#tipsy tumbles

[steviewashere]

Mmmmm

"Losing My Religion" by R.E.M.

A Steddie break-up fic where Steve, hopeless romantic Steve, is in a whirlwind romance with Eddie. And Eddie who finally gets his big break and plans to leave Hawkins in the rear view. It starts slowly, just little things Steve doesn't take to heart: Eddie getting distracted in the middle of a cuddle session or a kiss or even sex, Eddie pulling away quicker (but he's still loving on Steve so he doesn't really care), maybe cancelling more on their date nights or claiming that he's got plans already made with the Corroded Coffin boys.

And then the space between them just gets bigger and bigger and bigger, and Steve is left behind in the dust. Abandoned again. He's always looking to Eddie, but Eddie's not looking back. They're arguing more. There's a knot, a strain weighing on their relationship.

When Steve begins to pull back, Eddie barely puts in the effort to keep him tethered. And Steve, gullible and hopeless romantic Steve, lets Eddie get away with it. Because any attention is better than none. Even if he's going to bed alone every night, waking up to a going cold space beside him. Even if he's biting his fist during an argument, saving the tears for a quick shower. Even if he has to choke back on his emotions, because any big outbursts he thinks will push Eddie further away. Will spiral them out farther.

But then Eddie just abruptly leaves. Leaves their life, their friends, Hawkins as a whole. And Steve has to get his number through Wayne, who thought the boys were still together.

And it's not until Eddie answers with a, "Hello? Oh—hold on, babe, somebody's on the phone," that Steve finally puts two and two together. They aren't even dating anymore. He hangs up before say anything.

Eddie's left with the distant sound of somebody breathing on the other side and the dial tone. Never to hear from Steve again.

...anyway!

[cloaksandcapes]

A magic item for use in Dungeons and Dragons 5th edition tabletop role-playing game. This is a homebrew magic item created by Cloaks and Capes.

Tumbles’ Tipsy Tonic

Consumable, rare

“A popular drink among Fey party-goers, this fruity beverage is served in a spherical fishbowl class. There are two types of liquid in it, one green in color and the other purple, that swirl around one another, but never actually mix together. The tonic was created by the famous Tumbles the Toad.”

When you drink this potion, you gain 2d10 Temporary Hit Points, one Resistance at random to Fire, Cold, Lightning or Poison damage, and you can spend 10 feet of movement to jump up to 30 feet. The effects of this tonic last for 1 hour.

You must also make a DC 14 Constitution saving throw or have the Prone condition. You repeat the saving throw at the end of each of your turns until you succeed. On a success, you roll on the Wild Magic Surge Table and create a magical effect.

[rjhpandapaws]

Hey yall, im getting drunk tonight so ask me anything!!

[xenojones]

synthwave is a good genre because it makes it easy to daydream about fictional boys fucking in the back of a nightclub

[stormwaterwitch]

You'd be the patron saint of theming; able to find the right pictures and clips, the colors and sounds to completely expand a concept from theoretical to understandable.

my brain is a jumble of gifs 24/7 and I absolutely love you and adore this patron saint claiming

[sailoraquila]

You'd be the patron saint of magical girls (and adjacent folk) and getting things published.

~Jasper

Gods the depths with which I love you are bottomless

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Car. Now. 

bob floyd x fem!reader

friends to lovers

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst with a hard smut payoff, grinding, mutual pining, backseat sex, some dom!bob energy, confessions, dirty talk, emotional climax, unprotected sex (wrap it IRL), established tension, messy hair and messier feelings.

The Hard Deck is glowing—low neon lights, sweat and summer in the air, pool cues cracking, people pressed together and laughing too loud. Bob’s laugh is the kind that rumbles low and warm, and it’s been your favorite sound for years.

You’re both a little tipsy, not drunk—just floaty. Elbows brushing. Your back pressed against his chest during that last dance. He even twirled you once. He never twirls. But you laughed, and he looked like he was about to say something—say it, finally—but then—

“Let’s play a game!” Hangman slams a bottle down on the table, eyes lit with mischief. “You know the rules. No lies. One shot for every answer you don’t give.”

You roll your eyes. “This again?”

“This always,” he grins. “Now sit down, sweetheart.”

You settle in across from Bob, who’s already watching you. You give him a wink. He gives you that little almost-smile, the one only you know.

It’s easy. Fun. Until it’s not.

Hangman squints over his drink. “Okay, Bobby-boy. Your turn.”

Bob leans back, lazy, confident. You nudge his knee under the table.

Jake grins, wicked. “I’ve seen you with her.”

He jerks his chin toward you.

“The way you hover, the way you look. So tell me. Are you two a thing?”

The table goes quiet. Even the music feels like it drops out for a second.

Bob doesn’t look at you when he answers.

“No.” He gives a light chuckle. “Never in a million years would we be a thing.”

It hits you like a slap.

You blink, forcing a smile. “Ouch, Bob.”

He finally looks at you. Shrugs. “What?”

You keep smiling, but your voice goes sharp around the edges. “You think I’m too much for you to handle?”

He sips his drink. “Nah. You’re just… not my type. I’d never go after someone like you.”

The words land like bullets. You don’t let it show.

Just laugh. “Good to know.”

You stand. The chair scrapes hard across the floor. You don’t look back as you head for the door.

“Wait—hey—wait.”

Bob’s voice follows you out the door. “Where are you going?”

You whirl on him, eyes blazing. “Home. Away from people who say shit like that.”

“What did I even say?” He throws his hands out. “It was a joke.”

You laugh, bitter. “You think that was funny?”

He frowns. “Why are you so mad?”

You blink. Once. Twice. Your voice comes out cracked:

“Because I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

You shake your head, a breathless laugh tumbling from your lips. “And now I get to live with the memory of you saying, in front of everyone, that I’m not your type. That you’d never go after someone like me.”

“Wait—” Bob steps forward. “I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean it?” Your voice breaks, loud and raw. “God, Bob. Do you have any idea what it’s been like being next to you all these years? Laughing at your stupid jokes, stealing your fries, sharing your damn bedwhen you have nightmares? You think I do that with just anyone?”

He’s stunned silent.

You sniff, eyes burning. “So yeah. I’m mad. I’m mad because I love you, and you made me feel like I was nothing.”

Bob doesn’t speak.

