#and then he backed me up against the kitchen counter and kissed me

[honeyncherry]

everything i never asked for - joe burrow

summary valentine’s day with joe

content fluff fluff fluff

You didn’t expect much for Valentine’s Day this year. The past couple of months had been rough, between everything that happened and Joe’s whirlwind schedule with the Pro Bowl, Honors, and the Super Bowl. You figured today would be low-key. Maybe just a lazy morning, a home-cooked meal, and some much needed rest.

And that was exactly how the day started.

You wake up to slow, warm kisses along your shoulder, Joe's voice still rough from sleep as he murmurs, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” He pulls you closer, his arm heavy around your waist, and for a while, you stayed tangled in the covers, soaking in the rare, quiet stillness.

By late morning, he’s in the kitchen making breakfast (if you can even call it that). He’s in a pair of grey sweats that hang low on his hips, hair still messy, leaning against the counter with a smug look as you do most of the work.

He claims he’s helping, but really, he’s just standing behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder, sneaking bites of the pancakes you’re making.

Later in the afternoon, your phone buzzes. A friend asks if you want to meet up for a little Galentine’s date. You hesitate, glancing at Joe, but before you can even consider turning it down, he nudges you.

"Go."

"No—"

"Seriously, go. You deserve a break from me," he jokes, smirking as he stretches out on the couch. "Besides, I promise I won’t waste away in your absence."

You narrow your eyes at him, sensing he’s up to something, but he looks completely unbothered. Eventually, you give in, grab your things, and head out.

The afternoon is easy, spent catching up and laughing, but a small part of you keeps thinking about Joe. How effortless the morning felt. How rare it is for him to have time to just be.

When you finally return home, you’re not expecting much, maybe him still sprawled on the couch, half-asleep. But the second you step inside, you realize something is different.

The lights are dim. Candles flicker along the dining table, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. The smell of something savory lingers in the air, and standing in the middle of it all is Joe. He’s changed into something nicer, sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms as he finishes setting the table, looking both ridiculously proud of himself and a little nervous.

"What is this?" you ask, blinking at the setup.

"A proper Valentine’s Day," he says, wiping his hands on a dish towel before making his way over to you. "Figured you deserved at least one romantic surprise today."

The table is set with the fine china set you two received as a housewarming gift. A homemade meal is waiting, something he clearly put effort into, even if a few little mishaps, like the slightly burnt garlic bread, give away his struggles. A bottle of wine is already open, two glasses waiting.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he tugs you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, fingers rubbing gentle circles into your back as he whispers, “Missed you today.”

The evening flows effortlessly, filled with laughter, teasing, and Joe dramatically complaining about “how hard cooking is” as he watches you take your first bite. He studies your reaction like it determines his entire fate, waiting for your verdict. You hum thoughtfully, dragging it out just to mess with him before finally breaking into a smile.

"It’s actually really good, Joe."

"You’re lying."

"No, I swear! Well… except maybe the garlic bread."

"Knew you were gonna say that."

You’re both grinning. He reaches across the table, fingers brushing over yours and his voice softer as he says, "I know things have been a lot recently."

He pauses, thumb grazing over your knuckles before meeting your eyes again. "I just wanted today to be about you. You deserve that."

Somehow, that means more to you than any grand gesture ever could.

After dinner, you both end up curled on the couch, his arm draped over your shoulders as some random movie plays in the background. You’re not really paying attention, just floating on the high of the day, tucked against his side, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over your arm.

Then, without warning, Joe suddenly untangles himself from you and disappears into the kitchen. You barely have time to question it before he’s back, a small bakery box in his hands, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Chocolate cake?" you ask, already smiling as he flips the lid open to reveal two thick slices of rich, decadent cake from your favorite bakery.

"Went out earlier and got it while you were gone," he says, settling back beside you. He grabs a fork, slicing off a bite before holding it up to your lips with an expectant look. "I’ll share. If you’re nice."

You roll your eyes but take the bite, humming in satisfaction as the sweetness melts on your tongue. It’s perfect, exactly how you like it. But before you can even reach for your own fork, Joe steals another bite, straight from your slice, grinning like he’s getting away with something.

"Joe!"

"What?" he says around a mouthful of cake, not even remotely guilty.

You huff, reaching for the box, but he shifts just out of reach, holding the fork and the cake hostage. It turns into a game, him dodging your attempts to take control of the dessert, laughter bubbling between you, the weight of the last few months feeling lighter than it has in a long time. Eventually he relents, letting you have your share, though not without sneaking a few extra bites when he thinks you’re too distracted.

By the time the cake is gone, Joe shifts slightly, adjusting so you’re tucked even closer. His fingers mindlessly trace over your knuckles where your hand rests against his chest, the warmth of his body easing you into a quiet, content haze.

You let out a sigh, fingertips grazing over his arm. "Thank you for today." His lips brush across your forehead, then your cheek, before finally pressing a tender kiss to your lips — his own silent way of saying you’re welcome.

The movie plays on, just background noise now, filling the quiet between your slowed breaths. His thumb moves absentmindedly over your wrist, a quiet, familiar touch that still makes your heart flutter after all this time.

Just when you think he might be drifting off, Joe presses another kiss to the top of your head, lingering for a second longer than necessary.

"This was nice."

You smile against his shirt, barely lifting your head. "Yeah?"

He hums in response, his chest rising and falling beneath your palm. "Yeah. Just us. Feels good."

There’s something unspoken in the way he says it, in the way his hold tightens around you, like he needed today just as much as you did. Maybe more.

You don’t say anything back. You don’t need to. Instead, you let your fingers lace through his, soaking in the kind of serenity that can only be found in moments like this.

As the candlelight flickers, casting golden warmth over the both of you, you realize that maybe you hadn’t expected much for Valentine’s Day. You hadn’t asked for anything, hadn’t wished for anything elaborate.

But Joe?

He’s always there, giving you more than you ever thought to ask for.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Bradford Has a Valentine's Day Princess

Part 2 of Bradford Has a Princess

Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader

Summary: Leading up to Valentine's Day, you - Tim Bradford's princess - learn exactly what your relationship and Tim's treatment of you mean.

Warnings: fluff! princess treatment, brief angst (harassment), Tim is protective and soft and gets called 'king'

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

A/N: I had to Google makeup, nails, and restaurants for this... Based on the impeccable whipped Tim idea from @nevereclipse!

February 11th – Los Angeles, CA

“I’ve got a buddy with a vacation house in the Caribbean,” Aaron offers, scrolling on his phone in the passenger seat of Tim’s shop.

“Good for you,” Tim says.

“Or I can get you in touch with my girl Shayla; she’s a product developer for Estee Lauder.”

“What is it exactly that you’re trying to do, Thorsen?” Tim asks, turning slightly in his seat as he slows for a stop sign.

“It’s almost Valentine’s Day, and it seems like you’ve set the bar pretty high with the whole ‘princess treatment’ thing, so I’m just trying to help,” Aaron explains. Tim’s brows lift, and he adds, “Sir.”

“I appreciate the intent – or I think I do – but I’ve got it under control,” Tim assures him as he prepares to continue patrolling.

Aaron watches Los Angeles pass outside the window for nearly a mile before he says, “Dior is having a sale, by the way.”

“I know,” Tim grumbles. When Aaron looks at him quickly, wide-eyed at his response, he threatens, “Tell Angela and see what happens.”

Tim sighs as he slides his key into the lock. Between Aaron trying to help with Valentine’s Day plans and a car full of frat boys who ran from a traffic stop and made the rainy afternoon extraordinarily long, Tim is more than ready to sit back and relax. Closing the door behind him, he shakes his head and smiles.

“Why does it smell like food in here?” he calls.

You wave from the kitchen and don’t answer. Tim rounds the island and wraps his arm around your waist to pull you away from the oven.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly, holding you against his side.

“I thought you were smarter than this,” you answer, smiling brightly. “I’m cooking.”

“I told you I’d cook tonight, and every other night,” Tim reminds you. “Or get takeout.”

“Yeah, and I really appreciate that, but you’re stressed. I can tell.”

“Are you saying I have wrinkles?” Tim challenges, tightening his arm around you.

You hum as you look at his face, then run your fingers under his jaw. “I was going to say your shoulders are tense, but now that you mention it-“

Tim shoves you away gently and grabs you before you can catch yourself. You laugh as he lifts you onto the counter, then pout when he blocks you from getting down.

“I’ll finish,” he says, holding your hips. “Sit there and look pretty.”

Resting your arms on Tim’s shoulders, you lean forward and kiss him. The oven chimes as the timer ends, and Tim pulls away from you with whispered gratitude.

“You didn’t let me do anything,” you remind him.

“Check the table by the door, please,” he says over his shoulder as he bends to remove dinner from the oven.

You tear your eyes from Tim as you slide off the counter – and ignore his demand of “Careful!” – before you walk toward the door. There’s a metallic pink gift bag with silver accents around the edges on the table. You use the braided handles to lift it, then smile at the card beneath it. Carrying both back to the island, you smile at Tim.

“What’s the special occasion?” you inquire.

“Another day with you?” Tim offers with a shrug. “Does there have to be a special occasion?”

“I suppose not. Can I open it?”

“No, I just got it for you to look at the bag,” Tim deadpans.

“You’re not funny,” you reply, “but at least you’re pretty.”

“We can’t both be pretty but unfunny,” Tim points out.

“Then I’ll be funny,” you decide.

Tim laughs, putting the oven mitts in a drawer by the oven. He nods as he walks to your side, and you pull the white tissue paper out of the bag before you gasp.

“Tim!” you exclaim as you lift the pink and white Estee Lauder bag. “It’s so pretty!”

“I’m glad you like it,” Tim replies, sliding his hand onto your lower back. “If you want different stuff, we can return it.”

You unzip the bag slowly, then unwrap the tissue paper to read the names of the items within. “Is this the Rebellious Rose lipstick? I’ve been wanting this one!”

“Rebellious should be a good fit,” Tim muses.

“This is the best Valentine’s Day gift I’ve ever gotten,” you say as you wrap your arms around his waist and hug him.

He lifts his hand to glance at his watch and says, “It’s not Valentine’s Day.”

“It’s close enough,” you point out as you lean back, keeping your hands on his sides.

Tim holds your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, leans in, and says, “You’ll know when it’s Valentine’s Day. Now sit down, I’ll plate the food.”

February 12th

“What do you want for Valentine’s Day?” you ask as Tim uses a fluffy towel to dry your hands.

“You,” he replies, setting the towel aside.

“I mean as a gift. Chocolate? Creatine?”

Tim chuckles at your second idea. He holds your hands in one of his as he opens an alcohol pad with his teeth.

“I’m off work for once,” he says as he carefully drops your hands. “So, I’ll handle plans and gifts. I just want to spend the day with you.”

“As opposed to what you’re doing right now?”

Tim looks at you through his lashes, then shakes his head and returns his attention to your hands. He wipes the alcohol pad across each of your nails and drops it in the trashcan beside your vanity, where you’re sitting with your legs bracketing his hips.

“It says to shape your nails,” Tim says, looking at the instructions beside you. “Do you want to do that?”

“I did it last night,” you answer, watching him rather than checking your nails. “I’m good.”

Tim nods, then opens the box by your left thigh. He removes the press-on nails and then directs your hand to rest on the counter beside them. Carefully, he lines one up on your forefinger nail.

“That fit?” he asks.

You look away from him to examine the fit. “It’s perfect. You’re good at this.”

“It’s not rocket science.”

“Yet most people mess it up.”

Tim puts the other sizes back in the box and opens the nail glue, flitting his eyes to the instructions again.

“If I mess up, you can get them fixed before Valentine’s Day, right?” he checks, looking up at you.

“I won’t have to.” Tim continues to look at you, so you sigh and say, “Yes, I can.”

With a firm nod, Tim applies a thin layer of glue to the first nail, then lines it up with your cuticle. He places your hand on his left palm, then gently presses the nail down with his right thumb. When he finishes, he tilts your hand gently to check it, then moves to the next nail.

“I can’t do my skincare while these set,” you remember as he finishes one hand and moves to the next. “Ooh, they look great though. Thank you!”

Tim mumbles what you assume is you’re welcome. He’s focused on you and doing this correctly for you, so you watch him with a smile. He closes the nail glue and slides it into the box after the last nail is secure.

“Look good?” he asks.

You nod and pucker your lips, requesting a kiss. Tim leans forward and kisses you, then pulls back and opens the cabinet with all your skincare.

“Which face wash?” he asks.

“The oil cleanser, please. It’s the orange-y one,” you reply. “I can do it in thirty minutes.”

“We need to leave in an hour, let’s get a head start.”

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you,” Tim replies. “But stop talking, I’d hate to accidentally waterboard you this early in the day.”

“Later, then,” you agree with a nod.

“Maybe you are the funny one,” Tim muses as he wipes a wet washcloth across your forehead. “Feel okay?”

You nod, and Tim gently washes your face. He lifts your chin and moves his fingers in gentle circles, imitating your motions – the ones he has watched reverently, in awe of you, many nights as he waits for you to return to his side.

“Moisturizer, right?” Tim checks as he pats your neck dry.

“The Estee Lauder crème. It’s still in the bag,” you request. “I really like the night stuff.”

“It smells good,” Tim muses as he uncaps the moisturizer.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going for brunch, so I know what to wear?” you ask.

“Your outfit’s on the bed,” he says rather than answering. “Makeup?”

“Uhm,” you hum, dragging out the sound as you turn to look in the lighted mirror behind you. “I think just lipstick, brows, blush, bronzer, and mascara. Unless I need a full face?”

“Your face is perfect like it is,” Tim mumbles as he replaces the moisturizer into the pink bag and retrieves your new lipstick.

“But you’re the pretty one,” you remind him.

