#echo and reader

[whisperedmeg]

ECHO CHAMBER ⋆˚꩜｡ spencer reid x girlfriend!reader

summary: spencer doesn’t talk after his last case. doesn’t sleep, either, just echoes. until he finds his way back to you — the only place it ever goes quiet.

genre: smut, hurt/comfort | w/c: 2.2k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, implied panic attack (spencer), established relationship, using sex as probably not the healthiest coping mechanism but oh well it worked, fingering, oral (f receiving) ((like only sort of because he won’t stop yapping)), spencer calls reader angel, unprotected piv, floor sex, aftercare, spencer being a nerd at inopportune times, light dirty talk (again with the yapping!)

a/n: thinking about comforting spencer with your body makes me feral so here’s a peek into how I imagine that playing out 🙂‍↕️ also, if you enjoyed this, my requests are open!

You hadn’t been sleeping so much as hovering at the edge of it — and when you turned and found the space beside you empty, your stomach sank. It wasn’t the first time Spencer had disappeared in the middle of the night after getting home from a tough case, but it still felt like something was missing, like the weight of him was the only thing that ever let you sleep at all.

You padded out into the living room quietly and found him exactly where you knew he’d be: sitting on the floor in front of the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, fingers tugging at his curls like he might come undone if he let go.

He didn’t look up when you approached. Just sat there, legs drawn in, spine curled forward, his face lost in shadow.

You said nothing. Only sank slowly to the floor beside him, settling in shoulder-to-shoulder. Your thigh brushed his, and still, he didn’t pull away.

The silence between you stretched.

Then he exhaled — slow and quiet — like it was the first sound he’d made in hours. You turned your head just slightly, a silent invitation. He leaned into it.

His temple came to rest against your shoulder, and this time, the sigh that escaped him sounded almost like surrender. Not defeat — but relief. The kind that only comes when you realize you’re safe.

You let a beat pass before speaking, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, and you didn’t push. Just stayed with him. And when his lips found your collarbone a few moments later, you let it happen. It wasn't just out of desire — it was out of gravity. Like he was being pulled towards the only thing that made him feel alive.

He kissed up the line of your throat, slow and aching, until his mouth met yours in a deep, trembling kiss. Not lustful, not yet — just desperate. Desperate to feel. To be.

The rug was soft beneath you where you sat, and the quiet of the room wrapped around you like a second skin. Neither of you made a move to shift, not to the couch, not to the bedroom. Just this: grounded and close, where the silence felt like shelter.

Eventually, he turned to you more fully and reached up, cradling your jaw like you might vanish. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, reverent.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” you murmured. Then, gently, “Are you?”

His answer was a breath, not quite steady. “No. But I will be.”

He leaned back in, and the kiss turned heavier. Clothes slipped off one layer at a time, discarded in a heap against the floor, and his hands moved like he was memorizing you — knuckles grazing ribs, palms against hips, fingertips dragging slow lines along your skin.

Maybe this wasn’t the healthiest way for him to cope — reaching for you instead of talking, chasing sensation instead of sleep — but you didn’t stop him. You let him anchor himself with your body. Forgave him the impulse before he even asked.

When his mouth found your chest, he groaned low in his throat, like the taste of you was healing him. Then, against your breastbone, he murmured, “Did you know that the skin has over four million sensory receptors?”

You blinked down at him, breath caught halfway to a laugh. “Is that really what we’re talking about right now? Science facts?”

His thumb traced a lazy circle around your nipple. “It’s relevant data,” he mumbled. “Your body is a highly responsive neural system. Every time I touch you—” He pressed a kiss just beneath your sternum. “—your brain creates a cascade of dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin. Pleasure, connection, trust.”

You stared down at him, stunned by the tenderness in his eyes. “You’re trying to make this a chemistry lesson?”

“No,” he said, voice thick. “I’m trying to tell you how good I’m about to make you feel.”

Then his fingers dipped between your thighs, slow and reverent, and your head tipped back with a gasp.

“I need you to know,” he said, voice low and wrecked, “exactly how much you affect me. Every part of me. Mind and body.”

His touch was expert but unhurried, every stroke deliberate, sacred. Then his mouth followed — lips brushing the inside of your thigh, tongue circling your clit with aching precision. His fingers kept moving inside you, slow and steady, and your hips trembled under the weight of it.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmured, mouth hot against you. “Heart rate elevated… pupils dilated… and your breath—” He sucked gently, pulling a ragged sound from your throat. “—sharp and shallow.”

“Spencer,” you gasped, clutching his curls. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, I believe I am,” he said, voice wicked and reverent all at once.

Then, quieter: “I think about this when I’m gone. The sounds you make. The way you shake when I touch you like this.”

You whimpered, bucking into him, desperate to keep him close. “Tell me more.”

“I think about how soft you are. How you always let me take my time. How you never rush me, even when you’re falling apart.”

He watched you unravel, watched your mouth part and your eyes flutter. He whispered things to you — not facts now, but sweet, filthy things:

“I love how wet you get for me.”

“Every time I touch you, it’s like you bloom.”

“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are when you come?”

You were close — he could tell by the way your thighs trembled, by the tight, needy grind of your hips. And for a second, it felt like he might let you fall over the edge right there, coax it from you with just his fingers and his mouth and that low, aching voice.

But instead, he slowed his pace. Let you hover there, breathless and blinking. Then, deliberately, he pulled his fingers from you and slid them into his mouth with a moan.

Your body ached at the loss, hips twitching, but the look in his eyes made your breath catch.

“Not yet angel,” he murmured against your skin. “I want to feel it when you break.”

You reached for him, dragging him up your body — and he let you. Let you kiss him messy and unguarded. Let you grind against him, bare and aching, like your body was the only tether he had left.

But he didn’t enter you right away.

He hovered instead, your foreheads pressed together, his breath catching where it mingled with yours. Your spine arched beneath him, every inch of you straining toward contact. And then, finally — with a soft, broken moan — he sank into you, slow and deep.

You both gasped.

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed there, buried to the hilt, body trembling like he could shatter from the inside out. Then he began to move — careful, reverent, every thrust measured like it meant something. Like it had to.

You kissed him hard, overwhelmed. His grip tightened on your hips, his voice catching against your skin as he whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”

You hated when he said that. Hated that he still couldn’t see himself clearly.

“Yes you do,” you breathed. “You always have.”

His pace built gradually — never rough, just more. More contact, more desperation, more whispered nothings as he moved inside you like he was chasing heaven in the way your body opened for him. His forehead pressed to yours, breath catching warm between you. Every slow thrust felt like a question.

And you answered him — first with the way your body yielded, then with your voice.

“Yes,” you whispered — and in that one word, you gave him everything:

Yes, I’m here.

Yes, I want this.

Yes, you’re safe.

Yes, I love you.

He cupped your face in both hands as his hips stilled, eyes wet, voice wrecked. “You’re the only place I don’t echo.”

His thumbs swept softly along your cheeks, like he was still anchoring himself. “When I’m out there, everything I feel just ricochets around inside me. Guilt. Fear. The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done — it’s like shouting into an echo chamber. Everything just comes back louder.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “But with you… it stops. The noise quiets. I don’t have to be anything but this.”

You barely had time to breathe before his lips found yours again, hungrier now, as if speaking the truth out loud had unshackled something in him. His hips shifted, his rhythm deepening, and his mouth grazed your cheek.

“You like that?” he asked, hand slipping between your bodies to stroke your clit again. “Being filled so deeply you forget everything else?”

You whimpered, and he smiled against your jaw.

Your orgasm built steadily, not sudden or sharp — but inevitable. Spencer continued on with his whispered praise, with his perfect rhythm, with the kind of touch that felt like a vow. His hand never stopped, his fingers dragging tight, wet circles with slow, devastating precision.

“Every time I’m inside you,” he murmured, thrusts slowing, “it’s like my mind pauses. Like your body was designed to hold me steady.”

You gasped his name when it hit you — the wave cresting and crashing in a swell of heat and light. Your thighs trembled around his hips as your back arched off the rug, clutching him tighter, needing him closer. And he gave it to you, groaning into your skin, the sound low and reverent.

“That’s it, angel,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Let go. Fuck—look at you. You’re so fucking perfect when you fall apart for me.”

You were still pulsing around him, still reeling, when he came with a gasp, burying himself deep as his body shook with the force of it. He held you like he was afraid he’d shatter, like if he let go, he’d lose himself entirely. One arm locked around your waist, the other tangled in your hair, pulling you tight against him as he spilled inside you with a broken, desperate sound that felt like surrender.

You both lay tangled on the rug, sweat cooling between your skin. The room smelled like sex and quiet and something else — something like relief. He was still inside you, but neither of you moved to change that.

Spencer shifted eventually, just enough to brush your hair from your face. He kissed your temple, your jaw, the delicate hollow at your shoulder. Every inch he could reach, like gratitude in the shape of a mouth.

