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pinksturniolo · 7 months ago

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Versus - Chris and Matt Sturniolo

Chris x Matt and Fem Reader

polyamorous: characterized by or involved in the practice of engaging in multiple romantic (and typically sexual) relationships, with the consent of all the people involved.

or also defined as: the relationship you, matt and chris have built. it started out as an innocent game of truth or dare one night which turned into much more than you could have ever imagined. trust, respect, and honesty. these are the three rules set in place that are strictly to be followed.

but what happens when they just don't want to share you after all?

content warnings: poly relationship, not much plot to this one, heavy smut, fingering, oral fem receiving, mentions of a threesome (no incest thats just gross), edging, lots of fluff, angst, !matt vs. chris!, manipulation, jealousy

a/n: this was requested by an anon a while ago, so s/o to them!!

word count: 5,436

You just couldn’t choose. From the moment you met them it was a constant battle in your head of who you preferred. And you just could not decide. You loved them both. Which is why you had proposed the idea of a polyamorous relationship 6 months ago.

This came as an extremely difficult task. You found it hard to even muster the courage to bring it up to them. You had no experience with this type of relationship, nor had the thought even crossed your mind until that night. When you had a taste of what it would be like to have them both all to yourself.

“I dare you to kiss me.” You slurred, the taste of cherry vodka lingering on your tongue. The words seemed to escape your mouth before your brain could even process.

Your heart races in fear at what you just blurted, Matt looking at you with wide eyes. Previously the dares were innocent, and the truths were simple questions. Just a harmless game being played between three best friends.

There’s a temporary moment of silence before Chris speaks up. “Don’t be a pussy. I will if you don’t.”

Matt’s shocked expression turns into a glare at his threat, causing him to move closer to you from his spot on the shaggy rug of your bedroom floor.

He takes in the look of apprehension on your face, placing a light touch to your knee. “Are you sure, Y/N?”

You can’t really take back the dare now. Even if you did, it would definitely be brought up later, when you three were sober and trying to explain where your sudden boost of confidence came from would just be embarrassing.

Besides, it’s not like you haven’t thought about Matt’s lips on yours before. And other places.

So, you say yes and place a hand on his jaw as he hovers his mouth over yours. He pauses for a few seconds to look into your eyes and then kisses you, a light moan escaping your throat as soon as your lips touch his.

You don’t mean for the sound to be heard but it’s almost like a reflex, because the electric feeling of his soft lips against your plush ones instantly has your head spinning in a good way, and a throb starting in your core.

Chris hears this, his eyes locked on your face and the way your tongue slips out to touch Matt’s. This is forbidden territory, watching his brother make out with a girl that he’s pined over since the moment he laid eyes on her. But he feels a need for you growing inside him that he just can’t ignore.

He wants to kiss you too, and not just that, he wants to make you moan for him in the way you just did for Matt. In fact, he knows he can do so much more. He can have you screaming his name by the end of the night, so that you forget his brother even existed.

And Matt… well he’s completely forgotten Chris is even in the room at this point. He kisses you in the way he’s been dreaming of every night. His hand moves from your knee to your upper thigh, feeling goosebumps on your skin. The little sounds you make only fuel his fire, the bulge in his pants growing tighter and tighter by the second.

He finally pulls away, and you’re breathless, your eyes lingering on Matt’s before looking over to Chris. His eyes are dark, staring at your puffy lips and flushed face.

“My turn.”

Once you started, you just couldn’t get enough. You then began to develop feelings for both of them. You craved their presence, you became addicted.

And they wanted nothing more than to please you. It was like a fantasy come to life. Once the boundaries were established and the rules discussed, you three were inseparable. And you were good at keeping it a secret, even from Nick, which was not something one could easily do.

As time went on, you got better and better at managing your time equally with them, learning their similarities and differences, and knowing when to take time to yourself as well, not wanting to neglect your personal life.

But recently, tensions started to rise. You noticed that Matt and Chris were more irritable with each other than they usually were. They argued constantly, starting to become more selfish with you each night. It hurt you to know that you could potentially be coming in between them. You knew that the relationship wasn’t good in the long run, and someone was going to end up hurt.

Despite that, you just couldn't walk away. It was more than just sex. You were in love with two people at the same time. And oh, how they loved you…

✰ Chris met you first.

Exactly 30 minutes before Matt, which he loves to rub in his face every chance he gets. It was at a party one of your mutual friends hosted, and his bubbly and goofy personality immediately charmed you. He had a way of making you seem like you were the most important person in the room, focusing his full attention on you. And once you were introduced to Matt and noticed how introverted he was, it only solidified the fact that Chris was one of the most hyperactive people you had met. But you loved it. It paired well with your calm persona, and he constantly had you smiling from ear to ear with his off the wall remarks.

You soon came to know that these traits were just scratching the surface. The more time you spent with him, you observed how emotionally intelligent he was. He always picked up on your moods, knowing when you were upset or irritated and would do everything in his power to put a smile on your face or make you laugh. He was very trustworthy, and you found it easy to talk to him about any subject of your life, knowing he would give you his honest advice. He warmed your towel for you while you would take showers, bring you your favorite snack when you were on your period, and play your favorite songs every time you were in the car with him.

He protected you, wiped your tears when you cried, and supported you in everything you worked on. He knew the most creative ways to keep you inspired and reminded you every day how special you were.

He was also the best cuddler, always wanting to touch you and be touched by you. He loved to press kisses to your shoulder when he would spoon you in bed, his hands running over your body, always finding his way under your shirt or inside your shorts somehow. He loved foreplay, enjoying taking the time to explore every inch of your body with his fingers and mouth until you begged him to fuck you. And god, did he do just that. He nearly broke your headboard one time from how hard he would give it to you. He especially liked it when you wrapped your legs around his waist, making him push even deeper inside you, nails scratching marks down his back.

But he also adored those lazy mornings when he would wake up hard next to you, thrusting into you from behind. To hold you close to him and hear you whimper his name, to make tears form in your eyes and your heart ache from the loving things he would whisper in your ear.

And then there was Matt. ✿

Matt was incredibly sweet from the beginning, soft with every touch he gave you. He treated you like porcelain, like a vintage art piece only made for him. He always made sure you were comfortable in every aspect, making sure to know your limits. He bought you little things when he went out, like your favorite lip gloss he watched you put on every day, or your favorite coffee from the café by your house, with a note, ‘Thinking of you’.

He held your hand every time you two walked together and made sure he was the one closest to the street whenever you were on the sidewalk. He took you camping for the first time you had ever gone, showing you his way to make the perfect smore and which constellation in the sky reminded him of you. He also loved to tease you, to get you all flustered so he could admire how sexy you were when you got mad.

He would shower you with compliments, reminding you how beautiful he thought you were. He was obsessed with putting his mark on you, constantly leaving hickeys on your neck and inner thighs, especially when he knew it was almost Chris’s night. He wanted everyone to know you were his. And he loved every minute you spent in his arms, cherishing your body like it only belonged to him. The way your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he devoured you, licking up every drop of your juices, his beard tickling the inside of your legs. He loved to watch you ride him, preferably backwards, so he could watch your ass bounce on his dick and pull your hair the way you liked it.

But he also loved watching your face as he slid in and out of you, kissing you while you moaned, swallowing every sound you made. Wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing lightly so you saw stars. And he really enjoyed filling you up nice and full, watching his cum leak out of you and then pushing it back in with his fingers, your thighs shaking and clenching around him.

It was safe to say you were more than satisfied almost every day of the week.

However, in this particular moment, you’re pissed off.

You couldn’t understand half of what was going on in the movie on the TV right now, due to the argument Chris and Matt have been in for the past 30 minutes. Their bickering was starting to get to you, and it made what used to be fun between you three now just insufferable.

“Matt, I don’t give a fuck.” Chris says, tightening his grip on your ankle. He was getting angrier, his eyes on the TV and refusing to look at Matt.

You were laid out on the couch next to him, your feet in his lap. Matt was across from you on the other side. He had been distant since the start of the night.

“You should give a fuck, Chris. I’m tired of you fucking up the dryer every time you use it.” he says, scrolling on his phone aimlessly.

Chris doesn’t respond, only making Matt more frustrated. “Matter fact, I’m tired of you fucking up everything you use. The kitchen sink is still messed up from what you did last week and-“

“Matt, please shut the fuck up. I’m getting a headache.”

“No, you shut the fuck up-“

“Can both of you shut the fuck up?!” You yell out, stopping both from continuing.

You hated yelling but you couldn’t take one more second of their arguing.

You stand up from the couch, walking to the kitchen to get a drink from the fridge.

You pull out a water bottle, taking a sip, and when you turn around, they’re both looking at you with concern.

“I’m sorry… Maybe I should go home tonight. I think it’s time we take a break…” You say quietly, avoiding looking at them any longer, your gaze on the wooden floors.

You hear footsteps pad over to you and see Chris’s feet in his white socks stop in front of you. He puts a finger under your chin, lifting your head up gently to look at him.

His eyes are soft and he places a hand on your hip, rubbing the skin there under your shirt. “Please don’t say that. I know it’s Matt’s night tonight… but regardless I want you to stay.” He says and you chew on your bottom lip in thought, contemplating whether you should or not.

