failure and pleaded for your forgiveness.

johnny and kyle would surely have done the same if they’d had the chance to speak to you, even if they only had a minute.

but simon? simon doesn’t. he doesn’t outwardly admit his wrongs. he doesn’t apologize. doesn’t seem sorry, even. you don’t know what’s going on inside his head, but you find yourself not really caring to know.

the fact that he can’t bring himself to admit, in blunt words, that he had astronomically fucked up and that he felt even the slightest bit of remorse, told you everything you needed to know.

cold, stoic ghost. you hadn’t been afraid of him when you’d first joined the squad, and you weren’t afraid of him now.

but back then, you’d wanted to break down those stone walls of his. you’d wanted to be someone he felt safe around, someone who knew him inside and out.

now, you’re packing your time with him into a box in your mind and dumping it into the trash. simon riley means nothing to you now.

“take your mercy and shove it up your ass,” you tell him. you step back and drop your hand, your eyes still locked on his.

“and by the way,” you say as you start towards the door. he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t move an inch. it’s as if he’s rooted to the spot.

“you should’ve just killed me.”

author’s note:

not really sure how I feel about this one tbh. I have plans for a part four, but I’m not quite sure how long I’ll be making this series.

and as for simon— I want to write an extra part about his thoughts/feelings about everything. let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

anyways, let me know your thoughts please :) (I honestly may end up deleting this and rewriting it when I’m not tired lol)

taglist: @preeyansha @igotmajordaddyissues @nanatheoaktree @aesthetic0cherryblossom @oceanicexolorer @soph121212 @liv2post @cupid-eclipse @angels-despair18 @k4marina

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Mad Woman"

ok yall im out of school now! this was rushed so don't judge, when i write i just pour out whatever's in my head, that's why it's almost always rushed. i feel like if i don't write it, it'll disappeare! also to everyone hating in my asks, NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ MY WORK!!!! hating does nothing but discourage me and lower my already non-existent confidence in my writing. pls leave me alone, if you don't have anything nice to say; don't say anything. i LOVE all my positive asks and comments, they make my day. don't ruin it for me.

Prologue: hapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4: Chapter 5 Chapter 6:

Six months, that's how long it's been since Bruce exiled you to New York and left you alone once again. It's been 387 days since Tiffany Maverick pulled the rug from beneath your feet and ensnared your family in her web of lies and manipulation. For six months, your family ignored you, only Alfred sending you the occasional care package which you promptly threw in the garbage.

You wish Tiffany and Damian were as content with ignoring you as the rest of the family but unfortunately, they went out of their way to rub their closeness in your face by sending you pictures of family movie night, family game night, and the family attending their school events. It made you angry at first, before you saw how funny it was. A family of billionaires, a family of detectives, a family of vigilantes, sitting next to a spy; obliviously feeding her insider information. The Batman, sitting grinning ear to ear next to a girl who could be his downfall.

Surprisingly, boarding school was amazing. The boys were hot, though most arrogant and dumb, they were all loaded and into you. The girls idolized you from the moment you walked in, your word was law around here and the power felt amazing. You decided what was in and out, who was hot and who was not; a huge difference and change of pace from the years of bullying and ridicule at Gotham Prep.

The charm came with your new abilities, most likely. Sure, the first two months were fucking painful and exposed you to pain you didn't think was possible but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing for the power of being able to charm and flirt your way out of just about anything, being able to eject venom with the slightest trace of your fresh set of acrylics, being able to literally bite people with your fangs and have them enjoy it, sensing heat signatures and feeling emotions and eyes on you, having the ability to give literal bone-crushing hugs, and so many things you haven't even discovered.

Not to mention your random overnight makeover! Suddenly, your figure was to die for, perfect in all senses of the word. Your skin gleamed and shimmered in the light, long shed away were all the blemishes and scars. Your hair always shiny and your teeth always pearly white, albeit a bit sharp. You're the image of beauty.

Who cares about the price when the product was this good anyway?

Who needed familial love when everyone here worshipped you? That new view and utter hatred for the family is what convinced you to accept Ariele, your boarding school bff and roomie,'s offer to spend summer break with her family in the south of france. Of course, you wanted to go back to manor for a week before meeting her there. Alfred asked you to come and though you were angry at him, you missed the old man. You swore to yourself that you'd only stay the night, catch up with Alfred, and ignore your 'family' then promptly spend the summer half naked, tanning on a super yacht with your girls.

Little did you know that you'd never make it to france, in fact, you wouldn't even make it out the manor now that Tim discovered the truth and told the rest of the family.

Tim Drake noticed things. Small things. Minute details that other people might overlook. That's how he found the truth.

It started with the cooking. Tiffany had casually mentioned one evening that she’d found some old recipes in the manor’s archives, recipes that you had once written down, hoping to impress Damian with Arabic dinners and desserts. Tiffany had barely glanced at the handwritten notes before she had offered to make dinner that night—a perfect replica of your signature stuffed cabbage leaves, Malfoof, as you called it.

Tim had been there when it happened. He’d recognized it immediately. The dish was one of your favorites, one you had made for family dinners. It was too familiar, too precise for Tiffany, it lacked the usual love and effort.

Then came the awards. It was subtle at first, too. Tiffany casually dropping that she had “entered a local baking competition” and how much fun it had been to win. Tim had known that you had been the one to actually win that competition the year before, he remembered rolling his eyes as you foolishly tried to impress him. But when he checked the award Tiffany had won? It looked eerily similar to the one that you had earned. Tiffany didn’t even bother hiding her gloating as she showed it off, calling it “another step toward making Gotham proud.”

Tim’s stomach churned. It wasn’t a coincidence. Tiffany was stealing your life and he was the only one that saw it. Who knows what else she was stealing.

The pieces clicked into place when he found the old photo albums. Tiffany had been snooping around the library one afternoon, pulling out albums that had been tucked away in the back, ones that hadn’t been touched in years. They were full of memories of your achievements, pictures of family vacations, awards won for charity work and academic excellence. Baby photo's, old camera's, journals, even old clothes.It wasn’t just admiration. It was an obsession.

He saw her dig through and read every one of your old entries, saw her stare at pictures and attempt to manuever her body how you stood, but what really creeped him out was when she started tracing over your handwriting.

Tim couldn’t let it go. This was insane. It was almost as if Tiffany wanted to wear your skin.

It wasn’t that he wanted to make Tiffany an enemy or villainize her, quite the opposite actually, he'd been ignoring her strange behavior and smell for a year now because of how fond he was of her. But this? This was crossing a line. She wasn’t just trying to fit in anymore, this was dangerous.

He now suspected there was more to Tiffany than just her obsession with your life and after putting the pieces together, it was becoming clear: Tiffany was playing a much deeper game. She wasn’t just trying to steal your identity, she was stealing information, too.

Tim’s investigative skills had been honed through years of being the tech guy of the Batfamily, and when something felt off, he didn’t ignore it. Not anymore, he started tracking small anomalies—times when Tiffany’s presence seemed too convenient, moments when crucial data about Gotham’s underworld went missing from the Batcomputer, or when confidential mission details were leaked through channels Tim knew the Batfamily didn’t use. Times when the Joker seemed to know the family's course of action and times when villains knew Duke's plans.

That’s when it clicked.

Tiffany wasn’t just trying to fit in with the family. She was spying. Her affections with the family were a cover for something darker. She had been gathering intelligence for a shadowy organization, feeding them vital information about their operations. This was bigger than him—this was a full-blown infiltration. Tiffany was working for someone else, someone dangerous.

Tiffany’s betrayal ran deep, and her spying wasn’t just about information anymore; it was personal. She had been stealing pieces of your life, your successes, your talents , your family. She had slowly taken everything that you had worked for and twisted it into her own false narrative. It was sickening.

Tim couldn’t stand it anymore. He had dug through encrypted files, tracked hidden transmissions, and pieced together cryptic conversations. Tiffany wasn’t just trying to steal your identity for the sake of becoming the perfect family member. No. She was mimicking your cooking and baking skills, down to the awards she had won for those very talents. She had been trying to erase you and replace you with a manufactured version of herself.

It was almost too much for Tim to handle. But there was something even worse lurking beneath the surface: the deeper he dug, the more it became clear that Tiffany wasn’t just feeding information to criminals. She had been feeding off your spirit, your presence and she had nearly replaced you entirely.

Now he just needed to tell the other.

The tension in the Batcave could be cut with a knife as Tim stood before Bruce, Dick, Jason, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred, ready to show them what he had discovered.

“I’ve been tracking Tiffany’s movements for the last few days,” Tim began, his voice low but sharp. “And I found something that’s... unsettling.”

Bruce, who had been scanning a mission report, looked up with interest. Dick turned to Tim, a puzzled expression on his face. Alfred stepped forward, his usual composed demeanor now replaced with a rare concern. Even Damian looked confused.

“What did you find, Master Tim?” Alfred asked, his tone calm, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Tim didn’t hesitate. He clicked a button on the computer, and the large screen behind him flickered to life. A series of encrypted files appeared—mission logs, surveillance footage, and even intercepted communications. The Batcave was suffocating in its silence as Tim presented the evidence to Bruce, Dick, Jason, Alfred, and the others. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and every new image, every new file, felt like a punch in the gut.

There was a long silence as everyone processed the information. Bruce’s usual stoic expression faltered for a moment, and Dick clenched his fists. The weight of the revelation was hitting hard, but it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt. It was that someone in their midst had been pulling the strings behind their backs for a year.

The data was damning. It was all there, proof that Tiffany had been copying your recipes, your designs, your machines, even stealing the culinary awards that you had earned over the years. And on top of that, she had been siphoning critical Batfamily intel to an unknown organisation. The information was so sensitive, it could have jeopardized every single one of them.

“Do you see it now?” Tim’s voice was quieter, but his anger was unmistakable. He flicked the last file onto the screen. Tiffany’s false accomplishments, stolen directly from you. The stolen recipes. The mission intel sent out from the Batcomputer under her watch. “All of us have been blind to it.”

“About a month ago,” Tim said, “I found an odd encryption pattern in the Batcomputer—something I’ve never seen before. When I decrypted it, I found a set of mission details. Ones that shouldn’t have left the system. I traced the origin back to Tiffany.”

Alfred's face tightened as he took in the footage on the screen. It was a recording of Tiffany accessing classified Batfamily data, tapping into their most sensitive files.

“She’s been stealing information,” Tim continued, his voice gaining intensity. “Every single time she’s interacted with the Batcomputer, she’s been sending that data out to an unknown address. I can't track where it's coming from, it's too advanced; even for me.

“Impossible,” Bruce muttered, but his eyes were narrowing in disbelief. “Why would she—?”

“Because she’s a spy,” Tim interrupted, “and it gets worse. She’s been feeding them everything. Our weaknesses, our next moves, our schedules. She’s not just a mole in the manor. She’s been working against us this whole time. She's why so many missions have failed.Tim’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just the family’s accomplishments she’s been stealing. She’s been getting close to each of us, using our trust. She knows things, personal things, and she’s been leaking that information. She’s been feeding it to the highest bidder, giving Gotham’s worst players a playbook for taking us down.”

Dick’s face twisted with disbelief. “She was pretending to be (y/n), taking her accomplishments as her own, but—” He trailed off, his voice faltering. “How could we have let this happen? How did we not notice?”

