#Too much of a couch potato to pick just one

[joelsrose]

Feels Right

warninnggssss omg stepdad!joel smut - this is not everyones cup of tea so pls pls be warned also as always 18+ for smut, otherwise to the of age freaks pls enjoyy hehhehe

TW: stepdad!Joel | peepaw-coded filth | age gap (legal but still unwell) | power imbalance | gaslighting (loving) |manipulation (oop) | masturbation | daddy kink | praise kink

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You sat at the end of the table, hands resting quietly in your lap as the hum of conversation floated between the clatter of cutlery and the occasional laugh from your two college friends, visiting for the week under the impression that this was just a harmless little getaway—some sun, some sleep, a few homemade meals in the country.

The kitchen smelled like rosemary and roasted meat, the air thick with steam and late evening light spilling in golden across the counter tiles. Your mother sat beside you, bright-eyed and flushed from wine, humming softly to herself as she passed the gravy boat across the table, her hand brushing against Joel’s wrist like it was second nature.

Joel.

Your stepfather.

Your very recent stepfather.

The same man who first walked into your life with a busted toolbelt, a sharp drawl, and a set of rough, dust-smeared hands that knew how to fix things. Walls. Leaks. Cabinets. Hearts, maybe. He was supposed to just reconstruct the kitchen—then, somehow, the bathroom, the laundry pipes, the broken fence in the backyard. And then, before you even realized it was happening, he was reconstructing his whole damn life around your mother.

Married four months ago. Living in your house. Sitting now at the head of the table, sleeves rolled to the elbow, carving meat with quiet precision, those thick, veiny hands guiding the knife like it was sacred ritual.

He didn’t speak much during dinner. He never did—just nodded now and then, a low rumble in his throat when someone addressed him directly.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

He had that heavy, slow way about him—shoulders broad, voice gravelly, expression unreadable unless he was looking at you. Then it shifted. Just a little. Just enough. Like his eyes softened, or his mouth twitched into something barely shy of a smile. But only for a second. Only for you.

He wasn’t your father. As many times as your mother tried to make it so—“Can you ask your daddy what time he’ll be home?” or “Your daddy said he’d pick up more of that good brisket from town”—you never said the word. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Not when your thoughts about him weren’t the kind daughters were supposed to have.

Not when you couldn’t stop noticing the way his shirt clung to his back when he mowed the lawn. Or how his voice sounded first thing in the morning, gravel and heat, rasping low as he stood in the doorway with a steaming mug of coffee and tired eyes.

Not when you still dreamed about the way his hand lingered on your lower back a little too long the night of the wedding, guiding you through the crowd with a touch that didn’t feel familial.

Not when the man who’d been in your life less than a year looked at you sometimes like he’d undo every rule in the world just to have one moment of honesty with you.

And now here he was, sitting across the table, carving roast beef with those strong, calloused hands, the flicker of candlelight catching in his beard and glinting off the silver band on his ring finger that your mother slipped on with shaky hands one courthouse morning.

You swallowed hard, tearing your eyes away, trying to focus on your friends, on the mashed potatoes, on anything but the way Joel kept looking at you when your mother wasn’t watching.

Anything but the fact that he knew you weren’t calling him daddy for a reason.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The living room was dimly lit, the last sliver of pink sunset bleeding through the windows, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor and the frayed edges of the old throw rug your mother refused to replace. You sat curled up in the corner of the couch, remote in hand, aimlessly scrolling through Netflix with half-lidded eyes, the sound of your friends' soft laughter filling the space around you like warm static.

Your mom had disappeared upstairs just after dessert, fingers laced in Joel’s, her voice pitched high and giddy as she declared, “We’ll leave you girls to your wine and gossip—don’t wait up!” And just like that, they were gone, the creak of the stairs and the hush of a door closing upstairs the only trace of them.

You tried not to think about it. About him. About the way Joel had glanced at you as he stood, one hand braced on the back of her chair, the other resting at his side like he didn’t know what to do with it, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment too long.

“God, what even is there to watch anymore,” you muttered absently, scrolling past title after title, your voice heavy with the kind of lazy boredom that comes after a full meal and a long day. Beside you, Ava stretched out with a little groan, her feet nudging under the blanket as she reached for her glass of wine, while Camila leaned in closer, eyes dancing with a mischievous glint that made your stomach twist even before she opened her mouth.

And then, softly—too softly—like a secret whispered between childhood friends and forbidden crushes, Camila nudged your arm and murmured, “Okay, seriously though… your stepdad is hot.”

The words hit you like a slap. Immediate. Merciless. Your whole body tensed, your spine straightening as if on instinct, fingers clenching tighter around the remote as you turned toward her, eyes wide, heartbeat stuttering.

“What the hell?” you snapped, louder than you meant to, the heat rising to your cheeks so fast it felt like fire, like shame, like panic. “Camila—what the actual—”

But she was already laughing, head thrown back, wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her glass as she looked at Ava, who only grinned and shrugged, clearly amused by your reaction. “Relax,” Camila said through her giggles, waving a hand like she could brush it all away. “I’m just saying. The flannel? The beard? He’s got that, like, hot handyman-slash-mountain-man energy. You know I have a type.”

You blinked at her, words stuck in your throat, your brain short-circuiting beneath the weight of something you didn’t want to name—something clawing up your ribs like guilt. You wanted to tell her she was out of line. That it was gross. That Joel was married to your mother, for God’s sake. But instead, all you could manage was a choked-out, “He’s—he’s not—he’s—just—stop.”

And it was Ava’s turn to raise a brow, her smile a little too knowing. “You’re blushing,” she teased, her voice sing-song and cruel in the way only best friends could be. “Oh my God, she’s totally blushing.”

“I am not,” you snapped again, but your voice was unsteady, your face burning, your entire body suddenly too hot for the blanket draped over your lap. You shoved it off, stood up too fast, nearly tripping over the coffee table as you made your way toward the kitchen, trying to pretend like you weren’t unravelling, like your skin wasn’t tingling in places it shouldn’t be.

Because they didn’t know.

They didn’t know the way Joel looked at you sometimes when your mother wasn’t watching. They didn’t know how his voice dropped when he said your name. They didn’t know how his hand had brushed your waist this morning when he reached past you for the sugar and you felt it for hours.

They didn’t know. And you were terrified they might find out.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Camila and Ava had long since fallen asleep in the downstairs guest room, their quiet breaths threading through the stillness of the house, the kind of deep, wine-soft sleep that only came with familiarity and full stomachs and the comfort of being a guest rather than the daughter. Upstairs, you lay in your childhood bedroom, the sheets cool against your skin, your fingers twisting absently in the hem of your tank top as you stared at the ceiling—unmoving, unblinking, like maybe if you kept your gaze steady enough, long enough, it might finally offer you answers to questions you didn’t know how to ask out loud.

It wasn’t that late yet—just brushing past midnight, the witching hour when everything felt thinner, when walls couldn’t hold in secrets and silence started to echo. You wondered if your mother and Joel were asleep already, or if they were still awake in the room down the hall, the one that used to be hers alone before he arrived with his heavy boots and toolbox and made himself at home. A small, traitorous part of you imagined them lying in bed together, her curled against his chest, his arm draped protectively around her waist as he whispered something low and fond into her hair.

You cringed at the image. Not because it was gross. Not because you didn’t want your mother to be happy. But because the weight that coiled inside your stomach at the thought of her in his arms wasn’t disgust—it was jealousy. Quiet, bitter, shame-soaked jealousy that tasted like guilt and felt like sin.

You turned onto your side, fingers pressing into the mattress like you could ground yourself with touch, like maybe if you pressed hard enough you’d stop the thoughts from blooming. But they kept coming, gentle and relentless, winding themselves around you like ivy. You wondered if either of them had noticed the way you always looked away when they kissed in front of you, or the way you flinched ever so slightly when their hands found each other in passing, fingers laced like it meant nothing, like it was normal.

Maybe they thought you were still adjusting. Maybe your mother thought it was some kind of unresolved grief for your father, that you couldn’t accept the idea of her moving on so quickly, tying herself to someone new. Maybe Joel thought it was awkwardness, or disapproval, or some adolescent refusal to see him as a part of the family.

But the truth was far more dangerous. Far more complicated.

Because you weren’t mourning the past. You weren’t angry about her happiness. You were mourning something else entirely—something unspoken and selfish and terrifying.

You were mourning every moment he touched her and not you. Every laugh he gave her and not you. Every soft glance, every private kiss, every piece of him that she got to keep while you sat in the corner pretending you didn’t notice, pretending you didn’t care.

Your thoughts—feverish and tangled and too loud in your head—were suddenly interrupted by a soft knock against the wooden door, three gentle taps that pulled you back to earth so abruptly you nearly sat upright. You thought, for a second, maybe one of the girls had left something behind—toothpaste on the bathroom counter or a charger cord tucked beneath the sheets—so you called out without thinking, your voice barely carrying across the room.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open with a slow, careful push, and instead of Camila or Ava’s familiar silhouette, it was him—Joel. His broad frame filled the doorway, shadowed in the dim hallway light, shoulders hunched ever so slightly like he hadn’t meant to startle you, one hand braced against the doorframe like he was still deciding whether to step fully inside.

You reached instinctively for your side lamp, fingers fumbling with the switch until warm yellow light bathed the room, casting everything in a soft, golden hush. You blinked up at him, eyes adjusting, breath catching at the sight of him standing there like some kind of fever dream.

“Joel?” you asked, your voice coming out quieter than you intended, breathless not from surprise but from the sheer weight of his presence, the way he looked in that moment—undone, unguarded, real in a way that made your skin prickle.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, that low, southern drawl curling around the words like smoke, as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a gentle click that sounded far too loud in the silence of the house.

He looked—God, he looked like trouble.

Hair mussed from sleep, silver at the temples and curling slightly where it met the nape of his neck, beard soft and full, still flecked with that salt-and-pepper scruff that made him look older than he was but somehow stronger for it. He wore a plain, threadbare t-shirt, stretched across his chest in a way that made your stomach tighten, sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins in his forearms, the kind that only ever came from years of labor, of building things with his hands. His grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, worn soft with age, and barefoot—he looked every bit the rugged, rough-edged man who fixed your mom’s house and accidentally broke something inside of you.

It wasn’t technically unusual for Joel to be in your room—sometimes he’d swing by to drop off something you left in the kitchen, or fix the ceiling fan that rattled in summer, or bring you tea when you were sick and shivering in bed, too weak to do anything but mumble thanks. He’d stand by the door usually, or maybe lean against the wall, say something gruff but kind before disappearing again.

But not like this.

Not late at night. Not when the rest of the house was asleep. Not when you were lying in bed in nothing but a thin camisole and panties, heart stuttering like it didn’t know what to do with itself.

You shifted again, this time a little more nervously, the sheet clutched tighter around your lap even though it did nothing to hide the way your body responded to his presence—your skin flushed and warm, your breath shallow, nipples still visibly peaked beneath the whisper-thin fabric of your top. You saw it then, the way Joel’s gaze flickered, just for a second, dragging across your chest before meeting your eyes again, and something about the way he didn’t look away fast enough made your stomach twist into knots. He wasn’t trying to pretend. He wasn’t playing dumb.

He came to sit on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, the motion tilting you slightly toward him. He braced one hand beside him, the other resting loosely on his knee. “Were you asleep?” he asked, voice low, his drawl even rougher at this hour, as if it had crawled up from his chest and hadn’t quite settled in his throat yet.

You shook your head slowly, trying not to look too guilty, too obvious. “No,” you said quietly. “I… couldn’t sleep.”

Joel nodded, like he already knew, like maybe that’s why he was really here, not because he happened to be passing by. “Your friends were nice,” he said after a pause, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that could’ve been amusement—or warning. “That Camila though… she’s trouble.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh, the sound a little shaky as you tried to exhale the nerves tightening inside your chest. “Yeah,” you said, nodding. “She is.”

Joel looked at you for a long moment, the silence stretching thin, and then asked, voice low and even, “You have fun?”

You answered too quickly. “Yeah.”

He didn’t miss it. His brow furrowed, not deeply, just enough to signal that he’d caught something he didn’t like, that he could hear the wrongness in your tone the way he could spot a crooked nail from across a room. “What’s wrong?” he asked, that same hand still braced on the bed beside you, his fingers so close to your thigh you could feel the heat of him even through the sheet.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head, eyes darting away before you could stop them. “It’s nothing, Joel.”

He tilted his head, slow, deliberate, voice soft but firm like he was coaxing the truth out of you the same way he might coax a wild animal from the woods. “C’mon, sweetheart. You know you’re not a great liar.”

Your throat went tight. You pressed your lips together, tried to hold it in, tried to act normal, tried to act like your skin wasn’t tingling in every place he was near.

“It’s stupid,” you murmured. “Just… one of them said something. Kinda weird.”

Joel straightened a little, his eyes narrowing with something darker, a flicker of protectiveness tightening his jaw. “Weird?” he repeated, his voice sharper now. “They say somethin’ mean to you?”

“No—no, nothin’ like that,” you rushed to say, shaking your head, heart beating hard enough that you were sure he could hear it in the quiet room. “It wasn’t mean. Just…”

He waited. He didn’t speak right away, just tilted his head slightly, the soft creak of the mattress the only sound between you as he waited for you to gather the courage to speak.

“They said something,” you murmured finally, voice barely above a whisper, your eyes trained on your fingers where they twisted nervously in your lap, knuckles white from the tension you refused to let rise to the surface. “About you.”

Joel was quiet for a beat, then let out a low, careful hum. “Oh,” he said, not shocked, not offended, just… waiting. Another pause. “Okay.”

You looked up at him then, meeting his gaze for the first time since the words had started tumbling from your mouth, and it felt like standing too close to the sun—too warm, too intense, too dangerous. His eyes were calm, steady, and yet you felt like they were peeling layers off you without even trying.

“You can tell me,” he coaxed, his voice the softest kind of gruff, the kind that scratched gently at your throat and made you ache in places you didn’t have names for. “Ain’t gonna get upset, sweetheart. Promise.”

You swallowed hard, your heart thudding louder now, the heat creeping up your throat in a slow, mortifying wave as you looked down again. “They just…” you huffed, frustrated with your own inability to say something so simple, so ridiculous, even though it had been clawing at your thoughts all night.

“They said you were…” you trailed off, then forced yourself to look up, cheeks burning as you finally let the words escape. “They said you were ‘hot,’” you mumbled, using your fingers to make sarcastic little quotation marks in the air, the motion clumsy and half-hearted, your voice wrapped in embarrassment and something else—something you couldn’t disguise.

Joel blinked slowly, like he was processing it carefully.

He just sat there, eyes fixed on you, expression unreadable but far from indifferent, and in the quiet that followed, something in the air shifted. It was subtle—barely a breath—but it was there. Heavy. Humming. Like the moment before a summer storm breaks.

And then, finally, in that low, quiet drawl that had already undone you more times than you cared to admit, Joel tilted his head and said, “That right?”

You gave the smallest nod, unable to find your voice, your cheeks hot under the weight of his gaze.

He chuckled, and it was somehow worse than silence—warm and familiar and achingly beautiful, the kind of laugh that wrapped around you like smoke, like comfort, like danger disguised as something gentle. “That’s what’s got you all twisted up, honey?” he asked, his voice teasing now, smooth as whiskey and just as sharp. “That why you’re up past midnight, lookin’ like you got somethin’ sittin’ heavy on your chest?”

“I’m not upset,” you said quickly, the words spilling out too fast, too defensive. “It’s just—” you shrugged, eyes falling to your lap again, “weird.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, the mattress shifting slightly beneath his weight as he leaned in just enough to make you feel it—his presence, his size, the scent of him that smelled like cedar and something warmer, deeper, something male. “Ain’t that weird,” he said, like it was fact. Like you were the one being unreasonable.

You blinked at him, heart stumbling over itself. “What?”

He shrugged, one corner of his mouth tugging into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What—you think I’m hideous or somethin’, darlin’?” he asked, voice laced with mock offense, but there was something beneath it, something hot and coiled and barely leashed.

“No,” you said quickly, instinctively, your body tensing. “No, but—”

Joel cut you off with a slow, quiet laugh, the kind that sent goosebumps across your arms. “D’you agree with your friend?” he asked, his voice quieter now, lower, thicker, like molasses sliding slow over bare skin. “Simple question, angel.”

You swallowed hard, every part of your body suddenly too aware of itself—your hands, your legs beneath the sheet, the way your breath caught in your throat. “I—” you stammered. “You’re my—my stepdad. It’s weird.”

Joel’s expression didn’t shift. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t flinch. He just watched you, calm and steady, as if your panic was a ripple in a pond he’d already seen coming.

“Ain’t weird,” he said again, this time definitively, like he was putting the matter to rest, the final nail in a coffin you didn’t even realize you’d built together. “You’re my stepdaughter, sure,” he said, voice slow, smooth, dragging each word like he wanted you to feel them deep in your chest, “but that don’t change the fact that you’re a goddamn stunnin’ girl.”

Your breath hitched.

His eyes flicked down for a heartbeat—your lips, your collarbone, the outline of your thighs beneath the sheet—before meeting yours again. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with seein’ beauty, even if it’s standin’ right in front of me in my own house. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with noticin’.”

His hand flexed again against the mattress beside you, the muscles in his forearm shifting subtly, a quiet tension that mirrored the storm building between your ribs.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’, either,” he said again, and this time it wasn’t casual or dismissive—it was low, like a confession, like he meant every word, like he wasn’t just talking about himself.

Your breath hitched, your chest rising too fast, falling too slow, and before you could control it, your thighs—hot and aching beneath the thin layer of sheets—pressed tighter together in a desperate attempt to calm the pulsing ache that had bloomed low in your stomach. But it was no use. Your body betrayed you before your mouth could even try to lie.

And Joel saw it.

Of course he saw it. He always did.

He let his gaze drop, just for a moment—just long enough to trace the path of your clenched jaw, your flushed chest, the twitch of the blanket where your legs shifted beneath it—before dragging his eyes back up to yours with a slowness that made your skin feel like it might catch fire under the weight of it.

“It’s wrong,” you said, barely more than a breath, and even you could hear how unconvincing it sounded. Your voice faltered halfway through the sentence, like your mouth was trying to say something your heart didn’t believe.

Joel’s lips parted in a soft, nearly pitying sound, almost like a laugh—but gentler, rougher, like he was mourning the guilt you were dragging behind you like a chain. “That why you’re squirming, sweetheart?” he asked, voice like gravel and honey, rich and wrecked and too kind for the words it carried. “Sittin’ there all flustered, lookin’ at me like I done somethin’ to you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The air felt thick enough to drown in.

Joel leaned in just a little, his voice dipping lower, like the walls had ears and he didn’t want anyone else to hear what he was about to say.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me takin’ care of you,” he murmured, slow and steady like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Makin’ you feel good. Keepin’ you safe. It's my job, ain’t it?”

You swallowed hard, and he saw that too.

He kept going, not touching you, not even leaning closer—just letting his voice wrap around you like his hands would, if you asked.

“These boys your age… they don’t know how to treat you,” he said, his mouth curving into something soft, something almost sad. “Don’t know how to be patient. Don’t know how to listen.”

His hand shifted slightly on the mattress, just enough to make the sheets pull tight where his thigh pressed close to yours.

“They’ll rush you,” he said, voice barely a whisper now. “Use you up. Leave you empty.”

He let the words hang, heavy and devastating.

“I’d never do that to you, baby.”