“Hey,” you whispered, fingertips tracing the slope of his back. “You okay now?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just let out a breath and tucked his face into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tight around your waist as if trying to fuse your bodies together. You held him just as tightly.

Eventually, he eased out of you with care. You shivered at the loss of him, and he immediately pressed a hand to your thigh, grounding you.

“Don’t move,” he murmured. Then he disappeared down the hall for a moment, returning with a warm, damp cloth. He cleaned you gently, almost reverently — his touch tender, his gaze careful not to drift too far from yours.

“Oxytocin release after sex promotes emotional regulation,” he murmured as he ran the cloth gently through your folds. “Which is a long-winded way of saying… Yeah, I feel human again. And also, I love you.”

He helped you sit up slowly, then reached for your shirt and eased it gently over your head. Found your underwear next and slid them up your legs with quiet care, pausing to press a lingering kiss to your hipbone. Only then did he pull on his own boxers and flannel pajama pants, looking tousled and sleepy and utterly yours.

“Come on,” you said, reaching for his hand. “Let’s get back into bed.”

The bedroom was quiet and dim, moonlight pooling softly across the sheets. You pulled back the covers and slipped in first, expecting him to slide in on his side behind you like always.

But instead, he lay on his back and opened his arms.

You didn’t hesitate. You climbed over him, settling half on his chest, half beside him, one leg draped loosely over his hip. He folded himself around you instinctively — one arm wrapped firm across your back, the other reaching for your hand. He threaded your fingers together and pressed them to his sternum like he needed the contact to breathe.

“I know I don’t say it enough,” he whispered into your hair. “But this — you — you always bring me back.”

You tilted your face to his throat and kissed the pulse there, steady and calm beneath your mouth. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. To be the one who quiets the noise.”

He didn’t respond with words. Just held you tighter.

A hush settled over the room, warm and thick. You felt his breathing slow, his muscles soften beneath your weight, like the echo chamber inside him had finally gone quiet.

And when he finally drifted off, wrapped around you safely, his breath rose and fell in perfect rhythm — the sound of peace, at last.

ᝰ.ᐟ

masterlist

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[obsessivevoidkitten]

UnANTicipated

Male Ant Mimic Spider Hybrid Yandere x Gender Neutral Ant Hybrid Reader CW: Noncon, reader mildly drugged by venom, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, oviposition Word Count: 1.3k (Hope you enjoy the buffet of writing I have been cooking up, feel free to tip and please comment!)

On the post-apocalyptic continent that was once the US, almost everyone was a hybrid of human and animal.

There were still pure humans, but they were exceedingly rare.

It was thought that a virus combined with radiation caused the transformation.

You were an ant-hybrid. Unlike an actual ant, you could leave your colony and survive independently, but why would you wanna leave the colony?

You were a small drone, and the soldier ants kept you safe from many mutated beasts. The foragers brought food, and you worked construction! You made tunnels and expanded rooms.

You had never even been outside. There was no reason for you to leave the safety of the colony, you had no tasks out there.

The colony was massive and always growing. That's why you didn't think twice when you met a new ant that you had never met before.

A fellow builder named Echo.

He must have been new to building because he was not good at it all. Seemed his instincts were all wonky. And there was something about how he looked... he was bigger than many of the soldiers you had encountered.

You figured maybe he had been a soldier and suffered some type of injury. Or maybe he had gotten into trouble and removed from the service!

Oh well, he seemed friendly and was clearly putting forth a lot of effort into building.

You didn't want the foreman to yell at the new addition so you taught him everything you knew and supervised his work carefully.

Echo was such a sweetie. A fine member of the colony! You frequently ate lunch together, and he confirmed that he was a former soldier ant that had suffered internal injury. It was all he could do just to build and remain useful to the colony.

What an inspiration.

You always stared at him in wide-eyed admiration as he told you how he had fought victoriously against frog mutants, giant two-headed serpents, and even a rabid rat-bug.

He told you all about sunshine and the river and trees.

It sounded amazing. But no place for someone like you with all that danger lurking about.

You hung out more and more. You hung out after work, too. You always caught him staring at you. Maybe he had a crush on you? The thought made you pretty happy.

A real life kind hearted hero might actually like me!

You began developing a bit of a crush on him.

But your thoughts of romance were put on hold when the kidnappings began.

Apparently, spider mimic hybrids had snuck their way into the colony. Violating everyone's sense of safety. They had evidently taken ants to do who knows what with them!

Everyone was on high alert.

Thank whatever higher power existed that you had Echo at your side! He went with you everywhere to make sure you were safe.

He even suggested becoming roommates! All because he didn't want anything to happen to you.

There was no reason to refuse! You let him move in immediately.

That night, you went to bed like normal. But you woke up somewhere different. On a bed, but not yours. You were bound by some kind of stringy rope and felt a strong set of arms around you.

"Ah! You're awake! Welcome to our little love nest~"

You instantly recognized the voice as Echo.

"Echo? W-what's going on? I'm scared..."

Echo removed the fibrous material that bound you.

"Sorry, my prize. Had to keep you wrapped up and safe on the way here. It was a long trip, but I made sure you were cozy~"

Your head throbbed as you struggled to make sense of what exactly was going on. You became aware of a sore spot on your neck. You put a hand on it and felt a welt.

"Ah, sorry about that, I had to make sure you were still during the trip. No fussy struggles or crying."

Though by then, you were definitely starting to cry.

"You're upsetting me! Just tell me what's going on!!"

Your voice was trembling.

You tried to sit up but found yourself too weak to do so. Echo stepped in front of you and leaned down to your level.

For the first time, you saw the large man for what he actually was. All four of his eyes were open, his fangs flashing, his antenna actually a small set of limbs growing from his back.

Your antenna twitched furiously as you processed this new information.

He chuckled warmly and pet your antenna, causing an unwilling tingle between your legs.

"Oh, you liked that, didn't you?"

You whimpered as he pet you there some more before finally managing to shout.

"What the fuck do you want with me!?"

"What all us ant mimics want, my prize. A nice mate to stuff full of our eggs~"

You tried to struggle. To scream. But he placed webbing over your mouth before peeling off your clothing and pinning you to the bed.

"Shhh darling, you have such an easy task. Just calm down and take my babies."

He kissed your head to help calm you, though it did nothing to stop your shaking or quell your tears.

"You're so tiny. So perfect. My little trophy."

He took a gob of his thick precum on his fingers and gently massaged it into your entrance. You shuddered and looked at the cock that bobbed below him.

Definitely not an ant. It was huge and reinforced your fear. But you were in good hands. He made sure you were well stretched before proceeding.

Echo repositioned you so that your legs were over his shoulders, he aligned his cock with your hole, and drove deeply into you with a slow and steady movement.

Instantly, your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and you whimpered. He really knew how to wield his tool. Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that he was pumping out pheromones that had your antenna twitching like crazy.

"Those kinds of sounds are much better to hear from you~"

He thrust in and out of you slowly at first, letting you adjust to his size. You made more of those delicious little whimpers he loved so much.

The spider peeled the webbing away from your lips.

"The webbing can come off if you promise to just make those beautiful noises for me~"

He kissed you deeply, tracing your lips with his tongue, trailing kisses down your neck until he was kissing the wound his fangs had left earlier.

"So warm inside~ I just know you'll be a nice snug incubator for my eggs~"

Echo nuzzled against your chest, arms caressing your sides almost greedily as he bred you.

"It was so hard keeping my hands off you before. All those weeks. You have no idea. No idea."

As he spoke he began driving his cock into you a bit more brutally. He just couldn't help himself.

"I didn't lie about those fights I was in. I'm such a strong mate for you, my perfect prize."

His sweaty balls slapped into you with every increasingly fervent thrust. He was desperate to release in you, to claim your insides for himself.

Your incoherent burbling and moans just encouraged him. Auditory evidence that he was the perfect man for you.

He could feel your shuddering around his cock as you came, pulling him quickly over the edge with you.

Echo's cock throbbed and pulsed as he deposited several eggs deep inside you. He pulled out with a loud plop before regarding your belly lovingly.

He kissed it.

You just played with his hair absently, too fucked out to do anything or process what had just happened.

But that was okay, Echo was there to take care of all your needs. Forever.

[meshla-cyarika]

Instantly thought this during this scene 💀

[bluewolfangel01]

*Late at night*

Mammon: *opens Levi's door* "Levi, is Mc in here? I went to go cuddl- I MEAN check up on them but they weren't in their room."

Levi: "SHH!!! They're locked in."

Mc: *staring intensely at the screen while trying to win a fight in a game*

Mammon: *settles down by Levi and watches as Mc loses, punches a pillow off to their side, and restarts again and again*

Mammon: "What's goin' on?"

Levi: "they've been trying to beat this non f2p friendly fight for the past hour trying to get a cosmetic item for their character."

