#I wanted to try and get to the rest of the asks that were in my inbox before I slept
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I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.
The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.
So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.
My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.
This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.
My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.
Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”
That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.
We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.
The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.
I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️
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The Noble Daughter
Viktor x fem! reader / wc. 1.5k
synopsis: You are the daughter of a influential noble house. And Viktor is your little secret.
warnings: 18+, smut ofc, getting caught, him whimpering, soft sex 🫶🏼, reader getting eaten out, switch lean sub! vik, fingering
there might be some mistakes… -.-
[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned <3
Every shadow and flicker seemed to embrace the secrecy of your meeting, cocooning you in a world that was just yours and his. Viktor turned at the touch of your hand on his shoulder, his amber eyes widening in surprise before they softened, filled with a mixture of longing and tenderness that made your heart ache.
"You shouldn't be here," he murmured, his voice low and gentle, laced with both worry and desire. But his hand found its way to your waist, as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting you go.
"I had to see you," you whispered back, lifting a hand to his cheek, fingers grazing the roughness of his stubble. He leaned into your touch, and before either of you could say another word, his lips met yours.
The kiss started soft, hesitant, but soon grew with a fierce urgency. Viktor's hands moved to your waist, pulling you close, as if he needed to make up for every second you'd been apart. He broke the kiss only to breathe, his lips brushing over your cheek, your jaw, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched. You leaned back against his worktable, the cool metal pressing into your back.
With a glance up at you, Viktor lifted the edge of your blue dress, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your thigh. The contact of his hands sent a shiver up your spine. His gaze flickered up, silently asking permission, and at your nod, he continued, his hands guiding you, exploring every curve with a careful reverence.
"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice gentle, his eyes searching yours, filled with both longing and concern. "I don't want you to feel..."
"Viktor," you murmured, sliding a hand along his jaw, tilting his face so he could see the determination in your eyes. "I’m in desperate need of your touch."
He bit his lip and with a shaky breath, Viktor nodded. His eyes never leaving yours as he positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your waist. He entered you slowly as he filled you inch by inch. This is what you were yearning for. His eyes were shut close trying to suppress his sounds, however here and there a whimper would slip through.
Each thrust was met with the wet, quiet sounds of your bodies slapping against each other, amplifying every sensation in the silence of the lab. All you could hear was the wet squelching sounds you’re pussy made as he continued to fill you.
As he moved, Viktor's hands slid under your thigh, lifting one leg to rest against his hip. The new angle sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you bit down on your lip to keep from crying out, your nails pressing into his shoulders.
Viktor's breath grew heavier, his forehead pressing against yours as he tried to hold back his own sounds. His gaze dropped down between you, watching where you were joined, the sight sending a shiver through him that made him let out a quiet whimper, his grip tightening on your thigh.
He began a slow, steady rhythm, each movement creating soft, wet squelching sound that continued to grow rapidly. The intimacy of it, the restraint you both held, only made the tension coil tighter. Viktor's gaze was intense, filled with both wonder and awe as he watched the way your bodies moved together. "I never thought..." he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "You're... everything I dreamed of."
You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a breathless kiss, muffling both your gasps as he quickened his pace. The sounds between you grew louder, the wet, rhythmic noises blending with the quiet hum of the lab, filling the space with a symphony meant only for the two of you. Every motion, every shift, was precise, Viktor's movements guided by both his passion and his care for you.
The tension built, coiling tight as Viktor's restraint began to slip. His breaths came in shallow gasps, and his eyes met yours with a look so full of longing, of devotion, that it nearly undid you. You clung to him, burying your face against his shoulder to stifle the moans that threatened to escape, your body moving in time with his, caught up in the quiet, forbidden passion.
With a quiet, trembling sigh, Viktor buried himself fully, his own quiet whimpers echoing softly in your ear as he felt you shudder around him. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining, grounding you as the last waves of pleasure washed over you both.
In the stillness that followed, Viktor pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, his hands still resting at your waist, as though he couldn't bear to let go. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice full of awe and tenderness. "For loving me... for being here."
Moments have passed since you have reached your first organism and you were still on the table. As the quiet settled over the lab, Viktor held you close for a few lingering breaths, his forehead pressed gently against yours. But soon, the intensity in his gaze softened, replaced by a tenderness that left you breathless.
With a quiet reverence, he carefully knelt before you, his hands resting on your thighs. He was weary to not hurt himself which would cause him more pain on his limp leg. Viktor’s golden eyes met yours as he slowly lowered himself, his expression filled with something almost worshipful. He pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee, then to your thigh, each touch lingering as though he was committing every inch of you to memory. His lips moved higher, grazing over your skin with soft, open-mouthed kisses that left a warm, tingling trail in their wake.
Your breath hitched as his mouth moved closer towards your pussy, the intensity of the moment making your heart pound.
Viktor's metal fingers traced along your thigh, the coolness of his touch a delicious contrast to the heat he was leaving with his lips. His long, slender fingers followed the curve of your leg, slipping inside your walls with a grace that was gentle. You felt his thumb press softly against your skin, steadying you, while his other hand reached up to rest at your waist, grounding you in the moment.
The coldness of his metal hand sent a shiver through you, heightening every sensation, and he seemed to notice, a slight smile tugging at his lips. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a hint of mischief in his gaze. "Still alright?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern, but his tone held a knowing warmth.
You managed a nod, your hand reaching down to thread through his hair, tugging him slightly closer. His lips quirked into a soft smirk before he returned his focus to you, pressing another kiss to your folds. His mouth moved with a slow, deliberate patience. His kisses growing bolder and deeper, as his tongue darted inside you.
Viktor's metal fingers traced light patterns along your skin, each touch careful, his control a testament to his dedication. As he moved higher, his thumb pressed gently along the inside of your thigh, guiding you open for him with a mixture of care and desire. The coolness of his touch, combined with the warmth of his lips, sent tremors through you that you could barely contain.
His mouth hovered near your folds, his breath warm against you, but he paused, looking up with a gaze full of tenderness. "You're... beautiful," he whispered, his voice barely a murmur, as though he was confessing a secret.
Before you could respond, his lips finally met your pussy, a quiet, reverent kiss that left you dizzy. His metal fingers continued their journey, a gentle, precise touch that sent waves of sensation through you, heightening every nerve. He took his time, savoring each reaction, each shiver, his mouth and hands working in tandem as he explored, worshipping every part of you with a devotion that left you breathless.
As his cool fingers reached deeper, finding your sensitive spots. His mouth followed, leaving soft, lingering kisses that melted any remaining restraint. The contrast of his cold touch and the warmth of his mouth created a rhythm that had you gripping the edge of the table, biting down on your lip to keep from crying out.
Viktor's pace quickened, his cool fingers moving with a newfound intensity. Each motion was calculated yet filled with passion, his gaze flickering between his hand and your face, drinking in every reaction, every quiet sound you made. His metal fingers, precise and deft, moved inside you at a pace that left you breathless, teetering on the edge as he guided you closer with each stroke.
He murmured soft, breathy reassurances between the kisses that he laid on your thighs. His voice filled with warmth."You're perfect... absolutely perfect," he whispered, his free hand caressing the curve of your thigh.
Viktor's replaced his slender fngers with his tongue again, alternating between teasing flicks and deep strokes, savoring every taste. His metal fingers splayed across your thigh, holding you firmly, while his other hand trailed down to his own body. He shivered as he began to touch himself in time with his mouth on you, his quiet moans and hitched breaths vibrating against you, only intensifying your pleasure.
He glanced up now and then, his amber eyes darkened with desire, watching the way you responded, drinking in every soft gasp and tremble. The sight of your flushed face and parted lips seemed to drive him further, his movements becoming more hungry as he lost himself in the pleasure he was giving you. His fingers dug into your skin, his grip tightening as he grew more desperate, his own moans blending with yours, low and needy.
The lab was filled with the squelching sounds of your bodies. A mix of his restrained groans, the wet, rhythmic noises of his mouth, and your own stifled whimpers. You felt like you could cum any second as your stomach turned tighter. Viktor seemed to sense it, as his tongue pressing deeper, his pace quickening. His free hand gripped your thigh harder, pulling you even closer to him, as though he wanted to consume every last bit of you.
Just as you felt yourself reaching the edge, Viktor lifted his head slowly, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. His chest rose and fell in deep, unsteady breaths, his flushed cheeks and slightly dazed expression showing just how much he'd enjoyed himself. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your thighs, grounding you as you came back down, while he gazed up at you with a look of pure adoration.
He brought his metal thumb up to wipe away a stray drop from his chin, a slight, satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You taste... exquisite," he murmured, his voice low and rough, a mix of pride and lingering hunger shining in his eyes as he leaned up to kiss you, letting you taste the passion you had just shared.
Viktor then reached towards your soaked pussy to finger you again. The quiet wet sounds filled the air, amplifying the intimacy of the moment, creating a world that felt entirely your own. But then, a faint creak echoed through the room, and both of you froze. The unmistakable sound of the lab door opening snapped Viktor back to reality, and he stilled, his eyes widening as his gaze shot up to yours. You both turned, just in time to see Jayce entering, a stack of papers in hand.
Jayce's eyes met yours first, and then drifted towards Viktor, his fingers still inside you. For a brief, painful moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the distant hum of hextech machinery. Jayce's expression shifted from surprise to awkward shock as the realization dawned on him. His mouth opened, as though he wanted to say something, but words seemed to fail him.
"I... I didn't mean to interrupt," he finally managed, his tone caught between embarrassment and disbelief. Jayce quickly looked away, his cheeks flushing as he backed out of the room, practically stumbling over his own feet.
"I'll... come back later," he stammered, disappearing from sight. The door clicked shut, leaving the lab filled with silence once more. Viktor's face had gone red, his eyes fixed on the floor, clearly mortified. But as he glanced down at you, the edges of his mouth twitched, and a quiet laugh escaped him, breaking the tension.
"Well," Viktor murmured softly, a hint of humor in his voice, "that... was unexpected." He lifted his soaked fingers towards his mouth as his other hand still lingering on your waist, sucking all of your juices as he maintained eye contact. His mouth made a popping sound as he let his fingers go from in between his lips. He then led his once soaked fingers towards the back of your neck, caressing your hair.
"Perhaps we'll continue... later?" he suggested, his voice low, a promise glinting in his eyes as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. You couldn't help but laugh, nodding as you pulled him into an hug. You hoped that jayce didn’t go out and tell anyone what happened. Because if he did and your parents knew, you would sure be in for a scolding.
taglist: @luneariaa @minagrayson @aliives @mammonsleftring @gxrextxgaidk @anna1-1 @bl-0-ndi-3
banner: @cafekitsune
#arcane x y/n#arcane viktor#arcane#arcane season 2#arcane spoilers#arcane x you#arcane characters#arcane x reader#arcane smut#viktor x reader#viktor smut#viktor league of legends#machine herald
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What Baby Wants, Baby Gets : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen
summary: he might try and guilt you for making him go out in the early hours to satisfy your cravings, but you won't let him win
You couldn’t help but smile as Max groaned beside you, his arms stretching up before his hands ran over his face, head tilting to his left so that he could glance across and take a look at you.
“Morning,” you whispered, resting your head down against his shoulder. “Did you have a good sleep?” You then asked, sniggering as Max scoffed, his head immediately shaking across at you.
In the early hours you found yourself struggling, unable to push the thoughts of your cravings to the back of your mind. For a while Max managed to ignore it, but eventually he made the mistake of asking if you wanted something, only for you to tell him yes.
It felt like a figure of speech when you first fell pregnant, with Max telling you to get him if you needed something, wherever, whenever. But he didn’t quite imagine himself actually being woken up at two in the morning with you begging him to help you out.
“Last night was a one-time thing,” Max told you, covering his mouth as he let go of a yawn. “Do you know how long it took for me to fall back to sleep? Especially with you snoring right beside me.”
An apology came from you, but so did a chuckle as Max glared down at you. As soon as your craving what satisfied, you found yourself easily able to fall asleep, not worrying about Max and the fact that he was now the restless one tucked up beside you.
Although he teased, he was relieved to see you resting though, knowing just how little sleep you were getting with your baby constantly reminding you that he was there.
“I do appreciate what you did last night,” you whispered, brushing your hand gently through Max’s hair. “You didn’t have to get up and run to the store.”
“I did, because I promised that I would always do whatever I could to help you,” Max reminded you, kissing against the top of your head, “and what baby wants, baby gets.”
Your head nodded as Max trailed one of his hands down to rest against the top of your baby bump, his smile wide as he felt just how big it was again, knowing that you were already nearing the halfway mark.
“I know for a fact that this little one appreciates what you do too, they were feeling particularly peckish last night,” you added, pressing a kiss to Max’s shoulder.
His eyes rolled as once again you used the baby to get to him, knowing that if there was one person that he couldn’t say no to, it was definitely your baby.
“I can’t wait for when the baby arrives so I can tell you to go and get your own food again,” Max joked, “you won’t be able to treat me like your slave anymore.”
“You’re so dramatic, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy all of this.”
It wasn’t exactly his favourite thing to do getting up in the early hours of the morning, but knowing that he was helping you out did fill Max with pride.
“Maybe I’d enjoy it more if you asked at a decent time,” he laughed in response.
“I don’t think I get much of a choice, if you’ve got a problem, bring it up with your child instead,” you smiled, tapping against your baby bump.
Max’s eyes watched over you carefully as you moved closer into his side, moving one of your hands to rest against the small of your back. A groan came from you as you tried to get comfortable again, a game that you had been playing with your child for several weeks now.
“Do you think the baby knows the most inconvenient times are to be annoying to us?” You asked Max, hearing a chuckle come from him. “Why can’t they be restless at lunch? That would be perfect.”
“I don’t think they’re smart enough to tell the time yet,” Max sniggered, squeezing around your frame. “It’s going to get easier, hopefully the cravings will stop soon.”
Your head nodded as Max tried his best to reassure you. Whenever you were struggling, he was right there with you, somehow Max always knew the right thing to say to make you feel better, making sure to hold onto you too to let you know that he was there.
“It’s going to be alright,” Max whispered closely to your ear, “whatever comes our way then we’re just going to take it on together and find a way to figure things out.”
You hummed as Max spoke, a lot more doubtful than he was. If he could, Max would read just about every baby book, watch every documentary, absorb as much knowledge as he possibly could to make sure he knew exactly what to do in every possible situation.
“If it’s not morning sickness it’s cravings, and then once that finishes then it’s going to be the lack of sleep, soon enough I’m not even going to be able to see my feet.”
Before you could continue, Max quickly shushed you. “And I’ll be there to help you with all of that, no matter where we are or when it is.”
“I thought you didn’t like the early hours?”
Max jabbed against your side as you teased him, knowing that regardless of the time he would always be there. It hurt him a lot seeing you so uncomfortable so often, he wished that there was more that he could do to make your life easier than it currently was.
“If I were you, I’d make the most of me running around after you,” Max grinned, “because once the baby is here, they’ll be the only person I’ll be waking up at three o’clock in the morning for.”
“You mean to say you’d leave me to fend for myself?”
“Absolutely,” Max jokingly smiled, “you’re capable of getting up and sorting yourself out, a little baby isn’t quite as developed as you are.”
“I’m spending nine months growing this child of yours, just in case you’ve forgotten that,” you quickly reminded him.
“I know, I’m just messing with you,” Max assured, squeezing your frame. “I might have to cut myself in half so one part of me can look after you and the other look after the baby, that way I might just be able to be in two places at once.”
“I’ll be alright,” you whispered, only for Max’s head to shake, refusing to let you take care of yourself straight away once the baby arrived.
It didn’t matter whether you were pregnant or not, injured or in peak condition, Max loved looking after you and would always do so, regardless of how much you sometimes protested against him.
Now more than ever he was glued to your side, he’d tease you and mess with you but he wouldn’t have it any other way, being able to help you was one of the things he enjoyed the most at the moment.
“I can’t wait to see how things play out over the next few months, how big of a change is about to take place in our lives,” Max mused, resting his head on top of yours.
“I’m terrified,” you admitted, “no one can predict how this is going to play out, there’s a fear of the unknown lingering in the back of my mind right now.”
“You don’t need to worry,” Max assured you, “no matter what happens, we’re going to face it together, I’m going to be right here with you.”
“Even in the early hours of the morning?”
“Even in the early hours my love.”
˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗
#f1#f1 imagine#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x you#f1 fanfic#f1 reaction#formula one#max verstappen drabble#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#formula one x you#formula x reader#formula 1 drabble#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#f1 drabble#f1 fluff#f1 x you
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virginia is for lovers | s.reid
summary: model!reader accidentally exposes their relationship through a soft launch instagram post
tags: model!reader x spencer, penelope included <3, smau
a/n: this is kinda short n pointless but i wanted a reason to write reader tweeting abt spencer and its been in my drafts for weeks so
word count: 1.1k
masterlist
Spencer had worked hard to keep you a secret.
Not because he wasn’t thrilled to be in your life, because he really, really was. Historically, things had a tendency to go south as soon as word got out, especially when it came to his personal life.
You had met in a bookstore. It was a short interaction; you were busy debating which translation of The Stranger was most appropriate to read. You must have been standing in the aisle of the bookstore a little too long, holding two copies side by side, when he had offered his two cents on the matter.
Typically, you weren’t one to entertain conversation in public. Nine times out of ten, you’d get one word in before the inevitable “Please can I take a picture? I love your blog so much!”, but this was different. You weren’t even sure he had even seen your face before he started talking to you. He wasn’t initially trying to hit on you, either. He was genuinely excited that someone was willing to listen to him ramble about the differences between the Ward and Guilbert translations, so when you responded in such a way that asked him to continue on, he was surprised.
That day, you’d left the store with four more books than intended, and a single bookmark where he had written his phone number after you asked for it. He had asked you for your name; a confirmation that he actually had no idea who you were.
