I Need To Kiss His Forehead, Smooth Out His Furrowed Brows, Tell Him It's Gonna Be Ok, Play With His

i need to kiss his forehead, smooth out his furrowed brows, tell him it's gonna be ok, play with his hair, caress his face, wipe his tears away, tuck him into bed, have him take a nice warm shower, use face masks on him, make hermes pay, take him to therapy, make him lunches, enroll him into college with me, bandage his wounds, compliment his arms, reassure him his scar isn't ugly, introduce him to taylor swift and boy genius, read him bedtime stories, bake brownies with him, visit his mother with him, prove the prophecy wrong, tell him he's doing great sweetie, get him away from kronos, fight kronos, help him mend things with annabeth, hold him close while he vents, encourage him to explore other hobbies, be his support system

{Marya Hornbacher from Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia//stay away but come closer via Altusboy on Tumblr}

can’t fucking sleep without you - elliot

Pairing: elliot x reader

Summary: when elliot can’t sleep, you come up with a new idea to make him relax

Warnings: smutt, handjob, mutual pining, cute elliot

Words: 1,2k

A/N: idk just wanna sleep next to him

——🕊

It’s a Sunday night, end of spring break. You are at Elliot’s as usual, both of you bitching about how awful school is gonna be once you get back.

His hand rakes through the bleached curls on his head, looking intently at your features while you babble about some drama he doesn’t really care about. Despite that, he nods continuously and raises his brows in surprise whenever you tell him something new. Your voice is soothing to him, that plus the weed helps calm down his racing thoughts.

The rain is pouring down, tapping softly against the windows in his room, the sky painted a dull gray with a splash of moonlight shining through.

You eventually stop talking, checking your phone to see the time. “Shit, it’s getting late, gotta catch some sleep before school,” you say, ending it with a tired sigh.

“You could just stay over,” he suggests casually, a plectrum balanced between his teeth afterwards.

“I need my stuff to get ready and shit,” you snicker, thinking he was mostly joking.

“Yeah forget it,” he mutters, tilting his head while simultaneously averting your eyes. Is he disappointed?

You and Elli have been having sleepovers through most of the break. It always ends in a heated make-out session, but you always retreat when it turns into more. You aren’t the most experienced, and the thought of doing something wrong or embarrassing yourself in front of Elliot is enough to make you back out, despite how much you want it. Want him.

“I just mean like clothes n’ makeup you know.” You shrug, automatically defending yourself because of his tone.

“You can borrow my clothes. You don’t need that makeup shit,” he says, eyes still averting and shoulders slack like he’s purposefully trying to look like he doesn’t really care.

It makes you bite the inside of your cheek. He wants you to stay. “Okay. Cool.” You reply, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“Cool.”

He’s smiling up at the ceiling.

——🕊

You are laying next to him on the bed, wrapped in three different coloured blankets and one of his t-shirts. Hugging it close to yourself, you lett his scent invade your mind. It’s dead silent except for Elliot’s tossing and turning. You had said goodnight around 15 minutes ago but he hasn’t stayed still for more than a second. The bud is wearing off, and you aren’t really there to distract him anymore. It’s just him, his thoughts and the dim table light in his room. The wind is howling outside, making the corners and crevices of the house creak. Every sound is amplified, he felt constricted in his skin and he wants to touch yours. The rain is infinitely crescendoing into nothing; he feels like he’s going mad.

You turn around, looking through hooded, tired eyes at the boy before you. Legs are kicking around to adjust the blanket, arm under his head for support. His jaw clenches and unclenches in a rythm, and you figure he’s playing a song in his head.

Maybe this is the moment. Your opportunity to do what you’ve wanted, without doing it wrong. He could use a little wind down to sleep, you think.

Subtly, your body moves closer to his and slender fingers touch his bare stomach, feeling the muscles convulse under your unexpected touch. His head snap to yours, distracted brown eyes looking right at you. Without moving your gaze from his, you slide a hand downwards, feeling the ridges of his muscles and the dust of dark hair that leads underneath his sweatpants.

“What are you doing?” He whispers, craning his neck to look down at where your hand is toying with the hem of his pants. His tongue darts out to lick his lips quickly, pupils blown at your actions.

“Wanna help you sleep,” you say gently, as to not break whatever spell of confidence that has washed over you. He breathes out heavily in a near gasp as your hand slips under his sweatpants. You wait a minute there, hovering over him. In response, his hips buck up into you, trying to feel your grip around him.

Smiling softly at that, it silently confirms that he wants you, and so you grasp his dick carefully. He lets out a breath through his nose, throwing his head back into the pillow. Squeezing him slightly, you feel him hot and heavy in your hand. Never have you touched like this, but the scenario plays like a movie in your head everytime you try to sleep. Pulling him out of his confines, you quickly retract to spit into your hand. You stroke him experimentally, feeling the veins and ridges in your palm.

His moan is low and vulnerable, eyes closed in concentration. “Need this. N-need you” he mutters, feeling the pleasure spike through him as your nimble hand wraps around his dick. He needs nothing more and nothing less than this.

Your lips find his chest, gently pecking the skin there and nibbling on it while you swipe your thumb over his head, dragging the pre-cum with you to make it wetter. He bucks his hips again at the feeling, and you hear the sheets crinkle as he grabs them tightly in his fists.

“Is this good?” You ask almost nervously, continuing to move your hand up and down, twisting your palm around the tip.

“Uhuh” is all he can say, too focused on finally feeling you on him, the friction of your wet hand around his dick.

“Can’t fucking sleep without you” he says, voice cracking into a moan when you squeeze him harder. He doesn’t know it’s involuntary though, but his words sends a shiver down your spine, a heat consuming your skin.

“M’ right here” you say to comfort him, lips a whisper over his collarbone before you lick along it, your hand speeding up. He curses, running a hand over his face before reaching back to grip the pillow behind his head tightly. Sensing that he’s close, you sit up to use both your hands, working him faster and faster.

His stomach tenses, body arching into you as he lets out a ragged, exhausted moan, releasing over your hand. His hot, sticky cum coats your skin, as you keep stroking him through it.

You take your hand up to your lips, tongue darting out to taste what’s running over your fingers. With wide eyes, he observes you tasting him, his chest sinking and rising heavily at the sight. ‘Fuck’ he sighs. Sighs at the way you always manage to amaze him in some way. You fumble for a tissue to wipe your hand and his skin.

He stays silent as you crawl up next to him, pulling the blankets with you to cover both your bodies. He stretches out his hand for you to lay on, and you gratefully accept the offer to cuddle into him. He’s burning hot, still calming down from his orgasm. Your head rests on his chest.

“Always wanted to do that” you admit, biting your lip. When he doesn’t reply, a cold feeling settles in your gut. Was that too much?

But when you look at him, you chuckle.

His eyes are closed, only the two x’s on his eyelids showing, his plumb lips are softly parted and his breathing is slow.

“Goodnight, pretty boy.”

halloween celebrations with spencer reid <3

its september, i can officially post fall/ halloween content

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

wyd if i start writing pjo fics

"Poetrusic", by Charlie Dalton

Laughing, crying, tumbling, mumbling,

Gotta do more, gotta be more

Chaos screaming, chaos dreaming

Gotta do more, gotta be more!