#puts these all on my walls framed to wake up to in the morning

[skinandscales-if]

submitted by anon

---

im on the GROUND

I cannot put into WORDS this shit are singlehandedly taking me out oh my god.. they are about to disembowel each other but they look so pretty while doing it 

the brush you use is so nice i love their expressions it’s making me cackle

[lnfours]

forevermore | l.n

summary: the long awaited, highly requested part two to welcome home <3

warnings: fluff all around, lando is absolutely whipped, this fic isn’t helping my delusions.

masterlist | part one

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the morning sun shone in through the bedroom window, which instantly made lando regret not taking your advice on hanging the curtain rod before you both went to sleep last night. now he was really kicking himself as he tried to cover his face with the pillow from under his head, desperate for darkness.

you both were exhausted from the move. you had spent all day and nearly all night unpacking boxes and it felt like you barely made a dent. you both conquered one room at a time, working through the downstairs of the house first, putting all the dishes in their respective spaces, moving things around to your liking. the exhaustion weighed out the happiness and giddiness that riddled your bodies, happy to finally have a place of your own.

the exhaustion didn’t hit till the both of you plopped down onto the mattress that was sitting on the hardwood floor of the bedroom, the bed frame sitting unbuilt against the wall, too tired to care.

after a few minutes, he accepted defeat. he wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon. in a soft huff, he placed the pillow back under his curls and reached for his phone underneath the pillow, tapping the screen to display the time.

right above the picture of the two of you he had had taken on his camera one night in singapore, the clock read 7:45am. he sighed quietly to himself, not wanting to wake you up as he rolled over to face you.

his sleep filled eyes squinted as he looked over at you. your cheek smushed against your pillow, your hair fanned out behind you as you slept peacefully. he smiled softly, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, moving closer to you.

in your sleep, you shuffled, moving closer to him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. his other hand traced circles into the soft skin of your leg. he watched you for a minute, pondering about how someone like him ended up with someone like you.

the answer was simple, really. you shared the same soul, intertwined. he brought out the best version of you and you did the same with him. you were each others number one supporters, being there for each other on your worst days.

it made his head spin, suddenly thinking about what came next for the both of you. he had got the girl, finally asked her to move in with him, now all that was left was a diamond ring and white wedding dress. maybe even a dog and a few little ones that would run around and fill the house up with even more laughter and joy. the white picket fence dream, and he wanted it all with you.

your head was tucked under his chin as he reached for the tv remote on the floor beside him, grabbing it and finding something to occupy himself with as you slept on him. he paid no mind to the fact that the pins and needles were spreading throughout his arm, he just cared about how you were comfortable like this. and he’d be dammed if he moved to disturb you.

about a half hour into the episode of his show, he got bored. he pressed the pause button, slightly adjusting so you were sleeping on your back now. he moved to hover over you under the blankets, his hands softly bunching up the material of your shirt. he pressed soft kisses against the skin of your stomach, his stubble softly scraping at the skin.

this is what made your eyes flutter open, smiling down at the boy on top of you, green eyes meeting yours. you squinted in the morning sun, voice hoarse as you spoke, “hi,”

he smiled, chin resting on your tummy as he looked back up at you, “morning,”

you grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him up to your face. the same smile still sat on his lips as he tilted his head down to meet you in a kiss. you sighed contently after pulling away, hands rustling the mess of curls on his head.

“‘m starving,” he said, laying back down on top of you. you let out a soft hmph as he laid on your chest, his legs between yours and you giggled softly.

“wanna order some breakfast?”

he hummed into the crook of your neck, “inna minute.”

and the two of you stayed like that a little while longer, basking in the feeling of each other under the warm blankets. you were absentmindedly playing with his curls, zoning out as you stared up at the white ceiling above you.

you were home. not only physically, but mentally. he was your person, the same boy in line who had paid for your coffee one morning at the cafe you frequented. the same one who nervously asked for your number after the third day of running into you and making small conversation about your lives and interests.

the boy who you ran up to at the airport every time he came back home and who never really wanted to leave you whenever it was time to go race in another country again.

his movement pulled you out of your thoughts, his eyes meeting yours as he rested his chin on your chest. the stubble he had grown out poking through the thin cotton of the t-shirt you had stolen from him the night before. you smiled back down at him, mumbling a soft, “what?”

“nothing,” he smiled back, adjusting himself so he was hovering over you now, hands trapping your head against the pillow. he bent down, lips meeting yours in a kiss before spoke softly against them, “i love you.”

“i love you,” you echoed back.

his next words flew out of his mouth without his brain filtering it first, “marry me.”

you laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, “what?”

“you heard me,” he said back, nose brushing against yours, “marry me.”

“lando,” you pulled back to meet his eyes, a small smile on your face, “are serious right now?”

“deadly.”

you sent him a questioning look, which showed him that you didn’t believe him. he huffed, getting up from the mattress and walking through the room to find his backpack.

“you know how i went to go visit my parents, right?”

you sat up, watching him dig through the backpack, “yeah..?”

“i was talking to my mom about you- about us, and she said she had something to give to me… fuck, where’d i put it?”

you chuckled softly to yourself before he turned around, a small velvet box in his hand before he kneeled back down onto the mattress with you, “and she said that if i were to propose to you, she wants you to have her ring.”

“lando, i,” your eyes were becoming glossy as he smiled at you, opening the box towards you to reveal the beautiful diamond ring you had complimented his mother on the first time you met her.

“she wants you to have it, i want you to have it,” he smiled, “i didn’t prepare a big speech or anything, but i love you. you’re it for me and i want to spend the rest of my life with you,”

he continued before saying the four words he’d been dreaming about saying you ever since he met you, “will you marry me?”

you hadn’t noticed the tears falling down your cheeks until they dropped onto the blankets under you, a smile on your face as you nodded, “yeah-” you laughed, “yes, a thousand times yes.”

he smiled and fished the ring out of the box, taking your left hand in his as he slid the ring onto your finger.

you pulled him forward, bringing him closer to you and sniffling softly before kissing him sweetly. his hand came up to cup your cheek, brushing away the tears that fell. your foreheads pressed together when he pulled away, bright smiles on both of your faces.

“i love you,” he mumbled, raising your left hand to his lips as he placed a gentle kiss over the ring that shone proudly on your finger.

“i love you more.”

[d3arapril]

nsfw modern!abby headcanons

you (1 person) ask.. i deliver. i love abby with my whole heart and i’m excited to share my thoughts <3 feedback is appreciated!

nsfw, 18+ only! mdni pls!

so let’s start with this, abby is a huge softie. we’ve all seen part 2, she’s SO caring and just wants her loved ones to be safe 😔 argue with the wall .

abby ✂️ loves ✂️ to ✂️ scissor.. she loves being skin on skin and feeling close to you

she’ll massage your leg as she holds it up on her shoulder, thin hairs falling from her braid and framing her face as she bites her lip and tries to keep her noises down bc she only wants to hear u and the wet noises ur both making

she also likes to pin ur wrists above ur head with one hand and if she’s feeling evil she’ll lift up a little, spit down onto your pussy and bend her arm around so she can fit 3 fingers into ur pussy whilst she’s grinding her clit into yours &lt;3 “you’re so greedy, baby…”

honestly shes kinda quiet during sex… she’ll utter words of praise every now and then but she mostly just whimpers/grunts and swears under her breath. think of the noises she makes when she’s feeling scared of heights heheiehie

but when she does use the strap 😮‍💨 GOLLY she likes when u go on top so she can just put her hands behind her head, lay back and watch u work for it

she also tried to nonchalantly flex and u cant help but laugh, ur movements faltering.. “abby stop fucking flexing you’re distracting me” “what’re you talking about? this is all natural babe 😏”

abs loves boobies <3 any size any shape she’s quite literally eating them up

u could both just be chilling in bed reading a book and she’ll have a hand up ur top just resting on ur boob, slightly calloused fingers moving to pinch ur nipple every so often.. she struggles to turn her page with just one hand.. u both give up on reading and get crafty ✂️ (if u know what i mean…sorry i’ll leave)

speaking of reading, u go down on her whilst she’s reading and challenge her to read aloud whilst you give her the best head of her life. she ripped a couple of pages in the book from gripping it so hard when she came. she got sad cos it was her favourite :( u got her a new copy :)

abby listens to classical music right? if she’s adamant on taking it slow and appreciating every inch of you she will have music on in the background. it’ll be pretty quiet but it helps her focus

ABBY FILMS IT 🗣️ (consensually. obviously) she likes to film when ur on top, films when you go down on her, props her phone up at the end of the bed and sits with her back to the headboard and your back pressed against her chest as she pulls the fourth orgasm out of you… “damn, should’ve put a towel down..” she whispers into ur ear, just low enough for the crappy microphone on her old iphone to not pick up

she watches the videos back whenever you’re apart and always bites her lip til it bleeds when shes watching that video and the screen becomes slightly blurry and those wet shlick noises from ur pussy grow louder and louder

she’ll facetime u straight after and politely ask u to recreate.. which u happily do

jerks it when she’s eating it 🤝 girlie finds so much pleasure in making u feel good and she can’t help herself.. moaning into ur pussy and begging you to come for her

wants to fuck on the couch/floor/literally anywhere other than the bed if you’ve got new sheets on the bed, modern abby is clean and tidy and get’s frustrated if her fresh sheets are dirtied

if she’s been to the gym she won’t let u touch her until she’s showered. you insist that u don’t care but she REFUSES bc she’s paranoid about being stinky

speaking of… one place she does love to fuck? THE SHOWER 🚿🚿🚿 its clean, wet and fun. what more could she want

takes u out for dinner, fucks u til ur makeup is smudged and you can’t stand all whilst not fully undressing each other and then u both get in the shower and the shower head becomes both of ur best friend :)

until the morning after when abby wakes up early to have a shower and almost has a heart attack when the high pressure setting almost rips the skin off her back

ok i can easily write more because i love abby and tbh i probably will….

[undercoverpena]

home and the ghost mug

simon “ghost” riley x reader (cod)

this is unedited, and born from a random thought as I put away dishes and cleaned my kitchen at 1am. warnings: none. themes: fluff, cute mug moment, ghost and a non-military partner. just toothrotting 1am thoughts.

you don’t like to think you live alone, but you know you spend more time waiting, than you have with him.

this time it’s been months. the last contact weeks ago. it’s normal, but it doesn’t lessen the frustration you feel—or how it balls and clumps with worry.

you know you signed on to this. married yourself to the wondering and standing by when you bought the house with him. it’s why you’ve perfected the art of keeping busy, remaining distracted.

today, your mind slips. falls down on the job, scrapes the skin from your knees and bruises your heart. thoughts appearing, the faint sound of his gruff voice echoing in the walls. unable to unsee the shadow of his last time here—how broad he appears in your door frames.

it’s the slip up that means you unconsciously make a tea for yourself in his mug. a no-go, a thing you never do. the cup sacred, forever off limits unless he’s here. the one you’d bought as a joke, wrapped it in paper and watched him stare at it when he unveiled the skull on the side with the bone handle.

“this bought for me?”

“well, it’s not for next door, simon.”

suddenly, you don’t fancy tea. your heart aching, all heavy and downtrodden in your chest. so you pour it away, washing it out and putting it away quickly. because you know it’ll sting seeing it on the drainer in the morning. practically punch you in the gut—because your mind will trick itself into thinking he’s home. that he’s back. for whatever time he can spare.

by the time his car pulls onto the drive, the house is coated in darkness. the moon full, high in the sky. shimmering a luminescent glow on everything and anything it can touch.

you must be tired, shattered. no murmur of his name or quickened footsteps when he slides his key on the lock, when he takes his boots off. he does do it with precision, care—almost mouse like for a man that’s more mountain than man. shoving them away in the contraption you bought sometime between the two of you moving in and him coming back to you.

and because the house is quiet, silent. a pin being dropped sounding like a shout, he begins his routine. the one where he shoves the things away he doesn’t need to have. not needing reminders of what he does as ghost when he’s trying to focus on being simon.

his routine concludes with a shower in the downstairs guest bathroom, watching the places he’s just been slide down the plug hole, all out of sight, out of mind. you know this routine, keeping some of his casual clothes—sweats and tees in a drawer, for moments like this.

even if he should expect it by now, he still smiles as your genuineness. your kindness. the one that comes ti you with ease.

it’s why he craves being next to you, being able to hear your breaths—close his eyes and allow the evidence to bury the niggling worries he amasses when he’s not with you.

but, joining you isn’t possible. discovering you star-fished, snoring lightly—one of his t-shirts covering and concealing you. practically burying you. and so he closes the door, heads back downstairs. running a hand over the back of his head, feeling clumps of long and short hair from his bad diy cut you’ll undoubtedly have things to say about.

but it isn’t until he’s walking past the kitchen, does he notice the mug and glass cupboard ajar. a thought appearing, his hand retrieving his mug and placing it on the side. a sign, he hopes—a bold exclamation that he is home, in case you wake before him.

you don’t wake before him. simon and fucked up body clock, as usual, wakes at the first break of sunlight. only rising from the guest bed when he hears the floorboards above. your feet eventually coming down the staircase, all slow and heavy, his mind imagining you rubbing your eyes, softly sighing at another day.

he waits in the doorway—the one connecting the guest bedroom to the kitchen—watching you come to a standstill, eyes blinking as you stare at the mug.

simon doesn’t know the error you made yesterday, that you’re going through a crisis of whether you’d put it away or not. whether you’d lost your mind from missing him so much.

he just knows you’re not reacting. not whispering, never mind shouting his name. so he clears his throat, loud, purposeful.

and your head spins—he’s even pretty sure he hears it crack—and then the reaction he expected lands.

it erupts over your face. an explosion of confusion and joy, tear-filled eyes and a large smile, before you’re in his arms, face buried against his chest as he feels you shake with sobs he hopes are because you’re happy.

“take it you’re happy i’m home?”

“more than you think.”

his chin comes to rest on the top of your head, fingers stroking up and down your back.

the mug becomes a sign, a beacon.

it only ever used to indicate he was home—a trophy that remains on the side, until he gets the call that he has to go.

then he is the one to put it away, hating how he turns to always find your lips being chewed by your teeth.

“it’ll be back out before you know it.”

“it better be.”

simon doesn’t promise. because he knows—as do you—that there’s none he can keep in the games he plays. he comforts you without words, his mouth slanted over yours.

I’ll always fight to get home to you.

[de4dlyniightshade]

Maeve i had a little idea in my head that i wanted to share w you x

You and Spencer cuddling and he gets all needy and needs to put his dick in you but you don't feel like doing it so instead you compromise on cockwarming. He gets on top of you while doing it and you continue to caress his head and back (i'm torturing myself w these thoughts help)

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: +18, mdni

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: cockwarming, needy!spence, subby spence, morning shenanigans, spencer being a little bit feral and forgetting how big(😏)he is, grinding/dry humping, reader mentioned to be smaller than spencer but can be taken as just height wise.

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

A/N: i always forget that blurbs aren't supposed to be perfect but i also feel bad putting out mediocre stuff😔

spencer felt bad for being so needy so early in the morning but the dream he woke up from had him throbbing in his pants and he just couldn't help but wrap his arm around your waist and press himself into your back, his hard length slotting perfectly between your ass.

he gently rolled his hips into your plush ass, placing soft kisses on your shoulder as he did, breathy moans and whimpers slipping past his lips as he shallowly rutted into you.

"spence, if you're trying not to wake me you're doing a really shit job" you laughed sleepily, lifting your hand to hold the back of his head as he rested his forehead on the nape of your neck, still gently grinding into you.

"n-need you" he breathed, his hips snapping into you as he let out a shaky whimper, nuzzling his face into you.

"it's 6 in the morning, spencer" you sighed, halfheartedly trying to move away from him but with no real intention of making him stop.

