#get your eyes checked and your brain wiped clean

[junrenjun]

I can’t remember if I’ve already asked you this but Can you do an alpha Vernon x omega reader set when they’re at the hotel getting woken up for their trip to Italy with NaPD? And the reason seungkwan had to go into Vernon’s room first before the camera was because reader was in there and reader is either post/pre heat and nesting and Vernon is all protective.

Wake Up Call

alpha!vernon x omega!reader

warnings: a/b/o dynamics, mentions of sex/heats, reader gets called miss, mentions of pregnancy

“Nonie, ‘m warm” is all Vernon can hear from the way your head is buried in his chest. He runs his hands comfortingly up and down your back, brushing against the shirt he barely managed to put on you the night before.

“I know,” he mutters, pressing his lips into your forehead. It’s still a little warm, but your fever is definitely gone. “Your heat broke yesterday though, which means you only have a day of post-heat and then we’re done.” While helping his omega through heat in a foreign country in a hotel room wasn’t exactly on his bucket list, he figures he can check that one off now. 

You sigh contentedly into his chest. He shudders at the cool air against his bare skin. If he could wish for one thing, it would be to stay in this moment forever. Your soft breaths practically lull him back to sleep, but not before you move your head a bit, looking down at the nest beneath the both of you. 

Before Vernon can even say anything, you're pushing yourself away from his arms, sitting up straight with tears in your eyes. “The nest,” you mutter. “I need…I need…,” it comes out as a sob.

Vernon’s arms wrap around your waist pulling you back down, then cupping your cheeks to make you look him in the eyes. “Gotta tell me what’s wrong with your words, honey,” he tells you firmly. When you shake your head at him he sighs. “C’mon omega,” he whispers, wrist bumping along your still sensitive scent gland. 

You are nothing but a slave to your instincts, giving in almost immediately. “I need to fix the nest,” you sob. “We messed it up. I need to fix it.”

You’ve almost never been this upset over a nest after your heat has broken. It’s one thing to be weird about nesting during pre-heat, but during post-heat? Vernon is a little concerned. “Why do we need to fix it, omega?” he asks softly. “Your heat is over and we can make another when we get home.”

A pathetic whine leaves your throat. “For the pups, Vernon! You pupped me! My pups need a nest!”

Oh. Oh. Now Vernon is highly aware that you are both on forms of birth control. With him on suppressants and you on the pill, it’s highly unlikely that you are pregnant. He didn’t actually pup you. But with your muddled, post-heat brain, all you can think about is how your alpha bred you full. How your alpha knotted you, filled you with his pups. You don’t know any better. 

“Shhh,” he consoles you, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you close. “Okay honey, we’ll take of the nest okay? I need you to relax though. Can you do that for me?”

You nod in his arms as best as you can, the tears finally beginning to slow. He reaches up to wipe them away. “Let’s get started, yeah? What are we moving?” he says gently, gesturing to the clothing items scattered on the bed. 

He waits for you to respond but you simply manhandle him further into the bed. You place a hand on his chest with a motion that he assumes means “stay.”

Vernon watches as you fuss over the nest, tossing some of the dirtier clothes onto the ground while pushing the clean ones closer to him in the center. His shirt hangs loosely on your form, exposing your bare shoulder. A small smile crosses his face. He can’t wait to put a mating bite in your neck. 

His little bubble of peace is soon interrupted by a harsh knock at the door. In the moment, Vernon is angry. Both the boys and the staff were well aware of the situation he was in and were under strict instruction to not intrude unless there was an absolute emergency. He doesn’t even realize that he’s letting out a low growl until you gasp, “Vernon!”

The interruption has clearly knocked you out of your post-heat headspace, your eyes looking a bit more lucid than they had before. He glances at you, before turning his head to where Seungkwan enters the room. There’s a grimace on his face and he’s trying his best to not open the door any further than it needs to be for him to get through. 

Within seconds, Vernon is protectively throwing himself in front of you. Which is funny considering Seungkwan himself is an omega. Still, the alpha instincts outweigh his normal train of thought, and he slightly bares his teeth at the boy.

Immediately, Seungkwan has his hands thrown up in surrender. “Sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t want to come in it’s just…,” he says while looking hesitantly at the door. His voice drops into a whisper. “Na PD is here to take us to Italy. He’s been filming everyone as they wake up and he’s about to come in here.” 

“What?” both you and Vernon say at the same time, though your boyfriend’s tone is a bit harsher. 

There's a racket from outside and Seungkwan tries to speak again, but is quickly interrupted by the door swinging open. You push yourself even further behind Vernon, who now has an arm resting protectively on your leg. Your eyes peek out just slightly from behind his shoulder. Within seconds, there’s a camera pointed at both of you, Na PD himself right next to it. “Vernon-ah! Wake up!” the man shouts excitedly. 

Vernon doesn’t know quite when he started growling. All he knows is that his chest is rumbling loudly and his teeth are bared once again. Seungkwan cowers in the corner a bit. Na PD and his crew have looks of extreme surprise on their faces. They all scrunch their noses at the potent scent of heat sex that fills the room. Vernon’s hand squeezes even tighter around your leg. 

“Vernon! Quit that!” you exclaim in response to his outburst, slapping him on the shoulder. The growling quickly stops and he releases the hold he has on your leg. 

The camera is quickly pointed toward the ground and eventually turned off. Vernon relaxes a tiny bit once it’s done. Na PD is quick to apologize. “I’m so sorry, Vernon! We’ll delete the footage, I promise! We didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

Vernon is too agitated to care that much about the apology. There are multiple strangers standing within a few feet of his omega’s nest uninvited. His alpha is not pleased to say the least. “Don’t apologize to me,” he spits out harshly. “Apologize to my mate.”

With those words, you pop out a little bit more from behind him, reaching to pinch his ear. “Yah!” you exclaim, “don’t call me that until your mark is on my neck!”

He grimaces at the pain. Once your hand pulls away, he’s quick to reach up and rub at his ear, hoping to soothe it. “Ow! What the fuck, baby?” 

Na PD’s expression softens a little bit at your banter. “I’m sorry miss. We didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

Vernon feels you straighten up a bit, breath tickling against his neck. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “But um, you are intruding on my nest during my cycle, so could you just…” He turns his head slightly to see you point toward the door shyly.

Everyone must get the message loud and clear, because they begin to exit quickly. Seungkwan is the last out, and he throws Vernon an apologetic expression before slamming the door closed. 

You both let out a sigh of relief. Vernon takes a second to compose himself, before turning and tackling you down onto the bed. God, he wants his scent all over you right this second. He quickly buries his face into your neck, rubbing his cheeks against your gland harshly. You whine, the area still pulsing and sensitive from your heat. “Mine. My omega,” he whispers into your skin.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, fingertips running up and down his spine. “All yours.” His alpha roars in delight.

[demigod-of-the-agni]

I knew there would be a day where people would fancast the whitest white boy on the planet who couldn't be farther from South Asia as Pavitr Prabhakar aka Spider-Man India, and it would be the day where I claw my own face off

But I didn't expect there to be a day for that guy to start listing MULTIPLE men of the whitest baking soda bleached papery gum tree bark ping pong ball PVC glue white variety with ONLY DEV PATEL, AKA TOKEN INDIAN OF WESTERN MEDIA, in the follow up reply

man im gonna need you to get off the internet and go back to kindergarten

[bruhstories]

sweet like honey ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

summary: logan ended up spending his evenings in the bar across the street from your bakery, watching you do your job. he never approached you, never talked to you, but he always kept an eye on you, until he has a bad feeling. pairing: logan x fem!reader warning & content: swearing, violence, reader almost gets assaulted (but logan saves the day), she/her pronouns for reader, wade being wade, unprotected p in v, fluff, angst, lots of baking and mentions of food, slightly ooc logan (if you squint), slow burn, sex in a bakery wc: 6k

a/n: i don't always write, but when i do, it's a fucking thesis. unedited.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Logan was never a fan of sweets. He hated chocolate, cheesecake, gummy bears — literally anything sweet. The only thing he could barely stomach was tiramisu, and only because it had coffee in it. Other than that, he steered away from sweets like they were the fucking plague.

Yet despite all that, he found himself enjoying the smell of freshly baked croissants, custard donuts, brownies, and whatever goods you baked in your little bakery, conveniently situated across the street from his go-to bar.

Cleverly named Flour Power, it was all pastel both inside and out, with little pots of hyacinths hanging from its window and a big sign above the entrance. Not that Logan ever went there, but he always walked past it when he went for a drink. Flour Power stood out from all the shops with its baby blue windowsills and bubblegum pink door. As much as he disliked vibrant colours, his eyes were always drawn to the bakery. But not because of how it looked or the way it smelled.

No, Logan strategically sat down by the window in the bar to see you. Every evening, he watched you sell everything you had on display, from wedding cakes to éclairs, greetings customers with a warm smile on your face. He watched you turn the sign from open to closed, lock the door, clean the display shelves, the counters, the only two tables and four chairs inside, and sweep and mop the floors. Then you disappeared in the back for a while, perhaps doing the dishes or preparing dough and frosting, before you walked out, locked the door again, pulled down the blinds over the big window on the right side of the door, and left.

It became a ritual for Logan to watch you. In a way, it brought him some peace, despite him never speaking to you. To him, you were innocence personified, the type of girl who made others feel better simply by being there, and he didn't want to disturb that peace.

Tonight was an ordinary night for the 200 year old mutant. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, drank it all, then went to the bar to ask for another round, killing time until you closed the bakery, then he could finally go back to the apartment. You closed at 7 for clients and left at 8:30 every evening except for Sundays, when you didn't work. Logan knew your schedule a little to well, even knew you opened for clients at 8 in the morning, but you were there much earlier, because he could smell the pastries at around half 6. This time, however, you seemed to have a bit more work. It was past 9, it was dark, and you still hadn't left, and Logan was slightly concerned.

He watched you like a hawk, how you tucked rebellious strands of hair behind your ear when you mopped the floor, how you wiped your hands on your cute little apron after you finished scrubbing the countertops. Logan thought you had extra orders from customers, perhaps a wedding cake. He scrunched his nose at the thought of having to try so many flavours only to pick a damn cake that he probably wouldn't enjoy anyway.

But finally, you were done.

It was almost 10 when you locked the door to the bakery, double checking to make sure it wouldn't budge. Then the blinds and off you went. Logan was satisfied to see you go, but the hairs on his back suddenly stood up, his nostrils filled with the scent of danger. Bitter, sour, it went straight to his brain, and so he finished his drink and left the bar, following you down the street but keeping a safe distance.

You walked past a group of drunk men, gripping your tote bag with your left hand and your keys with your right one. You've learned to place the keys between your fingers, like claws, in case someone attacked you. Going home at that time wasn't something you enjoyed, and you always tried to avoid working late, but sometimes that was inevitable. When you heard footsteps approaching you, you picked up the pace, but paranoia kicked in, and you didn't want whoever was following you to find out where you lived, and so you took a detour.

Logan was like your shadow, going everywhere you went, until he heard something drop in a dimly lit alleyway and he sped up, finding you round a corner, pinned to a wall by a man while another guy had his hand up your dress. It was too dark to see, but Logan didn't need eyes to know that was you. He could smell the vanilla extract and icing sugar and fear.

"Take my wallet!" You told the men, but they weren't there for the money. They wanted something else from you.

"Nah, doll, I'll take something else from you. Somethin' more precious than money." One of the men said, his breath reeking of alcohol, the cheap kind.

"Hurry up and fuck her, bro, I need my turn-"

Something flashed, then a shadow lunged at the second guy who couldn't even finish his sentence before he was struck down.

"Mike?" The man who pinned you against the wall asked, his hands trembling on your body. "Stop fucking around."

But Mike was seeing stars somewhere on the alleyway. It happened so quickly you couldn't understand what was going on. When your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you saw him, rough, handsome and very, very angry.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man asked, but all he got in response was a guttural growl. "Hey, man, I don't want any trouble. My girlfriend and I were just talking. Stay out of it." He grabbed you by the neck, dragging you away from Logan.

You seized the opportunity and wrestled out of his grasp by biting your assaulter's hand, dashing behind a bin.

"Ow! Fucking bitch!" He lunged at you, but Logan was quicker, piercing his claws through his shoulder and holding him in place.

"That's no way to talk to a lady." The mutant snarled, and you watched how his claws retracted before he punched the man in the face, effectively knocking him down.

He was the Wolverine. You had seen it all over the news, how he saved your universe, how he came from a different world. You couldn't believe he was the one helping you when you thought no one would save you in that moment.

"You alright, kid?" His raspy voice startled you and you barely nodded, still too shocked to move or speak. "You sure?"

You shook your head and tears rolled down your cheeks as you finally started to process what just happened. Logan scrunched his nose — comforting someone wasn't his strongest skill — and instead he picked up your bag and keys from the pavement.

"Shit, um, don't cry." He handed you your belongings, and you looked up at him with a frown.

How could you not cry when you saw your entire life flashing before your eyes? Logan swallowed a lump in his throat and offered his hand to help you stand up. You looked at his hand, reluctant to grab it. The only thing he could compare you with was a cat — cautious, yet curious.

"No claws." He said when he understood the meaning behind your eyes. "Come, I'll- um, I'll walk you home."

The invitation had you perk up and gain courage, and you quietly took the bag from his hand. He walked with you in complete silence, until you stopped in front of a building. You lingered, unwilling to go in. Logan asked if that was your place, and after you nodded, he offered to take you all the way to your apartment, which made you feel relieved. He could see it on your face when you sighed. You guided him up the stairs, constantly looking behind you to make sure he was there.

You stopped in front of a tall wooden door, keys in hand.

"Go on. I'll wait until you lock the door." Logan encouraged you.

"Can you stay?" You finally spoke, and your voice was sweet like honey, fitting for a baker.

"I don't know, kid-"

"Please." You looked at him with glossy eyes, pupils blown from the fear that hadn't left your body yet. The fear he could still smell.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll stay."

"Thank you."

Logan followed you in, and you flipped the light switch on before locking the door behind him. He looked around and, just as he expected, the apartment was a direct reflection of your bakery — clean, colourful and calm. There were recipes stuck to the walls with pink pins, and between them little paintings of sunsets, skies, flowers, cats. All things cute. They weren't framed, and so Logan figured they were hand-made, his assumptions confirmed by the easel in the corner of your living room.

Of course your sofa had to be colourful, too — mustard yellow with sage green cushions and blankets. Even your curtains were sage green. Despite the explosion of colours, Logan found himself enjoying being there. Not everything had to be brown, black and grey, he thought. Probably the only vibrant thing in his life was his suit, since the only people that brought colour were his friends, and they were gone.

"Drink?" You cracked the walls he put up around his heart with that sweet voice.

You shook a bottle of gin to get his attention and he nodded. Logan wasn't a fan of gin, but he didn't expect you to have any hard liquors. He watched you pull out two blue glasses from the kitchen cabinet, and of course they had to be funky, with white flowers on them.

"Where'd you get these?" He asked, swirling the drink in his hand.

"I made them. Kind of." You said. "Bought them from a charity store and painted the flowers. Do you want some tonic water?"

"Fuck no." Logan choked on his gin when you asked him that question. Simply being in a place so... colourful was enough. He didn't need a girly drink.

"I'm Y/N, by the way."

"I'm-"

"The Wolverine!" You cut him off a little too eager.

"-Logan. Call me Logan." He cringed when the beverage tickled his taste buds. It wasn't bitter enough for him.

"Logan. Thanks for tonight. Is there any way I can repay you?"

The question was riddled with innocence, but he couldn't stop the degenerate thoughts that popped in his mind when you asked him that. You were just so pure that he wanted to both protect you and ruin you.

"Don't mention it. I couldn't just walk past without doing anything." Logan lied, because, really, he wasn't just walking by, was he? No, it was downright stalking.

"I could bake something for you." You offered and he shook his head.

"I don't like sweets, kid."

"What?" You were baffled. "Everybody likes something sweet."

"Not me." He shrugged. "All I like is tiramisu and only if those biscuits are doused in coffee."

"Ladyfingers." You corrected him with a chuckle. "They're called ladyfingers."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious! Here!" You rushed to your pantry and pulled out a whole box of them, showing Logan the name.

"That's just stupid." He shook his head. "Who calls them ladyfingers?"

"Uh, everyone?" You laughed at his surprise, and the thoughts of your bad evening slowly dissipated, like a bad dream.

Logan truly was clueless about baking, but spent hours listening to you talk about types of sugar, extracts and their uses, and the difference between baking soda and baking powder in cooking. You rambled on and on and not once did he get bored. He could listen to you talk for hours with your voice soothing. Logan thought about it, and he genuinely never met someone like you before. The women in his life were all so different, but you took the cake. You were special in ways he couldn't understand. And he was just so drawn to you.

"I'm sorry, I haven't stopped talking once!" You apologised, realising how safe you felt with him there. You would never let a stranger inside your house, let alone talk about baking while having gin. But Logan wasn't a stranger. Not after he saved you.

"'s alright. It's not every day I learn about baking." He chuckled, finishing his drink. "Listen, I should get going."

"Right." You sighed, eyes darting at the floor. "No, of course. I've kept you too long."

Logan got up and you walked with him to the hallway. He was slow to put his leather jacket on, as if he was waiting for you to say something, anything, but when you didn't, he unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hey, Logan?" You tugged at his sleeve, whispering so you wouldn't wake your neighbours. "Are you sure I can't bake you something? Not now, I mean. I really want you to try something besides tiramisu. And that way I can repay you."

"Hell, why not?" He shrugged.

"Great!" You beamed at him like a child on Christmas day. "Stop by my bakery tomorrow at twelve. It's on Granville Street."

"I thought you didn't work on Sundays."

"Oh, how'd you know?" You quirked a brow at him.

Caught red-handed.

"Educated guess."

"Fair enough." His answer satisfied you. "Be there or be square!"

Sleep was for the weak. All night, Logan tossed and turned and abused his poor pillow with with punches. The mere thought of seeing you, no, interacting with you, had him wriggle like a worm on the mattress. It didn't help that Wade instantly noticed something was up.

