Raw passion is everything, but so is the cooldown- and Jeff agrees. He lives by that rule and remembers every detail about you.
Even if he denies it until the cows come home.
!! J. Woods x AFAB! Reader !!
-> Aftercare with Jeff :p domestic fluff is truly my calling I fear ->
Divider by @chateaubarnes
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Jeff wouldn’t consider himself sentimental by any means, but even the harshest of storms have to settle eventually.
Inhaling slowly, he craned his neck to look at you. “You good?” Monotone, yet you knew him well enough. “Yeah, you?” He puffed at that, gaze flicking down to your thighs. He’d been rough tonight, not more than usual, but still.
Faint bruises decorated your hips, and he rolled over, nudging an arm under the pillow to face you. “Dumbass.” His insults held no weight, they never did. They filled the space for the sake of it more than anything.
The comedown was new to him- well, this kind of comedown, anyway. His hookups were always fast paced, easy stress relief, and he never stayed for the afterglow. It was too much, too exposing. He hated when people clung to him, loathed when they’d beg for him to move closer. As if he were a lover.
But they weren’t you.
It was as infuriating as it was comical. You had wormed your way into his life, refusing to budge until you broke through his guards. Like the cement walls around his heart were nothing but glass.
He didn’t understand you, and maybe that’s why he lingered. Maybe that was the reason he didn’t recoil in disgust, a cruel snarl forming on his lips when you’d curl up next to him the way you do now. Your palm lay flat atop his chest, cuddled close, with no space in between. There was no room for barriers when someone had seen you to the core.
Aftercare was a practiced skill. He learned that once you had confessed that his distance post-intimacy made you feel discarded. He hadn’t meant to pull away that night, it just got overwhelming. Yet the hurt in your eyes had him wishing he wasn’t so callous.
It was difficult at first. Hard to adjust to vulnerability. He’d never admit it, but it scared him sometimes. Loving someone was work, taking effort and care. Things that he’d grown to shove down and cast aside. Still, he tried. Swallowing his pride because if he did, you’d remain whole.
Because if he didn’t, it’d cost him everything.
“Jeff?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he glanced up. “Yeah?” The covers were pushed down a tad, duvet slipping off your legs as you shuffled onto your stomach.
“Whatcha’ thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
You cocked your head to the side, a too aware smile pulling at your lips. “Well, do you wanna’ talk about nothing?” You were annoying. He rolled his eyes. “No.” However, you weren’t one to let him slip away without a fight.
Jeff had a habit of retreating into his own head when things got ‘too real.’ So it was up to you to lure him back out, guiding him home safely if he lost sight of the path. “Are you sure?” You asked quietly, and he huffed through his nose.
Right. Communication.
A pause, then he sighed, shutting his lids like it’d hide his fears.
“When you look at me, what do you see?”
His words stunned you. More honest than you were expecting, you faltered before humming. “I don’t know, I just see you.” He scoffed, lashes fluttering open. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
You readjusted, reaching up to brush your thumb along his cheek. Mapping the scars that stretched from ear to ear. His hair was in disarray, pale skin reflecting the moonlight. The flesh near his right eye was coarse, marred from the chemical burns and the violence of his past.
You rubbed the area gently and slumped into the pillow, cupping his jaw. “I don’t categorize you. You’re just… here. It’s complicated.” He mirrored your position, flipping over, both arms beneath the cushion. “Okay?” Expectant, his pupils roamed your features. “I mean, like- you’re my boyfriend, so when I look at you, that’s what I think about.” You said, hushed.
Dropping your hand, you blinked at him while he nodded slightly. “And that’s it?” The question came out more unsure than he had aimed for, but you understood nonetheless. “If you’re still wondering if I’m scared of you, I’m not. I’ve never been scared of you.” He grunted in response.
“That’s ‘cause you’re fuckin’ weird- and your answer doesn’t even make sense.”
“Okay, then what do you see when you look at me?”
Jeff froze at that.
Shit, maybe your answer did make sense. You were just sort of there, existing. Someone with far too much patience and not enough self preservation. Somebody he searched for everywhere, in every room, in every open space, his first instinct was to find you.
It didn’t matter if he knew logically that you wouldn’t be there, his brain just did it on autopilot. He’d scan the crowd for the back of your head, strain his ears when the wind would pick up for your voice- just in case.
You were his heart, the missing piece in a puzzle he’d given up on years ago. The person he’d want to hold if the world was ending tomorrow.
He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “I don’t fucking know. An idiot?” His baritone was muffled by stuffing, and you huffed a laugh. “Wow, how romantic, Jeffrey.” The breeze rustled the leaves outside, branches tapping against your window from the current. He flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Emotions were stupid as shit.
You took the chance to crawl over him, straddling his thighs. You were both nude, no layers separating your bodies. Your cunt sat at the base of his limp cock, yet it lacked any heat. Simply skin on skin, just having proximity to feel each other.
His hands drifted to your waist, resting on the curve of your hips. “Round two?” He arched a brow suggestively, and you giggled, smacking his chest. “Stop! I’m trying to bask.” Jeff clicked his tongue, squinting at you.
“Bask on my dick? Fuck- if you wanted to try something, you could’ve just asked.”
“Shut up. You asked me to look at you and think, now I’m looking at you and thinking.”
You brought up his wrist, flattening your palms together before entwining your fingers. “You’re never allowed to fall in love again. It’s me or nothing.” Your hands swayed a little in the air, and he snorted. “Fat chance. Falling in love isn’t real, sweets.” Your boyfriend was a really bad liar when it came down to it.
He’d say pessimistic things like that while staring at you as if he’d crumble in your absence. What a loser.
“Yeah? What’s all this then?” You grinned, tugging his hand up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his scuffed knuckles. He clenched his jaw, mock scowl contorting his expression. “A shared hallucination because we both need to be put in a padded cell.” You deadpanned, offended. “You, maybe- I am perfectly stable.”
Your statement was met with a disbelieving grumble, Jeff squeezing your hip. “I gut motherfuckers, and your ass is going around telling people I’m sensitive. You’re insane, babe.” You smacked your lips together, your eyes narrowed.
“You are sensitive.”
“No the fuck I’m not?”
“Jeffrey, you drank and then got mad that I wouldn’t ‘kiss you back’ because you kept missing my lips.”
stockholm syndrome being a "rare psychological disorder" is some bullshit because I feel like it's very natural to watch a horror film and want to fuck him.
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