Mc: "I know im close to beating it!"

Mc: *keeps having to restart* "AHHHHHH, I'M GOING TO DRAG YOU TO THE DEEPEST PITS OF HELL DEVS, I WON'T LET YOU WIN!!!!"

Mammon: "Levi it's late they need to sleep!"

Levi: "Believe it or not, but I tried to get them to stop! ... They threatened to use 'stay'."

Mammon: "Ugh, you're no help."

Levi: "Hey! At least I'm not-"

Mc: "YESSSSS!!! I FINALLY WON! TAKE THAT GAME!!!"

*Mc stands up stretching and smiling while Levi and Mams looks at the screen in awe that they managed to beat it while they were distracted*

Mc: "Welp, I'm ready to turn in for the night, goodnight guys!" *walks out of Levi's room towards theirs*

Mammon: "H-hey wait up, I gotta make sure you get back to your room ok!" *runs after Mc*

Levi: *saves Mc's game file, then changes it to his to play for the night*

[noxcheshire]

I am sick, dizzy, and can barely think but you know what would be WILD?

If the DC universe was an echo of Danny’s world. What if the continents of their planet shifted enough where Amity is now in New Jersey and had then become Gotham.

And when Danny died underneath the portal a part of his death fractured and imprinted itself into those various worlds. One of them being Gotham, where Danny’s home ironically used to be where Wayne Manor used to be.

So just imagine it, you’re coming back from patrol, grimy, sweaty, and with questionable intentions by dressing as an overgrown bat when suddenly the lights dim. It dims and brings darkness, only enough light to catch the beady marble eyes of the bats you fear.

And then electricity jumps in the middle of the room, flinging itself around like an agitated snake in wide open circles.

Everyone is backing away, some weary, some cursing, some just half way out of their own suit.

And then a child — barely as old as your youngest now, flickers to life before you, screaming and screaming, wailing in pain as the scent of burning flesh mingles into the air. You can see the boy, black hair and blue eyes that underneath the bright light that burns them is causing black to turn white, and blue to turn green.

The electricity crackles and when the boy is about the drop, limp, certainly lifeless, he vanishes as if nothing had ever been there.

But he comes back, he always comes back, in the moment of calm and in the moment of despair, echoing that painful wailing of death.

It’s so wrong.

It’s very, very wrong.

It didn’t even matter anymore why the boy showed up, only that this moment of pain continues to haunt the cave of heroes.

Continuously haunting, even as some whispered apologizes when the boy appeared. Continuously haunting, even as some provided songs of comfort when the boy appeared. Continuously haunting, even as stories of Gotham are told and promises (though uncertain and flimsy at best) are spoken to the wailing boy who always drops fast and disappears just as quickly.

Always, it was the same.

Until one day it wasn’t.

The electricity crackled like it always did. A spark, and then a calamity of light. And the boy would be there, uncurling himself into a tense position as he would wail.

But not this time.

Instead the boy curled himself in the air, calm as can be, almost as if he were sleeping. Even the electricity that they have learned to dance away from was calm, gentle, like ocean waves.

And when the electricity vanished, the boy did not, instead dropping to the floor where Dick was quick to catch him, grunting in preparation of weight only to show alarm at how thin the boy truly was.

On that face that has haunted them all for months is just a boy, sleeping, and scarred. A boy breathing very slow, slower than what they would like, but here in the physical realm with them.

Dick brushed back bangs of black hair, and slowly, ever so slowly, glazed blue eyes stared back.

[roukabi]

it's for real this time you guys trust me it's really gonna happen

[mxxnechos]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚face masks

a/n: I was thinking about this while I was doing a face mask earlier, coundn't get the idea out of my head, had to write it down which is why it's short :P pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader in mind, Jason uses “ma” once genre: fluff, slice of life words: 0.3k summary: You put a face mask on Jason!

pngs by @/honeyluvsw & art in the middle by @/dizzyheadspace

“Jay, if you move one more time I swear to-” “But it’s collllldd!” “It’s not that bad, Jay, you’ll be fine-” “Nooo, I woonn’ttt! It feels weiiirddd.” “Jay I swear-” “That you love me?”

You dropped your hand from his face, and gave him a deadpanned stare. Jason looked back at you with a grin so big, someone with myopia wouldn't need their glasses to see it from far away.

“You can’t be serious.” “I always am with you sweetheart, always.” “If you were, you’d be sitting still.” “Yeah, but you’re always so cute when you get annoyed.”

You sighed deeply. All you wanted, literally one singular thing, was to have a skin care evening with your wonderful (and extremely (wonderfully) annoying) boyfriend, and that was currently,,,, not going so well. You were stood between his legs in the bathroom, as he sat on the closed toilet seat, with your brush held loosely between your fingers and Jason’s face half covered in a clay mask.

“At least let me finish?” “Only if you gimme a kiss.” He leaned forward towards you, and dramtically pursed his lips. You rolled your eyes, though with a small smile on your face, and leaned in to give him a big smooch. “There, happy?” Jason stared at you for a moment, soft eyes looking at you like you’d hung all the stars and moons and more, before slightly shaking his head. “M-mm, one more?” He whispered lowely, voice all gravely yet so so soft. You huffed a quiet laugh and gave him two more. “Let me finish, and then I’ll give you all the kisses you want.” “And more?” “Not tonight.” “Okay.” He responded quietly with a smile, resting his hands on your hips, letting their warmth seep through you and into your heart. You brought your brush back up, and his head tilted up slightly to give you better access, those soft eyes still looking at you like you’d given him the whole universe and more.

“…I love you ma.” “I love you too, lovie.”

I wanna take a big big chomp out of him, he's so special to me the art is how I imagine him staring at you tbh, he's so precious

© mxxnechos -- please do not repost, modify, translate, plagiarise, or feed my content into AI. All likes, reblogs, comments, and follows are deeply appreciated!!

[aeyumicore]

azure's echo day (valentine's) headcannons

━ ✧.˖ PAIRING: sylus and caleb (separate) x female reader

━ .ᐟ✧ GENRE: pure fluff

━ ✧.˖ WORD COUNT: 379 total

━ .ᐟ✧ CONTENT WARNINGS: none, just pure tooth rotting fluff!

━ ✧.˖ LINKS: zayne, xavier, and raf's version | ao3

━ .ᐟ✧ A/N: the same azure's echo day (love and deepspace equivalent of valentine's day) headcannons i did in the above link for zayne, raf, and xavier but for caleb and sylus, our newest lads babies <3 i know it's well after vday BUT IT'S STILL february so don't look at me. requested by @hellokitty-doll :)

🐦‍⬛ sylus

Does he ask you to be his Valentine?

Like many human things, Sylus is new to Valentine’s Day. But he’s never missed asking you to be his Valentine, ever since he one time saw Kieran teasing Luke, saying “Another year no Valentine Luke? That’s okay bro, I’ll be your Valentine!” To which Luke responded “Doesn’t that mean you also don’t have a Valentine? Loser.” Which all led to Sylus asking “what is that.” Now, he always asks you on one of the days during the week leading up to the 14th. He always changes it to keep you on your toes, but it's always before the 14th. Honestly, he’s just grateful to have another reason to spoil you with his boatloads of money (Mr. 1 million means I’m broke) that you’re less likely to reject or scold him for. 

How does he ask?

It's not that Sylus has the most lavious, extravagant taste. He just has more money than he knows what to do with, spending years building his empire–without you by his side. But now, he has you and he knows exactly what he wants to spend his money on. This year, he transforms the rooftop of his base to be your own little sanctuary, covering the entire surface in expensive buckets and bouquets of flowers and twinkling lights. It almost looks like a starry meadow of flowers. After a chef prepared five course meal, you share a hammock he had set up, watching the moon when it’s at its brightest. And then he serenades you, as best he can, and asks you to be his Valentine.

What bouquet does he get you?

Sylus also prepares one personal bouquet for you that he gives you personally, when you see him waiting amidst the rooftop of flowers, like a thing out of a fairytale. Since daturas are highly toxic to humans, he can only use them as accent pieces. He opts for a classic bouquet of beautiful red roses, arranging the black daturas amidst them, making sure there’s not enough to be potent enough to harm you. The bouquet encapsulates Sylus, and his classic timeless style, perfectly. Every time you look at it, you can’t help but see his shadowy crimson eyes gazing at you–in a way reserved only for you.

🍎 caleb

Does he ask you to be his Valentine?

Yes! Actually, Caleb is not new to asking you to be his Valentine. Growing up, on the years you happened to find yourself without a Valentine, he always asked you to be his. So he has quite a bit of experience–he knows exactly how to make you feel like the most special person in the world, which you absolutely are. Safe to say, when it comes to you, Caleb is a Valentine’s Day pro. Without fail, on the 13th, he will ask you to be his now and forever Valentine.