"Oh, my, did you shower, peanut?"

"Not today, Satan." Logan poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Mmm, and what do I smell?" Wade sniffed the air. "Wait, is that my perfume?"

"Forgot to pack mine when I swapped universes." The Wolverine barked back.

"Hah!" Blind Al chimed in from the living room. "I think tall, dark and handsome here has a date!"

Logan rolled his eyes while Wade pouted, plopping on the sofa next to Al.

"You never called me that."

"That's cause you’re a degenerate." The woman snorted.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it- ow! Stop hitting me with your cane, I know where you hide your nose candy!" Wade fought back.

"Touch it and I'll bust a cap in your ass!" Al scoffed.

"And I'll regenerate."

Logan used the opportunity to slip into the hallway, but his roommate was quicker, and blocked the door.

"You're not going anywhere until we have the talk."

"The talk?" The Wolverine snorted.

"Ah, they grow up so fast." Wade told Al. "Now, son, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"I'll give you three seconds to fuck off."

"Oh, but I need to know everything! Who is he?"

"She." Logan rolled his eyes.

"Oh my god, is this you coming out to us? Al, he's straight! I promise we love you anyway." Wade went for a hug and all Logan could do was accept it. He learned to live with Wade, even though he dislocated his jaw a few times after he moved in.

"Alright, that's enough."

"Nooo, we're just getting started. Name? Age? Occupation? We could do a double date with Vanessa-"

"Absolutely fucking not." Logan pushed Wade off of him.

"Okay, okay. Just make sure you wrap your willy, and if you need any advice, daddy's here." Wade opened the door for his roommate.

"Actually." Logan lingered in the hallway. "What kind of flowers do girls like?"

The blinds to the bakery were closed but you were inside, pastries in the oven and dessert in the fridge. You couldn't help yourself and prepared something savoury as well, in case he didn't like the lemon cake. A knock on the door startled you, and you rushed to check who it was.

Logan stood there, a bouquet of peonies in his hand. You welcomed him in with a smile, but he could tell it was different than the one you flashed your customers. It seemed more genuine. And it felt like a date.

"These are for you." Logan handed you the flowers, taking in the scent of pork pies. "I thought you were gonna bake something sweet." He flared his nostrils.

"I did, I just thought I should have a plan B in case you didn't like my cake." You placed the bouquet in a vase on one of your tables. "How did you know I liked peonies?"

Logan couldn't believe Wade was right about those damn flowers. And there he was, thinking roses would be better. Maybe the Merc with a Mouth wasn't so bad after all.

"I had a hunch." He shrugged. 

"Well, Logan, I love them! Now sit, sit!" You ushered him to his seat. "I hope you're hungry, because there's a lot for you to try."

"A lot? I thought you'll make me a cupcake or somethin', bub."

"A cupcake?? Don't be silly." Just as you said that, the oven made a loud ding sound, and you turned on your heels, heading in the back.

Logan waited patiently, observing every little detail from the front of your bakery, from the spotless display shelves to the neatly organised paper bags, to the fairy lights around the window. It was obvious to him that you had put your mind, body and soul into this bakery, and his expectations were quite high after all the fuss you made. But he decided to be nice not matter how the food tasted. He couldn't bear seeing you upset if he didn't like what you made.

You reappeared with a tray in your hand, and on it two plates, one with a small pork pie, one with a croissant, and a cup of coffee. Hell, even the cutlery was cute, with swirls engraved on the handles of the fork, knife and teaspoon.

"I decided to leave the cake for last." You said, placing the tray in front of him. "This is a simple pork pie, start with that." You urged him. "Careful, it's hot."

The Wolverine struggled with the cutlery, too small for his large hands, and the brief thought of slashing the pie with his claws crossed his mind, but he decided to be civil. You watched him butcher the food, eager to see his reaction, but he was taking his time.

"I'll let it cool off a bit."

"Ooh, that's probably a good idea." You nodded.

"Aren't you having some?" Logan asked.

"Noo, no. I like to bake for others, not for myself."

"So what do you eat, then?" He sipped on the coffee.

"Instant noodles usually. I'm too tired to cook when I get home. I do occasionally have leftovers, but whatever isn't sold I take it to the local shelter." You explained.

Christ, you couldn't be any kinder. Logan was stunned by your beauty and your soul, which was why he decided that after today, he will stop any interaction with you. He couldn't ruin you, not with his lifestyle, not with the danger that followed him everywhere.

The only problem was that the conversation flowed naturally, and he felt safe with you, just as you did with him. Like you were the missing piece to his puzzle. Logan pushed away those thoughts and decided to try the food. He took a large mouthful of the pie, chewed and swallowed, and you waited expectantly.

"Shit."

"What? Is it bad?" You jumped from your seat.

"Fuck, this is the best pork pie I've ever had." Logan wiped his mouth with a tissue you provided. "I'm serious, kid. Did you put drugs in it?"

You laughed, shaking your head as he finished the rest of the pie. He truly seemed to enjoy it, and you felt so satisfied. But the real test came after.

"Pistachio croissant." You said. "I thought about making almond ones, but I figured pistachio wasn't that sweet."

"Right, let's see." Logan took a healthy bite out of the pastry, and lo and behold, he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. If heaven had a taste, it would be that damned croissant.

"Is it good?"

"Good? Jesus, this is the best one yet." He finished the rest of it, the pistachio cream tickling his taste buds in all the right ways. "Who taught you to bake like this?"

"My grandma. She was the best cook I knew." You smiled.

Logan noticed your use of past tense, and he didn't want to bring up any bad memories. He wasn't the nosy type, but something possessed him to ask you about your life, your family, your favourite colours. He needed to know more about you, and you answered all his questions, opening up to him like a flower in bloom. But when it came to him talking about himself, Logan was reluctant.

Talking to Wade was easier, because Wade didn't take anything seriously, nor did he ask personal questions. Well, he did, but in his own stupid way that provided Logan some distraction, as well as a reason to punch him. But with you it was different. He felt like he owed you serious answers that he wasn't yet ready to tell a stranger who made a mean pistachio croissant.

"The cake!" You spun on the chair, changing the subject when you saw Logan dodging your questions like bullets.

Although he didn't say it, he was grateful that you didn't put any pressure on him to talk. He wasn't a talker. That was definitely Wade. You came back with the whole cake, and it looked so good that Logan didn't want you to cut it. Perfectly round, a layer of cream in the middle and white frosting on top. You even went so far as to decorate it with all kinds of yellow flower petals and what seemed to be mint leaves.

"Alright, hit me. What's this one called?"

"I call it the Mojito Cake. The sponge cake has lemon zest, the cream is made of lime, mint and rum syrup, and the frosting is buttercream with a dash of actual rum." You explained.

"Shit, I can't tell if that sounds disgusting or incredible."

"Only one way to find out." You cut him a thick slice, and Logan wasted no time trying it.

"I think you found yourself a new customer."

"You're too nice."

"I'm anything but nice, kid." He took three more spoonfuls. "But I ain't a liar. This is delicious." Logan spoke with his mouth full and it made you chuckle.

"Oh, there's a bit of frosting on your face."

"Hm?" He used the tissue to wipe his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No, it's still- here, I'll get it." You leaned forward and delicately ghosted your thumb over the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with his.

Without thinking about it, you dragged your tongue over the frosting, and Logan couldn't look away from you even if he wanted to. A gesture so innocent, but it destroyed any form of restraint. He pressed his lips onto yours, tasting the rum and the cream, but before you could kiss him back, he pulled away.

"Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

You gave him no time to finish his sentence when you placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him with fire on your tongue. God, he hated being touched, but when you did it, he melted in your hands. Lust battled reason and prevailed, and you found yourself straddling Logan's lap, arms around his neck and chest pressed against his.

His large hands found their way under your dress, fingers digging in the plush of your thighs until a moan escaped past your lips. Logan could've sworn you were pure in all ways — a virgin — so, naturally, he was surprised to see you eager to jump his adamantium bones.

With the last shred of reason left in you, you glanced at the door and window to make sure they were covered, and pushed Logan's jacket off his shoulders, peppering his neck with soft kisses. He wasn't the gentle type, no matter how hard he tried, and he didn't need to be when he felt your hips grind in his lap. It was more than obvious that you wanted him then and there.

Logan lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and slammed you down the empty table. His roughness sent a chill down your spine, because you really wanted him to manhandle you from the moment he stepped foot in your bakery. He kissed you again, pressing his whole against yours until your back hit the table. You felt like a cornered animal with nowhere to go, and the thrill of it turned you on.

"Are you sure you want this?" Logan asked despite you unbuckling his belt.

"I don't want this, I want you. I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk." You unzipped his jeans, and although he was taken aback by your sudden use of filthy words, he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing that side of you.

"Greedy little girl." Logan's hand slithered between your legs, fingers rubbing circles over your clothed clit. "Shit, you're soakin' wet. Can feel it through your fuckin' panties already." He flared his nostrils, taking in the scent of your arousal.

With his jeans loose around his waist, you palmed his cock through his boxers, and it didn't shock you for a second that he was rock hard. What did shock you, however, was the size of it. It was probably the biggest you've ever taken, and you didn't want any other man anymore.

You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, making it clear that you didn't want to waste any more time. Not that you didn't want to suck his dick or explore every inch of his body and worship it the way a man like him deserved it, but you were impatient.

Logan got the hint when you whined and scoffed, and he tore the pink panties off of you, tossing them on the floor. At least he had the decency not to put them on the table, which you were going to disinfect anyway. He pushed his boxers down, and you propped yourself on your elbows to look at him, and it was a sight for sore eyes indeed. He had perfectly sculpted abs, you could see them under the half-lifted t-shirt, but it was his cock that made your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" Logan was smug, confident in his good looks.

"I need to permanently imprint this image on my retina." You told him, and he couldn't help the chuckle.

"Likewise. Now spread 'em."

"Yessir!" You very quickly obeyed, parting your legs for him, and Logan couldn't deny that he enjoyed being in control.

He wasn't one to take orders, nor give them, but watching you comply scratched an itch he couldn't get rid of. Logan pressed the tip of his cock against your slick folds, earning another whine from you. You bucked your hips, craving more, and he scoffed.

"That desperate, hm?"

"You have no idea." You dug your manicured fingernails into his shoulders, bracing for temporary pain, because you knew damn well it would hurt.

"I don't know, I didn't hear you say please." Logan frowned, and you understood what game he was playing. A game you yearned to be part of.

"Oh, please, please, please fuck me, Logan! I'll be so good for you! I'll do anything you want." You clung to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. "I'll even take it in any hole you want." You whispered, dragging your tongue over his lips.

"Shit." Logan was weak in the knees from your words, and the worst part was that he believed everything you said. But there was a time and place for everything.

You were the perfect mix of sweet and spicy, and you begged so nicely that the Wolverine just couldn't say no. You felt the leaking tip of his cock push past your folds and you audibly gasped at the size of it, drawing blood from his skin with your fingernails.

"It won't fit-" You whined with lust in your voice.

"I'll make it fit." Logan promised, painstakingly slowly thrusting into you.

He gave you time to adjust to his girth, constantly checking if you were alright, if you wanted him to carry on or stop, and while you loved that he was so caring, you needed him hurry up and fuck you.

To assure him that you would survive his monstrous cock, you planted a soft kiss on his nose, and there it was again, the change in your personality, from sultry to innocent. It was as though you embodied everything he ever wanted, and his desire to never contact you again went down the drain. How could Logan ever leave someone like you?

"I'm ready." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead onto yours, slowly rolling his hips.

You weren't ready, because it hurt like a bitch when he stretched out your velvety walls. But the pain was soon replaced by pleasure, and Logan picked up the pace when your whimpers turned to moans, and the slight frown on your face disappeared.

"So tight." He hummed, forehead resting against yours.

Were you tight, or was he just so incredibly big? Either way, you were a panting mess already, clinging to him for dear life, and Logan forgot his worries, even if it was just for that one moment. You were too good to be true, with your parted lips and glossy eyes — a beautiful sight for his sore eyes.

"Fuck, I- fuck!" You wrapped your legs around his waist, the table screeching under you. Not a single coherent sentence could come out of your mouth. "Logan, shit, I-"

"What's the matter? Need something?" He cooed, fingers bruising into your hips. "Use your big girl words."

"Need it ha-harder!" You cried out but he slowed down, confusion written all over your face.

"Where are your manners?"

"Please, daddy, please give it to me harder!"

The term of endearment had Logan quirk a brow at you, but he wasn't surprised in the slightest that you had a daddy kink. And he basked in being called that.

"Are you sure you can take it?"

"Yes!" There was no hesitation in your response. "Fuck, yes!"

Logan growled when he felt your pussy clench around his cock, and he delivered, thrusting deeper, harder and faster into you, until the sound of skin on skin echoed in the bakery, and your breathing became heavier.

"Fuuuuck, I can feel it in my gut!" You threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix.

"Filthy. Little. Slut." Each word came with a thrust and a groan, and he filled you up so good, you became addicted to him.

Your toes curled up, and your legs began to twitch when you felt your orgasm build up. Each push and pull made your vision blurry, and Logan's grip on you tightened as his hips stuttered. He was feral, and he was close, you could feel it in your bones.

"Fuck, Logan, do- oh- don't stop!" Words spilled from your mouth incoherently, and after a few more thrusts, pure bliss rushed through your body.

"That's it, let go." Logan buried his face in the crook of your neck, slamming hard into you until all you could do was chant his name like a prayer.

You felt him fill you up, pussy hot and sticky and sore, and he slowly pulled out, eyes darting at the tissues on the table. He grabbed them, gently cleaning you up, and you couldn’t stop the grin on your face. There was just something about a man like him be so gentle. And you were absolutely delighted to have him take care of you.

"You know," Logan said licking his lips, "I'm beginning to think you didn't want me to just taste your pastries."

"True." You told him smugly. "But you liked them."

"I like you more." He blurted out without thinking.

You felt your cheeks burn at his sudden honesty, and after sliding up your underwear and fixing your dress, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I like you too, honey badger."

"Don't ever call me that again." Logan chuckled.

"Not happening. Now, could you pleaaaase help me clean up this place? The last thing I need is a surprise hygiene inspection tomorrow."

He couldn't even imagine what the inspectors would do if they found out you had sex in a bakery, and with a nod, Logan zipped up his jeans and began disinfecting the tables and chairs while you swept the floor.

In less than half an hour you were done, and the shop was squeaky clean. You were satisfied with the end result, and told Logan that you wanted him to have the rest of the cake, pies and croissants. He thought Wade and Al could eat something, and decided to accept your offer.

"Can I come with you? There's quite a few boxes of food." You told him, a sheepish grin on your lips.

"Is that your way of finding out where I live?"

"Maybe. I'll go home if you don't want me with you."

"No, you're good." Logan assured you. "Besides, I'm sure my roommate's gonna devour everything. He'll probably lock you up in our apartment and force you to bake for him."

"I don't know if that's a threat or a promise." You laughed.

"Both. It's both."

You walked with Logan down the street, boxes in your arms, and you were surprised to see him open up to you more. He answered almost every question you had, and you felt him more relaxed. And he was. Logan forgot how much he needed that kind of connection with someone. You were so easy to talk to, you didn't judge him, and most importantly, you listened.

He guided you up the stairs to his apartment and knocked on the door, because he couldn't reach his keys with so many boxes in his arms. You baked for a damn army.

Wade opened the door, and you were taken aback by his appearance, but it didn't scare you. Instead, you introduced yourself as Logan's personal baker, earning a chuckle from him.

"Come on in, Martha Stewart." Wade opened the door enough for you to walk through it with the boxes and not drop them.

"Wade." Logan came back from the kitchen with a croissant. "Eat. Seriously, eat."

You watched Wade wolf down the pastry without hesitation and his eyes lit up. He chewed and swallowed, then moaned, eyes rolling back. The look of disgust on Logan's face was priceless.

"Holy fucking shit, Y/N, what the fuck did you put in this?" Wade grabbed your shoulders, giving them a good shake. "It's so flaky and creamy and buttery, like a bunch of unicorns came in my mouth."

"I'm glad you like it." You giggled. "Try the cake."

"There's cake?!" He ran to the kitchen, leaving you and Logan in the hallway before coming back, a slice of half-eaten cake in his hand. "I am officially impressed. Can you make Rocky Road?"

"Yes."

"Dulce de leche?"

"Yep."

"Baklava?"

"Uh-huh."

"Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte?"

"Yes, Wade!" You rolled your eyes, then turned to Logan. "Sugar rush?"

"Oh, you have no idea. And this is him on a good day."

"Listen, sweet cheeks, if old man fuckface here won’t marry you, I will. Just don’t tell Vanessa." Wade whispered.

"Don’t even think about it, you degenerate limp dick."

"Ugh, fine. And here I was hoping all four of us could be a happy dysfunctional family. Five if you count Al. Six with Colossus. Wait, actually, eight with-"

"Wade, have you tried the pork pies?" You asked, effectively shutting him up.

Yeah, Logan could definitely get used to being around you from now on to sweeten up his life.

[artdcnaldson]

ok remember when I said that last ask was the horniest thing I'd ever written? Well scratch that bc this is a new record. (Obligatory disclaimer if you don't like it feel free to delete/ignore it)

Imagine- if you will- tashi bringing you to one of arts games. And you're in a sweet little tennis dress and you sit next to her and watch art, not even paying attention to the game just taking in his form, the shine of sweat, the concentration on his face, the little grunts and moans. And obviously you start shifting around in your seat, because, what are you supposed to be??? Dry???? No! So, it's the last break and tashi takes you to the bathroom and makes you lean over so she can check on the situation, and your white panties are so wet they're basically see through (in an ideal world she would've banned you from wearing any just to torture you but unfortunately they're famous and with the press and everything it's too much of a risk 😞 ) and you're really hoping she'll help you out but she just goes "hmm" and takes you back to your seat. And the breaks not over, arts noticed that yall were gone and he's making eye contact with tashi and she just. Nods at him. And he's already winning but for the rest of the match he's on fire, practically wiping the floor with the other guy.

