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ENCRAFT uPVC Windows and Doors: Incredible Product Range
Discover the exceptional world of ENCRAFT uPVC Windows and Doors! Crafted by ENCRAFT India Pvt. Ltd., a leader in PVC extrusion, these products embody innovation and quality. From versatile Casement and Sliding Doors to modern Tilt N Turn and Vertical Slider Windows, experience elegance, efficiency, and endless possibilities. Call us at +91 8377044077 https://www.comaron.com/blog/encraft-upvc-products
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San Francisco Farmhouse Exterior Example of a two-story, enormous, country-white wood gable roof.
#standing seam metal roof#napa architect#modern farmhouse#glass#bay area architect#pocket sliding doors
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#pocket doors#sliding glass doors#sliding doors#tapestry#circle#round#bedroom#bohemian#home decorating#contemporary house#march#spring#toya's tales#style#toyastales#toyas tales#home decor#interior design#art#home decoartion#home design#contemporary architecture#architecture
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the bee is still in my room but i have managed to escape and close my door. i’m waiting for my mom to wake up bc i am nothing if not a big baby :)
#genuinely so so scared f bees you don’t understand#i am assuming it’s a bee bc it oooks like one. there is no other option.#it’s also hanging out in yknow rhe pocket between the window and the windowsill when you have a sliding window?#it’s there so even if i wasn’t a coward i couldn’t easily catch it#i’m also confused bc when we leave windows open we don’t open the screen door so the cat doesn’t get out#so how the hell did this get in??#ivy rambles
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Pocket Door System | Internal Doors
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Looking for reliable patio door repair in Oakland? Our expert team ensures smooth operation and security for your doors. Trust us for quick, efficient service that enhances your home’s value.
#Patio Door Repair in Oakland#patio door repair in modesto#Closet Door Repair Near Me#Pocket Door Repair near me#Sliding Door Repair near me
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Doors: More Than Just Portals in Modern Interior Design
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#backyard#balcony#bathroom#bedroom#door design#french doors#functionality#glassdoors#home decor#home decoration#home improvement.#homeinspo#industrial style#interior design#interior design catalog#interior design ideas#living room#minimalist design#modern farmhouse#modern interior design#natural light#pocket doors#privacy#sliding barn doors#solid wood doors#space saving#statement piece#sweet home usa interior decoration
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Living Room - Midcentury Living Room Example of a large mid-century modern open concept light wood floor and brown floor living room design with black walls, a ribbon fireplace, a stone fireplace and a wall-mounted tv
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There was this tiktok trend where kids and their mums would pull a prank on their dads by telling their mums to shut up...141 with a teenage son who tries it?
Anon, I am very aware of this prank. If mom is in on it, I consider it all in good fun, but omg, these guys would be absolutely stressed if they heard their teenage son tell mom to "shut up." Heads would absolutely roll over that!
Price is certainly old enough to have a teenage son on the older side. I would even say the same for Ghost. Gaz is old enough for a younger teenage son. With Soap's age...that's stretching it. BUT SUSPEND DISBELIEF Y'ALL. I'm aging Gaz and Soap up a bit for this one.
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Presented in two double drabbles and two triple drabbles.
Task Force 141 x Female Reader (w/ children)
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, pranks, domestic, dad!141, brief suggestive themes, marriage
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
“Ugh. Shut up, Mum.”
There is a brief pause between mum and when the television remote hurtles across the room. Your son doesn’t duck in time, the hard plastic hitting his shoulder before bouncing onto the kitchen island with a loud clack.
Before your son turns, Kyle’s baseball cap with the Union Jack, soars through the air like a frisbee. This one your son manages to avoid, but it’s quickly followed by a slipper. It flies past his head, and you catch it out of the air before it makes contact with the front of the microwave.
You and your eldest son turn in Kyle’s direction as he manifests in the kitchen entryway, the other slipper in hand, poised to launch it at the first sign of any movement.
“Wanna repeat yourself, mate?�� Kyle appears calm and poised, but you notice the subtle tension in his jaw.
“It was a joke, Dad! Promise!”
Kyle’s arm holding the slipper starts to rise.
“Kyle,” you say. His gaze flicks to you. “Just a joke. No harm. I was in on it.”
His shoulders immediately sag. Kyle shakes his head. Rolls his eyes. Heading for the fridge, he opens it up, grabbing a can of his favorite beer.
Kyle sets the beer down on the island, pointing the slipper at you and then his son. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words come out, just an exasperated huff.
