Ooh Looking Through The Men Who Don’t Get Enough Requests !!! Maybe 31: “the Only Way You’re Getting

what kind of lover they are | f1 dilfs

— jenson button

Jenson is more of like a cheeky playboy playdilf, you should say. He couldn't give up that life easily, women loves him. His reputation precedes him, but that doesn't mean he's not devoted to you. When you walk into a room, he'll make sure to get you feel special — especially by showing you off.

— sebastian vettel

Sebastian screams husband material, no doubt. How does the ring of promise sits on his finger so perfectly, you don't know. It's just one of the rules of the universe. And he's proud to show it off, staring at his wife lovingly whenever you're doing anything, nothing, everything. Was he rambling again?

— mark webber

This gentleman screams old money, dad's friend kinda love and you're not even sorry. He loves to steal a little kiss here and there, and you love to pick a sweet little dress. It's pink, it's short, it's everything a man could ask for, no? Loves to take you on a spin on his Porsche, matching your dresses to the car each time.

— fernando alonso

He's young and beautiful, and lana would agree. This Spaniard is giving very much the cheeky and young teenage lover. You'll catch him in a gym, on his own, working on those biceps. And he wouldn't be sorry to invite a sweet looking damsel to his company.

Only The Best For You

Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad's best friend!kimi, reader is 20/21 - reader is old enough to make her own decisions, your dad isn't pleased with the gift, one mention of alcohol and one mention of death, sexual tension, kinda power imbalance, kimi gives into the intrusive thoughts, nipple play, fingering for like 0.2 seconds, one use of the word 'daddy' in a sexual way, penetrative sex (p in v), gagging, finger sucking, 'whore' used in a sexual/degrading term.

Word Count: 2,400

Author's Note: for all my dad best friend freaks and the kimi whores, this one's for you <3 -- also ignore that it's gucci in the pic but it's something different in the fic loool I couldn't find a different pic I liked.

merry smutmas series

--

Kimi spends the holidays with his old friends. He doesn’t forget you; bringing you exactly what you had been wishing for and you make sure to thank him.. properly.

An old L/N family tradition.

Since you were a child, your parents and grandparents allowed you to open one gift from them on Christmas eve, letting you enjoy the magic of Christmas a few hours early.

You were grown up now, in college and your grandparents had sadly passed on but your parents kept the tradition going. You had come home for Christmas break and it was Christmas Eve. Your parents have just finished dinner and you have moved to the living room.

It was yourself, your parents and your dad's best friend, Kimi. You had known Kimi your whole life practically but he was always away racing so you never saw much of him until lately, now that he's officially retired - for good this time.

"Shall we open gifts?" Your father asks, walking into the living room. He passed a glass of what looks like whiskey to Kimi, who was next to you, before sitting beside your mother.

She looks over at her husband. "Honey, isn't she too grown for that?"

Your father rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "It's a family tradition, now hush. Go pick a present."

Your mum picks first, picking one from your father that just so happened to be the new perfume she wanted. Your father was next and he picked out one from you. It's a story book he used to read to you as a kid, you had written all of your favourite memories of the two of you inside of it. You made him cry, both you and Kimi laughing about that.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Your father nods towards the tree, you move from the couch to the floor, kneeling in front of the tree to pick out a gift.

A gift sticks out to you; red wrapping paper with little elves of it and your name written in cursive across the front of it. You pick it up, shaking it a bit to see what was in it.

It felt hard, as if it was a box. You looked towards your parents, "is it from you guys?"

Your dad looks towards your mom; she took care of all of the holiday shopping. The woman shakes her head, "it's not from us, sweetie."

The gift on your lap when you glance over your shoulder at Kimi. He gives you a small smile, so small you almost miss it.

He nods towards the gift, waiting for you to open it. You rip the wrapping paper very carefully, revealing the red box underneath; the gold lettering was cursive - Cartier.

Your jaw was already dropping, looking back at the man. "You didn't," you say and he nods again, waiting for you to open the box to see what was inside.

"Kimi, what did you do?" Your mother asks, looking over at your father. He was never one for brands or jewellery, he didn't realize that buying something there automatically was an expensive purchase.

Lifting the cover carefully, the velvet black fabric inside the box held a white gold chain, blue sapphires set along the entire thing.

