#idk i can just see him at home with his mugs of coffee and a Big Dog who's really sweet but lewis wont admit the dog is sweet

[thedeafprophet]

should lewis have a dog or is that humanizing him too much

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 3

in which spencer reid spends a rainy day teaching inexperienced fem!reader how to touch him. of course, her efforts don't go unrecognized, much less unrewarded

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings: inexperienced reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, oral m receiving, reader swallows lol, a truly sickening amount of praise, like really, you JOKINGLY refer to each other as dirty sluts, r has longish hair, spit mentioned once, thigh riding (moans loudly), its filthy idk what to tell you, i feel like i've crossed the desert on foot i don't even know what else is in here, your honor they're in love, i take you to dinner first, this part is stupidly long a/n: had a fucking field day the three separate times i had to rewrite this el oh el... but think i like how it turned out?! anyway, if u like this PLS lmk bc writing it took a small piece of my soul, and yes there will be a part four!! take care of yourselves!! i love you!!!

You give Spencer half a minute or so before knocking on his door for a second time. 

It’s miserable outside, and though the hallway you’re standing in now isn’t terribly cold, you’d much prefer to be in Spencer’s apartment, where it will be the same toasty 68.5 degrees as always. Not that the heating will magically dry you. And not that you’ll be there for long, if the date you’d scheduled last week goes on as planned. 

You’re getting worried, about to knock for a third time when the locks finally click and the door opens to reveal a disheveled Spencer Reid—not at all looking ready for a date. You take in his ensemble; blue checked pajama pants, FBI Academy crewneck, the usual questionably paired socks. He’s rubbing his droopy eyes, which slowly widen as he notices your attire. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, our date! I mean—you look really nice. I look… like this. Why don’t you come in while I get ready to go?”

He holds the door open a little wider and you step through, relishing in the familiar warmth as you pull your hood down and excess water droplets spatter on the ground. 

“When did you get in?” you ask, hanging your raincoat up on a hook. You know he’d wrapped up a case yesterday evening, but you’d gone to sleep before the team left Cincinnati. 

Spencer pauses in the middle of the room, staring at the antique flooring like he forgot what he was doing. 

“Uh… four hours ago.”

“Wh—four hours? Spencer, you must be exhausted.”

He laughs awkwardly, running a tired hand over his face. 

“I mean… I’ve definitely felt better.”

You kick your soaked shoes off and cross the room until you’re toe to toe with him. Immediately his hands settle on your waist and yours find his arms. His eyes are kind, and he’s clearly pleased by your presence despite his lack of energy. 

“The weather’s terrible, anyway. Let’s just go out another day.”

His features have softened and you can see how tired he truly is—not just in his bleary eyes, but the way his fingers grasp weakly to you, the way his head bows slightly. It seems bone-deep. 

“But I haven’t seen you in a week. I don’t want you to go home.”

Your lips twist. A clap of thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts coming down even harder against the windowpanes. 

“We could hang out here. We can take a nap!”

Spencer sighs—half resignation, half disappointment. 

“But we made such good plans,” he laments. 

You kiss his cheek. 

“Plans that can be rescheduled. The bookstore will still be there next weekend.”

It takes him a moment to settle into the idea, but you watch the exhaustion win. 

“Okay. But no nap. I want to be awake for you. Coffee?”

You nod enthusiastically, beaming at the prospect of getting to spend the day doing nothing with him. Spencer mirrors your grin, before pressing a kiss to your head.

“You’re so cute.” Heat creeps into your cheeks and you can’t think of a satisfactory reply, but in the end you don’t need to, as he tugs gently on your hands. “C’mon. Tell me what mug you want.”

The kitchen counter bites into your palms as you lean with your back to it, watching Spencer putter all around the kitchen as he works on the coffee. It makes you tired just to watch. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap? Caffeine isn’t a substitute for sleep, you know.”

“I do know,” he agrees, measuring coffee grounds. “But other than last night, I actually slept fairly well this week.”

“You seem exhausted.”

“I… am tired in lots of ways. Not all of which can be resolved with more sleep.” he admits.

Your heart drops ever so slightly at the way his voice weakens as he looks through the fridge. Sometimes you remember there are still things you don’t know about him—sides you haven’t met. His work side is one of them, and it more than a little intimidates you.

“Bad case?” you ask, voice quiet and crackling with nervous energy. 

Spencer nods, approaching and setting a carton of milk on the counter behind you—caging you in with his arms in the process. It’s hard to find the words when he’s this close, but you manage to stumble through them. 

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?”

Spencer hums, tilting his head before gently saying, “not right now. But thank you for offering, lovely.”

“Okay, well—if you change your mind… if there’s anything I can do to make you feel better…”

Finally he stops with the teasing—the unabashed staring at your lips, the faux-attentive nods—and drops his head to your level to kiss you properly. It’s obviously an attempt to get you to shut up, you’re not dumb enough so as to miss that—but you don’t really care why he’s doing it so long as he does it at all. 

“I feel pretty great right now, actually,” he murmurs against your lips, a hint of a smile coloring his words. “Do you want sugar in yours?”

“Um…”

Your eyes dart helplessly between his as he pulls away and you struggle to un-fluster yourself enough to answer his simple question. Spencer seems to delight in this. The longer it takes you, the bigger his perfect smile gets. 

“You took too long. You’re getting sugar.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” you plead later on the couch, for the third or fourth time, setting your mostly-empty mug on the coffee table. 

His eyebrows raise. 

“I’m sure, honey.”

“But I want to help,” you pout, pulling your knees into your chest. Spencer regards you for a moment from the other end of the couch, before beckoning you closer wordlessly. 

“You are helping,” he assures you, gently grabbing your wrist as you crawl into his lap. He rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin with his thumb. “You being here and being you is plenty.”

It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before he left, and while you’ve all but given up on asking him to sleep with you, it doesn’t mean you don’t think about it multiple times per day. It’s especially difficult to keep your thoughts PG when you haven’t seen him in a week, and his hair is all messy, and he’s got his pajamas on, and you’re in his lap, and he’s looking at you like that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer murmurs, likely concerned by your lack of response and the glazed-over look in your eyes. You reanimate, averting your gaze to the spot on your thigh he’s now rubbing absentmindedly. 

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you a lot, too.” You don’t even have to look up to know that his brows have twisted into a pleasant sort of bemusement, like you are a particularly complex puzzle—you can hear it as he continues speaking. “I’m still not used to having something external take up so much of my attention while I’m trying to do my job. I’ve never had that before. Not something good, anyway. It’s like every time I leave, I’m thinking about you more than the time before. And I was already thinking about you a lot.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as he rambles. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he chuckles. “You prove to be incredibly distracting even when you’re hundreds of miles away. Do you know how many nights I almost called you before realizing it was one in the morning?”

A slow smile spreads over your face. 

“Oh? Whatever could you have been calling about at one in the morning?”

You’re teasing him, and it works. He blushes adorably. 

“Um… probably exactly what you’d expect. In hindsight I think it’s best that I refrained.”

“What?” You grin, incredulous, forgetting your shyness and leaning closer. “You totally should’ve. I’ve never had phone sex before. I would’ve done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t!” Spencer laughs. “It would have just been me talking to myself with you on the other line. I don’t think phone sex is really up your alley.”

“Shut up,” you laugh as your lips meet. He smiles into the kiss. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away, leaning back when he tries to follow you. “I think you’re over-complicating it. It’s just dirty talk, right? I can totally do that. It’s just, like… blah blah blah, dirty slut, something something…”

You trail off as he gives you a look. Poker faced—aside from the slightly narrowed eyes sparkling with humor. 

“You want me to refer to you as a dirty slut?”

Maintaining eye contact is an uphill battle—you crack in a matter of seconds, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes stubbornly. 

“No. For all you know I want to call you a dirty slut.”

It’s ridiculous, but he recognizes the bravado for what it is, still smiling slightly as he rubs your hips. 

“Right. I apologize for assuming. But just for future reference, I don’t want to be called that, and I don’t think I’d be comfortable calling you that, either.”

“But you can call me other stuff,” you remind your boyfriend, pulling back and still not looking at him. 

“Yeah? Like what?”

And just like that, you’re shy again. 

“I don’t know… nice things. I like when you’re nice.”

“I like being nice to you.” It’s so sincere-sounding that you meet his gaze, examining his face. His eyes are clear and soft on you, the only source of warm light on such a grey day, as his hands keep running slow lines over your sides. “Kiss?”

And how could you ever deny him anything? 

As has happened before, the kiss starts out innocent enough. And it’s not that it gets particularly heated, or anything—it’s just that it doesn’t end, and after a few moments your mouth slips open and so does his and that’swhat gets both of you worked up over a period of minutes. Pressure and heat that you’re becoming accustomed to build between your legs, and you don’t even notice that you’ve begun rocking back and forth in his lap until Spencer is attempting to still your hips with patient but assertive hands. 

“Honey, that’s—slow down, sweetheart.”

Finally he gets a grip on you and you realize as soon as you stop moving that there had been friction occurring—and you’re pretty damn sure you know what you were grinding against. 

Your whole body feels hot with arousal and embarrassment. 

“Oh my god—I’m sorry,” you mumble, moving your hands from his shoulders to cover your face. “That was an accident, I—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assures you, squeezing your waist gently. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing because I know we haven’t… gotten there, yet.”

A moment passes—your hands fall to the FBI stitching across his chest, studying the letters without really seeing them. You haven’t gotten there yet… but why not? Why haven’t you touched him, or even seen him? You think back to the few times he’s touched you and realize that you had been too busy with either your own insecurities or pleasure to genuinely consider how it might be affecting him. He says your name gently, drawing your attention. 

“You okay?”

You nod haltingly, brow furrowed as you think. 

“I—yeah. I was just realizing that I haven’t, like… touched you, yet.”

It’s silent for another long second, and you glance up, to where he’s studying you with a dissonant kind of relaxed scrutiny—a knowing confidence that probably comes with a lot more experience than you have. 

“Do you want to?”

Woah. 

Usually you have to beg on hands and knees and prepare a slideshow presentation before he agrees to doing anything sexual in nature. He’s never so overtly invited or initiated it before. Not that you’re complaining by any stretch of the imagination.  

You nod shyly, still fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“If you want to, I can show you how. But it’s also absolutely okay if you don’t.”

Show you how? 

Your brain is melting into sludge at the idea. 

“I do,” you admit, meeting his gaze again. It’s kind, and you know he really wouldn’t be upset if you said no—but now that you’ve thought about it, you feel deeply compelled to try. 

“Okay. Come here, first.” You lean forward expectantly, eyes fluttering shut as his hand finds the back of your neck and he pulls you into another soft kiss. By the time your lips separate again, your head is spinning. “We’re just trying something, okay? You’re allowed to stop whenever you feel like it. Really low stakes. Got it?”

You nod, still close enough that your noses brush as you do. 

“Got it.”

He presses one more chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and leaning back into the couch. 

“Scoot back a little, angel.”

Wordlessly you do so, heart pounding with nervous excitement as he lifts his hips and slides his pajama pants down just enough to where he can comfortably pull himself out, and—

Your breath catches. 

Now, you may be about as virginal as they come, but you weren’t born yesterday. You’ve seen porn, you’ve received unsolicited nudes—it is the 21st century. Yet never before have you thought to yourself; wow, that dick is the pinnacle of beauty. Perfect. Breathtaking. But there’s just no other way to describe him. 

So that’s what hits you first—how unexpectedly pretty it is. 

The size sinks in a quick second later. 

You can’t tell with perfect accuracy how many inches he is, but you’re pretty damn sure he’s big. That’s meant to fit inside of you?

No, no—that’s a consideration for another day. Right now you need to stop staring like an idiot. You glance up at his face, and he’s sporting a cocky little half-smile which lets you know you’ve been caught. Motherfucker he’s so hot. It’s unnerving. 

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” he asks politely, quite obviously containing his amusement. But you can’t summon a sufficiently sarcastic response. 

Your voice comes so soft when you reply, “you’re pretty.”

Spencer melts, eyes impossibly softening. 

“Pretty?” His smile is earnest now. He strokes your cheek and you can’t not lean into his touch. 

“Mhm. I want to, um…” your lips twist to the side as you look back down, finding he’s not gotten less intimidating since you last checked. “But what if I’m bad at it?” you whisper. He chuckles, brushing hair over your shoulder.  

“It’s kind of a hard thing to be bad at. And I’m gonna help you, okay?”

It’s the honesty with which he speaks to you that makes you feel so safe. There are no hidden intentions or words that seem to mean one thing but really mean another. Spencer wants you as a person more than he wants you as a body and that’s been clear since the first time he touched you. You take a deep breath. 

“Okay. What do I do?”

“First, you’re gonna spit in your hand.”

You look up, alarmed. 

“You want me to intentionally get my spit on you? Is that not your worst nightmare?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not super worried about yours,” he teases. “But if you’d prefer, I can spit in your hand.”

“Actually, mine is fine,” you laugh nervously. 

Hesitantly, you do as instructed, even though it seems frankly bizarre. 

“Good. Now just wrap your hand around it, like this.” His voice is quiet, focused as he guides your hand downward. Your heart rate ticks up again as he encourages you to wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He feels much warmer than you’d expected—his skin is silken beneath your touch but he’s undeniably hard and that sort of eliminates any sense of him being fragile from the equation. 

“It’s gonna be less sensitive down here—and then, up here—” he slides your hand back up, covering your thumb with his own and swiping it just below the head of his cock on the underside. He hisses and you look up in fascination. “That’s the most sensitive part.”

Without further instruction, you do it again, keeping your touch light and watching his face for a reaction. His drawn brows twitch, furrowing deeper for a second, and his lips part. A heavy exhalation passes between them and quickly builds into a breathy laugh. 

“What?” you murmur, over-eager to please and very nervous to do something wrong. 

“Nothing. Just feels good, that’s all.”

“Don’t laugh,” you pout. Of course that makes him laugh again, and he leans forward to kiss your head. 

“I’m laughing at myself, angel. I’m a grown man fighting for my life from a handjob that you’ve barely started. I knew it would be different with you but I didn’t realize it would be this different.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and you look away. 

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying,” he urges, grabbing your free hand and encouraging you to uncurl your fingers. His thumb traces circles in your open palm, before capturing your entire hand in his. “Do you feel how much softer your hand is than mine?”

You frown, attempting to feel whatever it is that he’s pointing out. Despite the fact that you think he has very nice hands, you realize he’s right. By no means would you say that they’re rough, but you can tell where his gun normally sits in his hands, where his fountain pen rubs against his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Anything you do is going to be perfect because it’s you.”

Spencer drops his hand to your leg, rubbing it soothingly. The other moves to cover yours—the one wrapped around him. 

“You’re gonna help me, right?” you ask quietly. Some adventurous part of you is very excited about this as an experiment—fascinated by the reactions you’ve already gotten from him and eager to push it. 

“I am. Little bit tighter, honey. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You do as you’re told, and he’s murmuring more praise—slowly encouraging you to begin moving your hand with his own. A shaky exhale catches your attention, drawing your gaze to his face. His eyes are, of course, cast downward, but his expression is hypnotizing. Those lips remain slightly parted, and suddenly you wonder if he makes noises like you do. In that moment it becomes your life’s mission to find out. 

For a while you continue letting his hand guide your movements, but he keeps things so slow for your sake that you’re getting impatient. You forgo his direction, picking up the pace but trying to keep the rhythm he’d instilled in the motion. His hand slackens around yours. 

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself. The hand on your thigh rubs achingly deeper into the flesh. “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I want it to feel good.” Suddenly shy again, you slow down. His hips stutter, which you think may be a sign that it was working. “Am I—was that bad?” Spencer looses a breath, looking almost… frustrated?

“No, I’m just—I’m weirdly close to coming.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Well,” he mutters, “not usually. Mostly it’s embarrassing.”

You giggle, a release of some tension, and begin pumping your hand again. His breath hitches and he finally looks up at you, meeting your eyes with his own lust-glazed ones. Heat pools deep between your legs. 

“I want you to come,” you admit quietly as you twist your wrist, brushing that spot underneath the head of his cock again. His jaw literally drops, and a look that is part confusion, part pleasure, twists his features. You see the surprise sparkling in his eyes and it only spurs you to keep talking. “I’ve never seen how you look when you do, but I’ve imagined it. I bet you look so pretty when you come, Spencer. ‘Nd then I would know that I can make you feel good, too.”

“You… you are making me feel good,” he assures you. The way his brow furrows and his  lips are parted give you a feeling that’s entirely new. Normally, you’re the one falling apart under his touch—but when it’s the other way around there’s a whole new kind of pleasure in it for you. You feel kind of powerful. Maybe even close to confident. 

“Really? I’m not this quiet when you touch me.”

“I’ve ha—ah—had more practice not making noise.”

“But why?” you implore, ignoring the fact that he’s slept with other women and enjoyed the sounds they made, and opting to brush your thumb across that extra sensitive part he definitely shouldn’t have told you about. His hips buck up and he hisses, which is immensely gratifying to you. 

“Because I like to listen.”

“What if I do, too?”

In a moment of divine inspiration , you cover the tip of his cock with your hand, swirling beads of pre-come over your palm. Spencer moans and his hips jut up into your grip. It’s a beautiful sound, just as you’d hoped. 

“Jesus, fuck.”

You understand why he seems to enjoy touching you so much. It’s so rewarding to watch as his breathing picks up and pleasure contorts his face—to watch him get messier and messier and lose his composure a bit more with each stroke of your hand. It’s so simple but Spencer looks at you like you’re exercising some arcane deviant power over him and he’s not sure he should be enjoying it as much as he is. 

Distantly you think about how it felt when he had his hands on you—and then, in clearer focus, how it felt when he went down on you. Both were perfect, but something about his lips so gentle on the most intimate, vulnerable part of you had felt like ascension. Maybe it was the emotional component, or maybe it just felt fucking good. Regardless, it seems an irresistible thought. 

You keep stroking him until his head is lolling on the back of the couch as he groans.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah, baby?”

He sounds so destroyed it makes you clench around nothing. Without any indication that you’re going to do so, you stop touching him, and the speed with which he lifts his head again is almost comical. Immediately, while he’s utterly defenseless and desperate, you ask, “can I use my mouth?” 

His eyes widen, and then shut, as he processes your request with a tiny shake of his head—probably trying to clear the haze of pleasure from his mind before he answers. 

“Honey,” he rasps eventually, opening his eyes and smoothing a hand over your hair, “you don’t have to do that just because I do. That’s not why I do it.”

“But I want to,” you murmur, shy and mildly embarrassed by what feels almost like a soft rejection. “I don’t think I could do anything, like, mind-blowing, but… I want to try.”

Your face is hot by the end of the sentence, and you can’t meet Spencer’s eyes as his fingers twitch over your hip. A quiet moment passes—but it’s short-lived.

“Okay. Go ahead, baby.”

Wide eyes dart up to his. 

“Really?”

Spencer smiles fondly, brushing an invisible speck from your cheek. 

“I don’t think I’m capable of turning that offer down. Not when it’s you.”

“Okay—um, should I just—” Spencer watches on, finding your sudden enthusiasm completely adorable as you scoot off of his lap and gingerly kneel in front of him. Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, hands set politely on his knees. You squint suspiciously, eyes darting between his face and his cock, now about as hard as it’s ever been due to your toying. He knows it’s probably intimidating for a girl who has never seen one in real life, and he feels kind of bad about it. You do terrible, wonderful things to him that he doesn’t understand. “Wow. So... it looks bigger from down here.”

“Please don’t try to choke yourself,” he instructs hurriedly, leaning forward slightly. “I really don’t need you to do that. It’s fine if you can’t fit it all, I just—” he exhales shakily. Spencer is most definitely strong-willed but he can’t pretend like the sight of you on your knees for him, inches from his aching cock for the first time isn’t impacting his cognition. Most importantly he doesn’t want to make you feel pressured. He’s trying to not let how badly he wants this show in case you change your mind. 

Spencer watches as you psych yourself out—wilting like a thirsty flower. 

“But what if I’m bad at this?” you mumble, hands curling into loose fists atop his legs. Spencer pushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears. 

“What’s your worst case scenario?” he asks. Your answer is immediate. 

“That I’m so bad you make me stop halfway through.”

Spencer can’t help but laugh again. 

“I’m sorry—I just… honey, you are really underestimating how profound your effect is on me. I just almost came from a minute long handjob. I can assure you that I won’t make you stop halfway through because I’d rather not have your mouth on me. That is… that’s just not going to happen.”

You lean your cheek against his thigh. He might actually pass away. 

“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?”

“Honestly, as long as you don’t bite, you’re in the clear.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips pull into an embarrassed little smile. 

“Great. Thank you for that invaluable advice.”

“Of course,” he smiles. It fades slowly as you take a deep breath and look up at him, obviously steeling yourself, before leaning forward and taking him in your hand again. He watches with bated breath, repeating no sudden movements to himself over and over as your hand moves up and down a few more times and your head lowers. 

You delicately, so lightly trace your tongue from the base of his swollen cock to just underneath the leaking tip, mapping a vein, and his hips buck as you take him into your mouth experimentally. Only the first few inches fit but the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way you’re looking at him is so unbelievably erotic Spencer knows he won’t last very long.