He just walks up to you, slow and shaking, cups your face in both hands—

—and kisses you like it’s killing him.

It’s clumsy at first—messy, furious. Like he’s trying to erase what he said with the way his mouth moves. You gasp into it, half from the shock and half from the weight of it, all the repressed tension finally boiling over.

His hands are rough when they cup your face, but they tremble slightly. Like he’s scared if he touches you wrong, you’ll disappear.

You fist your fingers in his jacket, yanking him closer. You kiss him like you’re mad at him, like you’re trying to carve the shape of your heartbreak into his ribs.

“Say it again,” you pant against his lips. “Say I’m not your type.”

He growls, mouth on your neck. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“Because if I told the truth—” He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are glassy. “If I told the truth, I’d lose you.”

You stare. “You almost did anyway.”

He groans like it physically hurts him and pulls you back in, lips crashing into yours again, hands sliding under your shirt, palms hot and rough as they explore familiar territory now suddenly forbidden.

Your jacket’s already off, somewhere on the ground. Bob’s comes next. His hands are on your waist, your ribs, gripping like he needs to feel you to believe this is real.

Then—

“Car,” he rasps. “Now.”

You don’t even make it to the backseat with any kind of grace.

The second the door slams shut behind you, he’s on you again. The dome light glows for a second then fades, and now it’s just the two of you, breathing hard in the dark, surrounded by silence and the salt air.

“Tell me again,” he mutters, pulling your shirt over your head. “Tell me you love me.”

You look up at him, flushed and vulnerable, chest heaving.

“I love you.”

He exhales sharply. “Say it like you mean it.”

You grab his jaw and kiss him again, deep and slow.

“I’ve always loved you, Bob.”

His hands slip under your thighs and he pulls you across the seat onto his lap like it’s nothing. You straddle him, gasping when you feel the hard press of him between your legs through layers of fabric that suddenly feel suffocating.

“Christ, you feel good,” he mutters into your collarbone as he mouths along it, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver.

You tug at his shirt. “Off. Now.”

He chuckles—low and dangerous—and peels it off.

Bob Floyd is all golden skin and long lines, strong and lean from years of flying, and in this low light, his pupils blown wide, he looks like something feral.

“Always thought about this,” he confesses, one hand sliding down your back to grip your ass. “Every time you stayed over, curled up next to me. You’d wake up, and I’d still feel you in my arms and have to pretend it didn’t wreck me.”

You kiss him again, slower this time. More intentional.

More real.

This isn’t just years of friendship bursting into something physical. This is everything you’ve ever wanted—everything he’s wanted—and finally getting to have it, messy and broken and so right.

The moment you grind down onto him, both of you still in your jeans, Bob lets out a low, broken sound like he’s about to lose his mind.

“God, sweetheart,” he pants, gripping your hips hard. “You’re killin’ me—”

“I want you to lose it,” you whisper against his ear. “I want you to lose it for me.”

You’re still rolling your hips over him when his control snaps.

His mouth crashes into yours again, hot and open and needy. His hands—those perfect pilot hands—are everywhere. Tugging your bra down, thumbing over your nipples until you gasp, popping the button of your jeans with one hand. You do the same to his, both of you fumbling, breathless, frantic.

The second you’re bare—panties pushed to the side, his cock springing free—you sink down on him, both of you groaning in relief.

“Fuck—” Bob’s head hits the seat behind him. “You feel like heaven, baby.”

You’re panting. Hands on his shoulders. Moving. Slow at first, because you want to savor this, then harder when you realize he can take it. Wants it just as bad.

And he talks.

“Oh, you’re so good.”

“You were never too much—never.”

“Want you like this forever, baby, just like this—”

Your nails dig into his back as you ride him, faster, needier, more desperate.

When you start to tighten around him, gasping his name, he catches your face in his hands.

“Eyes on me,” he says, voice wrecked. “Come on, Y/N. Let me see you.”

And when you fall apart in his lap, crying out his name, he wraps his arms around you and loses it too, burying his face in your neck with a deep, guttural groan.

It’s quiet, except for your heartbeat in your ears and Bob’s hand rubbing circles on your bare thigh.

“You really love me?” he asks, voice quiet, raspy.

You kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Always.”

He kisses you again—slower, softer this time. Reverent.

And in that messy little car, tangled in clothes and each other, something inside both of you finally settles.

[xoami]

MOONSTRUCK , ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 crazy over you

𖥔 PRECIS. In which, sunghoon’s feelings for you start to feel like more than he can handle… PAIRING. smitten!sunghoon x tipsy!reader GENRE. fluff, suggestive WARNINGS. skinship, mild kissing, mentions of drinking

authors note ୨୧ I have nothing to say. get into it hoon!

─────────

You were… tipsy. Sunghoon knew that much. The proof was in the flush that colored your cheeks, a vivid contrast against your bonze-toned skin.

Despite the alcohol in both your systems, it didn’t take away from the fact that his mind was reeling.

The two of you had been in attendance for Jake’s birthday trip. A small , cozy gathering at his grandparent’s lakehouse for the weekend.

After a day filled with laughter, games, and a few drinks, the group had winded down for the night.

It was late, and you and Sunghoon were the last ones still awake, sitting on the porch talking under a shared fluffy blanket. It was nice… comforting. Just the two you, sharing quiet laughs and whispered stories under the stars.

But, Sunghoon couldn’t defy the nagging urge at the back of his mind to tell you. Tell you he was in love with you, so in love that it hurt.

It had started to get chilly, and with the others already asleep, you had both decided to move inside to a guest room with two twin beds—it was the only available space left.

Too relaxed to worry about where else to go, you agreed to take up the two beds, facing each other with drowsy eyes and lingering smiles.

As time passed, still laying in silence, Sunghoon couldn’t help but begin to toss and turn with the intention of sleep. The silence that was strangely comforting before, had started to become deafening, heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, Sunghoon rolled over to face you, his breath catching as he took in the sight of you blinking slowly, eyes glazed over yet intensely focused on him.

“You know…” His voice broke the silence, low and hesitant, almost drowned by the pounding of his own heart.

“Hm?” Your eyebrows arched, your gaze still locked on his, those large, innocent eyes piercing through the darkness.

“It’s… it’s nothing.” The courage he had mustered slipped away like sand through his fingers.

