joseph who’s completely obsessed with you. you’re his pretty housewife and he thinks it looks so good on you. touching you every chance he gets. coming home to you cooking dinner for him in soft pjs and your hair up. doing anything and everything for him. he thinks he’s so lucky. LAWD i need him
wagging my tail with my tongue out like a dog hearing all its fav words
𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐭.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem!housewife!reader, fluff, very descriptive, a lot a lot a lot of touching and kissing, joe being down so bad it's insane. yearning for his wife while she's literally in his arms
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he doesn't understand how he got so blessed, doesn't know how much luck one person is allowed per lifetime, how many stars he should thank or how long his chain of chances is. all he knows is that he's here, fortuitously and miraculously and by divine intervention or dumb luck, you're here with him.
his perfect wife, his angel girl, his one and forever only, his daydreams come true, his lightening in a bottle.
the life he's living today isn't one he pictured for himself before, he never dared to. but then you came along and changed the entire scene.
now he can't imagine a life without your fingertips tracing the slope of his nose and your soft kisses scattered across his face trying to plant one on each of his freckles early in the morning. "good morning baby" your voice is his favourite sound, doesn't matter how little sleep he got, once he heard you call for him, all his senses awoke with an unshakable thrill.
"come here" he says sleepily, his voice raspy and tired as he pulls you into his embrace, his chest warm and his heart beat is a force that you forever trust to be true to you. you smell of sleep and the residue of the body mist you sprayed last night, he inhales your scent, his oxygen.
his arm is heavy on your back and his wandering fingers are tender on waist, slipping inside your top, brushing against your skin. his palm occasionally opening and holding as much of your body as he can fit in it as the clock keeps ticking within the quiet room. the only sound is the soft rustling of the curtains against the open windows and the frequent, content sighs leaving both of your lips every now and then. "you need to get up, you're gonna be late."
"it's okay. just one more minute." he whispers, turning his head to face you, a small smile on his mouth as he stares at you with sleep-misty eyes. "i just need one more minute with you yeah?" his lips crash into yours before you could answer, gentle, sleepy, languid, he wants to savour every second of your taste. "my baby.." he whimpers into the kiss before breaking it and burying his face into your neck instead, inhaling you one last time. "don't tire yourself too much today yeah? i want my baby well rested" he says making you chuckle.
"you're saying it as if i have to do some difficult manual labor." your fingers find the spot behind his earlobe between there and his nape, the one that makes him melt. and oh he melts.
he places kisses across your neck, wherever he could get his lips to land. "baking is a difficult manual labor." he says, playing with the hem of your panties, pulling it down just enough to caress the slight imprint it left in your hips with his fingertips. "i don't know how you do it."
"it's pretty easy once you got the motivation to." you tell him as he kisses up to your face, each one lingering a few seconds longer. "hmm"
"does this count as motivation?" he takes your bottom lip between his, leaving feather-like kisses on it.
"yeah" you answer him. his hands, big and delicate, travel up to your shoulders, kneading and rubbing at your muscles there, you sigh, "this helps too"
you feel yourself melting into him, slipping into sleepiness again but the thought of time keeps your mind occupied, "i'd love to have you stay here and motivate me all day but you really have got to go baby"
he groans dramatically as he sits up on his elbow, squinting down at you, "you love to torture me, don't you?"
"just a little."
he huffs then with a final kiss to your neck, he forces himself to get up and out of bed. "go back to sleep." he tells you, tucking you into your fuzzy blanket again before he turns around to get ready for the day.
"take care of yourself!" you shout at him, he responds back with a kiss blown your way.
