#practiced a bit with colors and it looked nice :)

[zorosangell]

DAMNNNN THAT SHANKS’ DAUGHTER FIC IS *CHEF’S KISS*💋 more shanks’ daughter content pls🙏🤲🏼

⛥ﾟ・。 receipt

synopsis: part two of reading -- a rude store manager and an unruly gang of bounty hunters prove how much zoro DOES NOT play about the daughter of red-haired shanks (i.e you)

cw: can be read as part two or a standalone tbh, reader uses magic, fluffy fluff, comfort, protective zoro, slightly emotionally constipated zoro, reader is BAD, reader is very femme fatale-ish, reader is a bit of a freak at the end, their relationship is so cutesy

a/n: i used edits of kiara and jj as research for this lol

"(y/n), is this really necessary?" Zoro sighed for the hundredth time, going stiff as your hand slid up his chest once again, before rising to hold his jaw.

Like clockwork, a familiar flush began to burn up his neck, forcing a smirk to curl on your wine-colored lips.

"Of course," you smiled, pressing a firm kiss on his cheek before pulling away to see your handiwork. "How else am I supposed to know which one looks best on you?"

At that, your swordsman scoffed, eyes rolling to glance at a nearby mirror, which detailed at least thirty different shades of red kiss marks strewn all over his face, neck, and chest.

Not to mention the plethora of bags from varying boutiques gripped tightly in his hands.

'I don't know how much more of this I can take...'

The two of you had been out on the town from practically sun-up to sundown, window shopping and store hopping to your heart's content.

Key word being your.

Zoro, the "unlucky bastard"—a name given by the ship's cyborg—had the privilege of not only being your personal bag rack for the day, but also your personal pocketbook.

Safe to say, after ten hours of binge shopping, both the swordsman and his wallet were ready to go home.

"Oh, don't give me that face," you giggled, cupping his cheek as you snatched up one of the department store's complimentary wipes, using it to rub off the lipstick stains. "The lady's already ringing me up. We can go soon."

The words were practically music to his ears, his shoulders visibly sinking as he let out a relieved sigh, the sight pulling another laugh from your lips.

"And since you've been such a good sport, I figured you deserved something nice to go with dinner tonight."

With a cheeky grin, you bent over to rummage through a bag he didn't recognize, before finally pulling out a large, green bottle of high-grade sake.

"Now we're talkin'!" he grinned, dropping the bags and pulling you into his side, pressing two, firm kisses into your temple. "This is the good stuff."

Knowingly, you chuckled, throwing an arm around his neck, "I know, I know. I'm the best girlfriend on the planet. You don't have to tell me."

Jokingly, Zoro rolled his eyes, unable to bite back the smile rising to his lips.

Many were surprised to see that you and the swordsman had gotten together, given your very high maintenance lifestyle, playful personality, and rather daunting lineage.

But to the man himself?

It couldn't have made more sense.

You were a woman who knew what she wanted, and didn't settle for anything less.

Sure, you were a bit more forward, but that kept him on his toes.

And what many failed to realize past the shield of your father's name was that you were a genuinely sweet, kind, and generous woman.

You just kept your cards close to chest, like any child of a Yonko would.

"Ahem," a voice interjected, pulling the swordsman out of his you-induced stupor.

Confused, you turned around, raising a brow at the sight of a rather stuffy-looking man, his lips pulled taut and suit impossibly tight.

"There a problem, sir?" you asked, tone soft.

Quickly, his beady eyes flicked to the bottle in your hand, before sharply returning to your face.

"I hope you have a receipt for that," he warned, tone expectant.

"Of course," you nodded, turning to rummage through your purse. "I have it right here."

"Sure, you do..." he muttered under his breath, the comment not sliding past Zoro for a moment.

His gaze narrowed at the store manager, unappreciative of the sly remark.

"No, no, it's here. I just put it in," you assured, pushing past your compacts and lip gloss and emergency switchblade. "I bought the bottle a few minutes ago."

"Look, miss, stealing is not tolerated here at Batharby's—" "I didn't steal it," you corrected, quickly.

"Then produce a receipt."

"I will. Just give me a second to find it."

"Miss, give me back the bottle."

"Sir, I assure you, I paid for this sake. If I wanted to steal it, I would've been long gone by now."

"So you admit you want to steal it!" the manager pointed his finger in your face.

"Watch it," Zoro cut in, sharply, brows furrowing as he stepped in front of you.

"I know your kind. Filthy pirates who think they can take whatever they want."

"And I know if you don't get that finger out her face, we're going to have a serious problem."

"Look, sir," you sighed, frustration rising in your tone as you peeked out from behind your boyfriend's large frame. "Ask Nari. She was the saleswoman I bought the bottle from."

"I will do nothing of the sort! You could have very well threatened her into corroborating your story."

"I've been here the whole time!"

"Who can tell what sort of sorcery harlots like you can do!"

"Y'know, you're really startin' to piss me off," Zoro spat, harshly yoking up the man by his collar.

"Look! It's Roronoa Zoro and Shank's daughter!" a thug suddenly exclaimed as he burst into the door, about twenty other men in tow. "Told you I saw 'em around town!"

"Shit," Zoro cursed, freezing in place.

"I have a name outside of my father you kn-OW!"

Quickly, your swordsman scooped you up, leaping over the counter before making a run for the exit in the back.

"Zo, my clothes!" you whined, wistfully glancing over his shoulder at the decadent bags you were leaving behind.

"I'll buy you some more later!" he assured, pushing past a plethora of racks and mannequins and people before kicking down the exit door and entering the nearby alley.

Where another twenty bounty hunters were waiting for you.

"Hand her over, Pirate Hunter!"

"You're outnumbered!"

"That two billion bounty is mine!"

"Hell, we'll get double that if we ransom her! Shanks is probably rolling in cash!"

"(y/n)—" "I know," you sighed as Zoro put you down, the man quickly ushering you behind himself as he drew his sword.

"You do your thing," you assured, nonchalant as you took a few steps back, snapping your fingers and making a picnic blanket appear out of thin air.

With that out the way, Zoro leaped into action, slicing, dicing, and kicking the ass of all forty thugs in the alley.

Meanwhile, you took a little siesta, conjuring up a picnic basket full of Sanji's signature tea and hors d'oeuvres to snack on while you watched your man work.

"Zo, honey, when you're done, do you want onigiri with sea king meat or without?" you called, looking through the enchanted basket for his favorite food.

"With," he answered, calmly, as he clashed with three hunters at the same time, "M'startin to work up an appetite."

Nodding, you pulled out a plate-full, setting it down on the spot opposite of you as the fight raged on—with Zoro having the clear upper-hand.

"Can we join your tea party, sweetheart?!" one of the thugs sneered, attempting to run up behind you with six allies in tow.

"How stupid can you be!"

"Our boss is gonna have a hell of a time with you!"

"Bold of you to turn your back on us!"

"Cocky bitch!"

Taking a sip of tea, you remained unbothered, allowing the men to wind up their attacks as you remained facing forward.

"Scream for me!"

In an instant, Zoro appeared behind you, shielding you as he dished out a deadly attack, the slash taking them all out with ease.

"You all right?" he asked, glancing back at you.

"Loud bunch, aren't they?" you grumbled, rubbing your ear.

At your adorable pout, a smile broke out on Zoro's lips, a certain flutter introducing itself to his stomach.

You looked so beautiful sitting there, completely and utterly trusting in his ability to protect you, not a care in the world.

You didn't have to worry about stuff like that anymore, not with him by your side.

The infamous daughter of Shanks was under the protection of the infamous Pirate Hunter, and nothing come hell or high water was going to change that.

Not even having to turn around, Zoro punched a final hunter in the face, knocking him out with a large spurt of blood.

"Anyways, c'mere. I poured you a cup," you beckoned, holding up some sake.

"Don't have to tell me twice," he grinned, taking a seat across from you.