From a purely technical perspective—he knows he’s gotten objectively better head. Still, something about the way you’re so delicate with him, so soft and timid in the way you lick and kiss and take him into your mouth has him fighting not to come already. Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing that he’s watching you do this for the first time in your life is obscenely arousing. The idea that you’ve never trusted another person this much; that you’re letting him be the one to help you navigate something as new and as important as sexuality. The more he thinks about it, though, the more he realizes: it’s not your inexperience that turns him on. It’s just you. Everything you do is so undeniably you—he recognizes your mannerisms in every tiny motion, in every glance, and it’s killing him. You’re like a dream as you look up at him with big nervous eyes, (no, really, he has had this dream) and he remembers he wants to be reassuring you—not pondering life and human connection. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, groaning and hips twitching as your cheeks hollow, wrapping his achingly hard cock in soft gentle warmth so sweetly it feels taboo. “So good, baby. So gorgeous like this.”

You whine around him, receptive as always to his obsequious praise, and he notices the way your hips wiggle as you seek friction. God, you must like this a lot. Spencer gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, resting his hand on your head as you begin to bob it. That, he wasn’t prepared for. He’d have been satisfied with just kitten-licks and suckling but he won’t complain about this. It’s slow, and so intentional as you keep watching him for feedback cues. Ever his observant girl, you’re constantly paying attention. Aware of his reactions. He needs to keep telling you you’re good or else you’ll assume you’re terrible. 

“Over-achiever,” he whispers through a little smile as you down even more of him. 

Spencer is for the most part a kind and gentle person. For better or worse he is also a man, and he can’t help but fantasize about getting you all teary and drooly as he holds your mouth open and sees how much of his cock he can push down your throat. But again—kind. Gentle. So when you get a little over-zealous, attempting to sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure, he pulls your head back slightly. “That’s far enough, angel. That’s—fuck. God, you’re good at this.” The words are thoughtless, muttered to himself more than you as he watches through a haze while you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes, slipping him in and out of your warm mouth, a little faster now as you gain confidence. 

You whine desperately around him, like you’re the one nearing orgasm and not him. The sound of your pleasure as you suck his cock makes him dizzy. His hips buck, pressing him a little deeper into your mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales. “Slow down, baby. I’m—” a louder moan from him like you’ve never heard as he thrusts shallowly turns you on profoundly. He’s so much more vocal than you’d have imagined—sonically and verbally. He breathes out a quick, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” pulling your hair slightly, and you’ve never wanted to touch yourself more but you know you can’t focus on both. Instead you work on making him come—you can worry about you later. He says your name, with an authoritative edge to his tone that makes you throb. “Honey, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come—”

You swirl your tongue around the top of him like candy and he’s done for. Spencer tries to pull out, which only results in cum both in your mouth and on your face. The orgasm is his strongest in recent memory, and he grunts, watching your lips part and a little squeak escape as he comes all over your face—but you keep stroking him all the while. Once he’s 90% sure it’s over, he falls against the back of the couch, breathing heavily and looking down at you through hazy eyes. Oh, he’s going to feel terrible about this in a few seconds—but right now you look fucking perfect. Your eyes are wide, nervous as his essence drips over your face and down your neck—he groans when you swallow cautiously, averting his eyes to the ceiling lest he do another thing he regrets. 

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he mutters, forcibly clearing the haze of orgasm from his mind and sitting up, fixing his pants and looking around before locating the box of tissues on the side table. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” You look up at him attentively as he wipes himself from your face as gently as he can. 

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t ask you first. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Spencer guides your head around by your chin, wiping your jaw and lips. 

“It’s okay, Spence, I—”

“No, it’s not,” he cuts you off, trying to at least turn his guilt into a learning experience for you. He’s not deluded enough to think someone like you will stay with someone like him forever, because sometimes he does things like that, and he’s reminded that there are certainly people out there more deserving of you. At the very least he can clarify that nobody should ever do what he just did to you. “It’s really not nice to do that to someone.”

“Do you care what I think at all?”

Spencer freezes, finally forcing himself to look you in the eye. Despite the fact that he’s mad at himself, he’s sure it’s coming across as being directed at you. And he knows you’re sensitive, especially about this kind of thing. 

“Of course, I do, baby. I’m sorry. Do you want to come back up here with me and tell me what you’re thinking?” he murmurs, cupping your jaw. Hesitantly you nod. The tissues end up on the table—which he will be thoroughlywiping down later—before you crawl back into his lap from the floor. Spencer helps you settle against him, hoping he hasn’t messed this up irreversibly. He keeps his voice quiet as he rubs your leg. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say,” you begin, “that it’s fine, because you’ll remember to ask next time. And because… I kind of liked it. I like when—when you do stuff like that.”

It’s a miracle he can hear you with the way your voice drops into an almost-whisper and you’re hiding against his shirt. 

“Like what?” he murmurs. Although he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle the answer. 

“Like… I don’t know. Like you can do whatever you want to me. Like I’m literally yours.” Each word makes you cringe further, but Spencer has to try hard to maintain a cool facade as he processes this. If he’s going to try and be chivalrous, you’ll have to move away from this topic—this revelation—immediately. Thankfully, you seem eager to move on. “So… how did I do?”

He almost laughs. It seems exceedingly obvious how you did, but as per usual, you require verbal reassurance. 

“That was really good, baby. You did well.”

You blossom. 

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie.”

“Was I the best girl out of all of the other girls?” 

I wasn’t in love with any of the other girls. 

Just barely, he manages to stop himself from saying it, pinwheeling his arms on the edge of a very steep verbal cliff. The realization that he’s been in love with you for a while hits him like a truck. But he can’t tell you that right now. He should wait until you’re less vulnerable.

Fuck. 

He really wants to tell you right now. 

“Actually—don’t answer that,” you decide, while all of this happens in his head in less than a few seconds. “I want to go back to pretending I’m the only girl you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“You’re the only one that matters,” he offers, relieved to express at least some portion of the much bigger truth. Then he frowns. “Not that the other women I’ve met don’t lead important lives. I actually know a lot of incredibly influential and intelligent people who are women. I have deep respect for all of them. Am I helping or making it worse?” he rambles. You giggle. He has his answer. “What about you? How do you feel?” he asks after a moment, tenderly, lowly, stroking your hair as you lean against his chest. 

It takes you a moment to deliberate, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. 

“I feel good. I, um… liked it a lot more than I would have thought.”

“Well, that’s good. Much better than if you had hated every second of it.”

You hum in agreement, and he waits for you to say whatever you’re holding back. It comes sooner than he’d have anticipated. 

“I feel bad about the times before. How did you just… go to sleep after? Were you not, like—insanely turned on? Not that I’m, like, irresistibly sexy, or whatever—you know what I mean.”

Spencer smiles because he knows you can’t see him. 

“I wasn’t doing it to pressure you into feeling obligated to reciprocate, I guess. My line of reasoning was that it would be less intimidating if I didn’t even present it as an option until you wanted to try.”

“Oh.”

Spencer thinks he sees where this is going. 

“Why?” he asks, leaning back and encouraging you to look at him. “Are you insanely turned on?”

“Wh—that’s—I didn’t say that!”

Spencer can feel how warm your cheeks are as he presses his lips to the side of your face. 

“You can tell me if you are,” he murmurs, all smiley as he moves to kiss your lips. “If you want something, you need to ask for it. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Yes you are,” you grumble. “That’s literally what behavioral analysis is.”

Not quite true, but surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the need to explain to you the semantics of what he does for work right now. 

“What got you all excited?”

“You know what,” you mumble, trying to look away again. Spencer doesn’t allow it this time, gently grabbing your jaw. 

“Yes, I do. But I want you to tell me. If you want me to make you feel good, this is how you’re going to convince me that you deserve it.”

You whine wordlessly, looking at him with those big, lust-glazed eyes.

“You wanted me to teach you how to use your words, right? This is it. I’m giving you an opportunity. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe we can take a nap, like you said earlier.”

“No! I liked—um, I liked all of it. I didn’t know if I would, because I was really nervous. But when I first—you know—and you got all quiet… it was like you couldn’t even talk for a minute. I was kind of proud of that. Because normally nobody can ever get you to stop talking.” Spencer narrows his eyes incredulously, a small smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t interrupt—not when it seems you’re finally starting to get more confident in your words. “And I really liked the noises you made. I think that was my favorite part. I liked when you pulled my hair back, and how you spoke to me. And when… when you got me messy and I had to swallow it. I really liked how it felt because I couldn’t think of anything else, just making you feel good. I really wanted to… make you proud, I guess. Is that weird?”

Spencer shakes his head no, a fond smile on his face when your eyes meet his again. 

“No. It’s a pretty normal thing to feel when you’re nervous and wanting to impress someone you care about. And I would have been proud no matter what, for the record. You were being very brave.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching him expectantly. Spencer should have known you’re too needy to truly absorb anything he says to you right now. Which is actually pretty cute. Everything you do is endearing to him. 

“Stand up.”

You frown. 

“But—”

“Just stand up,” he demands calmly, preferring to think of himself as firm and not bossy. 

You do, looking rather annoyed and confused as you plant yourself in front of him. 

“Why?”

“You are so full of questions.” His hands slip up the side of your legs, under your skirt, and hook in the waistband of your underwear. Spencer looks up at you meaningfully and you nod, swallowing. 

As he pulls down, Spencer can literally feel the resistance of the fabric clinging to your soaked core. Under his touch the skin of your thighs is warm and soft. He wants to feel it on either side of his face, he wants to hear you whine as his stubble rubs against it, he wants to feel it clamp around his wrist, he wants it between his teeth and he definitely wants it pressing against his hips as he—

But no. 

There will be time for all of those things—especially the last one—later. For now, he’ll reach between your legs just to see—

“Oh, my god,” Spencer half-chuckles, half-groans, upon feeling how wet you truly are for him. He drags his knuckles from your dripping entrance up over your clit, pinching very lightly and earning a squeak from you which he ignores. “You really did like having your mouth full of me, huh?”

“I told you,” you breathe, visibly relaxing some as he continues to play with you for a moment. Then he pulls his hand away again, patting his thigh. 

“Sit.”

“You want me to…”

“Yes,” he says, simply. 

“But is it not going to… am I not going to mess up your pants?”

“You are even more neurotic about messiness than I am. I can wash them, honey. Come here.”

Spencer guides your hips over his thigh, watching your pretty face twist with uncertainty as you fully settle on him. Fuck, he can feel your warmth through the fabric instantly. Already he’s getting hard again. 

“What am I supposed to do?” you whisper, bunching his shirt in your fists. Spencer slides your skirt up higher, revealing the way you’re nestled against his thigh. He spreads you a little further apart, exposing more of your clit to the material underneath you. Immediately you press against him—he watches the delicate flesh rubbing gingerly against him and  his grip tightens ever so slightly. 

“All you have to do is rock back and forth. It’s easy.”

Already you’re starting to do it—but he guesses it’s like earlier where you don’t even realize it’s happening. 

“But… I wanted your mouth,” you admit, quietly, slinging your arms around his neck and burying your face there. 

“Do this for me first. Just get yourself off like this one time and then you can have my mouth. You said you wanted to help me feel better because I’m tired today, right?

“Yes,” you mumble, squirming over him. 

“Well, there are a lot of days when I get back home and I’m tired. I’m gonna need you to be able to get on top of me, just like this, and make me feel better. And I know you don’t know what it feels like to have something that deep inside of you yet, but it’s gonna be a lot. Even once you know how it feels to have me inside when you’re underneath me. I need you to practice for me right now so you’ll be ready, okay?”

You could come from the words alone. You nod, dazed with need as you roll your hips in a circle, pressing his thigh against your clit. 

“Back and forth, baby,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward with his hands locked around them. “Back and forth, just like this…”

You moan quietly, shamelessly, eyes fluttering as you look down and watch your clit dragging over the darkening fabric. It’s easier if you isolate your hips, grinding down without moving your legs or upper body at all. 

“It feels really good,” you whisper under your quickening breath. 

“Yeah? Does it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, angel. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s audible now, quiet and wet and dirty. 

“I don’t,” you breathe. He sucks in a breath of his own, stilling your hips with fingers pressed deep into your flesh. 

“Sit up, baby.” You really wish he would stop making you stop, but you don’t want to keep going in case he needs you to quit—so you rise slowly, thighs trembling as you kneel. Spencer groans at the strings of your arousal momentarily connecting your core to his pants before they snap, getting your inner thighs wet. There’s a dark, very wet patch over his thigh, shining like glass. He thumbs over your slick clit absentmindedly as he looks up at you like you’re a miracle. “You’re fucking soaked. I’ve never seen you like this. Is this all from making me come?”

You nod feverishly, hips grinding against nothing in search of friction. He sits you back down on his leg, allowing you to sloppily find your rhythm again. Spencer bounces his leg lightly and you cry out softly, buckling forward. His arms wrap around you, still pressing you down against his thigh as you rut against it. 

“You’re sweet. Maybe I should have known how much you’d like it when I came all over your pretty face. You really like hearing that you did a good job, huh? I bet you like it even more when I prove it to you.”

You moan a “yeah,” barely processing his words. 

“My good girl even swallowed on her first try. Took it so well. And now look at how you’re taking this. You’re gonna love riding, baby. Just going to be another thing you’re good at as soon as you try it.”

“Spencer,” you gasp, overwhelmed by the praise. He’s bouncing his leg at regular intervals and everything is so sensitive.

“I know it’s harder to finish this way, but just one time, remember? And then you can have my tongue for as long as you want. You are my only plan for the day. Just give me one like this.”

But it’s not really harder to finish this way. Then again, you’re so turned on you could probably finish if a breeze hit you just right. Regardless, the thought of him going down on you again pushes you even closer to the edge.

You don’t know how much time goes by like that, you rubbing against him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, him pressing up into you until the pressure is so taut it snaps. There’s no time to warn him, but you suppose you don’t really need to. You writhe against him, caught between wanting to keep going and not being able to take more stimulation. He lifts you up just slightly, trying to separate you from his leg. You exhale deeply as your body relaxes, already close to dozing off against his chest.

“We can’t have you tapping out just yet. I still have to fulfill my end of the deal.”

In the end, he fulfills it three times over, and you end up showing your appreciation in kind one more time—much slower and more comfortably in his bed. He gives you plenty of time to learn what he likes, taking your teasing and coquettish explorations like a champ and never so much as tightening his grip in your hair. Turns out, you don't exactly spend the day doing nothing.

And you do end up taking that nap after all. Just... much, much later. And with less clothing on.

-

part 3.5

[luveline]

idk if this is interesting enough for a prompt, but stripper! reader (w/ either aaron or spencer, your choice :) ) where they get worried because they see her with large bruise on her side but really she just got it from a hard fall practicing a pole trick lol

ty for requesting! I thought it was more than interesting my love, 1.1k

cw past implied domestic/workplace violence

"Can I make a cup of tea or something?" 

Spencer lifts his chin before his gaze, hanging onto the line he's reading until he's finished somewhere manageable. Finally looking up, he says, "Sorry, what?" 

"Can I make some tea? Do you have anything like that? Or coffee?" you ask. 

He almost slips standing up. "I'll make you tea." 

"No, I can make it, you're reading. I just wanted to ask before I went rooting through your stuff." 

Spencer's smile is shiny, pretty, all manner of things. It says Don't be silly. "You don't have to ask, help yourself." He nudges you in your bad side. "Of course you can have tea. I'll make it." 

You wince at his contact but follow him into the kitchen without complaining. You're sick of your own narrative —yes, you're a stripper, yes, it's hard work, and you know these things but you're tired of having it be the constant identifier of your life. You really wish work stayed at work, but the half metre contusion spread up your ribs like a formidable stain won't go away. You want something warm to wash down a few painkillers and hopefully you'll fall asleep on his couch. Spencer doesn't make you go home when it gets late and you hate asking him if you can stay. Easier to knock out on his couch and have him throw a blanket over you. 

His mind must have drifted to the same place. "Did you wanna stay the night? It's getting kind of late." He opens the kitchen cabinet above the toaster oven for two mugs, and the cabinet below the sink for his stove top kettle. He peeks at you from over his shoulder when you fail to answer. "Or I can drive you home?" 

"I'll stay. Better chance of survival." 

He does that adorable nose-wrinkled frown. "I'm not a bad driver." 

"Do you have any of my cookies left?" 

You wouldn't usually ask, but you paid for them last time you came over, so you figure it's okay. 

"Sure, they're in the cabinet by the bread bin," he says, moving to the sink to fill the kettle with tap water. His face flicks between you and the task at hand. 

You open the cabinet above the bread bin, double doors creaking on their hinges. Your cookies are in a tupperware container on the very top shelf at the back. He'd probably tell you something about mould or weevils if you asked why they're up out of reach, but you're more focused on getting a sweet treat than anything. You'll ask later. You can listen to him talking until you fall asleep. 

"What is that?" 

"What's what?" you ask, though any further questioning is interrupted by your yelp, a cold hand touching your naked stomach as you set back down on your heels. 

"What happened?" Spencer asks, your shirt held by his pinky finger as his thumb moves over the bruise. It's like he's hoping it's make up to be rubbed away, and he's horrified when it stays undisturbed by his gentle touch. "Who did this? I swear, I'll–" 

"Your hands are cold," you interrupt, taking his hand in yours, peeling it off of your stomach. "And it's kind of tender, Spence." 

"What happened?" 

His tone leaves no room for jogging around. You're not reluctant to tell him for whatever reason he might assume… You and Spencer used to live very close to one another, and you'd see him at the local grocery store, a small place, without saying much. He'd smile at you. Occasionally say hi. Until one day your eye was swollen shut from the force of a cruel hand and he asked if there was anything he could do. So Spencer knows intimately how people have managed to hurt you, and he worries because it's his nature to worry. 

You'll have to tell him what happened, even if it's embarrassing, in order to wipe the concern off of his delicate features. He's angry and scared and sorry, and he has no reason to be any of those things. 

"I– okay, I wanted to practise this twist thing that Stassia showed me," you begin, meeting his eyes with bashful reproach, "you don't have to be so worried. I was practising, or trying to, but it gets cold in the private room and I was shivering and my hands were aching, so I thought I could put on my sweatpants and try again but, you know, you need the–" 

"Friction," he interrupts, looking down at your bruise with a rather ironic smile. "You fell off of the pole?" 

"Yes, and you don't have to sound so happy about it." 

"I'm not," he says, rubbing at the sore fat of your hip apologetically. "I'm glad it wasn't, you know, what I thought it was, but– I mean– how hard did you fall?" 

"I thought I broke my ribs." 

He laughs. It's as soft as his touch. "I bet you did…" 

"Any more touching and I'll think you want to tip me." 

Spencer laughs and winces simultaneously, dropping your shirt back into place and neatening the hem "Right, sorry." He steps back half a step before stepping forward again, his arms quick to wrap around you in a sweeping but brief hug. "Thanks for telling me." 

"Super sarcastic, Dr. Reid." 

He peels away from you to light the stove unsuccessfully. Your side is throbbing at being remembered, your head with embarrassment, and that cup of tea just isn't coming quick enough. The phantom of his fingerprints linger.

You follow Spencer to the stove and push your hip into his, pushing the stove top knob in with the sparker until it catches. 

"Don't make a joke about my hands." 

"I wasn't going to," he says earnestly. The back of his knuckles touch your elbow. "You could tell me the next time you do something like that. You should. I want to know if you have a bruise the size of a watermelon." 

"If I told you every time something was wrong with me we'd always be talking about what's wrong with me," you say, though you press your cheek to his shoulder appreciatively. 

"Good," he says simply. 

"Good," you repeat, surprised. 

You stay like that until the kettle whines, your cheek on his shoulder. Oddly, it's as though you've taken a weight off.

Spencer gives you the princess treatment for the rest of the night, as though helping him make dinner or washing the dishes will stop your bruise from healing. He even pops out to the store for a tube of arnica. It's, shamefully, one of the best days of your entire year, easily making the top ten, as most days with Spencer tend to do. 

[reiding-writing]

Hi i am absolutely in love with your writing. If you want to, could you write Reid having one of his migraines and reader just comforts him, yk massaging his scalp and forehead and whatnot while he lay in her lap. Idk man i just wanna see my boy get some relief from his headaches because in the show he just suffers through them ☹️

migraine massages [ s.r ]

Summary:

Migraines are the worst. They hurt and they stop you from doing absolutely everything. Spencer was silently pleading for relief from his own body, and you plan to fulfil those needs.

WARNINGS: details of migraines, vomit mentions, mentions of spencer’s addiction, mentions of relapse

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort

wc: 2.7k

masterlist!!

a/n: can’t have hurt/comfort without the hurt. from a personal perspective, migraines suck bro. they suck so bad.

i’m also mildly disappointed that they didn’t expand the migraine thing after they dropped the original tumour reason, like they could’ve done so much with it-

thanks for the request! <33

Spencer felt like his skull was being hammered from the inside out. Like his brain was silently vying to escape it’s confines and break out of the bone. He felt like every nerve of his body was working against him to make sure he had the most miserable day humanly possible.

He felt like if he moved an inch from his position that the coffee and croissant that he had for breakfast this morning in an attempt to make himself feel better was going to force it’s way up out of his stomach and paint his desk in a sea of vomit.

The tinnitus ringing in his ears didn’t help, nor did the agitatingly bright while florescent lights of the office that he’d never seemed to take much notice of before.

His shoulders ached as he rested his head in his hands, his thumbs negligibly working against his temples to attempt to relieve some of the aching pressure that sent waves through his head and made him want to curl up into ball under his bed covers and never wake up.

“Spence? Are you okay?” Your voice is deliberately quiet as you approach his desk on your return from the kitchenette, steaming mug of coffee cupped in your hands and concern written all over your face.

You can almost hear the sigh of relief as he realises it’s just you and not Hotch asking him for the fourth time today for the file he’d been trying to finish for the last almost three hours.