You glance at Matt who’s still on the couch, staring at you. His eyes flick to Chris’s hand on your hip briefly and then back to your face. “It’s your decision angel. I won’t force you to stay here if you don’t want to.” He speaks and your heart sinks at the disappointed look on his face that he tries to hide.

“I’m not forcing her to stay here. I only meant that I want her to know how much I want her here. I don’t want to take a break.” Chris says, rolling his eyes. He steps away from you, the last words of his sentence laced with hurt. He opens the fridge, grabbing a drink for himself as well.

Matt then gets up and walks over to where you’re leaning against the kitchen table. He stands close to you, his hands resting on either side of your hips on the table. “Is that what you want? You want to take a break? Because you know I only want you to be comfortable. I’ll respect any decision you make.” He says, his eye contact smoldering. He speaks very quietly, as if he intends for you to be the only one who hears him.

But Chris does too, as he sits on the countertop, arms crossed against his chest. He doesn’t say anything though, his eyes on you as he listens.

“I don’t know. Can you just tell me what’s going on with you two? Why have you been fighting so much lately?” You ask, looking back and forth between the two of them.

They’re silent and exchange one heated look before Matt finally speaks up.

“It’s just been stressful lately, with work and stuff. That’s all.”

You scoff, not buying what he says at all. “Truth please.” You respond.

Matt looks at the floor now, as if he’s avoiding something and it makes you nervous, your heart starting to race in your chest.

“I think we should talk in private, Y/N.”

“Excuse me?” Chris says and hops off the counter to walk over to Matt before you can respond.

Matt turns to him, his jaw clenching in annoyance as Chris stands in front of him now.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say when I’m in the room.” he says, glaring at Matt.

Chris knew he was being unreasonable, but he didn’t care. He knew something was up with Matt these past few weeks, from his body language and the way he’s been talking. And he knew it had everything to do with you. They had agreed to never let a girl come between them, but now it seems like that’s what was happening.

“I don’t have to do anything.” Matt responds, getting in Chris’s face now.

The angry tension between them created awkward silence in the room, as you watch with wide eyes. They’ve never acted like this before and you stand in shock, unsure what to do or say.

“What the fuck is your problem, huh? I’m sick and tired of you acting like this.” Chris says, pushing Matt away from him.

“Okay! That’s enough.” You interrupt, standing in between them now. You face Chris, placing a hand on his chest as he continues to glare at Matt from above your head.

His heart is pounding with anger, and he takes a deep breath before looking at you finally, his expression only slightly softening.

“Please… just let me talk to him and see what’s wrong. He obviously has something on his mind.”

Chris leans his head down to your ear, tucking his face into your hair and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Just don’t forget how I made you mine the other night… the things I was doing to you in my bed…I know you think about the way I make you feel when he touches you in all the places I do…” He places a soft, open mouth kiss to your neck, leaving shivers down your spine and a wetness in your underwear from his words.

Matt clears his throat, and Chris backs away from you, a smug look on his face. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

He walks off to his room, leaving a redness on your cheeks and your heart racing.

You turn around to Matt, a displeased frown on his face. “I don’t even want to know what he said to you.” He grumbles and grabs your hand so he can lead you to his room.

Time doesn’t seem to exist when Matt has you wrapped up in the silk sheets of his bed, his large hands on every part of your body, his soft lips tasting every inch of your skin. You seem to forget all the problems, all the stress, focused on the way he feels.

You’re currently face down, your upper body flat on his mattress and his hands holding your hips up in the air as he pounds into you repeatedly, knocking the breath out of your lungs. All you can do is fist the silk in your hands, a wet spot forming from the drool that pools out of your mouth.

It’s almost as if he’s punishing you for earlier, the way you let Chris spew filthy things into your ear while Matt stood directly behind you. He wanted to remind you that you were his and his only tonight.

But you were still his angel, perfect for him and could do no wrong in his eyes.

He runs his palms down your smooth back, letting his hands rest in the curve of your waist as he feels himself close. From the way you’re clenching around him and making little whimpers of his name, he knows you’re close too.

“Cum for me, angel.” He pants and you do as he says, your orgasm rippling through you for the second time tonight. It would’ve been the third time, had he stolen you away much earlier in the evening like he usually does.

Matt finishes seconds after you, filling you full of his release. After a minute or so, he collapses beside you, sweaty and breathless. You place your head on his chest, feeling tired but happy.

Once you both settle down, you decide to bring up what he said earlier in the kitchen, your curiosity overcoming you. “Matt… what did you want to talk about with me?”

“I don’t know if now is the best time, Y/N.” He responds and you look up at him. His face is expressionless, looking straight head. His fingers tangle into your hair, and he massages your scalp lightly.

“Please tell me. I know something is wrong.” You plead with him.

He sighs and pulls you even closer, his chin now resting atop your head. Your face is buried into his neck, listening to his slow breaths, yet you feel his pulse pick up against you.

“I don’t want to share you anymore. That might be selfish, but I mean it. I know what we all agreed on… but I just can’t share you with him. It’s all I think about. Every time you’re with him, I can’t hide my anger. And I don’t want to hold that against him but I’m not willing to compromise anymore. I want you all to myself.”

His words sink into you, your heart almost faltering at the emotion laced in his words. You can’t see his eyes but you can only imagine the way his face must look as he speaks the truth to you. You had a feeling he was caught up about something, but you didn’t know it would be this.

You don’t know what to say, your fingers caressing the skin of his neck, as you process his words. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. You loved him with every fiber of your being. But if you chose him, you would only be crushing Chris, who you also loved deeply.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know that.” He says softly after your lack of response and kisses the top of your head.

The two of you drift off to sleep after a while, holding each other and leaving the conversation for tomorrow.

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night, some unknown force coaxing your eyes open. You feel thirsty, and sit up in Matt’s bed, seeing him sound asleep next to you.

You get up, pulling on your pajama shorts and t shirt, slowly pushing Matt’s bedroom door open so you don’t wake him and quietly walk to the kitchen, getting a glass of water.

Once you finish, you set the glass on the counter, running a hand through your hair. You think of Matt’s confession earlier, and how you would even begin to address it.

Lost in thought, you feel a hand creep onto your waist from behind and recognize the smell of Chris’s cologne. You jump slightly from his sudden presence and turn around to see a cheeky smile on his face.

“Sorry, mama. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He whispers and you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. “What are you doing up?” You ask him.

Chris has been awake since the moment he left you flustered in the kitchen earlier. He heard your sounds of pleasure from Matt’s room all night, driving him crazy. Every time it was Matt’s night with you, he was in the worst of moods. He couldn’t help how jealous he was.

“Just couldn’t sleep.” He simply replies, burying his face into your chest. “Thinking about you.”

He pulls the collar of your t-shirt down so he can place his lips on the swell of your breasts, letting his tongue poke out to run along your skin. You sigh, your hand coming up to hold the back of his neck, your other hand resting on top of the counter you were leaning on.

He places his hands on the small dip of your back, pulling your body even closer to him, his mouth now biting and sucking onto the flesh of your neck and breasts, like he’s starving for you.

“Chris…” You breathe out. It’s not exactly a sound of protest, coming out more like a moan. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your skin never fail to turn you on, your body a lit with a fire only he can start. He grabs you suddenly by the hips, lifting you up so you sit on the counter.

He stands in between your legs, holding your thighs and continuing to kiss the sweet spot on your neck, right below your ear. He knows how it drives you insane, and he’s getting hard already from the way you’re starting to pant, and tug at the hair on the back of his neck.

“Chris…” You whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles. You feel his hardness press against your throbbing core and you’re terrified Nick, who’s been out with his friends all day, might walk in on you two in the kitchen.

Or even worse, Matt. He would be absolutely furious.

“What is it, sweet girl? Hm? Talk to me…” He whispers, his breath hot against your skin. He sneaks his warm, soft hands under the hem of your shirt, running up to squeeze your breasts and knead them in his hands.

You moan at the contact, your grip in his hair tightening. “What? You scared of getting caught?” He continues, when you don’t say anything.

You nod and feel him smirk against your neck. “Don’t want Matt to see what I do to you?” He says and butterflies swirl around in your chest, your heart starting to race.

You don’t. You don’t want Matt to catch you on the counter with your legs wrapped around Chris as he leaves hickeys all over your skin, something Matt is sure to notice later. You don’t want to be unfair when it’s his night with you, something you all agreed that each of you would respect.

However, the rules have seemed to be bent lately, the boundaries that had been established now being pushed. This wouldn’t be the first time Chris or even Matt snuck around with you behind the other’s back. When either of them had the chance to find you alone, most of the time it ended up with stolen kisses and longing touches.

You couldn’t help but give into your desires every time you were around either of them, even if it was against the “rules.” And you hadn’t admitted it to either of them, but you craved to have both Matt and Chris at the same time again, like the first night on your bedroom floor.

