#frouse x reader

⠀ ⠀ minors 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 enter⠀𓂅⁩ ۫ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ִ ⊹ beauty marks ; 𝓔𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝⠀࿐ ׂ  ⠀ ©⠀𝒇𝖺𝗐𝗇𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾⠀᭝⠀2026.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀wc,⠀196%.

jaime squirms each time you place your lips on his skin, leaving behind smeared up chapstick kisses over the many, dainty beauty marks that litter his body.

his hands will twitch at your sides, fingertips shyly brushing against your shirt, threatening to pull you closer and into something more. a warm flush will coat his skin, his face completely heated as it spreads downward, slowly blooming across his body.

a tent would gradually grow in his pants the further down you take your lips, begging to be set free the closer you get. but you’re a tease. you’d make your way back up, placing a longer kiss to the small brown dot just below his collarbones, sitting right where his chest starts. then you’d continue your journey back up to his face.

he’d whine your name against your lips as you kiss him, your chapstick hydrating his cold ones—having dried up from his mouth hanging open in the air. jaime would finally grab onto you, fully pulling you into his lap, and setting you on top of the bulge you created, mumbling about how much you affect him as his movements against your mouth get sloppier.

Your head hurt. Like, stake through your forehead hurt.

Migraines were never fun, but especially not when you were trying to stream so that your audience had their bi-nightly entertainment.

The guys didn't help much, given that they were always loud. The screaming match over whatever stupid steam game Smitty convinced you guys to download was too much when combined with the light from your monitor.

You'd been falling more and more quiet for the past hour, now barely talking at all, just moving your character around and trying to get through the session. Ideally, you'd be done soon and able to curl up in bed with no light, no sound.

Just your blanket, water bottle, and weighted eye mask.

Pure heaven for a migraine.

"How many more times am I going to fucking fall!" Matt screamed. The rest of the guys began laughing, sending another spike of pain through your skull.

Puffer and Pezzy both began making fun of him, Droid and Smitty both cackling in the background. When your phone buzzed on your desk, you ignored it at first, just locked in on your own character.

But then the device buzzed again, more insistent. With a small huff through your nose, you picked it up, squinting at the light.

You okay?

You're really quiet.

As you read them, a third text came through. This time, a gif of a concerned bear. That one had your lips quirking up into a ghost of a smile.

Migraine. The yelling isn't helping.

Do you need anything?

Just for this session to end.

You looked back up to your monitors, scanning chat for a moment, most of your viewers asking if you were alright or why you were so quiet. For a rare moment, you ignored them, going back to moving your character through the map, doing your best to just beat the damn game so you could go to bed.

Without warning, your office door creaked open, footsteps coming closer. On instinct, you muted yourself and turned to see Nelson standing behind you, holding one of his hoodies out.

Slowly, you stood and took it from him, sliding it over your old Nirvana shirt. The fabric swallowed you and it was just as comfortable as you knew Nelson had been hoping.

"Thank you," you mumbled. "I'm ready to go to bed."

"You should go ahead and get off for the night," he whispered. One of his hands came up to cradle the side of your face, his eyes softening with worry as you pressed your cheek into his palm.

"I feel bad leaving before we beat the game. We're so close to the end."

He shook his head, a sigh falling from his mouth. "If you don't get away from the screen and the noise, it's just going to get worse."

"I know," you told him, "but I just...I did really want to play this one. I was looking forward to today's stream. I can't give up a stream day."

"You can if it's for your own health." His thumb traced across your cheekbone, your eyes closing at the comfort in the gesture. "Come on. Let's get you to bed. We can try again another day, alright?"

"Okay," you whispered. "Okay."

"Good." He leaned forward to press a careful kiss to your forehead. "I'm getting off, too. I'll make you some tea for bed."

"You don't have to." Your eyes opened again, meeting his. "You can stay on with the guys for a while longer."

"Not when I need to take care of you." Your smile grew a little despite the ache in your cranium.

"You're so sweet it's sickening."

"You love it, though."

"I do." You leaned forward into his chest, giving him a hug. "Alright, I'll close out. See you in five?"

"Hopefully less."