He doesn’t look up at you yet, merely replying a weak “hi…yeah…just a headache”

You can see him try to suppress a grimace as his own voice overloads his eardrums and sends another wave of pain through his head.

You knew what a headache looked like. And what he was experiencing looked nothing like ��just a headache’.

“A headache? You look like you’re in a lot of pain, have you-” You begin to question his pain relief, but catch yourself before asking about painkillers. As much as they definitely shouldn’t be, opioids are the most common form of pain relief prescribed for migranes, and you knew that if he had gone to the doctors for the pain, he would’ve turned them down.

At least you hope so anyway.

“Have you… had it for long?”

There’s a pause, before an almost imperceptible nod comes from him. “Three hours… three hours and eighteen minutes…. I thought it was gonna pass but… it’s getting worse….” he swallows before forcing out the next part “…I feel sick….”

You give him a small nod and a pursed expression, becoming increasingly concerned as he continues his explanation, and you can just barely catch how pale his face has gone underneath his hands.

“You should go home Spence…”

He looks up from his desk at that suggestion. As he’s trying to answer he gets cut off by a blinding pain that explodes behind his eyes. He gasps and clutches his head, dropping back into his chair before closing his eyes. “Agh….”

“Spencer…” You can’t help but wince slightly at Spencer’s clear display of pain. “Let me drive you home, you’re not fit to work right now,”

He wants to argue but his mouth is dry. The pain is just too much for him to focus on anything else, including having an opinion, so instead he simply nods.

“Give me two seconds okay? I’m going to go and tell Hotch and then we can go,”

That seems to be a satisfactory answer for now, because he just nods again. He’s not quite ready for the onslaught of light and sounds that will be the outside world just yet. He simply leans his head back and closes his eyes, trying to relax and focus on his breathing.

It takes you a little under two minutes to return, and the first thing you do is take both of your messenger bags onto your shoulder and dispose of your coffee mug on your desk.

You hold out a hand tentatively to him to help him up from his chair. “Here, let’s get you home,”

He takes your hand, slowly getting on his feet as his change in positioning sends another wave of pain shooting through the front of his head. He’s leaning on you for balance as you lead him out of the BAU office. His vision is still blurry, but at least having someone to lean on stops him from having to risk tripping over.

You have to help him into your car once your reach the parking lot, reclining the passenger’s seat as far back as it’ll go so that he’s not forced to sit upright for the whole ten minute drive.

You make an effort to keep the vehicle smooth as you pull out of the office, checking periodically over at your side to make sure that Spencer is alright. Or as alright as he can be anyway.

Once you reach Spencer’s apartment complex, you shut off the car and collect both of your belongings, getting out yourself and then walking around to assist Spencer in getting up.

It’s clear from his expression that he wouldn’t’ve managed the task on his own. He leans on you in a combination of gratitude, comfort and convenience, and he continues to use you as a crutch through the front entrance to the elevator and all the way up to his apartment door, where he struggles to insert his key in the lock through his shaking hands.

“You got it?”

He gives a weak “mhm” as he fumbles with the keys in the lock for a few seconds more, but eventually manages to unlock the door and step inside with you.

“Take a seat Spence,” You lead him carefully over to his couch and sit him down before walking across the room to pull his curtains shut and dump your bags on his reading chair.

As you pull the curtains shut and turn around again, you notice the room being a little messier than usual. Books and papers have been scattered over the room, and there were several mugs and glasses dotted around.

Clearly this wasn’t his first migrane.

Spencer is increasingly grateful the room isn’t too bright as the shade covers the room, allowing him to relax into the cushions of the sofa as you kneel to help him remove his shoes before removing your own.

He doesn’t resist your assistance. The pain still hasn’t subsided enough for him to be in the mood to resist anything. He keeps his eyes closed the whole time you unlace his shoes, just grateful for any relief he can get.

“l’m going to get you some water okay?” Spencer nods at this suggestion. At this point he’s too tired and nauseous to try and fight you, so as you leave the room, he lays his head over the back of the couch and just waits for you to come back with the water.

You return with both a glass of water and a small holding a few ice cubes, handing Spencer the glass and leaving the towel on the coffee table to chill under the presence of the ice. “Drink,”

He takes the glass from you, before slowly leaning forward and sipping the water. Your presence seems to bring him a lot of comfort, much more than he probably realises.

He continues drinking until the glass is empty, seemingly more dehydrated than he realised.

You take a seat next to Spencer has he finishes the glass, and you take it from him gently and place it down on his coffee table.

He takes a deep breath in, and out, leaning back into the couch once more.

He’s trying so hard to focus on something other than his pain, but it’s difficult. So instead he focuses on one of the only other things he can feel, which is the warmth you radiate as you sit next to him. “Here, lie down Spence,”

You put a hand on his shoulder to help try and ease him down slowly so he doesn’t put himself in any more pain. “But there’s no space..”

“You can put your head in my lap it’s okay,” You lean over to grab the now cold towel, leaving the ice in the empty glass before patting your thighs as an indication for him to lie down. “Let me see if I can relive some of that lingering tension,”

If he were of his right mind right now he would’ve been somewhat embarrassed in such a scenario, but right now he’s just too tired and in pain to do anything else but submit to the situation.

He lays his head into your lap slowly, his face relaxing as he looks up at you with grateful eyes.

You chuckle softly as he blinks up at you, leaning down over him slightly to brush some hair off of his forehead. “Close your eyes Spence,”

You can see a slight pinkness in his cheeks as he closes his eyes. His expression is the perfect combination of relaxed and sleepy, although you can still see the traces of the pain he’s feeling through the knit in his eyebrows and the tension in his shoulders.

Just hearing the sound of your voice fills his head with warmth and relaxation; Even if his head is still pounding he feels a lot better just being able to listen to you.

As his eyelids flutter closed, you place the damp cold towel over them, raking your fingers gently through his hair to ensure that nothing gets caught underneath the fabric ans slowly detangling it in the process.

For a moment your touch sends him into heaven, and he can actually feel the tension and pain receding from his body.

As he relaxes, his body slowly begins to respond to the touch with warm and fuzzy feelings. He wants to savour every second of this, to commit the sensation to memory, to never forget the feeling of your warm and gentle touch.

“How long have you been having migraines for Spencer?” You make an effort to keep your tone as soft as possible, moving your attention from running your hands through his hair to kneading your fingers against his temples.

“they’re a fairly recent thing… been having them on and off for a few weeks now….” As your hands work on his temples the pain once again starts to recede significantly. It’s still there, it probably will be for a long time, but it’s no longer all pervading. “…they can be a little debilitating some days….”

“Have you…” you trail off your question, unsure if your right to ask him it. “Never mind-“

He pulls the fabric of the towel from his eyes and blinks them up at you. The dark circles under his eyes are still clearly evident, but it’s not really surprising considering all that’s been happening to him. “…you were gonna ask if i’ve been using again weren’t you?”

“…i’m just worried about you…”

You continue to gently massage at his temples as he sees right through your apprehension.

He can’t help but sigh softly as you indirectly admit to him being right in his assumption of your question. Your concern is appreciated, albeit unnecessary. “…I’m not using anymore… I quit… I’m serious…”

He plasters a small smile on his face as a form of reassurance, though it’s pretty weak considering the fatigue his headache was providing him. “Just having a bad bout of migraines this week… that’s all….”

“Can I just- see your arms? Please?” Your fingers halt their movements as you ask the question, fully focused on receiving an answer. “I just want to make sure…”

His body tenses up a little bit as the request is made, but he complies nonetheless. He slowly raises his arms and hikes up his shirt sleeves, exposing the flesh of his forearms to your view.

There’s no marks on them, no dark scars and no signs of track marks.

He’s clean, and you can tell from his body language alone that he’s telling the truth.

You can feel your shoulders physically relax as your eyes examine his skin, and your expression softens as you look down at him. “thank you…”

“I told you, I’m serious about staying clean….” He lowers his arms, closing his eyes again. He’s back where he was a few minutes ago, a man almost fully at peace despite the fact that he’s still in pain.

“I know Spence..” You scratch gently at his scalp, feeling a little guilty about unofficially accusing him of a potential relapse. But you had to know. You had to know that he was alright.

“I just care about you… I want you to be okay..”

As your fingers brush the base of his scalp he shivers slightly. The feeling is incredibly relaxing, more so than even the previous massage. He smiles softly at the fact that the pain has at least become bearable for now. “Thanks for looking after me…”

“Always,” The pad of your thumb brushes lightly against his cheekbone as you move to tuck a stand of hair behind his ear, knocked loose by him pulling on the hand towel that now laid crumpled on the floor.

Spencer’s eyes flicker slightly. The movement of your fingers across his cheeks is soothing, but also makes him feel something else entirely. It’s hard to describe.

He can’t deny the sensation that rises up from his stomach at these small gestures of affection. A part of him is enjoying it more than is probably okay, given the situation and how tired he is. All it amounts to are butterflies, but that’s enough to make his cheeks flush slightly. “you should take a nap Spencer,”

“mhm…” He nods in agreement. “but can I ask you a small favour first…?”

You mirror his nod with one of your own, your fingers returning to scratching gentle lines against his scalp. “Of course you can,”

There’s a small moment of silence before he speaks again, his eyes flickering between you and the ceiling.

“can you stay with me?”

His question is more of a request, and you swear that you melt from the innocent pleading in his tone.

With you around it’s almost like he doesn’t notice the pain at all. When he closes his eyes it feels like the world is completely at peace, like there’s no need to worry about anything else at this moment in time.

“…please…?” the last word is almost a whisper.

You don’t hesitate in your answer, giving him a soft smile. “of course i will..”

You let out a small breath of air alongside your words, your eyes entranced with the relaxed expression on Spencer’s face, mixed with relief at your willingness to spend a few more hours with him.

Spencer feels a small smile form on his lips as you respond. His hands raise slightly and clutch at your thighs, gently gripping at them almost compulsively.

Now that he knows you’ll be sticking around for a while, all he wants to do is fall asleep in your company.

[applejuicebegood]

Hi gorgeous!! I haven’t gotten a chance to respond to your message about jason x booknerd!reader, but I wanted to quickly message and tell you that I’ve read it and I’m absolutely in love! You literally always come up with such good ideas, idk how you do it!! You’re awesome and ily!!

-(@midnightorchids)

Jason with a Bookworm!S/O

A/N: I know school has started back up for you again babe, so I don't blame you :((( I was originally planning to expand this for you, hopefully you can read this during a study break or some down time (i might repeat some stuff - just look away). It's IB exam season where I am so I share in your pain. Hang in there dude!! Summer is almost here!!

Masterlist

He's a vintage paperback and leather-bound kinda guy. Crime, Sci-Fi, historical-fiction/romance, magical-realism, and non-fiction are his go-to genres. Favourite authors include; Margret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut, Haruki Murakami, Frank Herbert, and probably M.T Anderson. He's only a little pretentious about it.

He can spend hours in used book stores digging through the big plastic bins and stuffed cardboard boxes. You help him find specific authors or titles, your basket heavy with your combined finds. He'll carry the bags back to your apartment, his other hand tucked into yours as you gush about excited you are to sort and organise your new additions to your shared library.

He still has some books that Bruce and Alfred gave hm before his murder. Leather bond additions of the Liliad and rare printings of Dracula and Frankenstein. They have these little notes left in the front pages from Bruce that he couldn't bring himself to tear out or throw away entirely. And if you thought his home library was huge- wait until you see the book shelves in his old room.

Since he doesn't spend that much money on himself, he now has every chance to spoil you with your own special additions of your favourite stand-alone's, expensive book-marks, and lavish coffee dates where both of you enjoy your books over the smoothest of richest of espresso.

In the early months of your relationship, most of your dates were spent at bookstores, thrift-shops, and libraries. Your love quite literally grew from the yellowed, torn pages your would both get lost in.

Once his home library combined with yours, most of your bedroom and living room wall space became covered with his floor to ceiling bookshelves. Your bedside tables would each have a small stack of books that you were currently reading.

He absolutely loves how you look with your reading glasses. He thinks it's too cute when you push them up with the back of your hand, entirely focused on an intense passage. Your eyes going wide or your breath stopping at a beautiful line. Your adorable focused stare and sweet round cheeks are accentuated fully. He should be reading the book in his own lap but he's entirely distracted by you. You shut the book with a thump and immediately turn to him to gush about the chapter you just finished only to have his hands catch your jaw and bring your smiling lips against his. And suddenly, you forgot what you were going to say to him.

Jason finds lines and prose in his books that remind him of you and highlight them. He would keep them in a note stack on his phone, just to read them back to remind himself of your beauty. It's something that he could never put into words himself, hence one of the reasons why he adores reading so much. He can find the right order of words that properly express his infinite adoration and care for you.

I've explored this before but you guys have a set date once a month where you'll sit in each-others arms and just read all day. You'll curl up in one of his sweaters with one of your thick Sanderson novels and he'll tuck a blanket around his lap with his special addition of 'Little Women' open in his lap. He'll refill your tea mug because it's always hard to pull you out of your book during your reading days.

You'll order in some warm comfort food for supper and talk about your books respectively. He'll gush about how Jo March is such a revolutionary character and how Amy is actually a metaphor for the loss of innocence girls experience when attempting to emulate patriarchal standards of womanhood.

All while you gaze lovingly back into his eyes, your chin resting on your palm - wondering if a marriage proposal would be too sudden for your evening conversation.

[svtoose]

Return From Tour ft. Jeon Wonwoo

pairing: idol!wonwoo x gn!reader

word count: 640

A + F : not really angst, more like sadness and comforting from reader

warnings: established relationship, pet names, live together

summary: wonwoo finally returns from tour and is really in his feels. idol life is tough

a/n : I feel like 1k words is the sweet spot but idk

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ··

Today's the day you’ve been waiting for since three months ago. Today is the day Wonwoo returns from tour! Sure, you’re so proud of Seventeen's accomplishments but being away from your boyfriend for so long can be kind of tough.

You hadn’t really gotten much of the details on Wonwoo’s return, all you knew was that he’d be arriving at your shared apartment some time after 8:00 p.m.

While you were sitting on the living room couch, laptop in place and room temperature sleepy-time tea in hand, you heard the rattling of keys behind the front door which could only mean one things. Wonwoo is home.

You carefully lay the mug down on the coffee table as excitement courses through your veins. You’ve been counting down the days since his flight took off and now, he can finally be back in your arms. 

The door finally opens, revealing your boyfriend dressed in black sweats and his signature rimmed glasses. The second you make eye contact, you both speed toward each other in yearning. 

“Wonwoo,” You jolt in happiness, bringing your tall boyfriend into your arms for a quick kiss and strong embrace.

“Oh, baby. I missed you much.” His head was buried in the crook of your neck as you studied his uneven breathing.

“I missed you too, Won. Is everything okay?” You could tell something was off immediately. You slowly released him from the hug as he rolled in his carry on and shut the door while you kept his hand in yours.

You brought him over to sit on the couch next to you before he immediately broke down in tears. 

“Oh baby, it’s okay.” You pulled him into an embrace while you laid with your back again the arm rest. Wonwoo let everything out as you patiently waited while running your fingers through his locks. 

“I’m sorry… I know you were excited to see me,” his voice is low and raspy, but you can sense the guilt.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m here for you, whenever you need me.” 

You continued to comfort your teary boyfriend, despite not knowing what plagued his mind. As his breaths became more even, you decided to inquire.

“Do you want to talk about it, Won? Maybe that’ll help.”

“Yeah….. I guess.” He whispered, still being held tight against your chest. You decided not to press as he stayed silent.

“Its just… being away for so long, being away from you, it’s exhausting. I get all of the stress but none of the love. At the end of every day, all I wanted was to fall asleep with the person I love but I couldn’t even do that. It was just really hard.”

“Aw. That’s really tough. I missed you too, so much, Won. I’m glad we’re together now.”

“Yeah me too. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you needed me.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that! You’re doing what you love an I understand that. ….That is if you still love it?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, cuddling closer to you while you await his answer.

“I do love it. I do. I just forgot that sometimes, you know? It has some miserable sides to it, having to leave you being one, and that’s when I forget how much I love it.”

“I get it, baby. I’m here for you whenever you need me.” 

You continue to sit in silence, basking in each other’s presence like you haven’t been able to do in over three months.

After talking about things, Wonwoo seems to feel a lot better. You guys head to the bedroom together, getting ready for bed. Wonwoo tells you a bunch of stories from his tour while you brush your teeth and he un-packs his suitcase. You feel very relieved to see him back to his normal self and hope next tour will be easier for him.

[bruh-changbin]

sweet tooth

pairing: park jay x waitress!afab reader

genre: smut, minimal fluff (minors dni)

warnings: oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe), public sex, creampie, finger sucking, minimal food play, lots of mentions of food, brief mention of male masturbation, jongseong is kind of a big desperate loser, lmk if i’m missing anything

word count: 6.7k

a/n: writing this killed me idk why it took fucking forever dawg. but hey, i’m finally giving you all an enha fic without a depressing ending!!! here’s a fun drinking game to play while you read this: take a shot every time jay says a variation of ‘uhhh’ (you will die) ALSOOOO this is for my bae’s @k-ingzo @lix-ables thank you guys for hyping me up to write this bc if you didn’t I’m 90% sure I would’ve scrapped it 😻 LOVE YAAAAA

waiting. 

the most painful game one can be subjected to.

seconds stretch into minutes stretch into hours and soon enough the whole concept of time is but a mere social construct that holds no real value. 

surely his coffee’s gone cold by now. 

the view from the window to his right has progressed from one filled with gold, yellow and orange to one filled with blue, black, and indigo. one by one the neon signs of nearby businesses have flickered on to attract the nighttime crowd. 

he tries to ignore the way his heart is sinking in his chest, much like the way he himself is sinking deeper and deeper into the red vinyl cushion of the booth he’s seated in. the overhead speakers have been blaring elvis for the past half hour and he wants to scream and smash a plate on the floor in frustration. if they play hound dog one more time i swear i’m gonna-

jennifer. 20. single. 2.3 km away. her bio read: only swipe right if you like puppies!!!!!

he does like puppies and found her to be quite pretty, so he did as he was instructed. his heart did a small flip in his chest when his phone screen lit up reading ‘it’s a match!’. he got to talking to her and things were going smoothly. well, at least he thought they were. now he’s alone in a booth constantly refreshing their online chat with some sliver of hope that she may still be coming. the same three messages stare back at him:

[5:17 pm] jay : hey! I got here a bit early so i’m just waiting in the car. let me know when you get here and we’ll go in together.

[6:03 pm] jay: it started getting busy so i snagged us a booth, i hope that’s ok… anyways, i’ll see you soon.

[6:49 pm] jay: hello?

whatever, her loss. fuck dating apps.

and fuck jake sim for making him sign up for one.

maybe tinder just isn’t for him. maybe he needs to find love the old fashion way: bumping into someone on the street; locking eyes across a crowded room; both of you reaching for the last bottle of wine at the grocery store and then just insisting that the other takes it. you know, the kind of shit you see in movies.

the only thing is he’s tried the old fashion way for years to no avail, with tinder being his last resort. things like these take time, he tries to remind himself. you can’t rush love, that’s the magic of it!

but now, seated in a booth at an obnoxiously retro themed diner with his head hung low, he has lost all faith in love. he picks up the porcelain mug to his right and downs the dark liquid; cold, just like his heart. 

he should just leave. i mean it’s obvious at this point that he’s been stood up so he should just head home where the teasing and nagging from jake that will bruise his ego even more is iminent. there comes a time in life where one must accept defeat and move on with-

“would you like a top up, sir?”

a sudden interjection from a saccharine voice to his left is what pulls him out of his trance of self pity. woah, hello you. 

it’s been a long time since he’s been rendered speechless, but you do that to him. you, looking like someone who should be on the cover of a magazine as opposed to serving coffee in a diner. a white button down hugs your torso in all the right ways and he’s envious of the red apron that’s tightly wrapped around your waist because that should be him. the blue ballpoint pen tucked behind your ear somehow makes you 10x more attractive and he can feel his throat close up at the sight of you. 

your skin looks smooth and your lips look plump and thank fuck jessica bailed on him because now all he can think about is bending you over this very table and fucking you raw. top up? more like top me, please!

the glint of the gold name tag pinned onto your shirt catches his eye and he reads it: y/n. pretty.

he notices your eyes shifting around anxiously and reality comes crashing down on him. stop drooling over her tits and answer the question you perv. focus!

“i u-uhhh yes, uh yes please that’d be great,” he stutters out embarrassingly, prompting you to bend over and refill his mug with steaming hot coffee from a pot that you hold with a perfectly manicured hand. 

“can i get you anything else while you…” your eyes dart to the empty seat across from where he’s seated, “wait?”

god this is so embarrassing. now the cute waitress thinks he’s a fucking loser who got stood up (that is exactly what happened). could this day get any worse? he was just about to leave, spare himself from more agony when you waltzed into his life and made his brain a complicated, frazzled mess. 

“uhmm no that’s ok,” he’s trying very hard not to trip over the simplest of words, “just the bill would be great.”

you nod, about to turn around and head over to the register when jay speaks up again in an attempt to preserve his image. 

“it was supposed to be a-a work meeting,” he starts while motioning to the still empty spot across from him, “but my uh….. business partner… couldn’t make it, so..”

he’s lying. you know he’s lying. someone waiting for their ‘business partner’ to show up wouldn’t be checking their phone every 1-3 minutes while intermittently wiping their clammy palms on their slacks every time the doorbell jingles and a new customer enters.

but he doesn’t need to know that, so you paint on an understanding smile before heading over to the diner counter, sparing him one final glance over your shoulder.

it’s a sad sight to see; a handsome boy patiently waiting for someone who’s clearly not going to show up. so you bring him a slice of red velvet cake dolled up with cream cheese icing and waive the two cups of coffee that were tacked onto his bill for the evening.