How does he ask?

Caleb likes to do Valentine's week, giving you small gifts throughout the week. He will start exactly 7 days before the 13th, leaving treats, silly little notes, plushies, and flowers for you to find, in your home, your car, somehow even your workplace. On the 13th he will do his big ask. It’s different every year but almost always involves him flying you in his personal aircraft somewhere obscenely beautiful for sunset and dinner. Sometimes it���s a picnic of your favorite Caleb dishes, sometimes it’s a lavish restaurant, or sometimes even just a night market street stall he’d heard about. He always pops the question when your mouth is full of food because he loves to tease you when you’re adorably flustered.

What bouquet does he get you?

It doesn’t matter how busy he is, Caleb always builds his own bouquet for you, every Valentine’s. It’s not too difficult, after all the base of the bouquet grows right in his own backyard. A bouquet of white endless summer hydrangeas, the same ones he’d taken from the garden behind the grocery store. And of course, in the greenhouse he had built, he has an Asiatic apple tree that blooms year round. He sprinkles just enough of those in so that the bouquet smells like those summers you’d see him off at the Linkon train station when he’d leave for Skyhaven. Only now, they don’t remind you of Caleb leaving.

© aeyumicore 2025.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[wanderer-six]

THE GALA - A Clone Dating Sim

You are a Jedi General. The Council has assigned you a very important mission: the infiltration of a Separatist gala on Raxus. But you will not be going alone--you are allowed to bring a date on this adventure. In the heart of enemy territory, who will you count on to watch your back?

PLAY HERE: THE GALA

Ideal play experience is on desktop! (I think you can play on mobile it just looks a lil yuccy)

Clone bbs x Fem!Jedi player FEATURED CLONES: Sergeant Hunter, Tech, Crosshair, Wrecker, Captain Rex, Commander Wolffe, and ARC Twins Fives & Echo

RATING: 18+ MINORS DNI - The paths can be SFW or NSFW depending on your choices (2nd option is always the NSFW one!) - general warning for smut if you make those choices, more specifics below the cut!

Additional (less relevant) info beneath the cut!

HAPPY MAY 4TH! ENJOY MY LOVES~~

COMPREHENSIVE WARNINGS LIST: In general, lots of flirting, innuendo, pet names. Established relationship for all

Hunter: LOTS of flirting (he is a whore), p in v sex

Tech: Oral (f receiving)

Crosshair: Fingering

Wrecker: Not much for him honestly, implied canoodling (p in v), oblivious boy ♥

Captain Rex: dirty talk, praise, oral (m! Receiving)

Commander Wolffe: rough! p in v

Fives & Echo: Multiple clones (no clonec*st), lots of flirting, Echo is self conscious!

-ART ASSETS I drew all of the Clone art! I found the most nakedest screencap I could of any of them (SURPRISINGLY DIFFICULT) and then traced the base, then looked for Star Wars Male Fashion (WAY FUCKING HARDER) to draw on them and dress them up! I think for Hunter and Fives/Echo I just went crazy but for all the rest lmk if u can spot who I stole the outfits from, i deadass dont remember at this point For Background art I found them all on google images - from what I recall, it's mostly concept art and screenshots from games! -ENGINE I made this in Twine, an incredible tool for making text-based games! I highly recommend looking into it. It's really easy to use and there are a ton of tutorials online!

AN: Thank you so much for playing! Please let me know what you think, I had so much fun making this✨✨ it is so phenomenally cringe but I hope you all enjoy ♥ (also if you spot any bugs or typos, please feel free to let me know and I will fix!!)

TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE PATH I like Rex Crosshair Wrecker the best I think

"""taglist""" - @shinyshayminflower @starrylothcat @pb-jellybeans @jediknightjana

[coffeeandbatboys]

The Clones reacting to you smushing their cheeks

Idk I had this idea and thought it’d be cute. Since the clones are supposed to have round cheeks, visualize live action and not animated 😂

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Fives, Wrecker, Hardcase, & Tup: Loving it so much, will lean into your hands and give you heart eyes. Maybe even press a few kisses to your hand.

Cody, Jesse, Kix, Echo, Vaughn & Mayday: Will blush profusely and look side to side for a second, before giving in and flashing you a tiny smile.

Rex, Hunter, Tech, & Fox: Not sure what to do, just give an awkward smile and internally scream because they secretly find it super cute.

Crosshair, Wolffe & Dogma: Not understanding any of it. Don’t know what you’re doing, not sure that they like it, 3/10 do not recommend.

[1-have-no-idea]

how they kiss you: part one

Clone force 99:

character(s): Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, Echo

genre: fluff, romance, crack (kinda)

overview: this is literally just how the boys would kiss you. literally just that.

warning(s): Tech doesn’t know how to kiss, Crosshair is a freak, (jk, he just gets a lil spicy with it), mentioned of making out, slobber, Hunter’s a lil suave, sexual innuendos, references and implications of smut

Hunter:

-okay, but he’s such a gentleman while doing it?

-it depends on his mood really, and what the occasion is.

-Hunter doesn’t overdo kisses, but out of all of them, he is the one who probably will give the most (besides Wrecker, ahem.)

-He’ll kiss you when you wake up, when you make him food, right before he leaves, and when you go to bed.

-Unless he’s feeling a little… ahem. Y’know. A lil teasing that day

-His kisses are deep but short. Enough to make you blush but also leaving you yearning for more

-he’s a lil tease, but if you pout about it, he’ll just send you that boyish smile and give you another one

-”don’t gotta miss me that much, mesh’la,”

-yeah. That’s him..

-Hunter probably has somewhat chapped lips, (as most clones), but not to the point where they scrape yours. And they’re also somewhat thin (like most clones), so basically, they’re not that different from a regs

-except they’re a bit plushier, if that makes sense

-his stubble WILL scratch against you

-he’ll rarely give tongue unless he’s feeling a little freaky and has the intention on, well, y’know.

-”spread those legs, mesh’la,”

-yeah, y’know, the fun stuff

-so yeah.

-kisses are like a 10/10, would recommend

———————————————————————————

Tech:

-SO AWKWARD.

-sorry Tech lovers, but like. We’re talking about the Tech, the one who can’t understand or take hints whatsoever…

-a NERD.

-he’s such a virgin, smh

-but like… a subtle virgin, ykwim?

-you wouldn’t know he was a virgin. Like, you literally wouldn’t.

-until you kissed him and he expressed his shock and stated that this was an ‘interesting development.’

-”....fascinating. Do it again. This time I’d like to record the acceleration of our heart rates and the texture of your lips against mine. Allow me to retrieve my datapad–”

-yeah. Like. It’s either the most hottest thing hearing him talk all smart after the kiss or the most ‘dude, are you serious’ kinda thing.

-Tech is not really a kisser, but a pecker

-they’re not frequent, but they’re enough for you to still kinda expect them, yk?

-his kisses are chaste and respectful. Never awkward, but usually quick.

-such as, a kiss on your knuckles or your temple or hair. Tech doesn’t go for lips, but he doesn’t mind if you initiate those to him and he will depending on the mood you or him are in

-i actually like to think his lips are actually kinda soft. Not like, baby smooth, but soft.

-i don’t think he gets needy for them, but there are times where he really just wants to feel your lips on him

-he loves the texture and the warmth.

-he won’t really ask though.

-it’s more for ‘experimentation’, in his words.

-”I’d like to explore this further with you. This time, can you kiss me a little bit firmer?”

-7/10 in the beginning, but Tech learns quickly and is extremely observant, and soon learns exactly where to nip, suck, bite, lick, and kiss.

-just give him a little more lessons

-for science, of course

———————————————————————————

Wrecker:

-okay guys

-he is NOT as innocent as he looks, i’m sorry

-respectful, yeah. Gentle, yeah.

-but INNOCENT?? Yeah, no.

-have you seen that deleted scene in clone wars with the Padme art?

-”Yeah, she could negotiate with me any time!”

-erm. Guys.

-and that translates in his kisses.

-he’s not shy whatsoever.

-gentle, of course, but you want him to be rough?

-oh, he’ll be rough.

-okay, let me backtrack, so when y’all are still new to a relationship and all that, he’s nervous. Holds you like glass and kisses you like he’s unsure if he even wants to.

-he was scared. He knows he’s a big guy, and doesn’t wanna hurt you.

-but once you get to that point in your relationship with a lotta reassurance and carefulness and praise and teasing

-my man is most definitely a tank

-and packing one too– ahem.

-he kisses a lot. Anywhere. Kinda worships you with his mouth, lips, tongue and all. Take that as you will.

-his kisses are passionate. Deep. Like his love for you, but they can also be gentle. Soft.

-Large hands will come and cradle you or hold your hips in place, he loves picking you up when you kiss.

-his lips are different, they’re PLUSH. Plump, and bigger than his other brothers. Fully cushioned. It’s nice.

