#mgg Raymond

[tjwritesfanfics]

Serial Killer MGG - Raymond Wadsworth ft Becca Thompson (Suburban Gothic) 👻

They are so Bonnie and Clyde coded. What’s the best way to get more business? Kill your clients.

[bluecitylight]

MGG in "Suburban Gothic"

I just very much enjoy looking at Matthew

[milla984]

Suburban Gothic screencaps MGG as Raymond Wadsworth

@matthew-gray-gubler-lover @reidsbookclub @cynbx @spookyspemilyreid

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[de4dlyniightshade]

i'm having a Sad Day, do u have spence/chip/raymond hcs about how they'd react to u struggling to do basic tasks like getting out of bed/showering?

(yes i am using u for therapy bc i don't have irl therapy this week love u)

i don't have therapy at all but definitely should🤞

꩜ PAIRING: spencer/chip/raymond x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: none

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: mentions of depression/very low motivation and mood.

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

A/N: couldn't pick so i did all three🤞

spencer:

doesn't really understand at first bcs he's very stuck in his routine no matter how he feels but as soon as you explain that you're just really no feeling it he understands completely.

gives you space to spend however long you want in bed but definitely routinely checks on you.

brings you food when he makes himself something and eats with you.

if you're struggling to shower on your own he absolutely will shower with you, washing your hair and your body.

if it's ever really bad he insists on calling into work so he can stay with you for as long as possible.

brings you any and all foods that promote serotonin like the seeds and nuts penelope brought him.

chip:

understanding immediately and grudges going to work if you're sulking in bed but knows that the money he does get will be spent mostly on you.

speaking of which, will bring in your favourite snacks after work and bring them to you when he gets home.

lays in bed with you for however long you'll let him.

will jokingly drag you out of bed to shower with him, pouting and fake crying until you give in because he knows a shower will make you feel better.

so so so many kisses and hugs.

takes you for a nice long drive to relax and get you some fresh air without you having to walk anywhere.

plays music really loud and convinces you to dance with him.

brushes your hair.

raymond:

rots with you.

will absolutely stay in bed and sleep with you for hours, even into the afternoon if you want.

very understanding of your situation bcs he's been there before and knows what it's like.

doesn't force you to do anything but encourages you a lot, making sure you know you don't have to but he's there for you if you need him.

feeds you well, anything and everything you want.

stoner ray is true in my heart so will light up with you and get as wasted as physically possible until you're both in another world.

tells you how proud he is of you when you bring yourself to shower.

kisses you on the cheek all the time.

[whitedovebby]

It's just a natural instinct for people to love Matthew

[riotinyellow]

Never kill yourself

[defectiveporcelaindoll]

Me vs trying to get the sketchy ass movie website to let me watch suburban gothic in peace.

[forthegoob]

I'm close to rename my Tumblr "Bootylover44" (I won't), because Raymond keep yelling it in my head.

[sreidisms]

I say this all the time, man literally devours them (and it's hot)

Spencer Reid(and mgg in general) kisses people like he wants to consume them. He kisses people like he wants to become a part of them, like he's writing sonnets to them with his lips !! I'm obsessed with it it's so endearing istg 🙏🏼

[tjwritesfanfics]

Every Universe Masterlist 🌌

A collection of burbs where you fall in love with MGG in every universe.

This is just a way for me to appreciate MGG while I am watching every movie in his filmography.

Main Masterlist

Universe One *Criminal Minds*

You and Spencer are on your way home from a case dealing with multiple universes and you have a very important question to ask him.

"Do you think we are together in every universe?"

Universe Two *68 Kill*

Chip Taylor is done with women... Yeah right.

Universe Three *Zoe*

Micheal thought it was just the Benysol that made him love her, scared it would be more.

Universe Four *500 Days of Summer*

Paul has always loved you ever since day one (basically the reader is Robin in this universe.)

Universe Five *RV*

Joe Joe seems smitten with the girl in the RV next to his family’s, but really bad at talking to her.

Universe Six *Beginner's Luck*

You didn't think he noticed you, but turns out he did.

