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im-a-marvel-ous-hoe · 5 months

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Santa, Baby | Bucky Barnes (4th Day of 🎄)

(Credits to the owner of this pic!)

Heyo! I’m back with another Christmas fic! I kinda wrote this one super late at night and haven’t done a proofread on this, so if this is shit pls forgive me 😅🩵

Christmas Masterlist <- check out my other holiday fics!

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“That’s so cliché! C’mon, I saw that happening from a mile away.” Bucky laughed as we both sat on the couch watching a bad Christmas rom-com, both of us sharing a blanket so that gives us an excuse to cuddle up to each other. He reached for his mug on the coffee stand in front of the both of us and brought it up to his lips, taking a sip and savoring the bitter taste of his coffee on his tongue.

I watched him drink from his mug as I waited in anticipation for him to reach the bottom of the cup. I smiled to myself and shook my head, my attention turning back to the screen in front of us. “You’ve never seen this movie! There’s no way you could’ve guessed.” I joked as he leaned his head closer to mine while his eyes stayed on the TV screen, his arm laid comfortably draped over my shoulder. “Just because I’ve never seen it, doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

He smiled as he took another sip of his coffee, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as the hot liquid slid down his throat. “Well, when you’re as hot as that actor, the bad acting and cliché lines are forgivable.”

“I’m sitting right here!” He raised an eyebrow and turned towards me. “Oh, that’s right! I forgot that I can only fantasize about being stopped at an airport by the love of my life who tells me how much he loves me and doesn’t want me to leave when you’re not here. Sorry, baby, you’re the hottest man I’ve ever met.” He playfully pushed me off to the side and laughed.

“You dork.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.” He shrugged his shoulders and smirked as I let out a gasp. I returned the favor as he lifted the mug away from me. “Hey, hey! Watch it! You’re gonna make me spill it all over us.” He smiled once he realized he was untouchable while holding the hot beverage. There’s no way I’m gonna allow coffee to stain our blanket and he knows it. He smiled as he lifted the cup up to his puckered lips. “Oh you cocky motherfucker, just watch. Once you put that mug down, your ass is mine.”

“You know, I’m actually quite thirsty. I think I might just hold onto it.”

“Mhmm.” I raised an eyebrow at him and laughed, my anxiety starting to rise wondering how much coffee is left in his mug. How would he react? I’ve been keeping this a secret for a few weeks and the anticipation of telling him was starting to eat me alive. Is this the best way to break the news to him? I mean, it’s a bit too late now to take it out of his hands so…

“Random question, but I’m just curious…” He took a quick sip before speaking up again. “Have you thought about what you’re getting me for Christmas?” I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “Yes, I have. Have you?”

He nodded his head, a small blush appeared on his cheeks as he smiled. “I’ve got the perfect gift, all wrapped up and ready to go.”

“Oh, really? All ready to go, you say?” I asked. “Mhmm. I can’t wait to see the look on your face and doll, let me just say, nothing, and I mean nothing… can top what I got you. I’m callin’ it.” I reached my hand up to his free one and intertwined our fingers together. “Oh, I don’t know about that Bucky. I bet mine is better.”

He shook his head and brought my hand up to his lips, placing a quick sweet kiss on top and looked down at my fingers. “Nope, I’m pretty sure mine is.” I could feel heat rise to my face as I watched him, my mind becoming mush for a second. “As much as I love your gifts, I think I’m the one who's got this one in the bag this year.” I glanced at the practically empty mug in his hand.

“You know what?” He hummed in response, continuing playing with my fingers as he looked directly at me. “You wanna exchange gifts now?” His demeanor changed for a second before clearing his throat. “R – Right now?” I nodded, my excitement and anxiety to tell him the news taking over my next words. “I literally can’t wait to give you your gift. It’s eating me alive.”

He chuckled nervously as his eyes drifted to a random corner of the room. The mug lie standing up on his lap, his fingers gripping the handle. “But uh it’s – it’s not Christmas.”

“I know, but.. this could be a preemie present. I don’t want you to see your gift in front of everyone at Tony’s Christmas party. Too many people watching for something that’s meant to be intimate.” He smirked as he recalled last Christmas. “Is your gift you, doll? Am I gonna have to unwrap you? Is that why you don’t want people watching?” I playfully hit his chest as he laughed before finally meeting my eyes.

“Get your mind outta the gutter, Barnes, I was trynna be sweet here.” His eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Hey, I wouldn’t complain. I loved my gift last year, doll. Can’t help it if I got excited thinking it might happen again this year.” I covered my face with embarrassment as he adjusted his body, his leg bent as he sat directly in front of me. “Do you love seeing me get like this or something?”

“Oh, 100%.”

I pulled my hands away from my face, which I’m sure was beet red. He sat there, staring at me and smiled. “There she is.” I felt my lips curve up and couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Can – Can we please just exchange gifts? I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

He stayed silent for a moment and hummed. Something about the soft faraway look in his eyes and the way he bit his lip told me that my gift must’ve been something special if he’s acting like this. He glanced down at my hands in my lap and as if something in his head clicked. Seeming to come to a decision, he slowly nodded his head and looked up at me.

“Okay, doll. Let’s do it.” I didn’t realize I was holding in my breath awaiting his response until I felt my shoulders slump and a nervous smile creeped up on my face. “Okay… okay um..” I cleared my throat and took in a nervous deep breath as he spoke. “Ladies first.”

I glanced at the mug he still held onto and felt my heart beating erratically. My hands slowly reached for his cup and grasped it, taking it from his hands and lifted it up to his face. He raised an eyebrow as he waited to see what I would say. “Inside this mug, holds your Christmas gift.”

He glanced at the cup in my hand and smiled up at me. “Doll, I’m confused. Why wouldn’t you want me to see this gift in front of everyone at Tony’s party? It’s just a mug.” He laughed as he took the cup back in his hands. “I said inside the mug is your Christmas gift.”

“... Baby – ”

“Oh my God, Bucky, look at the bottom of the mug!” He held his hands up in defense and chuckled at my impatience, “Okay! It’s right here! It’s not goin’ anywhere.” He looked inside his mug and realized he hadn’t finished his coffee. He brought the cup up to his lips and began drinking the remaining liquid until he suddenly stopped. My heart pounded against my chest as he slowly brought the mug away from his face as he read out the secret message at the bottom of his drink.

‘We are pregnant’

His lips parted open slightly as I anxiously waited for his response. I began to play with the blanket that lay between us as I softly called out his name. He turned towards me and asked. “Are you… is this.. baby, is this real?” I nodded as he quickly placed the mug on the coffee table and brought my body close to him, embracing me in a bear hug. I wrapped my arms around him and felt my bottom lip tremble.

Tears began brimming my eyes as he held me tightly to him, letting out a quiet sniffle. “When – When did you find out? How long have you known?” I chuckled as I went to pull away from him but was quickly brought back in and held on even tighter. “I found out a few weeks ago. I took a few tests and they all came out positive.”

He buried his face into my neck and continued listening to how I found out we are pregnant. “I’ve been keeping this secret ever since. I haven’t told anyone yet – not even Nat or Wanda, although I’m sure they both know that somethings up.” I chuckled. “I wanted you to be the first person I told before we told everyone else. I didn’t want you to feel out of the loop or something if you found out at the same time as everyone else. I wanted us to tell them together.”

He pulled away and reached both of his hands up to reach the sides of my face, He sniffled as his glassy eyes met mine and we both just smiled at each other. “Baby… we’re having a baby.”

I nodded as he pulled me in for a kiss. And another.. and another.. and another.

His fingers ran through my hair as my hands stayed on the stubble on his face, not being able to move as much for how close he pulled me towards him. “You’re gonna be a daddy.” I softly spoke as my lips grazed his. “And you’re gonna be a momma.” I smiled against him and pulled him in for one more kiss.

“I love you.. I love you.. I love you..” He mumbled in between kisses as I giggled against him. His hand reached down and I felt the palm of his hand against my stomach. I placed my hand on top of his as he slowly pulled away and leaned his forehead against mine. “Darling, I… this is the best gift you could’ve ever given me.”

“Told you my gift was the best.” I smiled as he chuckled.

“You haven’t even seen what my gift is.”

“Doesn’t matter. This is as much a gift to you as this is for me.” He leaned in and placed a sweet kiss on my lips before pulling away. He held my hand in his as he rubbed his thumb over my ring finger and pinky as he tilted his head to the side before looking up at me and asked. “Can I give you my Christmas gift now?”

I nodded my head and wiped my eyes clear from my tears. He pushed the blanket that lay on his lap away from him and slowly reached his hand down to the front pocket of his pants. I sat there in silence as he suddenly pulled out a small black velvet box. His gaze stayed focused on the box as he took in a deep breath, shuddering and clearing his throat.

“Y/N…” With his free hand, he reached down and grasped mine in his.

Oh my God.

“Before I met you, I never thought I’d be able to find someone who makes me believe I deserve all the love I’ve been deprived of for so long. I never thought I could find someone who makes me want to be a better person. I uh haha.. never thought I’d find someone who I would want to start a family with..”

He looked up at me with tears in his eyes as he nervously blushed as he continued. “Being with you made me realize how much I want things. I want that quiet life in the country. The white picket fence with our kids running around..” He reached his hand down to my stomach as I felt myself become emotional all over again. If it’s because of the hormones or his beautiful speech, I’ll never know. Maybe it’s a combination of both.

“I want it. I want it all with you and no one else. You’re it, baby. You’re it for me and I want to spend every waking moment with you for the rest of my life. I want to be able to call you mine, forever. With that being said, I guess this means I just have one question left..”

He held the velvet box in his hand nervously as I brought my hand up to my mouth, trying to stifle any cry that’s trying to pop its way out.

“Y/N..” he opened up the small box as I let out a soft gasp. “.. will you marry me?”