“it’s on the house,” you practically whisper into his ear while placing a comforting hand on his sturdy shoulder.

“oh!” his voice cracks, “t-thank you so much i-” he calls, but you’re already walking away to assist another table.

his hand instinctively reaches to where yours was placed on his shoulder only moments ago. he could sense the warmth radiating from your palm, feel the stray hairs of your bangs tickle his ear, smell the artificial strawberry scent of your lip gloss. 

either someone decided to crank the heat up in the diner or he’s becoming extremely flustered (it’s the second one). he scoffs down the cake you left him with flushed cheeks and tight pants, visions of himself prying your legs open and indulging in something sweeter plaguing his mind. 

with a hefty sigh he throws on his coat before making his way out of the diner and into his car that’s parked right out front. from behind his windshield he watches as you greet a group of other customers before turning his keys in the ignition and peeling out of the parking lot.

he doesn’t even make it home before he’s pulling into an empty parking lot and jerking himself to the thought of you and your work uniform and your glossed lips.

covet. desire. yearn for. crave.

all very real tertiary emotions that park jay would use to describe his current feelings towards you - a server who he spoke to for two minutes max and now can’t seem to move on from.

unsurprisingly, jake teased the fuck out of him for getting stood up in the way that friends do. but he doesn’t know that jay views his failed date as a complete success. 

albeit he is still mildly salty over the fact that he got stood up, all negativity is washed from his brain the moment he pulls into the familiar parking lot in front of the familiar diner and he feels the familiar pitter patter of his heart quickening its pace from behind his ribcage. 

he tried to hold off on returning the literal day after he was just there, he really did, but he simply couldn’t bear it. the urge to see you, to observe you interacting with other patrons to know if you’re nice to everyone or if he got special treatment is too strong to ignore. it’s for science! he assures himself.

the dulcet jingle of the bell as he opens the door to the diner rings in his ears, and he waits to be seated. the hostess that shows him to a booth similar to the one he was in yesterday is pretty, but she’s not you. only then does jay realize that the possibility of you not having been scheduled to work today is very real. this is only worsened by the fact that he decided to come in the late morning today as opposed to the evening like yesterday. stupid, stupid, stupid!!!

while feeling like a complete and utter idiot he decides to get to work, whipping out his journal, writing utensils and laptop for the sake of not looking like a weirdo. what kind of person goes to a diner and just…. sits there. he’s gotta keep up a facade. 

things are starting to look grim for jay as he sits and works and waits for the object of his desire to appear in front of him. while the retro cat clock on the wall continues its relentless ticking he attempts to swallow down his dismay. 

alas, the universe must be on his side after all for soon enough he catches a glimpse of you through his peripherals. yes! you seem to be a little frazzled, gnawing on the inside of your cheek before grabbing a mop to clean up the chocolate milk that a toddler has decided to decorate the floor with; your shift must have just started. 

he keeps his head hung low while intermittently scribbling in his journal or scrolling on his laptop, opting to steal an occasional glance as you assist a plethora of other patrons. the coffee he was served upon his arrival is starting to go tepid, much like yesterday, and he’s practically praying you’ll soon stride over and ask if he needs a top up. 

“more coffee…” you pause briefly, “jay?”

hold up, how’d you learn his name? 

his brow quirks upwards in confusion and with your hand - the one that’s not holding a boiling pot of coffee - you point to his leather bound journal that’s splayed across the table, opened to the first page. property of park jay is scrawled across the top in his sloppy handwriting akin to that of a first graders. he’s surprised you can even distinguish what it says to be completely honest. 

“ahhh,” he remarks in understanding, smiling ever so slightly because hey, now you know each others names. that’s a step in the right direction.

“were you looking to order something? you know, other than black coffee.”

as if on cue his stomach growls (luckily quietly enough for you to not pick up on it) and he fumbles for the plastic covered menu to his right that slips and slides in his sweaty grasp. 

“i would love to but uhh, i’m not sure what i’m in the mood for… what do you recommend?”

you roll his question around in your head for a moment, “were you thinking sweet or savoury? or if you want both, we make a pretty mean monte cristo.”

at this point if you told jay to walk off a cliff he would do it, so he orders your recommendation without hesitation.

“good call,” you purr before waltzing away from his booth and into the kitchen, leaving jay to erupt in a fit of goosebumps on his own. 

while he waits he busies himself with reading an article on his laptop, getting halfway through before realizing he hasn’t actually been taking any information in the entire time. but can you blame him? his brain is… preoccupied with other thoughts. 

soon enough you’re striding back over to where he’s seated, placing a steaming monte cristo with so much confectioner's sugar on top it looks as if there’s been a mini avalanche in front of him. he thanks you and is about to dig in before he realizes you aren’t leaving. 

“is your business partner coming today?”

…what?

“my business partner? i don’t- OH! fuck, uh y-yes my business partner right! uh no, no he’s not coming today. i usually come here to work on my own though.”

for a moment he forgot about the blatant lie he spilled to you the last time he was here to save face, but he thinks he saved himself with that last bit. 

a playful yet triumphant smirk makes its way onto your face, “that’s funny, i’ve never seen you here before yesterday.”

his eyes widen and his palms become impossibly sweaty. caught in a lie, great.

before he can come up with a witty response you just shoot him a knowing look as you walk away from the booth he’s seated in, your strawberry body spray wafting behind you and infiltrating his senses, rendering him immobile. 

ugh how you make his teeth ache! he longs to douse you in syrup and powdered sugar, drag his hot tongue across your skin as you squirm and twist in pleasure underneath him. he’s sure you’d be sweet enough to give him a cavity. he finishes his monte cristo with gusto and attempts to do more work on his laptop but finds his brain to be far too frazzled to do so.

when he decides to call it quits, he leaves you a hefty tip before driving home with the taste of sugar coating his lips and the inside of his mouth.

over the span of a few weeks the two of you become accustomed to a game similar to the likes of cat and mouse.

he shows up to the diner in the late morning/early afternoon and prays that you’re scheduled for a shift; you usually are. through the course of a few hours jay manages to get minimal amounts of work done while you check on him occasionally, offering your opinions on different menu items and then placing a hand on his shoulder with a laugh when he trips over his words. 

he’s sure you can sense the tension as well, but in case you can’t he keeps his thoughts to himself. you could just be doing your job for all he knows. 

nevertheless, it feels as if all aspects of jay’s life now revolve around you. when he falls asleep at night you’re the last thing on his mind and when he wakes up you’re the first. when he gets himself off he has to think of you or else he won’t feel satisfied, and he can only hope and pray that one day he’ll be able to feel your body against his, the warmth radiating from your body making him feel like a cake in an oven. 

sure he’d love to take you out, shower you with gifts and spoil you by taking you to expensive places that would surely break the bank, but he just can’t seem to push away all of the hardly appropriate thoughts and feelings he harbours towards you. it’s becoming quite an issue, honestly.

he thinks of popping the buttons on your blouse open one by one before diving in, scattering bite marks and bruises across your tits and neck and collarbones as you writhe and plead underneath him. i need more jay, please give it to me…

god you would sound so perfect.

his fantasies don’t stop there though; they never do. he can’t help himself from imagining what it'd be like to reach up your skirt and peel your panties down your legs as if they’re strands of red licorice. he’d go so slow, taunting and teasing you before slipping himself inside of you and feeling your cunt suck him in as if you crave him like oxygen. 

you smell of strawberries and he’s sure you taste like them too. the stripper red polish on your nails would pair so well with the scratches he’s sure you’d leave across the expanse of his back and shoulders. he longs to dig his teeth into your plush thighs like they’re mochi, snapping a picture of his bite mark embedded in your perfect skin to save for later use. 

down bad is an understatement when it comes to jay’s desire for you. infatuation is more like it.

today starts off like every other day. the smell of burnt coffee is what pulls him from his slumbers, and the clock on his bedside table tells him he managed to sleep in until one in the afternoon. when he trudges into the kitchen he sees his roommate and friend jake, who likely also just woke up and still doesn’t understand how to properly operate a coffee machine, staring at his phone. 

it’s then that jake reminds him of the plans they made to spend the afternoon at their friends house playing video games before grabbing takeout for dinner. jay curses his past self for agreeing to these dumb plans with his dumb friends since he was planning on heading to the diner today to marvel at his favourite waitress! oh well, he can still head over for an hour and a half at most before he has to return and uphold the prior promise he made. 

he turns down jake’s offer of a cup of coffee and, after a quick shower, he’s flying out the door.

when he finally makes it to the place where he spends most of his days now he doesn’t even wait to be seated, just slips into the same booth as always and waits for you. the little ritual the two of you have fallen into now so ingrained into his brain he can’t imagine straying from it. alas, it’s decently busy today so he busies himself by scrolling through his instagram feed while waiting for you to grace him with your presence.

when you finally appear in front of him you don’t say anything, just shoot him your usual friendly smile while precariously placing a napkin and mug of black coffee in front of him before leaving as quickly as you came. this sends jay into an emotional spiral. oh god, did i do something wrong? he ponders to himself, brows furrowed as he tries to remember everything he said to you during your last interaction that could have potentially been misconstrued.

only then does he notice the blue ink poking out from the napkin tucked underneath his steaming mug of coffee. with shaky hands he pulls it out and reads the short message written in your refined penmanship:

my shift is done at 10:00 pm.

wait for me? :)

y/n

and just below your neat scrawl he can make out a sticky lip gloss print, a faint hint of the fake strawberry scent that plagues his mind day and night still lingering. 

in this moment he should be happy, ecstatic, victorious even! his constant and obsequious devotion to you has not gone unnoticed, and at long last he’ll be alone with you in a place that doesn’t have checkered tile floors and posters of pin ups on every square inch of the teal coloured walls. but no, all he feels is embarrassment.

embarrassment because he was too much of a wiener to actually do something so you felt the need to take matters into your own hands. and embarrassment because your little napkin love letter signed off with your glossy kiss is making him excruciatingly horny. it’s like he’s in highschool all over again - yikes. 

he glances at the face of the silver watch that he scarcely takes off, the leather wrist strap now feeling uncomfortably tight considering his recent spike in blood pressure. with some reluctance he decides to leave early, tucking your napkin note into his pocket before driving home while barely focusing on the road and cars in front of him.

the hangout with jake and the rest of his friends is excruciating as expected. time seems to both fly by and drag on simultaneously, and he watches the hands on his watch tick down the hours, minutes, seconds until he can finally be with you - alone. when jake finally throws the towel in jay all but runs out of the door, speeding down the now far emptier city streets before pulling into the dining parking lot and waiting (he’s 23 minutes early).

with every passing minute his heart rate quickens and, when the time reads 10:06 pm, he thinks he’s going to faint when he sees you exit your place of work and scan the parking lot briefly before making your way over to his car. the sound of his passenger side door opening feels far off as he tries to make sense of the fact that you are about to be in his car, right beside him. what the fuck.

“hi.”

“hi.”

“i like your car.”

“oh, you do?”

“yep. it suits you.”

“really?”

you only nod at this, flashing him a subtle grin before flipping down the sun visor in front of you to tidy up your appearance after a long and tiring shift (he still thinks you look pretty). it feels as if his fingers aren’t his own as he fiddles with the radio while gazing at you through his peripherals, watching as you rub the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes before applying a final coat of the lip gloss that he loves oh so much. how on earth is he going to last longer than 5 minutes without falling at your feet?

“sooo what do you wanna do?” jay questions, unsure if his eagerness to hear your response is because he’s genuinely curious or because he just likes the sound of your voice.

“you choose, take me anywhere,” you offer with a smile, “surprise me!”

“okay!” he responds, narrowly escaping a voice crack as he shifts his car into reverse.. he has just the place in mind. 

the drive is somewhat of a lengthy one, although you don’t seem to mind. it’s warm enough to have the windows down, and jay greedily gulps down deep breaths of the fresh night air. from your spot in the passenger seat you ramble about your day at the diner, complaining about an old man who held the ketchup bottle the wrong way and promptly squirted it all over you when you came to ask how he was doing. despite all, you still manage to have a positive attitude. 

soon enough he’s pulling off of the main road into an opening surrounded by woods, killing the engine and the car lights and opting to bask in the natural glow of the night sky. 

“wow jay, way to be subtle.”

“what!!?”

“what do you mean what? you bring me to the city’s unofficial official makeout spot and expect me to not be skeptical?”

fuck. for the entirety of the drive over he was hoping that you wouldn’t know about the promiscuous reputation this spot has garnered over the years. he can’t give up this quickly though, he must play innocent!

“i- woahh, is that what this place is? i genuinely had no idea i just-”

“shut it jay, the first thing i noticed about you was that you’re a terrible liar.”

you’ve got him there, deception is not his strong suit. he’s about to explain himself when he notices you unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of his car, prompting him to do the same.

“i just thought it would be a nice, secluded space where we could talk and hang out… nothing more.”

silence settles over the two of you and, upon noting jay’s queasy expression, you decide to indulge yourself and tease him (just a little bit).

“what are you trying to say?” you bat your eyelashes and fake being in thought, “that you don’t wanna fuck me on the hood of your car?”

he chokes on his saliva. 

“w-what i’m trying to say is that i’m a uhhhh gentleman. i’m a gentleman.”

yeah right, you think to yourself. a gentleman and a major fucking hypocrite. 

“okay jay, if you’re such a gentleman then why do you have a raging hard-on from literally just talking to me?”

in the pale moonlight you see his eyes widen before he scrambles to cover his crotch, not doing much to conceal his erection that’s straining against his slacks. 

“oh god i’m so sorry i can explain uhh-”

“i’m just fucking with you,” you taunt before petting his hair affectionately, attempting to quieten your giggles while jay plasters on a fake smile even though he looks like he’s about to puke. in an attempt to garner the little composure he has left he turns away from you, the cool night air soothing his heated cheeks. 

from where he’s standing he’s granted an overarching view of the city he calls home. against the nighttime sky he can decipher the suburbs, the downtown area, the cafe district. upon each building there’s a small rectangle filled with yellow or white light, windows in which individual people are carrying out their individual lives; it makes everything seem so… miniscule. i mean, aside from you, nobody even knows he’s up here - and he’s still trying to decipher if that’s a good thing or not, seeing as tonight all he’s done is embarrass himself. 

when he looks back you’re leaning against the hood of his car, your arms folded across your chest which sequentially shoves your tits together in a way that makes him wanna plunge his face in between them and give you a good old fashioned motorboat. 

his thoughts are cut off when you speak up.

 “i brought you something,” you announce before turning and opening the passenger side door of jay’s car, trifling around in your before before pulling something out and heading back to where you were standing before, leaning against the hood of his car. in your hands is a toppled over piece of red velvet cake protected by a clear plastic takeout container coupled with two disposable forks. 

“sorry it’s kinda smushed…. i forgot about it.”

“no, that’s ok!” jay thinks you shouldn’t have to apologize for anything ever, “thank you.”

with a crisp pop you open up the container, moving it to sit in between the two of you before passing jay one of the flimsy plastic forks. he lets you take the first bite, stating that after a long shift you need to get your blood sugar back up. you laugh before complying, watching as jay takes a bite right after you do, his eyes rolling back as all of the sweet, rich flavours dance across his taste buds. despite the piece of cake not being in the best condition, it still tastes like heaven.

jay’s caught off guard when your hand suddenly swoops in just as he’s about to spear another piece of cake with his fork, collecting a dollop of icing on one of your nails. he should’ve seen it coming when you reach up and wipe it on the tip of his nose with a playful laugh.

“wow y/n, so original,” he sneers while wiping the cream cheese icing on his nose onto the back of his hand. 

he attempts to do the same to you, dipping his finger in the thick frosting before moving to wipe it on the tip of your nose, but you suddenly latch onto his wrist. he watches with hungry eyes and an erratic pulse as your tongue comes in contact with his knuckle, licking all the way up to his icing-coated fingertip before taking his digit inside your mouth. the thick muscle of your tongue wraps around his finger, sucking away the sweetness before you pull yourself off of him. a faint pink ring of lip gloss on the base of his knuckle now present. 

fuck me.

not a single word is exchanged before jay pushes himself onto you, prompting you to lean back against the hood of his car that’s still slightly warm. with your body weight resting on your elbows and your legs spreading to accommodate jay’s torso, you finally let him taste you. 

your lips are soft and warm like a pastry fresh out of the oven, and when he pulls away he heaves a heavenly sigh filled with pleasure and contentment and thank fuck this is finally happening. it’s not long before you’re pressing your lips to jay’s again, one of your hands moving up to caress the shell of his ear before resting against his face.

you can feel his jaw move against your palm when he opens his mouth and drags his tongue across your sugar coated lips, inducing you to do the same. when his tongue pushes past your teeth and brushes against yours you groan in pleasure, the fingers previously gracing his face dipping down to undo several buttons of your work shirt. with his lips against yours and his tongue down your throat you can feel him giving into you, as if you’re a delectable piece of his favourite candy and he has a raging sweet tooth. 

when jay pulls himself off of you you think you might just cry. luckily you don’t go without his touch for long, for when you open your eyes you watch him dip two fingers into the frosting on top of the forgotten slice of cake before smearing it across the exposed flesh of your tits and down your sternum. he promptly shoves the two frosting coating fingers into your gaping mouth, gazing at you with heart eyes as you suck them clean. 

only then does he dip his head down, the tip of his tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your right breast before licking the stripe of icing off with one broad swipe of his tongue. he gives your other breast the same treatment before giving it teasing nips and kisses, using his tongue to soothe the pinch of his canines. 

once he licks the rest of the frosting from your sternum he continues his descent, not stopping until the insides of your thighs are brushing against his pierced ears. in one swift movement he flips your skirt upwards, your pretty panties with a subtle wet patch now on display for him and only him.

not being able to resist seeing your bare cunt in all of its glory, jay eagerly digs two fingers into the waistband before dragging the fabric down your legs. your lacy pink thong gets all twisted and tangled around your ankles as jay struggles to pull it off, eventually managing to get it around your sneakers before tucking it into his pocket for safe keeping. 

he feels his pants grow impossibly tights as he stares at you on the hood of your car with your legs spread, quite literally something that could’ve been torn right out of a playboy. without missing a beat jay dives into you, flattening his thick tongue and licking you like he would a dripping ice cream cone. it catches you by surprise and you instinctively tangle your fingers in his ebony tresses, a needy moan making its way past your lips and into the air. jay uses the tip of his tongue to explore your needy pussy, lapping up your juices and revelling in the taste on his tongue. i could die like this he thinks, and he digs his blunt nails into your thighs while shoving his head impossibly deeper. 

it’s somewhat sloppy, but what he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm. it feels like he’s practically making out with your cunt and you can’t help yourself from tugging on his hair in approval. the groans he emits in response have you shuddering, the vibrations causing your legs to shake and tremble as you struggle to keep them pried open. in your lower abdomen you can feel the pressure of an impending orgasm begin to brew.

this sensation only doubles when jay shifts his focus to your clit, sucking on and toying with it like it’s a sugar-covered gumdrop. his actions have you arching your back off of the hood of his car, eyes squeezing shut as you cry and plead, “p-please don’t stop jay… never stop.”

your pleas boost jay’s ego to the max and he eats you out with unrestrained passion, alternating between sucking your clit and tonguing your hole until you finish all over his mouth with a canorous cry that reverberates between his ears. he hopes to never forget that sound.

with reluctance he pulls himself off of your sweet pussy, having to push your legs apart slightly to free himself from the way they were clenching around his head. he stares at you in awe as you bask in the post-orgasm sensation, mouth agape and chest heaving faintly. your eyes, when you finally pry them open, are slightly glassy and it looks like it takes you a second to come back to earth. 

your grip on jay’s hair loosened but you never fully let go, and soon enough he feels you tugging at his roots in an attempt to get him to hover over you once again. without hesitation you press your lips to his once again, tasting yourself in and on his mouth as you kiss him until you can’t breathe. 

his curious hands never stay resting in one spot on your body for longer than a second before he’s exploring somewhere else, his mouth making a path from your lips down to your jaw and neck. the tips of his fingers finally stop when they reach your hips, gripping onto your and flipping you over so your chest is against jay’s car and your ass is up in the air. 

he can’t help himself from ogling at your perfect form all splayed out for him. the curve of your ass is to die for and jay starts subconsciously unbuckling his belt, easing the strain of his pants against his painfully hard dick. 

from your spot on top of the car you begin to grow impatient. your tits are smushed and your neck is craned and even though you just came you’re already ready for another one if it means you get to feel jay filling you up like a cream puff. luckily, you soon feel the tip of jay’s cock dragging through your folds, your still-sensitive clit throbbing slightly when he bumps into it. the sound of jay spitting into his palm joins that of the crickets and your erratic breathing, soon replaced by his sighs of delight as he strokes his cock with his spit covered hand to help lube it up. 

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when you finally feel him prod your entrance with his tip, although you can sense some hesitancy. it’s not surprising when the silence is broken by jay asking: “...are you ready?”

he feels his chest tighten when you make a noise of approval followed by a meek nod, your starry eyes glancing back at him as much as you can in this particular position. with a hefty exhale he nods back before slowly starting to sink into you, a low groan making its way out of his chest as he pushes deeper and deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. 

once fully inside of you he remains stagnant for a moment, needing to adjust to how incredibly warm and tight you feel if he wants to last longer than three seconds. soon enough he feels he’s garnered enough collectedness to start moving, so he does. 

his movements are small, almost timid at first. like he’s testing the waters, garnering enough confidence to go harder, faster. your hushed whimpers of pleasure ring in his ears and he teasingly rolls his hips in an attempt to have you feel him impossibly deeper inside of you. 