Chris’s hands are gripping the top of your thighs, rubbing and caressing them as he now moves his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply. He takes your bottom lip in between his teeth, pulling lightly and then sucking before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You moan against his lips, his fingers rubbing your clit over the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. You weren’t wearing any panties, and he feels how wet you are for him, his touch only making you more aroused, creating a mess in your shorts. You could almost slip off the counter from how he’s making you melt around him. “Shit baby- does Daddy make you this fucking wet?” He groans, sucking on your tongue and your head spins.

He pulls the fabric of your shorts to the side, only teasing you for a little, running his fingers through your folds before pushing two deep inside you to the base of his knuckles. The feeling has you moaning into his mouth, failing to kiss him back now as you’re wrapped up in pleasure.

All that can be heard in the kitchen is the squelch of your pussy as he fucks you with his fingers, pumping them in and out of you with slow, deep strokes. Your legs are trembling around his waist and he wraps one large hand around your throat and looks you in your eyes. It’s dark but you can see the ring of blue around his blacked-out eyes, nothing but lust seeping out of them.

“Tell me only I can make you feel this way. You’re not cumming until I hear you say it.”

Fuck.

You secretly loved when Chris was possessive over you, but you didn’t want to undermine Matt even if he wasn’t here to listen to you say it.

He speeds up the thrusting of his fingers, his grasp on your throat tightening. He’s brushing that spot that’s deep inside you, making you ready to crumble around him. “Y/N. Tell me who you really belong to. I need to fucking hear it.”

“Chris, please.” You beg him, not wanting to say what he’s asking from you. You’re so close, you need to release but you know he would punish you for days if you cum without his permission. It’s a twisted game. And you loved it.

You still say silent, panting as he shakes his head and then removes his fingers from your aching cunt. “No. Only good girls get to cum.” He tells you and then drops to his knees, keeping his eyes on you as he spreads your legs wider, now resting them on his shoulders and pulls you roughly to the edge of the counter, so he can lick at your wetness slowly, your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Keep your eyes on me. And tell me what I already know baby. Don’t you wanna be a good girl for Daddy?” He rasps and then pushes his fingers back inside you, harder this time, his lips attached to your puffy clit. He’s determined to have you cumming all over his mouth and fingers, as long as you say what he wants to hear.

He digs his other hand into the flesh of your thigh as you stare down at him, the look on his face only pushing you closer to your orgasm. “Come on sweetheart, I know you’re close. Tell me you’re mine.”

Your hips are practically bucking off the counter top as you ride his face, his hold on you strong. It feels so good that you would say anything he asked at this point, feeling yourself clench around his fingers.

“I’m yours Chris.” You moan, and he sucks on your clit harder, releasing for a short few seconds to respond. “There’s my girl… it feels so good to hear you say it. That you’re only mine. Isn’t that right?”

You nod helplessly, your hand gripping the edge of the counter and your other one tangled in his hair. “Yes, Chris. I’m all yours. Only yours. Fuck-“You feel yourself coming undone as he’s brushing your g spot with the tips of his fingers again, kissing your inner thighs.

“Such a good fucking girl. You can cum, Ma, cum all over my hand.” He breathes. He could almost cum in his pants from hearing you say the words. He wants you all to himself, all day and every day. He was so in love with you.

You’re releasing onto his fingers, leaking down his hand and thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm hits you hard and fast, moaning his name loudly.

He watches you in amazement, your head thrown back in ecstasy, the reddish purple marks on your neck now visible to him and he swells with pride. He stands up to hold you against him as you catch your breath and you clutch onto him, your arms around his neck as you calm down.

It’s then that you make eye contact with Matt, who’s standing across the other side of the kitchen with his arms crossed. It makes a shock run through you.

It is a little naïve of you not to think he wouldn’t catch you. And there’s a look on his face you’ve only seen once before since you known him. The first time being when he caught you with Chris’s dick in your mouth on the living room couch a couple months ago. Granted, it wasn’t Matt’s night but he was pissed at the audacity of you two to mess around there instead of the privacy of Chris’s room. It didn’t help with the jealous rage Matt possessed anytime he saw Chris with you.

And now, this is what he stumbles upon after waking up to see you missing from his bed. Chris making you cum with his head in between your legs on the counter.

He was livid, to say the least.

You remove your arms from Chris’s neck and open your mouth to begin to speak but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you.” Your mouth snaps back shut, and you almost shrink back from the harshness of his tone.

Chris turns around, and once he sees how mad he is, he smirks, his hands still on your legs. “Sorry, Matt. Just couldn’t help myself. Can you blame me?”

Matt doesn’t even look at Chris, his eyes still burning into you.

“This is what you want, angel? You’re not just satisfied with only one of us for the night?”

“No, Matt I-“

“Did I say you could talk?” He cuts you off again.

His arms are still crossed, his checkered blue pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He doesn’t have a shirt on and the veins in his arms pop out, his hair still messy from sleep. The tone in his voice scares and excites you at the same time.

“Since you want to act so desperate and needy, you’ll get what you want. But on my terms.”

Your heart races at what he’s suggesting and memories of him and Chris from that first night flood your mind, making you wet all over again.

“Go to my room and wait there.” He demands and you look hesitantly between him and Chris.

Chris smiles at you, a mischievous look on his face. He squeezes your thigh before helping you off the counter, and motions for you to go on. “Go ahead, baby. We won’t be long.”

You’re dumbfounded at the turn this night has taken as you walk off towards Matt’s room, hearing them exchange words but not able to make out what they’re saying, an anxious but excited feeling in the pit of your stomach.

taglist <3: (if you want to be added/taken off, reply to this post or comment on my masterlist. and if you weren't mentioned, it wouldnt let me tag u :/)

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truth4ourfreedom · 5 months ago

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PROOF THAT COVID VACCINES DAMAGE COGNITION

We Now Have Proof That The COVID “Vaccines” Damage Cognition

Countless people have observed their loved ones becoming “more compliant” and “broken” after the shots.

This was deemed a “conspiracy theory,” but now we have the data to back it up.

A new study from South Korea analyzed the electronic health records of 2.2 million and later 4.3 million individuals in Seoul. What researchers found was alarming.

By comparing the rates of various new medical conditions in vaccinated versus unvaccinated groups over three months, the study revealed that the vaccinated experienced:

A 68% rise in depression

A 44% surge in anxiety and related disorders

A 93.4% increase in sleep disorders

A staggering 138% jump in mild cognitive impairment

A 23% rise in Alzheimer's disease

Dr. Pierre Kory writes:

“In my practice of treating vaccine injuries, one of the three most common symptoms I see is brain fog. So many of my patients had been in the prime of their lives, can now barely function, have significant cognitive impairment and need a lot of help from our nurses to carry out their treatment plans. I never imagined I would see any of this in people far younger than me and instead I see it every day. I bear witness to an immense amount of suffering on a daily basis that is hard to put into words.”

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As I have stayed in several of my previous posts, I believed that the government had our best interests at heart and I received all 4 of the 1st round of COVID vaccines. Besides heart issues that suddenly appeared (AFib, flutter), I agree that there has been more brain fog and a cognitive as well as a physical decline since I received those vaccines. It is a sad day when we can no longer trust what our government tells us. Remember, knowledge is power and we need to question EVERYTHING they tell us!

#the great awakening #wef #world economic forum #government corruption #fjb #democrats #joe biden #illegal immigration #bill gates #donald trump #covid vaccine #question everything

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sinisterexaggerator · 6 months ago

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John Hancock - NSFW Alphabet

Only out to have a little fun! Enjoy (or not)! This is just my take on his character.

3.8k words (oops).

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A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex):

No matter how you decide to do the deed, Hancock has your best interest at heart, as long as you stay in his good graces. He wouldn’t necessarily baby you after sex, but he’ll make sure you’re all right, as you may wind up participating in several experimental or unusual scenarios. But in the end, John wants to make sure his little ray of sunshine is well-rested for round two.

He'd offer you chems for a bit of a pick-me-up, a cigarette precariously hanging from the corner of his mouth—he needs a smoke after. It just “feels right.”

He would pat his shoulder as a place for you to rest your head, then pull you in nice and tight before sharing a drag with you, going insofar as to place the filter against your lips, held loosely between two fingers. No uncomfortable post-coital silence—unless you’re into that.

Hancock might even get all philosophical on you now that his head’s clear. I can see him being into pillow talk regardless—we know he loves to run his mouth—nothing a romp in the sack with you won’t cure.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

I have a feeling Hancock isn’t picky, as long as your heart is in the right place. There is more to him than being a “drug addict.” I’d say he’s well-read, even though he acts on instinct—he may be pretty well fond of your brain.

Hancock puts a lot of stock into how people think or speak versus their actions. He’s not a pushover, doesn’t take any bullshit, and if your belief system matches up with his—if he, “likes the way you operate”— you don’t have much to worry about.

Still, I see him favoring something warm and supple to grab onto, something soft to kiss. And he’ll take his time when he’s in the mood, dishing out compliments as he explores every inch of your body.

Maybe with being a Ghoul, it’s a real treat when you get to knock boots with a human. I can see him missing out on what that feels like from time to time.

As far as his own body, I see this man as a bit self-conscious, though he doesn’t let onto that fact quite often. Comments about his “ugly mug” are made in jest, but there is some truth to that within his own thought process and how he perceives himself, most likely, despite the whole “King of the Zombies” vibe he says the ladies love.