Kyle snatches up the television remote and sticks it into the pocket of his grey sweatpants. Keeping hold of the shoe in one hand, and his beer in the other, he gives the two of you his back, heading into the living room.
“No one bother me until the game is over,” he says over his shoulder. “And someone bring me my bloody slipper!”
John Price
"Fucking hell, Mum. Shut it."
John is up and out of his seat so fast you hardly see him move. He strides over to his son, yanking him off the stool by the scruff of his shirt.
"John! It's a prank!" you say quickly, reaching for his arm.
The boy is dangling in the air, toes just shy of touching the ground. "A prank?" asks John skeptically.
"Mum is in on it. Promise."
John sighs heavily and slowly lowers his son to the ground. The moment his feet touch ground, he tries to step away, but John holds firm, keeping his eldest child immobile. He leans forward a bit. Lowers his voice.
"Prank or no, you never talk to your mother, your sisters, or any woman in that manner again. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good boy." John releases his son. "The lawn needs trimmed."
"Yes, sir."
Your son scurries away. It isn't until the door to the garage opens and shuts that John moves toward you. His arm drapes over your waist, hand landing firmly on your ass, squeezing hard.
"You're coming with me."
"To do what?"
He presses his lips to your ear. "For a different sort of punishment."
John "Soap" MacTavish
"You’re off your head, lad.”
With Johnny’s cold tone comes a tension to your son’s shoulders. He becomes rigid, sliding down into his chair like he can escape from his father by cowering underneath the table. Johnny comes around the corner, a bit of sweat on his brow. He's been building furniture all day for the nursery.
"Want to repeat that for me?" asks Johnny.
Your son’s voice cracks. "It was just a prank, Dad."
"It was what?" Johnny strides forward.
"It's a prank. I'm in on it. Promise," you say, attempting to soothe Johnny’s anger.
Johnny crosses his arms over your chest. "Is it?" He glances between the two of you and sighs, muttering, “Am pure done in.”
He disappears down the hall, returning with a stack of instructional manuals, dropping them into his son’s lap. "You're building furniture."
"But I—"
“You right scunner. C’mon.” Johnny yanks his son out of the chair, the stack of instructional manuals goes flying. Your son reaches for them all, desperately clasping them against his chest.
“Johnny," you call out, walking around the counter to intervene.
He glances over his shoulder, frown gown, sly smirk on his face. “Deal with you later."
Simon "Ghost" Riley
“Oi, Mum. Shut it.”
Your son is a wonderful actor. You’ll give him that. Even you almost believe him. Not that he would—he’d never—but his delivery reminds you of a completely pissed football fan ready to throw a punch at a member of the rival team.
He should consider theater.
Simon, your husband, is watching a rugby match in the living room. The television is on but at a low volume.
Within seconds of the words leaving your son’s mouth, Simon appears like a phantom guardian in the entryway. In one he holds the remote like a weapon. The other arm cradles his infant daughter. She looks like a small bean. Slightly curved as she snuggles closer against Simon’s chest as she sleeps.
He's not looking at you. He's staring at his son, gaze intense and full of fire.
You’ve seen that look before.
Mission abort.
"He's joking, Simon. It's just a prank,” you soothe, knowing you need to get ahead of this.
Not that Simon would hurt you or his son, but he rarely takes any shit. This prank was a gamble, and you’re completely regretting it.
"Don't mean it, Dad."
Simon just stares for a long minute. His daughter squirms and that is when he glances down, severing the connection. Observing her must change something in him, because his gaze returns to the two of you, and there is a calmness now.
Sighing heavily, Simon shakes his head, completely exasperated. The eye roll is so apparent it’s like a shout.
In the moment he was pissed—livid. But now he’s over it, more annoyed and unamused than actually mad.
Turning on his heel, daughter still cradled in one arm, Simon returns to his recliner, settling back into the soft cushions to finish watching his rugby match.
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How to Choose the Best Manufacturer of uPVC Windows
Learn how to choose the best uPVC window manufacturer for your home, considering product range, quality, features, customization, installation, and after-sales support. Contact Comaron for uPVC doors and windows that enhance your home's aesthetics and offer durability and security. Call us at +91 8377044077 https://www.comaron.com/blog/choosing-best-manufacturer-upvc-windows
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protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in
“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your purse. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.
“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.
“‘ello?”
“si- simon, it’s me.”
“i know, lovie. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.
“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.
“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”
9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.
suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.