“j-jay!” you cry when he seemingly bumps your g-spot with the tip of his cock, the muscles of your waist tensing up when he does. wanting to provide you as much pleasure as possible he continues his ministrations, not altering them in any way out of fear of doing something wrong. 

jay feels his stomach start to seize up as a pleasurable burn takes hold in his lower stomach, his vision blurring slightly at the edges as he shifts between groaning aloud and biting his lip so hard he’s worried he’ll break the skin and draw blood. with exercised caution he picks up the pace, ensuring that in this moment you’re still feeling as good as he is. 

his cock slips in and out of your desperate, dripping hole with ease, your hips banging against the unyielding metal hood of his car with each and every thrust. it’s hardly comfortable, but at this moment in time you think you’d rather die than have jay stop - so you persevere. 

“god you’re so good jay, so fucking big,” you praise as you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching steadily. most of your limbs have started to go numb from the position you’re in yet you can feel each and every nerve end slowly begin to burn up, to bring you closer and closer to release. when jay reaches down to toy with your aching clit, you’re done for. 

the slight ache from the way your cunt is stretched around his cock adds to the jolting sensations that come every time he bumps your clit has you so close, so close you can taste the sweet promise of an orgasm dancing on the tip of your tongue. jay feels it too, for he throws all inhibitions to the wind and fucks you from behind with no restraint. 

he can feel his release creep up his spine and spread through all of his limbs until it’s all he can see, taste, and feel. groans continue to spill past his lips as white hot light floods his senses and a blinding orgasm washes over him, which is only strengthened by the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock as you finish underneath him. he cums inside of your wanting cunt, filling it up to the brim before collapsing on top of you with a grunt. 

seconds turn into minutes and the two of you remain in place, breaths and pulses struggling to return to normal as you come down from an intense high. jay can feel his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and he scrambles off of you when he realizes he was quite literally resting all of his weight on you.

with a helping hand he helps you sit up, chuckling slightly when your knees turn to jello when you try to stand up. so, you opt to stay seated on the hood of jay’s car for just a few more moments, patting the spot beside you to get him to sit down. you’re sure you look like a mess, but jay gazes at you with something that can only be described as awe.

smitten. captivated. enraptured. allured. 

the pale light of the moon casts a heavenly glow across your face, and he kisses your lips like they’re covered in strawberry syrup. 

a/n: tumblr’s editing system is the biggest piece of garbage i am so sorry if there are any weird glitches or anything but i am literally seconds away from whipping my laptop at the wall out of frustration as i edit this so pls lmk if anything looks weird when this posts lawl thank you

[abbonation]

Stained Sweetness

Joel likes how you smell in a totally normal way :D

18+, explicit sexual content below the cut.

Warnings: PiV sex, creampie, olfactophilia (girl idk I guess it’s my word of the day)

A/N: like lowkey I feel like my writing is getting better, I just don’t do it enough to actually improve any marginal amount. Oh well I really don’t care, was horny, wrote this, here you go. Enjoyyy!!!

He hadn’t felt this insane with a person ever in his memory. So fucking entranced that he had to jack off on his lunch break just to be able to finish the work day, he pulls out the Polaroid he took of you from his wallet, and considers calling you but decides against using the clunky expensive thing for this particular reason. Joel thinks back to the day he took that picture of you, laid out on your bed, creamy sheets wrapped around you like some kinda fuckin angel.

You’d been together a few months, dated, and only just recently started spending nights together. So your apartment was, relatively speaking, new territory. He knew he was attracted to you, like seriously, agonizingly attracted to you, but when he started being able to note your smell on things it became a lot, even for him.

From something obvious, like the way your pillows smelled after you’d washed your hair the previous night, to the way the scent of your arousal lingered on his mustache and fingers after you’d fucked, he was gutted by the hold you had on him.

He showed you as much when, after you’d made coffees in bed, the sweet thing you were, he brushed his hand up your thighs, waited for you to finish your sip, and took your mug to place it on the bedside table.

Joel waited for you to scoot back towards the headboard and lay, spreading your knees wide open where he could get down between them.

“Gonna pay me for my services, mister?”

“I have every intention to, ma’am.” He smiles, as he pushes the hem of his big t shirt over your belly, kissing the pudge above where your underwear rest on your hips. He squeezes into your belly, kissing and grazing, lighting a fire in his wake, now carefully slipping just one finger under the elastic to brush down over your pubic bone.

He tries to be subtle, he does, tries not to inhale too hard, but he can’t stop himself when you thrust your hips up towards his face and he presses his nose right into the triangle of your clothed cunt, breathing in deep the scent of you. He outwardly groans, unable to stop from thrusting down into your sheets, cock becoming heavy at the wet patch forming on the gusset of your underwear.

He pushes just the seat of them aside, slides one finger through your labia, and pushes it inside. He’s greeted with a sweet squelch of excitement from your cunt, and a loud gasp from your mouth, “Yes, more Joel-“

He obeys, adding another finger, and pretending now it’s his cock, gaping you open just for his eyes to see. You beg and plead, little sounds as he licks and kisses, until he’s decided you’re ready.

He moves up to kneel above you, keeping your feet planted on the tops of his hairy thighs. “Is she ready baby? Ready for this cock?” He slides himself over your underwear through the seam of your pussy, pushing your thighs together nice and tight to rub against you.

“Yeah Joel, please, c’mon-“ you’re getting needy now, so he pulls your underwear down over your ass, and up your thighs to rest on where your knees are parallel to the bed. Joel uses his spit to get just the tip of his cock wet, and guides it into your opening, feeding you just the head while he strokes the length.

“Fuck, baby, so pretty for me,” he slides home, seating himself all the way in, moaning as he does, it’s gruff and powerful- just like him.

He sets a quick pace, moving his hands up your arms to your shoulders to keep you in place, he bends to suck your nipple, biting so gentle the way he knows you like, making you moan your own song for him right next to his ear.

He can smell the sex in the air now, probably a prominent reason for his lusting over your scent.

“Ah fuck baby, I can’t-“ he says as he moves one hand to hold by the base of your throat, the other to your undies hanging off your knees, he stretches them against the bend of your calf and drops his head, putting them right up to his nose and inhales. Inhales your sweet, heady, tangy scent. The smell of you, of comfort and love and all that he can make you feel with just his body.

You keen, both in surprise and arousal, you feel butterflies deep in your stomach at the sight.

He moans out at the sensation of smelling you while fucking you, and does it again, and again. The third time he just rests them against his face, “I’m fucking close babe, I’m gonna come all over this sweet little pussy as soon as she’s ready for me.”

“O-okay Joel just, okay,” you focus on your impending climax, heat raising to your ears and cheeks, blossoming across your chest.

Joel pushes down on the back of your thighs and brings your underwear closer to your own nose.

“Smell that, sweetness? That’s you. That’s me. We did that- ffuck I’m gonna come, baby,”

You erupt at his words and the scent of your own arousal in the air, the blinding heat of orgasm and a little embarrassment taking over, all while Joel’s messy thrusts slam to a stop inside your cunt. His clenching balls empty inside your walls, and you moan at the thought of him filling you up.

You lay together for a few minutes just to catch your breath. “Oh my god, Joel, what was that?” You laugh at him as he gets up for a towel.

He’s back in his truck now, leaning over to the glove box and pulling out those purple panties, only six more hours till he’s home again, but this’ll have to do for now.

[babydollmarauders]

YOU’RE LOSING ME — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n is struggling to grasp the fact that she and jack have grown apart amongst his newfound nhl stardom

warnings: angst, neglectful jack, dying relationship, long intro (so sorry), alcohol

specific lyrics: “remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light. now, i just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time” and “how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?” and “how long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier. fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me. i'm the best thing at this party (you're losin' me). and i wouldn't marry me either; a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her. and I'm fadin', thinkin' "do something, babe, say something" "lose something, babe, risk something" "choose something, babe, i got nothing" (i got nothing) "to believe, unless you're choosin' me"”

notes: idk how i feel about this. it’s been awhile since i’ve written an actual fic so i think my writing is a little rusty. there will be no part 2 to this one! i know y’all love when i make part 2’s to my angsty fics, but some fics i just wanna keep as angst and this is one of them <3

maybe we were naïve. young and innocent in thinking our love would last forever. that we could withstand everything the universe had to throw at us.

i could give us this; we did last past Jack’s rookie year. but maybe that’s when things started breaking. i couldn’t tell you for certain.

when we moved to New Jersey, we were going on three years into our relationship. we thought that milestone of three years meant we would be together forever.

we went apartment hunting, i opted to go into online schooling rather than on campus classes, late night whispers consisted of marriage and future children.

now, the last time i even brought up marriage, he told me he wasn’t ready for that. that he was at the peak of his career and didn’t want to spend time that could be used bettering his skills, to plan a wedding.

i spend most nights in an empty bed, the cold sheets serving as a harsh reminder that my boyfriend would rather go out with his teammates than spend time with me.

rather than the past early mornings of soft loving stares and cuddling on his bare chest, i now spend my mornings glaring towards my boyfriends sleeping figure; trying to calculate when he may have gotten home after i had already fallen asleep.

seven years. one-third of my life, spent with Jack.

no one ever said love would be easy; but no one ever told me it would be this hard either.

the mug in my hands is at risk of breaking from my grip, the coffee inside having gone cold. a cruel euphemism to how our relationship has cooled. the burning fire that it once was, now fizzling to dying sparks. but i still hold onto what’s left, because i’m not sure i know how to live a life without him anymore.

i sit curled up on the sofa, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the New Jersey skyline. i still remember the day that Jack and i decided on this apartment, this room was a deciding factor. we loved the lighting, the way the sun shone through the windows and cast a golden haze over the rest of the apartment.

now i sit in the darkness nearly every night, wondering if this was the end of our relationship; if it’s time.

the worst part is that we keep going on. keep playing house. pretending that our relationship is still as happy as it once was.

‘i love you’s never became a rarity, still uttered past our lips multiple times a day. but i know his words only hold an empty promise now.

how can he say he loves me when he can’t tell that this relationship is killing me?

that this dynamic of our relationship becoming a chore has slowly broken me down?

our life is robotic now. we wake up, he leaves for practice, i stay home, i do school, he comes home for a pre-game nap, he leaves for a game, i still stay home, i go to bed, he comes home, repeat.

even worse when he’s away. what once started as facetime calls whenever he was free on a roadie, slowly died until it’s nothing but a few measly unsubstantial texts.

at first i thought maybe we were just going through a rough patch, that we would get through this, but now i fear we won’t.

***

my eyes track my boyfriend at the crowded rooftop bar as i nod my head, only half paying attention to what Ryleigh says.

Nico’s surprise party has been a success. for Nico, at least.

i, selfishly, thought i would use this party as an opportunity to grasp Jack’s attention. i wore the dress that he used to say was his favorite, but not once did he mention it. i curled my hair because i knew how much he loved it, but he didn’t compliment it how he usually does. i dolled myself up in hopes that it would glue him to my side. maybe even spark that possessiveness he used to hold for me.

but instead, all i got was a measly and empty ‘hey babe, you look nice.’ when i arrived, before he chased Dawson down to discuss some new bar he wanted to check out after their next win.

i spent the next hour following him around like a lost puppy, standing by his side as he spoke to his teammates. if he hadn’t had his hand resting on my lower back, i would’ve thought he forgot i was there. but somehow being forgotten would’ve felt better than being ignored.

i’m the best thing at this party, or at least i should be to him, and he barely spared me a second glance.

eventually, i saltily left to find the other wives and girlfriends. for the past three hours now, i sit with Ryleigh and Darya. Ryleigh is currently recounting she and Dawson’s date night last night.

the party has been dwindling down, our group of people among the bar slowly dispersing, giving their final birthday wishes to Nico and going home.

“what about you and Jack?”

“hmm?” i perk up at the mention of my boyfriend, dragging my line of sight away from said boy and back towards my friends.

“i asked about you and Jack. when was your guys’ last date night? how was it?” Ryleigh is only trying to be polite, i know that. but she’s only reminded me that Jack and i haven’t gone on a date in what has to be at least six months.

“honestly? i couldn’t tell you.” i confess. “i don’t even remember the last time we went on a date.”

“well, that’s not right! we should do a double date soon! i’ll have Dawson set it up.” she smiles. “ooh triple date! you and Yegor should come!”

“we’d love that!” Darya chimes in. i let out a polite smile, but i know it won’t happen. i’ve tried too many times to set up a date night and nothing ever comes from it.

“hey, baby. you ready to go?” Dawson saunters over, planting a kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek. Ryleigh nods, bidding Darya and i goodbye.

“hey, y/n? i think Jack was looking for you.” Yegor tells me as he comes over next, gathering his wife to leave for the night.

“he was?” my voice is filled with a pathetic hope, an excitement over even the thought of my boyfriend seeking me out. but when i look back to where i last saw him, he still stands next to his captain, laughing over something one of them said. “thanks, Shara.”

he smiles, the both of them now saying their goodbyes. and then there was one.

i sit by myself, lazily chewing the straw in my drink as i watch my boyfriend and his friend.

i quickly lose track of how long i sit there, ordering drink after drink. eventually, i stop watching Jack, opting for mindlessly scrolling through instagram instead.

“hey.” my head snaps up at Jack’s voice, watching as he finally joins me. my heart thumps in my chest, like i’m a teenager again, at the thought of spending time with him. “i think i’m ready to head home.”

my mood deflates, my shoulders slumping, but i nod, gathering my purse as Jack sets some cash on the bar top to cover my drinks from the night.

i wobble slightly as i stand, Jack’s hand coming up to hold onto my arm, making sure i don’t fall. heat spreads from the site of the touch, shivers racking my body.

“you okay, babe?” he chuckles, pulling me into his side as we walk to the elevator, pressing the down button and waiting for it to arrive. “how much did you drink?”

“i don’t know. maybe three? i lost count after the first hour alone.” i shrug, my words are slurred, a product of my tipsy state. “i started off with sprite, but i switched to gin and tonics once Darya left.”

Jack is silent as we get into the elevator, his brows furrowed and him seemingly in deep thought. the whole ride home is quiet, the air charged. i spend the whole drive with my head turned to look out the window. but as soon as we reach the parking deck of our apartment, getting out of his Range Rover, he speaks up again.

“you could’ve come and found me? i was just with Nico.” i’m silent for a moment, picking up my pace to try and reach apartment faster.

“i didn’t feel like being ignored again.” i shrug as we step through the door, the alcohol giving me obvious courage that i never had before.

“what do you mean ‘again’? i haven’t ignored you.” Jack follows behind me into our bedroom, his eyes tracking me as i sit on the bed and begin unfastening my heels.

“stop.” i sigh.

“stop what? y/n/n, when have i ignored you?” his genuine obliviousness hurts more than i thought it could. the fact that he didn’t even realize he was ignoring me; that it was just a subconscious reaction for him to push me aside.

“every day.” i tell him. my eyes start stinging with tears, finally ready to have the fight that i’ve so desperately been avoiding. but it’s obvious that Jack doesn’t feel the same.

“i’m sorry you felt that way.” he tells me, barely sparing another glance my way before he starts grabbing pajamas out of the dresser.

“you’re losing me.” my words are choked out in a whisper, but i know he hears them because i watch as he stiffens, slowly turning around.

“what?”

“Jack, this doesn’t feel like a relationship anymore. it feels like a job. a chore.” i confess. “it doesn’t feel like you love me anymore and i need you to just say it. because i love you too much to keep going on like this.”

“y/n-”

“we barely talk, Jack.” i cut him off. “when we do, we’re struggling through empty small talk. you’re barely home, and when you are, you don’t try and spend time with me. i sit in this house, alone, even when you’re here.”

“what are you talking about? y/n, we’ve been together for almost seven years. we’ve been through so much together.” his words are harsh, defensive.

“exactly! i gave you all my best me’s- i gave you my teenage years, i gave you all of my best years! i gave you all my empathy when you were being called a bust. when you were struggling in your rookie year and at your lowest. i sat here and comforted you after every loss! i stayed here and cried and tried to be brave every time you were gone. i defended you to everyone!”

tears roll freely down my cheeks, my nose becoming stuffy and my throat tightening. i’ve risen from the bed now, still keeping my distance from him though.

“and what do i have to show for it? an empty apartment? an empty relationship? we used to spend hours talking about marriage and our future. now, the last time i tried to bring that up, you all but told me you didn’t want to marry me.” i scoff. “and i can’t blame you, i wouldn’t marry me either; a pathological people pleaser.”

“don’t say that, please.” he whispers.

“but all i wanted was for you to see me, Jack! i’m here! i have feelings! i know it’s hard to believe, but i’m a person too! i need love! not whatever this has been.” my words fade off at the end, breaking off into sobs.

Jack’s eyes are red, tears of his own slowly descending as we stand in silence.

“do something, please. say something.” i plead, furiously wiping at my tears. i swallow a lump in the throat as he finally takes a step forward.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is shaky, breaking midst sentence. “i’m so sorry i didn’t know you were feeling this way. i’ve been so wrapped up in hockey and the team that i haven’t been here. not fully, at least.

“i took you for granted. i guess you’ve been this dependable force in my life for so long that eventually i forgot that you need more than just my presence.

“i do love you, y/n. i can’t imagine my life without you. i’ll be better, i promise. just, please, don’t leave.” he begs.

Jack steps forward, closing the distance between us and taking my face in his hands.

“i need you. i’ll always choose you.” his hands shake on my cheeks as he pulls me into a kiss. he pulls away, heaving out a broken mix between a sigh and a sob. “i’m so so sorry.”

“we can fix us. i believe that. but please, don’t put me through this again.” i beg, laying my forehead against his.

“never.”

[beardedjoel]

closer | part twenty two - finale!

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au.

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3  

chapter summary: in this final chapter, you and joel reconnect and discover just how deep your feelings for each other run. 8.6 k words. chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), soft!dom joel, cockwarming as the whole show, unprotected piv, sweet slow in love sex, dirty talk, praise kink a/n: I'M EMOTIONAL AS FUCK RIGHT NOW AND IDK WHAT TO DO ABOUT IT. i love love love these two lovesick idiots so much, they've helped me grow as a writer and i'm so happy so many of you have loved reading this story also. as much as i've written it for myself i also wrote it for all of you who encouraged me along the way, so THANK YOU SO MUCH! i could never express just how thankful i am for how much love this story has gotten. i promise this won't be the very last of this reader and joel, i would love to do a small epilogue or drabble sometime soon as well. anyways this has been such a rant THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU and please enjoy this final chapter!

You bound down the stairs giddily, happy to take in the familiar sights of Joel’s house in the light of day. You had missed its cozy comforts, the way it had been a second home to you, how Joel had been home to you. You’re practically vibrating with happiness, the feeling warm and radiating from the middle of your chest outwards. You’re tingling with anticipation to see Joel again, even with the fact that you’d just spend the entire night next to him. You couldn’t wait to interact with him, look into his eyes, and give him a good morning kiss. It nearly felt surreal, like you weren’t sure if this could have ever happened again. 

You hear the soft drone of the TV, and when you don’t see Joel in the kitchen, you make your way to the living room, where he’s seated, sprawled out on his cushy couch. His eyes look only half-focused on a sports channel, running highlights and going into detail on all the recent games, and you immediately tune it out. When you enter the room, Joel looks up and his eyes widen, his coffee halfway to his mouth. He finishes the sip, slurping purposefully and setting the mug down on the side table next to the couch with careful hands, not once taking his eyes off of you. You stand in the doorway, stark naked, not having bothered to even put on one of Joel’s shirts this morning.

“Isn’t that a sight,” he says quietly, one hand still wrapped tightly around the warm mug, as if he doesn’t know what to do with it. His tone seems controlled, but you can tell this is having more of an effect on him than even you’d expected. You try to not wear too big of a smirk as you stand, inspecting him.

“Y’better be comin’ right over to this lap if you're gonna walk in here lookin’ like that.” He cocks his head, making purposeful, long movements of his eyes to roam over your entire body, stopping longer to admire your tits, nipples slightly erect already from the chill of the air and your anticipation for Joel this morning. You close the space between you, padding over to the couch, where Joel adjusts his legs, making room for you.. You stop short, drumming your fingers on the edge of the table where Joel’s mug sits.

“Coffee first,” you declare, turning to walk back over to the counter, making sure Joel has a clear, impeccable view of your ass as you go. Joel gets up to follow you, and you hear a distant groan, no mistaking that it’s his back still bothering him.

“Where d’ya think you’re goin’?” he asks impatiently, standing across the island in the kitchen, watching you. “My lap was ready for you, darlin’.” 

You twist your lips to the side, purposefully ignoring him. “Now where were those mugs…” you mutter, reaching up on your tip-toes to look through cabinets, stretching your body out and offering an even better view of all your assets.

“You know damn well where those mugs are, sweetheart,” Joel growls out from across the room, arms folded in front of him. “Ignorin’ me… can’t believe this,” he mutters under his breath, but still loud enough that you can make it out.

“Silly me, you’re right,” you reply airily, immediately opening the correct cabinet and getting a mug out before filling it with coffee. When you glance at Joel before opening the fridge, the look on his face is odd, unreadable.