Tim shakes his head as he raises a bronzer from your custom makeup drawer – which he built (with some help from Nolan) and installed for you. You nod, and he sets it by the sink as he gathers the other items you mentioned.

“Do you think the Dior Addict Lip Glow would go with this lipstick?” you ask.

“As much as I love you and enjoy touching you face,” Tim begins. “I have no idea.”

You frown before you say, “Maybe I should return you then.”

“You could find another Valentine by tomorrow.”

“Kojo, for sure.”

“Oh, yeah, he’d be honored,” Tim agrees. “Unfortunately, he’s spending Valentine’s Day with Lucy.”

“Ah, so he’s nearly as spoiled as I am.”

“Probably more.”

Tim finishes cleaning up the minimal mess he made, organizes your makeup how you apply it, and then returns to you. He faces away from you, bends his knees, and hooks his hands behind your calves to pull you forward.

“I can walk,” you argue, smiling as you wrap your arms over his shoulders.

He stands, lifting you into a piggyback carry as your nails finish setting. “Better safe than sorry.”

In the Waldorf Astoria Beverly Hills elevator, you shift under Tim’s arm.

“Sorry,” you say softly. “These heels are new.”

Tim looks down at the shoes he bought you the last time you took him shopping. “Do they fit?”

“Yeah, just need to be broken in, I think,” you reply. “They’re just pinching under my ankles a little bit.”

The elevator opens on the rooftop, and Tim removes his arm from your shoulders to hold your hand. He gives his name at the door of The Rooftop Beverly Hills, and you’re quickly seated with a panoramic view of Beverly Hills and the Los Angeles skyline. Tim sits on the same side of the table as you and holds your hand in his lap as you read the menu together.

“Celebrating Valentine’s Day early?” the chef asks as he checks that the patrons enjoy their meals.

“Not exactly,” Tim answers. “Just enjoying some time together.”

“Well, you’re a beautiful couple. Order anything from the menu, I can prepare whatever you’d like.”

“Thank you,” you reply with Tim.

After he leaves, you whisper, “This place is expensive, Tim. Let me pay half the bill as part of my Valentine’s Day gift to you?”

You bat your eyelashes, and Tim considers your request.

“Sure,” he decides.

Yet, fifteen minutes later, he excuses himself to use the restroom and pays the bill without telling you.

In the parking garage, you hold Tim’s arm as you attempt to keep weight off your ankles, regretting wearing brand-new shoes on a date.

“I can go get the truck or I can carry you to it,” Tim offers. “Your choice.”

“I can wait here, if you’re sure,” you reply.

Tim smiles, kisses your forehead, promises to return quickly, and then jogs into the parking garage. He should’ve splurged for the valet, he thinks.

“Good morning,” a man greets as he exits a Ferrari illegally parked in a handicap space.

“Morning,” you reply.

He drops his eyes to your dress, then down your legs to your sleek back heels. You cross your arms over your chest uncomfortably, watching for Tim.

“You’re very pretty,” the man continues as he walks toward you. “I’m Jett.”

You begin to reply that you’re not interested, but he continues talking.

“Are you staying here or just having a Galentine’s-type thing?” he asks. “Pretty girl like you probably has a lot of friends.”

“I-“

“I got my ‘Rari as a Valentine’s Day gift to myself a few years ago,” he brags, clearly flexing his arms as he slides his hands into his pockets. “Say, what about a Valentine’s Day ride? I’d be happy to take you out tomorrow.”

He moves closer to you as he speaks, and you step back, ignoring the pain from your heels. You look toward the ramp, but Tim isn’t back yet.

“I’m not interested,” you say as he waits for an answer.

“C’mon,” he presses, reaching for your arm. “It’s not marriage, just a drive.”

A car door slams and you look up quickly. The tension in your shoulders eases when Tim walks around the front of his truck.

“Back up,” he demands lowly. “Nobody teach you to keep your hands to yourself?”

The creep beside you – whose name you’ve forgotten – dares to laugh and stay beside you. “How ‘bout you get back in your cheap little truck and let us get back to our conversation?” he tells Tim.

Tim’s jaw ticks as observes the man, and then his eyes flit to you and soften.

“I already told you no,” you say.

“Babe,” the man sighs, raising his arm to wrap it around you.

Tim lifts the hand closest to you, and you take it as you move to stand behind him.

“She said no,” Tim reiterates darkly. “If I have to tell you no, you won’t be able to do this again, even if you wanted to. So do everybody a favor and go.”

The man looks at you over Tim’s shoulder and scoffs.

“Whatever. She isn’t even that hot,” he mumbles as he walks toward the elevator.

Tim doesn’t move as he watches him until the doors close. Then, his muscles relax, his fingers slot between yours, and he turns to face you.

“You okay?” he inquires.

“Yes,” you promise, squeezing his hand gently. “Thank you.”

Tim looks at your eyes, then nods when he sees that you’re okay. He helps you into the passenger seat of his truck and leans across you to buckle your seatbelt. As he prepares to close the door, you extend your arm and say, “Wait.” You lean out carefully and point to the Ferrari. “He parked illegally.”

Tim smiles as he pulls his phone from his pocket. “That is the best Valentine’s Day gift you could give me.”

“Hey! You didn’t let me pay!” you realize as he closes the door and calls dispatch.

“Weird,” you murmur as you lock your phone and set it aside.

Tim raises his arm and invites you to curl up at his side before he asks, “What’s weird?”

“My streaming services should have renewed this week, but none of them were charged yet.”

“I paid for them,” Tim says, navigating through the comedy section of one of the aforementioned services.

“What? Why?”

“I watch all of it with you,” he points out as if that’s reason enough.

You know better than to argue with Tim, and you know it’s part of how he shows love, even if you wish he’d let you show some in return. The key to loving Tim Bradford, you’ve realized, is knowing that he doesn’t give and receive love in the same way. After you realized that he loves spending time with you, hearing your voice, and knowing you’re close, you learned how to love Tim Bradford with the same intensity he loves you – just in your way.

“It’s almost Valentine’s Day,” you remind him as the sun sets. “We could watch a rom-com and no one could judge you.”

“The people who would judge me are under the impression I’m living in one,” he replies, smiling as he tugs you closer.

“That makes you the rom, and I’m the com, right?”

“Just for that, we’re watching basketball.”

February 14th – Valentine’s Day

A gentle sea breeze blows across the deck as you tell Tim about the heart-shaped cupcakes you want to make. His hand had been on the back of your chair as you ordered, but now that you have his full attention, his fingers find their way up, toying with the end of your hair as he nods with your explanation and enjoys your excitement.

Tim wraps your hair around his fingers, then gathers it in his palm and lifts it gently before repeating his loving ministrations. You feel his movements against your exposed back and eventually trail off, meeting Tim’s eyes as he watches you.

“Do you want to make them tonight?” he asks. “We can stop at the store after we leave.”

“We can make them another day,” you answer. “I don’t want today to end.”

“There will be more Valentine’s Days.”

“But they won’t be the same. This one… Today has been perfect because of you.”

“And I’ll try to make the rest perfect too.”

“So, you really don’t care that your friends think you’re whipped, and you wouldn’t do something you didn’t want to just because I’m younger and you care about me?”

Tim sits straight in his seat, and his hand spreads across your back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Valentine’s Day is a day on the calendar-“ he begins.

“It’s a weekend with you,” you interrupt.

“It’s a day on the calendar,” he repeats firmly. “But this – what we have – it’s forever. I enjoy doing things for you, getting things for you, and spending time with you. But I love you. You. Not what my friends think or the fact that you called me a cradle robber a few weeks ago. I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper. “You’re the only one I want.”

“And the princess treatment is part of that. So don’t ever question that I care about you, and I want to do all of this for you. Whether it’s February 14th or June 30th.”

“What’s June 30th?” you ask with a smile.

“An example,” he replies, chuckling. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Tim pushes his fingers into your hair, tipping your head gently, lovingly, as he kisses you. Waves lap peacefully onto the shore beneath you, and you lean against Tim as the perfect night in the perfect relationship continues.

“Hey, where’d you learn the term princess treatment, king?” you ask, attempting to hide your smile.

“The same person who told me about the free Estee Lauder gift bag.”

“They never give things away for free.”

Tim shrugs, and you kiss him once more before someone delivers a dozen red roses and another gift bag with your dinner.

[ebodebo]

Friends Who Kiss!

with Jason Todd.

...it's okay to kiss a friend. right?

You catch a whiff of cheap beer and weed from a mile away, even before stepping into the party.

The scent hit you like a wall as the door swung open, revealing a crowd of crossfaded college students behind a plastered guy who could barely hold it together.

“Yo! Who brought the strippers?” He shouts, slurring his words, clearly trying to joke about you and your friend.

“Knock it off, dipshit,” your friend shoots back, rolling her eyes as she shoves him aside and reaches for your hand, pulling you inside behind her.

It felt oddly surreal.

You had been to countless college parties at both sororities and fraternities, yet nothing could quite prepare you for the atmosphere of this place.

To your left, a couple was grinding, nearing dry-humping, against each other on the tattered couch.

To your right, a group of friends were passing around a blunt, all while downing shots of vodka.

And ahead of you and your friend, a raucous game of strip beer pong was in full swing. 

The two guys, their competitive spirits high, were down to their boxers while the girls remained fully clothed.

Who knew that most college guys, the self-proclaimed beer pong champions, were so ass at the game?

As you approached the kitchen, the smell of stale beer and sweat hit you. "You want a drink?" Your friend chimes, her voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

Her hand was already reaching for two plastic cups and a bottle of straight Jägermeister.

"Getting straight to it, huh?" You reply, grinning as she pours a heaping shot for herself.

"Gonna need the alcohol to deal with these fucking moron guys," she laughs, automatically pouring a shot for you too.

"You know I have an eight a.m. tomorrow?" You raise an eyebrow as she slides the liquor your way.

With a smile, she takes hold of her plastic cup. "All the more reason for you to drink," she replies, her lips brushing the rim.

"You're a bad girl," you tease, a playful spark in your eye as you quickly grab the cup and bring it to your lips.

"The baddest," she purrs, and you both down the shot in unison.

The tangy citrus liquor burns as it goes down, leaving a fiery trail in its wake.

"Tastes like shit," you hiss, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as the intense aroma lingers on your tongue.

"All the booze that gets you fucked up tastes like shit," she corrects, picking up a left-out slice of lime and sucking the juice from it.

"Here," she offers you a fresh lime wedge.

You bite into the wedge, the juice washing away the harsh taste of the potent liqueur.

"Let’s pour another," your friend suggests, already reaching for the bottle of Fireball on the counter.

You roll your eyes but didn’t turn down the offer.

After all, you had been pretty good these last couple of months, only enjoying the occasional glass of wine.

As she fills the plastic cups with whiskey, the remnants of Jägermeister mingling with the liqueur, you notice some commotion by the entrance.

Your gaze drifted over to the front door, curious about the sudden influx of people that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"I knew you’d show up!" A guy shouted excitedly.

"Dude, you've got to try this new stuff I brought back from Ibiza!" Another one yelled.

"What’s all the fuss about over there?" Your friend remarks, Fireball dripping from her lip down to her chin in her usual carefree style.

You side-eye her, glancing at her now empty cup.

"Sorry! It was just calling to me," she says, raising her hands in mock surrender.

"It’s a liquid," you reply dryly, adding to the playful banter.

"It was!" She insists with a grin.

You roll your eyes at her playful antics and turn your attention back to the commotion, where an apparent celebrity has caught everyone’s attention.

To your surprise, it was Jason, someone you recognized well, making his way through the crowd.

Guys were clapping him on the shoulder, and girls were gazing at him as he passed by.

A truly ridiculous sight.

When his eyes locked onto yours, he veered off course and headed straight towards you and your friend.

You shook off your disbelief and chuckled as he approached.

"Ladies," he greets with a smile.

"Hi, Jason," your friend timidly greets.

"Blondie," he tips his head towards her.

"Big man on campus, huh?" You tease, a playful glint in your eye. 

He shrugs, rolling his eyes. "You know how they are."

"Thought you'd be in Gotham tonight?" You cut in before he can greet you separately, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Eh. Plans changed," he remarks, a sly smirk on his lips.

You pick up the plastic cup with Fireball, placing the rim on your lips. "Have they?"

"Yeah," his eyes wander to your cup. "You gonna drink that?"

"I was planning to—" You begin before Jason takes the cup and downs it in one gulp.

"Sorry. Was a little thirsty," he suspires, wiping the alcohol from his lips.

Your eyes narrow. "Yeah. I'd say so."

"Well...I'm gonna leave you too," your friend beside you says. "Nice to see you, Jason," she beams.

"Likewise," he winks at her as she walks away, almost hitting the wall. "She's cute," he remarks.

"What were your plans before you detoured here?" You ask, eyebrow raised, paying no mind to his previous comment.

"That's classified, Sweetheart," he says, his voice a mix of authority and warmth.

"Oh, right," you nod along, moving closer to him. "I almost forgot you habitually swing around Gotham at night."

"Hey, hey!" He mutters, ushering you to a nearby empty hallway. "What the hell is up with you?" Concern laces his tone.

"You totally flaked on me yesterday," you mutter, annoyance in your tone. "Had to go eat dinner with my mom alone."

"What do you—oh shit," he sighs, realization dawning on him. "That was yesterday?"

You nod. "Yeah, and you ditched me."

He runs a hand over his face, a mix of frustration and regret evident in his expression. "I'm—fuck. I'm really sorry."

There is sincerity in his tone, but you’re not ready to let him off that easily.

You wanted to bust his balls a little.

"I'm still mad at you," you say, turning your head away from him and crossing your arms.

He lets out a breathy laugh at your display. "Is that how it's gonna be?" He remarks, his voice low.

"Seems so," you reply matter-of-factly.

"That's a shame," he mutters gruffly.

You glance at him, arms still crossed. "Why's that?"