Jason’s voice cut through the heavy silence, rough and sharp, like a crack of thunder. He stepped forward, fists clenched. “I should’ve known. She’s been playing everyone, pretending like she’s all sweet and innocent, but she was using all of us.” Jason’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back at Tim, his face a mask of fury. “She lied to me. She’s been lying to all of us. And she’s been trying to replace her.” His hand slammed onto the table, and the anger in his voice was unmistakable. “She doesn’t belong here. We trusted her. We all trusted her.” Jason’s anger bubbled over. This betrayal, the way Tiffany had wormed her way into their lives, made him see red

He couldn’t keep it in any longer. “I should’ve known,” Jason spat, pacing in circles, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “I let her get close to me. I let her in, we all did! And now look at this. She’s been pretending to be everything she’s not. She’s been trying to take her place, her rightful place in this family!”

Alfred, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat, his voice filled with quiet but growing fury. “I should have seen it,” he muttered, his gaze darkening. “I was too lenient with her. I allowed her to slip through the cracks, to play at being part of this family. I should have known better.” His usually calm demeanor was cracking, and the regret in his voice was palpable.

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line as the weight of Tim’s words sank in. His eyes hardened as he stared at the screen, disappointment creeping into his features. Tiffany had been their guest, their supposed family, and this whole time, she had been playing them all. You had tried to warn them.

Duke, who had been standing quietly at the back of the room, spoke up. His voice was low but steady.

“I knew something was off,” Duke said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but... she’d been acting weird around me. Always asking questions—asking about the family, the missions, everything. I thought I was paranoid.”

Damian had always been fiercely protective of what he considered his, no one could ever doubt that. He mocked you, saw you as his pathetic bastard older sister, he had wanted to hurt you. But now, as the reality of Tiffany’s betrayal settled in, something darker began to take root inside him. He remember your unconditional love for him, how you took everything he said did to you with grace and compassion. He remembered how good you were to him. He noticed that everything he thought he loved about Tiffany was what she stole from you. His eyes burned with rage as he thought about how Tiffany had wormed her way into the family and his heart, how she’d stolen your accomplishments, and how she’d attempted to erase his sibling from the very fabric of their world.

She was trying to replace her. That thought alone made his fists tighten, nails biting into his palms.

It had been a long time since Damian had felt this kind of protective rage. He was the blood of the Wayne family, the one who deserved to be at the center of it all, but you; his blood sibling, his equal, had always been ignored, undervalued ridiculed and neglected. And now Tiffany, a mere interloper, had dared to manipulate and tear him away from you.

Damian watched the family, his gaze flicking to each of them as they tried to process the betrayal. The anger from his family was palpable, but there was something else there too: possessiveness. Protectiveness. regret. They weren’t just angry at Tiffany for what she had done to you, they were furious at themselves for pushing you away and leaving you alone and unprotected in New York.

You were his responsibility, his blood, and no one; not even Tiffany, was going to steal you away from him. He had always wanted to prove his superiority to the others, but now that wasn’t his focus. His attention was fixed solely on bringing you back to him, where you belonged.

Cass, who had been silently observing, nodded. Her face was unreadable, but the tension in her jaw told Tim that she, too, had been sensing something wrong for weeks.

Steph, ever the sharp observer, had her arms crossed over her chest, her usual sarcasm now tempered with a cold seriousness. “I knew she wasn’t perfect, but this? This is next-level crazy. Are you sure bout this Time?” She leaned forward, her voice suddenly harder.

Barbra was too shocked to say anything. This was not how today was supposed to go.

Alfred glanced toward Bruce. “Master Bruce,” he said softly, “the level of infiltration, this is something I never anticipated. We should have seen the signs.”

Bruce’s expression was steely. “We were too distracted, too willing to accept her presence as part of the family. We let our guard down.”

“That’s not just her fault,” Dick interjected. “We’ve all been too trusting. Especially with everything that happened with (y/n).” His voice hardened as he glanced at the screen again, eyes flicking to Tim. “What now? What do we do about it?”

Tim stepped forward, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I’ve already notified our allies. The information she’s passed is enough to give this organization an upper hand in Gotham, maybe beyond. She hasn't revealed our identities but she might soon. we can’t let her get away with it. She’s been playing us this whole time.”

Steph threw her hands up in exasperation. “So what, we just let her go? She’s been lying to us, manipulating us for months! ?”

Tim’s eyes were cold, calculating. “We’ll have to trap her. Use the information she’s already stolen to set her up. Once we confront her, we’ll make sure she doesn’t get away.”

Bruce’s fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw set in stone. He had failed [Y/N]—he had failed his child. The weight of that was too much for him to bear. “This ends now. We’re going to fix this.”

Ok yall since apparently 8 ppl think my work is absoulte shit and and SURE i knew how they felt this is pretty rushed and i feel like it sucks! anyway!! i hope at least some people enjoy <33 send in nice aks and questions and ideas pls. its so fun answering them. yall are mind readers and are so creative!! lmk if there's any typos bc I copy-pasted half of it from my notes app. yeah i did write half of this when i was supposed to be in class, and??? Next chapter Tiffany gets confronted, reader comes home, Batfam start groveling and regretting their actions, sort of on their way to yandere-ism and make reader move back to gotham to be closer to "family"

[landoughnut]

Pit Stop Staring

♡ masterlist - request - emoji anons

♡ pairing - lando norris x mechanic!fem!reader

♡ summary - lando notices you during a pit stop, gets distracted and stares at you, and embarrasses himself on the radio being aired as he gushes over you, but with a little push from Zak, he makes his move on you!

♡ warnings - fluff, BLUSHY and nervous lando, love at first sight, a pinch of jealousy, Zak's a wing man, lando being cute and STUTTERINGGG hehehe

♡ w/c & a/n - 1.86k | #ilovetommy

Today was your first day working as a mechanic during an actual race, and you couldn't be more excited. You'd just finished your months of training and you felt pretty confident in yourself, so you weren't too nervous.

The McLaren team was more than welcoming when you first started, although some were a little apprehensive to have a girl working with the heavy tires, you proved them completely wrong and quickly gained their admiration, making friends with some as well.

As for the two papaya drivers, you had only briefly met Oscar about a month ago while leaving a meeting. He told you he was happy to be working with you soon, and he thought you will do amazing. You spoke shortly before he was being called off by someone, but he said goodbye and wished you best of luck.

The other driver, Lando, you had unfortunately not met yet. You heard quite a lot about him, and people said he was kind with a great sense of humor, so you crossed your fingers and wished you were able to catch him and introduce yourself. You also had seen some edits of him on your feed, not that you would tell anyone that, but you couldn't deny that he was quite a looker.

Back to today, though, you were waiting to see the bright papaya cars pull into the pit stop for their tire exchanges. After some laps, the first one to pull up was Oscar, and you and the others quickly got to work with a successful change in just about 2 seconds.

You beamed as he drove away and got a high five from your mechanic friend, Tommy, and he grinned at you, "That was great! And your first time too! You'll be putting me out of my job soon," he laughs.

You shake your head and poke his side, walking back to the garage, "Don't be silly! I did learn from the best," you say and give him a dramatic wink.

"Ha. Ha. You flatter me," he pats your head. You just push his arm away and turn your head to look at the race stats.

Oscar is in a good fourth place currently, and Lando in second, four seconds behind Max. You watch the race for about three more minutes before you hear that Lando was told to box next lap, so you and the mechanics rush out to the pit once again and prepare your gear.

A few moments pass before you can spot Lando's bright helmet in his car coming closer. He finally arrives and pulls up into his spot, while doing so, he glances around and his eyes land on you.

His mouth drops open slightly and he whispers a little, "Wow." Everyone does his tire change just as fast as Oscars, but Lando was still staring at you, who he thinks might be an angel sent down from above just for him.

Wow, he thinks to himself again, you have to be the most gorgeous person he's ever seen. He doesn't even realize that everyone has cleared the way for him to exit the stop until he sees you tilt your head and he hears his race engineer's voice, "Lando! GO! What are you doing, mate?!"

That snaps Lando back to reality, and he quickly drives away, now in last place due to how long he was there. He feels his neck and cheeks heat up in embarrassment. There's no way he would have a chance with you after that.

"I-I'm so sorry, she was s-so beautiful, and she looks like an a-angel, I-I got distracted," he stutters quietly to Will, his race engineer.

"Oh my- Lando this is being aired, you can't say stuff like that, mate!" Will sighs but he can't help but laugh a little bit. However Lando does the opposite now, he chews his lip like he's about to cry of humility, since now he knows you just heard him say that and you were the only girl there, so you know he had to be talking about you.

Back to where you were, you laughed at the radio message, curious to who he was stuttering over. Tommy's eyes bulge as he hears it, head whipping toward you.

You look at him and furrow your eyebrows, "What?"

He just blinds at you before yelling, "Lando Norris said you're beautiful! And look like an angel!"

"What? No he didn't?"

"Are you- who else would he be talking about?!" Tommy puts his hands on your shoulder and gently shakes you.

"Uhh," you laugh and glance at the other mechanics who are smirking and you and raising their eyebrows up and down. "I don't know, there are some women team members right over there," you point to the side.

Tommy just drops his head down and shakes it, "No. He was talking about you!"

"But.. I'm.. well, me? Just an average new mechanic," you look down at your uniform, "in some very unflattering working clothes."

Tommy just steps back and crosses his arms, "First off, don't ever say you're 'just you', because you're my best friend here," he whispers, so the others won't hear him, and you giggle. "Second, the clothes may be a little unflattering but you're still a very pretty girl," he smiles at you.

"Awhhhhh, Tommy! Who knew you were such a sap!" You hug the boy in thanks and he reciprocates it as you walk to the garage once again.

"So are you going to ask him out later?"

You almost choke on your breath, "What? No! Of course not! Are you crazy?"

He rolls his eyes, "Come on, he was just stuttering. Lando Norris was stuttering over you, if that isn't love at first sight then I don't know what is," he shrugs.

"Tommy!" You slap his arm, "We are done with this conversation."

"But-"

"End of discussion!" You huff, turning on your heels and walk away. Leaving your friend to rub his face in defeat.

When the race ended with Lando placed seventh due to the mishap from before, he hopped out of the car and rushed over to Zak.

Zak pulls the boy in for a hug and ruffles his hair, which was quite the opposite reaction Lando had thought he would see, since he cost the team points.

Once he lets go of Lando, the only thing he gets out of his mouth is, "Who was that?"

Zak lets out a laugh and tries to keep in a grin, "Who? Her?" he nods over to you, standing while chatting with Tommy again. Lando frowns as he watches you two.

"Are they dating?" he asks the older man.

"Hmm," he pretends to think about it, "yes," he nods. Of course he's only kidding, trying the get a rise out of the British boy.

"What?" Lando's head snaps to the man, looking utterly devastated. Zak starts laughing loudly, looking at him, and thinks this is what the human version of a kicked puppy would look like.

"I'm only joking, buddy, why don't you go and ask her?" Zak pats Lando's shoulder.

"U-uh I don't know...."

"Oh, come on! You're Lando Norris!"

The boy sighs and looks at you longingly. That was until you glanced over at him and he quickly turned back to Zak, his face now turning red again at being caught. "What about no work relationships?"

Zak sighs and shakes his head, "Listen, I'll talk to people about it and I'll make it work, okay?" He smiles and Lando lets his lips twitch into a tiny smile. "Now, go get your girl!" He turns his shoulders and pushes him forward a little bit.

Lando blinks fast and his heart races as he nervously makes his way over to you two.

You don't notice but Tommy does and bites back a teasing comment. "Lando Norris! The legendary man himself!"

You look to your right and see the boy bouncing slightly on his feet, twisting his hands and he looks back and forth between you both. "H-hi," he whispers to you, his ears turning red at your kind gaze.