You let out a soft sound—breathless, choked, almost involuntary—the kind of desperate little noise you might’ve tried to bury into a pillow if you were alone, but now it just slipped out, raw and real and open, hanging there in the charged air between you.

Joel’s eyes darkened instantly, and his voice followed like a velvet trap. “Aw, angel,” he cooed, low and dripping with something syrup-thick and sinful, “you’re aching, ain’t ya?”

You nodded, barely, shame crawling up your spine, your thighs clenching again under the sheets like you could hide the truth from a man who already saw it, already knew. And yet… you nodded. You nodded because it was true. Because every cell in your body felt hot and heavy and needy in a way you couldn’t soothe on your own anymore.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be embarrassed about, sweetpea,” he murmured, shaking his head slow like you’d just said something silly, something naive. “It’s normal,” he added gently, like this was a lesson. Like he was here to teach. “You’re a girl with needs, and I’m a man who understands ‘em. Ain’t nothin’ dirty about that.”

His hand came up, calloused fingers brushing your cheek with a kind of reverence that made you dizzy, his thumb stroking softly under your eye like he could smooth the guilt out of you if he just touched you gently enough. “Sweet girl,” he whispered, so low it made your chest ache, “always so good for me.”

You felt warm all over, like something inside you had melted and was slowly seeping into every inch of your body, like honey left in the sun.

Joel leaned back just slightly, humming low in his throat, eyes never leaving yours, like he was thinking—weighing something. And then, in a tone so casual, so infuriatingly calm it made your stomach twist, he said, “How ‘bout I help you out, huh?”

You blinked, confused, dazed, the words hitting you like warm water to the face. “Help me?” you asked, voice small and hesitant, caught between fear and want, your hands twisting in the sheets like they might anchor you to the moment.

He nodded slowly, his hand sliding from your cheek to rest on your knee—over the sheet, but the heat of it still bled through like a brand. “I want you to show me, baby,” he said, his voice still soft, still that same gentle, soothing register, like he wasn’t asking you to cross a line you could never come back from. “Show me how you do it when you’re all alone.”

Your breath caught. Your face burned. The blush that bloomed across your cheeks felt like it went all the way down to your chest, to your core, to every private place you’d ever touched in the dark.

“I—Joel,” you stammered, but your voice crumbled before it could form a protest.

He tilted his head, squeezing your knee through the sheet, patient and unbothered. “Ain’t nothin’ to be shy about, angel,” he said, his voice dipping lower, rougher. “You think I don’t know you been lyin’ here at night touchin’ that sweet little pussy all quiet-like, tryin’ not to make a sound?” He let out a low chuckle, but there was no cruelty in it—just warmth, affection, like you’d done something precious.

“Bet you rub that clit nice and slow, tryin’ to make it last, huh?” he murmured, eyes locked on your face, watching every tiny reaction like he was reading scripture. “Bet you squeeze your thighs together after, all messy ‘n wet, pretendin’ you’re not thinkin’ ‘bout me.”

You buried your face in your hands, humiliated and flushed, but Joel’s voice pulled you right back out, soft but firm. “C’mon now. Be a good girl and show me.”

You hid your face in your hands, hot with shame, your entire body throbbing with heat, soaked in places you didn’t dare acknowledge, and still trembling with that same awful, beautiful ache—the one that told you this was wrong, and yet made it impossible to pull away.

You were mortified, confused, soaked to your thighs and full of a desperate longing that made your skin feel too tight, your thoughts tangled and wet and unbearable.

Joel chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, curling in your stomach like smoke. “You trust me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, gentle and coaxing and so sure of the answer he didn’t need to hear it.

But you nodded anyway, fingers twitching as you lowered your hands just enough to meet his gaze, tears brimming in your eyes though you didn’t even know what you were crying for.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and that phrase—good girl—broke something loose inside of you, made your breath catch and your throat tighten like it meant something more than just praise. Like it meant ownership. Like it meant love.

Then, in a voice that was suddenly lower, rougher, more dangerous and yet still laced with the same softness that made your stomach flip, he said, “Now go on, baby. Show your daddy how you take care of that pretty little pussy when you’re all alone, thinkin’ ‘bout me.”

You whimpered, the sound barely making it past your lips, and shook your head a little, helpless. “I—I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice cracking like it was made of glass.

Joel gave a quiet, affectionate sigh, like you’d just said the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. “That’s alright, sugar,” he said, sliding a heavy hand beneath the sheet and letting it rest there for just a moment before slowly, deliberately, peeling it back.

You froze as the cool air met your bare skin, the way his eyes didn’t look away, didn’t hesitate, just drank you in like this was the most natural thing in the world, like he wasn’t your stepfather and this wasn’t your childhood bed, like this was inevitable.

“Let’s take this off then,” he said, more to himself than to you, as he folded the sheet down past your hips, your thighs, your trembling legs, until you lay there exposed, vulnerable, soaked through your panties with shame and arousal.

Joel’s eyes swept over your bare thighs, lingering on the soaked fabric clinging to the soft curve of your cunt, the way it shimmered faintly in the low lamp light like it was glowing—wet, messy, desperate. You hadn’t even touched yourself yet, hadn’t done more than breathe, and still, your body had betrayed you, eager and hungry and utterly undone just from the sound of his voice, the scrape of his knuckles, the weight of his gaze.

And Joel saw it.

Of course he did.

He let out a soft, almost pitying coo as he shook his head, tongue pressing briefly to the inside of his cheek like he was trying to hold back a sigh. “Honey,” he murmured, slow and low, that molasses drawl laced with disappointment more than anything else. “You’re drippin’, baby.”

The words weren’t cruel, but they still cut through you like a knife, made your skin prickle and your breath catch, not because he was mocking you—but because it was the truth. Because it was said like a reproach, like he was gently scolding you for keeping this from him. Like he was hurt.

“Jesus,” he whispered, shaking his head again, the softest furrow in his brow. “You waitin’ this long to ask for help, baby? Layin’ up here, soaked and achin’, all by yourself?” His voice dropped even lower, eyes still fixed on the wet patch that was growing darker by the second. “That ain’t good for you, sweetpea. All that tension. Sittin’ in your belly like poison. You know better than that.”

You whimpered, small and mortified, your eyes stinging with some ugly cocktail of shame and want and that unbearable tenderness only Joel could wring out of you.

“You shoulda come to me,” he said, as soft as a prayer, his hand drifting up to rest against your thigh, close but not touching—not yet. “Coulda knocked on my door, baby. Just a tap. I’d’ve taken care of you real easy. Real sweet.” He let out a quiet sigh, like this hurt him more than it hurt you. “But instead you’re up here, rubbin’ those pretty little thighs together like that’s gonna do the job.”

You whimpered again—quiet and pathetic, a sound barely born before it trembled out of your lips—and Joel made a sound that was halfway between a groan and a sigh, his whole body shifting like it hurt him to hear you like that, like your suffering was something sacred. “My sweet girl,” he rasped, rough with reverence, and as if the words alone weren’t enough to mark you, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple, slow and tender and terrifying in its intimacy.

You froze.

It was almost absurd—after everything, after the confessions, after the filthy words spoken in soft murmurs, after sitting in your soaked underwear before him like an offering—but that kiss, that small, chaste brush of lips to skin, shattered you in a different way. You and Joel had never shared physical affection beyond fleeting, innocent moments—a hand to your back when you were sick, a brush of shoulders in the kitchen, the occasional hand-off of a cup of tea or a charger cord. But this? This was different. This was personal. This was loving.

More intimate than anything else he could have done.

And then, his voice dropped again, low and drawling, thick with heat and authority. “Alright,” he said, his tone like velvet soaked in whiskey. “Take those panties off real slow for me, sugar. I wanna see that sweet pussy beg.”

Your breath caught hard in your throat, your fingers twitching against the sheets, and for a second you didn’t move—couldn’t move—because the words had landed so heavy, like a weight dropped into your chest. But then, with trembling hands and a heart that felt too big for your ribs, you obeyed.

You reached down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear, soaked through and clinging to your skin, and began to ease them down, slow and hesitant, your eyes flickering up to meet his just once, just long enough to see the way his gaze had darkened—hungry, wild, but still soft. Still Joel.

The damp fabric peeled away from you, shame dripping off you in waves as you slid the panties down your thighs, over your knees, until they slipped past your ankles and landed in a silent heap on the floor beside the bed.

You were breathless now—your chest rising and falling in shallow little gasps, your skin flushed from head to toe, your legs trembling beneath you—and you didn’t even know if it was from fear or want or that horrible, beautiful mixture of both.

Joel didn’t say anything at first. He just looked.

Eyes fixed between your legs, steady and unhurried, drinking in the sight of you like it was something holy, something he didn’t quite deserve to see but was going to relish anyway. His gaze was slow, heavy, and unbearably calm—as if he hadn’t just coaxed you into peeling off your soaked panties and baring yourself in the soft hush of your childhood bedroom with the door shut and your mother asleep down the hall.

And then, in that voice—low, rough, coated in syrup and sin—he spoke.

“Spread them legs for me, baby,” he murmured, each word drawn out like he wanted them to linger in the air with you. “Let daddy see all that slick.”

Your cheeks flushed so hot it made your head spin, and for a second, your instinct was to turn away, to close your legs, to hide. But instead—God help you—you smiled, small and shy and aching with embarrassment and need, your body humming with the unbearable thrill of being seen.

Joel smiled too—lazy, pleased, touched with something warmer than it had any right to be. “That’s my good girl,” he said, the praise so soft and familiar it made your chest ache. “Gettin’ comfortable for your daddy, ain’t ya?”

You nodded, almost bashful, your thighs parting just a little wider beneath his gaze, the air cool against your soaked skin as the wet heat between your legs pulsed steady and demanding.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, his voice sinking even lower, that dangerous softness thickening into something you could feel in your bones. “Go ahead. Show me how you rub that sweet clit.”

You hesitated only for a moment, heart pounding so loud it was all you could hear, and then—because you couldn’t not obey him, because the way he was looking at you made you feel small and precious and filthy all at once—you did as he said.

Your fingers slid between your thighs, tentative and trembling, and when they brushed over your swollen folds, a broken little gasp left your mouth—because you were soaked, slick, messy in a way that made your face burn with shame, and Joel saw all of it. Your fingertips found your clit, swollen and begging, and you gave it the lightest, slowest circle, your legs twitching as your breath stuttered.

Joel let out a low groan, like the sight pained him, like he was holding himself back from something feral. “That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his eyes fixed to your fingers like he was hypnotized. “Touch her real gentle. Let her know daddy’s watchin’.”

“That feel good?” he asked, voice low and slow, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it—wanted it offered up like a gift on your trembling tongue.

You nodded, breath shaky, fingers still working soft circles against your clit the way he told you to, hips twitching just a little with every pass. “Y-Yeah,” you whispered, too dazed to even pretend you had shame left in you.

Joel tilted his head slightly, that familiar crease forming between his brows, not angry—just expectant, like a teacher waiting for the right answer from a student who already knew better. “Yeah what, baby?”

You swallowed, chest fluttering with nerves and something hotter, deeper, heavier. Your voice was barely a whisper when it left you, breath catching halfway through.

“Yes, Daddy.”

The sound he made in response was filthy—a low, deep groan rumbling straight from his chest, so raw it made your thighs twitch and your core clench. You could see it in his face, the way his jaw went tight, how his hand flexed again where it lay on the bed, like he was holding himself back from something that required restraint.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and those two words—so soft, so reverent—landed heavier than anything else, sinking into your skin like praise and ownership all at once. And then, with a tenderness so at odds with the filth between you, he placed one big, warm hand on your thigh—his thumb brushing soothing little arcs into your skin—and leaned in to press a quick, burning kiss to your shoulder, beard scraping against your skin, his breath hot and damp where his lips had just been.

“You’re doin’ so good for me, baby,” he whispered, barely pulling back. “Such a sweet girl—touchin’ herself just like Daddy asked.”

You whimpered, spine curving as your fingers moved faster now, helpless under the weight of his words, his touch, his eyes. You did as he said—not because you had to, not because he forced you, but because the sound of his voice, the heat in his gaze, the approval dripping from every word made you want to be good. Made you want to be his.

“Keep goin’, sugar,” Joel said, his hand tightening just slightly on your thigh. “Let Daddy see you fall apart. Let me see what that sweet little pussy looks like when she comes.”

Your fingers moved faster now, slick and shaky, the soft pressure turning greedy, desperate, your hips rising off the bed in tiny, involuntary pulses as the heat in your belly began to coil tighter, higher. The room was filled with the wet sound of your arousal—loud, obscene, almost embarrassing in how eager you were—and still Joel said nothing for a moment, just watched, eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t name, something between awe and hunger and ownership.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, like he was trying to commit the sound, the scent, the sight of you to memory, and his voice dropped an octave, ragged around the edges.

“Look so fuckin’ sweet spread out like this for me, baby,” he said, almost like it hurt to say, like the words tasted too good in his mouth to come out clean. “My precious girl… puttin’ on the prettiest damn show a man could ask for.”

Your breath hitched at his praise, your thighs twitching, fingers circling your clit faster now, harder, your other hand clutching the sheets like you’d fall through the bed without it.

“You gettin’ close, sweetheart?” Joel asked then, and his voice—low, rough, tender—wrapped around your body like a second skin, like heat itself. “That little pussy about to come just from your fingers, huh? Just from daddy watchin’ real nice?”

You nodded, too frantic to form words, mouth falling open in a soft gasp as your body trembled beneath his gaze, every nerve ending alive and raw.

He leaned in just a little, resting his forearm on his knee like this was casual, like this was just a late-night conversation and not your stepfather watching you masturbate in your childhood bed.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured, voice thick with hunger but still achingly gentle, like he was speaking to something sacred, something tender and breakable. “Good girl—look at that messy lil’ cunt cryin’ for me, fuckin’ weepin’ like she’s been starved her whole goddamn life.”

And that was it.

The coil snapped.

You came undone with a shattered, strangled whimper, hips jerking beneath your own hand as the orgasm ripped through you like heat lightning—fast and sharp and blinding. Your whole body shook, your thighs clenching tight around your wrist as slick spilled out of you in wet pulses, and the only thing tethering you to earth was the sound of Joel groaning, low and ruined, like the sight of you breaking for him had knocked the breath clean out of his lungs.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby…” he rasped, watching your body twitch and flutter through the aftershocks. “That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Before you could even come down from the high—before you could catch your breath or close your legs—Joel shifted forward, leaned in, and pressed the softest kiss to your still-pulsing, overstimulated clit.

You shuddered, your legs trembling violently, your whole body jerking like you’d been shocked, because it was too much—too much—and still, he kissed you there, soft and wet, like it was a mouth made to be worshiped, and he had every right to worship it.

“Can't wait to eat this sweet pussy all fuckin’ day,” he muttered against your folds, so filthy it made your toes curl. “Could live off what she gives me.”

You let out a noise—half a sob, half a gasp—your legs twitching in overstimulation, your chest heaving, eyes wide and glassy with something too big to name.

Then Joel was moving—pulling back, licking his lips like he’d just tasted something divine, and reaching for your face with hands that were still so gentle it made you ache. He cradled your cheek like you were porcelain, and leaned in close, eyes locked to yours.

And then, for the first time, he kissed you.

It was dizzying—soft and sensual, lips slow and reverent, his breath fanning across your cheek as his mouth moved over yours like he’d been waiting a lifetime to do it right. No filth. No commands. Just Joel. Just him.

When he pulled back, his forehead just barely grazing yours, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the whole damn world worth saving—like he’d burn the house down if it meant you’d never feel lonely again. His thumb brushed tenderly across your lower lip, tracing the shape of your mouth like it belonged to him, and his voice dropped into a soft, hushed whisper.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he murmured, reverent, wrecked, like you’d just done something brave instead of obscene.

“You… are?” you asked, barely able to get the words out around the haze still curling in your chest, that dazed warmth thick and dizzying in your veins.

“‘Course I am,” he said instantly, the words falling out with such quiet certainty it made your chest tighten, his voice steady and heartbreakingly sincere, like there wasn’t even the possibility of doubt in his mind. His thumb brushed your cheek again, slow and warm, and he looked at you with something so proud and tender it nearly broke you. “You were real brave for me, sugar. So sweet. So good.”

His voice dipped lower, softer now, almost like he was sharing a secret meant for your skin alone.

“Touched yourself like an angel, baby. Like you were made to be watched.” He let out a shaky breath, still a little wrecked himself, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. “The way you spread those thighs, all flushed and achin’... shit, sweet girl, you made yourself come so pretty for me. Like you’d been waitin’ your whole life to let someone see.”

And God help you, but you smiled at that, soft and small and shy, your heart thudding unevenly in your chest as you leaned back up to kiss him again—slow, sweet, a little unsure but filled with something quiet and blooming.

He moaned against your lips, low and approving, one hand cradling your jaw as he deepened the kiss for just a moment, like he couldn’t help himself, like the taste of your mouth was something he’d never stop craving.

“Gonna keep makin’ you feel good like you deserve, sweetpea,” he whispered when he finally pulled back, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. “Just gotta get you ready for me first, yeah? Can’t rush somethin’ this special.”

“Okay,” you breathed, and the sound of your own voice surprised you—how soft it was, how trusting.

Joel smiled like he already had forever planned out.

“Good girl,” he said, and your heart stuttered. Then, with a gentleness that made your throat ache, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand brushing back your hair like you were something cherished.

“Now get some sleep,” he whispered. “Daddy’s right here.”

And he stayed—just like that—sitting on the edge of your bed, hand still resting lightly on your thigh, as your eyes fluttered closed, your body sore and soaked and safe in the dark.

[missdynamighttt]

doing the "a boy who's jacked and kind" trend with bf! katsuki bakugo.

you were sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through tiktok. a mischievous grin crept onto your face when you come across a video. you glanced at your boyfriend, katsuki, who was nuzzling your neck with his arms wrapped around you, looking as grumpy as ever.

“katsukiii,” you called sweetly, holding up your phone.

katsuki sighs, pulling away from your neck that he declared his haven, looking at you with a deadpanned look. "yes, sweets?”

“seen this yet?" you turn the screen toward him. the video showed a guy easily picking up his girlfriend and carrying her over his shoulders.

katsuki eyes the screen before shaking his head. “no. what about it?”

“so… think you could do it? or are these muscles just for show?” you reach out to squeeze his bicep appreciatively.

his crimson eyes narrowed at you. he did not live to train his ass off and survive a war just for you to say this. “you think i can’t pick up your ass?”

“oh, i don’t know. can you?" you look at him with a grin. "i mean, i’m not exactly light. you might not be strong enough."

his glare deepened, and he stood up, standing across from you. “you’re really asking for it, sweets.”

you giggled, leaning back against the couch. “i’m just saying! might be too much for the great bakugo katsuki to—”

but before you could finish, katsuki reached down, gripping your waist with one arm and hooking his other arm under your knees. in one swift motion, he lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing, planting your lap on his shoulders.

you let out a startled squeal, hands flying to his shoulders for balance. “katsuki!”

“what was it you said again?” he asked, smirking as he wrapped an arm around your legs, squeezing your thigh. “not strong enough?”

you stared down at him with flushing cheeks, laughing. “ohmygod, okay, fine! you can lift me, big deal!”

“oh, sweets. you're so cute," he said, his smirk widening. he shifted your weight, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "but we’re not done yet."

you let out an indignant laugh, pounding lightly on his back. “katsuki! put me down, you caveman!”

“nah,” katsuki said, carrying you to your shared bedroom. “not until you admit i'm the strongest guy you’ve ever met.”