I gazed at the beautiful ring in his hands and couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Our lives are really forever about to change. With marriage and a baby already on the way, it’s making me wonder for a split second if we are moving too fast. His hopeful eyes and shy smile is enough to make my heart burst out of my chest and push away any doubt. This is the man I love and he loves me. I’m looking at the rest of my life in front of me.

I nodded my head.

“Yes. Yes, yes a million times yes.”

He smiled and grabbed the ring and slipped it onto my finger before bringing me in for another kiss for the night. I giggled against his lips as I thought about how busy we’re going to be with the baby and wedding preparations. He slowly pulled away and brought my ringed finger up to his face and inspected it.

“I’ve been waiting to put a ring on your finger for so long. Steve and Sam came ring shopping with me and helped pick out the perfect one. It looks even better than I could ever imagine..” I smiled at him as he met my gaze. “I think I chose well. What do you think?”

I chuckled. “It’s beautiful, Bucky. I love it..” I admired the ring as he moved a strand of hair away from my face. “I can’t wait to be Mrs. Barnes.” His thin line smile grew as he blushed at the thought.

“I can’t wait to call you my wife.” Bucky placed his hand on my stomach and softly smiled. I’m excited for what the future has in store for us. “You know we’re gonna be the talk of the party at Tony’s, right?”

“Oh definitely. That is gonna be interesting.”

“Mhmm and I bet you Sam is gonna ask to be the godfather of our kid.”

He laughed and shook his head. “And have our own kid grow up to bully me like he does? No way. Sam would get a kick out of it, I just know it.”

“He really would.” I laughed with him and looked into his eyes.

“You know somethin’?”

“What?”

“Who do you think got the better gift? ‘Cause right now, I’m thinkin’ it looks like a tie this year.”

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I hope y’all liked it! Please let me know your thoughts! Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky christmas imagine #christmas imagine #marvel fics #marvel blog #baby fever #bucky fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes masterlist #12 days of ficmas #ficmas 2023 #✨🎄✨🎄

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upon-a-starry-night · 5 months

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Ficmas!

A/n: I've never done a Ficmas before so it might be a bit different then what you're used to. I've used multiple characters for some of the prompts so they might have the same intro but I promise their outcomes will be different

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🎄Prompt 1: You need a bit of help getting your Christmas tree into your apartment so you ask your neighbor for help

★Spencer Reid

★Natasha Romanoff

★MoonKnight

🎄Prompt 2: Fake dating at a Christmas party...with your boss

★Kylo Ren

🎄Prompt 3: Mistletoe

★Connor(Dbh)

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I still need some more prompt ideas so if you guys have any let me know please!! ~ Starry

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make-me-imagine · 1 year

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12 Days of Christmas 2022 - Masterlist

Here are the links to everyting I posted for Christmas this year.

(Christmas Masterlist Post)

Key:

❄ Not Christmas At All (Just Winter/Vibes) 🎁 Christmas Mentioned/Vibes (But not part of the plot) 🌲 Kind of Christmas 🧑‍🎄 Christmas

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Day 1: 'Christmas Surprise'; Darry Curtis x Reader + The Boys & Reader; cute/fluff [🧑‍🎄]

Day 2: 'Stress Relief'; Leverage Crew + Eliot Spencer x Reader; fun/humor [❄] Bonus: Top Gun Christmas Scenario Game [🧑‍🎄]

Day 3: 'Mistletoe Distraction'; Lou Ransone x Reader; cute/fluff [❄🎁]

Day 4: 'Home For Christmas'; Joaquin Torres x Reader; mild angst/fluff [🧑‍🎄]

Day 5: 'Cozy Winter Evening'; Malcolm Bright x Reader; cute/fluff [🌲❄]

Day 6: 'First Christmas'; Jonas Quinn x Reader; cute/fluff [🧑‍🎄]

Day 7: 'White Christmas'; Christopher Pike x Reader; cute/domestic fluff [🌲❄] Bonus: 911 Christmas Scenario Game [🧑‍🎄]

Day 8: 'A Christmas Rose'; Cavill!Sherlock Holmes x Reader; cute/fluff [🌲] - Part Two Coming New Years Eve/Day

Day 9: 'Christmas Proposal'; Steve Rogers x Reader; romance [🌲]

Day 10: 'Secret Santa: Part One'; Top Gun; ? x Reader; fun/anticipation [🌲🎁]

Day 11: 'Secret Santa: Choose Your Own Character Ending' - Day One; Bobs Ending [🎁] Fanboy's Ending [🎁]

Day 12 (Christmas): 'Secret Santa: Choose Your Own Character Ending' - Day Two; Hangmans Ending [❄🎁] Roosters Ending [❄] Mavericks Ending [❄🎁]

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liaromancewriter · 1 year

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12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Day 1: Favorite Accessories

Day 2: Keep Warm, Drink & Go Red

Day 3: Holiday Baking

Day 4: Snow and Music

Day 5: Double Date on Ice

Day 6: Skiing in Aspen

Day 7: An Intern Christmas

Day 8: Festive Slippers

Day 9: Of Snowmen and Christmas Movies

Day 10: Holiday Games

Day 11: Presents and Christmas Eve Traditions

Day 12: Christmas Memories

#12 DOC #12 days of christmas #open heart #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #open heart choices #sienna trinh x max valentine #masterlist

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thetriumphantpanda · 5 months

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baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

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kiwisbell · 4 months

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let it snow [joel miller]

It's cold on the trail. Joel keeps you warm.

12 days of pedro masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: an early winter smattering of daddy kink, feel free to picture game!joel or show!joel here, post-outbreak, jackson!joel, christmastime fuzzies, soft old man!joel, self-indulgent age gap (20s/50s), protective!joel, christmas tree hunting, hiking, sex in an apocalypse, snowball play(?), fingering, frostbite does not exist in this universe, thigh fucking, dirty talk, ellie loving dinosaurs, snowball fights, a joel who enjoys what little peace life brings him

word count: ~ 5.3k

read on ao3!

a/n: hi, lovelies - this fic is my contribution to @hellishjoel's 12 days of pedro celebration! everyone please check out the masterlist linked above to check out the other works from all of these amazing authors!! thank you endlessly to my parents @northernbluess and @tieronecrush for beta'ing this fic and reassuring me every step of the way - i love you both to the moon and back. i hope you enjoy and as usual, please mind the tags and please tell me what you think!! ❄️

super cute dividers by @saradika-graphics!!

Fall comes on slow. The leaves begin to bleed orange from the arteries. The air crackles with bright, cold wind that bites and pokes. Debris crunches underfoot and the trees shed their lustrous coats. It’s nothing like the onset of winter in Jackson—the downward crash of an overnight snowstorm that crests too quickly for the residents to prepare.

It's a crystallised, overrefined flurry of soft flakes that gather on thatched rooftops and bury the barren, browning garden beds in the western corner of the village. It’s a nighttime assault of gnashing wind carrying fractals of ice and snow, and before most are awake, Jackson is snowed in.

The children are thrilled. All of them too small to have known anything but the walls of the town, they burst from their homes, half-zipped coats and bright-and-early tummy-rumblings and wondrous impatience, to stick out their tongue and catch the still-falling snowflakes. Parents and caretakers and teachers straggle, still pulling on their own boots and coats, in the effort to stay close to their charges. Snowballs are packed together and hurled from behind fortified walls of snow; passers-by are pulled unwittingly into the two-sided, relentless barrage; and the shrieks and cries crackling into the dead white air are born from the watery womb of promise, not terror.

There’s some joy yet to be found in this world.

He isn’t participating in the frozen-water war, but he’s watching from the margins, leaning against the wall of the schoolhouse with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes hawklike as he observes your every move.

A group of young girls has inducted you into the battle and now you’re hiding with one of them behind a wall, packing a tight ball of snow in your hands, barely protected by your threadbare gloves. He can see the grip of the cold on your body, the way your breath circles above your head, a silvery halo. He can see the slight shivers that start in your lower spine and tremble their way up to the back of your neck, and he can see the phantom imprint of his hand resting there, warming your nape, curling his callused fingers around your brain stem and guiding you the way he liked. He can see your gentle touch not only in your hands but in your smile, in the soft application of snow to the top of the wall as it begins to melt, in the sweet curl of your mouth as you help a child who has fallen to their feet.

Swiping an accumulation of snow from the child’s nose with your thumb, you mouth some words he cannot see. The child sniffs happily and wraps their arms around their mother’s leg.

You sneak away from the barrage of snowballs and blow some warm air into your cupped hands. He shifts off the wall and begins to prowl toward you.

When he’s close enough, when no one is around nor awake enough to notice, pulls you into the alley between the schoolhouse and the theatre.

His mouth captures your surprised exhale, stealing the visible puff of warm air for himself, swallowing it down as he pries you open for him. His hand rediscovers the slow, warm pleasure of its resting place on the back of your neck, gently steering you, unkindly pinning your body to the wall.

He feels the itch of your gloves as you cup his face, and his other hand lifts to circle around both of your wrists, idly pressing them beneath his heavy coat, against his heart. It thuds strongly, pouring its rhythm into the grooves of your palms.

He crowds you, making you small, his desire for this closeness prodding your inner thigh. You go oh-so easily, the gruff sounds he spills into your mouth tapping, chiselling, knocking down each vertebrae. Carefully, with the slide of his warm, wet tongue along yours and the greedy assault of his mouth, he shapes you for himself and turns you into the pliant little thing he needs you to be.

You moan softly into his mouth, and his answering groan is something rabid. Your spine curves to him, gravitational pull, wooden slats of the building at your back tugging the fabric of your coat. He will kiss you until you’re breathless and preening under his touch because it’s what he always does. He will inculcate you with the knowledge that you’re for his eyes only.

When he pulls away, he watches you chase his mouth with lidded eyes and kiss-bruised lips, and he smirks. His hand moves to your head, gently smoothing down your crown to your jaw, the way one tenderly pets a kitten.

“Got you somethin’.”

You raise your brows. “You did?”

“Mhm.” He nudges his nose against yours and relishes the smile you give him—eyes crinkling at the corners, irises reflecting glistening sky. “Open your mouth for me first. Go on, now.”