"Hi! It's nice to finally meet you," you smile at him.

Tommy nods, "Yeah, and nice radio message today, man, real smooth," he chuckles.

Unbeknownst to you, Lando now wishes the floor would swallow him whole. "Uh, y-yeah, thanks?"

Tommy just laughs, "Oh! I think someone is calling me, gotta go!"

You watch him walk away, and Lando glares at him. "Did you hear someone calling him?" you ask.

"No, but, um, I-I'm sorry for today, a-and I didn't-"

You quickly shake your head and smile, "No! Don't apologize, really! I'm honored!" You put your hand on his arm, causing him to tense. You quickly remove it and apologize, "I'm so sorry! I should have asked-"

"N-No!" Lando says, and Zak drops his head into his hands as he watches the scene from afar. "You can touch me anytime! I-I mean- bloody hell- n-not like that! I mean you can if you wa-" he slaps a hand over his mouth before he can embarrass himself and more.

You just blush as you watch the boy, you find it endearing, to be honest, you've never had someone act like this with you before. "Lando! Please, don't worry, I think your rambling is cute, and... you yourself are cute too," you put your hands behind your back.

"Me? Really? You think I'm c-cute?" He lets out a nervous laugh in disbelief.

"Is that so hard to believe?" You frown.

"I... guess not.. but you're.. you! W-way out of my league..." he trails off.

"You have to be joking!"

He just looks down at his feet and smiles, his body slowly untensing as he feels a little less nervous. It's not that he's stuttering and blushing because he's scared of you, he's just never met someone so... perfect.

He slowly raises his eyes back up to look at you, "Well... then would you m-maybe want to... get dinner with me later?"

Your smile widens at the hopeful look in his eyes, you pinch your arm once, just to be sure this is really happening and not a dream. "Of course! Oh, I'd love to, would you like my number to send me the details?" you ask him.

He nods and pats his pocket for his phone, "Oh! I left my phone in my driver's room... but if you have yours, I'll give you mine?"

"Sure," you nod and hand him your phone, watching as he creates a contact for himself. "Well, I do have to go back, I promised my friends to hang out for a bit after the race but I'll see you later," you tell him.

He smiles at you, "Alright, see you!"

You turn around, walking to your friends who were giggling to themselves, watching the whole thing.

Lando is left in his spot, practically lovestruck, "What a woman," he whispers to himself dreamily.

He jumps with a yelp when he feels a hand on his shoulder, "Well done, kid! You got yourself a date!"

Lando turns to look at a way too excited Zak Brown, "Yeah... I suppose I did."

[wcnderlnds]

home sweet home | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: after his big interview, you go over to make sure he's okay and there's a shift in the friendship. ・❥・word count: 941 ・❥・warnings: none! oh, except for kissing, i guess. ・❥・ authors note: ok im nervous about this one. i havent wrote fics for musicians, etc. in years so we'll see how it goes but im so down bad for this man

Each glance at the clock made your heart beat just a little faster, the hours ticking by slowly. If you were nervous then you couldn’t even imagine how he felt. His first interview in years — it had to be the most daunting experience to put himself back into the spotlight like that. Your foot tapped against the floor of your apartment as you waited for the clock to hit 3PM. That was the time you’d told him you’d go over to his place to check on him. His interview would’ve been over by then and it gave him some time to process things on his own. Most of the time Seung-hyun liked to isolate himself but if there was one person in the world that he’d let see him at his most vulnerable, it was you. Not like he had a choice anyway. Whether he wanted it or not, you were always checking on him. He was your nearest and dearest friend so you couldn’t let him face his demons on his own.

Seung-hyun appreciated it more than he would ever be able to explain to you. As of now, you were the only person he hadn’t shut out — his guiding light in the darkness of his life for the past few years. You were a big reason why he thought more positively these days, why he even had the courage to pick himself up and get back out into the world.

Finally, 3PM came and without hesitation, you made your way over to his place. As you raised your fist to knock, the door pulled open. There he stood, a smile on his face as his dark, floppy hair got in the way of his glasses. He pushed his hair back as you stepped inside. It really was a crime how this man could look so good at any given time. He really had been blessed with amazing genes. His hair with no product in, the glasses framing his face and the comfortable hoodie he was wearing made your heart almost skip a beat.

“How’d it go?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug.

“Okay,” he replied, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against his chest. “Scary but I did it and that’s the main thing. It’s long overdue.”

“I’m so proud of you,” you smiled. As you pulled back, you let your arms rest on his forearms, gazing up into his gorgeous dark eyes. “Baby steps, yeah? Go at your own pace. But, for now, let’s eat and you can tell me all about it.”

The dinner was spent with you both laughing, him telling stories of how the interview went, you telling him about your day — he was always so willing to listen to every word you said. The way he looked at you paired with the way he was always so attentive was any person’s dream. Seung-hyun was a catch; anyone with eyes could see that. Yours had been closed for so long but now? You were starting to realise that maybe, just maybe, what you both needed had been right in front of you this whole time.

As the two of you stood in the kitchen clearing up, you ran a plate under the sink, rinsing off the debris so you could put it in the dishwasher. Spinning around, you came face to chest with Seung-hyun who had been standing behind you placing something in the cabinet above your head. You gulped at the proximity, his fingers sliding over yours as he took the plate from your hand. It was only brief contact but it was enough to make your heart speed up.

“Here, let me do that,” he said quietly, his deep voice like music to your ears. It took him all of two seconds to reach over, bend down and place it in the dishwasher before he was back facing you. 

“Thank you,” your voice was soft, eyes locking with his as you glanced up.

Seung-hyun gently tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, his fingers skimming your cheek as he pulled back. Your breath caught in your throat. It was like time had frozen still for a moment — nothing but you and your best friend locked in this monumental piece of time where you realised this was more than friendship. Maybe it always had been. Your heart had just finally decided to catch up and realise it. From the moment you had met this amazing, incredible man, he’d had a piece of your heart. All you ever wanted to do was protect him, care for him like he deserved. The world had been cruel to him but you’d make sure that nothing would be again.

It was as if he was reading your mind, his hand cupping your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek. Who was going to be the first to make a move? Was it worth risking the friendship? It seemed like it to Seung-hyun as he leaned forward and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours, eyes fluttering shut. Your hands rested on his chest, lips moving together in perfect sync. Like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. You could feel him smiling against your lips, pulling back ever so slightly. Your lips parted, chest rising and falling with each breath. 

“Can I do that again?” He asked almost breathlessly. 

You didn’t even say a word instead placing your hand at the back of his neck and pulling him back down to your lips. Yeah, there was definitely no going back now.

[suiana]

yandere! merman who's (unfortunately) a frequent visitor to your front yard.

living on the beach had its ups and downs. being able to witness such a beautiful sight every day and night, no matter the seasons was really amazing. the fact that you worked as a beach lifeguard also meant that you could head to work much more conveniently.

unfortunately that's about as good as the positives get. not with the ever increasing living expenses and your stupidly handsome fish intruder.

he pops up in your backyard every single day. every. SINGLE. day.

at first it was cute and interesting. oh! a gorgeous merman making himself comfortable in your front yard, tail in the water while he lounges on the sand and tries to talk to you.

you gave into him of course. yes, you have met several other merfolk in your time as a lifeguard. yet there was something about him that drew you in. was it the fact that he would constantly break into your front yard and act like he belonged there? or the fact that he had massive tits and there were always just staring at you? you weren't sure.

plus he was also really interesting too! he (coincidentally) had all the same interests as you and (obviously) also knew you in and out! talking to him was just so so enjoyable! he was extremely cuddly, nuzzling into your neck while he mutters words of affirmations that do wonders to your touch starved heart. aw! it's like he likes you or something :)

but it became annoying. he wouldn't leave you no matter how much you tried. in fact, he'd even FORCE you to stay on the beach with him, holding your hand down as he looked at you with the most emotionally manipulative look. lips all pouty and eyes glossed over, tears threatening to spill. the fact that your house was right there too, just a few steps out of reach... it was like he was purposely trying to tease you or something. hello dude, you aren't my boyfriend! you can't keep me here!

you'd think because he was half fish it would mean he wouldn't be able to stay above land for extended periods of time. but boy, you swear you never really see him enter the water. actually, you swear you see him on land more often!

trying to catch him off guard and enter the water is also near impossible too. it's like he has some sort of power or telekinesis or whatnot. you tried faking sleep just to sneak a glance of him off your porch, maybe even seeing him enter the beautiful waters.

nope. what you got was a JUMPSCARE with him staring right back at you, eyes all wide and mouth open, showcasing rows of sharp teeth. you've never tried to see him away again.

you couldn't even bring other people home anymore. not with him flopping around, glaring and hissing at anyone who dared to even glance at you for a second too long. what seemed like a handsome and harmless fishman was now a nuisance and fucking creepy presence in your already dull life.

have i mentioned the fact that you're a lifeguard? yeah, because of his constant hovering (or flopping) around you, you can't even do your job properly. he doesn't even let you go save people that are clearly in need of help! he just scowls and tells the people to stop drowning! muttering about how if they were a better swimmer they wouldn't be in this position in the first place!

like???

oh well, at least he doesn't do anything more than forcing you to talk to him as long as possible, scaring away all potential suitors and just people in general, and staying in your front yard for way too long, right?

um... you might want to look out your window... uh... yeah, new merfolk. oldies? yeah um, they're his parents. he wants you to meet them. like, right now. and he's also wearing some intricate jewellery that he hasn't worn before.

and is that... a ring?

oh. well.

hahaha...

good luck lifeguard! hopefully he (most definitely) isn't trying to marry you! that would be bad! like, super bad! haha!

[shysuccubusstuff]

Yandere! Mr. Scarletella:

Content: violence + stalking + voyerism + picture taking + masturbation + stealing + break of privacy + neutral reader + tampering with your food + noncon content + Stockholm syndrome. + mindbreak.

Summary: Human! Scarletella just wasn't able to stop himself from stalking falling in love with such an amazing person, God, he just loves stealing borrowing your stuff!

Note: So, I just had to write something about this amazing game, feel free to check it out and support the creator!!

SFW:

Yandere! Scarletella who fell in love since the first time he saw you around university, always being around those other guys... But he knew he just had to wait, yeah, wait for the right moment to approach you.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps randomly appearing on your classes from time to time. Oh, he isn't even in your course, but taking a few extra classes or even skipping some of his is no issue for him.

Yandere! Scarlatella who makes sure to get close enough so he can steal a few things from you while in class, sometimes it's your old pencil, other times he just takes whatever has touched your hand that class. That includes waiting until the university is closing to take your thrown away coffe cup (it still has your salive, so he has definitely kissed you, right?).

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps on appearing on your daily life, you try to act as if the constant encounters are just mere coincidences, not like he even tried to strike up a conversation with you, so there must be no danger, right?

Yandere! Scarlatella who sometimes follows you back to your doorm. He always makes sure to walk quite far away from you trying to avoid freaking you out as he knows it would affect your daily routine.

Yandere! Scarlatella who climbs up the tree just to be able to catch a glimpse of your face while you're sleeping. You look so beautiful with your lips sligthly parted! ♡ You don't know it, but he has found a way of opening your window while you're sleeping. When he feels extra bold, he lets himself run his fingers through your soft lips feeling your warm breath is just enough to get him hot and bothered ♡.

Yandere! Scarlatella who begins to be feared by all your friends. They keep warning you about him, but it's not like you have any proof of what he's doing, such a shame :(( jk. He made sure to state his point, beating your poor friends to a pulp if he saw them getting a bit too close to you, he made sure to leave no visible marks, he doesn't want you worrying your pretty little head.