“I, uh… still have the creamer. A new one. Stupid, I know. I bought a new one when the old one went bad. Jus’ in case…” Joel pulls his lips into his mouth and avoids your gaze for a moment. 

Your heart beats harder for a few seconds, a hole opening in your chest that you feel like you might fall right through. It feels like your heart breaking in real time, realizing that all this time, Joel still cared so much, so fucking much. You clutch your chest, fingers brushing over your bare skin there, and give Joel the softest, warmest smile you can conjure up. 

“Thank you,” you say, wanting to deliver it with sincerity and show the meaning that it has for you. Joel gives you a simple nod, knowing nothing more needs to be said about it, that you both understand what it means and what you both went through. You move along, pouring the creamer in your coffee and walking back to Joel, letting him guide you back with a rough hand on your lower back.

“Gonna jus’ ignore my questions, now?” Joel asks, in the half-teasing, half-irritated way that can only mean he’s brewing up all kinds of ways to punish you. He lowers himself back onto the couch with an equally loud groan, and you lift your brows, wondering if you should question him about it.

“You wouldn’t want me to be without my coffee, would you?” you ask, your voice syrupy sweet as it comes out of your mouth. You blink, fluttering your lashes for affect and Joel simply narrows his eyes at you, clearly not pleased with your teasing this early in the morning.

“How do you want me, then?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stand before him. Joel’s eyebrows shoot up at the question and he smirks wildly. 

“You bad fuckin’ girl,” Joel tuts with a shake of his head, seeming to instantly forgive what transpired in the kitchen. “Why don’t you sit on down, put your back right here,” he says, patting his chest gently, clad in a classic Joel look of a faded sports tee. You do as he asks, climbing onto his lap with your back to him, scooting your ass all the way back until it’s flush with his torso. Joel’s arms go around you, his legs falling to the side slightly to make room for yours to dangle in between them.

You both sigh in contentment at the feeling of being close to each other on top of the sexual temptation you’ve quite literally just placed in Joel's lap. He reaches a hand to the side to grab his mug, bringing it to his lips over your shoulder. Once he takes a sip, he quickly nuzzles the side of your head. 

“Y’sleep okay?”

“Better than I have in months,” you say with a breath of laughter, and Joel nods in agreement.

“Me too, darlin’. Wore each other out,” he says. 

“So much pressure off of both our shoulders. I don’t know if you feel that too, but I do,” you tell him. 

“Mhm. Feels like… all is right again, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nod, reaching for your own cup, precariously perching yourself to keep your balance on Joel’s lap, your ass rutting into his crotch a bit more. Joel groans quietly at the sensation, which you definitely don’t miss. You both went pretty hard last night, and you’re not sure what Joel will be feeling up for today if his back was any indication. 

“How’s your back?” you ask, while the topic is on your mind. “Promise I won’t tease,” you add on lightheartedly. 

Joel grumbles a little bit but then sighs in resignation. “I’m not in good shape here darlin’, if I’m honest. But hell, what’s a man to do when a pretty girl sits in his lap naked as the day she was born, but his back hurts? Be a fool not to take advantage of this,” he says, frustration cropping up in his tone. You realize Joel must be feeling touchy about his age these days, especially considering his birthday was yesterday.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you turn slightly and reach a hand over your shoulder to stroke Joel’s face gently. “I just want to spend time with you, whatever you want to do. I don’t want you to mess you back up even more.”

Joel finds it in him to grumble a bit more, but he places a kiss on your bare shoulder, murmuring a thank you into the skin. You two sit and drink your coffee in peace for a little while with the TV as background noise, but you feel the unmistakable bulge of Joel’s cock hardening underneath you as he absentmindedly runs his fingers along the soft skin of your thighs and arms. 

“Hmm,” he mumbles quietly to himself, as if he’s trying to decide what to do - absolutely ravage you or keep his back from being completely fucked and sending him out of work for a few days. 

“Joel… your back…” you say before he can even get any ideas.

“I know… I jus’...” he starts

“I have an idea,” you announce, cutting him off. “If you let me take care of you a little - get a heating pad, all of that stuff.l, I’ll sit right back here and let you do whatever you want to do to me. You’ll barely have to move. No pressure to do anything that’ll hurt you.”

Joel cocks an eyebrow, intrigued at your offer. “Y’shouldn’t have to take care of me like that…” he starts, and you immediately want to stop that train of thought before it derails completely and leaves him feeling bad about himself. 

“Said I wanted to take care of you, so let me,” you say, and Joel starts to protest, but you cut in again. “How many times have you taken care of me, done so much for me? And for so much more than a day of nursing a bad back. Let me do this for you, Joel.”

Joel’s lips turn into a contemplative half-frown as he makes another thoughtful noise, and he then smiles a little. His fingers come up to touch your shoulder, tracing so gently along the skin that you get goosebumps immediately. 

“Alright, it’s a deal,” Joel asks gruffly, giving in. 

You have him instruct you on where he keeps the heating pad, insisting you know he has to have one around along with icy hot patches, Advil, the entire works for someone like him who complains about his back often enough. He grumbles at how correct your guess is, hating that it makes him feel old and weak in front of you, but you’re quick to remind him the only reason his back is hurting today is from ravaging you within an inch of your life last night. That seems to satiate him well enough, a proud grin slapped across his face at the recollection.

“Yeah, yeah, all in that closet outside the bathroom down here,” he tells you. “Y’better not go putin’ on any clothes while you’re away.”

You laugh, putting your hands on your hips as you stand up in front of him. “Got a naked nurse fantasy, or somethin’?”

Joel scoffs out a laugh, amused. “When it comes to you, darlin’, everything’s a fantasy f’me.”

“Smooth talker.” You give him a dramatic eye roll but feel your heart jump at his words. ”Okay, just sit back, I’ll be right back with everything,” you assure him, rushing to the closet and digging out all the supplies you think you’ll need. 

You smile to yourself at the old, worn down heating pad Joel has, something that looks like it’s been passed down and gotten nearly too much use, the old blue and pink plaid pattern faded and tattered. You make a mental note to buy him a new one at some point, knowing Joel’s practical brain won’t allow him to purchase something brand new since “this one works just fine”.

You catch Joel struggling to sit back and get comfortable, a grimace on his face, and you frown. You’ve never really seen Joel in pain until now, and it’s harder than you’d thought it would be. You feel a sinking feeling, just wishing you could take this pain away from him immediately. At the least, you’ll do everything you can to help him feel better.

“Hey, let me help. Let’s get the heating pad behind you,” you tell him, rushing over and trying to get everything set up. “Take these,” you say, barely looking as you try to hand Joel a few Advil while plugging in the heating pad at the same time. He grabs the pills from your hand and swallows them dry, and you glare at him before handing him the water you’d set on the side table for him. 

His eyes widen with guilt, and he takes several long gulps from the glass, trying to hide a groan that escapes with the effort of setting it back on the table.

“You’re in worse shape than I thought,” you say, frowning deeply, eyes full of concern.

“Stop your worryin’, meds and the heating pad’ll have me right as rain in no time, okay?” Joel assures you, letting you place the heating pad on the couch before easing him down onto it. He sighs deeply as he relaxes into the steadily growing warmth of it.

“There we go,” you say gently, giving him a smile.

“Now hold up your end of the deal, darlin’.” Joel’s eyes are expectant and mischievous - at the least you’re glad he seems to be feeling slightly better already. 

You simply smile, biting your tongue from giving him some kind of snarky comment and sit back down, returning yourself to his lap, sitting yourself between his legs and resting back into him. 

“All yours,” you say quietly, craning your neck back slightly to lean your head onto his shoulder. His lips gingerly touch the skin there, sucking right where your pulse comes through, and you moan, back arching slightly, but you’re careful to keep from putting too much weight on Joel’s hurting body right now. 

“Wanna be my little plaything so bad don’t you?” Joel murmurs as his hands come to your chest, groping gently at your breasts, testing the weight in his palms before he squeezes them again, running his thumbs over both of your nipples simultaneously. You squirm, thighs rubbing together as the sensation from your nipples seems to go straight to your clit, sending it throbbing for him already.

Joel is gentle and calculated with his moves now, lips soft as they ghost along your neck and shoulders, thumbs barely brushing your hardened pink buds. You whine over and over, already feeling like you could reach your high if he keeps this up.

“Open those legs f’me, sweetheart, Joel says, hands on your thighs, softly nudging them apart. You spread your thighs slightly, but Joel tuts. “Wider than that, darlin’, all the way, please,” Joel asks, and his use of ‘please’ catches you off guard, but you find you kind of like it for a change of pace. You slide your thighs over top of Joel’s, settling so that your legs are now spread open over top of his, landing on either side of his thighs. 

“Much better,” Joel coos in your ear before slowly sliding a hand down your front, tauntingly, teasingly making its way between your legs. You writhe, your breathing picking up when Joel slides a finger between your legs, groaning as the wet heat envelops it. 

“So soft n perfect f’me already,” he says shakily, finger traveling up your seam, sending you shuddering as it passes your clit. 

“Mmm,” you moan out. “Feels so good when you play with me.”

“I know it does, baby, this lil’ hole is just weepin’ for me, ain’t it?” Joel asks, lewdly playing with your wetness, sending squelching sounds throughout the otherwise quiet room. “Needs to be stuffed full of me so bad, poor baby.”

You nod eagerly, breath coming out more staccato now as Joel teases you. He pushes two fingers inside of you, sliding them in effortlessly and beginning to pump in and out. You moan breathlessly, squirming on his lap as your slickness coats his fingers and starts to run down onto his hand. Joel lets out a pleased hum near your ear and you whine in response. He increases the pace, grunting quietly with the effort as you try not to writhe too much on him for fear of hurting him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby, can’t take this. Need to fill you up,” Joel whines, his breath hot on your neck, movements becoming more erratic. “Feel so fuckin’ good, missed you too much, darlin’.”

You cry out as his fingers hook inside of you, a ‘come here’ motion that has your legs wobbling instantly as you shake on top of him. “M-missed you so much, Joel. Can’t get enough of you…” you breathe out, barely able to focus on anything but Joel’s thick fingers absolutely ruining you right now. 

“W-wait. But you can’t hurt yourself,” you add on, coming to your senses for a moment, worried about his back. “I’ll take care of you, I’ll let you use my mouth.”

Joel sighs, his fingers grazing your g-spot and you whimper. His free hand slides up your belly to your chest, cupping one of your tits, using his hand there to press your back into his chest a little more. 

“Can I just…” Joel says, a gruff and quiet voice coming out of him now. “Let me just put it in, I fuckin’ need this sweet little pussy wrapped around me.”

He pulls his fingers out so suddenly that you yelp quietly with the loss before he cups your needy cunt with his hand, pressing his palm down into you. You squirm a little, trying to get some friction from his rough skin on your clit. 

“Fuckin’ ruin myself to feel my cock in here, but y’know that already,” Joel says, grunting as he squeezes you tighter, your nipple between his fingers being pulled taut.

“Joel…” you cry out, “I’ll sit on it, make it all better for you, promise.” You turn your head to try and meet his eyeline, going in for a long, deep kiss that he meets eagerly. 

You lift your hips up, balancing yourself on either side of his thighs. “You won’t even have to move,” you assure him, “Just get to enjoy me.”

Joel’s hands wrap around your torso and his mouth presses to your back. “Always enjoy you, but I swear to God darlin’, I can barely move right now, got it? So no funny business here.”

“Right.” You nod a little too enthusiastically, further setting off Joel’s doubts that you won’t be able to just sit quietly on his cock. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

“My good girl,” Joel murmurs into your skin, peppering it with kisses. “How’d I deserve this?”

“Hush now, and get your cock inside of me,” you retort, and you can practically feel the surprise radiating off of Joel from behind you at your demanding attitude.

He tuts quietly and blows out a breath. “Yes ma’am,” he says with a chuckle.

You reach in between your legs, where Joel’s hard length is only covered by his boxer briefs, and your fingers itch with need as you wrap your hand around the fabric hidden heat of him.

“Shit,” Joel hisses through his teeth at your touch, arching his hips up into it before groaning in pain.

“Shh, just relax, baby,” you tell him, stroking him several times before pulling the waistband down, letting his cock spring out - red and throbbing, dripping precum for you already and you salivate instantly at the beautiful sight. 

“C’mon, now, sit pretty on this cock f’me,” Joel says, patting his lap impatiently. His cock juts up, immediately pressing against your slick folds when you lower yourself slightly, and you bite back a moan, lip pulled between your teeth. You position yourself over top of his bulbous head, just letting it touch your entrance and swirl your hips, letting your warm arousal start soak his tip. 

Joel moans unashamedly right in your ear, hands now clenched around your hips, squeezing tightly as you tease him. You rub back and forth, gathering more of your slickness onto him, letting it drip down until you know he can barely take it anymore from his labored breathing and tensing muscles. 

“Not - n-ot fuckin’ nice to tease,” he grits out, barely able to speak through clenched teeth. 

“You’ll have to teach me a lesson when you’re feeling better.” You smirk, and sink down slowly so that you can feel each bit of him entering you. Your breathing hitches as you get more and more full, and you hear Joel let out a sigh of his own as your wet heat surrounds him.

Joel’s breathing comes out shaky as your hips press flush with his again, seating yourself completely on his cock. You never fail to be surprised at just how full he makes you - it makes you feel equally insane in the moments you have it and in the ones you don’t.

“Oh, darlin’... fuck,” Joel whines, and you grin wildly, loving the way you’re affecting him right now. You lean back slightly, relaxing onto his chest in pure bliss as Joel keeps you full, his cock throbbing inside your equally pulsating cunt. Joel’s head dips to your shoulder, resting there, and his stubble sends goosebumps across your skin.

“Feels nice, don’t it?” he asks, his voice continuing to shake. He’s trying to keep it together, and you’ve rarely had a chance to see Joel fall apart quite like this, and it’s absolutely beautiful. His body is trembling below you, breath uneven as it fans across your neck, and you swear you can feel every inch of his cock throbbing inside of you, so much more so now that you’re just still. 

“I-it’s hard to keep still,” you say, biting the inside of your lip. 

“I know, I know, me too,” Joel replies soothingly, his palm rubbing up and down your spread thigh. “Let’s just enjoy it, hm? Distract ourselves,” he suggests, trying to turn his attention to the TV. You nod a little, trying to shift slightly to get more comfortable, the movement jostling you just enough that Joel lets out a sharp hiss, and you suck in through your teeth in sync. 

“S-sorry,” you choke out, biting your lip again, harder this time.

“No you ain’t,” Joel snarks, and you both chuckle softly, little movements of your bodies following with it and you both still immediately, eyes widening. A moan threatens to pass your lips as you feel a build up of pressure inside of yourself from Joel’s cock pressing on your walls, and you’re desperate for movement, desperate for friction in your clit as it throbs. 

“Fuck…” Joel breathes, his hand trembling slightly as he continues rubbing your thigh. “You- you're so wet, darlin’, I-I can feel everythin’.”

Your arousal coats his cock, a seemingly endless slickness pouring onto his shaft, starting to want to leak out around him, and you’re only getting more turned on, more antsy to start moving and grinding your hips. 

“Just focus on the TV, lemme enjoy ya,” Joel urges, and you take a deep breath, centering yourself despite the only thing you can feel being Joel inside of you, rock hard and wanting. You manage to glue your eyes to the screen, the droning voices of sports broadcasters reaching your ears, but you can’t hear a word they’re saying. You decide to close your eyes, continuing to rest back on Joel. A small whimper escapes you after a few minutes of trying to ignore the pressure inside of you, but Joel’s hands are all over your body, only making you ache deeper for him, a place deeper than he’s even filling right now that you aren’t sure how to reach. Joel’s own breathing has sped up, and you can feel him, warm and now damp with sweat, a wall of muscle behind you.

“Baby… fuck…” Joel says, fully panting now, “Makin’ me crazy, can feel your little hole flutterin’ f’me honey….” Joel pants for a few more moments, unable to catch his breath completely. “Oh you’re too good, baby, not gonna last like this.”

“Please, I wanna feel you come like this. I’ll feel everything.” You urge him on, your hips absolutely screaming at you to move, to do something. Your hand reaches behind you to his cheek, cupping it and scraping your fingertips along his beard. He buries his head in your shoulder, turning his lips towards your neck.

“I- shit,” Joel groans out, sweat coating his forehead, and you feel his hips twitch underneath you so you double down, pressing your body down into his, trying to give him as little room to move as possible.

“Just like this. Don’t move,” you assure him. You feel him nod into your shoulder, and a whimper passes through his lips that you’ve never heard before. You feel yourself clench around his length at the power trip you’re on, and Joel’s sounds become louder as you cunt tries to milk the orgasm out of him. Your own quiet moans intermix with his and you feel your walls squeeze him, a reminder of just how god damned full you are. 

“You’re so big, feels so fucking good…” you murmur, letting your fingertips trail along your leg. You snake a hand between your thighs, letting your finger just rest on your clit, the pressure heavenly in its aching state. You squirm enough that Joel notices, and his hands fly to your hips in a death grip. 

“Stop movin’, honey, fuck, please,” Joel begs, his panting, growling breaths stuttering out against your shoulders. 

“I can’t… it’s too much,” you whimper, squirming a little more. You’re close too, you can feel it, the overstimulation of Joel’s cock just pressing in the same devastatingly perfect spots inside of you is starting to get to you, a steady build of pleasure swirling in your stomach. 

“Come for me, Joel,” you whisper with a heady voice, turning your neck as much as you can to see his face. 

He lets out a soft whimper that trails off into a little moan, and you feel it all - his hips bucking up slightly into you, trying to press deeper even though there’s no more room left to give, his warm ropes of cum spilling into you, coating you, marking you as his. 

“Jesus,” you whisper, feeling your cunt clench around him as it tries to pull out everything he’s got. Joel breathes heavily against your back before flopping his head back with a satisfied sigh. You follow suit, resting back against him in exhaustion, and Joel winces and lets out a yelp. 

“My back, baby, careful,” he cries out with a grunt, and you sit forward instantly. 

“Shit, s-sorry.” You begin to lift your hips, Joel’s cock wet and heavy as it slides out of you, leaving you so much more empty than you’ve ever felt before. You could’ve lived just like that, full of him, held by him, for the rest of your days. 

“‘M sorry, honey, should’ve been able to…” Joel starts, his cheeks flushed and forehead shining still, but you shush him.

“That was perfect,” you say, smiling brightly to reassure him. You sit next to Joel on the couch, letting one of your arms drape around his torso. 

“Alright, that’s all you get today. Strictly resting the back from here on out, okay?” you say more sternly, rubbing his chest. 

“Oh, yes ma’am,” Joel chuckles, and pauses for a beat, deep in thought. “Look at you, honey. Can’t even believe sometimes this is the same girl I met in June. Bossin’ me around, now.” Joel’s eyes flash mischievously at you. 

“N-no, I just… I want you to feel good - feel better. Not bossing…” you stammer out, the sudden, unconventional compliment from him sending your mind scrambling and face going pink. You shrink down onto the couch slightly, feeling exposed.

“See she’s still in there,” Joel chuckles as you nervously fall apart in front of him, and you give him a shy smile reminiscent of the ones you had when you two first met. “‘S’okay, just givin’ you a hard time. I’ll be a good patient now.” Joel pinches your cheek quickly before letting out a long sigh, leaning back further into the couch and wincing slightly.

You spend the rest of the morning and afternoon coercing Joel into letting you take care of him, and by the evening, he’s complete putty in your hands. He’s fully accepted your care at this point - letting you remind him when to take the heating pad off again without any grumbling, throwing more Advil his way, reminding him to walk around every so often to keep the muscles moving. By the evening, when you offer to run out to pick up dinner for you two, Joel immediately protests with an uncharacteristic whine, swinging an arm around you to hold you down onto the couch.

“What if we jus’ ordered in, hm? Then y’don’t have to leave me,” he asks you, brown eyes going into full begging mode. Joel Miller giving you puppy dog eyes might just be your new favorite thing, you’ve decided, as you smile widely at the sight.

“Oh, you can’t look at me like that, then I’ll never leave,” you reply, tilting your head as you study this completely new expression on Joel’s face.

“That’s kinda the idea, sweetheart,” Joel says, smirking a little now, letting up on the absolutely soul crushing look he was giving you. 

“Well it’s working,” you snip teasingly. “I’ll stay with you then, won’t leave for even a minute.”

“Good,” Joel sighs in relief and relaxes back onto the couch, a satisfied grin on his face.

Joel hardly lets go of you the entire night, arms wrapping around you in any way he can, always pulling you back into him. Even while you’re sleeping, you stir several times when he presses you close again, the heat of his broad chest radiating into your back. You realize that he’s still awake, a restless energy radiating off of him. Your eyes flutter open and you see his eyes cast down, studying you as you turn your head to look up at him.

“What is it?” you whisper hoarsely. “Your back?”

“No, no, that’s feelin’ much better. Jus’ lookin’, go back to sleep now, darlin’,” he replies, smoothing a hand down the side of your head. You raise an eyebrow but feel too half asleep still to pay him much mind or find a retort to tease him with. Instead, you find yourself turning in his arms to face him, burying your head in his chest, warm and steadily moving with his breaths. His dusting of salt and pepper hair tickles your skin just slightly, not enough to bother you, just enough to remind you exactly who you’re close to right now. 

You suddenly feel restless as well despite your heavy eyes and the late hour, the image of the way Joel was just looking at you burned into your mind. Your heart lurches a little and peek your eyes open, yearning to catch him again as you tilt your head up to find his eyes meet you again in the dark of the room. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” you mumble accusingly from his chest. 