Smoothly, you passed it off, watching with anticipation as he took a large swig, some leaking out the corner of his mouth.

"Damn, that's good!" he beamed, thoroughly wowed. "Best sake I've had in a while."

Suddenly, without warning, you leaned forward, licking the excess off his chin before pecking his lips with a cheeky smile.

"Mmm, you're right. That is good."

"(y/n)!"

The swordsman was as red as a beet, heart pounding and stomach fluttering once again at the sight of you on all fours, leaning over his lap.

"What?" you asked with false innocence, internally fawning over his adorably awkward response.

For a man so tough, he sure was shy.

"You taste good, Zo. No shame in it."

[eliduck]

Chillin' time

[skitskatdacat63]

2009 Singapore Grand Prix - Fernando Alonso

[joshuamj]

Every once in a while I get the urge to try to learn pixel art;;

[sanepersonhere]

Redraw of chapter 33's cover ^^

alt. ver below

[recallback-art]

This was a commission for my buddy @cheeseofthecake of her OC Aurora, replicating a scene from one of her fics!

I've never drawn Sonic characters before, so it was a very interesting challenge to sit down and figure out the general shapes.

[steampunk-raven]

man i fuckibg love doing redraws

[duskerot]

RAHHH I FINISHED SCULPTING MY PARTS !!!!

[gyuuberryy]

no doubt !

loser!enhypen's reaction to your confession + their down bad behaviour

genre: completely fluff, slight crack

warnings: self doubt, very little stuttering

note: live, laugh, love hot loser men

word count: 2.3k

i love reading your comments and reblogs, so please do so if you liked reading this<3

HEESEUNG

heeseung was the guy who always sat in the back of the library, oversized hoodie pulled up and earbuds blasting lo-fi playlists. not because he was trying to look cool and aloof—he just didn’t know how to talk to people. heeseung’s whole vibe screamed ‘leave me alone’, and yet, you were drawn to him. maybe it was the way his big glasses always slid down his nose or how he’d stammer when the librarian asked if he needed help. there was a sweetness to his awkwardness, a genuine quality that made him stand out(not to mention how devastatingly handsome he was).

you started leaving him little sticky notes on the library desk when he wasn’t looking, simple messages like “nice doodles!” or “your handwriting is cute<3” the day he caught you in the act, his face turned the color of a ripe tomato.

“you think my handwriting’s c-cute?” he stuttered, practically vibrating with nervous energy.

a bit nervous, you laughed and nodded. “yeah, i do. and i think you’re cute too.”

heeseung froze, his pen dropping to the table. “wait, you… you think i’m cute?” he sounded so disbelieving it was almost funny.

when you confessed that you liked him, he spent two weeks in disbelief, constantly asking if you were joking. but after you assured him that no, you weren’t pulling some cruel prank, he became utterly devoted. he’d text you good morning every day, walk you to your classes while carrying your books (even when you insisted you could manage), and write you poetry—the kind of cringe, over-the-top poetry that made your heart melt anyway.

heeseung was the kind of boyfriend who’d get embarrassingly jealous but try to hide it. if someone so much as glanced at you for too long, he’d fidget nervously and mumble something about how they were probably just admiring how amazing you were. and if you hugged him in public? forget it. he’d be grinning like an idiot for the rest of the day.

when he wasn’t nervously doting on you, he was daydreaming about your future together. he’d scribble little sketches of the two of you in his notebook, complete with hearts and statements like “me + you = forever.” if you teased him about it, he’d turn beet red and try to deny it, but you could see the tiny smile playing on his lips.

rest is under the cut!

JAY

jay was the guy in your science class who thought he could blend in by keeping his head down. what he didn’t realize was that his nervous habits were endearing: the way he’d mumble answers to himself during group work or adjust his glasses every 30 seconds. he was always sketching random diagrams in his notebook—half for class, half because he was too awkward to make conversation.

you had a crush on him because, despite his shyness, there was something magnetic about the way he focused—his brows furrowing as he sketched diagrams in his notebook, the faintest pout forming on his lips when he was deep in concentration. one time, you caught him organizing the classroom supplies, his long fingers deftly sorting through tape dispensers and markers while muttering something about order.

when you mentioned you liked him, jay blinked at you like he couldn’t comprehend the words. “me? like me, me?” he asked, pointing to himself.

you nodded, trying not to giggle at how wide his eyes had gotten. “yes, you. i think you’re really sweet.”

jay’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he immediately started rambling. “i mean, i… uh, wow, okay, i didn’t expect this. are you sure? like, really sure? because i’m kind of a mess, and—”

once it clicked, though, he was all in. he’d send you paragraphs of text apologizing if he thought he said something wrong, shower you with small, thoughtful gifts (like your favorite snacks or a plant he’d researched how to care for), and eventually worked up the courage to hold your hand—though he’d sweat buckets the entire time.

jay would also start making lists—actual, physical lists—of things he could do to make you happy. “compliment her at least once a day,” “remember her favorite coffee order!,” and “learn how to not be a complete dork >:(” were scrawled on a sticky note tucked into his notebook. and when he wasn’t nervously doting on you, he was daydreaming about you, doodling your initials in the margins of his notes.

very soon, he was down-bad for you, which was evident through his real life and his social media activities. he’d post the cheesiest captions about you, like “can’t believe i’m dating the most amazing person in the world” with a blurry photo of the two of you. his friends teased him mercilessly, but he didn’t care. to him, you were worth every bit of embarrassment. late at night, he’d re-read your old texts and smile like an idiot, convinced he was the luckiest person alive.

JAKE

jake was a lovable mess. he wore mismatched socks, always seemed to forget his pencil, and somehow managed to trip over air at least once a day. his “plan” to talk to you involved him awkwardly hovering near your desk and pretending to need help with math problems he already knew how to solve. you knew from the start he was a bit of a loser—but that’s exactly why you liked him along with you finding everything he did adorable.

“wait, wait,” he said when you told him you were into him. “you like me? like, romantically? or is this a ‘pity me’ situation?”

after realizing you genuinely liked him, jake became a golden retriever in human form. he’d facetime you at random hours just to say hi, take you on chaotic “dates” that involved him occasionally tripping over things in public, nervously ordering food for you both and all silly fun activities like arcade games and amusement parks. it was never a dull day with him! after your first kiss, he couldn’t stop grinning for hours, texting his friends in all caps: “GUYS I JUST KISSED THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AAHJKHSSSK”

jake’s down-bad behavior reached new levels when he started making playlists for every possible mood you might have: “songs to cheer you up,” “songs that remind me of you<3,” and even “songs to study to (but only if you want to study with me):3” he’d even text you mid-class to tell you he missed you, even if you’d just seen each other that morning.

jake was also the kind of boyfriend who’d insist on carrying your bag even when it was clear it was too heavy for him. “i’ve got this!” he’d say, wincing slightly but refusing to let you take it back. and if you ever mentioned feeling sad or stressed, he’d immediately panic, asking, “what can i do? tell me, and i’ll do it!” he’d even write you little notes with nerdy jokes or doodles to make you smile, slipping them into your locker or bag for you to find later.

SUNGHOON

sunghoon thought he was slick, but his ‘cool guy’ act was so transparent it was almost cute. he’d lean against the lockers during breaks, pretending not to notice you, but the way his ears turned red every time you walked by gave him away. despite his awkward attempts at being aloof, you found his loser tendencies adorable: like how he’d secretly google pickup lines but chicken out before using them.

when you confessed your feelings, he genuinely choked. “wait, you like me? oh wow… you have bad- I MEAN great taste ahem.” he spent a solid week trying to act nonchalant, but once you started dating, his loser side came out full force. he’d ask you to “rate his outfits” before dates, send you selfies captioned “just thinking about you bbg,” and blush furiously every time you complimented him. sunghoon may have tried to act smooth, but deep down, he was utterly whipped.

sunghoon would also start practicing ways to compliment you in the mirror—only to mess it up completely when the time came. “y-you look… uh, very… beautiful? no, wait, gorgeous! that’s the word i meant!” and everytime you smiled at him, he’d be texting his friends, “she smiled at me again!!!!! i’m gonna pass out.”

his devotion extended to doing the smallest things for you, like bringing you your favorite drink or snacks without you asking. he’d even memorise your schedule so he could “accidentally” bump into you between classes, claiming it was coincidence even though the timing was suspiciously perfect. at night, he’d lay awake replaying your conversations, smiling at the ceiling like the lovesick fool he was.