Yandere! Scarlatella who loses it after seeing that creepy long-haired guy far too close to you, if you wanted him to kidnap take you with him already you could've just said so dummy! Of course he wastes no time taking you from those filthy guys. You will be safe with him ♡.

Yandere! Scarlatella who breaks your poor mind after being trapped several months. Maybe being taken care of isn't so bad, right?

NSFW:

Yandere! Scarlatella who masturbates to your sleeping face, his tip being dangerously close to your lips. He can't stop imagining them surrounding his lenght...♡ He knows he has to keep patient but each day it becomes harder to act neutral.

Yandere! Scarlatella who takes photos of your clothed cunt for his collection. This collection includes many versions, from more tame ones (you smiling) to less... ethical ones (your sleeping face).

Yandere! Scarlatella who robs your underwear while you sleep. He just needs some... extra motivation. So he uses them, wrapping them around his cock as he keeps moving his hand up and down, making sure to stain your poor underwear with his sperm. He makes sure to clean them throughly before giving them back to you, although he sometimes wishes he could just cum inside the underwear you're currently using.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps on putting his own fluids on the stuff he feeds you. Most days he keeps it tame, deciding to introduce a bit of his salive on your food/drink, but when you behave extremely bad, he uses his cum, mixing it with your food together with some aphrodisiac, just enough to make you lose a bit of your sanity from not being able to masturbate.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps cameras all around his house so he can see you from different angles (all make you look like an angel ♡). He may or may not use those videos to masturbate, just maybe.

Yandere! Scarlatella who begins to use your mouth to release himself as a reward. You were just so eager to be touched! He just knew you were in love with him! It has definitely nothing to do with him being the only human contact for over six months! You let him use your mouth as he wants, forcing his cock into your throat, those sinful sounds filling his room as you try not to puke from his tip hitting the back of your throat.

Yandere! Scarlatella who slowly begins to mark your whole body as his. He started by marking your face with his cum, moving on to your mouth and then to your beautiful chest, the next step was of course cumming all over your low abdomen.

Yandere! Scarlatella who refuses to cum inside of you. He keeps controlling himself by saying that he wants to make sure both of you truly love each other... that's... well. Let's just say that he is just another level of delusion, but don't worry, he would never give up on his sweet and precious darling ♡ !

[vroomvroomwee]

I know we're all blown away by David and Michael's performances in the finale, but I don't think we're talking enough about how realistic it was.

It was incredible, but it was also so fucking realistic. Something you don't see even class A actors do.

The way Crowley had to pause, look up, as if expecting something, someone, to give him the words, the strength because he was losing it with every sentence. The way he looks up because he can't look at Aziraphale otherwise he'll break down. The way he can't catch his breath because his heart is beating so fast and he needs a few seconds to collect himself. The way you can actually feel that lump in your throat whenever you're close to tears, the one that pushes up when your eyes are losing their capacity to hold back tears, when he breaks off and let's out that desperate sound. The way he looks away immediately afterwards. The way he starts fumbling for words when he mentions Bee and Gabriel because panick is taking in and all his concentration is focused on not crying and not being able to form sentences and collect his thoughts. Then lamely ending it with "you and me, what do you say?" Because he can't physically talk anymore even though he has so much more to say, to confess, but he can't.

And then being absolutely wrecked with Aziraphale's "I need you" the moment he sees he's not the only one on the brink of crying, that it's mutual, that they both feel like this.

The entire scene wasn't acted out dramatically or over doing it, as if they were in some american teenage drama, it was realistic, it was how real people would handle the situation and how real people would feel and act in real life. It was fucking amazing

[rafeandonlyrafe]

weekend away

words: 3.2k

a/n: of course inspired by these precious pictures of drew <3

warnings: 18+ only, dad!rafe, mom!reader, established relationship, theyre maaaarried <3, VERY FLUFFY, descriptions of breastfeeding, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (but reader is on birth control), rafe is like the best dad everrr

“okay…” you look into your trunk, mentally going through your checklist. stroller, check, folder up and ready for daisys car seat to be placed on. diaper bag, check, with extra diapers just in case. pump, check. carrier, baby carrier, check. extra change of clothes, check.

you have everything you could possibly need for daisy, not even realizing that you completely forgot about yourself.

“got your suitcase packed, baby?” rafe asks, daisy in his arms, happy to be cradled there, looking up at her daddy with wide eyes.

“shit!” you squeal, before covering your mouth. daisy may be too young to understand your words, but you still try not to curse in front of her.

“hey, it's okay.” rafe can instantly see your nerves skyrocketing. of course you were too focused on getting everything for your daughter that you completely forgot that it's a weekend trip you'll be going on too.

“okay, i um- ill just throw some clothes in a bag then-”

“baby.” rafe easily switches daisy to one arm, wrapping his now free one around your shoulders. you relax into his hold, reminded how protected you feel by rafe. “we aren't in a rush. we can delay taking off for a bit, okay? it's not that long of a drive.”

“okay.” you nod, arms circling around his waist as you turn to face rafe, pressing your cheek into his side as you smile down at daisy. “hi baby. mama is a bit of a mess right now.”

“don't talk about yourself like that.” rafe says softly, leaning to press a kiss to the top of you're head. “you're doing amazing. you juggle so much, it's a surprise you don't forget things more often.”

you let out a little chuckle, which daisy copies as her little mouth turns into a smile.

“okay, ill go get started.” you sigh. you can't believe your mind has been so scattered and focused on getting daisy ready that you completely forgot about doing anything for yourself.

“we will help.” rafe closes the trunk, heading back inside to follow you up the stairs. “not sure how much help daisy will be, but you got me at least.”

you end up packing pretty quickly, especially since you're bringing a big suitcase, way too big for just a couple days out of town, so you're easily able to throw in more than you need, just in case.

“alright.” rafe hums. “both suitcases loaded, we just need to get daisy in her car seat.”

“great.” you groan. daisy recently developed a hatred for her car seat, after you planned a nice weekend trip a few hours away from the outer banks.

“how about i try?” you know it won't make a difference, but you nod, letting rafe carry daisy towards the car, trying to distract with coos and even snuggling his nose into her tummy, but by the time she's over the seat, she turns straight as a board.

you can barely watch as her sweet face turns to one of sadness, tears falling down her cheeks.

“oh my poor baby.” you coo after rafe gets her all buckled in. “you want mama to ride back here with you?”

you're not sure it will help, but you climb into the backseat to sit next to the car seat while rafe gets in to drive.

“it is almost nap time, maybe she'll fall asleep quickly.” rafe shrugs as he pulls the car out of the driveway, always extra careful when he's bringing you or daisy anywhere.

“maybe.” you hum, petting over her forehead and down her nose until her cries stop, eyes close, and her chest begins to rise and fall slower.

you don't even realize as rafe happily drives you to your destination that as daisy falls asleep, so do you, head resting against her car seat as you catch up on some rest.

rafe smiles when he sees you in the backseat completely knocked out, even snapping a picture when he stops at a toll.

he keeps the radio down low to not wake either of you until he arrives to the airbnb, a delightful cottage right on the beach. it's not too different from home, but the bigger city offers more things to do, and you plan to take advantage of your time away and show daisy all the things she hasn't experienced yet like zoos and museums.

“babes.” rafe calls out. “we're here.”

“oh my gosh.” you let out a yawn, stretching your back out from the awkward hunched position against the car seat. “that went by so fast.”

“thats what happens when you sleep the whole way.” rafe chuckles.

“shut up.” you giggle, leaning between the front seats to press a kiss to his lips. “thanks for driving us. we love you so much.”

you know you can speak for your daughter, it's so evident how much daisy loves rafe, even if she can't find the words yet.

“love you too, baby.” rafe looks back at daisy, the mirror set up on the headrest of the seat to give him a view of her face. “we should get inside quick, she's gonna wake up hungry.”

“ugh, my poor boobs.” you whine. you love getting to breastfeed daisy, and feel so lucky that you have a good milk supply, but it is hard on your body as well.

“you're amazing.” rafe says earnestly. you turned his life around completely when you began dating him, and it only got even better when daisy was born. he made a pact while she was still inside your tummy to get his shit together, mend his life that was broken.

“oh, shush.” you blush, rafe still able to make you feel shy to this day. 

you get out of the car, looking at the airbnb. you swear it looks even better in person, the warm sun beautifully illuminating the white stand as you walk in, punching in the code that you had already memorized.

you know rafe is bringing daisy in, so you take a moment to inspect the house, the two bedrooms and one nursery as well as the open living area, big windows pointing out to the ocean.

you hear daisys cries before rafe enters with her in his arms. “she's ready for you.”

you take her quickly, sitting down in the plush armchair as you adjust your shirt and nursing bra to free your nipple, which she quickly latches onto.

you can hear rafe bringing in your bags and everything you need for daisy as you nurse and stare out at the ocean.

“all done, baby?” you ask her after she pulls away, a blissed out, happy look on her face.

“ill burp her.” rafe picks daisy up from your arms before you even realize it, clearly missing his girl as you close up your bra and pull your shirt down. you follow rafe out onto the back deck, wrapping your arms around his waist as you listen to the familiar sounds of waves hitting the shore.

“are you tired from the drive?” you ask him. “you can nap and ill entertain daisy and make us dinner.”

“im okay.” rafe turns around to tug you into his side. “and let's just order pizza or something, this is vacation, you don't have to cook.”

“okay.” you get on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before leaning back against his side. you'll order later, after you've started out at the ocean with him, the uninterrupted sea of blue.

--

“ah, ah, ah.” rafe stops you, taking the baby carrier out of your hands. “ill wear her.”

you nod, grabbing the diaper bag and slinging it over your shoulder, which rafe also takes after he puts the carrier on.

“baby, i can carry something.” you laugh as he gets poppy out of her carseat, her cries instantly stopping now that she's free of the car.

“i know you can. but im a good husband, and i got it.”

“okay.” you shrug. “whatever you want baby.”

rafe loads daisy into the carrier, adjusting her to face outward so she can see all of the animals as you walk through the zoo.

“sunscreen.” you remind rafe, putting the cream onto daisys delicate skin. you swipe it across rafes nose as he makes a face.

“you need it too.” you chastise, smearing it across his face, rubbing it all in so he's not embarrassed. you'd already applied sunscreen underneath your makeup at the cottage earlier, so you just refresh your exposed shoulders.

you make quick work of admissions at the zoo, having already bought your tickets online.

“what do you wanna see first, baby?” rafe asks, hand looped together tight with yours. 

“umm, how about the red pandas?” you motion towards the asia section of the zoo.

“sounds perfect.” rafe very willingly follows you throughout, daisy happily watching the animals as well as smiling at anyone who passes by.

“stop, they're so cute!” you coo as you look at the pandas. “i want to pet one.”

“don't tempt me to figure out a way for you to do that, baby.” rafe laughs, your pout quickly disappearing off your face, knowing it's not beyond rafe to bribe a zookeeper to let you feel the red pandas fluffy tail.

“what would you like to see, daisy girl?” you coo, rubbing your fingers over her cheeks.

“let's check out the chimpanzees and then we should probably find a place for you to nurse.” rafe is well aware of daisys feeding schedule, and you had to choose between taking her to the zoo during nap time or having to figure out feeding her during the trip.

“sounds good.” you allow rafe to loop his arm around your waist. 

rafe is just as delighted by the chimps swinging across their play structure as daisy is, her hands clapping together, chubby cheeks pushed up in a happy smile.

she cries when you walk away, but you recognize that the attitude is mostly from her being hungry.