"never!” you declared, still laughing.

he stopped abruptly, spinning you around so you were cradled in his arms like a newly-wed couple. his face was smug as he raised an eyebrow at her. “still doubting me, sweets?”

you huffed, trying to keep a straight face. “okay, okay," you reach to kiss his cheek. "you’re the strongest man i know. okay? hottest one at that, too.”

"hmph. you know other men?"

"katsuki!"

he grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “next time, sweets, think twice before talking shit.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your grin. “so cocky.”

he scoffs, carrying you across the room and dropped you onto the bed, your laughter turning into a surprised yelp as you landed among the pillows.

katsuki leaned over you, his hand planted on your waist, the other on the side of your head, his smirk growing. “still think i can’t handle it?”

you smile at him, shaking your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. "you can handle it just fine."

“damn right i do,” he said, leaning down and capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

youe fingers tangled in his hair as you kissed him back, the playful energy between them simmering into something deeper, more heated. while you might have started the teasing, katsuki always had the last word, and the last kiss.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ LISTEN. HE CAN DO IT, OKAY? HE SUCCESFULLY CARRIED 118KG ADULT PRO HERO ENDEAVOR WITHOUT FAIL. WHEN HE WAS A TEEN!! HES MORE CAPABLE NOW THATS HES A PRO HERO, OBVIOUSLY. SELF-INDULGENT BECAUSE IM A PLUS-SIZED GIRLIE. I LOVE MY MAN SM 💜💜

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Assassin + Blind Reader

[Implied Murder]

-

"Dwight? Is that you?"

Floorboards moan beneath the loaded step of a shadow rapidly gaining dominance over the far wall. Balancing the wooden board in stable hands, a dining tray stacked with an assortment of breakfast goods is the first thing that rolls into view. Behind it, a voice, sweet as the pot of sugar it carried, follows once more - inadvertently stepping over a forgotten apple left on the floor.

"Does that mean you'd like to dine indoor with me on this bright sunny day? Right as I was setting things up on the patio too. You certainly know how to turn someone else's morning in your own direction, Sir."

Shrugging your shoulders, you rotate towards the coffee table; picking up the steaming cup of coffee from your tray and placing it down on the surface. A soft clink redirects your hand to the coaster a beat away from your original position.

"Black coffee, roasted potatoes, and eggs. Just how you like it. I know you've been cutting back on the red meat lately, but I don't quite remember asking you to pick up bacon. There's a few strips on the stove if you change your mind."

Arranging the table to your set tastes, the bizarre absence of back talk from your neighbor is acceptable, but not completely ignored. Like the flip of a coin that man was. One morning he'll talk your ear off, and the next he's silent as stone. Things have been hard on him lately so you'll give him some leeway this time-

"Suppose that's a no on the bacon. More for me then."

But not too much. That old sour puss need a bit of friendly teasing now and again.

"Hm? What's this?"

Running your fingertips along the indents in the wood, wetness coats your skin. It wasn't your mind playing tricks on you. You rub your fingers together, spreading them apart as you raise your hand to your face to take a whiff-

"Ah-"

A strong hand locks around your wrist, trembling with contained strength. As if they're undecided on keeping you in place or snapping your poor wrist in two. It's gloved, but you can easily tell the hand does not belong to Mr.Dwight. Much too small.. Almost... dainty.

"H-hello? Who are you? W-where's Dwight?"

The stranger studies you curiously. You're facing their general direction, but you aren't staring into their eyes.

Your eyes....

The hand is gone as quickly as it appeared. You rub your sore wrist, back pedaling away from the intruder.

"I don't have much... Take whatever you want.."

Later that day, all you find to be missing is a single cup of black coffee.

-

The next morning you're awoken by a loud knock on your front door. You had slept on the couch, phone inches away from you - waiting for your dear neighbor and friend to answer your call. You haven't even gotten to the police yet. You just want to know if he's okay.

"Hello?"

"Good morning! I was hired to look over your neighbor gorgeous home while he's away on vacation. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, you may call me Aspen."

[rafeslvbug]

domestic duties! - military!rafe x lovebug!reader

when military!rafe is finally home…

…he runs his house like a military base. he can’t even fathom the chaos you’ve had to endure while he’s away, taking care of your identical twins with their father’s stubborn and reckless nature. so when he comes home, he sets things straight.

managing the boys

his little soldiers need to learn discipline, they have to respect him and they have to respect their momma, she’s the roots of the household.

they might be four year olds but are they too young for chores? no, sir. they’ve got to help their momma do their beds each day, hand her the pillows and make sure they tidy up their messes before bed.

he takes them into the backyard, plays games with them and makes them do drills, counting that as prep for the future. he’ll make it a contest : whichever boy can do ten pushups fastest gets to squirt the other with a water gun.

he’s not a bore though, he wants his sons to love him as much as they respect him. he’s not trying to instil fear like his father did in him, he wants them to be as loving as you. he’ll lift them, one in each arm, above the bunk beds, swoop them low and high, around the house for them to grab the scattered toys on the stairs or the kitchen.

at the end of the day, he’ll line the two up, do his little military calls :

“you brushed your teeth?”

“yes, sir!” they’d chant in their little voices.

“washed your hands?”

“yes, sir!”

“you eaten all your dinner?”

“yes, sir!”

“toys all picked up?”

“yes, sir?”

“you told your momma you love her?”

sheepish faces, wringing their chubby hands together when they murmur, “..no, sir”

“well then what are we waiting for? go! go! go!” he barks, their little toddler legs dashing up the stairs. he scoops them into his arms and charges up with them, just to remind them that he’s not mad at them - he’s only having fun.

managing you & the chores

rafe thinks you’ve had enough. he certainly hasn’t come home to be one of those lazy husbands, who makes their wife do all the housework like she’s some servant. no, it’s his house, his lady, his responsibility.

he’ll let you sleep in, let you curl onto his chest with one hand slipped under your shirt to rest on your back, waking up an hour before you to make you breakfast in bed.

dishes? he’ll do that. laundry? him and his sons’ work. cooking? you’ve cooked three meals every day for six months while he was away, he can cook them until his next deployment.

he might turn some things into a family activity though. you all watch a movie in the ridiculously sized living room, you sitting on the couch as you iron, rafe folding the clothes and the boys having to be delicate so as to not crease or mess the folding while they sort it into piles of whose clothes is whose. 

“now i know you’re not puttin’ my shirt in your pile, boy, you take that out. you wanna make a fort later on? i’ll get ya some blankets, or use your momma’s clothes”

“rafe! baby steal all your daddy’s clothes, he deserves it.”

your only real stress is planning for the holiday you guys are about to go on. no budget, no limitations, just somewhere rafe can relax. you get to pick out restaurant locations, air bnbs, activities for the kids, outfits etc. your current plan? florida, the boys love all things disney.

managing himself

rafe is severely disciplined. any day on base he’d wake up at four am, but at home? late mornings, tucked in with you.

doesn’t mean he gets no training done, though. he can’t get sloppy during his breaks, and come back to base like a potato. he’s got a form to maintain. he trains in the afternoon, for at least two hours. maybe he might even get you to sit on his back while he does push ups - just if it gets too easy.

this isn’t counting his time with the boys, which is like a whole other workout. running around the backyard, teaching them how to do pushups, taking them to jungle gyms, carrying them around the house. life is his workout.

he also makes time for you. at the end of the day, he wouldn’t be able to manage his life away and keep this family if it weren’t for you and your patience, how you make sure to call him with each and every moment of your kids’ lives and check up on him. so he makes sure that he stays as respectful as he teaches his boys to be.

you want to go to midsummers? he hates that shit, but for you, anything. you want to go the mall? hates that place too, but you’ve gotta take his card, he has to drive you and carry your bags. so he’s gotta go with. what you want, you get. it’s the least he can do.

inspo : @cameronsbabydoll

[xgryffinwhore]

Drive me crazy

Summary: Johnny and Her have always been best friends, but could this house party change everything?

Warnings: Smut, swearing, angst, smoking, drinking

Word count: 8K

The music at the Cobra Kai house party was loud—too loud, but Johnny Lawrence didn’t care. He leaned back against the couch, a half-empty beer in his hand, eyes lazily scanning the room. He wasn’t really paying attention to the chaos around him, though. His mind was somewhere else, like it had been for the past few weeks.

His best friend was across the room, laughing, talking to some of the other girls from school, and looking way too good tonight. She always looked good, but recently, something had shifted. The way Johnny looked at her had changed. He hated to admit it—even to himself—but every time he saw her now, his chest tightened. It was starting to mess with him.

He took another swig of beer, trying to shake it off. She was his best friend, for crying out loud. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this about her. But every time she smiled, every time she caught his eye and flashed him that look that made him feel like he was the only one who mattered... It was driving him crazy.

Johnny had already had more to drink than usual. He was trying to push down these stupid feelings that were bubbling up, but the more he drank, the harder it got to ignore them. And then it happened—some girl, one of the loudmouths from school, started talking to his best friend. At first, Johnny didn’t think much of it. But then he saw the way the girl was laughing, a little too loudly, making snide remarks like she was better than her.

His best friend lunged at the loudmouth's jaw.

He slammed his beer down and got to his feet, weaving through the party.

Before things could escalate further, Johnny did something that surprised everyone in the room, including himself. Without thinking, he turned to his best friend, grabbed her by the waist, and in one quick motion, threw her over his shoulder. The room fell silent for a second as everyone stared, but Johnny didn’t care.

“Come on,” he muttered, his voice rough, as he made his way toward the door with her still slung over his shoulder.

The alcohol heavy in her system as she was lifted off the ground by him. She attempted miserably to flail her arms and legs as he carried her out of the house party like a sack of potatoes.

It was always *something* with them. Whether it was hot headed arguments, her dragging him away from a fight, or him dragging her. Their friendship is an interesting dynamic, nonetheless.* "Johnny, what the hell?" She slurred.

Johnny carried her outside, her weight familiar and comfortable against him. He was painfully aware of their proximity as he walked, her body pressed against him, the warmth of her skin seeping through his shirt. He grumbled under his breath, trying to ignore the feeling stirring in his chest.

He didn't stop until they were a fair distance from the party, the music now a faint thump in the background. He set her down gently, his grip lingering on her waist for a moment too long before he abruptly pulled his hands away.

She stood there, crossed armed, he *really* didn't have to do all of that. She huffed, she was torn, although he was always butting in, she knew he really did care for her. Her expression softened as she pondered over these conflicting thoughts.

She laughs at the irony. Johnny was always known for starting fights, he has the lowest temper in the valley. "Thats *rich* coming from you lawrence.”

"That’s different" He retorted, taking a step closer. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume, the familiar smell making his head spin. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to reach for her.

"You can’t just go around picking fights that I then have to rescue you from." He closed the remaining distance between them, his eyes never leaving hers. "You gotta stop being so goddamn reckless."

"Yeah you really can't be the one telling me that" she shakes her head. Johnny is the last person to be telling her this. The amount of reckless fights he'd gotten into, for worse reasons than hers, he should just shut his stubborn mouth now. *Man ,that stubborn mouth...* She shakes off the thought. 

Johnny bristled at her dismissive tone, his stubborn nature rising to the surface. "Yeah? And why not? I've had to save your ass more times than I can count." He stepped closer, his body mere inches from hers now. He could feel her breath on his skin, the heat radiating off her body. *God, he wanted her so badly.*

"You gotta start thinking before you act. I'm sick of your stupidity."

Her eyes locked with his icy blue ones, his comment having a bitter taste in her mouth. "And I'm sick of you being an asshole" she rebuttals. It couldn't be farther from the truth. Sure, he was pretty much insufferable. But she couldn't get enough. 

Johnny's jaw clenched as her words hit a nerve. He was used to her fiery comebacks, but something about this one stung. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way her eyes gleamed with determination, but he couldn't stop himself from taking another step closer.

He was so close now that their chests were almost touching. He could feel her breath against his lips, and all he wanted to do was close the remaining space between them. Instead, he gritted his teeth and retorted, "Yeah, well, I'm not the one constantly needing saving."

HIs musk affected her more than she wanted to admit. Her thoughts were clouded, her brain going foggy as she looked up at him, his blonde hair messy and perfect. She was drunk, being this close to him while she was impaired was definitely not good.

"I..I.." she started, shaking her head. She quickly turned away, heading back inside. One more second out there with him, and she didn't know what would have happened. 

Johnny wanted to stop her, to pull her back and hold her against him. But his arms hung at his sides, frozen in place. He watched numbly as she walked away, his mind racing. *What the hell was happening to him*? He was supposed to be her best friend, not some lovesick idiot.

He let out a frustrated curse, raking a hand through his hair. He couldn't go back to the party, not now. He needed some air, some time to think, to put his emotions back in check.

The door opened again, Bobby waltzed outside, completely trashed. Bobby was Johnny's other best friend, sure he's an idiot, but he knew JOhnny better than anyone. "Hey man, came out for a cig, want one?" 

Johnny looked up, somewhat relieved to see Bobby stumbling out of the party. "Yeah, sure." He said gruffly. He took the offered cig and lit it, inhaling deeply. The nicotine hit his system, helping him calm down a fraction.

Bobby glanced at him, noticing the conflicted look on his face. "You alright, man?"

Johnny shrugged noncommittally, taking another drag. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Bobby, tipsy as he was, knew Johnny better than anyone. He could sense that there was something more going on, something bothering his best friend. "You sure, man? You look like you've got something on your mind."

Johnny was silent for a moment. He didn't want to talk about it, but he also knew that he couldn't keep his thoughts bottled up forever.

"It's just..." He trailed off, staring at the ground. He took another drag of his cigarette, gathering his thoughts. "I don't know, man. Things are complicated right now."

Bobby nodded understandingly. "Complicated how? With a girl?"

Johnny let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, something like that."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Is it... *her*?"

Johnny's silence was all the confirmation Bobby needed. He knew how Johnny felt about his best friend. He'd been the one dealing with Johnny's drunk ramblings and love-fueled rants for months.

Johnny glanced up at him, almost surprised that he'd figured it out. "Is it that obvious?"

Bobby chuckled. "Kinda. You're not exactly subtle, man."

Johnny let out a heavy sigh. "I just... I don't know what to do, man. She drives me crazy. I can't shake these feelings. And I don't know how to deal with them."

Bobby took a drag of his own cigarette, thinking for a moment. "I see the way she looks at you man, she’s gotta at least feel *something*” Bobby puts his arm around Johnny's shoulders. “I mean face it, you guys fight like cats and dogs, then are all over each other the next day.”

Johnny sighs, running a hand through his hair. He knew Bobby was right. Their friendship was a strange and tumultuous thing. They drove each other crazy, getting into fights over the dumbest things, only to make up just as quickly. 

But lately, the fights have been less angry, and more... *something else*. They were always touching, standing too close, stealing glances when they thought the other wasn't looking. It was so damn confusing.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Johnny muttered, taking another drag of his cigarette. "It's just... I don’t know. Things have been different lately. We've been fighting more than usual, and then making up just as quickly. It's like there's this... *tension* between us."

"Tension?" Bobby echoed, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of tension?"

Johnny let out a frustrated huff. "I don't know, man. It's like every time we're together, I can't help but want to be closer to her. I wanna touch her, hold her, *goddammit*, I don't even know what I want!"

Bobby chuckled. "Sounds like you got it bad, man."

Johnny shot him a glare, but there was no heat behind it. "Yeah, really helpful." he muttered, taking another drag of his cigarette. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"You gotta tell her how you feel, man" Bobby said, giving Johnny a brotherly pat on the back

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Right, because that's gonna go over so well. 'Hey, I know we've been friends forever, but I want something more all of a sudden.' She'll probably just laugh in my face."

"Your Johnny Lawrence for god sakes, every chick at west valley basically passes out when you enter a room. Where is the arrogant son of a bitch I know?" Bobby pressed.

Johnny bristled a little at the comment, but deep down, he knew Bobby was right. He was used to girls falling all over him, begging for a scrap of his attention. This was different. This was *her*. 

He let out a scoff. "It's not the same. She's... different." He said finally, the words coming out more vulnerable than he intended.

"Different how?" Bobby pushed

Johnny paused for a moment, trying to find the words to explain it. "She doesn't look at me like the other girls do. She sees past the Johnny Lawrence charm and the Cobra Kai crap. She sees the real me, the one no one else does. And for some reason, she still sticks around."

“And that’s gotta mean something” Bobby takes a drag. Johnny nodded, mulling over Bobby's words. He knew his friend was right, but the thought of confessing his feelings scared the crap out of him. "I know, man. It does. I just... I don't know how to tell her. What if she doesn't feel the same? I wouldn't be able to lose her as a friend." Bobby shakes his head, putting out the cigarette "So you'd rather be just friends forever, then take the risk?"

Johnny bristled at Bobby's words. He hated being called out like that. But he knew his friend was right.

He let out a frustrated huff. "Of course not. I want more than friendship. But... I don't know if I'm ready to deal with the fallout if she doesn't feel the same. I don't know what I'd do without her."

"So what, you're just gonna pine after her forever?"

Johnny didn't have a response to that. The thought of spending the rest of his life wanting her, but never having her, sounded like hell. But the thought of losing her entirely terrified him even more.

"This isn't like you, man" Bobby said, his tone now softer. "You're Johnny Lawrence. You're tough, you're confident, you go after what you want. Since when did you start being a coward?"

Johnny bristled at the word "coward." He hated being called that. It was a sign of weakness, something he wasn't used to. 

"I'm not a coward" he bit out, his voice harsh, "It's just... this is different. She's different. I wouldn-” 

He broke off, his voice catching in his throat, the realization hitting him that he was basically making excuses.

Bobby could see the emotional turmoil on Johnny's face and knew he was getting through to him.

"Listen, man" he said, "What are you more afraid of? Losing her as a friend, or spending the rest of your life wondering 'what if'?"

Johnny was silent for a moment, his mind warring with his heart. He hated that Bobby was right. He hated that he had no good argument. 

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?" he grumbled, but there was no real anger behind it.

"Yeah, but that's what friends are for" Bobby replied, grinning. "So what's it gonna be man? Are you gonna grow some balls and tell her how you feel, or are you gonna just keep moping around like a lovesick puppy?"

"Oh, shut up" Johnny grumbled, but he couldn't suppress a small smile. He knew Bobby was right, as much as it killed him to admit it. 

He let out a deep breath. "Yeah, okay. I'll do it. But if she laughs at me and never speaks to me again, I swear to god, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"I'll hold you to that" Bobby chuckled, slapping Johnny on the shoulder. "And hey, who knows, maybe she'll surprise you and jump your bones, right on the spot" he joked, the alcohol making him bolder.

Johnny's cheeks flushed slightly at the comment, despite himself. He tried to hide it with a scoff, but deep down, that thought *did* cross his mind.

"Yeah, right" he muttered, though his voice betrayed a hint of hope.

"Remember what sensei Kreese taught us, strike first and strike hard," Bobbys said.

Johnny chuckled, some of his usual swagger returning. "Damn right. No mercy, right?"

He stood up straight, squaring his shoulders. He felt a flicker of determination, mixed with a healthy dose of nerves. He couldn't back down now.

"Alright, man, I'm gonna do it. I'll talk to her tonight."

Bobby playfully punches Johnny, "Atta boy Lawrence, ready to go back in?"

Johnny nodded, taking one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out. "As ready as I'll ever be."

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He wasn't sure what the outcome would be, but he knew it was time he stopped being a coward.