"please..." he whined, grinding particularly hard into you and squeezing your waist, "j-just- wanna feel you" he breathed against your neck, pressing an open mouthed kiss there, followed by another and another.

you let out a fake sigh, rolling onto your back and turning to face him, the small amount of sunlight peeking through the curtains illuminating his face just enough for you to see the needy expression on his features, his pleading eyes looking down at you.

"alright alright" you you mumbled, shaking your head as you lifted your hips off the bed, hooking your fingers into the waistband of your underwear and tugging them down your legs, dropping them on the floor as spencer quickly moved between your parted thighs, pulling the front of his plaid pyjama pants down just enough to free his length.

"slow down there, mister" you giggled breathily, pressing your hand to his chest to stop him as he tried to surge forward, desperate to bury his cock in you but your hand on his chest didn't stop him from gripping your hips and tugging you down the bed, quickly moving to hold the base of his length and guide his tip to your entrance, pushing in all at once.

spencer choked out a moan as you gasped loudly, the stinging of him stretching you out without any prepping making your thighs clamp around his waist, your eyes screwing shut as the dull throbbing wracked your body.

"spence!" you scolded as your walls clenched and spasmed around him, desperately trying to adjust to the abrupt stretch.

"s-sorry, 'm sorry" he whined, dropping his forehead to your chest as he breathed heavily, his hands squeezing your waist to keep himself composed, his larger frame doubled over on top of you reminding you that he wasn't as small as you made him feel and he could actually overpower you whenever he wanted.

"j-just feel s-so good- d-did't mean to h-hurt you" he whimpered against your skin, his voice strained as your walls surrounded him, constricting his sensitive cock so nicely.

"i know, i know, j-just lay down, careful" you instructed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, spencer slowly and carefully, like you'd told him, lay down on top of you, resting his cheek on your breasts as you hissed slightly at the feeling of his cock shifting in you.

you let out a quiet sigh as the dull pain subsided and all that was left was the feeling of him filling you so nicely, your walls wrapped tightly around his length, his tip brushing cervix and you couldn't help but let out a breathy whine as you let your fingers comb through his hair and stroke down his back.

[leclerc-hs]

Heyyy I saw you were looking for some Charles inspo and I’m just putting this out there: getting shitfaced with bestfriend Charles, doing something you totally should(n’t) and waking up in bed together the next morning

A/N: this has been sitting in my inbox for a while now and i felt the need to finally write it!!! this is my take on it (i didn’t include the morning sorry) and i hope y'all like it!!! let me know what you think!!! :) don’t be shy warnings: smut under the cut!!!! minors do not read. xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You’re not sure what exactly got you into this predicament but you didn’t care. You couldn’t find yourself to care or complain. Not with the little baby blue bullet vibrator pressed to your clit, and especially not with Charles fingers curled against the heat of your walls rubbing them with the exact speed and pressure you liked.

With an exasperated yet playful tone, you urge, “Oh, c’mon Charlie!” The living room of Charles apartment is alive with energy as you twirl in a circle around the furniture, the glint of excitement in your eyes. The neck of the tequila bottle is firmly held in your fist, “Dance with me!”

As your legs stumble slightly, Charles’s callused hands firmly grip the soft skin of your hips. The delicate flesh exposed from the tiny baby tee and sweatpants that hang almost too low on your hips, bringing a halt to your twirling spins. The contrasting sensations of the rough hands and the exposed skin create a moment of electrifying tension. Your eyes twinkle when meeting his green ones, both swaying gently to the music as you tossed your arms over his shoulders and behind his head languidly. The tequila bottle swayed behind Charles back, hitting him a few times in the shoulder blades, but he didn’t mind. He was too enraptured in the joy on your face. 

You bring the bottle to your lips with one arm, taking a sip from it, the burn barely even noticeable with how shit-faced you almost were. Charles took the bottle from your hand, phrases like ‘relax, cherie’ and ‘slow down, baby’ spewing off his lips in a comforting cadence. Although he was very biased, taking a swig from the bottle almost immediately after, sparking laughter between the both of you. 

You’re not sure what changed but the next time your eyes met, you felt the heat build in your tummy, and the need to press your thighs together is hot on your mind. You always were a horny drunk, but never like this. Not with your best friend. 

Charles seemed to have noticed the inner turmoil you were facing. Maybe it was the fact he saw your thighs press slightly together, or the change in your dilated pupils. Whichever reason it was, he was all hands-on deck. Or maybe it was the fact that he has never been more turned on by someone in his life. He wasn’t sure if his mind was playing tricks on him, but he was going to take his shot regardless.

“Open your mouth for me, cherie.” Charles takes a sip of the tequila, his eyes locked on yours as he towers over your small frame.

In that fleeting moment, your head tilts ever so slightly, a delicate dance of confusion and curiosity etched across your features. The slight glimmer in your eyes reveals a layer of excitement beneath the surface. 

You oblige happily, jaw widening and mouth hanging slack. Almost instantly Charles’s hands are gripping your face in a tight grip, locking you in place as he dribbles the tequila from his mouth into yours. He brings one hand to the bottom of your chin, his thumb swiping any liquid that missed, before commanding your jaw shut.

“Swallow.” You don’t hesitate. The searing hot ache between your legs only growing more at his commands. 

You notice the change of his pupils as he watches your swallow, his eyes focusing on the center of your neck like lasers. His eyes are half shut, and the loopy grin on his lips has your stomach doing somersaults.

Is this really about to happen?

You both knew you shouldn't cross that line. But, neither of you cared in this given moment. In this given moment, all you could think about is the intensity of his eyes on you and how you never wanted him to look away. In this given moment, all he could think about is what it would feel like to have you. Finally have you. He wanted to be consumed by you.

In an instant his mouth is hot on yours, tongue swirling around your own as you both moaned into each other's mouths. Your tongues pressed against each other in a heated dance, as if you couldn't get enough of each other. You both taste the hints of tequila on your tongues as they slip against each other.

The answer is yes. Which is how you find yourself in said predicament.

“Mm, ça a un putain de gout délicieux, chérie,” Tastes so fucking good. He’s moaning loudly into your pussy, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Because he couldn’t. One hand pushes the tiny vibrator harder onto your puffy clit, your arousal seeping out of you, while the other grips your thigh tightly, his arm wrapped around it as he pushes that leg over his shoulder, spreading you wider for him.

His tongue is hot on you as he traces his tongue around your dripping hole, sucking up anything you’ll give him. He pushes his tongue into you, flicking it in and out of you with such speed, that it has you careening forward with a sharp cry. 

His pulls his face up for some air, not that he wanted it, shoving two fingers into you while he rambles on almost incoherently. 

“Tu vas être une bonne fille pour moi?” Gonna be a good girl for me? He shoves his thumb into you, staring at the way it slips into you and your pussy flutters around it.  

“Oui!” Yes! You were shouting, the bullet vibrator now rubbing in slow, languid circles, but the vibration on the highest setting, his fingers pummeling into you with such dexterity. 

Charles finds himself involuntary flexing his hips into the mattress of the bed, trying to receive some relief from how turned on he was. He swears his cock was about to explode. 

There was nothing slow about this, Charles was eating you out much like he drives. 200 mph, with limited "braking", and pure skill. He didn’t bother to tease you; he was full on feasting like your pussy was the last meal on earth for him. 

“Une si bonne fille.” Such a good girl. He groans deeply in his chest at the sight of you bucking your hips, small gasps leaving your glossy lips as you shut your eyes with such force.

“I’m gon-“ You began to warn, but Charles didn’t need the warning. He could tell by the squeeze of your pussy on his fingers that you were about to cum, and it only encouraged him to speed up his fingers, sending you quickly over the edge. "Oh fuck- oh my, mmm,"

Your orgasm was earth-shattering, tears sprang from your eyes as you squeezed them shut tightly. Charles chucked the vibrator aside and pressed his face into you while you bucked your hips against his face, completely riding his face now. He held you in place, your thighs nearly suffocating him as they clamped shut tightly around his head. 

He curses into your pussy repeatedly, loving every single drop you gave him. So sweet, so fucking good. You were completely fucked out, your body falling limp to the mattress as Charles pulled up from between your thighs, his lips completely coated with you. A cocky grin on his face as he looks at you half passed out on his bed.

Je n’arrive pas à croire que nous ne l’ayons pas fait plus tôt.” Can’t believe we never did that sooner. 

“Pouvons-nous le refaire?” Can we do it again? Your words were jumbled and hushed but Charles must have understood you loud and clear. The shit-eating grin on his face told you more than enough. And the grasp of his hands onto your hips, rolling you over to your stomach, and the slip of his cock into your hot, wet folds was far better than a simple ‘yes’.

[five-miles-over]

Imagine waking up in an alternate reality where you and Loki are a newlywed couple living in the suburbs

This isn't my bed.

You opened your eyes, finding yourself nestled in pine green sheets of sateen. How did I even get here? As soon as you sat up, your eyes darted about the room.

Large and luxurious seemed to describe the queen-sized bed you were sitting in. The bedroom had off-white painted walls, a large ebony dresser with a mirror that perfectly captured your reflection, and a three-paned window offering a view of an idyllic suburban neighborhood.

From there, you could see a clean yard with rose bushes and yellow dandelions, all behind a white picket fence. There was a walkway, leading up to what could only be assumed to be the front door. And there was even a little mailbox with a green flag.

You blinked in disbelief at the sight, and decided to turn your attention to the rest of the bedroom. The next thing that caught your eye was the nightstand, which was ebony to match the dresser. Maybe it was part of a set.

On the nightstand was a set of silk ribbons, a wristwatch, and a framed photo. You picked up the frame and saw yourself in a wedding gown, smiling while being hugged by a tall man with dark curls that framed his long, pale face. His eyes crinkled at the corner as he grinned, looking at the camera as if this were the happiest moment of his life. The two of you seemed so perfect together, maybe even in love. The photo was in black and white, so you couldn't say much about the color of his eyes. However, it was obvious that he was wearing a black suit with a lily boutonniere. Classy.

"Morning, darling!"

You looked up to see the same man from the photo, except his curls were dripping and he wore a fluffy, black bathrobe. It didn't take long for you to notice his striking cheekbones, and the besotted look in his eyes that almost resembled the way he looked in the photo. But in all fairness, the camera did not do his beauty complete justice.

He came closer to you and gently planted his lips on yours. He tasted of mint, and his skin smelled like rain. You slowly reciprocated the kiss, putting your fingers on his cheek.

"Were you taking a trip down memory lane?" The man fondly asked, glancing at the photo. "I still can't believe that was only two months ago. Can you?"

You shook your head.

He hugged you from behind and kissed the top of your hair. "I'll finish getting dressed, and then meet you in the kitchen for breakfast."

You climbed out of bed, oblivious to a ring on your left hand. "Where...where are you going,...darling?" You swallowed.

"To work," he chuckles. "Can't be starting a Nexus Event at my own workplace." The man examines himself in the dresser's mirror. Then, he opens a drawer, retrieves a small pot of facial moisturizer, and dabs it on his forehead, rubbing it in circles. "You know the TVA, darling."

"The...Time Variance Authority," you mumbled, watching his reflection. "I should...I should go."

You hurried out of the bedroom, down a long hallway filled with pieces of generic artwork, and into a kitchen.

"What do you think of having pancakes this morning?" The man could be heard asking while you entered what seemed to be the kitchen kitchen.

As if the place were taken straight from the 1950s, everything - the oven, the fridge, the cabinets, and even the wallpaper - was completely pastel green, a shade of seafoam. Why is there so much green in this house?, you asked yourself.

Maybe it was because you watched too many sitcoms, or had seen too many vintage photos, but the first thing you did was put on an apron that had been laying around. And then, you opened the fridge, which was fully stocked with everything: a full carton of milk, a dozen eggs, various vegetables, some cuts of meat wrapped in butcher paper, and cheddar cheese.

Pancakes, you thought to yourself, taking the eggs and milk out of the fridge. Thankfully, there was an unopened box of pancake mix on one of the kitchen countertops. Yes it was strange, cooking breakfast for a man whose name you didn't even know, but he'd been so sweet to you. And maybe if you were on his good side, you could actually get some answers about who he was. "Hm..." A few moments later, while you were mixing the pancake batter in a large bowl, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. "I just can't get enough of you." The man's dulcet voice tickled your ears.

You laughed politely as he kissed your cheek. When you looked over your shoulder, you noticed he was wearing a white button-down shirt , a dark tie, and brown dress pants that showed off his perfectly-tight ass. For a moment, it made you blush. Apparently, the man noticed...and promptly winked in your direction.

As you heated the pan and greased it with butter, you could hear the man pouring himself a cup of coffee or tea, and then opening a newspaper.

"I'm cancelling drinks with Mobius tonight," the man casually said. "Coming straight home after work."

Not knowing at all who he could be referring to, you scooped the batter into the pan and watched it sizzle. "Why?"

He flipped a page of the newspaper. "Because he's making me watch another set of boring trading videos today. It's tedious, honestly." The man smiles when the scent of warm pancakes reaches his nose. "What I wouldn't give to be back on our honeymoon."

"Me too," you lied, placing the golden-brown pancakes onto a plate.

The man set the news paper aside and walked up to you, stroking your hair. "Maybe, tonight...we could even finish what we started on our honeymoon."

"Oh?" You found yourself smiling while you flipped two pancakes.

He whispered, "We could continue trying for a baby."

Don't burn the pancakes. Do NOT burn the pancakes. Blinking, you placed the two new ones with the rest of them on a plate, trying not to let your hand tense around the spatula. "A baby..." You put the plate of pancakes on the dining table, gently pushing aside the newspaper.

Next to the paper was a laminated id badge. It read, 'Time Variance Authority, Name: Loki Laufeyson, Role: Variant, ID: L1130'. You swallowed. struggling to look away from the badge as you tried to understand who the man really was. "Loki?"

"Those smell amazing, darling." Loki sat down and drizzled syrup on the pancakes. Then, procuring a bottle out of thin air, he sprayed a large peak of whipped cream on top.

You handed him a fork and knife, watching him begin to eat.

"Mm!" He moaned, closing his eyes for a moment. "This is delicious! Mm, I knew I married the right woman."

"Married?"

Loki chuckled before feeding you a forkful of pancake, syrup and whipped cream. "I love you more every day, Mrs. Laufeyson."

You gave him a gentle smile while chewing. "I...I love you more, Mr. Laufeyson." You made two pancakes for yourself, turned off the stove, and ate them while sitting across the table from Loki. How could it be possible that you were married to the God of Mischief, the younger prince of Asgard, the frost giant?

While eating, you glanced at your left hand, surprised by the sight of an elegant emerald ring with a gold band placed on your middle finger. But before you could ask Loki about any of this, the God of mischief put his now-empty plate in the sink. "I'd best be off now." He put his arm around your shoulder and pecked you on the lips. "Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow."

Loki walked towards the door with a brown jacket and a briefcase. "Wait! Loki!" You followed him out of the kitchen. "You forgot your badge."

Loki smiled, tapping the left side of his chest. "Pin it here, darling." He watched you with nothing but pure, unadulterated affection. "What would I do without you?" When you'd gotten the badge on his shirt, Loki gave you one last kiss. "No matter what happens," he softly said your name, "never doubt that I love you. I'll see you tonight, darling."

Taglist: @lokischambermaid @lokiismineforever @lokidbadguy @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @smolvenger @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @wolfsmom1 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life @huntress-artemiss @itsdoni @gruftiela @ellooo0ooo @ireallyneedtherapy @jennyggggrrr @anukulee @turniptitaness

[marvelseries19]

A CHRISTMAS IN NORWAY

Pairing: Leah Williamson x reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: After two years of being together and on your second Christmas, you both decide to spend the holiday in your home country.

A/N: This is my first fic about real people, so please don't be too critical about it. I'm absolutely open to reading ideas, opinions, questions, etc. Just remember to be respectful. Be aware that I know nothing about Norway, and English is my second language. I know it's a little all over the place but I'm just trying to get out of the worst mental block I've ever had, also the ending might be a little rush, but I kinda ran out of inspiration at the end so, I just hope it makes sense.