“come on, baby.” you coo, finding a quiet shaded area with a comfortable bench.

you cover your front with a light blanket as rafe sits next to you, gently rubbing your shoulder and stroking over your hair as daisy feeds.

“she's probably gonna take like a 15 minute milk nap after this.” you say to rafe. “we can go check out the natural history museum.”

“good idea.” rafe nods. “i know how much you like to read random ass signs.”

“ugh, not my fault i like to learn information! unlike you, dummy.”

“hey.” rafe tickles his finger into the crook for your neck.

daisy falls asleep when she's done nursing, just as you predicted. you tuck her into the crook of your arm, not wanting to risk transferring her to the baby carrier, she'd most certainly wake up.

rafes hand stays on your back throughout the entire museum. you look through every sign, every taxidermied animal and the prehistoric scenes of the area the zoo has set up.

daisy stirs in your arms as you walk outside, the afternoon sun on her face waking her up. “hey princess.” you tell her, always surprised how quickly she recovers from her naps, now wide awake seconds later.

“wanna go to daddy? yeah?” you hand her over to go back into the baby carrier, heading towards the north america section. you like seeing the moose, and rafe the brown bears, while daisy gets an absolute kick out of the american otters, watching them swish through the water and flip off the glass partition.

you continue through most of the zoo, deciding to rush through the aquarium and skip the africa section as daisys nap time quickly approaches.

you exit the zoo hand in hand with rafe, and for once daisy doesn't fight being put in her carseat as she instantly falls asleep.

--

daisy is sitting in between your legs, giggling as she runs her hands through the sand. you keep a close eye on her to make sure she doesn't try to experiment and eat any, but you're also distracted by rafe sitting shirtless next to you.

“when daisy is older, we should take her to the west coast so we can watch the sunset over the ocean.” he says, moving closer to you to wrap his arm around you.

“id love that. its so fun bringing her places.” you know daisy is too young to remember this trip, but she has loved staying someplace different, getting to see all sorts of new things. 

you head back home tomorrow, back to the reality of the outer banks.

“baby girl is gonna be beyond spoiled.” rafe laughs softly, leaning forward to readjust the bow on the top of her head.

“if you spoil her as much as you spoil me, she sure will.” you lean into rafes side, gently watching the waves until daisy starts to get tired and bored, crawling back towards you.

“nursing then bedtime, alright daisy?” you coo at her, picking her up as you walk with rafe back into the cottage, dusting your sandy feet off before going in. “it's a long drive again tomorrow and daddy needs a good sleep.”

“mmm, i was hoping after you put her down we could…” rafe clears his throat. your eyes widen, understanding what he means.

“yeah.” you nod, sitting down in the armchair that has become your prime feeding place over the weekend trip. “id really love that.”

“perfect.” rafe bends to press a kiss to your forehead. “im gonna go shower. let me know if you need any help getting her down.”

daisy happily latches onto your boob, pulling off when she's about halfway done as she gets fussy.

“oh, girly.” you giggle. “you're just tired!”

you move into the nursery to change her into pajamas as well as make sure she has a fresh diaper before finishing feeding her. by the time you set her down in the crib, she's out like a light.

you grab the baby monitor and bring it into your bedroom, smiling when you see rafe sitting on the edge of the bed, towel wrapped around his hips, hair still slightly wet from the shower.

“she's asleep?” he confirms as you place the baby monitor on the dresser.

“she is.” you move quickly over to rafe, bending to press a kiss to his lips as your hands move quickly to undo his towel, opening the damp fabric to reveal his cock.

you kiss as your hand explores his length, feeling it harden beneath your fingertips before you begin to stroke.

“you're gonna kill me, baby.” rafe groans against your lips. “ive missed your hands so much.”

“missed this too.” you confirm. sex with rafe has been scarce since daisy. your body took a while to recover, and while he was patient throughout that, even once you were ready to have sex, daisy often interrupted you by needing her diaper changed or to be rocked back to sleep.

“come on, i want to see you.” rafe tugs at your shirt.

you stand to lose your tank top, removing your bra next. you still feel a little insecure about your stomach. you lost a bit of the weight you gained throughout pregnancy, but you don't know if you'll ever get back to how you were before.

“hey-” rafe stands, seeming to sense your feelings. “you're beautiful.”

“thank you.” you say, tears welling up in your eyes, but not from your insecurities, but from the sheer love you have for rafe.

“now get on the bed so i can show you how beautiful i find you.”

you take your pants and underwear off as you lay down, placing your head on the pillows as you look up at rafe. you used to be much more adventurous when it came to sex, trying out different positions or even introducing toys, but just like in many other ways, being a parent has made your sex more boring.

rafe drapes himself over your body, his cock rubbing through your folds. until daisy is much older and always sleeps through the night, there's still a chance she will wake up, so speed is of the essence.

rafe lines his cock up, pushing it inside of your tight heat with a low groan, needing to stay pretty quiet to not wake daisy, glad that the ocean out the window is providing her some white noise.

“god, you feel so good.” rafe says, eyelids fluttering closed as he stills, allowing you to adjust to his length.

you let out a moan, reaching up to wrap your arms around rafes shoulders, pulling his body against yours.

your chest rubs together as rafe begins to thrust, thankfully not moving too much as your nipples are so sensitive they sometimes hurt.

“i love you.” you whisper to rafe. “i love you so much.”

“we should have a wedding.” rafe says mid-thrust, making your eyes widen as he continues talking. “we should renew our vows when daisy is old enough to be our flower girl.”

“okay.” you nod. you have no problem with throwing an actual party to celebrate your marriage, considering when you found out you were pregnant and told rafe, you settled for a small and quick courthouse wedding with just a few family members and friends in attendance.

“i just love you so much.” he says, voice slightly strained as he continues thrusting.

“i know.” you lean up again to press your lips against his, his mouth staying slightly ajar as he pants.

“i love daisy too. i love our family.” rafe is moving so fast inside of you, rambling as he fucks you. “i wanna have more kids. after we renew our vows and i give you the wedding you deserve.”

“okay.” you giggle, smiling up at rafe. “we can do all of that, baby. we have all the time in the world.”

rafe nods, eyes closing as he concentrates on moving his hips just how you like it, the same motions that got you pregnant with daisy, now prevented from happening again with your daily pill.

“close.” rafe warns, and you're not far off either, only needing a couple more thrusts before you cum with a muffled shout, having covered your mouth with your hand just in time.

your cunt squeezing around him as your high pushes through your body is all rafe needs to spill inside of you with a soft moan of your name.

his arms give out as he rests on top of you, but you don't mind the weight as you stroke your fingers through his short hair. 

it's comforting, the silence, the way your bodies are pressed together, but it's interrupted by a cry through the baby monitor.

“i got her.” rafe says before you can even react. he pushes himself out of bed and pulls on a pair of sweats before rushing into the nursery.

you take a moment to reach over to the tissues on the nightstand, cleaning yourself off at least good enough for the night as you wrap the blankets around yourself.

you try to stay awake until rafe comes back in, to tell him yet again how much you love him, but by the time he's done changing daisys diaper and gets her back to sleep, you're deep in sleep.

rafe smiles as he reenters the bedroom, seeing you all wrapped up with a slight smile on your face as you dream. rafe lays down next to you, wondering how he ever got so lucky.

[steddie-as-they-come]

Steve's pinning his polaroids up on his wall when his new roommate walks in.

Steve's immediate thought is oh, I'm gonna hate this guy.

Shaggy hair, leather jacket, rings glinting off his fingers, electric guitar slung over his back. Hot as hell, but compared to Steve's polos and perfectly coiffed hair, they could not be more different.

The guy looks like he had the same thought. His shoulders slump as he takes in Steve's appearance.

A man comes in behind his roommate, toting a suitcase full of clothes. "Oh, are you Eddie's roommate?" he says to Steve, who shakes himself out of his thoughts.

"Yes, I am." he says politely. "I'm Steve Harrington."

The man sets down the suitcase. "Wayne Munson." he offers, shaking Steve's hand. "I'm Eddie's uncle."

He nudges Eddie forward, who lets out an almost inaudible groan. "Eddie." he says snippily, shaking Steve's hand.

This'll be a fun year, Steve thinks.

They don't talk. Steve didn't think he was going to be best friends with whoever he got saddled with, but he thought they could at least be civil to each other. Their room is split down the middle. Eddie's half is absolutely covered in posters and music and cutouts of magazines. Steve's is...almost as blank as his room back home.

He misses the shitheads.

No one can ever tell them that. They'll get even more insufferable.

Once or twice, when Steve comes back from a class, he'll catch Eddie peering at Steve's pictures, but he’ll jump away before Steve can call him out on it. It's awful. Steve misses Robin.

It takes him a horribly long amount of time to stop flinching awake at every little sound. He'd stored his nailbat under his bed, out of sight of Eddie, but every time someone yells in the hallway or shouts in the room next door, Steve startles awake, already grabbing his bat. Luckily, Eddie sleeps like the dead, because Steve's not sure he'd be able to explain the weapon without breaking his NDA.

It's three A.M., early November, when there's a knock on their door. Steve isn't asleep yet, so he stands and answers it.

Eight people pile in, talking in hushed whispers. They slam into him, knocking him over.

In the middle of the hug, Steve counts his kids. It's Dustin, nestled against his side, then Lucas, El, and Will under his arm, Max draped over his back, Erica leaning into his shoulder, and Mike on the very outskirts of the group. He pulls them all in tighter, and they all yelp and squawk at him.

"Let us go, Steve!" Erica says, annoyed.

"Nope." Steve says. "You came to find me at three in the morning, you can tolerate a hug."

"Shoo, move." another voice says, and all the kids part like the sea. Robin pushes her way through the group and hugs him tightly. "I don't know how you do it." she says to Steve. "Driving all these nerds around, it's exhausting."

He buries his face in her hair. "Missed you, Robbie." he mumbles.

She leans her head against his. "Missed you too, dingus."

Steve pulls back. "You got your license!"

"I did!" Robin jingles her keys happily.

Eddie sits up, and everyone in the room freezes. "Wha's happenin'?" he slurs sleepily. Then he registers all the people in the room. "Whoa, what the fuck?"

Steve stands up, brushing himself off. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't know they were coming." He shoots a glare at the group, who looks appropriately cowed. Minus Dustin. Steve can now see whose idea this was.

Eddie swings out of bed. "No, it's- wait, are these the kids from your polaroids?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, Erica, and this is my best friend Robin."

"Awww, you have polaroids of us?" Max teases over his shoulder. "That's sweet."

Steve reaches behind him and tussles her hair, shoving her gently. "Shut up, shithead."

"Your room is cool." Mike says. "Not Steve's side. But this part is cool!"

Steve glares at Mike, but Eddie grins big. "Thanks! I'm Eddie Munson." He shakes Mike's hand.

"Is that a DnD poster?" Will says. "That's amazing!"

"It certainly is!" Eddie says. "I used to DM back in high school. Played a bit too."

The nerdier section of the group reacts appropriately, oohing and ahhing, while Max and Erica just roll their eyes and nudge each other.

Steve hesitates. “I know these guys don’t really do anything on Saturday afternoons, and I think they’ve been wanting to start another campaign. Would you mind if they come up, maybe every weekend, and you can…” he doesn’t know enough about DnD “…run a game for them?”

Eddie looks amused. “You mean DM a campaign?”

“Yeah, that.” It’s an olive branch that Steve’s offering.