The rest was history. You saw him whenever possible, spent nights on the phone together, and flew across the country often just to see him. You loved having a relationship that didn’t need to be public, but you were also excited to share bits of it with the world.
It was late at night, and he was sitting at his desk in the bullpen, trying to finish the last of the paperwork he’d been assigned, when he heard commotion from Penelope’s office. He figured it was nothing new; probably just some news about the royal family or one of the real housewives again, but she’d thrown her door open in such a way that it garnered attention from everyone in the office.
“Spencer Reid,” She gripped her phone and rushed across the room with determination. “Do you have something you want to share with me?”
He looked up from his paperwork, furrowing his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”
“Why are you on my Instagram feed?” She placed her phone on his desk in front of him.
“I’m not on instagram,” he replied.
“Oh, but you are,” she said. “You are such a little liar. I can’t wait to tell Derek about this.”
She pushed his paperwork aside, plopping her phone down in front of him. It was a slideshow on instagram. A photo of the most recent bouquet he bought for you. A few from the museum you’d visited together, including several where his hands or shoes were visible, but nothing that really pointed to him. He could almost make the argument Penelope was mistaken, until the last photo, which included just enough of his apartment to confirm her questioning.
“You said you were seeing someone and I thought… someone from a chess tournament, or maybe… oh, I don't know. Literally anyone else? But you bagged a model?”
“I-” he sighed. “How did you find her?”
“I didn’t find her, Spencer. I’ve followed her for years! I see her posts all the time. I can’t believe you.”
He scrolled down.
liked by @jjareau and others
@yourusername: virginia is for lovers :) posted 12 hours ago
↪ @randomuser1: GIRL STOP TEASING WHO IS HE
↪ @randomuser3: i’ve been trying to figure it out since that tweet last month 😞
↪ @randomuser2: this is the sweetest soft launch i’ve ever seen <3
↪ 12k comments
He clicked onto your profile.
@yourusername
5.2M Followers
Followed by @jjareau, @emp.sergio and more
“You’ve got to see her Twitter, lover boy. She’s been gushing about you.”
“Oh, god,” he groans. So much for privacy. He lets her take the phone back, redirecting his attention to your Twitter page. She scrolls back to June before handing it over, letting him read in chronological order.
June 10
@yourusername: hot girl summer is officially over. just asked a man for HIS number.
June 25
@yourusername: is it offensive to men if you call them pretty? bc this man is rlly pretty
@yourusername: update: apparently it is not :)
July 30:
@yourusername: good morning text + picture of a dog that he claims reminded him of me???? gonna ask for his hand in marriage
August 15
@yourusername: up til 2 bc hes explaining quantum mechanics to me 🧚🏻
@yourusername: embarrassed to say that form of dirty talk worked on me
August 20
@yourusername: oh btw im a girlfriend now!
↪@yourfan1: look u long enough wtf girl
↪@yourusername: dw im locking him down 🫡
↪@yourfan2: thats OUR man now 💘
“Oh, wow.”
She takes the phone back. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Or me? Oh, this is great news. You’re bringing her to Rossi’s next, week, right?”
“I- Pen, I have no idea.” He laughs. He watches her type away on the device aggressively. “Are you texting everyone?”
“Yuh-huh. I need to call JJ, like… yesterday. And this isn't the end of this conversation!” She darted back into her office quickly, letting the door fall shut behind her.
He decided his remaining paperwork could wait. He packed his things up in a hurry, and decided to head out of the office, dialing your number on the way out.
You picked up on the first ring.
“Hey,” you started. “How was work? Are you heading out?”
“Yeah,” He started. He pushed through the glass doors of the office, staring towards the stairwell. “It was… busy. I just had a really interesting conversation with my coworker.”
“Mhm…” You had been lounging in your hotel room waiting for his call. “About..?”
“You, actually.” He replied. “She follows you on instagram. Apparently most of the office does. She showed me your post today.”
“Oh,” you replied. “Oh god, Spence. I’m sorry. I didn’t think… anyone would be able to tell who you were.”
He laughs. “Yeah, well… I work with some… characters. It’s totally fine, though.”
“Are you sure?” You ask, anxiously.
“Yeah. It was cute,” he replied, smiling to himself as he exited the building. “Tasteful.”
“That's what I wanted,” You reply.
“I thought Twitter was much more interesting, though.”
You froze, cringing. “Oh, god. Tell me you didn't read all of it.
He chuckles. “I skimmed it.”
You groan.
#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#my things!#model!reader#spencer reid#spencerreid#fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#smau#penelope garcia
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𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐒/𝐎
<< yandere genshin men with pregnant S/o >>
Characters : ayato, diluc, kaeya, alhaitham, neuvillete, wriostheley, zhongli , tartaglia
After some inconvenience you end up pregnant with your first child in the earliest part of your marriage, and this is their reaction
⚠️ Warning : baby trapping, non con intimacy, and other disturbing content ⚠️
( Based on the last poll I made, as promised this yandere genshin men Headcanon of pregnant S/o )
<< English is not my first language >>
Ayato
< How many kids he wants : 3 - 6 >
Oh what a joyous occasion, when you tell him you were expecting a child, he pauses and smiles saying what a miracle he was already expecting this would happen. Ayaka is also happy with this news she would visit you and press her ear to your baby bump and talk to the baby or basically rub your stomach.
Having a child with you is the only way you are tied to him forever, by having a child you finally have something to stay with him as well as having the next head of the clan, making sure his clans future is secured. He babyfied the entire house for you as well as babying you, saying these emotions are just your hormones and saying the baby is a blessing
He will not allow you to leave your bed, before you are pregnant you're still allowed to walk around the estate but now you're not allowed or step outside your bed. You were put under strict bed rest and if you need to get around you have him, his sister or thoma to help you as well having the shuutmasuban monitoring you 24/7
Diluc
< how many kids he wants : 2 - 4 >
When you tell him about this news he runs towards you carefully of course not wanting to hurt the baby, and hugs you tightly and kisses your forehead saying you both will be good parents and a thank you for giving him the best present he ever asked for. The entire staff was soon aware of this news and started the preparation for a new born. Adeline will monitor you attending your every need when diluc is busy.
The nursery is all set up, and everything is set. After Kaeya's departure from the mansion as well as his father dying, the mansion has been quite lonely before your arrival, the mansion has started to have more light and after your pregnancy announcement it grows more. It melts his heart knowing he will not be alone anymore. Your babies will be spoiled a lot by him.
You are not allowed to walk around without him or Adeline supervision or not you're not allowed to walk around because he will carry you everywhere thinking it will cause harm to the baby. He will help you with your daily routine and will prevent you from reading your favorite novels cause stress is bad for the baby.
Kaeya
< How many kids he wants : 1 - 2 >
To be honest, he never expected to be a father. He always thought he would be a bad father. But after you tell him you're pregnant he will embrace you and say thank you and you both will get through this together. This is unexpected for him but he was happy having a child
He was anxious and nervous at first, but he handled it like a pro. Soon he started to enjoy the process when days got rough he would put his head on your bump and talk to the baby as well trying to feel it kicking. These small moments that lead him to start enjoying fatherhood.
After the baby was born he started to want more kids because, he really loves this bundle of joy and you know what can make him more happy more bundles of joy he will try to convince you to have another kid. And on the bright side your relationship is more healthier as well giving the outside a perfect image of your relationship.
Alhaitham
< How many kids he wants 2 - 4 >
He came prepared for your pregnancy, he read tons of books about babies as well about parenting he is prepared for this, he would control every aspect of your life food, bed time and other things
He will monitor you every day, he will free his schedule to make sure you will attend as well following the schedule he gives you during pregnancy. He will be there with your every step buying maternal clothes as well as other baby stuff. He has a very good job and is large payment. has a large savings for this day for both of you and the kids to live a comfortable
He wants to have two kids but he does have a feeling of wanting more but it depends on you if you want to have more. Your body is your choice, you're the one that had to carry the baby he doesn't want to tire you and force you to have more.
Neuvillete
< How many kids he wants 4 - 6 >
He was so happy after hearing about your pregnancy, the melusine will help you with your pregnancy and watch over you. Neuvillete will prepare everything as well using some dragon mating rituals for the preparation.
By collecting large amounts of comfortable pillows and soft blankets to create a large nest for you. To make sure you're comfortable. He will help you around with everything normal chores and walking are restricted your only supposed to lay on your nest to relax.
The melusine called your babies as their siblings and will protect you from anything, the steam bird pushy to share your pregnancy they will ask them to back away. The steam bird has been quite annoying following you around when you want to buy baby clothes as well fontainians love for drama they will approach you and ask about everything it has become quite draining dealing with people approaching you for information on your pregnancy. So that's why neuvillete prevents you from leaving the "nest"
Wriostheley
< How many kids he wants 1 - 2 >
After you told him about your pregnancy, it was kept as a secret in the fortress due to how many convicts are willing to hurt you as revenge towards him. So you were mouth to the surface and sigewine will do once a week checks up on going to the surface.
You live in an isolated place in the surface world, very far from Fontaine as well wriostheley office is built secretly to have an elevator going thru to the surface to visit you and your new home, the fortress is not a safe place for children.
He just wanted one but was afraid that the child would grow up lonely, the duke of the fortress of meriopede being your father makes the child stand out afraid they will be isolated by this information. If there were signs that the child was lonely or wanting a sibling he would not hesitate to give them a sibling
Zhongli
< How many kids he wants 3 - 6 >
If this happens during ancient liyue when he's by far much younger than his current timeline, you would already have lots of kids. They would have been grown up when traveler visits teyvat as well them being full blown Adepti. Cloud retainers would love to baby sit your babies and will tell you to rest and let her baby sit.
If you're pregnant in the current game timeline, you would still have a lot of kids but not as much as the other timeline, you have to stay at mt. Aocang under the watchful eye of the Adepti due to the babies not being normal humans. They are half adepti if you're human. So when the babies come you will deliver a safe birth. There is a large chance of you not surviving the birthing process so he will make sure you survive the birth process with the aid of the other Adepti.
But if you're pregnant during the archon war, you will be forced into hiding as well the news of your pregnancy hidden since teyvat are being a battle growns for gods to dominate and control the thrones and he has many rival gods wanting to destroyed him so what can cause him great pain of attacking his beloved. Everyday he would visit you with blood on his clothes and comfort you even tho you tried your best to stay away from him.
Tartaglia
< How many kids he wants 4 - 8 >
The happiest out of all of these yandere , all his life he wanted a family and finally he was given one. He breaks the news to his family and they are ecstatic. He spins you around the room and laughs.
He wanted to have a lot of kids he came from a big family and he has many siblings so expect to have more than four kids. He will buy you many luxurious gifts as well as many toys he can buy heck he buys an entire toy store for his babies. Will love any gender as long as it is his.
Fatui guards are there to guard you no matter, he will not let you get close to the other harbingers only ones he trusts the most who is pulcinella or arlechinno to watch over you when he's out in work, he move you to a more secluded mansion with a lot of servants during your pregnancy and his family will visit you to check up on you. You are not allowed to do any chores only rest in your bed.
#yandere#yandere genshin#yandere genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#yandere genshin x reader#yandere imagines#genshin headcanons#alhaitham x reader#neuvillete x reader#tartaglia x reader#wriothesely x reader#zhongli x reader#diluc x reader#kaeya x reader#yandere headcanons#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere alhaitham#yandere ayato#yandere diluc#yandere kaeya#yandere wriothesley#yandere neuvillette#yandere tartaglia#yandere zhongli#diluc#zhongli#tartaglia
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Call It What You Want
Summary: A single sneeze turns into something more, at least to your husband Logan.
Word Count: 1.9k+
Pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
Notes: i'm feeling a bit sick and i remember i had written this a while ago so here it is :)
i actually have a few other ideas and short oneshots written in this universe so i might upload some more sporadically
(also thank you for 500 followers! really means a lot to me <3)
Warnings/tags: sickness (sneezing, stuffy nose), reader has powers (sonic screams), pet names (darlin', baby, sweetheart)
A simple sneeze. That’s how it started.
You and Logan were in your shared bedroom, both at your respective desks, grading papers in silence. The quiet was only interrupted by the occasional sound of paper rustling or the scratch of a pen. It was peaceful, really. Until you sneezed into your elbow, trying not to make a big deal of it.
Logan glanced over, raising an eyebrow but not saying anything at first. You grabbed a tissue and blew your nose, tossing it into the wastebasket nearby.
"That time of year again?" Logan asked, his deep voice cutting through the quiet.
"Maybe," you replied, rubbing your nose. "’m fine."
He let out a low chuckle, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “Yeah, ‘cause you always say you’re fine, then next thing I know you’re curled up under six blankets, complainin’ about not bein’ able to breathe.” He walked over, placing a hand on your shoulder.
"I’m not always like that," you protested, looking up at him with a small smile.
"Sure, princess." Logan smirked, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “But if you’re gettin’ sick, you should rest. You work too hard.”
"I don’t have time to be sick." You glanced at the pile of essays that still needed grading. “Besides, these students aren’t going to grade themselves.”
"Bet you I could convince Chuck to get a telepath to grade these for ya," Logan teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Now, go lay down.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth spreading through your chest at his concern. "Logan, I’m fine. It’s just a sneeze."
"Uh-huh," he grumbled. “Just a sneeze, until it ain’t.”
"I’ll be fine," you insisted. "Besides, you're not the boss of me."
Logan smirked again, his voice dropping to that low, gruff tone that always made your stomach flip. "Ain’t I though?"
You shot him a playful glare, knowing exactly where this was going. "No, you’re not."
He tilted his head, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Alright, darlin’… but if you start feelin’ worse, you better let me take care of ya. You hear?"
You smiled, unable to help it. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine, tough guy."
He leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss before pulling back. "You better be. Ain’t in the mood to deal with a cranky version of you.”
You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Like you’re never cranky.”
“I’m lovable,” he grunted, moving back to his desk. "You, on the other hand…”
“I’m adorable,” you finished for him, a smirk tugging at your lips.
Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”
You turned back to your papers, feeling the slightest tickle in your nose again. "Uh-oh."
"Uh-oh?" Logan repeated, eyeing you cautiously.
And then, you sneezed again—this time louder. The vibration from your powers caused a low hum in the room, the soundwaves vibrating through the air, making the picture frames on the wall tremble slightly.
Logan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "That didn’t sound like just a sneeze, baby."
You winced, looking around at the small vibrations that still lingered in the room. "Oops."
He sighed, walking back over to you. "Come on, Y/N, that’s your body tellin’ you to take a break." He bent down to your level, his face now inches from yours. "Or do I need to carry ya to bed?"
You bit your lip, trying to keep the smirk from your face. "You wouldn’t."
"Wanna test me?" Logan’s voice was low, full of challenge.
You tilted your head, pretending to think about it. "Well, when you put it that way…”
Without another word, Logan scooped you up from your chair, making you let out a surprised laugh. “Logan! Put me down!”
“Nope,” he said, carrying you toward the bed with ease. “You had your chance, sweetheart.”
You kicked your feet lightly in protest but didn’t really try to escape. Being wrapped up in his arms was hardly a punishment. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Yup,” he agreed, laying you down gently on the bed and pulling the covers up over you. “Now, you’re gonna stay right here, and I’m gonna make sure you’re comfortable.”
You crossed your arms, but a smile was already spreading across your face. “You’re overreacting.”
“Am I?” Logan raised an eyebrow, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Remember the last time you got sick? You nearly took out half the mansion with your soundwaves ‘cause you were sneezin’ so much.”
You sighed, relenting. “Okay, maybe a little rest won’t hurt.”
Logan grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Atta girl.”
You settled back into the pillows, the warmth of the blankets and Logan’s presence making you feel more relaxed. “Thanks, Logan,” you said softly.
He gave you a soft smile, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Anytime, darlin’. Now get some rest before you blow up the whole room.”
---
After days of trying to convince Logan, and the others, that it was just allergies, Logan had enough. He had dragged you to Jean after you finished teaching your first class of the day, and after accidentally shattering your computer screen with your sneeze.
Jean was already prepared, a bottle of cough syrup on a nearby medical table. “See? Told you it was a cold,” she said, holding up the bottle like it was proof.
You groaned, slumping in the chair next to her. “It’s just a little cold, Jean. You all act like I’m on my deathbed.”
Logan crossed his arms, standing behind you. “That little cold shattered a computer screen, Y/N. If it wasn’t for your powers, maybe we’d take your word for it, but—” He gestured vaguely with his hand. “We’ve seen what happens.”
Jean smirked at Logan’s comment but quickly turned her attention back to you. “He’s right, you know. We’ve got to be careful with your powers. Your body’s trying to rest, and that includes your control.”
You shot Logan a half-hearted glare. “You dragged me here for this?”
“Yup,” he replied, entirely unbothered. “And now that you’re here, Jean’s gonna make sure you actually take care of yourself.”
Jean held out the bottle of syrup. “Bottoms up.”
You stared at it like it was some sort of punishment. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Logan let out a chuckle, moving to stand beside you, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Come on, princess, just take the damn syrup. The faster you do, the faster we get back to our room.”
With an exaggerated sigh, you took the bottle from Jean’s hand and downed the syrup. The taste made you wince, and you immediately regretted it. “Ugh, that’s awful.”
Jean patted you on the back, her smile widening. “It’ll help, though. Now, you’ll need rest, fluids, and minimal stress. I don’t want to see you teaching for a couple of days, at least.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but Logan cut you off before you could say anything. “You heard the doc, darlin’. No teaching, no grading. Just rest.”
You turned in your seat to look up at him, narrowing your eyes. “It’s just a cold. I’m not dyin’ or anything.”
Logan raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk. "Not dyin’, huh? Try tellin’ that to your computer screen."
