#mmm..toaster..

[shadowspirez]

I want him to insult me and grab my face ):

if you mean the sexy calculator then yeahhh same

and then i ea-

[yunamoona]

maybe unpopular opinion: when Suguru gets comfortable in yours and his relationship, he gets a little loosey-goosey instead of being a perfect gentleman 24/7…we can’t forget him and Satoru are two sides of the same coin.

of course he loves you a ton and you still get the princess treatment, he’s just more comfortable and the banter never dies. He appears more civil than his white haired counterpart, but he’s really just as bad in a different way

It can be things like lazy mornings, you draping the upper half of your body over the side of the couch as you hear him rummaging around in the kitchen, met with the sight of a tanned back, toned muscle partially obscured by silky ebony strands gathered loosely in a hair tie.

“What’re you making?”

“Toast.” He answers without turning away from the counter. You hear something like the dull sound of springs, and it must be him adjusting the toaster.

“Make me some?”

“You know how to get it yourself.”

You give him a pointed, pouty look. It’s what makes his lips curl into an amused grin when he turns just to see it. “Stop that, I already put one in for you.”

You grumble something anyway as he asks you what you want on it. “Mmm… jelly.”

Your eyes trail him to the fridge, and then back to the counter. “Wait, what’re you putting on yours?” You intone.

“Butter.”

“I change my mind, I want that too.” He walks back to the fridge to deposit the jam, and back to the counter. But just as he raises the knife to the second slice of bread— “no, never mind, I want jelly.” You’re being like this on purpose. He can tell by the downward turn of your smile-stifled lips.

With a condemnatory squint of his eyes, he gives you a long look as he marches back over to the fridge to fetch the jam jar again. All while you watch with a self-satisfied smirk.

But just as you thought you won this pointless little breakfast battle, your eyes widen at the sight of his wolfish grin, bared teeth taking a huge chomp of your piece of toast.

“Heyyuh!” You scoff, leaping up from the couch to reprimand him.

He only barks with laughter as you scarf down his toast in retaliation, the sight of your cheeks puffed as you defiantly chewed too endearing, too much. Jam stained lips kiss “Sorry,” and “I just couldn’t help myself,” into your crumb covered ones, fingers dancing over yours as he promises to make you another.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Jack is one that if you aren’t paying attention to him because you’re cooking or reading. He will literally pout

Oh, yeah, big time! Like you're just making your breakfast, trying to fry an egg and he's sat there pouting because you won't cuddle or kiss him because you're dealing with hot oil, Jack! I'd love to do more of these short drabbles/prompts, especially any like dialogue prompts where people send me a single sentence/word/piece of dialogue and who they want it with like '"You're pretty..." with Luke' type vibes. Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

"Baby..."

"Mmm...." You don't look up from the frying pan, too focused on the egg you're frying for your avocado toast sandwich, trying your best to avoid spitting oil as you cook and trying to get the perfect consistency for your yoke. (Failing miserably because who said you were a great cook?)

"Baby..." He's pouting now, not that you can see it because you're refusing to look at him and this is a fucking crime. He's just sat here and you're so close but you won't even look at him. His bottom lip juts out away from his top, eyes turning sad and pitiful like a puppy. Not that you notice, which makes his pout deeper.

"Yeah?" Still you don't look at Jack, your egg is nearly cooked and you move away to get your toast as it pops out of the toaster, slathering guacamole across both sides and bits of avocado, drizzling sriracha mayo over top.

Jack makes an executive decision, if you won't look at him then he'll just have to make you take notice of him. He picks the exact wrong moment to get up and slide his arms around your waist. The moment when you're transferring your egg to your sandwich and you nearly, nearly drop a boiling hot fried egg on your foot as a result.

"Jack!" You're quick to save the egg, getting it onto your toasted bread before putting the pan and spatula down. Jack's nuzzling into your neck, still pouting because you're more focused on your food than on him and it's not fair, he's been away for a week on a roadie and he's missed you. Didn't you miss him?

"You're ignoring me..."

"Jack, I'm not ignoring you but I need to eat my breakfast, you know how crazy my blood sugar gets..." You try to reason with him, putting the top bread on your sandwich and cutting it in half. He's latched onto you like a limpet on a rock, pressing little kisses to your neck, nose nuzzling against your skin in a way that is far too ticklish.

"You won't even look at me, do you not love me anymore?"

You can't help but laugh at him, turning in his arms and wrapping your own around his neck. Jack's pouting down at you, but there's a little twinkle in his baby blues that tells you he's messing about and just being silly.

"Of course, I love you, Jackie."

"But not as much as your stupid food." His pout manages to become deeper as he glares over your shoulder at your breakfast.

"I love you more. I promise. C'mere..." You cup his cheeks and smile at the way he melts into your palms, practically nuzzling into your hands as his pout melts away. You drag his face closer, pressing one, two, three kisses to his lips before attempting to pull away from him. You should have known that wasn't going to happen.

"Nooo...." He doesn't let you, hands sliding into your back pockets, cupping your arse and pulling you as close as possible. Jack's busy pressing kisses now to your cheeks and nose and you can't help but giggle, a laugh that puts his pout at rest and makes him smirk because he did that. He made you laugh. You're paying attention to him.

"Jack...I need to eat..." You say it between giggles, face scrunching as he kisses across it, finding any and every spot imaginable.

"But I wanna be close to you, baby..."

"Then I'll eat and sit on your lap, is that enough of a compromise?" You try your best to get him to release you, he takes a moment to think, pretending that the decision is a hard one.

"Okay, but I want kisses after."

"Deal."

[pineconepie]

hihi! could you write vincent and reader shenanigans for christmas or the holidays in general?

This is probably the most wholesome thing I've written XD

"Dad, it's snowing!" You shake Vincent awake, jumping up and down on the bed excitedly. You had woken up to see the world covered in white, ice sticking to the windows, flakes fluttering down to the ground. "Wake uuuuup."

The man groans softly, reaching over to you and pulling you into bed with him, chuckling under his breath when you whine. "Mmm, shhh... sleepy time, munchkin." His voice comes out hoarse and scratchy from sleep.

"But Dad—" you begin to say, but stop short when he rolls on top of you. You gasp, struggling to push him off of you, laughing despite your best efforts. "Daaaaaaad. You're heavy!"

"Maybe you're just weak," he teases, yawning. His eyes slowly open as he shifts so that he isn't crushing you anymore, holding you against his chest tightly instead. "Alright, alright... I'm getting up..." He kisses your forehead and ruffles your hair before sliding out of the bed. Vincent stretches for a second, groaning as his bones crack, then looks out the window, watching the snow falling silently. "Huh... so it is. Guess the forecast was right."

"Can I go outside and play in it?" you ask, tilting your head up at him. "Please?"

"Nuh-uh. It's too early, (Y/n)," he replies. "Let me wake up a little more first before you start running around like crazy." He shakes his head fondly as he slips on a robe. "I guess a cozy breakfast is in order."

"Can I eat breakfast after I play in the snow?" you beg. "I promise I'll come back when you say."

Vincent gives you a stern look. "You need energy to run around in the snow," he explains patiently, yet firmly. "No playing without eating something beforehand."

He lumbers to the kitchen, still tired, and with you trailing behind. Once inside, you climb up onto one of the stools lining the counter, watching him work around the kitchen. Vincent puts two slices of bread in the toaster, setting them to toast, grabbing various ingredients out of the fridge.

The man glances at you when he realizes you're staring at him intently. He grins. "Whatcha thinking about, kiddo?"

"How I'm going to win a snowball fight against you," you answer without missing a beat.

Vincent chuckles. "I've got an impressive amount of upper body strength and accuracy, sweetheart. If you really want to win, you need a strategy—which for the record, I'm an expert at strategy, too. You are... what do the kids like to say now? Cooked?" He grabs a bottle of orange juice and pours it into a cup, pushing it towards you.

"Everyone has a weakness," you respond. "I'll find yours."

He smirks. "Good luck."

Breakfast is eaten quietly. You eat all your food (otherwise Vincent gives you his Disapproving Dad Face) before gulping down your juice, waiting impatiently for Vincent to finish as well. Once he does, you rush off to get ready—shoes, scarf, hat, gloves, jacket—all so you could go play in the snow outside. Vincent follows suit, taking his time to slip on boots and a large coat.

The two of you walk into the elevator and descend down the building together, walking side by side out into the courtyard area of the complex. Already you see a few others having snowball fights, making snowmen and such. You smile brightly and drag Vincent further into the snow, marveling at everything.

Before you know it, you're kneeling down and building your own little fort for defense purposes. You look up, to see him simply watching. "Aren't you gonna start with yours?"

"Who says I need a fort, silly? You forget who I am." Vincent grins mischievously, already getting getting his snowballs prepared.

You're already aiming, throwing the first hit to his shoulder. He laughs, and suddenly the battle ensues.

Both of you are cackling like mad men while the cold hits your skin and the wind picks up speed around you both. As the sun rises higher into the sky above your heads, the air becomes colder yet still somehow refreshing and crisp; perfect weather to enjoy this particular activity.

Even though Vincent is winning, you can tell he's going easy on you. You're sure if he was using all of his strength, you'd probably be dead. But he never throws harder than he needs to, or faster than necessary either; rather opting to maintain a consistent pace throughout the whole ordeal. Every once in a while he'll stop just long enough to allow you a brief reprieve before restarting again.

Through it, you think back to his weaknesses. He doesn't have any that you know of.

Except...

You hide behind your wall of defense and stash a ton of snowballs together, prepped for attack.

"Dad!" you cry out dramatically.

You don't need to say anything else for Vincent to run straight to you, out of his defense and forgetting about his snowballs. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, lifting you into his chest, looking into your eyes. "Baby, what's wrong?!" He hugs you tightly. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Your heart twists from guilt, but you decide to go for it. The element of surprise would be ruined otherwise.

"My hand..." you whine. Just when he looks at your hand, you grab the snowballs and chuck them at him, cackling like a true cartoon villain.

"I won, I won!"

Vincent is surprised at first, blinking from how his face is now wet and full of snow. Then he laughs with you, ruffling your hair. "You little brat!" You raise another snowball threateningly, to which he laughs again, holding up his arms in a gesture of peace. "Okay! Okay, you win! You found my weakness! But for the record, I think that's what some would consider cheating."

"I didn't claim I was hurt or in trouble or whatever," you reason. "All I said was 'Dad.'" To make up for it, you brush some snow from his shoulders with your gloved hands.

He pretends to be offended. "Sneaky. Were you always evil, or did my own influence corrupt you?"

"I guess I learned from the best," you chuckle. Your hands instinctively grip his sleeves tighter. "Since I won, you owe me something! I don't know what yet, but I'll think about it!"