You obey, letting your tongue loll out, more from habit than anything. Still, he’s pleased, unfurling the hastily-wrapped paper package in his pocket and placing the small square of chocolate on your tongue.

You close your mouth with the help of his hand on your jaw, and the gentle snap of the chocolate bleeds the melting centre down your throat, disseminating the oaky flavour on your tastebuds.

“Y’like it?”

His voice is a carving knife. You're split down the middle by his simple show of affection, spilling out into his arms, wrists still clasped in one of his big hands.

“It’s good,” you tell him. “I’ve never…”

His smile digs a thumb into your open wound. “I know. Took it from the kitchen.”

You lick your lips and swallow the rest of the melted chocolate. Joel watches the action from the moment your tongue darts out to the moment it retreats. “Maria will have your ass.”

“Hmm, Maria can tell me off much as she wants. Wanted to give you somethin' sweet.” He presses in closer, hands dropping to your hips, kneading the pad of his thumbs over your hips. You're wearing old jeans whose waistband is fraying. “What do you say?”

This is the fun part of the game you play. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, teasing, begging entrance even though he knows there isn't a world in which you would deny him. You part your lips and take his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue and cleaning off the taste of leather that still lingers on his skin.

“Thank you.”

He strokes your jaw with his thumb. “You wanna know what else?”

You're already leaning into his palm as he cradles your cheek, and he’s so proud of the volcanic thaw in your eyes. “What else?”

Joel reaches back into his coat pocket and places something small in your palms. It’s a smooth wooden figurine that smells faintly of sawdust and is carved in the perfect likeness of your home, which sits across the street from his.

“‘s almost Christmas,” he says, suddenly so unsure of himself as he watches you turn the little shack over in your hands. “Thought you might like—”

But you're leaping onto him like a little monkey, your mouth crashing against his. It’s all lips and teeth and tongue and he can taste the chocolate he placed there just moments ago. The chimney of your miniature home prods his chest as you hold the figure close, tucking it safely between your bodies.

“Easy, baby girl,” he says with a low laugh, not-quite pulling away, letting you lick into his mouth like a cat after milk. The scratch of his beard will leave patches on your chin and everyone will see them. He grins, tilting your head up and soothing the worried skin with soft kisses.

“I love it,” you tell him, sighing into his body, “so much. I love it, Joel.”

“Good.” He nudges his nose against your temple. “Take good care of it, now.”

You nod, scratching at the too-long hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck. “How do you know that it's almost Christmas?” you ask him after a moment.

“Took a guess,” he says, nipping your earlobe. “Y’know, the big tree they put up in the middle of town helps.”

You playfully tug his hair. “Asshole.”

“So goddamn mouthy. Gettin’ spoiled.”

“You're the one spoiling me,” you purr, mouthing wetly along his jaw.

Joel chuckles. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

“You know”—your voice takes on a musical lilt—“I don't have my Christmas tree yet.”

Joel lifts his brows. “You want a Christmas tree?”

You lift one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t really remember the holidays.”

The watery shimmer under your irises reminds Joel just how much more life he's lived. You were young when the outbreak started, both parents lost to the virus before the first week was out. You’d hid under your bed for three days straight before FEDRA found you.

They’d taken you, underfed and dehydrated, to the Colorado QZ, where you spend most of your adolescence until it was bombed by Fireflies. You'd managed to sneak away before they could round you up like FEDRA had. You’d travelled with one group to the next before Jackson welcomed you.

There's a scar on your throat, just below your jaw on the right side, and another at the nape of your neck. You've been held at knifepoint, you told him in the early days of knowing one another, by the very same people who'd taken you in as one of their own. They’d offered you up as trade for some deer meat. Joel traces the mark and feels his throat constrict.

The kind of life you’d led before Jackson… He’ll make sure you never have to run again.

“Let’s get you one,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

You pull away from him to meet his eye. “Joel…”

“Tommy’s got a saw behind the bar. I can take down a tree. We’ll bring it back ‘n’ put it up in your place.”

The grin creeps up at the corner of your mouth. “You're going soft, Miller.”

Joel just crowds you back against the wall and slants his mouth over yours. He has no problem going soft when he can feel the wooden edges of his gift to you prodding the flesh of his chest. Let it pierce him.

Joel has few rules he's willing to push back on. At his age, he's lost some of his jagged edges, compromising on more. When he's got you like this, tucked into his side, wearing only his shirt, he remembers exactly why he enforces these few rules.

The light is soft in the winter; it doesn't quite penetrate his eastern-facing window the way the summer sun does. He blinks awake, feeling you shift next to him, your nose buried in his throat. Your arms are wrapped tight around his middle, one leg hoisted over his torso.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunts, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Gotta get up.”

He can feel your sleepy pout against his neck. “Mph.”

“Yeah, I know.” Joel chuckles, slumping back into the mattress. You shift so you're on top of him, your thighs bracketing his hips. Sitting up, you explore his bare chest with your soft hands, migrating down the length of his torso and his softening belly. He grabs your hips and soothes himself awake by rubbing his hands up and down your sides. The fabric of his shirt draped over your body shifts under his palms.

“I’m patrolling with Tad,” you tell him, “so we’ll have to put up the tree when I get back.”

“No, you're not.”

You cock your head. “Tommy told me—”

“Tommy doesn't know what the hell he's talkin’ about,” says Joel. “You and I get the day off. And I”—he pulls you down toward him and secures his hand at the back of your neck—“know a spot.”

Your answering hum is playful. “You know a spot. I had a couple boyfriends back in the QZ who knew a spot, too, Miller.”

“I ain't your old boyfriends,” he says with a faint growl, landing a light smack on your ass. “There’s a good trail west of here. Some trees what would look nice all done up.”

You beam down at him. Your hair is somewhat tousled from sleep and the fuzzy light haloes your head. “You aren't worried about raiders?”

“Don't think I can keep you safe?” He caresses your bare thighs, his cock interested in the warmth of you on his lap.

Your mouth fits over his, fingers threading through his hair, and Joel settles into the steady rhythm of your heartbeat fluttering against his own chest.

“I think,” you whisper, “that we're already late. Let's go get a Christmas tree.”

Half an hour later, he’s still yawning on his way to the stables and wishing he was in the warmth of his bed instead of out here in the biting cold. Joel runs his gloved palms together and fixes his rifle over his shoulder.

You, of course, are fresh-faced and early, securing the saddle over your chestnut mare Princess. Joel pats her snout and inspects your pack where it hangs on the hook nearby.

“Forgot your bandages again.”

You hum and it's music. “You always have extra. Ready to go?”

“Sure you’re not waiting for Tad?”

You gently pat your horse’s back. “Tad is terrified of you, so he's terrified of me. You're ruining my reputation, Miller.”

“That so?” Joel sidles up next to you, pushing your pack into your arms. “You got a complaint you wanna file?”

“None so far,” you say, biting down on your grin, “but there's always time. Better be careful with me.”

“I’m always careful,” Joel says into your ear. “Now go on. We got ground to cover.”

There is a method to Joel Miller’s madness. Tommy knows damn well he needs to pick his battles. But Joel will always win when it comes to you. That is where he simply does not compromise.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Tommy.”

His brother’s hands fly up, palms out, already pleading his case. “Joel, listen to me—”

Joel slaps the book against Tommy’s chest. “I don't need to hear your goddamn excuses. She doesn't go with anyone but me.”

“Listen,” says Tommy, tossing the worn leather agenda aside. “We've got people out sick, and they ain't about to go out in this cold. And you need to be with Flynn, ‘cause Christ knows he ain't trained up enough to handle anything up in those woods.”

Joel scoffs. “And Tad’s trained up enough to go with her? Don't give me that shit, Tommy. She goes with me.”

“Joel—”

“We clear?” He squares up to his brother, folding his arms over his chest.

Tommy rolls his eyes at Joel’s posturing but concedes nonetheless. “Fine. I’ll take Flynn.”

“Good.” Joel turns to leave for the stables. He’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s a strong girl,” says Tommy, “and you can't play guard dog forever.”

The snow has settled a bit in the week since the first fall. It's crystallised and hardened underfoot, packed tightly. Icicles dangle from the naked trees on the outskirts of the woods, and your breath mists. The cold penetrates your jeans and the slivers of exposed wrists where your gloves don't quite meet your coat sleeves. Hugging Joel around the middle, your body heat shudders through him.

“Snow like this is always a goddamn problem,” he mutters.

“Covers tracks,” you say.

“That's right. You do listen.”

“Well, when you give me chocolate…”

Joel veers Princess north and brings your gloved palms to his mouth so he can breathe warm air into them. You sigh your thanks, bumping your forehead into his back before returning to your vigilance as lookout. Once you're well out of the way of the city walls, it's easier to get wrapped up in the blistering wind. You bring your bandanna up over your nose and watch Joel do the same as you pass the river. It’s frozen over, not blue but a sheet of miserable white. You mourn the loss of colour as the wind nips at your skin.

“We’ll have more cover when we break through the trees,” says Joel. “Shuffle closer to me.”

You do, sliding your hips forward. Princess’s reins around one fist, he covers your hands with his other, squeezing you intermittently. His body heat helps you settle comfortably into him.

“What was your first Christmas like with Sarah?”

Joel chuckles. “She was one hell of a rowdy kid. Had to fish her out of the tree one time—only turned my back for a goddamn second.”

You smile fondly. “Thought you were gonna have to drag Ellie kicking and screaming out of that snowball fight the other day. She was a minute away from nailing your brother in the face.”

“Hmph. Asshole probably deserved it,” says Joel. “Sarah’d never hurt a fly. She saved spiders; threw ‘em outside instead of killin’ ‘em. But she’d get along with Ellie. Sometimes I look at her and see Sarah.” Joel’s quiet for a moment, guiding Princess past the tree line where the wind begins to penetrate in bursts rather than a constant stream of cold. “Do you think that's wrong?”