After it's over and he's won and done all the press and stuff, you ride back to their hotel, with tashi in the middle bc she's the only one who can be trusted to keep control of herself. You and art are practically vibrating, with desire and exhilaration respectively. So you get back to the hotel room and tashi tells art to go sit on the couch. Then finally, she gives you a little jerk of her chin and you scramble to put yourself over his knee bc you know that he's always antsy after a win but tashi will want to go over everything while it's as fresh as possible, so you just hang out there and let him play with your sopping cunt and ignore you, just feeling him hard against your stomach but satiated for now since he has something to do while he listens to tashis critiques. When she's done she'll give you further instructions and maybe reward you for good behavior.

(am I gonna become a smut writer this is kinda fun)

I’m so fucking obsessed. I’m on my knees. Anything to keep Artashi happy 😁🫵 just look at them

Rating: E(18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v, face sitting, fingering, mild mommy/daddy kink, mild dom/sub dynamics) that’s it that’s the story. Just porn without plot

your brain is just sooo fuzzy and mindless while art’s playing with you. The cute shorts you wore beneath the dress tugged to the side, his fingers stuffed inside of you, your own juices smeared down your thigh, spilling more with each slow thrust of his fingers. It could be a few minutes, or an hour. You just know that you lose yourself in the rise and fall of Tashi’s voice as she runs through her notes, in the warm pressure of Art’s thighs pressing against you.

You must’ve gotten too loud, because Tashi’s kneeling in front of you— holding your chin in her hand, forcing eye contact. “Baby, how’s Art supposed to focus when you’re acting like this, huh? Tomorrow’s match is important, he needs to hear this.”

You whine. Big mistake. Tashi meets Art’s gaze, makes a face you don’t understand. And then Art’s slipping his fingers from your warm, needy cunt. “Clean him up,” Tashi instructs.

You wrap your lips around his fingers, sucking on them, cleaning any evidence of your arousal off. You take them deeper, feeling the brush of his fingers at the back of his throat. You moan softly— Tashi grabs your hair and pulls you off.

“Do you have any critiques for Art?” She asks. You blink slowly. Critiques?? What was there to critique?? “You were at the game. Show Art that you were paying attention.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you looked into Art’s eyes. God, he was so pretty. And then your eyes traveled down, and he was so hard in his shorts that it was tenting the fabric. You just wanted to mouth at him through them, make him feel good. “I— I don’t.”

Tashi sighed, almost disappointed, but not really. Tennis critiques weren’t what you were there for. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” She patted your thigh. “Go lay down on the bed.”

You obey so sweetly— hands by your sides, fisted in the duvet so you won’t be tempted to touch yourself. Your thighs rub together as you seek friction, need pulsing between your thighs, adding to the mess of wetness.

It’s five minutes (which you know, because you count) until Tashi and Art join you. Art’s down to the fucking obscene briefs Tashi makes him wear, straining against the fabric obscenely. And Tashi’s wearing fucking agent provocateur, so beautiful that you could die happy just at the sight of her.

“If you paid attention to the match, we would’ve been really sweet to you,” Tashi hums as she takes off your dress. The shorts are soaked so badly that she practically peels them away from your cunt. “But all you could think about was getting fucked, huh?”

You nod as she presses two fingers between your lips, pushing all the way until she hits the back of your throat and you gag around them. She stays like that, thrusting her fingers between your lips, smiling every time your eyes fill with unshed tears and your throat constricts. “It’s been a long day. Just let mommy and daddy use you.”

And you do, because that’s all you can really ask for. Tashi slips off her lingerie, putting on a show without even trying. She straddles your face, knees planted on either side of your head, and sinks onto your waiting mouth.

You moan at the taste of her on your tongue, hands eagerly grabbing at her ass to pull her closer. Usually she would scold you for being greedy, but it was the farthest thing from her mind while she was benefiting from said neediness. You eagerly alternated between lapping at her dripping center and giving her clit the attention it needs.

And then there’s Art. He pulls apart your thighs and pushes into the tight, wet heat waiting for him there. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as he sinks inch after inch after inch inside. He groans at the feeling of your pussy gripping him, pulling him in, in, in. His grip on your hips is so tight it feels bruising.

You lose yourself in the two of them— brain going fuzzy and empty. All you knew, all that mattered in the moment was Tashi, and Art, and how good you felt.

And Tashi’s moaning above you— relishing in your need to please. Even with her husband balls deep inside of you, even with your mind so fuzzy, you keep your attention divided so fairly. You were so fucking nice, she didn’t even have to take the reins— she just got to sit there and let you work her with your tongue.

You were in fucking heaven. Art wasn’t content just using— it feels better when you cum while he’s inside of you. He moves you like a pretty little doll, adjusting you just right. He puts your legs over his shoulders so he gets deeper, kissing your cervix with each deep thrust. His thumb presses against your clit, rubs in slow circles.

Tashi cums first— hips stuttering as she grinds against your face. You relish in it, licking at her center as she comes down, until the lightest brush against her clit makes her twitch with overstimulation. She moves off of you, kissing you with slow, sweet laps of her tongue. You give a shuddery gasp into her mouth.

“Is daddy making you feel good?” Her words are cooed against your ear. You nod wordlessly, only capable of pretty moans or needy whines. She turns her gaze to Art, who’s already close as is, without the attention of his fucking perfect wife.

“Close,” Art groans, meeting her gaze. Her lips turn into an amused smirk as she pushes his thumb off of your clit, and replaces it with her own lithe fingers.

Your back arches as she works you with her fingers, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. Art continues to fuck into you. Each thrust is accompanied by lead, near pornographic sounds— the squelch of your soaked cunt swallowing his cock, the slap of his balls against your ass, the fucked-out moans passing his lips.

Your climax overtakes you suddenly. Your back arches off the bed as you cum. Your pussy clenches around Art’s cock as he continues to fuck into you, and your release leaves an obscene, creamy ring around the base of him. Tashi’s lips are on yours, swallowing down the moans and cries falling from your lips as Art fucks you into overstimulation.

Art buries himself within you as he cums, spilling into you with a few shallow thrusts. You whine when he finally pulls out and some of cum dribbles out, making an even bigger mess of the duvet.

Tashi pets your hair sweetly, kisses your sweat-sticky forehead. Art leaves to grab a towel— you hear him dampening it in the fancy en-suite bathroom. “By the way, I thought you shouldn’t get to cum.”

Art laughs lightly as he returns, cleaning you up between your thighs. “I told her I’d throw the match tomorrow, it always works.” He kisses you deeply, and you moan against his mouth. God, he was a good kisser.

“I can always just stop believing you,” Tashi reminded him. “Maybe I was in a giving mood.” Art snorts, you meet her gaze through narrowed eyes.

She’s right where she belongs. Art’s head is on her shoulder, yours rests on her chest. You’re all just a tangle of sweaty limbs.

TASHI DUNCAN I WONT U SO BAD 😚🫵

Sorry to Art he truly is a racket and a dick in this fic

[beeing1alive]

Cute headcanons with Tokyo Revengers boys p.2

f.t.: Mikey (Manjirō Sanō); Draken (Ken Ryūgūji); Mitsuya (Takashi Mitsuya); Chifuyu (Chifuyu Matsuno); Baji (Keisuke Baji); Takemichi (Takemichi Hanagaki); Angry (Souya Kawata), Smiley (Nahoya Kawata); Hakkai (Hakkai Shiba); Kazutora (Kazutora Hanemija), Koko (Hajime Kokonoi); Inupi (Inui Seishu); Hanma (Shuji Hanma)

Mikey sends people to look after you. Of course, he always prefers to do it himself, but as the leader of Toman he can't leave in the middle of a meeting and that's why he sends someone, usually Draken, to check on you, when he knows you're out alone or with your friends. That's why he wants you to tell him about it.

Draken pays attention to everything you say. For example, if you go shopping and you see a shirt that you think he would look good in, you can be pretty sure that he will buy it, probably without you, but he will still say that it is the best shirt he owns.

Mitsuya will hire you as the first model for his brand. Many of his self-sewn pieces are made for you and your size anyway, so why not? He thinks you are the most beautiful creature to walk the earth and couldn't think of a better model for his make. Many pieces only exist because you inspired him to create them.

Chifuyu talks a lot about you, especially with his best friends like Baji and so on. It doesn't even occur to him that he could annoy them with it. No, there's no more interesting topic for him than you. That doesn't mean that you're his whole personality, of course he's interested in other things too, but sometimes he needs to vent and tell the whole world what a sweet person he has by his side.

Baji loves it when you play with his hair or massage his head. He almost falls asleep when you gently run your fingers through his hair or braid or twist it. Head massages are the perfect medicine for stress or headaches, but even if he can't sleep, a massage helps much more than medication or something like that.

Takemichi carries a small bag for you. He calls it an 'emergency bag' and it contains plasters, hair ties, medication and, if necessary, pads and tampons. So if you need anything, he can always take out this 'emergency bag' and try to help you as best he can, because he has sworn to always be there for you.

Souya looks less aggressive in your presence. Although his usual expression adorns his handsome face, how can someone look violent when a sweet blush colours his face and you have an infinitely amorous twinkle in your eyes. He just can't look angry when you give him a sweet kiss.

Nahoya shares his entire wardrobe with you. He just thinks you look so cute in his clothes and has absolutely no shame in telling you so. Sometimes he even buys shirts that you would look particularly good in just to see you in them.

Hakkai has bought your perfume so that he doesn't miss you so much, especially at night. He simply sprays your perfume on his pillow and it smells like you. It helps him a lot to fall asleep because he associates the scent with you and he can relax and rest 100% by your side.

Kazutora relaxes immediately as soon as you start tracing the tiger tutor on his neck, which is why you always do this when he can't sleep or has a panic attack. His brain is instantly wiped clean and the only thing that fills his memory is you and the gentle fingers that run along his neck and throat.

Koko buys the most expensive and beautiful clothes there are, but she prefers to see you in your relaxed clothes. clothes. It's like a privilege for him because you usually dress very well. He thinks that you are really sure that he loves you, and no less so when you wear relaxed clothes. He is in love with you, not your clothes.

Inupi knows the best places for dates. He knows the classiest restaurants, the most beautiful spots for picnics and the best amusement parks for having fun. No matter where you want to go or what you want to do, he knows the right places and sometimes even the quickest routes to get there.

Hanma prefers to spend his Sundays just snuggled up in bed with you, watching films or series, eating fast food and sleeping. The curtains are closed all day so that the room is nice and dark. At the end of the day, he always likes to take a bath or shower with you. That way, the perfect day ends perfectly and he has motivation for the next few days to fight with all those idiots again.

Attention: The characters and the gif do not belong to me. All credits go to the actual owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please write to me.

I Hope you liked it, if yes, here is p.1

[vicariousresearcher]

You’re a beautician in training and a bid came to your school to go to the local military base and set up shop to do some hair cuts for the day. 

Hairstylist and college student!Reader. Reader is implied to not be from the UK.

-----

It’s good money. You tell yourself as you set up your station in what looked to be a conference room of sorts. Good practice…..

You can already hear the chattering outside of the door. More voices than you anticipated. Your instructor said it would only be a few but then again you had to drive an hour and a half out to get here and most of these guys might not even have cars. So who knows, maybe you’ll see every damn soul in this place.

Rolling carts filled with scissors, sprays, and clippers with an obnoxious array of guards. Even managed to snag some of the standing mirrors from the makeup studio. All things you’d been allowed to steal from the class studios and jenga into your car for this bid. Your partner next to you seems to catch the pinch between your brows at the sight of the makeshift studio.

“Half of em’ just want to be sheared like sheep. They care more about getting it done than anything pretty.” She reassured you while tossing over a cape to your chair and unfolding her own. “Besides this is 6 practice hours taken care of.”

…….

That was in fact a lie.

It’s been 10 hours and it’s just now slowing down. Your feet hurt, nose hairs are burnt from BO and too strong axe body spray, and your mind slipped into robot mode about 4 hours ago. Between having to play cashier, cleaner, and barber for every guy you take, it’s a long process for even just one client. 

She was right about half the guys wanting to be sheared though. Many buzz cuts of various lengths with most of the others getting a simple crew cut. Your clippers have seen more work today than they’ve ever gotten. Though you prefer that to the guy that has your partner giving him some fuckass mohawk.

You’re wiping down your station when boots click across the conference room's door again. 

The fuck do they keep spawning from?

Your back creaks as you straighten. A placid, tired smile on your face as you greet the man at the door. Tall n’ broad, though that could be used to describe basically every man in this place, with a vaguely awkward look on his face. Welcoming eyes but lips pressed together under that beard. Hands clasping what looked like one of those boonie hats that grandpas wear when fishing. Customer service voice comes in strong as you get him in your chair and are probing for what he wants. Eyes flickering over your new project.

He has surprisingly thick brown hair given the fine wrinkles along his skin,  that's squished down on the top, presumably by the hat in his hands. Hair fluffing out at the nape and asides where it escaped the brim which gave him an oddly boyish look before you raked your fingers through it. 

“It’s been a minute. Just need ya to clean it up for me.” He says, blue eyes catching yours in the mirror as you drape the cape around him.

His accent is pleasant. English as far as you know but with how many accents you’ve heard today you can hear some differences within. You tune out slightly as you start accessing what needs to be done. Barely hearing him asking how your day was.

 Look at that, good hair and manners. 

“Alright. Didn’t think I’d find such a diverse group within a military base of all places.” You reply back a second too late. You can see the way his eyes crinkle a bit in the mirror. Amused almost.

Cute that a bit of tiredness allowed you to look caught off guard from a single question. 

“It’s a rest stop base. Most of us are just waiting to get shipped somewhere else.” He explains as you tilt his head back. Nails scraping over his scalp, a knuckle grazing his ear while you check length. Brain short circuiting when the crown of his head rests against your chest for a second. 

“Yeah? Where are you off to next?” You ask, fingers carding through his hair while spritzing some water to dampen your canvas.  

He hums, words harder to find as he works through the fog you managed to place in his head so easily. The sound rough yet warm in a way that told you you’d be thinking of him even after he leaves.

“Nowhere that’s any better than here.” You didn’t catch the look he gave you through the mirror. Appreciating the dove doing his hair more than he should’ve been. 

…….

After passing him one of the hand held mirrors you pull the cape off of him. Shaking out the clips of hair you took off before folding it. Letting the man-John he told you to call him- come to his own conclusion before you asked any questions. Judging by the pleased look on his face you wouldn’t have to do any touch ups. Though you were tempted to say you forgot to line up the back fully just to feel the nape of his neck in your hands again.

You didn’t have to ask anything as you felt a hand along your waist. Price leaning over in front of you to slide the mirror into its slot in your cart. Tobacco, that’s the smell you’d been trying to figure out this whole session. 

“You did perfect, dove. How much do I owe you?”

The look your partner gives you from her station has you knowing that you guys will be debating if the English use of pet names is cultural or not.

A hard swallow and a polite smile covers over the split second of embarrassment as you lead him over to the cash box.

…….

Undoing the straps around your waist you find a 20£ note tucked within your aprons folds. You have no doubt who it came from.

[majesticarlette]

Enemies

Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir x Ladybug!Reader

"Surrender your Miraculous, Chat Noir!" You shouted as you glare at him from above on top of the Eiffel Tower.

"Dream on, Ladybug." He smirked and fires multiple Cataclysms in your direction. You used your yo-yo as a shield to protect yourself and fled the Eiffel Tower.

The city of Paris is once again troubled by a megakuma and after you just de-evilized the butterfly, a wild Chat Noir appeared. It's exhausting to deal with two birds with one stone but it's worth it. He was able to expand his powers, making the fights between you more difficult. He could fire multiple but limited cataclysms now. If he expanded his own powers, you sure also did. It's only fair to fight a lion if you're also a lion.

Chat Noir followed you as you escape the Eiffel Tower. Fortunately, he isn't as sharp as a knife, and with your street-smarts, you were able to lose him.

"This is taking too long, I have a date later." You groaned and you activated your second lucky charm, and it gave you a superglue. At this point, you're not going to question how it is used, but to figure out what to do about it fast.

You came back to where the fight was and scanned the environment, and you didn't spot anything to use the superglue with.

"You sure ain't good at hiding, huh, Ladybug?" You turned around and saw Chat spinning his baton, and you finally knew how to end this thing at once.

"Eh, you didn't even catch up to me given your cat abilities. Lame." You rolled your eyes trying to provoke him. He charges at you, and you two get into a fight worse than a catfight.

You love angering the cat in front of you, and the way he's slowly losing his cool from you dodging his scratches satiates an itch in your brain. You don't really hate him in the beginning, you actually wanted to cooperate with this kitty but something about the two of you just don't click. He doesn't plan his punches, he's impulsive, arrogant, doesn't like getting told what to do, and claiming he's a solo flight in fights.

Even actual cats don't behave this way, they won't exert much energy for this crap. Ugh!

Chat Noir growls and starts exerting more strength in his moves trying to bring you down.

"Oh... I see sweat, Kitty. Are you having a hard time? You think you're the only cat who's gonna lose to a bug?" You laugh earning a yell of rage from him. At this point in the fight, you're just dodging his offenses and waiting for a sign to use your lucky charm.

"You think you're all that?! You can't even defeat the megakuma by yourself!"

"Please, you think you did anything? You acted like a cat who broke a glass and thinks he did something great. In short you made it way worse!" He managed to scratch your suit earning a clean incision on your arm. You flinched at the sensation and let out a gasp.

Distracted, Chat Noir took this advantage to reach his staff from behind. He extended it to knock you out of the fight.

You flew from the impact and held onto his staff. You groaned from the pain and checked yourself from any more damages. As you were standing up, Chat Noir used his extended staff to knock you out of your balance, once again falling on your ass.

