#I’ll buy you all that your belly can hold | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

orangeblossomsintheair · 17 days ago

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LIONHEART (1/3) – LN4

summary : lando’s anxious journey as a dad-to-be

wc : 11k

an : this fic is kind of the antithesis of my whole “casual blog” thing but we close our eyes!! not beta read and quite a mess. it’s also longer so i hope that’s okay :>

Lando had always been confident.

On the track, in the spotlight, with a helmet on his head and a steering wheel in his hands. But when you told him you were pregnant, all of that certainty evaporated in an instant.

He just stood there in the middle of your kitchen, staring at you as if you’d just announced you were moving to Mars.

“You’re joking,” he said after a beat, his voice higher than usual, almost squeaky.

“Why would I joke about this?” you replied, holding up the positive test, your own emotions a mix of excitement and nervousness.

He blinked, his aquamarine eyes wide with disbelief, before breaking into a grin so wide it could’ve lit up the whole room. “I’m going to be a dad?”

“Yes, Lando,” you said, trying not to laugh at how genuinely dumbfounded he looked.

“A dad?” he repeated, as though saying it louder would make it sink in faster.

“Yes, Lando,” you said again, this time laughing outright.

He crossed the room in two strides, pulling you into his arms and lifting you off your feet.

He spun you around with an uncontainable excitement, his hoodie brushing against your cheek as he held you tight.

“This is insane,” he mumbled into your hair. “We’re going to be parents!”

“Careful,” you said, swatting at him lightly as he set you down. “You don’t want to shake the baby loose already.”

“Oh, right,” he said, letting go and stepping back. His head jerked up as he processed your words, looking alarmed. “Wait, is that a thing? Can I- are you okay? Are we okay? Is the baby okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Lando, I found out like an hour ago. I’m pretty sure we’re fine.”

He paced the kitchen, running a hand through his curls as his grin came and went in waves. “A baby. We’re having a baby. Oh my God. Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know yet, Lando,” you said, sitting down on the couch to watch him spiral. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

“What if it’s twins?” he gasped, spinning around to face you. “Oh, I should call my mum. No, wait, too soon. We need to come up with a plan first. Have you eaten today? You need to eat. Should we go to a doctor? Ooh, they need to be a really good doctor if they’re handling my wife and baby. Should I buy baby books? Do people still read books, or do we just Google everything now?”

“Lando,” you said firmly, grabbing his hand to pull him to a stop. “Breathe.”

He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, nodding. “Right. Breathing. I can do that.”

He knelt down in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “Sorry, I’m just… this is the biggest thing we’ve ever done.”

You smiled, brushing a curl out of his face. “It is. But we’ve got this, Lando.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against your belly, even though it wasn’t showing yet. “Hi in there,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with wonder. “I’m your dad. I can’t promise I’ll always know what I’m doing, but I promise I’m going to love you more than anything in the world.”

—-

Lando had always been a man of routine– wake up, train, meetings, practice, race, repeat.

But preparing to be a dad? That was a whole different kind of race.

“I need a list,” he muttered one evening, pacing the living room while you sat on the couch, trying not to laugh. “No, like, several lists. One for baby stuff, one for the hospital bag, one for- what else do we need? Is there a book about this? Should I read a book?”

“Lando,” you interrupted gently, “you’re spiraling again.”

“I’m not spiraling! I’m… planning,” he countered, though the way he was raking his hand through his curls said otherwise. “We have to be ready, love. What if the baby comes early? What if I’m away for a race?”

You set aside the baby name book you were half-heartedly skimming and grabbed his hand, pulling him to sit beside you. “We’ll figure it out, okay? You’re doing great.”

He groaned, slumping against the couch. “Am I, though? I can barely keep my plants alive. How am I supposed to keep a tiny human alive?”

“First of all, I’m the one who keeps your plants alive,” you teased, earning a weak laugh from him. “And second, you’re going to be an amazing dad. You care so much already. It’s sweet.”

“But what if I miss something important?” he said, turning to you with wide, anxious eyes. “Like the first kick, or the first cry, or- or- what if you need me and I’m halfway across the world?”

You reached up to smooth his curls, trying to ease his tension. “Lando, you’ve already done so much. The private suite, rearranging your travel schedule to be here for every appointment… You’re balancing everything perfectly.”

—-

The next weekend, Lando was halfway across the world for a race.

He had tried to keep his focus on the track, but his mind kept drifting back to you, sitting at home with your feet propped up, texting him updates about every little thing- what you were craving, how you were feeling, and whether the baby had started kicking.

During a rare free afternoon between practice sessions, he found himself wandering into a bookstore. He had no real plan, he just knew he wanted to learn everything there was to know about being a dad.

The parenting section was tucked in a quiet corner of the shop, and as he stood there surrounded by shelves filled with brightly colored covers promising to teach him how to raise a baby, the weight of it all started to settle in.

At first, Lando was focused, scanning the titles with a determined expression. “The New Dad’s Guide to Baby Basics,” “How to Survive Your Baby’s First Year,” “Sleep Training 101.”

He picked up a few books, flipping through them as if the answers to all his worries might jump out at him.

He grabbed his phone, quickly dialing you.

“Hey, love,” he said, his voice soft and warm. “Quick question- do you think the baby’s gonna like white noise machines? Because this one book says they’re a lifesaver, but another one says they’re not necessary. And then there’s this other chapter about swaddling- do you know how to swaddle? Because I don’t.”

You laughed softly on the other end of the line. “Lando, you’re overthinking again. We’ve got months to figure this all out.”

“I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his curls. “I just… I want to be good at this. I want to be ready.”

And then, as he stood there in the middle of the bookstore, holding a stack of baby books, it hit him.

He was going to be a dad.

The thought wasn’t new. It had been there since the day you told him you were pregnant. But standing there, picturing your little family and the tiny person who was going to look up to him, rely on him, need him… it was overwhelming in the best way.

“Lando?” you said gently, pulling him back to the moment. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, though his voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat, his free hand gripping the book tightly.

“I just-” He laughed nervously. “It’s a lot, you know? I mean, I’m going to be someone’s dad. That’s huge. What if I mess up? I’m practically a child!”

You smiled, wishing you could hug him through the phone. “You won’t mess up. You’re already doing amazing, and the baby’s not even here yet. You care so much, Lando. That’s what matters.”