“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, purse strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.
twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.
“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.
“you win.”
fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.
“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.
“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”
“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.
“we’re not together anymore, simon.”
“you’re still my wife.”
silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.
“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.
“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.
“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.
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idk why im obsessed with the break-in and simon to the rescue trope but its fueling me lately
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#simon riley wife#ghost call of duty#tornadothoughts#ex husband ghost#fluff
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‘RAW’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO
pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut, established relationship au.
word count. 3.5k
❝so, i can just slide right in, feel you… fill you up…❞
content warnings. explicit content, starts with sweet!matt then spirals to pussy drunk!matt, unprotected sex, creampie, heavy use of the petnames 'sweetheart' and 'baby', dirty talking, matt is also kinda goofy in this.
“I’ve missed you.” Matt mouths at your skin, his arms tight around your waist as he pulls you against his chest, breathing in the scent of your body wash and perfume as he nuzzles his head into the crevice of your neck.
You smile warmly, melting into his embrace as your fingers lace through his curls and he hums at the soft tugs you give, sucking and nipping at the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.
“Ow,” You hiss through giggles as Matt bites down a little too hard at your skin and your body angles away from him, only for him to whine and try to draw you back to him, muttering an apology against your neck as he tightens his hold on you. “We can’t stand here all day, Matt.”
Matt huffs as if what you’ve said is something so offensive that hurts his feelings, and his shoulders sag as he reluctantly lets you go, but slips his hand into your own instead, intertwining your fingers as he allows you to pull him to a more suitable place than your front door.
He drags his sock covered feet across the floorboards as he takes in your home, a comforting warmth spreads through his chest.
Matt misses being at your place; that sweet, familiar smell of a candle that was previously burning fills his senses, the hum of the TV playing your favourite show in the background, the subtle misplaced ornaments and potted plants that you’ve picked up to move or to admire.
He takes a quick glance at your kitchen as he passes it, noticing a dish and bowl soaking in soapy water, and he smiles when knowing you have eaten already. He wonders if it was something delicious or filling for you.
He wants to ask what it could’ve been, but the question remains on the tip of his tongue as you’re pulling him towards the direction of your bedroom.
And that’s when he feels most at home.
The bag that was once resting on his shoulders slumps to the ground and mindlessly kicked to the side as his body finally relaxes, the tiredness that he’s so used to pushing to the back of his mind comes front and centre as he sluggishly makes his way towards the unmade bed, sitting himself down on the edge.
The hand that’s holding yours pulls you forward to stand between his parted legs, and he rests his cheek on your stomach as he embraces you like he once did a few minutes prior, exhaling happily as your fingers resume playing with his curly hair.
“How was the trip?”
“Good,” Matt’s tone is quiet and gentle. “Nick was actin’ as our tour guide and was takin’ us to all these cool places,” He moves his head a little to look up at you, resting his chin on your stomach. “I took some pictures for you—ones I haven’t sent you yet.”
You’re more than eager to see what pictures Matt wants to show you, and you gentle push him up the bed for him to lay comfortably and he giggles, reaching his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone while his arm curls around you, holding you close to his side and pressing his lips to the top of your head, finding comfort in the scent of your shampoo.
He unlocks his phone, clicks the camera roll app and your eyes widen in excitement at seeing all the recent photos Matt failed to show you previously.
You’re in awe watching him scroll through the photos; some of him and his brothers, amateur photoshoots, and the scenery and the colours of skies leaves you speechless, hanging onto every word as he tells you the story behind them all, some comical and others sweet and endearing.
“Seein’ this one, like, reminded me of you, y’know,” He whispers against your head as he shows you a picture of a sunset, a blend of pinks and oranges making your heart flutter. “It’s pretty—calmin’, makes me feel at ease. It made me miss you even more than I already did, was killin’ me.”
“You called me every night.” You remind him, letting out a laugh as he groans and rolls his eyes, throwing his phone to the side before gripping your hips and pulling your body on top of his. He massages your thighs with his fingers, kneading the skin as they settle on each of his sides.
“You know it’s not the same,” Matt argues, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “I love hearin’ your voice over the phone but, come on, havin’ you there with me physically means more to me. I get to hold you, I get to touch you… I get to kiss you.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
Matt hums with a short nod of his head before he lifts his head up to meet your lips in a short but sweet kiss, squeezing your thighs once you reciprocate and he grins against your lips when he feels your hands cradle his cheeks.
Then, you feel it.