You frown. “No. I don't think so. Sometimes, I talk to kids in town that remind me of you. They’ll have a nose or eyes that make me think of you, and I’ll think it’s so nice that we’re all still here, still kicking. You know? There are parts of Sarah in Ellie and there are parts of that tree over there in me. When we love someone, we see them everywhere.”

Joel brings Princess to a halt about a half-mile into the woods; a trail veers off to the east next to you. He loops her reins around the branch of a tree and helps you off the horse. “Y’know,” he says, “you're too damn smart for your own good.”

“You’ll do well to remember that, Miller.” You shove your bandanna back down so it lies limp around your neck. “Now show me this spot.”

Joel failed to warn you that it involved a hike. An honest-to-fuck hike. You and your boots are used to traversing long distances, but you hadn't particularly prepared to trek through the frozen woods in December on a few hours’ sleep, a couple hours’ orgasm, and a hastily-chugged cup of coffee. Not had you prepared for an uphill hike in the brutal cold just to find a fucking Christmas tree.

If you didn't like him so damn much, you know for a fact you'd happily throttle your Joel.

Your Joel, who can't seem to find a tree that's good enough for you. Too tall, he'll say about one, won't fit inside your place. Too skinny, he’ll say about another, you could barely string lights on that.

Your lungs are burning cold. Every breath you inhale feels like swallowing needles. Your chest heaves and your cheeks are numb and you’re drawing up what's left of your resolve to give him a piece of your mind.

“Nah, not this one,” he’s saying, knocking his fist against the trunk of another tree. “It’s practically hollow. Would crumble the second we—”

“Joel, if you could find a tree you do like so we can head back and I can stop freezing to death, that would be so, so appreciated.”

Your teeth chatter the whole time, but you get your message across. Joel stops, his hand splayed against another tree, a smaller one with a decent-sized middle, and turns to face you.

“You cold, baby?”

It's not an innocent question. Around you, the wind whips at the branches of the tallest trees and crackles through the air. But Joel’s voice, slow and gravel-thick, permeates the breeze. It bites deeper, to the gums, latched in your skin. It’s warm.

No—it's hot.

Joel’s hand drops from the tree. His foot crunches the snow under his boot as he takes a step toward you.

Wordlessly, you nod.

“You had lots to say before, baby girl. Thought you wanted your Christmas tree.”

You do. Fuck, you want to go home. You want to curl up in his bed with another cup of coffee and warm yourself up with his body. But Joel is staring at you, eyes hard, rubbing his gloved hand over his mouth, and the alternative now feels much more tempting. “Uh-huh.”

“I think you should see for yourself,” he says, “whether or not you want this one. Go on.”

He's playing some game. He’s ringed with silvery light, a soft and hazy glow backlighting his longer hair, threaded with grey, his body so broad, solid, strong—

There’s none of your Joel in the way he stands. This is the Joel who’s used to following orders. This is the Joel he never lets you truly see: the man who has seen so many more years, seen so much more of the world.

You pass him, hiking farther up the trail, to inspect the tree. It is decent; just taller than you, but thick enough to stay upright, plush with needles. A gentle tug at your scalp, a puff of warm air on your cheek, the dizzying weight of him at your back. He’s twirling a lock of your hair between two gloved fingers.

“You like it?” he says gruffly, his mouth mere inches from your ear. The telltale tingling begins in your core and you swallow hard.

“Joel, I didn’t mean to—”

“Shhh. None of that. I wasn’t thinkin’, sweetheart.” He nips at your earlobe, hands trailing down your body, underneath your heavy coat, sitting warmly on your hips. “Gotta keep my girl nice ‘n’ warm. Got all caught up in my own head, thinkin’ like a carpenter. Let me make it up?”

He loves so selflessly that it can feel bizarrely like greed.

Sometimes, you forget that he’s so much older. That he lived his own way of living for a long time before you came along, that he knows this planet like that back of his hand, that you can’t even begin to name a country or a food or a song that FEDRA didn’t teach you. That you’ve only just begun to experience the terror and the pain that’s engulfed this world for so long.

Joel Miller’s lived a long life. He’s choosing to spend these moments with you, in the cold, dead woods, picking out a Christmas tree. For as long as he’s been waking up with you, his girl, he’s wanted you longer. He’s tired. He’s old. But he’s finally getting to choose.

He’d like to think he deserves a bit of choice after all this time. So, again, he comes back to you, like the last time and the last, spreading his fingers over your body and cupping you, molten gold, in his hands.

Settle down, his brother told him a few years back. You deserve this, Joel. To just… settle down, if you can ever find a way.

You’re his way. He intends to make it clear.

“Need to hear you say yes, baby,” he says, shifting your hair aside, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck where it’s warm and quiet and smells of the coffee he always makes you.

“Yes,” you whisper, reaching back to fix your hand at the nape of his neck and glue him to you. “Please. Please, Joel.”

He grins, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw. He steals every one of your heartbeats for himself.

“All right,” he says. “We’ll get this one.”

Eyes lidded, you watch over your shoulder as Joel fiddles with the button of your jeans and yanks down your panties with them, now hanging limply off your knees.

“Joel!” you gasp. The cold air bites your thighs, your ass, your poor, slick pussy, as he unwraps his present. Playfully squeezing your ass, he grinds his clothed front against you.

“Yeah, baby?” he mumbles, the smug bastard, pinning you to the tree by his strong hips, your fingers splayed on the trunk. Above you, pine needles flutter down to the ground around you, but the trunk doesn't budge.

It is a good tree.

“‘m cold,” you manage, putty in his hands, under the sweet, slow kisses he's pressing to your jaw.

Your petulant whine rivals the pitch of the wind off the mountain trail. The whistling air shrieks. The hard weight at your back absconds with the warmth it brought you, and he's bending to one knee, packing a not-quite spherical ball of snow in his gloves.

“You’re cold?” It doesn't sound like a question and you're nodding anyway, your cheek scraping the bark of the fir tree. It smells of terpenes and the shingles of bark bleed resin.

“I’m so cold, Daddy.”

He stands, and a huge glove is caging your ribs, a bearded cheek nuzzling your temple. “Let’s see, baby girl. Open wide.”

He brings his other hand between your exposed thighs and, lips prying at the corner of your mouth, cups the feebly-formed snowball against your pussy.

“Daddy,” you gasp, writhing away and grinding into his hand all the same, your mouth open in a long, pitiful cry. Your silvery breath ascends in a long-limbed dance with his own.

The snow melts in moments, rubbed firm into the scorching heat of your body, but you feel the biting cold against your clit as if it were pulled between a set of pearly teeth.

“See?” There’s a cruel tone of mocking in it and you preen like it’s a sweet lullaby. “Nice ‘n’ warm.”

He mouths at the crook of your neck, hot and wet, tongue dipping into the junction between your ear and your jaw, where it’s soft and does not hurt when he bites down.

The once-packed snow, now tepid and formless, drips down your thighs, and the air is so cold it begins to freeze again. Joel hears your helpless moan and takes pity, unbuckling his own jeans just enough to pull out his cock.

But he doesn't slot himself at your needy hole and push slowly inside you the way he did last night. No—he guides the leaking head between your thighs and closes your legs around him, the length of him flush to your cunt.

“Ohhhh, fuck.” You shiver, dropping your forehead against the tree, as Joel lubricates his cock with the melted water of the snowball and begins to fuck himself between the cushions of your thighs. “Joel… oh my God, Daddy—”

He grunts, taking it slow, the wet slide of his cock electrifying, cold and warm all at once, his body caging yours against the tree. With every thrust, the head of his cock catches on your clit, and he gasps in your ear, nibbling your exposed skin. You grasp at his hair, the hand that presses down on your belly, fixing him to you.

“That's it, baby. Goddamn, you feel so good. So fuckin’ soft, just for me, all for Daddy, right, baby girl?”

“Yes, yes! I’m yours, all yours, please…” Your thighs twitch when his cock drags along your clit once more, and it's so good—but it's not enough.

“I know,” groans Joel, lowering your joined hands to your clit and rubbing slow, aching circles over your slick pearl. A strained moan rumbles in your chest and your head grows heavy, falling back on his shoulder. The pleasure, white-hot and insistent, makes you forget all about the cold air savagely biting off chunks of your skin. It's all Joel. “I know, baby girl. That feel good?”

“Mmmm,” you manage, breathless and panting, your exhales swirling up into the air and disappearing in the trees. He keeps your hands joined, working in tandem to pleasure your needy clit. “Mhm, so good. Just like that.”

Joel nods into the crook of your neck, keeping the pressure steady on your clit as he continues to get himself off between your legs. “My pretty girl, so cold,” he rasps, “so needy. Y’know I’d get you anything you wanted.”

You nod vigorously, wetting his cock with your arousal, gloved fingers slick on your pussy. The rough grind of the leather closes an electrical circuit up and down your body. Joel Miller has always known how to make you feel safe, cared-for—sensations you'd never known before Jackson. With him, you're glutted, satiated. With you, he’s begun his long winter’s task of settling down.

“Let go for me, baby,” he says, taking your jaw between his teeth as he feels his stomach tighten, his balls pulling up. “C’mon, baby girl, let me feel it. Get yourself all warm with me.”

He rubs your clit faster until you're seizing, core tensing, your mouth open in a long, low cry that echoes down the trail. Joel talks you through it, good girl, that’s it, I know it’s a lot, honey, just let go, and your fingers flex, trapped in his, as you come until your legs are trembling.

Joel hums like he's satisfied, his hips pummeling into your backside in stuttering thrusts that indicate he's coming, too. “You gonna let me come, baby girl?” he says, baring his teeth against your cheek. “Gonna forgive me?”

“Yesyesyes! Fuck, you’re so good. Please come for me, Daddy, please!”

“Fuck, baby, I will. I will.” And he does—stuffing his cock between your thighs, it begins to pulse beneath your cunt, spilling hot cum all over your legs, your pussy, the tree he’s pinned you against. All the while, he holds you tight, his mouth greedy on you, words coaxed into your ears that aren't meant for another soul.