Universe Seven *Band of Robbers*

If Tom Sawyer's schemes don't kill Joe Harper, you just might.

Universe Eight *Life After Beth*

You really hated Kyle Orfman, but turns out he may not be so horrible.

Universe Nine *Suburban Gothic*

You are getting tired of your no rent paying roommate, Harold the ghost, so you seek the help of the supernatural investigator in town. You just didn't know it was your childhood crush.

Universe Ten *How to be a serial killer*

Bart is happy to find out the cute girl, who always rents 13 going on 30 every Friday, is into the same things he is.

Universe Eleven *Newness*

Being new parents isn’t easy, but there is no one else Paul would rather be doing it with.

Universe Twelve *King Knight*

Thorn’s upbringing was horrible, it felt like betrayal at first, but you weren’t going to let your leader face his demons alone. Your loyalty has him questioning everything around him.

Universe Thirteen *Hot Air*

Lesley is heartbroken. After watching Summer marry Bradley, he didn’t think he could love again. You proved him wrong.

Universe Fourteen *Rumple Buttercup*

You were so excited for the annual Pajama-jam Cotton Candy Pancake parade and more importantly, to work up the courage to talk to the creature with green skin, five crooked teeth, and the banana peel on his head.

This is a purely a friendship blurb only!

Universe Fifteen *Actors*

On an interview with Matthew, he reveals some important information about your relationship and characters.

(Banners by cafekitsune)

[subspencer]

im 1000% down for phone sex w sub raymond!!!

yes bestie so true! for the context of this: reader and Raymond are supposed to be in like a friends-who-fuck sort of situation, not totally dating just yet (bc come on he's got some fuckboy vibes) but definitely been fuckin.

wc: 1167. content: fem!reader, sub!raymond, phone sex, mutual masturbation y'all.

Raymond doesn't just call because he "misses you". Sure, that's a contributing factor to why you get random facetime calls from him, but it's never just to say hi.

To his credit, he does make good conversation to begin with. He asks about your day, asks what you did and how you're feeling. He laughs at your jokes and tells you about his own day too. But inevitably, the conversation shifts from polite territory into something else entirely.

It always starts with his rollout of compliments. "You look pretty today," or "That lipstick is a great color on you". He starts peppering in little flirty remarks around the same time, weaving them casually into the conversation, even when it's a completely unsexy topic. For example, you'll be telling him about the stain you got on your favorite sweater, explaining that you had to be really careful in getting the spot out with a towel because it's made of such delicate material. And you said something about getting frustrated with the fact the stain wouldn't budge, so you accidentally rubbed it too roughly and ruined the whole top, and he'd remark, "Well you just like being rough, don't you?"

It's like he forgets who's in charge around here when he does that. Baiting you with his relentless comments, feeling bold when he asks you to show him what you're wearing today. It's a poorly disguised attempt at getting you to tilt the camera down to your body, which is clad in a tiny tank top and pajama shorts.

"Please? I just wanna see you," he whines into the camera, doing his best pout for you.

You roll your eyes and lay down against the pillows on your bed, tilting the camera down to your tits that are now spilling out of the skimpy tank top.

"Happy?" you laugh, bringing the phone back to your face.

"What - no I didn't get a good look! Go back!"

Biting down on your thumb while you think of what you want, you tell him, "First, do what I tell you. Go sit on your bed."

He's quick to follow instructions, practically jumping onto the mattress and reaching to take off his shirt and pants.

"I didn't say get undressed." He pauses, shirt already halfway up his torso. When he pokes his head back out of the collar, his hair is all ruffled up and he's pouting yet again, thinking he's so cute.

"Grab a pillow," you instruct, waiting until he's got one in his hand to give your next instruction, "Good boy. Now put it between your legs like it's me and grind on it."

He bites down as his plump bottom lip before shifting around on the bed, placing the pillow under him as he lays face-down on the bed. He looks up at you on his screen to get your nod of approval before he starts grinding his hips against it, rolling into it.

"Are you hard already, baby?" you tease. He responds with a soft whimper, pushing his hips against the pillow and moaning at what small bit of friction he can get from the fabric of his pants. "Good boy."