You rolled your eyes, leaning back in the chair with a groan. "That was an accident, and you know it."
"Doesn’t matter," he shot back, folding his arms across his chest. “Still proves my point.”
Jean chuckled from where she stood, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Logan’s right, Y/N. Your body’s using up energy to fight this cold, and with your powers, that means less control. It’s not just about you—it's about keeping everyone around you safe.”
You narrowed your eyes at Logan. “You’re really milking this, aren’t you?”
Logan didn’t even try to hide the grin on his face. “Oh yeah. And I’ll keep doin’ it ‘til you get your stubborn ass to bed.”
You huffed, crossing your arms. “I hate when you’re right.”
He chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Get used to it, sweetheart. Happens more often than you’d like.”
Jean smiled warmly at the two of you, shaking her head. “Okay, lovebirds. I’ll give you some privacy while Y/N gets some rest. Logan, make sure she takes it easy.”
Logan nodded as Jean left the room, then turned back to you with a smug look. “So, no more arguments, right?”
You glared at him, but it lacked any real heat. “Fine. But just so you know, when I’m better, I’m gonna remind you of this moment. Payback’s a bitch, Logan.”
He chuckled again, unphased. “I’ll take my chances, darlin’.” Then, without warning, he bent down and scooped you up in his arms again.
"Logan!" You yelped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Making sure you actually rest," he replied, his voice casual as if carrying you around was the most normal thing in the world. “Figured this way, there’s no chance of you sneakin’ back to your desk.”
You tried to fight back a smile, though it was nearly impossible when you were cradled against him like this. “I wasn’t gonna sneak back.”
“Sure, princess,” he said, clearly not believing you for a second. “But just in case.”
He carried you back to your shared bedroom, gently setting you down on the bed and pulling the covers over you. He gave you a stern look, but there was warmth behind his eyes. "Stay."
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You act like I’m a dog.”
"Not a dog,” Logan corrected, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Just a stubborn wife who doesn’t know when to quit."
You reached up to swat at his arm playfully. “I’m not that bad.”
He caught your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You’re worse, but I still love ya.”
Your heart swelled at the soft look in his eyes, and for a moment, you forgot all about your cold. “I love you too,” you murmured.
Logan’s expression softened even further, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Now rest, sweetheart. You need it.”
You sighed, snuggling deeper into the blankets. “Only because you asked so nicely.”
Logan chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead once more. “I’ll take it.”
He stood up, moving toward the door, but you called after him. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
He stopped, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “What, miss me already?”
You rolled your eyes, but your tone softened. “Maybe. Just a little.”
Logan’s smirk turned into a genuine smile as he made his way back to the bed. “Alright, darlin’. I’ll stay.”
He kicked off his boots and slid into bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For a moment, the cold, the shattered computer, and everything else melted away. All that mattered was the warmth of his embrace.
"You’re lucky I love you," you mumbled, already feeling yourself start to drift off.
Logan chuckled softly, his hand running through your hair. “Damn right, I am."
As sleep began to claim you, Logan’s steady presence beside you was the last thing you felt, a reminder that no matter how tough things got—or how stubborn you were—he’d always be there, ready to hold you close and make sure you were safe.
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#james howlett x reader#james howlett x you#logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett fic
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Wait, I have so much to say about it that it frightens myself.
First: this is true. No arguing.
BUT
I have actively working to get rid of my self-sabotage habits for last 10 years. And oh, what a wonder: I got and still get accused for being selfish, full of myself, thinking too much of myself. Surprisingly none of people I have asked for help were angry or disappointed or whatever. But other people who were just bystanders - oh, they were. "So, other people must help you to live? Who even are you to expect that???"
I don't reject praise but if I seek attention for a work that is not absolutely perfect, guess what people say? Bad things. You wrote a book and want it to be reviewed? Well, from time to time book sounds like badly translated from English - for example this one phrase. Bro, it was this only phrase! I even thought about it and decided that as it was joke about publicity in USA diner, I can leave it! Why you concentrate on this one phrase that is not perfect? Because I HAVE to be perfect to be good?
No one actually says bad things about me if I say no. BUT. If I'm not active, not on the picture, if I take care of MY need to be alone and rest, no one remembers me. Isolating myself when hurt? Not exactly, I am isolated to take care of my needs, but if I seek attention and help when hurt, most people are: "Nope. To say good things when asked is not sincere, not can do." Or "I'm kinda busy right now." Or they say nothing. Just ignore me. If I want to be part of circle, I HAVE to participate in the events. Other people? Hey, they have many more circles, this one is not an important one even. But I have only two main circles. if I pass the possibility to do more there, people just ... forget about me. And that's true, not just my own imagination.
So it's not self-sabotage that person should stop and live happily ever after. It's actually trying to fit in with other people, to be what they want you to be. So that they would accept you.
Yes, most people does not help you anyway. They just criticize. You can't be liked by everyone. And maybe sometimes to be in the pack is not even worth the trouble. But to try to fit in, to be loved and liked is natural. I am extreme introvert and diagnosed autist and still I have this drive to fit in. Not just a self-sabotage. More like trying to be what others want, even if it's hurting myself.
Ok, I don't watch news. Maybe this is only self-sabotage =)
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NNN - matt sturniolo - period help
You and Matt were laying in his bed together, limbs tangled with one another as your eyes were focused on the movie you were watching. Here and there, matt would make some remark, causing you to rebutted against it — and occasionally your laughs mingling with one another as you joked about the movie.
“No — no, she definitely has feelings for that kid. I mean she literally acts so dumb in front of him and not around anyone else.” you argued, propping yourself up onto one arm as you spoke to matt.
He shrugged, “i don’t know — i don’t see how, i mean she acts dumb around other people too. how can you rule this out to her liking him?” he asked, his hand coming up to poke at your temple. You just rolled your eyes, “I have a feeling.” you retorted back.
He hummed, taking his eyes away from you to train back onto his tv, your own doing the same as you settled back into his side. After a while, you felt the urge to pee — having drank all that water and sodas not long ago.
So you carefully shifted, trying to shimmy your way out of matt’s grasp. But, when you shifted to slide off the bed, you felt the unmistakable feeling of warmth between your legs — and your body froze. Your eyes went wide, looking down to where your body sat on matt’s bed, seeing the stain of red under you.
You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the embarrassment seep into you. ‘Fuck — fuck’
You shifted uncomfortably, hoping that matt wouldn’t notice how ridge your body went. But to no surprise — matt always being attentive of you — you heard his voice behind you, soft and concerned.
“Sweetheart, are you alright?” he asked, his hand coming out to rest against your shoulder, rubbing small circles. You swallowed, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
You nodded slowly, opening and closing your mouth a few times before looking over your shoulder at him. “I just — uh —“ you stammered, your gaze falling to your lap and the bed again. Matt furrowed his brows, moving on the bed to sit beside you. His gaze now looking down to where yours was at, and his face softened.
“Oh baby,” he whispered, his hand now resting on your lower back. “Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head to look at yours better. You looked at him, face red with embarrassment. “mhm…you — you aren’t grossed out?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. You wanted the world to open and swallow you whole.
He shook his head, his body now moving to stand as he moved in front of you — holding his hand out. “It’s a natural part of you, why would i be grossed out by something you can’t control?” he said, and you head tilted back to look at him before putting your hand into his.
He helped pull you up, the gross feeling still clinging to your skin. “Do you need me to run you a shower baby?” he asked, and you nodded. “yes please.”
He hummed, letting your hand go and walking over to his dresser. He pulled out a hoodie of his and a pair of sweatpants, also grabbing a pair of your underwear you seem to have left here. He walked past you, going out the bedroom door and into his bathroom to start the shower for you — making sure it was hot enough.
When he was done, he came back into the room, you body still planted where he left you. Holding out his hand again for you to take, he tugged you toward the bathroom. “Do you need anything else while you’re in the shower? snacks, heating pack?” he asked softly, letting you step into the bathroom as he began to turn away.
“Uh…some of those rice cakes with peanut butter and a heating pack please.” you muttered, and he smiled, walking away toward the kitchen as you closed the bathroom door.
When you were finished with your shower, getting dressed into the clothes matt picked out for you and using a pad (or tampon) from the pack you kept here just in case — you wandered out of the bathroom.
You set the towels in the washing machine before pivoting and walking into matt’s room. The sheets on the bed were already changed and the things you requested were already there waiting for you. You smiled softly, walking over to the bed. You didn’t hear matt’s footsteps behind you, his arms wrapping around you.
You jumped slightly, a giggle then following. “There’s my pretty girl.” he mumbled into your neck, pressing a few light kisses there. You couldn’t help but smile more, letting your head tip back to rest on his shoulder. Matt pressed one last pec to your neck before pulling away, “I got everything you requested and-“ he paused, bringing something around in front of you. “- i figured you might want this guy.” he held mr.wrinkleton up in front of you, swaying him back and fourth.
A big grin spread across your face as your hands reached to grab the stuffed pug, wiggling out of matt’s grip to turn around. “You’re the best, did you know that?” you said, pressing a light kiss to his jaw. He chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the small of your back once more. “I mean, i’d do anything to make you comfortable — i hope you know that.” he admitted, and you nodded in understanding.
“So — want to get back into bed now?” he asked, already detaching himself and going to his bed. You gave him a look that already spoke for itself, walking over to the bed and climbing in under the covers.
Once you were situated, you turned your head to matt, holding his stuffed pug close to your chest. “I do want one more thing though.” you said, and matt’s eye brow raised slightly. “Yeah? what’s that?”
You smiled, scooting closer to him and swinging a leg over his slowly. “Lots and lots of cuddles.”
© strnilolover
#ᯓ★ strnilolover#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo x you#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo imagine#matthew bernard sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo blurb#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets x reader#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo triplets fluff#period help#menstrual cycle#fluff#sturniolo fluff#tooth rotting fluff#nnn#no nut november#chris sturniolo
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HISTORY IN THE MAKING - nerd!NR
pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x reader
cw- 18+!!; top!reader, gp!bottom!natasha, handjob (n rcv), blowie (n rcv), missionary, praise kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie? muaha... shy daddy!nat UGHH, kind of orgasm control & slight edging if you squint
wc- 5.4k
a/n- drabble turned fic as i worked my way through these exact history shenanigans a few days back... in the same INTIMATE STUDIES universe! might make this a cute lil thing :) this is very much NOT my best work, i might rework it a little bit just to make it flow a lil more! apologies if there are any repetitions, i tried to catch them, but my brain is fried :/
synopsis- natasha's helping you study russia's history, and the rest is history?? idk it's too late rn guys i'm going to sleep
taglist- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches, @lizziewitchy ❀, @simpforlizzie, @riyaexee
You’re sitting cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, staring down at a jumble of Russian history notes that you’re certain might as well be in Cyrillic themselves. The words swim on the page, stubbornly refusing to click in the way chemistry formulas or physics equations do. You press the back of your pen to your lips, glancing over at the figure hunched over the desk in the corner of the room.
Natasha is fully engrossed in her game, brows furrowed in concentration as her fingers fly across the keyboard. The light from her monitor casts a soft glow on her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the gentle bite of her lower lip. She’s wearing a simple white blouse tucked into a plaid skirt, her usual attempt to dress professionally for class long since abandoned in favour of cosy socks and a messy bun.
You can’t help but smile a little. The contrast between Natasha’s outward shyness and the intensity in her focus has always been something you found endearing. You met in the class you were currently trying to study for, back when you’d shown up late to Russian history, fumbling through an awkward introduction as the professor sighed and directed you to sit in the last free seat beside her. It had taken a few study sessions for you to get past her initial stammering, but now, you could ask her about anything and her eyes would light up, eagerly launching into whatever story or fact you were struggling to understand. But right now, that focus is directed entirely on her computer screen.
You clear your throat. “Natasha?”
“Hm?” She barely looks up, eyes quickly darting back to her screen.
“Nat,�� you repeat, with a hint of a smile. “I need help with the comparison of Russia until 1917 and the West-European’s Ancien Régime. And… pretty much all the details, too.”
She gives a little sigh, half-distracted. “Mm. Yes, the parables are… very interesting, baby. Give me one second. I’m doing really well.”
You hold back a laugh. “Right, but I’m failing Russian history. Melina and Alexei will both kill me. So can you take a break?”
Her eyes don’t leave the screen. “I will, I promise. Just a few more minutes. I’m close to beating this level.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes at her single-minded dedication. Her stubborn innocence, the way she always seems to be pulled between her gentle nature and her intense focus, has you mesmerised. But she can’t honestly think you’re going to wait forever.
“Natasha,” you say softly, standing and crossing over to her desk. Her gaze flicks up to you on her side, her big, doe-like eyes widening with an almost bashful look as you lean against the desk. “You’re seriously not going to help me?”
She blushes, biting her lip. “I really want to help,” she whispers, almost apologetic, “but, really, just a little longer? Please?”
There’s something about the sweet innocence of her pleading that has your heart racing. Her earnestness always has a way of drawing you in, those wide, round eyes like they’re begging for permission to keep playing, and her lips slightly parted in concentration. You tilt your head, taking in every detail of her—the slight blush dusting her cheeks, the faint glimmer of anticipation in her eyes, and the way her fingers clutch the keyboard just a little tighter, like she’s holding onto the game but secretly hoping you’ll take control.
You smile softly and reach for her chair, turning it around so she’s facing you. Her hands hover in the air, a brief look of panic on her face as she loses her place in the game. She opens her mouth to protest, but before she can say anything, you’re sliding onto her lap, straddling her, feeling the warmth of her strong thighs under you.
“Wait! You made me fall off the map!” Natasha squeaks, her voice a mixture of exasperation and a hint of excitement. Her hands instinctively find your hips, holding you as if she’s afraid you might slip away.
You give her a gentle smile, leaning in so that your faces are mere inches apart. “I thought you were going to help me study,” you murmur, your voice dropping to a soft, coaxing tone. You press your hands to her shoulders, letting your fingers trail along her collarbone, feeling the way her heartbeat quickens under your touch.
“I… I was,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing a deep pink, and you catch the slight tremble in her voice. “I just… my game.”
You tilt her chin up, making her meet your gaze, and she blushes even deeper, her fingers tightening their grip on your hips as her eyes grow wide, almost vulnerable. “Natty,” you say, your voice laced with playful patience, “I really need you to focus on me now. History, please.”
Her mouth opens slightly, as though she wants to argue, but all that comes out is a breathy whisper. “Okay.”
You hold Natasha’s gaze, the intensity in her eyes gradually overpowering her initial shyness. Her fingers rest on your hips, hesitant and yet possessive, as though she’s still trying to find some control in this position. Her breath catches each time you shift even slightly, and you can feel her heartbeat racing beneath your touch, each little change in her demeanour making her even more endearing.
You run your thumb along her jawline, feeling the delicate skin beneath, and she lets out a soft breath, her lips parting as she unconsciously leans into your touch. Her eyes flicker from yours to your lips, as if she’s desperately waiting for some kind of signal, a sign that she’s allowed to give in completely.
“Natasha,” you murmur, bringing your face close enough to feel her breath mingling with yours, “what are the key similarities, and how do the t<o regimes differ?”
She hums, her cheeks a soft shade of pink, but words seem to fail her. The hand on your hip trembles slightly, as though she wants to pull you closer but doesn’t dare to, not without permission. You feel the tension building, a mix of her nervousness and desire, and it only makes you want to pull her in even more.
Finally, you press a feather-light kiss to her cheek, just next to her ear, and whisper, “Come on, Natty. Think, please. Need your pretty self to explain it to me.”
She shivers under your touch, swallowing as she tries to remember the words. “Um… right, the… they didn’t have religious freedom,” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. The fingers on your hip dig in just slightly, a mix of nerves and need as she fights to keep her focus. “Orthodoxy– uh, there were lots of violent riots… against Muslims, but mostly Jews. Those were called pogroms and… oh…”
Her wordds trail off as you tilt her chin slightly, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her blush deepens, and you feel the way her body responds, her tension giving way to a faint tremor as she tries to keep talking.
“You’re so good at this,” you whisper, guiding her with gentle encouragement. “But I’m going to need a little more focus from you if we’re going to get through all this history.”
Her breath catches, and she nods, biting her lip as she tries to concentrate. “I can focus,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. Her gaze stays locked onto yours, her wide eyes full of innocence mixed with a yearning she can’t quite hide.
Her fingers finally slide up your sides, settling on the dip of your waist with a delicate grip, as though she’s terrified of doing too much, yet completely unwilling to let go. You smile softly, placing a hand over hers, squeezing in silent encouragement, and her blush deepens, her eyes darting away for just a second.
But you don’t let her break eye contact for long. Tilting her chin back to you, you brush your lips over hers in a kiss so soft it’s barely there, and she lets out a faint sigh, melting into the touch. Her grip tightens again, and you feel her breath hitch as you deepen the kiss just slightly, enough to make her toes curl beneath her chair.
“Tell me more,” you murmur, pausing just inches from her mouth, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating between you. “About the razzias. I want to hear you explain it.”
Her lips part, her mind clearly racing to catch up, but she manages a shaky breath. “They just were um, a…,” she stammers, her voice a mix of strained focus and barely-restrained excitement. Her hands start to relax, as though she’s finding confidence in your guidance. “They… uh– it’s a reckoning against religious ideals.”
“Mm-hmm,” you hum in approval, your thumb tracing gentle circles on her cheek. “And then the revolution happened?”
Her eyes flicker down to your lips, and she swallows, her voice barely more than a whisper. “There were two revolutions, technically. First, the February Revolution, and then the radicalised October Revolution.”
Her words start to blur into soft breaths as you lean closer, the warmth of her skin against yours heightening with each delicate touch. You feel her legs shift under you, and a soft gasp escapes her when you shift your weight in her lap, pressing yourself against her in a way that’s both innocent and electric. Her lashes flutter, and her eyes grow hazy, the careful focus she was trying to hold onto slipping with each passing second.