Warnings: + 18, Suggestive

Word count: 0.9k+

[You do not have permission to repost or translate any of my stories or claim them as yours]

Your room is softly lit by sunlight that seeps through the open curtains, creating a gentle glow on your bed's white comforter and helping to wake you up. The warmth of the sunlight creates a cozy and peaceful atmosphere, making it difficult to resist getting out of bed.

When you come to, there's a weight over your waist that belongs to your girlfriend's arm. You gradually stretch and turn to face the blonde, who has a happy smile on her face. You are enthralled by the way the morning light plays on her cheeks and the fluff of her lashes as she wakes up. You can't help but feel a surge of love and contentment as you realize how lucky you are to have her in your life.

You extend your hand and run a finger along her sharp jawline, causing her to smile drowsily. You exchange glances and appreciate, in silence, the wonder of this moment: the beauty of the snow-covered Norwegian landscape of your hometown, the closeness of being enveloped in each other's warmth, and the quiet of the winter morning.

"Good morning, Elske." You said it in a quiet voice, not wishing to shatter the peaceful atmosphere you two had built. She mumbled a good morning as she drew closer and hid her head in the crook of your neck. You could feel her lips brushing against your skin, leaving gentle kisses.

"How did you sleep?" You asked while gently drawing random shapes on her bare back, neither of you bothering to put some clothes on the night before. "I always sleep great when I'm with you." You could feel the smirk on her face on your neck. "Cheeky." You chuckled.

Suddenly, Leah detached herself from you, straddling your hips, the sheet falling from her frame, leaving her bare under your waze. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer. "I feel at disadvantage here." You uncovered yourself from the sheets as you met her gaze. A mischievous grin spread across your face. "Well, how about now?" The blonde couldn't hold it anymore, and she leaned down closer to your face. "Yeah, that works," she said while finally closing the distance between the both of you, locking her lips with yours. The kiss was electrifying, sending a rush of desire through your body. As your lips moved in sync, the room filled with an intoxicating mix of passion and anticipation. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in the heat of the moment.

You spend the next hour just basking in the love and warmth you found in each other before you decide to take a shower and go out for breakfast.

--

Walking hand in hand, the sound of your steps blends with the far-off cries of seagulls and the infrequent hum of a passing bicycle. The aged wooden structures with their colorful paint jobs and ornate facades that evoke earlier times serve as vivid reminders of the past. A soft golden light filters through the narrow streets, casting elongated shadows that dance along the colorful walls. The aroma of hot coffee and freshly baked bread wafts from the surrounding cafés, tempting you to follow your nose to find the perfect spot for breakfast.

After a while, Leah started to feel the cold. Lucky for her, you found a cozy cafe. Its wooden interiors and inviting warmth make it a refuge from the cold outside. As you step through the door, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the sweet scent of pastries, instantly enveloping both you and your girlfriend in a comforting embrace.

The place hums with a gentle buzz of conversation and the clinking of cups against saucers. Soft acoustic music plays in the background, adding to the relaxed atmosphere.

The menu boasts a delightful array of Scandinavian pastries—warm cinnamon rolls, flaky pastries filled with berries, and traditional Norwegian cakes—all displayed enticingly on the counter, enticing customers with their delectable taste.

It was an understatement to say that it was hard to make a choice, but since you would end up sharing whatever you ordered, it didn't matter that much. "This looks amazing; I don't know why we didn't come here sooner," Leah said while your order was placed in front of you. "I can't wait to dig in!"

"I'm glad you enjoy it, baby," you replied, eagerly grabbing your fork and taking the first bite. The food was incredibly delicious; Leah's eyes lit up with delight as she savored her first bite, her taste buds dancing with pleasure, and you couldn't take your eyes off of the blonde.

The start of the relationship had been a bit rocky, with both of you dancing around your feelings for a while. It took a rather harsh push from your friends to make you confess your feelings, and now you couldn't be more grateful for them.

"You're staring, you know?" She said it with a smirk on her face. "Well, can you blame me?" You replied, unable to resist her charm. "Thank you for coming with me, Elske." She grabbed your hand over the table, intertwining her fingers with yours. "There's no place I'd rather be, baby."

The rest of the day was filled with laughter, adventure, and kisses. You couldn't help but fall deeper in love with her while you showed her every place that meant something to you. As the sun sets, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you realize that you have found your soulmate. Well, rather confirmed that she was; after all, you knew that from the moment you met her. She was the missing piece to your puzzle. And you were hers.

[loveindefinitely]

03 — 𝘎𝘖𝘛 𝘔𝘌 𝘋𝘖𝘞𝘕 𝘖𝘕 𝘔𝘠 𝘒𝘕𝘌𝘌𝘚

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

When you wake up in the morning -- or, you suppose, what you can only guess is the morning -- you're not in the same position you fell asleep in.

No.

When you wake up, it's to free hands. No handcuffs, and no ache in your shoulders from the uncomfortable position. There's a dull throb, but that's more likely from the events that had transpired long before being cuffed to a bed.

What you wouldn't do for some painkillers. Both for your sore muscles, and the impending headache that you have no doubt will appear within the next couple hours, if not minutes.

It's dark. The same pure black that you'd fallen asleep to last night.

Sitting up, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve, you stretch out your back with an elongated sigh, yawning not too shortly after.

Wiping at dreary eyes with the heel of your palm, you think.

Properly, fully, allow yourself to think over the past twenty-four hours. Process it, if not fully, then enough for you to get some sort of hold on your emotions. And, if not those, then at least enough to grapple a sort of understanding with your current predicament.

You were... compromised.

That was putting it lightly, sure, but it was also the truest statement to come out of all of this. You were compromised, at a military base, one which you'd previously never been to before.

The same military base that your father worked at, apparently. One that he served for.

The one that would now be reporting him as KIA. Or, whatever other term they used for murdering their own squad member.

"He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."

That's what Price had said before you'd succumbed to less tangible nightmares than the ones you were currently living in. Your father -- he was awful to you, you were nothing if not aware of that fact, but --

He'd killed people, if Price was to be trusted. And, considering your predicament, he really shouldn't be.

But...

Intel was intel. You'd learnt that through years of living that truth, in circles of gossip and whispering schoolgirls on the playground. Information was, at its core, one of the most sought-after weapons for any army, no matter the size.

Whether that army be a high-school debate team, or one that aimed to create bloodshed at its own hands.

You'd been kidnapped. Fact. You assaulted two very dangerous men. Fact. ...Your father was dead.

Fact.

The door to your -- room? Cell? Death chamber? -- creaks open, light flooding through the opening it's created. When you look up, you swallow down your anxiety as you see the silhouetted frame of Gaz, large hand wrapped around the door handle.

Silence, your most familiar of friends, welcomes you both once more as he shuts the door closed behind himself. Feeling over the wall to his left, he finds the light, turning it on and effectively blinding you.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face into your legs as spots dance in your vision.

"Shit, my bad," Gaz hisses, sounding appropriately genuine. There's something about the insultingly-handsome man that makes your posture soften, your heartbeat slowing in the most comforting of ways.

It's annoying.

He's annoying.

You lift your head from where it rests, but only enough to reveal your unamused glare and cold-bitten nose.

He stands, almost awkward in the small space, looking around it like it will reveal all the secrets he could ever wish to discover. All that they tell him is that Price needs to hire an interior designer.

"How'd you sleep?" The man settles on, a hesitant smile on his face as he meets your glacial eyes.

Those same eyes shift into ones of saccharine falsehoods as you shoot him the fakest smile you've ever had to construct. "Splendid, thank you! Y'know, the handcuffs really are great for comfort, and so is the smell of bleach and... yes, don't worry, the memories of seeing you guys kill my dad is a great feature to have in my dreams."

Watching Gaz's smile slip more and more with every word out of your mouth feels a little like a reward, and you accept it as such.

By the time you've finished, his expression is one displaying full distraught, as though your presence has caused him grey hairs within seconds.

Serves him right, you think triumphantly.

"Look... I dunno what I'm allowed to say," Gaz drags his hand down his face, before leaving it to rest at his chin, as if in thought. "But... you're not a prisoner here."

You scoff a mock of a laugh, no humour in its delivery. "Oh, how could I ever think as much?"

"Come have breakfast." The words -- they spill out, as if crashing into one another like a train wreck. Gaz, for his part, doesn't take his request back. Refuses to go back on his word -- a trait belonging to a seasoned operative.

Men who'd worked on the field were all too aware of their vows' weight in gold.

"With us. Price is 'n meetings and shit, but... join us. Ghost'll cook," Gaz insists, and --

"And I'm supposed to trust the man who shot my father dead to cook for me?" You ask, incredulous as you sit up straighter, gaze zoned in on the man standing before you, like a bomb aiming for its target.

Deadly precision. Deadly consequences.

His dark brows pinch together, and his hand falls from his handsome features reluctantly. "I can cook for you, if you'd prefer."

And maybe you're playing with fire. Being entirely, wholly too trusting, too hopeful that some kindness will be shown to you after the wretched experiences you've had to endure.

Or...

Maybe you just like the feeling of being burnt by the flames.

"Fine," the word comes out as a breath, but it's as loud as a scream when spoken within these four white walls. "I don't want to see Ghost."

Gaz, albeit apprehensively, nods. "That's... alright, love. He'll eat in 'is room."

"Use that pet name for people who reciprocate the feeling," you clip, standing on shaky legs. The mess that was yesterday seems to be affecting you on all fronts, which is nothing if not disappointing.

With a sharp intake of a breath, Gaz sharply nods, before gesturing towards the door with an open palm.

When you leave your, what you've decided to refer to as a cell, Gaz keeps as close to you as possible without your skin brushing. It's oddly thoughtful, considering that your current relationship stood somewhere closer to captor and captee, not cherry-popper and virgin.

...Although, that comparison was still accurate.

Sadly.

Kinda sadly?

Look, they were hot, but in the same way that the Nephilim were deemed to be dangerously attractive. Ruthless, murderous -- and heartachingly beautiful.

The problem came when weighing the value of such characteristics. Shame that you cared about their personality and morals, really.

Looking around, you try and register your surroundings as best as possible.

The hallway is empty. No armed guards, no military personnel -- just paved concrete walls, and a turnoff or door every few paces.

It's not at all what you'd expected of a SAS base, but then again, you didn't exactly have specific blueprints in mind. Kind of hard to research when, not even thirty hours ago, you had thought that your dad was a business man.

...And the fact that you had no clue where in the country you actually were.

"Where are we?" You ask, in a whisper -- although there's no reason for the low tone -- and he responds with a raised brow.

"That's classified information, I'm afraid."

"How do I become classifiable?"

He huffs a laugh, and those dimples of his come out to play once more.

They're as annoying as the rest of him, you think, snapping your head to your left to avoid so much as breathing too close to him.

You stop walking when Gaz does, his footsteps going silent as he levels a knowing look to his right.

It's then that you hear an American, strict voice from the other side of the door Gaz has stopped at. When you shoot him a questioning look, he simply brings his pointer finger to his mouth, tipping his head towards the shut oak door.

Shut up. Got it.

"He's good," that unfamiliar, unnerving -- your mind unhelpfully supplies -- voice says. "And he knows too much. Price, neutralising him is our only bet -- find him, and take him out."

"Didn't realise being a hitman was part of the job requirements," Price snips back. You think that you can hear the puff of a cigar after he speaks those words, but it's difficult to hear with the solidity of the wall between you both.

Your eyes go wide, and when they meet Gaz's own serious ones, he shakes his head so subtly you almost think you've imagined it.

"Son, your 'job requirements' require you to protect the damn state. Killing Andromeda is vital to that end goal."

"I hardly think so. A hacker with no affiliations? Hell, General, you're pulling at straws here." His accent's thicker, more pronounced, when he's pissed off. Not in the way he'd been with you -- this was more raw, more... genuine, in a way.

You don't get long to revel in this discovery, before new ones take the forefront.

The other man in the room's voice is sterner, louder than it had been before when he speaks next. "Andromeda is a threat to humanity. What we do is secret for a reason, soldier. This information gets out, and millions are in danger."

"Andromeda has yet to make a single threat, General."

"And we'd best make sure that he never does."

"I --"

"That's an order, Captain."

Silence remains for a heavy beat after that final command, before Gaz gently grasps your wrist, pulling you to walk swiftly through the hallway by his side.

It isn't until you both meet what you assume to be the mess hall that you finally breathe. You aren't sure when exactly you'd forgotten to perform that basic function, but now that air fills your lungs, it burns.

"What --" You begin, but forcibly halt the word-vomit that was about to explode from your mouth.

Gaz looks tense, uncharacteristically so. His grip hasn't removed from your wrist, so you tug your limb free forcefully. That seems to snap him out of whatever daze he's in, as thoughtful brown eyes meet yours in question.

You swallow, once, before continuing at a much safer speed. "Why did you want to eavesdrop?" You ask at a low tone, and you realise that he's moved you both to the corner of the kitchen, away from prying eyes. He's willing to talk, if that decision means anything.

You hope that it does.

He looks away, for a moment, going to pace nervously on the tiled floor of the cooking area.

There's a few seconds that pass before he answers.

"Needed to hear it for myself," is all he supplies. As if those words are supposed to make any sense to you --

But they do. It's the first thing to make sense in hours.

"So... you lot have to kill this guy?" You ask, voice not wavering once. It's a feat in and of itself.

Gaz halts his pacing abruptly, thumb pulling at his lower lip in an anxious movement. It's a startling thought when you remember how those very lips had been pressed against your own not too long ago.

Now, you could happily die without having to see them again.

...Go figure.

"We have to find him. That's the hard part -- fucker's great at what he does," Gaz grits out the compliment like it's a physical pain, a blow to his side. Dramatic, but effective.

You raise a brow. "And... this is your job... why, exactly? Are you all tech-pros or some shit?"

He makes a grumbling sort of sound, like a petulant child. "...No. We're stuck. And, hell, the guy's done jackshit except bypass all of our servers' firewalls just to prove that he can. No violence. No threats. Nothing."

"Why're you telling me this?" It's not at all the question that needs answering, in fact, it's so far down your importance ranking that it's truly a mystery why you ask it.

He doesn't miss a beat. "I trust you. Trust my gut. Never failed me before, and -- I saw. In your room. You have a setup, yeah?"

The confession startles you, and you nod along with his words, completely hiding your inner shock. Shock that he'd paid close enough attention. "Yeah, I do. Play games and stuff. Why?"

"You can --" His words are disjointed, a myriad of thoughts forming a mess of a sentence, "Need family, yeah? Place to stay? Help us with -- Yeah."

Your eyes narrow. "What the fuck are you on about? I'm not helping a bunch of murderers, just to be charitable."

It's laughable when you put it plain as day, and Gaz groans, realising his absolute disaster of a proposal.

"Fuck. I mean -- if you're good with code. You could help us find him -- you'd be a great asset, you know? And... it'd help you too. We could hire you --"

"Dinnae realise ye were holdin' an interview without us."

You turn, the action instinctual, before your eyes land on Soap, leaning against the bit of wall behind you and Gaz that hides you from sight.

He's got a plaster over his nose, but the swelling and bruising has calmed down a surprising amount considering the time frame.

"How the fuck did that heal so quick? Not a good enough throw, military man?" You goad, as if to catch up for the time you'd spent being civil with Gaz. Needed to keep up your quota somehow.

Soap's smirk deepens, becomes more akin to the one of a devil holding the forbidden fruit in front of your nose. "Quick? Ken a week 'nd a bit is solid."

It takes a moment for those words to hit you properly, and when they do, you take an unsure step back. "What...?"

"Jesus christ, Johnny," Gaz mutters, and you store that little name slip for later. He pulls you back around to face him, face unreadable for once. "You were... out for a ten days."

Ten. Days.

Wincing, you look to the roof for an answer. It doesn't respond, but you reach the conclusion yourself.