"Well…I just. Nah. Never mind," he says, raising his hands as if to shoo away the question.

You turn to face him fully. "Now you have to tell me!" You exclaim, playfully pushing his shoulder with your hand.

"I was just thinking we could, you know, do another shot?" He suggests. "Have a little fun?"

You purse your lips. "Hmm. It depends on what the shots are."

He smiles. "Whatever the hell you want."

You give him a curt nod, satisfied with his answer. "Good answer."

Grabbing him by the forearm, you pull him back to the kitchen, where you pour a mixture of whiskey, vodka, and juice into two plastic cups.

"This is gonna taste like shit," Jason groans as he peers into the cup on the counter.

"Yeah, but it's what I want," you pass him the cup, taking the other in your hand.

He rolls his eyes playfully. "Okay, okay."

You both knock back the shots simultaneously.

It tastes...well, like shit.

But, whatever.

You just wanted to get fucked up.

And maybe bust Jason's balls some more.

Only time will tell.

"We can't. We're just friends," you murmur, a hint of desperation in your voice.

You've known Jason for years, and your friendship has always been a safe haven, a place where you could be yourself without any romantic complications.

But tonight, something has changed.

"Come on, Sweetheart," Jason coaxes. "We can have fun. Can't we?"

You're struggling to understand how this unexpected turn of events has shaped your night.

You and Jason weren't even really that drunk, just tipsy.

Not slurring words or wobbly when walking, just loose lips apparently.

After that weird cocktail mix you made, you and Jason took one more shot of straight vodka, made your way to one of the rooms off the kitchen, and simply sat on the ground in front of the bed and talked.

Talked for how long?

You're not entirely sure.

But somewhere in between talking about your exam next Wednesday and Jason's nights spent as a vigilante, things became more intimate.

Because now he was trying to convince you that one kiss won't hurt.

You do want to kiss him.

Desperately actually.

But the fear of losing his friendship or changing the dynamics holds you back.

"I don't know..." You trail off as Jason's hand brushes against your cheek. "Won't it be weird after?"

"Not if we don't make it weird," he hums, eyes staring at your lips.

You release a small breath as his hand moves to cup your jaw.

"You tell me no if you don't want to," his voice is serious, and his eyes lock with yours.

You nod, teeth digging into your lip. "I think...just a small kiss won't hurt. Right?" You try to convince yourself as you find yourself leaning closer.

"Yeah," he says mechanically. "Small," he affirms as his lips press into yours. 

You weren't entirely sure what you expected, but, holy shit, it wasn't this. 

Your skin sizzled, and a fire ignited in your stomach. 

His lips were so soft against yours. 

Although it was meant to be a brief kiss, just a fleeting moment of connection you both knew you shouldn't indulge in, the pull was too strong and the desire too intense to resist. 

It was a battle you were losing, and you didn't even want to win. 

Your lips moved in perfect sync. 

Why the hell would you want to stop that?

You placed your hand gently on his jaw, drawing him closer and deepening the kiss.

A soft groan escapes from him, and you catch it in your mouth, causing you to whimper.

Jason can't help it.

The soft sounds you were making were slowly driving him up the wall.

His hands moved to grip your waist, pulling you onto him so you straddle him.

You never stop kissing him.

Not even to complain about him moving you onto his lap.

You can't even find it in you to be bothered.

Your hands are moving through his hair, as his messily skim over your hips, occasionally squeezing your ass.

"Can’t believe I waited so long to kiss you," he whispers against your lips.

"Feels so good."

A soft moan escapes your lips at his compliment, and you can feel a wave of tingles spreading over your skin.

"Yeah?" You murmur, your teeth playfully nibbling at his bottom lip.

"Oh fuck," he mumbles, fingers digging into your waist. 

His heavy-lidded gaze catches yours. "Yeah, feels so good, Baby."

You let out a soft breath in response to his endearing words. "Should we...stop?" you ask hesitantly, your fingers gently running through his hair.

Internally, hoping he says no.

“No, Sweetheart,” he replies softly, his gaze fixed on your lips with undeniable fascination. “Unless you want to.”

Just as you’re about to respond, a loud banging on the door startles both you and Jason.

"Occupied!" You shout back, turning towards the door.

You shift your focus back to Jason's eyes, and in that moment, something pulls you back into reality.

"Oh, fuck," you exclaim, shifting off his lap and settling onto the carpet beside him instead.

"You oka—" Jason begins, sensing your frenzy before you interrupt him.

"Oh my God. We totally just made out," your hands are anxiously gliding through your hair. "And I liked it!" 

Jason lets out a shallow laugh as his hand gently rests against your shoulder. "It's alright," he coos. “I liked it, too."

Your eyes flick to his. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, it was...really nice," he awkwardly says. 

Your lip quips at his awkwardness. "It was," you agree.

"Listen, I—" He starts to say, but is cut off once more by a notification on his phone. It’s from Barbara, alerting him about a local crime circuit in Blüdhaven.

"Shit," he curses as he moves to stand. "I'm really sorry. I have to—"

"It's okay, Jason. I get it," you say with complete assurance. "Gotta go play vigilante."

"I'm in a rush, so I'm not going to touch on that," he shoves the phone into his pocket. "Can I come by your dorm after?" He carefully asks.

"Yeah. Okay..." You nod your head, pursing your lips awkwardly.

"You're being weird about it," Jason tips his head down.

"No! No! I just...let's talk later, alright?" You exhale deeply, doing your best to suppress your shyness.

He gives a nod before leaning down to kiss your forehead, then turns and walks out of the bedroom.

As he steps out, you lean your head against the bed's edge, allowing yourself to dive deep into your thoughts.

It wouldn't be the worst if you and Jason started dating.

If that's what he wanted.

He's kind, charming, and quite attractive.

You're unsure if it's just your inebriated state of mind.

But then you remember drunk words are sober thoughts.

So, yeah…you may be totally crushing on one of your greatest friends.

There are worse things to have happened.

author’s note: sorry to tease, but writing smut is too much atm lol also tried a new format hehe i’m kind of feeling it. not proofread!

divider by @/saradika-graphics!

[goldfades]

★ DAY JUST FOR US ─── JOE BURROW⁹ [012] SWEET ON YOU

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MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | valentines day with joe! (sweet on you edition)

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | nothing but tooth rotting fluff!

The house was quiet—eerily so, almost unfamiliar in its stillness. No tiny footsteps padding across the hardwood, no early morning giggles, no faint sounds of cartoons filtering in from the living room. Just the low hum of the heater and the soft rustling of sheets as you turned over in bed, stretching into the empty space beside you.

Joe was already awake. You could hear him somewhere in the house, the faint clatter of dishes and the subtle creak of cabinet doors opening and closing.

And then, as if right on cue, the scent hit you.

Coffee. Fresh, strong, just how you liked it. And something sweeter—vanilla, cinnamon, maybe a hint of chocolate.

You smiled to yourself, sinking deeper into the pillows before reluctantly sitting up. The soft, golden morning light streamed through the curtains, casting warm patterns over the bed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you had woken up naturally—not to the sound of a baby monitor crackling to life or a toddler calling for you.

You missed Hayes, of course. But God, this was nice.

Pushing the covers off, you padded out of the bedroom, following the scent that was practically pulling you in like a cartoon character floating toward a fresh pie on a windowsill.

And there he was.

Joe stood in the kitchen, completely in his element, wearing sweats and a hoodie, barefoot, hair still mussed from sleep. His brow furrowed in concentration as he flipped a pancake, and next to him on the counter was a tray—two mugs of coffee, fresh fruit, a little vase with a single rose, a ridiculously romantic setup for someone who always insisted he wasn’t ‘good at this stuff.’

You leaned against the doorway, watching him for a moment.

"You look suspiciously domestic right now," you teased, crossing your arms.

Joe turned, caught off guard for a split second before his face split into a grin. "Well, good morning to you too," he said, flipping the pancake one last time before sliding it onto the plate. "Figured I’d let you sleep in. Big romantic gesture and all."

You walked over, wrapping your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. "You didn’t have to do all this."

Joe huffed out a laugh. "I kind of did. My son has been hogging you for two years straight—I needed at least one day where I get you all to myself."

You smiled against his hoodie. "Fair point."

Joe turned in your arms, looping his own around your waist, his hands warm against the small of your back. He kissed your forehead, then your temple, then finally your lips—soft, slow, unhurried.

"Happy Valentine’s Day," he murmured.

"Happy Valentine’s Day," you whispered back, fingers curling into his sweatshirt.

And for a moment, it felt like you were in your own little world, wrapped in warmth, in love, in everything that made you two, you.

Joe pulled back slightly, eyeing the tray behind him. "I was gonna bring that to you in bed, you know."

You glanced at the tray, the effort he had put into it, and then back up at him. "How about I take my coffee, and we eat at the table like normal people?"

Joe smirked. "Deal. But only if you promise me one thing."

You raised an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

He leaned in, voice dropping slightly. "That you’re not too full for dessert later."

Your stomach flipped, and your cheeks warmed at the implication, but you rolled your eyes, pushing his chest playfully. "You’re ridiculous."

Joe just grinned. "And you love me for it."

And he was right. You really, really did.

--

The morning felt like something out of a dream—slow, sweet, wrapped in warmth and easy laughter. Just the two of you. No tiny hands tugging at your clothes, no early-morning cartoons playing in the background, no chaotic mess of toys scattered across the floor.

Just you and Joe, husband and wife, sitting at the kitchen table, your legs tangled beneath it as you shared a stack of pancakes, sipped on coffee, and indulged in something you hadn’t felt in a while—time.

“I forgot what hot coffee tastes like,” you sighed dramatically, cradling the mug in your hands.

Joe snorted. “See? This is why I planned today. You deserve a break.”

You tilted your head at him, eyes soft. “So do you.”

He shrugged, slicing his fork through a pancake. “I don’t mind the chaos as much as you think. I mean, yeah, Hayes is a maniac sometimes, but I kinda love it.”

You grinned. “Says the man who handed me a half-asleep baby last week and whispered, ‘Please, for the love of God, take him. I need to lay down before I pass out on the floor.’”

Joe laughed, setting his fork down. “Okay, fair, but in my defense, that was after he made me run around the house with him for like an hour straight. And then he made me read ‘Goodnight Moon’ four times in a row before he even thought about sleeping.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “He’s obsessed with you. Full-on daddy’s boy.”

Joe smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, well, today is about me being obsessed with you.”

His words sent a little shiver down your spine.

It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it, with that low, confident drawl that made you feel like the only woman in the world.

You swallowed, setting your coffee down. “So, what exactly do you have planned for today?”

Joe stretched, crossing his arms behind his head. “Well, since my mom has Hayes until tomorrow, I figured we’d do whatever you want. No distractions, no responsibilities, no ‘Mommy, Daddy, look at me!’ Just us.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Anything I want?”

Joe’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Anything.”

Your lips curled into a slow smile. “In that case, I say we start with a bath. A long, hot, uninterrupted bath.”

Joe’s smirk widened. “Sounds like a solid plan. But only if I’m invited.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up from the table. “Come on, Casanova.”

Joe was already on his feet, grabbing your waist and pulling you close. His hands slid down to your hips, his lips grazing your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to today,” he murmured.

And neither did you—not until now.

Because after everything—the sleepless nights, the never-ending chaos, the constant whirlwind of parenting—it was easy to forget this part of your relationship.

But Joe had never forgotten.

And today, he was making sure you didn’t either.

The afternoon passed in a blur of easy conversation, warm touches, and stolen kisses between store aisles. Shopping together wasn’t something you got to do often—not without a tiny pair of hands reaching for everything in sight or a little voice repeatedly asking, “Can we go home now?”

But today, it was just the two of you.

Joe held your hand as you wandered through a boutique downtown, his fingers lazily playing with yours, rubbing circles against your palm. You weren’t even shopping for anything specific, just enjoying the act of browsing, of laughing over ridiculous designer price tags and testing expensive perfumes on your wrists.

At one point, he caught you eyeing a dainty gold bracelet in one of the glass cases, and without hesitation, he flagged down the salesperson. You tried to stop him, playfully swatting at his arm, but he just grinned and said, “Let me spoil my wife.”

And how could you argue with that?

After shopping, you made your way to one of your favorite restaurants, tucked away in the city. It was dimly lit, intimate, the kind of place that made you feel like the rest of the world faded away the second you stepped inside.

Joe let you order whatever you wanted, insisting you get the expensive cocktail you usually turned down and ordering extra appetizers just because.

“This is so much food,” you laughed, eyeing the plates covering the table.

Joe shrugged, cutting into his steak. “Yeah, well, if I’m gonna get my wife alone for the first time in forever, I’m gonna make the most of it.”

You sipped your drink, warmth spreading through your chest—not just from the alcohol, but from him, from the way he always made you feel like you were the most important thing in the world.

By the time you made it home, the sun had long set, and you were curled up on the couch together, presents sitting in front of you on the coffee table.

Joe leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, who’s first?”

You grinned, grabbing the wrapped box in front of you and placing it in his lap. “You.”

His brows lifted, clearly intrigued. He didn’t hesitate to tear off the wrapping, lifting the lid of the box, and as soon as he did, his eyes went wide.

“No way,” he murmured, pulling out the ultra-rare Mike Vrabel jersey, the signature scrawled perfectly across the front. His fingers brushed over the fabric, as if making sure it was real.

You laughed at his stunned expression. “Took a while to find that.”

Joe just shook his head, a disbelieving smile spreading across his face. “This is insane. Do you know how rare this is?”

You smirked. “Oh, I know.”

He set the jersey aside carefully before reaching for the next box, pulling out the Rolex inside. His mouth parted slightly as he turned it over in his hands, the weight of it settling against his palm.

“Baby,” he breathed, looking up at you.

You shrugged. “You needed a new one.”