His hard cock pressing your inner thigh, twitching with each subtle movement of your hips as you rest your entire weight down on him, eliciting a grunt due to the pressure on his cock.
“Are you tired?” You pull away from his lips to ask him, biting back the smile that threatens to spread across your cheeks as Matt follows, wanting your mouth back on his.
“A bit,” He admits, exhaling deeply. “But I don’t care. Just wan’ you.”
Warmth fills your chest, “You want me?”
“Yeah, bad. So bad.”
You don’t have time to swoon over his words as he’s already leaning up and reconnecting your lips in a much deeper kiss, biting down on your bottom lip and sliding his tongue into your mouth to glide across your own all while his hands sip around to grab at your ass, pulling you even closer so that you’re pressed against him fully.
You kiss for a while, relishing in the way his lips feel on yours, familiar with the slow and unrushed pace he takes. Your hand curls around the front of his shirt, signalling for him to take it off immediately and he grins against your mouth, breaking the kiss for a moment to allow you to pull the material over his head.
He gives you a toothy smile, his eyes twinkling with adoration as he stares up at you and his fingers twitch over the hem of your shirt, ready to take it off and you happily give him permission to do so, raising your arms in the air.
Matt tugs it off, throwing it carelessly to the side before his hands caress your skin, palms hot and clammy as he brings you in for another kiss, one that is more desperate and needy.
Matt’s moaning shamelessly into your mouth when your hands dip beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, your fist curling around his cock and giving him a few experimental pumps that has him almost draw blood on your lip when he bites down a little too hard.
“Easy.” You hum with a giggle and Matt groans, craning his neck as he throws his head back against the pillows, tongue licking his bottom lip as your hand squeezes around his cock.
He lifts his hips as you begin to rid him of the rest of his clothing, and you awkwardly manoeuvre above him, laughing as you almost topple over but you remain seated thanks for the hold he has on your hips.
“You go easy, sweetheart.” Matt teases you this time and you roll your eyes.
You drop your hands from his to finally peel off the rest of your own clothes and he watches you with hooded lids, one hand resting behind his head with the other wraps around his cock to jerk himself off as he takes in the sight of your naked body—something he’s seen plenty times before but he views it as if it’s the first time, absorbing himself in your curves, the swell of your breasts and your pretty pussy.
You raise a brow, “Like what you see.”
Matt grins, “Always.”
You get a little shy at his compliment but continue to lean forwards to capture his lips in a kiss which he immediately reciprocates, his hand resting on the back of your neck to keep you still against his lips, and he moans as your tongue slips inside his mouth to touch his own.
He’s still touching himself between your bodies, hips fucking up into his fist and gasping in your mouth when the tip grazes over your skin, the sensitivity sending goosebumps down his spine.
You pull away from his lips much to his dismay, and he tries to pull you back in but falters when he sees you making your way down his body, leaving a trail of kisses behind which makes him moan again, his mouth falling slack as he feels your tongue lick a clean stripe down his navel.
Your fingers brush over his inner thighs, smiling when his cock twitches against his stomach. You stroke further and further up his skin before your fingers grip his cock, hearing the slight hiss he makes through gritted teeth.
You hum softly, leaning in closer to wrap your lips around his tip.
“Ah—fuck, wait!” Matt suddenly speaks up and you stop in surprise, bringing your gaze up from his cock to his face, and he reaches his hand down to touch your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. He looks like he’s in pain, but he explains; “I’ll cum too quickly if you suck my cock, seriously. I will cum the second I feel your tongue on me again.”
That makes you even more eager to shove his cock down your throat, and you tighten your fingers around the base which elicits a gasp from his lips. “I don’t mind.”
“But I do,” Matt weakly pushes your hand away, and his cock slaps back against his stomach. His hips jerk upwards at the sudden contact, “Oh fuck—sweetheart, I’ve been waitin’ for this for so long. I want to cum fuckin’ you—please, I just—” Matt winces as his hand comes down to cup his balls, almost as if he’s trying to stop himself from cumming right then and there from his own words. “I wan’ to fuck you, baby.”
You would awe at the sight if it wasn’t for the way he’s looking at you right now, so desperate and needy to be inside of you, and you’re more than welcome to give him exactly what he wants as you nod your head quickly, watching as his shoulders drop with a relieved sigh.
Matt gently pushes you down on the bed to crawl above you, kneeling between your parted thighs and he almost drools at the sight of your pussy, glistening and ready for him to fuck.