He bucks into the pillow a little sudden at the praise, making you giggle.

"Here, baby," you reward him by moving the camera to your chest where your free hand is coming up to twist and pull at your tits over the fabric. You pinch down on the hard bud, giving him an exaggerated moan as you give it a small tug.

"Please." He whined again, burying his head against the mattress so all you could see were his messy curls as he shifted around on the bed, moving faster now.

"Look at me when you talk."

His head shot up again, showing you how flushed his cheeks and swollen his lips had become. You understood what he meant when he looked right at you, crying, "Please."

"Fine. Get up, take off your pants," He sits up like you tell him to, resting his back against his headboard with his legs falling open. Clad only in his boxer briefs, you watch him trace around the outline of his hard dick over the fabric, never allowing him to fully palm himself.

As he does, you let your hand trail over yourself, sliding down between your legs.

"Hey, that's not fair," Raymond interrupts you, watching your face through the screen as you sigh softly. "I should be allowed to see that."

It's obvious he wants to see your hands working, but instead you lift your fingers up to the camera, slick with arousal you've gathered between your legs. You can see his dick twitch in his boxers as you bring your fingertips up to your mouth, letting them hover over your parted lips tauntingly.

Then you drop them down with a smirk, relishing in Raymond's groans when you denied him that view. As some form of compassion, you tilt your camera away from your face to follow your hand as it trails back down your body, stopping to lift your shirt up above your chest to expose yourself to him. By the time your fingers find their way back under your panties, running through your slit slowly, he's panting heavily as he leaks pre come through his fabric.

"Mm... stop touching yourself," you hum as you circle your clit with your fingers, rolling your hips in waves to match the pattern your fingers have set. Before he can complain, you add, "You can finish after I do."

Your fingers move faster against you as you watch him through the screen, appreciating the red flush on his skin under the light smattering of a happy trail on his belly.

They pick up pace the more he squirms, wiggling his hips into the air while he begs to be allowed to touch himself. It makes you wonder if he could cum just from watching you, but that's something to test another time. Just as you reach your climax, moaning freely into the phone, you see him twitch again, throbbing at the lack of contact.

You run your fingers over your entrance again, gathering your cum to show him the clear fluid formed there.

"P-please?" he chokes out, hand hovering over himself.

You nod your approval, humming around your fingers as you place them in your mouth and suck them clean.

It takes him no time at all to firmly grasp himself, using his precome to slick his shaft as he pumps up and down quickly. Within seconds he's close, moaning your name with a high-pitched whine following it as he spills all over himself, covering his stomach with fluid.

"I'll call you tomorrow?" he flashes a cheeky smile, chest still heaving softly.

You laugh. "Who says I'll pick up?"

He doesn't say anything. Simply drags two fingers through the mess over his stomach, collecting his cum before popping them in his mouth and pushing them deep into his throat. "You'll pick up."

[milla984]

MGG as Raymond Wadsworth Suburban Gothic (2014)

@matthew-gray-gubler-lover @reidsbookclub @cynbx @spookyspemilyreid

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[tjwritesfanfics]

This hurt my heart, but it was also so sweet at the same time

Patience (Raymond Wadsworth)

Summary: Raymond reconnects with his dead girlfriend. Request: A fic based on ‘Dancing with your Ghost.’ Raymond's girlfriend died and for her birthday he throws her a party and she shows up and they dance and eat cake and are happy. Couple: Raymond Wadsworth/Fem!Reader Category: Angst (Hurt/Comfort) Content Warning: Major character death, death and dying, dead s/o, birthdays, brief/vague suicidal ideation Word Count: 3.2k

MASTERLIST

I’ve always hated birthdays. If you grew up having the father I did, you would understand why. Each year was just another reminder of the regretful event of my birth and another step in my rush towards the finish line. For a long time, that’s all it was.

But then I met her.

The first time she asked me for my birthday, I was convinced she was just trying to figure out my astrology chart. Granted, that’s exactly what she was doing, but then she just got so excited to hear that our birthdays were so close together. She said it was terrible for our compatibility, but that she was willing to overlook it.