The guys, as always, were understanding about you leaving, though you heard them start to tease Grizzy when he said he'd be leaving, too. You talked to your chat for a minute, explaining why you'd gotten so quiet and why you were getting off, apologizing for the short stream.

By the time you were done, Nelson was already in your guys' bedroom, a cup of your favorite tea on your nightstand next to your filled water bottle and eye mask.

(In honor of 2/9 Wives coming home and the holo cards~)

⠀──⠀𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁⠀;

⠀᭝⠀elasticdroid ✶ fem!reader ࿐

꒰ 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁 ꒱⠀est. relationship, blowjob during a livestream, forced silence, mentions of a horror game.⠀⠀⠀wc,⠀604%.

⠀©⠀𝒇𝖺𝗐𝗇𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾⠀᭝⠀2025.

‿ ᭝ ۫ ⠀TEXTS WITH SUPERMAN!DROID 💥 ᩚ ⠀꒱

꒰ 𝗺𝗱𝗻𝗶 ꒱⠀est. relationship, reporter!reader.⠀ 𝄢 .

⠀©⠀𝒇𝖺𝗐𝗇𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾⠀᭝⠀2025.

Somehow, you never got used to it.

Three years into a relationship with Grizzy and it still caught you off guard every time you saw it.

That little furrow of his brow when he was concentrated on anything, only to turn into the brightest, most adorable smile you'd ever seen. The way his cheeks looked downright pinchable, the way his eyes crinkled, the absolutely jubilant laugh that spilled out seconds later.

It always made you want to just grab his face and squish it.

It didn't matter if you were watching stream from a different room of the house and sitting in as a mod, sitting in a chair or on the floor in his office, or even just out and about on a date or with any of the guys.

You always wanted to slap your hands against his cheeks and just keep them there.

You'd heard the term before. Cuteness aggression. Usually, it was in the context of seeing a puppy or a kit and just getting so overwhelmed with how adorable they were that you'd want to squeeze the life out of them.

Arguably the strangest evolutionary phenomena around but one that attacked you on the daily.

And now, in your usual chair next to Nelson in his office, half on your phone, half watching him play another one of Smiity's stupid stream games, it struck again.

The way his whole face lit up, the sound of his laugh making your chest burst.

It was irresistible.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you'd pushed to your feet and clapped your palms against his cheeks, accidentally forcing him into a fish-face as you made him look at you.

He just stared at you as you returned it, your brows furrowed, his face still absolutely glowing with that grin.

"Yes, baby?" His voice was soft. Amused. Even if you didn't do this often, he knew exactly what it was about.

"You're too cute sometimes," you muttered. It only made him laugh again, pushing that cuteness aggression even further until you were borderline glaring at him, hands still presses against his face, leaning closer until your nose was nearly brushing his. "It's unfair."

The way your glare shifted into a pout only made him laugh harder, one of his hands finding your waist and giving a soft squeeze.

"You do know I'm still on stream, right?"

"Well aware."

"Chat can hear you."

"Chat knows exactly what I'm talking about." A glance only confirmed your words, the chat scrolling by almost too quick to read, but a few that you caught were agreeing with you. Others were calling your reaction cute, despite the way you were clinging to Nelson's face.

"Puffer says that you're ridiculous."

"Puffer can shut it."

The rest of stream, your chair was pulled closer to his, your fingers jumping up to pinch his cheek any time he laughed, which started the cycle all over again.

Yeah, even three years later, it still hit you hard. Maybe even harder than before, but Nelson loved it.

Pezzy wouldn't let you do anything yourself. You were moving into his house with him, afterall. You're his princess, why would he let you do any manual labor?

He insisted on moving as many boxes as he could for you so that you could just stand around and watch. It was cute but frustrating. Especially when he brought in your gaming setup and began putting it together himself.

As much as you loved him, you could do it yourself. And you preferred to do it yourself.

It was your stuff, to be fair, and he already did so much for you. You just wanted to be able to piece it all together like you'd done in your last place.

But, to also be fair, it was really cute to see him under the desk on his back as if he were checking the undercarriage of your car rather than trying to organize all your cables so that your feet wouldn't get caught in them. It was like he was your desk mechanic. Your personal handyman.

"You know," you huffed, "I can do this myself."