SUNOO

you had noticed sunoo always sitting at the edge of friend groups, laughing along but never quite joining in. he was bubbly and fun but had an air of self-doubt that made him endearing. you started noticing how he’d always bring extra snacks to share with classmates or go out of his way to compliment people—little acts of kindness that made your heart flutter. not to mention his angelic beauty, that had you look twice the first time you had seen him standing near the water cooler awkwardly.

it was hard not to develop a crush and when you told sunoo you liked him, he’d blink in disbelief. “no way. you’re joking, right?” but after realising you were serious, he’d giggle nervously and hide his face in his hands. once you started dating, he became the most attentive boyfriend ever, remembering every small detail about you and hyping you up like you were the main character. he’d also send you cheesy tiktoks at 2 a.m. with captions like, “this is so us babe ><”

sunoo was head over heels for you, the literal epitome of “she fell first but he fell harder”. he did adorable things like creating a secret pinterest board filled with date ideas and texting you pictures of cute animals with captions like, “look, it’s us in 50 years!” he also started learning how to bake just so he could surprise you with your favorite treats—though most of his attempts ended in chaotic, flour-covered disasters.

if you ever seemed upset, sunoo would go into full panic mode, showering you with compliments and doing everything in his power to cheer you up. “you’re the most amazing person i’ve ever met,” he’d say earnestly, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. he even kept a list on his phone of all the things you’d mentioned liking, just so he could surprise you when you least expected it.

JUNGWON

jungwon was the class president who seemed to have it all together—but his close friends knew better. he was the guy who’d trip over his words during speeches, carry five planners because he kept losing them, and stress over things like forgetting to bring tape for a poster project. you liked him because, despite his loser-ish tendencies, he had a heart of gold and worked hard to make everyone feel included.

when you told him you had a crush on him, jungwon’s first reaction was to nervously laugh. “wait, me? are you sure? why would you do that to yourself!?” once he accepted that you really liked him, he became the sweetest boyfriend imaginable. he’d plan thoughtful dates (that inevitably went slightly wrong but ended up being more fun because of it), leave you encouraging notes in your locker, and get adorably flustered every time you kissed him.

jungwon also started creating “motivational speeches” for you, writing them out on notecards and practicing in the mirror before giving them. “i believe in you,” he’d say earnestly, fumbling to hand you a little note that said, “you’re amazing, and don’t you forget it.” if you teased him about it, he’d bury his face in his hands and mumble, “stop, you’re embarrassing me…”

his love didn’t stop there. he’d stay up late researching ways to make your life easier, like creating color-coded study guides or finding fun new spots to take you on dates. and if anyone dared to speak poorly of you, jungwon would step up, surprising everyone with his sudden fierceness. “they don’t know what they’re talking about,” he’d say, his tone protective and unwavering.

NI-KI

ni-ki was the quiet gamer boy who’d rather blend into the background than be noticed. he wore the same hoodie every other day and constantly had earbuds in, even when they weren’t playing anything. you liked him because of how unpretentious he was—and how his eyes lit up whenever he talked about something he loved, like a new game or a random meme he found hilarious.

when you told him you were into him, ni-ki almost dropped his controller. his eyes narrowed into a glare, “are you sure you’re not messing with me? did jake tell you about my crush?” after he realised what he had said, he immediately scampered away leaving you standing there confused. once he got over his initial shock, he became your biggest simp. he’d send you memes that reminded him of you, let you beat him at games (even though he’d deny it), and randomly text you “you’re so pretty” at the most unexpected times. around his friends, he’d brag about you non-stop, showing off pictures of you with a proud grin.

once he was down bad for you, he became hell bent on learning how to cook your favorite meals—even though he’d never cooked before in his life. “how hard can it be?” he’d say, only to panic five minutes in and call you for help. he also started staying up late to design matching gamer tags for the two of you, insisting that everyone online needed to know you were his.

in quiet moments, ni-ki would open up about how much you meant to him, his voice soft and a little shaky. “i don’t know what i did to deserve you, but i’m not letting go.” and if you ever showed up to surprise him during his gaming sessions, he’d immediately log off, saying, “sorry, guys, my priority is here,” as he turned his full attention to you.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

taglist: @soobnuuy @senascoooop @moafloribunda @lunalovesstories

@firstclassjaylee @levandright @fancypeacepersona @mirouie

@gaonashi @firstclassjaylee @kkamismom12 @evandsolo

[evamame]

papa?

picking up your husband iwaizumi hajime after his days work at the gym is over with your baby wrapped up on your chest. something had gone wrong with his car, resulting in it currently at the repair shop being fixed. this left you and your one year old son in charge of pick up duty. you slide open the door and step into the vast gymnasium of japan’s national men’s volleyball team, greeted with the sound of shoes squeaking on freshly polished hardwood floor and the smack of volleyballs being spiked over the net. sitting on a bench off to the side of the court is hajime, writing some type of report in a notebook with a focused expression. you walk along the sidelines to him, holding your baby’s head to shield him from any unsuspected volleyballs that may fly your way.

hajime only looks up from his work as you seat yourself next to him, typical. he’s always so focused and invested in his job. only during his work hours is he like this, though—he always makes time for his two favorite people.

hajime smiles at you and places a kiss to your temple in greeting, putting his notebook and pen off to the side before shifting in his seat to face you more directly. “hey. didn’t realize you were here.”

“must’ve lost track of time again, right?”

“as usual,” he admits a bit sheepishly, “i really need to finish filling out this sheet of supply orders for next month.”

“hmph. you have that nice smart watch but you hardly ever pay attention to when you need to clock out of work,” you gesture to the sleek black band on his wrist as you speak.

“sorry, love i—” his words are cut off by the babbling of your son, who’s stubby arms are reaching for his papa. he looks up at his dad with wide and admiring eyes, dawning the same tan skin as his father and the same deep brown color in his wispy head of hair and irises. there’s not a doubt in sight that he’s hajime’s child; he’s practically the spitting image of him.

you two can’t help but chuckle at his efforts to cling to his dad, his movements restricted by the wrap holding him close against your chest. “you wanna give papa a hug?” you coo.

the restraint doesn’t give in, and your son looks up at you with an adorably frustrated face of confusion and surprise at the spectacle. “you can’t get anywhere in this wrap, huh?” you say as you gently pull him out of the restraint, handing him off to hajime.

once your son is in hajime’s arms, it’s within an instant that he wraps his small and chubby arms around his neck. hajime holds him securely against his chest, an affectionate laugh escaping his lips at the way his baby boy looks up at him with such adoring eyes. “looks like you really missed your papa,” hajime says fondly before placing a peck to the top of his delicate head. at this, your baby giggles loudly and begins to blabber incoherent sentences, ones that hajime pretends to understand nonetheless.

“you know, once we got here, he kept asking me ‘papa?’ the whole walk from the parking lot to the entrance. i guess he recognizes this place pretty well now.”

“oh, really?” at your words he peppers kisses all along your son’s chubby cheeks, “papa missed you too. so, so much.”

and it’s not without your son first being showered with praise and love from the team that the three of you leave to go home, praise that your baby accepts with innocent giggles and lots of squirming—all from the comfort of his papa’s warm embrace. undoubtedly his favorite place to be.

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @amaliaaliena @mires765

a/n: iwaizumi is such a good boy dad. a little self indulgent bcs i have big baby fever.