He laughed, slipping it onto his wrist, twisting it just right to catch the light. “This is—god, this is incredible.”

You leaned closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You like it?”

He turned his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love it.”

You beamed, but before you could say anything else, he grabbed a small envelope from the table and handed it to you.

You raised an eyebrow. “An envelope?”

Joe smirked. “Just open it.”

You did, carefully sliding out the paper inside, eyes scanning over the words. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized what it was—an all-expenses-paid spa weekend, booked just for you.

“Joe…” you whispered, looking up at him.

His smirk softened into something more tender. “Figured you could use a real break. No baby, no responsibilities—just you getting spoiled for a whole weekend.”

Your throat tightened, overwhelmed with gratitude. “You even planned for your mom to take Hayes?”

He nodded. “She and my dad want more time with him anyway. They’re excited.”

You shook your head in awe. “You’re really the best, you know that?”

Joe smiled, reaching for you, pulling you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, strong and steady, holding you close.

“You deserve it,” he murmured against your temple.

You closed your eyes, sinking into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart against yours.

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, you knew—this was exactly where you were meant to be.

--

Sunday evening rolled in slow and sweet, the lingering relaxation of your spa weekend still wrapped around you like a warm hug. Your muscles had never felt looser, your mind never clearer, and you had Joe to thank for that. He was grinning like an idiot as you strolled into the house, barefoot and in one of the plush robes he had insisted you bring back because, according to him, "You deserve to be comfy at all times."

You had barely dropped your overnight bag in the bedroom before you felt Joe’s arms snake around your waist from behind, his chin resting against your shoulder.

"Feel good?" he murmured, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to the side of your neck.

You hummed, leaning back into his embrace, your fingers trailing over his arms, feeling the solid warmth of him. "Like a brand-new woman."

"Good," he said, his voice thick with something unreadable, and you could feel his smile against your skin. "Because I have one more surprise for you."

You turned in his arms, immediately skeptical. "Joe..."

His lips twitched, and he took your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. "I already planned it, and before you say anything—I cleared it with my parents. Hayes is gonna be more than fine. Actually, I think they might be more excited than we are."

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out what he was playing at. "What are you talking about?"

Joe pulled back just enough to grab his phone from the nightstand, tapping a few times before turning the screen to face you.

Your stomach flipped.

Staring back at you was a confirmation email for a week-long trip to Bora Bora—an overwater villa, pristine turquoise waters stretching for miles, the kind of place you had dreamed about visiting for years but never thought you’d actually get to see.

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Joe’s smirk widened. "So, what do you think?"

"Are you serious?" you finally managed to breathe out, your heart racing.

"Dead serious," he said, his hands finding your waist again, his fingers pressing into your hips. "I booked it months ago, just wanted to wait for the right time to tell you."

Your mind was spinning. Bora Bora. The dream destination. The place you had casually mentioned a hundred times, always in a wistful, "Maybe someday" way.

"But—Joe, a whole week?" Your voice was laced with both excitement and hesitancy. "What about Hayes? We've never left him for that long."

Joe nodded, as if he had expected that concern. "I know. But he's old enough now, and my parents are already planning a full itinerary of things to do with him. He’s gonna be spoiled rotten. And we haven’t had a real vacation since before he was born, baby."

You swallowed, processing it, weighing it against the part of you that always felt guilty for leaving Hayes. But Joe was right. The closest thing to a vacation you’d had in the last couple of years was a weekend here and there, always with Hayes in tow.

The thought of spending an entire week alone with Joe, uninterrupted, no responsibilities, no late-night wake-ups, no cartoons playing in the background of every conversation—it was tempting.

No, it was needed.

Joe must’ve caught the shift in your expression because his smirk softened into something more knowing, his hands squeezing your waist. "You deserve this, and so do I. Just you and me, away from everything for a little while."

Your lips curled into a slow smile. "Bora Bora, huh?"

Joe leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. "Nothing but us, white sand, crystal-clear water, and a private villa for a whole week," he murmured, his voice warm and full of promise. "Think you can handle that?"

You pretended to think for a second before finally giving in, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I think I can manage."

Joe grinned, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to your lips, one that left no room for doubt.

Bora Bora.

Just the two of you.

It was really happening.

[andy-15-07]

Happy Valentine's Day ❤️. In honor of this day, could you please write something with Pedro x reader?

Love in the Little Things

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 751 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The scent of fresh flowers hung in the air when Y/N opened the front door. She paused, her eyes landing on the bouquet resting on the entryway table — red roses, orange tulips, and delicate baby’s breath woven between the blooms. Tucked among the petals was a small, handwritten note.

To my favorite person: Happy Valentine's Day. See you soon. — P.

Her lips twitched into a smile as she ran her fingers over the signature. Pedro Pascal wasn’t one for grand, flashy gestures. No elaborate gifts, no cliché grand declarations. But he mastered the art of making her feel special with little things like unexpected flowers and thoughtful notes.

"What are you smiling at?" his voice broke her trance.

Y/N turned to find Pedro leaning against the doorframe, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned. He held a takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

"You," she answered, holding up the card. "This is sweet."

"Figured I should start the day right." He stepped inside, dropping a kiss on her forehead as he passed. "And I brought lunch. Thai food. Your favorite pad see ew and spring rolls."

"You're spoiling me, Pedro."

"Damn right I am," he teased, setting the food on the kitchen counter. "It’s Valentine’s Day. I get to go all out."

Y/N followed him into the kitchen, watching as he unpacked containers. "You always say Valentine's Day is a corporate scam."

"Yeah, well." He shrugged and cast her a sheepish look. "I'm a hypocrite when it comes to you."

They ate at the kitchen table, laughing over stories from the past year, sharing bites of food, and making playful predictions about which celebrity couple would break up next. After lunch, Pedro disappeared into the bedroom while Y/N cleaned up. When he reemerged, he wore a well-loved button-down shirt and had his hands behind his back.

"Uh-oh," Y/N said, narrowing her eyes. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing." His voice was too casual.

"Pedro," she warned.

"Okay, okay." He revealed a small, heart-shaped box. "I was gonna save this for dinner tonight, but..."

"You got me chocolates?"

"Not just chocolates." He opened the box to reveal tiny, intricately decorated truffles. "Each one has a different filling. I had them custom-made based on what you like."

Y/N's heart melted. "You really thought about this."

"I always think about you." His tone softened. "Try one."

She picked a truffle with a white chocolate drizzle and bit into it. "Mmm. Passionfruit."

"Knew you'd like that one." He smiled proudly, watching her enjoy it.

The afternoon passed in a lazy haze — lounging on the couch, watching old movies, stealing kisses during the boring parts. As dusk approached, Pedro stood and stretched. "We should get ready."

"For what?"

"Dinner. I made a reservation."

"I thought you said you hated going out on Valentine's Day."

"Like I said...hypocrite."

Two hours later, Y/N sat across from Pedro in a dimly lit restaurant with a corner booth that offered just enough privacy. Candles flickered between them, casting shadows on his features.

"This place is beautiful," she said, taking in the rustic decor.

"I heard the food's good too."

"And you picked it all by yourself?"

"I do have some skills, y'know." Pedro's eyes twinkled. "Besides, you deserve nice things."

They ordered wine and shared a charcuterie board while debating which cheese was superior. The conversation was easy, as it always was with him. When the waiter cleared their plates, Pedro's hand found Y/N's beneath the table.

"Okay," he said. "I'm nervous."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Nervous? Why?"

He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small velvet pouch. Her heart stopped.

"Pedro..."

"Before you panic — it's not a ring." He opened the pouch and pulled out a delicate gold necklace with a tiny heart-shaped pendant. "See? No proposals tonight."

Relief and affection flooded her chest. "It's beautiful."

"Flip it over," he said softly.

She turned the pendant in her palm. On the back, engraved in minuscule letters, were the words: You are my always.

"You mean so much to me, Y/N," Pedro said, voice thick. "More than I can put into words sometimes. So...this is my way of saying I'm all in."

Her eyes stung. "I'm all in too," she whispered.

He leaned across the table, cupped her cheek, and kissed her. The world around them faded away — just the two of them, a necklace, and the unspoken promise of countless Valentine’s Days to come.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could you write something about looking into Jason’s wallet and seeing a picture of yourself there?

Awwww! This is so adorable! Of course I can!

You honestly had not a single clue what you would find within Jason’s wallet, not that it was something you gave much thought into as it wasn’t something that you ever want to look through to begin with, but here you were in the last situation you thought you’d ever find yourself put in;

Looking into Jason’s wallet that was perched atop of the counter in the kitchen you’ve just walked into for a light snack. Jason’s wallet wasn’t anything special, just a standard wallet that had been used, and yet you couldn’t help but become a little curious about it the longer you looked at it.

‘This is stupid I’m not looking through Jason’s wallet.’ You say to no one in particular as you were the only one who was home, Jason had left to do something but must’ve left his wallet behind on accident, yet you felt as though you had to somehow explain yourself to some higher behind for every little thing you did and thought of like you were being under constant scrutiny; constantly having to defend your character from an unseen court.

You went back to your original task at hand and opened the fridge door, retrieving the snack that you had been craving for a while now, and just as you were about to walk back towards the living room where you were watching whatever was on the telly you once again felt the compelling need to look inside Jason’s wallet. What would you find exactly? Other than money and the other necessities a wallet was originally made to hold, you highly doubt you’d find anything that was worth snooping through a personal belonging of your beloved boyfriend’s to begin with.

You knew it would be stupid to do so but yet despite giving yourself all the reasons as to why it would be pointless to peak inside Jason’s wallet, you already had it wide open in your hands and what you had found staring back at you would always have you smiling like some lovesick loser. It was a picture of you. You were sprawled out on the bed you shared with Jason, dressed in one of his hoodies that he was insistent that you’d look the prettiest he’s ever seen, giving him and the Polaroid camera the middle finger because he had ripped away the bedsheets that were aiding you in combating the cold.

‘Of course he would, the sappy, loveable man.’ You murmured as your heart warmed at the idea of Jason opening his wallet when he was missing you, smiling down at the photo he kept and reminding himself that he had something to come home to at the end of the day; a piece of domesticity that he had always wanted his entire life and now he had finally got it. ‘You sappy, loveable man.’ You repeated again softly this time as a smile coder up on your face, wondering where you’d be without experiencing the love of a man as sweet and gentle as Jason Todd.

‘Who you calling sappy wallet stealer?’ Your smile widened upon hearing Jason’s teasing tone and went to look at him with a knowing glint in your eye as you waved his wallet in your hand.

‘Who you calling wallet stealer, sappy man when you’ve got a picture of me in your wallet, it’s almost like your in love with me or something. How embarrassing.’ You teased as you showed Jason the picture and watched as his eyes widened a little bit before softening as he crossed the kitchen to grab you by the waist, pulling you against his chest as he smiled into your head where he pressed a lot of kisses.

‘How embarrassing indeed.’ Jason chuckled, holding you tighter against him, loving the way you fit against him and how effortlessly you made him feel loved, looked after and wanted in ways where words would only fail. ‘If being in love with you is a crime then I’m guilty on all charges.’ He adds cheekily as he gave you kisses across your forehead and across your face before finishing off on your lips as he hummed in content.

‘Dorky, literature sappy man.’ You grinned against his lips.

‘Wallet stealer and snooper.’ Jason retorted as he too smiled against your lips.

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader’s first valentine’s day

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

valentine's special, suggested here :) warning: suggestive ending

Y/n awoke with a groan, her legs stretching out beneath her as she took in a deep inhale of the crisp morning air, surprised to be greeted with the strong scent of bacon. She glanced to her side, expecting to see Drew sprawled out on his side of the bed, only to see it empty. Down the hallway, the low sounds of 90s rock echoed over the sizzling of bacon as it cooked on the stovetop. With a furrow of her brow, y/n swung her legs out of bed before padding across the floor until she made it into the kitchen.

At the stove, Drew stood, his bare and muscled back to her as he swayed side to side with the music. He wore a pair of gym shorts low on his hips, his torso covered by one of y/n’s old aprons. Just to the side of him, a vase of roses in varying shades of pink and red adorned the kitchen table. Hearing the soft sound of y/n’s footsteps, Drew turned around.

“Good morning.” He hummed as y/n stepped over to him, greeting him with a smile before pressing a kiss to his lips. He grinned against her before the two of them pulled apart, y/n’s arm finding its way around Drew’s back. Her fingernails traced lightly against the tanned skin of his back as he turned his attention to the sizzling skillet in front of him.

“What’s all this for, hm?” Y/n asked, looking across the island at the spread of various breakfast foods. Fluffy eggs and perfectly toasted toast sat next to a bowl of sliced fruit and a box of y/n’s favorite pastries from the bakery downtown.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, my love.” Drew laughed, putting a hand on his hip as he carefully transferred the bacon to a plate. “I figured it's the least I could do for you for putting up with me these last few months.”

“It’s actually crazy how perfect you are, did you know that?” Y/n said, planting a kiss on Drew’s cheek. She turned to the kitchen cabinets, digging through them until she found her and Drew’s favorite mugs.

“Ah, ah.” Drew chided, stopping y/n as she went to start the coffee pot. He went to the refrigerator, pulling out a large of y/n’s order from Claire’s. Y/n squealed, taking it from him and setting it on the counter before grabbing his face in her hands. She littered kisses along his grinning and blushed face.

“Perfect, Starkey, per-fect!” Y/n said, stepping away from Drew as he snaked an arm around her waist. “Did you not get anything for yourself?”

“I already drank it.” Drew laughed, shifting his hand under the back of the old t-shirt of his y/n owned. “How do you think I got up so early to do all this?”

Y/n felt goosebumps travel up her back from Drew’s warm touch against the small of her back. Y/n leaned her head against Drew’s shoulder, watching as he painstakingly crafted her a plate, taking care in each helping of eggs and dollop of whipped cream.