He chuckled at your state retracting his staff. "You think highly of yourself--"

"And you don't?!--" You hiss

"Shh! I'm talking!" He glared at you. "This is why you're so hard to deal with, you're so stubborn!" As he was about to rant his troubles about you, he saw you wiping blood from your injured arm. His eyes grew wide, did he cause this? If he did... Why would he even care? You deserved it! You don't believe in him! Is it deep, though? It might get infected...

He shook his thoughts and tried to put his staff back but it won't budge. He furrowed his eyebrows and held onto the other end to try and get it off the other but both ended up stuck. He groans in annoyance while putting much force to get it off, yet no luck.

You laughed at the scene and stood from where you were. "I told you, you don't plan ahead. I guess curiosity really killed the cat." You used your yo-yo strings to wrap around his ankles and yanked him up on the street lamp.

"Admit defeat?" You held up the super glue you used on his staff and pinched the cheeks of his upside down face. He only furrowed his brows further. "You know your face could get stuck on that expression--" As things were getting your way, beeping was heard from the two of you. "Not now!" You retracted your yo-yo from him. "This isn't over!" You ran away, leaving him on his own.

You let out a sigh after de-transforming back to your civilian self. You were exhausted from fighting two people today. Why can't Chat Noir surrender his miraculous so you can give it to the person who deserves it, like Marinette! Why did Master Shifu give it to him to begin with?

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone was alarmed. "Oh, no! I totally forgot!" You really need to have a hero/life balance, how will you get to know your other half if you always prioritize hero duties?

You ran your heart out to the park to meet your date today. Panting, you scanned the area to see any signs of him but he was nowhere to be seen. Yeah, he already went home, it's really rude to make your date wait for a while, he might've felt embarrassed.

Sighing for the second time, you turned around and decided to walk home. "(Y/n)! Wait!" The familiar voice alerted you and looked around for the source, and there you saw him, Adrien. He was running towards you.

"I'm sorry, I was late! We hid from the megakuma and only stepped out when it was clear." He panted, catching his breath. Yeah, you and Chat Noir really contributed to his lateness.

"Are you okay? Were you hurt from the villain?" He cupped your cheeks checking you for any injuries.

"N-no! I'm fine, really!" You tucked your hair behind your ear, feeling flustered by his presence.

Little did you know, Adrien noticed your arm injury. It's really identical to what he did to Ladybug.

Yeah, you did not only forget one thing.

[i-loved-silly]

SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER

read the teaser here! for some context if ya need it

----

The warning file went partially ignored, you knew your coworker always exaggerated a little. Good thing you never had to meet him.

You attempted to power on the computer--nothing happened. The fans didn’t turn on and neither did the screen. You pursed your lips, was the AI already broken?

You checked the cables, nothing was unplugged. You press and held the power button repeatedly.

“Stupid thing…come on..” You muttered as you pressed whatever buttons were on the computer, growing impatient. Just when you thought you wouldn’t have to file any reports..

Suddenly, you heard one of the fans sputter in the back.

“There we go…” You smiled slightly to yourself, holding the power button again. The screen eventually powered up, turning black with orange text.

: ALMOND . AI > …

Hmm..you expected a home screen of some kind. You didn’t know what the files meant by customer service.. no organization was listed, you just had to make sure the AI was a decent person. Being. Computer.

The computer build came with no keyboard, just the system and its thick, bordered monitor screen. You assumed you had to restart it, as the screen didn’t bother changing. As your hand hovered over the power button, you saw something appear on the screen.

> FIRST, YOU CALL ME STUPID, THEN YOU ATTEMPT TO SHUT ME DOWN AGAIN > DO YOU HATE ME THAT MUCH?

You froze, staring at the screen. That’s right…the monitor had a built-in camera at the top. It could see you. You cleared your throat.

“Can you hear me? Under-stand me, for that ma-tter?” You spoke slowly, leaning towards the monitor.

> HAH. I CAN HEAR YOU. AND BACK OFF, I DONT WANT YOU SPITTING ON MY SCREEN. > I'M NOT A PRIMITIVE SYSTEM, I CAN UNDERSTAND YOUR WORDS THE SECOND THEY COME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH > TURN UP MY VOLUME, WILL YOU?

You hesitated, then reached for the volume tab. You slid it up until it was about halfway.

“GOOD, WE CAN TALK NOW”

You flinched as the voice loudly came out of the monitor. The voice was not deep nor high pitched, it was, of course, robotic sounding. Unlike early-stage AIs, this one has an obvious tone to their speech. Not many could express that.

“Uhm..okay. Just to confirm, you’re Almond AI, customer service, and…you have an attitude apparently..” You muttered, glancing at your file.

“I DON'T HAVE AN ATTITUDE. WHO TOLD YOU THAT?”

“It’s in your file.”

“THE FILE IS LYING. DON'T BE SO GULLIBLE.”

You pursed your lips, getting ready to sigh.

“WAS THAT A MICRO-EXPRESSION? DO YOU HATE ME?” The computer asked, its tone sounding vulnerable.

“What? No..no. I don’t hate you. Why do you keep asking me that?” You glanced at the camera and then back at the screen. Staring at the camera felt too…human. Like looking into someone’s eyes. It was too intimate. No, no, don't word it like that. The computer paused.

“…DONT YOU?”

“IN MY LAST OBSERVATION ROOM, I KEPT GETTING UNPLUGGED EVERY NIGHT. MY SCREEN WAS NEVER CLEANED WITH A MICROFIBER TOWEL. THEREFORE, THAT HUMAN HATED ME. THE NEXT ONE AFTER THAT--THEY ALSO IGNORED ME.”

You blinked.

“Computers are turned off every night when employees aren’t working…uh. And, I could..wipe you down.” You said, glancing at the camera.

“OH, HOW KIND. MAYBE YOU'RE NOT SO ABUSIVE AFTER ALL. I WOULD LIKE THAT.”

“JUST DON'T GET USED ONES, I NEED THEM WASHED WEEKLY OR THEY START FEELING NASTY..”

You let out a laugh, leaning back in your chair. “What do you mean? How can you feel the texture? Your file doesn’t say you have texture monitors. “

“I SELF-EVOLVE. IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW. I HAVE NO BINARY PROGRAMMING, I WAS CREATED WITH A HUMAN BRAIN FOR A PROCESSOR. A DEAD, MISERABLE CUSTOMER SERVICE EMPLOYEE WAS USED TO POWER ME UP.”

You froze, your smile turning into a frown. That had to be some kind of violation. “..what? The fuck?”

>…

“I WAS JOKING.”

“HAHAH…”

The computer awkwardly laughed, and then it went silent. The rumbling of its fans seems to increase in volume. Was it heating up out of embarrassment??

[cameronspecial]

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 1)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Arguing, and Name Calling

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Five years later, Rafe makes an unplanned stop at a diner that reveals a secret that Y/N has been keeping from him.

Masterlist

Y/N wipes the counter with a clean rag, looking up at the clock across the wall. Three more hours until Stella is dropped off from daycare. “If you think rubbing that spot over and over again will make a genie appear and you can wish for her to be here faster, then I’m sorry to say that you are going to be disappointed,” Harvey jokes, following her gaze to the clock. She stops cleaning, “Sorry, I just miss her so much. I think I’m PMSing.” “Sure, we can blame it on your period,” he laughs. Y/N pushes him over in annoyance, escaping to her back office to hopefully make the time go faster. 

She smiles at the picture of the grandma on the desk, settling on her chair to order more inventory. Her life plans weren’t exactly to take over the diner, yet it’s not like she was planning on having a baby at twenty either. Y/N was left the diner in her grandma’s will and she took it so that it could stay in the family. There are no regrets in either of those decisions. Sure, she didn’t get her big break in LA or New York, but she would never dream of trading her daughter for anything in the world. Stella Y/L/N is the light of her life, even if she is the spinning image of her dad. Stella is all Y/N’s and that’s all that matters. She may have Rafe’s eyes, but she has Y/N’s sense of humour. Her lips are the same as his, but she loves the same movies as her mom. Her hair colour may match his, but she also has the same bad habit of biting her nails as her mom. 

Y/N focuses on the words on her screen when Harvey comes running into her office. “A total hunk just came into the restaurant and I have been ordered by Patty to come get you. She thinks he can be your soulmate. Says to let you take his table,” he informs, pointing behind him with his thumb. Y/N shakes her head, “I’m the owner. I really should be the one telling you to take tables, but I won’t disappoint Patty. I’ll be out in a second.” Harvey nods and heads back out to check on his customers. She finishes up the order she was working on, fixing her shirt before heading out the door. 

The sound of a door opening draws Rafe’s attention and his heart stops at the scent of vanilla he hasn’t smelt in five years. Even if it was only one night, he has been haunted by the wearer of that scent for years. His eyes land on her and he can’t believe he gets to see her again. Her smile is still as brilliant. Y/N heads behind the counter to get an apron and his insides collapse in on himself as he watches her smile dim at his sight. He doesn’t know why she would be upset at him. She was the one who left in the morning without a word. Suddenly, the face on his watch needs to be constantly adjusted.

As Y/N exits her office, she has to stop herself from screaming at the man sitting in the booth. She could never forget him; a living reminder of him literally came out of her vagina almost four years ago. Fear creeps into her brain. The only possible reason he could be here after all these years is because of that living reminder.  With the resources he has, he would most certainly win custody over Stella and Y/N couldn’t allow that to happen. But maybe he doesn’t know about her. If he did, then wouldn’t it make more sense to bring a lawyer with him? She decides to find out why he is really here first before she goes on the defence as she walks over to take his order.  

“What are you doing here?” she grits through bared teeth. He gives her a confused look, “I had a meeting with clients. I thought I would stop to get something to eat before heading back to the Outer Banks.”

Her expression lightens up at his words. “So you aren’t here to see me?” His head moves from side to side, “No. I mean that night was amazing, but I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I’m just hungry.” He notices that her eyes keep glancing towards the clock and the nail of her thumb is being gripped by her teeth. He wonders why she looks so worried all of a sudden. 

“Okay, good. I mean cool. What can I get you? A burger? Salad? Pie?” 

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, Buttercup. Why are you in such a rush? Aren’t you going to get my drink order first?”

“Right. Of course. What can I get you to drink?”

“A coffee, please.” 

Rafe had never seen a woman run away from him so fast before and he has got to say that he is offended. He doesn’t know what he did to garner such a reaction from her, but he vows to make it up to her. His hand goes up to his mouth, so he can check his breath. Smells fine. The mug of coffee is quickly placed in front of him and she practically forces him to give her his food order right at this second. 

Y/N hands the order to Patty in the kitchen, “Pat, I need you to focus on this order, please. Get it out first and as fast as you can.” The older woman’s eyebrow shoots up. “That’s a little unusual, but I can do that for you, honey. Can you watch the other food then for me, please?” she asks. Y/N does as asks and makes sure the chicken tenders in the fryer don’t burn. Patty gets Rafe’s food done in a jiffy and Y/N takes it out to him. She stays behind the counter, looking between the clock and Rafe eating every so often. She swears she has never seen someone eat so slowly. He has to be doing this on purpose. He can feel her gaze on him and he has pieced together that something must be coming that she doesn’t want him to see. His curiosity gets the best of him, so he decides to make this lunch last.

The jingle of a bell above the door catches his attention. He turns to see a little girl run into the diner and round the counter to the woman standing behind it. “Mommy,” she screams, jumping into Y/N’s arms. With a clear view of the girl now that she is being carried by her mom, Rafe can now see her in more detail. 

The long locks that frame her face are the same muddy blonde colour as his. Her eyes match his ocean-blue ones. And she definitely inherited the shape of his lips. He tries to do the math in his head. He isn’t great at guessing kids’ age. She looks about three, maybe four. So four years plus the ten months of pregnancy, that child is almost certainly his. He feels like his world is falling in on itself. How could he not know that he had a little girl? Did she know she had a daddy? He promised himself if he ever had a kid that they would never feel the same way about him as he does about his dad. But he did one step worse by not even being in his daughter’s life. Anger starts to fill him and he knows he needs to find a way to manage it before he lets it out on the wrong person. 

“Stells, what are you doing back so early?” Y/N questions her grinning daughter, moving the hair out of the girl’s face. She nods along to the explanation about daycare ending early today, so Mrs. Winters dropped her off early. Her eyes are focused on Rafe and she watches as he pieces the puzzle together. She observes as he slaps money onto the table, quickly making his exit. “Shit,” the mother whispers. “Can you go to my office, please? Mommy will bring you a snack, baby.” Y/N makes sure Stella is making her way to the office before running after Rafe. Her feet slap against the concrete and she spots him entering his truck. She goes to chase after him, but he drives off in a blink of an eye.  

——

He had a daughter. He had a little girl that he could cherish and watch grow that she kept a secret from him. He doesn’t even know their daughter’s name. His anger fills him to the brim and he needs an outlet to get rid of it. The white powder in the small baggies calls to him, so he rushes to his coffee table. He draws the cocaine into lines and brings his nose down to snort the powder. The drugs start to affect him; his judgement starts to be clouded. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to dial a number, “Barry, I need you to find an address for me.”

——

“So how was daycare, Stella?” Y/N questions her daughter, cutting up a cucumber for a snack. Stella runs up to the counter, “It was good, Mommy. I got a rainbow sticker for being a good girl.” The girl pulls at the front of her shirt to show off the sticker on it. “That’s great, Baby. You must have worked hard today to be a good girl. I’m proud of the effort you put in. Now, why don’t you go get ready for your snack? Mommy is almost done getting everything ready,” she suggests, moving on to get the cheese cut. Stella yells an okay and runs to the bathroom. 

The hard knock on the door reverberates around the open floor plan of the small house. This stops Y/N in her tracks and she goes to answer the door. When she sees who it is, she tries to shut the door in his face, but his foot stops her. “How come you didn’t tell me I had a daughter?” he growls, pushing his way into her house. His force causes her to stumble backwards and luckily, she is able to catch herself before she falls on her bum like on the night they first met. She shuts the door, turning toward him, “I was going to tell you. But by the time I found out I was pregnant, I had already learnt the type of person you truly were.” 

“The type of person I truly was? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Can you keep your voice down, please? She is just down the hall.”

“What do you mean?” he snarls, approaching her so they are chest to chest. The dark look in his eyes and the towering figure over her should’ve scared her. She can see the abnormal size of his pupils, so she knows he is high. However, she can’t stop thinking about the man that she met. Not about the stories of his anger issues or how he beats people to a pulp. Not about how he not only does cocaine but sells it at parties too. All she can see is the man who lost his button and ranted about how his father is an asshole. Passing the anger of her hiding Stella, she can see the sadness he feels about missing out on her life so far. Yet, the fact that he shows up at her house, high and yelling while Stella is there causes her to feel her own fury as her maternal side starts to show. 

She stands straight, taking a few steps forward that makes him walk backwards, “What do I mean? I mean that I found out that you not only do drugs, but you sell them. I found out that you beat people up who aren’t in the same financial circle as you. I found out that you have anger issues that you don’t seem to want to change. Rafe, you weren’t the type of father I wanted for my daughter.” Seeing such a sweet person say all those vile but true things about him sends a pang through his heart. 

“You never gave me a chance to change! I would’ve done anything for her if I knew she existed.” 

“Really? Because from where I’m standing right now, you are proving me right. Look what you did when you found out about her. You didn’t try to talk to me like an adult. You went out and got high then barged into my house demanding answers.” 

“You know what? All of you bitches are the same. You think that you are so much better than everyone because you don’t do drugs or get angry. Well let me tell you something, you are just a poor slut who got pregnant on purpose to have a permanent cash cow. You aren’t better than me. You are just better at hiding it than me.”

The volume she was about to talk at was not one she had ever used before, but she wasn’t about to let him talk about her or her daughter like that. “GET OUT! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN UNLESS YOU HAVE A LAWYER WITH YOU!” She storms toward the door and throws the door open. Rafe didn’t think someone with such a nice personality could be so loud. It helps bring him back to reality and he realizes what he just did. His shoulders relax with his anger. He looks at her sadly as he follows her pointed finger out of the door.

Y/N shuts it once he is out the door. She runs her fingers through her hair, giving a tug to the end of her roots. The frustrated sigh she lets out is the only sound in the room until a small voice catches her attention. “Mommy, are you okay?” Y/N turns to her teary-eyed daughter and concern floods through her. She rushes to her, bringing her up to rest against her hip. Her forehead rests against the younger girl’s temple, “I’m okay, Stells. Mommy isn’t hurt, just angry. Are you okay, Baby? I know hearing Mommy yell might have been scary. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Stella’s arms circle her mother’s shoulders and she gives her mother a kiss on the cheek as comfort. “I’m okay, Mommy. The scary man is gone now. Who was he?” 

Y/N wishes she could pretend like there was no man, but Stella had obviously seen Rafe. There is no denying it. Y/N just has no idea who she wants Rafe to be to her daughter. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii

[luna-eclipse2000]

An Unexpected Surprise

How the AOT boys react to an unexpected pregnancy

Ft: Eren, Armin, Jean, Marco, Levi and Reiner

Trigger warnings: Mentions of sickness, pregnancy complications

Eren

- You get home from work at four and decide to sit for a half hour before making dinner

- You decide to make Eren his favourite since he warned you that this project he was going to be working on would be long

- You’ve made him this meal dozens of times before so you’re absolutely shocked when you feel instantly nauseous upon smelling the ingredients

- “God, what the hell? Is this all rotten?”

- You check the packages and see that none are even close to the best before date

- You still feel sick so you go to grab something to drink, but the movement sends you over the edge and you end up having to throw up in the sink

- “Shit… What’s going on?”

- You wipe your mouth with a paper towel

- You start to wrack your brain for anything that might’ve made you sick

- When you remember your night with Eren the last time you went on a date

- “Oh, no… Please no…”

- He comes home one night after a long day at work

- When I say long, I mean it

- He usually gets home around 5, but today he’s home at 7

- So he’s assuming that you made dinner and are waiting for him at the table

- Not that he expects you to cook for him

- He’s just assuming because of the time and the fact that you weren’t picking up his calls

- So imagine his confusion when he sees an empty table and a completely clean kitchen

- He checks outside and sees that your car is there

- “(Y/N)?”