He’s quick to lean over to yank open the drawers of your nightstands, digging his hand inside to search around for the box of condoms he knows you have ready for him when he’s over.
Matt pulls out the box and leans back on his ankles as he dips his hand inside, and you wait patiently for him to pull out the packet and roll it onto his cock, but the way his body freezes in place and face drops, you know something is wrong.
You grow concerned, leaning up on your elbows as you call out his name, “Matt?”
“No, no, no—fuck no,” Matt mumbles repeatedly under his breath as he turns the box upside down and shakes aggressively, praying that a condom will magically appear out of thin air and lay across the palm of his hand, but it remains empty. “Fuuuck, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”
You gape at him in shock, “There’s no condoms left?”
“There’s no condoms left.” Matt echoes your words, and he throws the empty box down on the bed.
He runs his hand over his face in annoyance, tears of frustration prickling at his eyes. You watch as his eyebrows knit together, how his jaw clenches and nostrils flare in anger. It was a sight you’re definitely not used to seeing, but it’s something that has your thighs clenching for some sort of friction below.
“Hey… it’s okay,” You try to reassure him as his cheeks get a little red, and you reach up to stoke his arm. “We must’ve used the last one before you left for your trip without knowing.”
“I should’ve been prepared or somethin’, like, I should’ve bought a pack before coming here—I shouldn’t have relied on you to have the condoms but, fuck, I was just so fuckin’ excited to see my girlfriend that I didn’t even think about—”
“Baby, it’s okay.” You try to cut off his rambling by reassuring him again, but it seems to not work as he continues.
“And now we have nothin’ and I’m just—” His hands wave over his hard cock comically, and you hold back a snort, watching as he runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “A’ight, I should just, like, make you cum on my tongue, and then I’m goin’ to jerk off in the—”
“No!” You raise your voice this time, startling Matt who stares at you with wide eyes, and you immediately apologise. “I’m sorry—sorry, baby. But.. you don’t need to do that, it’s okay.”
“Then what are we goin’ to do?” He questions with a whiny tone that has your head reeling and pussy begging to be fucked. The way he’s staring at you so desperately and in pain is enough for you to come up with an idea.
“How about we just do it raw this time?”
Matt’s silent.
He blinks.
He opens his mouth.
He closes it.
He blinks again.
“Raw? Like, without a condom?”
“Yes.”
“Sweetheart…” Matt sighs softly as his hands rub your thighs, “We can’t do that. We can’t risk anything, y’know, and even though I’m certain I’m goin’ to spend the rest of my fuckin’ life with you and start a family… we really can’t risk it. It’s too soon, and we’re both not ready for that shit either.”
You frown, “I know that. But nothing will happen, I promise. I’m on the pill.”
Matt’s silent again.
He blinks.
He opens his mouth to croak out, “What?”
“I’ve been on the pill for a few months,” You tell him nonchalantly, and he looks at you as if you’ve kept such a big secret away from him. “Remember that night when the condom broke and we panicked?” Matt nods his head once. “I went on the pill the day after that. I didn’t want us to have another scare or anything.”
“You’ve been on the pill… for five months?” Matt asks you, and you hum to confirm it’s true. He gapes in shock, and his gaze flits down to your pussy in disbelief. “We could’ve done this five months ago?”
You struggle to hold back a laugh this time, the sound stifled by your lips. “Yes.”
“So, I can just…” Matt’s voice trails off as he shuffles forward, the tip of his cock brushing over your folds and you gasp as he presses over your clit, your thighs clamping around his hips. “I can just slide right in, feel you… fill you up…”
He’s mumbling now, some words incoherent while others are clear as day, his lewdness making your face hot. His cock nudges your opening, almost teasing you by not fucking you immediately and you bite back the urge to tell him to hurry it up.
You suck in a deep breath as Matt finally pushes into you, and his eyes grow wide, mouth slack as he feels the warmth of your walls fit snugly around his cock. His body is frozen above you, his cock pulsing as he feels you bare for the first time.
His eyes flit to yours and suddenly, his gaze darkens, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your waist.
You go to call out his name, to ask him if he’s alright but a surprised yelp flees past your lips as his hips snap forwards, burying himself deep inside your pussy. Your arms sling around his shoulders, gripping him tightly as he pants above you.
“Feels so fuckin’ good, baby,” Matt grunts under his breath, fucking himself into your deeper and you wail, locking your legs around his waist. “Feel so tight. All for me—yeah. Jus’ for me. So fuckin’ good. My pretty fuckin’ girl and her perfect pussy.”