He took a deep breath, letting your words sink in. “Thanks, love. I just… I want to do this right. For you. For them.”

“You will,” you reassured him. “And for the record, I think the baby’s going to love white noise machines and your ridiculous dad jokes.”

Lando chuckled, the tension in his chest easing slightly. “You think? Because I’ve already got a few saved up. Want to hear one?”

“No,” you teased, laughing. “Save them for when the baby’s old enough to groan at them.”

He grinned, his confidence slowly returning as he balanced the books in his arms. “Okay, okay. I’ll wait. But just so you know, they’re gold.”

After that call, Lando left the store with an armful of books and a heart that was a little fuller, a little steadier.

He still had moments of doubt, of wondering if he was truly ready for this massive change in his life.

But one thing he knew for sure- he couldn’t wait to meet the little person who was already changing his world.

—-

Even as Lando threw himself into preparation mode with the same energy he brought to a race weekend, scouring books and online articles about parenting, he still often got hilariously sidetracked by baby-related gadgets and gear.

“Did you know they make mini race suits for babies?” he asked one night, sprawled across the couch with his phone in hand, his eyes wide with excitement.

You glanced up from your own book, raising an eyebrow. “Lando, the baby’s not even born yet. Don’t you think it’s a little early for racing gear?”

“But imagine the photos!” he argued, sitting up and holding his phone out toward you like it was the discovery of the century.

On the screen was a tiny race suit in McLaren orange. “Our kid’s first photo: full McLaren merch. It’ll be iconic!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Iconic or not, I think diapers are going to be a bigger priority than race suits.”

“Why not both?” he shot back with a grin, already scrolling to find more baby-sized racing gear.

“Oh my god, look at this! miniature headphones for the paddock! Our baby could be sitting in the garage, looking like a proper little team member.”

“Lando,” you said, trying to sound serious but failing as a smile tugged at your lips, “our baby isn’t going to be born straight into a Formula 1 garage.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Blasphemy! Of course they are. It’s practically tradition.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help feeling touched by his enthusiasm. He wasn’t just excited; he was genuinely looking forward to every part of being a dad, even the ridiculous ones.

That wasn’t to say there weren’t more.. unwise moments even with non-racing related baby items.

Like the time he came home from a race weekend with three identical diaper bags.

“Lando,” you said, holding one up. “Why do we need three of these?”

“They’re different brands,” he explained, looking genuinely confused as to why you were asking. “What if one of them is better? Or has more pockets?”

“Pockets?”

“Yeah! Babies need a lot of stuff, right? I saw a mom at the airport with one of these, and she looked like she had her life together. I want you to have your life together too.”

You burst out laughing, and he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Stop laughing! I’m trying to be prepared!”

“You’re overprepared,” you said, setting the bags down and walking over to wrap your arms around him. “But that’s why I love you.”

But it also wasn’t all fun and games.

Lando was determined to be as supportive as possible, especially when it came to your comfort. He took “protective husband” to a whole new level during your first trimester, hovering like an overzealous pit crew.

“Lando, I can still carry my own bag,” you told him one morning as he practically wrestled your tote out of your hands.

“Nope,” he said firmly, slinging it over his shoulder like it was his new personal mission. “You’re carrying our future world champion. I’ve got this.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s a tote bag, not a tire. I think I can manage.”

“Well, I’m not taking any chances,” he replied, puffing out his chest dramatically. “What kind of dad would I be if I let you strain yourself this early?”

“A sane one?” you teased.

He huffed, clutching the bag like it was a trophy. “I’ll ignore that slander. Now, where’s your water bottle? And your snacks? Have you eaten? Do you need to sit down?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Lando, I’m fine. You don’t need to act like I’m about to collapse any second.”

“Not on my watch,” he declared, marching ahead of you with your bag.

“Do you even know how many articles I’ve read about pregnancy? You’re supposed to avoid heavy lifting, stay hydrated, and-”

“-and avoid stress,” you interrupted, smirking. “Which you’re causing right now with all this hovering.”

“I’m helping,” he corrected, spinning around to face you with a determined look. “And besides, you’d thank me if you saw the kind of stuff I’ve been reading. Did you know some women crave chalk during pregnancy? Chalk! What if that happens to you? I need to be prepared!”

“Lando, I’m not craving chalk,” you said, trying not to laugh.

“Not yet,” he countered, narrowing his eyes like it was only a matter of time. “But when you do, I’ll be ready with… I don’t know, chalk alternatives or something.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing on your phone? Researching chalk alternatives?”

“Among other things,” he said with a shrug, completely serious.

“Did you know we might need a whole new mattress? Pregnant people need optimal support. And I saw this thing about belly bands. Do you want one? I can order it right now. Oh! And don’t even get me started on prenatal yoga-”

You reached out to grab his arm, laughing. “Okay, slow down, Mr. Norris. You’re going to give yourself a stress rash before we even get to the second trimester.”

He looked at you sheepishly, his determination softening into a shy smile. “I just… I want to do this right, you know? I’ve never done this before.”

You softened, cupping his cheek. “I know, love. And you’re doing amazing. But you don’t have to do everything perfectly. Just… be here. That’s all I need.”

His shoulders relaxed a little, and he leaned into your touch. “Okay,” he murmured.

Then, after a beat: “But I’m still carrying the bag.”

“Of course you are,” you said, shaking your head as he flashed you that trademark cheeky grin.

From then on, Lando took his role as your personal assistant very seriously. He stocked the fridge with all your favorite snacks, some of which you hadn’t even asked for.

“I saw this article about pickles and peanut butter,” he said one day, holding up a jar. “Do you think you’ll want to try it? Should I get bread?”

“You’re the one who’s going to end up eating it,” you teased.

And when it came to appointments, he was like a man on a mission. He set reminders, packed snacks for the waiting room, and even insisted on bringing a notebook to jot down questions.

“I don’t want to forget anything important,” he said, scribbling furiously while the doctor explained prenatal vitamins.

“You’re going to end up with a full-on pregnancy thesis,” you joked.

“Good,” he replied, deadpan.

“Because I need to know everything.”

He was equal parts adorable and exhausting, but one thing was clear: Lando was already the most devoted dad-to-be you could have asked for.

—-

Lando insisted on attending every single doctor’s appointment, even if it meant rearranging his training schedule or skipping a media event.