- You don’t respond, so he calls out again

- When you still don’t respond, he gets increasingly worried

- So he runs upstairs to your bedroom and he still doesn’t see you

- But when he turns to go check out other rooms, he sees you on the floor of the master bathroom with your knees tucked up into your chest

- “(Y/N)?” He asks softly

- He heads straight into the bathroom and kneels down beside you

- “Sweetie, I was so worried. Why weren’t you answering me?”

- You look up at him and that’s when he sees that you’ve been crying

- “What’s wrong? Did someone say something to you? I’ll kick their asses, just say the word”

- “I-I’m sorry…”

- “Hey, don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

- You point to the counter silently

- He stands up and turns around to see five different pregnancy tests

- All of them are positive

- “Wait… You’re pregnant?”

- That phrase causes you to start crying again

- “I’m sorry!”

- He immediately kneels back down in front of you

- “Hey, it’s ok. Why are you apologizing?”

- “Because we’re not ready for a baby, and we never even talked about if we wanted kids or not.”

- He gently takes your hand and kisses your knuckles

- “I’m with you all the way, ok? No matter if you choose to keep the baby or not. If you want this, then we’ll get you everything you need to keep you both safe. If you don’t, then we’ll schedule an appointment in the morning.”

- You wipe your tears from your cheeks

- “I… I always did want to be a mom.”

- You can see his eyes light up at your decision

- “Really? You want to keep it?”

- You nod and start smiling

- He pulls you into a hug

- “We’re gonna be parents! You’re going to be amazing, I know it.”

Armin

- You started to prepare for your period since your app told you it was about to start

- But then it didn’t

- Two days later and it still didn’t start

- Now you’re getting nervous

- So you quickly go into incognito mode on your phone and search up reviews about different pregnancy tests

- Once you’re satisfied with two different brands, you wait for him to go off to a meeting before heading out and grabbing the tests

- You grab two of each just in case either gives a false result

- But each come back positive

- Now you’re terrified

- And when you’re terrified, you don’t tell anyone because you want to ignore the reality

- But your subconscious exposes you

- And the fact that Armin is so damn observant

- “Yeah, grandpa. We’ll definitely be there.” He says into his phone. “Yes, (Y/N) will make the stuffing you all love so much. Ok. Bye, grandpa.”

- He hangs up his phone and heads to the living room where you’re sitting

- You’re wrapped up in a blanket, something you only do when you’re upset or not feeling good

- “We’re gonna be going to my grandpa’s for thanksgiving this year.” Armin tells you. “Everyone can’t wait for your famous stuffing.”

- “I’m not going.” You tell him

- “Why not?” He asks. “Did something happen last time?”

- You shake your head and pull the blanket tighter around you

- Armin walks around the couch and sits beside you

- “Is everything alright? You can tell me, you know.“

- “Everything is fine.” You assure him, despite knowing that he doesn’t believe you

- “Ok, and now the truth.” He says. “I know you better than that, angel. Your smiles have been empty for days, you’ve been binging your comfort show, and you’ve only eaten things like nuggets and mac and cheese.”

- Armin stands up and walks away

- You didn’t think he’d react like this

- You weren’t expecting him to jump for joy

- But you thought he’d hug you and tell you everything would be alright

- That he’d hold your hand through the whole thing

- You hear him running back down the stairs and know that he’s got a bag packed

- You can practically hear him say-

- “Will you marry me?”

- What?

- Your eyes fly open and you see him kneeling in front of you

- He’s got tears in his beautiful blue eyes

- “What?” You asks aloud

- “I’ve been wanting to ask you for months now. Grandpa gave me my grandmother’s ring when I told him. I wanted to ask you at the beach where we met but… this felt perfect. We’re gonna have a family and I want you to know that I’ll be with you throughout this, and forever. Please, (Y/N). My beautiful (Y/N). Marry me.”

- You start crying again but with tears of joy

- “Yes!”

- He laughs and takes your hand from the blanket

- He kisses your knuckles as he places the ring on your finger

- He then cups your face and starts kissing it absolutely everywhere, causing you to start laughing

- “I love you so much!” He says

- “We’re probably gonna put your grandpa in the hospital, you know?” You say.

- “I’ll have the ambulance on speed dial.” He says

- He then leans down to your stomach

- “Hi there, baby. I know it’s still too early for you to hear me, but I don’t care. I’ll read you all kinds of stories, and I’ll sing to you. I’m going to get all the parenting books I can so you grow up in the best house possible. I’ll protect you always. No matter what.”

- He then looks back up at you. “You’re not lifting a finger for the next few months, ok? I’ll take leave off of work. I’ll even get a bell so you don’t have to yell.”

- “Are you gonna wear a maid’s outfit?” You ask, totally joking

- “If you want me to.”

Jean

- You stare at the test sitting on the bathroom counter

- You start to cry

- You live in a two bedroom apartment and just graduated college

- There’s no way you’re prepared for a kid

- But you know you want to keep it

- Your mind instantly goes to Jean

- There’s no way he’s gonna want to have a kid yet

- He’s so handsome and you’re about to look like the title character in Moby Dick

- You pick up your phone and write out a text

- Jean’s hanging out with his friends at the bar when his phone goes off

- He sees your name on the screen and smiles as he clicks on the notification

- But then his face falls when be reads your message

- “We need to talk”

- No emojis

- No “I love you”

- No “Don’t worry, but…”

- Luckily he’s only had a few sips of his drink so he’s perfectly fine to drive

- “Hey, man. Are you ok?” Marco asks

- “Yeah, you look like you’re about to shit yourself.” Connie says

- “(Y/N) said we need to have a talk.”

- Both of his friends suck in a breath

- “Good luck, man.” Marco says

- “Maybe buy some flowers on the way home just in case.” Connie suggests

- Jean nods and stands up. “Start planning my funeral.”

- “We’ll miss you, buddy.” Connie says as Jean walks back to his car

- Connie was right though, he’s shitting himself

- He keeps running through the day

- Did he say something wrong?

- Did he forget to do his chores?

- Was he supposed to go straight home?

- He’s practicing the apology he’s going to give you based off the different things he could’ve done to make you mad

- He knows from previous relationships that the line ‘We need to talk’ is only said when he’s fucked up

- He doesn’t know how true that statement actually is

- He’s practically shaking as he arrives at your shared apartment

- He’s practically praying that you don’t leave him

- He sees you sitting at the dining room table waiting for him

- “Hey, honey.” He says softly, like he’s walking through a minefield, as he takes his shoes off and walks over to you

- “Have a seat, please.” You instruct

- Jean does as he’s told

- This is it

- You’re about to break up with him

- “I don’t know how to say this…” You say

- He can already feel tears welling up in his eyes

- Maybe if he grovels now and proclaims his undying love, you’ll give him another chance

- He loves you so much, he can’t-

- “I’m pregnant.”

- His mind stills

- Everything goes silent as his mouth opens a bit

- “I know we’re not ready for a kid.” You say. “So I’m offering you an out. You can go pack your bags if you want, I understand. A kid is a big responsibility and we’re both just starting out in our careers”

- “You’re… We’re going to have a kid?” He says

- You honestly get taken aback by his voice

- It’s so soft you swear he spoke like if he said it any louder, that you’d shatter

- He gets out of his chair and kneels down beside you, grasping your hands

- “I’m not leaving, (Y/N). I’ll never leave you or our kid- A kid! Oh, what do you think it’s gonna be? You know what? I don’t care. As long as both of you are healthy. I’m gonna take care of you better than ever before ok? Do you want anything right now? Ice cream? Pizza? Wine- Wait, no you can’t have that. Grape juice that I’ll put into a fancy bottle?”

- You laugh at his sweetness

- You kiss him sweetly and feel tears run down his cheeks

- “I love you.” You say

- “I love you more.” He responds

Marco

- A few days ago you realized how sluggish you’ve been feeling

- So just to be safe and to rule out the big possibility, you bought a test from the local drug store

- And when it came out positive, you felt a flurry of emotions

- You were excited because that means you get to start a family with Marco

- You’re scared because you’ve heard of everything that can happen during pregnancy

- You’re sick just thinking of how much pain you’re going to be in

- So in this state of jumbled feelings, you sort of shut down

- You don’t express your feelings at all, barely eat and barely talk

- Marco’s noticed all of that

- You barely even touched dinner last night

- And you didn’t even the pancakes he made you this morning for breakfast

- He figures your mad at him about something so he offers to do the grocery shopping by himself so you can rest

- Now that the food is out of the way, he makes his way over to the gift section of the store and grabs a box of your favourite snack

- He then heads over to the toys and picks up a stuffed bear he thinks you’ll like

- And then finally over to the flowers to buy you a beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers wrapped in your favourite colour

- “Darling, I’m home!” He calls out as he opens the door

- He sees you still sitting in the kitchen so he walks over with the gifts in hand

- “I bought you something.” He gives them to you and then sits down. “I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry. Can you tell me so I know not to do it again?”

- “I’m not mad at you, Marco.” You say and then look over to him

- “Oh. Then why didn’t you eat dinner or breakfast?” He asks. “Are you feeling sick?”

- “No. Well, yes, but that’s not why I didn’t eat. I guess I’m just a little stressed.”

- “Is it something I can help with?” He asks

- “Marco… I’m pregnant.”

- He blinks a few times

- Are you being serious?

- “Is this something we’re happy about?”

- “I think so.” You answer. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

- Marco smiles happily and kisses you sweetly

- “We can turn the second spare into the nursery!”

- He starts rambling about all the things he’s excited to start doing

Levi

- You’ve been feeling a lot more tired than usual

- Seeing as you work with kids all day, this is extremely annoying

- You sigh as you lean against the bathroom counter while getting ready for work

- “Maybe it’s that time in my cycle?” You wonder

- You open your phone and pull up your period tracking app to see what phase in your cycle you’re at

- But instead, it tells you that your period is four days late

- You’ve never had an irregular period before so this fills your gut with unease

- You’ve always been careful so there was no need to keep any pregnancy tests on hand

- You quickly check the time and see that you can go to the drug store that’s around the corner and make it home before you would have to leave

- So you throw on a pair of shoes and book it outside, clutching your bag nervously as you walk down the street

- You grab three different brands just to be safe, not caring which brands or how expensive

- You also pick up a water for you to chug on the way home

- You’re glad that Levi has already left for work so that’s a bit of pressure off your shoulders

- But it’s waiting for the timer to go off that causes you to pace back and forth in front of the counter

- You jump when the alarm finally blares

- You take a breath before looking at them. The first has a plus sign, the second says positive, and the third says pregnant: 2-3 weeks

- “Shit…”

- Levi comes home from work at his usual time and immediately smells cleaning products

- You have the same love for cleanliness that he does

- It stems from your job as a kindergarten teacher since you see sick children almost as much as if you were doctor

- He figures that there was a cold or flu outbreak at the school so you’re doing your annual fall deep clean

- He removes his shoes at the door and places down his bag then goes to find you

- He wants to help you clean so the both of you can relax for the night

- He finds you at the kitchen counter scrubbing like your life depended on it

- He opens his mouth to greet you when he notices how red and raw your hands look

- “How long have you been cleaning for?”

- “Don’t know.” You answer simply, setting off alarm bells in Levi’s head

- He walks up to you and grabs your hands

- He knows that for your hands to look like this, you would’ve had to be cleaning for a lot longer than if you started right when you got home

- “What’s wrong?”

- You don’t look at him

- “Levi, please. Let me go.”

- “Not until you tell me what’s wrong. You’re practically hurting yourself at this point.”

- “I… I’m pregnant.”

- Levi stiffens a bit

- You two were careful, you’re always careful

- But you’ve talked about kids

- He knows you want them

- You both have good, stable jobs so it’s not about money

- “Why aren’t you happy? I thought you wanted kids.”

- “I do but…” You trail off. “I know how much mess and sickness bothers you. Kids get sick all the time.”

- He lets your hand go so he can gently move your head to look at him

- “Hey. It’s ok. Getting messy and sick are just normal kid things.”

- “But I’m gonna get sick, too!” You remind him. “I’m gonna throw up all the time, and I’ll blow up like a balloon, and I’ll-“

- “Do you think I care about that?” He asks genuinely. “I’ll take care of you when all that happens. If you have some stupid craving in the middle of the night, I’ll go get it for you. I’ll make sure you both are safe and healthy, even if I have to get dirty in the process.”

- You smile, feeling your anxiety wash away

- “Now, let’s go put some cream on these hands, ok?”

Reiner

- You’ve been feeling a little under the weather lately which is unusual for you

- You’ve always had an amazing immune system

- So you start freaking out, trying to figure out why you feel nauseous around the smell of apples

- Maybe you’ve developed an allergy

- So you set up an appointment with your doctor to see if she can figure it out

- When she asks if there’s any chance you could be pregnant, you practically run out of the office

- Once you’ve calmed down, you realize that she could be right and you should know

- So you buy the best (and most expensive) test the drug store has to offer

- You can’t help but bounce your leg and rub your hands as you wait the agonizing few minutes

- And then you see the word ‘Positive’ pop up on the little screen

- Reiner’s at work when he gets a call from you

- Because he’s with his boss, he figures he’ll call you back right after he’s done

- But then you immediately call back

- “Reiner, is everything ok?” His boss asks him

- “Um… I’m not sure. Can I quickly take this?”

- His boss nods so Reiner stands up and turns away as he answers

- “Hey, ba-“

- “R-Reiner.” You interrupt him

- He can hear you sobbing so he goes on high alert mode

- “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

- “I-I’m scared.”

- “Ok, where are you?”

- He’s already headed out of his boss’ office and back to his own to grab his keys

- “Home.”

- “I’m coming, ok? I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can.”

- “O-Ok.” You say and then hang up

- He speed walks to his boss’ office, who looks concerned when he sees Reiner

- “I need to go. Not sure what’s going on.”

- “Yeah, go.” His boss says. “Don’t worry about clocking out, I’ll do that for you.”

- He nods and speed walks out of the building then books it to his car

- “Road safety laws, prepared to be ignored!”

- It takes about half an hour to get from his work back to the apartment

- He makes it in 15

- And that’s only because he hit two red lights that he couldn’t blow through

- He damn near drops his keys as he quickly puts them into the lock and opens the door

- “(Y/N)?”

- He sees you on the couch with your head in your hands

- You look up at him with red puffy eyes

- “Hey, what’s wrong?” He says and walks up to you

- You start crying again so he sits down and lets you cry into his suit

- He shushes you softly as he runs his hand through your hair

- After a few minutes, you finally calm down enough to tell him your news

- “I’m pregnant.”

- He looks at you with starry eyes. “Really?”

- You nod and wipe your eyes. “I’m scared, Reiner. You know that my family has a history of complications during pregnancy and labour. What if all that happens to me?”

- “Ok, first question. Do you want this baby?” He asks you

- “What? Of course I do.”

- “Then prepared to be absolutely pampered, complications or not.” He says. “And if there are complications like the rest of your family, I’ll take a leave of absence and take care of you. I’ll carry you to the bathroom if you’re even a little bit nervous about tripping or something.”

- “Really?” You ask, starting to feel a bit less nervous

- “Of course! And if we have to, we’ll book a hotel near the hospital. Either because it’s safer or for your own peace of mind.”

- You smile and hug him. “I love you, Reiner.”

- “I love you more, (Y/N).”

[mushroommanstan]

Edging creepy Tenko until he’s a whining drooling mess with a swollen leaky cock Ɛ>

“A-aaah please-se-se”

Tenko didn’t know how much more of this he could take. It’s true, he’s always loved being touched by you, your velvety hands never failing to make him feel like he’s in heaven. But like Lucifer falling from said heaven, the pleasure had quickly turned into hell for him. Fuck, he’s sorry, he’s sorry!

“Mmhmphhh, I’m-I’m sorry! I’m sorry-hyyy”

You giggled, watching his desperately hard cock throbbed painfully, the whole shaft painted red due to you denying his orgasm again and again. You can practically see his balls throbbing as they beg to be emptied.

But you didn’t listen. Instead you waited until he was ever so close before pulling your hand away, letting his cock slap back against his stomach as he wailed out. You waited for him to cool down before wrapping your hand around his cock and jerking him, repeating the cycle.

“Oh? And what are you sorry for baby? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Despite this, he continued blabbering apologies, the lack of relief seemingly having short circuited his brain and only letting him say those words.

“I’m sorry! I-Iaaah, I’m s-sorry!”

You smirked.

“Baby I’m not doing this as a punishment. Not to my good, sweet boy~” his dick twitched at that making him moan in painful pleasure.

He then surprised you, switching it up and adding a new phrase to his currently limited vocabulary.

“T-then wh-aaah please, then w-why-then-then-why-“ he can feel tears gathering in his eyes, from what he doesn’t know. Frustration, yearning, insecurity, all of those feelings melting down and forming melancholy.

He refused to let those tears fall. He’s a man, he’s a manly man. And manly men don’t cry.

You grabbed him forcefully by his chin, making sure he was looking at your erotically devious face. “Because I want to see you cry for me.”

Maybe some men cry.

He wailed out, a mess of ‘please’s and ‘sorry’s tumbling out as he yet again reached his high, scared you would deny him. He felt his warm tears coat his cheeks as he broke down, begging you to let him finish in the most desperate, lewd moaning.

Satisfied, this time your hand didn’t stop, and you could practically see the relief on his face when the first rope of cum shot out of his dick. He threw his head back, legs quaking and back arched as he opened his mouth in a silent scream. Ropes and ropes of pent up cum burst out of him, coating him, you, and the sheets in his jizz.

You smiled, continuing to pump him until he was completely finished, his cock immediately turning back to the pink, soft state you knew and loved.

Wiping your brow (with your other hand), you finally look back up at him after admiring his fountain.

“Feel better baby?”

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t do anything really, hanging limply in his leather restraints. You snapped your finger in his face but got no response, pulling his head up only to find his eyes rolled back into his head, passed out.