If your jaw wasn't already on the floor, it would be now. "Kimi!" You turned to face the man, setting the box on the couch carefully. "You did not!"

"I did," he nods. He's always been a man of very few words; more of an action rather than words type of guy.

"What is it?" Your father asks and you hand the red box over to him for him to see.

He shows your mother as he holds the box, he doesn't realize that he's holding a little over €40,000 in his hands at the moment. "Oh Kimi, it's beautiful." Your mother gushes, handing it back over to you.

You were still on the floor, admiring the necklace in the box. "Well, turn around." Kimi says and you do, sitting just between his legs.

He reaches over to take the box from you and carefully takes the chain out of its box before you lift your hair. Kimi leans forwards and you can feel his fingers brush against your skin and his breath on your shoulders when he loops it around your neck and hooks the clasp.

"It looks gorgeous on you, darling." Your mom says, smiling at you.

Your phone's in one hand and your other hand gently touches the chain, straightening it as you admired how it looked on you. "Kimi, this is too much. It's so expensive." You whisper to him and he shrugs.

"How expensive are we talking?" Your father finally speaks, looking over at his friend.

Kimi answers nonchalantly; "Like.. €40,000."

Your father instantly sits up, his jaw hanging open. "What?! Kimi, are you out of your mind?"

"Please," he looks over at his friend in disapproval. His hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb passing over your soft skin. "She's a good girl, she deserves it."

You can't help but shift a bit when he calls you a good girl, the words hitting you right where you shouldn't. It was wrong, he was your father's friend and you were.. well, you were attracted to him. You couldn't deny it; Kimi was an attractive man and despite his lack of words, he was very charming.

"Y/n, say thank you. You can't not say it when he's spent so much." Your father tells you, and you turn around to face Kimi.

"Thank you, Kimi," you smiled at him, sitting on your knees when you reached up to give the man a hug. His arms wrapped around you, his warm hand pressed to your back. "You're welcome, angel."

Another nickname that hits you in all the wrong places.

--

As the night goes on, your parents head up for bed as do you. Kimi was the last one to bed from your understanding and as the house grew quiet, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

You find yourself sat on your bed, pjs on - a tank top and a pair of shorts with a €40,000 chain around your neck.

It was nearing 3am, the witching hours as your mum says. You find yourself getting up and heading downstairs. The initial thought was to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water but you got side tracked when you see a light coming from Kimi's room.

You knock, peeking around the space left between the door frame and the actual door. "Come in," he waves to you and you step in, shutting the doors behind you. The TV was on, a rerun of some show you couldn't quite place was on.

"What are you doing up?" He asks, glancing at his phone to check the time. "Do you know how late it is?"

"I couldn't sleep," you tell him, looking over at the TV. "Can I join you?"

He shrugs, nodding towards the empty space next to him. You quietly make your way over, sitting next to him on the bed. Kimi don't miss the way your shorts hike up when you crawl over to the empty spot; it's so wrong for him to be looking at you like that but can you blame the man? You were gorgeous and you were in his bed after all.

The two of you sit quietly, watching as the show rolls on into another episode. You unconsciously play with the chain, shifting it back and forth slowly.

Kimi looks over at you, smiling to himself; you were the picture of beauty.

"You're staring," you mumble, glancing at him. He smiles, like actually smiles. "You're beautiful."

Your cheeks are red, you hope that the light coming from the tv isn't bright enough for him to realize that just yet.

"It looks good on you," he says, "like it was made for you."

"Blue has always been my favourite colour." You smiled, glancing down at the chain. "Did you pick it yourself?"

He nods, "I saw it and thought of you, I figured you'd like it."

"I do, very much." You look over at him, Kimi smiles at you and your hand shifts from your thigh to his, rubbing along it softly. Kimi's brows furrow ever so slightly. He doesn't say anything, hoping that you'd stop if he ignores it.

You were persistent.

Your hand travels higher, about to rub over the ever so evident bulge in his shorts but Kimi catches your hand, holding your wrist. "We can't, y/n."

"Why not?"

"It's wrong," he whispers, glancing at the door - you weren't sure if he wanted you to leave or if he was catching to see if it was locked. You wiggle your hand from his grasp, Kimi lets out a small breath of relief; see, the man was stupid enough to think you were stopping.

You didn't stop. Instead, you got on his lap, straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. Kimi's hand rests on your lower back as he looks at you.