He didn’t care what he had to move around, he was going to be there.

Your husband had always been incredibly aware of his public image, and he knew his absence in a lot of McLaren PR videos was beginning to be noticed.

The whispers started subtly at first, just a few fans commenting on his social media posts, wondering why he wasn’t posting as frequently, why he wasn’t sharing his usual behind-the-scenes content.

But over time, it started to get louder. On Twitter, the rumors spread like wildfire.

Fans questioning his commitment to racing, accusing him of not showing up enough for the sport.

He couldn’t give a damn, to be honest.

“I don’t want to miss anything,” he told you one day as you both waited in the ultrasound room.

He was fidgeting with the strap of his McLaren cap, spinning it around in his hands like it was the only thing grounding him.

“What if they show us something important, like the baby’s heartbeat, and I’m not here? I’d never forgive myself.”

“You’ll see everything,” you assured him, lacing your fingers with his and giving his hand a squeeze. “I promise you won’t miss a thing.”

He exhaled deeply but didn’t stop fidgeting. “Do you think they’re okay? Like, really okay? What if the baby’s too small? What if-”

“Lando,” you interrupted gently, giving him a pointed look. “Breathe. Everything’s fine. You’re panicking for nothing.”

He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, I just... I’ve never been this nervous before. Not even before my first race.”

When the ultrasound tech finally entered the room and began the scan, Lando nearly jumped out of his seat.

He leaned forward, his eyes glued to the screen, his hand clutching yours like it was a lifeline.

“Alright,” the tech said with a kind smile, turning the screen toward you both. “Here’s your baby.”

Lando froze, his eyes wide as the faint image of your baby appeared on the monitor. “That’s… them?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“That’s them,” the tech confirmed, moving the wand slightly. “And if you look right here, you’ll see their heartbeat.”

She pointed to a tiny flicker on the screen, and Lando’s breath caught. “Is that… Is that their heart?”

“Yes,” she said warmly. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

Lando’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. He blinked rapidly, clearly trying to keep them from falling, but one slipped down his cheek anyway.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “That’s them. That’s our baby.”

You reached up to wipe the tear from his cheek, your own eyes misty. “They’re perfect, aren’t they?”

“They are,” he said, his voice full of awe.

Then he turned to you with the biggest grin you’d ever seen, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “They’ve already got your heart, don’t they?”

“And yours,” you added softly, squeezing his hand.

Lando laughed quietly, his free hand running through his hair. “This is insane. Like, actually insane. That’s a real human. Our human. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, smiling at him. “Just feel it.”

He nodded, his gaze drifting back to the screen. “They’re so small,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then he let out a shaky laugh.

“God, I hope they get your patience. And your smarts. And maybe your taste in music too, because mine’s questionable at best.”

“They’ll be a little bit of both of us,” you said. “The good and the bad.”

“And hopefully less of the bad,” he joked, his smile growing wider. “Although if they’re anything like me, they’ll probably be a little naughty regardless.”

He spent a few moments just staring in silent awe of the ultrasound before leaning over and pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder. “More than okay, Lando. We’re going to be great.”

For the rest of the appointment, Lando couldn’t stop staring at the monitor.

He asked the tech at least three times if he could get extra printouts of the ultrasound, and as soon as you left the room, he was texting the photo to his parents.

“You won’t believe this,” he said excitedly as he hit send. “They’re already perfect. I mean, look at them!”

You laughed, shaking your head at his enthusiasm. “You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he replied with a grin, slipping the ultrasound photo into his wallet like it was his most prized possession.

—-

Lando stood in the kitchen, pacing around the table with the cake in front of him.

His hands were a blur, adjusting every little decoration as if this one cake would determine the future of the entire Norris family.

He wiped his brow for what felt like the tenth time, clearly worked up.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Lando asked again, his voice laced with nerves, as he fiddled with the tiny blue and pink ribbons on top of the cake.

You raised an eyebrow, watching him with a grin. “Lando, it’s just cake. I don’t need a fireworks show or a parade. Just let me eat it. We’re finding out if we’re having a mini-me or mini-you today, not the cure for world hunger.”

He looked at you, eyes wide with mock concern. “I know! But this is important, okay? This cake isn’t just cake. It’s the cake that’s gonna reveal if our baby’s gonna have my style or your... I don’t know, your taste in TV shows.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, so my TV shows are the problem now? I seem to remember you binge-watching those ridiculous reality shows last week.”

Lando chuckled, adjusting the cake for the third time. “Fine. But I will not apologize for the occasional guilty pleasure, okay?”

Before you could fire back, there was a knock at the door, and Lando’s parents stormed in, as excited as ever, clearly eager to be part of the big reveal.

His mom was practically jumping up and down, already holding a bottle of champagne in one hand.

“Alright, alright, we ready for this?!” she practically shouted, already bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Lando, you didn’t mess up the cake, did you?”

Lando puffed out his chest, trying to seem cool, but you could tell he was as jittery as a kid before Christmas. “What do you think? I’m a pro. I’ve got this under control.”

His dad leaned in and clapped him on the back with a knowing look. “Sure, sure. It’s just cake, son. Don’t overthink it.”

“Easy for you to say!” Lando replied, rolling his eyes but clearly taking comfort in his dad’s easy confidence.

“Do I need to set up a tent or something for you? I can go grab the calm-down snacks,” his mom teased, already rifling through the bags of baby gifts she had brought with her.

Lando gave her a playful glare. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m just...you know, a little excited.”

He turned back to the cake, brushing his hands against his jeans as if trying to shake off his nerves. “Right. Big moment.”

You crossed your arms, trying to stifle your laughter at the drama of it all. “You know, you’re acting like you’re about to drive the final lap of a Grand Prix, not slice a cake, right?”

Lando shot you a look, half guilty, half defensive. “What do you mean? This is important, okay?”

“Yeah, because the world is watching,” you quipped, leaning against the counter with a grin.

“Absolutely! What if the cake doesn’t come out perfectly? What if it’s not the right color? What if-”

“Lando,” you interrupted with a chuckle, “I’m pretty sure it’ll be okay if it’s not perfect. It’s just a cake.”

He sighed dramatically. “You don’t get it. This is a moment. A huge one! I can’t mess this up.”

(Lando’s parents exchanged amused glances. “He’s got it bad, huh?” his dad whispered to his mom.