“You’re mine. All fuckin’ mine.” He's rambling as he comes down, spurts of cum still dribbling from his cock down your thighs. “Goddamn perfect.”

You shiver as the cold begins to seep back in through your skin, even as Joel helps pull your jeans back up over your ass. It's a bit uncomfortable, feeling the slide of his cum on your legs underneath the denim, but you smile anyway, letting him guide you to face him, your foreheads pressing together.

“I like this one,” you tell him. Joel laughs, bringing your mouth to his for another kiss.

“Dude, where the fuck did you get this?”

You look over your shoulder at Ellie, who inspects your miniature figurine, now with a home just inside your foyer.

“Joel gave it to me,” you tell her.

“Whooooa. You think he could make me a dinosaur?”

You turn to Joel, who's nursing some bourbon and hiding a smile in the rim of the glass. “That's a great question, Ellie. What do you think, Joel?”

“C’mon, man, when do I ever ask you for anything?”

Joel chokes into his glass. “Every goddamn day of your life, Ellie.”

“Okay, well, just think about how cool it would be to have a dinosaur. It’s basically the real thing.”

Joel shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. Maybe next year.”

“Ugh. Fine. But don't think I’m not gonna remember.”

Idly rubbing his back, you lean into him and turn your head toward the tree. It sits tall and proud in the corner, strung with a couple coloured lights Maria had found for you, hung with baubles that some of the schoolchildren had been thrilled to make. It's a bit bare in spots, haphazardly decorated, prickly to the touch.

“You like it?” asks Joel, nudging his nose against your temple.

“It's perfect.”

He grins into your cheek. “You think she’ll like the dinosaur?”

Your eyes fall to the smattering of gifts under the tree, tossed into spare crates and bags.

“Ellie, why don't you open first?”

follow @kiwisbellupdates and turn on notifs to be updated when i post a fic!

#kiwisbell's fics #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #12 days of pedro #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #tlou fic #tw daddy kink

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blizzardfluffykpop · 1 year

Text

12 Days of Winter Year 6 [Wintertime]

Prompt List

By Days:

Snowfall (Wonwoo X Reader) [Drabble]

Together (Gunil X Reader)

Pine Tree (Jiseok X Reader)

Christmas Tree (Yeo One X Reader)

A New Beginning (Changkyun X Reader)

Cocoa Spill (Mingyu X Reader)

Frozen Treats (Jiseok X Reader)

Winter Break (Dino X Reader)

Favorite Person (Hyungwon X Reader)

Dancing Again (Minhyuk X Reader)

Ice Block (Jooheon X Reader)

Christmas Miracle (Dino X Reader) [Pt. 2 to Winter Break]

By Prompts:

Frozen Treats (Jiseok X Reader)

Favorite Person (Hyungwon X Reader)

Pine Tree (Jiseok X Reader)

Ice Block (Jooheon X Reader)

Snowfall (Wonwoo X Reader) [Drabble]

Together (Gunil X Reader)

Christmas Tree (Yeo One X Reader)

Cocoa Spill (Mingyu X Reader)

Winter Break (Dino X Reader)

A New Beginning (Changkyun X Reader)

Dancing Again (Minhyuk X Reader)

Christmas Miracle (Dino X Reader) [Pt. 2 to Winter Break]

Bonus: How I think XH Wrap Presents 💖

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writingwithciara · 2 months

Text

worth the wait ~matt sturniolo~

summary: 5 times matt wanted to tell his best friend he loved her + the 1 time he actually went through with it

word count: 3.8k

pairing: matt sturniolo x best friend!reader

notes: i love the 5+1 fics because they are just so cute. and who exudes cuteness more than our very own matthew sturniolo?

masterlist

december 31, 2013/january 1, 2014: the first time he knew & wanted to express it

it was new years eve and mary lou was throwing a party for her friends and family to celebrate the arrival of 2013.

a lot had gone on that year and she figured the best way to unwind would be to have all her closest friends together under one roof.

y/n was best friends with the matt and her parents were close to his own parents so inviting them over was the first thing that crossed marylou's mind.

y/n walked in like she owned the place and went right to matt and chris' bedroom.

"hey guys."

"what's up?" nick was the first one to greet her, as chris and matt were both occupied with a video game.

"remember how on christmas we were discussing the fact that people kiss at midnight on new years? and then we were deciding who we would all kiss when the clock struck 12?"

"of course i remember. what about it though?" chris set his controller down and the boys all looked at y/n.

"you guys were arguing over who wanted to kiss me at midnight but to settle it, i decided on my own."

"okay." matt leaned forward in his bean bag. "so who's it going to be?"

"you'll find out at midnight." she winked and skipped out of the room. the boys just glanced at each other, trying to figure out who she picked.

as midnight slowly approached, the boys were starting to feel sleepy. y/n had decided on kissing chris at midnight but when she looked over at him, he was passed out on the couch so she shook her head and made another decision.

matt noticed nick passed out too so he gently nudged y/n.

"guess that just leaves you." she smiled through a yawn.

"was i your last pick?"

"yeah. sorry."

"no. it's okay. at least i'm getting picked." he shrugged nonchalantly.

y/n just looked at him and smiled when she heard the adults start counting. "you ready?"

"is this going to be your first kiss?" he looked at his lap.

"nope. kissed donnie ryder on the last day of school before the break."

"oh okay." matt glanced over at the tv screen. "2 seconds."

"1" y/n leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on matt's lips. "happy new year, matty."

he was only 10 years old but to him, the kiss meant everything.

by the time y/n's parents were ready to leave, they noticed she was passed out on the couch with the boys. her head resting in chris' lap. mary lou looked down at the kids and smiled.

"you can leave her ere for the night. she'll be alright."

"are you sure?" y/n's mom glanced back and forth between her daughter and mary loud.

"of course. i'm sure the kids would all appreciate it in the morning."

"okay. thank you mary lou." y/n's parents smiled and headed home, leaving their child in the care of their best friend.

when the kids woke up in the morning, y/n was on the floor and matt's arm was laying across her face. she carefully moved it off her face and he woke up.

"i'm sorry. didn't mean to wake you." y/n looked at the other 2 who were fast asleep before looking back at matt.

"it's all good." he smiled and stretched. "happy new years, y/n."

"happy new years, matty." she repeated the response from a few hours ago and matt admired her for it.

there was something in the way she called him 'matty' that made him realize that at only 10 years old, he was in love with his best friend.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

august 1, 2016: the second time matt wanted to express his feelings

ever since they kissed on new years, matt couldn't stop thinking about y/n. she occupied every vacant thought he had and it bugged him. she was his best friend and he didn't want to be feeling this way.

at his 13th birthday, his brothers had all their friends over and although he loved nathan's company, he was always looking for y/n. he found her after 5 seconds of searching, which he knew was a little odd.

"happy birthday to my favorite triplet." she whispered as she pulled him into a tight hug.

"your favorite triplet? thought i was your overall favorite."

"well if it wasn't for justin, you would be."

"right. justin." matt looked around the room until his eyes landed on his older brother. y/n had revealed to him just last month that she had harboring a crush on justin for the last 2 years and it bothered matt. he understood that girls sometimes had crushes on older men but why couldn't she have a crush on him instead?

"he's so cute." she stared in justin's direction and matt felt the pit in his stomach begin to form.

"y/n, he's 19. ain't that a little too old for you?"

"maybe. but you can't help who you love."

there it was. the one word he wanted to express to her. the one word he couldn't figure out how to say to her. the only word he struggled with.

"no, you really can't." he looked at her briefly before looking down at his feet. "it's not really love, is it?"

"course not. think it's just a phase really. but i can't help it. we grew up with him always protecting us. it's admirable."

"yeah yeah. whatever." matt threw his hand out, gesturing that the idea was nonsense, causing y/n to roll her eyes playfully.

"it's time for cake." nick appeared, grabbing the two of them and dragging them into the kitchen towards the triplets cakes. each one of them was different but so were the boys so it matched perfectly.

"make a wish." mary lou smiled and pointed the camera at the boys as they each blew out their candles.

"i wished for a lot of candy."

"me too." chris smiled at nick and they both turned towards matt. "what did you wish for?"

matt, ever a believer in superstitions, knew that if he told anyone his wish, it wouldn't come true. he glanced to his right and smiled at y/n. "sorry boys. if i tell you, it won't come true."

his wish was to finally be able to be with y/n in the future. he didn't want to screw that up in any way.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

june 1, 2020: the third time he wanted to tell her but couldn't

"i think i want to start making youtube videos." matt sighed as he flopped down on y/n's bed.

they were almost 17 and neither of them had solid plans for after high school.

"i think that's a wonderful idea, matty." y/n sat up and looked at her friend. "what are you going to make them about?"

"well nick, chris and i were talking the other day and we came to the conclusion that we'll just film videos in the car somewhere and come up with random topics each time. or maybe we could do challenge videos every friday. what sounds better?"

"i like the car video idea. but i also like the idea of watching you guys go through challenges. especially if they're one of those gross food ones or something." y/n giggled at matt's expression.

"think the boys will be up for both?" matt sat up straight and looked at his feet. "what if we fail at this? what am i going to do?"

"matthew bernard, you are incredible. you'll figure life out and if the youtube career doesn't pan out the way you want it to, i'll be here to help you figure out your next step, alright?"

"okay." he looked up at her and smiled. "wanna film with us?"

"i don't think your female fans would appreciate that very much."

"we don't have fans."

"not yet. but you will. and you're going to be the favorite. the girls are going to love you."

"you think so?"

"of course i do." she smiled. "just don't forget me when you're famous."

"i could never forget you, y/n."

right then, matt felt like he could lean forward and kiss her. but he didn't. he restrained himself. instead, he brought up the topic y/n was trying to forget about.