“Good girl,” you murmur, your voice soft and affectionate. Her lips part in a faint, breathless smile, and you feel her chest rise as she takes in a shaky breath, her grip on you tightening just a little more.
You tilt her head back, keeping her gaze locked on yours, letting your fingers trail down her throat, feeling the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath your touch. Her eyes widen, a mixture of awe and anticipation in them as she watches your every move, her hands moving under your sweater like she’s trying to ground herself.
“Do you want to keep going?” you ask softly, running a finger along her jawline, watching the way her breath catches in response.
She nods, unable to find words, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her eyes hold that same innocent, almost pleading look, as though she’s begging you to take control, to guide her wherever you want.
You smile, letting your hand drift down from her jaw, fingers grazing along her collarbone, before you slowly trail down to her chest and stomach, where you can feel the rise and fall of her shallow breaths.
“Okay, baby,” you murmur, your words soothing yet commanding as you press a gentle kiss to her neck, feeling the way her pulse quickens under your lips. She shivers, a barely audible whimper escaping her lips, her wide eyes softening as she watches you, her gaze full of innocent trust.
“Natasha,” you whisper, drawing out her name like a gentle caress, “let me help you focus.” Her breath catches, and she gives a shaky nod, her hands tightening their grip on the chair. You slowly lower yourself from her lap, letting your hands slide down the smooth skin of her thighs, feeling the way her body tenses under your touch only to relax as you continue, inching her knees apart.
Her blush deepens, and you can feel her shyness mingling with anticipation as her skirt rides up, revealing the growing hardness pressing against the fabric of her boxers. You let your fingers trace along her inner thigh, watching the way she trembles slightly at each delicate touch. Her wide eyes remain fixed on yours, that blend of vulnerability and desire making your own heart race as you take her in.
“Relax for me,” you murmur, running your hands gently along her thighs. You reach up to brush your fingers over the fabric straining to hold her in, and her lips part in a soft, involuntary moan, her cheeks flushing even deeper as she squirms in her seat.
With slow, deliberate movements, you slide her underwear down, watching the way her member springs free, her blush turning crimson as she looks away for a moment, a mixture of nervousness and excitement flickering across her face. You press a gentle kiss along her inner thigh, easing her legs further apart and taking in her reactions, savouring each shiver, each small gasp that escapes her lips. When you move your mouth closer to her length, you look up at her, waiting until her gaze meets yours.
Once it does, you bring your mouth to her, pressing a feather-light kiss along her shaft, and her reaction is instant—her hips jerk slightly, and she lets out a trembling breath, her fingers clutching the arms of her chair as she tries to stay still. Her breath hitches with every movement, her wide eyes looking down at you, filled with both awe and that same sweet shyness that makes her all the more endearing.
Slowly, you take her into your mouth, your tongue gliding over her, humming at the way she gasps, her fingers gripping the chair so tightly her knuckles turn white. You can feel her body tense under your touch, the warmth of her length in your mouth, and the way she squirms with each gentle movement. Her breathing becomes ragged, her cheeks flushed as her lashes flutter, struggling to keep eye contact.
“Just relax, Natty,” you murmur between gentle caresses, pausing only to offer soft words of encouragement, letting her feel the warmth of your breath against her sensitive skin. “You’re doing so well.”
Her eyes soften further at your words, her lips parted in a soft, breathless smile as she gives a faint nod, her entire body melting under your touch. She lets out a quiet, shaky moan as you continue, her hips shifting involuntarily, her breath hitching each time your mouth moves a little deeper. The look in her eyes—vulnerable yet trusting—only fuels your desire to take her further.
You increase your pace just slightly, watching the way her eyes grow hazier with each passing second, her fingers now reaching out, finding your shoulder as if she needs something to hold onto. The desperation in her gaze, the slight whimpers that escape her lips, all signal how close she’s getting. You pause, pulling back just enough to look up at her, watching the way she struggles to catch her breath.
“You’re so good, Natasha,” you murmur, words muffled by her heat in you, enjoying the way she shivers under the praise. “But don’t let go just yet. I want to take my time with you.”
Her blush deepens at the command, and she nods, swallowing hard as she holds back, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to control herself. You press a soft kiss to her length, smiling at the way she bites her lip, her fingers still clutching your shoulder as she gives herself over to your touch.
With her breaths growing more ragged, you let your hand slide down her thigh, resting at the base of her length as you ease back, switching from the warmth of your mouth to the gentle grip of your hand. Natasha whimpers softly, her lashes fluttering as she watches you with that wide-eyed, innocent gaze. Her hands grip the arms of her chair for stability, her cheeks flushed and lips parted as you begin to stroke her slowly, savouring each reaction.
“Does that feel good, Natty?” you murmur, watching the way her eyes flutter closed for a moment as she nods, her entire body leaning toward your touch.
“Yes,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with a need she’s struggling to hold back. You watch the way her chest rises and falls, each shuddering breath making her more vulnerable, more open to your every move.
You increase the pressure slightly, your hand moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that has her toes curling, her wide eyes looking down at you with unguarded adoration. You can see how close she is, her face a mix of tension and awe as she clutches at her chair, her mouth falling open in a soft gasp when you switch back to your mouth, taking her in once again.
“Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling, barely audible. She shifts in her seat, her grip tightening as she fights to stay composed, though the desperation in her voice betrays her.
“You want more?” you murmur, pulling back just enough to look up at her, letting your breath ghost over her sensitive skin. She nods frantically, her gaze pleading, as though she’s ready to beg for you to keep going. Her vulnerability makes your heart race, and you lean back in, pressing soft, lingering kisses along her length before taking her in your hand again.
Each change between your mouth and hand drives her closer to that edge, her quiet, broken moans growing more frequent as her body responds to your every touch. You take your time, alternating between gentle strokes and teasing kisses, watching the way her resolve unravels completely. Her hips move instinctively, seeking more, her breath shallow and desperate.
Finally, you slow your pace, watching the way she shudders in response, her gaze hazy and her body fully at peace yet trembling in your hands. “I told you, Natty,” you whisper, pausing to press a kiss to her thigh, “I’m taking my time with you.”
She lets out a shaky exhale, her hands falling from the chair to clutch at your shoulders, her breathing still erratic as she tries to hold herself back. But you can see the way she’s teetering on that edge, fully surrendered to you.
As you continue to alternate between using your hand and mouth, her wide, vulnerable gaze grows more unfocused, her lips parting as her body instinctively responds to you. But just when you think she’s letting herself fall into your pace, you feel her fingers tangle in your hair, firm but trembling, gently pressing down, silently urging you to take her deeper.
The sudden assertiveness surprises you, but you comply, letting her guide you, feeling the way her grip tightens slightly, the desperation in her touch almost pleading. Her quiet whimpers grow louder, echoing in the room as she watches you, her gaze dark with fascination, completely enraptured by the sight of you surrendering to her need.
“Oh, please…” she murmurs, her voice a breathy whisper, barely containing herself. You feel her body shiver as you take her deeper, her soft gasp filling the air. Her eyes, usually so innocent and shy, are now dark with awe, wide and almost worshipful, as though she can barely believe what she’s seeing. She bites her lip, her face flushed, her expression somewhere between a plea and an apology, completely mesmerised by the sight of you.
Finally, feeling your control slip in her grasp, you tap her thigh, and she releases her grip on your hair immediately, looking down at you with that same innocent gaze, as if wondering if she’s overstepped. Her cheeks are flushed, her gaze shy once again, as she watches you with bated breath, clearly unsure of your next move.
Standing up slowly, you meet her gaze, your eyes smouldering as you reach down and slip off your underwear, letting the fabric fall to the floor before stepping out of it. Natasha’s eyes widen, her cheeks a deeper pink as her gaze travels from your face down the length of your body, lingering on the hem of your sweater as if transfixed by the contrast.
Before she can fully take in the sight, you reach for her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you tug her up from the chair, her body following your movements without hesitation. She gasps softly, her breath catching as she’s pulled to her feet, her wide, adoring eyes flicking up to meet yours.
“Strip for me,” you command, your voice low, leaving no room for argument. You release her hair, your touch lingering for just a second as you make your way to her bed, settling yourself atop her scattered history notes, the crinkling of the papers the only sound breaking the silence. She watches, her blush deepening, clearly entranced by the sight of you lying there, completely at ease and in control. Her hands go to the hem of her skirt, her fingers trembling slightly as she begins to undress, her gaze never leaving yours.
Natasha’s fingers tremble slightly as she slides off her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Her shirt soon follows, revealing the flushed skin of her chest and the slight rise and fall of her breath as she finally stands in front of you, completely exposed and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker between your gaze and your body sprawled out over her history notes, her cheeks flushed with both shyness and desire. You stretch out comfortably, your sweater rucked up just enough to tease her, watching her with that same confident, hungry look that’s left her at your mercy all evening.
“Come here, Natty,” you murmur, your voice firm but soft. She steps forward, her movements hesitant but her gaze locked on you, and you guide her down onto the bed until she’s hovering over you, her body settling between your legs. Her breath catches as she takes you in, her wide, adoring eyes drinking in the sight of you beneath her, looking up at her with that unwavering, confident smile that’s made her melt all night.
As Natasha hovers above you, her body fitting perfectly between your legs, you can feel the nervous tremble in her limbs, her cheeks flushed as she takes in the sight of you lying beneath her, waiting. Her wide eyes, so shy and adoring, sweep over your face and then down, drinking in every inch of your body, as though each glance leaves her more entranced. Her lips part slightly, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she steadies herself, hands resting tentatively on either side of you.
You reach up, cupping her face in your hands and guiding her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, feeling the heat radiate off her skin. She melts into you, her body instinctively pressing down, filling the space between you as her lips respond, moving tenderly yet hungrily, every kiss leaving her more breathless. With a gentle nudge, you guide her hips forward, feeling her length brush against your entrance, and she lets out a soft, broken gasp, her face flushed a deep pink as she begins to press into you.
You hum, running your hands through her hair, tugging gently to pull her closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. She gasps against your mouth, her lips parting as you deepen the kiss, feeling her shiver as she responds, her body pressing eagerly into yours. She lets out a soft, desperate moan as she slides inside, her hands gripping the sheets beside you.
“Oh,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper, her eyes fluttering shut as she feels the warmth of your body surrounding her, enveloping her in a way that leaves her trembling. Her breath hitches, and she clutches the sheets beside you, her hands forming tight fists as she adjusts to the feeling, her gaze filled with wonder as she looks down at you.
“Good girl,” you whisper, watching the way her face softens at the praise, her body shuddering as she begins to move, her hips rolling forward in slow, tentative strokes. You feel each careful movement, each deliberate inch of her body pressing into yours, her lips parted in a quiet moan, her eyes half-lidded as she loses herself in the rhythm, her shy gaze growing more intense with each passing second.
With every thrust, her body trembles, her gaze filled with a raw vulnerability as though she’s giving herself to you completely, utterly. She clutches the sheets even tighter, her breathing quickening, her eyes never leaving yours as she moves deeper, her breath coming in soft, desperate pants.
“That’s it, Natty,” you murmur, running a hand along her cheek, feeling the way her breath catches at your touch. “Just like that.”
Her lips part in response, a soft whimper escaping her as her hips begin to move faster, her body pressing into yours with a growing urgency that she can barely control. She shivers, the need and intensity in her gaze building with every touch, every whispered word of encouragement. Her lashes flutter as she looks down at you, her cheeks a deep shade of pink, her expression vulnerable, almost pleading, as though she wants more but can barely bring herself to ask for it.
“Right there, Daddy,” you murmur, your voice soft, just loud enough for her to hear. The word slips from your lips easily, and you watch the way her entire being responds—the tremor in her hips, the widening of her eyes, the soft, desperate whine that falls from her lips. Her face and neck flush a deeper, unmistakable red, and for a moment, she looks at you with pure, unguarded awe, her expression caught between disbelief and overwhelming need.
Her hands tremble, her hips stuttering as she takes in the title, her body pressing instinctively deeper as though the sound alone draws her closer to the edge. “Daddy,” you whisper again, watching her face as she loses herself in the word, her expression filling with a blend of shyness and barely contained desire.
“P-please…” she stammers, her voice trembling, almost breaking as she holds herself back, her body trembling with the strain of it. “I… I need…”
You reach up, running your hand through her hair, guiding her gaze back to yours. “It’s okay, Natty,” you murmur, your voice soft, coaxing. “You don’t have to hold back.”
Her wide eyes fill with a deep, unrestrained need, and she lets out a soft, shaky exhale, her hands sliding from the sheets to grip your waist, holding you as though grounding herself. Her movements grow more erratic, her hips pressing deeper, her body responding to every encouraging word, every touch, as though completely under your control.
As she moves, you see the way she loses herself in each thrust, her face flushed, her mouth open as her breath comes in ragged, desperate pants. She looks down at you with that same innocent, adoring gaze, but now, there’s something more—something raw, a hunger she can barely contain. Her hips press forward, filling you completely, her body shuddering as she reaches the edge, her wide eyes pleading, searching your gaze for permission.
“Come for me, Daddy,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm, and you feel the way her body reacts, her grip tightening on your waist as she shudders, her hips jerking forward in a desperate, trembling thrust. Her eyes close as she gasps, her head falling forward as she loses herself completely, spilling into you with a soft, broken moan, her body pressing close, clinging to you as though she’s never felt anything so intense.
As Natasha trembles on top of you, her body pressed close, you feel every soft, shivering breath she takes, the weight of her against you as she finally lets go, spilling into you. Her head dips forward, eyes tightly shut, her lips parted in a quiet, desperate gasp as she comes, the warmth of her release filling you, a slow, deep pulse that seems to steal the breath from her lungs. Her grip tightens on your waist as if she’s clinging to you, grounding herself in the sensation, her face buried in the crook of your neck.
You can feel her chest rising and falling against you, her breaths ragged and shallow as she lets out a soft whimper, the vulnerability in her voice making your heart swell. Her hips press forward with each wave, as though she wants to be as close to you as possible, feeling every inch of her warmth, every pulse, spill into you, marking you in a way that’s both intimate and utterly consuming.
Each pulse of her release sends a shiver through her, her breathing shallow and uneven as she slowly comes down from the high, her eyes fluttering open, looking down at you with a dazed, awestruck expression. She looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and worship, her cheeks still flushed, her lips parted in a soft, blissful smile.
You brush a hand along her cheek, and she leans into your touch, closing her eyes as she takes a deep, steadying breath, her hands still holding you close, as though she can’t bear to let go.
“Natty,” you murmur, running your hands through her hair, guiding her face up to meet your gaze. Her eyes open slowly, her lashes fluttering as she looks at you, her gaze soft, overwhelmed, filled with a raw, unguarded adoration that she can’t hide. Her face is flushed, her lips slightly parted, her expression completely mesmerised as though she can barely believe you’re here, beneath her, accepting every bit of her.
A soft, blissful smile tugs at her lips, her hand moving up to gently cradle your face as she leans in, pressing a delicate, lingering kiss to your lips, her breaths still heavy, warm. She holds you like this, savouring the closeness, the feel of you wrapped around her, the warmth of her release settling within you.
Finally, she shifts, her forehead resting against yours, her eyes wide, her breath still uneven, as though she’s only just starting to come back to herself. She looks at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief, her fingers tracing your jawline softly, reverently.
“I… I didn’t mean to…” she stammers, her face flushing deeper, her shy gaze flicking away for a moment.
But you smile, reaching up to cup her face, bringing her gaze back to yours, your voice soft and reassuring. “Natty… it’s okay,” you murmur, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “I wanted this, too. I asked.”
She lets out a soft, relieved exhale, her body relaxing as she sinks into you, her arms wrapping around you, holding you as though afraid to let go. You feel her heartbeat gradually slow, her warmth enveloping you, her gaze still soft, full of that same innocent awe as she watches you, completely lost in the moment.
As Natasha catches her breath, her fingers lingering on your skin as though afraid to break the closeness between you, she finally shifts to pull out, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping her lips. She watches with wide, almost mesmerised eyes as your bodies separate, and her gaze drops to the way your mixed warmth slowly begins to spill out of you, the evidence of everything you’ve shared glistening in the low light.
Her lips part, her cheeks flushed as her gaze stays fixed, almost transfixed, and she can’t hide the blush that rises as she takes it all in. She’s caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief, her wide eyes drinking in every detail as though this might all disappear any second.
“Take a picture; it’ll last longer, Natty,” you tease, your smirk playful, voice soft, cutting through her daze. She looks up, startled, blinking as she registers your words. But after a second, she lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, her blush deepening as she reaches over to grab her phone, still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. She snaps a quick picture, her gaze flicking between the screen and you, clearly savouring every second. The reverence in her expression makes your heart skip, a feeling of pride filling you as you watch her.
Once she’s put the phone aside, she reaches over with a soft, sheepish smile, helping you sit up and adjust yourself. Her gaze softens, that shy, affectionate look taking over as she wraps her arms around you, holding you close, savouring the warmth that lingers between you both.
And then she glances at the bed, a small, nervous laugh escaping as she spots her carefully scattered history notes—now crinkled, a little rumpled, with more than a few slightly smudged edges. Without missing a beat, she moves to gather them, straightening the papers, her cheeks still a warm shade of pink as she moves to tidy up.
a/n- apologies if this is the worst piece i've written LOL i've been surviving on a few hours of sleep for the past few days- big thanks to jess for somehow helping me get through this, i'll let you keep your ps5. sigh. i'd still build a princess castle tho.