"Yeah, but I like doing it for you," he said. He was mostly hidden under your desk from where you sat in your chair (which he'd also put back together for you), legs and arms crossed.

"I appreciate it, babe." And you did. But the rest came out as well. "But it is my setup. I can do it."

He peeked out at you, giving you those oh-so-familiar puppy dog eyes that always had you breaking. "I just want you to be able to relax."

"I've been relaxing all day because you won't let me touch anything." In spite of your pride you were pouting. Rightfully so but still. You didn't like pouting because it made him baby you more. "I just want to do something."

"I let you unpack the boxes," he argued.

"Yeah. And then you took whatever I unpacked and put it away."

"Not your clothes."

"Because we haven't touched those yet." It went quiet for a moment. "Max, I know you wanna help but it's more than helping when I'm barely allowed to touch my own stuff."

"You said we could do it together, though."

"Yeah. Together. Not the princess sitting by useless and pretty."

He rolled out from under your desk and sat on his knees, hands reaching out to grab your own, uncrossing your arms. He kissed one of your palms, muttering against it. "I like it when you sit pretty."

Your face flushed, fire dancing its way down your throat. "That's-I-Don't distract me! I'm supposed to be annoyed with you!"

He gave you a shit-eating grin. "I know. Let me be your hands while you sit there and be my lovely distraction and motivation."

"Not sure I can be both at the same time."

"Oh, trust me, babe, you have been all day." He kissed your palm again before getting up to leave the room. "Come on, I need to get another box and I need my supervisor around to make sure I get the right one."

With a roll of your eyes you followed him, confirming that it was the right box even though it was labeled in thick sharpie. You trailed uselessly after him but the annoyance was no longer there.

Just love for the man in front of you.

As much of a little rat he was, he was yours. And to be fully honest, none of your previous partners had treated you as well as he does. He may not have been perfect, he may be annoying, he may drive you up the wall and the pull you right back down by dumping his cat in your lap to soften your resolve, but he was a perfect fit for you.

"So can I finish my own setup now?"

originally, you joining him in the studio had been a here and there thing. another way for you guys to spend time together while working. he'd record with his friends or-like now-paint while you did your own thing in the corner of his office.

sometimes you'd be reading, sometimes working on your own art project, sometimes actually working and typing away on your laptop, or even just talking with him while he painted.

then, the sessions became more common.

you guys had been dating for over a year. your time began to meld together, activities combining, until you two did virtually everything together.

and when he wasn't chatting with you, you'd normally be locked in on separate things.

it's how today had started. like normal, you'd brought your laptop into his office and sat in your usual spot to get some emails done. once those were taken care of, you did a few project pieces before picking up your current book.

by that time, he'd gotten off the session and started painting.

before long, your book began to bore you. it didn't happen often, but every now and then it did. your attention just wasn't in it or the story wasn't all that interesting or-god forbid-the writing just wasn't that good.

tonight it was the first. your attention just wasn't on the book.

but john was still painting.

still working away, sweeping the brush across the canvas, mixing paints. all while pulling that little "concentration face" that you'd once made fun of him for.

slowly, your book fell into your lap and you just watched him work. with music playing in the background, you fell into just as much of a trance as him.

watching his hands move so intentionally, watching the cute scrunch of his face as he focused, seeing the piece come to life bit by bit. his flow and he himself were just...entrancing.

until he caught you.

"you know," he chuckled, "it's hard to focus when i can feel your eyes on me the whole time."

your face erupted in flames, mouth opening and closing like a damn fish. "i'm just admiring your art."

"only my art?" he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. you could see the twitch of his lips, though, as he fought off a smile.

"shut up," you groaned. your head thunked against the wall behind you, making him laugh fully. "you're cute when you're focused, okay? is it a crime to watch my boyfriend do something he loves?"

"no. just distracting." you peek at his cheeky grin, grumbling again. "don't worry, i think you're cute for it, too."

"oh, shut up," you whined. but now you were smiling, too.

sometimes getting caught wasn't so bad. especially when it led to him having you perch in his lap so he could guide your hands through the brushstrokes instead.

that shared painting now hung above your guys' bed, highlighted for you to see every day.