"so, how's your crush on justin going?"

when she giggled and hit him with a pillow, he felt so much love for her. it was insane.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

august 1, 2022: the fourth time he wanted to tell her

the triplets had just turned 19 and they were throwing a party. even though it was just their group of friends, matt was feeling anxious. he didn't like crowds and his eyes roamed the group of people, looking for his favorite pair of eyes. when he couldn't find her, he felt his chest tighten. his grip on the cup he was holding began turning his knuckles white.

"hey, matty. wanna go hang out in your room for a bit? how's that sound?" y/n whispered beside him. he looked down at her and nodded slowly. she grabbed his cup, set it on the counter and guided him back to his bedroom. she passed nick on the way and he nodded in understanding.

when y/n sat matt on his bed, he looked at her and smiled softly.

"thank you." he let out a sigh. y/n sat next to him and wiped the lone tear off his cheek.

"anytime." she smiled in return.

the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes before matt spoke up again.

"i know they're my friends out there but i just...i just..." he couldn't form the right words. y/n placed her hand on his and smiled.

"i get it, matt. you don't have to say anything."

"you don't have to stay in here with me, you know? they're your friends too."

"they may be, but you're my best friend and i feel you need the company more."

"thank you. i really appreciate it." he scooted up the bed until his back was against the headboard. y/n mimicked his actions and rested her head on his shoulder. he placed a kiss to the top of her head and lingered for a few extra seconds.

a few seconds he felt came off as a little more than platonic. but even if y/n noticed, she didn't say a thing. matt knew she was thinking about it though and he knew she didn't bring it up because she didn't want to make him uncomfortable & he couldn't love her more for it.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

february 14, 2023: the fifth time he wanted to tell her but couldn't

valentines day was a day mainly pointed at couples or people who wanted to spend a lot of money to get someone to love them. most of the time, it worked.

but for matt, it didn't.

he spent the past 5 months trying to get over y/n. after the birthday party, he figured that after almost 10 years of being in love with her and not being able to find the courage to tell her, he would just give up and try to focus his love elsewhere.

it resulted in multiple one night stands that never left him feeling as good as y/n did when she was around. he was too far in love with her to forget.

so when valentine's day slowly approached, he devised a plan to tell her how he felt. he bought her favorite flowers and bought her favorite food since she didn't like the traditional chocolate and roses. he also bought her balloons because he knew she liked the way the helium sounded. he knew it was ridiculous to spend money on someone but y/n was worth it to him.

he set everything up in his bedroom and waited for her arrival in the living room.

it was over an hour of waiting before she came through the front door, using the key he gave her.

"i am so sorry i'm late. i know we were supposed to hang out today but work was crazy swamped and my boss asked me to stay after my shift to help clean up the dinner rush."

"it's okay. we're not on any schedule." matt stood up from his spot on the couch and approached her. she smiled at him and let him guide her back to the couch. "you can pick the movie."

"i always pick the movie though. don't you want to pick just this once?"

"no. this is your day. i'm letting you pick. besides, i enjoy it when you pick. it always makes you happy."

"you're the best, matty." she kissed his cheek and rested her head on his shoulder. she pressed play on 'tangled' and even though they had watched the movie together about a hundred times, matt enjoyed it because y/n did. it was her favorite movie and he knew that.

halfway through the movie, the doorbell rang. y/n groaned in protest when matt removed his arm from around her shoulder and stood up.

"it's the food i ordered. be right back." matt ran down the stairs and grabbed the food, handed the driver a $20 tip and went back up to the living room. "happy valentine's day." he set the bag down and y/n opened it.

"you ordered my favorite meal?"

"of course." he smiled and watched as y/n began eating the food. she offered him a bite but he shook his head and she continued eating. when she finished, she looked at matt and he swore he felt his heart skip a beat. she had some sauce on the corner of her mouth and matt thought it was oddly attractive.

"what are you staring at, weirdo?"

"you got a little something right here." he grabbed the napkin and dabbed her lips gently. her eyes briefly closed at the contact and matt took this second to admire her. he slowly pulled the napkin away and stood up quickly.

"you alright?"

"i almost forgot that i set something up in my room for you." he started walking to his room but stopped. "are you staying the night?"

"yeah. i'm too exhausted to drive home and i don't want to bother you for a ride since you already do so much for me." y/n approached him and smiled. "now let's go see what you have set up for me."

when y/n's eyes landed on the balloons, she gasped. then she saw the vase of flowers on matt's beside table & it was like she was in heaven.

she stood there in silence for a little too long so matt grabbed her hand. she was startled but she looked up at him with nothing but adoration in her eyes.

"you are so perfect, matty. and when you do this for a girl for real, she's going to love you endlessly."

he felt like shouting 'this is for real. why can't you see that?' at her, but he didn't. he wanted to tell her he loved her but he had no idea how to prove it.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

march 1 2024: the one time he was finally able to tell her

matt had been silently pining for his best friend for over 10 years and he knew that he needed to face his fears and finally let it out. he wanted to tell chris and ask him for help but he knew that would be a lost cause.

nick was almost no better than chris but he knew that at least with nick, he wouldn't get some bullshit back.

he slowly approached nick's door and knocked. "hey. it's matt. can i ask you for some advice?"

nick opened the door and looked at his brother. "what's up?"

"i need your advice on how to express your feelings for someone."

"just tell y/n how you feel. don't be too grand with the gestures because she hates those. make her favorite meal and jsut tell her everything."

"how do you know who-"

"please, matthew. it's been 10 years. i almost told her for you on her birthday last year but she was pulled away by chris just in time so you're lucky. and if you don't tell her soon, she's going to end up with some loser asshole and she'll be out of our lives forever. you don't want that, do you?"

"absolutely not. i can't let her out of my life." he smiled and went to turn away but a thought went through his mind and he frowned. "what if i tel lher and she freaks out? she'll be out of my life then too."

"she's not going to freak out. she may not like to admit it but she's been in love with you for the last 5 years at least. and before you ask me how i know, i'm attentive. i see things most people don't. but you need to tell her today before you lose her for good."

"why today?"

"she's got a date with simon at 6 and if all goes well, then you'll have lost your chance."

"fuck." he checked his phone and ran down the stairs quickly, throwing in and "i gotta go." on the way down. he grabbed his keys and ran to his car. fearing that he could lose y/n, he felt the car speeding up and when he pulled onto the familiar street, he got nervous and looked at the clock

4:58 pm

he parked in her driveway and knocked on her door. when she answered it, she smiled.

"oh hey matt. what's up?"

"we need to talk." he gently pushed himself past her and went to her kitchen to grab a root beer from the fridge.

"okay. and i repeat. what's up?"

"why didn't you tell me you had a date with simon?"

"what do you mean?"

"nick told me that you had a date with simon tonight. at 6. why didn't you tell me about it?"

"that was last night, matt."

"oh.

"and it wasn't much of a date." she sighed and opened her own bottle of root beer. "it was nice at first but after dinner, we were in his car and he kept putting his hand on my thigh. i told him to quit and he did. at first. but then he kept doing it and each time, his hand went further up." matt watched as y/n's sighed. "i freaked out on him and he called me a prude, then left me on the side of the road. so i walked all the way back here."

"why didn't you call me? i would've come to get you, you know that."

"i was embarrassed and i didn't want you to see me like that." she sighed. "i just felt so.... not good enough."

"okay, no. you don't get to feel that way after defending your own rights. it's ridiculous. he should be the one feeling like shit for the way he treated you. and i swear to god. if i ever see him out in public, i'm kicking his ass."

"matt, relax. it's fine now." y/n set her bottle down and put her hand on his arm. "the fact that you're here is enough to make me feel better."

"good." he looked at her. "for the record, you're more than good enough. he was the one who wasn't good enough for you. i don't think there's anyone alive who deserves you. you're too good of a person."

"well i want to find love eventually, matty." she sighed and looked down at her feet. "i don't want to be too good that nobody deserves me. and i have so much love to give but if nobody deserves me, then who am i gonna give it to?"

"give it to me."

"huh?" she looked up with wide eyes, not believing the words she had just heard.

"give your love to me. i know i am far from worthy but i can definitely do better than simon or any other guy in your life. i've built up so much love for you for the past 10 years and not being able to express it has been killing me. you are the single greatest thing in my life and i don't want anyone else to be with you."

"matt, are you serious?"

"100% serious." matt placed his hand gently on the side of her face. "god, i have loved you since i was 10 years old and you were my first kiss. new years day of 2013 was a life changer for me. it awakened love that i didn't think was possibly so young. and when i was going to tell you, you told me you had a crush on justin. not gonna lie, i cried that night. it sucked so bad." he chuckled. "but i've struggled to come up with a good way to tell you how i've been feeling. it sucked having to watch you with other guys for 10 years."

"matt, i love you. so much. your stupid face. your stupid smile. your stupid tattoos. even though none of you is actually stupid." y/n smiled. "i've loved you since your 9th birthday. and on new years when you asked if you were my last pick for the kiss, i lied. you were my first pick but i didn't want to seem too eager. and i also lied about kissing donnie ryder before break. all he did was kiss my cheek and wish me a merry christmas. you were my first real kiss."

"i hated donnie ryder for years because of that." matt chuckled. "but im glad i was your first."

"we may have been 10 but if i recall correctly, you were the best kiss i've ever had. and i've kissed a lot of guys since then."

"okay, i didn't need to know that. i just confessed my love to you and you're telling me there's been many guys as if i didn't know already." matt smirked. "but i do like that i was the best one."

"i think i need a new sample."

"oh is that so?" matt looked down at y/n as she inched closer. "if a new sample is what you want, then it's what you'll get.

he pulled her in and placed his lips on hers gently. she kissed back immediately and when she smirked into the kiss, matt wrapped his arms around her hips and deepened the kiss.

more than 10 years of feelings was being poured out into the kiss and it was the best kiss either of them had ever had.

"since i was your first kiss, can i also be your last?" matt asked in a low whisper as he pulled away slowly.