“Oh, you don’t even know,” she replied with a wink.)

“You’re really sure you’re not panicking?” you teased, nudging him, raising an eyebrow.

Lando flashed you a grin. “Nope. I’ve totally got it handled. This is the most important moment of our lives, and I’m... handling it.”

The room filled up with laughter and chatter as family and friends settled into their spots, everyone eager to be a part of the big moment.

The cake, a simple vanilla sponge with soft pastel decorations, sat in front of you all like a ticking clock. Lando’s hands hovered above it, shaking slightly as he gripped the knife.

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Lando, it’s going to be fine.”

He gave you a nervous smile. “Yeah, I know. I’m just- just a little excited.”

He cut the first slice carefully, holding his breath. His eyes darted between the cake and you, trying to gauge the moment, the color, the reaction.

“Is it-” Lando’s mom leaned forward, eager and almost bouncing in her seat. “Is it blue or pink?”

When Lando saw the blue filling spill out from the cake, it was like a switch flipped inside him.

His hands trembled for a moment, and then, without warning, his lips curled into a grin so wide it could have lit up the whole room.

He threw his arms up in the air, as if he’d just crossed the finish line, his chest puffing out like he’d just clinched a Grand Prix victory.

“YES!” he yelled, his voice carrying the excitement and relief of a race win. He even did a little fist pump, completely caught up in the moment, forgetting the cake still had to be served.

His family burst into laughter, but Lando didn't care. He was riding high on the adrenaline of the moment, his face flushed with joy. He turned to you, eyes wide and sparkling, as if the world had just handed him the greatest trophy imaginable.

“I’ve got a son! A SON! I’m gonna be a dad to a little boy!” he exclaimed, his voice rising in a playful tone, as if he was addressing a crowd at a podium.

“Lando, you’re not actually racing a Grand Prix right now,” you said, your laughter shaking your voice. “You don’t need to act like you just won Monaco!”

Lando paused for a split second, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, but I am! This is my Monaco moment!”

—-

Before your son arrived, the two of you spent countless hours brainstorming names, debating, and laughing at your ideas, the excitement of becoming parents finally hitting both of you.

You sat on the couch in the private suite, your legs curled up underneath you as you flicked through baby name books.

Lando, sprawled beside you with his laptop open, occasionally paused to glance at you, a goofy grin on his face.

“You know what would be funny?” Lando said, his eyes lighting up. “If we named him after a race track. Like, Monaco or Spa.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused but skeptical. “Monaco? Really? We’re naming our kid after a place?”

Lando shrugged with a playful grin. “It’s iconic. Imagine saying, ‘This is my son, Spa Norris.’ Sounds like he’s destined to be a Formula 1 champion, right?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, that’s not going to fly. I’m not going to name our son after a race track, Lando.”

He pouted, pretending to be disappointed. “You’re no fun. I thought you’d be into it.”

You shot him a playful look. “Well, if you’re going to go that route, we might as well name him something like 'Aston' or 'Ferrari'.”

Lando dramatically gasped. “Ferrari Norris?” he echoed, as if he’d just had an epiphany. “That actually sounds pretty cool.” He immediately began typing it into his phone. “Imagine the headlines: ‘Little Ferrari Norris shows up at the karting track, stealing the show already.’”

You chuckled, giving him a teasing nudge. “Okay, okay. Let’s put a pin in that one, but seriously, we need something that isn’t a car or a race track. We need to think long-term. He’s not going to be five years old forever.”

Lando sat back, tapping his fingers on the side of his laptop, deep in thought. “How about Maximus? It sounds strong, right?”

You gave him a flat look. “You realize that would just end up as Max, and then we’d have to deal with every comparison to Verstappen and Max, right?”

Lando’s eyes widened slightly as you pointed out the potential issue. He paused, tapping his fingers on the laptop as he processed your words.

“Oh, right,” he said slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Maximus could be a disaster. Imagine our kid being called Max every time. He’ll spend his whole life being compared to Verstappen, and Max.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, not ideal. We’re already in the spotlight enough with you and everything, we don’t need to add fuel to the fire.”

Lando groaned, slouching slightly in his chair. “Okay, so no Maximus. What about... Thor? Sounds strong, right? A god or something.”

You blinked, trying to keep a straight face. “Lando, we're naming our kid, not preparing him for a Marvel movie.”

“I’m just saying,” he grinned, holding his hands up in mock defense. “Thor Norris. Sounds pretty cool, right? Imagine him on the playground.”

“Yeah, until he gets bullied for being named after a thunder god,” you replied with a teasing smile. “We want a name that’s strong, but also, you know, normal.”

Lando sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples. “Why is this so hard? This is supposed to be the fun part!”

“Because you're overthinking it,” you said, leaning over to ruffle his hair. “We don't need to make him sound like a superhero. We need something that suits him, something that feels right.”

Lando scrolled through a few more names on his phone. “What about Leo? You know, like the lion?”

You looked over at him, a thoughtful expression crossing your face. “Leo.. huh, I kind of like that.”

Lando met your gaze, his smile softening. “I do too. It feels strong. But it’s also… warm. I can imagine him growing up with that name.”

You smiled, already picturing your son, little Leo, chasing after you both in a go-kart, or laughing as he wore his tiny McLaren onesie.

“I think that’s the one,” you said softly, your heart warming at the thought of it.

Lando nodded, his voice quieter now. “Leo Norris. Yeah… I like it.”

You both sat there for a while, soaking in the reality that soon, you’d have a little one to love and raise.

A mix of excitement and nervous energy filled the air. But above it all, you both felt the quiet, comforting certainty that you’d chosen the right name.

“Leo Norris,” Lando repeated, his grin returning. “You’re going to be so cool, little guy.”

—-

By the time the baby’s due date was right around the corner, Lando had practically perfected the art of juggling his high-pressure career with impending fatherhood.

He FaceTimed you every chance he got during race weekends, even if it was just for a few minutes, to check in and ask how you and the baby were doing.

Every call was an opportunity for him to make silly faces at your growing belly, as if your unborn child could already understand what he was doing.

“How’s my little team doing today?” Lando asked, his face beaming from the screen, grinning like a kid with a secret.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘little team’? It’s still just one person, you know.”