You feel Joel shrug a little bit around you. “Jus’ cant right this minute. Feelin’ like… I could lose you.”

“Lose me… wh-“ you stutter, trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes a few more times. “No, you aren’t. You won’t."

“Did it once,” Joel says solemnly.

“You never really lost me, though.”

Joel remains silent, his brow furrowed slightly, and you can see the deep set lines on his forehead through the little slivers of moonlight streaming in through the curtains. 

“You know that, right?” you ask, and Joel’s continued silence answers it for you before he gives a small shake of his head. 

“I was always yours… I knew I’d never get over it, even if I had moved on, I couldn’t move on from what you left me with, if that makes sense.”

“Suppose it does,” Joel says quietly.

“You’ve had…” you swallow, trying to push back tears that seem hellbent on escaping from your eyes. “A profound effect on me, Joel.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Joel responds, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Never would have moved on, either. Never…” he stumbles on the last few works, his mouth trying to work in as many kisses as he can on your hairline. 

“So we’re really doing this, right Joel? We’re… us again?” you ask, seeming like the answer is already sitting in this conversation you’d just had, but needing to hear it anyways.

“As long as it’s what you’re wantin’, sweetheart. I was all in last night… still am. Been all in since you let me into your life again. This ain’t just a one time lapse in judgment or somethin’, if that’s what you’re worried about. This is the whole damn thing for me.”

You swallow heavily, a knot stuck in your throat at Joel’s words. “You are, too,” you whisper hoarsely, burying your head into his chest again. “The whole damn thing.”

“God…” Joel whispers, his voice cracking underneath the hoarseness of it. “Thank you,” he adds on in a murmur, and you’re not sure who he’s even thanking at this point, but you can just feel the relief sink into his body as he relaxes, melting into you. 

After a while of laying in a comfortable silence, you finally start to doze off again, but Joel’s hand moves up your back to the back of your head, jostling you awake slightly. He’s sending loving strokes along your hair, his touch the most tender you’ve ever felt it somehow. It’s no softer physically than other ways he’s touched you, but the intention behind it shines through, flowing out of his fingertips and warming your skin. You can sense the thickness in the air, the way he’s looking at you with the care of still unspoken words, and you finally get the courage to blink sleepily up at him.

“Sweet girl…” he whispers, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, but his eyes are too entranced, mind too busy with his thoughts of you to fully commit to it. You give him a bright, closed lip smile, feeling the corners of your eyes crinkle as you sigh into the way he’s still delicately sliding his hand along your hair. 

He murmurs your name like a prayer on his lips and you know the next words out of his mouth, but you still buzz, the anticipation of watching his lips part in what feels like slow motion as you await the inevitable, world changing sounds that will fall from them. 

“I love you.” 

The words reach your ears in a kind of haze, as if they’re far away, quiet, and taking their sweet time to get to you. Your head suddenly spins, not realizing how deeply you’d needed to hear those words uttered from Joel’s tongue, and for how long. You’d known for months now you were madly, deeply, irrationally, infuriatingly in love with Joel Miller. It made you want to pull your own hair out some days, and others made you want to crawl as close as you could possibly get to him, to mold you into the same person, share the same skin. It was a sickening, panicked love - one you knew you could never live without unless you wanted a whole part of yourself to be missing. Rough but sweet, calloused but soft, all of the things that were you and Joel separately and you and Joel together. It hurt so badly that it started to feel good, to know you were loved by Joel. 

“I -” you mumble, the surprising sting of tears behind your eyes instantly brimming and threatening to fall. You blink quickly and suck in your breath, an added pressure to a body that already feels close to bursting with the whirlwind of emotions you feel right now.

“I love you.”

Joel lets your return of his sentiment sink in for several quiet moments, simply him breathing heavily with his forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed. 

“I-I’m not always good with sayin’ things how I need them to come out, so… c-can I show you?” Joel says, voice low as he shifts his body to turn so he’s completely facing you. 

“Show me?” Your heart picks up at his movement, the change in his tone, the tense air that surrounds the two of you. 

“How much… I love you.” He pulls you flush, your warmth mingling with his, your bodies close to practically becoming the same person. 

“J-joel…” you gasp out, feeling your lungs constrict and heart ready to burst out of your chest. He’s hard and soft everywhere, his muscles holding you tightly but lovingly - you’re so safe here, so beloved. His cock aches against you already, nothing separating the two of you since you’d both fallen asleep naked, the length of him pressing against your thigh. 

“Can I?” he asks again, not impatiently, but simply that he’s desperate to give this to you, for you to know what he’s feeling. 

“Yes,” you breathe out, nodding. “Show me.”

“So much… so much…” Joel’s words trail into a whisper as his lips meet yours, passionate but gentle, mouth immediately opening into yours. Long, sensual kisses as his tongue begs for entry and you permit it, nearly gasping at the way he feels right now - a tense control over himself, wanting to show you everything sweet he has in there, that his roughness can be loving, too. You can barely breathe, moaning into his mouth as your hips grind into nothing, seeking out more of him.

Your bodies meld together at once, his cock sliding between your legs as you both quickly solve the puzzle of the best way to interlock your bodies together, barely having to put any thought into it. It’s so natural with Joel, it always has been. Your hand slides under his neck and around to his back, leg thrown over his hip as he lays on his side, pulling you in closer. 

He teases you only a few times, dragging his hard length through your slit with a few lazy thrusts of his hips to gather up your arousal. At your whimpering noises he pulls his mouth off of yours to gaze at you with a heady stare.

“Lemme look at you,” Joel says, his hand coming up cup your cheek, a sense of home right in his fingertips. You lean yourself into it, sighing as you look into the familiar sight of his eyes, pupils blown out with need, but there’s a delicacy there, a desire beyond his usual hunger. His fingers curl around the back of your head as they gently grasp your hair into his hand. His eyes search your face, bouncing around your features, and you’re unsure of what he’s looking for, what he’s thinking. 

“Never looked more beautiful, baby,” he marvels, his voice a hoarse whisper as he slowly pulls his hips back and then pushes them forward, letting the head of his cock sit at your entrance for a moment before tentatively pushing in further. You gasp, clutching onto his back and digging your nails in at the slow, gorgeous stretch of him moving into you. You both breathe out shakily, a long sigh of relief at feeling the other’s body fitting so perfectly together. 

Joel’s lips find yours again with slow, tender kisses as he starts to move his hips. Your entire body shudders at the unhurried movements of his cock dragging in and out of you, slow and messy. His lips lose some of their accuracy now too, catching the corners of your mouth, inching down to your jawline and neck as he buries himself in you. You’re both letting every sound you need leave your lips, little moans and whimpers filling the room accompanied by the noises your bodies are creating together as you get impossibly more wet, coating him, leaking around him and down onto both of your thighs. 

“Jesus, Joel,” you whine, barely able to take just how heavenly it feels to be wholly his in this moment. 

Your eyes flutter as your pussy clenches around him, the gentle thrusts making you absolutely wild. Joel was right - you can feel every morsel of his love like this - the way he’s pouring everything he has into you now. 

“I’ll give y’everything, angel, make you so happy if you let me, oh f-fuck,” Joel stutters out, splaying his hand out on your lower back to help press you closer with each inward push he makes into your pussy. “Make you all mine, always, if y’let me, if y’want me to…” Joel sounds like he could nearly start to cry with the intensity of the moment, caught up in the way he’s expressing his emotions to you. 

“Always, always… want you, Joel,” you whisper back as you pant with need, starting to feel a warm heat coiling in your core. “Forever,” you say without a care, not bothering to think about the heavy meaning of the word, knowing you mean it well past the heat of the moment you’re in right now. Knowing you’d say it to Joel again and again in the light of day, the heat of the night, and any time in between. 

“Forever, angel.”

Joel’s thrusts gain speed, not much, but enough that both of you are edging closer to a climax by the second, the both of you panting promises to each other through all of the moans and whimpers. You’re both drenched in sweat, sloppy and wet all over, your bodies not offering an inch of space from the other as your lips clash over and over, barely even recognizing where any of your movements together begin and end. It’s pure perfection - beyond anything Joel has shown you before, reserved and only possible in a moment like this one. 

Everywhere Joel presses inside of you starts to ignite, your entire body becoming desperately taut as you feel a warmth tingling throughout you, spreading from where Joel is hitting so perfectly. 

“I’m gonna come, Joel, make me come, j-just like that,” you manage to say, your brain starting to go blank with thoughts of only Joel, only this pleasure. 

“Oh, honey, so good, lemme feel you,” Joel encourages you, keeping the exact pace he was on to get you over the edge. 

You cry out, long moans as everything snaps suddenly, and Joel’s arms wrap tightly around you, shielding you and pressing you into his chest as you shudder, your entire body overtaken by this pleasure. 

“Good girl, good girl, good girl,” Joel chants, pressing himself as deep as he can repeatedly, helping you ride out your high. He watches your face intently, the way your eyes are screwed shut and mouth agape, gasping and moaning for him. His hand grips tightly around your face, dwarfing it underneath his long, thick fingers. “Love my good girl.”

His words send you whimpering in ecstasy as you feel seemingly never ending waves of your climax hitting you, your cunt fluttering and squeezing Joel’s cock over and over. Joel gasps and you can feel his body shaking against yours, urged on by the way yours is responding to him. 

“Gonna come too… squeezin’ me so good like that…” Joel says, panting harder now. “Let me fill you up, get you full of me, baby.” Joel rambles on, his body purely concentrated on climaxing as he sloppily ruts his hips into you a few more times before burying himself to the hilt with a long grunt. 

“Fill me up,” you whine as you feel him spilling into you, nearly wanting to come again at how good it feels to have him give himself to you like this. A final groan and then Joel collapses, his body rolling further into yours and you sigh out a sound of pure contentment, letting yourself press back into Joel. He kisses your face, peppering you with languid, lazy presses of his lips, and you can feel his mind is scrambled, elsewhere right now.

“D’you see? What you do to me?” he asks quietly in between kisses.

You nod into him. “Same as what you do to me.”

He gives an exhausted chuckle and you can feel the smile tug on his lips as they sit against your skin. 

“I found your note,” you blurt out, unsure of where the thought even came from so suddenly. You feel Joel stiffen and then open your eyes to see the flash of recognition on Joel’s face and he softens even further.

“‘M glad you did,” he replies, his hand starting to stroke along your back. You feel goosebumps tickle you at his touch even with your skin still blazing and damp from the way he’d just fucked you. “Hate that y’read it at such a bad time, but I swear, meant every word of it.”

“I know you did. It… made me realize…” you say, trailing off into your own thoughts, remembering the mixed emotions of the day you’d read his words scrawled out for you, seeing on paper for the first time that he loves you.

“What, hm? Realize what?” he presses you, quiet and soft.

“It’ll always be you, Joel.”

He’d hardly let you out of his sight the entire week other than work, bringing you back home with him every night, and dropping you off to work in the morning. A man possessed, or re-possessed, you supposed, his hands finding you every chance they got - a commanding hand on your thigh the minute you got in his car, his grip tight around your waist the second the front door closed behind the two of you, lips finding any part of your skin he could see. 

He was frenzied yet controlled, somehow always a paradox of some sort with Joel. His fear of experiencing the loss he’d felt when you two were apart was too much for him to bear, too painful to even consider possible again, so he kept pulling you close, “I love you”’s whispered in the most mundane of moments - you’d heard it countless times over the last week, always happy to return the words. 

Now that you’d both said it, you were unstoppable. I love you I love you I love you. You think the words whenever you see him, a constant loop playing in the background of your mind. You speak the words when he catches your eye too long, falling like a mantra from your lips over and over, making sure he understands the truth of it all. You’re both desperately trying to make sure the other knows the depth of your obsession, your love, for each other.

You find yourself lost in your thoughts as you sit in the shade provided by the house’s shadow in the mid morning sun, feet tucked up under you on one of Joel’s cushy outdoor chairs. After practically keeping you at his house the entire week, today Joel insisted on mowing the lawn despite him complaining about his bad back the rest of the entire week. You’d done your best to keep him from overexerting himself, but if you’ve learned anything at all about Joel Miller, he’ll always be a stubborn man with a mind of his own. 

You clutch the most recent book on your to-be-read list in your lap, your other hand on a warm mug of coffee. Joel’s made another pot of it, just because you yawned one too many times, insisting that you needed more caffeine if you were going to keep up with the plans he had for you later. You take a long sip, savoring the flavor, the coffee tasting better only because the man you love made it for you. You peer up from your book, the loud buzzing of the lawn mower breaking through your concentration again, and you’re met with a sight you’d gladly let steal your attention any day.

Joel’s white shirt is soaking through with sweat, an unseasonably warm autumn day that had prompted Joel to do yard work in the first place. He pauses mowing the lawn to lift his shirt up, wiping the gathering perspiration from his forehead quickly, and as he grips the lawn mower again, he catches you watching him. His face instantly lights up, a sweet little smile that he only shares with you, like a secret language you’re learning to read better each day. When his expression suddenly turns a bit more devious, he makes sure to wipe his face off once more for good measure, giving you a free show of his glistening torso. His eyes taunt you after, brows raised expectantly for a few moments, and you return the gesture with your own brows, letting Joel know exactly how you feel about what you’re seeing. 

Something about the whole scene feels familiar, that odd sense of déjà vu creeping up on you and making the hairs on your neck stand up a little bit despite the heat in the air. You try to put your finger on it, and it’s not until your roaming gaze lingers across the fence, catching on the large oak tree in your parents back yard that it strikes you. 

The way you used to lay right there and watch Joel do the exact thing you are right now, and relishing in the sight all the same. Trying to be inconspicuous, thinking he’d never notice the neighbor girl trying to catch a glimpse as he sweat and glistened under the hot sun. You’d let your mind wander as you watched him, questioning what things would be like if you’d ever get the courage to speak to him, if he’d ever even give you the time of day. Oh, how wrong you’d been, how completely wrong to think Joel couldn’t look at you that way. 

You can’t help but marvel a bit at the memories, seeing where you are now, across that fence and having Joel go so far as to want you to watch him so blatantly now. Some things never change, but you realize that you surely have. You hardly recognize the girl you were back in June - so unsure of herself, wondering what she could be worth to anyone, let alone a man like Joel. But you now realized that while you’re certainly intent on keeping Joel around for… well, the rest of your life, at the least he’s left you with so much to carry on inside of yourself.

Joel catches your daydream-like expression as he finishes his mowing and approaches you. You now get a closer look at just how god damned handsome he is, and you feel lucky all over again, tears coming to your eyes unexpectedly. It nearly feels like a dream - the way the sun lights him up from behind, his broad form and muscles shining so delightfully, so pleasing to the eye. The way his face, every feature loved by you in its own special way, has already gone softer at seeing the tears in your eyes as he walks towards you. 

Everything about this little moment in time feels indescribable to you, nostalgia and tender heartedness and love overflowing inside of you. You grasp onto your current reality and hold on tight, wanting to live inside this day over and over if you can, wanting this one truth to stay feeling perfectly clear to you - you’re simply… happy. 

taglist: @paleidiot@mumma-moonchild@soph55 @chicville03@joelsversion@feliciab1990@fellinfromthetop@gossipgirl-03@sarap-77@blueseastorm @akah565​@pattwtf @scarletthefierce

i'm so sorry if ur tag doesn't work, i really don't understand why tumblr does this ><

[fraux140]

Some König Headcanons and Hottakes

So I want to preface this by saying no hate to anyone. These are just some opinions that I think some people might disagree with which is totally fine. This is also a little bit of me pointing out some of his flaws. I love him though.

He is not a shy little uwu boy who would have a panic attack if a cutie looked at him a certain way. If he was so prone to panic attacks and his anxiety was that crippling then he wouldn't have been in the special forces and he wouldn't be in a PMC - which are highly selective.

Personally I don't fully believe that he was a colonel. The only hint we have gotten of that is a one of the 'Bad Brothers' loading screens which just says 'Colonel König' with no more context. Colonels aren't really active on the battle field and it is very unlikely you would see one in action. Officers ranked that highly are seen as too valuable to be 'wasted' in infantry combat.

Continuing from my last point, even a lot of majors and Lt Colonels aren't battle prone. Considering he would have had to have passed through those ranks to become a colonel means that he would have spent a lot of time behind a desk and commanding teams such as platoons and battalions. We don't know enough about him to say that he isn't a good leader, after all he is simply an operator with a few paragraphs of text as a background. However, his voice lines and little text we do get about him tells us he is not one to enjoy standing by and having others fight on his command. He would MUCH rather be in the brawl.

And I know that Alejandro is a colonel and very active duty, however we can assume that this is largely due to his ambition and personal attachment to his home, which he wants to protect from the cartel. I'm not saying a colonel doesn't fight, but it is exceedingly rare.

My last anti-colonel theory point - why would a colonel wear such DIY gear? I just want to say if you hc him as a colonel that is absolutely FINE, those are just reasons as to why I don't :/

Moving on, I believe him to be a sore loser. For example, he was deemed unfit to be a sniper, and so he wears a sniper hood and has that voiceline "And they said I couldn't be a sniper". Dress for the job you want, not the job you have ig?

I believe he wants to prove people wrong. Getting rejected as a sniper wounded his ego so A LOT. I hc him to be between 32-37 and if he joined jagkdo/KSK (old bio said he was German and in the KSK, newer ones said Austrian and JagKdo, now there's no mention of sf so idk??) while he was younger, say around 23-26, he's had a lot of time for that wound to heal and yet it hasn't. This man holds hella grudges.

Because of this, I think that a fear of failure might also contribute to his anxiety. If he was asked about being scared to fail he'd smirk and say there was no way. But deep down in his core it eats away at him.

This might also bleed into his social life. He's fearful of relationships and remains single for a long time. He'd rather not ask you out instead of having you reject him for trying. He'd have to REALLY like somebody and also have some reassurance or signs that they liked him out.

Cannot accept accountability for simple mistakes. He knocked your coffee mug over? You shouldn't have left it there. Hit you a little too hard in training? You should be stronger. You should have dodged it. Not his fault you're not as good as him.

Is a show off. If he is obviously better at something then you'll never hear the end of it. Better driver? Better fighter. Yeah, he's bragging about it. Again, his fear of not being good enough rears its ugly head. He deflects it on to those who are weaker - they could never be him.

Damn this was a list of negatives, but I love him in spite of all of his flaws. What kind of list should I make next? I should probably do one with some positive traits lmao.

Anyway, I don't mind at all if anyone disagrees with these this is just how I see him. Maybe one day I'll write a fic where he acknowledges his demons and starts to heal.

[ivystoryweaver]

Moon Boys Celebrate Your Birthday HC's

Based on this ask by @soulsforsales: How do you think the moon boys would treat you on your birthday???

Oh my goodness 🎂🎈🎉 Ok.

*angst warning, but mostly fluff

MARC

Birthdays are hard for Marc. So, so hard. They were when he felt most alone, forgotten and unseen.

It’s when he missed Randall so much he felt physically sick.

It’s when his mom refused to acknowledge her living son.

It’s when his dad made a feasible effort but ended up defending his abuser anyway.

So they’re difficult for Marc. But it’s your birthday. It’s you. And you would never.

Marc is going to overcompensate.

He had half-assed Home birthdays with no friends and a homemade cake. Those can be great if done well, but you’re worth more.

He’s going to make a reservation at an impressive restaurant the night before your birthday. It will be unique, intimate, romantic. Candlelight, soft music, delicious food and drinks.

You will have his undivided attention and be his only priority.

The fact that you are in the world is something he cherishes.

Intense eye contact will melt you into a puddle. He’ll keep reaching across the table for your hand.

He’ll pull out your chair and guide you along with his hand on the small of your back. Everyone will know you are his and this is a special day for you.

You barely make it out of the restaurant, just a touch blissfully tipsy, when his lips crash into yours

JAKE

^idk why I keep seeing this Drive guy as Jake lol

Jake will be celebrating, probably on the weekend closest to your birthday, maybe the night after.

There will be singing, in more than one language.

There will probably be dancing even if it’s just a quick couple of Salsa steps around the kitchen.

He cooks for you, making a huge mess. But it's yummy.

He wants you to smile and laugh. He wants to make you feel as amazing as you always make him feel.

He tried to decorate your cake, but it's hilariously bizarre. The two of you try to fix it and get into a frosting war.

It gets on the tip of your nose and cheek. Jake swipes it away and submits his thumb to your lips for cleaning.

You hold his gaze, dragging your tongue across the pad of his thumb before sucking it into your mouth.

Then you get the rest of your birthday present. For the rest of the night.

STEVEN

Steven doesn’t quite remember a lot of birthdays - not childhood ones anyway.

Memories are either absent, confusing, or completely a false shadow of what really happened to them.

He has to sort out his feelings about birthdays.

But again, this isn’t his birthday, it’s yours.

He’s waiting for you when you wake up. “Happy birthday, love.” He wants you to know right away that he’s remembered.

He gazes into your eyes and traces your lips with his fingertips.

"Steven," you whisper as he brushes his lips over yours.

You're late to work because of him.

He's done little things for you: your lunch is prepared, your favorite tea or coffee is in your favorite mug.

Your favorite sweater is clean and warmed in the dryer. He wraps you up in it before you leave.

When you get to work, there are flowers delivered, with a card. He is a classic romantic after all.

When you arrive home, he is positively giddy. He’s planned a scavenger hunt for you. It’s full of mischief and riddles.

You follow the clues, watching Steven's gorgeous brown eyes sparkle with excitement as his soft voice lovingly encourages you from clue to clue.

You finally get to the end and discover your present. Steven's taking you away on a trip.