#romugh's nerd!natty#men and minors dni#romugh slays#romugh writes#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff reader#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow#nerdy natty forever my love#nerd natasha#natasha romanoff smut#bottom natasha romanoff#romugh dies#scarlett johansson x reader#scarlett johansson reader#black widow smut
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winners love winning - alexia putellas
Warnings: suggestive smut MDNI 18+
Wordcount: ~1.1k
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You had been a barca fan as long as you could remember, being mesmerised by the likes of Iniesta and Xavi quickly turned into being a big fan of Vicky Losada and Mariona Caldentey. So when they came knocking on your door, it was an offer you simply couldn't refuse. You settled in easily, barcelona had always been your number one holiday destination and you were quickly growing fond of the team. However you liked your captain a little more than you probably should. The two of you met during an international game, swapping shirts after you lost the game, it made the loss a little easier to take. And now, she was shining for barca, playing like she always used to. She had a certain charm and you’d be flat-out lying if you said you weren’t attracted to her.
"We're going out tonight at Razzmatazz right?" You asked, as you were trying on another top. You were at Claudia's apartment with Patri and Cata, getting yourselfs ready before meeting the rest at the club. "Yes we are and your girlfriend ale, is also tagging along this time, please try to not to stare as much this time" Patri said, rolling your eyes at her comment. She teased you endlessly ever since she found about your thing for the captain. You were trying to show her a meme you saved in your tiktok favourites, but instead an edit of alexia popped up on your screen. "She's not my girlfriend, asshole" you responded whilst taking another shot. Pre-drinks at Claudia's were the usual every time you went out, it was their, and now also your way of getting ready. "We all know you wish she was" Cata mumbled, leaving you speechless looking redder than a tomato. They were planning on getting wasted and so were you, the already few days of vacation were gonna be spent on having the best time possible. First you were going out, then spending the remaining days on a group holiday, somewhere away from the public eye, preferably in Spain, before all leaving for the international break.
A few drinks in, they decided it was better to walk, the club wasn't that far away after all and some fresh air wouldn't hurt. "Mira, no more okay? Sé que todas son bromas, pero no quiero arruinar la amistad" you said in a half-whisper, holding the door open for the rest to come in. (Look, i know it's all jokes, but i don't want to ruin the friendship) You had been working on your Spanish, not feeling entirely comfortable, but it being good enough to hold proper conversations with your teammates. Unsurprisingly, Alexia was the first one you greeted "Ale! You finally stopped being boring for once!" Earning you a laugh from your captain, if only she knew how much you loved it. She was wearing quite a simple outfit, a top with a blazer and a pair of jeans, yet she still looked otherworldly. Resting your gaze onto her as she spoke to Ingrid and Mapi, your phone pinged:
- Patri: just kiss her already jesus
- me: callate, hdp (shut up, asshole)
You went back to your conversation with your captain, who was also having a conversation about the ballon d'or. It took less than a minute before your phone pinged again:
- Cata: stop eyefucking her pleaseeeee
This time you chose to ignore it, instead you sat down next to Esmee and Kika, who were talking about their holiday plans.
- you were added to "15 × 11"
You sighed, alexias and your numbers in the squad, this was in fact gonna go on the whole night.
- Clau: we've got an offer for you
- if you get with her before we leave, we'll pay for your drinks
- Cata: and if you go home with her to play cards ;) we'll also pay for your share of the group holidays
- me: i'll do it. But to make it clear, it's cause i want her, not the money.
I went up to talk to them, before shooting my shot. "I hate you guys", you said. "No you don't." Claudia responded as you walked away. You needed a drink first before you were shooting your shot. "2 shots porfa" planning on giving one to the Catalan woman. As you were giving her the glass you said "Ale, quieres bailar? Cata said you were being boring and "mature" as always, wanna prove her wrong?" This was your one chance and you weren't gonna waste a second. The music was getting louder and you weren't leaving much room for Jesus. "Que guapa eres..." (you're so hot) she breathed out, her hand tracing along your arm. "What did you say?" You asked, playing innocent even though you heard her loud and clear. "Nada, amor, nada." (Nothing, love, nothing) She turned you around, working your back into her, when you felt your phone buzzing again.
- Patri: perrear??? Se te ve la cabeza??? (grinding??? Have you lost your mind???)
“Jesus, you’re insane” you heard her mutter from behind you. It was just a matter of time before she’d give in. She pulled you away from the people into a bathroom stall, locking lips before the door even closed, her hands all over you. You kissed her back fiercely, yet letting her take control. As she kept you pinned to the thin bathroom wall, her hands started wandering. However you were snapped back to reality when you heard your phone ring.
- 15x11 is calling (videocall)
Groaning as you looked at your screen, you picked up. “What do you guys want this time?” you asked, clearly annoyed your moment got interrupted and trying to show as little of the Catalan woman next to you as possible. “We thought we lost you”, it was obvious they had seen you leave with Alexia, “but given you left with a certain someone, we think you’re all good”, they laughed, earning the finger. “amor, we’ve got some unfinished business, don’t you think?” she smiled against your lips, her hand moving along your spine. “we really do,” you replied, pressing your lips to hers once more. “My apartment it is”, as she moved away to get out of the bathroom. “We’re leaving guys!” You screamt, looking to see if your friends could hear you, as alexia was saying her goodbyes to the others.
- me: i got the girl, winners love winning
You texted, smiling whilst entering your captain's apartment. Both eager to get back to what you started.
a/n: this is my first time doing this, lmk if you got advice or anything
#barcelona femeni#woso#patri guijarro#cata coll#woso x reader#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#woso imagine#futfem#barca femeni x reader
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Just A Prank
Franco Colapinto x Fem!reader
minor angst and a lot of fluff
Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!
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F1 and 2 Masterlist
The day began like any other. You and Franco had both slept in, rare and cherished moments of rest squeezed between the constant hum of his career as a Formula 2 driver. Lately, every moment together felt extra special—his season was nearing its end, and with it, the uncertainty of what would come next loomed ever closer.
That morning, you both lounged on the sofa, Franco’s head resting comfortably in your lap as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his messy dark hair. You could feel the quiet rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body leaning into yours. He seemed unusually relaxed, but you could also sense an underlying tension—like he was holding something back.
“Do you want to go out for a walk later?” you asked, trying to pull him out of his pensive silence.
Franco looked up at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’d rather stay like this for a bit longer,” he murmured, leaning up to steal a kiss. “Besides, who knows when I’ll get the chance to do this again.”
“Franco, don’t be so dramatic,” you chuckled, but his words stirred something inside you. You both knew the competitive nature of racing, the constant push to perform, and the slim chances of moving up to Formula 1. He’d been hoping, of course, but you could feel the weight of the uncertainty. It had been pressing on both of you, silent and unspoken.
As the day wore on, you found yourself nestled in the little routines that made life with Franco feel so complete: cooking breakfast together, debating which show to watch, laughing over silly inside jokes only the two of you understood. The hours passed, and you found comfort in his presence, a sense of home you never thought you’d find so soon in life.
Then, in the early afternoon, Franco’s phone rang. The sharp sound cut through the quiet, and he tensed immediately.
“Hold on, amor,” he said softly, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the screen. “It’s my boss… I need to take this.”
You watched him slip into the next room, closing the door behind him as he answered. You felt your heart rate pick up, your mind running through a million scenarios. You knew he’d been anxiously awaiting some news about next season, but he hadn’t said much—always downplaying it, always acting like it was no big deal. Yet you could tell it mattered to him more than he let on.
Minutes ticked by, each one dragging longer than the last. You strained to hear snippets of his voice, but it was muffled behind the door. Your stomach churned with nerves, and you hugged a pillow to your chest, wondering what could possibly be taking so long.
Finally, he emerged, his face unreadable. You searched his expression, looking for any hint of what he’d heard, but he just sighed, walking toward you with a faint smile.
“So…” he said, plopping down beside you, trying to look nonchalant. “Looks like next season… they’re, uh, bringing someone else in to replace me.”
The words landed like a stone in your chest. “What?” you whispered, wide-eyed with disbelief. “Franco, no—there’s no way! You’ve been amazing this season! Who would they possibly bring in that’s better than you?”
He shrugged, looking away, his face somber. “Apparently they want a different direction or something.”
Anger bubbled up inside you, your face heating as you struggled to keep your composure. “I’m sorry, but that’s insane. You’ve worked so hard, Franco. You don’t deserve this! It’s not fair!”
Franco bit his lip, struggling to contain a grin. You were too furious to notice.
“I’ll call them,” you continued, clenching your fists. “I’ll go down to the paddock myself if I have to and demand answers. They don’t realize what they’re giving up.”
“Y/N,” Franco interrupted softly, his voice trembling slightly with laughter, “it’s a joke.”
You froze, trying to process his words. “A… a joke?” you repeated, blinking in confusion.
He laughed, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into his embrace, his whole body shaking with laughter. “Yes, cariño, a joke! They didn’t replace me. They actually… called me up. I’m going to F1.”
For a second, you couldn’t speak. Relief and shock hit you in equal measure, a tidal wave of emotions threatening to spill over. You blinked, your mind racing to catch up. “Wait, Franco, are you serious?”
He nodded, his eyes shining with excitement, a look you’d never seen before. “I am. I didn’t want to get my hopes up until I knew for sure. But yes… I’m moving up to Formula 1.”
“Franco!” you gasped, grabbing his face in your hands as the reality of it set in. Pride, love, and pure joy swelled in your heart, and you leaned in, pressing a fierce, grateful kiss to his lips. “I’m so, so proud of you.”
He grinned, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. “So… do you still want to go to that fancy dinner? I think I could use a celebration.”
You didn’t need any more convincing. After changing into something special for the occasion, you spent the rest of the evening out together, every laugh and glance shared over the candlelit table a reminder of the journey you’d both been on together, and the exciting path that lay ahead. It felt surreal, like a dream you both dared not wake up from.
The restaurant was perfect—a quiet, candlelit spot with a warm ambiance, the kind of place where you felt like the world outside melted away. It was just you and Franco, tucked into a cozy booth with glasses of deep red wine glinting in the soft light. You both had eyes only for each other.
As you sat down, Franco took your hand, his fingers warm and familiar as they laced through yours. He began tracing soft, invisible circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, a simple gesture that sent gentle shivers up your spine. You caught yourself smiling, wondering if he realized just how much these little touches meant to you.
“Who are you most excited to see on the grid?” you asked, playfully narrowing your eyes at him. You knew he had a few favorite drivers, people he looked up to and couldn’t wait to work alongside. The mere thought of him among the ranks of those he admired filled you with pride.
“Ah, I can’t lie,” he said with a grin, leaning closer. “It has to be Alonso. To think that I’ll be racing alongside him… It still doesn’t feel real. And Verstappen, too—I’ve watched them since I was a kid, you know? To be up there with them, fighting for positions on the same track…” He shook his head, a little awestruck, and you could see the light in his eyes, that spark of a dream coming true.
You squeezed his hand, feeling his excitement wash over you like a wave. “It’s everything you’ve worked for, Franco. And you deserve it more than anyone.”
He gave you a bashful smile, a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. “I’d never have made it here without you, Y/N. You’re my biggest supporter, and that means the world to me.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured, brushing his cheek softly. “It’s just… I’m so happy to see you finally getting what you’ve dreamed of. It’s going to be incredible, Franco.”
The two of you settled into an easy rhythm of talking about the future—where he’d be traveling, who he’d meet, the circuits he was most excited to race on. He laughed as he recounted stories of watching past races as a kid, how he’d imagined himself on those tracks, feeling every turn and straight as if he was already there.
“To celebrate,” he began, leaning back with a mischievous smile, “we should travel somewhere just for us. No circuits, no media. Just the two of us, like old times.”
Your eyes lit up. “Like a real holiday?”
He nodded. “Exactly. We could go somewhere quiet, off the grid. A beach, maybe. Just us, some sunshine, no worries.”
“Let’s do it,” you said, a smile spreading across your face. “After your first race, we’ll sneak away and have our own little victory tour.”
Franco laughed, shaking his head. “It’s a date, then.” He raised his glass in a toast, and you clinked yours against his, both of you laughing, a gentle warmth in the air as the wine brought out the color in his cheeks.
As he sipped, he looked at you thoughtfully. “What about you, Y/N? This is going to be a huge change. Are you ready for all the travel, the media, the madness?”
You felt his fingers lace through yours a little tighter, a look of genuine concern crossing his face. You took a breath, holding his gaze. “Franco, I’ll follow you anywhere. This is your dream, and I want to be there to support you every step of the way. I’ll be right there, cheering you on, reminding you to eat, helping you decompress after every race. Whatever you need.”
For a moment, he just looked at you, his face softening, his eyes full of that love that had been there from the beginning. “I’m the luckiest guy alive, you know that?”
You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice caught as you noticed something over his shoulder. At a table just across the room, seated side by side with familiar expressions of pride and warmth, were your parents. They were dressed for the occasion, looking right at you with knowing smiles, raising their glasses in your direction.
“Wait… are those… my parents?” you whispered, glancing back at Franco, utterly bewildered. “What are they doing here?”
But when you turned back to him, Franco was no longer in his seat. Instead, he was down on one knee beside you, his warm hand still holding yours. In his other hand, he held a small, velvet ring box, his face a mixture of nervousness and undeniable love.
“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft yet steady. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were something special. You’re my best friend, my rock, and the reason I’ve been able to dream as big as I have. I can’t imagine facing any of life’s twists and turns without you by my side. I want to spend every lap of this life with you. Will you marry me?”
Tears welled up in your eyes, the enormity of the moment crashing over you. You could feel the warmth of his hand still holding yours, the love in his gaze steady and unwavering. You could only nod, whispering, “Yes, Franco. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
The restaurant broke into applause as he slid the ring onto your finger. He rose to his feet, pulling you close, and you laughed through your tears, burying your face in his shoulder as the joy of it all overflowed. It felt as though time had stopped, as though the two of you were the only people in the room.
When you pulled back, your parents were there, wrapping you in hugs, congratulating you both. You looked back at Franco, his eyes never leaving yours, that same quiet joy radiating from him.
In that moment, you knew that no matter where this life took you, every twist and turn would be worth it because you’d be facing them together.
@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye
#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#franco colapinto#f1 2024#williams f1#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto fanfic#fluff#franco colapinto fluff#franco colapinto angst#formula 2 x you#formula 2 x reader#formula 2 imagine#f1 fic#f2 x you#f2 imagine#f2u#f2 x reader#f1 imagine
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angel on his shoulder: happy birthday (op81)
mean!oscar x sweet!reader
summary: oscar struggles to find the perfect gift for your birthday
notes: again, he’s not really mean, but idk what to call him now
wc: 1533
prev. part
You had somehow managed to do it, to worm your way into Oscar’s life, to make yourself a permanent part of his day. What was once passing glances had now turned into soft smiles and quiet conversations. He looked forward to seeing you everyday, to talking with you.
He started saving a seat for you whenever he ate lunch, or sitting closer to Lando during meetings, so he could sit closer to you. He longed to be at the receiving end of your smiles and laughs, and mentally cheered when he was.
Of course spending more time with you meant spending more time with Lando as well. Oscar didn’t dislike Lando, not at all, but Lando could occasionally be… a bit much. Especially when he was wiggling his eyebrows at him for simply talking with you.
He was sitting in the training room at the MTC one day, getting ready to begin his workout when he feels an arm around his shoulders. He turns to see Lando smirking down at him.
“Hey.” He says.
“Hey yourself.” Lando replies. “What are you up to?”
Oscar furrows his eyebrows and looks around the gym. “What do you think?”
Lando rolls his eyes, but smiles as he walks towards a set of weights.
“Is, uh, is Y/n coming around?” Oscar tries to sound casual, but hearing Lando snort makes his face flush.
“To stay with me while I work out? I doubt she’d be interested in that.” He scoffs. “But I bet she’d be more interested if she knew you were here too.”
“What?” Oscar spurts. “Why would she?” He can feel his face burning up.
“No reason.” Lando says, teasingly. “Hey, what are you doing for next week?”
Oscar furrows his brows. “What’s going on next week?”
“Y/n’s birthday.” Lando answers. “You didn’t know?” He turns to look at Oscar.
Oscar tries to think back, wondering if you’ve mentioned your birthday.
“Well it’s next week. I’m throwing a party for her. You can come if you want.”
Oscar nods. “Yeah, yeah I’ll be there.”
Lando grins. “Good. She’ll be glad to hear that.”
Oscar tries to hide the blush he feels spreading on his cheeks.
“I’ve already got her gift picked out and wrapped. Not by me, of course. It’d look like I was handing her a wad of paper.”
“Gift?” Oscar asks. He feels panic beginning to rise in his chest.
“Yeah, gift. It’s a birthday.” Lando laughs. “You have to get her a gift.”
“Right.” Oscar murmurs. He stands up. “I think I’m done here, for the day.” With that he walks out of the training center, gym bag slung over his shoulder, his gaze locked on the ground as he leaves.
“Didn’t even see him do anything.” Lando mumbles to himself.
Oscar spends the rest of the day wracking his brain for something, anything to get you for your birthday. He could get you jewelry? But that seems too intimate. Money? Too casual.
He sits alone while he eats his lunch, staring off into space as he eats, trying to think of something.
“Hey, Os. You okay?” You ask softly placing your food down on the table next to him.
He snaps out of his thoughts, looking at you wide-eyed.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
You laugh. “I don’t know, you’ve got this weird look on your face.”
He shakes his head. “No I don’t.”
“Okay, fine.” You laugh.
Oscar sighs, looking back at his food, but out of the corner of his eye he sees a book on your lap.
“What’s that?” He asks.
“Oh,” you smile, lifting the book to put it on the table. “It’s the book I’m reading right now.”
Oscar looks at the cover.
“It’s actually like, the tenth time I’m reading it.” You say.
Oscar snorts. “Why?”
“It’s my favorite book.” You shrug. “It’s so good. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it.”
Oscar hums.