-”Hey! One more, baby! Miss ya already!”

-he’s actually a good kisser. Like, you’ll be starstruck

-and he’ll be giggling

-the type to be giggling and grinning into the kiss

———————————————————————————

Crosshair:

-holy. Where do I even start with him.

-he’s smooth. Annoyingly so.

-the type to kiss you to shut you up

-out of all his brothers, I feel like he gets hit on the most when he’s out and about.

-it’s just cuz he’s ‘mysterious’

-he’s actually never really interested, unless he’s feeling rather frisky and pent up

-when he’s not being angsty and emo, he’s actually low-key kinda flirty with you whenever moments like that actually do pop up.

-and you better believe, all his kisses include tongue.

-you go in for a kiss, that’s you asking for a makeout session, and if he’s feeling mischievous, he’ll tear away and walk away leaving you a breathless and yearning and hot and bothered mess.

-”So desperate for me and all I did was kiss you.”

-BULL. That’s bull. He knew what he was doing.

-there are moments where he’ll be gentle with you though. Usually when he feels vulnerable.

-others, they’re rough yanks to him. Hand on the back of your neck and slamming his lips on yours.

-tongue swiping over your bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth, soothing it with his tongue again before licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue once or twice.

-messy and they lead to a messy bed afterwards too.

-most definitely a lil freaky

-and guess what? Despite having one of the thinnest lips, they’re baby smooth.

-wanna know why? Skincare.

-he’s obsessed with it. What a princess.

-yet he still looks sixty.

-not down below.

-definitely doesn’t feel like one.

-anywho, that’s not the topic, so he has really soft lips and knows how to use them

-WILL smirk into the kiss

-cocky bastard

-100% recommend if you wanna get laid.

-”Careful what you’re asking for, doll.”

———————————————————————————

Echo:

-my sweet baby

-i love him sm

-he’s shy in the beginning, but so gentlemanly

-his kisses really express his love for you. Every emotion, every feeling is poured out into that kiss.

-whether it be I love you, I missed you, I’ll be back, be safe, don’t be back too late,

-yeah.

-they’re deep and firm and gentle, but not timid

-he is NOT shy of his love for you

-one arm around your waist, his bionic hand cradling the back of your head, it’s so sweet

-he loves cupping your face with his flesh hand while kissing you

-he just loves the contact

-kisses are frequent, but not too

-he loves dancing with you and dipping you into a kiss.

-cliche, but Echo is an old-school romantic, believe it or not

-swaying around you, spinning you with a warm smile on his face, pale brown orbs glowing gold as he looked at you,

-”you’re beautiful,”

-and it’s a soft-spoken promise as he presses his lips to yours

-he does have cold lips, but it’s a nice feeling against your warm ones

-please pepper his cold skin with kisses, he’ll be a puddle for you and feel so loved, (and warmed up.)

-anywho, he doesn’t have that much experience, so teach him, because he’d love to learn.

-all in all, he just loves you so much–

-so sweet

-”Love you, angel. C’mere, lemme give you another one.”

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Happy Weekend! I was wondering if you could do an angst fic w/ TBB x Fem!Reader where they’re on a mission and the ground crumbles beneath her and she falls and they think she could be dead? Thanks! Xx

Happy Thursday! Sorry for the delay, I hope this is somewhat what you had in mind😊

“Echoes in the Dust”

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Falling, presumed death, grief, survivor’s guilt, panic

The ridge was narrow. Too narrow.

You moved with your blaster raised and your jaw set, following closely behind Wrecker as the team pushed forward. The rocky terrain was riddled with ravines, fault lines, and fractured earth—left scarred by years of shelling and seismic bombardments. The mission was supposed to be simple: infiltrate a Separatist holdout and extract data.

It was never simple.

“Movement on the northwest cliff,” you called into your comm. “Looks like clankers repositioning.”

“Copy that,” Echo’s voice crackled. “Tech, I’m sending coordinates to your pad.”

Hunter glanced back at you, just a flick of his head, a silent confirmation. You nodded. I’m good.

You were always good. Until the ground gave out beneath you.

It was subtle at first—just a soft shift under your boots, like loose gravel. But then came the snap. A hollow, wrenching crack that echoed through the canyon like thunder. The rock splintered beneath your feet. You didn’t have time to scream.

Just time to look up—into Hunter’s eyes.

“[Y/N]—!”

You dropped.

The last thing you saw was his outstretched hand, just a second too late.

Then the world became air and stone and darkness.

⸻

Above, everything exploded into chaos.

Hunter hit the ridge on his knees, arms dragging at loose rock, clawing like an animal trying to dig you back out. “No, no, no—”

Echo slid in beside him, scanning with one cybernetic arm extended. “I can’t see her. It’s—kriff—it’s a vertical drop. She went straight down.”

“I should’ve grabbed her!” Wrecker was pacing in wild circles, fists clenched, eyes wet. “I was right in front of her—I should’ve—she was right there!”

“She didn’t even scream,” Echo murmured. “She just… vanished.”

“I’m scanning for vitals,” Tech said, already tapping furiously at his datapad, but his voice was thin. “There’s no signal. No movement. Her comm—either it was destroyed in the fall or… or she’s—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Hunter snapped, voice like a knife.

The wind howled through the crevice she’d fallen into, dragging dust and silence with it.

Crosshair stood several meters back, motionless, his DC-17M dangling loosely in his grip.

“Say it,” Echo growled, glaring at him. “You’ve been quiet this whole time. Just say whatever snide thing you’re thinking so we can all lose it together.”

Crosshair’s eyes flicked up, storm-gray and unreadable.

“She’s dead.”

“Shut your mouth!” Wrecker roared, storming toward him, but Echo shoved himself in between.

“She could be alive,” Echo said fiercely, though his voice cracked. “It’s possible. People survive worse.”

Crosshair didn’t move. “Not from that height.”

“I said shut it!” Wrecker shoved him back, but it was all broken fury—guilt bleeding through his rage. “She was smiling, dammit. Right before. She looked at me and said, ‘We’ll all get out of this,’ and I didn’t even answer her back—!”

“Stop.” Hunter’s voice cut clean through the storm.

He stood now, rigid and furious, his back to the team, staring into the void where you’d fallen.

“She’s alive,” he said.

Tech looked up from his pad slowly. “Statistically—”

“I don’t give a damn about statistics.” His voice was hoarse. “I felt her. She was right here. She’s part of us. She wouldn’t just be… gone.”

His hand trembled slightly. Not from fear. From the weight of it.

He was the one who told you to cover the flank. He was the one who said the ridge was stable enough.

She trusted you, Crosshair had said.

No. She trusted him.

And he’d failed her.

Hunter turned and began strapping a rope to his belt.

“Sergeant?” Tech asked cautiously.

“We’re going down there. All of us. We don’t stop until we find her. I don’t care if we have to tear the planet apart.”

Echo moved first. “I’m with you.”

Wrecker stepped up beside them, his breath hitching. “Me too. Always.”

Even Crosshair nodded, silent again.

As Hunter stood at the edge, ready to descend into the place where you vanished, a single thought thundered in his mind:

She can’t be gone.

Not you.

Not when your laugh was still echoing in his ears. Not when you told him last night, during watch, that you’d be careful. Not when he never got to tell you that he needed you more than he ever let on.

He’d find you.

Or die trying.

⸻

The descent into the ravine was slow, agonizing, and silent.

The team moved as one—Hunter leading with a lantern clipped to his belt, casting narrow beams over jagged rock and twisted earth. Echo and Tech followed with scanners, mapping every crevice. Wrecker moved boulders with his bare hands, gritting his teeth with each one. Crosshair, ever the rear guard, watched from behind, but his silence was sharp, eyes flicking everywhere.

Hunter’s voice echoed through the narrow stone corridor. “Check every ledge. Every outcropping.”

“She could’ve hit a rock shelf and rolled,” Echo said, carefully scanning below. “Or worse…”

“Don’t,” Wrecker said. “Don’t even say it. She’s alive. She has to be.”

They moved deeper into the ravine—until the beam of Hunter’s light caught something.

“Wait,” Tech whispered, grabbing Echo’s arm.

There—thirty feet below them, half-buried under collapsed shale and bloodied stone—was a figure.

Your figure.

You were sprawled on your side, your body twisted unnaturally, one leg crushed beneath a slab of rock. Blood soaked through your jacket. Your head had struck something hard—too hard—and you weren’t moving.

Hunter nearly dropped the lantern.

“[Y/N]—!”

He was down the rest of the way before anyone could stop him, crashing to his knees beside you.

“Don’t move her!” Echo shouted, sliding in behind. “Not yet. Let me check—”

But Hunter’s hands were already trembling as they hovered over you, too afraid to touch. Too afraid that this—this fragile, broken thing—was all that was left.