They headed back inside, the sound of music and chatter hitting them at full force. Johnny scanned the room for any sign of her, his nerves heightening with every passing second.

She was on the dancefloor, and her friends clearly had one too many. She sways her hips to the music, the way she rolled her body was utterly tantalizing. Bobby follows Johnny's glance "Oh shit.. she looks.." "I know..." Johnny replied, his voice low. His eyes remained fixed on her, watching as she danced and laughed with her friends. 

He could feel his heart thudding in his chest, his palms beginning to sweat. His mind was racing with all the things he wanted to say to her, all the words that had been bottled up inside him for months.

She threw her head back, laughing at whatever her and her friends were talking about as they moved their bodies. She ran her hands down her torso, feeling the music everywhere as she continued to rock. 

Johnny's eyes tracked every movement, every touch of her hand to her body. He wanted, no, *needed*, to be the one causing those movements, the one making her laugh like that. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a mixture of desire and frustration coursing through him. "Can't blame you man" Bobby reasoned.

Johnny nodded, his eyes still locked on her. "She... she's just..." 

He trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. How do you explain the effect this girl had on him? It was like she was his sunshine and his poison all rolled into one.

"She's something else, man" he finally said, his voice filled with a mix of awe and frustration.

She turned her head, meeting eyes with Johnny through the sea of people. She thought he left after their little tiff. She gave him a lazy smile.

Johnny's breath hitched in his throat as her eyes met his. For a moment, the room seemed to fade away, and it was just them. 

He felt frozen under her gaze, his heart thudding in his chest. Then she smiled at him, all warm and crooked, and it was like a jolt to his system.

He forced himself to smile back, a small, nervous flutter to it. 

"What the hell are you waiting for Johnny, strike first" Bobby shoved him toward her.

Johnny stumbled forward, his heart in his throat. "Hey, watch it" he grumbled, but there was no real heat behind it.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. *Strike first*. Bobby's words echoed in his ears as he made his way over to her.

As he drew closer, he could see the surprise flicker in her eyes. But then she smiled, that same lazy, crooked smile that made his heart skip a beat.

"Hey" he said, his voice surprisingly steady. "Mind if I steal you away for a minute?'

"Hey there Johnny boy, I thought you left" She slurs. 

Despite her intoxicated state, she still managed to make his name sound like a tease. He couldn't help but smile, even though the sight of her being drunk off her ass worried him a bit.

"Nah, I'm still here" he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I need to talk to you about something though. It's important."

Her expression drops "What? Like now?" she says, her voice laced with concern. She tries to read his face, unsure of what he is thinking.

Johnny can see the uncertainty in her eyes, and he feels a pang of guilt for making her wonder where the conversation was going. "Yeah, now" he replies, his voice firm. "It's something I should've said a long time ago. So you're gonna hear me out, okay?"

She nods her head silently as he leads her to the bathroom, it's the only place in this stupid house party with any privacy. 

"Is.. Is everything okay?" She asks, her brow furrowing. "Listen if this is about earlier I'm sorry okay-" Johnny shakes his head, cutting her off. "No, it's not about that. I mean, it kind of is, but not really." 

He lets out a heavy sigh, taking a step closer to her. "I just... I got something important to tell you, alright? Just promise me you'll hear me out before you respond, okay?"

She looks at him skeptically. She glossed over his serious features, he looked so handsome. "Okay johnny.."

Her agreement washes a wave of relief over him. He takes another step closer to her, their bodies now a mere foot apart.

"Look, I know this seems sudden and random, but I've been thinking about this for a while now," he begins. 

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. 

"There's something about you, there's always been something. And it's more than just friendship, more than just a stupid little crush, I-"

"Wait wait wait" She interrupts, even though she said she wouldn't. "Youre- youre drunk, we cant.. you shouldn't be-" Johnny's eyes widen at her interruption, a small flicker of anger flaring up in him. He couldn't believe she was brushing him off right now, when he was finally pouring his heart out to her. 

"I'm not drunk" he grumbles, his voice harsh. "And you said you'd hear me out, remember?"

She bites backher words, letting him continue.

Johnny lets out a breath, trying to calm himself. He knows getting mad at her isn't going to help his case.

"I'm not drunk" he repeats, his voice softer this time. "And what I'm trying to say is... Damn, this is harder than I thought it'd be."

He runs a hand through his hair, looking at her with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "I like you. More than I should, in a way that's more than just friends. I have for a long time now, I just never had the guts to say it."

Her eyes widened at his confession. *This isn't happening* This can't happen, Johnny is her best friend. There is no possible way..

"You.. you.." She stuttered.

Johnny could see the shock in her eyes, the disbelief written all over her face. He knew this wasn't easy to hear, especially considering their friendship.

But he couldn't back down now. He'd come too far to turn back.

"You can't tell me you haven't felt something" he says, his voice low and intense. "All the fights we've gotten into, the tension between us, it's never been just friendly. You *know* it hasn't."

Her throat felt dry, this had to be a dream. "I-" he couldn't formulate a proper sentence, especially when he was this close, being this vulnerable, like she'd never seen him before. 

Johnny takes another step closer to her, closing the already small gap between them. He's standing directly in front of her now, towering over her smaller frame. 

He can see the mixture of shock and confusion in her eyes, and it's almost too much to bear. He never wanted to make her feel like this, but he had to get these feelings off his chest. 

"Look at me" he says, his voice firm, but laced with tenderness. "Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm bullshitting."

She looked at him, her best friend. It was always more.. so much more... Her lips parted, trying to come up with anything to say. But there was no use fighting it.

When she meets his eye, Johnny feels a wave of relief wash over him. *She doesn't hate what he's saying.*

He can see the conflict in her eyes, the battle between what she wants and what she thinks is right. But he can also see the spark of something there, something that tells him there's more to her feelings than he realized.

He gently lifts her chin, making sure she's looking directly at him. "Say something" he rasps, his voice betraying just a hint of vulnerability.

"We can't.. We shouldn't.." She struggles, her words saying one thing, but her body saying another as she closes the non existent space between them. 

Johnny felt a spark of hope ignite in his chest as she leaned closer to him. Her body was so close to his now, he could feel the heat radiating off her, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. 

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. "Why not?" he murmured, his voice low and raspy. "Give me one good reason we can't."

His hand sends shivers down her spine, shivers only he could produce. "We're best friends.."

"And friends can't want more than friendship?" he asks, his fingers lightly tracing the small of her back. 

He leans in closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. Her scent is intoxicating, and the feel of her body against his is sending his senses into overdrive.

"Maybe we were never just friends" he whispers against her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut, he was too close for comfort. "Jesus- I can't think straight when you're on me like that" She says breathlessly. 

Johnny chuckles, enjoying the effect he's having on her way too much. He knows he's got her now, there's no going back.

He leans in again, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Maybe I don't want you thinking straight," he murmurs, his breath hot against her skin. "Maybe I like you like this, all flustered and breathless because of me." 

"Johnny.." She pleads, her hands betraying her as she reaches out and cups his chest.

Her touch is like an electric shock to his system. He lets out a low groan, his own hand moving to cover hers, holding it against his chest.

"You don't know what you do to me" he mutters, his voice thick with desire. "The way you say my name..."

"You don't know what *you* do to *me*" She admits, her guard slipping down.

He grins at her words, feeling the last of her resistance crumbling underneath his touch.

He gently pushed her back against the wall, trapping her between the cold tile and his body. His hands find their way to her hips, holding her captive.

"I like that you're helpless against me" he murmurs, his lips moving to her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses. "It's driving me crazy."

She lets out small gasps as he peppers her, her eyes drilled shut as he sends tingles everywhere through her. "What are you doing to me.."

"Driving you crazy, apparently" he replies, his lips moving up to her jawline, pressing hot kisses along the sharp angle.

He pushes himself even closer to her, his body flush against hers. He wants her to feel everything, feel just how much he wants her.

"Say it again" he urges, his hands gripping her hips tighter. "Say my name."

"Johnny." She whines.

Her voice, needy and pleading, is the sweetest sound he's ever heard. He can barely control himself, his body is on fire and she's the only thing that can quench the fire.

"Again" he demands, his mouth finding its way to her collarbone, his lips trailing up the soft skin of her neck. "I need to hear you say my name again."

"God Johnny..." She pants, it feels too good. She was used to moaning his name in the privacy of her room late at night, but this was entirely different. 

The sound of his name coming from between her sweet, parted lips is almost enough to send him over the edge. He presses her harder against the wall, his body pinning her in place.

He pulls back just enough to look at her face, takes in the flushed cheeks, the heavy-lidded eyes. "You have no idea what you do to me" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "You're all I think about, day and night."

"You're everything to me Johnny..." She confesses, finally getting something off her chest. "Being around you but not being *with* you is torture." 

Johnny's heart clenches at her words. He knows exactly how she feels. The endless hours spent watching her, aching to touch her, but holding back because he was afraid of ruining everything. But not anymore.

He cups her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Then be with me" he urges, his voice low and firm. "Be mine. "Please."

She closes the gap between them fully,turning her head to the side and connecting her lips to kiss. It was fiery, passionate, and so long overdue. 

Electricity dances across his skin the moment her lips touch his. This isn't some drunken, sloppy kiss. It's full of years of pent-up desire and raw emotion.

He kisses her back fiercely, his tongue delving into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her. He grips her hips tighter, pulling her closer, needing to feel all of her against him.  He kisses her like he needs her to breathe.

They kiss until they're breathless, against the wall where he holds her to all of the tension that had built up. " Yes.. the answer is yes.." Sheslips in between parting kissing

Her answer, spoken between gasps and kisses, sends a shock of relief through him. He can finally touch her, finally have her without fear of rejection. It's like a dream come true.

He deepens the kiss, his lips moving against hers with a renewed intensity. His hands are everywhere, roaming up her sides, into her hair, down her throat. He wants to touch every inch of her, claim her as his own.

Finally, they pull apart, both of them panting and out of breath. Johnny rests his forehead against hers, taking in the fact that she's his now, for real. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that" he mutters, his voice hoarse.

"Me too" She giggles, lacing her fingers through his sandy hair. This boy was beautiful, he really was. She tried to catch her breath, the chemistry between them was so undeniable, and this sealed the deal. 

Johnny can't help but smile at her laughter, the sound is like music to his ears. He looks at her, taking in her flushed cheeks, her messy hair. She's never looked more beautiful to him.

"We should go back to the party" he murmurs, though the last thing he wants to do is leave this room. "Everyone's probably wondering where we are."

She nods "Yeah, probably.." She overhears Motley Crue playing, it's her favorite song. She opens the door, going out first.

As they step out of the bathroom, the sounds and sights of the party rush back to them. Johnny reaches for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"Dance with me" he says, pulling her towards the throngs of people. 

"Gladly" She follows. They get to the middle of the floor, all eyes are on them as they begin to move together. 

*Ten seconds to love

Ten seconds to love

Pull my trigger

My guns loaded with your love

Ten seconds to love

Ten seconds to love

Just wait honey

Until I tell the boys about you* 

The lyrics boomed through the house as they began to grind against each other

The way she moves against him, the way she fits in his arms, it's like they were made for each other. Johnny loses himself in the feel of her body against his, the rhythm of the music guiding their movements.

He pulls her closer, one arm wrapped possessively around her waist, the other on the curve of her hip. The world dissolves around them, reducing to just the two of them, dancing, touching, wanting.

Bobby whistles slowly from the other side of the room, the other cobra kai joining at the scene in front of them.

Johnny smirks, deciding to give his friends a show.

He spins her around, her back pressed to his chest. His hands roam over her body, feeling her curves, claiming her. He wants to show everyone that she's his, now and always.

She backs up right against him, ghosting his hands and moving them around her body as she looks up at him. She wasn't very big on PDA, this was something she could get behind, or at least Johnny was *behind*.

Johnny's mind is going wild, the image of her pressed up against him, moving her body in ways that drive him insane, is almost more than he can handle.

He leans in, his breath hot against her ear, his lips just barely touching her skin. "You're killing me" he murmurs, his hands drifting lower, lower, lower...

"At least you'll die happy" She teases, his hands traveling making her feel something deep in her stomach.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. 

He brings his mouth to her neck, his lips trailing up the soft skin of her throat. "You have no idea how happy" he whispers, his hands settling on her hips, pulling her even closer. 

She can feel the firm evidence of his desire pressed against her, his body responding to her every move. 

She gasps at the feeling of him hard against her. It was almost too much to bear. Her arms go up, letting him have more access as she lines her jaw with her finger.

Johnny can't get enough of her, her gasp only fueling his growing need. He nips at the sensitive skin of her neck, his hands now tracing the lines of her body with a new purpose, exploring every inch of her.

His fingers dance along her collarbone, down her ribcage, over her hip bone, never still, always seeking more skin to touch. His lips return to her ear, his voice low and rough. "You drive me insane, you know that?"

She smirks up at him, turning back around to face him. He looked flushed, clearly affected by her. And she was loving it. "I haven't even gotten started."

He gives her a crooked smile, her words sending a jolt of desire through him. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to regain some shred of control.

"Careful" he warns, his voice a low growl. "You keep talking like that and I'll take you right here in front of everyone."

She shakes her head at his banter. “You’d love that wouldn’t you?”

Johnny doesn't deny it, his eyes darkened with intense desire. "You have no idea" he mutters, pulling her even closer. 

He can feel the heat between them, the way her body responds to his touch. He's so close to losing all self-control, and he knows if she pushes just a little bit more, he'll snap.

"But we're around all of these people so you'll have to behave" she teases. She rolls her body on Johnny, slightly straddling his leg while standing, leaning back and giving him a good visual of what's to come..

His eyes widen at her boldness, her movements sending waves of heat through him. 

He grabs her hips tighter, holding her in place against him, his fingers digging into her skin. "Jesus Christ" he mutters, his voice thick with desire. "You can't just- you can't...fuck."

She knows exactly what she's doing to him, *To be fair, he wasn't hiding it.* "Like what you see?" She flirts.

He groans in response, his eyes raking over her body like he wants to devour her. "Like it? I'm about to lose my goddamn mind" he mutters, his grip on her hips almost painfully tight now.

His fingers trace a path up her stomach, teasing the underside of her bra. "You can't do this to me" he says, his voice strained. "Not here, not now. It's not fair."

She melts into his touch, Johnny's big hands dragging so possessive over her frame. It was enough to drench her on the spot. She continues her show for him, rolling slowly and seductively. "I don't know what youre talking about" she feigns innocence. 

His breath hitches as she continues to move against him, the effect she's having on him almost unbearable. "You're a goddamn tease, you know that?" he mutters, his hands starting to wander. 

He lets one hand slip further up, coming to rest just under her breast, his thumb tracing a lazy circle. "I swear if you don't stop, I'll-" He cuts off, his imagination running wild.

"You'll what?"

"I'll... do things to you..." he mutters, his lips grazing her ear. He's on the edge now, the feeling of her body against him driving him crazy. 

He leans in, his breath hot against her skin. "Things that would get us kicked out of here real fast."

He pulls her closer, his body pressed flush against hers, the evidence of his desire evident as he grinds his hips against her. "You want to know what I'll do to you if you keep this up?"

She flushes, she cant take much more of this, her cocky facade crumbling as he whispers suggestive things. "I want to know," she whispers, her throat feeling parched.

His hand on her hip slides down, over her rear, giving it a squeeze. He pulls her body even closer against his, the heat between them threatening to burn them alive. 

His lips move to her neck, his tongue trailing along the sensitive skin. "I'll throw you over my shoulder, *again*" he whispers, his voice low and rough. "And carry you to the nearest empty room, lock the door behind us, and show you exactly what you do to me."

Her face feels hot, actually everything does. His filthy words make her blush. "Is that so?"she tries to tease, but the desperation creeps into her tone.

"Mhm" he hums against her skin, his lips moving up her jawline. "And then I'll spread your legs..."

He nips at the lobe of her ear, his hand giving her rear another firm squeeze. "And I'll take my time, make sure you're nice and wet..."

He leans in close, his lips brushing her ear as he whispers, "And when I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

She looks at him, lips parted, heart racing. *Deep breaths, deep breaths...* "I..." forming a sentence feels goddamn impossible.

 Her vision is muddled with images of him and her, ones she's dreamed and fantasized about, but knowing how close it's coming to fruition.. 

He smirks at her inability to respond, her breathless expression making him want her more than ever. He knows he's got her right where he wants her now, and there's no going back.

He steps even closer to her, so close there's barely an inch separating them. He runs a hand up her neck, his fingers gently grasping her chin and forcing her to look at him. 

"You look so goddamn beautiful when you're all flustered" he murmurs, his voice filled with desire. "I wonder what faces you'll make when I finally get you alone..."

"Johnny.." She breathes, unable to formulate a single thought. She can't think of anything else but getting alone with him.

The sound of her saying his name, all breathless and needy, drives him wild. He knows exactly what she wants, because he wants it just as badly.

He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against him. "Say please," he whispers, his lips barely touching hers. "Beg for it."

"Please..." she pleads "Just get me out of here Johnny.."

He grabs her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, and starts leading her through the sea of people. His friends cat call and whistle, but Johnny ignores them, focused solely on getting her alone.

He drags her through the house, searching for an available room, any room. He can't wait, needs her now.

Finally, he spots a door cracked open, the lights off inside. He leads her inside, shuts the door, and locks it behind them.

The moment the door clicks shut, he's on her. His hands are everywhere, roaming over her body like a man possessed.

He kisses her hungrily, his lips and tongue devouring her as he presses her into the bed.

Her hair forms like a halo around her head as she kisses him back, her body aching for him and only him. He drove her insane with his words, she wonders if he's all talk…

There’s no restraint left in him now. All the years of pent-up desire, the memories of her, everything fueling his hunger. He needs her, needs to prove how good he can make her feel.

His hands find the hem of her shirt, his fingers slipping under the fabric. "Lift your arms" he whispers, his voice thick with need.

She submits, lifting up her arms and letting him undress her. He swiftly takes off her top, unclipping her bra while he's at it and taking it off. She shimmies off her skirt, her panties with it. She does the same to him, taking off his shirt eagerly.

He steps back, letting her undress him.

Once he's bare before her, he lets out a shaky breath, unable to resist any longer. He lunges for her, pinning her down onto the bed. "God, I want you so much" he mutters, his lips trailing down her neck, her collarbone, her chest…

Her body twists at his lips, setting small fires all through her skin. She whimpers at the intimate act. 

He takes his time with her body, mapping it with his lips and tongue. He wants every inch of her, wants to claim her as his. 

He moves lower, his lips brushing over her hip bone, his hand skimming over her inner thigh.

She hisses, the sensation is mind numbing. He is so close to where she needs him most.

He smirks, fully aware of how impatient she's getting, but he wants to draw this out, wants to tease her, just like she did to him. 

His lips ghost over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, his hand coming to rest just above her core, not quite touching where she wants him most. "Beg for it" he commands, his voice gruff and rough.

"Please Johnny.. Please just do something" she begs, her voice shaky.

He smirks, his lips hovering over her core, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. "What do you want me to do?" he asks, his voice a low growl, already knowing the answer.

Her words send a jolt through him, his hunger for her growing even more. "Mmm, I think I can manage that" he mutters, his lips hovering just centimeters from her.

He's teasing her, the anticipation is almost too much to bear. "I want to know how sweet you are."He presses his lips to her then, giving her exactly what she craves. His tongue tastes her, exploring her, slowly and deliberately.

He savors every moment, every sound she makes, every time her body jerks in response to his touch. He loves the way she tastes, the way she responds to him.