"Let me thank you properly," you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

Kimi reaches up, his lips pressed to yours but he's yet to kiss you. "You don't have too."

"I want to.. I want you," you mumbled, finally kissing the man. Your hand cupping his jaw, Kimi's hand slips under the tank top you had on and slides up your back to undo your bra but finds you don't have one on.

Kimi pushes the straps of your tank top down off your shoulders. You sat comfortably on his lap, letting him have his way with you and the man wanted one thing. He leans forward, arms wrapped around you as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Kimi, fuck- please.” You mumble, your hand tangled in his blonde hair, tugging on it. As such as you loved the attention, you needed him.

He glances up at you, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. He groans when you pull on his hair a little harder but what's a little pain when he's making you feel good?

It was heavy, heated.

His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Kimi's hands on your ass when he kissed you again.

Not a word is spoken between the two of you and what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor when he rolls you two over. You were flat on your back with Kimi settled between your legs.

“Please,” your hand rested on his jaw, “daddy, please.”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; it's sinful, so sinful in so many ways but he couldn't care less. You drove him mad.

His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hips lift, wanting more from him.

Kimi’s hand wandered a little lower, a finger pushed in slowly. He can feel how wet you are, wrapped around his finger and he smiles.

He moves his finger slowly, curling it. He takes pleasure in watching you, seeing how your face twists and how your body reacts to his touch.

"Please," you whimpered, "don't make me wait."

Kimi can't bring himself to say no to you.

He sits, pushing his shorts down and you get the hint, getting on top of him. Your hands grip on his shoulders, balancing yourself. Your knees on either side of his lap, Kimi's hand reaches under you to help you, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, making your hip shift forward a bit. His free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him, his name tumbling from your lips.

You take a moment to get used to the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs along your lower back, leaning into you to kiss down your neck.

You rock your hips forward and Kimi's head drops back, his eyes now closed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips now on his neck - a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

He pulls one of your legs up forward, pulling you down further. “Fuck,” you breathe, his thrusts faster and harder. How you wished you could scream his name right now. Kimi's hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit.

Your head falls back, manicured nails digging into his pale skin when he hits the spot he was looking for. He watches as you bounce on his lap, the sapphires around your neck bouncing in rhythm with you. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Your brows furrowed, an excited look on your face despite it all. You can feel his cock twitch in you, his lips next to your ear when he leans in.

"You've got to be quiet, angel. Wouldn't want them to catch you being a whore for me, hm?

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. Your tongue laps around his fingers, Kimi watches as you suck on them. There's a wicked smile on his face, his hips lifting to meet you halfway.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure. Kimi leans forward as his lips wrap around your nipple. His tongue lapped over your nipple, biting on it softy; just enough to get you to arch your back, pushing into him.

“Come on darling,” he mumbles against your skin, now kissing up to your collarbone. Kimi's hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back.

Your heart beats out of your chest as you catch your breath. Kimi smiles, kissing along your shoulder. "Feel good?" He asks and you mumble something, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I take it I should spoil you more often, hm?" He chuckles, making you smile when you sit up. Kimi straightens your necklace, kissing your chin.

You shake your head and smile. "Don't have to spoil me for me to do that."

Kimi smiles at you, giving you a kiss. "Merry Christmas, y/n."

"Merry Christmas, Kimi."

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr  @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

i just knoooow my man (little leclerc’s man) jenson has such a pleasure kink… like he’s not enjoying himself unless you’re a withering mess, he would know every trick in the book to make sure little leclerc/reader is satisfied even if he gets nothing from it physically.

but then add in any competition with seb who has to be the best at everything and little leclerc wont even consider any man on the 2023 grid bc how are they gonna make her feel what Seb and Jenson did??? anyways that’s all from me

DKCJDOFKFI ⚠️

"you're taking me so well, my sweet girl." jenson would rasp lowly, breath coming up in short pants as he marvels at the sight of you; looking so blissed out, eyes hazy from the feel of his throbbing cock just kissing the tip of your cervix. you were both gasping for breath for varying reasons; his, one of self control while yours were in pleasure and feeling so foreign, by being so deliciously stretched out.