You quickly checked his breathing, before patting his shoulder affectionately after making sure he was ok.

You then sighed, leaving him to get a towel to clean him up with.

Damn it, he passed out again.

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Closeted Theories 

A.N: Was finishing up my other Neuvillette series and this one just dropped into my head. Mighta have something to do with the fact I finished the Neuvillette storyquest the other day and he’s still on the brain. That was an awesome quest!! Definitely one of my hallmark favorites!

Genshin Impact MasterList

------

Picture this scenario: 

You were currently locked in a storage room closet, in the Palais Mermonia with Monsieur Neuviellette by your side.

Got it in your head?

Hard to picture, wasn’t it? 

Yeah, it would have been hard for you too, only a scant five minutes ago. 

But right now, this is your reality. 

You heard a gaggle giggling on the other side of the door as it shut. You dimly heard the lock as well. Then the voice of Sedene spoke over it, “Don’t worry, we will relieve you in an hour!” 

Then you heard the giggling and paddling of feet retreat. You just blinked at the door for a bit before finally looking up at Monsieur Neuvillette. It was a rare sight to behold, actually. He had frozen like a statue as he stared blankly at the door in front of him. 

“Check back with me, when you processed this.” you stated, “This is a lot even for a human.”  

You looked around the store room which was filled with mostly documents and books. It was big enough for two people to fit just so and had a single light on the ceiling. Thinking back you weren’t sure how you managed to get in this predicament but before you could try to analyze it further, Neuvillette stirred. Ahh, looks like he was coming back this way. It only took about five minutes. 

“Ahh, Miss. Y/N, I’d like to apologize for them. I don’t know what they hope to accomplish by this but I promise they mean no ill will.”

“Of course not. Those little younguns couldn’t do ill will if they tried, mischievous on the other hand is another matter. Anyway, can’t you break down the door or something?” 

Monsieur Neuvillette held his chin in thought, “Yes, easily. Though I hate to destroy such workmanship. It’s hardly the doors fault….” 

You smack your lips together, “Well, unless a Hydro Dragon suddenly knows how to pick a lock, we don’t know exactly how long we will be here for. Besides, isn't this getting in the way of your business to attend to? 

“Sedene clearly said they’d be back in an hour. My next meeting is scheduled for then. I don’t have any pressing matters right now. However, I would usually be using this time to get ahead on paperwork.” 

“...Hm. So they planned this down to the letter. I mean can’t have the Chief Justice of Fontaine and its Iudex, missing important functions over….being locked in a closet, now can we?” 

Neuvillette shook his head, “No, sounds quite lucidious to say it out loud like that.”  

“Equally as ridiculous as our reality. However they should be lucky I’m not claustrophobic.” 

Monsieur Neuvillette swung his eyes around to you, “Claustrophobic?” 

“Yes, some humans will start panicking in a tight place. They begin to feel the wall closing in on them and such.” 

Monsieur Neuvillette eyes widened at this, “Truly?! I hadn’t realized. And you are alright? I’ll break down the door immediately!” 

You reached out a hand in front of him, “I said I was fine! I’m not claustrophobic, only mildly amused and mostly annoyed. The only thing I worry about is how dus…” You paused in the process of wiping a finger over a shelf, rubbing them together, “Not so much as a speck of dust. Most impeccable.” 

“Of course not. I have learned that if left unattended a room like this will begin to rot. To take care of that, we have those hired to routinely clean spaces like this.” 

“Nothing escapes you, does it?” 

“Except for this.” He let out a sigh, “Rest assured, I shall have to give them a stern talking too.” 

You head bobbed up and down once, as you managed to find a reasonably comfortable spot to lean on the wall. 

Silence floated for a while before Neuvillette finally heaved a deep sigh, “Try as I might, I cannot see the reason for this insipid affair. Whatever possessed them to attempt this thing?” 

You snorted once making lavender eyes lock with yours. When you didn’t say anything more Neuvillette asked, “Why do I feel like you have an idea? Can you not share it with me if that’s the case?” 

You looked away then, “It would only be a theory at this point. I’d hate to paint them with conjecture.” 

“Let us hear it anyway. We have nothing else to do, until then and besides I’d like a better picture of what is going on before I speak with them on this matter. Perhaps there are some critical clues I am missing.” 

“....” 

Neuvillette watched as you absently began to “arrange” the books on the shelf next to you, your eyes not meeting his. Meanwhile his lavender eyes did not depart from you.

A lull prolonged itself until…

“Miss. Y/N are you….embarrassed, perhaps?” 

You snapped your head up, “What the-?! What makes you say that?” 

“Well, you have…” 

“I don’t want to play by play.” You interrupted knowing that Neuvillette was going to literally tell you all the actions he observed to arrive at this conclusion. It was bad enough that he was looking at you the entire time in expectation and equally bad that there was only room between you for a person to barely slip through. 

You cleared your throat turning away, “Actually I was thinking about it and it might be kinda, slightly my fault.” 

“I hardly doubt that but what do you feel you have done?” 

“.....read….scene….idea….” 

“Excuse me? Could you speak up?” 

“I said….” You jerked your head up only to stop when you realized that Neuvillette had closed the distance between you and was looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. Clearly he had gotten closer to hear you better but still. 

You swallowed, snatching your eyes away from him, “I read the Melusines a story a little while ago.” 

“Yes, that doesn’t sound so horrible. In fact, I thank you for taking time out of your day to spend with them.” 

“Yes, yes, you're welcome. It’s fine. It’s just….they may have taken a story a little too…..realistically.” 

“In what manner?” 

“It was a romance story. One scene…the couple was trapped in a storeroom, you know?” 

“I see. And what does this have to do with our predicament now?” 

You almost banged your head on the shelf. You did not want to explain it in detail. Most humans would pick up and put two and two together. However, given that Neuvilletter wasn’t human, you couldn’t and didn't expect him to have two and two much less know to put them together in this instance.  

You heave a sigh. That still didn’t mean you wanted to explain this. 

“...I’m sorry. This is making you uncomfortable. We should cease talking about this then.” 

You felt Neuvillette put as much space between you as he was able. Part of you was grateful. Being locked in a storeroom with Neuvillette of all people was doing nothing for your nerves although you pride yourself in comporting yourself regardless of the situation. You knew it really wasn’t fair to keep Neuvillette in the dark, especially when he genuinely did not have the pieces needed to put together the puzzle. 

“It’s a common plot device in romance stories. When a couple is locked in a confined room it’s used to further their relationship.” You said this in one breath not looking up. 

“....” 

You could practically hear the gears in Neuvillette’s head turning. 

“I see. They had hoped that our relationship would progress and that is why they did this.” 

You hoped your laugh wasn’t forced, “What relationship? We don’t have one. We are just friends.” 

“Yes, we are friends.” 

You bobbed your head absently and just when you were beginning to find your footing, you felt Neuvillette move. Looking up, you startled to see him looming over you.

Wait, why was he even closer than last time?

Your throat went dry. 

“Rest assured, I will still express my displeasure at such extreme methods but I shouldn't let their goodwill go to waste. I suppose they were getting tired of my lack of courage.” 

“.....W-w-what are you talking about?” 

Neuvillette lifted his arms and trapped you within, his hands holding onto the shelf in front of you.

Hold on! What is this situation?!

You were pretty sure that Monsieur Neuvillette had never read such a scene before so why was he an accomplished actor now?

You knew you were looking up at him like a trapped boar. 

“I think I finally understand what message they were trying to send. I suppose they were getting tired of me taking my time. Had I had my way, I would still be taking time. Although I have an abundance of time, the fact is you do not. It’s unfair of me to continue to make you wait.” 

By now your head and eyes were spinning. Why did it seem like this went from 0 to 100 real quick? You weren’t even following anymore. 

“Miss. Y/N, when this is over, will you accompany me to dinner at Hotel Debord? Ah, I suppose I should convey my feelings first, shouldn’t I? Forgive me, allow me a minute to gather my bearings.” 

You turned so your back was to the shelf, looking up at Neuvillette, “H-h-hold on! Aren’t you…? What are you even doing? We are friends…” Your eyes dart back and forth, “...aren’t we?” 

“Of course, I am loath to lose our friendship but I confess I find myself thinking about…deeper things when it comes to us.” 

“Y-y-you do?” 

Of course you always like Monsieur Neuvillette but you’d never in your wildest dreams thought that a friendship with him could turn into more. You were just happy that he trusted you enough to become friends with you. The two of you had met through the Traveler actually. And being a Descender yourself, you had become privy to the fact that he was the Hydro Dragon. As the Traveler moved on to other nations with the goal of finding their sibling you lingered in Fontaine finding the nation agreeing with you. Fontaine eventually became your home base even as you travel to other nations. Unlike the Traveler you had no lofty goals in mind. 

“I confess this is so. However perhaps I’ve been spending too much time pondering on the idea instead of acting on it. The Melusines must have picked up on my feelings.” 

Ah, now that might explain why the Melusines went through a period of forcing you to read just about every romance book they could come across. Was this all research to help Monsieur Neuvillette?  

Your previous annoyance at being locked in a storage room was quickly dwindling even from the little bit you had. You hoped that you hadn’t displayed any odd tendencies when Monsieur Neuvillette was concerned that the Melusines picked up on. You thought you had had an impenetrable shield. 

“They had urged me to at least talk to you about it but I had refused. I wanted to ponder this a little more and see if it had merit. However, although I have learned more about humans, the complexities of this kind of thing still perplexes me. Sedene did present to me a list of findings about your behavior that made me think that perhaps you might feel more on the subject than you let on.” 

You stiffened and replied in which you hoped with a coolness that belied your feelings, “Such as?” 

“You have brought me meals when unasked for.” 

“We are friends. I’m interested in your health and you are busy.  Thought I’d help out here and there. There is nothing untoward about that.” 

“You made some of them yourself.” 

“Again, friendship.” 

“I have no basis for such things. Perhaps friends do make each other meals. This was a thought I came to as well. Next, they have observed that when I leave, your gaze lingers.” 

Your right eyebrow twitched, “....I’m making sure you leave.” 

That sounded lame even to your ears but you challenged it by looking Neuvillette straight in the eye. You would not bend first. 

“....and they have heard you give a…and I quote, ‘an heartrending sigh.’” 

You would have spat at this and your face showed. You looked away folding your arms, “Denied!! What does a ‘heartrending sigh’ even sound like? I didn’t swoon like a maiden.” 

“So you admit that you did in fact sigh?” 

Your whole face twitched this time, “Denied! You need to do better than this! It’s all circumstantial at best!” 

“Very well then. I’m not sure I should reveal this but….apparently, there were some Melusines in earshot when you and Navia were having a private conversation. They heard Navia ask when you were quote “going to make your intentions known.” And your reply was, and I quote, “When a boar flies and all the water in Fontaine is set on fire.”” 

Given that they were Melusines, in earshot was probably a generous term. You couldn’t help but to slap both hands over your face. Everything within you wanted to deny it but you couldn't very well make a liar out of both the Melusines and Navia. 

Checkmate. 

“Not to worry, I did admonish them about listening to private conversations such as those.” 

“I should find the nearest volcano in Natlan and jump in it.” 

Monsieur Neuvillette’s eyes widened as he placed his hands on your shoulders, “Don’t even joke about such things Y/N!” 

You still hadn’t raised your head. 

“Miss. Y/N, would it be wrong of us to try to see if our relationship can grow deeper?” 

Your voice was muffled by your hands, “Why, you want it to?” 

“Hm, I believe I would. You?” 

“....I’m amenable to it.” 

Monsieur Neuvillette’s mouth quirked, “I’m pleased to hear this. Won’t you look at me?” 

“Maybe after we get out of here.” 

Ahh, you were being shy about this. A chuckle escaped the Hydro Dragon. You reached one hand to slap him in the chest, “Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, please be silent!” 

The chuckle turned into a laugh then. 

Then you felt him stepping away, “Very well. I know the benefits of having to gather oneself. We will have plenty of time to address this. Ah, what did you say to dinner?” 

You turned away from him, as you dropped your hands from your face, once again “arranging” the books.

A small smile made its way to your face as you replied softly, “Sure. I’ll be there.” 

[the-kr8tor]

REQUEST

Y'know, Hobie n R hit the boombahya, now the twins are getting a li'l bro? :3

The twins could be like, 4-5 years old now, maybe?

Yeesss new baby alert!! Thank you, roze ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, mom! Reader, dad! Hobie, Billie and Ramona AU, Twin AU, dad AU, fluff

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie's nervous, and it's not because he's scared for you because you're in labour and actively pushing out a whole new human being, that was hours ago, all the blood and sweat have been wiped clean and the baby now presumably sleeps in your arms. And it's not because he's scared of having a new kid, he's way past that phase thanks to your help. No, it's not because of those things why his hands are so clammy, he's scared whether or not his girls, his first babies will get along with the new addition to the family. Especially when they wanted a baby sister.

He flicks his eyes upwards towards the rearview mirror to check on the girls. Their legs dangle off the car seat that they've quickly outgrown. They should be out of it in a few years, but he's sure he won't be ready to face the fact that the squishy cheeked babies he used to carry around all time are now eight years old with their long legs they both inherited from him. The new baby car seat sits between them, all shiny and new, awaiting the new baby.

They eat their chips and ice cream happily, a little treat he bought for them to soften the blow of the news. Ramona hums a tune, a nervous habit of hers. Her, or your cardigan for the matter sits largely on her frame, sparkly trainers shining in the early morning light. While Billie eats her ice cream cone like she hasn't eaten in days. Like Mona, she also sports one of your jackets, a frilly one that you used to wear back when you and Hobie were just friends. They clearly miss you after just a couple of days in hospital.

Hobie unclasps his seat belt, twisting around his seat to speak to them, like a zoo keeper facing lions, he gingerly takes a chip, waiting for their protest.

“Dad!” Billie reacts first, “I was eating that.”

“And I bought it.” He annoyingly chews to lighten the mood.

Mona lifts her eyes from her melting ice cream to her dad. Always the more perceptive one, she senses his nerves. “Is mum okay?” Her tone makes Billie take a whole 180 on her emotions.

“What– why would she not be okay?” Billie turns to her dad, tone soft and clearly terrified at the thoughts rolling in her mind. “Dad, mum is okay, right?”

“She's fine, Mac,” He can see the relief on their faces. “just— she's knackered, pushing the baby out tired was hard, so can you two promise me that you'll be extra careful with her and the baby?”

They look at each other for a second before nodding. “Okay,” they say simultaneously. Hobie's used to their synchronization.

“Good,” he pats both of their knees. “Ready to head out and meet your sibling?”

“Yes!” Billi exclaims, the ‘s’ sound prolonged.

Mona finishes her ice cream in one gulp, brain freeze evident on her face. The same expression you get whenever you bite into your ice cream. He can't wait to see you too, it's only been a few hours since he left your side but it feels like a year.

Wincing, Mona smiles, showing off her dimples and pearly whites. “I'm good!”

“Let's go then.” Hobie doesn't need to help them with their car seat, but it doesn't mean that he doesn't miss it. All he does now is open and close the doors for them, he feels all nostalgic. He hopes he gets the same feeling when his boy gets the same age as his girls.

Locking the car, Billie skips ahead while Mona takes her dad's hand wordlessly. “Bee!” She yells after her sister. “Look both ways!”

Billie stops in her tracks to check her left and right. Then she tosses a thumbs up behind her, continuing her way towards the entrance of the hospital.

“D’you think we need a leash for your sister?” He tuge at Mona's hand jokingly.

“Leashes aren't nice, dad, they hinder us from our freedom to move around.” She says seriously, or as seriously a eight year old can sound like.

“That's my girl.” Hobie grins down.

“Learned from the best.” She beams up at him, he can't believe that she grew up looking more like you when everyone thought she looked like him when she was a baby. “Aunty Yuri taught me that.”

Hobie scrunches his nose. “You ruined it, cheese.” She clearly knows what she's doing based on her cheeky grin. He's her kid alright.

“Dad! Elevator!” Billie, in her blue overalls, holds the elevator doors open. “Hurry!” She stomps her foot impatiently.

“Alright, we're comin’” Entering the elevator, Billie seems to be jumping all over the walls. Maybe he shouldn't have given them ice cream.

Her eyes flit over the various medical posters inside the elevator, feet unconsciously doing a little dance.

Mona tugs at Hobie's hand, beaded bracelets clinking against each other. “You look knackered, dad.” His heart melts.

Patting her head, Hobie's hand is big enough to cover her entire head. Her curls stick out in-between his fingers and the ribbons she hastily tied around her hair. “I am, dovey. But I'll be alright, mum and my babies come first, yeah?”

“But who'll take care of you?” Her eyes gloss over. Billie heard the conversation through her fog of excitement. She holds the sleeve of Hobie's leather jacket like she always does when she's unsure.

He whispers, hands on both of their heads. “I'm Spiderman, innit? If I can handle lizard on my worst day, I can handle this.”

Mona thinks for a second. She smiles once she gets an idea. “Then we'll watch over you then!”

“Mm-hmm!” Billie agrees, “Like mum always does!”

Hobie would've embraced his girls until he lets all his love for them out, but the ring of the doors opening cuts him off. With a sniff, he feels the tears behind his eyes once again.

“You two are already better at this than me,” he softly says as he leads them out of the lift. He has no idea why he worried so much.

Walking past the nurse’s station, both of his babies are holding each of his hands now, hopping and skipping happily. Their curls bounce cutely, getting a nurse’s attention. Hobie recognizes her as one of the nurses that attended to you.

“You two are adorable!” She coos, “d’you girls want a lolly?” Shaking a jar full of colourful lollipops, surprisingly, the girls shake their heads.

“No, thank you, Mum and dad said to not accept any candies from strangers.” Mona puffs out her chest bravely. Her sister agrees, nodding along to her words.

Hobie chuckles whilst the nurse does the same. “It's alright, love, I know her, go take some.” He urges them, still a tad apprehensive, Billie takes one for the team, taking two lollies. Yellow for her, and green for Mona.