"I've created a monster," Vincent sighs dramatically. "Come on, you can think about what you want when we warm up inside. Its starting to get pretty chilly out here."

"It is," you agree, shivering. Despite wearing layers, the chill still reaches you, even seeping through your socks.

When you get inside and change out of your cold, wet clothes, Vincent starts the fireplace in the living room, grabbing hot chocolate packets from the cupboard. He uses the kettle on the stove to boil water and carefully makes two cups - one for him, and one for you, filled to the brim with marshmallows and whip cream. Then he plops down beside you, browsing through all the movies to fit the theme for the holidays.

"What's your favorite festive movie from all of these?" he asks, scrolling through the options.

"It's hard to choose," you answer. "What about yours?"

"Die Hard, of course."

"That's not—"

"Don't ruin my joy and whimsy," Vincent playfully scolds. "Not like I'd let you watch it anyway. Rated R films would destroy your precious mind."

You roll your eyes. "Am I not sitting in the same room with a guy that kills people for a living?"

"What did I just say about my joy and whimsy?" He snickers at your expression. "Anyway, a more age-appropriate answer would be The Muppet Christmas Carol. That was probably my favorite as a kid."

"Woah, didn't know movies existed in the prehistoric ages."

"Just for that remark, I'm picking what we watch."

[nanamis-bigtie]

nonsexual acts of intimacy ↬ finding the other wearing their clothes

❧ ino takuma x gn!reader | cw: domestic fluff, established relationship ❧

"Have you seen my—"

Takuma freezes mid-step when he realizes what he is looking at. It feels weirdly…inappropriate to see you like this, wearing nothing but the hoodie he's been looking for. He's like an intruder amidst your little morning serenity, with a cup of warm drink in your hand and bread in a toaster. Your hair is disheveled and face you turn to him: as sleepy as it can be at six in the morning in the narrow kitchen, under the dim light of an old ceiling lamp.

Then, a shame scratches at the back of his head. It's not a fresh hoodie; he returned home late and instead of running a quick laundry, he found power only to hang it on a chair to "air it out". Fate knows how much he had been running that day, sweating buckets and soaking in the stench of the city. It just…can't smell good—and you're wearing it, snuggled cozy, balancing on one foot to warm the other against your calf, your favorite mug enveloped by your hands…

"Seen what?" Your voice is raspy and just a little louder than a whisper. You squint your eyes and tilt your head to the side to avoid the direct light—and Takuma's heart melts at how cute you look right now. All his qualms fade when his chest fills with mushy warmth; he doesn't feel awkward or ashamed anymore, just smitten and weak, and weirdly needy of your touch.

He wants to have you in his arms again, the same way he cradled you in your shared bed, so happy and relieved to live through another day, to yet again be blessed with resting by your side and listening to your calm breathing.

"Mmm, nothing." He approaches close and wraps his arms around you, waiting just a moment for you to put the mug on the counter and climb next to it.

Takuma likes to cuddle with your head resting on his chest—but never misses on an opportunity for the opposite. He brushes lips against your neck and lingers for longer in its crook, to breathe the intimate smell of sheets and your skin before the morning shower. But soon enough he trails lower and nuzzles to your chest, into your warmth and the steady sound of your heartbeat.

You run fingers through his hair, gathering it to the back and exposing his scar, which you soon trace with a thumb, "You need a fresh cut."

He nearly purrs, then giggles when you wrap legs around him, your cold feet brushing against his bare calves, "Thought you liked me with longer hair?"

"You can barely see."

When you let his strands fall free again, they indeed block the majority of Takuma's vision, or rather of its field already restricted by your chest and folds of the hoodie. But he sees your half-lidded eyes and warm love in them, a little droplet of drool dried at the corner of your lips, and all the wrinkles and nooks that make your face so familiar and special.

He has never felt more in love than in this split moment of early and dark autumn morning in the middle of the kitchen of a little rented apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo, "I have everything I need to see right here."

a/n: repost from an old account. divider by saradika

[httpsdana]

Please pau cubarsi with promt 30x4

🙏🙏🙏🙏

Breakfast Gone Wrong~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who i write for

・❥・a/n: you didn't really specify the genre so I hope this one is what you chose 🫶🏻

30-“I made you breakfast! But it’s probably terrible, so just pretend it’s good.”

y/n woke up to the distinct smell of… smoke? Alarm bells immediately went off in her head. She sat up, eyes darting around the room, wondering if the apartment was on fire.

Before she could fully panic, the bedroom door swung open, revealing Pau. He was balancing a tray with what appeared to be breakfast, though it looked more like a crime scene from a cooking show gone wrong. His hair stuck up in all directions, and his shirt had a suspicious-looking stain.

“Good morning!” Pau greeted, grinning sheepishly. “I made you breakfast! But, uh… it’s probably terrible, so just pretend it’s good. Like, Oscar-worthy acting.”

She blinked at him, then at the tray. On it were two plates of something. The eggs were overcooked to the point of resembling rubber, the toast looked like it had survived a forest fire, and the orange juice… well, at least that looked safe.

“Pau… what exactly happened in the kitchen?” she asked, holding back a laugh.

He sighed dramatically, setting the tray down on her lap. “Look, I went in with the best intentions. The eggs? They betrayed me. The toaster? It’s clearly possessed. And the smoke? Well, that was just me adding ‘flavor.’”

She picked up a piece of toast, holding it up like evidence in court. “You mean charcoal?”

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Okay, okay! I get it. I’m not a chef. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“The thought? Yes. The toast? No,” she teased, taking a bite of the burnt toast. She chewed slowly, forcing a smile. “Mmm… delicious. Tastes like… camping.”

Pau snorted. “Camping? You mean like when everything accidentally gets thrown into the fire?”

“Exactly,” she said, laughing. “You nailed it!”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing a fork. “At least try the eggs. I think they’re edible… probably.”

She stabbed the eggs cautiously. They bounced back. “Are these eggs or rubber balls?”

Pau leaned over, whispering conspiratorially, “They’re multifunctional. Breakfast and self-defense.”

She burst out laughing, nearly spilling the tray. “Pau, this is honestly the best breakfast disaster ever.”

He smiled, scooting closer. “I just wanted to do something special for you. You’ve been working so hard, and I thought, ‘Hey, breakfast in bed sounds romantic.’”

She leaned in, kissing him softly. “It is romantic. And hilarious. And perfect because it’s you.”

Pau grinned, his eyes twinkling. “You’re just saying that because I didn’t burn the orange juice.”

She raised her glass of juice with a smirk. “To not burning liquids!”

He clinked his glass with hers. “And to us surviving my cooking!”

With laughter filling the room, they dug into the slightly terrible—but incredibly memorable—breakfast, grateful for every hilarious second.

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 28 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As parents-to-be, you and Bradley start to get used to a new kind of routine. You've somehow replaced nights out at the bar with nausea, exhaustion, and a seemingly never ending ache for your husband. And he's showing you with his words and actions how ready he is for whatever comes next.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, pregnancy, vomiting, angst, fluff

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

On Monday morning, you woke up to Bradley in his uniform making coffee and toast when you wandered into the kitchen in nothing but his old UVA shirt. "You're up early," you mumbled with a smile, and he dropped the teaspoon he was holding onto the counter. 

"Hey," he crooned, rushing over to you and touching your belly like you were made out of porcelain. "How did you sleep?" he asked, kissing your forehead. He was fresh out of the shower, his skin still warm and his hair damp. 

"Okay," you whispered. "I'm starving."

"Yeah? You think you can eat?" he asked, already pulling you toward the toaster. But you were burying your nose in his neck and inhaling deeply before kissing his scars, making your glasses go crooked on your face.

"You smell so good."

He chuckled. "I just used your body wash like I always do."

"Mmm," you hummed, still holding onto him as he buttered a piece of toast for you. After a good sleep, you were feeling great, and a smile found your face as you thought about the reminder you set on your phone to call your doctor at lunchtime. "Hey, Daddy?"

Bradley's eyes practically rolled back as he looked at the ceiling and groaned. "The fact that it means two different things now when you call me that is going to drive me insane."

You laughed as you turned so your back was pressed to his front, and you took a bite of toast. Your stomach gurgled and lurched, but you didn't feel like you were going to be sick, so you took another bite. "Do you want to join me at lunchtime today when I call my doctor?"

His hands kept finding their way to your belly, this time slipping up inside the shirt. "I'm not flying today, so yes. Absolutely. You calling from your office?" 

"Yeah. I'll probably stop in the cafeteria and get something to eat and take it back up with me."

"I'll meet you there with a burrito bowl in my hand," he promised, gently stroking your tattoo with his fingertips. 

Bradley drove both of you to work, and you found that you were having a pretty good day. Your toast stayed down. Bickel complimented your work. Cat was making headway on your presentation for Annapolis. But then you froze in place in the lab. In all of the excitement of the pregnancy test, you completely forgot you were going to have to go to Annapolis next month. 

You groaned softly, and then you wanted to scream, because tears started to fill your eyes. The lack of control over your emotions was already a lot to handle, and you were only two days into this thing. You took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down, but the idea of leaving Bradley right now had you panicking. And then you thought about what another deployment would mean for the two of you.

"Are you okay?" Cat asked softly, and you tried to turn your face further away from her as you nodded.

"Yeah. Just fine," you managed. "Can you change the font on the slides to something a little bolder? Make it easier to read from the back of the presentation room?"

"Sure," she replied. "You know what else I can do?"

"What?"

"Sit here quietly and listen if you need to talk about something."

You wiped at your tears before turning toward her. "Thanks, but I'm fine." 

She raised one eyebrow before returning to typing. "Jake did say you were stubborn..."

You laughed in spite of yourself. "I don't even know why I'm friends with him," you replied, but you did know. He took care of you when Bradley was away, when you couldn't take care of yourself. In an effort to change the subject from you crying over your raging hormones and early pregnancy, you asked, "How are things going with Lieutenant Seresin anyway?"

"Excellent," she whispered. "Jeremiah got accepted into the daycare on base," she added. You knew she didn't talk about her son with too many people at work, but you weren't sure what this had to do with Jake.

"Hey, that's great. Now you don't have to drive across town if he gets sick. Especially since I don't even have a car for you to borrow at the moment," you muttered. But you could tell she wanted to say something else. You knew that giving her a few seconds of quiet would make her feel like she could talk about it, and soon she was telling you more.

"Jake prepaid for six months at the new daycare."

Okay. So things were getting quite serious. Then the idea that your own child might one day be enrolled in the same daycare as Jeremiah made you smile. "I told you Jake was a good one."