You try to speak—to call out his name but you’re stuttering your words with each thrust. The bed creaks beneath your bodies, and the headboard hits against the wall, but you could care less about the noise, you’re too surprised to see the sudden change in your boyfriend's mood.
His tone and his words is enough to have you gaping at him, broken moans ripping through your throat at how fucking filthy he sounds, how he uncontrollably mutters how good your cunt fits snug around his cock and how we you are for him.
You’re not used to this.
You’re used to the sweet talk, the light feathery kisses he leaves on your skin in his path, the words of affectionate praises and gentle whispers of ‘i love yous’.
You’re not complaining, though. Never.
Seeing Matt’s switch up from fucking you raw for the first time has your mind spinning and electricity buzzing down your spine. Your fingernails dig further into his shoulder blades and your pussy clamps around his cock tightly, causing him to curse loudly.
“Fuck—that’s it. That’s it, sweetheart. Tight lil’ cunt squeezin’ me so fuckin’ good,” Matt whispers in your ear, almost sounding like a whine. “My girl. My fuckin’ girl.”
“Please,” You begin to beg, even though you have no idea what you’re begging for. “Please, please, please—”
“Gonna fill you up, fuck you full of my cum,” Matt drawls, his pace quickening as his cock drills into you, and his hands grip your waist tighter when he hears you moan for him. “You wan’ that? Yeah? Wan’ me to fill you up? Fuck this cunt full?”
You’re already letting yourself go just from his words alone, your orgasm crashing over you like an aggressive wave and your body seizes up, almost sobbing from the pleasure as he fucks you through it, thumbing at your clit without any signs of stopping.
Your pussy contracts around his cock, sucking him in deeper, squeezing around him tighter which causes his hips to stutter their movements, a grunt slipping past his lips before he leans back on his knees. His hands slide down your waist to grip your thighs, keeping you locked against him as he watches your cunt taking in his cock, ready to be filled.
“Good girl… keep doin’ that f’me. Feels so good, sweetheart.” Matt’s moaning under his breath, airy moans turning into whines as he feels your walls tighten around him, too overwhelmed by the feeling that he suddenly stills, a throating groan leaving his lips as he cums, filling you up just as planned.
Matt’s breathing heavily, mesmerised with the way he’s emptying himself inside you, watching as his cock twitches as his cum fills you up. He doesn’t pull away until he’s certain that there’s nothing else left to give, and he winces out of sensitivity as he slowly moves back to pull out, his cock laying limp against his thigh.
“What was that?” You breathe out heavily as you lean up on your elbows to look at him. “Where did that come from?”
“I dunno,” Matt mumbles, his cheeks blossoming a reddish hue as he refuses to meet your eyes—that shy and sweet persona falling back into place. He can’t seem to tear his gaze away from your pussy, his lips parted as his fingers delicately stroke your pussy folds. “Was I too much, though?”
“No,” You quickly shake your head to reassure him. “I liked it.”
“Yeah? You did?” Matt finally meets your gaze and you smile at him as you nod your head this time. Matt sheepishly grins back and his eyes flit back down to his fingers that circle around your hole that leaks with his cum, and he makes the sudden decision to push it all back in, causing you to gasp and whine softly. “Sorry… jus’ don’t want anythin’ to go to waste.”
You laugh lightly at his words, “Go to waste?”
“Mm,” Matt nods his head, retracting his hand and staring at the cum that covers his fingers, that dark expression taking over once again as he looks right at you. “I’m never wearin’ a condom again… y’know that right?”
© sturnioz
#©sturnioz#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fluff#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#sturniolo triplets smut
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A colorful dining room
#dining room#colorful#pink#ombre#glass door#sliding door#pocket doors#area rug#area rugs#rugs#dining table#dining room furniture#dining and entertaining#fine dining#dining#dining chairs#redecorating#home design#home & lifestyle#home decor#home improvement#home decorating#toya's tales#style#toyastales#toyas tales#interior design#september#interiors#interiorstyling
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Closet in Miami Mid-sized minimalist gender-neutral concrete floor and beige floor dressing room photo with open cabinets and white cabinets
#shoe storage#white sliding door#frosted glass pocket door#zebra rug#white trim#ocean retreat#en suite
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Contemporary Dining Room - Dining Room
Huge trendy limestone floor and beige floor great room photo with beige walls and no fireplace
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