It began a tradition that I swore I’d never enjoy. Every year, the two of us would get together to celebrate. It wasn’t always a celebration of us as individuals, or even life in general. Sometimes it was just celebrating our favorite ice cream flavor or the shitty television show we were currently fixated on. My favorite year was the one where we spent the whole time celebrating the lack of birthday celebrations (full Alice in Wonderland style).

When I was with her, there wasn’t a single birthday that passed where I was alone. She was always there, cake and candle in hand and ready to listen to whatever bogus anti-wish I’d concocted.

Two days before her birthday that year, I had realized that I didn’t hate the reminder anymore. In fact, I couldn’t wait to see her. To hear what she chose to celebrate and to watch as she opened her gift that was, for the first time, completely unironic.

I realized that day, as I held the small gift in one hand and my phone in the other, that I wasn’t meant to enjoy birthdays.

‘There’s been an accident.’

Why couldn’t fate have waited at least another 72 hours?

‘I’m so sorry, Raymond.’

She deserved to have another birthday.

‘It wasn’t anyone’s fault.’

I made her favorite cake.

‘Raymond? Are you there?’

I bought her funny balloons months ago with curse words and sad faces.

‘I’m so sorry.’

It wasn’t fair, I thought as I turned to the calendar where she’d wished me a happy unbirthday.

We were supposed to have a party.

‘She didn’t make it.’

—————367 days later—————

I hadn’t been able to sleep in what felt like a year. What had been a year. A year and two days since I lost her.

Time passed differently without her, but birthday season felt the same. It always came too soon and lasted too long. I’d been dreading her birthday with a twisted sort of oxymoronic excitement. I’d spent so long planning a celebration for a dead woman that I’d never stopped to consider she might not come.

It was a difficult, isolating problem to have. Not many would understand why the empty space where she should be sitting felt so disappointing.

I had done everything I was supposed to for her to arrive.

So why was I surprised when she did? Why had I needed to blink once, twice, three times before I believed my own eyes?

There she was, proudly seated beside me like she had been there all along. She wore a smile that told me she’d been waiting for me to notice. I could only hope that my reaction — which could only be described as a total and complete state of shock — hadn’t been disappointing.

“(Y/n)...” I muttered mostly to myself, “You came.”

With a quirk of her head and a graceful snort, she laughed, “Was I supposed to miss my own birthday party?”

I lunged forward to grab her, but then I stopped. Frozen in the air just before our bodies made contact, I noticed that nothing felt cold or warm or strange at all.

“C-Can I— Can I touch you?” I asked, nonetheless, breathless, and terrified and happy all at once.

A teasing smile stretched over her cheeks that had the same color as always. Small hands reached out around me, urging me forward, begging me to take the initiative to close the gap.

“Of course, Raymond,” she said like it was a stupid question. And honestly, it was, because we both knew that regardless of the answer she gave, I was always going to try.

Because she was right there. There was nothing hazy, no glowing lights or corrupted pixels — it was just her.

My arms closed around her gently at first, waiting for her to disappear and leave me grabbing at empty air. But then she was laughing, the air pushed from her lungs as she struggled under my vice-like grip, and I couldn’t contain it anymore.

I burst into tears before I could even comprehend what was happening. Her hands laced through my hair and her comforting giggles continued to echo in the room that had felt so lonely for over a year.

“Hey!” she yelled playfully while trying to comb through the bird’s nest on my head, “The song goes it’s my birthday I can cry if I want to. Not you!”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it,” I blubbered between sniffles.

“It’s okay… but you are being sort of a downer.”

She’d had a point, so I let it be. I answered only with an awkward, still stunned laugh, and she was all too happy to accept that as enough.

“Is the cake for me?” she asked.

Some part of me wanted to be offended, but it wouldn��t have been her if she hadn’t immediately abandoned me for a frosted pastry.

“Yeah. I made it myself.”

“I remember your baking,” she hummed just before taking a bite. Then, through a full mouth she mumbled happily, “I remember it well.”