Cat rolled her eyes and went back to typing, but her smirk was soft, and you knew she wasn't disagreeing with you.

-----------------------------

"I'm just saying, we should do an old school style keg party on the beach for Mickey's birthday." Nat was talking Bradley's ear off on the way to the cafeteria, but his head was in the clouds. All he could think about was the baby. Baby, baby, baby. He kept adding things to his Amazon cart, and he only found out you were pregnant two days ago.

"Kegger? Yeah, that sounds fun," he muttered, walking a little faster to get to you sooner. 

"Listen, if your wife starts doing a keg stand, I'm not going to stop her," she replied with a laugh. "She's hilarious when she's drunk."

Bradley stumbled. You weren't going to be able to drink alcohol now. Nights out at the Hard Deck drinking out of matching beer bottles were a thing of the past, at least until approximately the end of next March. He had no idea what to say, because he didn't know how long he was supposed to wait before he told his best friend that he was going to be a dad. "Yeah, she's a fucking delight," he said, making her laugh harder. 

He was going to need to have a conversation with you about all of this and figure out how to proceed. Right now he had more important things to do. Like collect his wife, call the doctor, and make sure you ate lunch. When he walked into the cafeteria, he saw you from behind, and he groaned softly. The way you filled out your khakis was always something he loved to see, but then he considered that your hips might get a little wider in a few months, and he stumbled again. 

"What's wrong with you today, Soul Sister?" Nat asked, but she noticed where he was looking, and she rolled her eyes. "Two years ago, I would have never bet a single cent on you ever settling down. And now look at you. Pathetic. In the best kind of way."

Bradley shook his head. You were turning to look at him now, and the way you bit your lip was giving him ideas. You waved to Nat as they approached, and Bradley picked up a burrito bowl for you. "Not today," you told him, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him. "I'm not hungry for that."

"You want a sandwich instead?" he asked, kissing the top of your head as you pressed your body against his.

"I want my Daddy," you whispered softly, and he could see it in your eyes. 

"Jesus Christ," Nat complained. "Not right in front of my lunch. The two of you are repulsive. Don't forget to tell her about Mickey's party." 

Bradley watched his best friend storm off with her lunch tray as you asked, "What about Mickey's party?"

"I'll tell you later. You really don't want a burrito bowl?"

"No. I don't want hot sauce."

Bradley sputtered. "I'm sorry, what? You don't want hot sauce?"

You grinned as he grabbed two sandwiches instead. "The baby is saying no."

He let your words wash over him, and the fact that you were still holding onto him with that needy look in your eyes had him kissing you a little rough. "You want me? Right now?" 

When you nodded and whispered, "I need you," he practically hauled you and the food to the bank of elevators out in the hallway. "I'm really horny," you whined when he pushed the up arrow. "Like so fucking horny, Roo. Earlier I was crying about something, but I can't even remember what. And all I want right now is your cock in-"

Bradley smothered your lips with his as the elevator opened, revealing an admiral. It would be better to get a dirty look for kissing his wife than a reprimand for talking about how the two of you were about to get down in your office. Once the elevator was empty, he guided you inside where you just continued to kiss him. Then you led him down the hallway with a visible erection in his pants, and he hid behind you as you unlocked your door.

"You know, there once was a time when you told me I wasn't allowed to fuck you at work."

You closed and locked the door as he set down the sandwiches, and you looked at him with a predatory glint in your eye. "Shut up and pull your pants down, or I'll name the baby Honda Civic Bradshaw."

Bradley tried not to laugh as he worked at his belt, button and zipper. "Come on, Baby Girl. You can't even prove that's where I knocked you up. And if we're naming the baby after a vehicle, it's the Bronco for sure. Bronco Bradshaw, the coolest fucking kid in town."

And now you were laughing as you shimmied your pants down to your knees and treated Bradley to the view of you bent over with your arms folded on your desk. "Just fuck me, Daddy."

He palmed your ass in both hands and whispered, "My pleasure." Your head came to rest on your arms just as he lined himself up, and you sighed in relief when he started to thrust. You seemed instantly more relaxed, the tension melting away from your face. "You needed it that bad?" he murmured, reaching around to gently stroke your clit.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, tilting your head to look back at him. "So bad. I told you I was horny."

"Does this feel good?" he asked, keeping it to a slow and steady pace for now. You'd been like this when you stopped taking your birth control last year, and he vividly remembered coming home one day to find you riding the arm of the couch and begging for him. His fingers tightened on your hip as he tapped a pattern against your clit, making you buck back against him. 

"So good," you whined loudly, bucking back again. This was probably just because your hormones were all over the place right now, but he had no qualms about fucking you at work. Every time he did it, he thought about you sitting in the lab all afternoon with a tight, cum filled pussy. But then he remembered what else you and he were supposed to do today, so he pinched your clit until you moaned, and he fucked you harder. "Roo!"

"Yeah?" he asked, grinning as his hips slapped your ass with each stroke. Your pussy was so wet, his hand felt slick as he rubbed your clit in tight circles that had your legs shaking as you started a high pitched little whine. You sounded like a spoiled brat right now, his name all over your lips as you asked for more and more. 

You were about to come. He could tell. When he rammed himself deep and pressed on your clit, your pussy squeezed him tight, and you grabbed at the edge of your desk. "Bradley!" you gasped, wiggling your ass as you pulsed and moaned. He rolled his hips gently as he came, enjoying the sensation of added wetness and the knowledge that this was all just for fun since you were already pregnant. 

He had a smile on his face as he watched his cum drip onto your underwear before helping you pull it up. Your eyes were dreamy as Bradley tucked your shirt in for you. "All better?"

You nodded and wrapped your arms around him. "Yes, and I'm starving. I hope I can eat."

"Let's give it a try," he whispered, kissing your temple and guiding you to sit on his lap on the desk chair. "Just take it slow." After you took a few tentative nibbles of your sandwich, he asked, "Can we call your doctor before I have to go back out?"

"Oh," you gasped as you started to fumble with your phone. "I set a reminder, but I already forgot! I'm having a bit of a hard time focusing," you muttered. You pulled up the contact information and kissed his cheek, and Bradley listened to you tell the nurse your full name on speakerphone. He'd never tire of hearing his last name tacked on after yours, and instead of digging into his own sandwich, he wrapped you up in his arms. 

You snuggled against him as you told the nurse, "I'm pregnant! I took some tests this past weekend, and they were all positive. I think I'm between five and six weeks along." Bradley rubbed your belly with his big hand while you scheduled an appointment for an evening when he could go with you.

When you ended the call, he handed you his phone. "Enter your appointment into my calendar? I need to have a very important conversation." You took his phone as he pulled you closer until you were straddling his lap, and then he teased your belly with his knuckles through your shirt and leaned a little closer. "Hey, kiddo. I know you think it's fun in there, but can you give Mommy a little break? Maybe let her go the rest of the day without yacking?"

You giggled as you typed away on his phone. "Yes, please listen to Daddy."

When you met his gaze, he buried his face against your neck. "I'm obsessed with both meanings of that word now, Sweetheart."

With a kiss to the corner of his mustache, you said, "The appointment is all set. Hopefully we can see an ultrasound. And I don't even mind the barfing as long as the baby is healthy."

Bradley ran his hand along your hair. An ultrasound. A little photo of the baby. His baby. He squeezed you so tight, you squeaked. "I can't wait. I can't wait for all of this."

-------------------------------

Bradley was serious about everything. He found crib bedding and paint swatches online, and you had to keep reminding him that it wasn't a good idea to get ahead of yourselves too early on. Every time you brought it up as gently as you could, you ended up with his lips on yours, effectively silencing you. 

"Okay," he murmured against your lips on Thursday morning while he rubbed your back. You were standing in his arms in the kitchen, practically in tears because you spent twenty minutes throwing up as soon as you got out of bed. You started carrying a toothbrush to work with you, because it seemed to be happening more and more now. You were so hungry, you just wanted to be able to eat even a small meal. But now he was talking about cribs again.

"We can't buy furniture yet, Roo. We just can't."

"I know, Sweetheart. I'm trying to reel it in."

"We don't even have the new Bronco yet," you reminded him, which would probably just get him thinking about car seats. 

"Soon," he whispered, reaching for the discarded piece of dry toast on the plate next to him. "Take another little bite." 

You nodded as your mouth watered, and tears sprang to your eyes as you nibbled on it. When you swallowed it down, you said, "If you're this patient with me, I might actually die watching you feed a baby."

Your husband buried his nose in your hair and kissed you there. "I'll take care of both of you."

And then, you felt that thrum of desire that was always just below the surface right now. You swore you could smell Bradley everywhere, all day long, even when you were working in your lab. His mustache skimmed the shell of your ear, and your pussy clenched. A soft moan escaped your lips, and his deep laughter gave you goosebumps. "Baby Girl. We do not have time for that right now. And I'm flying all day today."

You pouted up at him. "Not even a really quick fuck?"

"No," he replied as he patted your rear end. "You need to get in the Bronco so we can get on base before we're late. Then later we have to help Bob move into your old place with Maria. Then I'm going to make sure you eat something. Then, and only then, can we have sex before bed."

"You're so mean."

He cocked his head and gave you side eye. "You liked me when I got you pregnant in your shit mobile."

Your eyes lit up. "So you're admitting I'm right? About the backseat?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, grabbing the sandwich he made himself so he wouldn't have to leave the tarmac later. "Let's get going."

Bradley buckled you in, and you made it halfway to work before you started to feel nauseous. In an effort to distract yourself, you asked, "What was the excuse you gave about missing out on the Hard Deck last night?"

He winced and looked at you briefly. "I said Tramp got into something and threw up everywhere. I fucking hate lying."

"I know, but it's too early to tell them," you groaned. "And now we need to keep thinking of excuses? I hate this."

"Yeah... about that... Mickey's birthday party is a beach kegger. It was Nat's idea."

You let your forehead rest against the window. "Okay. I mean, maybe I can offer to be the designated driver that night? Or maybe you and I can just keep switching cups while you drink all the beer?"

"We'll figure it out," he murmured. "I'm not worried about that so much as keeping you healthy right now. I'll lie to them about this if I have to."

You nodded as a wave of saliva filled your mouth and made you gag. "Pull over!"

"What?" Bradley asked, already flipping on the hazard lights and stopping in front of a random driveway.

"Oh god," you groaned as you unbuckled, opened the door, and stumbled as you threw up into a storm grate. You heard his door slam as he ran around the back of the Bronco to help you stand there as you continued to vomit next to someone's mailbox and lilac bush. 

Then you heard a man's voice, and when you looked up, there was the homeowner, watering his flowers. "Is everything okay?" he asked cautiously as you heaved.