“I’ll be right back,” y/n said, leaning up onto her tiptoes to whisper in Drew’s ear, “I’m gonna go get your gift.”

“You got me a gift?!” Drew asked, his tone incredulous as he watched y/n giddily run away towards their guest bedroom. Once she made it in, y/n flung the doors to the closet open, digging through the pockets of an old coat for the spot she’d hidden Drew’s gift in. Once her hand’s felt the crinkle of wrapping paper, she grinned, pulling the elegantly wrapped present out and heading back to the kitchen.

Drew sat their two plates at the dining table, slipping the apron off over his head as y/n approached. She giggled as Drew’s eyes widened at his gift, clearly very much surprised as one of y/n’s hands reached up to rest along the nape of his neck. She scratched his head lightly, examining the light blush in his cheeks as he looked back down at her.

“Here you go,” Y/n whispered, handing the wrapped box to him. Drew took it, laughing slightly as he quickly pressed a kiss to her forehead before placing the box on the kitchen table.

“This is a bit ironic.” Drew said, digging into his pocket to procure an almost identical box wrapped in the same pink and red gift wrapping. Y/n laughed as she took it, placing it down on the kitchen table before rising up to press a kiss to Drew’s jaw.

“You should open yours first.” Y/n said, raising her brows at Drew.

“Ok, ok, fine.” Drew chuckled. “But let’s eat first.”

Drew moved to pull y/n’s chair out for her. She sat down, examining the beautiful bouquet of roses and impressive spread of food sat out in front of her. Drew took his seat opposite her, watching as she admired the table between them.

“Thank you, Drew. Really, this is… thank you.” Y/n stammered, smiling widely. Drew laughed, reaching across the table to take her hand.

“You deserve it baby.” Drew said, squeezing y/n’s hand gently before the two of them dug into their breakfast. Y/n savored each bite, praising Drew for his impressive cooking skills. Once they finished, Drew cleared the table before returning to sit across from y/n once more.

“Now it’s time for you to open this.” Y/n said, pushing the box towards Drew. Drew sat up straighter, clearing his throat before he examined the small box in his large hands. He worked intently as he unwrapped it, revealing a rectangular, velvet box. His eyes flicked up to meet y/n’s excited gaze before returning back to the box in front of him. Drew opened it slowly, revealing the glittering, gold necklace inside. He lifted it from the box, admiring the details of the dainty, gold chain and two glittering stone pendants, one for Drew’s birth month and one for y/n’s.

“Shit, baby…” Drew whispered as he looked intently at the way the chain and stones caught the light. “I love it, baby, wow. Thank you…”

Drew grinned before he offered the necklace out to y/n to put on him. He turned his toned back to her, allowing for her to drape the chain around his neck before securing it in place. Her fingers brushed along the sensitive skin of the nape of his neck, teasing him before sinking back into her seat. Drew turned around, flexing his chest as he showed off his new bling with a cheesy grin that brought a giggle out of y/n’s mouth.

“You should open yours,” Drew said, gesturing to the wrapped gift in front of y/n as he scratched the back of his neck. “We, uh… sort of had similar ideas.”

“What?!” Y/n laughed as she opened the gift, revealing a similar velvet box to the one she had gotten Drew. She opened it revealing a golden necklace. However, where Drew’s was a fine, golden chain with small pendants, hers was an intricately designed locket with swirling embellishments. Her fingers gently opened the locket, revealing an engraving spelling out “I Love You” in Drew’s familiar handwriting.

Y/n laughed lightly as she admired it, both because of the sentiment of the gift as well as the way their minds thought so similarly. Both were necklaces, different in details, sure, but genuine and thoughtful in a way that took their tastes into account almost effortlessly

“I love it, Drew,” Y/n grinned up at Drew, who stood from his seat opposite her to press a kiss to the top of y/n’s head before pulling her to her feet to wrap her in his warm embrace. Her face rested against the warmth of his bare skin, taking in his soft scent as he held her close. After a moment, she raised up to her tip toes so her lips brushed gently against Drew’s ear.

“I’ve got one more gift for you tonight.” Y/n whispered, a teasing grin spreading across her lips.

“Hmm, am I allowed a hint?” Drew asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Well, it’s for after dinner tonight.” Y/n said, her fingertips tracing along Drew’s chest as she spoke.

“Getting to see you in that dress, I mean… what more of a gift could I ask for?” Drew said lowly. “Could I at least get a hint?”

Y/n’s grin widened as she pressed a kiss to Drew’s cheek before her lips returned to his ear.

“No, sorry.” Y/n whispered. “I guess you’ll just have to take off my dress and find out.”

[synvil]

How Could I Forget? // Rafe Cameron

a/n : happy valentine's day <3 i hope you all have a wonderful valentines day, whether its by your lonesome, with gals or with your partner !

synopsis : You're starting to think Rafe won't ask you to be his valentine, much to your dismay, but he proves you wrong.

Valentine's Day.

The past few days leading up were pretty lonely nights, Rafe was always out on business or running errands and when he would make it home, you’d already be asleep or he’d be exhausted.

Even on days off, he tends to be preoccupied and it was hard to spend much time with him. But being the understanding girlfriend you were, you couldn’t really be upset at him. Rafe was hardworking, efficient and you had no choice but to let it go.

But with this being such a romantic holiday, you were really hoping he would be free and you could spend the day together.

Especially having Rafe ask you to be his valentine.

It’s stupid. You know it is. Yet something about the effort of still having your partner ask you to be their valentine despite already being together, is so romantic and cute and you just want to experience it.

Exiting the bathroom, you ruffle your wet hair with a towel after taking a hot shower, and exhale gently.

“Hey, babe,” As you reach the kitchen, Rafe strolls over and presses a kiss to your forehead, before walking back to the fridge. “Hey.” You smile and greet him back as you step towards the island and watch him. “Are you busy today?” You ask, tilting your head with a hum as you tap your fingers against the countertop, feeling your chest ache with excitement to spend time with him.

“Yeah, I have to run some errands and talk to Barry about some things.”

Immediately the sinking feeling pulls into your chest and you do your best to hide the disappointment lacing your eyes. "Oh.. You can't just take a day off to spend time together today?"

Rafe turns from the fridge after pulling out milk to put into his rather large tumbler mug of coffee. You notice he's been drinking a lot more coffee lately, on top of being so exhausted the last couple nights. He shares a half-apologetic smile as he pours in the dairy into the cup. "Sorry, it's important. But hey, Sarah and Kie said they were going to take you out today. Why don't you spend some time with them?" He secures the lid on both containers before setting the milk back into the fridge.

Your shoulders slump as your lips curl into a faint frown and you nod meekly in understanding. "I guess.."

Rafe notices the dejected expression over your face and purses his lips. He leans over the counter from across from you and tucks a strand of your wet hair behind your ear before cupping your chin to look up at him.

"Don't be sad, baby, I'll be done before you even realize."

Still, your eyes didn't meet his and he moves to cup your cheek. "I'll drive you to meet them before I go, okay?"

Managing to muster a small smile, you just exhale and stand up. "I'll go get ready then." You mumble and Rafe frowns, watching you excuse yourself to the bedroom. He exhales quietly, reaching into his wallet and pulling out his card before going over to the rack by the door where your purse hung.

He tucks his black card into your purse pocket and then pockets his wallet again before going back to his coffee to drink. “Hopefully that’ll cheer her up for a bit.”

“Be safe. I love you, angel.”

You sigh softly as you recall Rafe’s last words before he dropped you off.

Hearing your sigh, Sarah leans forward from her seat. “What’s up with the sad sigh?” She tilts her head and you blink, before frowning slightly. “Hey, did the guys do anything for you girls today?” You can’t help but ask out of curiosity, feeling the pang in your heart.

The two were surprised to hear the question and Sarah seems to understand what the problem was, and instead offering a sympathetic smile your way. “Yeah, tonight John B is taking me out to the beach to look at the stars and a picnic on the sand.”

Kie nods along, adding her own input. “JJ and I are chilling at his place with romantic comedies and snacks.” she shares and you purse your lip.

“but they did specifically ask you to be their valentine, right?”

Kie and Sarah share a glance before nodding a bit hesitantly. “Did Rafe not ask you yet?” Kie furrows her brows and you force your eyes down at your half eaten red velvet cupcake in dejection. “I barely even spent any time with him the last couple days. He’s been busy.”

Sarah can’t help but feel sorry for you, averting her eyes away from you as she reaches for your hand to hold. “I’m sure he’s planning something tonight. Don’t worry, okay?”

Kie scrunches her nose at the thought of Rafe. “Maybe. But let me know if he doesn’t, then i’ll whoop his ass.” Kie clenches her fist and you can’t help but chuckle, nodding at them. “We’ll see.”

After a few minutes, you decide to pay for your snacks, waiting until the topic moved on.

Excusing yourself, you slowly stand up and head to the counter of the small cafe you were in and decide to pay, reaching into your purse for your card.

“?”

Your brows furrow when you pull out a loose card outside of your wallet and recognize the black card to be Rafe’s. Your eyes widen in surprise before a faint smile laces your lips and you tap the card against the machine to pay before heading back.

As you wait for their conversation to finish, you grin at the girls and flash the card towards them. “Ready to go ladies?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the sight and she beams. “Rafe’s card?”

“Yep. He must’ve snuck it into my purse.” You laugh a bit and Kie smirks. “Well, it’s our card now.”

The three of you share giggles. “Now let’s go shopping, and get you girls some cute outfits.”

“You’re getting one too.” Sarah winks as the two immediately stand and pull you to your feet.

“Wha-? But i’m not doing anything—“

“doesn’t matter!” Kie grins as they drag you over to the nearest store.

“Have fun tonight ladies!”

Sarah and Kie blow a kiss your way as you wave to them. “Happy Valentine’s babe!” Sarah winks as she calls out from the car. “You have fun too, sexy!”

An awkward smile builds on your face as you look at her in confusion, but she’s already driving away before you could inquire.

You shrug it off before heading to the front steps of the house and enter, dusting off your new red a-line silk dress that ended at your knees, that Sarah and Kie insisted you buy.

Even though you had a better time than you originally thought, you still couldn’t help the sadness that builds when you remember you didn’t have much waiting at home for you.

Sighing, you shut the door behind you and kick off your heels before stepping into the living room, surprised to see Rafe home.

“Hey, welcome home baby. How was your time with the girls?” Rafe immediately stands from the couch and you chew on your inner cheek and shrug weakly. “Fine.. I didn’t even know you were home.”

Rafe smiles as he looks at your new dress. “You look stunning baby. I see my card was put to good use.” He teases as he walks over to you and goes to wrap his arms behind your waist as he kisses your cheek. “Yeah.. thanks.”

He notices your quietness and distant behavior and furrows his brows. “Baby?”

Hearing him call you, you pout and look away, feeling all the emotions of sadness and disappointment from earlier returning in a rush. Rafe was home but he wasn’t texting you at all and if he’s been home, why did he send you away when you could’ve spent the time together?

“oh? is something wrong, sweetheart?”

Letting the pout grow further on your lips, you wipe your stray tears that began to brim your eyes and shake your head. “It’s nothing.. I just want to go to bed.”

Rafe stops you and spins you to face him, his hands on your shoulders. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You finally look into his eyes and sniffle. “You’re such a jerk.” You harshly spat, taking him aback. “What—?”

“The least you could’ve done was say ‘Happy Valentines Day’ to me or something today. You didn’t ask me to be your valentine, or to spend time with me or got me a gift. You gave me your card by sneaking it into my purse instead of handing it to me, and i had to buy my own gift with it! And the past couple days we hardly even spent any time together because you’re always so busy with Barry and your business..”

You couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down your cheeks or from your words from spilling out your emotions but you were overwhelmed.

Rafe is stunned into silence for a moment, feeling his heart ached when he hears you explain. After another minute though, he speaks again.

“…I didn’t know this was such a big deal to you, angel.”

“Of course it is.. it’s a romantic holiday and you forgot.” You huff and Rafe lets his lips curl into a small smile as he reaches up to wipe your tears.

“Come here.”

He reaches down for your hand and intertwines your fingers with his and pulls you into his bedroom.

“I’m sorry for not giving you proper attention lately.” He whispers and pecks your temple before letting you open the door.

And the sight makes you gasp.

Every inch of the room, it’s completely covered in rose petals, pink and red balloons and as well as a bed covered in various gifts and snacks, such as charcuterie and chocolate covered strawberries for you, and a small board spelling out, “be my valentine?”

“How could I forget, baby?” Rafe murmurs as he watches your reaction with a soft smile and brings your hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it.

You’re speechless, unable to say anything as you stare at it all. The bed covered in gifts were from various stores you’ve been looking at recently, but you never had the chance to talk to Rafe about buying any of it.

“I… how did—“

Rafe exhales heavily as he looks over at the presents. “I had to talk to Sarah for hours and talk to the owners of these companies and stuff to get the right gifts and the best ones. I figured Sarah would know best about what you’ve been wanting.. And then I had to order all these rose petals and—“

You let out a small laugh, unable to do much else as you listened to him explain the reasoning for his distance the last few days. You’ll have to make a mental note to thank Sarah later.

“Wow.. i.. thank you, Rafe.. I’m sorry I..”

Rafe interrupts you with a soft kiss on your lips. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry too, angel.” You wrap your arms around his neck and smile, as his hands place themselves at your hips. “And I mean it, you look absolutely beautiful in this dress.”

"And since I neglected you today.." Rafe grins as he kicks the door shut behind him and pulls you to his chest by the waist.

"Why don't I spend this weekend making it up to you, yeah?"

a/n : agh this shouldn’t have taken this long, i’m sorry. i’m still recovering and going through a lot but please enjoy this! unedited.