While she lost herself in worldly pleasures, I was struggling to comprehend the otherworldly. I gazed upon her pure expressions of joy, the way her lips curved between each bite and her eyes fluttered shut to fully savor the taste of love baked into her favorite flavor.

I watched her, unabashedly basking in the beauty of another moment with her, even if it ended up being a fever dream or delusion. When she gestured for me to come closer, I followed without hesitation. I came so close to her that she actually had to back up to be able to bring a bite to my lips instead of hers.

I accepted the cake, and like her, I hadn’t let a full mouth dissuade me from singing her praise.

“I miss you,” I said, not realizing how heavy the words were.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she chastised with a soft click of her tongue.

The sound alerted me to what I’d yet to do, and before either of us could breathe another breath (assuming she in fact was), I brought our lips together. To my surprise, they were the same as the day I’d lost her. Warm, plump, and softer than what should be humanly possible.

Although, again, I supposed she was no longer human, anyway.

But it was hard to deny the perfection of every detail. As my hand smoothed over her hair and down her neck, I said the only thought repeating on loop in my mind, without considering how silly it would sound.

“You feel so real,” I said.

“I am real,” she laughed. Then, with a painful amount of sarcasm she lectured, “Ghosts are real, Raymond. I didn’t think I had to explain that to you.”

It was a good joke. A great joke, even. But I selfishly needed her to take the moment more seriously. To understand that I’d been waiting over a year to see her, and now that she’d joined me, she was acting like nothing had happened.

But it had. So much had happened.

“You know what I mean,” I whispered.

She let it go. It wasn’t entirely like her to let me win, but I think we were both willing to accept abnormal for the time being.

One thing had stayed the same, though. The music that gently flowed through the room was a healthy dose of nostalgia. A series of songs that I hadn’t managed to get through on my own in over a year.

“You’re playing my playlist,” she said with a distant, far-off stare. Like she was trying to remember the words that had escaped her.

“I heard it makes spirits more likely to come if they feel comfortable.”

(Y/n) started to giggle. Just a little at first, but then even a mouthful of cake hadn’t been enough to stop her.

“What’s so funny?” I mumbled in my usual insecure manner.

I knew it made her feel bad. It was sort of the point, but only because I knew she would make up for it swiftly and with full force. And she did.

“If you want what I’m used to, you should have played your 40s music and Halloween movie soundtracks,” she explained through the purest smile I’d ever seen.

I knew from that smile alone that, unlike how she’d struggled with her own, she would remember every word to every track on my list.

“I still can play that,” I pointed out matter-of-factly.

“Do it,” she urged through more lighthearted laughter, “I dare you.”

I’d been so excited to do it. I’d always loved our dares, always loved to beat her in whatever silly little way I could. I wanted to make her happy, to blast the music we shared together so that we could feel that foolhardy happiness again.

But when it came time to turn my back to her, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Wait,” I said with shaky breath. “C-Can you… Please, come with me.”

“It’s like five feet away, Raymond. I knew you were needy, but...” she tried to play it off, but I remained steadfast in my footing. There was no playfulness to my tone; only pain I hadn’t really wanted her to hear.

“I don’t want to let go of your hand,” I whispered, “… Please.”

I watched as the realization dawned on her. The grief, anger, and sadness flashed over her features in the blink of watery eyes. Then it was gone again, replaced with love, and only love.

“Fine. I have to get up to dance anyway.”

And dance we did. We danced in every conceivable way, and some that were probably too ridiculous to even be considered as such. We did the tango, the Macarena, and the waltz. Our lips found each other over and over until I was certain she would be sick of it. She never was. We held each other shamelessly, loved each other in excess.

But when the music lost its novelty, we still hadn’t tired of each other. In that silence, I found the strength to request the answers to things I hadn’t wanted to ask.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“Depends. Are they questions about death and dying?”

Smart as a whip.

“No, they’re questions about you,” I lied. When it was obvious that she hadn’t bought it, however, I admitted the truth. “Okay, fine. A little bit of both.”