....You were so dead.

a/n. thank u all SO MUCH for the love on this fic!! it means so much to me. im gonna be honest. ive planned MULTIPLE plot twists, and i really really really hope that i can pull them off. if u guys have any theories for ANYTHING pls comment them!! tell me all about ur thoughts!! im curious to see if anyone catches anything that will be important later on. also! i made a spotify playlist for this fic!! i highly recommend listening to it while reading -- it's the general vibes i've gone for! again, all comments, reblogs and follows mean the worldddd to me!! mwah mwah

taglist. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll @elijahssuit @character---obsessed @ilove-masked-men @arithestrawberry @undercover-smutlover @sugarystuff @khodarling @the-hotsibling @kkaaaagt @sleepyoriana @jalepp @yannauauau @thriving-n-jiving @catmouseggy @jng-yuan @cacacattz @yaebaal @hayleybarnesx @squidalapobre @selcouthsky @ash-tarte @head-slut-in-charge @giannags-billetdoux @creamwhxre @moonlightflorence @maliagurl @airyonna15

[iamasaddie]

if my life is mine, what shouldn't I do?

PIMP!Joel masterlist paring: Joel Miller x fem!afab!Reader rating: explicit word count: 5.2k summary: There’s tension between you and Joel, and you, are failing to understand why the man’s behavior changed. You are placed before a choice once again. warnings (for the chapter): angst; angry Joel; emotionally unavailable Joel; oral (f receiving); unprotected PinV (‼️); light praise kink; light dirty talk a/n: this honestly took a lot from me. thanks to @multiversed-daydreamer for being my beta for this chapter, ily bby <3

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

Morning was gloomy. It’s been bucketing down all night, and instead of finding the sound peaceful, you struggled to find sleep. The past three days the weather in the QZ became worse and worse, and you could say the same about Joel’s mood. You doubted it was because of the clouds, but as the wind tried to break flimsy-looking wooden window frames, Joel started breaking things around the house. Accidentally, or so he said. 

It wasn’t that you were afraid of him, but you found yourself trying to be less and less in his presence. For some reason, unsure that you wouldn’t be another thing he accidentally breaks. His usually light-hearted demeanor and stupid quips turned into constantly furrowed brows and snarky remarks. You tried to find the reason for such a drastic change, but couldn’t. Maybe it was something outside. Something besides the rain. Deep down, you knew it wasn't just external factors causing Joel's sudden shift in behavior, you just couldn’t quite put it together.

You shivered under your blanket, trying to get warmer with your knees pressed tightly to your chest. It felt like the dampness seeped through the walls and gradually started soaking into your bones, making whatever clothes you had useless. 

"Fuck," you muttered to yourself and started running cold palms up and down your legs, to bring some warmth to no avail. The rain was still assaulting the only window in the living room, and with dark clouds overtaking the skies it was almost impossible to see without turning the lights on. You knew it was morning, your biological clock was the only thing that worked properly in your body, but you could see fuck all. Still, unwilling to somehow wake Joel up, you decided to go to the kitchen, surrounded by almost darkness. You wrapped your blanket tighter around your body and paddled to the kitchen, dragging your socked feet on the wooden floors. 

"Where did he put his fucking tea?" You discovered a weird habit of talking to yourself when you were alone now. Living with four people and working with even more before you moved here made you cherish every moment of silence you had, but now, when there were plenty, it felt weird to not hear someone talking all the time.

"It's in the cupboard above you."

You jumped out of surprise, not hearing Joel come up quietly from behind. His voice was groggy with sleep and already irritated. 

"You scared the shit out of me," you exclaimed, your heart still pounding. Joel rolled his eyes. 

"Didn't think I'd startle you considering I am in my house, and it shouldn't be a surprise for you that I get up in the morning to go to my kitchen to drink a cup of my coffee from my mug," Joel muttered, his annoyance evident in his voice.

You felt anger bubbling in your veins as you tried to put down the cup you were holding in your hands as lightly as you could manage so you didn’t break it. What the fuck was his problem? Surely he wasn’t angry you didn’t have any more lessons after you sucked him off, right? It‘s not like you were against it, he just never said anything and you felt weird to ask. But that didn’t give him the right to treat you like that.

"What the hell, Joel, did you get your period or something?"

"No, I didn't get my fucking period, but it looks like I will be bleeding soon since you're draining me this good." You stared at him not blinking, his jaw clenched and you could swear you heard his teeth grinding against each other. "You've been here for more than a fucking week, and I don't see any money coming in my pocket, you just keep eating, and wasting my hot water, and…-"

The blood pumping in your ears made it almost impossible to hear what he was saying, you saw his lips moving, baring his teeth, but it was like you had cotton in your ears. Your chest started rising and falling faster, your breathing rate accelerating. You felt your back muscles tense up and tried to shake your head before starting to talk over Joel.

"You were the one who told me I needed to learn first to…-" 

It was his turn to interrupt you.

"I know what the fuck I said. Just didn’t think you’d take so fucking long." He turned on his heels, stomping out of the room and you were ready to scream, quivering with frustration, but he seemed to change his mind, turning back around and rushing towards you. His face hardened, the redness of it fading as he looked you in the eyes. "Today's the last lesson. I'm going out, get yourself ready, take a bath. I'm gonna show you basic positions, and you’ll start working Monday.''

"But…" His words felt like a final sentence, the judge's hammer hitting you right on the head, and all the words that you could say remained in the form of "o" on your lips. Before he left the apartment, he turned to you once more, taking in your sunken form. 

"You can leave if you change your mind. If you're here when I'm back I will take it as you made the decision to stay." Your heart throbbed with uncertainty as his words reverberated in your mind.

You felt desperation mounting on with every step that you took towards the bathroom. Yes, he said you still had a choice, but in reality, there was only one option, and both of you knew that. When you stepped into the familiar space and turned on the shower, you didn’t feel the temperature of water running down your tight skin. Unfortunately for you, you quickly grew fond of the perfect little moments of enjoying Joel’s hot shower every day, prolonging your stay under the warm spray by three minutes every day, which apparently pissed Joel off. Today was different, however, and you wanted to get out as soon as possible. 

Your mind was fogged as much as the small room you occupied, the only thing cutting through your dullness was fear of the quickly approaching uncertainty. You didn’t know where it came from, since you had been preparing yourself for what was about to come from the moment you said “yes” to Joel now more than a week ago. You just thought you’d have more time. Even if you didn’t know what you needed that time for. You still hadn’t seen the place where you were going to work. Joel said he’d show you around it soon, it looked like ‘soon’ meant Monday. 

If only you knew what you did wrong. Was it something that you said that prompted him to turn his attitude 180? Or was it all a fucking act from the beginning, and now he was just showing his true colors? 

You started replaying your moments together from day one. He was never overly polite or gentle, but he seemed honest, and you’d grown to respect that. You got used to him speaking his mind, be that less than kind comments about your cooking skills the only time you tried to make breakfast; or the amused snort when you suggested to suck him off on the second day of your period “to practice some more”. You remembered the overwhelming hot wave of embarrassment taking over you from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet when he barked a laugh and shook his head, saying that you were good. Was that the reason for the change in his behavior? Because that was the day it all began. Were you too eager? Too annoying? Did he think you faked your inexperience to get a warm place and a full belly for a lesser price? 

Fuck.

You hated being in the dark, both literally and metaphorically. His honesty was a gulp of fresh air that made you slowly build some trust, even if it was one-sided, and now he became as confusing as the rest of them. Or, again, maybe he always was, you were just too fucking naïve to see. 

Your soapy hands moved along your body on autopilot, and you only realized you washed your hair when the bubbly water started stinging your eyes. You hurried to face the water and tried to wash as much of it off as it was possible, rubbing your eyes until you saw colorful dots dancing behind your eyelids. 

Still clueless about the reason for Joel to be mad, you made a decision to think of it as him showing his real face. There was nothing wrong with you, he was just an asshole. And tonight you were going to fuck that asshole. Or, rather, he was going to fuck you. You could only hope that he’d be fast, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you because you were his investment, but you didn’t know if he’d care enough to make you come. After all, he did tell you that your pleasure would never be on your future clients’ agenda. 

You turned the water off, shaking as the coldness of the room started sinking into your skin, and put on his borrowed t-shirt and a pair of simple black cotton panties he brought you on the day you started your period. You figured there was no reason for you to put on pants, as what was ahead of you asked for even fewer clothes than you were currently wearing. Finding your usual spot on the couch, you threw a blanket over yourself, the room smelled musty and damp, and the rain kept beating staccato on the windows matching your heartbeat with its rapid taps. You felt tears biting the corners of your eyes and hurried to wipe them before they could stain your cheeks. You were going to be fine. You didn’t know why you were so sure, but it was like intuition inside you telling you that no matter what, you were going to get through it and you were going to be fine.

"You’re gonna grit your teeth, ride his cock, and then you’re gonna be fine." You whispered to yourself, clenching the soft material of your blanket in your fists. "You're gonna be fine, baby. You always are."

Exhaustion overtook your body quicker than you could realize, and your sleepless night ended up in you blacking out in the most uncomfortable position on the couch in the middle of the day. You opened your eyes when you felt a burning sensation on your face, and for a second you thought that was the sun shining through the window and warming your skin up. But it wasn't the sun, it was Joel. When you saw his brooding figure towering over you, your heart leaped into your throat. You felt it pounding there, cutting off your airflow. Joel’s brows furrowed, a deep crease forming between them, as he watched you choke on your own spit and start coughing. You wiped saliva from the corner of your mouth with the back of his hand, and when he was sure you were looking at him, he nodded his head toward his room. It was a pretty clear gesture, and you followed him silently, uneasy because he didn’t say a word. 

His movements were slow, calculated. As you closed the creaking door, he was already taking his button-down off, revealing a washed-out, once-upon-a-time white undershirt. You froze. You had never seen him undressed. Even when you stood on your knees in front of him, he only took his jeans halfway down. At first, you thought he might have been insecure, after all, he’s not a young boy, and no one looked good in the New World anyway, it wasn’t a priority anymore. But seeing him freeing himself so easily now, apparently, you made a mistake in your judgment. You were brought back to reality with the clinking sound of him unbuckling his belt.

He seemed very comfortable with his nudity with how easily he untucked and took off his undershirt. It was the first time you saw his chest, and as you saw him, a quiet gasp left your lips. Something he chose to ignore, folding his shirt instead. It was… a lot to take in. His skin was golden, a bit lighter than his arms, and you could clearly see the t-shirt form of his tan, he was mostly hairless, except for the curly trail of salt and pepper hair going from his navel and hiding into his jeans. But what made your eyes widen was the amount of ugly scars across his skin. Some were new, some old, you could tell by the different shades of red or white. You could also see at least three badly healed bullet holes: one on his shoulder, and two closer to his lower stomach. His body was telling you a story of battles fought and wounds endured. A story of Joel’s survival, something you thought you’d never hear from the man himself.

"You… You fought a lot?" You couldn't stop the question from leaving your lips, and Joel winced when you vaguely pointed at his naked chest, not picking one scar but all of the ones you could see instead.

"Don't ask your clients that. Ever." He clenched his jaw, not meeting your eyes.

"No, I know, I wouldn't, I just thought you… Anyways, yeah. Sorry." You hated when you started babbling, but no matter how hard you tried to control it, you couldn't stop.

"Jesus." Joel sighed, shaking his head. He did that a lot. "Just take off your clothes and get on the bed, okay?"

You nodded, grabbing the end of the t-shirt that dwarfed you in your clammy fingers. As you struggled to peel it off, you felt a rush of vulnerability swirl within you. He had already seen you naked, so there was nothing new for either of you. More than that, he already had his fingers inside you deeper than yours ever were. And still, your palms are dampened with cold sweat.

"When the client tells you to undress, he expects that the process won’t take the whole fucking hour he’d paid for."

He hadn't been calling you a rabbit for a few days now, and you hated how much you missed the stupid nickname. As if with it, the warmth that used to make his house different was gone. You nodded, more to yourself than to him, and took off the t-shirt in one swift movement, leaving yourself bare in front of him save for the panties. Joel tsk’d. "When you’re at work, you don’t wear panties unless it’s required by the client. It’s usually not. And even then, you don’t wear something like that," Joel scolded, disappointment filling his voice.

"You brought me these." You felt smaller than a fucking ant, embarrassment and uncertainty hunching your back, trying to protect the grains of your dignity by crossing your arms over your tits. There was no familiar surge of desire that you had gotten used to feeling when Joel was near. It was psychological, you said to yourself before, your body associated him with pleasure, so you felt that buzzing heat in your lower belly whenever he was in your periphery. But it was gone now, nothing now was even close to that exciting feeling. Cold tied your bones, and you thought that you looked now more like a prey, rather than a sexy predator that you were supposed to be. You glanced at Joel, trying to decipher the subtle changes in his expression. You noticed his furrowed brow and the slight tension in his jawline.

"Just, lose the shit and get on the bed, okay?" You felt a wave of disappointment wash over you as Joel's words pierced through you. He was never rude before. A bit condescending to your immaturity at times, yes. But never this fucking… rude. You couldn't let his harsh words discourage you, so you simply nodded, putting on a harder shell as you dropped the items of your clothing on the floor where you stood, and awkwardly crawled on his bed. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as soft as the couch you’d been sleeping on, the mattress harder and more firm under your hands and knees. You plopped on your back, staring at Joel patiently. You tried your best to not let your vulnerability show, burying your trembling hands beneath you as if to hide the unease creeping up inside you.

Joel followed suit, discarding his jeans and boxers in one go, avoiding your eyes but looking all over your naked body. You noticed that he forgot to take off his socks, but didn’t mention it. He got on the bed, his body towering on top of you, and you felt that you started to suffocate with so much of him around you. His weight pressed down on your chest, making it even harder to catch your breath. 

"Aren’t you going to.. um.. say something?" You tried to calm down your breathing, nowhere near aroused. Joel lifted his brows as he looked at you. There was something more inside the brown pools than just anger or annoyance.

"Men won’t pay you for a chat." He spat, his words a dull echo in your buzzing brain. He dropped next to you, not crowding your body with his anymore, instead giving you a different command. "Get on your hands and knees."

"What?"

"Get on your hands and knees, goddamnit, that’s the most popular position. Higher to the pillows."

You scrambled to do what he said, physical vulnerability was something you could deal with, you told yourself. Or it was something you had to learn how to deal with. The moment when he got behind you was awkward, you didn’t speak, you almost tried not to breathe. When you felt Joel’s massive hands engulfing your hips, you closed your eyes, waiting for something, anything. He spread your asscheeks, two of his thumbs holding you open and reflectively you tried to close your thighs together. 

"Don’t." Was the only thing he said, as he continued squeezing your asscheeks. You understood that it was for something other than pleasure. The only thing you realized was that when arousal and want don’t clog your mind with intoxicating fog, sex is weird. You start to analyze your movements, how the position must look ridiculous, and why do people even bother sticking their genitals into each other? Your train of thought was interrupted when Joel slid his index finger down your slit, your folds sticking to his dry thumb, betraying your lack of arousal. 

You heard Joel inhale, it wasn’t irritated or surprised (you didn’t notice how you learned the different ways he inhaled), it was just deep. You could almost see how his naked chest rose and fell.

"Are you afraid of me?"

His question caught you off guard and you had to think about it for a second. Were you? You were definitely intimidated by his power, his strength, but that had never stopped you from feeling that pinch of heat in your lower belly when he was near. And now you were just… confused? Sad? No, you were definitely not afraid of him. You shook your head.

"No, Joel. I am not afraid of you."

"Okay."

You heard the bed creak and you thought he was going to leave you, leave the room, get annoyed that you weren’t ready. But instead, you just felt the mattress shift, and then a wet persistent stripe being dragged from your clit to your entrance. You jumped, "Fuck!"

He was... was he giving you oral? What the fuck, why would he do that? Not expecting such a thing, you moved further up the bed, detaching his face, or rather his tongue, from your pussy.