[littleslaywrites]

cupid’s chemistry | spencer reid x reader

nsfw, mdni 

concept by @unknwnfanfics

summary: spencer tries to back a cake for you as a surprise for valentine’s, but ends up making a mess (that you gladly clean up).

word count: 1.4k

cw: smut, f!reader, sub!spencer, oral (m!receiving), slight edging, licking (is that a tag?), unprotected sex, p in v

Spencer had assumed baking would be easy. He had a degree in chemistry, after all. And that’s what baking was, right? Chemistry.

So, for Valentine’s Day, he decided to bake you a cake. Garcia helped him scour pinterest for the perfect recipe. He’d bought all the ingredients, even a heart shaped pan. He knew he’d have time after work before you got home. 

It proved to be less simple than it seemed. He’d gotten the cake in the oven… at least some of it. The mixer proved to be a challenge, as the moment he turned it on, it covered him with batter. It had taken a good ten seconds to turn it off. Batter was in his hair, on his clothes, all over his face. 

When he pulled the cake out of the oven, it was as if he’d never taken a science class in his life. It was somehow too dry and too wet, and the color was abysmal. He hoped the frosting could cover it, yet that proved even more difficult than the batter. Even after mixing, it came out way too sugary, with a strong flavor of red food coloring. 

Just as he was trying to figure out how to save it, you walked through the door. 

“What are you making?” you ask, somewhat suspiciously. 

“Umm… it’s nothing, just–”

His stuttering causes you to enter the kitchen to figure out what he’s doing. On the counter is a pan, which seems like it’s supposed to be a cake, or maybe a brownie. 

“It’s not very good,” Spencer says, defeated.

“No, it’s nice, just a little…” you trail off, trying to find something to say. 

“I thought it would be like chemistry,” he explains, bringing the mixing bowl of failed buttercream over. “It was supposed to be your Valentine’s surprise.”

“You’re covered in batter, honey.” He blushes as you wipe a drop off of his face. 

“The mixer got the best of me.”

“You might not be a good baker,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “but you’re definitely a cute one.” 

He blushes more. Even after all this time, he still gets flustered around you. And you can’t help but take advantage. You lick a bit of batter off of his face, enjoying the way his breath hitches, trying to hide his growing arousal. 

“Should we get you out of these messy clothes?” you ask, faking innocence.

He nods, starting to unbutton his sweater. As he’s pulling it off, you start to unbutton his shirt.

“It only got on my sweater–” is all he can get out before you shush him. He listens, as he always does with you.

Next you make work of his pants, getting on your knees and unzipping them. Spencer rolls his head back, sliding off his underwear, unable to wait for you to do it yourself. His cock springs out, already hard. There’s another thing you love about him. You can get him worked up so easily. 

“I want–” he sighs out as you lightly stroke him.

“Want what? Words, baby.”

“Your mouth. Want your mouth on me.” 

“Since you asked so nicely,” you say, licking his tip. He whimpers, resisting the urge to buck his hips into your mouth. 

You tease him for a while, licking stripes along his veins. He’s leaning against the counter, white-knuckling the edge to keep himself still. Whines escape his lips as he leans his head back, hair disheveled from his earlier incident with the mixer. 

When you finally take him all the way into your mouth, he lets out a moan. You’re gripping onto his thighs for leverage, bobbing your head along his length. Closing your eyes, you get lost in the feeling of the weight in your mouth, the salty taste on your tongue. You feel him twitching as you swallow him deeper. 

Spencer can’t resist anymore, and gives a quick thrust into your mouth. You hum around him, the vibration coaxing him to do it again. Soon, he’s mindlessly moving his hips, chasing his release. You almost let him cum, but decide you’re not done teasing him. 

Taking your mouth off of him, you move to stand up. 

“Please-” he starts.

“No begging,” you say. “Bedroom.”

He follows you into your room like a lost puppy, driven by need. You lay down on the bed, and he joins you, capturing you in a hungry kiss. Your legs tangle together, and he ruts his cock into the side of your thigh, needing any touch he can get. 

You turn him over so he’s below you. If he wanted, he could overpower you, but he’s always putty in your hands. You sit back so you’re on his thighs, just below his crotch. Playing with his cock, you touch him ever so lightly, running a thumb along his slit and tracing the veins you love to admire. 

“Y/n,” he chokes out, brain empty, save for your name. 

Humming in response, you move to sit up on your knees. Shifting just above him, you grab ahold of his length, grinding your wetness on his tip. The stimulation has both of you whimpering, hips speeding up slightly. 

Stopping your motions, you sink down slowly. Spencer sighs, arching his back before you can even take him all the way. You press his hip down, letting yourself adjust before he can move. 

Hand holding him to the bed, you whine. His length fills you just right, and he looks so pretty below you. His brown eyes are communicating everything he can’t voice, begging you for any motion. Leaning down, you press a kiss to his lips. When he closes his eyes, you can feel his eyelashes flutter, complimenting the way your cunt flutters around him.

Pulling away from the kiss, you run your tongue along the remaining batter that’s left on his face. He blushes as you trace his sharp jawline, cleaning up the mess he made of himself. 

You sit back up, tentatively pulling yourself up before slamming back down. Spencer can’t help but meet your motions, rutting up into you. You allow him to set the pace, listening to the soundtrack of his whines and groans. 

The force of his thrusts cause you to lean down, placing a hand on the bed. You can feel his tip prodding deep inside you. His length surprises you every time, reaching within you in a way nobody else can.

He quickly loses rhythm, his need overcoming any sense. Taking over again, you use your hands on the bed as leverage. Being back in control allows you to guide him where you want. You shift so he’s hitting you on the soft spot of your walls. You pause your motions to move your hips subtly, grinding his tip into your sweet spot, before picking up pace again.

You’re clenching him hard, Spencer aware that it’s a signal that you’re close. He lets you use him, his back arching to have you as close as physically possible. Your knees are spread wide, needing him as deep as you can get it.

You can feel his cock spasming inside you as he holds off his own release. As desperate as he is, he wants you to finish before he does. He’s clenching his thighs, hips unconsciously meeting yours. Skin slaps skin, mixing with sounds of your pleasure.

Your hands run along his chest, feeling every part of him as you go over the edge. Your thighs close tightly around his body, muscles tensing before releasing altogether. Crying out, you let yourself fall onto him, fingers going to his hair. Your hands grab at whatever they can, and the tug at Spencer’s locks has him groaning. 

He continues to thrust into you a few more times before he has his own orgasm, arms pulling you close to him. Leaning into your neck, he whimpers into your ear, unintelligible noises combined with your name. 

Both of you are breathing heavily when you roll off of him, whining slightly at the emptiness. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you whisper into his ear, running a hand through his hair as he comes down from his high. 

“Sorry about the cake,” he says. 

“I think you’ve sweat the rest of the batter off of your face, at least.” He turns to look at you, still red in the cheeks. “But you still need a shower.”

“I’ll probably need some help in there,” he says, faking a pout. 

“Poor baby,’ you say, pulling him toward the bathroom.

[capquinn]

hi love, could you maybe tell us a bit about what quinn is doing for mom and bug for valentines?🩷

happy valentine's day, lovers!!!! <3

Quinn’s always been big on Valentine’s Day. Not in a grand, showy way, but in the way that matters. In the little details, the small things that make his girls feel loved.

This year, it starts early. Before the sun is even up, he’s padding through the house on quiet feet, careful not to wake anyone as he sets everything in place. A small pink envelope sits on the kitchen table, addressed to Bug, decorated with a handful of slightly lopsided hearts he doodled himself. Inside is a card, his big, careful letters spelling out just how much he loves her, how proud he is, how she’ll always be his best girl, with "love, daddy," signed at the bottom. And beside it? A tiny heart-shaped necklace in a jewellery box, delicate and sweet, because she’s been obsessed with your jewellery lately, always asking when she can have her own.

For you, there’s a bouquet of your favourite flowers already waiting on the counter, petals still dewy and fresh. A cup of coffee sits beside it, just the way you like it, the aroma filling the kitchen, a silent invitation for you to start the day slowly, without rush. But more than that, the real gift is time.

He takes over the whole morning routine, wanting you to just rest, to soak in the quiet while he takes care of things. He’s the one who soothes Cub when his tiny cries break the pre-dawn silence, lifting him from his crib with a soft, murmured “I got you, Cubby.” He’s the one who wakes Bug up, rubbing gentle circles into her back as she stirs, her little body warm from sleep.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, Buggy," he murmurs.

She blinks up at him, hair mussed, and then grins, stretching her arms out, and Quinn scoops her up with no hesitations, carrying her into the kitchen like he’s been doing since she was tiny.

And then, she sees it.

Her little gasp is instant, breath catching in her throat as she spots the envelope on the table.

“Is that for me?” she asks, already reaching for it before Quinn even gets the chance to answer.

“All yours, baby,” he tells her, setting her down in her chair, ruffling her curls before setting her up with a a plate of heart-shaped pancakes and strawberries.

Cub babbles from his high chair, smacking his little hands against the tray in excitement when Quinn nears with his own plate of heart-shaped pancakes. He kicks his feet, eyes locked on the food like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen, while you lean against the counter, coffee in hand, watching with a soft smile.

Bug fumbles with the envelope, fingers working to pull the card free, and when she does, her whole face lights up. She doesn’t go straight for the words — she’s too young to read them just yet — but the little, lopsided stick figure drawing catches her eye immediately.

"Daddy, look!" she giggles, holding it up like he hasn’t been the one to draw it. Two little figures, side by side, both clutching hockey sticks. One small, one tall. Her and daddy.

But it’s the necklace that gets her. The second she lifts the lid of the tiny box, her breath catches, and then — a gasp. So genuinely delighted.

“Daddy!” she breathes, holding it up like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “It matches mama's!”

Quinn just grins, kneeling beside her chair, hands gentle as he takes it from her to clasp it around her neck. He smooths her hair back, presses a kiss to her forehead.

“You like it?”

Bug nods hard, her curls bouncing. She touches the tiny pendant with careful fingers, eyes wide, awestruck.

“It’s so pretty.” Then, her big, serious eyes flick up to his. “Thank you, daddy.”

Quinn’s chest feels too full. He brushes his hand over her cheek, thumb smoothing gently.

“Anything for you, Bug.”

And the rest of the day? It’s all about you guys. The whole family.

Lunch at your favourite family spot, Bug swinging her legs beneath the table, pink heart-shaped sunglasses perched on her nose as she stirs her drink with the little plastic straw. Quinn watches her animatedly chatter away, hands moving as she tells a story, while Cub babbles from his high chair, slapping his little hands on the tray like he’s part of the conversation. He’s got a tiny fist full of food that he’s more interested in playing with than eating, and Quinn just smiles, shaking his head as he wipes his son's chin with a napkin.

“Daddy, is this a date?” Bug asks suddenly, pushing her sunglasses up her nose, eyes bright with curiosity.

Quinn shares a quick look with you before nodding.

“Yeah, Bug. A family date," Quinn confirms, lifting his water to his lips, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Bug considers that for a second, her tiny brows furrowing. Then she nods, clearly pleased with herself.

“That’s good. ‘Cause you should take mommy on dates.”

You bite back a smile, watching Quinn raise an eyebrow at her, like he’s not entirely sure where this is coming from.

“Oh, yeah?”

Bug nods firmly.

“Yep.” Then, more serious, like this is a business conversation, she tilts her head. “Do you take her on enough?”

Quinn’s arm stretches across the back of your chair, fingers finding your shoulder, tracing absentminded little shapes against your skin. “Yeah, Bug,” he assures, chuckling.

"Lots?"

"Heaps."

She watches him for a long moment, sipping her juice slowly, straw making that little squeaky sound as she thinks it over. Then she nods once, decisive.

“Okay. Just checking.”

And at night, when both kids are finally tucked into bed, full of sugar and love, he finally gets you to himself. Nothing fancy, just the two of you curled up on the couch, your favourite takeout spread out on the coffee table, soft music playing in the background. There’s wine, lazy conversation, his fingers tracing mindless patterns against your thigh.

“You happy?” he asks quietly, voice low, intimate in the hush of the room.

You nod, leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“So happy.”

His hand moves from your thigh, up over your stomach, settling warm against your ribs. A slow inhale, his nose brushing the crown of your head.

“Good,” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss there. “That’s all I want.”

When the food is gone, when the house is quiet and still, Quinn pulls you in, presses soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder, your neck, murmuring against your skin about how much he loves you.

And then it’s slow, unhurried. Just him, just you, warm and close and taking his time, trying to keep quiet, muffling his groans into your throat so he doesn’t wake the kids. Because the whole day was about them — but this part? This is for you.

[sombrashe]

Hey

Can I request a Jun-ho with a chubby reader(with toe curling smut 🧑‍🦽🧑‍🦽) I can't stop thinking about that man !!!!!!

perfectly crafted angel ∿ junho x reader

smut

content soft!dom junho, reader has a vagina, age gap (reader is early 20s and junho is early 30s), unprotected sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, not edited

notes this is 2k words, i'm sorry

your ears perk up as your front door is slammed shut. the loud bang makes your skin jump, but you simply turn towards your angry boyfriend. watching closely, he goes about his routine; shoes are shoved into their respective cubby, jacket is haphazardly flung onto the counter, the fridge is ripped open, and a bottle of water is chugged before being thrown into the sink. you let him do what he needs to do. long grueling days searching for his brother, always forcing him into a tizzy. peering over the side of the couch, you lazily blink at him. when he finally notices you, his face relaxes, and he gives you a lazy smile. all dimples and teeth. you smile back and rest your chin on the edge.

"No luck?"

"None. Fuck."

you purse your lips before chewing on the bottom one.

"Do you want me to start dinner?"

"No, I just need to let off steam."

you nod and shift. sitting up, you stretch your back out. the gym at this hour wasn't uncommon for him. you mentally think about whether you want to wear sweats or elastic shorts.