"Just great," Bradley replied in an upbeat tone that made you want to kick him. "My wife's pregnant."

"Oh... well, congratulations," he replied as you finally stood up straight and gave him a little wave. 

Bradley helped you buckle in again and forfeited the water thermos from his lunch as you groaned, "That was embarrassing. Did you really have to tell him that?"

He kissed your forehead. "It was nice to be able to tell someone. It's not like he even knows us."

"That's true," you whispered, taking a sip of cold water. "This is miserable."

Bradley leaned down and kissed your belly before he said, "What did I tell you about being chill? Mommy needs a break."

You ran your fingers through his soft curls. "Let's just go to work so you don't get reprimanded, Lieutenant Commander."

"Whatever you say, Lieutenant Commander."

-------------------------

It was kind of surreal for Bradley, being back at your apartment again. "I haven't been here since I moved your old bed frame out," he mused as you and he walked inside holding hands. The back of the Bronco was filled with stuff from Bob's old place, but he wanted to know where to put things before he started moving boxes in. 

"The bed frame that you broke?" you asked, and then both of your eyebrows shot up. "Just like my car? I'm sensing a theme here when it comes to you and me fucking."

Bradley blushed. He wasn't even going to mention the patio chair or handful of articles of your clothing he'd also wrecked in the process. "Keep it down, Sweetheart. Bob doesn't need to know about that."

"He's not that innocent," you whispered, and Bradley watched his friend blush as Maria patted him on the shoulder. "Or maybe he is."

"Hey, Bob, where do you want all the boxes?" Bradley asked as you walked over to Maria and then disappeared down the hallway. His mind wandered to that first night he spent here with you. The first time you slept together. The first time you made him Marry Me Rooster. The first time he thought he could fall in love with someone who could love him back. He already knew he had deep feelings that night, and now someday you'd be cooking that dinner for three of you. 

"Did you hear me?" Bob asked cautiously as Bradley stood staring into the kitchen. "You can take everything into my room, and I'll sort it later."

"Sure," Bradley replied, nodding at him as he snapped out of his daydream. He ran back down the familiar stairs, grabbed some boxes, and took them back up. He smiled to himself as he recalled carrying you up the same stairs when you'd been drunk enough to scare away any other woman within a five mile radius who even dared to look at him. 

When he strolled back inside, he went to your old bedroom where you were standing with Maria and laughing about something in the walk-in closet. He set the boxes down, went directly to you and kissed you. "Hi," you sputtered, clearly caught off guard but smiling nonetheless. "Everything okay?"

"Yep." He cupped your cheek and kissed you one more time. "Very good. Perfect."

"I'll help you carry up some more boxes," you told him, your voice sounding a little breathy. He gave you an unamused look as the three of you exited the closet, but he waited until you and he were walking out of the apartment together. 

"You're not carrying jack shit, Sweetheart," he informed you. "I looked online, and you shouldn't lift more than twenty pounds."

You waved your hand in the air and said, "That's not until the second and third trimesters." He watched you walk down the stairs, and then he had to rush to catch up with you in the parking lot. 

"Absolutely not," he practically growled when you reached for a cardboard box. He had you pinned between his body and the open tailgate. "It's not happening." You slowly set the box down and turned to face him, and he squeezed your hip. "What's the point of having a husband who works out all the time if he's not going to carry everything for his pregnant wife?"

You moaned. You fucking moaned his name. "Bradley." Then you were sitting on the tailgate with your legs spread wide and his tongue in your mouth. Your hands were tucked up inside his tee shirt, gripping at his abs and the fly of his jeans. "You turn me on," you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist and rubbing yourself against him. 

"God damn it," he cursed, big fingers gripping the back of your neck as you kissed along his chin and licked his Adam's apple. It was so tempting, taking you in the parking lot like a horny teenager. But it wasn't even dark out yet, and Maria would know exactly what was going on. He wrenched his body back a few inches and shook his head while you pouted at him. "I'll give it to you any way you want it when we get home, but you need to wait."

You let your legs fall away from his body before sliding down from the tailgate. He kissed your little frown, reached inside one of the boxes, and removed three plastic hangers. "You may carry these." You looked up at him and sighed. He stacked up three boxes and carried them up the stairs behind you.

"I still think you're being a little ridiculous," you told him as he watched your ass sway. 

"About what, Sweetheart? Not fucking you in the middle of a parking lot where someone was walking a chihuaha? Or about the hangers?" 

You snorted as you walked into the apartment once again. "Both."

"You need to behave."

Once the Bronco was unloaded, you and Bradley hung out for a few minutes. Maria offered up some beer and said she could order a pizza, but the firm but barely perceptible shake of your head had Bradley saying, "We need to get home and let Tramp out, but thank you."

"Is he feeling better?" Bob asked. "I know you said he got sick yesterday, and that's why you had to skip the Hard Deck."

"No," you replied quickly. "That's why we have to get back to let him out. He's been making such a mess. I think he ate something in the yard that he really shouldn't have."

"That's a bummer," Maria said, and Bradley couldn't help but notice the way Bob was looking at her with his cheeks tinged pink. "We skipping brunch this Sunday since Cam's flying to Pittsburgh for his sister's wedding? Or do you want to make it a girls day?"

You rolled your eyes. "He will bitch incessantly if we go without him. It's not even worth it."

"You're right," she replied, shrugging and letting her arms drop to her sides. Bradley watched you hug your friend and then kiss Bob on the cheek which made him blush even more. 

"Enjoy your new room, Bob. And enjoy the best roommate in the world while you're at it," you told him. 

"Wow," Bradley said, hands on his hips. "That stings a little bit."

"I'm sure she's making a valid point," Maria told him with a smirk.

"Yeah, but I'm standing right here," he said with a laugh as he shook Bob's hand. "See you at work tomorrow."

"Thank you!" Bob called after Bradley as he followed you back out and down the stairs. 

You were laughing as he scooped you up and placed you on the front seat. "You won't even let me carry myself!"

"Do not test me," he warned as he pulled the seatbelt across your body. "Especially since you said I'm not the best roommate you've ever had."

"You're not a roommate, Roo! You were a sexy boyfriend and then a sexy fiancé and now you're a sexy husband." You kissed him and whispered, "And soon you'll be a sexy Daddy. And I just so happen to live with you."

He placed his hand on your belly and murmured, "I can't wait to be a Daddy. Can't wait for your belly to get big. I'm so excited to meet the little bun when we go to the ultrasound."

You were moaning his name again, so he closed the door and made quick work of driving home. The route was so familiar from him doing it so many times when you and he were just starting out dating, and your hand rested heavy on his thigh. When he reached down, he could feel your engagement ring and wedding band under his palm. He would take care of you. He was already getting used to how much and when you needed to eat to avoid the horrible nausea. He was already thinking about hiring a contractor to work on the rooms upstairs. It didn't matter what it was, he'd make sure it was perfect for you. 

And that included fucking you into the mattress if you wanted him to. But when he pulled into the driveway, you were sound asleep next to him. He laughed. "Seriously?" He knew you needed to sleep, so he carefully carried you inside after he let Tramp out in the backyard. 

"What happened?" you asked, still half asleep as he set you down in bed. 

"We're home," he whispered, removing your glasses, shoes, socks and jeans. "Do you think you should eat some crackers?" You just shook your head and rolled toward his usual spot like you were searching for him there. He chuckled as you snuggled against the pillow. "I'll be in shortly."

He took Tramp for a walk and made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He ate the sandwich while he spread some peanut butter on a few unsalted crackers just in case you woke up hungry in the middle of the night. Then he took a shower and got you to sit up and take a sip of water before he climbed in bed. 

And that's when he checked his phone for the first time in hours. He tapped the icon for the new voicemail from 6:02 pm and listened to a voice tell him something so delightful, he almost woke you up to share it with you. 

"Hi, Bradley, this is Terry from the Ford dealership. I'm just calling to let you know your new Bronco is here."

-------------------------------

He's ready to go. As soon as he's allowed to talk about the pregnancy, he's going to be hanging a banner up in front of the house about it. The new Bronco arrives soon. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 29

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

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[megumismyhusband]

I LOVE LOVE YOUR WRITING SM IT'S SO GOOD!! I wanted to ask if I could get a honey toaster with a dark roast coffee (Mogari) with a side of brioche? Thank you!

(Also could the reader be the grumpy one, I think it would be very silly lmao)

mogari’s like a golden retriever in human form, all bright eyes and big smiles, energy practically buzzing off him like static. so it’s no surprise when he flops onto the couch right next to you, half on top of you, limbs everywhere like he’s got no concept of personal space.

“what’re you doing?” you mumble, not even looking up from your phone.

“loving you,” he grins, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. his arm snakes around your waist, his head finding a home in the crook of your neck. “you look like you need it.”

“i don’t,” you deadpan, but you don’t push him away either.

he hums, all warm and content like a cat soaking up sunlight. except he’s not a cat — he’s a clingy golden retriever that won’t stop wiggling around, nuzzling into your shoulder, fingers drumming lazy patterns against your side.

“mogari,” you grumble.

“yep?”

“you’re heavy.”

“mmm, no i’m not,” he says, somehow melting further into you, like he’s determined to fuse into your very being.

you sigh, but it’s not out of annoyance, not really. your hand, almost on instinct, drifts up to thread through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. he makes a happy little noise, like you just handed him the world.

“see?” he mumbles, barely audible now, “you do like me.”

“shut up,” you mutter, but your fingers don’t stop moving.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

I just know wade would be asking u to grind ur teeth down on it...i just know it....

hi anon ur so right wade actually has you do insane shit to him dick biting is just the BEGINNING‼️😮‍💨 and the first time he suggests it you’re mortified 😭 you’re giving him that gawk gawk 3000 typhoon top but he’s still kinda soft 😰 you’re lowkey worried feeling self-conscious about your head game until he cups your face and swipes his thumb across your cheek

“can i ask you a weird question?”

when you’re having sex with wade wilson, this could lead to literally anything. “does this bump on my nutsack look different than usual?”, “what’s your stance on the death penalty?”, “did i ever tell you about that time i got my dick stuck in the toaster?” you brace yourself for whatever batshit insanity is about to slide out of his mouth.

“yeah, go for it.”

“can you use your teeth on it? just, like… keep doing what you’re doing, please, it’s fucking amazing. i just want a little more texture.”

huh?! is he for real?! but you’ve worked so hard to NOT do that! years of toiling in the dick-sucking mines has trained that right out of you, and he wants you to throw all that away? why?! “uh… are you sure?”

he just laughs in response

“aw, you’re so cute! so sweet, worrying about me like that! think about it. why would i ask for this if i didn’t want you to do it, stupid boy?”