“What…?” your voice was soft, the edges frayed with weariness.

“I… really, it’s nothing.”

The silence returned, thicker this time, a suffocating blanket that wrapped around you both.

“Can you sleep now…? Are you sleepy…?” he murmured, voice hushed as though even in the solitude, someone might overhear.

“Mm…” you nodded, pushing yourself up to a sitting position, rubbing your eyes with a pout that made his heart tighten.

“I think I’ll sleep there.”

Sunghoon’s heart skipped a beat, then raced ahead as you slipped from your bed and into his own with a graceful clumsiness that only you could achieve.

When you landed with a soft thud, your noses were mere inches apart, your hushed giggles mingling with his own chuckles as you adjusted yourself under the covers, and rolled over so your back was pressing against his chest.

Warmth flooded Sunghoon’s senses, as if the bed weren’t already small enough. He prayed you could feel the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat against your back…

Feel how fast it was racing. How honest would that be?

You were so warm…

“Use my arm as a pillow…” he offered, his voice barely a whisper as you lifted your head to rest on his arm.

“Why…?” you asked, your voice a breathy murmur.

“So we can be closer…” he answered, the words tumbling out in a rush, his heart still pounding.

You stayed like that, the quiet punctuated only by the sound of your breathing, soft and steady. You shifted again, clearly in discomfort, and a breathy chuckle escaped Sunghoon’s lips.

“Why didn’t you bring your pillow over…?” he teased, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you.

You glanced dismissively at the abandoned pillow on your abandoned bed before your gaze snapped back to him, piercing him to the core.

Your glassy eyes glittered under the moonlight streaming in through the window, long lashes casting delicate shadows on your flushed cheeks as you blinked slowly.

You were… breathtaking. Sunghoon’s heart constricted painfully at the sight of you.

Slowly, you reached up to smooth down your own bedhead, and without thinking, Sunghoon followed suit, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with trembling fingers.

Your eyes never wavered from his, tracing his every feature, studying him with an intensity that left him breathless.

What were you thinking? He could never tell, and as of right now… he was desperate.

You blinked slowly, your lips parting as you finally broke the thickening silence.

“Is this… not a good idea?” your voice was soft, laced with innocence yet tinged with a challenge, your doe eyes searching his own for an answer.

“No…” His voice was hoarse, his throat dry, but he kept his gaze steady on yours.

“It’s good.” He added, pulling the comforter snugly around you both.

“Hm?” you hummed, your eyebrows lifting ever so slightly in curiosity.

“It’s definitely good…” he repeated, his words barely more than a breath.

You smiled then, a fleeting, gentle curve of your lips before your expression softened once more, your eyes large and unblinking.

Sunghoon fought to contain himself, the air between them thick with tension, every innocent thought he tried to hold onto slipping away. God, you were divine.

So pretty, it hurt.

You pulled the covers tighter around your chest, your hands disappearing beneath them. Just then, Sunghoon could feel your cool, slender fingers intertwining with his.

The touch seemed almost electric, almost overwhelming, as you slowly and carefully guided his hand down the length of your body, the soft fabric of your sleep shirt barely a barrier to the heat of your skin, which felt like a burn the moment you guided his hand beneath it.

His heart thundered in his chest, anticipation and desire warring within him, but he never broke eye contact.

Your gaze dared him, testing his resolve with a demure boldness that sent shivers down his spine.

His breath caught as your hand guided his lower, fingers brushing the waistband of your shorts. He watched your expression shift ever so subtly, your lips falling open the slightest bit more, your eyes darkening with something he couldn’t quite name, and yet the innocence remained.

Your head tilted back faintly, almost in a pleading nod when he pressed his fingers down to apply pressure, his palm settling on your lower belly. 

Feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his touch, the tension in the air was almost unbearable.

Finally, Sunghoon tore his gaze from yours, letting out a shaky breath as his head fell back onto the pillow you now shared, his hand slipping from your grasp.

You watched him, silent, your chest rising and falling with a matching intensity.

You were nervous, scared…? Excited?

Sunghoon raked a hand through his hair, a pained laugh escaping his lips as he groaned in frustration, draping a heavy arm across your waist.

“(Y/n)…” he whispered, your name like a prayer on his lips.

The bashful grin on his face failed to go away, he could feel the warmth of a fresh blush dancing across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears.

You said nothing, simply turning your head away and closing your eyes, seeking solace in sleep, an escape from the tension threatening to suffocate you both.

Sunghoon lay still, staring into the dimness of the room, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

He tugged at the covers, fidgeting restlessly, squeezing his eyes shut in a desperate bid for sleep.

But the racing of his heart wouldn’t let him rest.

He sat up once more, needing air, needing water, needing…

And then, your eyes fluttered open as you looked up at him again. Without a word, you grabbed his chin, pulling him down into a kiss that stole his breath away.

Sunghoon’s heart nearly exploded, a small sound of surprise catching in his throat as he melted into the kiss, your soft hum of pleasure reverberating through him.

Suddenly you shifted, and it was Sunghoon lying on his back, your lips never leaving his until you broke away, straddling him with careful, deliberate movements, as if afraid of causing him harm.

His heart swelled with emotion as he gazed up at you, completely captivated by the girl who had just turned his world upside down.

“Did I keep you waiting…?” you whisper, expression filled with worry despite your rose dusted cheeks.

“So long… I waited so long.”, Sunghoon teased, squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs as you giggled softly and captured his lips again.

[lazysoulwriter]

Erotic and intimate - Paul Mescal.

warning: smut.

The rain falls gently outside as you step into your apartment, your heels clicking faintly on the marble floor. You feel the slight buzz of the night still lingering—tipsy from the wine, hazy from the joint you shared with friends earlier. The city lights outside your window blur into a kaleidoscope of color.

"Paauuul," you call out, your voice playful and drawn out as you drop your bag on the plush couch. You push your hair back, the faint scent of your perfume mingling with the evening air. "Where are you?" You find him sitting on the bed you share, wearing those damned shorts, his dangerously delicious thighs on full display. It's infuriating how effortlessly hot he can be without even trying. He’s thickened in a book, almost oblivious to your presence. But then he glances up, his eyes meeting yours, and a wicked smile spreads across his face.