"You can stay there, just take off your pants."

oh! you slip out of your sleep shorts, your underwear going next. folding your clothes, you place them on the coffee table. sitting back down, you feel a little awkward as you wait.

"Have you eaten today?"

"Yes."

"What time?"

"Um, like... 1 pm.

"It's nearly 5."

"Jun-ho, I'm sitting here half naked. Food is not important to me right now."

he shakes his head and roots around the kitchen. he spends a few minutes collecting, cutting, and plating fruits and little snacks. he brings two bottles of water in his other hand and sits snugly beside you. smiling, he plants a kiss on your forehead. you press yourself against his lips before taking the plate from him. huffing, you start eating. here he was teasing you. he turns the tv on and flips through the channels as you chew. you try not to eat fast, but honestly, you are starving. finishing the plate, you place it next to your clothes.

"Can I have a napkin?"

"Here."

he takes your hand in his and gently licks your fingers clean. heat washes over you as you watch. when he feels satisfied, he places your hand on his thigh. you press your fingertips into the muscle. turning you to face him, he licks at your lips, cleaning you off. balling your fists, he finishes with a gentle smile.

"All clean."

you nod and blink up at him. your pupils dilate, and you patiently wait for his next move.

"Open your mouth."

you follow his instructions, and he places two fingers on the back of your tongue. trying to relax, he presses down and watches as your throat constricts. sliding his fingers further back, his ears twitch as you gag harshly. pulling out, he dips his fingers in the saliva that pools in your mouth. tapping your thighs, he watches as the fat there jiggles with each gentle tap. hooking your legs over his, he stares at the wetness staining your inner thighs.

spreading you open, he takes a wet finger and starts circling your clit. chowing down on your bottom lip, you stay quiet. he dips his finger lower and rubs at your dripping hole. pushing past the initial resistance as you get used to the feeling, he slowly adds two more fingers. eyes watch his every movement, and you blink rapidly as he toys with your clit. both hands are on you, but it's not enough. he gives you a few more moments of pleasure before pulling away entirely. you fight the urge to groan and whine. taking a deep breath, you play with the hem of your shirt. he gives you a soft kiss, lips moving in sync as he moves. kneeling in front of you, he breaks the kiss.

"Take off your shirt for me."

you frown but do as he says. your stomach folds over itself as you sit there for him. he smiles at your willingness and rewards you with a long swipe of his tongue from your clit to your hole. your mind soon becomes foggy, and all you can focus on is his hot breath fanning over you. his tongue lapping at you from the inside. how his fingers, wet with your essence, glide smoothly against your clit. your moans are soft as you test the waters. sometimes he likes to listen to you struggle, staying quiet as the sounds of your wet cunt fill the air. right now, he was to hear you moan, cry out for him as you rise and crash.

"Let me hear you."

you nod a few times as your dam is broken. whining, you pant and throw your head back. moaning loudly, you cry out his name as he groans into you. holding your breath, you can feel the knot in your stomach unravel as you cum against his tongue. your orgasm is amazing as you're left with closed eyes and heavy pants. he straightens and silences your breathing with a strong kiss. you tuck your hands against his neck and move your lips in sync with his. when he pulls away, you're left with nothing but the taste of yourself. staring at him, you know that if possible, you'd have hearts swimming around your head. giving you another quick peck, he stands and offers you his hand. you take it and float behind him. he settles you on the edge of the bed and makes sure you're nice and comfortable.

"Gonna be good for me, sweetheart?"

"Yes, sir, I promise."

he smiles and pinches your cheek. his hand sliding over your jawline and down your neck, where he tightens his hold. the skin on your arms stands up, but all you can do is squeeze your thighs together in anticipation. he notices your reaction and gives you a knowing smile. pulling away. he spreads your legs just enough for him to settle in between them. taking your hands in his, he doesn't need to direct you before you’re undoing his belt. while your focus is on his jeans, he spends the next few seconds removing his button-up. only when you have his cock in your hand does he start to pay you attention again. looking up, you release him with a sad look brewing in your eyes. he spares you a quick kiss before slowly pushing you to a lying position. settling back, you feel your thighs squish against his hipbones. you peek over yourself to watch him lining himself up. sighing, he slowly slips in. while you were lying there, toes curled, and stomach clenched waiting, for him to hurry up, he maintained his slow and steady approach.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Good. I can take it, promise.”

his resolve crumbles, and the last few inches are shoved into you with a quick snap of his hips. reaching down, you let out a whine. you hand meets his abdomen as he stays flush against you. raking your nails up, you have to lift yourself slightly to maintain your actions. your stomach folds in on itself, and he watches every little movement. the way your thighs squish as you tighten your hold on his waist. how your stomach folds and jiggles with his thrusts. he especially loves the way your chest falls, each one falling in the opposite direction as he yanks your bra down your body.

“Touch yourself. Let me see it.”

you follow instructions perfectly. reaching down, you spread your lips and find your clit with the opposite hand. starting slow, you rub small circles around it. something he would do, and he seems to approve. grunting out a good job as he slams his hips against you, plush thighs keeping him from grinding bone against bone. watching your face contort as your hand picks up pace. rubbing your clit directly, you lose yourself in the feeling. his eyes never leave you. sharp thrusts turn to slow grinding just to watch your face change. your soft noises turn to loud moans.

“Oh my god, yes, yes, oh~”

who needed porn when all he has to do is lay down some good dick. and, god, you sound downright delicious. gliding his fingertips up and down your sides, he tickles you slightly. giving him a soft laugh, you then frown and smack his hands away.

“Don't tickle me!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“You better be.”

he smiles softly and pinches your hip. he leans down and whispers against the shell of your ear.

“Next time, watch your tone.”

you feel your cheeks heat up, but give him a soft yes, sir. he presses soft lips to your temple before pulling back again. he must be getting close because his nose crinkles up. reaching low, he grabs at the accumulation of fat within your lower abdomen.

“Ah!?”

your surprise is loud. he simply ignores your sudden noise and uses your abdomen as an anchor to keep himself snug inside of you. pulling out nearly fully, he slams his hips forward and starts to really fuck you. there is nothing soft about his movements, and you forget any upset you may have had a few moments ago. whining out, you listen closely to his hard breaths and quiet moans. arching your back, you start to feel the coil inside your abdomen get tighter. his thrusts soon become sloppy as his own coil finally snaps. you shout out his name with loud moans as you feel him shoot ropes of warm cum into your pulsating core. he grinds his hips against yours with lazy abandon.

leaning down, he covers your face in soft kisses as he takes over rubbing at your clit. with both hands-free, you dig nails into his shoulder blades. it doesn't take much longer for you to orgasm. completely going limp, you gush around his soft cock and smear wetness against his abdomen. leaning down you, pull his lips against yours. moving in sync, you whine and rut against him. he lets out a shaky breath against your eager lips before starting to grind his hips forward. smiling to yourself, he pinches and rubs at your clit while he works you towards another orgasm.

his face is pinched as he works through the feeling of his soft cock being squeezed by your perfect cunt. your face contorts, and your toes curl tight. this orgasm is much smaller but much stronger, and you’re left whimpering. immediately after overstimulation, takes over, and you’re whining out a please, stop. pulling out, your ears flush with heat as a slick sound fills the quiet room. he spends a moment keeping your legs open. your labia is spread open so he can watch your clenching cunt grab at nothing. his cum spills out of you in a steady stream, and he has to hold himself back from fucking it back into you. your swollen lips and puffy clit deters him from overstimulating you into another orgasm.

that doesn't stop him from fantasizing about it as he leans down and gives that puffy little bundle of nerves a nice, soft kiss. he darts his tongue out and gently pushes against it, leaving you gripping the sheets. a few more soft kisses, and he’s pulling away with a satisfied smile. kissing you softly, he helps you into a sitting position. kissing along your jaw, he whispers about running you a bath and letting you soak if you promise to keep his cum in you. you scoff that he would even ask you for such a thing. you frown and look up at him with a pout. he sighs, presses a single kiss to your pout, and pulls away with a hum. the idea of his cum resting deep in you has your cunt clenching around nothing again.

“Hurry up and run that bath before I lose anymore.”

He gives you a flash of a grin before mellowing his face to a laid-back smile. Pulling away from you, he picks up a few belongings on the way before you hear the water start. Hopping off the bed, you waddle your way over to the dresser and collect a few clothing items. Soft shirt? Check. Comphy underwear? Check. Fluffy socks for after the bath? Check. Holding the clothing to your bare chest, you walk into the bathroom. Watching from the doorway, he puts an oatmeal buttermilk bath bomb into the water, and your eyes light up. He has lotion and skincare products waiting for you after the bath. Laying your clothes neatly on the counter, you allow him to help you into the bath. Resting your arms on the side of the bath, he shuts off the water and intends to leave you alone for a while.

“Will you join me?”

“I was going to ask.”

You smile and scoot forward enough to allow him space behind you. He slides into the water behind you and a little splashes onto the floor with the sudden movement. Leaning into his chest, you smile and relax into his gentle hold. The quiet oasis doesn't last long before your leg is thrown over the edge of the tub, and more water splashes onto the tiles.

[bvrnesher]

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

cw: make out ! Everything is very sweet, actually.

ㅤ୨ৎㅤ🌙ㅤ˳ 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 ¡ 𝒇𝒆𝒎. 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

﹙𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆! ﹚ꪆ

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟏𝟐𝟏𝟓 | 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 ¡ 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝑺𝒂𝒏 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏 ¡ 𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊

𝗝𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 pressure. He’d led battles, commanded legions, and nearly died more times than he cared to count. But nothing—nothing—compared to the sheer panic of trying to make your Valentine’s Day perfect.

Which was stupid. You’d had way too many Valentine’s Days together.

And Jason knew it was stupid. You’d been living together for two years now. He knew exactly how you took your coffee, that you always stole the blankets in your sleep, the way your face definitely wasn’t subtle whenever he took off his shirt in the mornings.

And yet, here he was, stress-cleaning the kitchen counter for the fifth time, triple-checking his plans for the day.

Breakfast? Cooking was too risky in his current state, so he had gotten up early to pick it up from your favorite café. Flowers? Your favorites, fresh and perfectly arranged on the table. Gifts? Hidden in the closet, waiting for the perfect moment. Dinner reservation? Your go-to place, triple confirmed.

He took a deep breath. Everything was fine. He was fine.

"Dude," Jason muttered, gripping the back of a chair. "Get it together."

That’s when he heard your sleepy voice from the doorway, followed by a yawn.

"Who are you talking to?" you asked, rubbing your eyes as you walked into the kitchen.

He spun around so fast he nearly tripped.

"No one," he blurted, trying—and failing—to look casual.

His heart did a weird little flip when he saw you standing there in nothing but one of his old shirts—way too big on you, by the way—and a pair of white underwear. Sleepy eyes, messy hair, looking way too good for someone who had just woken up.

You gave him a once-over.

"You’re stressed," you stated. Not a question.

"What? Me? No," Jason denied immediately, crossing his arms. Then uncrossing them. Clearing his throat. Rubbing the back of his neck.

Your gaze flicked to the table, the coffee cup trembling slightly in his hands, the way his jaw was clenched like he was bracing for a fight. You stepped closer, resting your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat going way too fast.

"Jase." You looked up at him, biting back a smile. "You do know we’ve been together for years, right?"

"Yeah."

"You don’t have to impress me."

"…I know."

A pause. Then—

"What if I want to?"

"Wait—do I smell coffee?" you interrupted, wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your face in the soft wool of his sweater.

He let out a breath, relaxing slightly as he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"I got you breakfast," he murmured, his voice low and content.

"Did you burn the first one?" you teased, grinning against his chest.

He huffed, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

"Har har," he said, rolling his eyes fondly. "Hilarious."

You laughed, and his chest felt a little lighter.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, love," he said softly.

You smiled, letting go of his waist only to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a slow, lingering kiss.

Jason melted into it instantly, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer in a way that was far too natural by now.

The kiss was slow, warm, easy.

Like all of Jason’s kisses.

Jason’s heart sped up, but his shoulders relaxed. Having you this close in the morning, just standing there in the kitchen with the city noise outside... Gods, saying Jason loved you didn’t even come close to covering it.

His hands slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, needing the warmth of your presence.

You gently pulled back, just enough to speak. "You don’t have to impress me, seriously." You said, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I already am."

Jason chuckled softly, the sound deep and warm in his chest. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, still feeling the weight of the day ahead. "I want it to be perfect, though. It’s you."

Your gaze softened, and without responding, you tugged him back to you, sealing your lips in a slow, gentle kiss, pulling him closer.

His hand tangled in your hair, massaging your scalp in that soft, slow way you loved. Jason bit your lower lip gently, pulling a quiet gasp from you.

He wasted no time, slipping his tongue into the warmth of your mouth, deepening the kiss, guiding you back until your lower back hit the counter. He pressed his free hand to the edge of the counter to keep you steady, holding you against him.

The kiss turned more urgent, your hands sliding over his chest, shoulders, and arms, pulling him tighter to you, not letting him go. A low groan escaped him when your hand slipped under his sweater, your fingers sending shivers down his spine.

His stomach tightened under your delicate touch, the feeling leaving behind a heat that made him feel like he was burning.

Both of Jason’s hands found the hem of your—his—shirt, sliding under it to feel the soft skin of your waist. His thumbs made slow, lazy circles.

"Can’t help it," he murmured softly against your lips, "you’re just... too distracting."

You smiled, a quiet laugh slipping from your lips. "Now I really want you to impress me..." You whispered, biting his lower lip and tugging lightly.

Shit.

Jason felt the heat building in all the wrong places for this time of morning, the bulge under his sweatpants starting to form just from that small action. His chest tightened at your teasing, at the way you touched him, at the way your body was pressed against his with him pinning you to the counter.