He paused, holding his hands up as though giving you a game plan. “It’s all about the future, babe. Right now, it’s just me and you, but soon, we’re gonna have our first real team member. And I’m gonna be the best team principal there ever was.” He winked, clearly enjoying the idea.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Uh-huh. Sure. First, you have to figure out how to change a diaper before you’re giving out performance reviews.”

Lando's grin faded slightly, and his expression became more serious. “I can change a tire under pressure, but... a diaper? You’re sure I’m gonna be okay with that?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’ve changed car tires with a stopwatch ticking down. A diaper is like... one percent of the stress.”

Lando scratched his head, clearly still not totally convinced. “Yeah, but there’s a lot more wiggle with a baby than with a tire.”

You chuckled, hearing the nerves in his voice despite his usual cocky demeanor. “I’m sure you’ll manage. You’re gonna be a great dad. Besides, how bad can it be? Worst-case scenario, we just put him in a McLaren onesie and call it a day.”

Lando’s eyes lit up. “Wait, does McLaren make baby clothes?” he asked, suddenly distracted, pulling out his phone.

You sighed, trying not to laugh. “Focus, Lando, the baby comes first, not McLaren merch.”

But he didn’t hear you.

He was too busy scrolling through his phone, searching for baby-sized McLaren gear. “Just imagine! Tiny little race suits! Our kid’s first proper race suit! It’ll be legendary*”

You smirked. “Right, because that’s all a baby needs, to be decked out in McLaren gear. A future world champion and fashion icon.”

Lando nodded seriously, still scrolling. “Exactly. The sooner they start looking the part, the sooner they’ll feel the pressure to deliver.”

You shook your head, your lips curving into a smile. “You’re definitely going to spoil this kid rotten.”

“I’m just preparing them for greatness!” Lando declared, his voice mock-serious. “Besides, they’re going to have someone to look up to.”

You laughed, a soft teasing tone in your voice. “You mean you? The guy who keeps asking me if he’ll be cool enough for a toddler?”

Lando looked at you, eyebrows furrowing with mock panic. “I just want them to think I’m cool, okay? What if they’re disappointed? What if they grow up to think I’m just some guy who drives a car really fast and wears too many McLaren hats?”

You snorted, not even trying to hide your amusement. “Lando, you drive a Formula 1 car for a living. I think you’ll manage to impress a toddler.”

“Yeah, well, toddlers are tough critics,” he muttered, flopping back onto his bed. “What if they want a cooler dad? Like, what if they see some famous soccer player or something and think he’s way cooler than their dad?”

“Lando, the kid isn’t even born yet, and you’re already stressing about being the coolest parent?” You shook your head, trying to hold back laughter. “Relax. You’re gonna be the coolest dad, hands down.”

“You really think so?” Lando asked, his tone suddenly turning sincere, a soft smile curling his lips.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your voice full of confidence. “You’re gonna be amazing. And anyway, when they get older, they'll think you're the coolest just because you drive an F1 car. That’s literally a dream job for kids.”

Lando smiled at you through the screen, clearly reassured. “Alright, alright. I can live with that.” He paused for a moment, his

“I’m gonna train them up. Baby steps, right? First, it’s McLaren onesies. Then, they’ll be driving go-karts by five.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “I think you’ve got a few years before that happens, buddy.”

—-

Lando had been pacing the living room for what felt like hours, his hands in his hair and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You watched him from the couch, amused by how obviously he was working up the courage to say something.

Finally, unable to take his fidgeting any longer, you set your book down and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Alright, spill it,” you said, crossing your arms.

He stopped pacing, turning to you with a sheepish grin. “Okay, don’t get mad, but… can I tell Carlos?”

You blinked at him, confused. “Tell Carlos what?”

“The baby!” Lando blurted, throwing his hands in the air. “I swear I won’t say anything to anyone else, but I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t tell someone. And Carlos, he’s my best mate in the paddock, you know? and I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t tell someone. He’s good at keeping secrets! Remember when I told him about… well, you know…”

You smirked. “The time you accidentally spilled coffee all over Zak’s favorite race notes and blamed the wind?”

Lando groaned, running a hand through his curls. “Yes, that! He didn’t tell anyone!”

He leaned in closer, his big, pleading eyes locking onto yours. “Please, love. I need someone to talk to about this in the paddock. I promise it’ll stay between me and him. And you, of course. You’re the boss.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

“But adorable?” he pressed, grinning mischievously.

You laughed, shaking your head at his antics. “Alright, alright. You can tell Carlos. But only Carlos. If I see headlines about ‘Baby Norris’ next week, I’m blaming you.”

Lando let out a victorious whoop, throwing his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You won’t regret this, I promise! I’ll handle it perfectly.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased. “Just don’t come crying to me if he accidentally tells the entire grid.”

“He won’t!” Lando assured you, already pulling out his phone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Spaniard to swear into secrecy.”

—-

Lando, despite his enthusiasm around friends and family, had always been the type to keep his personal life as far away from the media as possible, especially when it came to you and your pregnancy.

He’d pulled you aside earlier on, his brow furrowed in a mix of excitement and concern.

“I just want to protect you from all that stress, love,” he’d said softly, his hands resting on your shoulders. “The media’s only gonna make everything harder. Let’s keep it to ourselves and family and friends until we’re ready.”

You’d agreed, knowing his intention was to shield you from any unnecessary pressure.

So, you kept things under wraps, avoiding public appearances and letting Lando handle the media while you focused on your health and well-being.

But as your pregnancy progressed and your bump started to show, it became harder to stay out of the public eye.

At first, you’d manage to sneak in a few appearances, sitting in the background, away from the cameras. But soon, you started pulling back even more, skipping races altogether. The tabloids, however, didn’t miss a beat.

Lando was pacing back and forth in your living room, muttering to himself as he read through the latest batch of articles about him and your supposed divorce.

You could practically see the frustration building in him. He was giving off full-on whiny vibes, and you couldn't help but smirk at how ridiculous the whole thing seemed.

“I swear, they’ve completely lost their minds!” Lando groaned, throwing his phone down onto the couch with a dramatic flair. “What do they mean we’re getting divorced? Have they seen you? Why would I ever, ever, let you go?”

You leaned back on the couch, trying to keep your composure as he began pacing again. “Lando, calm down. It’s just the media. They love making stuff up.”