"Where the fuck are you going?" His hands grabbed you by the thighs, practically dragging you back into him, and he circled his arms around you so you couldn’t get away. 

His tongue was hot, and before he licked another stripe you felt him spitting right onto your core. Arousal that was nowhere to be found mere minutes ago showed its treacherous face, combining with a glob of Joel’s spit that dripped down your slit. "Do men pay to do that?" You stammered, knowing full well there was no way in hell men would pay to make a whore feel good. But why else would Joel do that to you now, then?

He hummed in your pussy and you felt goosebumps rushing from your ass and down your thighs, giving way to a new sensation. Joel unlatched his lips with a smack, "only the ones who have good taste."

"Oh, I just… I thought you’d just… fuck me."

"If I were to do that," the way he interrupted his sentences with wide stripes of his tongue, sliding the wet muscle from your now pulsing clit to dive into your welcoming entrance, drove you insane, "you’d not feel very good." 

"You want me to feel good?" Something trembled, and this time not just in your stomach.

"I don’t want you to feel bad." He answered flatly, diving back in with such vigor that you fell further on your elbows and pressed your head into the pillow that smelled like the man between your thighs.

You had never felt anything like it, when he alternated fat swipes of his tongue to piercing kitten licks on your clit, you wailed shamelessly. He made you feel more than good, your pussy fully dripping and you just hoped he wouldn't suffocate when you pushed your hips harder into him, resulting in his nose catching on your entrance. You couldn’t think about anything but the buzzing need to get your pleasure, chasing it like a wild hungry dog chasing a rabbit in the forest. You could swear you heard Joel call you a good girl in between the ravenous licks and nips. He was lapping at your juices, vulgar slurping noises interrupted by your sighs and moans. You felt something trickle on the back of your thighs and you wondered if it was sweat, your arousal, his saliva, or everything mixed together. Somehow the excessive bodily fluids didn’t disgust you, on the contrary, they ignited the fire inside you. When you felt like you were about to snap, Joel chose that exact moment to feed three of his fingers into your pussy. The stretch was sudden, and the sting scared your orgasm away, but it wasn’t terrible. He sucked on your clit, spreading his fingers inside you at the same time, which felt like too much. 

"Joel it’s, it’s too much." You whined, your voice muffled by the pillow you continued to bite with his every thrust.

"You’re okay, baby," he placed a kiss close to your entrance, licking your opening stretched around his fingers. "You gotta take it, so it feels better when I’m buried inside your pretty cunt. Okay?"

"O—fuck- kay. Okay." You took a deep inhale, the stretch bothering you less and less as his tongue continued abusing your twitching clit. Sometimes he would leave it to come back and lick all the expanse of your pussy up to your asshole. It’s like he wanted to clean you, instead of letting you create an even bigger mess.

When his fingers plunged into you with no resistance, when your gritted teeth relaxed, letting your moans out of your fucking soul, that’s when he stopped. 

"Why’d you…?" You snapped your head back, looking at him with confusion. Oh, what a sight he was. His chest marred with scars and wounds was accessorized by pink and red blotches, covered in sweat and glistening. The veins on his neck were prominent, like he was screaming, or tense, and his face. Fucking God, that face. Drenched from nose down, some of your juice still stuck to his scruff and he wasn’t in a hurry to wipe it off. No, instead he licked his lips slowly, burying your taste within his mouth, as his raven black eyes stared back at you. If that was how an animal looked at its prey, you were ready to become his meal. Nothing existed for you at that moment. No situations, no statuses. It was just raw pleasure, and he was the one providing (and denying) you with it. 

"I’m gonna fuck you now." As he said it, you looked lower where his hand, still slick with your wetness, tightened around his cock. It was ridiculous how it still looked massive in his enormous hands and your breath caught. If it was hard to fit his fingers, you couldn’t imagine shoving that thing up your pussy. How did you even manage to suck him off? He must’ve seen the hesitance on your face. "Don’t worry, baby, you can take much more than that."

You nodded, not quite believing his words as he came closer. Just the feeling of his tip at your entrance made you clench, and he squeezed your hip at first, the pain of his grip a satisfying distraction, and then he returned his fingers to your clit, holding his thick and throbbing shaft with three fingers of his left. "Relax, baby, it’s gonna be good, I promise," his murmur was gentler than you expected, gentler than before, and when he rolled your clit softly between his fingers, you felt him press a kiss to your shoulder blade. He’d never done that, he never kissed any part of you, and either out of surprise, or because you felt excitement drowning down your fear, you pushed your hips back, swallowing half of his tip. He took it as an open invitation, slowly pushing all of him inside you in one slow motion, making you regret your eagerness.

"Oh my god, oh my fucking fuck, what the fuck, oh no no no. Why are you so huge? How are you so huge? Are you part horse? What the fuck?" You couldn’t stop stupid words and questions from leaving your mouth as his length practically split you in two. You felt him with every tiny molecule of your body, it’s like his cock pierced you from your pussy and up into your throat, you could swear you felt his tip hitting your fucking glands. You heard him chuckle, but he stilled, only his fingers continued playing with your clit.

"It’s because you’re- fuck," he gritted through his teeth, resuming slow motions, "tight as fuck." It felt like it took you forever to get accustomed to his girth, his length, you thought you could count the veins on his cock just by feeling them with your pussy. "Relax, baby, come on. Make it good for yourself."

You wanted to snap at him, did he have any idea how much cock you had to take at that moment? But then he twisted his hips, punching a spot inside you that made you cry out, and not in pain. "Theeere we go," he almost sang. You didn’t say anything, couldn’t bring yourself to form any coherent sentences or even words as his speed increased. His fingers left your clit, instead finding their place on your hips. He almost treated you like a little rag doll, tugging you on his cock instead of pushing in himself. The heaviness of his balls bruised your sensitive pussy, and as you grew more and more used to the size of him, the sting of stretch bringing more pleasure than pain, your moans grew louder. His pace was relentless, your whimpers and his growls the only music accompanying the wet slaps of your body. The coarse hairs above his cock pillowed your ass, as he snapped his hips especially hard. You grew hungrier and hungrier with each time Joel’s tip bruised that spot that made you a dizzy whining mess. Now, you pushed yourself on him like you wanted to swallow even more of him, even though realistically you thought that if there was more of him you’d need to find a doctor. Your back arched with impending orgasm, you just needed a little bit more of… More of something. 

"Play with your clit, come on, you know how to do that," his voice sounded pained like he was on the verge of breaking. You followed his order, shoving your fingers between your swollen folds and finding your throbbing clit. You needed five hard strokes in total to drop down. Or to lift up into the heavens. Maybe both, because your body shuddered and you fell on the bedsheets, the sudden loss of Joel’s cock almost painful, as your mind and soul traveled to cloud nine and higher. You could barely make out his hisses and the wet sounds of his hand working his cock to completion until his cum hit your body trembling in the post-orgasmic bliss.

"Never let them cum inside of you, by the way." He said matter of factly, as he dropped on the bed next to your spent body, his cum tainting your asscheeks.

The silence of the room was broken by your loud breathing. Your lungs felt too small for the amount of air you tried to inhale. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say after everything, but the silence was more than uncomfortable. You felt your skin start to itch with every passing second, and you doubted it had anything to do with a sheen of sweat and his cum slowly drying up. 

"I know what you did." Joel’s voice was surprisingly even, no heavy breaths or husky rasps. You snapped your head to look at his face, he was staring at the ceiling. Your body was inches away, nothing but your bent knee touching his thigh connected you.

"Wh.." You weren’t given a chance to ask the question, Joel’s eyes meeting yours, fire dancing in the brown irises, but not the one that was there an hour ago.

"Don’t you even dare," he hissed, and you wanted to hide your head in your chest like a turtle. "You pull that shit again," he pointed his thick index finger at the wardrobe, and you felt like someone splashed you with a bucket full of ice. He knew. "Or anything close to it, and you're out of here. Not even out of the apartment, out of the picture, back on the fucking streets hungering to death, you got it?" Even though it was a question, it didn’t sound like it needed an answer. Hot embarrassment washed all over you and you felt it pooling in your eyes.

"I’m sorry." You whispered. You really were sorry, you shouldn’t have done what you did, but there was no way to take that back. You were mature enough to admit your mistake, but apparently, it wasn’t enough for Joel. He lifted himself laying on his side and facing you, keeping his body up by leaning on his elbow. Looking in your eyes for a second, he studied your features, you wondered what he saw there because his face didn’t soften.

"Answer my fucking question. You got it?"

You nodded and hurried to answer because you felt like your silence would only piss him off more.

"Yes, Joel, I got it."

"Okay." He stared at you for another long minute, his eyes gliding over your lower lip that was now trapped between your teeth in an attempt to keep any other words silenced. His nostrils flared with a heavy exhale, eyes closing as if he was exhausted, and then he dropped back to his pillow without opening them. "Now go," he said flatly, "I need some sleep."

don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter 🐇🤍

[13curses]

౨ৎ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐃𝐎𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 & 𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✗ geto suguru (𝟏𝟖+)

MDNI ⸝⸝ nsfw ⸝ f!reader ⸝ creampie ⸝ unprotected sex ⸝ reader is kinda dozing off ‘n sleepy but it's all consensual (ø somno) ⸝ a bunch of ass touching ⸝ backshots ⸝ needy dom!suguru ⸝ if all’s well it ends in cuddles

synopsis ꒱ suguru gets home from a long-winded mission and yes, he wants to feel the warmth of your shared bed, but his priorities are the warmth of your insides. ᡣ𐭩

wc ꒱ 2.5k a/n ꒱ FIRST FIC ON THIS BLOG WOOOO wrote this w a headache, the impending doom, the cheezbot as my only follower && the insatiable need to fuck suguru raaaawww mama. enjoy xoxo

suguru’s gaze is scrutinizing your body now. his big shirt that you obtained as pajamas is creased at your stomach, raised enough to give a little insight to your skin, near your navel where your left hand is resting. the blanket is covering most of your lower area, but it's messy enough to reveal about a quarter of your thigh, along with the line of your panties clinging to your hips. those black panties are the ones with a dainty white ribbon on them, he knows despite your fingers covering the detail. 

you're mesmerising when you're in a slumber.

your skin looks heated even from afar, your hand has just moved from his favorite accessory on your underwear, and you’ve just taken a sharp breath leading you to a soft sigh and a quiet moan as you turn on your side, your upper leg now wholly exposed—

suguru needs a shower. he decides as he grunts in a scoffing manner, rubbing his temple with one, then both hands as he drags himself from the door borders to the bathroom connected to the bedroom.

within the water crashing his skin, he breathes out as his muscles relax. at least he tries to get them to, alas most of the tensity is in his dick. to put it rawly, when observing your snoozing state suguru's come the conclusion that it's either nudging you awake or relieving himself under the hot rain in the shower. 

his baby's just come to terms with falling asleep without him being home, how could he interrupt?

he turns his back at the stream and reaches for his shaft that's been hardening since he's inspected you. a low, broken sigh escapes his mouth at the awaited touch, so he puts his free hand on the wall to steady his position, beginning to gently stroke his partially soft cock. 

drops are rolling down his broad back and the glass of the cabin begins to fog up. all five of his finger pads are working to rile himself up, to display his prick in its fullness. yet, it's being awfully stingy, as if signalling that the water at its highest temperature is merely not enough to replace the tight warmth of yours.

“mmh— oh, fuck this.” suguru fusses, akin to a whine in disguise, dropping his hand from the tiles. plan b: he's gonna conk himself out and as soon as he wakes up, he's initiating morning sex. 

his dick drops from his rugged palm, limping helplessly, and as he shakes his thoughts off in regards to waking you up, he grabs his significant shower gel.

     afterwards, suguru stands at the foot of your bed, brushed raven hair resting on his shoulders, his towel neatly wrapped around his waist.

you're curled up on your side, waiting for him to be your assigned big spoon, unaware of your surroundings and his nasty thought process.

the gears in his brain are rusting — would you mind not looking so delicious in even a dreamy state? 

but suguru is just a man, and you're everything, so he takes two steps forward, kneels on the bed and scoots close to you. his symbolic gel soon reaches your nose, and you move your head a little. when he's leaning over your smaller frame, you shift your legs in awareness. he scoffs through his nostrils and places a cragged hand on your cheek, his mint breath fanning your face. he places a kiss on your temple, then two, then more.

your eyelashes flutter, your eye movement under your lids quickens. they open, droopy. suguru's affable, he doesn't say a thing just yet — his thumb is caressing your jawline.

“suguru..” you murmur, only audible within inches.

“hey, baby.”

you shuffle, wrinkling the sheets as you extend your legs to turn on your back. 

“mhh, how long have you been home?” you rasp, your lidded eyes meeting his. his hand travels down your neck to your thigh, nuzzling it. god, the inner part was heated.

“not long. just got out of the shower.”

he fixes the lifted part of the shirt you're wearing, but near immediately tucks it back up to stroke your side.

“'can tell.” you smile mildly at his scent. he chuckles in a deep tone as you yawn, “if you're g'na sleep naked, that's fine, but just c'me to bed. you must've worked hard.”

you graze his arm with invitation then turn a hundred and eighty degrees to your stomach, laying your cheek on your left forearm that's sinking onto the the feather-filled pillow which your right arm is hugging from under.

“'n fix my blanket.”

again, the material's barely covering half your body, but in a cross, not vertically. most of your thigh is exposed and the cotton is wrapping your round ass so nicely.

suguru leans away, licking his lips before biting the lower. he tilts his head to the side, now biting his tongue in uncertainty. his lips are sealed, pressed, then they open.

“i was thinking about pulling it off, actually.”

his confession leaves your eyebrows furrowed as you mewl an inarticulated 'what' before speaking.

“why? 'ts cold.”

“to reach you,” he leans back, massive hand creeping up your back, under the borrowed shirt, “and touch you.. a little.”

“sugu..”

his needy wish is slipping right out.

“can i fuck you to sleep, sweetheart?”

if you hadn't been awaked by his addictive scent and need to communicate, you'd think you are dreaming right now. your tired truth at the moment is that your man is crazy.

“i can sleep just fine, thank you.” you skimp, and suguru nearly moans in pain, but surpasses it.

“you know what i mean. may i fuck myself to sleep, then?”

god, he was needy and if you were to say no, his only escape route from his advancing boner was to relieve himself in the bathroom.

you attempt to think clearly, but you’re cut off by yet another yawn that transforms into a mewl.

“suguuu...”

he swallows, but doesn’t miss the action of you squirming just a little at his lustful words, lazily rotating your hips to keep composure. your lashes flicker as you open your lids to not crash asleep before you can give this more thought (or perhaps the first one amidst your sleepy complains).

he’s ready to remove his damp towel and lie either next to you and wait until morning or crawl back to the washroom like a loser, but you lift your head and look behind. the most awake he’s seen you since he’s arrived.

“you need me that much?” 

you sound generous.

he snorts, “i’m not just horny. i miss your tight little pussy a deranged amount.”

now that one sends bolts down your core and makes you moan under your sealed lips, squeezing your knees. still, you’re drowsy, so if your man wants to have your pussy in any position, you can simply lay still. you rest your head on the cloudy cushion and embrace it with both hands.

“then have me.”

the implication that you’re giving him access while getting what you want, which is to relax, immediately goes into his cock, which is so proud it’s demanding the towel be removed with a twitch. suguru draws a long, relieved breath, tugs at the fabric and eliminates it, instantly bowing down to touch you freely. 

he begins peppering your neck with kisses, wandering to your earlobe for a whisper.

“thank you, doll.” his hot breath sends low chills down your skin, right where his hands are travelling, massaging your bare back, the behind of the shirt rolled up to your shoulder blades. “good fuckin’ girl..”

he hugs your ribs with his muscular forearm, roaming your boobs with his persuasive palm. as he grazes your nipple, you shiver. his free hand goes down to your butt, digging into your flesh as his army of kisses continues on your nape — all in favour of prepping your wetness. he dodges the blanket with his knee before you both get tangled in the sea of sheets. the cold blows your skin; you wince.