"My dear… I didn't even hear you come in," he says, grinning wider. "How was your night with your friends? Did you have fun?" He keeps talking as he closes the book, giving you his full attention. "Why don't you come sit on my lap and tell me all about it?"

The audacity of this man. But you go anyway—it’s exactly what you wanted, and he knows it. You sit down, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Did you know you’re absolutely delicious?" you tease, laughing softly.

"Wow!" He chuckles along. "And you’re so damn sexy too, did you know that?"

You don't bother with more banter, leaning in to kiss him instead. Who has patience for this kind of conversation when this man is yours? In the middle of the kiss, your hand delicately trails down, grazing his growing arousal. As always, the sound of his low moan tells you exactly how much control you have over him. His defenses fall completely.

"You know," you start, your voice soft and teasing, "going out without you always makes me miss you so much." You slide slowly down, heading toward exactly what you both want.

His cock springs free, harder and more ready than you even imagined. "Oh… babe," he groans when you take him into your mouth.

Most of the time, Paul is completely submissive, letting himself melt under your touch, your heat, your mouth. He loves how your lips slide along his throbbing length, the way his name tumbles out in broken moans. His hand gathers your hair into a loose ponytail, so he can watch your face while you work. It's both erotic and intimate, a perfect balance.

"Baby… please… sit on me," he pleads between gasps.

"Like this?" you ask, feigning innocence with that teasing smile of yours.

"No… no! Please… with your pussy. I know it’s wet," he stammers, a mess of moans and desperation.

"Show me I’m yours," he begs.

"You’re mine," you declare, standing to strip off your clothes, his eager eyes following your every move as he adjusts himself on the bed.

"Yes, I’m yours. Fuck… I love you."

[twilghtkoo]

to be loved is to be seen.

pairings. idol!jungkook x reader

genres/aus. fluff, established relationship, idol!au

warnings. mentions of smoking and alcohol

masterlist

—

“i’m going to use the bathroom real quick.” you tell jungkook as you lift yourself off the couch. he’s quick to stand up with you but you lightly push him down, your index finger grazed against his skin from the buttons on his shirt being unbuttoned and exposing a bit of his chest.

you shake your head. “stay, i’ll be back.” you say while pulling one side of his shirt closed to hide the bareness. girls have been staring at him and trying to come up to him and it’s getting annoying.

his bottom lip is pushed out slightly, pouting before he lets you go alone.

jungkook watches you make it to the stairs until you disappear from his sight.

you’re thankful the bathroom wasn’t occupied and you could easily walk in, locking the door behind you.

anxious thoughts invade your mind. the five drinks you’ve had can’t even cloud your thoughts nor make you tipsy enough—curse your body for not being a lightweight.

jungkook’s friends had invited you two to a party and originally he didn’t want to go because you were with him and he wanted to be with you. but he barely gets to see his friends and it’s been awhile since he’s been out with them. it took a bit to persuade him but he gave in on the exception that you came. and you didn’t mind. you thought it would be fun. it was fun.

but his friends aren’t your friends and your social battery around strangers tends to drain fast. they’re nice people and all, but now you just want to go home.

this was your idea you know… yeah well, you’re gonna tough it out for him because he’s having a good time and you’re gonna do anything for him. good pep talk!

“__?” three soft knocks and his sudden voice makes you jump, realizing you’ve been standing in front of the sink, stuck in your head.

“hang on!” you shout out, quickly using the restroom and washing your hands before you step out to meet the boy on your mind.

his eyes find yours quickly, trying to decipher any changes in your body language or to read anything going on behind your orbs.

“you okay? you’ve been in there for awhile so i came up to check on you.” he asks with concern in his voice.

you try to smile but it comes out small. “yeah, sorry,” you opened your mouth to continue but nothing comes out.

a couple drunkenly tumbles up the stairs, heading towards you both but he’s quick to grasp onto your waist and move you both against the wall. the couple passes you and disappears into a room, slamming the door behind them.

both of you slowly turn your heads to look at each other with raised eyebrows and you burst into fits of laughter. him still holding onto you, as you two start to quiet down. the scent of his cologne and cigarettes permeated your nostrils, remembering him and his friends were outside smoking earlier. in the early stages of you two dating, the smell used to bother you, so jungkook had the notion to smoke outside shirtless so the smell doesn’t catch onto his clothes and to brush his teeth so he can kiss you easily. now you’re used to it.

suddenly, he’s gazing down upon you. “you tired?”

immediately shakes your head, “no.”

he lets out a deep breath and hums, sliding a hand into the front pocket of his jeans before throwing the other over your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side as he guides you downstairs.

“well i am. let’s go home.” he declares, his head turning left and right to find where his friends went while you just gawk at him.

but you don’t say nothing.

once you both reach his group of friends, they’re heads turn towards you both. “guys i’m feeling tired so we’re gonna head home.”

“what, already?”

“that’s cool, thanks for coming man.”

you released yourself from jungkook so they could bid their manly goodbyes, them also thanking you for coming and saying it was good to see you.

jungkook links his hand with yours as you both make your way out the building onto the streets. with your hand in his, he brings it up to his face and softly kisses the back of it three times.

you fondly stare at him before hanging your head as you watch both your pairs of feet walk in sync.

“sorry i made you leave early, i know you said you were tired because of me. i didn’t mean to force you to leave ‘cus i know you were having fun–“

he stops in his tracks and squeezes your hand. “baby, ever since i met you, the thought of being without you made me crazy. so what makes you think i’d want to be out without you?” he expresses, taking your face in the palm of his hands and pressing his lips against yours in a short kiss. “plus, being at home in bed with you honestly sounds really fucking good right now.”

a timid smile stretched onto your lips before you reached on your tippy toes to kiss him again. “i love you.”

“i love you, silly. now let’s go home. are you hungry, ‘cus im craving ramen and i might make some when we get home.”

“ramen actually sounds really good right now.”

it’s 3am as i finish this so enjoy another self indulgent jungkook brain rot :D the way ill be at an outing w family or friends having fun but then two hours pass and with the snap of fingers i go quiet and have a rbf and i’m ready to go home and be in bed💀 anyway likes & reblogs are v much appreciated !! stay safe and healthy <33

[foxy-eva]

Love Potion

Summary: Spencer learns that alcohol makes his girlfriend very affectionate (and maybe a little too honest) 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: (16+ for sexual content) drinking alcohol (Reader is tipsy), love confession, suggestiveness, heavy kissing, mild embarrassment

Word count: 1.2k

Masterlist

Spencer thought he knew what would be expecting him when he agreed to pick you up from girl's night. He was wrong. 