"at your pace," he murmurs, pressing open mouthed kisses at your neck, eliciting a deep moan from you. "take it. take whatever you need." he utters, grunts, reverently. in awe. jenson grips your hips with barely restrained strenght as you started to bounce on top of him.

also tag teamm?!!?!?!? ask again bcs i malfunctioned,,, sorry ily😩😩😩😩

moves.

MINORS DNI 18+

JAKE PERALTA can't believe his stroke of good luck. Of pure, unadulterated good luck. He had entered the crime scene with you mere moments ago and after a heated exchange of bouncing off of each other with observations— your voices gradually raising at the same level as you near the climax of the conversation— you'd given him the look. Focused eyes watching him through your brows, the curl of your parted lips, panting through them. How you assessed him, scanned his figure like he was edible, sharing a silent moment with him as you calculate exactly what you wanna do to him. Next thing he knew you were excusing you and him saying you'd be going out for coffee, when you'd pulled him into the nearest cleaning closet of the apartment complex that wasn't crawling with cops. Now he's balls deep inside you, clothes having hastily been moved aside to accommodate it.

"Jakey," you whine, dragging out the word. He loves it when you call him that. Gets him all hot and bothered, afraid he'd give you whatever you asked for when you invoke that pretty petname off those pretty lips. "you fuck me so good..."

His teeth bite hard into the skin past his lips, brows creased in concentration so as not to bust to early. It's a quickie, a fucking hot one, but he's still got manners. The sound of your voice has his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he's fucking you from the back, big hands on your hips to keep pulling you back onto his cock while you brace on the wall. A brief moan hums through his nose as he directs you closer to him, talking shit in your ear, "Do I fuck you good? Yeah? Yeah, baby? 'I fuck you good?" breathless, and dizzy with pleasure, he can't believe someone like you is this into him.

I know you have but can you tell more about the brothers teaching her how to drivers or the paddock bunnies ?

he's sooooo

your brothers had given up trying to teach you at that point. the reason being; that they loved you too much to let you be a hazard to yourself. you're not manning the wheel in any circumstance, and being driven around.

lewis decided to teach you though.

so one day, you find yourself perched on his lap and he's coaching you through the ride, "you don't need to press your foot all the way down, baby... " he instructs you, manning the wheel as you reach down to step on the gas hesitantly.

"lewis!" you shriek as you felt the car jolt, and he only chuckles, pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

"don't be scared, you can do it dovey." he hums, "i'm here."

RED DRESS

Kimi Raikkonen x Reader x Sebastian Vettel

“Will you put that red dress on? The one with the really low…” He trailed off, his hand trailing down his chest, referencing your after party dress that you wore in Monaco that left very little to the imagination. Live on air: Sebastian Vettel was hitting on you. Not only was this highly unprofessional, but humiliating as well. Being the only female Formula One presenter had its perks, like the young girls who confided in you their hopes and dreams of being in your shoes one day, but days like this made you wish they never had to experience this form of extreme embarrassment.

Sebastian was a good looking man, no doubt about it, but his cocky personality and his disregard for others overshadowed his looks, and now all you see is a flirt with no sense of shame.

In order to avoid making the situation even worse, you pulled the microphone away from Sebastian and let out a forced giggle, “ok, and it’s time to go! Ladies and gentleman: Sebastian Vettel!” Sebastian walked away, being beckoned by his manager to take part in what you could only assume was another post-race interview. Your cameraman gave you the signal that you were no longer being filmed and you let out a frustrated sigh, “every-time!” you said turning to your co-host. “Every-time I’m forced to interview him, he pulls one of his stunts, embarrasses me, and then leaves with this satisfied smile on his face! It’s like his only goal is to publicly humiliate me!” You begin walking down the grid with your co-host, away from the podium area, and even further away from Sebastian.

“He was just messing with you,” your co-host insisted, trying to lighten the mood and hopefully end the Sebastian-centred conversation. “He’s just finished a physically taxing, almost 2 hour long race, let him have his fun.”

“There’s a difference between fun and embarrassing someone on worldwide television, and if you couldn’t tell already, Sebastian was doing the latter.” You turned around and made your way to the cab you had called earlier to take you back to your hotel, not wanting to continue the conversation, as its forcing you to think about the German driver longer than necessary.

—————

It wasn’t only Sebastian who insisted on giving you a hard time, but his fellow driver and podium sitter, Kimi Raikkonen.