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[mywritersmind]

WINNING KISS - LN4

summary : lando isn’t used to being a human mirror, but when a pretty girls tells him to hunch down and let her fix her lipstick in the reflection of his glasses, he’s more than happy to oblige.

listen up : no warnings!!

word count : 750

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I can practically feel the music through my veins. The lights of the club are flashing and my friends are laughing and swinging shots back.

I won today. Singapore has been fucking amazing honestly. Besides the whole drowning in sweat thing.

“So…” Max Fewtrell claps a hand on my shoulder, “Taking a girl home tonight, winner?” He teases me as I roll my eyes and sip my drink, “What- You too tired?” he fakes a frown. I didn’t really want to go out tonight but decided it’s sort of a one in a lifetime thing.

“Go find your girlfriend, idiot.” I eye him.

He throws up his arms and laughs, “Gladly!” As he walks away I feel a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. I’m surprised who did it had such force for being so small.

A girl stands in front of me, a pencil in hand and for a second I think she’s going to ask for an autograph, “Bend down a bit!” She tugs on my shirt and I do as I'm told because I'm genuinely so confused and the pretty girl means business.

She takes the sunglasses from my head and pushes them over my eyes, looking directly into them and bringing the pencil to her lips.

The ‘pencil’, I now realize, it’s a makeup product and deposits a dark color to her lips as she uses me as her mirror.

As she’s stood in front of me, my eyes can’t help but analyze her. This club is stuffy and smoky but she’s so close I can see everything she has on.

She’s got messy brown hair, silver jewelry, a mini skirt, a fur jacket, and a white corset top. Something about her feels magnetic. She’s stunning.

My eyes go to her lips which she smacks together before pulling out a proper lipstick, as she runs the makeup over her lips I start to smile a bit. She finishes quickly and doesn’t pauses as she starts to place the makeup back in her back.

I slide the glasses down to hang around my neck, I see the recognition appear on her face, “Shit.” She says confidently, “You’re that guy!”

I laugh a bit, standing up straighter and looking down at her, “Nice to meet you too.”

“Sorry! Everyone’s been talking about you today!” My tongue runs over my teeth, smiling a bit, “Thanks for being my mirror. And- congrats, I guess?”

“Thank you. And no problem, I’d never deprive a pretty girl of her lipstick rights.” This makes her laugh and fuck I want to keep her laughing.

She gets a look in her eye, her arms behind her, and her eyes staring up at me, “Well I appreciate it. Like it?” I look at her lips again and I’m beginning to think this is a trick just to make me want to kiss her.

“I do. It suits you.” Her lips pull into a wide smile and she steps a bit closer. “You know- people are talking about me for a reason.” I say, building myself up a bit.

She squints, “Right… A win?” I nod, “You’re celebrating then?”

I nod again, “A bit boring though… if only there was a girl to make my night better.”

She scoffs, “Suppose you want a winning kiss then?” I eye her, sipping my drink once more. My eyes flick to her lips but she doesn’t stop looking at me.

“I mean- your lipstick would look great on me.” I say smugly as she stops herself from smiling, humming and nodding.

“Would it?” She says into my ear, the club getting louder with the music.

“Suppose we’ll have to check and see.” I say in her ear this time and when I pull back, I can tell she’s trying to figure me out.

She hums again, leaning in close and slipping her hand onto my neck. Her cool rings practically sting my hot skin. She turns my head slightly, I feel her stand taller to softly kiss my cheek.

When she pulls away, I’m smirking again, “Let me get your number.” I don’t even ask it as a question.

She pulls the lipliner out of her bag once more, uncapping it with her teeth and taking my arm. She scrolls the numbers slowly against my arm, holding me close.

When she’s done and there’s red numbers up my arm, she closes the product and smiles kindly, saying “Congratulations, winner.” before walking away.

[fmle-drven]

When the task force finds out you’re covered in tattoos…….

POV: the boys had no idea you’re shoulders down covered in tattoos. To your surprise, they’re reaction was rather unexpected

Context: female reader, tattoos, mentions of suggestive piercings, suggestive dialogue

—————————————————————————-

You weren’t quite or shy by any means, personality Wise. You were always bubbly, cracking jokes, even flirting a little bit to just see the boys get flustered. You were also the only woman on the task force. You wanted to keep up your “girl next door” persona as long as you could. That’s why you always wore gloves, long sleeves, and long cargo pants. You didn’t want the boys to see you with all these tattoos and treat you differently. They always talked about how they loved girly, frilly girls. And you were by far not girly or frilly.

One night, John invited you out with the boys to the local bar. You were hesitant at first, but realized this may be the last round of drinks with these men before your upcoming mission. You enter the bar in your hoodie and gloves. Scanning the room, you find the boys laughing and patting one another on the back already a few drinks deep. Walking over nervously, you crack a smile to each one of them. It was suffocating in this bar. Cigarette smoke hazed your vision, too many bodies to count adding to the musky heat of the room.

“Aye, there’s our wee lil lamb” Johnny slurs as he throws a coaster your way.

“Glad ‘t see ya joined us” Ghost speaks, you can see a crack of a smirk under his mask.

Your drink ends up in front of you and you start to chug. The cool ice of the drink cooling you down as you begin to sweat from the humidity. You don’t know how long you’re going to last.

“ is it hot in here or is it just me?” You practically pant. Looking around to try to find the restroom.

“Nah is just’ you love” John laughs, he watches the bead of sweat come down your forehead.

“Take off the gloves Bonnie.” Johnny says, taking another swig of his whiskey.

“No, it’s ok I think I’ll just get some fresh air” you’re panicking at this point as you begin to feel light headed. Coming out was a bad idea.

“Ya got somethin t’ hide?” Ghost questions.

“Nope, just don’t want to take the gloves off.” You try to act casual.

“Aye mate, she’s prolly got a ring on ‘er finger.” Johnny cackles.

“I’m not married Johnny, for the 100th fucking time” you reply, annoyed at this point.

You can’t take it anymore, it’s sweltering in here. Fuck it. Just take off the gloves.

You shake as you start to take off you gloves. Intricate ink staining your fingers and top of your hand. The boys went silent and look at your hands. Then you started to take off your hoodie. You’re wearing a black Lacey tank top, bust hanging out as well as your full sleeves of tattoos and chest piece.

Your eyes are locked on your drink, trying to act as casual as possible. You were afraid they’d think you were trashy, or ugly even with all your tattoos.

Ghosts eyes linger the longest, taking in every line of the artwork from your collarbones down to your hands. You glance over to them, only to see them mouths gaped and utterly shocked.

“What the fu-“ Johnny starts to exclaim before getting elbowed by price.

“She’s more inked up than you are ghost. How does that feel mate?” Kyle starts to laugh.

You roll your eyes and start to put on your hoodie again.

“No, no don’t put the hoodie back on. Your tattoos are……. Quite nice.” Price says. Giving you a smirk.

“Steamin Jesus Bonnie, you’re fockin hot!” Johnny practically yells.

Your mouth starts to smile corner to corner. You really thought the boys were going to give you shit, but instead they are practically eye fucking you.

You sit up straighter, allowing them to see the full frontal of your inked skin. Ghost then grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his face. He’s analyzing the colors and lines. Then his eyes move up your arms, then to your eyes.

Your face heats up, using your other hand to look away and block your pink cheeks. Ghost leans in and whispers “got any more we can’t see?”

Your head whips around to him shocked at first, then you quirk an eye brow and whisper back “I’ve got plenty more I can show you even a few piercings. Only if you want LT.” looking up at him with doe eyes and biting your lip. Ghost let’s go of your hand and finishes off his whiskey. You grab your drink and flash your tongue ring to the boys as you wrap your lips around the straw, sucking extra hard. Their eyes go wide, and their speech stunted.

Ghost grabs your hoodie and gloves, looking around at the rest of the boys.

“See ya tomorro’” he gruffs, winking at Johnny.