Personally, I think his confidence is partially a façade.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person:

Hancock always makes sure you get yours. Multiple orgasms are in the cards, as he knows exactly how to make your toes curl, and he’s not above using that information to his advantage.

You’re the wettest thing in the Wasteland when Hancock’s around, and you can bet your ass he’s going to comment on it every chance he gets. Otherwise, he loves to play in it; to spread the sheen between his fingers; to lick it clean off while you watch, or to smear it over his withered skin, lubricating his cock with it.

All in all, it’s a stroke to his ego to know he’s the one responsible for making you cum that hard that often. You can be damn sure he’s out to fuck you every chance he gets.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

I mentioned this in another post, but Hancock likes it when you’re addicted to chems because he’s the one providing. As long as he’s supplying the drugs for you to get your fix, you’re not going to leave him high and dry.

Maybe he fears being, “skipped out on,” thinkin�� it’s just another reason for you to stick around. It ties into him being insecure—call it insurance. He’s not proud of it, but you don’t seem to mind, and there’s no one around to call him on it.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

Based on comments we hear throughout the game, Hancock was known to be a looker before being a Ghoul. He’s still a looker even after his transformation, and he is well-aware his physical appearance garners the attention of the ladies, or so he says. From this we can infer Hancock has no trouble in finding someone to fuck. I’m sure he has been around the block more than a few times, but it would be the appearance of someone special in his life that might make him rethink his whorish lifestyle.

Despite being a bit of a promiscuous rascal who most likely participates in a lot of meaningless sex, when he finds the right person, I am sure he is more than happy to be monogamous. But overall, I would say he definitely knows what the hell he’s doing—why else would Bobbi make that comment about everyone being in love with him?

Hancock’s a catch, contrary to whether or not he believes it himself, and for more than one reason, me thinks. And it is common for even those people who are “good-looking” to be self-conscious and worried about how others perceive them, so that doesn’t change the idea of him still being insecure despite his charm and charisma, though him saying he’s charming could be him playing at being facetious.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual):

The Couch Surfer*

Hancock loves to bend you over the arm of the couch in the Old State House with you face down in the cushions as he plows into you from behind. It allows for deeper penetration and more thrusting power, with your feet either on the floor, or with your knees pulled in toward your own body as your legs hover off the ground.

This also makes it so neither of you have to get entirely undressed if you don’t want to, or if there is simply no time for anything but a quickie. With both of you pulling down your trousers, or with you hiking up your dress, it makes for easy access, and the angle is just right for hitting that sweet spot.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc):

Hancock is a switch in more ways than one. This can go either way, as he’s not afraid to get weird or try anything once. At the same time, if you’re his special person, he may be inclined to take things a bit more serious. Think body worship in this case, or copious amounts of praise, romantic notions in your ear—that sort of thing.

This doesn’t account for if you’ve pissed him off, as all bets are off, and I’m sure he can think of more than one way to set you straight, even if that involves being more condescending than usual, or withholding sex all together because he’s just “not feeling it after the way you’ve been actin’.”

In fact, he may be able to home in on if he’s frightening you—that in and of itself can be a turn on. Oh, you’ve been misbehaving lately? Get ready to meet No More Mister Nice Ghoul. Although, you’d have to fuck up royally for him to take any of that so serious.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.):

No hair, don’t care (obviously)! But Hancock may enjoy running his fingers through yours, and he does so gently, not afraid to brush that stray strand out of your eyes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…):

This can also go either way, depending on Hancock’s mood. One minute he’s treating you like the filthy whore you are, and the next minute he’s spewing off the most romantic things you’ve ever heard. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, no matter the topic of conversation. He’ll tell you to suck his cock like a good little slut, but then don’t put it past him to confess how much you mean to him in the same breath.

In other words, you can simultaneously be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, while also receiving an earful of the dirtiest, raunchiest trash talk to have ever been uttered by man. He knows you’re going to come undone regardless—he just has that effect on you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon):

Hancock loves to force you to watch him masturbate when it’s impossible for you to touch him. That American flag at his waist serves well in a pinch, able to tie your hands up so he can sit back and pleasure himself without you interfering.

Long, languid strokes drive you mad, Hancock not skimping on the heady eye contact, enjoying it when you come unraveled at the seams. You’re begging to join in, to please him yourself, but this is where the fun begins—cry for him all you want to, those handcuffs aren’t coming off, not until he says so.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):

Oh, man. OK, here we go!

Praise kink – Hancock gives Golden Retriever boyfriend energy. Maybe it’s the fact he follows you around in-game, but he would take so well to you praising him. “Mn, yeah? You like that? Let me show you what else I can do…”

Role-play – I can see this man being into role-play scenarios. He already basically cosplays as a historical figure— it gives him the freedom to mess around with you knowing he doesn’t mean any of it in the end. You can be sure he’d have a safe word if that’s something you’re wanting. He’d take on new roles himself, or play along with yours. “Big bad Mayor” comes to mind for those of you who want a little more bossing around.

Sensation play - Hancock is big on touch. He loves to trace your skin with his fingers, or for you to touch him. I can also see him being into sensory deprivation, blindfolding himself so his sole focus remains on the feel of your hands smoothing over his callous flesh. I’m sure besides a lot of one-night stands, he barely gets anything in the way of attention. It’s always quick and easy— to really be close to someone? That takes guts.

Brat taming – This is a given. Maybe it’s not a game, you’re just really a brat. He doesn’t mess around when it’s time to get serious, so if you’re in his way, or if you’re rubbing him wrong, expect to hear about it. Think daddy/little girl vibes in most cases, but this can spill over into the role-play arena as well. But it’s not all negative—if you’ve been a good girl or boy, he’s willing to praise you for a job well done.

Degradation – Shit-talking him to the point of degradation is a thing he’s into. Not that he believes everything you’re saying, but he’s able to take a few verbal punches without psychic damage. The more sarcastic and ruthless you are, the more he respects you, and the more it may turn him on. He enjoys someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to him, but he also enjoys being put in his place, if you have the balls to try.

Bondage – Tie him up and have your way with him, or he’s liable to do the same to you. He loves a strong, take-charge woman, and a go get ‘em kinda man. He has the most fun when you’re the one who’s “powerless.” He’ll drive you wild before he finally gives in—the best part is watching you squirm and beg for him.

Exhibitionism – He will fuck you anywhere and everywhere; he doesn’t care who watches, but watching’s all their going to do. Hancock’s always down for a quickie, or something a little more intimate, but it doesn’t matter if it’s in the privacy of his suite at the Old State House, or the backroom of the Third Rail. Sex is sex, and there is no one he rather have it more with than you—anytime, anyplace.

Knife play/ Gun play – This Ghoul will use any and all means with which to get his rocks off, and he has a special place in his heart for knives. He’ll draw blood, or not, running the blade across your skin, not afraid to use the hilt to fuck you. The same goes for guns of all sorts, shells or bullets removed. Expect them to be put into places – like your mouth, or cunt. He’s not shy about it.

*I should add he is a total switch. He can play at top or bottom. IMO he plays bottom more frequently for male partners, and tops for female partners, but again, he loves a woman who knows how to take charge – he wouldn’t mind if you stepped on him.

Overall, he has a lot of sadistic qualities, but he’s also a bit of a masochist— he knows when and where to draw the line. He would never hurt you or do anything without your consent, UNLESS you’ve done something to get on his bad side, then there is no telling what might happen.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do):

As I mentioned earlier, this man is an exhibitionist, so he would settle for fucking you anywhere he could. However, the riskier, the better, as he’s not afraid of getting caught—it’s part of the thrill. But if he’s feeling romantic, maybe he takes you to the roof of the Old State House, out under the stars.

Afterward, he lays with you there, pointing out the various constellations he’s read about in books. Maybe he even dragged an old mattress up there—no one will miss it—as it’s a place you frequently rendezvous.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):

Violence and compassion, LOL. Allow me to explain:

Put simply, you putting down assholes for all the right reasons gets him hard. Hancock’s all about dispensing justice, about helping out the little guy, so if he gets to watch you kill evil fucking people while doing just that? Talk about a bonus— a really attractive one.

“Mn, the way you cut that guy’s head clean off—I wanted to fuck you right then and there. You should have seen his eyes bug out—bastard knew what was coming.”

Also, you doing a lot of chems and lowering your inhibitions for him? You willing to get freaky with him? That just makes you soulmates.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs:

Cannibalism, which is self-explanatory considering his comments in the game in regard to Sole if you have/use that perk. Hey, at least he’s not too judgmental.

I also do not assume he’s into torture, or blood and gore. A quick, merciless death is more his style, but considering his thoughts on Pickman and his “artistic flair,” plus not wanting to go anywhere near the gallery to see for himself, makes me think he’s adverse to that kind of thing. He doesn’t necessarily like hurting people or causing pain, only when the situation truly calls for it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc):

I see him as preferring to give, though he won’t turn down a blowjob. It is a high all its own to get you off so easy with his mouth.