Eddie takes it. “Well, how can I turn that down? Sheepies of the Harrington flock, how would you like to join a new campaign?”

“I’ll keep the rest of you occupied,” Steve mutters as the guys (and El) start talking excitedly. “Max, Rob, you guys wanna find the closest arcade and set some new high scores?”

“Only one person will be setting high scores.” Max says, gesturing to herself, but she looks excited at the prospect.

Steve lets Eddie and the kids talk for a couple more minutes, then claps his hands. “Okay, it is three in the morning and I have a nine A.M. class tomorrow SO! I have enough blankets for all of you to sleep on the floor if Eddie doesn’t mind-“ Eddie shrugs. “Or Rob can drive you back home.”

Steve looks around and Robin is already in his bed, cuddled up like the blanket hog she is. “Okay, well, sleepover here it is then.”

He whisks out his ungodly amount of throw blankets (courtesy of Joyce’s knitting spree) and the kids get together in their usual movie-night-at-Steve’s cuddle position.

Will’s got his head on Mike’s shoulder, Lucas next to Mike, Max leaning on Lucas, El’s head in Max’s lap and her legs thrown over Dustin’s lap, and Erica with her back against Dustin’s shoulder. Sometimes Robin and Steve are wedged into the pile somewhere, but just as often they’re tangled up under six different blankets across the room, which is why Steve whispers “Scoot over, dumbass,” as he climbs into bed next to Robin.

Eddie watches them assume their positions with an expression of what could be awe on his face. “When I saw those pictures,” he whispered, “I thought they were like your siblings? Or maybe old pictures of your friends. I didn’t think you were a soccer mom.”

Steve glares at him, but unlike earlier in the year, there’s no heat behind it. “Hope you like coparenting then, because these guys need to be watched 24/7 or they’ll run off and start the apocalypse.”

Eddie laughs like it’s a joke. To him it is. He hops back into bed. “Goodnight, weird little family.”

The kids murmur a collective sleepy goodnight, and Steve shuts his eyes.

It’s the most relaxed he’s felt since he moved in.

part two!

[dreaisgrayte]

First Kisses With the Hashira

Includes: Gyomei Himijima, Tengen Uzui, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Obanai Iguro, Giyuu Tomioka, Kyojuro Rengoku, Mitsuri Kanroji, Shinobu Kocho Synopsis: What would your first kiss with the Hashira be like? {I did not include Muichiro even though this was mainly fluff} warnings: kisses! so many kisses! A little suggestive in some parts, but only if you squint, very wholesome and fluffy!

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei is super tall, so you practically had to – with red cheeks – ask him to bend down so you could kiss him

When you managed to place your lips on his Gyomei was pleased to find how gentle you were

Gyomei found himself selfishly thinking for once

He lifts you onto the table, trapping you with a muscled arm on either side of your thighs. He groans as your lips work against his. Gyomei might not be able to see, but he could feel right where you wanted him to be. He was leaning over you, his massive back completely obscuring you from view. “You are making me break concentration.” He finally mutters out, his eyes squeezed shut. “You are dangerous YN,” He pauses, opening up his glazed white eyes to meet yours. He knew exactly where you were even without sight. “The way my heart beats in my chest for you… is dangerous.”

Tengen Uzui

Tengen thinks you’re joking at first, clapping you on the back like one of his pals with a loud guffaw while you both sit at a table.

He realizes he's made a grave mistake only after your bottom lip starts to tremble.

Your cheeks are flushed and tears are running down your face.

Tengen leans into your eyesight, an apologetic grin making his face scrunch hilariously. You roll your eyes and huff out a laugh. “There’s my girl,” Tengen’s grin widens, then after a small beat, his brows furrow. “Are you sure?” He’s asking you so gently and in a way like he’s unsure of himself. You nod and that’s all the conformation Uzui needs before he’s cupping your face, guiding your mouths together in a sweet, yet passionate kiss. His face twitches with emotion when you part, a small gasp escaping your lips as you peer into his conflicted magenta eyes. Did he not enjoy it? “I think my wife count just went up,” He states with all the seriousness in the world present on his face. You burst out laughing and hit his shoulder.

“You do not mean that!” You giggle, but he shakes his head and rolls his lips into his mouth. He hums, looking at you with possessive intent. 

“No, I do.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi had just finished a mission, dragging himself through the gates of his main mansion. 

When he sees you, in a tiny lilac-colored apron his brain nearly short-circuits. 

You were so cute – too cute in fact – it was going to kill him one day. 

You shyly presented him with a batch of fresh red bean mochi, twiddling your thumbs as he gawked at the ensemble. 

Sanemi sets the plate down, walking toward you until your back is flush against a wall. You nervously glance around, trying to decipher if this was going to be the last thing you ever saw. “Thank you,” His voice is gruff, but his face floods with a deep pink color. He’s covering his face with the back of his arm and you suddenly wish this was the last thing you’d ever see. 

You can’t help yourself as you slowly reach out to grab the back of his neck and pull him into a sweet kiss. He licks at your lips and a smile forms against your mouth. “You taste like red bean mochi,” He smirks. 

“You took a while.”

Obanai Iguro

Obanai was somewhat preoccupied with training as you yelled out his name

He came running up next to you, his head tilted in question as to what you wanted

You quickly peck Obanai on the area of his mask where his mouth should be, stumbling back in amazement that you went through with it. Obanai is equally as shocked, his brows raised and his body stiff. You’re about to turn and leave when he catches your wrist. “Oh no you don’t,” He tuts, yanking you back into his arms. “I think you forgot something.” He pulls down the top edge of his mask until his lips and a bit of his scars are revealed. You revel in how beautiful this man is as he leans down to kiss you deeply. 

Giyuu Tomioka

Giyuu was reading a book with adept concentration. You were slightly annoyed by the fact you came all the way here just to be ignored by this man.

So you crawl over his lap, grab the edge of the book, push it down, and lean over to kiss him

When you break away from this kiss Giyuu’s face is a stark contrast to the once pale skin. His deep blue eyes are wide, lips parted as a trail of spit still connects your mouth to his. He sets his book down – the thought of reading lost to the thought of doing that again with you. His fingertips gingerly touch the skin of his lips once, like he believes it to be a figment of his imagination. “Can we… can we do that again?” He asks, excitedly leaning toward you. 

You roll your eyes and laugh, pushing at his face. “Oh so now you want to pay attention to me?”

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro is all over the place

He’s the one that first leans into you with too much force, bonking your foreheads together

He’s nervous, excited, and in love. To you that’s all that mattered

Kyojuro rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavier than usual. “YN, can I kiss you again?” He pleads, yearning to make the first kissing experience the two of you share as perfect as possible. You laugh brightly, pecking both of his cheeks and the tip of his nose before nodding your head. Kyojuro couldn’t think about anything else except how lucky he must be to have you in his life. He slowly brings his lips to yours, pressing into you ever so slowly as to not rush like last time. It’s a fiery hot kiss only seconds after the tantalizing brush of his lips. 

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mitsuri didn’t know how to react when you explained that kissing her was something you’d enjoy

She thought you were stunning, prettier than here even – which you had to shut down right away

Mitsuri hadn’t given much thought to acting on her attraction to you, but just hearing you utter the words made her whole mind swim

She’s going into one of her overthinking episodes, squealing about how you shouldn’t kiss her because then she’d want to hold your hand and go on dates with you and-

You grab the sides of her face, bringing your lips to hers. The kiss is mildly awkward at first because Mitsuri is too stunned to move, but once she melts into your embrace and your bodies move in tandem, it turns into something beautiful. Her lips are soft and remind you of eating a strawberry. You’re the one to part ways first, leaving her breathless as she maintains eye contact with your lips. “I think I’d like to do that again…” She blurts. 

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu was tactful and precise about when you two would bump into each other

She planned the perfect time to finally ask you to share in some intimacy with her

So when you popped up at the Butterfly Mansion battered from a training session, you could say you threw more than a wrench in her plans

Shinobu’s bright eyes widen when she sees you limping inside the infirmary. “Y-YN?” She assesses the situation, rushing to gather material to dress your bruises. You don’t have to say much before she’s rubbing salve into your shoulders and down your back. Her hands and cold, but they feel wonderful as she works the sap into your muscles. “What did you get yourself into?” She grunts from behind. You chuckle softly, wincing at the ache spreading across your stomach. You don’t know what takes over your mind, but you lean back into Shinobu. She’s surprised but adjusts to hold you regardless. “What am I going to do with you?” She sighs.

“Put me out of my misery?” You suggest, earning a jab from her into your sore ribcage. You groan but then a sly smirk works its way onto your lips. “I think for being such a good patient I deserve a reward.” You tease. What you don’t expect is Shinobu to purse her lips and while her cheeks fade to a pink she leans down to kiss your lips. 

“Is that good enough?” She huffs, glancing away. 

“I’m not sure, I was kind of hoping for some mochi,” You giggle. Shinobu glares at you. “On second thought, it appears there would be nothing sweeter than another few thousand kisses from you…” That’s all it takes for Shinobu’s lips to be back on yours. A sweet, simple, and lovely kiss. If it weren’t for the way she worked the salve into your muscles, you might’ve mistaken her kisses to be what healed you the next day.  

[suhkusa]

TO THE TOP.

PAIRING. Sakusa Kiyoomi x f!Reader

SUMMARY. Sakusa Kiyoomi was ranked #1 in his class. Was, at least until you came along. After this revelation, he makes it a (personal) challenge to overtake you. Sakusa Kiyoomi is a genius at everything he does, but for once he finds it a challenge when it comes to you.

CW. hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, rivals to lovers except kiyoomi is the only one competing, idiots in love (but theyre actually geniuses), high school setting, ~3k words

A/N. Got inspired from a tiktok and came up with this word vom hope u enjoy

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Academically, at least.

While all his classmates found themselves struggling to take tests or study, it was as natural as breathing for Kiyoomi. There were some cons to being as incredibly intelligent as him, but he found himself drowning in the gratification of being #1. 

At least until the 2nd semester of his third year. At least until you.

———

Class Rank: 2

Sakusa finds himself staring at the transcript in his hand, as if his ogling would have an effect in changing the number presented before him.

His eyes scan through his class history, looking for any clues as to how he might’ve dropped in ranking. But there was nothing. All A’s, and as many extra classes stuffed into each year as possible. 

Kiyoomi’s home room was rowdy as students caught up with one another, as winter break had just ended. While in his own little world, his ears catch onto a couple of words his classmates threw around.

“I heard Sakusa isn’t the top in our class anymore, is that true?”

“Woah, hasn’t he been the top of our class since the 1st year? I wonder who was able to catch up,”

His eye twitched a bit at that one.

“It was that new girl, Y/N,”

The paper crumbled slightly under his grasp. Y/N?

The ring of the bell, signifying the start of class, caused him to slightly jump in his seat. Kiyoomi crumbles his transcript before tossing it in his bag, it’s going to change soon anyways.

He would just have to step up his game.

———

It was ironic really. The world really loved to test Sakusa Kiyoomi, and not only at his school subjects. Of course, you were his desk partner in his math class. Only he had the amazing luck of being seated next to his new self-declared rival.

Kiyoomi knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t himself because you’re the number one student? You?!

Honestly, you don’t seem like the academic type. You seem too pretty to be caring about stuff like that. At first, he considers the fact that you could be using your looks to get people to do the dirty work for you. But he witnesses first-hand as you write down every math equation, answer every question correctly, and even check your work not once, but twice.

His hyperfixation on you is bad. So bad, he missed the whole introduction lesson and is trying to rapidly copy down what’s on the whiteboard as the teacher is erasing it. Fuck-

“Would you like to see my notes?”