The Finnish driver didn’t always irk you as much as he does now, in fact you grew quite close over your shared years in the sport. It wasn’t until Sebastian made the move to Red Bull, that his flirtatious attitude rubbed off on Kimi, tearing a rift in what once was a close friendship. The change wasn’t sudden, but small actions that made you wonder what possessed Kimi to do such things. One of the first comments he made that stood out to you was during an after party, celebrating Kimi and his latest win. Although parties were never your idea of a night well spent, it was practically necessary in order to get into the good graces of certain cold-hearted drivers. Sipping on you martini, huddled up in a booth in the corner of the Monegasque club, your thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

“You look good.” A voice says somewhere behind you, turning around, you see the last person you’d expect to be dishing out compliments. Kimi Raikkonen, in a night club, wearing a suit. It was like looking at a fish out of water. Instead of being visibly uncomfortable, like he usually was in large social gatherings, you noticed something different in his eyes; something darker.

“What?” Although you may have heard the Finn’s kind words the first time around, it was so out of character that you needed reassurance that it wasn’t just something your mind made up to pass time at the after party.

“I said you look good,” repeating his words, Kimi slid into the booth to sit beside you, he smelled of booze and cheap cologne, proving one of your manly assumptions about the driver, that he’s too preoccupied in his own thoughts to indulge in luxuries that he was more than able to afford. Noticing Kimi’s thigh grazing yours, you slid down the booth to create some space, taking note of the slight frown that he now wore. Before you were able to inquire on the sudden change, your co-host called you to the dance floor, insisting that you dance with them and not “sulk in the corner like a loser.”

You looked at Kimi, giving him a sad smile, a way of apologizing and saying goodbye, before being dragged to the clubs centre. You never brought up his actions again, but some part of you still wonders what would have happened if you stayed in that booth a little bit longer.

————

The Finns actions never bothered you, until he, like Sebastian, decided to bring the flirting into the eyes of the public.

Kimi’s second win of the season, interrupting Sebastian’s winning streak, brought out a side of Kimi that had yet to be seen. Proud of not only winning the Italian Grand Prix, but also successfully stopping his rival from rewriting the sports history; Kimi was ecstatic. After getting weighed after the race, he sauntered over to you with a newfound confidence in his step.

“Kimi! Your second win of the season, almost 3 months after your first; how does it feel for your hard work to finally pay off?” You asked with a smile on your face.

“It feels good.”

“Any plans to celebrate your massive win?” You wonder, trying to keep the conversation alive.

“What are your plans?” He asked with a smirk on his face.

Not him too, you thought. Although Sebastian’s incessant flirting was embarrassing, the last thing you needed was another driver who enjoyed seeing you flustered in front of the millions watching at home. Fighting back an annoyed sigh and trying not to sound as flustered as you feel, you answered “ I don’t think I have any plans made,” you said looking over to you co-host, silently begging them to save you from this nightmare.

“That’s good news for me then,” Kimi smirked, “Ill text you” he said walking away as your next driver came over to be interviewed.

————-

You never expected him to actually text you, assuming it was him playing up the flirting for the cameras, until you got back to your hotel. Checking your phone after a long day, you see his name pop up. There was no “hello” or “how are you,” but an address. Quickly typing it into your search engine, your jaw dropped.

It was a nightclub, the most exclusive in all of Monza.

A few minutes passed and you received another text from the Finn. It simply said,

“wear that red dress.”

how lucky we are to live in a world where tiramisu exists

Man-Flu ~ Fernando Alonso

♡ Fernando Alonso x Reader

Description: Fernando has a cold but you're there to comfort him.

~fluff~

"Cariño, I think I may be dying."

"Fernando." You say softly, running a hand through his hair. "Darling, you have a cold."

Nobody could ever say your boyfriend wasn't dramatic.

The team doctor had even been around earlier in the day to check on him. All there was to it was plenty of fluids and rest.

He sniffles, "It feels worse than a cold."

You try not to smile but he's too darn cute.

"It is not funny." He says with a pout, his Spanish accent heavily lacing his words.

"You're adorable when you have the man flu." You argue as you pull the covers closer around him. "You'll be fine I promise."

"I hate being sick."

You did feel for him. Usually he was the one in control, the one whose body dictated his profession, his life.

"I know. But how about you just let me take care of you?" You suggest. "Get some rest."