All those delicious little sounds; the way you writhe beneath him; the way you hold the back of his head; the way you say his name… It’s addicting, almost more so than chems. And I should say he’s not above eating ass.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.):

Again, both—depending on what his mood dictates. He’s not afraid to fuck you hard and fast, but he can also slow down and make love to you when he’s feeling soft. He’s a moody Ghoul, but it is a part of his charm. Time spent with him is never boring.

Sometimes, pure, unbridled lust wins out, or maybe he’s feeling sadistic for whatever reason—in this case, you may find yourself unable to walk the next morning.

But he can also be sensual, taking his time to please you proper while sending you to heaven on a cloud of fluffy, romantic words. He’s multifaceted, and so is your love for each other.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc):

I don’t think I am alone when I say that Hancock commenting offhand about, “you just say the word if you wanna take a little, uh, chem break” is most likely a euphemism for sex and very suggestive.

He sure as hell has nothing bad to say about quickies. Getting down and dirty at a moment’s notice is in his wheelhouse, so don’t be afraid to tell him when you’re in the mood, no matter where you might be or what you might be doing.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.):

Bears repeating, I guess. He’s up for almost anything and everything, minus the eating human flesh part. He’s not afraid to take risks in any aspect of his life, always out to do the right thing, even if there are consequences.

In relation to sex, he’s not shy, and doesn’t expect for you to be either. Feel free to open up to him about your deepest, darkest desires—he would be thrilled to help you out in that department.

Expect him to offer chems beforehand, or to check in with you if it’s something a little more high-risk. Safety first and all that nonsense—he truly cares about your well-being, but it’s also nice to know he’s met his match. That’s not to say he wouldn’t have fun corrupting you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…):

I’m going to say that the regenerative effect that Ghouls possess also allows them to recuperate quickly after sex. Hancock has a stamina stockpile; he could go for hours, or for multiple rounds.

Of course, he also doesn’t mind just holding you, slowing down to bask for a little while in your amiable company.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):

Back to the knife-play, gun-play kink, I suspect he not only uses various, dangerous tools to pleasure you, but also rope, or handcuffs. Everyday items that can he repurposed into something new and fucked up—alligator clamps for your nipples, or an Institute shock baton as a cattle prod—if you’re into that sort of thing. In other words, he’s not afraid to experiment.

As it’s the “end of the world,” I am not sure he has access to expensive, exotic toys, but if he did, he would be sure to use them. Maybe there’s an old sex shop with a few top of the line products still on the shelves. He’d nab anything for shits and giggles, trying various things out on you and on himself. Not like he has anything better to do.

But even so, he probably prefers it just being you and him, nothing fancy. He doesn’t need it— you’re all he needs to have a good time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Hancock often plays unfair. He loves to tease you to the point of edging. He’ll take you as far as the cusp of an orgasm, then let the feeling dissipate, driving you toward insanity a little more each time.

And he’s so good at what he does; you’ll cum when he allows it. Lucky for you, this time he’s feeling generous—but if you pout? He’s done for.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make):

Hancock may make you scream his name, but he’s more of a subdued moan, heavy breaths in your ear kind of Ghoul. He’ll whisper sweet sentiments or speak all the filthy, filthy things he’s going to do you, but may be a bit of a pillow biter when roles are reversed.

He’d still take it like a champ, though, chomping down to keep from “embarrassing” himself. I also bet he’s a bit of a whimperer, or a whiner, fingers digging into the sheets as he buckles down under you like a common whore.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice):

I’ve got two:

1) Hancock is an over-protective boyfriend who is always out to “watch your back,” whether that be keeping his eye out for creeps, or intervening in a conversation on your behalf. I can also see him as the slightly jealous type, though he would bring it up only due to his own insecurities. Otherwise, he quietly stews until it eats away at him enough he feels the need to say what’s on his mind.

“Hey, if you’re getting bored of me, just say the word—I’ll go.” I don’t think he wants to stick around where he’s not wanted.

2) Hancock is into PDA maybe more than he should be. He’d let you sit in his lap in public while his hands travel your body. He’d caress your waist and thighs, and whisper jokes in your ear that are only meant for you to hear— Hancock loves making you giggle. He’s also up for dragging you into dark corners for steamy make-out sessions, or just wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. Let ‘em stare, he gives no fucks who sees you together.

Of course, he’s also OK with just gazing at you lovingly when no one’s looking— not even you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words):

Hancock’s cock is just as scarred and damaged as the rest of his body, but he can still get it up, and the striations and respective bits of raised tissue are basically just another way of saying “ribbed for your pleasure.”

It’s variegated in color, or various shades—pale, deathly white, intermingled with dark, almost cadaverous-like patches. If you’re into necrosis, this is the man for you, though nothing is falling off or anything like that—he’s 100% intact, willing and able.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

I imagine he has a pretty high sex-drive, but sex isn’t everything to him by any means. He’s always down for a quick romp in the hay, but he’s also not opposed to cuddles.

Yes, he’s a cuddler. With the sappy, over the top romantic lines he says in game, how can this man NOT want to bury himself in your arms every chance he gets? And don’t put it past him to be clingy, either. That’s not always what he’s about, but it can happen with the right combination of brain chemicals and fluffy feelings.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

I see Hancock as waiting for you to fall asleep first, or at least being cognizant enough to know what is going on in the event he has to keep you safe from whatever’s lurking in the dark, whether you’re hiding in the ruins, or walled up somewhere in Goodneighbor—can never be too careful.

In addition, I peg him as someone who may be a bit of an insomniac. He’s a bit hyper in game, and with the fact he pumps himself full of chems just to try to get high, I imagine even as a Ghoul it could fuck up your sleep cycle.

Still, when he falls asleep he sleeps hard—but don’t mind waking him. He’s ready to go when you are, just give him a minute.

If you enjoyed this, be on the lookout for my John Hancock x Fem! Reader fic in the next day or so! 6.8k+ words of porn with plot. :D

P.S.: if you have a specific request, or just want to talk about Hancock in my inbox, feel free!!

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Edit: Here’s the fic!

#John Hancock #Fallout 4 #Fallout #Ghoul #John Hancock x Reader #Fallout smut #Headcanons #x reader #x you #Hannie #FO4 #Mayor John Hancock #Fallout Ghoul #John Hancock Fallout #alphabet game #Hancock #Hancock x Reader #my writing

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g0dlyunsub · 7 months ago

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red herring.

in which spencer can’t stop teasing you about how you constantly try to draw his attention away from your rather flawed board/card game skills.

pairing :: spencer x reader

warnings :: none? some [really slight] sexual tension but it’s mostly spencer being his witty self.

word count :: 1.3k

author’s note :: second post is now up! i’m a sucker for pure fluff that involves constant bickering, especially when it involves spencer’s ginormous brain. mention of his glasses like thrice. i also just realized i missed the opportunity to title this as reid herring, but i'm too lazy to change the cover :3

accompanying song :: show me by mac ayres and chris anderson

you let out a deep sigh before you can stop yourself, and you instantly try to fake cough to mask your disappointment. spencer’s quick to notice, however, and he flashes a smile at you. his glasses hitch up slightly as his nose lightly crinkles, and you can’t help but look and admire. in comparison, your smile is always turned downwards and you’ve never felt comfortable displaying a wide smile like his.

you’d find his smile to be refreshing any other day, but right now, it’s more of a nuisance than anything.

“what, can’t admit that you’ve lost the last seven games of chess?” spencer chuckles playfully and rests his chin on his hand.

you huff in frustration and tap the table with your index finger. “you’ve been playing this game since like what, when you were a week old? your elo rating is probably well above candidate masters and-”

“so what else do you want to try? i’ve handicapped my queen, my bishop, do you want a rook gone next?” the rim of spencer’s glasses gleams under the lighting as he asks, and you hate how everything seems to be on his side.

“no,” you pout, and tip over your king to surrender. “i want to play something different.” you fold your arms in front of your chest as you speak and lean back in your chair.

“you know, if it helps, i could explain the strategies i used to counter your plays. these seven- well eight games, we’ve played the italian defense three times, the caro-kann setup twice, the sicilian defense once, which is pretty impress-” you cut spencer short when you clear your throat and raise your eyebrows.

“can we not… talk about chess right now?” you pout once again, and push the chess board to the side of the table.

“well. is there anything else that you want to play?” spencer adjusts his glasses as you scratch the back of your head in contemplation.

“old maid. i’m a natural at that game,” you suggest, and you notice the corner of spencer’s lips tug into a smirk.

“oh, i bet you are. try me.” confidence oozes from his words and your heart beats just a little faster. he’s enjoying this a little too much.

“i’ll deal the cards.” you grab a deck of cards from the drawer of your desk and shuffle the cards in a swift and fluid manner.

“that’s right, in a classic two-player situation for a deck of 1 card to a deck of 51 cards, the latter of which is the standard for a game of old maid, the expected probabilities for the dealer winning are always higher than the non-dealer. if you’re really going for the win, i’d recommend playing with a smaller deck of cards, but the difference is really minimal. you’re looking at a simulated probability of 50.4 percent with 51 cards versus 51.8 percent with 23 cards.” spencer rolls the facts off his tongue like it’s common sense, and you blink rapidly in stunned confusion. he’s playing it off with a goofy smile again. ugh.

the next hour is filled mostly with intense silence, and you could swear a part of your brain was going to short circuit from mental exhaustion any minute.

