#When We Wipe Her Tears | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itneverendshere · 18 days ago

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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FOUR

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy; abortion; health risks; insecurities. chapter one┆chapter two┆ chapter three

You were curled up next to Rafe, head on his shirtless chest, listening to the rise and fall of his breath.

You could hear the crash of the waves. His fingers were tangled in your hair, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

“Do you ever think about the future?” You asked, not even sure why you said it.

Maybe it was the mood, the quiet.

He laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating against your cheek.

“Future? Baby, we’re in the future right now.” He tilted his head to look down at you, his blue eyes catching the last bits of sunlight, making them almost glow. “What more do we need?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious. What’s next for us?”

He was quiet for a second, and you held your breath, waiting. Sometimes Rafe had this way of avoiding real talk. He’d joke, or deflect, or turn the conversation back to something easy.

“You,” he said, his voice low like he was confiding you a secret. “You’re what’s next. What’s always next.” His arm tightened around you, pulling you into his lap.

You smiled, that stupid, giddy smile that probably made you look ridiculous, but you didn’t care. His breath tickled your forehead as he kissed you there slowly.

He was so sure in that moment, like nothing could touch you two.

You lifted your head, just enough to look at him.

His face was so clear, each detail spot on, you could reach out and touch it. His messy beach hair, the way it fell into his eyes, his crooked smile, that scar on his chin from when he’d wiped out on his bike in high school.

All of him was yours.

“Promise?” You asked, like a part of you needed to hear it again, needed the reassurance.

Rafe leaned in, his lips grazing yours before he whispered against them, “Promise.”

He had this way of making all feel so simple, like the future wasn’t some big, scary thing.

“I’m never letting you go,” it sounded more like a prayer coming from his lips, fingers tracing small circles on your arm, sending these tiny electric shocks through you. “You’re stuck with me, Thornton.”

“Good.”

But then something changed.

His grip loosened. His warmth started to fade, and you blinked, confused. You lifted your head, trying to find his eyes, but his face was different.

Blurred. Distant.

“Rafe?” You whispered, reaching for him, but he wasn’t there.

The warmth was completely gone, replaced with cold, empty air. You turned, searching for him, but all you saw were shadows where he used to be.

The waves crashed louder, and you realized you were alone. Just like that, everything was gone, everything he promised, was gone.

You sat up in bed, gasping, hands instinctively going to your stomach in the darkness of your bedroom.

He wasn’t here. He was with her. You were alone.

Pregnant.

You tried to stabilize your breathing, wiping away the tears that had slipped out during your sleep. The bed felt too big, empty without him. And the memory of his touch, his words, felt cruel now.

You stared up at the ceiling wondering how a memory could feel so real, so vivid, but that was all it was. Just a memory. Just another piece of the past you kept chasing.

You looked down at your stomach, your hand still resting on the bump, if you could call it that. You weren’t showing at all, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real. You knew it was.

Your very first appointment was in a few hours, and the thought of it made you want to throw up.

You needed to know how far along you were. It would be easier to stay in bed and let the what ifs spiral in your head than to face them, but you didn’t hold that privilege anymore.

You dragged yourself out of queen-sized bed, avoiding the mirror as you moved around the room.

You didn’t want to see your reflection right now, you dreaded facing the girl who had let herself get into this mess.

You threw on a pair of loose, old sweats and a hoodie, one that swallowed you whole, hiding everything.

The kind of outfit that made you feel invisible, and right now, that’s exactly what you wanted. It’s not like anyone around here cared much anyway, rich girl or not, kooks were experts at pretending.

You grabbed your keys, your phone, and the one thing you couldn’t forget today —courage.

One foot in front of the other. One breath at a time.

The appointment was soon, and you needed to get there. You kept reminding yourself that you’d figure it out once you knew how far along you were, everything would make sense after that.

The drive there was a mess, the anxiety and anger, you didn’t want to acknowledge today were taking turns messing with your head.

You didn’t want to think about how you’d once imagined a future with Rafe, how he’d promised you a lifetime under the sun.

You could never feel guilty about keeping this from him. He’d made his choices, and now you had to make yours.

You rolled up in your car and had to park in the visitor lot, trying to sneak in like you weren’t a whole mess of nerves behind the wheel of a brand-new Range Rover.

It was practically empty, which was fine by you, less people to run into, less eyes on you, since every second you spent there was a second someone could recognize you.

Someone could see, that was the last thing you needed — for this to become some juicy little rumor for the Kildare gossip mill to chew up and spit out.

You pulled your oversized sunglasses lower on your face, hoping they’d hide the fact that you were shaking.

You hated the fact that you were even in this position as you sat there, tapping your foot impatiently, checking the clock every five minutes like it was some kind of countdown to freedom.

Every noise from the hallway made you flinch, like any second someone familiar would burst through the door, see you there.

You winced in horror when your name was called out, following the nurse leading you down a sterile hallway that smelled of antiseptic. You tried to keep your mind off the fact that this was the first step toward the most life-altering decision you’d ever have to make.

"The doctor will be in soon."

Times like these you wished you’d chosen a private clinic, but you had to avoid as many kooks as possible, even if it meant slumming it in this hospital.

This was real.

Sitting down on the exam table, the paper crinkled under you, the sound making you cringe. You felt so small in that room, so alone. You’d always had someone—Rafe, even Topper. But right now, it was just you.

Your legs dangled off the edge of the table as you waited.

It felt like forever before there was a knock on the door, and the doctor entered.

"Hi, I’m Dr. Madison," she greeted you, offering you a smile as she sat down on the stool beside you. "How are you feeling today?"

What the fuck were you supposed to say? That your life was falling apart? That you didn’t know what to do?

So you settled for a, “"I’ve been better," looking anywhere but at her.

She nodded like she understood, she’d most likely heard it all before.

"Alrigh’, we’re just going to take a look and see how far along you are, okay? I’ll need you to lay back."

You did as she said, leaning back against the stiff pillow, trying to relax.

"This is going to be a little cold," she warned as she reached for the ultrasound gel.

A little? You nearly jumped off the table as the gel hit your stomach, cold and slimy, like ice against your skin. You winced but tried to keep still as she spread it over your lower abdomen.

The machine whirred to life, and she placed the probe on your stomach. You sucked in a breath, trying not to cry as the screen lit up with grainy images.

She moved the probe slowly, methodically, her eyes glued to the monitor, and you couldn’t breathe.

You forced your eyes to the ceiling, refusing to look at the monito, refusing to see. You couldn’t let yourself get attached, not like that.

If you saw what was on that screen—if you saw the shape of something, anything—it would kill you. Your breaths were shallow, and your fingers clenched the sides of the exam table, gripping the paper until it tore under your hands.

Dr. Madison was quiet as she moved the probe over your skin, you knew she was seeing something. You could hear the beeping of the machine, the faint hum of the monitor.

"Okay. Looks like you’re about thirteen weeks along."

"How long is that?"

"Almost 3 months, give or take."

No, that couldn’t be right, you’d barely felt any different.

You were at thirteen weeks. Just over the line.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry.

"Thirteen?" you repeated, like maybe if you said it out loud, it would make more sense. But it didn’t.

"Alright," you told her, voice even, like that number wasn’t echoing in your head, smashing through the calm you’d been faking this whole time.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Madison eyes scanned your face, probably trying to gauge how much of this you were even absorbing. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

A lot? That didn’t even begin to cover it.

The doctor cleared her throat gently. “In North Carolina, after twelve weeks, the options for termination become much more limited unless it falls under specific conditions like rape, incest, or a fetal anomaly. I know this might be overwhelming, but I’m here to walk you through what’s possible.”

You nodded, but it was a lie. You weren’t hearing any of it, you were already listing other possibilities, another place.

Your mind was a step ahead, planning out the details, flights, or maybe driving. Somewhere where no one would ask questions, where you could walk in and get this over with.

Just slip away for a couple days.

She kept talking, saying something about other options, but you weren’t hearing it. It sent your heart into a stampede.

"Thanks, Doctor," you said when you realized she was done speaking, your voice perfectly polite, perfectly controlled.

It felt like you were watching someone else speak.

You were nodding like you understood like you had a plan. Inside? You were screaming. Your thoughts were a mess, colliding into each other—Oh my God, what now, what the fuck are you going to do? So much more work just because you were stupid enough to wait.

Dr. Madison gave you this list—appointments to schedule, things you should and shouldn’t do, prenatal vitamins to pick up. She might as well have been speaking a different language for all you heard.

You mumbled something that sounded like “thanks” as she handed you the prescription, barely glancing at the paper.

“Is there really nothing I can do?”

You couldn't confide your plans to her, for obvious reasons.

“I can’t advocate for any illegal options, but I understand your concern. If you were just a week earlier, we could have discussed a simple outpatient procedure. However, now you’re facing a more complex situation.”