“No, seriously, it would be so nice to have someone to talk to about it.” You whine. “I tried to get Lando to read it, and do you know what he said? He said ‘I’ll wait for the movie’. Can you believe that?” You ask.
Oscar laughs. “That sounds about right.” He watches as you push the book to the side to eat your lunch. “Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.”
“Oh, okay, see you.”
Oscar tries not to let the way your shoulders slump affect him. He gathers his things, and leaves you sitting there, pulling out his phone as he walks away.
After work Oscar goes to several different shops, looking for that damned book. He’s just about to give up, when he finally finds one lone copy. He keeps it tucked close to his chest as he walks to the checkout counter, as if afraid someone’s going to try to pry it from his hands.
He spends any free time he has for the week with his nose in the book. He brings it with him to the MTC, he reads it before and after work, he feels like the book becomes a part of him.
He shows up to Lando’s apartment for your party, with his gift tucked under his arm. He’d spent about an hour on picking a shirt, then another on fixing his unruly hair.
He has to admit, he’s surprised when he walks into Lando’s apartment. It’s not the bright rave lights or loud music he’d picture Lando would pick out for a party for himself, instead it’s soft warm lighting with some soft music in the background.
“I see you’ve made it.” Lando says, when he sees Oscar. “And you’ve managed to find a gift.” He smirks. “What’d you get her?”
Oscar shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
“Keeping it a surprise?”
Before Oscar can answer, he’s pulled into a soft hug. “Thanks for coming, Os.” He hears your voice next to his ear.
Oscar smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “Happy birthday.”
When you pull away Oscar allows himself a moment to admire you. You’re wearing a soft dress that compliments you well. He notices the small sparking stone on the necklace around your neck.
“Pretty necklace.” He says.
You lift a hand to touch the stone. “Thanks. Lando got it for me.”
Oscar feels an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. His eyes search for the brit, who has made himself scarce.
“I told him it was too much. He said it’s the least he can do for me, having to put up with him everyday.” You laugh.
Oscar gives you an unconvincing smile, awkwardly shifting the gift under his arm, the gift he’s starting to feel immensely insecure about.
“Do you want to go sit somewhere?” You ask him. “Lando invited all of these people, but I don’t think I know half of them.” You laugh.
Oscar nods, following you as you lead him to the balcony.
You each take a seat, looking out at the sun setting over Monaco. He can’t help but admire you. The sun makes you practically glow, your eyes quite literally sparkle.
“Thanks for coming, really.” You break the silence. “I appreciate what Lando’s done, but I can’t help but feel a bit… out of place.”
Oscar hums. He holds out his gift to you, figuring it’d be better to deal with the embarrassment of you thinking it’s lame out here alone, rather than inside surrounded by people.
He watches as you tear open the gift, a confused look spreading across your face as you see what it is.
“It’s my book…” You say, holding the same book you showed him at the beginning of the week, though this copy is clearly newer. “Thanks Oscar.” You say, trying to hide your disappointment.
“Open it.”
You look at him confused again. “I swear if you cut a hole in my favorite book-“
“Just open it.” He cuts you off with a smile.
You slowly open it, flipping through the first few pages, the title page, the acknowledgment, the table of contents, until you get to the first actual page of the book.
Inside, surrounding the text in the book are little notes and doodles, scrawled in messy handwriting. You flip through the pages to see them everywhere.
“You annotated it?” You ask softly.
Oscar nods. “I read it this week. I figured it would be nice for you to have someone to talk to about it.” He says. He takes a deep breath. “Look, I know it’s not great-“
“I love it.” You cut him off.
“You do?”
You nod. You had copies upon copies of this book, paperbacks, hardcovers, special editions, sprayed edges, but none of them compared to the one in your hands. The one Oscar took the time to read, then write out all of his own thoughts for you. It felt like you were holding a piece of him in your arms.
“Yeah, I love it. Thank you.” You murmur, pulling him into a hug.
Oscar feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you. He smiles to himself, feeling like he’s successfully planted himself in your heart now.
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could you maybe wanna write a charles x doctor!reader fanfic where charles raced while not feeling well even though you said he shouldn’t and after the race that he finished on podium he fainted? and then he was like in hospital and had surgery and then was completely high after the surgery?
thank you in advance ♥️♥️♥️
Set in Saudi Arabian Grand Prix 2024, Charles gets appendicitis but races. established relationship. Hope you like it!!
Against Doctor's Orders
It was the Saudi Arabian grand prix, only the second race in the season and Charles hadn't been feeling too well through out the weekend. Nothing too serious he thought, probably a stomach bug since he travelled so much. "Char, you look pale" his girlfriend asked through the phone. "I'll be fine" Charles responded. "You should rest" she tried to insist. "I'm good, really" Charles forced a smile. "Not convincing me. Should've been there" she sighed. "I know you would've if you could" Charles consoled. "I'll be back on Monday and you can play doctor as much as you'd like" Charles laughed. "Play doctor" she asked in disbelief before bursting into a laugh. "Take care. Good luck. If there's anything call me and take the meds I told you too, those should help with the nausea" she said. "I will Dr. Y/L/N" Charles smiled before cutting the call.
Y/N couldn't be here and part of Charles just wanted to be babied but he couldn't be since the race was in a couple of hours. He got on track and started getting everything ready for the race. "You look paler than yesterday" Fred pointed out. "I'm fine" Charles brushed him off, going over the stats before the race.
Saudi Arabian GP was one of the hottest races but since it was during the night, the weather had started to settle down. The breeze from the sea side made the pain in his lower abdomen bearable.
As the lights turned green, Charles hit the accelerator; trying to forget the throbbing pain in his stomach or the way he thought bile would come out of his mouth every time the car turned. He kept his eyes on the track and the focus on the race. He could barely swallow any water without wanting to puke so he decided to forgo any water for the race. As the final laps of the race approached, Charles was still in a podium finish, which he thought was impressive since he felt like he was going to die any moment. When the checkered flag waved and he finished third, Charles sat in the car for a moment before he could gather any energy to pull himself out; the team kind of pulled him out of the car.
He had to drag himself to get done with the formalities before the podium, unable to speak since he felt like puking and the pain in his abdomen had gotten 10 time worse. He thought his stomach was being twisted and turned every way around. At the third step of the podium, Max assisted Charles to climb up since he looked like he was in pain. "You okay" Max quickly mouthed to which Charles just nodded trying to maintain his balance. As they were about to start distributing the trophies, Charles fell forward and fainted on the podium. Having drivers with quick reflex is a good thing, since Max was able to catch him before he hit the floor unceremoniously and was taken to the medic.
After looking at him and an unconscious Charles who couldn't answer them, they had him transferred to the hospital. Y/N watched this on the TV when she was watching the race. Her heart almost stopped when she saw Charles faint and started making calls to the team. She was busy packing her stuff to leave for the airport when Ferrari informed her that Charles was going into surgery because of his appendix. She told them she would be there by the time he woke up and quickly left the house.
A couple of hours of plane ride later and post surgery Charles was starting to wake up. Y/N had rushed to the hospital from the airport and her luggage was sat at the corner of the room. Her hands were wrapped around Charles's as he began to stir. "Hey" she cooed. "HI" Charles replied groggily, surely still high from the pain meds and anaesthesia. "You're pretty" he giggled. She smiled, "You're lucky you're cute" she sighed. "You think I'm cute" Charles giggled again. "I'm gonna go get the doctor to check on you" she said letting go of his hand. "My girlfriend's a doctor. She can check on me" Charles stated. "Babe, I'm your girlfriend and I can't since I didn't go over your case" she laughed. "You're my girlfriend?" he asked shocked. "Who did you think I was?" she laughed. "The pretty girl" Charles continued giggling to himself. Y/N slipped away for the doctors to come and check on him. After the doctors checked him, making sure he was okay and recovering well; they explained everything to Y/N.
"You need to be more careful and listen to me next time" Y/N stated. Charles just nodded. "I have a pretty girlfriend" he sang. "Couple more hours before he's out of it" she sighed and kissed his cheek relieved that he was okay. "I'm sorry for worrying you" he pouted. "It's okay as long as you're okay" she smiled. "I love you Y/N" Charles smiled brightly. "I love you too Charles" she smiled back. "You'll take care of me like you take care of all your patients?" he asked. "I'll take care of you like my boyfriend. My patients don't get cuddles and kisses while they are healing" she chuckled. "They better not, I'm gonna fight them" he said trying to make fists. "Don't do that. You have a IV line in your hand" she said straightening his hand out. "OH" he said staring at his hand. "But it doesn't hurt." Charles said. "It's not supposed to" she replied kissing his hand where the IV line was attached.
A few hours later, the effect of the medicines had worn out and Charles was just on pain meds to help post surgery. Y/N had a shit ton of videos of Charles proposing his love to her and telling everyone who set foot into the room about her which did make her embarrassed but it was sweet how proud of her he was. She made him take all the embarrassing pictures he would never agree to if he wasn't loopy to use as black mail.
"I must've been a handful" Charles asked, now completely sober. "A little but I love it that way" she smiled. "Than I'll continue to be like that" he laughed before wincing in pain. "Don't laugh too much. You'll still be in pain" she reprimanded him. "I have you" he reasoned. "You'll always have me" she stated. "Sorry for worrying you" Charles apologised. "Just don't do that again. I don't think my heart can handle that" she said. "I don't think I have two appendix to do that" Charles laughed trying to lighten the mood. "Don't laugh your stitched are still only a few hours old" she said sternly. "Okay doctor" he smiled puckering lips as if he wanted to kiss her. She leaned in and kissed his lips. "je t'aime chérie" Charles said when Y/N pulled away. "je t'aime aussi bébé" she replied.
#gguk-n#ask request#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 x you#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fic#f1 fluff#formula one fluff#formula one fic#formula one imagine#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#cl16 x you#cl16 fic#charles leclerc
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wise man ─ jj maybank
summary: jj is suddenly spiraling.
warnings: unedited, angst, plot twist, violence, blood
author's note: this plot is also not the exact same as season 4, just inspired by it so some things have been changed
This was the worst you'd seen JJ spiral in the 12 years you'd known him.
After being gone all night, he finally returned to the chateau, nothing short of maniacal and fuming. He burst through the front door, ignoring the confused looks plastered on his friends' faces. Instead of sparking up his usual conversation about whatever unusual discoveries he'd made, he made a beeline straight to his room.
"Uh, what the hell was that?" John B asked, his voice tinged with perplexity. Everyone exchanged glances, their faces mirroring the same confusion.
"No idea," Pope replied, just as uncertain as the rest of them.
You sat there in silence, a fretful look etched across your face. JJ had left early that morning without saying where he was going or why. You figured it was better not to ask, given the frantic way he’d left. You thought maybe he’d gone off to blow off some steam or handle errands, but based on his state now, you knew something far graver was at play.
You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap while your friends continued tossing around theories about what was wrong with JJ. But you couldn’t focus on their words—your own mind was too busy, running through the worst possibilities. Their voices blended into a distant echo, drowned out by the rush of your thoughts. It wasn’t like JJ to return so heated, especially without acknowledging any of his friends. Especially not you.
"Y/n?" Sarah’s voice cut through the fog of your mind, soft but urgent.
"We thought maybe you should go check on him," she suggested plainly, her eyes fixed on you, the others waiting for your reaction.
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. Your gaze flickered nervously across the room, desperately trying to read everyone's expressions, searching for some answer in their eyes.
"Why me?" you asked rather anxiously. Everyone exchanged glances, the answer written plainly on their faces: you know why. It was no secret that you and JJ had grown closer over the past two years, teetering on the edge of something more than just friendship. If anyone could get through to him and find out what was wrong, it was most likely going to be you.
You knew they weren't going to let you refuse—partly because they wanted answers, and partly because they were just plain nosy. They were all looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to be the one to break the ice. You sighed, feeling the weight of their pressure as you pushed yourself up off the couch.
"Alright, I'll go talk to him," you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else. You could feel their eyes on you as you made your way toward JJ's room, uncertainty following you with every step.
"Jayj?" You knocked softly, pressing your ear against the door. "It's just me."
The silence on the other side was deafening, so quiet you could practically hear the pounding of your own heartbeat. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours as you stood there, holding your breath, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment—a word, a movement, the creak of the door opening.
But there was nothing. Just that heavy, unbearable silence.
You knocked again, this time with a bit more urgency. The fear of what might be happening on the other side gnawed at you. "JJ, I just need to know that you're okay," you said softly, your voice tinged with a pleading desperation.
You held your breath, straining to listen for any hint of movement. The silence felt like it was swallowing you whole, the anxiety building with each passing second. Just as you were about to turn away, convinced he wasn't going to respond, you heard it—the faint creak of the door opening.
JJ stood in the doorway, his hair disheveled, his eyes clouded and unreadable. He looked like a shadow of himself, the usual spark in his gaze replaced by something darker and more distant. For a moment, neither of you said a word. The silence between you felt heavy, filled with all the things you wanted to ask but didn't know how to.
You shifted uncomfortably under his burning stare, your mind racing to find the right thing to say, but coming up empty. "Are you... okay?" you finally managed to cough out, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes flicked away from his, unable to hold his intense gaze for long. You found yourself staring at the floor instead, the tension between you nearly suffocating.
JJ let out a low, sinister chuckle, the kind that made your stomach twist. It was the kind of laugh that told you everything was anything but okay. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends as if trying to ground himself. The motion was tense, almost frantic.
You looked at him with furrowed brows, the unease settling deep in your chest. Without saying another word, you took a step forward and slipped inside his room, gently shutting the door behind you. The soft click of the latch seemed to echo in the tense silence.
Turning to face him, you found JJ still staring at you, his expression blank but his eyes filled with a storm of emotions he was barely holding back. You took a slow, steady breath, trying to keep your own voice calm despite the worry gnawing at you.
"Tell me what's going on, Jay," you said, your voice gentle but firm. You met his gaze, refusing to look away this time. Whatever it was that had him spiraling, you needed to know. And you weren’t going to leave until he let you in.
"This has to stay between us, Y/n," JJ said, his voice frantic, barely above a whisper. His eyes locked onto yours, the sincerity and desperation in his gaze making your chest tighten. "If I tell you, you can't tell anyone else. Please."
You nodded slowly, swallowing hard. "Okay, I won't," you responded flatly, keeping your tone steady. You didn’t want to push him any further, not when he was so close to the edge.
JJ’s hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair again, a shaky exhale escaping his lips. He looked at you like he was searching for something—maybe reassurance, maybe the strength to say what he needed to say.
"Luke isn't my dad," he blurted out, his voice cracking on the last word.
The room fell into a heavy silence. For a moment, you weren't sure if you had heard him correctly. You half-expected him to take it back, to say he’d worded himself wrong. But he didn’t. He just stood there, his shoulders tense, waiting for your reaction.
Your eyes widened as you absorbed the weight of his confession, struggling to process it. "How do you know?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You forced yourself to stay calm, fighting to keep the shock from seeping into your tone. The last thing you wanted was to set him off even more.
JJ let out a shaky breath, his eyes darting away, unable to meet yours. It was as if the truth was too heavy to hold onto, slipping from his grasp now that it was out in the open.
"He told me," JJ muttered, his voice breaking. "He told me he wasn't my real dad."
The room felt like it was spinning around you. The shock of his words hit you like a wave, and you struggled to keep your expression neutral, not wanting to add to the storm already brewing inside him. "When did he tell you?" you asked gently, taking a cautious step closer.
"Last night," JJ admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to fight back the tears threatening to spill. "I pushed him. I kept asking why he was like this, why he treated me the way he did. And he just snapped. He said I wasn’t his problem—that I never was. That I wasn’t even his kid.”
You winced at his revelation, the pain of Luke's words hitting you as if they were directed at you. Hearing them through JJ's voice, raw and broken, made it feel like a knife twisting in your chest. Your expression softened, filled with a deep, aching pity. The urge to pull him into your arms, to somehow absorb his pain and take it away, surged inside you.
"Oh, Jay..." you muttered, almost to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper. You reached out a hand but hesitated, unsure if he’d let you touch him in the moment of vulnerability. "This isn’t your fault," you continued, your tone weary. "You were just a kid. None of this is on you."
JJ’s reddened blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, one almost slipping free before he hastily wiped it away, as if even a single tear would break the fragile control he clung to. He shook his head, almost violently, as though he could shake off the truth itself. His jaw clenched tight, the muscle in his cheek ticking with every beat of his fraying composure.
"It doesn’t matter now," he spat, his voice brittle and sharp, tinged with a bitterness that made your heart twist painfully in your chest. "My whole life has been a lie, Y/n. Everything I thought I knew—it’s all bullshit. The guy I thought was my dad? He’s nothing but an abusive piece of shit who took out his rage on me because he could. And now… I can’t help but wonder if things could’ve been different. If I’d known my real dad, maybe I wouldn’t have spent my whole life thinking I was the problem. That I was the reason I was never good enough."
His words cut through the silence like shattered glass, sharp and jagged. You could see the rage roiling in his eyes—the deep-seated hurt and betrayal, tangled with a rage so fierce it almost felt like it could set the room on fire. His lip quivered, and his hands curled into tight fists at his sides, as though he could crush the pain away with sheer force.
"I hate him," JJ muttered, his voice low, trembling with a fury that seemed to burn him from the inside out. "I hate that he lied to me. That he made me believe I was his son, only to turn around and make me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter. And now I’m stuck with this... this gaping hole in my chest. All I’ve got are these questions I can’t answer and a childhood I can’t get back. Nothing can change that. No words can erase what I’ve been through."
The anger in his eyes was raw, searing, but behind it, you could see the deep, aching hurt. He was trembling, his whole body taut like a bowstring about to snap. He looked like he was holding back a flood, desperately trying to keep himself from crumbling under the weight of it all.