He should have known by your barely decipherable text message that you might have had a little too much fun tonight. What really gave it away though was your high-pitch scream once you saw your gorgeous boyfriend enter the bar you texted him from earlier. 

"Spencer!!" You yelled while reaching out your arms for him. "I missed you!"

You almost knocked him over once he was within reach which prompted your friends to break out in a fit of laughter. 

"Hi pretty girl," Spencer chuckled. "Having fun?"

You pressed a quick peck on his lips and giggled, "Yeah, now that you're here!" 

"I thought you wanted me to drive you home?" 

"Exactly," you agreed. "That's where the fun part starts."

A very obvious rosy shade spread over Spencer's cheeks while your all female audience began making raunchy comments. Before you had a chance to explain to them in detail what you wanted to happen once you got home, your boyfriend was quick to place his arm around your waist to lead you to his car. 

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" You slurred while Spencer made sure you were buckled up in the passenger seat. 

"You tell me quite frequently, actually."

"Because it's true! Derek is so right for calling you pretty boy. You're the prettiest of aaall the boys in the world." 

Spencer smiled at you before he started the car. "Yeah? Well, just for the record, I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

His words made you needy for more than just sweet talk. 

“Take me home before I start taking my clothes off right here,” you cooed. 

Spencer took his eyes off the road to look at you for a moment. A not-so-innocent smirk was spread over your cheeks and you noticed the rosy color on his face turning a shade darker. 

“You're going to be the end of me,” Spencer groaned.

A few suggestive comments from you later your flustered boyfriend turned into the parking lot at your apartment. You were barely inside your apartment when you swung your arms around his neck to find his mouth in a hasty kiss. Both of you almost tumbled over but Spencer managed to keep you upright with his arms around your waist. 

The taste of ethanol on your tongue was almost as intoxicating as your actions and Spencer had trouble not to give into your pleas right then and there in your hallway. It was obvious that he tried to hold back but his body gave away how much he enjoyed your enthusiasm.  

“Slow down,” he breathed against your lips, “You’re drunk.” 

“I’m just a little tipsy,” you reassured him as you pressed your body against his. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Spencer answered you with some curse words that you had never heard from him before. The pace of your actions were too much for him to grasp and suddenly he wasn’t sure if you were the only inebriated one there. Like a besotted fool he followed you to the couch where you climbed into his lap like a queen sitting down on a throne. 

“What are you doing to me?” He purred as you kissed down his neck.

“You’re smart, I’m sure you can figure it out,” you snickered before biting down on his pulse point. 

You felt his throat vibrate against your lips as a deep groan fell from his mouth. It wasn’t the first time you got to experience him that way but you were aware that the alcohol in your bloodstream made you more affectionate than usual. 

It also made your tongue loose but you realized that too late. 

“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered when your lips brushed over his ear. 

“Wh… What?”

His response wasn’t what you expected. You sat up straight to be able to look into his eyes. The gold of his irises radiated a warmth unlike anything you had ever experienced. It took you a moment to find your words again. 

“I know we’ve only been dating for a few weeks and that I haven’t said it before, but it’s true!” You began rambling in a way you usually expected from Spencer. Your lips found his in another, more chaste kiss before you repeated, “I love you.” 

It was as if Spencer had forgotten how to form words. He just stared at you with wide eyes and the sweetest smile forming on his face. 

After a few moments of silence you wondered, “Are you not gonna say it?” 

He shook his head. “I’ll tell you when I can be sure you’ll remember it the next morning.” 

That was enough for you for now. You got up from your boyfriend’s lap to lead him into your bedroom. He followed without hesitation, already suspecting that whatever you had in mind wouldn’t actually be happening. 

And he was right. The moment you lay down in your bed with Spencer’s arms securely wrapped around you, you dozed off. He gently kissed your cheek before placing the blanket over your body. 

“Goodnight, sleepy girl.”

When you woke up the next morning it took just a few seconds for you to realize that you had enough alcohol to spill the truth but not enough to forget about it. It didn’t surprise you that you didn’t find Spencer sleeping beside you, certain that you must have scared him off after your cocktails had somehow turned into love potions. 

The morning shower helped to clear your head but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. The longer you thought about it, the more embarrassed you got about not keeping your mouth in control after just a little bit of liquid courage. 

It took you by surprise to find your boyfriend sitting on your couch when you stumbled out of the bedroom. 

“You’re still here!” You squeaked and he began chuckling. 

“Where else would I be?” 

You sat down beside him and took the coffee mug out of his hand to take a sip. 

He leaned towards you to place a soft kiss on your cheek. “How are you feeling?”

You felt your face heat up when you thought about what you said last night. “Mortified.”

The amusement in his voice wasn’t lost on you when he nonchalantly asked, “And why is that?” 

You placed the coffee mug on the table to bury your face in your hands, whining, “You know why!”

Spencer placed his hands on yours to move them away from your face while he chuckled, “Oh you mean the fact that you told me you’re hopelessly in love with me?” 

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t use those exact words!”

He kept teasing you as he pulled you into his arms, “Are you questioning my eidetic memory?”

“If your memory is so perfect, you should remember what you told me then,” you reminded him before his mouth met yours. 

“I do remember,” he mumbled against your lips. 

“Yeah?” You breathed between kisses. 

He pulled back to lock eyes with you. His hand gently brushed over your cheek before he finally whispered, “I love you, too.” 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @castiels-majestic-wings @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @purpledsky @super-nerd22

[keyaho]

Heyyyyy!!! HERE ME OUT 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾. Terry x reader went out for the night and he gets a lil tipsy and by the end of the night he need dat😏😏. So so very nasty cuz he get real nasty after a few drinks🫣🫣

I Get Filthy

.summary. sanai and terry go out with their friends. between shot and music, terry let's loose, or was it all a game?