He makes an affirmative noise before an attack of sneezing starts.

You make sure he's comfortable in your bed before you get downstairs to make him some chicken soup and refill his water bottle.

You're rewarded by one of Fernando's smiles when you reenter you bedroom a while later with a tray.

"Still can't sleep?" You ask.

His chest rattles with a cough, "No. Not without you beside me."

Even sick in bed, the man is still a flirt.

You climb onto the bed beside him and cajole him into drinking some soup and more water.

You go to clear the things up and leave him to get some rest.

"Don't go. Stay here with me."

You only have to take one look at him to know you can't say no to the wounded puppy look he's giving you.

So you put the tray away and lie down next to him. It doesn't take long for him to wrap himself around you like a giant koala bear.

You lie on your back and his curls up on his side and slings an arm across your torso and hitches his hip over your legs and his face resting near your neck.

It doesn't take long for his breathing to even out and you can practically feel him drifting off to sleep.

You smile at the feeling, it took a long time before Fernando had been comfortable with the notion of being vulnerable with you. He had built his entire racing persona on being tough and harsh and unreasonable.

To eveyone else he was Fernando Alonso. But with you he was just Fernando.

You must have drifted off to sleep because its dark outside when you open your eyes.

You accidently rouse Fernando from his sleep as you stretch.

He mumbles something in Spanish you don't understand and places a kiss on your neck.

You place a hand on his forehead to make sure he hasn't got a temperature and is hallucinating. But you breathe a sigh of relief when you feel his skin and its not burning up like that morning.

"What was that?" You ask

Your sigh turns to something between a moan and a laugh as he trails his kisses up your neck to behind your ear.

"I said, how did I get so lucky to have you Corazón?"

You turned your head so you can look in his eyes.

"I'm the lucky one." You argue with a pout you know is his weakness.

He shakes his head and gently takes the hand you had checked his temperature with and places a kiss on the back of it. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Fernando smiles as if he's just been told he's won another world championship.

"Now, time for you to eat something and get a good night's sleep, you will feel better tomorrow." You tell him.

He shrugs, seemingly having forgotten his self pity party, "I already feel better with you here."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not going anywhere." You tell him and seal your promise with a kiss

Hi! Firstly, I wanted to say that I adore your imagines! Secondly , I was hoping you’d agree to write an imagine based on s3 e7. Specifically the end of it when he’s sitting on his couch rubbing his fingers the baby touched. Maybe that makes him realize he wants a baby of his own with you? Thanks in advance!!!🩵

what i want ✩ gregory house

🫀- synopsis. Greg knows what he wants, but he needs to know that you want the same thing.

🫀 - warnings. I got a little carried away… SLIGHT impregnation kink. OOC House but i dont care. i hope you enjoyed this, anon!! 🤍

Greg’s mind had been bizarrely silent.

Instead of the regular influx of thoughts that flooded his brain, Greg just heard his heartbeat and his breathing. Well, the T.V. too, but the point is that something was off.

The face of House’s watch read fifteen minutes before eleven o’clock at night, and Greg hadn’t thought if a single thing since the surgery.

The case was an unusual one- as always- consisting of a pregnant photographer who had a stroke. After fainting, House and the team had deducted that the baby (House consistently reffered to it as ‘the fetus’) was killing the mother. Eventually, her organs started to shut down so a surgery was needed to fix the baby to fix Emma.

During the surgery, the unborn child had reached out and clasped it’s tiny hand around Greg’s pointer finger. The baby’s arm wasn’t even the length of Greg’s finger, House noticed. Truly, Greg hadn’t realized how long he had been staring at the baby’s fingers until Cuddy had called his name twice.

Now House thought of that moment in the operating room. He pressed his thumb down lightly to match the amount of pressure Greg felt when the baby held onto him.

Kids were a nuisance. A waste of money, the reason why so many people had heart attacks, and disrespectful. But… they were also cute sometimes and, apparently, wanted nothing more than to make their mommy and daddy proud of them. Well, that’s what Wilson had said when Greg had asked why people wanted kids so badly.

Greg didn’t know if you wanted kids.

You were great with them at any age- infant, toddler, and even those devilish pre-teens. In fact, you seemed to glow whenever someone trusted you to hold their baby. You made sure to look up and find Greg: watching you like he always does. He can’t help but feel a wry smile pull at his lips when he pictures you, your own finger being clutched by your own baby.