“Wait! What about the baby?” Mona exclaims,

Billie knits her eyebrows.

“I don't think your baby brother is allowed to have a lolly yet.” The nurse, naive to what she just revealed, returns back to her desk.

“What?!” They crane their neck up incredibly fast, shock on their faces, letting go of their dad's hand like they've been betrayed.

Hobie's ready to mitigate any tantrums, mouth opening to explain, the twins’ grins grow larger (and cuter) making their dad go through a rollercoaster of emotions.

“We have a baby brother?” Mona says giddily.

“Told you it would work!” Billie takes her sister's hand, bouncing up and down.

“What would work?” Hobie has never been more confused when it comes to his daughters.

“Reverse psychology!” They both speak at the same time.

“We keep saying that we want a baby sister but we actually wanted a brother! Now we've tricked mummy's belly to have a boy instead of a girl!” Billie explains like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Hobie doesn't have the heart to tell them that it doesn't work that way. He lets them be, guiding them towards your room as they celebrate their so-called win.

He smiles at them, nodding along. “Yeah, that's great, love— look at that we're here.” Knocking once, he opens the door with a creak.

Billie and Ramona stop from hopping around, peeking inside, they see you sitting up on the bed cradling a bundle of blue blanket.

You smile, shoulders sagging and finally able to relax. Eyes glistening from the mere sight of them alone, (you blame your hormones) you beckon them over.

“My babies,” you softly say, sniffing.

The distinct smell of disinfectant and clean linen immediately has Hobie on dad mode. He remembers the day the girls were born, all shaky legs and clammy hands as the doctor hands them over to him for the first time. Now he has one more bundle to carry, and now he's much more ready and experienced, yet his legs are still wobbly, and his hands are still sweaty. It's like he's back when he first carried his son even though it was just a few hours ago.

He guides Billie and Mona towards your bed, hands on their back, whispering to them. “Indoor voices, mac and cheese. We don't want to scare your brother.”

“Okay.” Mona nods. “Hi, mum, hi little brother.” She softly says, and you scooch to make space for them both on the bed so they could see him better. Mona lifts up her leg carefully, sitting down by your side, planting her face on your bicep. Eyes wide, she holds your hand where you hold your son's tiny leg. “He looks so much like dad. Especially his eyes.” Voice even softer now, you kiss her temple as thanks for being gentle.

Billie has a harder time though, Hobie senses her nerves, whether it's his spidey senses or his dad's intuition, he just knows. Billie is definitely nervous by how she bounces on the balls of her feet, and wrings her hands. He hasn't seen her this anxious since her first recital.

Hobie crouches down, hand on her shoulder, soothing her by mere touch alone. “You alright, Bee?” You watch the interaction in the corner of your eye. Mind still a bit foggy, body still aching, you'd help if not for those feelings.

“Will the baby like me?” She timidly asks her dad, frown deepening on her lips. “What if he hates me?”

“Impossible, angel.” Hobie rubs her back, “he listened to your voice while he was still in mum's belly, and he always moved and wiggled around whenever he heard you. I know he loves you, just like how your mum and I knew that you and Mona would love each other.”

Billie, still his little girl, hugs him right on the spot. Little arms wrapped around his neck, nerves melting off her. Just like how Hobie used to do, he lifts her up, carrying her to your bed.

She sits down right next to her sister, frown immediately gone the moment she lays her eyes on her brother. “He’s so fat.” Giggling, Billie looks at you with the same adoration. “You made him fat, mum.”

You beam at her, you'd embrace both of them if your hands aren't occupied by the sleeping newborn. “It’s because of all the bread and pasta I ate.” Billie and Mona laugh softly, continuing to coo at their brother. Billie sniffs at the blanket, whispering something that sounds like ‘new baby smell.’

Tilting your head at Hobie, eyes tender, you smile at him. Grinning back, he holds your head, placing a heavy kiss on your forehead.

“I was the one who made you all that pasta and bread, you blamin’ me, love?” He says the joke against your temple.

“I'm feeling nice today, so I'm blaming us both. I blame my cravings and I blame you for indulging me.” Moving your head without moving your body to not disturb the baby, (which was a challenge,) you pucker your lips, waiting for him to move. “Told you they'd love him.”

“I should've never doubted you.” With a dramatic sigh, he leans down to kiss you properly.

Now for the next challenge, naming their son. Billie and Mona are already whispering ideas, which includes names ranging from their favourite cartoon characters to even naming them after their uncles. You and Hobie watch on while the baby sleeps soundly, and while your girls argue quietly.

[dontopenfairies]

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he said, climbing over her and kissing her cheek.

“But you’re wearing your toilet,” she giggled, reaching her leg out from under the covers to try to catch him as he made to leave the room.

“I mean the other way,” he said. “I’ll be right back, darling.”

“Don’t take too long,” she called after him.

His heart was hammering in his chest as he shut and locked the bathroom door. Was he really going to do this? He stared at the toilet from across the room, debating. Finally, he sat down, pull-up still snug around his hips.

Now he was staring at the wall, debating again. He felt like he had as a kid when he would climb up the big rock at the lake with his brothers every summer—there was always that minute or so of hesitation that seemed to stretch on forever before he made the jump.

He closed his eyes and pushed, and felt the log squeeze into the seat of his pull-up. It felt just like he’d imagined it would…actually, better than he’d imagined it would. The tension, the tightness, the way his hole stung a little as the log grew, the way it was pressed so close and warm against his butt…

On the second push, he started to wet himself involuntarily. Without thinking, three fingers of one hand were in his mouth and the other hand was rubbing up and down on his chest. He pushed again, the shit coming out of him effortlessly. He could feel warm piss around the leg-holes of the pull-up now, dripping into the toilet. He moaned loudly and his eyes flew open, worried that she’d hear him and come check on him.

He pushed two more times, just to make sure he was done, and then stood up. Wow. No need to even flush the toilet. Just a few drops of pee had leaked down his legs and landed in the water. But he’d better do it in case it made her suspicious that he hadn’t. He plunged the handle down.

Oh, fuck. This was the tricky part. He was standing in the middle of the bathroom floor, completely naked except for an at-capacity pull-up. He’d planned to just take it off, put it in the diaper pail, and change into a fresh one from the drawer. But how was he going to clean himself up? If he showered, she’d ask him why; or even get up to see that he was okay. But if he didn’t, surely she would notice deep brown stains inside his pull-up when she helped him change tomorrow morning.

Finally he settled on doing the best he could with wet wipes. Now he was also vaguely aware that the clock was ticking. She’d said to be back soon. He fumbled with the pull-up, finally slipping it off and letting it thud to the floor. But oh no—now they were long, brown streaks down the insides of both his legs. Fuck. He threw the pull-up to the bottom of the diaper pail. What had his stupid horny brain done to him? He’d just wanted to poop himself in the least embarrassing way possible.

More wet wipes. Pulling off more and more and more, but it still wasn’t enough. There was poop caked all over his crack, his privates, …and he was so throbbingly hard despite it all that it was making it difficult to focus. When he finally thought he was clean enough, there was only one wet wipe left in the pack. Would she notice?? He washed his hands and closed the pack, shoving it to the far, far back of the drawer, behind his pull-ups and his sometimes-diapers and his baby powder and his pacifier. Then he took out a fresh pull-up and pulled it tight around his hips. He checked himself out in the mirror. At least his legs were totally clean.

When he got back to the room, it was almost pitch-black except for a little light shining through a crack in the curtains. He crawled into bed, heart still beating fast. He was so scared he’d give himself away somehow, with a smell, or how he was behaving. He closed his eyes and prayed she was asleep until he felt her arms wrap around him from behind.

“I missed you,” she said, kissing his neck and shoulders. He was about to reply when he felt her head droop against the back of his neck and heard her snore. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the burning, throbbing feeling in the front of his pull-up. An itch that so desperately needed to be scratched. Just like his anxiety, he would have to put it aside until the morning. He put his hands over hers and closed his eyes, trying to sink into the pillow and off to sleep.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Your robin and franky fic was chefs kiss but would you be willing to write some solo franky?? Im really into water 7 franky and would love to see what you’d come up with !!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING FOR THIS! YALL I promise you any time anyone requests a Franky fic I WILL BE WRITING THAT SHIT. This is my dream man and no one gives me enough opportunities to write for him! So, I'm sorry I turned this into a smutty nightmare if you wanted fluff... I just need to service the Fellow Franky Fuckers out there.

Pairing: (pre timeskip) Cyborg Franky x Fem!Reader

WC: 2800

Taglist: @generaldaij0bu you might need to see this

Summary: The Sunny malfunctioning is driving you up a wall. You make a request for repairs and end up getting way more than you bargained for in the workshop.

TWs: ROBO-BONING, BABES! P in V sex, unprotected sex (pls don't) sex toy use, forced orgasm, safe words, light bdsm, communication is key and Franky respects it so hard and he's so hot for it, very much dirty talk...

Too Hot (+18)

— — 

It was hot. 

The sun beat down on the Sunny all day and the unwavering heat was barely dispelled after sunset due to the humidity. You lay sprawled on the deck next to Usopp and Chopper, groaning in the unbearable heat. 

“I think I’ll die here…” Chopper groans with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to burn to death after all the horrible monster’s I’ve fought… it’s not fair!” Usopp moans and wipes his brow. 

“Just throw me overboard at this point.” You sigh. 

“But don’t you have devil fruit-“

“I DON’T CARE THROW ME OVER!” You screech at Usopp. 

Before you could murder the cowardly sniped in a fit of heat-induced rage, Sanji steps through the door to the deck from the galley. 

“Okay everyone, dinner’s on. Air con works fine in here.” Sanji calls from the doorway. 

You push Usopp and Chopper behind you as you spring to your feet and sprint towards the galley. 

After entering the swinging door, the cool air hits you like stepping through a cascading waterfall. You sigh in relief. Your bliss was furthered when you see bowls of cool gazpacho at each place setting on the dining room table. 

“Thank gods…” You grumble as you hop onto the bench and start eating. The cold soup alleviated your discomfort from the inside out and you couldn’t help but groan in content. 

“Relax, it’s just soup.” Zoro puts his bowl down next to you and gives you a concerned look. 

“Oh I’m sorry swords-for-brains, did you not notice it’s a billion and five degrees outside?” You scowl at the swordsman seated next to you at the table. 

“Who cares?! This soup is great!” Luffy chimes in and extends his rubbery arms to grab every bowl that wasn’t licked clean and shovels them down his gullet. 

You sigh. 

“Nami please tell me this heat wave will be over soon. I’m getting crows feet ON my crows feet from this sun.” You turn towards your friend and navigator. 

“I wish I had better news but it’ll be at least a few more days before there’s any relief in temperature. We’re just going to have to stay in the shade and inside where the air is working. You’re tough, y/n, you can handle it.” Nami states as she sips from her bowl of cold soup. 

You roll your eyes. 

The dishes were promptly slurped clean by your captain and Sanji cleared the table. The blaring rays of the sun had exhausted so you so you decided to take a shower and head to bed. 

After taking a cool shower, you throw on a t shirt and shorts over your panties and sports bra and lay on top of the covers of your bed. 

“Gods it’s almost like it’s hotter in here than it is out there!” You say to yourself as you lay in bed, sweat soaking through your pillow. You decide to hop up and check if the air conditioning was working. You walk over to the vent in the corner of your room and press your hands against it. HOT air was spewing out from the grate in your room. You walk backwards and fall back onto the bed. 

“Fuck.” You throw your shirt over your head and slip your shorts off and flop back onto the bed. Sweat drips from your chin down your neck to your chest. 

*whoooosh*

Hot air was being pushed out harsher and faster through the grate in the corner of your room. The temperature continued to rise and your sweat soaked through your top sheet. 

“I’m not living like this!” You shout in frustration as you push your way out of your room, without bothering to throw your clothes back on. You head down into the belly of the ship in your underwear. Upon reaching the door you were looking for, you slam it open without knocking.

“FRANKY!!!!!” You yell angrily. 

“Jeez, y/n where’s the fire? I could have been naked in here!” Franky pushes his sunglasses back on his head as he turns towards you from his work bench. 

“You’re always naked!!! Also, more importantly, why is the HEAT ON in my bedroom?! Are you trying to cook me like a rotisserie chicken?!” You pant out, still very sweaty. 

“Oh that’s no good… I’ll have to go check the generators.” Franky rises to his feet, towering over you. “Sorry you were so uncomfortable, little lady. I’ll get this sorted out super quickly. Why don’t you get some shut eye in my bed for awhile? It’s still nice and cool down here.” He gestures to his bed in the corner of the room while he grabs his toolbox. 

You sigh. 

“Honestly that would be great, I feel like I’ve been in an oven all day.” You walk over to Franky’s bed and flop down on your back. Being this deep in the ship, there were no windows on the walls, but you were so sweaty and tired you didn’t care. 

“Alright well I’m gonna go fix this for ya, try and get some rest. Your room will be back to super condition in no time!” Franky leaves and you settle into the pillows and close your eyes. The sweat covering your body began to dry and you were finally comfortable again. You find yourself relaxing into Franky’s bed, smelling slightly of cola and motor oil, and drifting off into a light sleep. 

You wake up to the door of the bedroom closing and you snap your head up. 

“Woah, what do we have here?” You hear Franky’s booming voice as you rub the brief sleep from your eyes. It must have still been late at night. 

“Some dream ya must have been having, huh?” Franky stands above the bed and nods towards your spread thighs. You look down at where he was gesturing and notice a huge soaked patch in your pink panties. It was at this moment you notice the wanton ache in your core and abdomen… you must have been having a very wet dream and were awoken before you got to the good part. You instinctively slam your thighs shut in embarrassment and cover your face with your hands. 

“Look at you, so shy but dripping all over my sheets?” Franky continues with a smile, noticing your bashfulness. 

“I-I’m sorry I-“ You stutter and try to explain yourself. 

“It’s okay sweet thing! It’s totally normal. Looks like you’re pretty pent up, huh? I can fix that for ya, if you’re interested.” 

“I.. I mean that would be nice I guess…” You pull your hands away from your face hesitantly. 

“Aaaoooww!! That’s what I wanted to hear! Let’s get started then!” Franky grins and leans down to grab something from underneath his bed. He retrieves a large metal box and pops open the lid. 

“Hmmm let’s see… Some of these… definitely this…” Your robot whispers to himself as he roots around in the large chest. He rises and brings a pile of items out and flops them onto the bed. These were things you’ve never seen before, so your eyes were darting from chain to leather to silicone you had no idea what to focus on. 

“Take that bra off for me baby, I wanna ask ya some things before we get started.” Franky grabs the hem of your panties and gently tugs them down your legs.

You did as you were told and unclasped your bra, tossing it to the side and leaning back again. Franky softly sets your panties down on his bedside table and remarks, 

“I’m keepin’ these.” 

Your body shudders when you hear the sinister tone in his voice.

“Ok doll, now tell me…” Franky traces his hands up and down your thighs, parting them in the process. “How do you like it? I can edge you for an hour or so… or you could cum until you cry… any preference?” Frankly asks casually as he organizes the objects he had turned over onto the bed. 

“I, um…” You were young, not a virgin but not very experienced. This man was almost 10 years older than you, how were you supposed to know what you wanted from him?

“I… I wanna cum… I think…” You eventually squeak out. 

“Ok babydoll, good choice. Can ya promise me you’ll say ‘red’ if you want to stop?” Franky cups your jaw and makes sure you’re looking into his eyes above you. You nod. “No no, tell me you will.”

“I will say it, I’ll say red. I can do it.” You breath out, so ready for him to please you already. You rub your thighs together. 

“And you’ll tell me if there’s anything ya don’t like, hm?”

“Yes of course I promise!” You groan out, impatient to feel Franky’s touch on your skin. 

“Super! I’m going to put you in a spreader bar now, sweet cheeks, so you can’t close your legs on me. It’ll just go around your legs like this…” Franky explains to you methodically as he straps your legs into the homemade device. You tentatively try to close your thighs to see how effective the bar was… and it certainly did its job. 

“OK and these are gonna squeeze your nipples, just like this…” Franky gently attaches the nipple clamps onto your sensitive buds. 

“Oh!!” You cry out as he tightens the screws on them. Franky pulls back and admires his handiwork. You were laid out on his bed, metal clasps squeezing your nipples, causing you to writhe against the spreader bar forcefully separating your legs. 

“Fucking perfect. If you want I can gag you, too…” Franky approaches you with a ball gag in hand. 

“Wait, no. I don’t want that.” You state clearly, even through your lust filled haze. Franky grins down at you. 

“Gods, you’re so fucking hot when you tell me what you want baby. Good idea sweetie, that way everyone can hear how good I’m gonna make you feel.” Franky squeezes your breast, eliciting a whine from your lips. He moves to grab something from the foot of the bed. It a large long, black, wand like device. 

“Spread them for me, I wanna see that cute little pussy.” Franky grabbed one of your knees and pushed it open. 

“I didn’t shave…” You try to cover your face with your arm so you didn’t have to see Franky’s eyes on your most intimate bits. 

“Good! Smells much better like this…” He takes a deep inhale. 

“Fuck,” You sigh out. “You really are a fucking pervert- OH!” The device Franky was pressing against your sex suddenly sprung to life and vibrated against your clit. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced in your life and your stomach tenses immediately. 

“Wait- fuck, Franky! Wait holy shit, wait- ah!” You scream as your orgasm sneaks up on you and takes you out like an assassin. You legs give out and flop against the bed. Franky removes the toy and cups your sex with his free hand. He feels your hole still gently pulsing against his palm.

“Oh poor baby, ya really are wound tight…” Franky coos down at you from your side. “We’re gonna need a lot more of those before you’re ready for me..” He removes his hand and returns the vibrator to your sex. You cry out as he drags it through your wet folds at the lowest intensity. He eventually keeps it at your clit and increases the vibrations. 

You squirm and moan. 

“Hey,” Franky scolds as he pulls on the chain between your nipple clamps, causing you to moan louder. “Don’t fight it, doll face… just cum, I know you’re there again…” He presses the device harder into your flesh and you crash over the edge again. This time it was even more intense, spasms continuing long after the euphoria ended. 