His breath was hot on the back of her neck and if it had been anyone else she would have cursed them out. Instead she was trying to push off her slightly drunk man and his wandering hands. They were in the middle of the club, bodies pressed together, while he downed another shot she had no idea he went and got. They were out with friends, celebrating a milestone for one of them and their career in medicine. She hadn't expected Terry to let loose, but when the third drink came to their table, and the two shots the flirty ass bartender passed were drunk, liquid courage filled his veins as the animal surfaced.

Currently swaying side to side, Terry had one hand on Sanai's breast, occasionally squeezing in time to the music. His thumb flicked across her nipple through the satin low cut material. 

"Terry!" She hummed, turning her head to look up at him.

His eyes were low, a little bloodshot and his full lips were parted as he breathed and sung to the music. He looked down at her and tried to wink, both eyes closing instead of one. She let out a laugh and patted his leg.

"You're drunk,' she says. "Are you ready to go home?"

Instead, Terry let her go and found his way to the dance floor, hyped up by his equally drunk friends. 

"I need that,' he grunted, ripping at her dress as soon as they stepped into their hotel suite. 

Sanai almost tumbled backwards in her heels before he caught her, hoisted her up over his shoulder, and half stumbled to the bedroom. Sanai landed with a thud and Terry began a slow strip tease as she watched. No music, but he sung the lyrics to I'm In Love With A Stripper. The last song the club had played as she tried pulling him from the dance floor to the exit. His Marine friends, along with her girlfriends had hyped him up, passing him shots because they all knew Terry didn't get this lit.

"Need what?" She said, teasing him as she pulled the straps down of her dress. 

"That pussy,' he slurred, giving her a cheeky grin. 

He dropped a knee to the bed and began a slow crawl to her. His cheeks were flushed, face slightly tinted red from the alcohol running through his veins. The was the last thing they needed to be doing. Terry was an animal any other time in bed, able to flip her up and over at his will. But drunk Terry? A demon. 

A hand grabbing her ankle pulled her from her thoughts. Terry pulled her downwards towards him and planted a long wet kiss to the corner of her mouth. Sanai laughed and adjusted his head, letting his long tongue pushed into her mouth. The kiss was nasty and wet. Their full lips smacking against each other as they took turns stripping each other down. Terry pulled his mouth away and pushed apart Sanai's legs, his dick was hard and heavy between his legs as it slipped free from his briefs.

"I've been wanting to fuck,' he starts, unable to finish as Sanai helps him by guiding his dick to her wet folds. 

She rubs his tip up and down in her wetness, coating his length as she stroked him. She knew his balls were heavy and while he was trying to balance himself she reached beneath him and cupped them, her hand massaging them as precum leaked from his tip into her palm. 

"Shit,' Terry hissed, 'let me, Nai, bay,' he stammered, his mind foggy as he tried to find the words to control the situation and her. 

"Nah, you said you need that. Let me give it to you Daddy,' she purred. "You're so drunk,' she teased.

"No I…not,' he pushed her into the bed and hoisted her legs over his arms, letting them rest in the crook of his elbow. Splayed out, Sanai reached between her legs, playing with her pussy as his hooded hazel eyes watched her. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his stomach muscles clenching at the thought of sinking into her pussy. 

So he did. 

Terry's first thrust was messy and hard. Sanai slapped her hands down on his shoulder, holding on as his hips drove forward. His thrusts were slopping and uncontrolled. The lack of coordination led to Sanai being able to push her thighs forward to drop them from his arms. Distracted, she wrapped them around his waist and flipped them over. Her hands fell on his chest, using him for balance as she began to rock her hips back and forth. 

"Let me be in control,' Sanai says, her voice even as she sinks back down on his dick. 

Terry grabs her hips, holding her for support as she rode him on her tiptoes, swirled her hips, and bounced until a white creamy mess was made between them. Terry was vocal. Panting and moaning about how tight her pussy was. How wet she was. How she wss wetting him up. Sanai reached up and grabbed his throat with one hand, his eyes shot open at her aggressive hold and she felt his dick twitch inside of her. Thick and pulsing, Terry lifted his hips, seeking out her warmth as she rode him. 

"Like a mechanical bull,' he sung, Beyonce's lyrics replacing his moans. "Fuck it,' he giggled, changing the words. This wasn't even sex anymore, this was a show. "Look at that horse, look at that horse, look at that horse,' he said, slapping her thighs each time. 

Sanai squeezed his neck tighter, he choked, and she leaned down to kiss him. 

"I'm riding my steed,' she mumbled. 

"For his seed,' he grunts out just before flipping them back over. 

Terry pushed to the hilt, his hips rotating in circles as his voice deepened. "Aight,' he said, sounding more clear than he had since before they left the house. "Playtime over,' he smacked his lips against hers, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth before biting her lip. 

He pushed his hips forwards, sinking deep into her pussy until squelching sounds fill the room. The scent of their combined sex fills the air around them, choking them both until they were gasping for air in time to his thrust. He laid on top of her, hugging her body close as he rocked his hips, pistoned them between her legs until her thighs were shaking. She could taste the hennessy on his lips, the lemon drop he stole from her lingered in the back of his mouth as her tongue explore his uvula. 

He pulled his head away just enough to whispered in her ear. 

I know my pussy creaming.

Wet that shit up for me. 

That it's baby, take it. Take it. TAKE. IT. 

Sanai was sure the people in the other rooms could hear them. The bed was smacking against the wall as she cried out for Terry to let up, his hips roughly pounding against hers. 

Tears prickled in her eyes and she turned her head into his neck, his sweat dripping onto her body as his hands wandered down to her waist. Brusingly, he held them and pulled upwards, holding her to him and impaling her on his length. 

"Terry,' she stuttered, hands going down to push at his stomach. "Please!" 

He smacked her hands away, his thumb finding her clit as he found his groove. Realization set in as they made eye contact and he winked. Bastard's alcohol tolerance was through the fucking roof. Of course it was, he was a fucking Marine.

"Nah,' he says, eyes never leaving the way his dick slid in and out of her pussy, 'you're gonna take this dick until I nut, then I'm going to fuck it back in until you do." He leaned down, the sudden push forward caused his dick to brush against her cervix, reminding her of how deep he could go if he wanted. 

"Then you're gonna get on your knees and lick all that shit up." 

Sanai's eyes rolled to the back of her head as he grabbed her chin in his hands, forcing her to look at him. 

"I've been drinkin'' he hummed.