You squeak in surprise when ghost snatches your hand and practically drags you off your stool, heading swiftly to the door. Once outside and out of view, he pins you to the buildings wall. Gasping at the cold of the stone on your back, you hear ghost in your ear.

“I like that little noise, I also like these.” He starts to pepper open mouth kisses on your collarbones and shoulders. Referring to the ink.

“When we get back t’ base, I want t’ see every inch of ya, that’s an order.” He growls in your ear. You’re in totally shock as your LT has never even laid a hand on you, let alone had you pinned against a wall and leaving you soaking wet.

Needless to say, you didn’t wear gloves or long sleeves anymore. You also didn’t need to use any of your bedside toys anymore ;)

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

[pucksandpower]

The Girlfriend Test

Lando Norris x girlfriend!Reader

Summary: no new LN merch is deemed ready for sale unless it passes the girlfriend test (or in which you are Lando’s favorite hoodie thief and the sight of another driver’s brand on you drives him just a little bit crazy)

You hear the front door open and close, followed by the sounds of Lando rummaging around in the entryway. “Babe, I’m home!” He calls out.

You’re curled up on the couch in his latest hoodie design, a soft charcoal grey number with black sleeves and his LN logo embroidered over the heart.

“In here!” You reply. Lando comes into the living room and smiles when he sees you wearing his new creation.

“Well hello there, hoodie thief,” he says, leaning down to give you a quick peck on the lips before flopping down on the couch next to you. “So I see you found my newest sample.”

You grin and snuggle further into the super soft fleece. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is my hoodie now.”

Lando laughs and tugs lightly on the hood. “Oh is it now? I could’ve sworn this was a prototype I brought home from my design meeting a few days ago.”

“Nope, definitely mine,” you say cheekily. “It’s so cozy I don’t think I can ever take it off.”

“In that case, I guess it passes the girlfriend test with flying colors,” Lando declares. At your confused look, he elaborates. “Oh, I never told you about the girlfriend test? I can’t launch a new LN design until you have stolen it out of my closet. That’s how I know for sure it’s comfy enough for my fans.”

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. “You’re telling me every hoodie so far has passed this supposed test?”

“You got it,” Lando grins. “I’ll leave the samples laying around and if you end up snagging one and wearing it all the time, I know it’s prime merchandise.”

You think back and realize it’s true — Lando’s hoodies have a habit of migrating into your wardrobe. The papaya one is your go-to for grocery store runs. The tie-dye version is your favorite for lazy Sundays. Even the bold purple hoodie he released last month has already earned a permanent place on your desk chair.

“So you mean to tell me this was all part of your master plan?” You ask in mock offense. “And here I thought I was sneakily stealing your comfiest clothes.”

“Baby, if I really didn’t want you wearing my stuff, I wouldn’t make it so tempting to take,” Lando says sincerely, wrapping an arm around you. “But it makes me so happy to see you in my designs, wearing my brand.”

You cuddle into his shoulder. “That’s really sweet, babe.”

“Anything for my number one fan and favorite hoodie model,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

You snuggle together in contented silence for a few minutes, your head tucked perfectly under his chin.

“So, how was the simulator today?” You ask. “Get some good practice in for Monza this weekend?”

Lando nods. “Yeah, had a really solid session. Tweaked a few things with the setup that I think will help with the low downforce.”

“Nice,” you say. “Maybe another podium this week?”

“We’ll see,” Lando replies. “Ferrari looked quick in Spa so it could be tough. But I feel good going into the weekend.”

“Well, I know you’ll kill it babe,” you say supportively. Lando smiles gratefully and pulls you closer.

“But anyway, enough about F1. How was your day off?” He asks.

You launch into a recap of your relaxed day — sleeping in, catching up on chores, and working on some creative projects you’ve had on the backburner. Lando listens intently, asking questions and commenting on the new songs and recipes you’re dying to try. The conversation flows easily, as it always does between you two.

Before you know it, Lando’s stomach rumbles loudly and you both crack up. “I guess that means it’s dinnertime,” you say, checking your phone. “Pizza sound good?”

“You read my mind,” Lando replies. While you call in the usual order from your favorite local pizza joint, Lando queues up Netflix and scrolls through options for tonight’s viewing.

Thirty minutes later you’re back on the couch, the coffee table littered with pizza boxes and cans of soda. Lando hits play on an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and you settle in, toes tucked under his legs to stay cozy.

You’re only halfway through the episode when you feel Lando’s gaze on you. You turn and find him staring at you wearing his newest hoodie creation, a small smile on his lips.

“What’s that look for?” You ask around a mouthful of pizza.

Lando shakes his head, the smile growing wider. “Nothing really. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You tilt your head curiously and he continues. “I have my dream job, getting to race cars for a living. And then I come home to you and … I don’t know. It just feels really good. Like everything is kind of falling into place.”

You set down your pizza slice and cuddle up to him. “Aww babe. That’s so sweet.” You give him a greasy kiss on the cheek. “I’m the lucky one you know. I get to see you living your dream every day. And then I get to be here to celebrate the wins with you and cheer you up after the tough days. It’s pretty amazing.”

Lando wraps both arms around you in a hug. “Love you so much,” he says softly.

“Love you more,” you whisper back, your head tucked perfectly under his chin once again.

***

The next evening, you’re sprawled across the bed browsing on your phone when you hear Lando come home.

“Honey, I’m home!” He calls out in a sing-song voice. You grin, expecting him to come give you a kiss. But instead you hear his footsteps stop abruptly.

“Babe, what … is that?” Lando asks slowly.

You look up confused. “What do you mea-”

Then you spot what he’s staring at in horror: the soft teal hoodie you’re wearing with an embroidered Enchanté logo across the front.

“Oh this?” You say casually. “It’s from Daniel’s new merch drop. The fleece is so soft, I couldn’t resist snagging one.”

Lando’s jaw drops open. “You … you bought a hoodie? From a competing merch brand?”

You stifle a laugh at how seriously Lando is taking this. “Well yeah, you gotta support your friends right? And I told you how comfy it looked in his posts.”

Lando just blinks slowly, looking utterly betrayed. You almost feel bad for riling him up.

“Babe, come on, don’t look at me like that! You know I’m your number one fan.” You get up and go to hug him, but Lando dodges you.

“Nope. No hugs until that … that enemy hoodie comes off,” he says dramatically.

Now you really have to hold back your laughter. “Lando, don’t be silly.”

But he crosses his arms and sticks his chin up. “I’m dead serious, Y/N. My own girlfriend, wearing another man’s merch!” He shakes his head in despair.

You bite your lip, trying not to smile at his antics. Time to have some more fun with this.

“Well if you’re going to be like that, maybe I’ll just keep it on,” you say nonchalantly, snuggling back into the ridiculously soft fleece.

Lando’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t dare!”

You raise your eyebrows challengingly. “Try me.”

You stare each other down for a few tense moments, before Lando huffs loudly.

“Fine then. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” And with that ominous statement, he lunges forward and lifts you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Lando!” You shriek through laughter. “Put me down!”

But he marches down the hall determinedly, you still slung over his shoulder. He brings you into the living room and gently tosses you onto the couch. Before you can react, he rips the Enchanté hoodie up over your head in one swift move.

“Lando!” You squeal, trying to reach for the hoodie, but he’s quicker. In a flash, he has the offending article of clothing in his grip.

“How could you bring this … this enemy propaganda into our home?” Lando accuses dramatically. He holds the hoodie between two fingers like it’s contaminated.

You have to press a hand over your mouth to contain your giggles. Lando looks utterly scandalized at the sight of you in his rival’s merch.

“I’m sorry babe, but you left me no choice,” Lando says solemnly. And with that, he crosses the room, opens the fireplace, and tosses the hoodie in.

You gasp loudly. “Lando Norris, did you just burn my hoodie?”

“I had to protect the sanctity of this home! Can’t have you falling for another man’s branding,” Lando exclaims. But you can see his facade cracking as he fights back a smile of his own.