“is it… here? hm?” spencer observes your facial expressions for any note of change, but you wouldn’t give it to him. you remain unphased as his fingers trail between your cards and pull the rightmost card from your grip.

your heart makes an ecstatic turn when he takes the old maid and it takes everything in you to suppress your smile. so much for being a profiler.

your excitement doesn’t last, however, when he slightly cocks his head to the side and starts to shuffle his cards. it’s endgame, and you might be able to come out of this with your first victory.

you lean in ever so slightly, brushing your fingers atop each card and pausing in between. your eyes lock onto his hazel beads, and neither of you blink.

“it’s not this card.” you move to the next card, and spencer raises an eyebrow.

“are you sure? you know, statistically speaking, when one shuffles their deck of-” your hand snakes under his cards and you lay a finger to his lips.

“shh, i’m trying to concentrate,” you whisper, and everything goes silent. the tension between the two of you hangs suspended in the air and it’s increasingly harder for you to focus on the game. in fact, you’re thinking of everything but the cards in front of you.

you draw in a deep breath and settle on the card that sits second to last in his right palm. when you turn the card over, a frown instantly overtakes your face. the old maid had instantly made its way back into your set of cards.

the rest of the game is torturous; each turn, spencer discards his pairs one by one, and your disappointment seeps through your loud sighs.

you set the last card on top of the messy pile of pairs. it’s a loss, again.

“spence, i’d beat you in any target game like darts.” you lift your head with an exhausted groan.

“you know, phil taylor, a 16-time world darts champion, is often cited to utilize geometry to his strategic advantage since he aims for the triple 20 section, which is one of the highest scoring areas of the board. it takes practice, of course, to nail the angle down, but an estimation of the dart's projectile motion offers great leverage to your precision.” he looks at you as you start to stack up the cards and stuff them back into their case.

after a pause, he continues: “can i not impress my favorite person once in a while?" he reaches for your hand to interlace his fingers with yours.

his thumb rubs the cave between your thumb and index finger in a circular motion, and you feel your body relax under his touch. you suppress your excitement at the mention of the word favorite by pursing your lips.

“you always impress me, spence. wait – hey, is that a red herring, coming from you?” you question, pulling his hand towards you.

“perhaps. and i’ll actually address mine, unlike a certain someone…” a sly grin spreads across his face.

“but what about that one time you-” you start, raising your other hand to contest.

“hm. interesting. that’s your first whataboutist reply in two days,” spencer cuts you off short. what an actual jerk.

he breaks into a small fit of laughter before he waves his hand to control himself. you, on the other hand, aren’t impressed. he stands, his figure towering over you as you remain seated.

“come on, let’s grab a cup of coffee before we head out for the weekend. i’ll walk you home.” spencer motions for you to get up, and you reluctantly follow suit. you’re glad you could spend more time with the witty doctor, but you hadn’t expected to accumulate even more stress after work was over. a cup of coffee is exactly what you need to get a moment of relaxation.

he hands you your cup of coffee and turns to face you while stirring his drink with a coffee stick.

“hey, uh, listen. it’s been really nice playing with you today, and if you wanted to play again sometime, talk about strategies, stuff like that…” he trails off, watching you as you take a sip of your hot drink.

“of course, if you’ll ever consider adopting me as your apprentice,” you jokingly respond, and a glimmer surfaces in his eyes. before he can respond, you lean in and embrace him.

“i’m just kidding. invite me for a card game any time.” you look up so your forehead sits right under his chin. he’s surprised at your sudden move, but he sets his cup down and returns the hug.

“poker next?”

“oh hell no. get out of here.” you laugh and take his hand as you walk out of the office while he desperately scrambles for his cup with his free hand. both of your laughs echo down the hallway and trail behind as the elevator doors close.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #bau!reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg x reader #dr spencer reid

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 15 days ago

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The Return

Batter Up Chapter 7

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: After a month of being away from the game and the girl he loves, Joel Miller is back and ready to play. Warnings: smut, making a sex tape, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (reader has an IUD), cream pie, also regular pie, joel miller's dirty mouth, wine. Words: 5,000

A/N: Thank you to my dearest @devineconjuring and her beautiful brain for beta'ing and being my grammar goddess.

Masterlist Playlist

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The crowd chants Joel’s name, lights flicker through the stadium, the ground feels like it’s shaking beneath his feet. He loves this feeling—the rush of adrenaline coursing through him, the loud crowd drowning out every doubt he’s ever felt. After three weeks on the injured list and another week rehabbing in the minors–a month away from the big leagues–Joel Miller is back.

He walks to the plate, digging his heels into the dirt and tapping his bat against the plate as he soaks in the moment.

“Miller, good to see you back,” the catcher says.

Joel nods, and grunts an acknowledgment back.

His eyes settle on the pitcher, some young phenom throwing 99-mph with almost every pitch. Don’t worry kid, you’ll get old like me.

The first pitch whooshes past him—ball one.

Ball two.

Strike one.

The pitcher’s keeping it a little outside, Joel inches closer to the plate, squaring up. The pitcher winds up again, Joel takes a deep breath, feeling the vibration of the bat as it connects with the ball. The crack of the bat reverberates through the stadium as the ball soars past the infield, over the outfield, and disappears beyond the right-field fence.

Home run.

The crowd erupts, the celebratory bell tolls as he rounds the bases. His eyes scan the club box above third base, finding you amidst the cheering fans, your arms raised high, that smile of yours lighting up his heart.

Joel Miller is back, doing what he loves, and now in front of the woman he loves.

You’re so proud of him. You wipe the tears from your eyes as Joel’s feet touch home base. His recovery wasn’t easy. Every week away from the game for someone as old as him means double the work versus a young kid just in the game. Forty year olds aren’t known for being pro athletes.

With the long Labor Day weekend, you were able to take time off from work and travel by train to Philadelphia to witness Joel's celebrated comeback, which had turned into a legend after his grand slam. Suddenly, all of your worries are lifted away. The stress of telling your families that you're a couple, your demanding job as a column writer at Sporting Digest that revolves around the ebb and flow of games, trades, and record breaking moments–none of it matters now.

Your responsibilities at work have been stacking up over the past few weeks. Churning out articles on everything from college football predictions to analyses of NBA draft picks. When you were hired you agreed to not cover baseball, what with the conflict of interest and all. Now, you dream of the headlines you could write about your boyfriend’s triumphant return.

You’ve barely been able to leave your laptop. Last week, you spent three days shadowing a tennis star at the US Open, scribbling notes on her training and the pressure of being labeled the “next big thing.” You’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone do laundry, go grocery shopping, and, most importantly, be there for Joel. You put in countless hours of work to make this long weekend possible, just so you could witness his big comeback firsthand.

“Heck of a player that Miller is,” you hear the TV in the corner say. “He sure knows how to show everyone he’s still got it, doesn’t he?”

You clutch his number dangling from your neck, you’re so proud of him, always proving everybody wrong. Well worth every sacrifice.

The Liberties win, 4-0, all thanks to Joel’s grand slam in the first inning. Sports radio is going to have a field day with this.

You make your way down to the stadium’s corridors, where staff rush around with more important tasks than yours.

The Liberties clubhouse sits just ahead of you, the two large blue doors stay closed to onlookers. You rest your back against the cold cinder block wall and send Joel a text, telling him to take his time.

A year ago, you never could’ve imagined this. Joel Miller—rugged, no-nonsense baseball star, the man who occupied your teenage dreams—now your boyfriend. The man who keeps your favorite pasta sauce in his pantry. The man who goes mattress shopping with you. It feels surreal, yet so real at the same time.

Every time that damn blue door opens your heart skips a beat, hoping you’ll find Joel walking out. False alarm after false alarm.

Until…

Joel emerges, hair slicked back, wearing a gray Liberties shirt, khaki pants, and those cheesy white New Balance sneakers you tease him relentlessly about. Joel, you’re way too rich to be wearing these damn ragged shoes.

“Hi baby,” he smiles as he wraps his arms around you, pushing you further against the wall.

“Hi,” you breathlessly respond, smelling the body wash on his skin. Damn, he showered. “Good game.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

You can’t help but smile at how happy he is, back where he belongs, doing what he loves.

“Come on,” he says, pulling you close. “Let’s go celebrate.” His arm stays around your waist as he leads you through the corridors to his car.

It’s so freeing now, being able to cheer for—and love—Joel out in the open, for all eyes to see.

“You know you made me cry today, right?” you say, reaching for his hand resting on your thigh.

“I did, huh?” he replies with a smirk on his face.

He always looks so confident as he drives. Philly’s narrow streets, filled with potholes and pedestrians, are nothing like Austin’s, but he navigates them as effortlessly as he does everything else—injuries, tough teammates, media storms. He handles it all like he handles a fastball: with ease.

“Yeah, I’m really proud of you,” you tell him softly, grabbing his hand harder. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times, but I’m just so happy to be here for you.”

He smiles that quiet Joel smile. “That’s how I feel watching you handle everything too.”