“I’ll allow it,” she hummed before nuzzling her face further into my neck.

I considered not asking. I thought about how selfish I was being, to waste our little time together with my selfish nonsense. But the questions had been eating at me for a year, and I knew if I didn’t ask her, if I couldn’t hear her explain them to me, I would forever assume the worst.

“Why don’t you come visit me more often?”

“Ah,” was all she said at first. With a pained, tight grip on the back of my shirt, she gave her answer softly and defeated. As if she had been ashamed of the truth. “I can’t. At least, not like this. I planned very far ahead to be able to see you again.”

“Are you... happy? Being here, on Earth?”

That one took her longer to reply. When she did, though, the apathy in her voice told me more than the words she’d chosen.

“I don’t know that I feel anything about it. It doesn’t really feel like I’m here like that.”

The insecurities crept back over the happiness, bleeding through and tainting the memories that might need to last me a lifetime.

“D-Does it feel like you’re here now?” I croaked, “Do you feel like you’re with me now?”

Whether it was because she hadn’t trusted me to believe her voice, or because she couldn’t find the words to explain, she kissed me.

I accepted it as the answer because I was pretty sure I understood it, anyway. But when we pulled away, I chased after her lips. Her hands cradled my face, holding our foreheads together so we could talk without feeling too far away.

“I have one more question.”

“I know,” she whispered in a voice so pitiful, she was practically begging me not to ask.

But I had to.

“Can you stay?”

“No, Raymond,” she said through tears that started to pour down still lively cheeks, “You know I can’t. You know I would, baby. I would do it so fast, but I can’t. Please know that I would.”

Through my own heavy sobs, I choked out the only solution that felt attainable. The only thing I could think to do to make anything okay.

“Then…” the words caught on my throat, and she tried to kiss me to stop what she saw coming. But I didn’t let her.

I had to.

“Then can I come with you?”

With a knowing, devastating smile she answered, “Over my dead body.”

Together, we laughed the grief into a manageable existence. We let our tears dry because we wanted to be able to see each other as perfectly as we could for whatever time we had left.

As if she’d been able to read my mind, the way she always had even before she became supernatural, she wiped the tears from my chin as she assured me, “There is no rush, Raymond. Live your life. I’ll be there when it’s time.”

“How long will that be?” I asked, hoping that she’d have some insider information.

But even if she did, she just gave a little shrug, instead.

“I hope it’s a long time, so you’ll have a bunch of stories to tell me when you get there.”

“I’m terrible at telling stories,” I reminded her ever-so-kindly.

“You’re good at ghost stories,” she argued ever-so-smartly, “Like this one.”

I hugged her closer, unable to look her in the eyes when she proved me wrong yet again. I breathed in the scent of her exactly as I’d remembered it. I let my hands roam her back, her hair, her everything. I was shaking from the enthusiasm in my touch, but she never once complained.

Although, that didn’t stop her from commenting on the obvious.

“You’re a bit handsy for a guy touching a dead girl.”

“You know, I don’t remember you being this funny,” I squeaked in a poor attempt at self-defense.

With a feigned offense, she gasped before crying, “How dareyou misremember my greatest legacy!”

That time our laugh was nothing close to bitter. It was sweet as crystallized clover honey and milk. It did not hurt at all, and for the briefest of moments, she hadn’t been dead at all. She was alive in my arms, filling the reserves of my heart to maximum capacity once more.

I would need them to last me longer this time.

“When do you have to go?” I asked when I finally worked up the nerve.

With a lopsided smile, she answered, “Soon.”

“Will you wait until I fall asleep first?”

“Of course, my love,” she said.

There were no other words necessary. The night was quickly approaching its end, and although I knew it wasn’t a Cinderella story, I still didn’t want it to happen where she disappeared before my eyes came to rest.

So, the two of us curled up in the bed we used to share. Her body still fit so perfectly beside mine, and I wondered how it could be that my eyes fell heavy so quickly. After over a year of running on no sleep, my body was finally ready to rest.

So was hers.