“it's okay, sweetheart, tss, i'm g'na warm you up alright,” suguru soothes you, seasoning his preparation with words that never miss to rile you up, “have you been thinking of me? hoping i'd get home earlier to take care of you and your sweet, sweet spots?”

not a long time passes prior to your arousal swimmimg through your folds, which suguru feels up by digging under your cotton panties, coaxing your balmy juices. he recognises the sign to pull your underwear off, lifting your calves to roll the material down your ankles. he frames your thighs with his; he's careful not to burden you with his weight, strong thighs flexing to keep his composition.

he grabs an unused cushion to place under your stomach, and you assist by extending your arms on them, comfortably resting your flesh on said arms, face melting into the pillow. suguru takes his now hard cock in hand, stimulating the veiny length. a whimper escapes you as you feel the reddish tip touch your bottom, some precum leaving a tint.

“f’ck me..” you whine flatly, ‘cause your dreamy state is akin to a midwinter night’s wet dream.

“hah~” he breathes out, cock head already between your lower petals, “that’s not something to worry your pretty head about.”

suguru grips your left cheek as his fat tip is lead through your slit, and the deeper he's in, the more he’s towering towards you.

forthwith he's halfway inside you and upon your hot walls enticing him, his lids cover his eyes which roll back with a deep groan. he lets go of his manhood and directs that grip to your hip, digits deepening in your beloved fat. you lay still besides your tiny, sensitive squirms, however when suguru begins ploying inside your gummy walls, your lips depart and your eyebrows rise on their own.

cursewords are vocalized in his moans. his thrusts are advancing, so is the squelching of your wetness.

“yeahhh, jus' like that, god.” he remarks, spine straightening; his grasp on your buttocks being a steady foundation.

his knees begin to crumple up the mattress cover with each move, and complimenting him, you cry into the headrest. suguru gives your ass a tame slap before kneading the round flesh, and he's finally all in, pounding into you like he's making up for weeks, but it isn't rough.

your elbows are grazing your hip bone and your crotch is firing up the forearms you rest upon with sweat, but suguru's pelvis knocking the wind out of your bouncy ass makes up for the scalding feeling.

“ruru~!”

you arch your backbone, semi-accidentally rooting him deeper into you, moaning with lush. the concave of a situation allows suguru to release his hold, throwing his head back mindlessly, flexing the sculpted details of his neck. extending his fingers on your back, you feel committed to relax all of your parts but your lower back which you're hilling.

it hits so deep, deep, deep in this sluggish, needy position, you take a mental note to try it again, rough and bouncy, when you're not dozing off.

“you're godsent.” he murmurs, the flirt finished with a needful hiccup. simultaneously, he opens his eyes as they roll back into their natural location.

gaze fixated on his muse, the trajectory of his cock twitches; it's the biggest fan of your pussy and as if it had gotten flustered, it misses your g-spot for a few thrusts, then strikes it stronger than lightning. a faint state of dizziness rushes over you at the act, spongy walls clenching around their company. bit of saliva drips out of your repeatedly agape mouth.

“s'good— so deep!” you sniffle, and your following tired truth is, “missed you.”

endearment fills suguru, it replaces the desire in his smile with delight.

“missed you more, babydoll.”

“huff~ in me, in me...” dozy mumbles leave your throat and you almost start searching for his gaze to seal the promise, but your lover shushes you.

“ssh, all's g'na go in you, 'm giving you everything you want, yeah baby? you close?” 

taunting, his tip bumps your cervix and you have no different answer but—

“ngh! yes!! yes! mhh..!”

your toes curl, close to numbing your feet, and the springs of the bed grate with a high noise because suguru's digits are embracing your cheeks again and he's doubled his pace. sloshes of your arousal are leaving flecks on the white sheet, and whenever he slides out of you, his cock is glossier than during the last couple of plunges.

you tug your arms from under yourself, hugging the head pillow in a hurry, nails clawing. you repeatedly whine the first two syllables of his name, your lower area is cramping up.

defeated by his thighs trapping yours, you can't flow apart. suguru groans, moans, then whines your name through gritted teeth. his tense balls are adding friction to your clit with every swing; as a bonus, he attends your puffy slit with his thumb to rub it with skill.

you would not have expected to reach your climaxes in sync, it's the mere serendipity of this new found depth. heat rushes throughout your boyfriend whilst his dynamic pounces turn slouchy, his marbles nearly burst at the veins from the urge to overflow your hole.

his pants quicken. he chokes on his vowels, and at last, suguru's shaking. rutting into you like a mad dog, his semen arrives in strings, forming into an eruption, just like the orgasm you own with strained muscles, squeezing your eyes shut.

you huff and puff into the pillow, restraining your breathing, “sugu—! sugu–hu~..”

teeth sinking into your lip, threatening a bleed out, you back into suguru helplessly, milking him dry as you cover him with your hot nectar. releasing into you, what’s left of his thrusts is not far from brushing you with his crotch, and it merely turns into grinding. afterwaves of your orgasm leave you jerking firmly. sensitive hums are heard from your trembling mouth.

suguru’s broad chest is heaving, and fixing his blurry vision with a few blinks he opposes to collapsing atop of you. he forces his post-orgasm energy to withdraw his softening cock, watching as threads of his seed stick to your damp cunt. the amount achieves some of the white to ooze out.

“thank you, baby,” he exhales, hoarse, “shit. you’re the best. sweet baby…” he pats your bottom curves. 

intending to start your sentence with ‘if you are feeling so thankful today, you should come…’, you’re only able to whimper the point, “cuddle.”

a loveful snicker is what suguru replies with as he eliminates the cushion under your belly.

finally climbing into bed, he assists you with turning on your side so you can form into his littlest spoon, cuddling up to him as he hugs you from behind, planting lazy kisses on your nape — this time, with the intention to sleep.

your legs are not straddled by his anymore, your clammy skin is breathing, and you keep the bundle of cum at your core content.

it’s not so cold anymore.

[risuola]

REAL LIFE SURPRISE — GN. READER x GOJO SATORU

Life has been heavy on your shoulders lately, so instead of going out with your friends on a halloween night, you decided to stay in bed, catch up on the last episodes of JJK and just rest. With that in mind, you fall asleep while watching the second season, but what you couldn't prepare yourself for is the voice that wakes you up.

cw: none really, except for anime spoilers, season 2, but everything written happened already in the anime — 1,4k words

a/n: it's just my brain babbling, don't mind me. I had this idea for a long time now, it's written quickly so errors might occur!

It was halloween night, you're alone in your house. Life has been heavy on you lately, so you decided to stay at home, binge watch anime - you had few eps of your favorite anime to catch up on. You've been so busy for the past few weeks that you weren't even thinking about watching JJK, so this seemed like a perfect opportunity.

And you did just that; snuggled with blankets, you put the second season on. First part somewhat eased your mind. Gojo's memories really filled you with melancholy, it cleared many things from what you watched in the first season. Then the Shibuya arc started. It was exciting, even though you kinda knew what will happen, you read the manga, but the animation just hits different.

Your eyelids began growing heavy, the pillow below your cheek seemed to suck your consciousness away and finally, you just passed out. The sounds of episodes playing in the background did nothing to wake you up, even the light from the screen wasn't bothering you as you dozed off into the dream lands. And you'd probably be sleeping until morning. You'd wake up not knowing where you really stopped watching, but that's okay - you can always start over, you loved the anime after all. But you didn't sleep that long.

You woke up nervously, the sound of a long hum made your eyes flutter open in an instant. You noticed the screen in front of you, it wasn't playing anymore, the video stopped and you recognized the scene from the manga - Gojo just got sealed into the prison realm, but when you looked closer, you could tell the screen was glitching. It never did this before.

"You're awake," the voice reminded you of itself and you almost shit your pants. Someone was in your room, someone was inside your house. And the tone... it seemed oddly familiar, you felt like you know it from somewhere, but there's not a single person you could really tie it to. But you knew the voice, you knew it for sure.

Without thinking much, you grabbed the first thing near you. Armed with the soft-cover notebook you jolted up, ready to aim the deadly weapon at the intruder, but your heart stopped at the sight.

A man was there, sprawled on the chair next to your desk. His long legs clad in black pants were spread widely as he was sitting comfortably, leaning against the backrest as if he wasn't inside your house. But it wasn't his large form that shocked you the most. It was his features. A human, but ethereal in every way. In the faint light of the led strips on your wall, you could tell his hair was light, maybe even white, just as the thick row of lashes that framed his eyes. His face was gorgeous, too perfect to be real but he was real, he was there.

"Let me turn the light on," he chuckled, noticing how much you struggled to see him in the pathetic imitation of lights. He got up, nearly hitting his head on the cheap chandelier in the middle of your ceiling and once his long fingers flicked the lights on, you nearly passed out. He really had white hair and it was easy to tell that it was white by nature. There was not a single discoloration near his roots nor a sign of it being dyed. It wasn't a wig either. And his eyes... bright blue, almost glowing with their crystalline beauty.

"What the hell is going on?", you asked, still gripping the notebook for dear life as if it was going to harm anyone. You probably couldn't kill a fly with it, not to say this tower of a man.

"Hmmm, I'm probably just as confused as you are," he replied, this time dropping his weight onto the edge of your bed. "I got sealed, my bad. I suppose the prison realm sent me into some kind of different dimention."

You blinked at him, taking in the information but your brain refused to register it properly. What the hell does he mean he got sealed?

"It's quite odd actually," he continued, "I can't really feel any cursed energy in here, or maybe my six eyes are not working all that well in this world. I hoped you'll tell me what kind of dimension it is. Ah, sorry, how rude of me. Gojo Satoru, nice to meet you."

"The fuck you mean Gojo Satoru?!", you nearly screamed, throwing the notebook at him, doing about as much damage as you suspected. None. He just dodged it. "It's not a dimension, it's the real world. You do not exist, you're a character from anime, for god's sake..."

"That's harsh, sweetheart," he chuckled.

Maybe it was a prank? Maybe your friends wanted to scare the shit out of you, maybe it was a cosplayer? Very good one, but it would make more sense than him being here. How the fuck he even got here? You're sure you locked all doors and windows were closed as well. And why was your computer stuck on the frame in the video?

"It's not funny," you whined, getting up from the bed and leaving the room to check on the doors. It really frightened you to see that everything was exactly how you left it. It was closed in the same, very odd way you always do it, with the upper lock twisted two times, the lower one twisted just once and the key still hanging from the keyhole. The windows were just as you left them as well, all closed except one in the kitchen - the one that's too small for anyone to squeeze in and it had an anti-mosquitoes mesh outside. You were also on the 7th floor. What was going on?! "It's really not funny..."

"You seem really nervous for someone who just woken up, you know?", the man followed you and when you looked at him, he was standing next to the entrance to your room, leaning against the doorframe. "I must admit, I can't really recognize myself in the mirror, I remember my face slightly different."

"Yeah, like this?", you grabbed your phone and showed him your homescreen. Embarassment of having his picture both there and on the lockscreen you pushed away, it wasn't important right now. His gorgeously blue eyes scanned the wallpaper, the orbs glistened in the harsh light of your screen and you listened to the soft hum he made. You suddenly realized why his voice sounded familiar. It was Gojo's voice. Or rather his voice actor's...

"Oh yes, that's more like it," the man gave it a nod and then turned to look at himself in the small mirror on your wall. "Still handsome though. What you think?"

"You are gorgeous, but THAT'S NOT THE POINT," you almost screamed. What do even do in this situation?

"Well, I suppose I'll stay in this world for as long as my students get me out of the prison realm," he said matter-of-factly, shrugging with nonchalance, completely unbothered by the way he isn't supposed to exist in this world. "What about the cursed energy? Are you heavenly restricted or-"

"There's no such thing as cursed energy in real world. No six eyes, no limitless, no cursed spirits, domain expansions, no nothing. In this world we are just flesh and bones. Strength is measured in brains, muscles and money. Nothing else."

"That's interesting," he paused for a moment, taking in the information. You could tell he was more confused than before but still, he was keeping himself together better than you.

"Listen, it's not like I don't believe you but... is there any way you could prove that you are Gojo Satoru? I mean, I don't even know if it's possible... Fuck, you're not supposed to be anything more than an animated drawing," you shook your head, slowly feeling paranoid. If that was a joke, it really was a good one.

"Prove? I mean, I'm not sure, never needed to confirm my identity," the man chuckled. "If I don't have my powers in here, it might be complicated. But you can check, I'm not dressed as anyone. It's my hair, my face. Jujutsu uniform, though it's slightly bloodied now. I have my blindfold with me."

"Sure, sure... Nevermind, I'm just confused. I'll wash your clothes, I guess... tomorrow I'll get you something to change. You can stay here."

"Thanks, sweetheart," he smiled at you. Stupidly attractive.

Deep down you wished you're sleeping. Maybe it's your brain that's playing tricks on you, maybe it's just a fantasy. There was no way this man was standing here, in your little kitchen right now, waiting for his tea to be made. There was no way he could somehow get out of the screen and just... materialize in your little studio apartment. There was just no way, right?

Right?

[cringequeenwrites]

hi <3 id like to request larry johnson smut. i have this idea of just like laying around being lazy with him, talking about his art, music, maybe even smoking a little. as he’s comfortably rambling with you, he keeps trailing off getting distracted by looking at you. he starts grabbing at your thighs (super obsessed with them) and listing off phrases of adoration about you. just overall super lovey, entranced by you, almost can’t help himself but just being all over you. just some guilty pleasure lazy lovey smut plss 😭😭

Sorry for taking so long I was in art block for a hot minute, long intro,fluff,love making smut >>

•oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO* •oO*•oO*•o

The Artist’s muse

Art credit: @deordah on instagram

You woke up begrudgingly to the buzz on your phone. The rectangular light emitted shadowed your bewildered, but sleepy features as you grasp your phone with your eyes still closed. Once you could lift the weight of your eyelids you could just see a text from your boyfriend.

‘Come to my room, I need your help.’

You muster a groan before slugging off the bed before putting on some more appropriate pjs to where before sliding on some fluffy slippers and exiting your apartment to trudge into his. Times like this you feel grateful that you live in the same complex as your lover.

The elevator shuddered and reeked of cigarettes and mildew finally stopped and you exited. Softly opening is shared apt door to not wake his mom up with the spare key she gave you a couple months back. In her words Larry made too much noise trying to sneak you in himself than you actually coming normally.

You lock the door behind you and shuffle to his bedroom. The deafening silence of your slippers and his music looming vibrations into the thin wall made you feel almost invisible like a ghost. The familiar smell of burning marijuana and incense filled your nose.

You open his door and slide in to close it behind you. He hadn’t notice your presence yet. You spotted his figure behind a canvas atop of his big easily that also blocked the door way. Most likely the cause of him not noticing you come in. His vinyl player playing a more low and somber tone in contrast of the typical metallic death metal.

You scooted to the side, he still doesn’t notice you. But now you see he’s hyper-focused and high painting something. You see the shapes and color of a figure but you can’t tell what it is yet. You see him put down his paint brush with his brows furrowed as he takes another hit from his blunt, reaching for his phone.

‘Hurry up’

‘I’m right next to you dumby.’

You waited for text to deliver, to ping his phone, and to fully read your one sentence before lifting his head up like a barn owl. You see him jump in his stool and almost fall back. “Jesus fuck, sals a bad influence on you, you know that?” You chuckle at his response and move closer, hugging his tall frame as an apology. “What did you need help with larva.” Larva was the nick name you gave him because you grimaced every time you used larr-bear. Larva being way cuter you argued. You boyfriend who had mixed feelings about being compared to a worm, got back to what he wanted to say.

“I need you to pose for me, I wanna paint ya.”