You never felt so frustrated in your life, “But I’m—I can get you anything. You don’t understand, I can pay—”

“Miss Thornton,” she interrupted, her voice firm yet sympathetic, “I know you’re not trying to bribe me right now. I need you to understand that legality and ethics come into play here. What you’re suggesting isn’t something I can support or even discuss further. We have to work within the framework of the law.”

You bit your tongue, resisting the temptation to lash out at her.

“So that’s it, then? I’m just supposed to accept that I’m stuck with this?”

“There are still options we can explore together. We can discuss what’s next in terms of prenatal care, adoption, or even resources that might help you if you choose to carry the pregnancy to term. But I can’t ignore the fact that you’re beyond the legal limit for a straightforward abortion.”

You blinked rapidly, “Adoption?”

The idea of keeping the baby made your stomach bend into a different shape, but that alternative felt just as wrong.

She looked at you with genuine empathy.

“I understand that this is overwhelming. The decision is ultimately yours, but I need to emphasize that time is of the essence, and the choices you make today will have lasting implications.”

Then she was gone, leaving you alone in that sterile room with your head spinning.

You couldn’t even fucking remember the last time you felt normal. Now, you were staring down the barrel of a pregnancy you didn’t even know was this far along. The doctor’s speech about vitamins, checkups, and avoiding alcohol bounced off around in your head.

You swallowed down the nausea that had nothing to do with morning sickness, grabbed your purse, and walked out like nothing had just changed.

You shoved the papers into your purse without a second thought, your mind already screaming to get out, to run, to go somewhere.

Anywhere but here.

As you walked out into the waiting area, you spotted a mother with her toddler, the kid giggling and playing with his toys. Would your baby be that happy? Would they giggle like that?

No, no, you couldn’t go there.

Your fingers were numb as they fumbled for your keys, and you somehow managed to get into the Rover.

The second the door slammed shut, the tears you’d been restraining started to fall.

All you could think about was getting far, far away from here, somewhere no one would recognize you, where people didn’t know your last name or expect you to show up to some debutante ball with a well-behaved husband, a kid on each arm, perfectly polished.

"Fuck..." you whispered through clenched teeth, squeezing your eyes shut like maybe that could make it stop. But it didn’t. Your whole body was trembling, hands shaking so hard you couldn't hold the wheel right.

You leaned your forehead against the steering wheel, trying to catch your breath.

Thirteen weeks.

You couldn’t stay here, in this parking lot. You needed to go somewhere safe, somewhere that made sense. You needed them.

Without really thinking, you turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the lot.

You didn’t even know where you were going at first, your body knew, the same familiar route you’d taken too many times. You didn’t realize where you were going at first, but once you passed the last stoplight before the cemetery, it hit you.

You parked haphazardly, not caring if your car was straight or if anyone saw. This was the only place you could think of. The only place that wasn’t ruined by all the mess in your life.

Your parents. Your sister.

Their graves were tucked away in the back corner, under the big oak tree that had been there for as long as you could remember. You parked the car and got out, the ground crunching under your feet as you made your way to them.

You sank to your knees in front of their headstones, your fingers brushing against the cool marble as if touching them could somehow make them feel closer. They’d been gone for five years, and no matter how many times you came here, that fact never got easier to swallow.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out, stopping to bite down on your bottom lip hard to keep from completely breaking down. “I’m so... I’m so fucking lost.”

The wind rustled the leaves above you, and for a second, you wished it would just take you away too. Make everything disappear.

“I’m pregnant.” You spit the words out, voice cracking, like admitting it was burning your throat. “Thirteen weeks,” you added, saying it out loud for the first time. Your hands curled into fists, fingers digging into the grass.

The tears came back, harder this time, and you bent forward, clutching your stomach, forehead pressing into the ground as if you could just bury yourself there.

“I can’t—I can’t do this alone. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Your voice broke completely, turning into a sob that you couldn’t stop. You were crying so hard you couldn’t even breathe, gasping, like you were drowning in it.

“Why aren’t you here?” you cried, “Why did you leave me? Why did you—” but the words caught in your throat, turning into another round of weeping.

You stayed for a long time, curled up on the ground, crying so hard it hurt, until the tears finally slowed, until you felt empty, drained.

Afterwards, you sat back, wiping at your swollen eyes with the back of your hand.

“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, this time softer, “And I can’t... I can’t tell him. He’s with her, and I—I just can’t.”

You sniffed, cleaning your nose with your sleeve, feeling ridiculous and broken all at once.

Your breath hitched again as you forced yourself to stand up, even though every part of you wanted to collapse back onto the ground.

They were gone, it was just you. Alone. You think that’s why there was this tiny persistent voice in the back of your brain whispering things you weren’t ready to hear.

This was a chance, wasn’t it? To finally have someone again, someone you didn’t have to say goodbye to.

The second the thought crossed your mind, you felt a gush of panic, a nauseating conviction that you were nowhere near capable of raising a child. You barely remembered to take care of yourself, so how could you possibly take care of a baby?

It felt so fucked up to you, to think this could be a “fresh start” or something like it—no, you weren’t naïve enough to believe that. Not when you’d barely coped to get through the last five years.

You remembered the doctor’s voice, factual, mentioning adoption.

Carrying this baby only to hand it over to someone else—someone who might be better equipped—Could you do that? Carry a piece of your family’s future, only to give it away? It felt wrong.

You were halfway to your car, still wiping the tears from your face, when you heard someone call your name.

“Hey... Is that you?”

You froze. The last thing you wanted was to run into someone, especially now. Not here, not like this.

Turning slowly, you saw her — Sarah Cameron, Rafe’s sister — standing by her mom’s grave.

She was holding a bouquet of wildflowers, brown eyes narrowing as she took you in. She looked like she'd been here a while, but the moment she saw your state, she dropped what she came here to do.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" she asked, her voice rising with worry.

Her eyes, so different from Rafe’s, scanned over you, taking in your bloodshot eyes, the messy hair, the way your clothes were dirty from sitting on the ground too long.

You hadn’t taken sides when her and Topper split up; you’d just known, deep down, that they weren’t right for each other. He had this stubborn, idealized version of her that she could never live up to, and that had been the beginning of the end.

You opened your mouth to say something, to tell her you were fine, that you didn’t need her sympathy right now. Instead, you just stood there like a fucking idiot, eyes wide, as Sarah dropped the flowers and rushed to your side.

“Hey, hey,” she panicked, as if she was talking to a wounded animal. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Sarah touched your arm gently, and that’s when it hit you, the fear, the panic, the loneliness — it overwhelmed you.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her, holding on tight.

You didn’t even care how desperate it looked, how messed up you were right now. You just needed someone.

She froze for a split second, caught off guard, but then she softened, her arms wrapping around you tightly. She was warm, solid, and so there, and the moment she hugged you back, the floodgates opened for the millionth time that week.

You started crying again, silent but hard, your face buried in her shoulder as your whole body shook.

Sarah didn’t say anything; didn’t ask questions, just focused on holding you tighter, her hand smoothing over your back like she was trying to calm you down. The kindness of it, the warmth,you hadn’t grasped how much you needed it until right now.

“Shh, it’s okay,” her voice was soothing. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You hadn’t seen her in months — not since everything went down with her and Rafe after Ward died.

The whole family had fallen apart after that.

Sarah had cut ties again, another fallout with Rafe. Things between them were always like a ticking time bomb, and Ward’s death had blown everything wide open. You knew they hadn’t been on speaking terms since.

It made this moment even weirder, seeing her here, of all places. She looked different, too, she was carrying her grief, her pain, that wild spark in her eyes a little more dim than you remembered.

As you pulled away from the hug, you blinked through the tears, and her face came back into focus. She was still looking at you, her brows knitted with worry, the wildflowers she’d brought for her mom now forgotten on the ground behind her.

She looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but she was waiting for you to speak first.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you finally said something, trying to wipe your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. It was a lame thing to say, but you couldn’t find any better words.

Sarah gave a small, sad smile, shrugging a little.

“Yeah, I just… I come here sometimes. To see my mom.” Her voice was quieter than usual, and you could hear the strain behind it, “I guess I needed it today.”

You understood the feeling all too well.

You both stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and you could tell she was dying to ask why you were here. Why you looked like you’d just been rolling around in the dirt.

Instead, she said, “You okay? I mean, really?”

In some weird way, you’d always thought you’d be able to keep this part of yourself locked away, hidden and safe where no one could see it

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, the lie slipping out too easily. “Just… rough day, you know?” Your voice was hoarse, still shaky from the crying.

Sarah frowned, not convinced. She stepped closer, her hand hovering near your arm like she wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if you’d let her.

"You sure? You don’t look fine."

You forced a smile, “Yeah, I’m good. Just needed some air. It’s been a lot.” You didn’t want to get into it, didn’t want to unload everything.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping just a little.

“Okay. But… you know if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here, right?”

You blinked, not really sure how to answer to that, nodding away, hoping she’d drop it.

“I know I was just Rafe’s little sister,” she continued with pursed lips, “but you’ve always been like a big sister to me. Okay? Him being an asshole to both of us doesn’t change that. Ever.”

You could see she meant it. This wasn’t just some passing offer out of pity, Sarah was genuinely worried, wanting to be there for you.

You just nodded dumbly.

Sarah smiled softly with that same old Cameron determination. “Seriously. Whatever’s going on, I’m here.”

You stepped back, breaking the small bubble of comfort, you didn’t even realize you’d let her create.

“I should probably go,” you awkwardly muttered, brushing your hair out of your face and trying to straighten out your hoodie like that could somehow make you seem more put together. “But thanks, Sarah. Really.”

She just watched you with that worried look still across her face, but then she nodded. “Anytime.”

You turned to leave, feeling her eyes on your back as you walked away, your steps slow on the grass.

The loneliness had been suffocating, and even though you didn’t tell her anything, just hearing Sarah say she was there, that she still saw you as family—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

It wasn’t like anything was magically better.

You used to think this island would keep you safe forever, that it was big enough to hold your problems.

Now, it felt like it was shrinking around you.

You were curled up on the couch, laptop balanced on your knees.

You’d googled “abortion options United States,” expecting answers, but all you found were long lists of restrictions, rules, states drawing hard lines.

You already knew that in North Carolina, you were already past the point of no return. So you kept digging, checking every single state until you found one, a random thread on some forum, that talked about New Mexico.

No restrictions on timing.

You scrolled, following link after link, getting deep into some Reddit threads, reading accounts from women who’d done it, who’d had to pack up their whole lives, fly out, handle everything on their own.

No one to tell, just a flight, a few days’ stay in a place that looked nothing like home, just to try and get back to normal. The whole time you were reading, this weird sense of relief and fear entwined in your gut.

So you can get out of this.

By the time you shut your laptop, your head was pounding but at least you had something that felt like a plan.

The next morning, you woke up before the sun, tossing on yesterday’s clothes and brushing your hair as best you could with one hand. You scrolled through the numbers you’d scribbled down last night and dialed the first one.

You had to it straight away, without a chance of backing out. So you closed your eyes with all your might and hit call.

A woman’s voice picked up on the fourth ring.

“Women’s Health Center, this is Amanda. How can I help you?”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal. Like you weren’t shaking like a leaf.

“Hi. Um, I’m calling to see about scheduling… an appointment. I’m about thirteen weeks.”

“We do have availability. Our next spot is ten days from now.”

Ten days. Shit. Could you wait that long, or was that too soon? Shouldn't you think about it some more?

Maybe you needed more time.

Or maybe you shouldn’t be doing this at all.

You were already running through a hundred different what-ifs, a panicked mental list of everything you hadn’t thought through.

“Is that… is that the soonest?” You surprised yourself by asking.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could hear the kindness in Amanda’s voice.

“Yes, it’s our first available spot for a procedure beyond twelve weeks,” she informed you, “We’d also want to complete a few assessments with you, along with some necessary paperwork and counseling. I can walk you through everything if that helps.”

You nodded automatically, realizing a second too late she couldn’t see you. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

“I’ll go over a few things with you, so you’re prepared. Do you have a pen handy?”

You grabbed a random envelope and pen from the countertop, jotting down every detail.

“You’ll need a form of ID, proof of residency—we’re required to check for that. Some basic insurance information if you have it. You’ll also have some health assessments here when you arrive, mostly standard but including a psychological evaluation just to ensure everything’s covered from a health perspective.”

It was all just words, logistics. You weren't exactly processing the information, just robotically writing it down.

“There’s also a mandatory counseling session we’ll need to go through. In case you have questions, or concerns. This will all be confidential, but it’s for your safety, both physically and emotionally.”

“Right,” you said, just to say something. You didn’t know if you even wanted to talk about it, not with her or anyone. You just wanted this to be over with.

“The procedure itself is straightforward, but it’s still a surgery. It’ll last anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes, with a little more time afterward for recovery. We’ll go over any complications with you once you’re here—risk of infection, bleeding, discomfort. We make sure you’re clear on what to expect before anything happens.”

You forced yourself to nod, then remembered she couldn’t see you. “Got it. I’ll—yeah, I’ll get the paperwork together.”

"Just one last thing," Amanda added, "Given the nature of the procedure, we ask that you bring a companion along, someone to stay with you. They don’t have to be in the room, of course, but they’ll need to be present to help you get back safely after."

Your hand stopped. A companion?

"What?"

The small sense of peace was gone in a heartbeat.

You wanted to tell her that it would be fine, you’d figure it out, because, rationally speaking, who could you ask or who would you even trust with this?

"It's a requirement,” Amanda clarified, “For your safety. You’ll need someone there with you. It’s non-negotiable.”

“Right. So, like… a friend? Or…” You trailed off, trying to hide the fear overcoming your senses.

“Exactly,” she said. “A friend, a family member—just someone you’re comfortable with. It’s standard procedure for anything this involved.”

A friend. Family. Someone who could sit in that waiting room and just… know everything. You didn’t even have anyone who could know you were pregnant, let alone be with you for this.

“The total will be around $3,500, which we typically split into a down payment and a final balance due at the time of the procedure. We can take payment in cash, card, or even a wire transfer if you need that flexibility. We’ll also require a 20% deposit to hold your spot, which you can pay over the phone now or through our secure online portal.”

You glanced at the envelope where you’d jotted down notes, biting your lip as you stared at the numbers. “Right, um, yeah, I can do the deposit now.”

“That’s perfect. One moment, please.” There was a click as she transferred you, and while you waited, you blinked down at the deposit amount.

Seven hundred, you thought. Seven hundred dollars just to hold a place. It was nothing to you and yet it felt monumental.

A robotic voice greeted you, and you keyed in the card information, watching the screen as it processed. The payment cleared, and you felt the strangest sense of finality.

It was real, stamped and sealed.

Amanda returned to the line, “Thank you for taking care of that. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

“No, that's all. Thank you."

“Of course. We’ll see you in ten days.”

Now you were at this god for saken country club brunch. Why you even came, you had no idea.

Maybe it was a pathetic attempt to feel normal.

You were trying so hard to look casual, like you hadn’t just been on the phone with a stranger, scheduling the most personal appointment of your life.

Thankfully, Ruthie had canceled last minute — some emergency with your cousin, no doubt. Small miracles. The last thing you needed was her crazy ass analyzing everything you did.

The spread of food on the table looked like a minefield of smells.

Just the sight of the eggs benedict made you want to hurl on your seat, and the fruity smell of the mimosas wafting through the air was…torture.

You’d kill for a sip, maybe even two.

You were watching the sunlight catch on the bubbles, sparkling like they were tauting you. The craving was there, whispering thoughts that felt equal parts impossible and unavoidable. The idea hovered, tempting you with a cruel promise.

A few mimosas could maybe make this go away, couldn't it? Maybe you’d get lucky and this nightmare would just end on its own.

But the thought made you sick.

You could almost feel it, this new life clinging to you, sticking around no matter how much you wished it’d leave. There was some echo of a moral sense—some annoying, reasonable, voice within your head that wouldn’t let you grab the damn mimosa even though your fingers were twitching for it.

What was the problem if you were getting rid of it anyway?

You forced yourself to look away from the mimosas, knowing that just one glass might make you feel something—anything—other than this sick dread.

With an effort, you forced yourself to say, “Water, please.”

Of course, the universe just had to have its laugh, because the one bringing it wasn’t just any waiter.

It was Sofia.

How come everyone got a break from shitty things happening to them, and you didn’t?

You must’ve been really awful in your past life.

Perhaps you were one of those medieval villains who ordered people to be drawn and quartered, or some spoiled empress tossing servants into dungeons for looking at you wrong.

How else could you explain it? Life kept pilling more shit on top of you. Or maybe it was less about karma and more about some fucked up endurance test. You were still here.

Rafe’s latest… girlfriend? Hookup? Whatever the hell they were, she had that title, and now she was in front of you, all fresh-faced, her apron hugging her like she’d just walked out of some pinterest brunch board.

Her hair was pulled back in this cute little bun, and her face held that perfectly innocent smile that made you want to scream.

She was practically glowing.

Her skin had that effortless, sun-kissed warmth like she’d just gotten back from the Maldives or something. Not a shadow under her eyes, not a single stray hair — just this easy, perfect beauty that looked even more surreal under the soft morning sunlight.

It was ridiculous.

Meanwhile, you felt like a mess. Dark circles, a slight breakout on your chin, and an overall look of someone who hadn’t slept in… weeks? or was it months?

The last good night before nausea became a part of your daily life, and the constant anxiety kept you up at all hours, staring at the ceiling and wishing it’d all just disappear.

And here she was, gliding around like she was untouched by anything so messy, so…human.

You glanced down at your outfit, the pristine, tailored Miu Miu set from the new collection —the cropped blazer was light and airy, perfectly cinched at the waist, with sleeves just long enough to make it feel sophisticated but breezy, paired with a sleek, high-waisted mini skirt, the whole ensemble skimmed your frame effortlessly, made just for you.

You knew you looked expensive, the kind of look people envied, even if they’d never admit it.

Every stitch, every button on this outfit screamed privilege and class, and yet here you were feeling like some tragic, half-dead version of the old you.

Why the fuck were you even comparing yourself to her? She was still a pogue, for god’s sake.

Rafe’s latest toy or project or whatever, you had no business even wasting brain cells on her. So what if she looked a little too chipper, too perfect?

She wasn’t worth the mental energy.

Just as you forced yourself to refocus, Sofia reappeared, setting a glass of water in front of you with that same innocent, syrupy smile.

“Here’s your water,” she chirped.

You hated that sound.

She didn't look or sound in-your-face or territorial, more salt on an open wound.

Just hours ago, you were piecing together plans to get rid of the very thing that tied you to Rafe, and now here she was.

You gave the glass a pointed look and then raised your eyes to meet hers. “I asked with ice.”

No, you didn’t.

You were supposed to be above this kind of petty bullshit, weren’t you? But the bitterness rooted in your gut like the mimosas you wanted so desperately.

“Oh?” Her face froze, that little smile twitching just a bit. “You did? I must’ve heard wrong. I’ll be right back with it.” She looked genuinely flustered as she turned to head back to the bar, her apron fluttering behind her.

You caught yourself feeling the tiniest bit pathetic.

An unspoken vendetta against the girl serving water? Really? You almost felt a little ridiculous… almost.

“Oh, beautiful girl!”

It was Mrs. Aldridge, an old friend of your mother’s, all pearls and Chanel, her wrinkled hands wrapped around her mimosa.

“How’s your darling Rafe? I haven’t seen you two in ages!”

Instead of thinking better about it, your eyes slid over to Sofia.

She was setting the glass down, her face draining of color, frozen mid-action like a deer caught in headlights. It was almost too perfect.

You were gonna have fun with this, putting on your best sympathetic casually as if you’d had this conversation a hundred times.

“Oh, we’re not together anymore,” you said, tone dripping with faux sweetness as you nodded in Sofia’s direction. “She is.”

Mrs. Aldridge’s eyes widened, almost bulging out of her head as she followed your gaze, putting two and two together with the slow, scandalized horror that only old-money kooks could manage.

You could hear her brain struggling to comprehend the fact that Rafe Cameron was now involved with the server.

The other women at the table leaned in, whispering behind manicured hands and designer sunglasses, eyebrows shooting up as they stole obvious glances at Sofia.

She was still standing there, stunned, her mouth opening like she wanted to say something. You half-expected her to look annoyed, maybe give you the scathing glare you’d be giving her all morning.

Instead she looked like she wanted to disappear into the woodwork.

“Oh dear…” Mrs. Aldridge’s voice trailed off, her eyes scanning her from head to toe with the kind of judgmental precision only years of country club experience could bring.

She cleared her throat as if she could somehow undo the fact that the help had captured Rafe Cameron’s attention.

“I suppose he’s… rebelling, then?” Another old lady muttered, eyebrows raised in suspicion, already delighted by the gossip forming on her tongue.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Who knows? That’s Rafe for you.”

You took a sip of your water, feeling satisfied as murmurs spread across the table, surprise and judgment all directed squarely at Rafe and Sofia, who looked like she might faint on the spot.

You couldn’t lie — it was the most fun you’d had in weeks.

“Such a sweet girl,” Mrs. Aldridge mused, her gaze fixed on Sofia, who was now engaging another table with her bubbly personality. “But bless her heart, she doesn’t quite belong here.”

“Definitely not,” you clicked your tongue, allowing the disdain to seep into your voice, even as a small part of you felt like a spineless bitch for feeding her to the sharks.

“New money, if you ask me. I can’t take them seriously. Remember when Ward was just a pogue with big dreams, trying to make a name for himself.”

You saw her again, just a gimplse of her still taking orders with that big grin, still doing her job.

This was exactly what you’d wanted, right?

To see her squirm in her hand-me-down shoes, to show her the world she’d trespassed on wasn’t as welcoming as she might have believed.

But your conscience decided to make an apperance, one more time, slipping in with a knowing sigh. You wanted to hurt Rafe, not her.

This was cruelty, plain and simple, the girl was only trying to survive.

She was dealing with these judgmental eyes and assumptions, probably used to being reminded that she didn’t belong, that she didn’t measure up, and you were sinking to that same level of entitlement and superiority.

The satisfaction wasn’t as sweet as you’d thought it would be. Dragging her into it was cheap, easy, like pushing someone off balance simply because they happened to be standing there.

You forced a giggle to match the others, playing the charade, but inside, something started to feel uncomfortable. You knew what it was like to be scrutinized, to have them pick you apart, to whisper behind your back.

You remembered how much it hurt.

To these people, you were only steps away from that same old judgment. If they knew about the appointment...their conservatives asses would ruin your reputation.

They’d tear into you in the same way, a scandal spread in manicured lawns and private golf courses.

Mrs. Aldridge leaned in conspiratorially, her aged perfume filling the air. “If he truly cared for her, he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself like this.” She sighed, looking at you like she expected you to agree.

You took a breath, one that felt painful, because were you really about to do this shit?

“It’s Rafe’s life,” you replied, shrugging. “Maybe she makes him happy. Who knows?”

The table quieted, a few eyebrows raised, flabbergasted that you hadn’t indulged in more snide remarks. At the end of the day, the life you wanted — it wasn’t this.

Maybe it was time to let some of it go.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

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collecting--stardust · 1 year ago

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This semester's summary: existential crisis, existential crisis, existential crisis

#ah and 💸💸💸#so im always good in words compared to action so theory is not bad but my skills is lacking #im aware of it but im always a bit slow to catch up and all and that's one of my biggest insecurity #anyway today we had our last review skills session and i was unfortunately standing nearest to the trolley #so i was selected to do the tracheostomy suctioning and boy thats one of the skills that im really bad in #and i was struggling so bad and im shaking and my group has the top students and while i give no fuck you can see how they judge me #and the person in charge for that section is a master student who is having her assessment and i really dont want her to get bad results #so more panic and insecurity #but throughout the session she still guide me patiently and even say like its okay youre doing great and all #and by the end of it i got the grip of it but i was so upset with myself and regret everything #but then she lightly touch my arm and said its okay youre doing really well when i obviously fucked up #and then i just.. cried #what a good thing i wear a mask because two of my course mates are tested positive today because damn #and i keep on pretending to wipe my glasses when i was actually hiding my tears like damn this is embarrassing #but... i really want to thank her personally but i cant even talk just now and i dont even know if i will meet her again #because i really am doubting myself lately and that word is really comforting and i really needed to hear it #god 2nd year sucks i didnt even cry throughout my first year even when i did the worst presentation of my life and look like a dumbass #i always rant here you guys must be sick of me lol #personal.txt

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mv1simp · 9 days ago

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requested: max + best friend + somnophilia + cum marking

Unforgettable ♥️

Max Verstappen x Best Friend!Reader

if you loved the girl then I’m so so sorry (i got to give it to her like we in a marriage)

You and Max grew up as childhood best friends, secretly enamoured with each other but prohibited to openly date by both your strict fathers. But as adults, there’s nothing to stop the naughty desires you two have for each other finally leading to pleasure activities. You just had no idea how naughty your Max’s desires for you had become as of late…

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom! Dark max, sub! Innocent reader, size kink, dub con/non con elements, brief mentions of some teen max x reader being kinky, but mostly as adults, HEAVY on the somno!!, cum play/cum marking, WC 4.2k

You’ve known Max Verstappen your whole life. First as his childhood best friend, meeting through your fathers who both had a keen interest in racing. The young Max immediately became enamoured with how cute you looked grasping onto his sleeve to loyally follow him everywhere. He welcomed your constant support and cheering, a comfort to the cold discipline his own father gave him daily. You were the one source of happiness and positivity for him, with your sunshine smile and blushing cheeks as you oohed and ahhed at his track performance.

Your friendship continued easily through your teens, and then into adulthood, with you naturally moving to Monaco at his invitation. Just like you’d always done - with Max leading, and you obediently following. Of course, for a boy and a girl to be as close friends as the two of you were led to more than a few eyebrows being raised and curious questions asked, especially when Max’s career skyrocketed and he became one of the most famous athletes worldwide. But you both swear multiple times to your family, friends and the media - nothing of the romantic sort happened between the two of you, it was all completely platonic, just a healthy friendship. And that was the truth, because Max’s father had forbidden him from getting entangled with the little girl following him around as he had a racing career to focus on, and after that countless models to date - much more fitting for an F1 driver than some shy, girl next door type. And your strict, conservative father had raised you traditionally, sending you to an all girl’s high school and banning any boyfriends or dates of any sort. Max was in fact the only boy you were allowed to speak to, given how close your fathers were. But you weren’t to think about any boys until it was time to get married, your father had told you sternly. There’s too many bad men that would hurt my baby girl, he added with a ruffle of your dark curls.

Your father would have had a heart attack if he’d known that the teenage Max had already begun sneaking into your bedroom window nightly once you’d been sent to a different school than him. You’d found it so sweet that he misses you so much, saying that it wasn’t enough time to just see you on the weekends. Soon enough he’d end up falling asleep in your bed after you spent hours talking and reading racing magazines together, just like the sleepovers you two would occasionally have as toddlers when the adults had too much to drink.

You loved that Max would always be there for you, especially when you started having a hard time at your new school with a group of mean older girls. Max’s normally soft blue eyes had narrowed as you sadly mentioned how they’d made fun of you. He wiped the tears away at the corner of your eyes and assured you he’d help take care of it. You weren’t sure exactly what he’d done the next day when the group of girls all avoided eye contact and apologised to you publically, telling you they didn’t realise you were the girlfriend of Max Verstappen - who by now, was a international karting champion and set to join the junior Redbull team at only 16.

You’d blushed, trying to dismiss their belief of you being Max’s girlfriend that had started to become a frequent rumour these days. While it was true you’d always had a crush on the handsome blonde Dutchman, he’d never once shown you that he reciprocated your feelings, always just being a good friend to you. Like that evening when he jumped through your windowsill with familiar movements, waving off your grateful thanks and telling you it’s what best friends did for each other. Besides, you’re so tiny and cute, just like a bunny, it’s my job to look after you if I’m called the lion! He declared, alluding to your individual favourite childhood animals. Later, he curiously asked what the girls had actually teased you about, saying he’d forgotten to ask because he had been too angry with them. You blush a little, because you’re not sure if it’s too embarrassing to tell him as it’s a girl thing, Maxie…

He encourages you to tell him, insisting there were no secrets between the two of you, who’d practically known each other since birth. You couldn’t argue with that, and shyly tell him that it was because the older girls had seen you changing for sports class last week and had said you must have gotten a good surgeon with boobs like that. I-I don’t know what they mean, Maxie, you said with an anxious bite of your lip. Do they look weird?

Oh, Max had said, caught off guard, pretty blue eyes suddenly wide as they automatically drifted down to your clothed chest. Even through the pink camisole you’re wearing to bed, it’s hard to miss the way your new assets stretched the thin material to its limits. I’m sure they look nice, bunny. But I - his cheeks go pink - I can look at them properly if you want?

Your brown doe eyes go starry eyed and you nod happily at his offer. Will you, Maxie? Thank you so much! It’s so kind of you. Beaming up at your friend, you thank him again for his thoughtful offer as you lift the singlet above your breasts. You don’t really have any other friends to show them too, because you spend all your spare time with the Dutch boy, and your mother is also too strict like your father to talk about your teenage troubles with. You’d be lost without Max!

The blonde teen in question swallows as he intently looks at your bare chest, now exposed for him. The night breeze stiffens your nipples, making them stick out against your caramel skin. They’re very pretty, schatje, he finally says, his voice sounding a strange and deeper than normal, after he stares at them so long you start to get worried that there had been something wrong, after all. You tell him this, to which he reassures you soothingly, but you’re still on edge. What if my future boyfriend doesn’t like them, Maxie? Your best friend’s eyes darken suddenly at the mention of some other boy seeing your body in a way only he had been allowed to so far. You're a little taken aback at the unfamiliar, cold expression on his normally warm face, but then you blink and he's back to his blushing self, eagerly showering you with his reassurances because he never wants you to doubt how perfect he thinks you are.

So that’s why, now as adults living in his Monaco penthouse, Max makes it his personal mission to make sure you know how beautiful you are. Your conservative parents have no idea that you live together, of course - they still think you live in the quaint 1 bedroom apartment a few minutes away from your university campus. But your modest apartment had mysteriously been shut down by the Housing Council of Monaco, who’d told you there had been a termite infestation and you were indefinitely out of a place to live. You’d been puzzled why your apartment was the only one on your floor that seemed to be affected by something so contagious - but when Max generously offered to ease all your financial troubles and let you crash in his guest bedroom, you gratefully accepted. You’d never told your strict parents about the move, of course, since it was only meant to be temporary and they’d kick up a fuss over nothing.

You were so thankful to your best friend, and made sure to always clean up around the house and bake his favourite treats to repay him in some way. Max’s favourite way to destress after a long day is to cuddle against you on the sofa, burying his face in your pillowy, soft chest as you giggle and run a comforting hand through his blonde locks. He complains about drama with his team and car this season, husky voice muffled against your clothed breasts. The low vibrations would make you involuntarily shiver and he’d always know when you were wearing a bra, because he wouldn’t be able to see your tempting nipples through your top. Schatje, he’d say sternly with a disapproving glare, yanking your pastel cardigan up and revealing a cute, lacy bralette. We talked about this, it restricts your circulation, it’s not healthy to wear a bra at home too, hmm? You apologise sweetly, pouting and telling him that you were sorry, it was just you’d had to wear one for your university tutorial earlier and sometimes your back really starts hurting if your bra isn’t supporting the weight of your chest…

Hmm, let’s see how we can fix that, okay bunny? He lifts you to sit in his lap, your back to his toned abs, and your underwear coming into direct contact with his jeans underneath your miniskirt. Sliding his large, strong hands over your smaller waist, he makes you gasp as he unclasps your bra and starts gently squeezing your bare breasts. The soft flesh fills his palms, and you shyly ask him what he was doing, he didn't have to trouble himself helping you. When he shushes you, reassuring you that he was just massaging the tension and pain out of your tits, see, doesn’t that feel good schat? You find yourself nodding, leaning back against his broad chest because and biting your lip because it did feel amazing. You didn’t know that being touched there would make you feel dirty things someplace else, like in the place between your legs that begins to feel warm and tingly. Especially when Max would roll your nipples in between his large fingers, or when he’d press his tongue in between your bare tits and lick at your caramel skin. You couldn’t resist arching your back into his talented mouth when he latched onto your areolas, unable to control the breathless moans that escaped. You were seriously so lucky to have a friend who took your comfort and health so seriously!

Of course, you were clueless that Max had taken the boundaries well beyond what would be considered acceptable for any other friendship. You still barely had any friends outside of Max - especially since your friendship with him kept you so busy, flying around the world with him constantly. But everything you two did felt so natural, like a progression of how you’d looked after each other other as kids, that you never felt weird or uncomfortable. You only ever felt good with Maxie. That was also why you’d always call him first when you were on a night out and had gotten a bit too tipsy - you didn’t trust anyone else to look after you. Max had warned you, just like your father had, about all the bad men who were out and would hurt you. He very rarely let you go out without him for this very reason.

But when you would, for a girlfriend’s birthday dinner or the other, he’d be the one to drive you home and carry you up to the apartment. He’d smirk at your drunk antics, where you’d whine it was too damn hot and start sloppily tearing off your cute, sweetheart minidresses. He loved when you got like this, obediently crawling into bed with him in scraps of lace, when normally sober you put up a fuss that only a couple slept like that, it was wrong, his girlfriend wouldn’t like this! Pulling your pliant form into his warm chest, he’s pressing kisses to your forehead before sliding his tongue into your open, pink mouth. You kiss him back passionately, breathlessly chanting his name, contently lost in how nice his lips feel. You loved the familiar feeling of Max’s arms around you, always making you feel safe and protected. And when his large, strong palms run up and down your sensitive body, sending electric shivers running when his bare skin touches yours, you can’t help but moan sweetly into his mouth. Mmmhh, feels good, Maxie you slur, eyes fluttering shut and thick ass grinding back against his clothed bulge, before you fall asleep from his slow, rhythmic movements as he explores your tired body.

Secretly, not that you’d ever admit it, you knew there was something a little naughty with the way he touched you. You’d watched enviously through cracked doors when he’d touched his girlfriends in the same way, hating when his attention was on some other girl and not on you. But you could never ask him sober to take care of you like that, not when you were sure he thought of you like a friend. So you frequently started to get a bit too tipsy out on a night out, knowing it was much easier to cross the line of friendship into something more when you could blame it all on the tequila. And your Maxie would never turn down a chance to reciprocate your touchiness - his love language was physical touch, after all!

You had no idea that after you'd fall asleep, your precious Maxie’s fun really began, every night that he managed to bring you into his Californian King. If you hadn’t been so naive you would know it was far from normal for a guy friend to climb into bed with his drunk girl friend, who was wearing nothing but some white lacy lingerie underneath her clubbing dress that's abandoned on the floor. Lingerie which he now pulls to the side as he squeezes your juicy tits and lightly fingers the entrance of your pussy. His dark, hungry gaze rake over your tempting form, taking in your curves that have now filled out. He lazily jerks himself off to the pretty little thing passed out in his bed, peppering kisses to your chubby cheeks, your delicate neck, and to your plush breasts which bounce with each sleepy breath you take.

And once your breaths turn heavy and slow when deep sleep claims you, there’s nothing stopping him from slipping his angry, leaking cockhead out and sliding it along your puffy folds. You unknowingly drip your wetness all over his shaft as he groans into your ear, his breath warm as he pants desperately above your peacefully sleeping face. Sometimes he can’t resist and slips just the tip into your tight little hole, the one you still thought was untouched by anyone.

You’d probably die if you knew the truth - that your cunt had in fact been abused many times by your best friend. Max regularly enjoyed teasing your puffy slit with his fingers, his tongue and of course his cockhead- all while you lay blissfully sleeping next to him. He’d take any chance he could, no matter how risky. One time you’d passed out on Max’s lap aboard his private jet, exhausted from the day at a boiling hot Qatar race. He’d stroked your curls lovingly, murmuring sweet nothings to you until you were in a deep sleep on his thick muscular thighs, even drooling a little onto his jeans. All he’d had to do was dim the cabin lights and half cover your face with a blanket under the guise of not disturbing you if anyone walked past.

Nobody would have been able to guess that underneath the privacy of the blanket, Max Verstappen was slowly sliding his aching, fat cock into your wet mouth. You’d instinctively started suckling on it like a lollipop, making him chuckle at what a natural slut you were for him. Grabbing a hold of your curls, he’d easily manoeuvred your soft, pliant lips up and down his shaft, enjoying the drool you left all over his warm length. Breathing heavier, his movements quickened and his thrusts became shallower until he finally goes still, tensing in your mouth and spurting ribbons of his cream down your throat. You’d slept straight through the dinner service, after all. Afterwards, you’d woken up with sticky lips and an unfamiliar taste on your tongue, dazedly blinking up at Max who was playing on his phone above your sleeping figure on his lap. Good nap, schatje? he croons adoringly at you, brushing your hair lovingly when he sees you’d awakened. You’d nodded happily, feeling content and secure in his hold.

Lately, sneaking around while you were asleep hadn’t been enough for the world champion. He wanted you all to himself, all the time. His new tactic involved making sure you knew that his latest girlfriend - or his model "pump and dump of the month" as his guy friends joked - had broken up with him. All because she’d heard you had climbed into bed with him naked, tipsy after a night out, Max would declare to your with a dramatic sigh. Or she’d found your lacy underwear mixed in with Max’s laundry, and had accused him of cheating before storming out. He wondered what his exes would have done if they found out the lacy things he’d had lying around were actually due to his dirty habit as a teen of stealing your underwear to sniff and guiltily keep in his stash. It was a twisted desire he hadn’t grown out of as an adult, instead just finding your new panties sexier and enjoying ruining them with his cum now. Some nights, when he was feeling particularly possessive of you, he’d pull one lacy side up to slide his length underneath, now rubbing his drooling cockhead against the juicy swell of your ass. One night he’d even just slipped your panties all the way off, jerked off slowly to them as his other hand explored your pliant body greedily, making you gasp breathlessly when he buried his face in between your jiggling tits and gently bit your cute nipples. After cumming a thick load into the pink lacey fabric, he then slid the ruined panties back over your curvy ass. You’d remained completely clueless to your best friend’s filthy nighttime acts in your bed, blissfully dreaming.

So after telling you that you must have left your panties in his bed the last time you passed out there drunk, and made his girlfriend angry, Max would sigh, rubbing his head and making sure to out on a grand show of looking tired and weary as he fed you some new lie about how you were the reason his girlfriends had called it quits.

You’d anxiously comfort him, your doe eyes worried as you studied his tense figure. Just like he’d hoped, you couldn’t resist offering to help him in any way he needed - including taking over any bedroom activities his girlfriends had been performing for him, if he wanted. You weren’t very good, because you still had never had a boyfriend…but you promised to try your best to do it just how Max liked it. After all, that’s what good friends were for, right?

So that’s why you obediently wake him up every morning with your lips on his heavy morning wood. All of his girlfriends woke him up like this, Max insisted, otherwise his balls would be too full for him to go to driving practise comfortably. And since he loved to sleep in late ever day, you had no choice but to miss your morning lectures. Instead of getting the college education you’d promised your parents, you’re worshipping your best friend’s large cock with eager strokes of your hand and wet licks of your tongue, following his instructions. You hadn’t liked going near the base, to his heavy balls at the start, finding them uncomfortable to fit in your small mouth. Max had noticed your dislike for then very quickly and soon kept a strong grip on your curls, pressing your thick lips into his morning wood to make sure you blew him just how he wanted it.

After your daily breakfast of Max’s thick cream down your throat, you two would shower together, just like he liked doing with all his ex girlfriends. This part you did know about, having come home early one day and overhearing Max fucking his latest up against the shower wall. You’d never imagine that one day you’d be getting to replace her, gasping out ah ah ahs! as Max rubbed his drooling, angry cockhead against your slick folds. You bite your lip as you dirtily fantasise about your tall, muscular best friend behind you forcing his way into your cunny. Just a little bit, of course, maybe just the tip, you dreamily thought.

Max had always been good at knowing what you wanted without you asking, given how long he'd known you. So he gives you exactly what you'd been naughtily thinking about, "accidentally" sliding his impossibly hard head into your dripping folds when he reached forward to adjust the already perfect water temperature. You squeal in shock, quickly trying to turn around and see what he was doing, but you're no match for his strength. Max's strong hands pin your thick hips in place as his much taller frame presses into you from behind, his lips brushing your ear to whisper dirty things and making your brain go foggy. Hearing your beloved Maxie huskily groan that your ass felt amazing, like it was built to take my cock, bunny made your heart beat rapidly in excitement. You didn't even notice that he'd bullied a good third of his massive erection into your clenching pussy, or when he came with a desperate groan, his face buried in your neck from behind. The warm shower water mixed with his creamy release and leaving you none the wiser about what he'd just pumped inside your virgin hole.

And little, naive you had no idea just how many times your possessive best friend had exposed your defenceless body to his thick cream. The twisted idea of training your holes to always welcome his, and only his cum, filled Max’s head with dark pleasure. He wanted to leave you begging and desperate for his release, even though you would have no idea just how or why you’d ended up developing such a craving for it. That was why he always made sure to touch and play with your over sensitive body, especially your cute, swollen clit and pretty nipples. Both because he loved feeling you up like you belonged to him, and because when he’d inevitably spurt his cum through your drooling, open mouth as you softly snore against his pillows. Your sleepy brain began to subconsciously associate the unfamiliar taste with delicious, tingly pleasure.

And if you’d make him mad when you spent too long talking to one of the other guys in his garage, instead of diligently at his side, he took his training of you to the next level. That meant cumming all over a batch of freshly baked and frosted white chocolate and rasberry cupcakes - your favourite! You always clapped your manicured hands in excitement when Max would pick up a box for you. They taste so good, you moaned as you eagerly dug into a second one, licking the white sticky frosting messily off your fingers. Even better than I remember!

The blonde Dutchman who’s eyeing you with a pleased smirk couldn’t stop the growing desire in his belly at the sight of you taking so much pleasure at eating his cum. So once he started this dirty habit of feeding you his release, he didn’t stop there - he was never one for half measures. He’d only have to close his eyes and picture your sleeping body, thin camisole mentally pulled up by his wandering hands to reveal your large tits. It’s a sight he’s been getting to enjoy almost nightly now, but it hasn’t stopped getting any less tempting. He easily spurts a generous load in a container of your favourite flavours of creamy vanilla ice cream. Slipping the box back into the freezer, he smirks to himself at the thought of getting to enjoy the sight of you licking it up off a spoon after dinner.

You've always had a major sweet tooth, and now that Max has started mixing his cum into your beloved desserts and sugary treats, you begin to associate his heady taste even more with raw desire. You start getting the same pleasurable high from deepthroating him as you do sucking on a strawberry lollipop. And your best friend just can't get enough of how addicted you've become to having his intoxicating, thick cum flood your mouth. So much so that you’re eager to fall to your knees to greet Max when you come home from class, obediently sucking his impressive cock as you show off your topless figure. And when you can tell he’s close, from how his handsome face is all flushed and he’s biting his pretty lips and murmuring fuck, schatje, it’s so fucking good, just like that-

You open your glossy lips wide, pink tongue poking out and brown doe eyes batting up at the huge cock in front of you adoringly. The sight of you so innocent yet desperate for him never fails to make Max cum, and with a few rapid pumps he finishes with a groan. His drooling, swollen cockhead is aimed right at your eagerly awaiting mouth, and soon his excessive load covers your tongue and drools past the corner of your lips as you struggle to contain it all in your small mouth. Splatters of white semen land on your chubby cheeks and drip down to your plush, caramel tits as well.

Just the taste of it has your eyes rolling and breath hitching, the months of subconscious training having done the job of making you addicted to Max’s cock very well. You swallow it all like the good girl you are, not letting any of his cum go to waste. And when you drop your mouth open again invitingly, shyly saying look Maxie, I drank it all as you display your now clean tongue - well, how is he meant to resist stuffing your tight little cunt next?

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A/N: CANNOT BELIEVE OUR MANS WON BRAZIL WHAT AN ACHIEVEMENT FOR THE LATINA FANS ya’ll manifested the FUCK out of this. I have heard you all with your celebration sex requests and I am HERE for it stay tuned!!! 🧙‍♀️🧙‍♀️

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #18+ mdni #dark max verstappen #dark smut

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pathologicalreid · 22 days ago

Text

here with me | s.r.

four times Spencer feels out of place in your house after being released from prison, and one time it's like he never left

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, post prison, crying, stephen walker's death, non-specified illness, baking, kissing word count: 3.58k a/n: i love this fic format i have been wanting to do it for ages. and here we are. as always-tell me how you feeeeeeeel

“I wanna stay home,” your daughter whined from her place at the kitchen table. She periodically reached to her sister’s high chair so that she could steal blueberries from her plate.

You hummed, pouring the egg mixture into the preheated skillet, “We played hooky yesterday, bub. We’ve gotta go back to school today.” Using a silicone spatula, you started to scramble the eggs.

She grumbled unintelligibly, dramatically sliding down the chair, “Livvy gets to stay home.”

Turning down the heat on the stove, you went around the counter and crouched in front of your five-year-old, “Well, Livvy’s two, and before you ask, Finn’s not going to school either.”

“Finn’s a baby, mom. He can’t go to school,” she told you proudly.

You frowned at your daughter, “It’s hard to be the oldest, honey. We can’t keep staying home.” Ruffling her hair affectionately, you get up from the floor and go back to the stove, you continue scrambling the eggs.

To your eldest, going back to kindergarten was a fate worse than death. It wasn’t strictly that she didn’t want to go to school, it was that she didn’t want to leave home. The sniffle from the table lets you know that this morning was going to be harder than you initially anticipated. “I wanna stay with daddy,” she cried, kicking her legs at the table.

Turning off the heat, you set the pan on a trivet before going back to the table, “I know,” you responded. Every time you thought you had run out of tears, new ones managed to find their way out.

Of your three kids, Eleanor was old enough to really feel Spencer’s absence. To your dismay, she ended up bearing some of the burden of her father being gone for three months. After staying with your parents for a few days, she was finally reunited with her dad yesterday morning, and they had been nearly inseparable since.

“Oh, Nell,” you sighed, cupping her cheeks in your hands, “I don’t know if daddy has plans today. He has a lot of stuff that needs to be done.

Pulling away from your touch, she frantically wiped the tears from her eyes, “I can do stuff too,” she whimpered.

She unwound your resolve like a ball of yarn, “I know you can, honey. I just…” you faltered. You had let her miss so much school over the last three months that the school had sent letters home, “We’ll just have to see.”

You sighed helplessly, standing back up and smiling softly at Olivia, who had successfully gotten blueberry juice everywhere. Returning to the kitchen, you put some scrambled eggs on Eleanor’s plate and put more in a bowl for Olivia, setting it aside to cool more before you give it to your toddler.

Putting the pan in the sink, you flipped on the tap before starting to clean it. While you kept a watchful eye on the baby monitor, you didn’t notice Spencer come downstairs and walk into the kitchen. In fact, you were completely unaware of his presence until he spoke, “Can I help with anything?”

You lost your grip on the pan, sending soapy water flying all over the kitchen as you frantically tried to catch the handle. Eleanor either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Olivia thought it was hilarious. “Oh,” you breathed as Spencer reached over and turned off the water, “You scared me.”

The two of you shared a timid glance, his hand ghosting over your waist as he walked past you to where the girls were sitting.

Biting the dead skin off of your lips, you finished rinsing the pan before setting it on a drying mat. You were wiping down the countertop when Finn finally woke up, and you dropped everything to go get him from his crib, almost like you were running on autopilot.

Unzip the sleep sack. Change the diaper. Get dressed. Cuddle him. Every morning. In that order.

Resting the groggy baby on your hip, you made your way back downstairs and into the kitchen, starting the bottle warmer and listening to the conversation between Spencer and Nellie.

“What if you go to school today, but on Friday we can both take the day off? We could go out for lunch,” he offered, crouching down so he was at her level.

She looked pointedly over at Olivia, who was happily eating the eggs that you assumed Spencer had given her, now thoroughly doused in ketchup, “Just us?”

Spencer nodded reassuringly, “If it’s okay with mommy, we can have a daddy and Nellie day.” He reached out tentatively and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, everything about him seemed so timid.

You looped around the kitchen table, ruffling Olivia’s hair before doing the same to Eleanor’s and even Spencer’s, which made Olivia giggle.

“Can I?” Spencer asked, nodding his head to the bottle that you had just grabbed from the warmer.

Blinking absently for a moment, you eventually nodded, handing Finn over to his dad along with the bottle, watching as Spencer cradled him, walking him around the kitchen while his bottle was clamped between his tiny hands. “Hey, girls, time to get dressed,” you said, forcing yourself to peel your eyes off of your husband.

Eleanor groaned but got up anyway, trudging up the steps while you followed with Olivia in your arms, feeling like you were missing something without Finn also in tow.

Nell made her way back down first, sitting on the couch and watching her dad, keeping an eye on him like she was afraid he was going to disappear before her very eyes. “Daddy?” She whispered, her voice barely audible from your place at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah?” He asked, you heard the sound of him setting the bottle in the sink.

She’s quiet for a moment before responding, “I missed you.”

Spencer’s footsteps stopped abruptly, “I missed you too, lovebug.”

You started to make your way down the stairs, letting Olivia go down on her own now that she wasn’t covered in blueberry. Eleanor looked at you with big eyes before helping her sister climb up on the couch. “Finny, Finny, Finny,” Olivia echoed.

Zipping up Eleanor’s school lunch in her bag, you sighed, hoping you were doing the right thing by sending her to school. “Hey, Nell,” you said, checking a new message on your phone, “Mrs. Jareau is here.”

JJ’s carpools had saved you multiple times while Spencer was in prison, you were just grateful she was willing to continue them.

Normally, she’d run out the door at the prospect of being able to talk to Henry, but this time she lingered by the front door, holding her backpack straps in her hands and staring at her dad, “Will you be here when I get home?”

He looked at you, a thousand emotions flashing in his brown eyes, and he squatted in front of her, “I’ll be here,” he said, holding out his pinky finger to interlock with her much smaller one. “I promise,” he said, kissing her forehead before standing up.

Once you knew she was off to school, you made sure Olivia was settled in on the couch and Finn was in his bouncer before going back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. You were placing dishes in the dishwasher when Spencer came back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning against the countertop and handing you a bowl to put on the top rack.

Taking the bowl, you didn’t look at him as you placed it in the dishwasher before putting a tablet in and pressing the start button, “I wish you’d stop apologizing.”

He stepped slightly closer to you, “I know. It’s just… watching you handle all three of them in the morning. It’s incredible,” he praised you. “I left you alone,” he said mournfully.

You shrugged, having never really thought of it that way, “You didn’t leave me alone. I had them,” you said, nodding in the direction of the living room, where Finn and Olivia were having a conversation that only the two of them could understand.

You sighed in relief as the shower water washed over you, an early afternoon shower just before Eleanor got home from school, the little ones were down for their naps, and you had to race against time before one of them woke up. It didn’t give you a lot of time to just sit under the running water, but you’d have enough time to wash your hair before you needed to pause the shower.

You had narrowly avoided disaster this morning when the girls’ breakfasts had been mixed up. Thankfully, you navigated a toddler meltdown that was triggered by the appearance of ham in her eggs. Poor Spencer was still confused even after you explained to him that she wouldn’t eat ham because it’s pink and pink is her favorite color.

It wasn’t something that made a lot of sense to you either, but the only person that it needed to make sense to was your two-year-old.

Rinsing your hair, you remembered how happy Spencer had been when he got Finn down last night. He’d spent the day talking about how babies don’t start to really recognize faces until they’re around four months old, and that was about how old he was when Spencer left.

Finn knew his dad. He’d even started reaching out for him when he wanted to be held but feeling comfortable enough to be put down for the night by him—it felt like a milestone.

The crying started right after you finished rinsing your hair, you quickly shut off the water and grabbed your towel off of the hook. Wrapping it around yourself, you dried off your feet before opening the bathroom. Sometimes when Finn cried while you were in the shower, you’d just bring him in with you to finish, but when you opened the door, his tears were already waning.