“I’ll meet you in your dreams, too,” she promised me as she inspected my sleepy gaze with an unusual amount of scrutiny. Like she wasn’t quite sure she was telling the truth but would try her damnedest to make sure it happened. “Someday, I will.”

When I couldn’t stop the tears anymore, she was sure to brush them away all the same. Her eyes stayed open, and I decided that it was only fair that she would get to see me until it was time for her to go. Even if I was selfish for the extra few hours, minutes, or seconds, I would give her the chance to witness the peacefulness she provided.

“I love you so much,” I whispered for the last time.

“I love you, too, Raymond,” she returned in the same way, “I always will.”

I believed her. I would never have to wonder again.

“Go to sleep, darling,” she instructed with one more chaste kiss against my forehead.

And, in that way where I always tried my hardest to make her happy, I obeyed. I fell asleep to the sound of her voice saying that she loved me. I felt tight, greedy arms hold me until I was in the one place that always felt safe. The dreams of her and I, as we should have been.

I danced with her there, too. We held each other like a promise. We shared the simple joys of cake, Halloween soundtracks, and awkward laughter. I swore to myself that I would repeat it all over and over again so that I would never forget.

But when I opened my eyes again to see her, the day was new, and my bed was empty.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Things were going to be okay. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But that ever-elusive, always enticing ‘someday,’ we would be together again. She had basically promised me as much, and I had to believe her. She was always the smarter of the two of us. The funnier, too. I would be sure to remember that from that point on.

Breathe in, I thought to myself. But as turned to the empty chair where she’d sat, all of the air came out in a hasty, nervous laugh as I noticed half of the cake missing.

Beside the half-eaten pastry was a note, simple but sweet — just like we’d always been.

“Raymond,

I can’t wait until I see you again. Bring the best stories you can find.

I love you,

(Y/n).”

And although I cried as I read her name as written for the last time, I also had to smile at the frantically scribbled afterthought smushed into the little room left under her signature.

“P.S.” she’d written, “Bring more cake, too.”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

[de4dlyniightshade]

You got any slutty Raymond hcs mama???

so many. so so many.

sub. bite me idc.

blowjob LOVER like every man likes a bj ofc but he LOVESSSSSSSSSSS bjs bcs he gets to just put his brain in your mouth and not have to think for however long he can last(not long let's be real here)

clumsy like very clumsy sex bcs he doesn't know what he's doing but he puts his heart and soul into bless him he really tries but 9/10 times it ends with you on top fucking his brains out and using him to get yourself off.

munch!!!!!!!!! not great at it but munch!!!!!!!!!! he really does try and that's all that matters until he's accidentally edging you and you just have to grab his hair and fuck his face.

biggest himbo ever, outside the bedroom and inside, has no idea what anything means, what positions are called, names for kinks, nothing, he just likes what he likes and let's you do what you want with a dopey smile on his face.

super needy like no matter where you are if he's feeling a little frisky you're gonna know abt it and he'll make sure of it, wether he's straight up telling you or not-so-subtly pressing his cock into you.

sensitive! like super super sensitive, can't handle overstimulation whatsoever, he's immediately crying and gasping and squirming away from you.

we all know he's an ass guy ofc but like he's an ASS guy like he loves eating you from the back so he can grip your ass and even bite your buttcheek when you don't expect it bcs you never let him.

on the same lines, loves grinding on your ass, even when you're both clothed, the feeling of his cock slotting perfectly between your ass just tickles his brain just right and will make him cum embarrassingly fast.

tongue. all the time. will have his tongue in your mouth any time you kiss, he just can't help it. and licking you, sexually or not he just loves licking you.

loves when you choke him with his ascot.

the ascot stays on.

i love his ascots.

backshots with you pulled against his chest.

suuuuuppppppppeeeerrrrrrr vocal like crazy loud, so much so that more often than not you have to cover his mouth just so you don't get complaints.

will let you peg him.

loves a curvy gal. and has no shame about it. will shout it from the rooftops.

[not-that-kind-of-dr-spencer-reid]

Raymond Wadsworth - Suburban Gothic (2014)

[riotinyellow]

Great, now he'll think I'm a fan