…y’know what? fair enough. you close your teeth around his shaft and cheese grater up and down the length of his throbbing, bumpy cock.

“OH~! fuck, just like THAT, baby, YES~! mmm… fu-u-ck, that’s perfect… like… like you’re trying to bite the batter off a corndog, baby, there you go…”

and when i say it gets worse from there i mean it gets WORSE!!!! like he’ll come up behind you while you’re cooking dinner.

“hey, slutter-butter, you got a minute?”

“uh… yeah, actually!” you put down the knife you were about to use to chop an onion, and spin around to face him. “haven’t really started yet, what’s—“

he’s holding a strap-on.

“yes, hi, this is wade wilson, i’ve got an appointment for a prostate exam at 4PM?”

you smirk and saunter towards him, eager to play along with this spontaneous bit, “hmm… i’m not seeing you on our records, mr. wilson. are you sure it was scheduled for today?”

“i’m not sure, actually. i’ve made that mistake before. but this clinic takes walk-ins, right?”

“yes we do, sir, but today’s been pretty busy.” you wrap your fingers around his on the silicone shaft and pull him into you. “but i’ll see if i can squeeze in you.”

wade bounces and squees with joy and hands you the strap. you don’t even get it all the way on your hips before he’s bending over. onto the stove. where you were preheating a cast-iron skillet.

“oh, shit, WADE—!”

“what?” he stares at you blankly, holding the hot pan you were about to use. he’s silent for a moment, then two, and then it clicks. “oh!” he sets the pan down in the sink, claps his hands together, then points at you. “forgot you’re a normie! logan fucks me over the stove all the time. doesn’t really matter for us, since we’re freaks of nature and third degree burns just tickle us psychosexually, but, uh… would you… wanna try it? do a little flambé action? roasted wade wilson breasts? i promise, it’s fun. it makes me moan like a coked-up whore late on rent.”

you snort at his stupid comparison, and it actually puts your mind at ease a bit. it doesn’t surprise you that him and logan get up to this kinda thing when you’re not around. in fact, you’re actually flattered to be allowed to take part in it. to take advantage of him like this.

“fuck it. bend over, you fucking weirdo masochist.”

“yippee! yay! thank you, daddy!!!”

wade eagerly yanks his shorts down, widens his stance, and slams his bare chest onto the glowing red burner. his leathery skin sizzles with the smell of cooked human flesh.

“ooooh, that feels so fucking good on my right nipple… lemme roll a little, get the other side, ah~! oh-h-h, it hurts so fucking good!!!”

you get into position behind him, but he holds his hand out backwards to halt you.

“wait! one more thing!”

he reaches over and grabs the gigantic chef’s knife, freshly sharpened and pristine, that you had lying on the cutting board next to a soon-to-be mutilated onion, and offers it to you.

“jam this through my palm when i say i’m getting close. that’s the finishing move. have me spraying a whole little league team out my dick.”

[zepskies]

Sample the Menu

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

AN: Happy New Year, everyone! 🌟 This was requested by a lovely anon. It’s sort of a sequel to the imagine below. ⤵️

See this imagine for context: Repaying him for a job well done.

Word Count: 550 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only — spiciness and innuendo.

Imagine: Interrupting Ben while he’s cooking.

The cringeworthy sound of metal clanging on metal woke you up early on a Saturday morning. Though your irritation was soon waylaid by the glorious smell wafting up from the kitchen.

Bacon. It had to be. Mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

You slid out of bed, pulled on one of the shirts discarded on the bedroom floor (likely Ben’s, for how big it was), and freshened up before heading downstairs.

You were greeted to a mouthwatering sight.

An over six-foot tower of a man was taking up your kitchen, all broad shoulders and lean muscle and bed-tousled hair.  

In short, Ben was cooking.

But because he didn’t have to worry about the potential sting of sparked bacon grease, he only wore a pair of sweatpants while scrambling the eggs. Slowly you crept closer, not wanting to disturb his concentration just yet.

He actually seemed to be doing well. Or at least, nothing seemed to be on fire. (A vast improvement from previous attempts.)

Besides the pans of eggs and bacon, there were four slices of bread locked and loaded in the double-decker toaster, a side of butter, and two plates on the counter. The coffee was already done percolating.

Once again, your boyfriend managed to delight and surprise. He’d never cooked for you before. And you could dare to say, not for anyone before. You'd just recently managed to get him to do the dishes without being asked, to say nothing of breaking out the cookware...

There was an enormous mess of bowls, plates, and even a whisk in the sink, but you could deal with that if this was your reward.

A bubbly feeling rose up into your chest, making you smile. You went to him on light feet, sneaking up behind him.

Looping your arms through his and embracing him from behind, you leaned up on your toes and nipped at his bare shoulder. To him, it felt like a mere graze of your teeth.

“Mmm, I love a man at work,” you said.  

“Was wondering how long you were gonna fucking stand there,” Ben said, finally glancing at you over his shoulder. His lips twitched upward at the sight of your grin.

You hugged him tight from behind and pressed a lingering kiss into his neck.

“Breakfast looks good, babe. Thank you,” you said, though your hands drifted down his chest, down his sternum, down to thumb at the stretchy waistband of his pants. “It all looks good.”

A smirk pulled at his lips, though you couldn’t see it.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “Want to sample the menu?”

He felt your smile grow against his skin. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Just as you might’ve started inching that waistband down his hips, and lowering yourself along with it, Ben set down the metal salad spoon he’d been using to mix the eggs and turned in your arms.

He grabbed you by the hips and hauled you up on the counter beside him, hard enough to make the plates clatter. You gasped at the suddenness of it and clung to his arms.

“Ben—”

“Be a good girl and sit pretty for me,” he said. His eyes glinted with a familiar edge of cockiness before they roamed over your bare thighs. His grip brought you right to the edge of the counter, where he spread your legs apart. You allowed it, a tremor of arousal coiling in your belly.

His hand ventured up the inside of your thigh, and his smirk deepened.

It seemed you’d forgone panties entirely this morning. He liked that, along with the blushing smile you now wore, just for him.

“On second thought,” he said, as his fingers brushed the bare seam between your legs. “I think I want a taste.”  

AN: Hopefully the real food doesn't get cold. 😅

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SB Tag List (Part 1):

@melancholictearz @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk

@midnightmadwoman @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken

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[nameless-jamie]

Mornings

Drabble - Jamie Tartt x girlfriend reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x girlfriend reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scene/language, kissing

A/N: Just something small I've written in between fics. Some fluff to clear my head.

Y/N woke up to the distinct scent of something burning.

Her first thought was that maybe it was a dream. The second was that, no, this was very real, because the smell was getting stronger, and there was an alarming amount of clattering coming from the kitchen.

Then she heard Jamie curse. Loudly.

Throwing off the covers, she hurried out of bed, her heart thudding as she rushed toward the kitchen. “Jamie?”

There was a crash. A bang. And then—

“Shit, shit, shit—”

She turned the corner just in time to see Jamie standing in front of the stove, a fire extinguisher clutched in his hands, looking guilty as hell.

A thick cloud of smoke hung in the air. The toaster was charred beyond recognition. Something that might have once been eggs was sizzling ominously in a pan, and there were eggshells everywhere—on the counter, in the sink, somehow even in Jamie’s hair.

Y/N blinked.

Jamie stared at her, wide-eyed, like a child caught doing something very stupid. Then, after a beat, he cleared his throat.

“…Mornin’, love.”

She didn’t even know where to start. “What—” She gestured vaguely at the chaos around him. “What the hell happened?”

Jamie shifted on his feet, looking sheepish. “Right, so. I was makin’ you breakfast.”

She gestured harder. “With a fire extinguisher?”

He glanced down at the canister in his hands like he had forgotten he was holding it. “Bit of an overreaction, in hindsight.”

“Hindsight?” She gaped at him. “Jamie, I woke up thinking the flat was on fire!”

“Yeah, well, technically it was only a small fire,” he muttered. “Barely even counts.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jamie.”

He sighed dramatically and set the fire extinguisher down on the counter. “Look, baby, it was meant to be a nice thing, yeah? Breakfast in bed, all that. But then I might’ve, uh… forgot the toast was in the toaster. And then when I cracked the eggs, I thought they looked weird, so I added another one, but then the shells kept fallin’ in, and I tried pickin’ ‘em out, but they was slipp’ry, and then—” He waved a hand at the crime scene that was now their kitchen. “—y’know. This.”

Y/N just stared at him.

Jamie gave her his best please don’t be mad at me, I swear I’m adorable smile.

She exhaled. “I literally don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

Jamie perked up. “So you’re not mad?”

“Oh, I am mad,” she assured him, stepping over what looked like a broken egg carton. “But I also don’t trust you alone in here anymore, so move.”

He grinned and obediently shuffled aside as she grabbed a pan and started cracking fresh eggs into it.

Jamie watched her for a moment before sidling up beside her, chin resting on her shoulder. “So, does this mean you’re makin’ me breakfast now, baby?”

Y/N shot him a look.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll just… set the table or somethin’.”

She turned back to the stove, shaking her head as he started humming behind her, making a big show of fixing up the plates.

Despite the absolute disaster he had caused, she felt a small smile tug at her lips.

Jamie Tartt, domestic menace.

Maybe, just maybe, she was in trouble with this one.

Y/N sighed as she cracked an egg into the pan, carefully avoiding the war zone Jamie had left in his wake. From behind her, she could hear him moving around, clinking dishes together in a way that made her deeply concerned for the well-being of their kitchenware.

Jamie, being Jamie, couldn’t stand the silence for long.

“Y’know,” he mused, sidling up behind her again, “this is kinda sexy.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t look away from the stove. “Me, cooking?”

“Mmm.” He hummed, sliding his hands onto her hips, warm and steady. “More like you, bossin’ me around first thing in the mornin’.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Oh yeah? You into that?”

He squeezed her waist playfully. “Oh, so into it, babe. ‘Specially when you’re all feisty, throwin’ your hands around, givin’ me that look.”

She twisted just enough to glance at him over her shoulder. “What look?”

“The one that says, ‘Jamie, you’re a menace but I still fancy you,’” he teased, grinning.

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, but I live to be flattered, love,” he said dramatically, pressing his lips to her bare shoulder.

She shivered but kept her expression even. “Well, in that case, you’re rubbish at cooking.”

Jamie gasped, clutching his chest like she’d just wounded him. “You take that back, angel.”

“Not a chance.” She turned off the stove and plated the eggs, shooting him a smug look. “You should stick to what you’re actually good at.”

Jamie smirked, stepping in close again, voice dropping into that lazy, knowing drawl. “Oh yeah? And what’s that, sweetheart?”