Your heart ached at the sight of him standing there, so broken yet still holding onto the frayed edges of his pride. You took a step closer, moving slowly as if approaching a wounded animal, afraid that even the smallest movement might push him over the edge. Gently, you placed a hand on his arm, feeling the tremble of his muscles beneath your fingers.
"Jay," you whispered, your voice gentle but laced with a tinge of fear. You could feel the tension radiating off him, like he was barely holding himself together. "I know nothing can change what's been done," you continued softly, your words careful and deliberate. "And Luke... he was a horrible father. But what he did to you—that doesn’t define who you are. If anything, it only shows how fucked up he is, not you."
You watched JJ’s expression falter, the anger dissolving into something far more vulnerable—defeat. For a moment, you feared he might push you away, retreat behind that wall of bravado and anger he often used to protect himself. But instead, he looked at you, his eyes clouded with exhaustion, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his revelation was finally too much to bear.
“What’s worse,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, “is who my real dad is.”
Your breath hitched, a wave of unease creeping up your spine. You swallowed thickly, bracing yourself for whatever he was about to say, though you knew nothing could have prepared you for this moment. “Who?” you asked, the word slipping out almost involuntarily, like you had to hear it from him to believe it.
JJ’s gaze darted away, his eyes fixing on the floor as if he couldn’t bear to meet yours. He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Chandler Groff.”
The name struck you like a lightning bolt, leaving you stunned. Chandler Groff—the man who had been nothing but a shadowy figure in your and your friends' latest troubles. You had met him just once, in that cobweb-covered mansion, where his strange demeanor and intense fixation on the cursed amulet had left you all feeling uneasy. It was hard to believe that the same man pushing so relentlessly for your friends' to complete Wes' mission, the same man who insisted on the curse’s reality, was JJ’s biological father.
Your mouth went dry as you tried to process the new connection. “Chandler Groff?” you repeated, more to yourself than to JJ. The pieces began to click together—the urgency, the obsession with the amulet, his strange behavior after Wes’s sudden death. It was as if a curtain had been lifted, revealing a truth far more twisted than you could have imagined.
“Yeah,” JJ spat bitterly, his eyes filling with a mixture of pain and fury. “The guy who’s been trying to manipulate us into handing over that stupid amulet. The same guy who’s got the cops breathing down our necks over Wes’s death. That’s who my real dad is.”
You took a step closer, feeling the gravity of JJ’s emotions pull you in, the betrayal and anguish radiating off him like a palpable force. Your chest tightened at the sight of him, broken and raw in a way you had never seen before. “I can’t believe this,” you whispered, your voice thick with sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Jay.”
JJ’s face twisted in frustration, his jaw clenching as he shook his head vehemently. “No,” he snapped, his tone sharp but wavering. “No more sorries. I don’t want your pity or anyone else's. I’m done thinking about it, done feeling sorry for myself.” His voice cracked, revealing the thin line between his anger and despair. He took a deep breath, his fists curling at his sides as he forced himself to look at you.
“We’ll find that bastard,” he continued, his voice low but filled with a burning resolve. “Chandler’s up to something, and whatever it is, it can’t be good. He’s been playing us from the start. All that crap about Wes’s mission and the curse—it was all just a setup. We need to figure out what he really wants before he makes his next move.”
You nodded, a determined look crossing your face. “Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll get to the bottom of this together, Jay. Whatever Chandler’s planning, he’s not going to get away with it."
For a fragment of a moment, JJ's expression eased. He took in a deep sigh as though your words breathed life back into him, exemplified by the way his fists unclenched themselves and the veins in his neck disappeared.
"I'm sorry if I worried you earlier," he mumbled an apology, his voice full of regret, "I wasn't thinking. As soon as I heard the news I.. I just saw red." His confession was candid, as if he was slowly coming to terms with everything he had just learned in the past 24 hours.
You took a sigh of relief mentally, giving JJ a faint smile of approval. "It's okay, I don't blame you for it. I think I would've done the same," you reassured with buoyancy in your voice, "maybe worse."
JJ replied to your sentiment with a faint chuckle and a tenuous head shake, appreciating your wit in the wake of the chaos plaguing his life.
"Y/n?" JJ muttered, his voice nearly mute.
"Yeah?"
"I don't know what I'd do without you. I don't think I could handle this if you weren't here." He admitted with of tone of gravitas that you had never heard from him before. You knew that what he was saying was vulnerable for him to confess, which made your heart flutter in your chest.
"I don't think I deserve that much credit," you joked, trying to break up the tension that filled the room between the two of you. You wanted to be raw and honest with him, to tell him you look for him in every man you meet, but it didn't feel like the right time to do so. Not when he was still processing the news about his father.
"You don't even realize how much you do for all of us, for me." This was a side of JJ you hadn't seen much before, maybe in glimpses, but never fully. He was standing in front of you, his eyes still adorned with sorrow but masked by the veneration he had for you. You felt small under his burning gaze but he held his eye contact, although you swore he secretly knew how you were crumbling beneath his stare.
"Jay—"
"Will you just stay with me tonight?" JJ softly implored, his desperate eyes making it hard for you to say 'no'.
"But what if they ask why I was in here all night? You know they're nosy."
"Let them ask," he shrugged, lying down on the bed next to you, "c'mon. Just for tonight."
He was convincing, but it didn't help that you already had a burning penchant for him. You stood there for a moment as you took in his figure, tragically beautiful and maimed by malice in an unjustly harsh life. His eyes felt haunting to look at as they painted a picture of the grief he so desperately tried to run away from, but he couldn't hide it from you.
"Okay," you silently replied.
You slid off your shoes and delicately climbed your way next to the empty spot in the bed next to JJ. A pair of cerulean eyes stayed glued to you as you nuzzled carefully under the covers. You dare not look over as he watched you in fear that you would make things awkward if you acknowledged his glance.
Once you felt situated, you closed your eyes in hopes that you would quickly fall asleep and get through the night, but before you could drift off you felt an arm drape over your waist and pull you in. JJ gently placed your head into his chest, letting you feel the beating of his heart in the dead of silence. You didn't move. You wanted to take in the moment and capture it in your mind, knowing that one day you'd look back at where you were and admire whatever happened right then.
—
"Okay, this is a lot to take in," Pope interrupted, his voice breaking the heavy silence that had enveloped the room. "But we need to stay focused. Chandler’s part in all this—his connection to JJ—it complicates everything. We can't just let it slide."
You looked over at JJ, his frustration and sarcasm evident in his posture as he leaned back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest. "Tell me about it," he scoffed, his tone sharp, the sarcasm almost like a shield to deflect the rawness of what he had just shared.
Kiara leaned forward, her brow furrowed in thought as she looked between you and JJ. "So what do you suggest we do?" she asked, her voice steady, but the urgency was clear. "Because this... this whole thing is a mess."
JJ sat back against the couch, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he stared at the floor, his eyes distant. "I don't know," he muttered, frustration creeping into his tone. "I just... I need answers. We all do. Chandler Groff—he’s been playing us this whole time. And I don’t care what it takes, we’re going to find out what the hell he really wants from us."
Kiara exchanged a glance with Pope, then turned her gaze back to JJ, her expression serious. "We have to be careful. If we push too hard, we could end up walking right into his trap."
JJ nodded slowly, his jaw clenched, the tension radiating off him. "I know. But we need to find out what he's planning before he fucks us over." His voice was tight with anger and desperation, as if the weight of everything was finally hitting him.
Kiara gave a sharp nod, her expression resolute. "We can’t let him get away with whatever this is. But we need a plan. We can’t just go in blind."
Pope crossed his arms, clearly deep in thought. "Agreed. If we’re gonna do this, we need to stay one step ahead of him. Maybe we start by finding out more about Chandler’s connection to that amulet. The whole curse thing doesn't add up."
You looked between them, your mind racing. "And we need to figure out who else he’s been talking to, who’s been helping him. We might have enemies we don’t even know about yet."
JJ glanced at you, his eyes softer now, but still burning with that same fury. "Exactly. We need answers, and we need them fast." His tone dropped as he added, "I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending everything's normal."
"So we'll go find him," John B stated flatly, joining in on the commotion. His voice was steady, but there was an underlying edge to it that matched the intensity in the room.
JJ looked at him, eyes narrowing with determination. "Yeah. We find Chandler, get answers, and make him tell us exactly what the hell he’s after. No more games."
"Alright," Pope sighed, shaking his head but with a hint of resolve creeping in. "Then let’s do this."
He stood up, adjusting his shirt, the weight of the decision hanging in the air. Kiara let out a quiet breath, glancing at each of her friends as if to make sure they were all on the same page.
"Alright," she said, her voice firm despite the tension. "We stick to the plan—find Chandler, get answers, and stay smart about it."
JJ, now more determined than ever, stood up, the raw emotion in his eyes still burning, but his posture more focused than before. "We’ll go in, we’ll make him talk, and we’re walking out with answers. No one’s leaving empty-handed." His tone was cold, cutting through the room like a sharpened blade.
John B, always the one to lighten the mood, gave a half-grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Let’s just hope Chandler doesn’t decide to pull some crazy stunt. I’d prefer a calm confrontation over a full-out brawl."
You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at John B’s attempt to inject some humor into the moment. But as you glanced at JJ, you saw the weight of everything he was carrying on his shoulders, and it was clear that this wasn’t just another adventure to him. This was personal.
"We’ve got your back, Jay," you said, your voice soft but steady. "We’re in this together."
JJ looked over at you, a quiet acknowledgment in his eyes. "I know. Thanks."
—
The old house loomed in front of you, its once grand façade now cloaked in shadows. The mansion, still as eerie as ever, seemed to exhale a quiet menace. You stood there on the porch, a knot of anticipation tightening in your chest. Beside you, JJ's presence felt like a comfort, but the tension radiating off him was evident.
He gave the door a pointed look before knocking again, this time louder, more forceful, as if demanding an answer rather than simply waiting for one. It felt like an eternity before you heard the shuffling of footsteps from inside.
The door remained firmly shut, and just when you thought Chandler might not answer, the heavy locks rattled. The door creaked open, revealing Chandler standing in the doorway, his face unreadable. His cold blue eyes scanned you both for a moment, then his gaze flickered to the group standing a few steps behind you.
"Why are you here?" His voice was low, measured, though there was an edge to it that made it clear he wasn’t exactly thrilled by the visit.
JJ didn’t waste any time. His voice came out flat but with an undercurrent of something darker, something more urgent. "We need to talk. There's things we need to ask you about."
Chandler's eyes flickered over you both, sizing you up, his lips curling into something like a half-smile. He didn’t speak right away, his gaze lingering just a little too long, as if trying to decide whether to let you in or slam the door shut. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, before he finally stepped back, motioning for you to enter.
“Alright,” Chandler said, his voice low and gravelly. “But we do this inside. The last thing I need is anyone overhearing this conversation.”
You exchanged a glance with JJ, his eyes full of fire and frustration. He wasn’t backing down, and neither were you. Together, you stepped past Chandler into the dimly lit interior of the mansion. The air inside was heavy with dust, and the smell of old wood and stale air lingered. The house was just as you remembered—huge, but strangely empty, like something had been hollowed out long ago.
“What do you two want?” Groff asked, his gaze shifting to the both of you.
JJ didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. He took a step forward, his jaw tight with suppressed fury. “Are you my real dad?” he asked, the words coming out sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.
Chandler’s expression flickered for a moment, a brief flash of something unreadable crossing his face. He didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he stood there, a wall of silence between them.
“Are you?” JJ repeated, his voice growing louder, insistent. “Are you my real dad?”
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. JJ stood frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief and anger, his fists clenching at his sides as if the truth were too much to process.
JJ shook his head, almost in disbelief, his voice tight with emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, stepping closer, his chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth? Why all the games, all the lies?”
Chandler didn’t seem to flinch. He took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. “It wasn’t the right time,” he said coldly, his tone flat. “And, quite frankly, you wouldn’t have been ready to hear it.”
JJ’s face twisted with anger, his eyes flashing with hurt. “You’re fucking unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, the weight of years of manipulation and deceit crashing down on him.
You stepped closer, watching the exchange unfold, feeling a mixture of sympathy and anger for both of them. “So this whole time, you’ve been using us?” you asked, your voice low and edged with disbelief. “This whole thing—Wes, the amulet—was all part of your plan?”
Chandler’s gaze sharpened, his expression unreadable. “Plans don’t happen overnight,” he said smoothly, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Everything has its purpose. And now you’re part of that purpose, whether you like it or not.”
JJ looked like he was about to explode, his body shaking with barely contained rage. But instead, he took a deep breath, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “We’re done being your puppets. Whatever your plan is, we’re stopping it.”
Chandler’s smile widened, but it was thin, like a wolf’s grin. “You think you can stop it?” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You don’t even know what you’re up against.”
“We’ll find out,” JJ snapped. “And when we do, you’re going to wish you never dragged us into this.”
"Not so fast," Chandler warned, stepping forward, his eyes never leaving JJ’s. "You have something I want."
JJ didn’t flinch. His blue eyes were burning with defiance, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “I’m not handing over shit, Groff,” he growled, voice low and filled with venom. “You want something, you’re gonna have to earn it.”
Chandler’s lips curled into a cold smile, his posture never wavering. He looked almost pleased with the reaction. “Oh, I don’t think you fully understand yet, JJ. I’m not asking for permission. I’m telling you—you will give it to me.”
There was a brief pause, the tension in the room so thick it could be cut with a knife. Chandler’s gaze flicked to you, then back to JJ, as if trying to gauge the next move.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with," Chandler continued, his tone dangerously calm. "That amulet you’re holding onto? It’s not just some trinket. It’s mine. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get it back."
Before you could even process what was happening, Chandler’s hand shot out like lightning, grabbing you by the wrist with an iron grip. The surprise hit you all at once as he yanked you forward, his movements swift and precise. Your breath caught in your throat, panic flooding your senses.
You struggled instinctively, but Chandler’s hold was unyielding, his fingers digging into your skin as he jerked you closer. “Stay where you are,” he ordered, his voice cold and commanding.
JJ took a step forward, eyes widening in shock as he lunged to get closer. “Let her go, Chandler!” His voice cracked with a mixture of rage and fear, but Chandler didn’t release his grip.
“You think I’m going to play fair?” Chandler sneered, his hand moving to his jacket pocket with casual menace. “No. You’re going to give me what I want, or she dies.”
You barely had time to process the words before Chandler’s knife was suddenly there, pressed against your throat. The cold metal against your skin made you freeze, heart hammering in your chest. You could feel the danger now, the raw, visceral threat. Chandler’s voice was a whisper in your ear, almost playful in its cruelty.
“Hand it over, or I’ll carve her up right here.”
Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you could barely breathe. Everything around you seemed to slow down, the tension rising with every passing second. Chandler’s grip on you tightened, the knife at your throat a constant, terrifying reminder of how quickly everything had shifted from a confrontation to something far worse.
“JJ,” you gasped, your voice trembling despite yourself, “don’t... don’t do it. Just—”
JJ’s eyes flicked to yours, the pain and conflict written plainly across his face. He looked as if every muscle in his body was screaming at him to fight, to do anything but give in, but there was no room for error now, not with the knife pressed so dangerously close to your skin. He swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths.
“Okay, I’ll give it to you,” JJ finally agreed, his voice barely more than a whisper, each word sounding like it was being dragged from his throat. His hand reached into his pocket, pulling out the small, worn bag that held the amulet. He held it up, fingers trembling as he slowly raised it for Chandler to see.
“No, JJ!” you protested, your voice a strangled cry, tears welling in your eyes. The thought of him handing it over to Chandler, of giving in to the man who had already caused so much pain, twisted something deep inside of you. But the sharp edge of the blade pressed harder against your throat, silencing you, forcing you into a terrifying stillness.
Chandler’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with a sinister triumph. “Good choice,” he cooed mockingly, his grip on you tightening as he stretched his other hand out towards JJ. The sight of him, so confident, so sure he had won, made your blood boil despite the fear gripping your heart.
JJ's hand trembled as he extended the bag towards Chandler. His eyes stayed locked on yours, searching your face for any sign of fear or pain. Your breath hitched when Chandler’s cold fingers grazed the bag, snatching it away. He wasted no time, pushing you forward with a force that sent you stumbling straight into JJ’s arms.
You collided into his chest, his embrace closing around you in an instant. His body curled protectively over yours, shielding you from Chandler's reach as he held you close. “It’s okay,” JJ whispered into your ear, his voice ragged with relief. “I’ve got you.” He didn’t even look back at Groff, all his focus on you, as if the danger had passed the moment you were in his grasp.
But behind him, Chandler's expression shifted as he opened the bag and peered inside. The smirk on his face vanished, replaced by a scowl of rage. The amulet wasn’t there. It was nothing but a ruse. He’d been tricked, and it didn’t take him long to realize who had played him.
With a deadly calm, Chandler called out, “JJ.”
The sound of his name, dripping with cold malice, made JJ's spine straighten. He pulled back just enough to look at you, a fleeting moment of confusion in his eyes. Then, he turned around, his gaze narrowing as he faced Chandler.
But it was already too late. In one swift motion, Chandler lunged forward. The blade gleamed in the dim light for a split second before it drove into JJ’s stomach. The impact was sickening, a hollow thud as the knife sank deep.
Your scream tore through the air, raw and filled with terror. JJ’s eyes widened in shock, his breath hitching as the pain hit him like a wave. He staggered, his arms instinctively clutching his abdomen as blood started to stain his shirt, dark and spreading fast.
Chandler’s face was a mask of fury, his hand still gripping the hilt of the knife. He twisted it slightly, a cruel sneer curling his lips. “You thought you could fool me?” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
JJ’s knees buckled, his body sagging as the strength drained out of him. You lunged forward, catching him before he could collapse completely, your hands desperately pressing over his wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.