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his day was long, annoyingly so. when he finally returned home, he sighed three times before reaching the doorstep, relief washing over him merely at the sight of the lights behind the curtains. it intensifies a hundred times over when he walks in and gets a whiff of your cooking.
the sight of you standing over the stove in your new pj's with your hair tied up messily, humming the tune to a song he can recognise but doesn't know a word of, sends a wave of warmth into his chest along with a thrill he can only describe as pivotal. he could watch you like this for days. wouldn't get bored. all he gets is ecstatic, his hands ache as he wants nothing more than to touch, to hold you.
he makes his way to you, his feet tired but light enough you don't hear them, his hands immediately find their place on your hips, squeezing you there before he wraps his arms around you, tightly and securely. his chin resting in your shoulders, nuzzling into your neck.
for a second you tense up at the initial contact but quickly relax into his touch, melting into his chest, leaning your head back onto him. "i didn't hear you come in"
he sighs dreamily into your hair, inhaling you in. "didn't wanna distract you. you look so beautiful like this"
"that or you didn't want to distract me from making us dinner?" you smile as you continue to stir the sauce. it smells more delicious by the second.
"shhh no distractions" he mutters, his hold on you tightening, you can feel every breath he takes against your back, every breath drawn in and blown out of his lungs feels like it's passing into you.
"i'm just talking"
"your voice is a distraction. for me." he kisses along your earlobe, down your jaw.
"i can whisper then." you murmur, his palm opening on your tummy, if he focuses strong enough, he can feel the butterflies fluttering there.
he sighs, "that makes it worse."
turning off the stove, you spin around in his hold to face him. he looks exhausted but pretty. he's always pretty. your hands immediately find his chest, he quietly purrs at your touch. "hi."
"hi."
his lips are warm when they meet yours, his tongue eager as it slips between your lips to play with yours. you can't help but whimper against his mouth when his hands slowly dip to your ass, squeezing and pressing you closer to his body as if being away from you has been physically tormenting him. with the way he holds you, sometimes you wonder if it has. "i missed you.. so much" he whines into your lips causing you to smile.
"i can tell" your hands move up to his tensed shoulders, massaging them, feeling him melt deeper into you the harder you squeeze. his breathing is heavy as it leaves his chest, by the time he breaks from the kiss and rests his head on your shoulder, it's lighter, easier. you always have that effect on him. "are you okay?" you ask, playing with the ends of his hair at his nape.
he nuzzles his face into your neck, burying it there, one of his favourite hiding spots. your smell is intoxicating and he would spend eternities getting enchanted by it, over and over again. each time he would fall harder than the last. "how did i get so lucky with you?" he mutters in genuine bewilderment, you're too good to be true. his mind often wanders back to the same old doubt he's had since the day he met you, are you real? and if you are, how?
"i guess the universe wanted to torture you with the constant thought of oh my god this girl is so out of my league! one day she's gonna wake up and leave me! is today the day? am i gonna get served the divorce papers this afternoon? who will she marry next? i bet it's the sexy sexy casher register at the shop nearby" you joke, teasing him, trying to lighten his jaded mood and it works like a charm.
you feel the laugh rattling in his chest before you hear it, that loud cackle it's almost comical, never fails to put a smile on your face. "is that why you made us go to his birthday party last weekend? you two were plotting behind my back while i obliviously ate the cake for his 70th birthday?"
"exactly"
he sighs melodramatically as if he's accepting his defeat. "at least the cake was delicious"
giggling, you shove him a little bit, he tries to cling onto you tighter, "go change, dinner's almost ready" eventually he lets go after you had to physically push at his chest and pull his hands off your body.
he acts wounded as he makes his way out of the kitchen, walking backwards so he can stare at you just a little bit longer, always wants to get as much of you in his system as he can. "hey" you call out, making him grip the nearest wall to halt his movement, "i love you."
he doesn't understand it. the life he's living. he wakes to up, sleeps to it but he'll never be able to wrap his head around it. how lucky he got. every night he wonders if the next morning, he'll wake up to it all being a wistful dream. one he'll never experience again, no matter how much he meditates or prays or manifests. the thought of his luck one day running out fills him with a horror he's too scared to even acknowledge, so for now he chooses to live in the bliss of the moment. the bliss of being in the same plane of existence as you. "i love you more."
for now, he'll continue to thank his stars.
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