“No, it’s not just the media!” he whined, stopping mid-pacing to stare at you. “This is serious! They think I’m out here with a divorce like that’s even a thing. I’m happily married! You’re at home growing our kid, not plotting some dramatic breakup!”

You tried to hold back your laugh, but Lando’s whining was getting funnier by the second. “Babe, seriously, it’s not the end of the world. You’re acting like the tabloids are going to come for us with pitchforks.”

“I’m just-” He paused, running his hands through his hair like he was about to pull it out.

“I’m just trying to figure out how they got this idea. I’m not... like, I’m not perfect, but come on! Look at you! You’re gorgeous, and we’re over here living our best life, why would I ever let you go?”

You grinned, giving him a teasing side-eye. “Aww, are you saying I’m too good for you?”

Lando froze, turning to you with wide eyes. “No! I mean, yes, but no!” He huffed dramatically, flopping down onto the couch next to you. “You’re perfect! You’re the perfect wife! And you’re the one who makes everything better, and now they’re out here saying I’m getting divorced? No! That’s not how this works!”

You reached over, resting your hand on his, trying to hold back your own laughter. “Lando, babe, it’s just rumors. People are bored. They don’t know anything, and they’re making stuff up. Just ignore it.”

He looked at you like you’d just suggested the impossible.

“Ignore it? How am I supposed to ignore this? They’re making me look like the worst husband in the world! Divorce? I’ve been married for, like, what, five minutes? And now I’m already getting a bad rep? This is ridiculous!”

You snorted, finally giving in to the humor of the situation. “Okay, okay, so how are you planning to fix it? Go out there and shout from the rooftops?”

Lando sighed heavily, clearly still upset. “I don’t know! Maybe I should just do an entire press conference. ‘Hello, everyone, just in case there was any doubt, I’m not divorced! I’m happily married! And I’m going home to my gorgeous wife and our baby, who will totally not grow up to be a Formula 1 driver, I promise.’”

You couldn’t stop laughing now. “Babe, just post a picture of us and say ‘Still happily married’ that’ll do the trick.”

Lando groaned in frustration. “But why do I have to do that? Why can’t people just know? It’s like they’ve forgotten what happiness looks like. They’re just out here making up stories!”

You patted his leg, smiling fondly at him. “You’re cute when you get worked up, you know that?”

He shot you a look. “I’m serious! This is outrageous. I swear, if I see one more headline about our ‘divorce,’ I’m gonna lose it.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Calm down. It’s just noise. We know what’s real.”

Lando pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not a fan of this noise. It’s too much, and I just want to be left alone to focus on being an amazing husband and father. Is that too much to ask?”

You smiled, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “No, love. It’s not too much to ask. But maybe, just maybe, try to ignore the headlines for once?”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll try. But if they start talking about me again... I’m calling a press conference.”

—-

Lando had just finished a grueling race, his face flushed with exertion but still carrying that unmistakable grin.

He was on cloud nine, but he could already sense the usual flood of media around him. It was never just about the race with him, it was always about something else, something personal.

As he was making his way to the interview zone, one journalist, eager to get the scoop, stepped in front of him with a grin.

“Lando, congratulations on the win! How’s everything going with your wife? We’ve heard a lot of speculation recently, some rumors flying around about your relationship. Can you clear that up for us?”

Lando froze mid-step, his brow furrowing. The questions about his relationship with you had been relentless recently, but this, this was the last straw.

The media had taken their guesses and spun them into wild stories. He had kept quiet for as long as possible, but today, something inside him snapped.

“Rumors?” Lando repeated, voice low but filled with frustration.

He glanced over at his PR team, who were silently freaking out in the background, and then he turned back to the reporter, a small, sarcastic smirk pulling at his lips. “Yeah, here’s the thing.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. His hands were shaking from the adrenaline of the race, but his eyes were laser-focused on the reporter.

“Here’s the thing,” Lando said again, this time louder, looking directly into the camera, “I’m going to give a shout-out to my beautiful wife right now, and to hell with everyone else. To all the tabloids, the rumors, and the people making things up… fuck you. I love my wife. She’s amazing. We’re happy. Now, can we get back to the racing?”

Lando’s eyes burned with a mixture of frustration and determination as he stood there, refusing to back down.

The crowd of reporters and cameras around him seemed to freeze for a moment, unsure of how to react to his sudden outburst.

“Seriously,” he continued, his voice steadier now, but still tinged with that raw intensity, “I’ve kept quiet for as long as I can. I get it, you want the drama, you want the headlines.”

He glanced around at the sea of microphones pointed at him, his gaze intense. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the hum of distant chatter.

“But I’m here to race,” he added, his jaw clenched. “So, let me make it clear. My wife and I are doing great. I’m not hiding anything from anyone. The only thing I’m focused on is the fact that I just finished on a podium position, and that's what matters.”

For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe, his chest still rising and falling from the aftershocks of the race and the adrenaline of the moment.

The reporter, still holding the microphone, looked almost shocked by Lando’s outburst, but before they could get another word in, Lando raised his hand, cutting them off.

“I’ve had enough,” he said firmly. “So here’s the deal. To everyone who wants to keep spreading rumors or digging into our lives. Don’t. And to my wife, if you’re watching this, I love you. You’re incredible.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then, with a final glance at the camera, Lando broke into a grin.

“And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a celebration to get to. See you at the next race.”

With that, he turned, walking away from the reporters, leaving them dumbfounded and speechless. His PR team scrambled behind him, clearly trying to catch up and figure out how to spin this into something less... explosive, but Lando wasn’t having it.

He was done with the noise, done with the rumors. And if the media wanted a story, they could have that one because he wasn’t hiding his love for you, and he wasn’t going to let anyone tell a different story.

Back in the paddock, as he made his way toward the celebration, he pulled out his phone, sending you a quick text: “Hey, I may have just lost my cool on live TV but don’t worry, it was for you. Love you always 🧡”

As soon as the text sent, Lando couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

—-

When you saw the text pop up on your phone, you blinked at it for a moment, reading it over a few times to make sure you weren’t misinterpreting things.

You didn’t have a chance to misinterpret anything when you were bombarded by videos of Lando’s recent stunt by your friends and family.

You froze.

The sheer audacity of him, of his love for you, left you speechless for a moment.

Of course, Lando had always been passionate, always been the kind of person who wasn’t afraid to stand up for what mattered to him. But this?