He worked her with his tongue, it felt like magic. 

"Oh, g-god!" her back arched, the ache being resolved by his expert tongue. 

He works her with his tongue, his lips, his teeth, determined to give her the most intense pleasure she's ever experienced. He wants to make her scream, wants her to forget her own name, wants to be the reason she can't walk tomorrow.

Her hand flies to his head, the blonde hairs feeling soft against her fingers. "Wow...Johnny, oh my god" she moans as her toes curl in pleasure. 

He takes his time, his tongue dancing over her sensitive flesh. Her reaction fuels his lust, his desire to give her pleasure mounting with each gasp and moan she makes. 

He knows exactly what she needs, and he's determined to give it to her, to make her lose control, to make her scream his name. He's getting damn close to coming just from making her feel good.

"Johnny.. I want you to fuck me" she moans desperately.

Her words fuel the fire inside him, igniting a primal need to make her his. He lifts his head, his lips capturing hers in a bruising kiss.

He positions himself between her legs, his body pressed firmly against hers. "You want me?" he whispers between kisses. "You want me to fill you up?"

"Please johnny.." She begs.

He can't resist her anymore, her begging is too much. He aches to be inside her, to feel her wrapped around him. 

He positions himself at her entrance, his cock hard and aching for her. "You're mine.. say you're mine" He stoves himself inside her wetness

"I'm yours!" she screams in pleasure, her body filled with a sweet burn.

The sound of her saying it, the feeling of her body, it's like nothing he's ever experienced before. He's overwhelmed by it all, drowning in her.

His hands grip her hips, his mouth finding her neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses in their wake. "You feel so damn good.. so tight and wet and.. ah, god.." He moans, slowly moving.

"You fill me up *so* good Johnny" Her eyes roll back, the pressure inside her is nothing like she's ever known. 

"Mmm, that's good baby" he mutters, his voice strained. The feeling of her wrapped around him, it's driving him insane. 

He moves deeper, hitting that spot inside her that makes her gasp. "You feel so good, you have no idea.." he moans, thrusting steadily. 

All of the years, she couldn't believe she was missing out on this. She spread her legs further so he could get deeper. She turned into a whimpering mess. 

She's coming apart under him, her body responding to his every touch, every movement. He's intoxicated by her, completely addicted to the way she feels, the sounds she makes.

He moves faster, deeper, needing more of her, loving her at his mercy. 

"God, you have no idea how long I've wanted this.. how much I've wanted you.." he mutters, his breathing ragged. 

"Oh, Johnny" she groans, letting him have all of her. Her body arching toward him in ecstasy. 

He doesn't hold back at all, he's lost in her, completely taken by her. She's like an addiction, he can't get enough, can't get close enough.

He moves faster, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her body flush against his. "I want you to come for me" he whispers, his lips trailing over her skin. “I  want you to come all over my cock.” 

She looks up at him panting, on the edge. "I'm so close Johnny" She begs "Just keep going.."

The sound of her begging, her voice all filled with need and pleading, it's music to his ears. He's close too but he needs her to come first, needs to feel her fall apart in his arms. 

He moves faster, deeper, harder, his body pressed tight against hers. "That's it baby, come for me.. let go" he whispers, his lips against her ear. 

He pushes her over the edge, waves of pleasure go throughout her body as she writhes in it all.. she moans his name as she lays back, squirmy at the sensations.

The feeling of her coming around him, it's enough to push him over the edge. He can't control himself, he's lost in the moment, completely. He thrusted a last time as he fills her up “Fuck, baby.” He groans breathing heavily and falling next to her. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close against him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He's completely wrung.

"That was..."

"...Amazing" he finishes her sentence, his voice hoarse. He props himself up on his forearms, looking down at her with a look of awe on his face.

"You okay?" he asks, his eyes searching her face. He's still trying to catch his breath, his body heavy against hers.

She nods, smiling "Yes" she affirmations, planting a short and sweet kiss on his cheek.

He smiles at that, a genuine, satisfied smile. He's feeling damn good right now, completely and utterly satisfied. He looks down at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and messy hair, the aftermath of their encounter.

He leans down to plant a kiss on her forehead, gently pushing a stray strand of hair away from her eyes.

"You're beautiful" he mutters, his voice almost a whisper. He doesn't just mean the way she looks, he means everything about her, everything that makes her who she is.

"and you're... finally my boyfriend."

He can't help but chuckle at that, her words making his heart flutter.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, pressing soft kisses against her skin. "Yeah, I am" he murmurs, a smile on his face. "And I intend to be a damn good one at that."

[annaswrites00]

A Night In

LN4 x gf!reader

(1.0k)

Summary - You and Lando stay in to bake pizzas… warning - none, just wholesome fluff and bf Lando

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The rain had been coming down all afternoon, a soft patter against the windows that made the whole world outside look sleepy and slow. Inside Lando’s Monaco flat, everything felt golden and warm. The overhead kitchen lights buzzed quietly, the smell of flour and tomato sauce thick in the air, and somewhere in the background, a playlist crooned low and lazy.

You sat perched on the edge of the marble counter, swinging your legs and watching as Lando fought — and lost — a battle with a stubborn piece of pizza dough.

“I thought you said making homemade pizza would be fun,” he said, shooting you a betrayed look as he struggled to flatten the dough with a comically small rolling pin.

“I did say that,” you said, laughing. “You’re just weak.”

He gasped, scandalized. “You wound me.”

You tossed a little pinch of flour in his direction, the white powder floating through the air and dusting his messy curls. He froze mid-roll, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, it’s on.”

Before you could scramble away, he darted forward, swiping a floury hand across your cheek. You squealed, trying to wriggle out of his reach, but he just laughed — that bright, boyish laugh you loved — and grabbed you around the waist, holding you hostage.

“Say you’re sorry!” he demanded, mock-stern.

“Never!” you shrieked, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt.

It ended, like it always did, with both of you breathless and messy, smudged with flour, clinging to each other and laughing. You finally pulled back, resting your forehead against his shoulder, the scent of him — warm skin, clean laundry, a hint of cologne — grounding you.

“We’re gonna ruin the pizzas,” you mumbled into his hoodie.

“Worth it,” he said, and kissed the top of your head.

You both managed, somehow, to get back to work. Lando was determined to make your pizzas heart-shaped, even if it killed him. The results were… questionable, at best. His looked more like a lopsided potato than a heart, and yours wasn’t much better — but neither of you cared.

“Tadaaa,” Lando said proudly, presenting his mangled dough to you like it was a trophy.

“You’re an artist,” you deadpanned, biting back a smile.

He stuck his tongue out at you.

Your heart flipped stupidly in your chest, and you quickly turned back to your toppings to hide your blush. You layered sauce and cheese, bickering over what counted as “too much”, tossing rogue pepperonis into each other’s mouths, and arguing over whether pineapples were an acceptable topping (they were not, according to Lando).

Finally, the pizzas slid into the oven, and you both collapsed onto the couch, exhausted and giddy.

You dragged a fuzzy blanket off the back of the sofa, throwing it over the two of you as you snuggled close. Lando smelled faintly of flour and boy and something you couldn’t name but always associated with home.

He picked up the small stack of romcoms you’d brought over, flipping through them dramatically.

“The Deal,” he read aloud. “The Kiss Quotient. Love, Theoretically.”

He turned and grinned at you. “These can’t be real.”

You laughed, nudging him with your foot. “Pick one, loser.”

He eventually settled on The Deal, propping it open and resting it on his lap. You curled into his side, your head tucked under his chin, his free arm automatically wrapping around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He started reading out loud, voice a little teasing but surprisingly soft.

You closed your eyes, listening, your whole body warm and relaxed against him.

Every few minutes, he’d pause to make a comment — usually stupid.

“If a guy ever talked to you like this, I’d deck him,” he muttered during one scene.

You cracked an eye open to grin at him. “It’s a romance novel, Lan.”

“Yeah, well. He better watch himself.”

You smiled into his hoodie, feeling ridiculously happy, ridiculously safe.

The rain kept tapping against the windows. The flat smelled like baking dough. Lando’s voice was low and rhythmic, the words buzzing softly in your ear.

After a while, you tilted your head up to look at him. He caught you staring, eyebrows raised.

“What?” he asked, smiling that soft, sleepy smile that was reserved just for you.

You shook your head, heart aching with how much you loved him.

“Nothing. Just… you’re really cute.”

He flushed a little, ducking his head. “You’re the cute one.”

You nudged him again, and he leaned down without hesitation, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to your lips. It was slow, sweet, a little clumsy — the kind of kiss that tasted like comfort and home and all the little things that mattered most.

The oven dinged, the timer going off with a loud beep, but neither of you moved right away.

When you finally pulled apart, Lando grinned, forehead resting against yours.

“Pizza’s ready,” he whispered.

“Five more minutes,” you whispered back.

He tightened his arm around you, tugging the blanket higher, tucking you closer. You stayed like that, tangled together on the couch, the world outside a blur of rain and city lights.

You would eat slightly burnt, lopsided heart-shaped pizzas later.

You would laugh about it, feed each other cheesy bites, and probably fall asleep halfway through another chapter, your bodies twisted together under the blanket.

But for now, you just stayed.

Safe. Warm.

Exactly where you belonged.

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Thanks for reading!!!

✩°｡🧸𓏲⋆.🧺𖦹 ₊˚

[strnilolover]

ALL TO OURSELVES

Warnings : smut - oral (m receiving), pet names (baby, love, babe, ma), sick matt, slight sub!matt honestly, fluff, aftercare?

A/N : This is based off of their new vlog where they all spent time away from each other. Where Matt is home alone and is sick (the part where he’s on the couch in nothing but his boxers) so you decide to go over and help him (in more ways than one).

You were currently on your way to your boyfriend’s house from the grocery store. Once he had texted you that he was sick and not feeling well, your nurturing instincts kicked in. Wanting to help take care of him.

Pulling into the driveway with a sigh, you put the car into park, turning off the ignition. You reached behind the passenger seat, grabbing the grocery bags full of different food items to make chicken soup, potato soup, etc. anything that could make him feel better and make sure he was getting actual food.

You climbed out of the driver door, lugging the bags out with you as you closed the door swiftly. You walked up to their garage, setting down the bags momentarily as you punched in the code to open it, picking your bags up once more.

Once you were inside the house, making your way up the stairs, you hear Matt on the couch presumably talking to the camera to document how he is with his brothers being gone. You reached the top of the stairs, watching him quietly as your eyes scanned his body. His shirt off, black boxers on display for anyone to see if they came in.

You chuckled once he set the camera down, your feet now moving you toward their kitchen to set the bags down onto the counter. His eyes were focused on you and the way you moved, your body turning to face him as you walked closer.

“Hi baby.” You whispered softly, sitting next to him on the couch as your arms engulfed him in a hug. He hummed contently, wrapping his own arms around you in return. “Hello love.” He mumbled against your chest.

You smiled softly, bringing a hand up to his head to gauge how warm he was. You hissed softly, “you’re burning up babe, why didn’t you tell me sooner when this first started?” You asked, taking his face into your hands to look at you, a disappointed frown pulling at your lips.

He shrugged his shoulders, blue eyes locked onto your own. “Didn’t want you to worry too much, I’m sure it’ll pass soon. Luckily it isn’t covid.” He sighed out, turning his face to peck the palm of your hand softly.

You just shook your head, caressing his face as he continued to litter kisses along your palm. He becomes such a baby when he’s sick, sucking up to you and just wanting to be babied. Even if he’s too stubborn to admit it himself. “Well I’m here to take care of you now, so no more doing things for yourself, m’kay?” You said sternly but soft, making him look back at you so he understood.

He nodded firmly, “yes ma’am.” He chuckled out, bringing a hand up to his forehead, saluting. You just rolled your eyes, laughing at him. “You’re such a goofball, but I love you.” You said, pulling him close to you once more.

He smiled, head burying in your chest as he coughed. You frowned once more, stroking his sweaty hair as you continued to hold him close to you.

After sitting for a few minutes with his head buried in your chest, your hand stroking his hair, he shifted. Lifting his head up to look at you, his face was flushed red, pupils dilated.

“Baby?” You questioned, looking into his eyes as you felt his hips shift against you now. Eyes widening slightly, you looked down. Now noticing the prominent bulge growing in his boxers. You looked back up, his eyes still trained on your face.

“M’sorry, can’t help it. You just look so fucking good.” He mumbled, leaning away from you to rest his head on the back of the couch, readjusting his erection in his boxers.

You sat there dumbfounded for a moment, before you smirked and slid off the couch, kneeling in front of him. “You know — I could help you with your problem if you’d like?” You say to him, your hand inching up his thigh to grab him through his boxers.

His head tipped forward, catching your burning gaze and he nodded. “Please,” he whispered, hips pushing up into your palm. “Need it s’bad.”

You chuckled, your hand grabbing the waist band. “Lift your hips for me baby.” You say, beginning to tug his boxers off his hips. He obliged, lifting his hips slightly as you tugged them down, his cock springing free. He let out a soft sigh.

You pulled them down to his mid-thighs, shuffling onto your knees higher as your hand reached out to grab him once more. Your hand was small, fitting around his cock as you gave a few experimental tugs. He whined softly, head thrown back once more as his mouth hung open.

You looked up at him through your lashes, smirking. Tugging a few more times, you lean your head forward giving his tip a small lick before lowering your head down, taking him into your warm mouth.

“Ah — fuck.” He hissed through his teeth, hand coming up to grab your hair into a ponytail. You hummed softly, bobbing your head up and down slowly as your hand fit around what you couldn’t take in your mouth.

“F-feels s’good.” He moaned, pushing your head down more. You hummed around him once more, pulling off with a ‘pop’ as your hand pumped him. “C’mon baby, no one is here to hear you — you can be as loud as you want.” You say, lowering back down once more.

Once taking him back into your mouth, bobbing your head faster, he didn’t hesitate to let the moans and small whines slip past his lips. You groaned as he pushed your head down more, starting to fuck your throat slowly. “B-baby please.. lemme’ — oh fuck.” He whined as your head moved faster, before pulling away once more.

Now it just felt like torture, speeding up just to pull away from him. You looked into his hooded eyes, slightly glossy. “You can fuck my throat baby — this is for you to feel better. Use me.” Is all you said before going back down. He groaned, nodding his head quickly as he thrusted his hips up into your awaiting mouth, moving your head to match his thrusts.

You moaned around his cock, eyes rolling back just as his did. Strings of curses left his lips as his thrusts started to become more erratic, more sloppy. You were drooling around him at this point, your spit running down your chin and onto him. He moaned at the sight of you, mouth stuffed full of him, willing to let him use you just to make himself feel better.

“God ma — g-gonna cum.. can I cum? Please?” He whimpered, breathing becoming hard as you moaned, nodding your head to give him permission. That’s all he needed before his cock swelled in your mouth, releasing his cum down your throat. A string of whines leaving his parted lips as you groaned at the taste of him.

Bobbing your head a few more times, you pulled off with another wet ‘pop’ smiling up at him as your hand tugged him a few more times, working him through his high. He hissed softly, pushing your hand away when he had enough.

He panted softly, looking down at you with tired eyes as he regained his composure. You just smiled up at him, climbing up onto the couch next to him once more as you pressed kisses all along his body on your way up, the last one landing on his lips. “You feeling okay baby? Wasn’t too much yeah?” You asked softly, hands reaching down to pull his boxers back up as you continued to press kisses to his temple.

He nodded softly, “m’okay.. was so fucking good.” He admitted, smiling at you, happily accepting the kisses you planted across his face. You nodded, pulling away as you looked at him. “I’m glad you’re okay, let me take care of you now.” You say, grabbing the blanket off the couch behind you and draping it over him as you stood up.

You grabbed the tv remote and turned on gravity falls, knowing it was one of his favorite show. You put it down, leaning back down to him. “Are you sure you’re okay baby? Wasn’t too much on you?” You asked one more time, pulling him into a small hug. He nodded, “I’m okay, wasn’t too much at all. I’m hungry now though.” He stated, and you smiled once more as you pulled away, grabbing the water bottle from the table to hand to him.

“Would you like potato soup or chicken soup?” You asked as you walked to the kitchen, reaching into the grocery bags you had brought in with you. You hear him hum, “potato please.” He said softly, and you nodded once more.

“Coming right up, love.” You say, starting to prepare the ingredients for your homemade potato soup as he just sat there on the couch, admiring you as you worked. His chest swelling with love as you were so determined to help take care of him, even though you just had in another way.

A/N 2 : Sorry if this is shit, this is my first smut thing I’ve ever actually written. Also if it seems kind of rushed, sorry lol. I hope y’all enjoy this!

[anakinstwinklebunny]

i’ve read all the sam works and im so charmed! i wonder if you could expand on the birth and like the moments after? newborn vinnie 💞

PAIRING: sam monroe x newborn!vinnie

FLUFF ❦

The first time SAM MONROE held Vinnie, he nearly dropped him. Not on purpose, obviously. But no one prepared him for how small newborns were, how fragile they felt in arms. His hands were too big, too clumsy, too rough for something this tiny, this innocent.

Now, a few weeks in, Sam had developed a system. He called it The Forearm Hold; it wasn’t something he learned from a book or a video. It was pure survival instinct. Because between school, exhaustion, and his mom breathing down on his neck, Sam had to figure out how to function with a newborn attached to him 24/7.

So, Vinnie lived on Sam’s forearm.

Right now, Sam was standing in the kitchen, trying to make a sandwich one-handed, because his other arm was occupied with a whole-ass baby. Vinnie was curled up against his forearm, warm and soft, tiny bitty fingers gripping Sam’s pinky like it was the most important thing for him right now. Physical contact. His breaths were slow and even, making little newborn snuffles against Sam’s sleeve.

Sam sighed, shaking the knife slightly to get more peanut butter onto the bread. “Dude, you could at least help,” he muttered, glancing down at Vinnie’s scrunched-up face. “Lazy.” vinnie let out a little yawn. Didn’t even open his eyes.

Sam rolled his eyes but adjusted his grip slightly, making sure Vinnie was still snug against his arm before grabbing the second piece of bread.

His mom walked in, stopping short at the sight of him. “Sam.”

“What.”

“Hold him properly.”

Sam scoffed. “I am holding him properly.”

His mother just sighed, all tired of dealing with the teenager drama. She muttered something about Sam having to be responsible, and asked one more time. Sam sighed dramatically but shifted his arm slightly, cradling Vinnie a little closer to his chest. His mom still didn’t look convinced, but she must’ve decided to pick her battles because she just shook her head and walked off.

Vinnie, completely unaware of the discourse about his prime real estate sleeping spot, made a tiny sound, smacking his lips before settling back down.

Sam glanced down at him, exhaling through his nose. “You’re so weird, man.”

A few hours passed, and Sam was sitting on the couch, controller in one hand, baby in the other, because of course Vinnie was still glued to him. His newborn-sized leech. Vinnie was tucked up against his arm, face squished slightly, looking like a tiny, warm potato with a nose and a much drooling mouth. Sam was half-focused on his game when Vinnie let out the softest little sigh, wiggling slightly before settling back down.