She scoffed, but her breath hitched when he ran a hand up her side, fingers trailing along the hem of her oversized sleep shirt.

“Dunno,” she mused, feigning nonchalance as she carried the plates to the table. “Football, I guess?”

Jamie let out a deep, exaggerated sigh. “Football, she says. Football.” He followed her to the table, arms crossed, shaking his head. “Here I was, thinkin’ you were about to say something else, but no, just football. So disappointin’, babe.”

Y/N set the plates down and gave him a slow, deliberate once-over. “Well, you are good with your legs.”

Jamie’s smirk was instant. “Oh, now you’re talkin’.”

She rolled her eyes and plopped down into her chair, grabbing a fork. “Eat your eggs before I change my mind about feeding you.”

Jamie plopped into the seat across from her, watching her with far too much amusement. “Y’know, if I was thinkin’ straight, I’d be proper offended by all this slander.”

She arched a brow. “And if you were cooking straight, I wouldn’t have woken up thinking the flat was on fire.”

Jamie just grinned and took a bite of his food, kicking her lightly under the table.

“Whatever you say, babe,” he said, voice muffled from chewing. Then, with a wink, “But you did fancy wakin’ up to me, though, yeah?”

She threw a piece of toast at his head.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[nicnak20]

Big boys wear diapers:

*Trevor, Yn and Nicholas's son becomes more aware of how big he's growing. But when it's time for him to be changed, suddenly his special big boy powers wane down.*

The morning sun spilled through the kitchen window, painting the room in a warm, honeyed light. Three-year-old Trevor, a whirlwind of chubby cheeks and boundless energy, stood perched on a stool, his brown hair a tousled mess. His coco brown eyes, identical to his father’s, sparkled with a determined glint. He was on a mission, a very important mission, indeed.

“I do it!” he declared, his small voice brimming with pride, as he wrestled with the toaster. He'd decided it was time he made his own breakfast, a big boy task if there ever was one.

Nicholas, Trevor's father, watched from the table, a fond smile playing on his lips- the same warm coco eyes and dark hair as his son. "Alright, buddy," he chuckled, his voice gentle and warm. "But let me watch just in case, okay?"

Trevor nodded, concentrating intently as he pushed down the lever. The toaster whirred to life, and a minute later, two slightly charred pieces of toast popped up. Trevor gasped, his eyes wide.

"I did it!" he exclaimed, turning to his mother, Yn, who had just entered the kitchen. She was a woman of similar age to Nicholas, her eyes full of love and warmth as she watched her son. Her smile was as cheerful as the sun itself. “I made my own toasty bread!”

Yn clapped her hands, her voice light and cheerful. “You did, sweetie! That’s amazing! You’re such a big boy!”

Trevor puffed out his chest, his pride practically radiating off him. He carefully retrieved the toast, using a little plastic knife to spread a thin layer of his favorite jam. He then hopped off the stool, tiny feet padding across the floor, and settled next to his father at the table. He took a big bite of the toast.

“Mmm!” he mumbled, crumbs clinging to his cheeks. “So good.”

“The best toast ever,” Nicholas agreed, ruffling Trevor's hair. “You’re doing a very good job of being a big boy, Trevor.”

The rest of the morning followed suit. Trevor insisted on putting on his own shoes, albeit with some struggle, and he even helped Yn with the laundry, his small hands handing her the socks one by one. He felt a surge of accomplishment with each small victory, like he was the king of his little world. His parents praised him with every step. Each time he felt his chest puff up with more and more pride.

Later, after a morning of play and adventure, Trevor found himself sprawled on the living room rug, engrossed in a picture book. He felt content, basking in the glow of his accomplishments. He was definitely a big boy now.

Then, the inevitable happened.

Nicholas noticed Trevor fidgeting and sniffing the air. “Hmm, someone needs a diaper change.” He said with a smile.

Trevor wrinkled his nose and looked away, trying to hide the annoyance that was quickly rising in his little body. Diaper changes were not something big boys did. Big boys didn’t need diapers.

Nicholas approached, a mischievous glint in his eye. He scooped Trevor up in his arms, cooing, "Oh, my little man needs a change?”

Trevor didn’t like being called ‘little man’. Nor did he like that Nicholas was acting like he was so tiny and fragile. It was true that he was still small, but he wasn’t a baby! He wriggled in his father’s arms, trying to assert his independence, but Nicholas simply chuckled and carried him towards the changing mat.

"Let's get you all fresh and clean, my little guy,” Nicholas continued, gently laying him down. “Who’s my sweet little baby?”

Nicholas’s words, combined with his gentle fussing and baby talk, chipped away at Trevor’s triumphant mood. He felt his cheeks flush, a mixture of embarrassment and indignation swirling within him. It was like he was suddenly three months old again.

“Oh, who’s my little baby? Yes, you are! You have the stinkiest diaper of them all!” Nicholas’ voice was a blend of gentle teasing and genuine affection, punctuated by playful coos. He tickled Trevor’s tummy, and Trevor, despite himself, giggled.

But with each baby-talk word, each tickle, and each sing-songy tone, Trevor's earlier feelings of being a big boy began to deflate. He felt like he was shrinking, his big boy confidence dissolving.

"Dada, I'm not a baby," he mumbled, his voice losing its earlier ebullience.

Nicholas, his attention on the diaper changing, continued, oblivious to Trevor’s internal struggle. “Yes you are, my little baby pumpkin! My sweet little bear!” He threw a hand up and gave Trevor a raspberry on the belly after cleaning him off, eliciting more giggles and a small smile. But as soon as it came out, the smile faded because it was immediately followed by Nicholas’ statement.

“Oh, you’re the cutest baby boy ever!”

Trevor’s lower lip wobbled. He wasn't a baby! He was a big boy who built towers and drove cars and fixed things! Why was his father treating him like he was a tiny little thing who couldn't do anything but babble?

Once the diaper change was complete, Nicholas showered Trevor with kisses, still treating him like the baby he had insisted Trevor was. “There you go, my sweet little man, all nice and clean! ” Trevor felt the pride he’d been nurturing all day shrivel up and turn into a little sad lump in his chest. He didn’t want to be a baby. He was a big boy, wasn’t he?

Yn noticed the subtle shift in Trevor's demeanor. She knelt beside him, her warm hand resting on his back. "You okay, sweetie?" she asked gently.

Trevor looked at her, his lower lip trembling a little. "I not a baby," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper.

Yn exchanged a knowing look with Nicholas. They had been so caught up in their natural parental instincts that they'd unintentionally knocked the wind out of their son's sails.

"No, you're not a baby," Yn affirmed, her voice soft and reassuring. "You're a very big boy who is learning and growing every day."

As they went to the kitchen, Yn whispered to Nicholas. “He needs to feel like that big boy he thinks he is. Can you treat him like one?”

Nicholas winced. “I just couldn’t help myself! He's so cute.”

“I know, but he needs this. Try not to baby him too much, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

Nicholas nodded in agreement. He sat down next to Trevor, wrapping his arm around him. “You’re right, buddy. You’re a big boy.”

“You made your own toast,” Yn continued, smiling, “and you helped with the laundry. You’re so good at doing so many things. Big boy things!”

“And you’re the best helper I could ask for” Nicolas added, giving Trevor a big hug.

Trevor’s eyes widened a little as they spoke. He looked from his mother to his father and some of his pride slowly trickled back in.

Nicholas ruffled his hair. “How about we do another big boy activity?” He suggested. “Want to help me make lunch?”

Trevor’s face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. He was still a bit sad, still feeling very small, but he was thankful that his parents had noticed that he wasn’t a baby anymore. He was a big boy!

Together, they cooked a simple meal, Trevor proudly stirring the sauce and setting the table. With each task, he felt himself regain his confidence. Nicholas and Yn encouraged him every step of the way. They stopped themselves from excessively cooing over him and instead treated him with the respect he deserved as a growing toddler. They allowed him space to learn and grow and praised his efforts rather than just his outcome. They understood their son’s need for autonomy and gave it to him.

By the end of the day, Trevor was happily playing with his toys, his pride restored. He knew that even though sometimes he needed help, he was still a big boy. And he had the best parents in the world who loved him, whether he was a baby, or a big boy. He knew that they would always be there for him.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the living room, Trevor curled up beside his parents on the couch. He felt safe and loved, his little body relaxed and at peace. He was a big boy, yes, but he was also loved beyond measure. And that, he realized, was the best feeling of all. No longer a 'baby pumpkin' but a big boy.

Later that evening, as Yn tucked Trevor into bed, she kissed his forehead. “You were so brave and strong today. I’m so proud of you, big boy.”

Trevor snuggled into his pillow, his eyes already fluttering shut. “I was very, very big.”

“Yes, you were. And you are loved, very, very much.”

As he drifted off to sleep, Trevor’s small hand instinctively reached for his favorite stuffed animal, a small, worn bear. He was a big boy, yes, but he was still a little boy, too. And that was perfectly okay. The balance of baby and big boy was something Trevor was still navigating, feeling loved and cared for every step of the way. And with the love and support of his parents, that balance would come, and he’d be the big boy he thought he was, whenever he felt ready.

*For those of you who have requests, I'm still working on them.... they're in the works now, but this request was sitting in my inbox for a long time.*

[kelru]

Sweet Nothing

Fluff, cozy

word count: around 1250 (i think!)

you and Ranpo enjoy a simple morning togheter at home!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waking up next to Ranpo was always an experience. The early morning light spilled through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the walls of your shared apartment. You shifted under the blankets, slowly coming to your senses as you felt the familiar warmth beside you. Ranpo, unsurprisingly, was still sound asleep, his head buried under the pillow as if to ward off the sunlight.

He was not a morning person, that much was obvious.

You smiled to yourself, watching his peaceful expression for a moment longer before slipping out of bed. Your feet padded quietly against the wooden floor as you made your way into the kitchen, still half-asleep but determined to start the day.

Living with Ranpo had always been a bit of an adventure. Despite his brilliance, the man had a tendency to be…well, a little lazy. Especially when it came to the more mundane tasks like cooking, cleaning, or waking up before noon. But you didn’t mind. You’d fallen into a rhythm with him, a gentle back-and-forth of taking care of each other in ways that suited you both.

You hummed softly to yourself as you put the kettle on the stove, the quiet sound of water boiling filling the kitchen. While you waited for it to heat, you glanced over at the small, cluttered desk in the corner of the room, which was littered with Ranpo’s various snacks and unfinished puzzle books. He’d probably be hungry when he finally decided to roll out of bed, and you knew better than to wait for him to do something about it.

The toast popped up from the toaster, and just as you were about to butter it, you heard a faint shuffle behind you.

“Smells good…” came a groggy voice from the hallway.