“She’s breathing,” Echo said. “Shallow. Pulse is—kriff—irregular. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

Wrecker dropped beside them, tears already streaking the dust on his cheeks.

“Is she—? She’s gonna make it, right? Echo?”

“She’s unconscious,” Echo said quietly. “And we need to get her out now.”

“Spinal trauma is possible,” Tech added, eyes locked on his scanner. “Multiple fractures. Her femur is broken—bleeding into the tissue. Concussion. Rib damage. Internal bleeding likely.”

Crosshair didn’t come any closer. He stood just at the edge of the light, staring down at you with an unreadable expression.

“You said she was dead,” Wrecker growled, voice shaking.

Crosshair didn’t respond.

Because he knew now—death would’ve been kinder than this.

The med evac was chaotic.

Hunter carried you the entire climb back—refused to let anyone else even try. He held you close to his chest like something fragile, as if you’d fall again if he let go. Your blood had soaked through his armor by the time they reached the surface.

Back on the Marauder, the team worked together in silent urgency. Wrecker helped secure you to the gurney. Echo and Tech patched what they could. Crosshair kept watch, pacing like a trapped animal.

And Hunter… he sat beside you.

His hands were covered in your blood.

“I should’ve caught you,” he whispered.

No one argued. No one corrected him.

Because part of them believed it too.

You twitched in your sleep once—just a small movement, a flicker of pain across your brow—and Hunter nearly leapt out of his seat.

“She moved!” he barked.

“She’s still unconscious,” Tech reminded. “That doesn’t guarantee cognition. The swelling in her brain—”

“I don’t care what the scans say,” Hunter growled. “She’s fighting.”

He reached down and brushed a blood-matted strand of hair from your face.

“You hear me?” he whispered, voice cracking. “You hold on. You fight like you always do. You’re not going to leave us like this.”

Wrecker sat on the floor beside the cot, staring at your hand dangling off the edge.

“You’re not allowed to die, okay?” he said, softly, almost childlike. “You still owe me a rematch.”

Echo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, jaw clenched tight. “She shouldn’t have been the one to fall. It should’ve been—”

“Don’t,” Tech said, just as quiet. “We all blame ourselves. That’s not useful now.”

Only Crosshair said nothing.

But later—when the others had finally dozed off in shifts, and the med droid was running scans—he sat beside you alone.

“Idiots, all of them,” he muttered. “They think they lost you. I know better.”

He rested his hand beside yours.

“You’re not dead. You’re just too damn stubborn.”

There was a pause.

“…So come back. Or I’ll never forgive you.”

You didn’t wake up that night. Or the next.

But your vitals held.

You were still fighting.

And the squad—your family—never left your side.

⸻

It started with a sound.

A weak, choked wheeze from the medbay.

Wrecker heard it first—he’d been sitting on the floor beside your cot for the past hour, humming under his breath and telling you stories like he had every day since they pulled you from the ravine.

But when he heard your breathing stutter—heard that awful, wet gasp—he was on his feet in an instant.

“Tech!”

Footsteps thundered in from the cockpit.

Tech was there in seconds, datapad in one hand, expression already shifting from calculation to panic.

“Vitals are dropping. Pulse erratic. Respiratory distress—dammit—her lung may have collapsed.”

The med droid whirred a warning in binary, and Tech shoved it aside, already working to stabilize you. Wrecker stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides, helpless as machines blared and blood began soaking through your bandages again.

“She was getting better,” Wrecker whispered. “She was breathing normal yesterday. You said she was stabilizing!”

“I said her vitals were holding,” Tech snapped, voice tight and uncharacteristically sharp. “I also said we didn’t know the full extent of internal damage yet. The concussion is worsening. There’s pressure building against her brainstem. Her body is going into systemic shock.”

“Then fix it!” Wrecker’s voice cracked. “You fix everything! Please—”

Tech’s hands moved fast, too fast—grabbing gauze, recalibrating IV drips, re-administering stimulants. But beneath the precision was fear. A gnawing, brittle kind of fear that made his fingers shake.

“I’m trying,” Tech said, barely above a whisper now. “I’m trying, Wrecker.”

Your body jerked suddenly—just a twitch, but it sent a ripple of panic through them both.

Tech cursed under his breath. “She needs proper medical facilities. A bacta tank. A neuro-regeneration suite. This ship is not equipped to handle this kind of trauma long-term.”

“So what, we just wait and watch her die?” Wrecker whispered.

“No!” Tech snapped, louder this time. “We don’t let her die.”

He slammed his fist down on the console—just once—but the sound echoed like a gunshot through the Marauder. Wrecker flinched. Tech never lost control. Never raised his voice. Never made a sound unless it meant something.

And now, he looked like he was about to break.

“I’ve calculated a thousand outcomes,” Tech murmured, softer now. “And every variable keeps changing. Her body is unpredictable. She’s unstable. But she’s also resilient. She’s survived things that should’ve killed her ten times over.”

He looked up then, eyes glassy behind his goggles.

“But if we don’t find a way to get her real care—soon—we will lose her.”

Wrecker turned away, one massive hand covering his face. He’d never felt so useless. Not when they’d crashed on Ordo. Not when they’d been stranded on Ryloth. Never like this.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I’m strong. I can carry her. Fight for her. But I can’t fix her, Tech. I can’t even hold her without hurting her worse.”

Tech approached quietly, placing a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder—a rare gesture.

“You are helping,” he said. “You’re keeping her tethered. She needs that. She needs us.”

The med console beeped—soft, steady. A pause.

Then a spike.

Her heart rate surged. Your head tilted slightly to the side. Blood trickled from your nose. Another alarm.

“No, no, no—stay with us,” Tech muttered, already grabbing the stabilizer. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

Wrecker dropped to his knees beside you, voice trembling.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You don’t get to leave like this. You didn’t even finish your story about the time you pantsed Crosshair in front of the general. Remember that?”

He sniffed, brushing a strand of hair from your sweat-slicked face. “You said you’d tell me how you pulled it off without getting court-martialed. Said you’d sing me that dumb lullaby you like. Said you’d stay.”

Your fingers twitched.

A tiny movement. Almost nothing.

But Wrecker gasped.

“She moved!”

Tech’s head snapped up. “What?”

“She moved! Her hand—right here—she twitched.”

Tech scanned you again. “Neurological activity spiked. Minimal, but—”

You let out a weak, pained breath.

Another wheeze. Then a garbled sound—almost like a word, trapped somewhere deep in your throat.

“…H-Hun…ter…”

Both men froze.

Tears filled Wrecker’s eyes.

“She said his name…”

“She’s still in there,” Tech whispered, blinking quickly. “Cognitive reflexes are initiating. That’s… that’s something.”

He turned to Wrecker, and for once, there was nothing cold or clinical in his tone.

“There’s still time.”

They kept watch through the night. Neither slept.

Wrecker read to you from the old datapad you always teased him for hoarding.

Tech adjusted your vitals every hour, even when nothing had changed, just to keep his hands busy.

And in the silence between beeping monitors and heavy breaths, they both spoke to you—about nothing, about everything.

Wrecker told you about the time he and you almost got arrested on Corellia for stealing bad caf. How your laugh had made him feel human again.

Tech told you the probability of your survival was now sitting at 18.6%, up from 9%. And that statistically, if anyone could beat the odds, it was you.

Wrecker chuckled through his tears. “Told you, didn’t I? Too stubborn to die.”

Tech looked down at your still hand, then whispered—just once—“Please… don’t.”

⸻

The Marauder was silent.

Tech had finally collapsed from exhaustion in the co-pilot seat, goggles askew, still clutching the datapad with your vitals. Wrecker was curled on the floor next to your bed, snoring lightly with one hand near yours. Crosshair sat with his back to the far wall, arms crossed, eyes closed—but not asleep.

And Echo stayed awake.

He always did.

He was seated at your bedside, one cybernetic hand gently resting on the edge of the cot. The hum of the ship’s systems filled the space between the heart monitor’s steady rhythm. Your breathing—still shallow, but no longer ragged—was the only music Echo needed.

He hadn’t moved for hours.

You’d gotten worse. Then better. Then worse again. And through all of it, he’d held on. Let the others break. Let them rage. He had to be the one who didn’t fall apart.

But now, as he sat alone in the flickering light, his thumb brushed your bandaged hand—and he whispered, “You can’t keep scaring us like this.”

Your lips moved.

Barely.

He straightened. “Hey…?”

Your fingers twitched under his hand.

Your head shifted slightly on the pillow, a soft whimper escaping your throat. Your eyelashes fluttered—slow, disoriented, like your mind hadn’t caught up to your body.

“Hey.” Echo leaned closer, voice trembling now. “Come on… come on, mesh’la. You’re safe.”

Your eyes opened.

Just a sliver at first. Squinting into the low light.

“…Echo…?”

It was a rasp, a whisper, but it was real.