This is exactly what Beyonce wrote the song for.

Taglist

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Insertcatchynamerighthere writingsbytee pocketsizedpanther

[luveline]

Omg I love the hot bombshell bau reader x Spencer!! Could you write a scenario with them when the team is out drinking and she’s flirting with him even more & she can take it a lil further because they’re not in work? Thank you🥰

thank you for your request! this isn't a perfect fit of what you asked for but I hope you like it! fem!reader, 1k

"Psst! Psst!" Your perfume floats his way. "Spencer!" 

Spencer turns to your whisper shouting, much less whisper than you probably mean it to be. You're as in his personal space as you can manage without falling into his lap. Luckily, the rest of the team seem to be more interested in the previously unheard story Emily's deigned to tell about a Sin to Win weekend in Atlanta, and no one turns to investigate your secret.

"What?" he asks.

"Can you get me another drink?" you whisper. You insisted on sitting next to him, your breath sharp with cherry liqueur. If you hadn't, he would've tried to make it this way anyhow.

It's not fair. You've drunk enough to get cut off and still you look so pretty, bombshell through and through —there's no other word for it. Your eyes are glittering and unsmudged despite an evening of laughter and a pitcher's worth of bourbon bombs, and they're looking at him with this weird pinching pleading that makes his stomach twist. 

"I don't think you should have anything else." 

"Spence…" You put your hand on his thigh. Not cupping it, nowhere inappropriate, just your fingertips pressed to the fabric of his pants as you twist in your seat to beg. "Please, Spencer. Please." 

He really likes you, and this tone you're using threatens to haunt him forever. Resigned, he moves your hand off of his leg and grabs your empty glasses. "A spritzer," he says, standing up from the booth. "That's it." 

"Hey, no," JJ says, her thin brows pinching as she smiles, perplexed. "She's cut off." 

"That's why Spencer's going to get it for me. He's my angel," you brag, words tipping, tumbling all over the place. 

Spencer looks at the disapproving expressions on their faces, Hotch, Emily, Derek and JJ all looking as though they learned how to frown from the same place. Only Penelope and Rossi seem encouraging. Penelope tipsy herself, and Rossi a self-professed believer in, "Living life to the fullest. Get the girl another drink, Reid." 

"A spritzer," Spencer says again. 

You smile gleefully and follow him out of your seats toward the bar. The barkeep gives Spencer a knowing look when he orders your drink but doesn't say anything when Spencer puts the change in the tip jar, which is questionable. Spencer secures your cold beverage and hands it to you, fully intending on walking you back to the booth. 

You pull him off course. He has little power in the situation, a yelp and a yank and you're dragging him toward the bar jukebox. Your spritzer paints your hand as you put it down, lips wet with it as you beam at him from over your shoulder. 

"Pick a song?" you ask. 

"I don't know if they'll have anything I like." 

"Pick one anyways." 

Spencer has to stand directly behind you to read the titles. "Why don't you pick one?" he asks gently. 

You sway. He doesn't know if it's down to the alcohol or the five seconds of music that plays as you scroll through songs. "I don't have a dollar."

Spencer laughs and gets his wallet out, handing you two dollars from the fold. "There. Pick two." 

"You're such a nice guy, Spencer, and I don't mean it like, oh, you're a nice guy, you don't mess girls around, I mean…" You fold the dollars he gave you mindlessly. "I mean, you're just nice. In the best sense of the word. You're gentle, kind…" 

You gasp, sounding pained. Spencer's hand leaps to the small of your back, "What? What's wrong?" 

"They have Out of Touch by Hall and Oates. Hold my spritzer, handsome, I need to put this on before I die." 

Derek comes looking for you both somewhere in the second play of the same song. Spencer's cheeks are bright pink, people staring in confusion at the repeat and the pretty drunk woman speaking the words. Spencer tries to flag Derek for saving, but when Derek sees the way you've wrapped your arms around Spencer's bicep, he chuckles and waves goodbye. 

You look up to Spencer eagerly. You're close enough to kiss him. "You know how to play nine ball?" 

"In theory," he says weakly. 

"Good! If I win you can buy me another spritzer, and if you win, I'll let you take me home." 

Spencer was always going to be taking you home tonight, but for a distinctly different reason. "If you win," he says, licking his lips, "I'll give you another dollar for the jukebox." 

"And if you win?" you ask.

"I'll take you home," he says slowly. "But only to take you home." 

"That's cute." 

No matter what drunken delusion you're under, Spencer does end up taking you home after a third round of Hall and Oates. You're not so drunk as to need help standing, and you manage to get to bed without help. He just wants to make sure you lock the door. 

You kiss him on the cheek, your hand behind his neck like you might turn his lips to yours. Spencer turns his face away. 

"I'm not gonna try anything, Spence," you say, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. "Just wanted to say thanks. You'll stay, right? Don't get the train." 

Spencer sleeps on your couch. In the morning he wakes to the smell of eggs fried in sesame oil and the heavy scent of hot chocolate. Oh, and you in your tiny pyjama shorts at the helm, completely untouched by the copious booze intake of the night before. "Loverboy," you sing-song. "Come on! I'm gonna sit in your lap and feed you like a Grecian emperor. It'll be fun." 

It'll definitely be something. 

[rjhpandapaws]

One of my cats just came into my room, sniffed everything and then left

[leashybebes]

I feel so mean but I want to know how Buck reacted when he opened his fridge and saw that Tommy bought CHAMPAGNE, clearly planning to celebrate...

(I like breaking my own heart, it's my biggest Tommy trait of all...)

ohhhh that IS mean, i love it.

When Tommy walks out - again - Buck just stands for a long moment, once again wondering how things between them can be so, so good, and then can go south so fast. Because he's pretty sure Tommy was going to stay, long enough to eat breakfast at least, and then longer than that. And then Tommy said something really fucking stupid, and Buck said something really fucking mean and then - then he was just gone.

God damn it.

Not quite sure what else to do, Buck picks up the coffee Tommy had poured for him and takes a sip. Perfect. It's perfect. It's been months, and Tommy can still make Buck's coffee just like he likes it. It feels like it should mean something, but - but Tommy's not here. Maybe that's who he is - maybe that's as much as they'll ever have. Shallow moments of connection that feel like they mean more. Incredible sex. Talking past each other until they hit on a soft spot too painful to process properly, and Tommy walks out.