You turned, catching sight of Ranpo standing in the doorway, still wearing his pajamas and rubbing sleep from his eyes. His hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles, and his eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion. But even in his half-asleep state, he wore a lazy, lopsided grin.

“Morning,” you said with a soft laugh, holding out a piece of toast for him.

He shuffled closer, taking the toast from your hand without hesitation and immediately biting into it. “Mmm,” he mumbled, though it was hard to tell if he was actually awake or just moving on autopilot. Ranpo had a special ability to sleepwalk through breakfast, yet still be fully functional when it came to enjoying his favorite foods.

“Tea’s almost ready,” you told him, pouring a cup for yourself as he sat down at the table. He gave a sleepy nod, still munching on the toast with a content expression.

You sat down across from him, watching as he slowly came to life. It was a quiet moment, the kind you’d come to cherish since you started living together. Mornings weren’t always rushed or chaotic; sometimes, they were just filled with simple, peaceful routines like this.

“Are you going to sleep all day again?” you teased, sipping your tea as you watched him stretch lazily.

Ranpo flashed you a cheeky smile, finally seeming more awake. “Probably. I don’t have any cases today, so I might as well take it easy.”

“You always take it easy,” you replied, rolling your eyes with affection. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t help me with some of the chores later.”

He groaned, letting his head fall dramatically onto the table. “Chores? You’re really going to make me work on my day off?”

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand as you gave him a playful look. “It won’t kill you, you know. Besides, you promised you’d help me reorganize the bookshelves.”

Ranpo lifted his head, peeking up at you with a pout. “But I hate cleaning. And organizing. It’s so boring.”

“You’re the world’s greatest detective,” you reminded him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sure you can figure out a way to make it fun.”

He sighed, but you could see the small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Fine, fine. But only if you promise to reward me with snacks afterward.”

“Deal,” you said with a grin, knowing full well that he’d probably make you do most of the work anyway. But that was just how things went with Ranpo—he had his way of doing things, and you’d learned to work around it.

After breakfast, the two of you settled into your respective routines. Ranpo sprawled out on the couch, fiddling with one of his puzzle books, while you started tidying up the living room. You couldn’t help but glance over at him from time to time, smiling to yourself at how relaxed he looked.

Living with Ranpo wasn’t always easy, but moments like this made it all worth it. There was a quiet intimacy to it—the way he would lounge around the apartment in his pajamas, completely at ease in your presence. The way he’d steal bites of your food when you weren’t looking, or the way he’d snuggle up to you during movie nights without a second thought.

You were lost in thought when Ranpo suddenly called out from the couch.

“Hey, come here,” he said, his voice playful.

You looked over at him curiously, setting down the dusting cloth as you walked over. “What is it?”

Ranpo patted the empty space beside him. “Come sit with me. You’ve been working too hard.”

You raised an eyebrow, though you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. “Is that your way of saying you’re bored and want attention?”

“Maybe,” he replied with a grin, stretching his arms out as if to invite you into his embrace.

With a soft laugh, you sat down beside him, letting him drape an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you close, resting his chin on top of your head as you both relaxed into the cushions. The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, and you found yourself sinking deeper into the moment.

Ranpo sighed contentedly, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your arm. “You know,” he said quietly, “I’m pretty lucky to have you around.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden softness in his voice. “Where did that come from?”

He shrugged, though his grip around you tightened slightly. “I was just thinking. Living with you… it’s nice. It feels right.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tilted your head up to look at him. Ranpo wasn’t always the best at expressing his feelings directly, but moments like this—when he let his guard down—were rare and precious.

“I feel the same way,” you said softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “Living with you… it makes everything better.”

Ranpo’s expression softened, his usual teasing demeanor replaced with something more genuine. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t plan on letting you go.”

You smiled, your chest warm with affection as you cuddled closer to him. It wasn’t often that Ranpo was this openly affectionate, but when he was, it made your heart race. He had a way of making even the simplest moments feel special, like the two of you were the only ones in the world.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth as the quiet hum of the city filled the background. Ranpo’s fingers continued their lazy tracing on your arm, and you felt yourself drifting into a peaceful daze.

“I guess we’ll have to postpone those chores,” you mumbled, your voice drowsy.

Ranpo chuckled softly, his breath warm against your hair. “I don’t mind. This is way better.”

You couldn’t argue with that. The apartment could wait. For now, all that mattered was the quiet, gentle moment between you and Ranpo—just the two of you, living together in your own little world.

As you closed your eyes, you felt Ranpo’s lips brush lightly against your temple. “Love you,” he whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.

Your heart fluttered, and you smiled against his chest. “Love you too.”

In the peaceful comfort of your shared home, you knew that no matter what the day brought, you and Ranpo would always have these quiet moments to fall back on—moments filled with lazy mornings, sweet nothings, and the kind of love that made even the simplest days feel like something extraordinary.

[punksyeet]

- Tag Team ❥

Plot: Gianna (OC) is assigned her first ever mixed tag team match, and it just so happens to be with Jey Uso.

Warning: Mature language & hefty flirting!

I wake up to the annoying sound of my alarm and immediately stop it.

Letting out a out a loud yawn, I throw my arms above my head and stretch.

Today, I have my first ever mixed tag team match with my best friend Josh aka Jey Uso.

Well, I guess he’s more like an unofficial boyfriend.

We’ve kissed numerous times and flirt any chance we get, but he’s never officially asked me out.

So I guess it’s more of a friends with benefits type thing? Anyway.

I get out of bed and open my blinds to try and wake myself up.

“Oh hell no,” I mumble, immediately shutting them again after being damn near blinded by the sun.

I do one final stretch before heading downstairs to my kitchen.

After lots of pondering and looking in the cabinets to find boring cereal, I decide to cook.

As I'm cracking an egg, my phone rings.

I look at the screen and see that Josh is FaceTiming me.

I answer and lean my phone on my toaster.

As soon as we connect, I immediately notice his sexy tattoo-covered chest and arm, which is resting on the back of his fluffy bed head.

G: "Hi love, good morning."

J: "Morning ma, how'd you sleep?”

G: "Pretty good, you?"

J: "Aight."

G: "Just alright?"

J: "Yeah. Unfortunately, there was no pretty lady in my bed to keep my company."

I playfully roll my eyes and decide to play along.

G: "And which pretty lady might that be? Should I know her?"

J: "Take a wild guess."

I smirk and turn my back towards the camera to put the carton of eggs back in my fridge.

He sucks his teeth.

J: "Damn ma, quit teasing me witcho lil fine ass!"

For context, I wore booty shorts and a hoodie to bed last night.

Wink wink!

G: "Me? Teasing you? Neeeever!"

I pretend to fix the waistband of my shorts and pull them up a little higher, bouncing my ass at the same time.

J: "Maaaan!"

He rolls his eyes back and lays the phone down.

I giggle, turn back around, and pop a piece of pineapple into my mouth.

G: "Why don't you come over? I'm making breakfast."

J: "You sure ma? I don't wanna be a bother."

G: "Boy I obviously don't mind if I'm inviting you!"

He sucks his teeth again.

J: "Aight, I'll be there in like an hour."

G: "Sounds good love, I'll see you then."

——————————————————————————

About an hour later, a black Navigator pulls up in front of my house and my doorbell rings.

"Come in!" I call, cracking two more eggs for Josh's omelette.

"What's good m-damn it smells good in here!" he exclaims, walking in and shutting the door behind him.

I smile, continuing to cook.

He walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

The smell of his cologne lingers as he leans down to kiss my neck.

I set the spatula down and turn tp face him.

"Hi love," I coo, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"What's good beautiful?" he replies, and slides his hands onto my waist.

We share a sweet kiss.

As we pull apart, I gently tug at his bottom lip and suck on it.

He sucks his teeth once I let go. "Damn girl! All this teasing so early in the morning?"

"Since when has the time of day ever stopped me?" I ask, running my fingers through his curly mullet.

He thinks for a moment. "Shii you right."

I smile, scanning his body up and down.

He's wearing a black crewneck and sweatpants set, along with his Panda Dunks and silver link chain.

"I love this chain on you," I exclaim, playing with it.

He smirks and caresses my ass. "You love when it's dangling in your face too, huh?"

I narrow my eyes at him and turn back around to the stove. "And yet you question me for teasing you!"

He chuckles and digs his head in my neck, giving me soft kisses.

I take his omelette off the pan and plate it up with some bacon and buttered toast, as well as some fresh fruit on the side.

"Mmm thank you ma," he says, taking the plates and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

I smile and plate up mine as well.

He lifts me on the counter, stands between my legs, and we feed each other, with some occasional kisses.

Soon enough, we finish eating and I head upstairs to get ready while he does the dishes.

I pick out a graphic tee, some jeans, my Panda Dunks to match Josh, and some jewelry.

—————————————————————————————————

After about an hour of driving, we finally make it to the arena and head in together so the media team can get their content.

He walks me to my dressing room and wraps me into a hug. "Aight ma, I'll see you in a bit."

I nod smiling and hug back.

He sneaks a kiss onto my neck, slaps my ass, and walks away.

I stand there against my door, watching him dreamily for a second.

"Gi? You okay?" I hear a familiar voice ask next to me.

I turn and see one of my best friends, Trinity standing there.

"Oh! Hey Trin! Y-yeah I'm good!" I reply, as we share a tight hug.

Once we let go, she folds her arms. "You sure? It looked like you kinda dozed off for a second."

I nod smiling. "I'm all good, I promise!"

She sighs, smiling back. "Alright girl. Good luck tonight!"

"You too mama!" I reply.

We share one last hug and she walks off.

I quickly head into my dressing room, before anyone else catches me staring at Josh's dreamy self.

—————————————————————————————————

After a little while, I change into my gear.

As I'm braiding my hair, I get a knock at my door.

"Come in!" I call, with a hair elastic in between my teeth.

I watch through the mirror as Josh walks in, looking as good as ever.

He's wearing black and blue YEET gear, matching arm sleeves, YEET glasses, and his signature white Air Forces.

“Hiii,” I coo flirtatiously, tying the end of my second braid and getting up.

He scans my body up and down. “Damn ma! You look gooood! Gimme a lil twirl!”

He takes my hand and lifts it, as I spin, making sure to take a second once my ass is facing him.

He pulls me against him and wraps me in his arms. “Girl you boutta make me act UP!”

I giggle and reach up to cup his face, pressing my lips to his.

He automatically kisses back and, after about a minute later, I pull away. “This can wait until after our match, yeah?”

He groans and rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

Suddenly there’s a knock on my door.

“You and Jey are on in five minutes, Gianna!” a member of creative calls, before walking away.