This was a whole other level. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, a combination of shock and amusement.

You immediately hit the video call button, your heart racing.

When his face appeared on the screen, he was still beaming with that grin he wore after a good race, sweaty, glowing, and impossibly handsome.

But then, his eyes widened when he saw the expression on your face.

“What?” he asked, still out of breath from the race, his grin fading a little. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You couldn’t help yourself. “Lando Norris,” you began, trying to keep your voice steady, “did you just… tell everyone to fuck off on live TV?!”

His eyes grew comically wide, and he immediately slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning dramatically as if he was ashamed of his actions. “I swear I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh, you didn’t mean to?!” you interrupted, laughing uncontrollably, clutching your stomach from how hard you were giggling. “Lando, that was literally a full-on ‘fuck you’ to the media! And you said it was for me?!”

He flushed, sheepish but still trying to hide his growing smile. “Look, okay, I was just- uh- tired of the rumors, alright? And when they asked about you- about us- I just kind of... lost it. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to make sure they all knew how much I love you. How happy we are.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, still laughing, wiping a tear from your eye. “You’re really doing a great job of showing that. It was the most Lando Norris thing you could’ve done!”

Lando leaned back against the wall, clearly embarrassed but still that familiar, playful Lando you knew and loved. “I didn’t think it’d go that far,” he muttered, but then his grin returned. “But you know what? Fuck it. They can say what they want.”

You let out a breath, finally calming down, though you were still grinning. “You are such a dork,” you said, shaking your head with affection. “But I love you for it. Seriously. I never thought I’d be watching you on TV yelling at the media like that.”

He puffed out his chest, doing a little dramatic bow. “What can I say? I’m just a man in love.”

“I’m starting to think you’re also a man who has no filter,” you teased, leaning in closer to the screen. “But I can’t deny, it’s kind of… hot.”

Lando’s cheeks flushed at that, and he let out a chuckle. “Oh, now you’re really making me blush. I can’t believe I just did that...”

“You definitely made a statement,” you said, the smile still playing on your lips. “The whole world now knows you’re not just a great driver- you're a very passionate husband, apparently. Also, good luck with your PR team after that one.”

“Oh, they’re probably freaking out right now,” Lando said with a knowing grin. “But hey, at least I got to make things clear.”

You paused for a moment, letting his words settle. “You know what, Lando? I really appreciate it. I know the media can be overwhelming, and I’m glad you’re doing what you can to protect us, even if it means embarrassing yourself a little. But just... maybe next time? You could, I don’t know, use a little less profanity?”

“Right,” he said, nodding seriously. “Next time, I’ll scream it in sign language. Less dramatic, more subtle.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled with affection. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” he grinned. “But I’m your impossible.”

—-

When the end of the racing season finally rolled around, Lando could hardly contain his excitement.

The grueling months of races, travel, and endless media commitments were finally over, and he was about to have a few weeks of uninterrupted time with you and the baby.

The weight of the season had been heavy, and now that it was over, he felt like he could breathe again, and it felt amazing.

For weeks leading up to the last race, Lando had been counting down the days.

The moment he heard the announcement that the season was officially over, his excitement bubbled over. He was practically buzzing with anticipation, his usual calm and collected persona giving way to a wide, ear-to-ear grin.

It was as if the pressure of racing and all the responsibilities had just melted away, and he was ready to dive straight into a new kind of excitement, one that involved a lot more time at home with you.

You were sitting on the couch, relaxing after your own busy day, scrolling through your phone, when you heard the familiar sound of

Lando’s boots hitting the floor. He was almost running, and his footsteps were light and fast, as if he couldn’t wait to see you.

“Babe!” he shouted, throwing his bag down with abandon, his voice practically singing with happiness.

Without a second thought, he rushed over to where you were sitting, scooping you up into his arms like you weighed nothing at all. He spun you around once, a burst of laughter escaping his lips.

“I’m home, I’m home, I’m home!” he repeated, his grin so wide it almost seemed to stretch across his face.

You couldn’t help but laugh as his excitement flooded the room, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Well, I can tell you’re happy about the season being over," you teased, giving him a playful look as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’m more than happy,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I’m ecstatic. Finally, a break. No planes, no races, no media, just me, you, and... well, you know, our little one,” he added, glancing down at your belly with a soft smile.

“Sounds perfect,” you said, feeling the love in his words. “I think we both deserve a break.”

Lando nodded enthusiastically. “I can’t wait to just be home with you. I’ve missed so much of this year, and now I get to make up for it. I’ve got so many plans. We can do all the things we’ve been talking about, prepare the nursery, take walks together, have breakfast in bed, watch terrible movies... you know, all the usual relaxing stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his enthusiasm. “Breakfast in bed every day, huh? That’s a bold claim.”

“I’m up for the challenge,” he grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m making the most of this time. No more rushing around, no more stress. Just time with you, our little one, and whatever chaos we manage to create together.”

He flopped down onto the couch beside you, pulling you in closer. His hand found its way to your growing belly, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he gently placed his hand there. “I’m so ready for this next chapter, you know? I know the last few months have been crazy, but this... this is going to be perfect.”

—-

Lando stood in the middle of the nearly-finished nursery, hands on his hips, looking ridiculously proud of himself. The room was stunning.

Soft, neutral tones, sleek furniture that didn’t scream “baby” but still felt warm and inviting, and subtle touches of personality like a tiny McLaren-themed mobile hanging above the crib.

“You know,” he said, turning to you with a grin, “I think I’ve outdone myself. Custom everything. No IKEA in sight. You’re welcome.”

You raised an eyebrow from where you were sitting on the plush nursery chair he’d insisted be upholstered with "only the softest fabric money can buy."

“You do realize you’ve spent more on this room than most people spend on their entire house, right?”

He shot you a mock-offended look. “Excuse me for wanting the best for our baby. It’s called quality assurance.”

He scoffed, gesturing at the solid oak crib. “This bad boy? Handmade by some guy in Sweden who’s apparently a genius with wood. And the changing table? Designed by an actual ergonomist! No sore backs for us.”

You tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t help laughing. “Lando, it’s a baby. They’re not going to care if their crib is custom-made or from IKEA. They’ll drool on it all the same.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Excuse me! Our baby deserves the best! The absolute best. I’m not about to put our kid in some flimsy crib where one tantrum could bring it down.”