Of course Marc and Jake will show up too.

The boys end up saying "Happy Birthweek" after a couple years of this. You’re worth a lot of celebrating.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Askbox

[mulledcherrywine]

I’m here, right here

summary: good old yearning 🚬

a/n: back in my as it was era these days, feeling melancholically in love so this is the product

warnings: breakups, relationship problems, dependency (?), angst (maybe? idk i have never written something not fluffy 😭)

Back from work, you were laid out on the couch. Junky reality television droned in the background as you clicked around on your text messages.

After sending a few replies to the ones you missed through the day, a notification popped itself across the top of the screen.

H: are you home?

Knowing each other since you were in high school, Harry had been your best friend for the better part of your adult life. You were a committed friend and was there to give anything and everything he needed - him doing the same. Well, most of the time.

Recently, he’d been occupied. Of course, you knew you couldn’t complain that he chose to spend time with his romantic partners over you, but part of you still yearned just to sit next to him and watch a film, or go out to dinner. Still, you knew when to move over.

You noticed the relationship high he normally gets from someone new had begun to dwindle. He’d hang his head more, start laughing a little less, taking up habits he knew he shouldn’t.

They’d fight, he’d come over, you’d help him through it, they’d get back together the next day and so on, and so on.

You kicked yourself every time, too. Kicked yourself that you could just choke the words out and tell him that finding the “one” didn’t have to be this impending search he made it. You were right there. Through everything. Still, no matter how many times he needed you, you’d open the door and be there with open arms.

His message came as no surprise, leading you to click on it right away. The tiny grey bubble glaring right in front of you. You hovered your thumbs over the keypad for a moment before replying.

Y/N: always :)

He replied almost instantly.

H: can we chat?

Y/N: door’s unlocked, just come in

H: see you in a bit

You pressed the screen to your chest, throwing your head back in a breath on the arm of the couch. He was only a couple blocks away, so it was minutes before he showed.

“Hello?” A familiar voice broke, his shoes making a light sound on the floor.

“Hi,” you said softly, coming into the foyer to meet him. You felt underdressed next to him, his stature tall and well put together.

“M’sorry, y/n. You’re probably busy, but I just-”

“I know, Harry. It’s okay, you’re okay. Okay?”

You brought his figure into yours, arms in the nape of his neck and you hugged him a little tighter than he did you, holding your eyes tight shut as you did.

“Now,” you said, “tea?”

“Please” he responded, hanging his coat on the hook and gently taking his shoes off. You thought for a moment what’d be like to live with Harry - to have his coat on the hook every night, and to get to hold him each day as he walked through the door.

You made chamomile for the both of you, milk and honey in yours, nothing for his. You knew it well.

You brought the mugs to the living room, where he sat on the the sofa, head in hands. His hair fell over his knuckles as he looked to the floor.

“Here, made it your way” you said, placing the mug on the coffee table.

“Oh, thanks. Thank you” he said, straightening up.

You sat on the other end of the furniture, back rested on the arm. Your legs were bent into your chest as you rested your cup of tea on your knees. Soon, he flipped around as well, lounging sideways on the couch; he faced you.

“M’really sorry about this” he hummed.

“Stop, stop apologizing, H. You haven’t done a single thing wrong.”

“I know, I know”

“What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“Had an argument. Was just messy, y’know? I think we just wanted to shout at each other and have a reason to split up for good.”

You hummed in response, trying to imagine what he would look like in a screaming match with someone. It was practically impossible to picture a hostile version of the very gentle person who was sat opposite you.

“Anyway,” he started again, “m’glad it’s over I guess, I just don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner, really.”

“I’ve been there,” you said, “and I think you did the right thing. If you weren’t happy, and only getting unhappier by being with them, then it wasn’t going to get better over time. Trust me.”

His eyes scanned across your face a few times, a sad look affixed on his face.

“You should be a counselor,” he said, laughing lightly.

“I think I am in a way, to you” you said, unthinking.

“What?”

“I just- I just mean that this isn’t the first time i’ve given you advice for something like this.”

“I asked if it was okay, y/n. Y’said it was fine”

“It is! It is, please don’t take this poorly I just misspoke!”

“No, you didn’t. You’re right,” he said, now looking down his mug, “I’ve been a bad friend. Feel like I haven’t even checked in on you once.”

“It’s fine” you spoke quietly.

“No, no. S’not fine,” he started, placing his mug down on the coffee table, “You do everything f’me, take care of me through everything and I haven’t done shit for you, love.”

Your face flushed at the vulnerability of everything. You had deeper discussions about your relationships with other people, but never about your own. Now, you were right there.

“You have things to do, H. You barely have time to talk.”

“I’ll always make time for you, y/n. Just haven’t been good about it, like really, really bad.”

You felt a swell under your eyes, trying to fight the tears from coming. Tucking your legs closer to you, you slumped your head to your knees.

“Do y’know why m’always so distant? Why we never talk about you?” he spoke again, a more serious look on his face now, “‘cause I couldn’t stand to think that someone is hurting you and making you feel what i’ve felt so many times.”

“It’s you who does it, Harry.”

“Does what?”

“Hurt me. Everytime you walk through that door, all I can think about is how you’d never have to even think about heartbreak again if you just opened your eyes and bothered to notice that I’m the one, at the end of the day, who’s always been there. I’ve been the constant.”

You took a deep inhale, tears already having fallen - and more coming now.

Harry’s eyes were mooney and deep, tiredness settled on his gaze.

“I love you, Harry” you choked, “and I hate watching other people fail to.”

He moved slightly forward as you did the same, the both of you much closer now.

Again, his eyes darted across your face, reading you.

“I’ve waited forever. Watched you fall in and out of love with people and-”

“Y’thought I was in love? All those times?”

“Well, I-”

“Why do you think I turn up here? Drive from anywhere to come be here on your couch, and lie around until we fall asleep. Fucking hell, y/n. I love you. And i’m a prick f’not saying anything sooner. I love you.”

In the moment, you took the sides of his face, pulling him into a long kiss. He put his hands over yours, bringing them down to your lap as he put his own on the sides of your face. After, you sunk over his shoulder, his hand over the back of your head, the other around your waist. Even though the couch was barely big enough for the both of you, you made it work.

“M’sorry,” he whispered, “M’gonna be better, I promise. For you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“M’sorry,” he whispered tearily, “M’gonna do better. Be so good to you, lovie.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“you have nothing to apologize for.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

[goingsunnythousandmerry]

Hiiiii, I'm a new follow who got absolutely smitten with your work!

I saw your last post anddd I just decided to drop by this ask!

So, umm, I really crave this man named Marco I love so much like fr I'm crazy about this guy lmao 💀 anyways can I possibly get a Marco x F!reader idk just some fluff stuff with this man I really think he's super affectionate and smitten with his partner sooo can I get morning with him or something like that? Like reader waking him up for some coffee and then him taking maybe a shower and shaving while maintaining his mini beard (stache is that what its called? Idk) while reader watching him admiring him and then marco notices her and sooo you know the idea! Could be SFW or NSFW you choose the best thing you see coming up eith the plot please!

Hopefully, I didn't make this hard for you but really I love your fics so muchhhh like literally you really share the same way of thinking of the characters personalities and actions as me so I'm loveeeeee!

Anyway call me strawberry!

thank you!

Stay safe out there!

XOXO

Hey Strawberry! Here is my go at your request. Thanks for the suggestion, I had fun writing it! It kind of ties in to my Marco x Reader fluff I posted earlier today, but if you didn't like that or don't want to read that I'll give another short scenario here. It's short and sweet. I'll do a Marco NSFW hopefully in the next couple of days. Plan is to have it fit in with this fic and my earlier posted marco fluff fic. Hope you enjoy! If we want more Marco or someone else, like, comment, request below! Thanks friends!

Warnings: Suggestive, Fluff, SFW, petnames, spoilers for WANO, I do not own these characters

Scene Set up: Either follows my previous post Falling for Marco the Phoenix or You, a former member of the Whitebeard Pirates, decide to go with Marco to Sphinx Island to help protect Pop's home Island. After living on the island awhile, you and Marco confess your feelings for one another. This fic takes place the next morning as you begin to go about your routines as a couple in the same house.

A Morning with Marco

The next morning, you rolled over in bed to find Marco’s side empty. You lifted your head and looked around the room. You noticed the door to the bathroom was closed and it dawned on you that you could hear the sound of the shower running. You smiled as you realized besides the sound of the water, you could also hear Marco humming in the shower. You laughed as you heard him break out in song. You rolled on your back and listened to him for a few minutes, before finally deciding to make some coffee. You crawled out of bed and found Marco’s purple dress shirt still on the floor. You put it on and buttoned the two middle buttons, knowing full well it showed off some of your cleavage and cut open just above your mid-thigh.

You walked to the kitchen and measured out the coffee grounds and poured water into the pot, then hit the power button. You reached into the cabinet and pulled out two mugs. You noticed you heard the water stop running. You still heard the faint sound of Marco humming and singing. You still couldn’t believe yesterday had been real. Marco had feelings for you, he had kissed you, then, well you had last night with Marco… you smiled as you thought back on the details. You were hoping for a reenactment as soon as possible. You heard the bathroom door open and were immediately broken from your daydream. 

You looked at the coffee pot and noticed there was enough for two cups already brewed and quickly poured them. You returned the pot to the stream of brewing coffee and picked up your two coffee filled mugs. You walked back into the bedroom and smiled as you rounded the far side of the bed, which allowed you to see into the opened bathroom door. Marco was shaving his stubble in the mirror, wrapped only in a towel that covered his waist. His tattooed chest still glistened with water droplets as his wet hair lay messily atop his head. You walked to the bathroom doorway and leaned against it, a giant smile plastered on your face.

“I kind of liked the full stubble look.” You said.

“Oh.” Marco asked as he turned his gaze from his reflection, to over his shoulder to look at you. “Well how about half of it?” Marco asked as he set down his razor and came towards you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and rubbed his half shaved neck against your cheek. You laughed as you held the full coffee mugs away from the two of you in one hand and grabbed his arm with your free hand.

“Marco, I’ll spill the coffee!” You gently yelled.

“Coffee? Is one for me?”

“Of course.” You said with a laugh.

You handed Marco the mug and he brought it closer to his lips, still holding onto your waist with his other hand. You moved your hand to his chest and brought your coffee mug to your face. You hoped the mug covered your blush as you admired the build of the man before you. Marco’s lips parted around the rim of the mug and he smiled at you as he took a sip. As he lowered his mug, he looked down at your body and noticed what you were wearing. 

“Well you win. That shirt looks better on you than me.”

“You think so?” You laughed as you played with the collar of the shirt that hung near your cleavage.

“Mhhmm.” Marco said as he took another sip. “Thanks for the coffee, babe. You make it way better than I do.” He added as he pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. 

You pushed against his chest as he kissed you and laughed.

“That’s because Thatch never taught you guys how to make coffee. Anyways! Finish shaving! It tickles too much!” You cried and Marco laughed in response.

Marco let go of your waist and returned to the sink. He set down his coffee mug and returned to shaving. You stayed leaning against the doorway and watched him as he finished up. Marco returned to humming as he worked. A wide smile rested upon your lips. He stopped in the middle of his razor swipe and looked over his shoulder at you once more.

“What are you smiling about? Is my performance that good?” He asked with a laugh.

“What? Oh yes, it is.”

“Hmmm… well what’s your favorite part?” He urged as his eyes narrowed studying your expression.

“Hmm…” You took another sip of coffee and studied your surroundings trying to pretend to think hard. “The outfit. The towel only. I like the look.”

“Yeah. Is that what has you smiling?” He asked with an eyebrow raise.

Marco gripped the counter tighter as you took another sip of your coffee. You looked at the ground between the two of you, then scanned up his body until your eyes met.

“No.” You said as a devious grin formed on your face. “Knowing what’s underneath has me smiling.” You added with a blush as you raised your coffee mug to cover it. 

You raised your eyebrows and backed out of the doorway.

“Is that so..?” Marco asked curiously.

Marco grinned at you then picked up his razor and finished shaving. You moved to sit on the bed to finish your cup of coffee. After a few minutes Marco exited the bathroom. As he entered the bedroom, still in his towel only, you set your coffee mug down on the table beside you. He jumped on the bed and rolled on top of you, where he slammed his soft lips against yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his hands began to roam your body. You stroked Marco’s bottom lip with your tongue. His lips parted allowing you to intertwine your tongue with his. Marco’s hands started undoing the buttons of your shirt as your hands rifled through his hair.

His lips separated from yours. He looked into your (E/C) eyes warmly. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“You can make coffee, taste like coffee, and you’re beautiful. How’d I get so lucky?”

“I don’t know, if I had to guess, it was the singing. I hope I get a show like that every morning.” You replied with a laugh as you pressed your lips back against his.

Suddenly, there was a knock at your front door. Your lips separated and the two of you panted as you looked towards the main room where the front door was. He looked at you and sighed.

“Marco!” A voice called. 

“Coming.” He replied. 

Marco climbed off of you and the bed. He quickly grabbed some boxers and a pair of pants from his closet and tossed them on under his towel. He threw the towel back in the bathroom and headed towards the doorway of the bedroom. As he did, you started to get out of bed, but Marco stopped you.

“I’ll be quick I promise.” Marco whispered sweetly.

Marco, kissed your forehead and walked out of the room, cracking the door behind him. As he headed towards the front door, you laid back against the pillows in the bed and decided to wait for him. A smile grew upon your lips as you hoped  every morning going forward would be like this, except without a neighborly interruption. Marco opened the front door and you heard him gasp.

“Cat Viper? What are you doing here?” He asked.

[corrodedcoughin]

Thinking about steddie future where they're both just average guys. No rockstars, no basketball players just two Normal men living a normal life because honestly? they deserve it. They deserve soft domesticity and happiness.

They both have jobs they like but don't love and they're happy with that. Eddie maybe becomes an electrician, working for someone else's company. His coworkers are chill, he gets to get out and work with his hands and that's more than he could have asked for. Steve is a physical therapist, or a manager in some business. He likes his team and the steady hours. He's not working for his dad which is a plus.

They buy a house together, that's not a mansion but it's not a trailer either. Steve does a lot of the dishes because Eddie hates it, hates the feeling of old food on the plates and cutlery. So Eddie will kiss Steve on the cheek and does the laundry because Steve fucking hates laundry. And sitting on the floor watching TV while he folds clothes is honestly sort of relaxing?? Love is doing the chores your partner hates.

Steve and Robin go out for brunch at least once a month, where they catch up and gossip for hours and hours and Steve comes home lighter with updates on Robin and Vickie. Eddie will have nightly phone calls with Wayne, where they talk and laugh and Eddie will eventually hand the phone over to Steve so he and Wayne can talk sports together. When he's in town Dustin will come over and stay in their spare room and they laugh and joke so much it's just like old times. They go over to Jeff's house for dinner on a semi regular basis, and it's nice having normal friends.

They adopt a very annoying cat who will climb all over them in bed and meow in their faces when they don't wake up to feed it breakfast in time. Steve will go for jogs on a Saturday morning, coming home to Eddie reading in bed. Some old western book Wayne recommended to him. There's a steaming cup of coffee waiting on their bedside tables that Eddie's prepared.

They take time off of work and go on a week long vacation because they can do that now. They do dorky touristy things and Eddie buys a mug to send to Wayne. Steve takes a lot of dorky photos of the two of them.

Idk they deserve to be normal and alive and happy with no upside down anymore <3

Oh I love this! I had actually been thinking about tradesman Eddie for a little bit I am so, so glad you’ve come up with this!

I can so completely see him learning a trade and just getting employed and put through his time by a small local employer! He has to go through his exams and that part of it worries him when he first gets the job but his team end up being really supportive and Steve stays up late with him, practicing circuits and wiring and quizzing him on currents and volts. Eddie returning the favour, letting Steve mark up his muscles and be a living anatomy dummy. Sure it gets a little sexy from time to time but more often than not it’s just them testing each other as Steve identifies bones and Eddie talks about parallel circuits.

The monthly brunches mentally and physically revive Steve after working extended hours with patients that he really does want the best for but a jobs a job and it can get pretty tiring. They joke that they rebalance each others chakras but they really do feel realigned after their meet ups. Eddie can see it to, sometimes he’ll come pick them up when it’s been a boozy brunch and delights in seeing them happy and light, clambering over each other to tell Eddie something about one of the waiters or an especially good dish they ordered. When he drops Robin home Steve sits in the front and looks at peace and Eddie feels the same way.

Their weekends are for them, sometimes that means staying home and cleaning the whole place between ordering food in and sometimes that means going on a day trip and taking Wayne around all the antique spots around the county and seeing what horrors they can uncover. Top spot currently sits with Wayne’s find of a doll whose limbs had been replaced with horse legs and had the head of a fish. Of course they bought it.

Every time they go on a holiday they make sure to send postcards to everyone, including themselves, seeing if they’ll get home before the postcard does. Steve keeps them in a photo album, each with a Polaroid of them next to it. Sometimes taken by a stranger, sometimes just a close up of their faces squashed together. It’s Eddie’s favourite thing to go through on their anniversary, or any day really, just loves being reminded that this is the life they get to have.

It’s mundane, dare say even normal, but they love it. Steve comes home every night, happy to put his scrubs in the washing machine next to Eddie’s uniform, happy to be where he feels loved.

[sweetreveriee]

Averygrayson Headcanons Before Bed!!

yes, i ship avery and grayson. i don't think jameson is all that. no, i do not think he is a cheater. i know that averyjameson is already endgame. please don't come at me in the comments/reblogs.

(read my ao3 fic This Game Can't Last Forever (by zinnias_on_venus) for more averygrayson content from me, i update at least once a week)

OK TO THE HEADCANONS

• Avery and Grayson love to travel together. Grayson takes a bunch of photos, and its perfect because Avery adores sight seeing.

• Both of them have a tendency to overwork themselves, so sometimes the other will force them to take a break from Foundation work.

• Speaking of the Foundation, they share an office and they always leave each other little notes on their desks.

• Grayson loves coffee, so Avery always makes him a cup in the mornings.

• They read books together (romance, mystery, historical fiction, you name it) and have really heated (in more ways than one) discussions about the plot and characters.

• Grayson always takes Avery to different plays and musicals. Though not always Broadway, sometimes it's just the local theatre group performing!

• More often then not, they fall asleep cuddling on the couch.

• Grayson loves shopping for Avery.

• He buys her so many clothes, she had to use a second closet.

• On their travel journeys, they always visit poorer cities/countries and donate a bunch of stuff to them.

• Grayson especially loves the kids, and Avery thinks its adorable.

• Avery sometimes gets Grayson to read her children's books, and she thinks it's the funniest thing when he does the voices.

• For her twenty-first birthday, Grayson, with the help of all his brothers, organized a House-wide scavenger hunt, where with each clue there was a gift.

• The final gift was Toby. Grayson had Zabrowski distract E*e while he snuck Toby out. He also had all the contracts burned (don't ask how, Hawthorne magic), so Toby was free.

• Avery cried so much, and she kept thanking Grayson everytime she saw Toby.

• Whenever Avery gets hate comments, Grayson absolutely destroys the person on his NonErrata575 account (he can't use his main one or else he'll get cancelled or some shit idk).

• Avery got him to wear the leather pants again. That's all I'm going to say.

• They shower together, but nothing sexual. Just wash each other's hair and other coupley fluffy stuff.

• Bubble. Baths.

• They both like to swim, and Grayson teaches Avery his favorite strokes.

• Grayson is a better swimmer, but Avery is better at diving and tricks because she used to do gymnastics before her mom died.

• Avery LOVES hanging out with Gigi and Savannah. They drag Grayson along on their girl time though, sometimes, because he's basically "one of the girls" (Gigi said it first) (my friend calls a bunch of boys at my school this)

• They make a gingerbread house together every Christmas Eve, and then eat it while drinking hot chocolate and watching Home Alone (they do it religiously every year).

• Not really Avery and Grayson, but Nash is basically both of their therapists (like they go to him when they need help, not like couples counseling lol).

• Grayson sometimes has really bad days when all he can hear in his head is Em*ly telling him he's not good enough and will never be worthy of Avery.

• He gets really depressed and doesn't talk to Avery, or anyone, at all.

• When that happens, Avery gives him his space, but at night she always makes sure to give him extra kisses and cuddles, and tell him she loves him.

• It always makes him feel better.

• Every year for his birthday, Avery gets him a personalized mug, pen, and a new tie (he loves practical gifts).

• They go on double-dates with Max and Xander, and sometimes Nash and Libby.

• Beach trips every summer. Avery and Grayson absolutely love the summer heat and tropical beaches.

• Grayson also sometimes sets up one of those little fancy tent things that companies do for like couples (idk what they're called but if you've seen one you'll know what I'm talking about), and sometimes Avery does it for him.

• They get a cat to keep Tiramisu company, and name it Canolli.

• They're both allergic to birds.

• Avery makes him wear color suits sometimes (shocker I know).

• Grayson has like an Atlantic accent, which he copied from TV, but sometimes his country slips (kinda like Young Sheldon), and Avery always tries to record those moments.

• Grayson and Libby actually become really good friends because of Avery, and bond over their love of their siblings and cooking/baking.

• Same with Avery and Nash, except they bond over how they like to keep a simple life (for the most part), and didn't really care about having billions.

• Grayson never drinks when Avery does, he needs to make sure he's 100% sober in case she needs him (Grayson would drink, but he can hold his liquor well and doesn't drink a lot).

That's it cause I actually have to sleep now lol, hope you liked them!!