"So, where are we headed?" you ask, noticing you're not on the route to his apartment. “I hope I’m dressed okay,” you say, looking down at your simple red gingham dress.

"It’s a surprise. You’ll be fine, you look beautiful baby," he says.

The car winds through the city. You glance over, watching the city lights flicker across his face as the car turns off the main road, slipping into a quieter neighborhood.

The car pulls up to a small, unassuming brick building tucked away on a quiet side street. No flashy sign, no valet—just a discreet, vintage lantern hangs above the door. It’s definitely a place Joel prefers.

He turns off the car and turns to you, his hand still resting on your thigh. “Thought we’d keep it low-key,” his deep voice rumbles in the quiet of the car.

You nod, your smile widening. “Perfect.”

He steps out of the car and, ever the gentleman, comes around to open your door before guiding you toward the entrance. You wrap your arm around his, leaning into his warmth as he leads you inside.

—

“Mr. Miller, welcome to Vetri Cucina. We’re happy to have you here. Let me show you to your table.”

“Silvio," Joel says with a firm handshake. "Good to see you. Thanks."

Your eyes scan the cozy space. Shiny worn floorboards, warm amber walls, a glistening chandelier that hangs from the low ceiling–you’ve never seen a place like this before. Little did you know that behind the unassuming brick row home exterior there would be a whole functional restaurant. It feels like the perfect mix of a place for the two of you, rustic and intimate.

Silvio leads you both up a narrow staircase to a private room on the second floor. A table for two sits in the center of the room. A red glass chandelier hangs above it, candlelights flickering shadows across the golden walls..

“So, we’re still hiding our dinners with each other away from prying eyes?” you tease as Joel pulls the chair out for you and you take a seat.

“Not exactly,” he says, taking your hand in his. “I just wanted to show off that I can get us a private table at one of the best restaurants in Philly.”

You laugh. “I’m sure there’s a Golden Corral around here.”

Joel chuckles. “Very funny. But trust me—you’ll love it here. They’ve got all the fancy dishes with those French words you like.”

“You know me too well.”

“Better than you think,” he says, his eyes gleaming under the golden light.

—

A waiter approaches, a polished smile on his face. “Good evening, and welcome. My name is Royal, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. We have a special tasting menu prepared just for you, personally selected by our chef. It’ll start with an appetizer, followed by a pasta course, a main, and dessert.”

Your mouth waters as Royal pours you a glass of wine.

”Each course will be paired with a wine from our grand collection. Your first course will be out shortly. In the meantime, is there anything else I can bring you?”

Joel shakes his head. “We’re all set, thanks.”

“Wow,” you say once the waiter leaves, glancing around the elegantly set table. “I feel a little underdressed for a tasting menu.”

Joel shrugs. “I have a feeling they won’t care what we’re wearing once I pay the bill. Besides,” he says with a smile, “I like you in that red dress.”

“Atta boy, Texas,” you say, smiling as you sip your wine.

—

After a couple courses of delicious appetizers that you happily eat, but Joel barely touches, the water returns, presenting the main course with a flourish.

"For your entrée, we have our signature dish: salt-crusted tilapia with a bread salad of parsley and tomatoes, alongside grilled artichokes on a bed of smoked squash puree."

You glance at Joel as the waiter expertly cracks the salt crust, revealing the perfectly cooked fish underneath. You know Joel hates fish and artichokes. The waiter sets down two glasses of white wine and disappears, leaving you both alone with the dish.

"Baby, what are you going to do?" you ask, eyes wide as Joel picks up his fork.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m here to impress you,” he says with determination before spearing a piece of the fish. He takes a bite, his nose crinkling ever so slightly as he chews.

“How is it?” you ask, biting back a smile.

Joel grimaces. “I’ve had better.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Please don’t eat it. I know the only fish you like is fried.”

“Always been more of a Filet O Fish man myself.”

“I don’t think they’ve got tartar sauce here, so please, for me, don’t force yourself.”

He sets down his fork with a relieved sigh, his hand finding yours again. “Anything for you.”

When the waiter returns, he doesn’t comment on Joel’s barely touched plate, but you notice a subtle, appreciative smile as he clears away your empty dish.

“Well,” you say, leaning back, happy and full from dinner. “At least there’s dessert.”

“Never said no to dessert,” he chuckles, before looking you in the eyes with adoration.

"You know," he begins, his voice low and serious, "I couldn't have done this without you. Coming back after my injury—”

Joel's voice trails off as he searches for the right words. His eyes stare into yours. You squeeze his hand encouragingly, needing to hear more.

“It wasn’t just physical,” he continues. “It was mental. Wondering if I still had it within me, if I was too old, if it was time for me to hang up my cleats. But you—you never doubted me for a second.”

Tears pool in your eyes as his thumb brushes back and forth against your knuckles.

"I’ve always been your fan, Joel. I’ll always believe in you.”

He nods, a small smile lighting his face. “I know, and that’s what got me through. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile through tears.

The waiter approaches with dessert, you silently thank the interruption so you’re not left sobbing in the middle of this beautiful restaurant over how much you love your boyfriend.

A familiar slice of pie is placed in front of you and Joel.

“Uppercrust?” you excitedly ask, your eyes widening at the large, glazed pecans laying atop the golden crust.

Joel gives a shy, satisfied nod, his lips curving into that familiar, gentle smile. "Thought we’d end the night with our favorite. Had Sarah overnight it to the restaurant."

“Jooooel,” you breathe out, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. You stare at the pie, stunned by how deeply he cares for you.

“All for you baby,” he says softly as he lifts his fork and cheers with a playful smile. “Cheers to Austin and that hotel bar.”

You laugh, grabbing your own fork and tapping it against his. “Cheers,” you whisper, trying to steady your voice.

“Oh my god,” you moan around the fork at the first taste of sweet pie. “I can’t believe you got this. You’re too good to me.”

He barks a laugh. “Baby, this is nothing, I owe you so much.”

The pie is sweet, but your boyfriend is sweeter.

The sweet wine served with the pie warms your body, Joel’s smile from across the table warms you even more. You sneakily slip your foot out of its sandal, and run it up his leg, making your way up to his crotch. He jumps in surprise, his eyes leer at you as he takes a sip of wine. Your foot finds its target, against the soft fabric of his pants, thankful for the white tablecloth that hangs from the table. He places a hand on your foot, pushing it closer to his crotch. You giggle as your toes wiggle back and forth, teasing him.

“So, what’s next?” you ask, with a mischievous grin.

"Well, after we finish dinner, I'll pay the bill, grab some leftover pie for later...and then take you home and fuck you," he responds confidently.

A small hmph escapes your lips at the promise. “Is that so?”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” he replies, a sly grin spreading across his face. He leans in close, his voice lowering to a secretive whisper. “Just think about it—my place, those fancy sheets of mine you love so much…”

His hand wraps around your foot, pressing it harder against him.

“Now you’re just making me impatient,” you tease.

—-

The plates are cleared, the leftover pie is boxed up, Joel settles the bill and rises from his seat, extending his hand to help you up.

Your fingers lace together as you step out into the warm summer night. Joel leads you to his car, unlocking it and opening the door for you. You lean over and seal your mouth over his, relishing in being able to kiss him out in the open. You pull away and give him a smirk before getting in and sliding across the passenger seat, your heart racing with anticipation for the next stop—Joel’s apartment.

Your time together has been precious and few. Your career keeps you north in New York, Joel’s training and rehabilitation game have kept him busy and all over the states. But now, you finally have three nights together—the most time you've had since his injury a month ago.

He glances over at you and winks before he adjusts the rearview mirror. You miss his truck back in Austin, the front bench seat allowing you to slide over and cuddle him close. You curse the existence of the center console.

“Buckle up, baby,” he says with a grin. Your heart races at the double entendre.

—-

Taking the elevator up to Joel's penthouse brings back memories of that first night together, when you couldn't believe how handsome he looked in that golden elevator at the hotel, not believing you were about to sleep with Joel Miller. Now, his body presses against yours as you lean on him, his head nestled in the crook of your neck as he leaves sweet kisses down your skin to the matching pendant of his number you wear, leaving a kiss against it before his eyes meet yours.

“I can’t tell you how much I love seeing this on you, baby,” he says before licking his way up to your mouth, sealing his over yours. He grabs your ass, lifting you into his hold, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your arms wrap around his wide shoulders.

The elevator doors open and he carries you into his penthouse, crowding you against the entryway wall. His mouth moves against yours with fervor, deepening the kiss as your fingers tangle in his hair. You gasp against his mouth, the cool wall chilling your overheated skin.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath warm and sweet against your lips. “I’ve missed this—missed you.”

He turns and carries you to the living room. The ambient city lights shining in from the floor-to-ceiling windows light Joel’s way. He gently sets you down on the couch and slides his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer for another kiss.

“Let me show you how much I’ve missed you, baby,” he whispers against your lips, pausing to look into your eyes.

You nod, breathless and eyes wide. “Please,” you whisper.

He grins, standing back slightly, taking in the sight of you sprawled on his couch, dress askew. “You look so damn good.”

His hands rest on the hem of your dress and, with a cocky grin, he slowly lifts it up, exposing the soft skin of your thighs.