Greg was torn; he didn’t know what he wanted.

“I think I’m going to blow up,” you sang as you closed the door behind you. Greg stays still, thumb still pressing on his pointer finger.

You toe off your shoes and start to unbuckle your jeans as you head for your shared room. Greg doesn’t look up when you eventually traipse back out wearing Greg’s sweatpants and and old shirt Greg didn’t know he had. You navigate yourself under his arms and carefully over his leg to lay carefully on him. Greg feels the slow puff of your breath on his neck as you exhale. “Did you eat already, love?”

Greg lets out his own sigh and he let’s his hands rest on your back. “No. Expired lasagna didn’t really sound too appealing to my refined taste,” he replies.

“What’s wrong?” You ask looking up at him.

Greg blinks at you. As he slowly meets your eyes, he starts to feel you hand gently raking his hair back and running your thumb over his prickly facial hair. Just like you always do.

And then it comes to him.

“Do you… want kids?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “I… don’t think so. I don’t- well, you don’t want kids, do you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Greg chided, squeezing your ass. “Do you want kids?”

It takes you a ling moment to answer. So long, in fact, that Greg thinks you may have fallen asleep with your eyes open. “Probably not. I don’t think you want kids so I haven’t really thought about it. Why?”

Greg keeps going. “Would you want kids? With me?”

You lay your head back down on his chest. “Yeah. If you wanted them too.”

House doesn’t really know how to proceed with the conversation, so he lets you play with his fingers as you watch the baseball game Greg put on. “I want one.”

Your movements stop. Yet again, you peer up at Greg. This time with unhealthily furrowed eyebrows. One of your hands comes up to check your boyfriend’s temperature. “Are you okay? Do I need to call Wilson?”

Greg looks pained as his hands slide up your body to rest at your face. His thumbs rest on your cheekbones. “I want a baby with you, y/n,” he tells you, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. “I want- I want your womb to swell with our kid. I want a little extension of you to put up with when you’re working late. I want you to marry me and I want you to be the mother of my child.”

Your mouth dropped open. “That’s- wow.”

“Wow,” Greg repeats with an unsure smile.

“I’m not going to lie,” you say, cracking a smile. “I’m pretty turned on right now. I’m just really surprised that you have baby fever.”

Greg groans. “Tell me what you want, woman! I just rather uncharacteristically spilled my guts and you say ‘wow’!”

You snicker and support Greg’s neck with your hand as you lean up to kiss him. As expected, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist and reciprocates your passion tenfold.

“We could practice the baby-making for the honeymoon,” you whisper after pulling away from his lips.

Greg’s eyes flutter closed and you chuckle. “I would say ‘race you to the bedroom’, but I think you’re going to beat me anyway,” he rasps. You exhale a laugh through your nose as you start to press kisses from his lips hown to his neck. “Let’s go to the bedroom, yeah?” Greg asks, humping you pathetically as you kiss him.

“Fuck yeah,” you respond lowly, a dangerous smile in your face.

Quality Time

Summary: Long hair Kimi. Braids. That's it.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Nonnie set my brain on fire yesterday and I already spend so much time thinking about Kimi with long hair, it was just natural that we would end up here eventually. This is set pre-togetherness if you're reading in chronologicalish order. Find the rest here.

She’s between emails when he finally cracks the bathroom door. Leisurely as ever, he steps back into the common area in a puddle, a towel draped haphazardly around his waist. Her fingers pause over the keys at the sight of him. A bead of water is dripping along the adonis belt she’s not convinced he’s earned the right to. 

Focus. 

She lets out a sound, clicking away at the keyboard to distract herself as he moves closer. From the corner of her eye she spots him reaching out. Past her. Laura lets out a breath, letting her gaze drift back to her inbox. 

“Busy?” Alongside his raspy voice comes the crinkling sound of plastic. Before she can answer him, an ice cream cone is stuck beneath her nose. 

“Very. Cleaning up after you is a full time commitment.” Laura looks up, tone biting out at the hand he’s offered her. 

Her voice falters at the sight of him. The butterflies she’s been holding down seem to fly up into her throat. Fuck. 

“What’d I do now?” He smirks down at her, lips spreading into a grin as he bites his ice cream cone. 