You get up from the couch and poke him in the chest. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Maybe. But you love me.”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight back your own smile. “Debatable at the moment,” you joke.

Lando pouts and gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Come onnnn, you know I’m your favorite driver.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Hmm well Daniel does give the best hugs ...”

“Hey!” Lando exclaims and tackles you into a bear hug. You dissolve into giggles as he squeezes you tight and sways you back and forth.

“Nope, absolutely not allowed,” he declares, still holding you captive.

You lean back to look up at him with a smile. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because you’re my girl and I don’t share,” Lando states matter-of-factly. His eyes are soft now as he gazes down at you.

You feel your heart melt a little. You stand on your tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss. “You’re right, I’m all yours Lando.”

His answering smile is dazzling. But then a thought seems to occur to him and a grin spreads across his face.

In one smooth motion, he strips off the neon green hoodie he’s wearing, leaving just a black t-shirt underneath. Before you can react, he pulls it down over your head, enveloping you in soft fleece that smells like him.

“There. That’s better,” Lando declares satisfied.

You snuggle happily into Lando’s worn hoodie, his warmth still lingering in the fabric. Looking down, you recognize it as the exclusive design he wore constantly last season.

Lando’s eyes crease with happiness as he looks at you swimming in his hoodie. “That’s my girl,” he says softly, pulling you close again.

You nuzzle into his chest, perfectly content.

“Am I forgiven for my momentary lapse in loyalty?” You ask cheekily, peering up at him.

Lando pretends to consider this for a moment. “Hmmm, I guess I can let it slide this one time,” he teases back. “But only because you look so damn cute in my clothes.”

You smile and tighten your arms around him. You sway together slowly, Lando humming tunelessly under his breath. The fireplace crackles gently beside you.

After a few moments, Lando speaks again, his voice quiet. “You know I was only joking around before, right? You can wear whatever you want babe.”

You lean back to meet his gaze. His brown eyes are warm but serious now.

You touch his cheek softly. “Of course I know that Lando. Your hoodies might be the comfiest, but they’re not the only clothes I own.”

Lando nods, looking relieved that you understand. “I just never want you to feel like you have to choose between me and your own style or interests.” His voice is earnest. “I want you to always feel free to be yourself.”

Your heart swells at his words. You reach up and kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, Lando is smiling again.

“Thanks babe,” you say. “That really means a lot to me. And same to you, obviously.”

Lando grins. “Of course, it’s you and me against the world! Oh, and McLaren against the other teams,” he adds cheekily.

You laugh and snuggle back into his chest. “Yes, McLaren over all,” you agree, just to make him happy.

“That’s my girl,” Lando says again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

[mariasont]

Second Helpings - A.H

it started with second helpings and ended with him pinning you against a dressing room wall in navy slacks.

pairings: dad bod hotch x fem!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, public/semi public sex, unprotected sex (dont do it besties), dad bod hotch!!!!!!!, bad language, hand over mouth, partially clothed sex, AFAB reader, stomach kink lol idk what to call it wc: 2.8k

You’re getting kind of smug about it, honestly. Every morning, you watch as Aaron lets out this heavy, performative sigh while trying to coax his shirt buttons into place.

You don’t even attempt to hide your grin anymore.

Because you know what’s behind it — every late night where you fed him second helpings without asking, every caramelized bite he said was too sweet and then finished anyway.

He grumbles, always. About routine, about needing to run more.

But the truth is, he’s gotten soft in the best possible way, and you’re not just proud, you’re thrilled. You did that. You, and the cream sauce.

You feel it every time your arms slide around him from behind, the way your palms sink into the new plushness.

And it’s getting harder and harder not to whisper prayers of thanks into the space between his shoulder blades, not to smile against his back like he’s something you sculpted by hand and left out to rise — golden, perfect, yours.

Though you’re brash in almost every other way — loud with your praise, greedy with your hands, always quick to flirt or tease — this particular compliment you’ve kept carefully tucked away.

You’ll rave about his hair, his face, the way his hands look on a steering wheel, but openly mentioning your delight in his rounded stomach feels embarrassingly intimate. A bit too direct even for your bold tastes. So, your admiration remains quiet, disguised in playful affection and touches, all while hoping he secretly knows just how much you adore this version of him.

Insecurity has never really been his thing, and thank heavens for that. He’s still Aaron Hotchner, after all, entirely too practical and self-assured to obsess over vanity.

He only contains mild irritation about the way his expensive suits pinch in all the wrong places lately. Even with that irritation, convincing him to step foot in one of those swanky boutiques he usually sidesteps took days of sweet-talk, strategic eye-fluttering, and a frankly heroic amount of praise — even though you both know his wallet wouldn’t even notice the difference.

“What do you think of this one?” Aaron asks casually, stepping out of the dressing room with hands smoothing down the front of the jacket.

For a moment, language ceases to exist. Your brain misfires entirely, every thought in your skull vaporized by the sight of him, morphed into fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

It pulls around his thighs, showcasing their new, fuller shape, and cinches at his waist in a manner that borders on temptation incarnate. You, however, are particularly focused on the way his stomach swells over his belt. Your mouth feels dry.

Heat pulses between your hips, your clit throbbing in time with your heartbeat like it knows what it wants. You shift, subtly, like that’ll help. It doesn’t.

“I think,” you manage weakly, “we should definitely buy that one.”

The words sound steady, but inside, you’re a wildfire on stilts. Your smile stays soft and polite, while your hands drag slowly down the front of his chest and sturdy shoulders.

You pretend to inspect the suit’s fit, fingers trailing lower, thumbs dipping just above his waistband, grazing the edge of where belly becomes something even hungrier.

Stretching onto your toes, you press a kiss to Aaron’s cheek and murmur casually, “I knew navy was your color.”

He fidgets with the jacket, running his hands down the sides like maybe it’ll stretch if he asks nicely.

“Still feels a bit snug,” he says, casually, with that little crooked smile. 

It’s barely even a concern, just commentary. Your eyes drop automatically to his waist. You want to tell him snug is good. Snug is perfect. Snug is making you wet. 

But you just hum in response, noncommittal on the surface. Your hands say otherwise. You slip behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You’ve always been a little clingy, sure, but lately, you couldn’t even stop if you wanted to.

You peek your head out from behind his arm, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Well, I happen to think this is your very best look.”

“You do remember,” he says mildly, “that this shopping trip was your idea.” He pauses, his hand settling over yours with casual intimacy, his thumb rubbing slow over your knuckles. “You said I needed suits that fit better. Not… tighter.” His gaze drags over your reflection. “Though I have a good idea why you seem to enjoy them this way.”

Mortification floods through you and the only survival tactic your body can come up with is to disappear.

You duck forward and press your face into the broad expanse of his back, stifling your laughter into the ridge of his spine. 

“Ugh,” you grumble into the fabric of his jacket, voice muffled, “of course you know. You weren’t supposed to notice. That was private.”

He turns slowly in your embrace, smiling softly as he nudges your chin upward with one finger.

“Believe me, I figured it out the first time you cooked for me and looked ready to cry if I didn’t eat dessert. You didn’t exactly hide your intentions.”

You let out a breath that flutters embarrassingly against his throat, forehead still resting against his shoulder.

“...I didn’t think it was that obvious,” you whisper, half-laughing.

He raises a brow. You bury your face again.

“Okay, fine. Maybe I was trying to feed you into submission,” you tease. Then, more seriously, “But… you just look happier, you know? Healthier. Like you’re finally letting yourself enjoy things.” Your voice softens. “You take care of everyone else all the time. I like that you feel safe enough to relax around me. And —” You glance up at him with a grin. “Selfishly, it’s pretty hot.”

Aaron laughs, that rare kind that vibrates low in his chest and through yours. His fingers brush the side of your neck, then tug lightly on your ponytail, just enough to make you tilt your chin.

“You know exactly why I’m happier. You’re the one who’s been determined to spoil me every chance you get.”