Kiyoomi’s pencil comes to a halt as he looks back at you, your papers are being pushed towards him on the desk. He watches as your eyes widen, as if you suddenly became self conscious. 

“I-Is there something on my face? You were staring at me so I wasn’t sure…”

Shit. 

“No,” he tries to make up something, but what comes out of his mouth is stupid, “I was just looking past you,” it appears it’s sufficient though, as you nod in response.

“I see, well, did you want to see them?” you gestured to the notes between the two of you.

Kiyoomi tells himself that if you hadn’t offered, he wouldn’t have asked. But since you oh so kindly offered them up, who was he to say no? He doesn’t need them. He could always ask his cousin, though his handwriting resembles chicken scratch more than human writing.

“Sure,” he takes the papers and positions them in a way where he could just look between them and his own.

In his head, Kiyoomi is scolding himself over and over again for not paying attention. This cannot be a regular thing. If he was going to take back his rank, he needed to be on his A-Game. 

His pencil slaps against his desk as he finishes, quickly sliding your papers back towards you.

“Thanks,” Kiyoomi offers.

He watches from his peripheral vision as you smile and give back an “Anytime,” before gathering your things and getting up to go to your next class.

Kiyoomi doesn’t know what it was about you, but he could tell he was going to need to up his game. This was war.

———

By the second week of sitting by you, he decides you’re annoying. More annoying than the people who talk while the teacher is talking. Which, in his book, is hard to beat.

Maybe you weren’t as smart as he pinned you to be, since you kept helping Kiyoomi with his work when he did not need it. 

Though, you were only able to backseat his work because you somehow finished before him. He’s used to being the only one who sits back and relaxes as the rest of his class struggles to complete the practice problems. 

It’s weird though. Because as much as Sakusa hates your yapping, he doesn’t find himself putting an end to it. Instead your voice plays in the background as he completes his work.

He hates it, or at least that’s what he tells himself, the way you praise him like a little kid when he finally completes the work sheet. 

“Nice job!” you smile at him, “but, how come you don’t check your work to make sure you’re right?”

“Because I’m always right,” he replies with a slight roll of his eyes.

You laugh at that, I’m not joking, he thinks.

“You’re funny, you know that?” you tell him. 

Kiyoomi gives you a shrug, “Whatever,”

———

A month in, he begins to indulge in your shenanigans. But only because he had felt bad.

During the third week of sitting by each other, you had taken his short and dry responses personally. You halted your chatter and no longer offered to help like you usually did. The way the classroom felt quiet without your talking was eerie, so Sakusa reluctantly decided that he’d rather hear your voice instead of nothing at all. 

So a month in is when your friendship, or whatever you called it, began with him.

“Why do you use erasable pens? Just use a pencil,” he questions you, eyes peering down at your pen.

You look taken aback as you respond, “I don’t know, is there something wrong with it?” you examine your pen, “I just found it on the floor and stuck with it,”

First of all, gross, remind him not to touch you or your belongings ever. “It’s just a hassle, sometimes it doesn’t erase,”

“Well, it hasn’t given me any problems, so!” you exclaim as you get back to write on your practice quiz. “This is kind of challenging, huh?”

“Nah,” he lies, “You’re just stupid,”

You laugh in his face, “Rude,” Kiyoomi watches as you glimpse at his paper before going back to yours, “That’s why you got the first problem wrong and I didn’t say anything,” 

Sakusa can feel his eyebrows scrunch up, he’s quick as he glances at it and then yours. Fuck. He’s mumbling something under his breath and he begrudgingly erases the circle around his answer. 

“Told ya,” you smile before moving onto the last problem, “you know, we should hangout or something,”

“No,” he’s quick to cut you off, catching you by surprise.

“Whaaat, it doesn’t have to be like that, weirdo,” it seems like you’re going back on what you meant, “Like to study,”

“Still, no,”

“C’mon, don’t knock it till you try it,” you nudge at him, and to be honest, if you were anyone else he might’ve punched you, “please, just once,”

You’re annoying and pushy. But he supposes that if saying yes to you would get you to leave him alone, he’d say, “Fine, whatever, it has to be my house, though. Your house is probably messy,”

Kiyoomi watches as your face slowly brightens before silently celebrating to yourself as you get your way with him once again.

———

“Wow,” you’re amazed as you walk through Sakusa’s house, “your house is so nice, do you have a maid to keep it clean or something?”

“No, just me,” he says before leading you into his room, “please don’t make a mess,”

“I won’t, I won’t,” you say before settling down on his rug, playing with the soft threads, “Okay, I was hoping to review the practice quiz, I know the teacher said I got it right but I feel like there were some parts that had me second guessing myself,”

You’re quick to open up your textbook and blab about whatever problem you were having trouble with. You actually came over to study. Kiyoomi was under the impression that once you got over to his house you’d make him do whatever silly shit you usually have in mind. But no, you actually respected his wishes. Which in turn, earned you some respect from him as well.

“So you’re number one, huh?” He asks, looking up from his textbook to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s surprising that all my credits from my old school carried over,” you mindlessly say as you continue to write on your sheet of paper.

The sound of the pencils scribbling on paper fills the room before you interrupt it, “You were rank one before I came, right?”

His pencil stills, “Mhm,” It was a touchy subject, though he never thought he’d hear it from you.

“I’m sorry,” you surprised him, “When I found out I took your ranking spot, I was nervous because people are serious about that stuff. And then, when I got seated by you and you stared me down, I thought you hated my guts,”

Well, you had it down to the T, but he wouldn’t tell you that. 

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s out of your control,” you smile at his words.

“Thank you,”

It’s then, in his room, when he realizes he’s losing sight of his goal. To overtake your position. As he watched you look back down at your textbook, he found himself locking in as well. 

He needed to get serious, now.

———

These hangouts, or study dates, or study hangouts, whatever, became basically practice. Always at his house, though. Since he couldn’t fathom the idea of how dirty your room might be. 

“I don’t know how you balance volleyball and school, Omi,” you say from your position lying on his floor.

“Don’t call me that,”

You laugh before continuing, “All I do is school and I’m always exhausted. I had to quit my shifts at the cafe down the road because I would fall asleep before making it to my room,”

“Dangerous, Y/N,” he says, frantically writing down practice problem after practice problem. 

Picking yourself off the ground, “Wow, you’re serious about this final, huh, Omi,”

He glares at you, causing you to laugh again, “Sorry, sorry,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before he looks back at his paper, “but you know it’s okay to take a break, right, that’s all you’ve been doing. We haven’t even gotten to try to compete for today’s Wordle yet,”

“Mhm,” is all he offers you.

You sigh in response to that, “Boring, so boring,” you say as you lay back down

“You can go home if you’re bored,”

“Ugh, rude,” you roll around to make yourself comfortable, “I would but sadly I like being in your presence,”

“Whatever you say,”

“Do you like being in mine?” you question, causing Sakusa to hesitate on the problem he was on.

“You’re tolerable,”

You find yourself cheesing, “That’s a yes in my book,”

———

Finals are coming up. There’s so much on your mind, that you finally decide to let one of the thoughts that have been driving you crazy go. The fact that you like Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

It’s nerve wracking. Not only because you’re basically confessing your feelings, but also because he’s your only friend you’ve made since being here. A lot of people think he’s rude and condescending, but to you he’s different. 

He lets you talk your head off about whatever your brain decides fits best. And while he gives you short responses, they show you that he’s listening and observant. He’s on your level regarding academics and can keep up to your train of thought. He just cares.

And while you hope he might feel the same despite only knowing you for the past couple of months, you chalk it up to fate as to whether or not your intuition is correct.

As you approach the gymnasium, you slow and quiet your steps as you hear familiar voices by the entrance.

“You’ve been hanging out with Y/N quite a bit, huh, cous’? Your mom told mines,” you assume is Komori based on his words.

“Yes. It’s not like that, though,” you recognize as Sakusa. 

You assume he might be fronting since it is his cousin, and feelings are embarrassing at times.

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t like her, she’s like one of the prettiest girls in class and she’s smart. So like, your type,” Komori pushes. And while part of you likes that he said that, you soon take it back after Kiyoomi’s words.

“I don’t like her. I only put up with her because she’s so pushy and always hovers over me while I try to do my work. Plus, she took my ranking spot,”

The world feels silent for a second, the only sound audible to you is the sound of your heart slowly breaking.

“She’s just a nuance, honestly,”

Your feet are moving before you realize. Slowly backing away before running the opposite direction.

He doesn’t like you? You were right that he hates you because you’re number one? He let you into his house but only because you pushed him? Your thoughts are running faster than your own legs, you don’t even realize the drips of water slowly running down your cheeks. 

If number one was what he wanted, then you were going to give it to him.

———

Kiyoomi finds it weird. Finds you weird. Well, he’s always found you weird, but particularly as of recent. But only because you’re quiet. And have been for the past couple of days. 

At first, he assumes it’s because the finals had finally arrived and you wanted to focus on your work. Which, respect, because it also allowed him to focus on his own. 

But even after the finals had passed, you were still quiet. You opted for doodling in your notebook instead of talking to him about a new video game you’ve hyper fixated on or this new show you started to watch. 

It’s even weirder when the teacher is going around passing out the graded math finals, that he stops by your desk, letting out a whispered, “I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,” 

Kiyoomi hears, and it calls his attention towards your paper before even his own. His eyes widened.

A big, fat, red 0 marked at the top of your quiz.

“Y/N-”

“Are you happy now, Number 1?” you ask, still looking down at your paper.

He’s about to ask you what the hell you’re talking about before the bells conveniently cut him off, allowing you to take off without a second glance back at him.

His mind is caught up on your words, Number 1. Kiyoomi has never brought up his disdain regarding the rankings to you, ever. Yes, it bothered him at first. But eventually he didn’t mind it, since the only person he’d ever allow to be above him is you. 

Kiyoomi thinks back on any time he’s ever mentioned it before he remembers the one time he had ever verbally brought it up to anyone. But there was no way… unless.

Fuck, Sakusa thinks as the bright red 100 on his paper stares back at him. It mocked him, poking at his head uncomfortably. Without a second thought, he crumbles the paper before stuffing it into his bag. Kiyoomi had finally gotten back what he’s been working for this whole time, so why does he feel empty?

Kiyoomi realizes then that while you may have lost your Rank 1 position, he was the true loser. Because he didn’t have you.

———

He finds himself at your door before he even knows it. He’s giving an excuse of “she left her notebook,” to your parents as they direct him to where your room is. 

When he finally walks in, he’s shocked. Your room is clean. 

Even as you lay in your bed so peacefully, the space around you is clean, and he feels like it’s safe to walk in. 

“Y/N,” is his first attempt at waking you up, before he’s walking closer to your bed, crouching down a bit to pat your back, “Y/N,” again.

It’s by the fourth or fifth time that he calls your name that you finally look up at him, and you look heavenly.

He’s always known you were pretty, but even more so now you were gorgeous, hair messy, eyes droopy with sleepiness. You were perfect.

Your eyes blink a couple times before you look like you’ve processed who is standing before you. Quickly sitting up, hands moving every which way to fix your appearance, “Omi- I mean Sakusa what are- what do you want?”

Ouch.