Echo’s mouth fell open.

And for the first time since the fall—since the screaming, the blood, the race against time—his composure cracked.

You blinked slowly, pain visible behind your glazed eyes. “W-Where…?”

“Still on the Marauder. We haven’t moved. We couldn’t.” His voice was low and hoarse. “You weren’t stable enough.”

Your brow furrowed faintly. “Hurts.”

“I know.” He gently adjusted your oxygen mask, smoothing your hair back. “You took a hell of a fall.”

You tried to shift, but your body betrayed you—wracked with weakness, ribs aching, limbs sluggish.

Echo placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Don’t move yet. Please. Just stay still.”

You obeyed—too tired to fight it.

“I thought…” You coughed, eyes fluttering. “Thought I heard Wrecker crying.”

Echo actually smiled, though his eyes were wet. “Yeah. That happened.”

You let out the faintest exhale—almost a laugh. “He’s a big softie.”

“Only for you,” Echo whispered, squeezing your hand carefully. “You scared him half to death.”

There was a long pause.

You looked up at him, brow knitting again.

“…You thought I was gone, didn’t you?”

Echo’s throat tightened. “We all did.”

“But you stayed.”

“Of course I stayed.”

Your gaze lingered on him. He looked exhausted. Hollowed out. His prosthetic arm twitched like he’d been clenching it too long.

“You haven’t slept.”

He laughed quietly—bitter and warm all at once. “Didn’t want to miss this.”

Another silence.

And then, so faint it barely reached him, you whispered—

“…I’m sorry.”

Echo stared at you, stunned.

“For what?” he breathed.

“For falling. For worrying you. For being weak.”

His expression broke. “No.”

He leaned in, voice rough. “Don’t ever say that. You didn’t fall because you were weak. You fell because the ground gave out. Because war is cruel. Because life isn’t fair.”

He blinked back tears. “But you lived. And that means more than anything.”

Your vision blurred—not from injury this time, but from the emotion in his voice.

He looked at you like you were the most important thing in the galaxy.

“I thought I lost you,” he said. “And I wasn’t ready.”

You let your eyes close again, overwhelmed by exhaustion—but you smiled softly through cracked lips.

“I’m here.”

He pressed his forehead gently to your hand, exhaling a shaky breath.

“You’re here.”

When the others returned—when Hunter stumbled in and dropped to his knees, when Wrecker cried again, when Crosshair stood frozen for a full minute, just staring—you were already asleep.

But Echo met Hunter’s gaze.

And nodded.

“She woke up.”

And for the first time in days, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

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

preview: "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.

[meshla-cyarika]

[nahoney22]

Me again! Please can I request some HC’s with the bad batch and how they react to reader (gn or female) accidentally crawling into the boys bunk at night 😂

Accidental Sleeping Arrangements

All Bad Batch Boys X GN!Reader

How the boys react to you accidentally crawling into their bunk at night.

warnings: Fluff, comfort, cuddles, some moody boys, gender neutral reader. Can be read as romantic or platonic.

Echo 💤

The first time:

As you slid into his bunk accidentally that evening, he was thoroughly bewildered. He had jolted awake and sat upright, observing your exhausted form snuggling against him, eyelids heavy with fatigue.

With tactful gentleness, he roused you from your slumber, delicately shaking you to bring you back to awareness. "Hey, um, you're in my bunk, trooper."

Your eyes flickered open, adjusting to the dim light, and a muttered curse escaped your lips as you retreated, cheeks warming with embarrassment. "Sorry, Echo," you apologized, slipping out of his bunk. "I must be completely drained," you sheepishly confessed.

"It's alright. I just didn't want to startle you by waking up to my face," he commented. You glance at him with a furrow forming on your brow before you shook your head.

"I doubt I'd be bothered by that..." your words trailed off, potentially carrying unintended flirtation. Echo's eyes widened slightly, his hand instinctively moving to the back of his neck, a clear sign of slight shyness at your words.

"Anyway," you say abruptly, spinning on your heel. "Sorry about that."

Echo simply nodded, silently observing as you retreated to your own bunk, leaving him with a sudden chill in the air, now yearning for the warmth you briefly brought beside him.

The second time:

With a tired yawn, Echo wearily approaches his bunk a few nights later, only to halt in surprise at the sight of someone curled up inside. Upon closer inspection, he realises it's you again, presenting him with a slight dilemma.

Despite his weariness, Echo knows he needs rest, and while your bunk is an option, his own provides the perfect setup for his cybernetics, ensuring he's at his best for the next day's duties.

Letting out a small sigh, hoping you wouldn't mind, he settles on the edge of his bunk and gently wakes you. "Hey, you're in my bunk again," he murmurs softly.

You stir, meeting his gaze before cringing slightly. "Again? I'm so sorry," you begin to rise, but his hand on your shoulder stops you.

"You can stay, but I'd also like to get some sleep... if you, uh, catch my meaning," he hints with a faint smile, hoping you understand.

"Oh," you blush, considering for a moment. "Well, I hope you don't mind sharing."

"Not at all," he reassures, his tone gentle as you make space. He lies beside you, and before long, you drift back to sleep. Echo finds solace in the rhythm of your soft snores, gradually succumbing to sleep himself... though waking up to find you both cuddling is a surprise he hadn't anticipated, yet one he welcomes warmly.

Hunter 💤

The first time:

When Hunter awoke to find you crawling into his bunk, confusion gripped him. Instantly alert, his hands tensed, ready to confront any potential intruder, but his apprehension melted away as he recognised you.

He lay there in silence, contemplating his next move.

While a part of him felt inclined to let you sleep, considering your recent exhaustion, he couldn't shake the concern of startling you upon awakening to find him beside you.

After ensuring you were deeply asleep, he carefully extricated himself from the occupied bunk, making sure not to disturb you.

Once free, he couldn't suppress a soft chuckle as he observed you, peacefully snuggled into his pillow, emitting gentle snores. “Sleep well.” He whispered to you before leaving you to rest.

He made a mental note to address the situation in the morning, but perhaps it’s better left unsaid since you’ll know your error when you woke up.

The second time:

As you woke up to find yourself in Hunter's bunk, mortification swept over you. Yet, when you encountered Hunter in the cockpit, he didn't mention a word about it, instead offering you a drink of caf.

A small part of you entertained the idea that perhaps he was unaware of the nighttime intrusion. However, your suspicions were confirmed a few nights later.

Fatigued and not paying attention to your surroundings, you headed towards what you thought was your bunk and climbed inside, only to be surprised by the presence of another person. "Hunter, what're you doing?" you blurt out, eyes widening in disbelief.

"I could ask you the same question," he chuckles, adjusting his position and turning to face you. "This is my bunk."

Blinking in realisation, you glance around, confirming his assertion. "Oh," you laugh sheepishly, "I thought this was mine."

His smile is gentle, his eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. "You're more than welcome to stay," he offers casually, though he soon realizes the potential implications of his words. "If you want to, that is."

A part of you knows you should return to your own bunk, yet there's an inexplicable pull keeping you there. "Well, I'm all comfy now..." you hint with a small smile.

He nods, turning his gaze away and closing his eyes. "Me too. Sleep well."

It took you a moment to fall asleep but just like how Hunter didn’t tell you that you had slept in his bunk first initially, you won’t tell him how he pulls you into his body as he slept and held you close throughout the night. Not that you seemed to mind.

Wrecker 💤

The first time:

"Wrecker, you scared me! What are you doing in my bunk?" you exclaimed, startled by the unexpected intrusion.

As you thought you were settling into your bunk for the night, using your hands to navigate through the darkness, you accidentally crawled onto something large and hard.

Assuming it was just your sheets bunched up, you attempted to smooth it out, only to be met with a small yelp that made your heart skip a beat.

"Huh?" Wrecker groggily emerged from his sleep cocoon, rubbing his eyes. "This is my bunk, isn't it?"

"No, I'm pretty sure it's mine," you asserted, but as Wrecker shifted in the bunk and reached under the blanket, he pulled out his beloved Lula.

"Oh. Maybe not then." You felt pretty embarrassed by your mistake, but Wrecker didn't seem to mind at all.

"It's alright, thought I was going to get an extra cuddle buddy for a second there!" he chuckled heartily, waving Lula in your face. His laughter filled the room, and you couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through you at the thought of being Wrecker's "cuddle buddy," though you weren't entirely sure if he was joking.

Deciding not to dwell on it further and eager to avoid keeping Wrecker awake any longer, you offered a meek apology before retreating to your actual bunk. As you settled in, you couldn't shake the image of Wrecker's playful grin from your mind.

The second time:

Wrecker stared down at his bunk, finding it already occupied with not much room left for him. You were snoozing away, oblivious to his dilemma. Wrecker knew he could be a bit of a grouch without his sleep, so he decided to gently prod you awake.