"yes. absolutely. a thousand times yes." y/n smirked and kissed him again. and again.

they couldn't get enough of each other and their unspoken commitment to each other was all they needed.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

taglist: @worldlxvlys @fearfam69691

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic

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thebestofoneshots · 10 months

Text

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Summary: You meet Sirius and Regulus at a family vacation in the Caribbean, but things don't go as planned and you end up losing contact once the trip is over. Years later your family moves to England and you get accepted at Hogwarts where you finally meet Sirius once again, along with all of his friends. One of them with a mysterious secret, that you'll uncover as you embark on your own Hogwarts adventure. Mostly canon-compliant. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Read Gilded Constellations on AO3

Read the French Translation by @nagareboshi-chiyo

Paring: Sirius Black x Reader / Remus Lupin x reader / Wolfstar x reader

Chapter average: 5k - 6.5 k

Content: Smut in later chapters, Poly!Marauders, throuple, graphic descriptions of violence, MAJOR and minor character death (this is The Marauders Era guys, you know), jealousy, angst, pining, love triangle, LGBTQ+ themes, The Wizarding war 1.0, implied child abuse, possible proofreading errors, mental health struggles, hurt no comfort, hurt with comfort, period typical attitude, first war with Voldemort, canonical character's death, fluff, Requited Love, F/M/M, mostly canon-compliant.

Status: Ongoing (Weekly updates)

PLAYLIST

01 | Summer Breeze

02 | Escape

03 | Bitter Sweet Symphony

04 | Rainy Days and Mondays

05 | Good times

06 | Crazy Little Thing Called Love

07 | Peaceful Easy Feeling

08 I Fooled Around and Fell in Love

09 | The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke

10 | Black Dog

11 | Do Ya

12 | You really got me

13 | Rebel, Rebel

14 | Maybe I’m Amazed

15 | No One Like You

Interlude (Q&A Event)

16 | Boogie Wonderland

17 | Tonight’s What It Means To Be Young

18 | Friends will be Friends

19 | Silver Bird

20 | Bad Moon Rising

21 | Fox on the Run

22 | Long Long Way From Home

23 | Hungry Eyes

24 | Peace of Mind

25 | I’ll get Even With You

26 | Hooked on a Feeling

27 | Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

28 | If You Want BIood, (You’ve Got It)

29 | With a Little Help From My Friends

30 | Bridge Over Troubled Water

31 | Strange Magic

32 | Come a Little Bit Closer

33 | More Than a Feeling

34 | You Belong to Me

35 | Chill of Desire

36 | Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

37 | Gimme, Gimme, Gimme

38 | Let the Good Times Roll

39 | Running With the Pack

40 | Hot Stuff

41 | Urban Adventure

42 | Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

43 | Sympathy for the Devil

44 | TBD (24.04.24)

45 | TBD (01.05.24)

BONUS TRACKS:

Your Theories, The Note, The Costumes, Sirius and the Chimney, Sirius and Vix after the bad moon, Evans and Vixen, Remus and Vixen at the infirmary, Remus holding Sirius at DADA, Remus and Sirius’ height difference, the FOXSTAR picture, Art by @nineloseteeth, We're going French,

Leave a comment telling me if you want to join the tag list

A/N: Most Poly!Marauders fics are oneshots, where the relationship between characters is already established, and they're all happy and pleased with it. No issues, no drama, but I WANTED the drama. Couldn't find it, so I set myself up to write the story behind the stablished relationship. I wanted to know how they started dating each other, the jealousy, the will they won't they, because getting into a poly relationship can't be an easy task, and I wanted to explore that story. If you're interested: Welcome to Gilded Constellations!

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aemondsbabe · 4 months

Text

Making Amends

summary: a fancy party & praising || you finally see why michael hates going home for the holidays and treat him the way he deserves

pairing: michael gavey x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, breast/nipple play, heavy praise, riding, brief cockwarming, cursing, brief mention of daddy kink but it’s not used, dirty talk, angy michael (not at reader), angst but happy ending, parents being stupid, choking, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.4k

a/n: happy day twelve of 12 days of smuff!!! we did it!!! a very merry christmas to all those who celebrate; i hope your holidays are full of love and fun! I hope y’all enjoy this one & i look forward to writing many more stories in the new year! also, a very very big thank you to my sweetie pie @officerbrowneyes for editing michael into a lil suit!

TAUNT | Part 1

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

this one can be read as a continuation of taunt & praise or as a stand alone!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Ohh, Michael!” An older woman croons, making you and your boyfriend turn your heads at the same time, “How lovely to see you!”

“Nice to see you too, Aunt Janet.” Michael says, his voice monotone, and gives the woman an awkward half-hug. You give him a sympathetic grin when he rolls his eyes at you over her shoulder.

“And who is this?” She asks, turning to look you up and down with a smile.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Michael explains, taking a second to introduce the two of you, “We met at uni.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smile politely and shake her hand.

“How wonderful!” She turns to you and puts a hand on your forearm before leaning in slightly with a grin, “We were beginning to give up on this one ever finding someone to put up with him!” She grins, giggling like it’s the funniest joke in the world.

You merely awkwardly chuckle, though it only takes one glance at Michael to know he’s fuming. You can’t really blame him, this is how it’s been all evening, ever since you’d arrived at his parents house. Michael had tried to talk you out of accompanying him to their annual Christmas party, claiming that hell would be a lesser punishment, but you’d insisted, saying it couldn’t be that bad.

When you’d first pulled up to the Gavey’s home, you’d been excited! They’d gone all out with the decorations, though Michael claimed they usually did, but that didn’t stop you from marveling at all the garland, lights, and wreaths that adorned every inch of the house. And since this year’s party was apparently more formal than usual, that just gave you the chance to ogle at your boyfriend in a tux, which was an automatic win in your book.

And yet, here you are, listening to yet another joke at Michael’s expense and hating every second of it. It seemed like every relative and family friend had one in store, if it wasn’t about finally finding someone to put up with him, it was about what he must’ve done to bribe you into it, or that he must be paying you to be here. Not to mention the backhanded compliments; you’d grown so tired of hearing remarks about how they’re so happy that Michael had finally found someone or, “Oh, finally! Took him long enough!”

“Old fucking bat,” Michael mutters under his breath as Aunt Janet totters off, “Knew we shouldn’t have come.” He grumbles, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“M’sorry, babe,” you sigh, giving him a small half smile as you place a comforting hand on his leg, “I don’t understand why they can’t simply be nice.

He scoffs next to you, rolling his eyes with a sardonic smile, “Wouldn’t be a real Gavey Christmas without snide comments, fucking losers.”

The evening continues in the same fashion and suddenly you understand why Michael has always been so defensive and eager to prove himself, you would be too in a family like this.

You can tell your boyfriend is operating on a very short fuse and offer him a placating smile every time you notice him clenching his jaw or notice his breathing pick up, chest heaving under his black suit jacket.

However, it’s finally a comment his father makes during dinner that sets him off. You’ve hardly started eating when it happens, with everyone sitting around the Gavey’s impressively large dining room table passing various dishes back and forth.

“So,” Mrs. Gavey started, giving Michael a pointed look as she refilled her glass of wine, “How were your marks this term?”

You glance down in time to see your boyfriend white knuckle his fork and quickly stroke a hand over his knee, which seems to help lessen his tension somewhat, thankfully.

“Distinctions,” he answers dryly, keeping his eyes fixed on the table, “Obviously.”

His mom simply nods, not offering any praise or even a generic, “Well done,” much to your surprise.

And a few seconds later, everything blows up.

“How’s that friend of yours doing?” Mr. Gavey butts in, setting his steak knife down as he speaks, “What was his name? Owen… Oscar, maybe?”

“Oliver.” Michael corrects him, so quickly and quietly that you’re surprised his dad even catches it.

“Oliver! Of course, and how’s he doing? Hm? You haven’t mentioned him in some time.”

There’s a beat of silence in which you fight the urge to kick Mr. Gavey under the table, knowing exactly where this would go.

“We don’t… talk anymore. I haven’t seen him for ages.” He grits out; his leg tenses up under your palm once again when his mother lets out a disappointed sigh, as if she were getting ready to scold a small child.

“Michael, honestly,” she starts with a small shake of her head, “It’s not good for you to be so socially isolated all the time.”

“I’m fine.”

“What about that other boy you used to go around with, hm?” His mom continues on, seemingly oblivious to his foul mood, “The one you were so close to in primary school, oh, he was lovely.”

“Felix, wasn’t it?” Mr. Gavey quips, “Whatever happened to him? I always thought he had such a good head on his shoulders.”

“He’s a cunt.” Your boyfriend seethes lowly, all but vibrating with rage as he spits each word out.

“What was that, dear?” His mom asks, none the wiser.

“He’s a cunt!” Michael exclaims, his fork clattering across the table as he tosses it down, scraping his chair back across the floor.

“Michael!” Mrs. Gavey chides, a horrified look on her normally placid face as she, quite literally, clutches at her pearls.

“If you’ll fucking excuse me.” Michael mutters, tossing his cloth napkin down onto the table with a dull thud before retreating from the table with a growl.

The silence that follows is deafening as everyone stays frozen at the table for a moment; you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the shell shocked expression on his grandmother’s face.

After a beat, Mr. and Mrs. Gavey begin falling all over themselves to apologize, awkwardly laughing as they make excuses for Michael, as if their bullying hadn’t made him snap.

“I’m gonna go check on him,” you say after a moment, giving polite smiles to his parents as you stand from the table, “Just to make sure he’s okay.”

“Of course, dear,” his mother nods sagely, ever the beacon of motherly wisdom, “We know how sensitive little Michael is.”

As soon as your back is turned you roll your eyes, nose wrinkling in disgust. Little Michael? What the fuck?

It only takes you a minute to locate him upstairs as you quickly spot the door to his childhood bedroom tightly closed. You smile sadly as you walk over to it, you pause for a moment before knocking softly.

“Michael?” You call, pressing an ear against the door, “You in there?” Your brows furrow when you hear a small sniffle from the other side of the door and your hand automatically goes to the doorknob, a sigh of relief leaving you when it easily turns.