“JJ, stay with me,” you begged, your voice breaking as you looked up at him, tears streaming down your face. His blue eyes were clouded with pain, but he managed to meet your gaze, a weak, rueful smile tugging at his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. “I thought... I thought I could protect you.”
You shook your head, your hands trembling as you held him. “No, no, JJ, don’t say that. You’re going to be okay. We’ll get you help. Just stay with me, please.”
Chandler ran off into the darkness, leaving you holding onto JJ as he slumped against you. Panic surged through your veins, and you looked down at his wound, your hands trembling as you pressed down in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. The warm, sticky blood coated your fingers, and you could feel his pulse weakening beneath your touch.
"This isn’t happening," you whispered frantically, shaking your head in denial. Your wide-open eyes darted around the room, searching for anything you could use to help. "No, no, no," you muttered under your breath, your voice thick with desperation.
You glanced up at JJ’s face, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused, the pain written all over his features. “Stay with me, Jay,” you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cradled his head in your hands.
"John B! Pope!" you screamed, your voice raw as it echoed through the old house. The sound reverberated off the walls, mixing with the eerie silence that followed Chandler’s exit. The urgency in your call felt like a knife in your chest, twisting deeper with each passing second.
JJ's voice was barely a whisper, strained and breathless as he looked up at you, his eyes half-lidded but still so intensely blue. “Y/N, I never got to tell you… but I love you.” His words came out fragile, like he was using his last bit of strength just to say them. The raw, unfiltered emotion behind them made your heart lurch in your chest.
Your breath hitched, the tears you’d been holding back finally breaking free, streaming down your cheeks in an unrelenting flow. You shook your head vehemently, the desperation clear in your voice as you clutched his face between your trembling hands. “No, JJ, no," you choked out, your voice thick with emotion. "This isn’t what’s happening. You’re not going to leave me. You can’t—” You could barely get the words out, your chest heaving with sobs.
His gaze softened as he looked at you, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles despite the pain. He reached up weakly, his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a hushed whisper, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “I just needed you to know.”
You leaned into his touch, your tears wetting his hand as you pressed your forehead against his. “Don’t do this, Jay. Don’t say goodbye. We still have so much to do, so many plans. You promised me we'd get out of this together.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if soaking in your presence, before opening them again, his gaze full of a love and longing that broke your heart into a million pieces. “You’re my everything, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice cracking with the weight of his words. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“You’re going to tell me every day for the rest of our lives,” you insisted, your voice pleading as you squeezed his hand tightly, trying to ground him, to keep him here with you. “You hear me? You’re staying with me. I can’t do this without you, Jay. Please, don’t leave me.”
He gave a small, shaky nod, like he was trying to hold on, but you could see the light starting to fade from his eyes, the pain overtaking him. You felt his grip on your hand slacken slightly, and it sent a jolt of pure terror through you.
“No! No, stay with me, JJ. Please!” you begged, pressing your forehead against his, your sobs turning into broken, gasping cries. You could barely see through your tears, your entire world narrowing down to just the two of you, in this moment, as you clung to him with everything you had.
You shook him frantically, your hands pressing against his chest, trying to force his heart to beat beneath your trembling fingers. It felt like you were grasping at the wind, like the very essence of him was slipping through your hands. The sticky warmth of his blood covered your skin, a horrifyingly vivid reminder that time was running out, slipping away with every breathless second.
“JJ, wake up,” you begged, your voice raw and broken, cracking under the weight of your anguish. It felt like you were underwater, drowning in the reality of what was happening, each sob choked out like it was your last. His face, once so full of life, now looked pale and ghostly, his blue eyes shut as if he was already slipping away to someplace you couldn’t reach.
“You can’t die here. You can’t leave me!” The words tore from your throat in a strangled scream, filled with a desperation that felt like it could rip you apart from the inside. Your hands pumped his chest with a rhythm that faltered, each push driven by a frantic hope, a silent prayer, as if sheer willpower could bring him back. Tears blurred your vision, but you couldn’t stop, wouldn’t let yourself believe that this was the end.
You could feel the life draining out of him, like the color bleeding from a watercolor painting washed away by rain. His skin grew colder beneath your touch, and you leaned over him, pressing your forehead to his, your tears mingling with the blood staining his shirt.
“Please, JJ, please,” you whispered, your voice breaking into a thousand tiny shards, each one sharper than the last. It was a fragile, fractured sound, more a plea to the universe than a call to him. “I need you,” you breathed, pressing your trembling lips to his forehead, the coldness of his skin like ice against your warmth. “I need you to stay, for me.”
The room felt like it was caving in, the air heavy with an unbearable weight. Your hands pressed against his wound, blood seeping through your fingers, warm and sticky, like the life was slipping away from him and into the cracks between your knuckles. The world outside seemed distant, muted, as if it no longer mattered. It was just you and him, suspended in a moment that felt like it was slipping away, stolen by time’s unforgiving hands.
Tears blurred your vision, painting the scene in watercolors of red and black, smearing his face into something unrecognizable. You choked on a sob, the sound raw and ragged, your body trembling with the force of your desperation. “JJ, don’t do this,” you pleaded, your words spilling out in a rush, your voice laced with a pain so deep it felt like it might consume you. “You can’t leave me. Not now. Not like this.”
His chest barely moved, the rise and fall so faint it was almost imperceptible, like the flicker of a candle about to be snuffed out. His eyes fluttered, half-open, clouded with pain, but still searching for you, trying to hold on to whatever sliver of light he could find in your gaze. The silence between you was deafening, filled with everything you wished you had said, every moment you’d taken for granted.
“Please,” you sobbed, your voice cracking, raw and exposed. “I love you. I love you so much, JJ.” Your words were a desperate confession, one you wished you’d said a thousand times before but had only found the courage to say now, when it felt like it was already too late. Your fingers curled into his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only thing anchoring you to this world.
You could feel him slipping away, the light in his eyes dimming like the last rays of a setting sun. His lips parted, a shallow breath escaping, but no words came out. Just a faint, ghostly smile, the kind you’d only ever seen when he was hiding something, some quiet secret he held close to his chest. It was haunting, the way he looked at you, like he was already seeing something beyond this world.
“No,” you whispered fiercely, shaking your head as if you could defy reality itself. “You’re not dying here. Not now. Not like this.” Your hands cupped his face, willing him to stay, to hold on just a little longer. But his eyes slipped shut, the last vestiges of life draining from his features, leaving behind a stillness that was more terrifying than anything you’d ever faced.
Before you could utter another word, the door burst open, and your friends rushed in, their faces twisted into expressions of pure horror. They stopped short, frozen by the scene before them—JJ’s lifeless body cradled in your arms, blood pooling beneath him, and your own face streaked with tears. The room fell into an eerie silence, filled only with the echo of your sobs, the kind that tore from deep within your chest like a howl into the void. It was a silence laced with a devastating realization, a shared understanding that this was Groff's doing—that he had orchestrated this final, cruel act.
You couldn’t bring yourself to look up, couldn’t face the shock and grief in their eyes. Instead, you pressed your forehead against JJ’s, as if in some desperate, final attempt to connect with whatever piece of him might still linger. Your body shook violently, your cries filling the space, haunting and raw. It was the sound of a heart breaking, of a love being ripped away far too soon.
"JJ," you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper, a prayer to whatever force could undo this nightmare. You ran your fingers through his hair, your touch gentle, like you were afraid to break whatever fragile illusion still held him close. His skin was already turning cold, the warmth you had known and loved fading away, replaced by a chilling emptiness.
You kissed his cheek, your lips trembling against his skin, tasting the salt of your own tears. The bitter taste of grief washed over you as you whispered, "I love you," words you had said so many times before but had never felt this heavy, this final. The love of your life lay still in your arms, his spirit gone, leaving behind only a hollow shell.
The others stood by helplessly, tears streaming down their own faces as they bore witness to your agony, each of them shattered in their own way. But none of them dared to interrupt. This moment, this unbearable pain, belonged to you. It was a sorrow too deep for words, a loss that hung heavy in the air, sinking into the very bones of the room.
You held onto him tighter, refusing to let go, as if by sheer will alone you could pull him back from the abyss. But deep down, you knew it was too late. JJ was gone, and you were left with the echoes of what could have been, the cruel, jagged edges of a future that would never come to pass.
#jj maybank x you#jj maybank#jj x reader#jj x y/n#jj maybank x reader#rudy pankow#obx#outer banks#obx 4#jj obx#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank x y/n
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Got Milk?
In which you ask your neighbor to borrow a glass of milk for a recipe.
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
CW: None
You wish you could say there was a first for you.
That deep down you were some uber-responsible twenty-something who made their grocery list and checked it twice, but you weren’t. This was the third time this week you’d forgotten something from the grocery store and only realized when it was that exact ingredient your recipe depended on.
It wasn’t even like you cooked often. You were a habitual air-fryer indulger whose culinary portfolio consisted of elevated cup ramen and just-add-water pancakes.
But your sister was coming over, and you wanted to surprise her with her favorite chili oil pappardelle pasta. Hence, you needed a few more ingredients than your usual frozen dinners required, one of which was milk—an ingredient you realized, as you looked in your fridge, you were completely out of.
The minute hand ticked loudly, and your head snapped up to glance at the cupcake-shaped clock, which was slowly approaching 8:30—giving you less than an hour to finish your meal.
With time counting down, you had two choices for getting the milk: First, you could run down to the corner store and hope the creepy cashier wasn’t working tonight. That normally wouldn’t have been a massive concern, but it was winter, which meant it was dark outside already. And honestly, your sister's pasta just wasn’t worth the risk of dealing with someone who gave you the shivers. That left you with the second choice: flashing your best smile and begging your neighbors for a cup.
To the right of your apartment were Mrs. Hyde and her wife—two sweet old ladies who smelled like vintage perfume and flabby wine. Unfortunately, they went to bed at 7 p.m., so that was out. On the left were Mikael and his daughter Erin, but you two never quite got along, so that wasn’t an option either. Which left the one who lived across the hallway. He was supposedly a 'charming young chap' (according to the Hydes) and had lived there longer than you, but you’d never seen him.
Six months ago, when you first moved in, you’d baked some muffins and left them at his doorstep, but you’d forgotten to write a note and had been too embarrassed to try another introduction. So, this would be your first encounter with him. But it was an emergency, you swear! Otherwise, you wouldn't be bothering him with your trivial milk problems (even though they weren’t so trivial—after all, you'd already started the noodles and needed the cream base. Fast).
You grab a pair of neon Crocs, their bright contrast to your wine-red dress a jarring reminder of your frantic state, and rush out of your apartment, making sure to turn off the boiling water and secure the lid.
When you reach the door, you’re not sure why your heart is pounding in your chest or why your arms are covered in goosebumps. It’s probably just the nerves of meeting someone new, you decide, shaking yourself a little to readjust.
You curl your fingers to tap against the door, but just before your knuckles rap against the sturdy wood, it swings open. Standing in the frame is a tall guy with wire-frame glasses. He’s got a slimmer frame than his baggy plaid shirt can fill out, and a brown cardigan button-up rests just above his slacks. His bronze-like hair and matching doe eyes give you a not-so-subtle once-over, full of curiosity.
You jump in surprise, balancing yourself on the tacky wallpaper of the hallway. He quirks an eyebrow in a way that’s frankly adorable but you’re just a bit too stunned to fully appreciate just how attractive your neighbor happens to be.
“Can I help you?”
“Uh, yeah, do you happen to have any milk?”
He quirks his eyebrow again and this time you take note of the way his hair flops in front of it, “Yeah just not like grain or anything.”
You wave a hand in front of your face and shake your head, "Oh don't worry I'm not a hipster or lactose intolerant." The joke is rewarded with a small chuckle and you quickly decide it’s endearing. Dropping your hand from in front of him you stick it out, “Uh I’m your neighbor by the way. Not some random looking for milk handouts.”
“I’m Spencer.” He provides, though he lets your hand hang between the two of you awkwardly, "Did you know the number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering? It's actually safer to kiss."
Dropping your hand to your side you pucker your lips dramatically, and tease, “Are you asking for a kiss?”
“W-What? No!” He leans back and you erupt into a giggle, shaking your head at his grimace.
“Well if you don’t want a kiss do you mind if I get that milk?”
“Yeah, of course, I can help you with your..?" He trails off, seemingly not knowing what to call your predicament.
But you certainly know what it should be called, and answer without hesitation, "My life or death dilemma? The reason for my current milk escapades."
Spencer seems to relax a bit more at your rambling, his posture less stiff and more calm, "Hm, seems like it's pretty important." He quirks an eyebrow, leaning against the door frame.
"Well, I did say life or death didn't I.” You look over at his watch and tap a foot impatiently, "Hey um I'm kinda in a rush, my sister is coming over and I'm not even half done with the stupid sauce. Though in my defense, I didn't know she was coming until like a week ago and I'm an avid cereal eater so the likelihood of me even having milk when she came over is slim to none - but I took the risk and now I'm milkless and totally screwed because cooking is hard and god I think I burnt the noodles for this stupid chili oil pappardelle pasta-which by the way I don’t even know how to make."
Spencer is biting his cheek because he can’t laugh. He can’t laugh because it’s rude to laugh at someone he’s only just met, even if you’re blabbering and blushing and wearing adorable chartreuse platform Crocs.
When you moved in across the hallway, Spencer Reid had admittedly looked into you. It wasn’t that he meant to be intrusive—it was just in his nature. He’d always been wary of new people, especially given his line of work. So when the long-vacant apartment finally filled and the scent of Yankee Candles began to waft through the hall, he might have asked Penelope to do a little digging.
Though her extensive report didn’t do justice to the person standing in front of him now.
"Oh my god, you're laughing!" You exclaim, positively mortified at his audacity to laugh at you in this time of need.
"Sorry! Sorry!" He catches his breath after a moment and licks his lips with a flick of his tongue, "Maybe I can make it up to you?"
You smile but your foot is still tapping, "Do tell."
“While I’ve admittedly never made chili oil pappardelle pasta I’m quite quick to pick things up. If you need any help I could-?”
"Oh please thank you!" Letting out a sigh of relief you go to grab his hand, only pulling back when you remember his tangent about germs, "She'll be here in thirty minutes so we have to hurry."
"Okay, let me go get the milk, and uh we can start."
"Thank you, Spencer.”
"Oh ... you're welcome."
You don’t notice the blush.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x self insert#meet cute#neighbor#first meetings#criminal minds#bau team#penelope garcia#criminal minds fandom
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Luxury Reading Nights | SR
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
cw: fingering, free use, don quixote lines
Summary: Spencer calls you to provide some of your now rather popular services.
A/N: i missed spencer and i love free use!!
The most amazing part of the lifestyle you had chosen to lead was always the vast variety of men's sexual desires.
Some enjoyed getting a little rough, some dressing you in questionable outfits, some even were as far as to use you to serve them, all previously established, all with consent.
It was the wonder of 'free use', you were, at the end of the day, nothing but a tool. That's what made it so exciting.
But with Spencer, oh, Spencer, he was surely an odd one.
"Stop moving, I can't read" he ordered, his voice firm, but he was still polite about it.
He had you bent over his lap while he sat on the couch, your body was stripped naked the second you had entered the apartment. Your back was used as a book rest as he read.
His hand was the reason you were squirming so uncomfortably. You had been overstimulated for the past five minutes or so, and he kept torturing you, over and over.
It started with a call. He had a rough case and needed to unwind, which he often did with a good book. Soon, you were on his lap, kissing his lips and feeling his clothed groin against your wetness, and that's when it turned torturous.
No, he wasn't rough. Au contraire, he was extremely gentle. Annoyingly so. He began to massage your buttocks once you were across his lap, not once touching you where you were aching to have him inside.
"Ooh, I love this line" he suddenly blurted out "Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be." tilting his head, he tried to catch a glimpse of your face, womdering if you were as impressed by it as he was.
Little time did he give you, because his thumb began to run over your slit. It was slow and careful, like a caress.
You moaned in complaint. You needed more, so much more.
"You look beautiful like that." he praised, and it only heightened your arousal.
He went back to his book and his thumb kept up its pace, and it wasn't only when he reached half the book that, without warning, slid one of his fingers inside of you, while his thumb part-timed on your clit.
"I always thought Cervantes was a bit insane himself," he began to explain his theory "Takes a madman to write a madman." and without any further word, continued the assault on your cunt.
You couldn't speak from how delightful it felt. Despite reading a complex book, he was definitely paying attention to every movement of his hand, every crease of your insides, he was trying to find the one spot.
Minutes later he was kind enough to add another finger, this knuckles curling inside of you. But he was still going slow and that's when you figured: he was using your pussy as a stress ball. Not to your enjoyment but his, nonethless this was even more arousing.
His pace began to quicken as he turned on the pages, and you could tell he was reaching the end of the book, and you were reaching your limit. But it was on your terms and conditions that you only came when he said a certain word.
"...are even now tottering..." he had begun to recite near your ear what you assumed was the end of the book, but you weren't paying attention at all. You wanted to hear it. The word you needed the most as his fingers sped up their insertion. "...doubtless, doomed to fall forever." he continued.
There was something enchanting and sweet about his voice, as if he were telling you a lullaby.
"Farewell." he finally said.
Like thunder through the sky, a long moan resonated as you came. Knowing what he had done, his free hand quickly removed the book from your back. Old edition, he was not going to risk it getting soaked in your juices the same way his hand now was.
He continued to thrust, helping you get rid of the wave. "You okay?" he asked concernedly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your naked back. "Sorry, I really wanted to finish the book." he apologized as he removed his fingers from inside of you.
You were still panting and flushed from the overstimulation, but you gave him a gentle nod "Are you feeling better?" you asked. You had noticed his tension since you arrived but decided to keep it quiet.
"I'm on cloud nine." he simply said with a handsome, gentle grin.
#kinda luxury poker nights kinda not#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x you#spencer reid x you#blurb: mine
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