“Nothing. Yet. I’m trying preemptive damage control.” 

“I’ve been very good.” 

“You’re eating the ice cream you got for me.” 

“I like vanilla too.” He bites the ice cream again. 

“You do not.” Laura swallows the butterflies in her throat. She does not at all mind the sight of his tongue swirling around the cone. 

“You were being mean.” 

“Was not.” 

“Here, then.” He sticks his hand out again, a pitiful bit of ice cream left. Laura looks up at him sharply, watching closely as he licks at the bit that’s smeared on his lip. 

“Keep it.” 

He shrugs and—before she can catch herself, she glances down—catching the towel on his waist as it shifts beneath the movement he’s made. Double fuck. 

“If you’re not busy,” He turns away, back to the freezer. “Would you?” He shakes his head lightly, sending beads of water flying through the room. 

“Again?” She’s done it once already today, before free practice. 

He turns to her, an ice cream in each hand this time. One for her, and another for him. His face is expressionless, as if he can’t believe she’d ask. 

“Wet or dry, then?” 

“Dry.” Obviously, his tone seems to whine. 

Leaning across the couch, Laura sticks out her hand, waving her wrist as she waits for the bribe. Grinning from ear to ear, he tears open the plastic wrapper before setting it gently in her hands. 

“Go get everything then.” 

“Too hot?” She’s holding the hairdryer by its barrel, sweeping it over his head as she runs her fingers through his hair, weakly jealous at how fine it is. 

He hums beneath her, his head shaking slightly., licking at his ice cream like a man in paradise as she dotes over him. Holding her own between her thumb and forefinger, Laura runs her pinky finger through his hair.  She tussles the crown of his head gently, fanning the damp hair across the back of her hand as she works the dryer across it. It’s quick work, for hair so fine, but when he feels her pull away, his head rolls back. Resting against her leg he looks up at her, a frown starting at the corner of his mouth. 

“It’s dry!” She bites at the ice cream cone, voice defensive. 

Bringing a hand up, he grabs at her wrist, dragging her fingers down to the nape of his neck. It’s damp still, but barely. 

“Kimi, seriously.” 

“Laura, seriously.” 

Fumbling with the dryer, she sets it to cold, delighted when he squeaks at the sensation. Pulling away from her, he lurches forward, doubling over himself as he shivers. 

“Fuck, kultsi.” The sound is muffled by the towel as he speaks into it, shaking slightly still. 

“Hair ties, please.” She pops the last bit of cone into her mouth and sticks out her hand, wiggling her fingers as she waits. He leans back slowly, hand trembling for dramatic effect as he places the plastic ties in her palm. “Thank you.” 

She’s slower than this morning, taking her time as she parts his hair down the middle. She gave him french braids earlier. He claims to enjoy the feeling of them better beneath his helmet. With extra time now, and no car in sight, she has the freedom to practice her dutch braids. 

Using her pinkies, she parts the hair for the first sections, sweeping the hair of his temple backward into her grasp. Beneath her, Kimi hums. 

Speaking through the hair tie she’s holding between her lips she checks him. “Too tight?” 

He hums again. She relaxes her grip, her wrist going slack as she lets up. No response. Better, then. She starts again. Pinkies out as she sweeps his hair back, over and over again.  It’s sloppier than her french braid, that’s for sure. The raised hair is off slightly, one of the strands thicker than the others. 

Grunting in frustration, she lets out a few knots. 

“It was good.” Kimi tilts his head back, resting against her thigh as he looks up. 

“You can’t even see it.” She mumbles down at him.

Wordlessly, he lifts a hand and reaches backward, tracing over the braid until he meets her hand at the halfway mark. 

“Looks good.” She can’t quite see his face, but the quirk of his lip is practically verbal. A blush threatens to creep across her cheeks.

“You’re so annoying.” She’s out of breath as she says it, trying not to open her mouth as she laughs down at him. 

“You love me.” 

“I tolerate you.” 

Kimi hums again, this time sounding mildly annoyed. Laura smiles, lips spreading into a grin as she winds a tie around the braid that rests just above his shoulder. Dragging her fingers through the other side, she gathers herself to start the process over again, resigned to the butterflies that are all but flying around her head like a cartoon as he shifts between her legs. I’m so fucked, she thinks as his cheek sits on the inside of her thigh. So fucked.