Tommy's always leaving, and Buck's always being left, and he's suddenly so, so tired.

The breakfast that had smelled so good when Buck first registered it holds no appeal. He tries a slice of bacon anyway, because he hates wasting food, and just like the coffee it's perfect. Just like the coffee, the perfection feels unearned and unstable and like it's just begging Buck to read too much into it. When he'd walked into the kitchen and seen Tommy, tired but gorgeous in the soft morning light, when he'd seen the veritable feast laid out across the worktop, he'd been rocked right off his feet and back into their six months together. Felt spoiled and adored and looked after and like it meant something. 

Fuck it, though, he thinks to himself. Maybe it just meant Tommy was hungry. They sure did wear each other out last night. He gathers up the fruit, the bagels, transfers the hot food to a single dish, digs out some saran wrap from one of the boxes Tommy had half unpacked and moves mechanically, covering plates and dishes to keep the food fresh even though he already knows there's almost no chance he'll be able to choke any of it down without seeing Tommy's ghost in the edges of his vision, filling up the kitchen of Buck's new place with missed opportunities, just like he did to the old place.

When the food's condensed and covered, it feels less meaningful. It's just leftovers. God, it's all just leftovers.

Buck opens the fridge to start putting things away and almost drops a plate. 

Because there, in his empty fridge, is a bottle of champagne. He stares for a long, long moment, but it doesn't go anywhere. Doesn't transform itself into a less obvious drink, doesn't magically become a bottle of juice or a carton of milk.

Tommy went to the store and must have paid well over the odds, because that place a few roads over is probably as far as he could have gone, and it's daylight fucking robbery in there, and he bought champagne.

There's no way, Buck thinks, feeling hopeful and heartbroken and angry and confused and regretful and desperate and like he's missed a step in the dark again, there's no way that means nothing.

It means Tommy lied about having a shift. It means Tommy wanted to celebrate. It means Tommy thought they'd have something to celebrate. It means they probably would have tumbled back into bed a couple hours from now, well-fed and a little tipsy. It means Tommy didn't want to leave. 

It means he left anyway, leaving pieces of himself behind like he always does.

Buck takes a breath, moves the bottle aside, and starts loading up the fridge.

[honeyslibrary]

thinking about drunk quinn

I feel like Quinn gets like, clingy drunk. Like when he’s drunk he’s emotional and clingy and annoying in the most adorable way 😭 (lowk not represented in this though I was just writing idk) -Honey

It’s a little after midnight when Quinn stumbles into your shared room, his silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. The faint smell of smoke and beer clings to him—remnants of the night spent with the boys around the backyard fire pit, their voices and laughter echoing long after you’d slipped away. You’d retreated an hour ago, completing your nightly skincare routine before sliding into bed, letting the familiar comfort of Sex and the City drown out the muffled sounds of their conversations.

The door clicks shut behind him, and he leans back against it, a crooked grin on his face that tells you everything you need to know. He’s drunk. Not the tipsy, half-lit version of Quinn you’re used to seeing on rare occasions, but properly drunk—the kind that has him swaying slightly, his head tipped back like the ceiling might steady him. He rarely drinks. Never during the season. Even in the offseason, it’s only the occasional buzz, just enough to relax. But tonight, it seems, was an exception.

You glance away from the TV, your eyes trailing over him. His cheeks are flushed, a faint pink spreading from the cold air outside or maybe from the beer warming his bloodstream. He meets your gaze and grins wider, his lopsided charm cutting through the otherwise ungainly way he’s standing.

“Hey there, killer,” you say, an amused tilt in your tone.

The laugh that tumbles out of him is unrestrained, airy, like he’s been holding onto it for too long. He lets it echo around the room before it fizzles out, leaving him breathless but grinning. For a moment, he just stays there, one hand braced against the door, like he’s trying to hold himself together. Then he pushes off it, his steps uneven but determined as he makes his way to you.

When he flops onto the bed beside you, the mattress dips under his weight, and the smell of him—beer, smoke, just a hint of cologne, and the crisp winter air—wraps around you. He buries his face in the pillow for a second, mumbling something incoherent before turning his head to look at you. His eyes are bright, glassy, but there’s a tenderness in them that’s unmistakable.

“Hi, baby,” he says, his voice low and affectionate, the words soft but warm enough to spread through your chest like the coziest blanket.

You shift, propping yourself up on one elbow, your head resting lightly on your hand. Your free hand finds its way to his hair, fingers slipping through the soft, dark strands. He shuts his eyes the moment you touch him, like the simple motion is enough to quiet the world around him. A faint, lazy smile tugs at his lips, and you feel him exhale, his whole body softening as if he’s giving in to some invisible weight he’s been carrying.

He leans into you instinctively, his body inching closer like its second nature. The space between the two of you disappears as he buries himself deeper into the warmth of the bed and the comfort of your hand.

For a moment, you wonder if he’s already falling asleep, but then his eyes flutter open again. They’re slightly unfocused, still hazy from the alcohol, but there’s a warmth in them that makes your heart ache a little. His gaze drifts lazily around the room, as if he’s piecing together where he is, until it finally lands on the glowing screen of the TV.

“What’re you watching, baby?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, the words slurred just enough to make you smile.

“Sex and the City.” You murmur, keeping your voice quiet like you don’t want to break the spell of the moment.

“Ah, I should’ve known,” he says with a lopsided grin, his laugh bubbling up almost before he’s finished speaking. It’s a carefree, loose kind of laugh, the kind you don’t hear from him often, and it fills the space between you like a favorite song you haven’t heard in a while.

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes flicking back to you. “How many times have you seen it now?”

You smile, shrugging. “Enough to know Carrie’s about to make a terrible decision in this episode.”

He chuckles again, his head sinking further into the pillow. “That’s, like, every episode.”

“Exactly,” You agree, dragging your fingers through his hair again, this time scratching lightly at his scalp. His smile widens, and he lets out a contented hum, the sound vibrating against the quiet hum of the TV.

“You’re too good to me,” he mumbles, his voice trailing off as his eyes grow heavier. The words are simple, but the way he says them—low, honest, and just a little slurred—makes something stir in your chest.

“I know.” You hum, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek.