#i didn't even pull apart season one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

parfaitblogs · 2 months ago

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fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end. word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be.

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all.

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not.

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide.

And then he was free.

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished.

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened.

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break.

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met.

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again.

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit.

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was.

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be.

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry.

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming.

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened.

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped.

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed.

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again.

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more.

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him.

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more.

You couldn't complain.

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch.

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body.

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later.

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind.

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you.

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin.

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered.

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously.

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face.

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up.

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away.

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?"

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again.

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up.

"Lots of people say oral," he defended.

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head."

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping.

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping.

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so.

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?"

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose.

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests.

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter.

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him.

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him.

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have.

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded.

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone.

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat.

He liked to hear you.

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either.

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face.

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest.

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?"

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body.

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time.

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make.

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit.

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin.

"Touch myself?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again.

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head.

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again.

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you.

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you.

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could.

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more.

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it.

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin.

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't.

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling.

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome.

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were.

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to.

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating.

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered.

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after.

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after.

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck.

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter.

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again.

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there.

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips.

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking.

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here.

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more.

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move.

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move).

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second.

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled.

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little.

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again.

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure.

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were.

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots.

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever.

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that.

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever.

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly.

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared.

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely.

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone.

Thankfully, you didn't have to.

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee.

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub.

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt.

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless.

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways.

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach.

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh.

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face.

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort.

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes.

"Okay."

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#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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crookedteethed · 2 months ago

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18+ various kinks, slight smut, hints of dub con/non-con kink

⋆ ★ Thinking about the Rafe's and their specific kinks <3

Season One Rafe would so be into doing lines of coke off your body--bonus points if you are about to do it behind the big rock at the beach or on his balcony during one of his Kook parties because he's also a bit of an exhibitionist.

It felt decadent to Rafe to pull out your perfectly plush tits (or your ass) and sprinkle a bit of that angel dust down the valley of your breast. He wouldn't snort it immediately; he'd wait until he had his thick length inside your sopping wet cunt--and then he'd snort the line, engulfed in your deliciousness.

Fuck did Rafe love your body, but fuck did he love coke--so why not mix the two?

Rafe had adorned the thrill he got when he got that first hit of blow mixed with the thrill he got when he'd first plunged into your cunt; it often made him want to fuck you harder until your nose bleed.

If he couldn't fuck you hard enough until your nose bleed, he would settle for bruising your skin with big love bits and hickies--it had something to do with his male ego.

In a way that was larger then just decadence, Season One Rafe loved the thrill he gotten for knowing he has and will be the only man that's been inside you.

Like all the times he would purposely brush your gums with coke on his fingers, and then put you in a jaw gripping kiss, just to lick your mouth clean, all while sitting across from Kelce and Topper.

He loved the power it gave him knowing he was the only person that could use you like this.

Season Two Rafe always found himself palming or adjusting his cock at your innocence.

I mean, fuck, how could he not get hard when you're kneeling on your knees in front of him, wide eyes and mouth full of his cock, asking him, "Like this?" Because you've never sucked dick before.

And though Rafe did love the more skilled girls--he loved how he never had to tell them what to do--Rafe also had loved your naiveness and your naiveness with a cock.

Did you sometimes use your teeth when blowing him? Maybe.

But it's not like Rafe could scorn you about it; he knew that you simply didn't know any better, and that's why Rafe was the one to be your first everything so he could teach you better.

Apart from Rafe and his attraction to your innocence, he also had a kink for destroying that innocence.

Fuck he thought he was going to bust his load when he finally coerced you into doing coke for the first time.

Rafe had been low himself, so he wanted to make someone who could be low with him. (It's true what they say about misery-liking company.)

Like the time in Season Two when Rafe had taken your virginity, yeah, you cried and kept whimpering to him, "it hurt." or "stop" but all of that was just ammunition to him; he loved to consume something so pure and innocent and ruin it for nobody else to have it--like what had happened to him.

Season Three Rafe would have a breeding kink. I mean, it goes hand in hand with his "man of the house" mentality.

There is no doubt about it: Rafe is a thrill seeker--it's why he does coke or purposely picks fights.

Fucking you without a condom was such a thrill to Rafe--it was like playing Russian roulette, but the chances of him getting shot were the chances of him getting you knocked up (which he didn't mind).

But what had turned him on was after shooting his cum inside of you, it was so hot for Rafe to force his cum to stay inside you.

He'll either plug your discarded panties into your cunt, or force you to finger yourself so you can push the cum deep inside of you. And if you were being too bratty, he'll just fuck the cum deep inside of you.

None of Rafe's cum would go to waste. None of it.

Even when you give him blowjobs, he'll scoop the cum that either landed on your face or tits and smear the cum around your pussy.

God, Season Three Rafe could not wait for the day you swelled and leaked with milk, all because of him.

But all this goes to say, he wouldn't mind it, if you were to call him Daddy (in and out of the bedroom).

Honorable Mention:

I also feel like each Rafe would without a doubt be into choking.

#crookedteethed #rafe cameron smut #fem reader #rafe cameron x reader #the obx #rafe cameron #fanfiction #drew starkey #dark! rafe cameron x reader #female reader #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe smut #drew starkey x reader

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vivwritesfics · 3 months ago

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Madly

Best friends to lovers. Angst

Thirteen year olds were dicks, and not very creative.

She stood there with her father, trying to listen to his words of encouragement. Second place is good! he tried to reassure her. First is worst.

It worked on her when she was a kid, worked when she was just a child getting into the world of karting. But she wasn't a kid now. She was a teenager, and she was angry for her loss.

Max smiled at her like he didn't just cost her the win. Asshole. She scowled at him and he frowned. But then it made sense in Max's mind. Her dad must have been berating her like his dad would have if he hadn't won.

He just wanted to be her friend, as simple as that. He sucked in a breath and approached. "Good drive today," he said and held his hand out towards her. But she was glaring down at his hand until he pulled it away.

She had nothing to say to him, the way she was looking at him with her arms folded over her chest made that clear.

"You guys know why she lost, right?" Came a new voice, a familiar voice that got on her every last nerve. She turned and glared at the boy who said it. "Because she's got no balls."

Her eyebrows went up. What the fuck, she mimed to Max.

The kid who had said it had finished fifth, not even standing on the little podium they had during karting. Two drivers finished between her and him, and the comment had her utterly thrown.

"She's got bigger balls than you," Max threw out.

The boys laughed as they walked away.

"Assface," she spat, hatred in her voice as she walked back over to her father.

***

The road to Formula One hadn't been easy. She wasn't there yet, side lined as a reserve driver for Red Bull. Still, she was in a better position than most.

She sat on Max's side of the garage, wearing her usual Red Bull shirt as he spoke to GP. There she waited for him, wearing her AlphaTauri hat (yes, the old AlphaTauri team hat).

Max glanced around, saw her sitting there, and strode over. "Hey, Big Balls," he said and she stuck her tongue out at him. He pulled her AlphaTauri hat from her head and replaced it with his own.

"Hey, Assface," she replied and stuck her tongue out at him. "You feel like letting me drive today?"

"Not a chance."

Her fist met his shoulder, but Max hardly felt it. His hand came to rest on her knee. "Your time will come, Balls," he said gently. A smile stretched across his freckled lip.

She'd been there by his side since he started in F1, driving in the Toro Rosso. It had been difficult to support him around her F3 schedule, but she made it work. His second year of racing in F1 she spent in F2. And his third.

In his fourth F1 season, he put her name forward to become the reserve driver. And now they spent every waking moment together, it seemed.

It came as no surprise when she let herself into Max's apartment in the middle of his stream. "Balls!" He shouted as he turned around, pulling the headset off of his head. "You're here!"

"I brought gin!" She shouted and took a seat behind him.

There was a good couple of minutes where Max forgot that he was on stream, too absorbed in her. Nobody could quite follow their conversation, almost like they were speaking their own little language.

When she disappeared into the kitchen to pour the both of them drinks, Max returned to his stream. He spoke into mic, answering the joking questions that were thrown his way. That was exactly how it went whenever she was on stream with him.

Leaning against him, she placed his drink down. "Where're we driving?" She asked as she sipped her drink and observed the screen.

And, suddenly, Max was climbing out of his seat. He placed his headset over her ears and took her drink from her hand. "Go on," he said and gestured for her to sit down.

That was how the night went. She and Max drank together, taking it slow until he logged off. But then they were falling onto the couch, giggling as they tried to find something to watch. It wasn't easy, the buttons on the remote getting confused.

***

Her head pounded.

She looked around, holding the blanket against her naked, cold body. The apartment she recognised, but it wasn't hers.

Fuck, she was in Max's apartment. Fuck, she was naked in his bed. Fuck, he was naked in his bed beside her.

She quickly climbed out of the bed, scrambling to pick her clothes up from the floor. What had happened after they fell onto the couch?

Max rolled over as she grabbed her top from the floor. She froze, waiting for him to stay asleep. But that was too good to be true. He just had to wake up.

His blue eyes opened, eyelashes fluttering. He groaned as he looked at her. "Balls?" He grumbled as he sat up. It took him a good minute to work out that, he too, was naked. He held the blanket tight around him as he looked at her. "Did we..."

She quickly pulled her shirt over her head. "I'll see you at the track," she mumbled and grabbed a hold of her bag.

"The race isn't until next weekend."

"I'll see you then, Max." With that, she disappeared out of the apartment.

Here's the thing, Max loved this girl. He knew it, knew just how madly he loved her. She made him laugh, made the freckle on his lip hurt as he laughed. But he loved every second of it.

He didn't remember the night before. But he woke up in the middle of the night, holding her naked body tight against him. He didn't notice then, was too tired to think it was anything weird, and quickly fell back asleep.

When she walked out of his Monaco apartment, he realised. He loved her madly, and he'd blown it. One night of too much gin and he'd blown it. He loved her madly, but there was no way she was going to love him back.

Here they were. Stuck. Spinning like a roll of tape.

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auroralwriting · 3 months ago

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false god

spencer reid x fem!reader (18+)

religion's in your lips. even if it's a false god, we'd still worship this love. inspired by false god by taylor swift. it is recommended you listen while you read, but not required

word count: 2.0k

warnings: sooo very 18+, where to begin heated makeout, soft and rough, switch!spence, switch!reader, smut, p-in-v, unprotected sex (don't do that), oral (fem rec), body worshipping, sort of porn without a plot, no use of y/n, very light choking, implied season nine-ish spencer, light hair tugging, multiple orgasms, praise, plot after porn, aftercare, fluff

Spencer thought you looked absolutely darling all dressed up for him. He loved when you did that. Anytime he took you out, you always dressed up to match the occasion.

Tonight was no different. Your little red slip dress and heels made you look like a pure angel sent down from heaven to grace him. He felt lucky to even breathe the same air as you, let alone date you.

The moment you'd arrived back to his apartment, his lips attached to yours eagerly. You shared the action, making sure to run your hands all over the top part of his body. His neck, chest, shoulders.

"You're the most transcendent, ethereal woman I've ever met." Spencer mumbled over your lips, the feeling of them ghosting over yours as he spoke sending shivers down your spine.

Your soft giggle in reply made Spencer feel like his legs turned into jelly. "You already won me over long ago, love. There's no need to try and win me over."

"I always want to win your heart, over and over again." Spencer replied, his touch ghosting over your cheek as he softly traced your skin. "I'm too lucky to not remind you every day that I'm so fucking grateful you choose me. You're too amazing to not be reminded of how gorgeous you are." Lips reattached as Spencer's hand began to ghost touches down your spine, causing you to arch into him. "I'm not a religious man in any sense, but I'd let you lead me with blind faith."

"Spencer," you groaned. "I need you."

Spencer pushed you against the wall, a soft thud from your body, but his hand was behind your head to protect it from any harm. "You're gonna get me, pretty girl. Let me have my time with you."

You felt encaged by his arms, leaving you nowhere to go even if you wanted to leave, which you didn't. Spencer’s lips trailed down your jaw, soft scratches from his teeth were soothed over by his tongue as you grasped for the back of his neck, drawing him impossibly closer to your body. His lips traveled to the low cut of your dress as he took his time observing you.

“This dress is beautiful,” Spencer remarked, “but it needs to come off.” Grabbing your hand, he lead you to the bedroom. His hands now at your hips, he sat you down and slowly knelt to the floor. With gentle hands, he began to take off your heels for you, kissing your legs as he worked. The action made your heart sing and your cunt ache.

“Such a gentleman,” You softly teased, grabbing the collar of his dress shirt lightly and pulling him back up to you. “Have I told you how much I like your shorter hair?”

Spencer gave a soft smile, “Seven times, this one being the eighth.”

“Well, I mean it every single time.” you replied.

“I know,” Spencer kicked off his shoes as you situated yourself back against the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Now, what was I about to do?”

Spencer’s teasing made you slightly frustrated, although you loved it too much to make him stop. “Take off my dress,” You half pleaded, half answered.

“That’s right, thank you, baby.” Spencer reached behind you to drag the zipper down your body. Once done, his fingers slowly made their way to the small straps, pulling them off your shoulders. The dress sagged, the top falling below your breasts. Spencer was urgent with his next movements, kissing greedily around your chest as you gripped his hair. “Oh, god, baby.” Spencer groaned. He loved it when you pulled his hair.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” You commented, tugging on his tie. Spencer nearly ripped his dress shirt, jacket, and tie off, along with his belt. “Thats better,” you smiled.

After another sweet kiss, Spencer began his previous actions, and slowly began to drag the dress off your body. You reached down to unbutton his pants, and he pushed them over his hips and kicked them off. You nearly made a joke about how you both matched finally, but Spencer was too eager to taste you.

Panties pulled down to your ankles, Spencer began kissing your thighs. “You’re so pretty. Every part of you, you’re so pretty.” He mumbled praises as he kissed you. “Love your body, love you.”

“Spence,” You whined, slowly raising your hips in desperation.

“I know, baby. I know, I got you.” Spencer assured. “Jus’ too pretty.”

After another minute of praises from the man, he pressed a hot kiss on your core. Slowly, his tongue dragged its way from your opening to your clit. A breathy, messy moan spilled from your lips, teetering Spencer’s last bit of self-control. He sucked on your clit, lapping around it with kitten licks like a madman. Your back arched as he grabbed your ankles, pushing them to his back to wrap you around him. “Oh, baby, oh,” you moaned.

“Taste so good,” Spencer praised as he inserted a finger into you, steadily pumping it. “You’re divine, angel. Absolutely divine.”

“More, please baby,” You called out, Spencer obliging to your need. He added a second finger, beginning to curl them right where you needed them the most. “Oh! Spencer!”

Spencer looked up at your with hazy eyes, “There, baby? Right there?”

“Fuck, right there!” You nodded, one hand grabbing the bed cover and the other tangling in Spencer’s free hand.

For Spencer, you looked like a creature straight from stories he’d read, or like some perfect girl made just for him. He loved the way your body reacted to him, how it felt like you were the only girl for him.

Spencer leaned down once more, lapping at your clit. “Oh, please don’t stop, please, please,” The begs tumbled from your lips, even if you knew Spencer wouldn’t stop. “‘S so good, so good,”

“Are you gonna come, baby?” Spencer asked, feeling your cunt tighten around his fingers. Hearing your reply, Spencer looked up to you. “Let go, sweet girl. Come for me,”

With one last harsh suck to your clit and a deep curl on his fingers, your orgasm hit you as Spencer watched, loving the way your face morphed from pleasure. He helped you ride it out, coaxing you back into reality.

“Good girl, so, so good for me.” Spencer leaned up to kiss you, softly smoothing down your hair as he did so.

“Spence, I wanna ride you.” Your words were words of begging, but your tone was firm. Spencer nodded quickly, wetting his lips with his tongue as you both traded places. While he moved, he slipped his boxers off. “Ready?” You asked.

“Please,” Spencer replied, intertwining a hand with yours as you readied his cock. Slowly, you sunk down onto it, moans spilling from both of your lips.

You let go of Spencer’s hand to place both of your palms on his stomach, lifting your hips just halfway off, and then back down at a tantalizing pace. “You feel so good,” you moaned. “Oh, I love you.”

“I love you t- oh!” Spencer moaned as you changed pace, slamming yourself down a little bit harder than before. “Shit, baby,” Spencer babbled, “y-you, oh, god. So warm, so good.” Your pace was now hard, lifting yourself almost off and then all the way back down. Spencer was an absolute mess of a man, his words coming out as babbles and incoherent, unstrung thoughts. “Kiss, wanna kiss you!” Spencer called out.

He sat up and you pushed your lips against his as his hands toyed with your breasts once more. “You’re so deep,” You moaned as Spencer pulled back quickly.

“Baby, I’m gonna come,” He managed to say as you felt his cock twitch inside you. “God, I’m coming!” His load was hot and nearly brought you to another orgasm as well. Spencer let his head fall on your shoulder as he pressed gentle kisses there. “Lemme give you another one, please?” He asked, softly leaving a bite on your shoulder.

“Yes, yes please.” You replied.

Once again, you both were flipped. Spencer carefully inserted the head of his cock, leaving your hips rolling. His plan wasn’t to just fuck you, no, he had one more thing to do before he could properly fuck you. He grabbed one of the pillows and lifted your hips, placing them strategically under. Finally, he pushed in, the angle allowing him to hit deeper places. You cried out from pleasure as he began slamming into you at a brutal place.

“Baby, ‘s too much!” You cried.

“You got it, it’s okay,” Spencer grunted, unrelenting with his pace. “You can take it, come on.”

For a moment, you thought you could take it, until his fingers found your clit again. It was still so sensitive from your last orgasm, making you explode in pleasure. It made you feel hot, even more turned on, and so extremely eager to come.

Spencer quickly grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles as his pace. “Good girl, taking me so well. So good, honey.” Spencer praised.

After another minute of this, you genuinely were unable to form words. Moans spilled from your lips, along with broken vowels your brain was trying to form into words and sentences.

This was Spencer’s favorite thing to do. He made such soft love to you, but he loved to watch you go brain dead from his cock. He loved the way you drifted away because of him. Not for the power, no, but because he was the only one who could make you feel this good, and you both knew it.

Your words failed you as you tried to communicate that you were approaching your orgasm again. You gave a tight squeeze to Spencer’s hand, and he knew exactly what you were telling him.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more, just one more. Show me how good I make you feel.” Spencer urged as you felt yourself release for the second time of the night.

It was like you’d transcended to a whole new existence, only being brought back when you felt Spencer’s lips press small kisses to your cheek. You opened your eyes, immediately locking them with his.

“There’s my sweet girl,” Spencer lazily stroked circles on your cheek with a smile. “You okay?”

“Perfect,” you confirmed. “You’re so perfect.”

Spencer lightly laughed an exhausted, airy laugh. “Is now a good time to ask you if you wanted to move in with me?”

You smiled, “Ask me.”

“Please move in with me?” Spencer asked.

“How could I ever say no to you?” You answered as Spencer kissed you gently. “But we are not doing that now.”

Looking at the clock, Spencer sat you against the headboard. “You stay here, I’ll bring you some clothes and a makeup wipe. You just rest, love.” Spencer pressed a kiss to your head as you squeezes his hand, letting him retrieve your items.

Once he came back, already him his pajamas, he helped you change into yours which were just his clothes. As you removed your makeup, be carefully brushed through your hair to remove any and all tangles from your passionate sex.

You laid next to him in your newly-shared bed. The warm light from his nightstand illuminated both your faces perfect as you trailed a finger over his face with a feather light touch. Spencer just closed his eyes and sighed, sinking into your touch.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you so much,” he replied.

The light clicked off, and together, you drifted to sleep, knowing you both were the luckiest people in the world.

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid smut #bau team #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n

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madlori · 7 months ago

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On Tommy Kinard

"It's not that I don't like Buck and Tommy, it's just happening so fast, he's underdeveloped!"

*clears throat*

Here is a recap of what we know about Tommy. And this is just off the top of my head, I didn't rewatch anything.

He was closeted at the 118 before and found the atmosphere repressive. He (probably) acted like a dick to fit in. When presented with the chance to make things better, he took it, and developed positive relationships with Hen, Chim and Bobby.

He was in the army and trained there as a pilot.

He knows Muay Thai and has a set up in his house.

He likes to work on cars and has a lift at his house (where TF does he live is my question - he has some nerve being agog at Buck's loft if he has a muay thai gym and a car lift)

He is down for violating departmental policy at the drop of a hat (has done so on at least two occasions) to help a friend and has no problems fucking with the fire chief.

He is a nerd. He likes pub trivia and has incorrect Star Wars opinions, and can keep up with Chim in the movie-quoting department.

His favorite movie is "Love, Actually" and he likes craft beer and monster trucks.

He came out when he transferred to Harbor and felt comfortable enough to stop lying about who he was.

He follows MMA and has friends in Vegas who like him well enough to hook him up to a frankly insane degree.

He'll risk his own life and engage in helicopter skulduggery to save people he doesn't know...I mean, apart from doing that for a living.

He'll take time out of his day to give a tour to the cute boy who called him up and offer to give that boy flying lessons (a significant time investment) which was probably maybe about more one on one time with said boy.

He yearns for the belonging and found family that the 118 became after his departure and probably befriended Eddie hoping to earn a plate at the cookout, aside from just clicking with him.

He likes Eddie and Chris a lot and they like him. Chimney also likes him.

He was attracted to Buck right away and was emotionally aware enough to pick up on Buck's jealous feelings over Eddie and his friendship, even if he was surprised that it was him Buck wanted to get to know.

He respects and values Buck and Eddie's friendship and wanted to make sure Buck knew that.

He's brave enough to shoot his shot by planting one on a dude.

He's a lil bitchy but also generous and ready to throw in with this insane guy who's inviting him to a family wedding after 0.5 dates.

He showed up to a bachelor party when he was on call because Buck asked him to, then showed up in turnouts after fighting a fire for like 12 hours yadda yadda we all know this part.

He has got it BAD for one Evan Buckley, who he only calls "Evan" which according to LFJR is a conscious decision by the writers, which fascinates me.

He was willing to take a chance with a man just discovering his sexuality BUT wasn't willing to put himself through that if the man in question wasn't ready for it. When Buck showed him that he was, he was all in.

He does NOT take his coffee like that.

Oh and

He's a beast.

This is VASTLY more information than we knew about ANY of Buck's previous girlfriends with the possible exception of Abby. Even Taylor did not get this much development over 20 episodes (things we knew about her: she was an ambitious and ethically flexible reporter, did not eat fudge, had a dad in jail, and sometimes jogged for exercise, she was capable of being nice and did love Buck, I believe). And as for it being fast? Sometimes it just be like that? A relationship doesn't have to have year(s) of buildup. Sometimes people do just meet, like each other, and start dating, in fact in the real world that's usually what happens. It's in TV Land that you have to have eighteen seasons of UST before pulling the trigger. Most of the time in reality people just vibe off each other and decide to go out and THEN they learn about each other.

And they've got a great start. You'd think they'd barely spoken by how a few naysayers are talking about it - the loft scene was like a solid five minutes of very open conversation, the Cringe Date seemed to have gone well and again, open and honest (if cringey) conversation before Cockblocker Eddie showed up, and the coffee meetup was again....open and honest conversation. They're not gonna show us long scenes of them exchanging firefighting stories and workout preferences (I mean, I'd watch that, but it's not what the show is about).

In conclusion, anyone saying he's poorly developed or the relationship is "out of nowhere" either is being willfully obtuse or has ridiculously unrealistic expectations for relationships and/or what constitutes character development.

As for whether they have chemistry, that's a matter of subjective opinion. Given that a TON of people watched that harbor tour scene (even when it was posted as a sneak peek) and started going "wait...what's going on here...are they flirting??" might be a clue. People were talking about Bi!Buck maybe happening with Tommy based solely off that clip of the harbor tour and what they were seeing between them. And imho that loft scene was crackling. But we all see things through the lenses of our biases, myself included.

Got that off my chest, whew.

#9-1-1 #evan buckley #bucktommy #911 #tevan #kinley #tommy kinard #9-1-1 meta #9-1-1 shipping #fandom discourse #firepilot #trying to use all the ship tags we have #buck x tommy

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

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it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

#spilled ink #writeblr #pos #recovery #my brain is like - don't trust it!!!!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!! we can't be wrong again!!!!!!#and im like. what if the sorrow is the thing that's wrong though.#what if this - this!!!!! - is the truth

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perfectharmonyloveschaos · 4 months ago

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I am so confused about the season 4 ending because it WASN'T NECESSARY AT ALL.

Seeing all these characters who have suffered and grown and made lives for themselves be erased is such bullshit.

Y'know what would've been tragic? The idea that Ben always dies. That Ben realises that he can absorb the others' marigolds, the power he tricked them into getting back when they didn't want it, by getting Viktor to transfer them to him.

So that he can finally save Jennifer and his family.

He isn't their Ben. He is a different guy who lost all of his family and is trying to fit into a place another version of him belonged in. But he doesn't belong there. Ben always sacrifices himself to save his family because he loves them.

Much like how the original Ben's death pushed the Academy apart, his death now pulls them back together and they all get to be happy and together as a family with their loved ones.

The idea that the Umbrellas themselves will always cause an apocalypse makes no sense and is just plain stupid and lazy writing. Heck, if anything, Viktor is the reason why an apocalypse always happens! He is the one who blew up the moon, caused the nukes to fall in the sixties, and then caused the kugelblitz by giving Harlan powers! So if anyone was to be erased to stop the apocalypse it would be Viktor but the show didn't even consider that for reasons.

#tua s4 #tua s4 spoilers #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy season 4 #the umbrella academy season 4 spoilers #tua season 4 #tua season 4 spoilers

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sonofatoasterwaffle · 5 months ago

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I know there's a lot of people in the fandom now who didn't watch from the beginning/don't watch s1, but I just can't express to you how important it is to me. For every character.

Hen cheating on Karen is a stupid, stupid thing but it tells us so much about who she is and who she wants to be and it makes HenRen so much better because you know they FOUGHT to get there. Hen saying she's scared she isn't the woman she wants to be, and then still choosing to chase after that??? To confront Eva and to tell her that it was never Hen who tore them apart. That woman is made of iron and soft edges and love.

And Chimney? Man, Chimney is such an incredible character for so many reasons, and Madney is one of my favorite TV pairings ever, but watching that man live through being single. Trying to teach himself that being himself isn't a bad thing. That he really will find someone who loves HIM and not whatever version of himself he's created for the Girl of the Week.

Bobby is so fucking suicidal in s1 it's not even funny. That man is nothing but a ball of regret and shame and yet he STILL BUILDS A FAMILY AND HE ASKS FOR HELP AND HE MEETS ATHENA AND LOVES HER SO GODDAMN MUCH EVEN THOUGH NEITHER OF THEM IS EVEN REMOTELY HEALED. Goofy Bobby who wants to shoot the Roomba with Athena's gun and goes on shenanigans with Michael doesn't EXIST without s1 relapsing raging Bobby. Without Bobby asking Hen and Buck for help and them immediately pulling him into their arms and promising that they will.

And Buck?!?!?! That boy is such A Mess. He's an absolute Mess who doesn't really stop to think a single thought for most of the season. But when he does?? He works hard to become a person who can be relied upon. He builds empathy not only for the people around him but for himself. You start to love him when he's trying so hard to become a better person, but 1x10?? Finding the man who's been using Buck's face to catfish women-- in such a spectacular way that it very nearly blows up Buck's life--dead, and having so much compassion and empathy for him that he stabs a bloated corpse to make sure that man has dignity in his own death??????? Are you serious????

S1 is worth it man. If you haven't seen it, you should.

#don't mind me just finished s1 on my rewatch #911 season 1 #hen wilson #chimney han #evan buckley #bobby nash #i started to love buck when he started to love bobby #but when he pulled that shit with the coroner??#that was it for me

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purinfelix · 19 days ago

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you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900

a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏

Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.

You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.

It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.

You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.

All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.

"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.

"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.

"Hi," you say, almost shyly.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Good," you pause, "stressed."

He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"

"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"

"Nervous, of course."

"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.

"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."

You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."

This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."

You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."

Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.

"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."

"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.

"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.

"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.

And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto oneshot #williams racing #williams f1 #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one #purinfelix #jet writes ★

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wileys-russo · 2 months ago

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pretty little mornings II f.rolfö (18+)

part of the colourblind universe pretty little mornings II f.rolfö (18+)

your eyes fluttered awake as you felt a body settle down on top of you, warm and soft with a mess of blonde hair obstructing your vision, the smell of roses invading your senses from her shampoo.

with a small chuckle your hand snuck its way up her shirt to rub her back, the other entangling itself in her golden locks, nails scratching softly against her scalp as you felt her weight bare even more into you as she settled with a content sigh and a lazy kiss to your shoulder blade.

"good morning solsken." you mumbled with an amused smile, closing your eyes again and feeling her exhale tiredly into your neck with only a small grunt sounding in response to your greeting.

the defender had stumbled through your front door not long before midnight last night, having been away in the states for barcelonas pre season tour for the week and insisting you wait for her at home rather than meet her at the airport given their late flight time.

knowing she was jet lagged you did your best to stay up with her, but fingers carding fondly through your hair as she rambled on about everything she'd been up to (that you already knew given whenever she wasn't busy she was on the phone to you) it didn't take long before you were out like a light and fridolina was carrying you to bed.

"and here i was thinking you were the early riser in this relationship min kärlek." you teased, feeling her fingers pinch your hip in a silent warning before she slowly lifted her head a little more and you cracked one eye open.

"this marriage." your wife corrected and you melted at the tired rasp to her voice, the girl poking your nose with a sleepy smile and flopping right back down on top of you making you let out a laugh.

after what felt like years being engaged, you and your long time lover had finally said i do and tied the knot during the off season.

you'd gotten married in sweden at the same little vineyard that the two of you had met at, ironically also at a wedding, surrounded by your closest friends and families.

and not long after you disappeared off the grid to bali for a two week honeymoon where not a single second seemed to pass that you and your wife couldn't keep your hands off of each other.

"mm now i get to tell people my wife is finally home." you hummed happily, wincing a little as her cold hands sought out the warmth of your bare sides.

"if i had to wake up alone in bed one more day i might have retired." fridolina grumbled, words muffled against the skin of your neck where her head was tucked away.

"baby you were gone for a week! we used to do months apart when you were first playing in germany." you laughed again, moving your hand from where it sat tracing circles up and down her back for all of a millisecond before you heard her huff indignantly and wiggle herself in a silent demand you continue.

"i was scratching my nose fånig." you chuckled, short nails again soothing up and down her bare back as the taller girl settled.

"well vacker you weren't mrs rolfö then, and i still used to miss you like crazy. i miss you when you're just in another room." your wife confessed and you melted significantly at the tired but soft admission, the blonde always at her most mushy at the start of the day.

"fridolina!" you whined as suddenly a finger invaded your nostril, craning your head back and smacking her hand away, spoke too soon.

"you are such a child sometimes." you huffed, pulling both your hands away from her body as she was quick to catch them in her own, wrapping them back around her as your eyes rolled.

"did you just roll your eyes at me?" of course she'd know without even having to be looking at you, it was as if she had a sixth sense when it came to you, especially when you weren't doing what you knew was expected of you.

"...no." you lied, smiling innocently as her head popped up, golden blonde hair falling around you like a curtain and water colour eyes bore down into your own, puffy from the lack of sleep but still narrowing.

"jag älskar dig." you puckered your lips expectantly, flashing the cutest look you could muster this early in the morning, watching as the older girl faltered for just a moment, and you could almost hear the cogs turning in her head about where she wanted to go with this next.

"don't do it again." with that she dropped back down on top of you, and foolishly you thought you'd gotten away with it.

but then you felt her shift a little, left arm sneaking up her jersey which covered your top half, and you smiled turning your head to kiss her.

but your lips never touched, a gasp instead leaving your mouth as her thumb and forefinger tweaked your nipple, large hand palming your breast as your head pushed back into the pillows.

you blinked and suddenly she was on top of you properly this time, strong toned legs caging your smaller body beneath hers as they squeezed your hips, her hair pushed to one side of her head as pearly white teeth grinned down at you knowingly.

you tried to speak but the words died in your mouth as her assault on your chest continued, the jersey quickly pushed up to pool in the column of your throat as you saw a flash of blonde hair and felt her tongue flatten against your sternum.

any attempt to protest was shut down in an instant at the intoxicating feeling of her tongue circling your nipple, sucking your breast into her hot mouth had your hips bucking up and a moan ripped from you instead.

one hand fisted the soft silk sheets of your shared bed, knuckles white and a guttural groan dropping from your lips, while the other entangled itself into her mane of golden blonde hair, the short sharp tug against her roots only spurring your wife on further.

"oh!" you managed out as her mouth remained switching between both of your breasts, hot and sensual as she sucked marks into your chest reveling in the fact that she would be the only one to see when they no doubt turned varying shades of red and purple.

you felt three long fingers drag slowly down your stomach, touch feather light but leaving goosebumps scattered across your skin in their wake.

your eyes fluttered closed when she reached her final destination, teasingly pressing against your covered sex, tracing circles atop your panties and you heard her groan feeling just how wet you were already.

it was almost embarrassing how desperate you were for her to touch you now she’d started, an entire week without her having been a cruel torture after you’d both just spent the last two weeks fucking like rabbits.

"more!" you just managed to demand quietly, eyes flying wide open as everything came grinding to an abrupt halt, every trace of her touch stilling bar from the feel of her thighs pressing against yours where she sat on top of you.

your wife never found you looked more gorgeous than when pink with a needy flush, squirming and writhing and making the most pretty little noises beneath her, ready and willing to do whatever she wanted.

"oh baby." the blonde chuckled cruely, mouth inches from your own as she leaned down, lips ghosting yours as her bright green eyes drunk you in, sharp as a hawk.

fridolina refused to remove the now soaked material of your panties, only tugging on the waistband a little to hoick them up as the way they rubbed made you whine.

it allowed her to stroke up and down the swollen lips of your pussy, but stopped you from actually feeling the pleasure you craved from the slender fingers of your blonde lover.

"i know i indulged you on our honeymoon älskling, but i thought i'd trained you to be patient above all else." the older girl tutted with a mocking pout, hand still continuing its torturous ministrations against your clothed clit.

"oh i missed waking up like this more than you know sötsaker. hearing your pretty little moans and whines, watching your body squirm and jolt at every little touch." sure enough your hips bucked as she slipped one single finger under your panties, pushing it in and pulling it out as you whined at the loss.

"mm i had to touch myself instead, but always thinking about you. about taking you apart piece by piece like a little puzzle, watching you wait oh so patiently for me to put you back together, to give you what you need. because who knows best what you need älskling?" you knew the question was rhetorical but she expected an answer anyway, lips curled into a cruel smirk you'd grown to be infatuated with.

"you. only you, always you." "exactly."

"did you touch yourself while i was gone? våga inte ljuga för mig." she warned sharply, and as always the way she switched so quickly from soft to stern had your head melting, and putting you right where she wanted you.

"no! jag lovar." you barely managed out, her lips attaching to your neck with a satisfied hum, immediately seeking out every little spot she knew drove you wild.

"oh such a good girl. min duktiga flicka." your cheeks somehow grew even redder at the praise, breathless and scrambling to cling onto anything as your wife nipped at your neck, skilful fingers still rubbing circles over your panties which were practically ruined with your need for her.

foolishly again you thought with the promise that you’d not touched yourself in over a week that she might properly fuck you now, giving you the release that your body was begging her for without you even needing to open your mouth.

this thought was helped by the fact you knew your wife had been waiting to, proven by the countless detailed and downright pornagraphic texts she’d send near daily while away, about where her filthy mind often wandered to when not occupied with football.

but no, again, you were dumb to think you’d get off that easily with how much pleasure she gave herself in making you wait.

after all your wife adored nothing more than the control she had over you, and your orgasms. seeing just how far you’d let her bend you without breaking, touching you and toying with your body like she owned it, with false pouts and insincere coo’s as you’d call out her name dripping with need.

and evilly you knew she got the most pleasure from prolonging your eventual release.

making you hold eye contact with her as she ruined you, one little glance away all it would take for her hand to wrap around your throat and have you seeing stars.

despite knowing the answer until fridolina was ready would be no you’d beg for it anyway, your wife drunk with power that the only person who could give you what you needed was her, and she was in full control of when and how and if that happened.

you withheld the urge to scream as once more her touch disappeared all together, whatever discontent noise you did make swallowed by her lips engulfing yours.

her hands then fell to your cheeks, deepening the kiss as her tongue returned home shoving its way into your mouth, tracing ever little bump and dip as if mapping it out in her own head.

you exhaled shakily as her teeth clamped down on your bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth and pulling back causing it to stretch and snap back toward you with a pop.

“don’t forget to breathe sötnos.” her tone was teasing and light as her lust filled eyes raked over you, lips curling into a smile of utter satisfaction at the fresh love bites and bruises littering your tanned skin.

“good girl.” the blonde praised as you took a deep breath, near floating as her thumbs stroked the curve of your jaw and a few much sweeter kisses were dusted along your now swollen and plump lips.

“would you like a coffee?” and there it was, the dismissal of your current state as if you weren’t laying beneath her bright red, clammy and panting, body burning with a desire for a release that felt as if it may never come.

all you could manage was a nod but the slight raise of her eyebrows was all the reminder you needed that she expected verbal responses, forever warning you to use your words especially when she was midway through stealing the very breath from your lungs.

“yes please.” you sighed as she nodded with a much softer smile, thumb tugging down your bottom lip and eyes glimmering at the way they parted for her, expecting her fingers to slip past them and into your mouth.

but to your surprise her digits never came, instead you watched as she sucked the remenets of you off of her own fingers, even daring to give you a wink at the way your chest deflated beneath her.

“du ser så vacker ut på morgonen.” the blonde smiled, a more tender look across her face as she shuffled off of you, allowing you to pull yourself into a slightly more seated position with a wince, the uncomfortable but undeniable wetness coating your panties dripping down your inner thigh.

something which of course did not go unnoticed by your eagle eyed lover. “stackaren. let me take care of that for you.” she cooed, leaning down to kiss you and you felt her smile against her lips as her hand trailed downward again, hips bucking but this time her touch was gone as quick as it came.

your soaked thong hanging off of her pointer finger she was up and off of you in a blink, feet hitting the floorboards she was half naked and stretching out with a grunt as you heard her back click.

“you should take a shower älska, maybe a cold one?” she grinned wickedly and it took all of the self control she’d drilled into you over the years not to roll your eyes at the cockiness which radiated off of her at your dishevelled and dissatisfied state.

“i will go make breakfast and coffee, but neither will taste even half as sweet as you min ängel. now go clean yourself up, snälla.” and with your jaw hanging open and a tender kiss to your forehead she was gone, footsteps thumping down the landing.

you groaned and flopped back down in bed, tugging down her jersey which was still sitting against your neck with a huff.

when you were wed and both agreed until death do you part, you should have known that each day your wife would test just how much she could be the eventual death of you.

#woso x reader #fridolina rolfö x reader #frido rolfö #fridolina rolfö #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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pumpkin-cake · 3 months ago

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begging for ANYTHING fix it related for the most recent season !!!

five x reader and they are married?? it would be nice if the reader had a more relaxed job in comparison to five in the CIA (the reader used to also work for the commission but wanted a calm life)

like maybe working in a daycare or flower shop?

i’m honestly begging for anything sweet please if you’ve got the time !

THIS HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD. YES, I WILL WRITE THIS FOR YOU <3 I ALSO HATE THE WAY THEY CHARACTERIZED FIVE IN THE NEW SEASON. This will be very domestic :3 And it's been a while since I've written Five, I hope he's not too out of character, let me know if you have any pointers :3

The door to your apartment creaks open and heavy footsteps enter, the jangling sounds of house keys hitting the ceramic bowl reaching your ears with a sigh following.

"Good evening, Jerome." You coo.

"I did not pick that name, quit calling me it." Five huffs as he shrugs off his suit jacket, entering the living room. He looked tired, but he was okay with that. He didn't want to settle for some repetitive job he'd be bored as hell at. Even if they gave him stupid aliases like Jerome.

"You could have at least asked. That's embarrassing, telling people your name is Jerome. What about...Ethan? Or even something that's close to Five. Like, Finn, or something." You answered with a chuckle, while Five crumpled on the couch next to you.

"There isn't any point. It's not like you need to go around calling me that name." He said, taking off his tie and laying it across the arm of the sofa. "Anyway, how was work?" He asked, taking off his brown Oxfords and laying them nearby but out of the main walkway. He reached over to the stack of papers on the coffee table and looked at the first page. "Jesus, this is the sloppiest handwriting I've ever seen."

"Ah yes, because children who still have shitty motor skills are going to be writing in perfect print. That's why they only have to write their names, not write full-fledged essays." You said sarcastically, plucking the piece of paper from his hands. You looked over the assignment your kindergarteners were given. The instructions were to count the different types of bugs on the paper. There were no more than 9 of each bug. 4 butterflies, 7 caterpillars, 1 beetle, 8 spiders.

"I was never that dumb." Five said a little snarkily, pointing to the answer spot that said there were only 5 caterpillars.

"Don't be such a prick." You huffed, getting out a blue pen. You didn't like to use red, too harsh. You circled each answer wrong, not making any corrections.

"How are you even meant to teach them this? It's basic counting." Five asked, sort of actually curious.

"We'll just go over it in class tomorrow. Everyone will count together."

"Then what's the point of the homework?"

You groaned. "We are not having this conversation anymore, old man." You pulled out a pack of stickers, putting one on each sheet of paper.

"You're just as old." He countered with a smirk, leaving you to roll your eyes and continue 'grading' the papers. He did shut up and drop the subject, letting his hand stray to your hand that wasn't busy grading papers. He wasn't ever one for physical affection in the past, but ever since getting to this place? He was more lenient. He was never hanging off of you, but his touches were gentler. Each contact of skin was a small way of saying 'I love you', because it was hard to say it out loud after years of isolation.

The biggest way of him saying he loved you was twisting the ring that nicely fit on your finger like he was doing right now. Like he was making sure you were aware of its presence and meaning.

You finished the papers in less than five minutes. You did not envy the fourth-grade teachers who had actual homework to grade. "Your dinner is in the fridge." You told him, taking his other hand and playing with the black band that adorned his ring finger.

"Not hungry." He said shortly, like he was offended you'd ever assume he wanted to do something aside from this. He wouldn't ever say that out loud, of course.

"It's sushi. Made by yours truly." You added, holding back a chuckle when he sucked in a deep breath, very torn between the options. It was weird, able to sit and think about something. He wasn't rushing home to eat and go to bed, he got to do domestic shit with you and fuck did he love it.

"..." Five stayed silent like a brooding teenager.

"I'll come with you." You reasoned, and he reluctantly sat up. You smiled and got up with him, the two of you traversing to the kitchen. He opened the door to the fridge and grabbed the small Tupperware of delicious looking sushi. You were not a fan of Commission cafeteria food, and you took pride in buying the best ingredients for you and your spouse. You were already grabbing him a pair of chopsticks, sitting with him at the kitchen island.

"...thanks." He said after eating a roll. He was stubborn, but he really did appreciate you taking the time to make more for him when he got home late. It was so nice to come home to a homemade meal. It reminded him of Grace.

"Of course, honey." You smiled, sitting in silence while he ate. He savored every moment. After being in the apocalypse for forty years, he really grew to appreciate the things he didn't have. He swore he would never take this life for granted.

He never questioned why, because the whole reason was sitting right next to him.

#x reader #gn!reader #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #fluff #aidan gallagher #umbrella academy season 4

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bunnys-kisses · 3 months ago

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hi! i was wondering if i could order pull-apart bread, sweet pastry and hot cross buns, with a side of cider and chocolate milk, for sub!max verstappen? nobody really writes anything about the reader body worshiping him and his softer body, which would be nice to reassure him about. id love to hold his love handles 🥹

thank you so much in advance if you’re up for doing this! 💙

bakery menu

submissions to the bakery are open! i'm accepting them all the time, even if they take a little while to get uploaded, i am constantly working on 'em! so thank you! and for this anon! hello!!! this is amazing, what the hell! i feel the same way, folks don't really write about it in fan fics (i've seen posts wax poetically about it though). so yes, this was awesome to write! thank you <333

pull-apart bread ("i love you") + sweet pastry ("i'll make it all better.") + hot cross buns ("don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up.") + cider (body worship) + chocolate milk (tenderness) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sub!max, body worship, tender sex, cowgirl position, bondage, praise kink, dom!reader, insecurities, love & intimacy

it wasn't that you were going to fight people online over your boyfriend. it was a pointless endeavor to snap back at someone on twitter of all places! especially someone with a lando norris icon. but if you saw one more comment about your boyfriend's body online, you're going to kick something.

you loved max, that was why you were with him. but, you worried about him. underneath everything, there was soft center to him. and sometimes the wrong comment got through all the layers and right to the middle.

it just so happened the comments you hated the most were the ones about his body.

it was near the end of the off-season, you two had come back from a sunny trip to celebrate the time together. it left your poor boyfriend a little more pink than usual. especially around the shoulders, where he was shirtless most of the time.

you loved how he looked regardless. he was immensely strong in ways you couldn't fully grasp. you were always impressed by his ability to pick you up and kiss you. you believed that people had a skewed notion of what "hot" men should be built like. and you blamed it marvel movies and alpha male podcasts. max was not a dehydrated body builder. layered on top of the strength was a certain softness and made at the very least you drool at the sight of.

he was strong, but enjoyed food. he liked his sweets on weekends and a little extra at dinner. it didn't help with the constant weigh-ins and other measurements for formula one. so when you noticed his eyes on another cruel post online in response to a photo of him shirtless. you wanted to take that phone and toss it out the window.

you watched him turn off the screen and put the phone down on his chest. the room felt tense and your fingers went into his short hair. he tried to pull away, but with a tiny bit of force kept him close. you knew what he was thinking. just like everything else, max verstappen had crippling self-doubt.

"max. my love."

"yeah.." he said softly. the self-doubt that followed him like a shadow seemed to encrouch in his mind. you could tell even if you couldn't see his full expression.

you took the phone and placed it on the coffee table. you ran your fingers through his hair and looked down at him. fingers trailed down his jaw. "why don't we forget about that and go to the bedroom. "i'll make it all better."

you were in bed with him soon enough. he left his t-shirt and loose shorts on as your hands roamed his body. your lips on his neck, jaw and face. little unsaid promises of how handsome he was. "don't listen to them."

"what if they're right."

"when has a formula one fan ever been right about anything? you know some people online make ragebait. they're trying to get a rise out of other fans and cause in fighting."

"if i tried a little harder... i could look more like the others."

you made him look at you. his blue eyes seemed sad, like cloudy skies over a rocky shoreline. he couldn't meet your gaze, he was almost embarrassed. "max, look at me."

he made eye contact with you, "i could... if i tried."

you held his face a little tighter as he looked away. you said to him, "max, you are training all the time. you push yourself to limits that could kill many others. you work harder than a work horse with half the pay sometimes." you kissed the bridge of his nose, "i don't know who planted these ideas into your head." you had an idea, two names came to mind that made you frown. that was neither here nor there, "but, i love how you look."

his eyes shifted away from you. embarrassed. this entire thing felt embarrassing. he was insecure like a teenage girl at the moment because some random person online called him a stupid name.

"max. don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up." you said, trying to insert a joke to lighten the mood. you watched his demeanor shift and his eyes meet yours.

"would you.. tie me up? make me forget everything for a little bit?" he asked softly, his words almost tripped over one another. while most would've sought heavy therapy and an early retirement for their issues. max tried to cover them up, and sometimes that meant being your good boy.

"then tell me one thing, max."

"anything." he replied.

"say one nice thing about your appearance. anything. just one thing. and then i'll get what we need.' you promised, sealing it with a kiss on the cheek.

he swallowed, not knowing what to say. he shifted a little in his spot on the bed before he sighed. eventually he responded with, "my nose." he said, eyes on yours, "i like my nose. makes me stand out a little more."

you smiled a little bit and kissed him on the cheek, a gestured he melted into you. you replied, "and i love your nose too. i'm proud of you, max. good boy."

he said, "i love you."

and before you pulled away to get the roped needed for tonight, you said to him, "i love you too." then quickly ran your finger down his nose, "i love you, your nose, those eyes. every last inch of skin. your strength and your softness. it makes you perfect to me and those jealous bitches on twitter can't say anything about it." you broke into a further smile.

max chuckled slightly, he found you language amusing. the internet was troll heaven, but sometimes he needed his guiding light to not get himself sucked into the chaos of his doubts. he watched you pull away from him and get off the bed. he took off his shirt and shorts, he tried not too think too hard, but rather keep his eyes on you.

when you went to the dresser to find what you needed, he propped himself against the rod-iron headboard. usually he didn't like them, but when he discovered his affection for bondage early into your relationship, the headboard was perfect to keep him bound.

you returned to the bed, placing the two pieces of rope down onto the bed before you started to strip out of your clothes. once naked you got into bed with him. your hands roamed his chest and straddled his waist.

"you're so handsome, max. jesus christ. look at you." you smiled down at him. skin so soft, he was just perfect and you couldn't believe it. you rubbed up against him a little more and explored his torso with your hands, you watched him squirm a little under your touch. he shuddered a little.

“i'm not that-"

“max verstappen. shush. i don't want to hear it.” you rubbed up against the bulge in his briefs. you held onto his shoulders a little as you moved. the dry humping felt good and left excitement racing through your lover, “that's it. that's my good boy.”

he groaned a little, which only go louder when you stopped your movements to grab the ropes. he dropped his wrists to the bed and let you tie them to the bars of the headboard by the mattress. he melted a little against it while you took his cock out of his briefs. the underwear was off him in no time and you got straddled on his waist with your hands on his shoulders once more.

you eyed him with heavy lust, “i know those idiots say that you're too fat or soft. well, i think they're blind. i think they're a whole bunch of idiots. you are perfect, turn me on every chance you get.” you took his face in your hands and kissed him as you continued to rub up against him. he panted against you when you broke the kiss soon after.

words of protest hung on max's tongue, but he never said anything further. this wasn't going to be a thing he could win. no matter what he said, you have a rebuttal. it was a losing battle, so he'd simply have to put his trust into you. if you found him hot beyond words, then you'd have to listen. but the fight was fully gone when you seated yourself onto his cock, then sank down on it to the base. he yanked against the ropes a little bit and found euphoria in the knowledge that you tied the ropes just as he liked them. tightly.

“planning to fight against them, max?" you asked as you raked your fingers down his pale chest, "you wouldn't do that, would you? because you're my good boy! my handsome good boy. with those dazzling eyes and stunning laugh. when you smile i'm in heaven. especially when yo let me make both of us feel good.

he shook his head, his cheeks grew hot from your gaze on him. if he was hot, then you were gorgeous. you were an inferno made human. the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. the kind of beauty that brought him to his knees. he breathed heavily as the pleasure started to build in the bottom of his gut. his cock twitched a little bit the more you rode him.

he loved being at your mercy, under your thumb in a sexual manner. he bad so many choices all day, sometimes with only seconds to make them. so it was nice. to be in the comfort of your shared bed and letting you take what you needed from him. to give you total control. to love him, shower him in the praise he desired.

“i love you.” you said,

“i love you too.”

you started to move faster, really working your hips, making sure you could do as much as you could. you moaned a little bit and felt the stutter in your heart from the heat of everything. you pushed hair out of your face as you continued to ride him. the feeling between you two was electric. you said to him, “you're so handsome. fuck, you're perfect.” you started to move faster.

max bit back a moan but it spilled out when you crashed your lips against him. he almost whimpered from the fast speed. how good you took him. it made him clench his fists to try to compose himself. his chest rose and fell heavily he tensed up a little bit at the throb of lust in his body. you kissed him once more as you went as fast as you could go. you bounced on his cock and your nails dug into his jaw and shoulders.

the noises between you two were erotic. it was desperate on max's end. he wanted to make you feel good while also chasing his own pleasure. he fought a little bit against constraints. he was a little jerky as he tensed up. he could feel it all crashing down on him. no longer the lingering feeling of self-doubt but rather he heat of pleasure. the need to climax. to get out of his own head with the erotic bliss.

“please, my love. please.” he swallowed as his back arched a little. he leaned up to give you more kisses and watched you melt against him while your hips still moved. you held his face with both hands and clenched your thighs. he made a sweet, high pitched, almost whine like noise when you pulled away.

you carded your fingers through his hair and admired those blue eyes clouded in lust. “you're perfect, max. every inch of you. every spot you hate, i love more. damn those fuckers on twitter, they don't get to see what i see. everything.” you went in for another kiss and clutched onto his shoulders tightly as you came around his cock. your back arched and max went in to kiss your collarbones with such tenderness.

“my good boy.” you said out of breath as you continued to move against him. your cunt clutched around him as you kept your pace steady despite the tremor in your thighs. you knew max wanted to hold onto you and work your hips up and down his cock. but, you were in control. so you examined his expressions as you continued to move.

the kisses became sloppy once more as you brought max to his own climax. as he tensed up, he really yanked at the ropes for a good few moments before he felt all the fight leave his body. his eyes almost rolled back into his head from the head rush. he relaxed against the headboard and panted heavily.

he looked erotic, but totally blissed out. so when you stopped your motions. you kissed him gently on the lips before you got off his cock and felt his cum run down your leg as you tried to find your panties. once they were on, you smothered him in kisses and praise as you got the ropes off of him. you kissed his wrists and he slipped down onto the bed. the mattress felt nice against his body. he felt on cloud nine.

you rubbed his cheek for a moment with your thumb as you said, “i'm going to go get you some water. you just stay here, i'll be right back. now before i go i have to ask one thing. say one thing you like about yourself?"

he shakily exhaled while he leaned into your touch. his eyes were somewhat closed when he answered, sounding far away, “my eyes. they intimidate people. but not you. you love them.” then leaned further.

you smiled and kissed the top of his head, “that's what i like to hear. next time i want two things before and after we have sex. got it? i'm going to make you love yourself.”

he chuckled softly, cheeks pink, “easier said than done.”

you tapped his cheek before you moved away to go get him some water. you said to him while you approached the bedroom door, “max verstappen, you know i'm as stubborn as you are. ” then left to go get him some water. you could only hope you could make a dent in healing some of his doubt issues. and while you couldn't fight people on twitter, you could kiss and love the man you called your boyfriend. <3

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vivwritesfics · 7 months ago

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Mrs Doctor Reid

Nobody knew Spencer had a wife. But they found out. Nobody knew she was pregnant, not until she walks into the BAU sporting a sizeable bump.

1.2K

Season 4 Reid

Nobody on the team knew that Spencer Reid had a wife. Spencer Reid, the youngest member of the team, the resident genuis. He had a wife. And nobody knew. (Well, JJ knew, but she wasn't about to spill his secrets).

Before he had joined the BAU, Spencer had been engaged. They'd gotten married after his first year with the team, but neither of them wore a ring on their finger. She wore it around her neck and he carried it with him, fingerings it in the privacy of his hotel room.

Spencer told JJ. He had to tell somebody, just in case something happened to him. JJ was more than happy to keep her a secret for him. And, once she met Will, she understood why he wanted to keep her secret, keep her to himself.

Morgan was the first to find out. The case was a pickup artist, an unsub that was patrolling clubs to pick up women and murder them.

Morgan and Reid had been in the clubs, handing out flyers to give to the potentially vulnerable women. When Spencer teased Morgan for getting a lack of phone numbers, he challenged him. So, Spencer used magic to impress the girl at the bar. "Well, if you see anything, call me," he'd said with his usual awkward smile.

The awkward smile his wife loved.

"And, if I don't see anything?" She asked, obviously flirting with him. "Can I still call you?"

Again, Spencer wore that smile. "Uh, my wife would prefer it if you only called if you saw anything."

When Spencer turned around, he saw the expression drop from Morgan's face. "Reid, you're married?" He asked, and Spencer nodded. "I'm so sorry, man. I didn't know."

"Nobody did," Spencer replied.

When the team found out, they felt incredibly guilty. They couldn't help but think back to Tobias Hankel and when Reid got kidnapped. She had no idea. His wife must have been sat in their apartment, alone and worried.

But JJ smoothed things out, assured them that Reid's wife was kept updated while Spencer was kidnapped. JJ told her what she needed to know and kept her calm.

But now they'd been married for four years. Spencer started wearing his ring after the team found out. He called her in front of the others while they were working on a case.

The team was so happy their resident genius was in love.

They knew about his wife, about the love of his life, but they didn't know about the baby.

Kids was always on the cards, but they had waited. Spencer's career was taking off when they got married and, with how often he was away, it didn't feel right.

But they weren't careful. It wasn't like Doctor Reid to not be careful like that. She was on birth control and there was always condoms in top drawer next to their bed.

But they slipped up just once. She'd forgotten to take her pill and hadn't noticed (Spencer was good with gently reminding her when he could. This hadn't been one of those times), and Spencer hadn't reached for a condom.

Neither of them quite realised they weren't being safe. Not until she realised there was an odd number of pills in the packet at the end of the day. She'd taken both pills, the number should have been even.

But she didn't panic. Didn't mention anything to Spencer. What was the chance she was actually pregnant? She kept things quiet until the morning sickness started. Until she took a test, and then another, and then another. When they all came back positive, she called Spencer.

She didn't normally call Spencer while he was on a case. He was busy, she waited for him to call her in the evenings, when he was in the hotel room and he wanted to hear about her day. Spencer couldn't help but assume that something was wrong.

Far from it. Everything was perfect. The minute Spencer got home he pulled her into his arms, his face in her hair. "I love you," he whispered again and again and again.

Spencer didn't tell the team. Didn't want them to worry while he was on cases.

She became, admittedly, a little clingy when she began showing. Not to the extreme of stopping him from going on cases, but, whenever he was home, she was attached to him.

And Spencer couldn't say no to his wife. She was craving pizza? He was getting pizza. She wanted him to read to her? He was bringing in a selection of books, sitting her on the sofa and rubbing her swollen feet with one hand while he read.

If she wanted to bring him something to eat, he'd text her when they were landing to do paperwork.

It didn't matter the time. Mrs Doctor Reid made two sandwiches and set off for her husbands place of work.

She had met the team a couple of times before. It wasn't many, but it was enough for her to be friendly with them. With a science museum tote bag over her shoulder, she stepped out of the elevator and walked into the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit.

Morgan spotted her first. "Hey, Mrs Reid," he called, gaining the attention of the rest of the BAU. But then Morgans eyes widened. "Holy shit," he couldn't stop himself from saying.

Emily let out a gasp as she walked over. "Congratulations, Mrs Boy Wonder," she said as she hugged her. Mrs Reid hugged her back.

Hotch shouted his Congratulations through his office doorway to the happy couple. As he did so, Morgan walked over and placed his hands on Spencers' shoulders. "My man," he said quietly and let go.

With a fond smile, Spencer pushed his hair back. He grabbed his chair and wheeled it over to her. "Hi Honey," he said softly, sitting her down on the chair.

Her bag was in her lap as Spencer wheeled her over to his desk. "I missed you," she said, pushing her own fingers through his hair.

Spencer softly smiled at her. "I missed you too," he whispered as she grabbed his hand. Public displays of affection weren't Spencers thing but, for his pregnant wife, he'd do anything.

She quickly let go of him and opened her bag. "I brought sandwiches," she said as she pulled one out and passed it to Spencer. He leaned against the desk as he unwrapped it, keeping hold of it as she unwrapped the second. Once they were open, they swapped. She took the sandwich from him and he took the sandwich from her.

As they ate, they spoke. She didn't ask about the case, she never did. No, she asked about the city and whether he'd been eating well.

Spencer assured her that he had been eating well. The conversation they had was the one they normally had in the evenings, when he was on a case.

He pressed his hand to her bump for a quick second as he finished his sandwich. "I've got paperwork to finish up," he said and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Wanna sit with me while I get it done?"

She nodded her head and Spencer grabbed another chair. As he worked she kept one hand to her bump, the other holding Spencers.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut

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s-awturn · 2 months ago

Text

Out Of The Plans || F1 Grid

cw: angst, pain, crying, lack of communication, breakup, fight, They are idiots, no exceptions..

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1

a/n: just angst and a feeling of heartbreak. Appreciate me because I wrote this in the middle of a horrible migraine

LEWIS HAMILTON:

It had been like a shock to your brain, this couldn't be happening, not at that moment. You held the pregnancy test in your shaking hands and checked the label again to make sure of the result.

A little line: negative.

Two little lines: positive.

And on your test there were two bright red lines, telling you in your face that you were pregnant. Oh God, you were pregnant and unfortunately there was no more inopportune time for a pregnancy. Okay, everything would be fine when you told Lewis, he always wanted a family, everything would be fine.

“This shouldn’t be happening, Y/N!” he paced back and forth in the huge living room of the apartment you shared. "Should not!"

Your stomach churned in fear, this wasn't exactly the conversation you were expecting to have when he got back from Singapore.

“Well, that happens when two partners have crazy sex and forget the condom!” you said as energetically as he did.

“You said your birth control was up to date!” he paused, looking at you with nothing but rebuke.

“Of course they were! But they don't work miracles, Lewis! Especially for the two of us who have sex almost every day without a condom!" you stood up and stood in front of him. "Now there is no point in pointing fingers and saying who was wrong, we have a baby on the way and we need to think about everything.”

Something strange flickered in Lewis's dark eyes and his heart sank.

“I can’t,” he hissed, pulling away from you. “I can’t deal with this right now, my life is a mess, I can’t deal with a baby right now.”

You felt your heart stop beating, what the hell was he saying? How come he couldn't deal when you were the one who would have to change everything?! Because abortion didn't even cross your mind.

“What is it like?”

Lewis licked his lips nervously, tearing his eyes away from yours, the tension in the room was raw and thick as fog, which made you even more apprehensive. He couldn't be saying what he wanted to say. Not Lewis.

“I can’t compromise the rest of the season, my performance with a baby now, especially since I’m almost at Ferrari,” he said it all quickly, in one breath. And you froze in place, blinking slowly as it sunk in that your boyfriend was saying he didn't want the baby.

You took a deep breath, you wouldn't let yourself cry in front of him, not anymore.

“Are you serious, Lewis? Are you really serious?”

He continued to look out the window, staring at the Monte Carlo marina, not having the courage to look at you.

“You, who always wanted a family, who made plans with me, are you saying you don't want the baby? That you can't handle it when I'm the one who's going to have my whole life changed to bring him into the world?!” It was his turn to walk around the room.

“But you didn’t even want a child now! You just got promoted at work! You can’t be judging me for that!”

That fell like a bucket of cold water on you, really, having a baby at that moment wasn't the best thing that could happen, but it was already there, it happened and the baby was already there.

“Alright Hamilton, the baby and I won’t hold up your championship, if you have any chance of overtaking McLaren, but either way, don’t worry, you won’t have to deal with that.” You said pointing to yourself, your hand supporting your still flat belly.

“Y/N, we can solve this another way-” he started, but you held up your hand to silence him.

“For the love of God, shut up, don’t make me hate you, Hamilton” you said and turned away, going to the bedroom. It was obvious that it was over, because there was no way you were going to abandon the baby too. Fuck Lewis and his problems.

He went after you, but was met with the suite door slammed in his face. You packed your things, only what you bought or took from your own apartment, you didn't want anything from him besides the little resident who rented your uterus on a nine-month contract .

“Everything is fine, baby, it’s going to be okay, I promise,” you said, standing in front of the mirror, imagining what your belly would look like as the months went by. “I will take care of everything”

You left the suite with a suitcase and two handbags, you had no idea where you were going at that moment, but anywhere was better than there with Lewis.

“Why are you going? We can work this out, honey—”

“Oh my God, Lewis!” you exclaimed, calling the elevator, “we can’t work anything out! You don’t want the baby, you don’t want us, so obviously this is over and I’m leaving! A great championship for you!”

When the elevator doors closed, you allowed yourself to cry, you never imagined Lewis would do that, never! You sniffed, wiping your nose on the sleeve of the only sweatshirt you stole from him. You wouldn't take anything else from him.

“We don’t need him, baby,” you whispered, as if the baby could hear. You took one last look at the apartment that had been your home for four beautiful years and with a heavy heart said, “Goodbye Lew.”

CARLOS SAINZ:

The doctor's words echoed inside your head.

Pregnant, you were twelve weeks pregnant, or three months. That was unexpected, very unexpected because you and Carlos didn't discuss starting a family, this discussion never reached you even after years of a stable relationship.

“Miss?” the doctor’s voice sounded distant to your ears, you were still focused on the blood test results.

Pregnant.

Your mind fell into limbo and the last thing you saw was the doctor running towards you, calling your name.

The smell of antiseptic and alcohol made you wake up slowly, your head felt like it weighed a ton and your eyes were still blurry, you struggled to remember what had happened and like a bomb exploding, the word ‘pregnant’ popped into your mind.

“Calm down, calm down, you can’t exert yourself too much right now, Y/N.” You recognized the voice of Andie, your best friend from college. “Here, drink some water, the doctor said it would help you.” She handed you the glass, expecting you to drink all of the contents. “How are you feeling? You were unconscious for almost all day long, I almost died when they called me.”

“I’m fine, I guess... What did they tell you?” you handed the cup back to her.

“Nothing, the doctor said you felt unwell... What are you-” she was interrupted by Carlos’ abrupt entry into the room. He was a mess, still in his Ferrari training gear and with his hair a mess.

“¿Estás bien, vida mía?” (Are you okay, my love?).

“Yes, yes I’m fine... I just felt sick” you twisted the bed sheets between your fingers, how would you tell Carlos that you were expecting a baby, that you would be parents in six months or less? You looked at Andie, silently asking her to leave, the girl nodded and left you two alone. “It was just a scare,” she muttered, swallowing hard. “I got the test results back, remember how I was feeling really sick last week?”

“Yes, yes, I knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to eat that steak tartare...”

“It wasn’t because of the steak tartare, Carlos.” You looked at him, feeling your nervousness tighten in your stomach. “I’ve been sick all week because I’m pregnant, I’m three months pregnant.” you said abruptly, watching Carlos lose color in his face and stagger away from the stretcher.

“Pregnant? B-But we were being careful!” he said, you couldn’t understand the emotions that showed on his face.

“Accidents happen, Carlos... Not that getting pregnant is an accident, especially when you have sex without a condom...” you said, waiting for him to calm down.

“This shouldn’t have happened! I don’t want children now!” he said exasperatedly. “I don’t!”

Something inside you broke when you heard him, you weren't ready to take on motherhood yet, your internet work was finally bearing fruit, your relationship with Carlos was going well, you never thought you'd include a child in that equation, but there she was. But none of that was as scary as the idea that her boyfriend didn't want the baby he helped conceive.

“You don’t want to?” you repeated his words slowly.

“No! Of course not! A baby now would get in the way of my career!”

And suddenly, it all came crashing down on his head like an anvil. Tears stung your eyes and the words came out before you could filter them.

“Go away, Carlos,” you were surprised to notice how firm your voice was. “Get out of here, get out of my sight.”

"But amor... We never talked about children, you never told me you wanted them!” The Spaniard tried to touch you, but you backed away, avoiding him as if he were burning you.

“It’s not about what I want or don’t want, Carlos,” you snapped. “I really didn’t want a baby, but I’ll have one in six months, with or without you! So decide whether you’re with me or leaving!”

“I-I can’t... I-I don’t want kids, I need to dedicate myself to the fullest and a baby will get in my way” he stammered, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Go away Carlos, I’ve heard enough” you turned your face away so you wouldn’t see him, ignoring his attempts. It was only when the door closed with a dull thud that you could let your strong facade fall and allowed yourself to cry to the point where you didn't notice when Andie came in and wrapped you in a protective hug.

“What happened? Carlos left as if he was being chased by the devil” she rubbed your back, trying to make you stop crying. Between sobs, you explained what had happened, feeling her embrace tighten. “Oh love, I’m so sorry this happened, I didn't think Carlos was a son of a bitch... What do you intend to do?”

“I-I don’t know... Maybe I should give the baby up for adoption, I don’t have the courage to have an abortion...”

“Whatever you decide, I’m with you, sis.”

You snuggled into her loving embrace, unsure of what your life would be like in the coming months.

CHARLES LECLERC:

“When are you going to tell him, dear?” Your mother asked you as the two of you set the lunch table, it was Sunday and once a month, religiously his family gathered at his grandparents' house. Charles had already attended so many lunches that when he didn't show up, his grandparents and uncles would ask. You loved knowing that your family loved your boyfriend. “I'm sure he'll be happy, Charles loves children.”

You nodded and a small smile appeared, confident that he would love the news. You discovered you were pregnant a few days ago and had already noticed the signs. You had decided to tell her about the pregnancy after lunch, even bought a pair of children's shoes with a Ferrari design on them. Who could judge you? You were so anxious!

Soon, the family gathered around the table, talking loudly and laughing nonstop, preventing any thoughts beyond the conversations and laughter. The conversation you were having with one of your cousins was interrupted by your grandmother, questioning when you and Charles would finally have children.

Charles choked on his wine and cleared his throat. “Mhmm well... I thought Y/N mentioned that I don’t want kids.”

“You never told me that, Charl...” you said just for him to hear “I never knew that”

“No?” he looked surprised. “Really?”

Silence fell uncomfortably over the table, you gripped the handle of the cutlery you were holding, feeling your anxiety grow in a negative way.

“You’re great with kids, dear, you��d be a great dad.” your grandmother said, surprised. After all, the Monegasque was adored by the children in the family and got along very well with them all, hearing that he didn't want children was a surprise.

“I’m a good uncle,” he gave a modest smile. “I’m not made of father material, meaning no children, ever.”

Maybe it was your fault, you and Charles didn't have that conversation, so you couldn't know he didn't want children. But it was painful anyway, mainly because you were already pregnant.

Hours later, as you drove home, you couldn't stop thinking about his words.

I’m not made of father material, meaning no children, ever.

“You are very quiet, mon cher” He said, resting his hand on your thigh. You jumped, caught up in your thoughts, you didn't even notice his presence until he touched you. “Did something happen?”

“I was thinking about the lunch conversation...”

“It was a strange atmosphere, wasn’t it?” he gave a weak laugh, giving her leg a gentle squeeze “with so many children there, do your grandparents still want more?” his laugh sounded strange to your ears, just like that conversation.

“I’m pregnant, Charles,” you said suddenly and screamed when he slammed the car on the brakes. “CHARLES?!”

He guided the car to the side of the road and looked at you, he was as scared as you were.

“You are what?!”

“Pregnant, Charles! I was planning to tell you today, but I found out you don’t want kids!” you exasperated, loosening your belt.

“That can’t be true, you’re joking,” he said nervously. “Y/N I don’t-”

“I know! I know that, Charles! You don’t have to repeat yourself.”

You saw pure terror in his eyes and braced yourself for whatever he would say.

“I don’t want this baby, Y/N, I don’t want to be a father, not today, not ever” he said.

You took a deep breath, feeling your head throb with the headache that would soon come.

“Well then I guess we can’t go through with this, Charles,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I will not give up my son for you or anyone else.”

“Mon cher, a child would disrupt our lives forever, we would no longer be able to travel, we would lose our peace and tranquility”

“You won’t lose anything, Charles, you don’t need to worry… Now, if it’s not too much to ask, can you continue? I intend to move out of your apartment today.”

“Beau, (beautiful) It doesn't have to be like this... This child-”

“Don’t say anything else Charles, don’t turn the love I feel for you into resentment” you begged, avoiding his eyes.

The rest of the way was done in complete silence, despite the grief that broke your heart, you would not let it consume you. A life outside of that would be born in a few months and you couldn't let bitterness stop you from living the good moments that the future would bring you.

Charles still tried to stop you from leaving, saying he would leave you with the apartment, but you didn't listen to him or give him a chance to convince you.

“I hope you’re happy, Charles,” was the last thing you said before you left. From then on, it was just you and the baby.

LANDO NORRIS:

There were at least five tests done on the bathroom counter and you were in a panic, pure panic. It wasn't the time to have a baby, no way. You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as you thought about the situation, there was so much at stake.

You had to decide what you were going to do, whether to have that baby, how you were going to tell Lando... Oh God, there was still Lando. You couldn't even think about what his reaction would be. There were mentions of a son, perhaps after he had won a championship or two and had achieved everything he wanted, but not at that moment, in which both were still building their lives, their careers.

“I’m here, honey!” he shouted from the living room and you threw the tests in the trash without thinking. You checked your appearance in the mirror, trying to dispel the look of astonishment that covered your face.

You put on a fake smile and ran into the living room, finding your boyfriend stretching his body. It was clear that he was exhausted, but he was glowing, winning made him feel very good and you admired the Briton's bright eyes.

“Congrats on your victory, Lan!” you jumped into his arms, kissing Lando all over his face as he laughed.

“I wish you were there, honey, but you’d hate the weather… Anyway, how about we have dinner to celebrate?”

“That’s a great idea! Why don’t you take a shower while I get ready?” You gave him a peck on the lips. “I took a shower just before you arrived and I’m already moving our time forward... You know I take a long time to get ready.”

“Ok ok, will it be sad to take a shower without you? Yes, but if it means we won’t be long in getting out, great!” he said playfully and you responded with a light slap on his arm.

“You’re ridiculous, Lando Norris! Go take a shower, you clown!”

He laughed, grabbed his carry-on bag and went to the bathroom. You let out a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding and went to the closet to get ready. Despite being happy for your boyfriend's victory, you didn't have the slightest desire to go out and celebrate anything, but denying dinner would make Lando suspicious. You would take the time of dinner to think about what you would say, the panic gradually subsided, allowing you to think clearly.

You were finishing putting on your makeup when Lando came out of the shower, he still had the towel wrapped around his waist. From the position you were in, you could only hear his footsteps approaching the closet.

“Y/N, what does this mean?” he appeared in your field of vision, holding up one of the pregnancy tests. “Are you pregnant?”

You felt like the ground was disappearing beneath your feet and the earth was swallowing you up. From the look on Lando's face, you wanted the earth to actually swallow you. You'd never been claustrophobic, but that closet looked terrifyingly small.

“Answer me!” he exclaimed, making you jump. “Are you pregnant?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m pregnant!” You shouted back. “I found out today.”

He laughed, there was no humor in his voice, just sarcasm and disbelief. “I should have guessed.”

“W-What are you talking about?” you stuttered, dropping your makeup on the vanity and taking a tentative step towards Lando.

“This whole shit, I should have known that at some point you would do this, who doesn’t want to get pregnant by a Formula One driver, right?” he said furiously and threw the test at your feet.

Reality hit you like a punch. Lando was claiming that you got pregnant on purpose. He thought you were a gold digger.

“Are you suggesting that I wanted to get pregnant on purpose?! Lando, I just graduated! I don’t even work yet, why the hell would I want a child now?” You yelled at him.

“Work?” he laughed wryly, running his hands through his hair. “As if you would think of that, not being supported by my money!”

His every word felt like a stab to your chest.

“I never wanted a penny from you, Lando! I always refused any thing or privilege from you!” you answered him, sitting down. Your body felt heavy, full of tiredness. “I never wanted anything from you but yourself!”

“You’re a fake, a liar like all the others!” he accused you, pointing his finger in your direction. “Get your things and get out of my house, I don't want to know anything about you anymore” he took a deep breath and for you, the rejection was nothing compared to the pain of being called a gold digger, a dowry hunter. That was a hard blow to his dignity.

You threw your clothes on the floor, only the ones you had taken to his house. After dropping all the clothes on the floor, you grabbed some bags to put all your belongings in. At that moment, Lando had already dressed and was standing in the middle of the suite.

“Tell me where you will be staying so I know where to send the child support check.” He demanded and you glared at him, you were just as angry as he was.

“You and your fucking money can rot in hell, Lando. My son and I don’t need you at all, you're dead to me, Norris, completely dead and buried.” you left the room and ignoring his screams.

Lando and his money could go fuck themselves, you never wanted to see him again!

OSCAR PIASTRI:

Sorry, I can't see Pastry in this scenario 🫣

MAX VERSTAPPEN:

That saying “in the blacksmith’s house, the spit is made of wood” made a lot of sense to you, being a doctor you knew when people were unwell just by looking at them, it was a joke not to have noticed the signs of pregnancy. So imagine how surprised you were to find that not only was your period late, but you were also experiencing frequent nausea and episodes of dizziness.

Even though getting pregnant wasn't one of your dreams, you were happy, after all, everything in your life was going well: you had a stable job, your finances were going well and your fiancé was great. Even though it wasn't planned, you were already more than excited for the baby's arrival.

You decided to tell Max during his week off, where he would be more relaxed, without the stress of work. Until his week off arrived and you were jumping up and down with anticipation to tell him, you waited for Max to relax enough. You knew he would like it, Max loved kids.

“Honey, I have something to tell you” you took advantage of the fact that he wasn’t playing and sat on his lap.

“Sure, mijn liefje (my love), I’m all ears” he took off his headphones and turned off the monitors, it was always like that when you talked to him, nothing else mattered to Max other than what you said.

“Straight to the point, I’m six weeks pregnant—”

“What do you mean you’re pregnant? That’s not possible, still more than six weeks”

An alert sounded in your mind, was Max really suggesting that you might have cheated on him?

“I was in the middle of a series of races, we barely saw each other during that month” he argued, making the doubts he had even more obvious.

“Max, you can’t be suggesting that!”

“In that case, explain to me how you are pregnant if we weren’t together!”

“Is your memory so bad that you don’t remember that we were together in Spielberg?!” you threw at him, irritated by his distrust. “I spent the entire Austrian GP weekend with you!”

“We had sex once that week, there’s no way that it was that sex that was rewarded with a child!” Max looked increasingly distraught.

“Are you kidding me, Max? I never cheated on you, I barely have time for you, let alone another man!” You were nervous to the point of shaking, you sat back down, trying to keep calm.

“I don’t believe you, Y/N, I’m sure this child’s father is that pediatrician at the hospital!”

“I’m not going to listen to anything else, you’re delusional,” you mumbled, tears blurring your vision.

“You better go away, I don’t want to know anything about you or that child!”

You wiped away your tears, feeling humiliated, hurt and offended.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make a point of letting you know anything about us,” you assured. “I'll send someone to get my things, or leave them at the reception and I'll pick them up later, I don't know!" you put on your shoes and grabbed your bag.

“Be grateful if I don’t throw it away.”

“Whatever Max, do whatever you want, I don’t care” and with that, you slammed the apartment door hard enough to knock the picture of the two of you off the wall.

#f1 imagine #f1 #sawturn #f1 grid x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #max verstappen x reader #formula one fanfiction #f1 grid #f1 headcanons #sawturn headcanons

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