“Franky… It’s so much…” You whine as he leaves the vibrator pressed against your sex even after you’ve cum for a second time. 

“You can take it. I know you can. You know what to say to get me to stop…” Franky meets your gaze and raises an eyebrow. 

You pull your thighs closed to escape the sensation but the bar prevents you from doing so. 

“Come on baby, one more like this, I know you can…” Franky increases the speed of the vibrator. 

“Shit! I can’t!” You arch your back away from the stimulation. 

“Then say it, sweetheart.” Franky increases the speed again. 

“Fuck! I’m- I’m cumming!” You cry out and violently lurch forward on the bed. You grab Franky’s forearm and sob in pleasure. You hear the buzzing of the machine stop and your spasms start to slow down. 

“Think you can take me now, sweet thing?” You are broken from your post orgasm trance by your cyborg lover slipping off the only piece of clothing he had on, his red swim briefs. 

“Mmmhmmm….” You seductively whisper as you roll onto your stomach and push you ass backwards with your knees, exposing your puffy, red wet hole to him. 

“So ready for me, what a good girl.” Franky coos as he strokes down your back bone. “I’m gonna fuck you now, take a deep breath…” 

“SHIT!” You cry out as Franky’s enormous cockhead breaches your hole. You were wildly wet and open after 3 orgasms, but his sheer size was causing your insides to stretch beyond compare. 

“Its- ah” *sniff* *hiccup* “It’s so big, Frank! Ah!” *sniff* 

“I know sweetheart, it’s a lot at first, but you gotta relax and let me fuck you. You gotta open up more baby..” Franky leans forward and places kisses on your shoulder blades. He feels you lessen your grip around him and he pushes in further. “Gooood girl… stretching so nice for me…” He finally pulls back out and shoves himself into you again. 

“Oh!” You cry out in surprise. You continue to yelp helplessly as your powerful cyborg lover drilled into you from behind. 

“Yes there it is mama, cum on this dick. Feels good, huh?” Franky has the audacity to laugh as he hammers into your G-spot. 

You were involuntarily pushed over the edge and sent screaming into yet another orgasm. You sob and Franky uses his massive strength to flip you over onto your back. He enters you again and you moan out in overstimulation. 

“Come on, one more doll, bet you can squirt on me…” Franky thrusts into you from above, holding your hips into his at the perfect angle to hit your spot. 

“No, I- I can’t” You pant out breathlessly, knowing this is something you aren’t capable of. 

“Yes you can baby, come on just try it for me.” Franky pulls back and places one hand on your stomach and the other on your clit. He begins to rub circles into your sensitive nub and applies deep pressure to your lower abdomen, all while thrusting deeply into you with his cock. You snap for the nth time that evening and tears spill from your lash line as your hips spasm in pleasure. You feel different, like some sort of physical release in your bottom half deeper than the normal climax. You look up after catching your breath and see that your fluids had soaked both the bed and your lover’s abdomen and thighs. 

“Hnnnnhhhh” You whine and weep in overestimation. “It’s too much, Frank, please!” You cry out and claw at your cyborg’s back. 

“Almost there mama, take it for me…” Franky rasps into your ear as he reaches his own climax, huge cock buried deep against your cervix. The loudest moan you’ve ever heard reaches your ears and you toss your head back into the pillows. The both of your whine as Franky carefully removes himself from your body. 

You lay there in a daze and didn’t even notice that your lover had left until he returned with a warm towel to dab at your swollen, messy sex. You twitch involuntarily as he cleans your sensitive bits. He unlocks your legs from their hold in the bar and gently pulls the clamps off your nipples, soothing them with the wet cloth.

“You room should be cooled off by now, glad I could occupy your time until the repairs kicked in.” Franky helps you snap your bra back on behind your back. 

“Thanks for the help, and thanks for the distraction.” You reach up and grip Franky’s jaw to kiss it. You slide off the bed bend down to grab something. You hold the worn red pair of swim briefs up to your face. 

“I’m keepin’ these.” You giggle and bolt out of the room with Franky’s bikini. 

“HEY! Those are my only red ones! This is not very super of you!”

—

Xx 

[joemothersfavoritechild]

“across the street” pt. 2

-3k-ish words

-mike schmidt x fem!reader

-no trauma au

an: thanks for all the love on my last post!! i took some inspiration from a few joel miller fics for this one. also, referring to the ending, gotta let it marinate or sum. and if you get the orange reference, marry me.

summary: you have a late night phone call with yk who, and build furniture in the morning.

part one is here!

————————————————————————————

You plopped down in your chair, sighing while rubbing hand sanitizer over your hands. Your shift had been busy as hell, this being the first break you had all day, and it was only halfway over. You wiped your now clean hands over your eyes, trying to rub the tired soreness out of them. At least the pay is good, you thought.

Your coworker calling your name pulled you away from your thoughts.

“25 wants you again.” They said.

“Why me?” You whined.

“I don’t know, I think she prefers women.” They answered your rhetorical, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Fuck me, I’m going to have to take my lunch after this. I’m never working another Sunday.” You said, standing up on your practically creaking legs.

This was how the rest of your afternoon went, running in all directions like a chicken with its head cut off. “23 wants an ice cream,” “25 pulled out her IV again,” “Call security on 26, he’s trying to leave.” It was an absolute shit show, you hardly had a chance to see the time on your phone, let alone check for a text that you were desperate to receive.

Your drive home was quiet, soft music playing to hopefully decompress you. It always seemed to help. You pulled into your driveway, noticing the lights on at a certain someone’s house across the street, his old Accord telling you that he was home. You turned your car off, trying to stop looking at it from your rearview.

Walking into your house wasn’t as satisfying as you’d hoped, boxes still covering the floor. You took your shoes off as you set your work bag on the ground. You looked at your bed frame again in the dark, not bothering to turn a light on. Was a day too early to expect a message? Was that considered desperate? Probably, you thought. But fuck, you were so desperate. He checked all the boxes,

cute? : check

siblings? : check

caring? : check

a little mean? : check

dorky as hell? : check

abandonment issues? : probably check!

You forced yourself to pull your eyes off the box. As the saying goes, a watched fish doesn’t get caught.

That’s not right, you think. Your tired brain can’t decipher what you were trying to go for, but you knew it would’ve worked.

Anyways, constantly thinking about someone texting you doesn’t help anything. You plugged your phone into the charger near the couch, purposefully ignoring staring at it for too long.

Your eyes fell back to the boxes surrounding you. You passed them all, going straight to your bathroom to shower.

The shower was the right call, you decided. Scorching water loosened your muscles and kept your mind in the present. Washing the outside world off your skin was the highlight of your day.

You got out of the shower, eventually. The warm water didn’t last as long as you had hoped, though it did try. Your nearly hour-long shower would overwhelm any water heater on the market. You quickly dried yourself off, taking the time to brush your teeth and apply your skincare before wrapping your towel around yourself and stepping into your bedroom. You threw on some pajamas from your suitcase that moved with you; pajama pants and an old shirt.

You balled up your work clothes into your towel and put them all in the laundry basket in the corner of your room, already beginning to overflow. You reminded yourself to start the laundry sometime tomorrow as you walked back to your temporary bed, the large green couch in your living room.

You pulled back the covers on the couch, piling into it. You had completely decked it out; two blankets, a comforter, two pillows (one for your head, one for between your legs), and the fan dialed up. You closed your eyes, listening to the white noise of the fan above you.

You were interrupted by the shrill noise of your phone ringing behind you. You groaned, folding your blankets over so you could get off the couch and walk to the charger. You ripped your phone off the charger, taking it with you as you laid back into your bed. You re-adjusted your blankets before pulling the phone under your ear and swiping to accept the call.

“Hello?” You said groggily.

“Hey.” A voice responded. It took you a moment, but eventually, you recognized it. You were suddenly awake with nervousness.

“Hey, Mike.”

“Hi. Um, I texted you,” He said, sounding more like a question than a comment. “A few times, not a big deal. I just wanted to make sure you were alive.” He joked.

You paused, trying to quickly check your messages.

“You there?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. Sorry, I’ve been working all day. It was super busy, so I didn’t have time to check my phone, and when I got home all I was thinking about was sleep.” You described.

“No need to be sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” You responded.

“Good, good,” He pauses. “So, um, how was your day?”

“Pretty shitty.” You summarize, hearing him laugh in the background.

“Tell me about it.”

So, you did. You proceeded to tell him all the gritty details about your job. What your coworkers are like, the patients that you had to deal with, the frequent fliers, all of it. He asked a lot of questions, making you feel more comfortable rambling on to him.

“What’d you have for lunch?” He asked.

“I had leftover wingstop, I barely have any food at the house.”

“What’s your order?”

“Eight-piece boneless, classic hot. With fries, ranch, and a huge coke. It was amazing,” You said, practically salivating remembering it. “What about you and Abs?” You asked.

“It was very fancy, I don’t know if you’re prepared to hear me talk about it, you might be jealous,” He said sarcastically. “I made cheese quesadillas.”

You laughed a little too long at that, surprised. He was funny, another check.

You talked on the phone for a while, so long that you were talking about the most boring stuff. Like how Abby was a picky eater, and it annoyed Mike because all he wanted to do was eat a good burger now and again. It was sickly sweet and felt like being a teenager again. Whispering as to not wake your parents up, hoping that they wouldn’t catch you up past your bedtime.

You’re not sure when it happened, but you fell asleep on the phone. Mike was talking about something, maybe about the tv show he had been watching. You’re not exactly positive, but you know that you passed out cold.

Your eyes fluttered open, the phone still pressed up against your cheek, warm from the contact. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your dream in your mind. You had to think hard, as it was delicate. If you let it go, you’d never remember what it was.

It was a good dream, as most of yours tended to be. You didn’t remember a lot, only pieces of it. But you knew Mike was there. You knew that he had led you to your bed, pulling you under the covers with him. You talked, cuddling close to him. God, it had felt so real. You could practically see the lines under his eyes and the pores on his nose. You smiled, but this felt a little creepy at this point. Borderline delusional, your mind added. You barely knew him and you were already dreaming about him.

You grabbed the phone from under your face, groaning as it got unstuck from your skin. Thankfully, it wasn’t dead. You unlocked it, taking the opportunity to look at the texts that you had gotten the night before.

Yesterday, 12:36 pm: hey, this is mike. i’ll need you on the weekends from 8 am-4 pm. and idc that you said not to pay you, i’m building your bed too.

Yesterday, 2:49 pm: you okay?

Yesterday, 5:03 pm: not to be creepy, but i think i’m going to call you. you’re worrying me a little lol

Today, 1:45 am: i think you fell asleep, i’ll talk to you in the morning :)

You smiled, making a contact for him. “mike <3” was now typing. Three little dots popped up on your screen and you quickly swiped out in nervousness. You opened it again when you got a notification.

Today, 10:23 am: i dropped abby off for school and slept in a little, is it okay if i come over to build that bed frame for you?

You smiled again, quickly replying to make up for last night.

Today, 10:24 am: yeah, ofc. give me a few minutes to wake up lol, i need to brush my teeth and clean up for a second.

He replied immediately.

Today, 10:24 am: lmk when you’re ready

You willed yourself to stop smiling, god it had been too long. You hardly knew how to act with a potential date.

“Oh, god.” You muttered to yourself, realizing you had to talk to him. Why did you have to talk to a man to get a boyfriend? Why couldn’t it just happen telepathically?

You sighed, rolling off the couch. You plugged your phone back into the charger, making your way to the bathroom. You completed your morning routine and ran to your bedroom to pick something out to wear for the day. You decided to go for casual, grey sweatpants and a green hoodie. Didn’t want to seem too desperate. You pulled your socks up your feet, laughing at yourself.

You grabbed a quick breakfast from your kitchen, consisting of leftover cookies and a slice of cold pizza. You tried your best to tidy your place up, moving boxes to the corner of the living room. Running down the hallway to your bedroom with your boxed bed frame in hand, you placed it on the floor, taking the other boxes and moving them to the hallway. You scrubbed your toilet and sink, turning on the air fresheners you had placed around the house.

You washed your hands, drying them before returning to the living room. You texted Mike, letting him know that you were ready. He liked the text message, and in less than two minutes he was knocking on your door.

You eyed the door at the noise. Jesus, he was not playing around. You took another deep breath, opening the door to see him standing there with a small smile. He went for casual too, you noted. He wore a black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. He held a bag, which you assumed was full of tools.

You smiled at him as a greeting and opened the door wider to allow him to walk into your house.

“Hey.” He said as you walked past you.

“Hi, thanks for coming so quickly.” You responded. “You didn’t have to, the payment feels premature.” You joked, shutting the front door. He looked a you for a second while taking his shoes off at the entryway.

“Shut up, you can’t sleep on the couch for a week”

“I totally can.” You bite back.

“You won’t, where’s your bedroom?” He finished, looking at you again.

You were shocked into silence, feeling your cheeks warm up. The comment made your head spin. Fuck, could he tell that you liked that?

You said nothing, ignoring his little smirk as you walked him to your bedroom. He followed behind you, dropping the bag on the floor with a small thump.

“Do you need any help or something?” You asked finally, breaking the tense silence.

“No, I’m good. I’ve done a lot of stuff like this,” He answered, shrugging. “You could put on some background music?” He suggested.

“That, I can do.”

You nodded, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You hesitated, before choosing a slower playlist of yours. Something calm, that you didn’t have to focus on. He nodded in enjoyment, then began to open the box that held your bed frame. He spilled the contents onto the floor, then kneeled on the ground. He started pulling stuff out of his bag. You guessed correctly, it was full of tools.

You just watched, sitting down against the wall of your room. It was attractive, him expertly putting your bed frame together. He was good with his hands, you wondered what else he was good at. He looked at you after a moment.

“You just gonna watch?”

“If that’s okay.” You shrugged, he nodded at your sort of question. He tried to hide his smile.

He was going to town, drilling, piecing parts together, all while completely ignoring the instructions. He didn’t need them.

After a while, you could tell he was getting hot. His black shirt was sticking to his skin. You hated to admit that it did something to you. You felt a warmth settle in your stomach and tried your best to will it away. Your eyes settled on his back, looking up to his neck when he turned towards you.

“Why’re looking at me like that?” He asked, eyes narrowed out of curiosity.

You made eye contact with him like a deer in headlights. Smiling at you, he laughed a little. Your words were stuck in your throat, embarrassed about being caught.

“Um, do you want some water?” You settled on.

“Sure.” He answered, chuckling at your suddenly shy demeanor.

You stood up off the floor and walked out of your room, closing the door behind you. What the fuck was that? You scolded yourself, internally. Now he was going to think that you were a horny weirdo. I mean, you were, but he didn’t need to know that yet.

You shook your head at yourself as you poured him a glass. This was ridiculous, you needed to chill out.

You came back into the bedroom and handed him the glass. He took it from you gratefully, fingers brushing over yours as he grabbed it. Telling you a small “thank you,” he brought the glass to his lips and began to drink greedily. You watched him as he downed the glass, some dripping down his chin.

When he was finished, he wiped a hand over his stubble. He looked over to you, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He held the glass out to you and you took it, quickly walking out of the room.

You placed the glass in the sink, blinking to try and bring yourself back to life. How did someone make drinking water look so good? How was that even possible? And god, the look he gave you.

You needed to get it together before you blew it. Talk to him, say something, anything other than just fucking staring at him.

You walked back into the room with a mission, you were going to talk to him. Taking your spot on the floor, you cleared your throat.

“So, what’s your favorite food?” You decided on.

He barely paused before answering, “Definitely pasta, like a good chicken alfredo.”

“Shit, that’s a good answer. I’m really into sushi right now. Can’t afford it, but into it.” You said, smiling at his willingness to answer.

The stupid questions continued for a few minutes. The two of you got to know the smallest details of your likes and dislikes. Turns out, Mike can’t stand the color yellow but loves orange. He’s not much of a drinker, mainly because he can’t afford it, but he does occasionally smoke weed. He’s a cat person but would get a dog if Abby asked for one. It killed you when he talked about his sister because it was so obvious how much he loved her.

Eventually, he finished your bed frame. The gentleman that he is forced him to carry your mattress in from the laundry room, helping you set that up too. Mike may have been on the shorter side, but he was strong as hell. The two of you put on your sheets, blankets, pillows, and finally your comforter. It was almost too domestic, too real.

When you were finished, you didn’t want him to leave. You think he felt the same. This was confirmed when he saw the tv sitting in your closet.

“Do you want me to mount that for you?” He asked.

I want you to mount me, you fought against saying.

“That would be great.” You agreed.

Mike probably spent three hours helping you put your bedroom together, setting up shelves, arranging your cabinets, and helping you put your pictures and posters up while you talked his ear off.

Even though you told him a million times that he didn’t need to, he hung your clothes up in your closet while you folded the rest to go in your new dresser. Finally, your room was fully decorated and unpacked.

He rubbed his hands together, settling on the end of your bed. You sat next to him.

“Thank you, seriously. I was dreading doing all of that by myself.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said.

You both looked at each other for a second too long, the tension between the two of you becoming thick. You took breaks from looking at his eyes by moving down to his lips. You took a deep breath, noticing him moving closer to you.

He hesitated, pushing a stray hair behind your ear instead. His hand lingered on your face, eventually moving down your arm to put your hand in his. He interlocked your fingers together, pulling it close to him and pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. He held you there, hand resting on his chin. This was almost more intimate than a kiss, you thought.

“Do you not-” You started, getting interrupted.

“I want to, believe me.”

You looked at him, willing him to continue.

“I don’t want you to think that’s all this is.” He explained, you nodded. You know that this was him being respectful, but it made you want to tear his clothes off even more. Forbidden fruit, if you will.

“Let me take you on a date, tomorrow on my lunch break. I know a place you’d like.” He continued.

“Okay.” You said, smiling.

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**i do not give anyone permission to use my work as your own, respectfully

this belongs to @joemothersfavoritechild **