Your heart breaks when you push the door open and peek inside, quickly spotting Michael on his bed, head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

“Oh,” you breathe, hastily closing the door as you let yourself into his room, “Michael.” You sigh, sitting beside him on his small twin bed and slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“M’fine…” He says softly, dejectedly.

“You are not,” you pull him to you, rubbing a hand over his bicep as you hold him closely, “No one would expect you to be, not after all that.”

He merely nods and tucks his head into your neck, sniffling sadly as his blond hair tickles your chin, one arm wraps around you while he busies himself with plucking lightly at the hem of your dress, running his finger over the smooth satin seam.

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask softly, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of his head.

“Not tonight,” his voice is muffled slightly against your collarbone as he speaks, “Please.”

You nod, opting to stay quiet and simply hold him for the time being.

You don’t know how much time passes but eventually, he seems to calm down, at least his shoulders stop trembling and he stops rubbing at his eyes and sniffling.

Finally, once his breathing has evened out, you decide to speak up.

“They don’t deserve you.” You murmur, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your heart twisting when you see his beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red.

“Love…” He sighs, ready to fight you on it.

“That’s all I wanted to say,” you assure him quickly, “They don’t.”

You hold his face in your hands gently, studying him with a soft smile. He really did look delectable in his suit, so smartly put together and polished.

Michael must be feeling the same way, no doubt riding the small high that usually came after a solid rush of emotion. His eyes darken as he looks back at you, Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly in his throat as he swallows thickly.

You don’t know who moves first, unable to find it within yourself to care as his warm lips slot perfectly against your own.

A relieved groan sounds from his chest and his hands immediately come up to cup your waist, his thumbs rubbing appreciatively over the soft material of your dress as you shiver, already getting lost in his touch.

“Mikey,” you murmur, biting into your lower lip as he kisses down across your jaw, his hands scrambling to pull you into his lap, “S-Should we?” Your voice trembles as he gently sucks at the sensitive spot on your neck, drawing your mind further and further from the party taking place downstairs.

“Need you,” he rasps, unable to stop himself from smirking as you keen against him when he skirts his hands up your form to cup your breasts through your dress, your nipples already hard and wanting against the satin, “Just – I need you, love.”

He’s so desperate, you couldn’t say no and finally decide to throw caution to the wind. You smile triumphantly as you run your hands over his trim waist, tucking them under his jacket to get closer to him, savoring the feel of his warm skin even through the thin material of his button down.

Finally, you push the suit jacket off his shoulders and, needing to feel him against you, waste no time hastily undoing the buttons on his shirt, yanking it out from under his trousers and belt before quickly dropping both to the floor.

Apparently just as impatient, Michael chooses to simply push the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders and growls deeply when your dress falls down your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Without missing a beat, he pulls you closer to him, groaning as your core presses tightly against his still-clothed erection. As soon as your chest is level with his face, he mouths at the underside of your breast, cupping the other in his hand. He peers up at you through his glasses, already fogging up against his cheeks, as he wraps his pink lips around your nipple and gingerly sucks it into his mouth, groaning against your supple skin at the breathy moan you let out.

You hold his head against your chest, fingers gripping tightly at his short hair as your head tilts back, small whimpers and whines escaping past your lips as you try your best to stay quiet. Your hips seem to move of their own accord, rocking against him as he worships your breasts.

“Michael,” you whimper, your core clenching tightly when you look down and take in his flushed face. You press your lips against his again, frantically kissing him as your tongue invades his mouth, “What do you want?”

“You.” His reply is automatic, his hands kneading greedily at your tits as he stares up at you, bare chest already heaving.

You can’t help but chuckle a little, pride blooming in your chest at the fact that he’s already this strung out. Nevertheless, you give a quick shake of your head, smirking when he whines impatiently.

“How do you want me, Mikey?”

The desperate look behind his eyes softens instantly, his pink lips parting enough to reveal the tiniest sliver of his front teeth. Somehow, he blushes more and just barely shakes his head at you, swallowing thickly like he always does when he’s flustered.

“Can you be on top?” He asks quietly, blue eyes flitting between yours behind his gold-rimmed glasses, “I just – I don’t have it in me to be daddy tonight, love.” He confesses quickly.

You chuckle again, always impressed with him when he shows his more vulnerable side, and instantly you nod, cupping his soft cheeks again.

“Of course I can do that,” you keep your voice soft, even the small kiss you give him is soft, “Lay back for me, yeah? I don’t wanna wait.”

Nodding eagerly, he doesn’t waste time and leans back on the narrow bed, helping you climb atop him as he does. He groans appreciatively as you settle on his hips, licking his lips as he stares up at you. He watches as your breasts heave with every breath while his hands trace down over your hips to cup your ass.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he murmurs, tugging your dress up over your bum before kneading the supple flesh, watching intently as you whimper above him, “So soft and pretty and fuck– fucking perfect.” He finishes with a growl, blue eyes rolling back when you rock down against him.

Heat courses through your veins at his words and you hurry to undo his belt, the metal buckle tinkling softly in the quiet of his bedroom as you push it to the side, too frantic to bother to pull it off him entirely. Your fingers quickly find the button of his trousers and you all but yank them open the second you have the zipper undone, sighing happily as his hard cock bobs against his stomach, the head already flushed and steadily leaking.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, his back arching a little with the relief of his erection finally being freed, “Y’gonna ride me, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod with a smirk, wiggling on his lap as you situate yourself perfectly above his length, “You deserve to be taken care of, Michael.” You coo softly, bending forward a little to pull your lacy underwear to the side, not having the patience to properly remove them.

Your comment seems to have gone to your boyfriend’s head and you smirk when you feel his cock jump up, twitching against your center as a soft groan leaves him. You bite your lip when you grab his length, loving how warm it felt in your hand. Carefully, you position him at your dripping center and slot the head against your entrance.

Both of you moan in unison as you sink down slowly, his thick length filling you completely as your hips finally press against his.

“Goddammit,” he curses, roughly grabbing your ass as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep himself anchored even though he knows in the back of his mind it’s useless with how tightly you’re gripping him, “You feel so fucking good, pretty girl, fucking love this sweet little cunt.”

His praises go straight to your core and you clench around him, somehow tighter, making him grunt underneath you. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you start moving your hips over him, using your thighs to push off of his lap before sinking back down, whining when you feel the head of his cock press perfectly against that delicious little spot inside you.

“You’re so good, Mikey, fuck,” you pant, fighting to keep your eyes open to savor each expression that crosses his flushed face, “Y-You feel so perfect, holy shit, everything about you is perfect.”

He groans deeply, lower lip trembling as he stares up at you in awe, brows furrowed as he takes in every inch of you. Blue eyes trace slowly over your form, lingering on your face before looking over your breasts. He swallows thickly as he pauses to watch them bounce tantalizingly, matching every one of your thrusts against him. Eventually, he looks down and moans softly, watching your slick pussy move over his length.

“Yeah, princess?” He encourages, making you smile softly as you realize how badly he needs this, how badly he needs to be told how good he is.

“Y-Yeah, shit,” you whimper, head spinning when he leans up to lick over one of your nipples, gently suckling at the bud as you continue, “You’re the best, Michael, fuck – best boyfriend, you’re so smart and s-so precious and f-funny and – and God!”

You practically squeal when his thumb comes down to rub at your clit, your eyes crossing at the sudden jolt of pleasure that washes over you.

“I love you, holy fuck,” you huff, thighs burning as you move somehow quicker over him, “I love you, I love – oh, shit – everything about you.” Your voice is hoarse as you breathe through soft pants, practically squirming on top of him as your head spins every time he circles his thumb over you.

“I love you too, princess,” he hums, pulling you down for a quick, desperate kiss, “You’re so damn good to me.”

“You deserve it,” you say quickly, swallowing as you pant above him, your heart hammering wildly in your chest, “You deserve everything, Michael, you’re so, so good.”

He growls at that, lips parting as he watches you. He keeps circling a thumb over your clit but fans the rest of his fingers out, holding your hip more securely. You hardly have time to think before you squeak in surprise, gasping as he begins rutting his hips up into you, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive spot at a dizzying speed.

“O-Oh, shit!” You huff, eyes wide and wild, “Michael, Mikey, I –” You cut yourself off with a loud cry, too loud given the circumstances, but your brain whites out the second he reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, not tightly enough to choke you but enough to hold you steady above him.

“Y’close, love?” He pants, smirking when you quickly nod, “Fucking cum with me, princess, shit, you fucking deserve it.” He hisses through clenched teeth.

All you can do is obey, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders as your high finally washes over you. You freeze, tensing up above him as you cry out, uncaring for the party below as your cunt clenches tightly around his length, rhythmically milking him.

“Shit, shit, fuck,” he grunts beneath you, eyes rolling back as he feels your walls contracting around his cock, drawing his own high from him as well, “Good girl, good girl.” He praises before finally cumming with a snarl. You whimper when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his thick spend.

The two of you lay panting for a while, neither of you wanting to get up or break the spell of the safe little bubble you seem to be stuck in as you lazily press kisses against whatever bits of skin you can reach.

Eventually, the sound of holiday music seems to float up to you from downstairs, along with the sounds of laughter and loud conversation. In the background, you can just barely make out the sound of wrapping paper tearing and taped boxes being pulled open.

“Sounds like it’s time for gifts,” you muse, tracing shapes on Michael’s chest as he holds you to him, softening length still buried within you, “You wanna join them again?”

He hums softly and shakes his head no with a small smile before tilting his head to look at you, his glasses sitting slightly crooked on his nose as he studies your flushed face. One hand rubs soothingly over your back as he holds you tightly to him, relishing the way your soft skin feels against him.

“Don’t need any gifts from those entitled idiots,” he laughs softly and leans down just enough to press a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead, “I have the most perfect gift right here with me already.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolfdressedinlace @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc

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#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey smut #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #saltburn smut #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #my writing #12 days of smuff

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