You paused and looked at him, looking in his features to decipher if he was messing with you or not. His eyes stared back at yours with honesty and the white of his eyes a more pink from weed.

He then wrapped his arms around you to pick you up. You wide eyed and flattered at first, now flustered and in the air. “How bout,no..actually hold on.” He muttered before he flopped you on the bed with heist as he rearranges the position of his easel. You were torn with emotion. Flattered that your boyfriend wanted to paint you, but tired because it’s almost two and half in the morning.

You steal the neglected blunt off his nightstand as he fumbled with his pants. Still lit and burning you inhale while just accepting what’s happing. Still half asleep as you stare off into space. “You’re so pretty you know that?” His voice dipping an octave with his brush against the canvas. “I’m tired.” You almost whispered, even talking normally felt like too much work right now. “I mean it, you’re so fucking beautiful.” You say nothing unintentionally,zoned out from sleep deprivation and the slow high as you inhaled the blunt with your lips touching the rolled up paper.

You’re unsure how much time has passed. Your mind brought back to Larry when you no longer hear the brush strokes and music from the player suddenly click off. You observe him turn of the lights, but still seeing his silhouette shuffle toward you. Climbing in the bed quietly, the light of your blunt being the only light emitting from the room.

He sits closer to you,not saying a word, but you can tell what he is doing. You give him the blunt, he cranes his head. you cup his cheek with your free hand and place the joint to his lips with your other hand. You two shared the dwindling blunt until it was just bits of burnt paper. Breathing smoke from his mouth into yours, feeling as if you’re sucking his soul.

“I love you.” He said. His head coming to rest on your shoulder as you put your hands around his neck. “I love you too, don’t ever wake me up this late again.” You hear his sudden chuckle, feeling his dopey smile on your skin. “I’m sorry, just miss you.” He continued. Pulling down your pj pants with your underwear. “You see me everyday.” You entertained him as you pulled his shirt off. “I know.” He huffed. Taking off your shirt he gave you years ago.

“I just want you here, I want your heart.. Your attention, I wanted to hear your voice. I don’t know how to put it. I even miss the smell of your clothes.”

He uttered through whispers. Shuffling his pants off to kick them away. Kissing the shell of your ear down to your neck. Hands on your waist as his legs intertwined with yours.

“I need you.”

He grabbed the lube from that laid on the covers from a couple nights before. Pouring a generous amount on his shaft. You lock his waist between you with your legs. He rubbed his cock between your folds,heat already emitting from the both of you. The squelching sound made by your mixture of slick and lube coating your lips as his tip plays with your sensitive clit. You let out a shuddered whimper from the teasing, earning a chuckle from the man above you. He then inserted the head in, pausing to give you time to adjust before sinking his length in. His thickness was something you never got used to, no matter how many times you two were together. He bottomed out with a huff. Pausing again to give you time to adjust. You ran your hands through his hair to signal him to go. He slowly thrusted but thoroughly pressed into your core when he made contact. Now spouting endless praise and encouragement to you. “You so fucking hot, fuck, your pussy is so good I could fuck you forever. Your noises are so fucking cute too. I love you so much baby you don’t even know.” He sped up to where you could hear the plaps and squelching of your skin together. Inching closer and closer before you were about to climax. “Larry I’m close-“ you could only warn too soon before you felt your legs spasm and shake as you gush around his cock. Hiding your face in the crook of his neck as he chased his high, thrust coming to a sloppy rhythm as he pumped his cum I side you, filling your pussy until it was spilling out as he pulled out.

“We can clean up tomorrow morning.” He exhaled, still lying on top of you as he drew the blanket covers over the two of you. “I love you.” You whispered with soft huffs. “Love you too.” He said, falling asleep with your arms around him.

[20nugs]

Could you PLEAASEE write a day with matt in which he facetimes her in the morning and just watches her get ready and he begs her to come over, overall a very clingy matt PLEASEEE I LOVE YOUR WRITING

Tyy<33

Missed you

a/n: I love me some clingy Matt

pairing: Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

cw: kissing😼

summary: request🤓

><><><><><><><><><><><><><

I wake up at 8:00AM, and immediately grab my phone to check for messages. My boyfriend, Matt, has already sent one.

Matt❤

hey baby, how'd you sleep?

I smile at his sweet message. He knows I always check right after I wake up.

Me

I slept well, what about you?

I set my phone down and wait for his next message. I brush my hair and wash my face. I hear a ping on my phone and I check it and see that Matt has messaged me again.

Matt❤

I slept good. Facetime?

I quickly check my appearance and text him back.

Me

Sure :)

I watch my phone get sent to a FaceTime and I answer it, seeing Matt's tired face.

"Hi baby," he says, smiling. A shiver runs down my spine as his voice is still raspy from sleep.

"Hi," I laugh. We gaze at each other for a few moments. "I'm getting ready right now, I don't know if that'll bore you or anything." I tilt my phone to show him my bathroom sink with my cosmetics on it.

"Nah," he says, sitting up on his bed. "I like to watch you do that stuff." I smile at him and start fixing my hair, using just a tiny bit of hairspray to keep the flyaways down. I hear a soft sigh on my phone.

"What's wrong?" I ask Matt, grabbing my mascara.

"I just miss you," he says. I look at him with a blank face.

"Honey I saw you yesterday," I say, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah but that was like forever ago, I wanna come over," he huffs. I giggle.

"Matt I have to go to the store today," I protest, finishing up my mascara.

"Nooo, stay home with me, you can go tomorrow," he whines. "I wanna hold you and kiss you."

I laugh. "Fine, I'll go tomorrow. You better get here quick before I change my mind," I say. Matt immediately smiles and I see him leave the frame to put on clothes. He comes back in record time. He grabs his phone and takes it into the bathroom, setting it up on his wall as he brushes his teeth. As he brushes his teeth, I pull on some jeans and the sweatshirt Matt left here last night. I notice Matt staring at me with a soft smile on his face. "Everything alright? Is there something on my face?" I ask, laughing.

He laughs and I notice a light blush sprinkled on his cheeks. "Everything's fine, I just love seeing you in my clothes." I blush, but before I can answer, I hear banging behind Matt. I can hear Chris distantly yelling 'Matt! Get the fuck outta the bathroom!'. Matt sighs and looks back at me. "I have to go, I'll be at your house in ten, alright? I love you," he says smiling.

"Okay, I love you too," I grin. Matt hangs up and I rush around my house to clean up. I finish cleaning and almost fall down the stairs when I hear keys unlocking my door. As Matt steps into my house, I run up to him and jump into his arms, giggling. He laughs with me and catches me in a warm embrace. He kicks the door shut and walks me over to the couch, sitting down so I'm on top of him. He pulls back from the embrace to smash his lips against mine. Our lips work in sync, expressing our love for each other. He pulls back and giggles as I chase his lips with my own.

"I missed you," he says, peppering kisses all over my face.

"We literally saw each other less than twelve hours ago, Matt," I laugh, his kisses tickling me, giving me butterflies.

"I don't care," he mumbles, nuzzling his face into my neck. "Missed you anyways."

I press a kiss to his temple and hug him closer to me. "I missed you too, you big goof."

[brighttears]

Home

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: Joel wakes up alone in your bed in your house in Jackson, only a few months in there, and does not know what to do without you there. When you get home, he figures it out.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: pet names (baby, my love, angel, good girl, perfect girl, darling), smut (minors dni), mutual masturbation, unprotected PiV, dirty talk, roughish?, creampie (joel wants to put a baby in you), size kink

A/n: some sweet nastiness that is all <3

—

Joel wakes up with a start, sucking in a breath, eyes, once the images from his nightmares have released them, flicking around the room, disoriented. All there is, though, is the white walls, littered with tasteful, plain paintings, hung by someone else. He feels the sheets under his hand, soft and light. Coming back to the present, relief washes over him, releasing his lungs. The feeling is fleeting though, and followed by hazy disconcertment. He’s still not used to this, waking up in a house. The place next to him in the bed is empty, a dip in the pillow still left from your head. Joel raises slowly, as he does these days, nothing to get up for, really, no pressing objective, no crisis to address. He wears socks, sweatpants, and t-shirt. He only just barely became accustomed to sleeping in something other than his full gear—jeans, shirt, jacket, even his boots. Ready for anything. But, again, there's nothing to be ready for in Jackson. 

Joel sits up on the bed, planting his feet on the hardwood floors with a sigh. You’re not here, which he never likes, but he knows you’re safe, helping out in the kitchen before breakfast, like you do many mornings. You are also stuck on not having anything to do, and have yet to adjust to a sound sleeping schedule. 

He raises to his feet to stand, not moving, not sure what to do now. He walks out of the bedroom, stopping again in the hallway, a bathroom and spare room doored along the wall with a staircase on the other side. He walks into the bathroom, clean and white. He stands in front of the mirror, blinking at his reflection. Another thing he’s still not used to. He looks tired. He always looks tired. Droopy skin, wrinkles and scars, dark circles stained under his eyes. Graying hair. Graying beard. The first time he got a good look of himself here it occurred to him that he’s too damn old for this. For all of it. But now… he’s safe. In a house. Waking up in a bed, a real bed, frame intact and all. But he doesn’t quite feel safe, normal, like the walls around him are. He feels alien. Like he doesn't belong.

He turns on the water and splashes it cold on his face, rubbing it off with a soft towel. He wanders back into the hall and starts down the creaky steps with heavy feet, running his hand down the smooth wood railing. At the bottom of the stairs, he’s stuck again. Nothing to do. 

Joel drifts from room to room, aimlessly wandering around the house. Passing his eyes over more tastefully plain decorations that mean nothing to him, running his hands over clean surfaces, he feels utterly lost. A stray in a new home, though you’ve been here for a few months now. The sound of laughing children float in through the open window in the kitchen, reminding him again that he’s in Jackson, a peaceful commune, walled in, safe. The word still tastes sour in his mouth, as if he’s being fed fruit that looks fresh but is rotten. 

He turns on the tap, lets it run, turns it off again. He misses you. You are his what to do. You are his direction, his plan, the one he looks to, stands by. You are what he does. Without you, he’s lost, lost in this big house. 

The doorknob turning perks his ears up, and Joel walks straight to it before it’s even open, halting his feet before he reaches you, timorously as you enter, a small smile growing on your lips once you see him, eyes halfway bright like a struggling bulb. 

“Hey,” you greet him softly. 

“Hey,” he returns, drawing closer as you unlace your boots. 

“You were at the kitchen?” He asks even though he knows the answer. 

“Yeah—I didn’t wake you up when I left, did I?”

“No, I only got up a little bit ago.” He motions upstairs, nervously scratching the back of his neck. Little greetings like this, casual chit chat, is another thing to learn. He’s used to emergencies, calamities, sudden movements, things like that, not frivolous conversation, though he cherishes every word. 

“Good. I never wanna wake you. You always look like you need the sleep,” you chuckle as you straighten, coming up to him to smooth your hands up his chest and around his neck, looking up at him with a wide smile, eyelids droopy, your soft expression rolling a smile upon his own lips. “You look good in sweatpants and a t-shirt.” 

Joel chuckles, wrapping his hands around your waist and rubbing them up and down your back. He sighs, then whispers, “I missed you.”

“It’s been less than 12 hours,” you chuckle, matching his quiet tone, idling eyes over his features filling his chest, though he’s watched it a hundred times, “but I missed you too.” You press a gentle kiss to his lips, and with his eyes closed, he hears you say, so soft it sounds like it’s only the air itself whispering, “My love.” Joel sighs, your words like clean air pumping back into his lungs. He kisses you again, unable to help himself, like it’s simply the next thing to do.

That feeling of disorientation and misplacement is gone now. Because you are here. You are absolutely his rock, his meaning, his reasoning, his purpose. The world makes sense only when you are there, here, in his arms, your lips bringing him back to the ground. And now, he loves this house, your new home, though it doesn't look like it yet. But you are here. So he is home. Within walls, a roof over your head, a bed to lay in, a table to eat at together. A couch to lounge on. A bathroom to shower in together. And somewhere were you can fuck however loud you want. That is another fortuitous plus of Jackson, he can finally hear your moans in their full capacity, hear you scream his name, beg for more, your sounds a new addition to all the things about you to be addicted to. No burying those sweet refrains in the palm of his hand or some filthy mattress. 

The first time you broke in the bed, Joel could felt like he might actually believe in god. And you get to do it whenever you want, every night, all throughout the day, like you’ve rediscovered it, and can now appreciate it in all its glory. 

You are also allowed slow moments, like this, defenses down, closed eyes and relaxed limbs, wandering, oh, the hallowed lingering, Joel is cognizant of every moment, treasuring the time he used to agonize over, all that wishing for something like this, just, time, and here it is, in his arms. 

Joel eases you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around you to press your body until it’s flush with his, burying his face in your neck, inhaling, and exhaling, “I love you so much, baby.” Your body configures perfectly with his, like two pieces of a puzzle, and he cocoons you as if to mesh you together permanently. Your hand tangles in his hair, the other smoothing around his neck, and you whisper back, “I love you more than anything, Joel.” He breathes your words in again, feeling his brow furrow up like he could cry. 

Yes, it’s strange here, sometimes perturbing, so completely unknown, and it’s been a battle to let his guard down, but he has some; he’s cried more times in the few months you’ve been here than he has in years. The first time, it was because of something like this. Lying in bed, unhurried, roaming hands, rolling together like slow waves, room for ease, for sluggish touch, oh god, the relaxation, words simply falling out, endless I love you’s, and you whispered in his ear, “I love you more than anything,” and he cried. And you held him, and reminded him that he could, and he cried hard, like a child, and you cradled him like one. 

It’s because he can now, can allow himself to feel fully, and be allowed to release it, into someone's arms, into yours. Safe. Home. 

He sways you slowly in his arms, pressing soft kisses over neck and shoulder. You told him you loved him for the first time years ago, but then, what mostly filled him was fear. Despair. Loving you, having you love him, was not very beautiful, because it meant pain. Always pain. He knew the love was immortal, but the two of you are not. Who would he rather die first, him, leaving you alone out here, or you, leaving him with that gaping wound? Every close call was like taking an ax to the poles that held the world up over his head, watching it swing, only barely missing the thing that kept all the wood and rock and sky from crashing down. But, you made it to Jackson. And now, that fear has been reeled back in, and the charm and grace of being in love has been unearthed. The I love you’s were caked in fear before. Now, they’re pure. 

“I love you more.” He smiles into your shoulder, knowing the response he’ll get, which is an annoyed hum and a quick step on his foot. 

“Stop saying that. It’s not fair.” You whine, muffled in his chest, though he can feel the smile on your lips. 

“Alright, alright,” he murmurs, chuckling. You pull back to look at him and he lets his hands rest on your arms, watching you. 

“I really did miss you.” You say quietly, “I’m still not used to not being with you all the time.”

“Me neither.” He mumbles, looking over your face. The face of an angel, that’s what ran through this mind the first moment he saw you. An angel with a rifle and a smile that could make even the roughest man swoon. Something sent from god to show him why he needs to keep going, why he’s here—to protect, to love. 

He was digging from the bottom of the barrel when you met, relying on old phrases that had kept him going for years, focused on Tommy, but the lens was getting dirty, and he found his movements starting to slow. But then you came along, and he was rejuvenated. Ready again to do whatever it takes. For you. For Tommy. To keep you and to find him. And he’s done it. Now all there is to do is to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Spending time with his brother, going on double dates with him and his wife, walking around town hand in hand with you, and fucking like rabbits. 

You hum a sigh, tucking a curly lock behind his ear and letting your hand rest there on his face. “We’ve still got some time before they start serving food. I wanted to come back here so we could go together.” You chuckle, “I don’t know what to do until then. Still not used to idle time.”

The thoughts rolling around behind his eyes slip out through his hands, traveling up the back of your shirt, and he smiles, “I have an idea.” You chuckle as he brings his face close to yours, ghosting your lips with his. No more quick and harsh, no need to rush. 