“God, this is all I’ve been thinking about. Drove to the ballpark thinking about you, stepped up to the plate thinking about you, and, baby,when I saw you in the stands… all I could think about was you naked in my arms.”

“Joel…” you struggle to find the words, already lust-drunk on his words.

“I need to taste you.”

He drops down to his knees in front of you, his large fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear and sliding them off.

You bite your lip as he grips your thighs and spreads them apart.

He breathes out a deep sigh at the sight of you. A low whistle leaves his lips. “There she is, she’s so fuckin’ pretty.”

He leans closer and places soft kisses along your inner thighs, teasingly slow, making your heart race even faster.

“Joel…” you plead.

He spreads you wider, warm breath teasing against your core. He licks a long, slow line from bottom to top, humming appreciatively at the first taste of you.

Your back arches, a gasp escaping your lips. "Oh my God," you breathe.

His rough palms grip your thighs, thick fingers digging into the flesh as he holds you steady. His hot breath tickles your skin as he licks you. "God, you taste so good," he murmurs against you, his voice vibrating against your cunt. “Missed this taste.”

His tongue explores you as your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping the soft waves of his dark strands.

Two thick fingers slide inside you, stretching you perfectly. Plush lips close around your clit, sucking and lapping at your sensitive nub.

It's been almost a month since he last touched you like this, and now with his skilled mouth and fingers all over you, your body is ready to let go.

“Joel,” you moan. “C-close.”

He enthusiastically hums against you, deep brown eyes staring into yours from under furrowed brows. His fingers pumping in and out of you as his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit. Your pussy pulses against his thick fingers, squeezing them as you bloom under the pleasure of finally feeling his touch. Goosebumps rise all over your skin, cheeks heating, legs trembling, and your eyes tightly shut… and when he curls his fingers upwards inside you, your orgasm crashes into you, your pussy soaking his hand and your voice screaming his name. He doesn't stop, continuing to lick and tease you through your orgasm until it's all too much and you're pulling at his hair.

He pulls back with a satisfied smile and kisses your inner thigh before standing and placing a kiss on your lips. You taste yourself as he licks into your mouth. His plush lips sucking against yours.

Before you can catch your breath, Joel scoops you up in his strong arms, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you into his bedroom. You giggle as he smacks your ass and growls.

He sets you on the edge of his bed, the crisp white sheets cool against your overheated skin. He steps back, his eyes roaming over your body.

“Stay right there,” he says as he moves to the closet, rummaging around for a moment before returning with a black camera and tripod in hand.

Your breath catches at the sight as he sets them up, carefully adjusting the angle.

The tiny red recording light blinks on and the little screen lights up. There you are, all disheveled—dress hiked up, your lips full and swollen from Joel’s mouth.

His eyes meet yours. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.

You nod, excitement running through your body. “Yes,” you breathe.

He grins as he removes his shirt, tossing it to the side before he steps out of his pants. He stays behind the camera, standing in the shadows like a director. “Go ahead baby, take it all off.”

You stand slowly, your heart racing at Joel and the camera’s attention. Dark brown eyes watch you intently from behind the camera, his eyes never leaving your every movement. You reach back and unzip your dress, pulling it down, as you slowly slip the straps off, letting the dress fall to the floor, the red gingham fabric pooling at your feet.

"God, you're gorgeous,” he whispers.

You reach behind to unclasp your bra, staring at Joel as you let it fall away. Your breasts are exposed to his eyes and the camera, your nipples hardening in the cool air. You’re completely bare now except for the necklace with his number.

"Touch yourself for me, baby," he instructs softly.

You smile, running your hands slowly up your sides, cupping your breasts. Your fingers glide over your nipples, teasing them to stiff peaks before you back up against the bed and lay across it, spreading your legs wide for the camera and Joel. Your hand snakes down your body, across your stomach, down to the apex of your thighs.

You lock eyes with Joel as you slowly circle your clit, your breath hitching. His gaze is dark from behind the camera, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You can see the outline of his cock straining against his boxer briefs as he watches you pleasure yourself. Your fingers dip lower, sliding into your wet heat.

"That's it, baby," he groans. "Show me how you like to be touched."

Your other hand kneads your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple.

Joel steps out from behind the camera, moving to the edge of the bed. He strips off his boxers, his thick cock springing free. He strokes himself slowly as he watches you.

"You're so fucking sexy," he growls.

You whimper at his words, your fingers moving faster. "Please, baby,” you whine, “I need you."

He grabs your foot and turns you on the cool, slick sheets. Glancing over at the camera’s small display screen to check the angle of your body.

He climbs on the bed and you instantly welcome the warmth of his presence and his broad body. He positions himself between your legs, gripping his cock and running the head through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Your breath catches as he slowly pushes inside, a smile lighting your face at finally feeling him inside you.

"Fuck," he groans, his eyes fluttering closed as he bottoms out. "You feel so good, baby. So tight and wet for me."

You moan as he starts to move, his hips rolling against yours in a steady rhythm. Your hands glide over the expanse of his shoulders and down his muscular back, relishing in feeling the flex of his strong muscles with each thrust.

He leans down, capturing your lips. His tongue tangles with yours as he picks up the pace, fucking you harder.

"Look at the camera, baby," Joel murmurs against your neck. "Let's show it how good I make you feel."

You tilt your head, looking directly at the camera lens with heavy-lidded eyes. The knowledge that you are being recorded, that Joel will watch this later, that the two of you will get off while watching yourselves… it’s a new thrill for you. You moan louder, arching your back higher as Joel fucks you.

"Touch yourself for me," he commands.

Your hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your clit.

"Oh god, baby," you moan, your fingers working furiously at your clit as he pounds into you. "I'm so close."

Joel's rhythm falters slightly as he watches you touch yourself, sweat glistening on his brow. "That's it. Cum for me. Let me feel you."

Your voice echoes through the room as you cry out Joel’s name, your body trembling as your walls clench tightly around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his hips snapping against yours. “So fucking good, you cum so fucking good for me. So fucking tight.”

He pulls your body towards him, sitting up on the bed, his cock still buried deep inside of you. You take control and ride him, your legs wrapping around his waist as you grind down on him. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you.

“That’s it baby. Take what you need from me,” he growls.

Your hands tangle in the short waves of his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. Your tongues exploring each other’s mouths, bodies glistening with sweat.

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his nose bumping against yours. “I love you. God damn baby, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you moan as he thrusts up into you.

He captures your lips again. “I’m close,” he groans against your mouth. “Cum with me baby. Give me one more.”

His hand snakes down between your bodies, his thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles against it as you bounce on his cock.

You cry out his name as you orgasm, Joel’s fingers and cock working in tandem to push you over the ledge. You turn your head to the camera, staring into it as you chant Joel’s name while your walls clench around his cock.

“Oh fuck baby,” Joel groans, his hips stuttering. “I’m gonna cum for you.”

In one swift motion, he flips you onto your back, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he chases his own release. Your hands run down his back, feeling the flex of his muscles with each thrust.

"Cum for me, Joel, I want to feel you cum inside me."

With a final and deep thrust, Joel stills above you. He groans your name as he empties himself inside you, his cock pulsing with each spurt. He fills you with his release, still gently fucking you with soft thrusts, pushing his seed deeper inside you.

He leans over and grabs the camera, his cock still plunged deep inside you. With a sly smile, he films your face, capturing the bliss across it.

“Look at you,” he admires, “smiling all sweetly, all drunk on my cock and cum, aren’t you baby?”

You moan a response and nod eagerly.

He chuckles as he pulls out, shuffling his body down to settle in between your legs. Joel positions the camera between your thighs, spreading them apart and running a finger through your cunt, swollen and slick with his spend pulsating out of you.

“Look at you, leakin’ everywhere,” he groans, collecting himself across his fingers and sticking it inside you. “Can’t have that, now can we?”

His eyes stay focused on the little screen, watching his fingers pump in and out of your overworked cunt.

“Fuckin’ filthy baby,” he angles his fingers, your slick squelches loudly across the room.

Writhing and whining under his touch, your skin is overheated, your pussy radiating heat across your body.

He pulls his soaked finger out, wiping it across your folds. “Show me how you drip baby, let me see.”

A gush of his cum leaks out of you, the warm liquid runs down your ass, pooling on the bed.

“Fucccccccccck,” he growls. “Can’t stop looking at this.”

He zooms out, capturing your whole body in the frame.

“Tell me whose pussy this is,” he instructs.

“Yours,” you breathlessly respond.

“That’s it baby,” he growls, before his eyes lift from the camera and into yours. “I love you,” he softly says, his eyes rounding in reverence.

“I love you too.”

He grins, standing up from the bed and switching off the camera before placing it down on the bedside table.

“That was incredible,” you sigh. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

A smile spreads across his face as he leans down to give you a tender kiss on the lips. "We'll have to watch it later," he says before heading to the bathroom. He returns with a damp towel and gently wipes between your legs, before planting a kiss on your forehead and turning to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” you slur, too blissed out of your mind.

“To get pie. I’m starving.”

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Series Masterlist

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #baseball au #baseball joel #joel miller tlou

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