Spencer had gotten to him first, scooping him out of the crib in your room and holding him to his chest, “Hey, buddy,” he cooed softly, “What’s wrong?”

The baby chattered in response, gripping the cotton of Spencer’s t-shirt in his tiny fists and wiping his tears away.

“You’re alright,” Spencer whispered, placing him on your bed to undo his sleep sack, smiling at his son when he kicked his legs once freed. “You just wanted to be held, huh? Your sister was the same way when she was a baby,” he said.

Nell. He was remembering Nell as a baby, who slept best when she was being held and would cry if you were out of her line of sight.

Spencer turned around, stopping in his tracks when he saw you in the doorway, “Did you finish?”

You’d been caught, “Oh. Could you get a new soap from the hall closet? We’re out,” you fibbed, mindful of the way your hair was still dripping wet.

He frowned, “I just put a new one in this morning. Did you look on the caddy?”

Blinking, you shook your head, “No, my bad.”

You had already started closing the door when he called for you, “Honey?”

Pausing, you peeked out the door to look at him, “Yeah?”

“I’m here,” he told you, something urgent in his tone.

Your face warmed, the reminder of his presence making your heart race, “I—” you faltered, “I know.”

You had managed to get Nell out the door without a fight this morning with the promise of her father-daughter date tomorrow. Olivia was settled with her toys in your line of sight and Finn was in a sling. The baby hadn’t slept well last night, and you were fairly certain that he had a new tooth poking through. He seemed fine now, catching up on sleep while you wiped down the kitchen.

Spencer was across from you, filling out some required papers for his reinstatement hearing. He hadn’t fully committed to seeking reinstatement until you brought it up. Frankly, you were horrified by the fact that Spencer was under the impression that you would ask him to leave the BAU for any reason.

“What do you have planned today?” Spencer asked you, still focusing on the papers while making gentle conversation with you.

You raised your eyebrows briefly, “Really awesome exciting stuff.” You took a sip of your coffee before adjusting Finn’s sling. Very slowly, you were beginning to find a new routine with Spencer and the kids in the morning. Spencer was learning about everything that had changed, and you were learning how to give him more responsibilities around the house.

You needed to let go of the notion that you were still alone. Spencer hummed in response, laughing at your blatant oversell, “Like what?”

Smiling, you dried your hands on a tea towel before standing next to him, distracting him from his paperwork with the cuteness of a sleeping baby. “There is so much dirty laundry in this house,” you told him, “I’m surprised anyone has any clean clothes.”

“Anything else?” Spencer asked, placing one hand gently on your hip and pressing a tentative kiss to your lips.

You hesitated, “Uh, cooking?”

He looked at you curiously, “Cooking for what?”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you looked over at Olivia, making sure she was preoccupied before answering, “Monica and the kids.”

Realization dawned over Spencer’s face, “Oh,” he breathed. It didn’t surprise you that Spencer had conflicting feelings about Stephen’s death, given that he hadn’t known him that well prior to his arrest, but he and his family had grown close to you in your husband’s absence.

You nodded, “There’s a meal train thing going on for them, so I was going to make some stuff and drop it there later.” Tentatively, you smoothed Spencer’s hair back, needing something to do with your hands, “Maya used to babysit a lot when I needed extra hands. I just want to feel like I’m returning the favor.”

“Can I come with you?” Spencer asked, tilting his head back to look up at you.

Smiling softly at him, you answered, “Of course.” You sniffled, “If we time it right, we could pick Nell up from school at the end of the day.”

He squeezed your hip comfortingly, “I love you.”

You leaned down and kissed him again, “I love you too.”

The chattering woke you up, Finn in his crib talking to himself as you glared at the alarm clock. It was just past three in the morning, and the second thing you noticed was that you were alone in your bed.

You sat up in a panic, worried you had dreamt the past few weeks until your eyes found Spencer’s watch sitting on his nightstand. Rubbing your eyes, you dragged yourself out of bed before getting Finn from his crib, taking his sleep sack off to make him easier to hold, “Hey,” you whispered, “Let’s go find daddy.”

It didn’t take you long, Spencer was sitting on the floor in the hallway, his knees bent to his chest as he looked into Nell’s room, her space nightlight providing a soft glow into the hallway.

“If you move to the left about a foot, you can see both of them at the same time,” you informed him.

He listened, shifting over so that he could see Eleanor and Olivia at the same time, both of them sleeping peacefully in their beds. Spencer looked up at you, “Why do you know that?”

You slid down the wall, taking a seat next to him and settling Finn lengthwise along your thighs, “At the beginning of March, Nell brought home a virus from school and gave it to Liv, and then one of them gave it to Finn. So, I’d sit out here in the hallway and watch the girls with Finny in my lap,” you told him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Just so I’d be nearby if any of them needed anything,” you kept your voice at a whisper, rocking your legs in hopes that it would soothe Finn back to sleep.

Spencer didn’t respond for a moment, thinking through what you had said before finally speaking up, “No one told me they’d been sick.”

Humming, you smoothed the baby’s hair back, keeping it out of his face, “I didn’t tell anyone.” To this day, no one else knew that you had juggled three sick kids at once, “I lied to JJ and told her that I was keeping Nell home for a few days, and she didn’t push for more information.” No one had pushed you for anything in the past three months.

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Spencer asked, leaning his head on yours and resting a hand on your knee.

You didn’t want to, quite honestly. You hadn’t wanted to have to call your mom or anyone from the BAU when you needed help because it felt like an admission of sorts. Admitting that Spencer was gone long-term and that you were a solo parent. “I don’t know,” you lied, “I felt like I had something to prove to the world.”

Spencer swallowed thickly next to you, “Did it work?”

Shaking your head, you sighed a breath of relief at his presence, “No.”

He was quiet for a while, likely wallowing in a pit of guilt that he had been constructing for weeks, “We should get him back to bed.”

“Spence?” You whispered, closing your eyes and listening to the sounds of your quiet house, “Can we just stay like this for a little while?”

Humming a confirmation, Spencer placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, leaving his hand resting on your knee while the two of you remained in the hallway, enjoying each other’s company.

“We should’ve done cupcakes,” you said mournfully, turning on the oven light to see that there was something very off about the cake you’d put in the oven.

Spencer hummed, looking at the recipe again to see if there was something you had missed, “Why didn’t we do cupcakes?”

You huffed, “The Pinterest photo I found was of a cake.” It was a perfect cake, complete with a purple graduation cap made out of fondant that you could put on the top. The only problem was you had severely overestimated your baking abilities.

“So,” Spencer started, “It’s your fault.”

Scoffing, you tapped his chest with a silicone spatula, “It’s the fault of whoever posted the original photo!”

Spencer smiled at you, a dopey look in his eyes despite it being one in the morning. “We should’ve asked Penelope to do the cake,” he told you, flipping over the recipe you had printed out.

“We can make a cake,” you retorted, you were throwing a very small party for Nell’s last day of kindergarten—the first time you’ve invited a group over since Spencer was arrested. “You have three PhDs and you don’t think you can bake a cake?”

He raised his eyebrows at you, “This might come as a surprise to you, but none of my coursework ever involved baking.”

You grinned at him, “That does surprise me, it’s basically chemistry,” you challenged.

Spencer rolled his eyes, “Okay, come here,” he said, pulling you into his arms by the fabric of your t-shirt.

Realization fell over you as you scrambled to get away, “No! You’re gonna put frosting on my nose again.” It would be his second offense of the evening.

He followed you into the living room where you tripped over a toy truck, causing you to fall to the ground. When he offered a hand to help you up, you tugged him to the floor, causing one of the balloons that you had previously blown up to pop.

You covered your mouth to muffle your giggles, waiting to see if the noise had woken any of the kids up.

The kids were all so happy to have Spencer back, but your stomach twisted at the realization that this was the first night you’d really felt like you had Spencer back. You loved the kids, but you haven’t had a moment without them since February.

“Hey,” you said to Spencer, rolling over and flinging a balloon at him for good measure.

Carefully, you rested your chin on his chest, staring at him while he tried to calm his own laughter, “Hi,” he said back, ruffling your hair affectionately.

You took a deep breath before speaking up again, “I missed you.”

You hadn’t said it yet. You’d developed some misconstrued fear of making him feel guilty if you’d told him just how much you missed him, but it was the truth. You missed him. He smiled softly down at you, almost as if he had been waiting for you to say the words. “I missed you too,” he whispered.

Slowly, you lifted yourself up and pressed your lips to his, kissing him. It was more than any of the quick pecks you’d shared in the last few weeks, it was real. His hands dug into your waist as if he was afraid you were going to disappear, but you stayed there. You stayed with him, and you always would.

Up until the timer for the cake went off, your phone buzzing in your pocket when you finally pulled away. Breathing heavily, Spencer asked, “Is it too late to ask Penelope to do the cake?”

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