Sam glanced at him, feeling something tighten in his chest. He nudged Vinnie’s tiny head with his thumb, barely touching his soft, soft hair. “Aight, fine,” he muttered. “You’re cool, I guess.” Vinnie didn’t respond. Obviously. Yet somehow, Sam knew he heard him anyway. He knew his little guy was more intelligent than he seemed to be.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl @fredswrite @mvst4far

[littlelovelunette]

Valentine's Day With Them (Headcanons)

Featuring Sevika and Vi

Vi

Flowers, a damn lot of flowers. A bouquet of your favourite kind always ready for you all throughout the valentine's week

Will be anxious if you like the gifts or not because she feels like she's let so many people down in her past and she doesn't want you to be one of them

Matches outfits with you during the dates so others have the clear indication that the both of are a thing

Would propose with paper rings but it won't be uncharacteristic for her to purchase an insanely expensive ring for you on propose day too

Cuddlebear wherever you both are whether it's outside in public or within the walls of the home you both share

Gives you an in-home spa day and massages your feet for you, she'll even help you do a facial treatment

Princess treatment whether it's opening doors for you, helping you do your shoes, offering a hand whenever you stand up from a sitting position

Pulls your chair out for you whenever you both go outside to eat because she wants you to feel like royalty always

Often thinks she doesn't deserve you and you're too good for her but she won't put you through the 'effort of reassuring her'

Gets you chocolates

Sevika

Not the verbal kind when it comes to affection she has a hard time communicating because of it but you understand her

Shows you affection through her physical activities like picking you up and keeping you on her lap, caressing your hair, wrapping a protective arm around your waist, kissing you

On valentine's day she'll make you your meals for a change and buy you expensive presents, dresses and watch you throw a little fashion show for her in all the dresses and... Lingeries she'll buy for you

Gets you the generic bouquet of roses (a little begrudgingly) after Jinx tells her women appreciate flowers

Will indulge in your, otherwise silly, acts as she used to say before valentine's week just to make you feel special

When you're asleep she'll admire you and mentally beat herself up over the fact she can never bring herself to verbally say she loves you so much

Likely to propose for marriage, she's old okay? She wants to settle down if she can

Lets you rest your head on her lap as she plays with your hair

Likely won't wanna go outside during valentine's day because there's too much chaos in Zaun for her to enjoy a day with you according to her so you both end up as couch potatoes, binging your favourite television series or watch a stupid romcom

You both likely watch crime thriller together

Valentine's day won't be too special with her because she treats you nice and lovey dovey every single day anyway

She thinks it's stupid they selected a specific day to show how much someone loves the other

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door- Pt. 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Simon finally accept your offer for dinner. Did you mention you can cook?

A/N: I was a little slow on this but the idea of them getting close was stressing me out, okay? Also my MIL was in town and I couldn't get in the groove. All the support so far is amazing, thank you guys so much! If y'all like it there will be more to come. Warning: still slow burning

Join my Taglist

Part I

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Simon sits across from you at your tiny dining table pressed against the wall of your cramped kitchen. You managed to lure him in with a fairly nice bottle of unopened scotch you found in the back of your cabinet that had potentially fallen into one of your own boxes when moving from your ex's house. 

He looks around your quaint little one bedroom apartment. It was a lot different than his own. The literal layout was the same. No extra rooms or walls but you’d done something different in here. The whole space had a cozy feeling to it. Every surface was decorated with useless gadgets and trinkets that he didn't understand the purpose of. Lots of blankets, pillows, soft things. You had music quietly playing through your TV speakers in the living room. A few lamps fill the dim room creating a subtle yellow glow that hits the high points of your face, softening your tired features.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" you suddenly blurt out.

"S'cuse me?" Simon asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something inside of me that attracts horrible guys. Like, is there a beacon coming out my head that says 'hey, come over here. I'm vulnerable and easy'."

Simon pauses, unsure how to respond. He watches your face closely. You're sad eyes looking to him for an answer he doesn't have. "I think you're...nice," but he has a feeling that's not what you wanted to hear.

"nice?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe that's the problem. Nice must translate to doormat," You sigh and drop your head into your hands. 

Simon takes a sip of his drink. He's growing concerned this is entering too friendly territory. Then you pop your head back up.

"So, how much did you hear?"

"Not much"

"Yeah right," You toss him a coy smile. “Can I tell you what happened?”

“Sure,”

“Alright, so” you take a sip of your own drink and a deep breath before recounting your story. "I met him at work. He was really nice and offered to pick me up a coffee on his way in one day. I haven’t made any friends at work yet so it was nice just to chat over a coffee. Then we started having lunch together. Nothing serious just in the break room but it felt good to hear about something other than notes from my editor. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I mean I moved here to focus on myself not continue dating more crappy guys. So of course he started texting me and he was really sweet. He complimented my outfits and thought all my jokes were hilarious apparently. I really wasn’t trying to get involved with this guy though. He said something about hearing I can cook and of course I said I do. It’s part of my job, duh. He’s giving my shit about it so I invited him over for dinner. I made this creamy potato gnocchi with Italian sausage that I got from that great butcher on the corner. I even hand rolled the gnocchi. I mean, who wouldn't kill for an authentic Italian meal?"

"He's sounds like some guy"

"Not really, I was testing out a new recipe for the column so, two birds one stone. Anyways, he comes up and we have some wine and listen to some music. It was going really well so far. Then I go to bring out a nice charcuterie board for an appetizer while the pasta finishes baking. While I'm bringing it to him I can see he's on his phone, texting someone and literally giggling. I walk up behind him and he is sexting. On my couch!" you throw you hands up incredulously. "Well, I thought he was. He’s looking at a picture of some girl bent over then I realize it’s me. He took a picture of my ass, while I was making him dinner. I couldn't fucking believe it. What kind of a scumbag does that to a woman preparing a fucking meal for him? Now, this is not something I'm proud of so let the record show this is very out of character for me but these were extraordinary circumstances. So, I dropped the fig chutney on his head. Right in his stupid quaffed hair. He jumps up and he's all mad and starts yelling and I'm yelling back. He calls me a crazy bitch then I call him a perv. After that he left." you conclude with a shrug.

"Wow" Simon responds, truly taken aback by the series of events. 

"Yeah, then you know the rest from there. I don't know what came over me. I guess after my last breakup I haven't felt very good about myself and this guy made me feel, I don't know- fun? That feels silly to say. I should’ve known better from a guy that works the celebrity gossip section. I probably looked like a big baby out there, how dramatic. I'm sorry about that, again."

"You don't need to apologize."

"After I moved here I thought things would be different. I thought guys in the city were classier I guess. Turns out all guys are the same. Just take what they want and go. Do you want another drink?" You point to his now empty glass. 

"Sure." You snag his cup and stand. He watches you walk over to the counter in your silky slip dress. The sleek fabric clings to your waist. Flaring around your hips and down your thighs. The warm light reflects on the shiny material, shifting with each step you take. It tightens perfectly about your waist and cinched with a neat little bow in the back. He wonders why you would wear a dress like that for this guy.

"So, do you date?" you question in a seemingly casual tone.

"No" 

"Yeah right," you laugh and look over your shoulder to see his stoney expression and your smile fades. "Oh, sorry, I just- I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" He tilts his head and you focus back on filling his glass. 

"It's just, you're a good looking guy. I would think you'd get plenty of female attention," You pivot back around and place the glass before him. You lean on the table with one hand and prop the other on your waist. 

"'M not interested," his gaze stays fixed on the brown liquid, grabbing it and taking another sip. He doesn't miss the way you deflated the slightest bit. 

"Maybe I should take a page out of your book, as in maybe swearing off men completely" The oven timer dings. "Oh! pasta!" You jump over and grab your oven mitts. You drop the oven door and slide out the sizzling dish. An aroma of cheese and basil fills the air. Your stomach audibly growls.

You pull down two plates from your cabinet. You serve up the steaming pasta, sprinkling parmesan and fresh chopped herbs for garnish. You proudly carry over the two dishes and place them carefully on the table. You place your hands on your hips while gazing down at the platter.

"This looks...great." Simon is truly taken aback by the incredible looking dish. 

"Wait, don't eat yet. Let me get a picture." You scamper into your living room, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and scurrying back. You hold your phone high above for a birds eye view. Simon scoots his chair back to avoid the gaze of the lens. The camera clicks with a flash. You examine the photo, seeming satisfied with the quality and finally taking a seat in your own chair. "It was okay if you were in the picture. I don't mind." 

"I do," he says simply. 

To anyone else, Simon comes off as rude or callous but you, you never seem to let his shortness affect you. You take his words and just keep going. You don't mind his lack of conversation. It seems you are totally satisfied with having someone there to listen. He was starting to think he didn't mind listening so much. 

"Oh," You shift uncomfortably in your chair. "Sorry then. Well, let me know what you think. Try to be detailed with your feelings about it if you can. You're my guinea pig and be honest. I don't want to put this out when it's garbage."

He proceeds to take a forkful in his mouth. He cannot control the groan that escapes his throat as the bold flavor hits his tongue. This is far cry from his usual take away food. He can't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal now that he thinks about it. 

"This is quite good." He grumbled between bites. Not caring to finish chewing before he's stabbing at the pasta on the plate once again. 

"Really? You don't need to be nice to spare my feelings. I don't mind criticism."

He shoves more in his mouth. "I’m serious"

"Thank you" You giggle watching him scarf down the still steaming hot meal. 

The two of you finish your respective plates without much more conversation to be had. On your last few bites you meet Simon's eyes as he reclines back in the creaky wooden chair, hands laying across his stomach. His head tips back with a satisfied grumble making a proud smile play across your lips. This may be the first time you've seen him express a true human emotion in your presence. 

"There's more if you want?"

"No, I'm stuffed." 

If you know one thing as a part time chef, food is the way to a man's heart. You knew if Simon tasted what you could make his ice exterior would melt away. You stand up and walk to the fridge. 

"Too stuffed for dessert?" you pull out a glass bowl filled with layers of custard, strawberries, cake, and whipped cream. "I made a traditional English trifle. Y'know for the holidays coming up and who doesn't love custard?" you shrug while carrying the bowl over to the table. You hurry back to the kitchen to grab two saucers and plate up the dessert.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to butter me up." he comments, intently watching as you carefully slice through the layers. "What do you know about English food?" 

"Not much, which is why this is a special occasion. I can get some insight from a genuine Englishman," you slide the saucer to him. "Everything happens for a reason, I guess you were meant to be here tonight" you don’t realize how weird that comment is until it's already left your mouth. You suppress the feeling and internally cringe. You take a seat with your own plate and try a bite. "Hey, that's not too bad. I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud"

Simon actually chuckles when you compliment yourself making you giggle in return. This whole night is very different than you expected. Not that you were complaining.

Your leg bumps his underneath the narrow table. Your bare foot brushing up the edge of his pant leg for the briefest moment. A deep blush rises to your cheeks the second you realize it's his leg instead of the table's. 

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly draw your legs underneath your chair. Simon pauses his eating and meets your gaze. 

"S'alright," he slowly slides his long leg across the distance and nudges the shin of your tucked legs with the toe of his boot. "You scared?"

"What?" you allow your legs to relax, your calves sitting on either side of his outstretched leg. It felt natural, almost domestic. "You don't scare me." you're lying paired with an anxious laugh.

"No?" As he says this his foot shifts underneath the supports of your chair and yanks it forward causing your chair to skid a few inches across the tile, pressing you further into the table as you let you a surprised yelp. Hands brace against the edge of the table. Simon maintains his calm composure. "Are you sure?" he takes another bite of the fluffy dessert. 

You weren't sure if it was the liquor going to your head or the rush of adrenaline but you felt bold. You rest your cheek on your propped up hand, offering the most innocent eyes you can muster, as you delicately slide your foot along the smooth leather of his boot. Simon swallows and gently places his fork back on the table.

"What do you think of it?" you question in a hushed tone. your foot travels further up his ankle, dipping under his pant leg to feel his hot skin underneath. 

"It's sweet," He states simply but his words roll off his tongue smooth as butter. 

"Not too sweet?" You tilt your head the slightest bit.

"Hm," he hums in contemplation. Your eyes drift down to watch his hands grasp his drink. He grips the glass in his large palm. The rolled sleeves of his long sleeve reveal the muscles in his arm shifting when he raises the glass to his mouth. For the first time you notice a faint raised scar cutting through the outer corner of his lip and stopping just shy of the edge of his nose. He takes a long swig of the brown liquid, not quite finishing the drink. As he pulls back his lips glisten in the warm light. "Not bad when it's paired with a stiff drink," his tongue is quick to swipe across, collecting the residue. 

"I'll be sure to make a note of that." you smile sweetly. "Can I get you another drink?" You look down at the last sip coating the bottom of the glass. You make sure to flutter your lashes when you look back up at him. 

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" A smirk raises the corner of his mouth.

"No," you laugh. "Why, do you want me to?" 

He releases a deep gravelly laugh that makes your stomach stir. Then he glances at his watch and your stomach drops. 

"I need to get going." He mumbles. He pulls his leg away from yours and rises out of his chair. 

"Wait," you rush to stand, almost knocking your seat over in the process. "Can I- uh- get you a bit of pasta to go? There’s plenty left" Trying to think of any excuse to keep him here a moment longer. 

"S'okay, save it. Maybe I'll come by another time." He turns and steps out of your kitchen and into the hallway leading to your front door in only a few wide strides. 

"Are you sure?" You don't intend for your voice to come out as needy as it does. You follow on his heels like a lost puppy.

"I've got an early morning." Before he reaches the door he turns, seemingly surprised by how close you are to him. He looks down at your big round eyes. 

"Okay," you smile trying not to look defeated. "Well, you're welcome over anytime. I mean it, just knock and I'll probably be home. I'm gonna try writing at home more. Try to avoid that guy." You let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Maybe, you should get my number. Y'know, in case you want to check if I'm home."

"I'm alright, I'll just knock" His hand finds the doorknob. "Thanks for dinner, it was nice" Then he turns to go. Closing the door politely behind him. 

You rush to the peephole, watching his distorted figure step out of sight followed by the sound of his own door shutting. You rest your hot forehead against the cool wood grain of your door. 

You step back in the kitchen and begin putting away the leftovers. Piling the pasta into tupperware, rinsing the plates, collecting silverware. His glass remains in place with a sliver of scotch leftover. You hold the glass up in the light and see a faint smudge on its rim. You twist the cup around so your own mouth lines up with the imprint he left. You swallow the last bit slowly, savoring the way the sharp burn eases into a smooth, smoky aftertaste. You never liked scotch, but now you are starting to understand the meaning of an acquired taste.

The low atmospheric music is abruptly interrupted by an ad loudly cutting through the calm space. You rush into the living room to find the remote, hiding among the cushions and various throw pillows. Growing frustrated you end up walking over and manually hitting the power button. The silence that replaces it isn’t much better though. You step back and let your weak legs carry you until you collapse onto the comfort of your couch. The wine followed by the glass of scotch you polished off makes your head feel light but your limbs so heavy. You turn from your back to your side, realizing the used glass is still clutched in your hand. 

You reach across the gap and set it down on the coffee table with a thud. Your hand retreats back to rest under your head. You stare at it, taking in all the imperfections left on its reflective surface. Your eyes trace the rim once again looking for the smudge. On the corner you see the shadow of an impression peeking out underneath the red lipstick mark you have smeared over it. 

𝜗𝜚

Across the wall Simon falls back on his own couch. He looks around his dull apartment wondering what you have done differently to make your place look so welcoming. He never minded the minimal decorations he had. A photo frame with his team that his buddy gifted him and a couple of books always seemed like enough. After comparison though it just feels empty. 

He can hear you stomp across your floor. Footstep rushing from the kitchen until you're straight ahead. The sound of your TV turning off bathes the room in sudden silence. Only thing he can hear now is the rushing of his air conditioning unit. He considered your music annoying but now he couldn’t deny the way it added an unconscious energy to the small unit. Now sitting here, the cool tone of the overhead kitchen light illuminating into the living room he feels as though something is missing. Maybe a nice lamp would help. 

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

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A Not So Silent Night...

Merry Christmas, again! This is the NSFW continuation of A Christmas Kiss - things do be getting spicy on this Christmas night...

Synopsis: You surprised him with a Christmas office makeover. But the best decoration? The mistletoe. The angel is on the tree, the halls are decked, it's time for presents. And one present is... it won't be a silent night, that's for sure.

The crackles and pops of the fire and the sultry notes of Santa Baby drift through the air as Sylus kisses you once more. After placing the angel on the tree, he resumed kissing your neck. Gently at first, but an occasional bite nearly caused your knees to give out. Sylus, of course, noticed, but he didn’t tease or slow down. He spun you around and lifted you up, his arms tucked under your ass. He smiled up at you as he made his way to the couch.

“Do you want to continue?”

His question surprised you. He lowered you both on the couch, moving your legs to straddle him comfortably. You lock your fingers behind his neck, playing with the ends of his hair with your thumbs. You swear you had so many plans for today, but they all flew out the window when you hung that damn mistletoe. 

“I do have other presents for you. And I know you got me presents, the twins already tattled.” 

“I hope they don’t know about their presents then.”

“You got Luke and Kieran presents? That’s so sweet!”

“I got them muzzles cause they can’t keep their mouths closed.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles. The thought of the twins in muzzles to punish them for yapping too much is just too good. Come to think of it…

“Did you really get muzzles for them? Or are you joking?”

“Why? Did you want one for yourself?”

“Might be useful… for things…”

Sylus’s eyes darkened, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His gaze dropped to your lips and you couldn’t help but lick them. The idea of Sylus in a muzzle so he can’t sass you while you explore his body has made your mouth very dry all of a sudden. 

“Is that so?”

You smile, shifting your hips slightly. The subtle grind forces a groan out of Sylus, it takes you by surprise and you let out a breathy laugh. You trail your hands down his chest as his circle around and under your ass. He leans forward to capture your lips once more, but you lean back  suddenly. He glares at you.

“Something wrong?”

“No, nothing. I just…” You hesitate, you can feel the warmth in your cheeks.

“You just what, sweetie?”

“I’ve thought about this moment and I guess I had… thoughts? Plans?”

“Oh, you’ve thought about this, have you?”

“And that is why I want you in a muzzle.” 

Sylus lets out a laugh and tucks his arms under your ass once more, lifting you off the couch with ease. You wrap your arms around him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Sylus…”

“Let’s get in those matching PJ sets and I’ll have the chef bring our dinner in here. We can open the presents after. How does that sound?”

“Damn, Luke and Kieran do need those muzzles. Those PJs were supposed to be a surprise!”

Sylus chuckles as he carries you out of his office to change. 

An hour later, you’re in your festive sleep set and sitting on the floor next to the coffee table. Sylus’s chef had prepared roast pork and your favorite potato dumplings. Sylus brought out one of the rarest wines in his collection and instructed the chef to bring the dessert and leave it on a cart outside the door. With that, Sylus sent him, and the everyone else on base, home early and you both settled in for the night.

“Do you like the pajamas I picked?”

Sylus glanced down at his pajama pants covered in candy canes. It came with a matching shirt, but Sylus opted to go shirtless for the evening. Damn him. You were already regretting the pajamas you had chosen - long pants and long sleeves? You were burning up from the inside out at this point next to the fire and Sylus sitting there looking, well, perfect.

“They’re very comfortable. I’m just glad you didn’t make me wear those reindeer antlers.”

“Luke and Kieran put those on voluntarily! They’re really embracing the holiday spirit. It’s cute.”

Sylus nods before sipping his wine.

“They’ve never celebrated the holiday. Even before finding me.”

“Then I’m glad they’re having fun. You should take a page from their book. You’d look adorable in antlers!”

“Do I not look adorable already?”

Your cheeks flush and you sit up on your knees to stand before Sylus can make another joke. You gather the presents from under the tree. Sylus had brought in a few boxes while you were taking off your makeup. You were shocked at how many boxes there were now.