You send a silent grateful prayer to whatever benevolent deity governs luxury boutiques, relieved beyond measure that the store is deserted, the salespeople tucked somewhere far out of sight.

Your hand brushes against Aaron’s belt. “You know, it’s taking a lot of self-control not to start spoiling you right here in this dressing room.”

Aaron catches your hand mid-drift and guides it back to the safety of his waist. Still, his eyes spark darker, his voice lowering a shade.

“While I admire your enthusiasm,” he says, “we might need to revisit the rules about public behavior.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re usually willing to negotiate.”

His nostrils flare — subtle, but there — and he leans in a fraction. “Negotiations require proper timing and place.”

You lean in return, close enough for your breath to ghost against his jaw. Your gaze is wide, guileless, the exact look you’ve perfected just for him. He knows it’s a trap. He always knows.

You whisper sweetly, almost pleading, “I’ll be quiet, Aaron. Really quiet.”

His thumb moves slowly over your pulse, and something in his expression stutters — not a full break, but the first, beautiful crack in the glass.

He swallows hard.

“You’re not playing fair.”

You take that as a green light, not a loud one, not even official, but enough.

You grab his hand, pull him into the dressing room, and lock the door. 

Your heart slams into overdrive — giddy and incredulous — because, truthfully, you’d braced yourself for another spectacular defeat.

Getting Aaron to relent in public, even tucked away, feels as hopeless as convincing winter to surrender to spring early. He’s built from impeccable propriety and poise.

Countless times, you’ve prodded at his limits — hotel balconies, late-night drives, even in your own backyard — but with each attempt, you were redirected with affectionate warnings and raised eyebrows.

You glanced upward, immediately snagging on that subtle, guilty amusement taking over his features. It dances at the corners of his lips, a small flame you’ve tirelessly tried to spark into something bigger. 

With the wickedest smile, you keep his gaze locked tight as your fingers tease the edge of your dress, drawing the fabric upward, baring just enough skin to erase any doubt that your intentions are anything of the innocent kind.

“I promise we’ll be quick,” you breathe against his lips, soothing his doubts as you kiss him with a gentle reassurance that still burns brightly in desire. You press into him, heart leaping when you feel the rigid outline pressing insistently against his slacks. “Please, Aaron. I need you now. So, so badly.”

Aaron’s resistance snaps with an almost audible click, his strong hands seizing your thighs as he guides you backward, caging you against the solidity of the wall.

His mouth descends upon your neck in slow kisses, each one melting into your skin like hot wax. His fingers slip underneath your hiked-up dress, grazing across your underwear, now shamefully damp with anticipation.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers in stunned approval, “look how soaked you already are.”

Warmth floods your cheeks, even as you laugh quietly against his shoulder. His surprise would be adorable if you weren’t already half-mad with need. 

“Well, whose fault is that?” you tease, fingers gripping his waist tighter, pulling him close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. “Seriously, have you seen yourself lately? Now please, can you just —” you pause, shivering impatiently as you lift your hips, “— get inside me already?”

He laughs under his breath, hands deftly unfastening his pants just enough, leaving his suit otherwise impossibly pristine, as if even now he can’t bear to sacrifice his composure entirely.

“You always get what you want, don’t you?”

An involuntary, choked sound escapes your throat when Aaron pushes forward, plunging into you with one controlled thrust, filling you so completely that it leaves room for nothing else.

The intensity sends electricity through your body, scattering constellations behind your closed eyelids. You clench around him reflexively, relishing how he stretches you.

A distant thought flickers through your mind, laughing at your own foolishness for ever questioning whether convincing him was worth it when he feels so perfect right here, right now.

“Oh god, Aar —” His palm covers your mouth, silencing the needy cry before it can fully form, your voice reduced to a swathed whine beneath his hand.

His eyes glisten with teasing reproach, even as his hips persist their pitiless pace. “Shh,” he scolds, leaning close enough that his lips graze your ear, “I distinctly remember someone promising she’d behave.”

He underscores his sentence with a thrust that leaves you weak-kneed, clasping helplessly against his chest.

Quiet, right, what an outrageous promise that had been. Still, you fight valiantly, teeth gently sinking into his hand to keep your pleas from slipping out. You briefly congratulate yourself on your restraint, but the shaky pride crumbles wholly when his fingertips slide skillfully over your swollen clit, tearing your discipline into ribbons.

You arch into his touch. 

He leans in, chuckling against your temple then leaving a kiss there. 

“You’re adorable when you pretend at subtlety, but I think we both know it’s never been your talent.” Your hold tightens frantically on his lapels, breath fastening sharply. “Maybe next time,” he whispers huskily, “you could spare us both and just tell me outright how much you want this.”

Aaron uncovers your mouth, and the words rush out between panting breaths, completely beyond your management. Your legs cling tighter, wrinkling his suit jacket carelessly.

“Wasn’t supposed to be so — so obvious,” you stammer, mind spinning from the intensity of his thrusts. “But you’re — Aaron, you’re so good like this.”

He seems to anticipate your reaction before you even feel it yourself, his palm clamping firmly over your lips just as his cock slides forward, nudging the spot that makes your vision blur. Your cry hums against calloused skin, back bowing, pressing your chest flush to his as your hips move on their own, greedily seeking more of the blissful sensation only he can offer.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair, voice roughened by desire but still so delicate. “You’re so incredible, you know that? Always so determined to take care of me, always looking after me. It’s your turn now.”

He thrusts again, bottomless, more purposeful.

“Right now, this is for you.” His voice shakes, strained with sincerity. “My perfect girl. Just let go, this is all yours.”

Your orgasm crashes over you without warning, premature and fierce, igniting every nerve in your body until you’re certain you’ll burn right through his touch.

Aaron’s hand absorbs the worst of your moan, but you’re sure the raw sound somehow echoes off the walls regardless. Your body trembles and grips around him, unwilling to let go as endless shocks of pleasure surge enormously through your core. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispers hoarsely, a comforting rasp in your ear, thrusts slowing as he guides you through the aftershocks.

You feel his shudder, his breathing turning uneven, labored, signaling his own approaching release. He presses his face into your hair again, stifling a deep, throaty groan as he surges forward once more, hips snapping sharply, spilling inside you.

Sticky warmth floods your core, leaving you shivering and satisfied. Your thoughts swirl lazily in the aftermath, a dazed smile forming.

You float pleasantly, blissfully aware that all thoughts of propriety, pressed suits, and public decency have completely dissolved — and it feels like perfect freedom.

His hand lifts slowly, freeing your mouth as your breath rushes out in a slightly dizzy laugh, head spinning as you sag back against the wall.

Your smile is dreamy, eyes barely able to focus as you tap lightly at his chest. “Mmm… If anyone asks, it was all your idea.”

“Convenient narrative,” he says dryly, pulling out of you.

The emptiness leaves you instantly unstable, thighs fluttering and a faint, overwhelmed moan tumbling from your lips as you feel his release gradually escaping, trickling down your thighs.

His fingers move, carefully gathering the slick excess dripping down your legs and forcing it back inside you, causing you to gasp sharply. Your thighs spasm uncontrollably.

“Easy,” Aaron says soothingly, pressing kisses against your cheekbone. “I know, sweetheart, it’s a lot, but you’ll need to hold it until we’re somewhere more private. Think you can manage?”

You nod hazily, pressing your thighs more firmly around his fingers, stabilizing yourself.

“Yeah — yeah, I think,” you say, “but just keep your hand right there, okay?”

He grins, pulling his hand back. 

“Tempting offer,” he says, pressing his slick-coated fingers to your parted lips. “But let’s start by taking care of this little mess you made, hmm?”

With eyes never leaving him, you offer him a smile, taking his digits into your mouth, savoring the intimacy.

When you release him, you tilt your head, eyes still heavy with contentment, and say, “So… are you keeping the suit?”