“You need to leave, I-I don’t want to see you,” your voice is beginning to tremble and it hurts him, “You finally got what you wanted, I don’t know what more you want,”

“You, I want you,”

Your face drops in disbelief, “No, you don’t. I heard you, what you said,”

“Y/N-”

“No, you hurt me, Kiyoomi. I like you,” you cry, “You can’t just say all of that and then show up out of nowhere claiming otherwise,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he’s kneeling now, allowing him to be the same height as you as you sit in your bed, weeping, “I-I’m sorry,”

His rough thumb smoothes away your tears as they fall, “I didn’t mean it, I was frustrated- and that’s no excuse for what I said, I fucked up really bad,” with every word another sob breaks loose from you, “And I’m sorry,”

“At first, all I ever wanted was to be rank #1, but then you came along and changed everything… Then I realized that it wasn’t being #1 I wanted, it was you,” he continues, “and that’s scary, because my ranking was all I’ve known all these years,”

“But even so, you made it okay. I was okay with being #2, I was so caught up in you that I forgot I ever wanted to be #1 in the first place,” your eyes finally meet behind the thick tears in your lashes, “I like you, Y/N,”

He can tell you’re at a loss for words. And for once he can finally say he has out-talked you. 

Until finally, you decide words aren’t sufficient in this situation. Before he knows it, you’re leaning forward, and your lips are on his. The kiss is short, but definitely more than a peck. But it felt infinite to Kiyoomi. He never wanted the moment to end, and found himself sad as you finally pulled away.

You stared him down for a brief second before tackling him down to the ground in a big hug, “I hate you, Omi,” you laugh angrily.

“Sure,” he smugly replies, watching as you smile into his shirt.

“My number one,” you sarcastically mutter as you fake pout at him.

He cringes, “Ugh, don’t. I feel guilty, why would you even do that? You’re crazy,”

“Because I don’t care about the ranking. I never did. Plus it somehow only dropped me to #2 since the rest of our class failed and I’ve taken too many extra classes,” you say, “I only cared about you,” 

Kiyoomi smiles at you before crushing you in his hug. 

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Especially now, his feelings for you.

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[00valentina-writes00]

Your fics are amazing! They comfort me during my 3 am reading sessions😭🫂

I was wonder if you could do Reader x Sevika, where like reader and Sevika are on a mission by Silco but things go wrong and Reader gets hurt and like Sevika gets worried like hell. (Make it really angsty to the wound PLEASEEE🧎‍♂️❤️)

✞⛧ Not you ✞⛧

Warnings: blood, severe injury, gun violence, near-death experience, angst, emotional distress, soft Sevika moments, hurt/comfort

The night is thick with smoke and gunfire, the air electric with the scent of burning metal. Silco’s orders were clear—get in, secure the shipment, and get out. Simple enough. You and Sevika had done far worse for him.

But things never go as planned.

You were halfway through the exchange when everything spiraled. A deal gone wrong. A setup. A fucking ambush. Sevika’s shouts had barely reached your ears before the bullets started flying. You had ducked behind a crate, pulse pounding, your own gun trembling in your grip.

And then—searing heat.

You don’t even register the pain at first, just the sheer force of it knocking you onto your back. A bloom of red spreads across your ribs, hot and wet. Your breath stutters. The world tilts.

Sevika’s there in an instant. You don’t even see where she came from, only that she’s dropping to her knees, her metal arm throwing off sparks as she shields you from another round of bullets.

“Fuck—baby—stay with me,” she breathes, her voice a razor’s edge of panic.

Her hands are on you, firm and shaking all at once. Her flesh hand presses down hard on your wound, trying to stem the bleeding. It hurts like hell. You groan, vision spotting black.

“Sevika…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, breath wheezing as the blood coats your lips. “Shit…”

Her eyes are wild, searching your face, searching for something—anything—to tell her you’re going to be okay. But even you don’t know if you will.

“Don’t fucking talk,” she snaps, but there’s no anger in her voice. Just raw desperation. Her hand shakes as she reaches up to cup your cheek, smearing blood across your skin. “You’re gonna be fine, y’hear me?”

The gunfire is still raging around you, but all you can hear is her voice. It’s ragged, breaking. You’ve seen Sevika mad before—furious, lethal, merciless. But this? This is fear.

Someone comes up behind her—a thug, the one who shot you, maybe—but before you can react, Sevika does. She twists, her metal arm catching the bastard by the throat and crushing it in one swift movement. He doesn’t even get the chance to scream.

Then she’s back to you, tearing off a strip of her already-ruined shirt, pressing it against your wound with a force that makes you cry out. Her teeth clench. “I know, baby. I know,” she mutters, voice thick. “But I need you to hold on.”

You try to. You really do. But the pain is all-consuming, dragging you under like a riptide. You can feel the warmth of your blood spilling out too fast, slipping through her fingers.

Sevika curses under her breath, and then suddenly, you’re being lifted. The world spins. Her grip on you is ironclad, her body solid and strong against your weakening one.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs, over and over, like a prayer. “I’ve got you.”

She’s running, dodging bullets, moving like a force of nature. You don’t know where she’s taking you, only that she won’t stop—not until she gets you somewhere safe.

Your head lolls against her shoulder. You try to focus on her heartbeat, the way it pounds, erratic and frantic. She’s never been scared like this before. Not even when her own life was on the line.

You try to tell her you love her, that you’re sorry, that it’ll be okay. But all that comes out is a wet, broken gasp before darkness swallows you whole.

You wake up to the smell of alcohol and something bitter. The pain is the first thing you register—sharp, deep, tearing through your ribs with every breath. You groan, barely able to move.

Then there’s a hand in your hair, warm and trembling.

“Hey—hey, baby.”

Sevika’s voice is hoarse. You blink blearily, vision struggling to focus. She’s there, hunched over you, looking like she hasn’t slept in days. Her shirt is stained with your blood, her jaw tight, her brows furrowed so deep you think they might stay that way forever.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she mutters, fingers tracing the edge of your face like she’s trying to convince herself you’re real.

You try to smirk, but it barely comes through the pain. “Not… dead yet.”

Her expression crumples.

She looks away, exhaling sharply. When she looks back, her eyes are wet. “You almost were.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

She shakes her head, fingers pressing against your palm, grounding herself in your warmth. “You lost too much blood. The doc said—” Her voice catches. She swallows hard. “Said it was a close fucking call.”

You squeeze her hand, or at least try to. You don’t have much strength left. “Guess I’m lucky.”

“Don’t,” she snaps, sudden and sharp. Her grip tightens around yours, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her point clear. “Don’t act like this is nothing. You almost fucking died.”

Her voice cracks on the last word.

You blink, watching her, the raw emotion in her face. Sevika doesn’t get like this. She doesn’t let herself get like this.

Not unless it’s you.

You try again, softer this time. “I’m sorry.”

She exhales shakily, pressing your hand to her lips, eyes shutting tight.

For a long moment, there’s silence. Just the sound of your ragged breathing, the way her grip won’t loosen, like she’s afraid you’ll slip away if she lets go.

Finally, she looks at you again, and there’s something fierce and broken in her gaze. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

And you swear, if you had the strength, you’d reach up and hold her the way she’s holding you.

[luveline]

hiii! i adore you jade so much and can’t thank you enough for all your amazing writing! your fics are incredible! can i have more reader and hotch with their new baby? maybe their night routine takeing care of their newborn? or literally just anything i just love the way you write hotch taking care of both babe and reader! thank you!! xoxo🤍🤍🤍

thank you for your request! fem

“Ready?” Jack asks.

“No. No, no, no!” you cry, giggles slipping through your facade as Jack pelts himself full force from the end of your bed to the pillows where you’re curled. You put your arms out just in time to avoid getting them snapped, catching Jack, and feeling the brunt of his face as he lands on your chest. “Oh! You broke me, Jack. I’m broken!”

“You’re not broken,” Jack says breathlessly, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“You better not be breaking your stepmom, Jackers,” Hotch says from the bathroom. “I’m not getting you another one.”

“Boo!” you say.

“I don’t want another one,” Jack declares, still gasping for breath as he presses your faces together.

You pull him in for a cuddle. “Good, baby, I love you too much to be replaced. And I don’t mind dad either.”

“Jack, you gotta stop jumping on her, remember? She just had a baby. It really hurts to have a baby, and it hurts afterwards to get better. Gentle hands,” Hotch says, pulling the bathroom door open completely, the baby bathed and changed in his arms.

Hotch has cared for a baby before, so while you’re not useless, the majority of things have defaulted to him while you recover. You’re lucky, even if it’s how a woman should be treated —Hotch hasn’t made you get up once since you came home almost a week ago. He’s forced you to sit down a few times, actually. And you’d told him how thankful you were for it in whispers only yesterday night, grateful to be cared for with so much dedication.

I should've been better, for Haley, he’d whispered back. She was amazing all by herself when she didn’t need to be. You’ll be amazing too, but we’re gonna do it together.

Maybe he’s overcompensating for past regrets, maybe he’s just looking after you.

Jack strokes your cheek with a little hand. “Sorry. I don’t want to break you.”

“You won’t.” You lean back and attempt to bring him in with you, but Jack won’t be contained.

He springs down off of the bed to crowd Hotch’s legs, face up and smiling. “Dad, are you done?”

“I am.”

“Can you help with the robot now?”

“Yeah, yes. Sorry, I’m gonna fix your robot. You ready, honey?”

You open your arms eagerly. You’ve had a hug from Jack, and Hotch held you under his arm while you were eating your lunch, so all you need now for the trifecta is a cuddle with your baby. One day he’s gonna be able to hug you back, but for now he stretches out in the well of your arms and coos when you kiss his tiny forehead.

Hotch and Jack leave to fix their robot. You slink down, further and further, too tired and sore to want to sit, sliding the baby’s weight into one arm beside you and leaning down to watch him smack his lips. The few baths he’s had have made him tired each time. You feel sleepy just looking at him.

You’d hope that the baby will be handsome like his brother, though Jack looks so much like Haley they probably won’t be very similar. There are hints of Aaron in them both. Babies look like babies, sure, but he has the Hotchner nose. You can tell already.

“My handsome handsome boy,” you sing-song under your breath. He sniffles. You bring your pinky to his nose and give it a gentle touch. “Beautiful baby. I love you.” Your voice turns to sugar. “I love you, baby, you’re so beautiful, just like daddy.”

Footsteps creaking on the landing. You quieten without looking away from the baby, until you feel a familiar hand on your arm. “You okay?”

“Did you fix the robot?”

“Of course I did.” He leans down and in, lips and nose pressing to your arm. “Are you okay? You look tired.”

“I am tired. Maybe I’ll nap while he’s sleeping.”

“That’s a good idea. Give him a kiss and I’ll put him back in the crib.”

“No, no, can’t he stay?”

“You want me to stay here and watch you sleep?” he asks, laughing into your arm, pressing another kiss in a path toward your shoulder. “You can keep him until you fall asleep, okay? Then I’ll move him.”

“Will you do that thing to my cheek?” you ask quietly.

“If you tell me what you were saying before I walked in, yes.”

Hotch sits on the bed behind you where you’re sidled up to the baby, the back of his hand falling gently against your cheek, fingers curled and knuckles brushing the skin just shy of your eye one tender centimetre at a time. “Well?” he prompts.

You close your eyes with a contented smile. “Was just telling him he’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah?” He turns his hand, his pinky finger rubbing the delicate skin under your eye briefly, and the his palm flat to your face. His thumb takes up the guard. You feel fatigue pulling at you from the sheer comfort he offers, though you can manage a few more words, at least.

“He’s beautiful, he has his daddy’s nose.”

“I don’t think that’s what makes him so handsome.”

“No?” you mumble.

Hotch lets his face rest again on your arm. “No, that’s his mother. Couldn’t be anything else.”