I make sure I’m all ready in the mirror, and soon enough, we head out to the gorilla.

Samantha Irvin introduces Josh and I, then our opponents AJ Styles and Charlotte Flair.

The match ended up lasting 23 minutes and Jey pinned AJ to get us the win! <3

“Here are your winners!” Samantha cheers from ringside. “Gianna Nicole and Main Event Jey Uso!”

The crowd goes wild as the referee holds up each of our arms and we share a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of us ma,” Josh whispers.

I smile, trying to catch my breath. “Me too, baby.”

—————————————————————————————————

Josh and I got back to my place about an hour ago.

We just finished the most relaxing, steaming hot shower. It felt incredible - especially after the match.

“What a day,” I say breathlessly, plopping down onto my bed.

He chuckles and lays between my legs. “You said it, ma.”

“You wanna stay the night?” I ask, playing with his hair.

He looks up at me. “You sure? I don’t mind driving back to my hotel.”

I smile, cup his face, and place a kiss on his lower lip. “You said it yourself, baby. You don’t sleep well without a pretty lady to keep you company.”

He smirks and turns over to face me, throwing the covers over us. “Fuck, I love you.”

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first post, so if you’d like to be apart of my tag list, feel free to comment below! <3

Check out my wattpad and twitter! 💟

Follows, feedback & reblogs appreciated! 🧚‍♀️

[starlight299]

Swapping Music (AO3) Chapter Ten Teaser:

“What do you like in your coffee?”

“I don’t care.” Steve mumbled.

“I could just make it like mine then.”

“Wait.” Steve slowly lifted his head up to glance at Eddie. He was smiling mischievously back at him. “Yeah definitely not. You’re ‘coffee’ is probably more like milk with sugar and might even have, like, sprinkles in it, I’ll pass.” Eddie doubled over with laughter.

“You know what?” Eddie giggled. “Sprinkles is a great idea. Thank you.”

“Oh my god.” Steve dropped his head back on the counter. “What is wrong with you?”

“My brain was replaced with a mound of sugar on my fifth birthday.” Eddie replied, voice completely level. Steve looked back up at him. He was doing his best to keep a straight face and his best was pretty damn good for about four seconds before they both burst into laughter. Once they’d calmed down Eddie slid Steve’s coffee in front of him. “You still haven’t told me what to put in this.”

“Eh.” Steve shrugged, grabbing the mug. “It’s fine.” He took a sip and Eddie gasped.

“Gross! What’s wrong you!?”

“I usually put a little milk in it but it’s still fine without it.”

“It’s so bitter.”

“Well, yeah, it’s coffee, it’s supposed to be bitter.”

“You’re insane.” Eddie shook his head. “Like, clinically.” He added as the toaster popped.

“I love that this is the thing that makes me weird. Like out of everything, this is it.”

“What do you mean ‘out of everything’ you’re perfect, except for this.” Eddie replied, pasting Steve a plate with his toast.

“Oh shit, I lost my perfection?”

“Mmm.” Eddie grumbled as he passed Steve butter, cinnamon, and a knife. “No.” He sighed. “I wish you did, that’s fucking gross, but no.”

“Sweet.” Steve winked at Eddie.

Comes out on March 8th

[apomaro-mellow]

Wrong Number 6

one again i lied and we have probably a couple more parts after this

Morning came, and Steve had never been happy at the fact that his date wasn't lying next to him. He liked to imagine it now though, Eddie lying shirtless in bed, his curls strewn about the pillows. He wondered how far those tattoos went. He woke up around nine, but since Eddie said brunch, he let himself laze about for a bit before rolling out of bed. He had taken the soiled panties off last night, so he was bare from the waist down.

He grabbed a robe and wrapped it around himself, then went to the kitchen to start making something to eat. To his surprise, Eddie started the call. He picked up, smiling as Eddie's face filled the screen.

"Mornin' beautiful."

"Good morning. Sleep well?"

"I bet it would've been even better with you in bed", Eddie said.

Steve heard the familiar sound of a toaster popping something out. "And what are you making for brunch?"

"Pop Tarts", Eddie beamed, reaching over to put them on a plate. "And you?"

"Just a Hot Pocket", Steve said, half-honest.

"Aaaand?"

"....And some toast."

"What kind of bread, Steve?"

"...It's homemade milk bread."

"Aha! Culinare Extraordinaire strikes again!"

"Okay, but I made it days ago and it's just down to the nubbin and I thought I might as well go ahead and use it and-"

"The what?", Eddie interrupted.

"What?"

"Did you just call the end of the loaf the 'nubbin'?"

Steve's toast popped out and he began to butter it. "What do you call it?"

"What everyone else does: kiss bread."

"Alright, you gotta explain kiss bread to me", Steve said as he took his plate to the table.

Eddie was already seated with his food and some orange juice. "Because it-well the two ends...you know I don't know why, but that's what it's called. Not a nubbin."

"Well you can be wrong wherever you are. If you want to change my mind, you'll have to hop on a plane and come here."

"Speaking of...", Eddie started.

Steve raised a brow. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

"I think now is good. Last night my higher brain functions were, let's say preoccupied", Eddie smirked.

Steve crossed his legs, wondering how Eddie would feel if he knew he was currently bottomless. If he was here, what would he do? Probably feel him up under the table...God, it would break his and Robin's rule but he'd let Eddie take him right here in this kitchen if his actions were as good as his words last night.

"You still with me, Stevie?"

"Mmm, I'm thinking that I might need to invest in a few more pairs."

"Baby you could get me to commit murder with the right lingerie", Eddie admitted. The 'right' kind being any kind really. The panties had been a much appreciated surprise but anything that showed off his thick, hairy legs and that bulge would have seduced him thoroughly.

"Could I convince you to meet me somewhere? In person?", Steve asked, batting his lashes without meaning to.

"You can put those eyes of yours away, darlin'. I was already thinking of how we could meet. I really wanna see you. And touch you. All of you, not just your dick."

"Me too. So um, we could probably figure out a good, like middle ground?"

Eddie nodded and Steve was already running the numbers for taking a plane across the country and when he'd have a full weekend to do so when Eddie told him that he not only lived in the same state but in literally just the next town over.

"Eddie...are you telling me that you live thirty minutes away?"

"Steve, are you telling me that my town is thirty minutes away from yours?"

"Are you telling me I could've passed by you on the street?"

"There's a lot of telling-not-telling going on here", Eddie laughed.

"Looks like I won't need a plane ticket after all."

"Not unless you're gonna shell out for a crop duster. We could make it real dramatic", Eddie said. "Picture it. You step out of the plane in a suit and fedora. I'll be standing there, the wind blowing my coat as I run into your arms."

"Sounds romantic", Steve sighed.

"Well if it's romance you want, I might have an idea of where to go..."

While Steve and Eddie hashed out the details of their meeting, Robin came in, looking for pleased for just finishing a 'walk of shame'.

"Hey Robs. Good night with your date, I presume?", Steve smiled.

"Is that the infamous Robin?", Eddie asked.

"Is that the infamous Eddie?", Robin asked right back. She went to the coffeemaker to start brewing a pot.

"I'm told I have you to thank for Steve's outfit last night", Eddie smirked.

Robin stuck her tongue out at Steve in an 'I told you so' move. "You can thank me by not going into details."

"She doesn't like details?", Eddie asked Steve.

"Only when they're gross or embarrassing", Steve answered.

"Hmm, so she wouldn't wanna hear how gorgeous you looked while you were-"

"Lalalalalaaaa! I don't hear this!", Robin sang while waiting for the coffee to be done.

"Oh but I looove hearing it. Tell me more, Eddie. How good did I look when I-"

"LA. LA. LA! If you're gonna be gross, you make my coffee! I'm taking a shower!" Robin shouted her demand while covering her ears and rushing out of the kitchen.

"Don't we know how to clear a room?", Eddie grinned.

"Looks like we won't ever be strapped for alone time."

They talked some more and by noon, Steve had a date to Eddie's axe range next weekend. And damn if the week never felt so long. Even though he was getting more Eddie than ever. They still texted at least once a day, called every other day, and even started following each other on their socials. Steve even stalked the account of Bullseye Axe Throwing just to watch the couple of promo videos that had Eddie in them.

The night before their date, they were talking on the phone, too excited to sleep.

"I can't believe I'm actually going to see you tomorrow." Steve was lounging in bed, looking at his date outfit as it hung on his closet door.

"Me neither. I'm still not totally convinced you're not just some dream made up by AI."

"I don't know whether to be flattered or offended. AI images can be downright scary."

"Take it as a compliment", Eddie said. "I get more points when you like me."

"...And you're still okay with Robin coming?", Steve asked for what must be the third time.

Eddie understood her concern. Meeting someone could be risky, no matter how much you talked. And he was the one that invited Steve to a place filled with weapons. It wasn't the most traditional date spot but Eddie had always dreamed of bringing someone there and showing them how romantic axes could be. Maybe Steve was that someone.

"Baby, I don't mind. I already told you. I'd love to meet the person who has intimate knowledge of your underwear drawer."

Steve blushed. He and Eddie hadn't really done anything since their last date, besides a couple of suggestive texts. He was sure that on Saturday night, all Eddie would have to do is shake his hand and he'd crumble.

"You know if you're good, you'll get to see it all first hand", Steve reminded him, his voice low now.

"Oh I can be good. You know I can be good."

Steve knew very well. So well that he'd touched himself to the idea this past week and after saying so to Eddie, Eddie had admitted the same.

"You shoulda called me, baby", he had said. "We could've coordinated our horniness."

Suffice to say, the anticipation for their first in real life meeting was thicker than a souffle pancake. When Saturday morning came, Steve felt like he was going to throw up. What if Eddie saw him and decided he didn't like him? They'd only seen each other through screens and Steve tried to only let his best angles be seen.

What if he didn't like....what if he didn't like his ears? Or his elbows? Or something else Steve had never even though of? What if he said the wrong thing and wasn't interesting enough?

"I can tell you're spiraling", Robin said from the couch where she was eating cereal and watching the news.

"Eddie is-"

"Just a man. A man who would be lucky to have you."

"Lucky to have me. Eddie would be lucky to have me", Steve repeated like a mantra, then sat next to Robin.

"You're a catch."

"I'm a catch."

"With an ass that won't quit."

"My ass has never taken a day off", Steve nodded to himself. "Okay. I'm good. Any cereal left?"

"Only the health stuff."

"Why do we buy that again?"

"So we can live long enough to grow old in the same retirement home", Robin reminded him.

Steve smiled. She really was his forever girl. And tonight she'd be going with him with what could be his romantic soulmate. No pressure? No pressure.

Tag Team (CLOSED)

Next part

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