“At this point, I think purchasing it is my only decent option,” he murmurs wryly, gesturing pointedly at the unmistakable evidence left behind — his own precum mingled with your wetness staining the crotch area of the slacks.

Your smile grows impish, eyes sparkling lazily as you rise to peck his mouth. “Exactly as planned.”

The sudden, polite knock makes you jump, panic briefly flashing across your features as a voice calls out, “Sir? How’s the fit on that suit? Need assistance?”

Aaron moves before you can even blink, stepping protectively in front of you, shoulders squared defensively toward the door. You bury your face into his chest, heart hammering as you struggle to remain perfectly silent.

“Everything’s fine, thank you. Just making some final adjustments.”

The quiet returns as footsteps fade, leaving you pressed safely into Aaron. Slowly, he lifts your chin, meeting your gaze with tender exasperation, mouth curving softly upward.

“We’re going to get banned from this place,” he says dryly, smoothing your hair back from your flushed face.

“Worth it.” You give him a cheeky smile, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist. “I really do love this look on you, Aaron.”

His gaze softens even further, thumb brushing tenderly along your jawline.

"I know," he whispers, voice deep with meaning, "and that's exactly why I'm buying it."

You stay there there for a second longer than you should, breathing him in. You’re sweaty, flushed, possibly glowing, and he’s just standing there like a man trying to pretend he didn’t just rearrange your insides next to a garment rack.

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. He smooths down your dress like that’ll help. It won’t. But he tries anyway. And in the middle of it, you think, yeah, this is definitely the man I’m gonna make lasagna for tonight.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[mattybsgroupie]

— FITTING

— handjob (m receiving); mommy kink; milf!reader; virgin!chris; sub!chris

— NOTES: hi my loves! sorry i’ve been a little m.i.a, some stuff happening at home and not really in my best mood BUT i’m here! you give me strenght to keep going and doing what i love. did you guys miss him as much as i did :( chris my beloved!!! inspired by this blurb, thought i’d show how shy chris was before their first time! — btw this fic is part of the milf!au but you can it on its own! — not proofread, i apologize for any mistakes. enjoy ♡

walking around the mall after a busy morning at work, you spotted a familiar figure across the alley. it was quite impossible not to recognize chris — his long hair falling over his big eyes, wearing his shabby jeans and his old converse as he typed frantically on his phone, oblivious to his surroundings.

you approached him slowly, standing in front of chris and expecting that he’d notice you soon. when he raised his head, a smile spread from ear to ear, his blue orbs sparkling. it had been over two weeks since you last saw each other due to stacy staying at her father's place, therefore, chris had no excuses to visit you.

“chris? what are you doing here?” you asked in your usual sweet tone. he scratched the back of his head, as if he was a bit embarrassed about the situation he found himself in. “huh... actually, i was supposed to meet stacy” chris admitted, tucking his cell phone back into his pocket and standing up beside you.

“but she won’t make it” he said. a puzzled frown appeared on your face. it’s true that you couldn’t always keep track of your daughter’s schedule when she wasn't at home, but she wasn’t the type to miss dates or hangouts. 

“cheer practice” he explained. you nodded, realizing that the game season was about to start. it felt so wonderful to see chris again. “well, would you like a ride home? i just have to look for something real quick and then i’m all done”

“sure, c-can i keep you company?” he asked, eager for a positive answer. “absolutely, sweetheart”

you led the way to the store you were going to visit. a lingerie shop. chris gulped when he saw the bright sign, the pink lights contrasting with the black interior and then sighed. he knew you missed him just as much.

“that’s not fair, mama” he mumbled after a while. chris had been following you like a puppy, interlocking his index with two of your fingers, as if he could lose his way at any second. 

“making me so needy” he complained again. you stopped by a red, lace lingerie set and happily brought it to your chest, turning to chris. “what do you think of this one, chris? pretty, right?”

“mhm— really pretty” chris shook his head as he sunk his teeth on his bottom lip. he looked away from you and the way the bra rested perfectly against your chest. “what’s up, baby? are you having a little trouble down there?”

“mama… don’t do this to me” chris whispered. his hands started to get sweaty and he could feel the blood rushing to his cock. he was about to get hard in public just because he thought of you in lingerie, which was ridiculous, since he had seem you naked previosusly.

“i’m not doing anything, sweetie. i’m shopping and you’re keeping me company, isn’t that right? is it my fault that you can’t hold yourself back and got all worked up just because i got some lingerie?” your warm tone sent a shiver down his spine, his chest immediatly inflating with air. “‘m s-sorry i just keep thinking… of you wearing it” chris tried to explain himself as you chuckled, enjoying his embarassement.

“yeah? you wanna see me wearing a nice set for you? which one do you like better?” you asked, handing him three pairs of bras and panties in different colors.

“the red one” chris spoke, still not daring to look at you in the ways. you walked in slow, seductive steps towards him, the sound of your heels taking over the empty store.

“c’mere,  i’ll try it on for you” you continued, undoing the first button of your silk shirt. chris got a peek of your bra, it was the leopard print that drove him insane and made him kiss you for the first time, months ago. “but first we gotta fix this, hm?” you cooed, placing your palm against his boner and applying some pressure to it.

once again, you led the way towards the fitting rooms. chris followed you obediently, holding a bunch of hangers. you gaze scanned the store and with a naughty grin, you opened one of the curtains and quickly went inside, pulling chris by his wrist.

he didn’t even had time to hang your underwear. you pushed him against the mirror, smashing your lips together in a desperate, hungry kiss. a loud groan left his throat as you moved to his neck, gently sucking on his skin. “mommy i missed you so much” chris rolled his eyes, his hands going to your hair.

“i missed you too, my good little boy” you whispered, palming his cock over his jeans. chris squirmed against you, a moan slipping from his lips. you opened a satisfied smile as you pulled away, sitting on the stool next to the mirror.

chris whined in protest, already missing how you hand and your lips felt on him. “got all hard for mama? you poor little thing” he pouted, nodding “c’mon, touch yourself for me” you instructed him.

his eyes widened in surprise — you had never asked him that. he didn’t know how to do jerk himself properly. chris was a virgin and the first time he was actually able to reach an orgasm was with your help. how was he supposed to do it on his own, and in public?

“mhm, unless you wanna go out with that pathetic boner” you teased, crossing your legs. the red heel started to slip from your foot as you finished unbuttoning your shirt, fully displaying your bra. chris whined again, silently pleading.

“mama… i n-need your help” chris spoke under his breath. “can’t cum without you”

“you’ll have to learn how to take care of yourself, chris” you said, pulling chris by his belt. you helped him to undress, freeing his shaft, almost slapping against his own tummy. you wrapped your knuckles around his length, stroking it in slow motions. “do you expect mama to be there every time you get hard? what are you gonna do when i’m not around, hm?”

“nhng— can’t— can’t be without mama” chris whimpered, more to himself than to you. he twitched inside your fist, placing both hands on the mirror to hold his weight, knowing his knees would ultimately give up.

you moved your thumb to his tip, pre-cum leaking from his slit as you circled it. his hips bucked forward as he leaned his head down, trying to hold himself. chris didn’t want to cum too soon, it was humiliating. he wanted to last long for you, he wanted to get used to the feeling your fingers around him, to the sound of your voice whispering praises and calling him a good boy, but no matter how hard chris tried, he pathetically failed.

“cum! mama, cum!” chris whimpered. you tightened your grip around his cock, pumping it faster. “please!”

“cum for me baby” you allowed him. you knew chris would need a long time to get used to your touch. in fact, it was adorable that he couldn’t even last five minutes.

chris threw his head back, moaning as he came on your hand, thick spurt messing your fingers and his jacket. you didn’t move your hand, continuing to gently stroke his wet, sticky cock.

that’s until your phone rang. you reached for your bag, quickly picking it up and seeing the name on the screen. “i think stacy is back home” you told chris, whose dick immediately became soft at the mention of your daughter’s name. “would you like to join us for dinner?”

chris masterlist | milf au masterlist