"Maybe I do," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, searching for something, trying to find any sign that you were just messing with him.

But there was no doubt, not even a hint that you were just teasing him.

Without another word, he kissed you again, one of his hands left your shirt to slide further up, finding the curve of one of your breasts. He cupped it in his hand, squeezing and massaging with a gentleness that was only worthy of Jason Fucking Gentleman Grace.

You gasped under his touch, your nipples hardening against the coolness of his hands.

"Jase..." you managed to say his nickname, only to feel his lips leave yours in search of more skin to worship.

"So soft..." He murmured softly, lowering his lips to your jaw line, trailing down your neck with open-mouthed kisses. Then, finally finding that spot that always shorted you out.

He took your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a gentle pinch that elicited a moan that made Jason's skin crawl. He didn't even bother trying to hide his own desire.

Jason felt his cock growing uncomfortably hard under his sweatpants. Reaching down, his hand found the waistband of your panties, teasingly tugging them down.

Jason stopped just to grab your hips, trying to keep you in place as he thrusted his hips into yours, looking for some short of friction that you might could provide.

Your breath hitched, feeling him press his boner against you while he pressed soft kisses against your skin.

"Happy Valentine's Day to you, too." You whispered.

"I love you," He murmured against your neck, biting softly.

Jason nervouses were forgotten a long while ago. You were perfect in his arms, and that's all that mattered for him right now.

Plus, he wasn't going to think about anything other than making love to you for the next couple hours, that's for sure.

#NOTE: Babes, This is the first time I've written something like this, and it's not even good TT. Plus, I just wrote it and it's 3am, I'm sleepy. I swear I'll write something better when my eyes aren't closing!

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒔.

[kurooangel]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ fluff. timeskip haikyuu. eng isn't my first language!! masterlist. happy valentine's day <3

★ kuroo, despite what he can look like, it's a great cook. but he works really bad under pressure. it was february 14, and luckily he didn't have work today. so he woke up early, letting you sleep while he went downstairs. he needed everything to work out. you're the perfect girlfriend, and he wants to pay you back, to give you the perfect day.

now he is in the kitchen, huffing as the video tutorial he is watching goes a bit too fast for his liking. his hands busy kneading the dough for those cute, chocolate cookies he is trying to bake. your iced cappuccino already on the kitchen's island while tetsuro glances at the pan with the heart-shaped pancake. he moves quickly and grabs the pan handle to flip the pancake so it doesn't burns, but he accidentally does it too forcefully and it ends up on the floor. "shit" kuroo mutters to himself and turns off the fire, leaving the pan on the counter. he glances at the video, and it has already finished yet his cookies are still a clingy dough. when he hears a small giggle, he finally relaxes. tetsuro looks at your sleepy eyes, and he arches an eyebrow with an amused smirk. his cheek is slightly stained with flour, his arms crossed and his finger without the wedding ring he always wears.

"you're supposed to be sleeping, you know" he sighs, walking towards you and giving your forehead a soft kiss. "well, I'm not known for doing what I'm supposed to do" you chuckle, hugging him and leaning your head against his chest. "are you gonna be a brat on valentine's day?" he mutters, a smirk tugging on his stupidly handsome face. "your brat" you look up and peck him. "happy valentine's, tetsu. is burning my kitchen my present?" you tease and he huffs fondly, amusement in his hazel gaze. "very funny, sweetheart" he sighs and smiles at you, laying his hand on your cheek and caressing it softly. "happy valentine's" he squeezes softly your butt and gives it a light smack. "baby!" you chuckles, giving him a playful jab. he takes you in his arms, lifting you so nonchalantly as if you weight nothing. "help me with the cookies, please. I'm about kill cookingwithdave"

a small n quick valentine's drabble w tetsu <3

[nastybuckybarnes]

Homemade Lunch

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Warnings: Angst, Language, Arguments, sad feelings, fluff,

Word Count: idk but she aint too too long

A/n: based on a tiktok i saw but cannot for the life of me find to link. enjoy! <3

~*~

You huff out a sigh when the door closes behind you.

Shucking off your coat, you hang it up and tug off your mitts and hat next, putting them all away while you listen for your boyfriend.

He's quiet on a good day. On a day like today? When the two of you have been fighting more than you haven't been?

You begin to wonder if he's even home.

Carefully, you venture upstairs to confirm your boyfriend is, in fact, still in the house, sleeping in the bed the two of you share.

Silently, you close the door and head back downstairs, wiping your hands over your face a few times before pinching the bridge of your nose.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you head into the kitchen and grab Simon's lunch bag off of the counter, pausing when you feel the weight of it.

Brows drawing together, you open it up slowly, your heart dropping when you see he's packed himself a lunch.

A pack of instant noodles and a few protein bars are shoved carelessly in the bag, and it breaks your heart to see.

It's become a ritual now, you making his lunch for him every night so that he can head to work and not have to worry.

When he's actively deployed it saddens you to see the lunch bag sitting on the counter, awaiting his return.

But that sadness pales in comparison to what you feel when realization dawns on you.

He packed his own lunch.

Your argument from earlier seems pointless now, you can't even remember what you were fighting about. Not when your man, the man you love with your whole heart, truly thought you'd be too mad to pack his lunch.

Washing your hands, you get to work on making him lunch, your anger disappearing as you focus instead on putting together all of his favourite foods and snacks.

You work as quietly as you can, packaging everything with love and care.

Once his lunch is made, you give the kitchen a quick clean then get everything ready to make sure his morning is as smooth as possible.

Does he piss you off beyond comprehension? Yes, absolutely. In ways you didn't know a person could piss you off.

Do you love him more than you've ever loved anyone before in your life? Without question.

As you settle into bed facing his back, you can't help but lean forward and give him a gentle kiss.

Ever the light sleeper, he peels his eyes open at the feeling of your soft lips against his skin, his anger settling a bit at the tiny yet profound action.

~*~

Simon wakes up the next morning in a sour mood.

With his eyes opening not five minutes before his alarm is set to ring, things aren't off to a good start.

His mood only worsens when he realizes that all he's got to eat today for lunch is a pack of instant noodles, a few protein bars, and the stale crackers you like to leave in the bottom of the box.

It's nothing but willpower and discipline that gets him out of bed, into the shower, and dressed.

His gloomy mood gets worse still when he heads into the kitchen only to not find his lunch bag on the counter where he left it.

The kitchen is clean, by your hand no doubt, and he grinds his teeth together as he begins hunting for his lunch bag.

After almost five minutes, he yanks it out of the fridge, only to pause at the added weight.

Dry noodles aren't this heavy.

He sets the bag down on the counter and slowly opens it, his heart filling with warmth at the contents.

Instead of his bland noodles, there are several containers full of food, along with two of the juice boxes you like to keep hidden in the back of the fridge where you think he won't look.

On top of all of it, though, is a note scribbled in your handwriting with a dried tear drop tainting the paper.

He has to fight the stinging in his eyes as he reads over the words you've written.

He sets the paper down after a moment and squeezes his eyes shut, then carefully folds the paper up and tucks it into one of his many pockets before heading upstairs.

Skillfully silent, he makes no noise as he enters your shared bedroom, even less when he kneels on the bed behind you.

You inhale sharply when his hand dusts over your shoulder, looking over your shoulder only for him to immediately shush you.

"S'alright, love. S'just me. Go back to sleep."

You hum, resting your head on the pillow once more and snuggling into him when he climbs into bed behind you.

He wraps a strong arm around your waist and pulls you tightly against him, kissing the top of your head.

"I love you."

You peel your eyes open once more and glance over at him.

"I love you too."

[linoxpudding]

Kitchen Chaos - Seo Changbin

*gif credit goes to owner*

summary: cooking date doesn't go as planned, moral of the story? your boyfriend can't multitask, but he can definitely love you right

pairing: seo changbin x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 741 words

a/n: incorporated this request and this request for this fic, enjoy ♡

Masterlist

~°~

Cooking dinner with Changbin sounded like a dream. You had imagined soft background music, playful banter, and maybe even a little flour fight like in movies.

What you hadn't considered was that Changbin had the multitasking ability of a potato.

"Are you sure you can handle chopping the onions and stirring the sauce at the same time?" you ask, watching Changbin grip the knife like he's about to fight for his life.

He scoffs, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie. "Babe, please. I can lift weights twice your size, rap at lightning speed, and make fire beats. I think I can handle—AHHH MY EYES."

You stifle a laugh as Changbin dramatically throws the knife down and rubs his eyes with his sauce-covered fingers.

"BINNIE, NO!!" you exclaim, grabbing his hands before he rubs spicy tomato sauce all over his face.

"I’M BLIND. THIS IS THE END."

"It's literally just onion," you giggle, guiding him toward the sink. "Here, rinse your hands first, pabo."

Changbin lets you take care of him, pouting as you dab his face with a towel. "This is why I lift, not cook."

You roll your eyes affectionately. "Cooking requires multitasking, which you suck at."

"I do NOT suck at multitasking," he grumbles.

"Really?" You smirk. "Then why is the sauce burning?"

"WHAT?!" Changbin yelps, spinning around so fast he nearly knocks over the cutting board. He rushes to the stove, frantically stirring the bubbling sauce. "No, no, no—babe, why didn’t you say anything sooner??"

"I was literally about to," you laugh, leaning against the counter. "I love how you act like it’s my fault."

He sighs, defeated. "Okay, maybe I can’t multitask. But!! I make up for it in other ways."

You tilt your head. "Like?"

Without a word, Changbin steps closer and pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around you. "Like giving the best cuddles," he murmurs against your hair.

You hum contentedly, letting yourself sink into his warmth. "That’s true," you admit. "Cuddling is your one true talent."

"Hey!" he protests, but you feel his chest vibrate with laughter. His hand starts rubbing gentle circles on your back. "Cooking is overrated anyway. Let's just order takeout and cuddle instead."

You laugh. "So you're giving up?"

"Not giving up—strategically retreating."

You roll your eyes, but the way he tightens his arms around you makes your heart melt. "Okay, okay, you don’t have to cook," you said between giggles. "Just be my taste tester."

His eyes lit up immediately. "Wait, so I get to eat without doing any of the work?"

"Yep."

He grabbed a chair and sat down so fast you swore you heard a whoosh of air. "Best. Plan. Ever."

"And you have to feed me."

"Obviously."

"And you have to cuddle me all night."

Changbin smirks, squeezing you tighter. "Babe, I was already planning on it."

---

By some miracle, dinner turned out fine, despite Changbin’s… contributions.

After eating, you both collapsed onto the couch, stomachs full and laughter lingering in the air. Changbin stretched his arms with a content sigh before opening them wide. "C’mere."

You didn’t need to be told twice. Crawling into his embrace, you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. His arms wrapped around you snugly, like a protective cocoon, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"You know," you mumbled sleepily, "for someone who’s bad at multitasking, you’re really good at cuddling."

His chest rumbled with laughter. "That’s ‘cause cuddling only requires one skill—holding you close and never letting go."

Your heart melted. "Smooth, Seo Changbin. Very smooth."

Changbin grinned, his arms tightening around you as he tucked you even closer, his body heat instantly wrapping around you like a thick, cozy blanket.

For a few moments, the world outside faded. The only thing that mattered was the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest against yours, the soft hum he let out as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

You turned your head slightly, just enough for his lips to meet yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—just warm, like morning sunlight streaming through the window.

He pulled back barely an inch, his lips still ghosting over yours. "Mmm," he hummed, his voice all soft and lazy. "This is definitely my best skill."

You let out a breathy laugh, nudging your nose against his. "I can’t argue with that."

[toasttt11]

early

summary: coming home to her boyfriend and accidentally spoiling his surprise

wyatt johnston x reader

She walked inside to their shared apartment and quietly slipped her shoes and jacket off and put her keys in the bowl by the front table, the bowl that will always make her smile everytime she looks at it because Wyatt painted it during one of their pottery dates.

She titled her head curiously hearing sounds wondering what Wyatt is doing. It was Valentine’s day and they had spent the morning in bed eating breakfast that Wyatt ordered for them.

They both had to go to work for a few hours but had plans for dinner tonight. She walked through their apartment and leaned on the doorway of the kitchen watching Wyatt with a fond glaze.

Wyatt currently had over six different flowers and seemed to be making a bouquet by hand and he had trimmed every stem.

It was a bit messy but cute and just so Wyatt.

She shifted and the floor creaked and he immediately looked up, “No no no you’re not supposed to be home till three!” Wyatt panicked as he realized she saw what he was making.

“Wy love it is three.” She softly said to him back giving a gentle but amused smile.

He looked and the clock and Wyatt let out a loud sigh his head dropping, “I lost track of time.” He mumbled sadly wanting to surprise her.

“I can go and come back in a few minutes?” She offered not liking how sad he was that he wasn’t finished before she came back.

Wyatt let out a small sigh and shook his head and he lifted his head giving a soft smile, “Come here.” He held out his hand, he didn’t want her to think he wasn’t happy to see her come home, he is, he is always happy to see her come home.

She softly padded over to him setting her hand in his hand and his arm wrapped around her waist pulling her into him and he leaned down pressing a kiss to her cheek, “Hi.” Wyatt softly whispered his nose softly nudging against her cheek

“Hi.” She smiled happily sighing happily as she leaned into him.

Wyatt pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “How about you help me tie the bow?” Wyatt offered knowing there is no point pretending what he doing anymore.

She nodded and stepped closer to the counter as Wyatt stepped behind her with his arms in either side of her as he rolled the brown paper around the bouquet ends and she grabbed the ribbon that is in her favorite color and tied it around the bouquet.

“How is it?” Wyatt asked her softly pressing a kiss to her cheek before resting his chin on her shoulder, this was the first time he ever tried to make a flower bouquet.

“Perfect.” She mumbled back with a fond smile, it was prefect because Wyatt made it.