“Don’t tease me,” you breathe out, hooking your wrists around his neck to pull his kiss. He obliges, sliding his arms around your waist to bring you close once more. You press yourself closer, deepening the kiss with a mewling moan, a sound that never fails to get him hard. A moan rumbles from his throat as he crosses his arms around your waist to pull you against him, starting to grind his hips. You pull in a breath, parting your lips for only a moment before you lick back into his mouth. 

“Where d’you wanna go with this?” Joel mumbles into your lips, sliding his hands up to hook his thumbs over your shirt to start to pull it off. 

“We haven’t fucked on the couch in awhile, huh?” You reply, shifting back to help him to unclothe you. 

“We have not.” Joel smiles, shamelessly staring at your bare chest, bringing your breast into his hand as he pulls you back against him instead, kissing sloppy and wet. You start to walk backwards and around to the couch, and he chases you with his touch. You turn him for his back to be to the couch, then shove your hand into his chest to push him down on it before coming up to straddle him. “Goddamn,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, and you smile into his lips. You start your hand on his lower torso, gracefully sliding your hand under his shirt to pull it up his chest. Your touch over his skin sends shivers up after it, that giddy feeling that makes him feel young again making him sigh. Even after all this time, you still manage to make him feel shy about what you can do to him, how head over heels he is. Eagerly, he follows your lead and pulls his shirt up over his head, leaning forward once it’s off to find your lips again and then pull your hips over his. You start to roll them, placing your hands back around his neck, and Joel’s fingers dig into your thighs, reminding him that you still have too many clothes on. He starts to unbutton your jeans, and you raise to your feet to take them off, him rushing to pull own his bottoms off. Swift movements on both ends to get naked so that you can come back over him and start to grind your hips again. He’s already hard enough for his cock to be raised up over his stomach, the lack of stimulation raising another deep moan from him. You reply with your hand around him, using your thumb to drag his precum down, and his lips part, toes curling at the touch on his sensitive tip. You take the hint, keeping your pumps close to the top, and he rolls up into it, moans escaping from a mouth he can’t close. 

“That feel good baby?” You whisper. 

“Ahuh,” is all he can get out, eyes closed, and then your tongue on his neck creates a melody of breathy moans from him. In response, Joel opens his eyes to find where to slide his fingers into, your slit already slick for him, and he moans out, “Baby,” raising his gaze to lock on yours as you pleasure each other on his lap. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, then slowly let your hand fall down to his base to grip and then pull up just as slow, starting long pumps up and down his length. Joel’s eyes close again as they roll back into his head, leaning back against your other hand still around the back of his neck. 

“Joel,” you whine, and he knows what you want without you needing to tell him, moving his hands to grip your hips and help you raise them as you line up his thick cock with your entrance. You sit down on it slowly, adjusting to his size. Both of your bodies relax with each other, once again united in this way that feels so right, feels so good, and Joel starts to move like his body tells him he needs to, and then like you tell him he needs to, quiet begging that runs more chills through him despite your warmth now around him. He buries himself deep with you sat securely on his lap, fingers digging into your thighs, eyes closed, like it’s the first time again, fucking an angel gently, feeling like you were made just for him, fitting him so perfectly, your limit just around his tip. 

“S’ okay baby?” He mumbles, like he does every time, the question coming out with much thought. 

“Yes,” you reply, voice just as lazy, rolling your hips forward to tell him more, his body replying with anything you want as he lifts you to give him room to fuck into you. “Yes,” you repeat, sliding your hands onto his arms without a break in contact over his skin. 

A refrain of moans arises from your mouths, and his eyes are locked on your open mouth. As he quickens his pace, he relishes in your expressions, furrowed brow, your shoulders and chest moving up and down as your voice carries louder, displaying your tits. He takes a hand off of your hip to massage your chest, amazed still that he gets to touch you, gets to fuck you, that he’s the one that gets to hear you, make you feel good like this, that it’s his name that comes out of you, that you want him. That he gets to give you everything you want, anything you ask him for, which is more, harder, and that you want exactly what he does. Skin slapping skin echoes throughout your house, chorused with louder moans as he thrusts harder and faster, feeling himself hit your limit over and over. You lean forward to reunite your lips, messy sucking and licking and biting, needy and hungry for each other. Joel raises his grip to your sides, stilling so that you can fuck him yourself. 

“Fuck, baby, s’ good,” Joel voices, wet and mumbled, “you’re such a fuckin’ angel, such a good girl for me, pussy’s fuckin’ heavensent, I swear,” 

“All for you,” you reply as you start a rhythm with your ass, “I’m yours, baby, I’m yours,” and there again is Joel’s belief in god. 

“S’ good, baby, s’ good,” he mumbles, eyes closed, brow furrowed, aahing as your tight sheath strokes his cock. He splays his hands over your ass, requesting control again to match your movements with his own, fucking up into you again. “S’ good, you feel so fuckin’ good. Perfect lil’ pussy. My perfect girl. You’re so perfect, you’re so perfect.”

Your moans heighten in his ear, fingers digging into his biceps. “I’m gonna cum, Joel,” you say into his ear, voice lilting with his clapping beat. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

“Yeah,” you trill. 

“Go on n’ cum for me baby, cum for me,”

Moans catch and tumble from your throat, and he wraps his arm around your back to pull you close, fitting the side of his face against your neck. His  other hand still guides your ass to deepen his rowdy thrusts as he speaks, “I wanna feel all ‘f you, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel your pussy squeeze around my cock, cum for me darlin’,” Joel says, lips pressed against your neck. Your voice sings chirping moans as your body starts to tremble and you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

Only half aware of what he’s saying, overcome mostly by the feeling of you cumming on his dick, thighs quivering against his sides with your crying moans in his ear, Joel mewls, “I wanna make a baby with you, I wanna make a baby with you,” and you hang onto him like you’re on the outside of a ten story building and he’s the only thing saving you from flying off of it, like you’re hanging on for dear life, wrists crossed with both hands gripping his hair. “God, baby, you feel so good, fuck,” he whines breathily, then grabbing your ass with both hands to tug up and pull you back down on him as euphoric pressure builds inside of him, blocking out most of everything other than your pussy’s tight trembling strokes around his cock. His hips buck almost involuntarily, and he’s ready to cum, needing it, in this moment wanting nothing more. “I’m gonna cum, baby,” he tells you, feeling that white electricity of pleasure building to its climax.

“Cum for me, baby,” you breathe into his ear, fingers tugging his hair with every thrust. With your encouragement in his ear, he loses all control, now requiring you, and he wraps his hands around your lower back to hold your hips down and pump himself into you. 

“I love you, I love you,” the words spill out of his lips as his hips buck, acting out of pure instinct as he cums. You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, locking his gaze as you tell him, “I love you Joel, I love you, cum inside of me, I want your cum, fuck me,” Joel’s eyes roll back with them still open, “that’s it, baby, I want it all, cum inside of me,” filling his ears as he does as you ask, as if he could do anything else, nothing else in his head but your words and the pure euphoric pleasure as he cums. 

As his strokes slow and he comes back onto earth, moaning, you lean back to sit on him as he continues to pulsate inside of you. 

“Baby,” you drawl, sliding your hands to cradle his face as you kiss his lips. Joel’s hands wander up and down your back and sides, relishing in the touch. 

“Angel,” he replies, and you hum a sigh into the kiss. 

“You’d think this would get old eventually, with how much we’re fucking doing it,” you chuckle into his lips, “but I swear, it gets better every time.”

“We’ll be fuckin’ professionals in a couple months,” he replies, making both of you laugh. 

“There’s still some things we haven’t tried,” you say. 

“Well we’ll get to em’.”

“We sure will.” You chuckle, smacking a kiss to his lips before leaning back. “I’m sure breakfast is ready by now. Better get up before Tommy or Maria come to check on us and catch us like this.”

“Yeah,” Joel sighs, still slipping his fingers up and down your sides. “I’m fuckin’ starvin’ now, anyways. I’m old, this shit takes it outta me.”

You chuckle, teasing, “Are you complaining?”

“Fuck no,” he replies, pulling you back in for a kiss, “hell fuckin’ no.”

“Good.” You chuckle again, sighing into a sloppy kiss before leaning back again, and with another sigh, “I love you, baby.”

“I love you more, angel.” He smiles, laughing when you slap his chest. 

“Fuck off!” You laugh back, then climbing off of him to grab your shirt off the floor and pull it back on. Joel learns forward to reach for his pants, moving slow to watch you change back into your clothes. Catching him, you smirk, pulling your panties back up slowly, teasingly, for him to watch. He feels his lips part, realizing that you’re gonna have his cum leaking into them all day, like a secret just for him. A secret that’s going to tease him all day, and then when you get home tonight, he’ll slide those panties right back down to fill you up again. As you snap the band around your waist, you look at him like you know exactly what you’re doing, and exactly what he’s going to do about it later. As a cherry on top, you press a kiss to his cheek before turning around to pull your pants on. Joel chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he stands to dress. 

“You gonna go to breakfast like that?” You question, turning to him. 

Joel looks down at himself, realizing his still in sweatpants. “Why not? Not like anyone’s gonna care. Plenty of people go to breakfast in their pj’s. I’ll come back and change after.”

“Fair enough.” You shrug, “You look real good like that anyways.”

Joel smiles, chuckling and little shyly. This morning, the disorganization and looseness of life in Jackson felt intimidating, but now that you’re here, he can appreciate the freedom. Life is fucking good, he thinks to himself as he watches you tie your shoes, knowing he hasn’t had any thought like that in decades. Loud morning sex with you and a freshly cooked meal in his pj’s is something he can definitely learn to get used to.

[seeingstarks]

weight of two souls

summary : it's thanksgiving and neither you or phil want to leave each others arms to go and meet the family. does it even happen? pairing : cm punk x afab!reader cw : pure fluff, cuddling, kissing, hip/thigh squeezing, cursing, nose nuzzling, babygirl/good girl & king/queen nicknames, innuendos "sound proof walls" / "taking his scepter" a/n : can you tell how much i've been missing the old man? x) i've been working on this for about a week or so and put my entire heart & soul into it. please reblog!! keep rude comments to yourself. <33 there may be a few spelling/grammar errors. word count : 1,291 words tag list : @harmshake gif credit : @adamjf

once the leaves started to fall your mood did the opposite, haunting month passing by in an instant.

calender flipping to november, the days went by agonizingly slow, this being one of your least favorite months of the season.

thanksgiving was soon approaching and your family always wanted to make it this huge get together. no being anti-social and locking yourself away, wishing you could every year. atleast they allowed you to bring a friend from work, if you could call him that.

the chicago native was more than a friend to you, he stayed up with you through your worst nights, steeping you both fresh cups of tea and/or coffee even if it meant catching up on sleep the next day, as long as he knew you were okay.

ever since he laid eyes on you, he made a best friend with just a simple hello and allowing you to pet his dog, larry. restless nights sharing deep dish pizza and mindy's eventually lead to cuddling, his inked arms wrapped around you, placing a kiss to his scruffy cheek.

the alarm clock chirping as sun peaked through your blackout curtains, neither of you wanted to get up for the morning - well afternoon.

you were the first to wake up, groggy eyed with phil having his arms snug around your waist, sleeping soundly except for his snoring which could wake up the entire neighborhood. larry decided to seek slumber at the foot of your bed, his head propped up on the chicago native's leg.

managing to shift away from his grasp, you hit the alarm clock with a clenched hand in hopes it would stop the commotion.

"rise and shine sleeping beauty, one hour 'til we meet my family. much as i don't wanna' go.. you promised to tag along for the torture."

phil didn't budge until you deciding to smack him with a pillow, "i'm up! i'm up!" he half-yelled, removing his hands from under the warm covers in an attempt to shield his face.

"a simple g'mornin' kiss would've woken me up too, y'know."

yawning and stretching his arms out, phil took his sweet old time getting ready while you on the other hand began to brush your hair out. bristles making contact with the h/c strands, they untangled after a few more brushes, setting it to the side and entering your closet.

luckily, you prepared your ensemble a night beforehand, slipping out of your clothing from the previous evening and stepping into a pair of black underwear with white polka-dots.

lifting your arms up to put on a shirt, you were met with a firm pair of arms which wrapped around your curvy frame, his lips placing gentle kisses along your neckline.

"mm, phil- could stay like this forever but we gotta' finish getting ready." you informed and looked up into his light brown hues with a playful smile.

"not complaining but i'm more ready than you are- atleast i have pants." shaking your head at the chicago native who indeed had pants on, but no shirt.

you raised an arm up to trace his pepsi tattoo, almost lost in a trance - simply enjoying the moment and his warm embrace as you remained standing still, being held close.

glancing over at your alarm clock, ten minutes seemed to pass by swiftly. spending all day in with your love would usually be no issue, but today you both had plans.

pouting softly and burying your head into the crook of his neck, you debated staying in and bailing on family dinner.

"so cozy.. don't wanna' move." you peeked up at phil, removing your head from his shoulder as he kept his arms securely around your waist, giving your hips a slight squeeze.

tongue darting out between his lips, the chicago native licked them, "i know babygirl... but think of all the cuddles we can get in afterwards. you're my favorite little spoon."

"i better be your only-" before having the chance to finish your sentence, phil captured your lips in a deep kiss one which you returned happily, "you're the only person i want to wake up next to every morning, binge watch horror movies with and much more. i'm so fuckin' lucky to have you in my life, y/n - but we truly should get goin' soon if we don't want to be late." he spoke sincerely although a half-chuckle escaped his lips, a few noticeable smile lines showing.

nodding, you captured his gaze only looking away when blinking - "you mean so much to me, phil. i felt as if there was a missing puzzle piece in my life.. and no matter how hard i tried nothing seemed to fit until you came along. we're the perfect match." placing your forehead against his, the two of you nuzzled noses briefly prior to pulling away from one another.

phil finished getting ready by throwing on his t-shirt which read i'm a collision girl in white letters across the back, tying up his sneakers. you did the same, sporting combat boots and a pair of black pants.

it was a miracle you and phil managed to make it out of the door in time, grabbing your keys and starting the engine up as larry sat buckled in the backseat pampered with dog treats.

"first time i'm officially meeting your family. do they know what to expect?" the chicago native asked, you had told your family about phil countless times.

the fact he was your boyfriend going on six months now and how he treated you perfectly. his queen who could hold a throne all on her own, independent but yearning for a partner. someone to feel safe with - who wouldn't hurt you like past partners. phil was your king - protecting you from harm, trying his best to keep the dark thoughts at bay, you doing the same for him.

"haven't shut up about you ever since we met. if my father heard the words cm punk or phil leave my mouth one more time they may have tried to disown me." you laughed, keeping your eyes on the road.

"ah, well it's a good thing we have sound proof walls - ever since the neighbors complained and when my babygirl gets needy, isn't that right?" you nodded, cheeks a bit flustered as phil placed a hand to your thigh, giving yet another squeeze, while you reached a stop light letting out a whine.

"what's the matter?" phil asked with a smug smirk along his face, causing you to roll your eyes over at him.

"best behavior, daddy-" words betrayed you while squirming under his touch, desperate for more. a loud horn halted you from any obscene thoughts running through your mind, the light turning from red to green as you began to drive again.

the ride wasn't too much longer, a brisk breeze going throughout the car as you cracked the window open for larry, he would let out the occasional bark when stopping by his favorite restaurants, one bakery in particular catching your own eye.

"want to make a quick stop for some sweets?" you asked already entering the parking lot.

"hell yeah, but won't be be late?"

"exactly my point." phil took your suggestion, wishing to spend the rest of the holiday with him only and not your family.

bell dinging as you two entered the bakery hand in hand with fingers linking together, a variety of treats on display behind glass.

"let's get some muffins to go. 'wanna spoil my queen," he leaned closer and whispered against your ear, "while you take my scepter like the good girl you are."

mr. and mrs. best in the world has a nice ring to it, don't ya think?