“Sylus.”

“Hmm?”

“Please tell me these aren’t all for me.”

“And if they are?”

“Sylus!”

“I won’t apologize for spoiling you. Especially during a holiday you love so much.”

You can’t argue with him there. You finish hauling the boxes over to the coffee table as Sylus clears the dishes and takes the cart back into the hallway. There’s one gift you are terrified to give him and no matter how perfect this day has been, you can’t convince yourself to give it yet. You quickly stuff it under the couch next to you before Sylus comes back in the room. Maybe later? 

“Okay, who goes first? Or should we go back and forth?”

“This is your holiday, sweetie. It’s your call.”

You pick up a small box from his pile and hand it to him before picking up one from your own. You’re careful not to shake it, no matter how tempting. 

“We open at the same time, okay?”

He nods. He starts peeling the sparkly green paper off the box. The golden wrapping paper on all of your gifts feels fancy and it’s wrapped so perfectly. It almost feels like a crime to tear it off, but it doesn’t stop you from shredding it like you are a kid again.

Your stomach flips when you see the tiny box, it’s a ring box. You had wanted to take the next step, but this is several steps… You slowly open the box, holding your breath. The ring inside isn’t an engagement ring, and you almost laugh at the fact you thought Sylus would propose like this. Or that he’d propose at all after a few months of dating. 

The ring is a tiny ruby on a silver band, but there are cat ears attached and accent stones making them shine in the firelight. A tiny cat ring with a bright ruby gem. It had to be custom made and it fit perfectly on your middle finger. 

“Is it a little too on the nose?”

You’re about to make a joke, but when you see his brows pinched and his ears nearly glowing red, you hold your tongue. You realize he’s nervous.

“It’s adorable. I mean it.” You slip the ring on and hold your hand out to examine it. You look over to see Sylus smiling while he fiddles with the unwrapped box in his hands. “Your turn, open it!”

Sylus returns his focus to the box in his hands. He opens the box and pulls out a book. He takes a moment to read the cover, but a smile crosses his face before he can say a word. 

“A book about history's most notorious criminal masterminds?”

“From Al Capone to Jack the Ripper and it even covers the legend of that guy from Philos who started the illegal protocore trade.”

“I look forward to reading it, thank you.” 

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, his approval of his gifts mean more to you than you realized. You turn to pick up the next two gifts. Neither of you hesitate to start opening the boxes now. Yours is a bit larger and you gasp when you see the brand on the heavy wooden case. 

“Hero Leather Works? Sylus!”

You open the box to reveal a brand new custom holster. The deep chocolate leather and shining golden buckles take your breath away.

“You mentioned your holster was getting old.”

“You remembered? I said that nearly 3 months ago!”

“And you still haven’t replaced it. So I called in a favor.”

“With the most famous leather artisan in Linkon? They’ve been booked for months!”

“Like I said, Hero owed me a favor. And you needed a holster.”

You drop your gaze and hold the holster in your hands, stroking the leather slowly. Tears build up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Without looking up you urge Sylus to open his present.

“Okay, okay, your turn.”

He opens the bag and tosses the tissue paper over his shoulder onto the sofa. He stares into the bag, he chuckles under his breath. He finally pulls out two plushies. A dove and a crow, connected at the wings, their heads turned toward each other so their beaks touched. 

“I got it custom made from the same company that made the big crow plushie you got for me. This one is a bit smaller, since I know you’re not a huge fan of plushies. I just thought –”

Sylus leans over and kisses you, effectively shutting you up. He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. 

“I take it the crow is me and the dove is you?”

You smile and he pulls back to kiss your forehead. 

“I love it. It’ll have a permanent spot on my desk.” 

The tears you fought off a few minutes ago threaten to fall once more. You clear your throat.

“How about you pick the present we open next?”

“Now that is a good idea. I was wondering when I’d have a chance to ask about the box you stuffed under the couch, guess I won’t have to.”

You stop breathing. Your heart pounds in your ears. How had he seen you do that?

“Oh I just…”

He reaches past you and pulls the box from under the couch, setting it on the table in front of him. You’re tempted to grab it and chuck it in the fire, but you can’t seem to move. Is this what they mean by “frozen in fear”? Sylus lifts a small slender box from your pile and sets it before you before leaning back on the couch and holding his present up to examine. 

“Why would you hide this one in particular? How curious.” 

You shake your head trying to pull yourself out of this paralysis. 

“I wasn’t hiding it, it must have just slipped under there by accident.”

“Kitten, I always know when you’re lying.”

You glare at him.

“How?”

“Oh no no no. I’m not revealing that. It’s too much fun watching you try to wiggle your way out.”

You sigh and cross your arms in defeat. Your heart is racing so fast your chest hurts. How could you have been so confident and sure when you bought it, but now you are convinced you are going to ruin everything? Sylus pushes your present closer to you.

“Open.”

You take in a ragged breath. You tear off the red satin ribbon and tear off the gold paper to reveal a long slender velvet box, much like the ring box. You tentatively open it and gasp when you see its contents.

A silver chain necklace holds a delicate silver charm in the shape of an elegant dragon. Its tail wraps around the ruby heart shaped stone while its wings curve inwards to secure the sides. The head rests on the gem, its eyes two smaller rubies. You find yourself captivated by the charm, your hands tremble slightly and a tear spills over.

Sylus reaches out and wipes away the tear with his thumb. He shifts closer to you, placing an arm around your shoulder. He doesn’t speak, he just holds you and lets you take in the gift. A gift you didn’t understand, but loved instantly. You finally turn to face him.

“It’s beautiful.” 

“Would you like to put it on?”

You almost blurt out yes, but your eye catches on Sylus’s gift, still sitting on the table. Your stomach flips and you feel heat spread from your chest to your center. The only thing you can think of is that gift and this one. 

“I would, but only after you open your gift.”

Sylus squints at you, but doesn’t argue. He pulls the gift over and starts to peel the paper away. He is purposefully going as slow as possible, he can feel how nervous you are. He is enjoying this way too much. You lean over and press your mouth to his ear.

“If you keep teasing me, you won’t get to see me wear it.”

You feel his body tense, his jaw clenches. You place a soft kiss on his cheek and lean back. The nerves you were feeling earlier vanish. If he could tease you, you could tease him. He picks up the pace and finally reaches the thin box. As he opens the lid, you watch his face. His eyes widen, his breathing quickens, a blush spreads across his cheeks and down to his chest. He sets the box on his lap and pulls out the contents.

His fingers trace the thin red lace of the bralette. Tiny red hearts adorn the sheer fabric, but not nearly enough to hide anything. The matching red lace thong follows, the ribbons at the hips tie together to secure it to the body. A matching garter and red lace robe lay at the back of the box. You can help but smile as you look down at the necklace you still hold in your hand. The red matches the ruby perfectly.

“So you hid this present because you changed your mind?”

His voice is gruff and breathy. You almost jump up to straddle him at that very moment. His words are full of doubt, but his voice is full of desire. You dare to shift closer to him, lifting your hand to pull his chin in your direction.

“I was worried you wouldn’t want to go there yet. But I never changed my mind.”

His eyes drop down to your lips, then down to your neck and chest. You drop your hand to his chest and feel his heart racing. He lets out a shaky breath before returning his gaze to the box on his lap. He returns the contents and closes the lid. He turns to you, the box directly between you both. That familiar smirk returns.

“Change. Now.”

You place the necklace back in its box and close it. You hold it out next to the box he holds.

“But first, put this on me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He takes the box, removes the necklace and unclasps the hook. You reach to pull your hair up and he wraps his arms around your neck to secure the necklace. The cold metal almost stings against your hot skin. Sylus reaches down to straighten the charm, allowing his fingers to linger on the exposed skin of your chest.

“Hurry.”

You stand and calmly walk out of the room, but as soon as you reach the hall you are a fumbling mess. You damn near skip down the hall to the nearest room. You slip into the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. Is this really happening? Are you about to put on sexy lingerie and parade around his office like you’re a present to be unwrapped? Oh god you hope so.

You strip out of your festive pajamas and freshen yourself up a bit before slipping on the silky two piece. You’ve never been one to love or hate your body, but as you look in the mirror now, you can’t help but feel unbelievably sexy. The red is bright, the ribbons delicate, your skin soft, your nipples hard and the butterflies in your stomach are making it hard to breathe. You slide the garter up your thigh and drape the robe over your shoulders, not bothering to tie it. You gently open the bathroom door and look both ways up and down the hallway. You know Sylus sent everyone home early for the holiday, including Luke & Kieran, but you were not used to walking around wearing so little, especially here.

You speed walk to the office and pause before placing a hand on the handle. Would he like what he sees? Would you be enough for him? Would you satisfy him? Would he still want you to take the lead or would he take control? What if you couldn’t get there? Would that make him feel bad? What if you can’t get him there?

You take a deep breath, you knew you were being ridiculous. The way he kissed you earlier? He wants this. God, he wants this. Memories of your kiss flood your mind and you press a hand to your chest trying to slow your breathing. Open the door. You just need to open the door. Everything else will come naturally. So you do it. You open the door.

Most of the lights have been turned off, the glow of the fireplace and the candles around the room cast dancing shadows against the walls. Sylus leans against his desk with a glass of whiskey, facing the door. He glances up at you as you slowly make your way towards him. He drinks you in, his eyes barely knowing where to look first. They linger on your chest before lowering to your nearly completely revealed cunt. He nearly breaks the glass when he sets it on his desk with a clink. 

You stand in front of him, his eyes now locked on yours. He slowly lifts his hands to your shoulders, stroking the sheer fabric. He tugs at the fabric and pulls it over your shoulders, you let it fall away and onto the floor. His hands return and finally glide over your skin. Chills spread over your arms at his touch. His fingers glide down your arms to your hands, he pulls you closer to him placing your hands on his hips. 

“If you had taken any longer, I would have come looking for you.”

You laugh and gently squeeze his hips, his fingers trailing up and down your arms.

“Maybe we’ll play hide and seek later?”

Sylus laughs, it’s not his usual laugh - it is darker, you feel electricity flicker across your skin. He moves his hands down to your bare waist and you nearly moan. His hands on your skin feels even better than you imagined. 

“I doubt I’ll be letting you out of my sight the rest of the night, sweetie.”

And before you could say another word, he leans down and presses his lips to your neck. His hands circle around your waist and pull you to him, your hardened nipples press against his chest. You let out a breathy moan, your hands grasping onto his shoulders. He reaches down and tucks his hands under your ass, pulling your lower half directly to him, his thigh settling between your legs. He slowly shifts his leg, the friction just enough to make you painfully aware of how wet you are.

“Sy…”

He grunts against your neck before straightening and swiftly turning you both around. He lifts you and places you on his desk before spreading your legs and slotting himself between them. You feel his erection now, pressing against your stomach. God, he’s big. Your mind goes blank as his lips meet yours again and his hands move your arms up and around his shoulders.

He grinds against you, letting you feel him. You are thanking every deity that Sylus is the one taking control because your brain is short circuiting. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, your core is so tight like you did countless sit ups, what is this man doing to you? 

His mouth has moved from yours to your neck and down your chest. You tilt your head back and close your eyes, trying to make breathing your only priority. His fingers trace the lace of your bra from the back to the front. The throbbing between your legs is getting so intense you barely register that he has pulled one of the straps of your bra down exposing your breast. His lips close around your nipple and you gasp. He keeps a hand on your back, giving you the resistance you need to arch and press your chest into his mouth. His other hand squeezes your breast, peaking your nipple and making it easier for him to suckle. He gently bites down and you moan loudly. No one has made you moan just from nipple play, but you realize now, it doesn’t matter what Sylus does, you’d be moaning for him.

He unclasps the bra with his hand at your back and pulls the straps down your arms. He tosses it to his desk chair before diving down to give your other breast the same treatment. Your hands thread through his hair and down his back. You’ve started grinding against him now, desperate for more. He finally reaches a hand down to run a finger along the fabric over your entrance. As soon as he feels the wetness he releases your breast with a loud pop and meets your eyes.

“Already soaking through your present?”

You glare at him, but he presses his fingers firmly against the fabric leaving you gasping. You nod frantically trying to get him to stop teasing.

“We should get those off before you ruin them.”

As he says this, he tugs at the ribbons on the sides. The fabric falls away and settles onto the desk. He wraps an arm around you, lifting you off the desk leaving your panties behind. He bends to pick you up properly and you wrap your legs around him. He lets out a soft whimper when he feels your bare cunt against his stomach. That sound alone nearly made you come. 

He lowers you down onto a soft blanket in front of the fireplace. He places kisses all over your face, your neck, your chest. He starts lowering himself to your stomach and when he places a kiss to your hip you finally register his intentions. 

“Sy, wait –”

“Shh…”

You look down at him and see his eyes sparkle in the firelight before he lowers his mouth onto your throbbing clit. The sight was intoxicating enough, but the feeling of his tongue lapping at your swollen clit over and over before sucking it into his mouth was euphoric. He pressed his tongue against your entrance, his nose pressing perfectly against your clit. You arch your back and feel your hips twitch with need. 

“Sy… Sylus… I need… I need more– oh god…”

The rumble of his response against you sent your hips thrusting upwards. He tucked his hands under your ass, giving you the leverage to continue the movement. He finally pressed his tongue into you, swirling against your walls, his nose massaging your clit. And every time you grind yourself against his face, his grunt of approval sent vibrations up your spine making your legs shake. 

You had no time to warn him, the pressure built and spilled over so rapidly you would feel embarrassed if you weren’t so deliriously happy. You hear him groan and his hands knead your ass as he takes everything you gave him. When he lifts his head, his face is coated in your arousal, a love drunk expression painted on his face. You smile and giggle at the sight.

“Sorry I couldn’t warn you…”

He gets onto his hands and knees crawling back on top of you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Always keeping me on my toes.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck. You let your hands drift down his chest. You wanted to feel him, to see him, to not be the only one exposed. Your fingers trace the hem of his pajama pants. He lifts his head to stare down at you.

“Already wanting more?”

“From you? Always?”

Your quick reply surprised even you. But you weren’t lying, “always” was the right word. Being with him made you happy and horny and peaceful and daring. His eyes dropped to the necklace, the charm still cool against your skin. Sylus runs a finger over the charm, a small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. You wanted to ask why a dragon, but you also didn’t feel like you needed to - it just felt right. You pressed your fingers against the hem harder, pushing the fabric down to his hips. 

He looks into your eyes as he pushes himself up to his knees. He tucks his thumbs into the hem of his pants and boxers and pulls them down letting his cock spring forward. He tosses the clothes onto the couch before returning his gaze to yours. You felt your chest tighten, he was big, but not scary big. You’d always wondered what you’d do if he was too big - like in those trashy romance novels. 

He lowered himself over you once more. His tip grazes your inner thigh making you spread your legs wider on instinct. He looks down to see you spread yourself for him and he lets out a soft moan. 

“Stop that.” You breathe.

He looks at you, his brow raised in surprise. You reach up and pull him down on top of you. You nearly swallow his tongue once he parts his lips. All the fear and nerves from earlier are long done, you needed him inside you. Now.

You reach a hand down and wrap it around the base of his cock. His breath catches and he pulls back to look down at you holding him. You stroke him gently, building intensity based on his breathing. He sinks his head into your neck as you continue to pump him. When he starts placing messy kisses to your collarbone and those soft moans start slipping out one after the other, you line him up with your entrance.

When he feels his tip press against your folds, he pulls back and looks down at you.

“Are you… on the… pill? Do I –”

“I’m on the pill, I want you – god, I want you inside me Sy. Right fucking now. Please…”

Hearing the urgency in your tone, he reaches down and moves your hand away. He presses his tip further into your entrance, your arousal making it easy to initially slide through. You feel his breath against your ear.

“I won’t take it easy on y– you kitten. Remember you asked – fuck… you asked for this.” 

You dig your nails into his back as your chest heaves, your chest brushing against his with every breath.

“Fuck yes…”

At your response, he sinks himself into you. Not too fast, but he doesn’t slow down, he doesn’t take breaks to let you adjust. You feel the delicious stretch and cry out, letting your nails drag across his back. You feel his muscles ripple in response. His pelvis now pressed against yours, his cock twitching as your walls squeeze him. 

He lets out a deep groan before he pulls back and starts thrusting into you, slow and deep. You lock your ankles around his waist. His movements pick up pace, you hear the slapping of skin against skin. Your chest burns, tears spill from the corners of your eyes, pressure builds once again, but you’re determined to ride this high as long as he lets you.

The way Sylus moans is unexpected. It’s needy, but he meets those needs himself. It’s like he knows how badly he needs you and he has no doubt he’ll get what he desires. You know if you were in control he would be desperate, but how your body is responding to his has proven to him that you will never deny him. Even if you tried, you would give in eventually. 

You curl your fingers into his hair and hold him against you as his thrusts turn savage. He’s hitting that spot that makes you see stars with every brutal thrust. Your moans turned to grunts and then screams of ecstasy. His moans have been replaced by soft whimpers of your name in your ear. Your heart flutters, his desire has taken over and the only thing he can say is just your name. 

His whimpers stop suddenly, his breathing shakes, you know he’s close. You start thrusting your hips upward and before long he is coming, hot and fast. Your second release of the night is almost immediate once you feel his body shake and his lips find yours again. You whimper and moan into each other's mouths as you ride out your high together. 

The crackle of the fire and the soft Christmas music slowly comes back into focus. He rests his forehead against yours, keeping himself tucked inside your warmth. You unhook your ankles and let your legs fall open. He sinks down to his elbows, your chests pressed against each other.

“I think I might like Christmas.” He sighs contentedly. 

You giggle and press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.” 

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @cordidy

[missmaymay13]

expanding the family - w.smith | m.celebrini

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

w.smith & m.celebrini x oc platonic

a one shot from the original - close to you

masterlist | series masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

June had planned a normal, emotional announcement.

But this?

This was so much funnier.

Because she hadn't even said a word yet.

And somehow?

Will had already figured it out from a DoorDash receipt.

______

"Did you just order a single pickle and a side of mashed potatoes?" Macklin asked, holding up the bag.

June froze on the couch.

"Uh."

Will narrowed his eyes. "Who in their right mind eats that combination?"

Macklin checked the receipt. "It says it's for June."

Will blinked.

Looked at June.

Looked back at the receipt.

Then—his entire body went rigid.

"NO."

June swallowed. "...No?"

Will pointed a shaking finger at her.

"YOU'RE PREGNANT."

Macklin choked on air.

Then squeaked like a dying rubber duck and fell off the couch.

June sighed. "Yeah, I'm pregnant."

Silence.

Then—Will let out a shaky laugh.

"No fucking way."

Macklin was still on the floor, blinking at the ceiling.

Then, voice cracking—"We're gonna be uncles."

And that's when it hit.

Macklin was on his feet in seconds, pulling June into the tightest hug ever.

Will was immediately in on it too, holding on like he never wanted to let go.

And for a moment?

It was just them.

Hugging.

Crying.

Trying to process the fact that everything had changed.

Macklin sniffled. "Okay, but I call dibs on teaching the kid to skate."

Will pulled back. "Absolutely not, I'm doing that."

"You? Bro, you can barely stay on your feet."

"Oh, and you think you're gonna be better?"

June just rolled her eyes.

Then—she grinned.

"Actually," she said slowly, "you don't have to fight about that."

Will and Macklin paused.

June smirked. "You each can get a kid. I'm having twin boys."

The room went dead silent.

Then—

Macklin collapsed onto the couch.

Will shrieked.