"Hey," he nudged you, rousing you from your slumber. "Is this you asking to be my cuddle buddy?"

You stirred awake, blinking in confusion as you glanced at him. It was then that you noticed Lula on the pillow next to your head. "Oh shoot, sorry Wrecker," you sighed groggily, just wanting to fall back asleep into the warmth of his bunk.

"It's alrigh’," he chuckled softly, his deep voice filling the room with warmth. "But uh... I kinda need to sleep."

"Then come cuddle next to me," the words slipped out before you realized what you were saying, but you didn't want to take them back either. The thought of Wrecker's warmth beside you was oddly comforting.

Wrecker was surprised for a moment, his eyes widening slightly, before a soft smile spread across his face. Without hesitation, he slung his armor off and crawled into the space beside you. "Are ya sure about this?"

"Mhm," you replied sleepily, your arms spreading over his chest as you nestled into him like a log warming a fire. "You're warm."

Wrecker smiled to himself, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him as he closed his eyes, feeling your steady breathing against his chest.

Tech 💤

The first time:

Sleep was not a common occurrence for Tech, so when he made the rare decision to nestle down for the night, he wasn't too perturbed to find you asleep in his allocated spot.

He paused for a moment, considering whether to wake you, but recalling your exhausted state earlier, he reasoned that you wouldn't have intentionally taken his bunk.

Instead, he quietly observed the peaceful rise and fall of your chest, noting the serenity that graced your features, before silently retreating back to the cockpit where he remained awake for the night once again.

"Tech, why didn't you wake me? I feel terrible," you expressed your guilt that next morning upon discovering that you had accidentally slept in his bunk, leaving him to forego his own rest.

"That is not necessary. You were tired, and I can always keep my mind occupied with tasks or reading intel," he replied in his usual composed manner, peering at you over his datapad. "I shall assume this was a one-time occurrence, and my bunk shall be my own again tonight."

“Yes, of course," you nodded, your expression reflecting genuine concern as you offered another apology before preparing for the demanding day ahead. Despite Tech's assurances, the weight of your unintended intrusion lingered.

The second time:

It just so happened to be the next night that you found yourself once again interrupting Tech's sleep. Moving through the dark ship with heavy eyes and a yawn on your lips, it was no surprise that you once again miscounted where your bunk was and crawled into the wrong one.

Your head hit the pillow, and your eyes shut as the warmth of the bed enveloped you. However, despite the comfort, a small flickering light kept intruding upon your consciousness, prompting your eyes to flutter open. At first, you didn't register the source, but as you turned your head to the right, your eyes widened in realisation: Tech laying there on his datapad, as if nothing had happened.

"Tech, what... am I...?" you began, your voice trailing off as confusion clouded your thoughts.

"In the wrong bunk?" he interjected calmly, settling his datapad down and gazing down at you. His goggles rested atop his head, allowing you to see the brightness of his eyes in the dark. "That is correct."

You sit up, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood over you, and run your hand over your face in frustration. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's up with me.”

Tech raises a single brow, his expression softened with genuine concern. "Perhaps in the morning, I should run some tests if you will allow me?" he suggests softly, his voice carrying a hint of worry. "But for now, I suggest you get some sleep."

Nodding in agreement, you reluctantly pull the blanket off your body, preparing to retreat to your own bunk. However, before you can make your escape, Tech's hand gently rests on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

"You are free to continue sleeping in my bunk tonight if you find it comfortable," he offers unexpectedly, his gesture of kindness catching you off guard.

"What, really?" you respond, turning to face him, searching his eyes for confirmation.

With a nod, Tech reclines back and retrieves his datapad. "Yes, really. I do not mind."

"But what if I keep you awake again?" you voice your concern.

"Do not worry about me," he reassures softly, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Now, get some rest before I give you a lecture about the benefits of getting sleep."

You chuckle softly at his remark before settling, finding comfort in his understanding demeanor. As you prepare to drift off into slumber, you can't help but feel thankful for Tech's compassion and generosity.

In the quiet of the night, you woke up only once, feeling Tech's arm drape gently across your body. Yet, instead of feeling unsettled, you found comfort in his presence.

Crosshair 💤

The first time:

As you prepared to settle in for the night after a long day, exhaustion clouded your judgment, leading you to absentmindedly crawl into a bunk without much thought. However, your relaxation was short-lived as you were startled by a gravelly voice beside you.

"What are you doing?" The abrupt question made you jump, and you inadvertently knocked your head against the top of the bunk in surprise.

"What am I doing? What the kriff are you doing?" you retorted in annoyance, rubbing your sore head as Crosshair sat up beside you, his expression stern in the dim light.

"I'll think you'll find this is my bunk," he hissed, his sharp gaze piercing through the darkness. As you glanced across the room, you realised your mistake—the bunk you were in wasn't yours.

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. Now get out before I drag you out," he threatened, though you could tell it was more playful than serious.

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on," you sighed as you obediently crawled out of his bunk, feeling the absence of warmth as you departed.

Crosshair grumbled under his breath and rolled back onto his side to sleep, while you mentally chided yourself for the blunder, making sure you never accidentally try to sleep in his bunk again.

The second time:

You're exhausted, your head throbbing with the relentless ache of sleep deprivation from the past few days, and you've reached the point where you don't care where you sleep anymore. And that includes Crosshair's bunk.

As you settle down on the edge of his bunk, the closest one available, you feel the weight of his gaze on your back, following your movements as you swing your legs around and lay down. "What are you doing?" his voice cuts through the silence, tinged with irritation.

You don't reply, simply closing your eyes as you allow the fatigue to wash over you, hoping for a moment's respite.

"This is my bunk," he asserts firmly, his agitation evident, but as you remain silent, his annoyance shifts to confusion.

"Are you... alright?" he inquires, concern creeping into his voice.

You shake your head softly, and you hear him sigh, but he doesn't press you further. Nor does he demand that you leave.

As sleep begins to claim you, Crosshair remains awake for a while, his thoughts swirling. In his mind, he tells himself that this is a one-time occurrence.

Yet, if you're upset and in need of somewhere to rest for a while, he doesn't mind if you sleep next to him again. After all, it turns out to be the best sleep he's had in a while too.

Masterlist

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417@eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex x @jesseeka @theroguesully y @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97@staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans s @nunanuggets s @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 7 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez @green-alm0nd @thiswitchloves9904

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) How He Is with His Newborn Baby

Hunter: He adores them and spends a lot of time holding them. Hunter is also really big on the whole skin-to-skin contact, so it becomes a common thing to see him walking around shirtless with the baby cradled snugly in one arm. He gets pretty good at performing tasks around the home with the baby. He's enraptured by the little one, but also very attentive to your needs. Hunter makes sure you take the time you need to eat, shower, and just have time to relax every now and then. Literally, any excuse to hold them some more, and he's giving it. He is good at rocking the baby in such a way that they fall asleep instantly in his arms.

Wrecker: The baby has him wrapped around their tiny finger already. He's already telling them how much he loves them and how proud he is. Wrecker also just spends time telling them all the fun things they're going to do together when they're old enough to walk, talk, etc. He is so unbelievably gentle and sweet with the little one in general, and also of course with you. He'll randomly stare at you and tell you how beautiful you are and what a good job you're doing.

Tech: This baby is not at the point where they can retain any information yet, but Tech spends plenty of time just talking to them. He talks about anything his mind can conjure up. The baby becomes so accustomed to the sound of his voice that it has quite the soothing effect. Additionally, Tech is very quick to pick up on the baby's cycle of needs. It gets to the point where they cry, and he can glance at his chrono and pinpoint exactly what they need according to the little schedule he's created. He also regularly checks the baby's weight, vitals, to make sure they're in good health. From time to time he voices yet again how fascinating the miracle of birth is and how proud he is of you, also checking your health.

Echo: Spends the first few weeks only holding the baby when sitting down. He can't get over how fragile they are, and he just sits there and stares at them as long as he can in amazement and adoration before they wake up from their nap or fuss about something they need. When the baby bursts into a fit of wails, he goes into a bit of a panic mode worrying about what's wrong. Eventually, he gets more comfortable and gets used to the idea that the baby is just communicating a need. It doesn't take long for him to become a professional dad. He gets pretty organized with the diaper bag and supplies so that he can just pull out whatever the baby needs at the drop of a hat.

Crosshair: He spends a good while just quietly holding the baby in his arms and watching them. Internally, he thinks they're absolutely precious and realizes he loves them so much. He already knew he'd love them, but he didn't realize it would feel like this. The baby is heart-wrenchingly cute, and he'd do anything to protect them. You come to find that he becomes more vocal, telling the baby in a sort of Crosshair-style sarcasm that they need to get their act together every time he has to handle a diaper change, feeding, etc. He's up with you at any hour day or night to help with the baby without a complaint, and regularly makes sure you're taking care of yourself also.