And June?

June just sat back and enjoyed the show.

⸻

Macklin and Will had never moved faster in their lives.

The second they got the call from Eky, they literally sprinted into the hospital room.

June, exhausted but smiling, motioned them over.

And when they saw the twins?

They broke.

Macklin's eyes were already watering.

Will let out an emotional laugh.

"Holy shit," he whispered. "They're real."

June smirked. "No, I made them up."

Will, voice thick, grinned. "Shut up."

Then—the twist.

June tilted her head.

"So, uh..." she started, voice teasing. "I had to pick names for them."

Macklin and Will both looked at her.

June smirked.

"I decided to name them after my favorites."

Silence.

Then—

"JUNIE. NO."

Will looked panicked.

Macklin's jaw dropped.

June grinned. "Meet Will and Macklin."

And just like that—

The two biggest menaces in her life completely lost their minds.

[rowenaluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . A PLACE TO CONFESS + A WAY TO SAY IT

STEP ONE ; PICK A LOCATION

1 ⧽. inside a vintage car

2 ⧽. a motel bathroom

3 ⧽. a balcony in someone else’s mansion

4 ⧽. a flower garden

5 ⧽. under a street lamp

6 ⧽. by a windblown tree

7 ⧽. on the side of a highway 

8 ⧽. a kitchen that smells like roasted sweet potatoes

9 ⧽. a grassy backyard full of childhood memories

10 ⧽. in front of a tall, ornately framed painting

11 ⧽. a farmer’s market

12 ⧽. the dinner table in a tiny apartment

13 ⧽. a wide, sunny meadow

14 ⧽. in the patch of sunlight cast through a window

15 ⧽. a seaside town

16 ⧽. a green, velvet couch

17 ⧽. on a windy rooftop

18 ⧽. in snowy woods

19 ⧽. a riverside

20 ⧽. the front steps of an old gothic church

21 ⧽. foggy hillsides

22 ⧽. the sidewalk of a cobblestone street

23 ⧽. a dark school hallway

24 ⧽. under beige sheets and a grey comforter

25 ⧽. in the loud crowd of a concert venue

26 ⧽. a hidden away bookshop

27 ⧽. a bench in a public park

28 ⧽. the wooden staircase in a creaky building

29 ⧽. in the hallway between the front room and the kitchen

30 ⧽. the town library

STEP TWO ; PICK THE RIGHT WORDS

A ⧽. “i know this probably isn’t the best time to say this, but i think i really like you.”

B ⧽. “would you be upset if i told you something important right now?”

C ⧽. “it is pretty. i think you’re very pretty, too.”

D ⧽. “what do you mean? it’s too hard to forget how much i care about you.”

E ⧽. “you’ll be alright. promise. we’ll be alright.”

F ⧽. “you’re loved.” “but how do you know?” “because i love you.”

G ⧽. “this might be a stupid place to say this, but i think you’re really lovely. you know… like really lovely.”

H ⧽. “i love you. more than you could know.”

I ⧽. “is it weird to say i think i just fell in love with you?”

J ⧽. “you’re very warm.” “you think so?” “yeah. it’s nice. i like… i love everything about you.”

K ⧽. “what part of ‘i love you’ do you not understand?”

L ⧽. “and that was the moment i knew i loved you.”

M ⧽. “i can’t get you out of my head.”

N ⧽. “well, i– i really… you know already, don’t you?”

O ⧽. “honey–” “why do you keep calling me that?” “i– do you want me to stop?” “…no.”

P ⧽. “i can’t keep pretending!”

Q ⧽. “i’m right here, you know. i’m right here.”

R ⧽. “that’s not weird. it’s called love, and i think you just accidentally confessed to me. that’s okay, though. i love you, too.”

S ⧽. “this song reminds me of you.”

T ⧽. “can i tell you something?” “anything.” “promise?”

U ⧽. “i don’t say it enough, but i care about you. a lot.”

V ⧽. “i just don’t understand, i get all– all nervous around you and my cheeks get warm, and i– oh.”

W ⧽. “you’re an idiot, but i love you.”

X ⧽. “can i hold your hand?”

Y ⧽. “shhh!” “i’m trying to confess my love to you!”

Z ⧽. no words, just a look and they know.

[chanelrolls]

PART III. caleb's series

n. it's advisable to read all parts of the series. cw: pseudocest

“the sound of leaving”

you, 8 | caleb, 10

eight-year-old you had learned that some goodbyes weren’t loud.

they didn’t always come with slammed doors or tearful hugs. sometimes, they happened in inches, like when caleb stopped picking you up after school and it was the driver instead, or when he stopped sitting on the couch beside you after dinner and started staying up late, locked away in his room with books and papers filled with words you couldn’t read.

“aviation prep,” mama said once, while folding laundry. “he’s busy now.

busy. the word felt like a fence with no gate, like a wall too tall to peek over.

still, every thursday afternoon, you made sure to be in the same place: curled up on the arm of the couch by the window, arms tucked beneath your chin, your cheek pressed to the cool glass. it was always the best hour. when the sunlight came slanting in at just the right angle, spilling golden light across your dollhouses, your scattered crayons, your pillows arranged like tiny islands across the floor.

you told yourself you were just resting. but really, some small and hopeful part of you was waiting. waiting for caleb to walk in, to sit beside you again, let you braid one side of his hair while he doodled clouds and tiny airplanes in your notebooks. you could still remember the way he used to hum sometimes under his breath, and how you’d giggle every time he messed up a drawing and turned it into something silly, like a whale with wings or a cat in a pilot’s cap.

but he didn’t come.

not even once this week.

so that thursday, you did something brave. you wrote him a note.

it took three tries. the first one had too many scratched-out words, and a bunny that looked more like a sad potato. the second one had smudges and tears where your hand slipped. the third one, though, was clean. neat. you took your time.

> dear caleb,

i miss you.

if you are not too busy flying your books, can you come play with me again?

i saved your favorite pillow.

love,

(your pipsqueak)

you placed it carefully on his door, right under the knob, and pressed a shiny star sticker on it to make sure he’d see it. just one. the gold kind that sparkled when the hallway light hit it right.

then you waited.

and waited.

evening settled over the house, soft and slow. the sun already disappeared. the hallway stayed quiet, but the door never opened.

you went to bed with your face turned toward the wall, the soft part of your pillow soaked warm under your cheek, blinking fast and hard, trying not to let anything spill out.

the next morning, caleb didn’t say much. but when it was time for school, he was waiting by the door.

he hadn’t walked you in weeks.

you looked up at him, squinting a little under the weight of your backpack. it was too big for your shoulders, so it bounced when you walked. “did you get my letter?”

he didn’t speak right away. just looked ahead, then down at you.

his hand reached out, warm and familiar, and he ruffled your hair, gently.

“yeah,” he said, voice quiet. “i got it.”

you frowned a little. “you didn’t write back.”

his mouth tugged at the corner, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “i... didn’t know how.”

you didn’t say anything after that. not for a few steps. you both walked in silence, your shadows stretched long on the sidewalk ahead of you.

then you whispered, “but if i wrote another one, it would just say… come play with me again.”

he stopped walking.

“after your class,” you added quickly, glancing up at him. “you don’t have to talk. just sit with me. like before.”

he looked at you like you were something fragile and faraway and precious all at once, like a puzzle he wasn’t sure how to finish anymore. his face also looked older now. it scared you sometimes, how fast people could change without ever leaving.

but then he smiled. not the big one, the showy one he gave to adults or teachers. this one was softer, the kind that felt like a secret. the kind he used to give only to you.

“okay, pipsqueak.”

you didn’t say anything after that. you just reached up and took his hand. his fingers were warm and calloused, but they curled gently around yours.

you held it all the way to the school gates.

and that afternoon, he kept his promise.

he sat beside you on the floor by the window, cross-legged and quiet, the sunlight pooling around both of you. you showed him your newest drawing, a plane with bunny ears, and he laughed.

you braided one side of his hair, and he didn’t stop you.

and for a little while, it was just like before.

but deep down, somewhere in your little heart, you already knew... sometimes people leave long before their feet even step out the door.

[i-love-ptv]

You Know Me..𐙚⭑

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Based on the prompt: “no, i’m not going to give you a bite because i know you’re not going to like it. then you’re going to ask me how the hell i like it, and i don’t want to listen to that right now.”

Wc: 915

No warnings! Just fluff tbh! :]

An: This is a random blurb I made today at 6am lololol

buttttt NEW CHARACTER UNLOCKED!!! It’s fall, and i’m missing stranger things rn 😣

ALSO!! I don’t know who made the prompt, since I got it from Pinterest, but if y’all know, tell me!!

Not proofread, i’m tired

feedback is ALWAYS appreciated mls <333

You truly think that you’re being discreet. Taking subtle glances at your boyfriend, and more specifically, what he’s eating.

Steve’s mom has this special tuna casserole recipe, and she made it on the off-chance she’s actually home.

Just looking at it makes your stomach turn a bit, it takes you back to the dinner you had at Steve’s house when he first introduced you to his parents.

You can’t remember what his mother made, but what you do remember is how after Steve dropped you off at your house with a kiss, you were in and out of the bathroom all night.

You blame it on the fact that you may have a sensitive stomach, it’s not uncommon!

But, a part of you felt bad, she put her time and effort into making a meal for you. She doesn’t even really do that for Steve himself.

So you couldn’t just reject it, besides, your mother always told you to ‘try everything first!’.

So now, that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Steve had only come back to your shared home with one plate, so you had to think strategically.

Maybe you could distract him, tell him something’s wrong with the bathroom sink. Yeah! That’ll work!

“No, I’m not going to give you a bite because I know you’re not going to like it. Then you’re going to ask me how the hell I like it, and I don’t want to listen to that right now.” Steve’s sentence catches you off guard.

You whip your head towards him, staring at him like a deer in headlights.

“..What do’ya mean, honey?”

“No, don’t give me that look. Baby, I know you, and I know you aren’t the biggest fan of my mom’s cooking. I’m not either.”

You jump up at this, nearly falling off the couch, which makes Steve grab your waist with his free hand. He tries to get you to sit back down, rather than kneel on the couch.

“What? I love your mom’s food!” You practically yelled, your voice picking up in pitch.

Steve gives you a look, in both disbelief and amusement.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to lie to me. D’you remember the 4th of July?”

You cringe at the memory of that day.

Steve’s family, meaning his parents, two aunts, an uncle, his grand-parents, and like four cousins - two of which, were kids - had came together for the 4th of July.

Steve, of course, invited you. He figured it would be better for him to bring you so you could meet his family, and so that he didn’t have to be alone.

The company was great, you loved talking and getting to know everyone, especially his grandmother.

But when it was time to eat, you were a bit….Hesitant, to say the least.

Steve’s dad worked the grill, and to be honest, you didn’t think it was going to be all that good, but it was!

But your dinner was spoiled by Steve’s mom’s watery macaroni and cheese, her oddly sweet potato salad, and her rock-hard rolls of bread.

But you refused to cause a scene, so you shoved all your thoughts down, and ate.

…Which resulted in you barking at Steve, telling him to drive home faster so you could use the bathroom.

You shiver at the thought of how you spent the rest of the night, in and out of the bathroom.

“Yeah, but, I think it was cause I ate too much!” You stammer, before continuing. “I’m all good now, though! Let me try some!”

You try to reach over to the plate, which is being tilted away from you by Steve’s right hand.

Your hands are resting on the brunette’s shoulders, while your body leans in the direction of the food.

“Baby, please. You don’t have to eat my mom’s cooking, I know it’s not good. Please save us both the trouble.” Steve sighs, you know he’s not mad at you.

He’s actually anything but.

He admires how you’re pushing down your feelings, only to uplift his and his mother’s. But he doesn’t want you to think that you’re required to do so.

After another 5-ish minutes of you blabbering on about how you ‘want to try her hard work’ and Steve arguing back, you slouch back onto the couch with a huff.

“I know y’wanna be nice, baby. But you don’t have to.” Steve softy coos, while rubbing your stomach.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to Steve.”

Steve hums at you, and moves your legs from his lap as he stands up.

You track his body, as he walks into the kitchen, scrapes his plate, then sits it in the sink.

Steve goes back to the couch, picks you up, and then lays you on top of him once he’s comfortable laying down. He puts a blanket onto the two of you, and then rubs your back.

Steve leaves a firm, but sweet kiss on your forehead. “My sweet girl, always so nice to everyone, huh?”

You giggle softly, your eyes growing heavy at the feeling of him drawing shapes on your back.

The last thing you remember is him briefly reaching over you, and using the tv remote to turn down the volume.

Steve doesn’t know how he got so lucky with you, but he’ll spend the rest of his life thanking any, and every god for you.

And you’ll never be able to lie to him.

Cause he knows you.

────♡────

[psychicreadsgirl]

Pick a Dish: Your Relationship Dynamics with your next S/O

Pick the picture that draws you most. If you can't decide between 2, then look at the 2 readings. Remember, this is a general reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't behind.

#1

Very relaxed, kind of lazy. Stay at home dates - a lot of Netflix and chill vibes. Almost literal couch potatoes at times.

You two will feel comfortable with each other really fast. You two won't be scared of sharing your "bad" sides like farting in front of the other or telling them how bad your arm pits smell etc. You also will feel comfortable wearing just casual stuff or PJS or home clothes with them. You won't really feel the need to put on makeup or dress up much for your S/O.

You two will feel like good friends, in fact, almost like best friends. You two will either be very clingy towards each other or will lead very independent/almost separate lives, mostly bc of your work/school or some other uncontrollable situation.

You will both help out each other and listen to one another. There's a lot of positive energy between you two. And a LOT of lazy chill energy - which is fine too. Just be careful of your health - still important to exercise and eat healthy.

Some people may feel like you two are like those super old married couples, but you both feel that's ok.

For some there may be a long distance relationship for you two or it will become one after dating.

#2

You both like to keep things fresh and spicy. Expect lots of surprises and fun. I see both of you travelling a lot together and you might even be the couple that quits their jobs and becomes vloggers or quits their jobs to start some other biz etc. Somehow being together leads you two to create something together, whether it be a career/organization/a place/other friendship maybe. There's some "expansion" or creation aspect to this union.

You will find each other to be very funny and will enjoy spending time with each other. You will have endless of things to talk about--likely one of you will be more chatty and the other just more quiet.

You two don't seem to place that much emphasis on material things in life. You enjoy doing activities together -- not necessarily the fact that you two went to some "fancy" restaurant. You both don't really care about luxury goods or brand names. You both would rather spend money on more practical things or entertainment like travel, movies, vacations, etc.

For some of you you might be polar opposites with the other person so inevitably there may be times where you two will definitely butt heads. However you two will make up usually by some physical touch or sex.

#3

There'll be some traditional undertones to this relationship. Perhaps both of you come from very strict families or one of you does or maybe you/they/both have traditional values. Maybe you two were set up by your parents.

There's going to be some element of cultural significance/foreign element too. Perhaps you both enjoy different cultures' foods. Maybe one of you comes from a multicultural family or has lived abroad in many different places. Maybe one of you is fluent in multiple languages or has many different friends abroad. Maybe you guys even are from 2 different countries.

Oddly there's a mix of non-traditional/traditional elements to this relationship. Sometimes that might make for a very interesting dynamic/relationship. Sometimes it might lead to conflict/disagreements because there are 2 different, sometimes opposite views in play.

There's likely going to be someone's parent that disapproves of this relationship for some reason.

I don't see this relationship as one that's particularly easy, in the sense that there are a lot of factors that are out of your control, which try to break you two apart or cause you two conflict. Whether you and your s/o will be able to work with each other to overcome those will be up to both of your efforts in the relationship.

This relationship will also be a meeting of equals, so you both will be quite "equal" in the sense that there won't be a power imbalance. You both could be equally smart or equally foolish. You both could make similar amounts of money too.

#4

This will be a rather chaotic yet dynamic pairing. Somehow there'll be a lot of gossip/news or something related to your relationship. Perhaps this is some office romance that's a bit judged on (i.e. you are dating your boss) or maybe you two seem like such an unlikely pair that people kind of just assume the worst about you two.

I see a strong physical attraction. Sometimes it might even seem like that physical attraction triumphs other parts of the relationship. There will be a lot of physical touch and bedroom activities. If you've never had your 1st sexual experience, then your s/o will likely be the more experienced one. It's not to say that they have fooled around with tons of people out there, but they will have had more dating experience than you.

It feels like one party will be more mature/experienced, while the other seems to be more naive/innocent/inexperienced. There may also be an age gap at play and this age gap can be quite big. Possibly for some of you, this will be the relationship after you've ended a long term relationship or marriage. Possibly for others, your s/o might have been previously engaged or married. Your s/o might even have married more than once before.

This relationship may also have a bit of like..parental feeling? Getting the sense that 1 of you might suffer from issues related to your parents and somehow your s/o kind of takes on the role of a parent that you didn't have. Some people might feel like your s/o is like your nanny sometimes or butler? One of you will definitely be the one that does a lot of acts of service.

#5

There's a very youthful feeling about this relationship. It might even be the 1st relationship that you'll ever have. There's that puppy love/1st love feeling. If it's not the 1st relationship, then it might be that rare serious relationship that you have.

There are very deep feelings within this relationship from both sides - more emotional than physical. Not to say that physical affection doesn't exist here, but you two will feel very emotionally connected with each other. You might even feel like they don't even need to talk to you and they get how you feel and vice versa. I don't see that a lot of communication is needed between you two. Somehow one look or some behaviour will just let you or your s/o know what's going on.

There can be some feelings of possessiveness/obsession with this relationship. 1 of you or both will be rather possessive. That can be bad or can be fine, depending on how it plays out. The possessiveness can sometimes turn into deep obsession/jealousy, which would not be great.

You might feel in this relationship that without your s/o you are incomplete. You feel like your s/o truly understands you. It's possible that 1 of you have had a traumatic childhood/past or both of you have and you two bond because of this. Or one of you will be very empathetic and understanding or somehow maybe even have an occupation as a therapist/healer/doctor that can help your s/o.

#6

Wow there's something really forbidden about this relationship. You or your s/o might both be already in relationships or even in a marriage but somehow you two are very drawn to each other. The lust/attraction is irresistible and even if you or both are already in relationships, you both will still date. Another possibility is that you two are dating when you're not supposed to be like the school/company won't let employees date or you're dating your best friend's ex partner. Or you two come from 2 different religions/ethnicity that traditionally have hated each other. Other possibilities in rare cases could be like incest or bordering incest (i.e. you are in love with your step sibling who doesn't have any blood relations with you or you are in love with your cousin etc). In other rare cases, you may be dating a well-known public figure secretly.

There's a lot of intensity with this relationship. The physical affection/passion is definitely there. There may be like a lot of angst too or suppressed feelings or you know in movies etc where there's a lot of sexual tension but then someone comes and interrupts and so the sexual tension has to be cut short? Something like that.

This relationship while intense may end rather abruptly or have many make ups and break ups. Somehow you both continue to be drawn to each other.

For some there may be some toxic stuff in this relationship - I see a lot of arguments and shouting and then shortly after there'd be intense makeup sex or kissing. A lot of times the physical side of the relationship will dominate everything else, which isn't so good, because the problems of this relationship don't go away.

For this relationship to work, both will need to recognize the issues and want to change and also realize that communication is very important. For some, this relationship will inevitably end for various reasons.

Because of the forbidden element to this relationship, inevitably there can be many misunderstandings and complications.

This relationship, however, will be one that you will definitely always remember - probably the one most dear to you.