“Pretty sure you’re the only one throwing tantrums right now,” you teased.

He ignored you, walking over to the rocking chair and giving it an experimental sway. “This chair, by the way? Perfect for late-night story time. I tested at least twenty before I found the one.”

“You sat in twenty rocking chairs?”

“Of course,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What if I’d chosen one that squeaked or wasn’t comfy enough for cuddles? I’m thinking ahead, love.”

“Thinking ahead is spending three months’ salary on a nursery?”

“Investment,” he corrected, plopping down beside you with a satisfied sigh.

“And it’s not just the furniture. Look at the details. That mobile? Custom order. The wallpaper? Hand-painted by some artist in Italy. Even the shelves are organized by height so the books will be easier to grab when the baby’s older. I’m not messing around.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “It’s beautiful, Lando. Really. You’ve done an amazing job.”

“Of course I have,” he said smugly, leaning back. But after a moment, his expression softened. “I just… I want everything to be perfect, you know? For them. For you. I want this room to feel safe and special and like… like a little haven.”

Your heart melted as you reached out to take his hand. “It already does, babe. It’s perfect because you made it with love.”

“Also with a ridiculous amount of money,” he added, flashing you a cheeky grin.

You laughed. “That, too.”

Lando leaned down to kiss your forehead, his voice full of affection. “Anything for you two. Now, all that’s left is to teach the baby to say ‘McLaren’ before anything else.”

You laughed, pulling back to give him a playful shove. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Fine,” he said with a wink. “Second word, then.”

—-

When the day finally came, Lando was fresh off a meeting with his team, when your water broke in the middle of your living room.

“Now?” he yelped, nearly dropping the cup of tea he’d just handed you. His wide, panicked eyes darted between you and the puddle forming at your feet. “It’s happening now?”

“Yes, Lando, now!” you snapped, clutching your belly as another contraction hit.

He spun in circles for a moment, muttering to himself, “Keys, keys, where did I- oh, my God, this is happening.”

“Lando!” you barked, cutting through his panic.

“Yes, yes! Okay! Keys! Bag! You!” He grabbed the hospital bag you’d packed weeks ago, slung it over one shoulder, then hesitated. “Wait, do you need me to carry you? Should I-”

“Just get me to the car!”

In record time, he managed to get you into the passenger seat, though not without fumbling with your seatbelt for what felt like an eternity.

“I race cars for a living,” he muttered to himself, hands trembling as he buckled you in. “Why is this harder than a pit stop?”

“Because a pit stop doesn’t scream at you every five minutes,” you shot back, gripping the door handle as another contraction rippled through your body.

---

At the hospital, Lando was a walking ball of nerves. He practically burst into the maternity ward, announcing to the nurses, “My wife’s having a baby! Right now! Like, right now!”

One of the nurses calmly guided you to a room, giving Lando a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “First-time dad?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Is it that obvious?” he mumbled, following behind like a lost puppy.

Inside the delivery room, Lando couldn’t sit still. He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. “Are they supposed to take this long? Shouldn’t someone check on her again? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Lando,” you groaned through clenched teeth. “But if you don’t stop pacing, I might strangle you before this baby gets here.”

He froze mid-step, holding his hands up in surrender. “Right. No pacing. Got it. I’ll just... stand here.”

Once he could actually think past his panic, Lando immediately whipped out his phone, his fingers fumbling over the screen as he dialed his parents. The phone barely rang once before his mom answered.

“Lando? Everything okay?” her voice was calm but laced with concern, likely from the sheer urgency of his call.

“Mum! She’s in labor!” Lando practically shouted into the phone, his words tumbling out at record speed. “Like, actual labor. Right now. We’re at the hospital. It’s happening!”

“Oh, Lando, that’s wonderful!” his mom exclaimed, her tone immediately switching to excitement. “How is she? How are you?”

“She’s... well, she’s in labor!” Lando replied, running a hand through his already tousled curls. “I think she’s fine, but I don’t know! She might be mad at me for pacing too much. I stopped though. Well, sort of. Anyway, can you and Dad get here? Like, now?”

“We’re on our way, love,” she reassured him with a laugh.

By the time his parents arrived, just minutes later, Lando’s initial excitement had given way to full-blown panic. He was sitting in the corner of the room, staring at his hands, muttering under his breath.

“Do you think the baby will like me? What if they don’t like me? What if I’m a terrible dad? Oh my God, I forgot to pack snacks! What kind of dad forgets snacks?”

His parents stepped into the room, his mom taking one look at him and immediately placing a hand on his shoulder. “Lando, breathe,” she said gently, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

He jumped up at their arrival, waving his hands around. “I can’t breathe, Mum! Do you know how much responsibility this is? I’m going to be someone’s dad! What if I drop the baby? What if I don’t hold them right? Or they cry every time they see me? I-”

His dad cut him off with a firm but comforting hand on his back. “You’re going to be fine, son. You’ve got this.”

Lando looked over at you, lying on the hospital bed, still managing to roll your eyes at his dramatics despite the situation. “Does she think I’ve got this?” he asked, gesturing to you.

You groaned, partly from the contraction and partly from his antics. “Lando, if you don’t stop spiraling, I’ll personally make sure you get kicked out of this delivery room.”

His mom laughed, stepping closer to you. “She’s got it under control, doesn’t she?”

“She always does,” Lando muttered, his wide eyes darting between you and the monitors. “But what if I’m not ready, Mum?” he whispered, leaning closer to his mother as if it were a secret.

His mom reached up, brushing a curl from his forehead. “You’ll be ready when you see your baby for the first time, Lando. Trust me. You’ve already proven you’ll do whatever it takes to be a great dad. Now stop worrying and be there for your wife.”

Lando nodded, taking a deep breath and straightening up. Then he turned to you with newfound determination. “Okay. What do you need, love? Water? Ice chips? A—”

“A calm husband,” you interrupted, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Right,” he said, nodding rapidly. “Calm husband. Got it.”

And for the next two minutes, he actually managed to stay calm. Until the nurse walked in and said, “Alright, it’s time to push.”

Then all bets were off.

---

When your son (your son!) finally arrived after hours of labor, the world seemed to pause. Lando stood frozen as one of the nurses handed him the tiny, swaddled baby. His hands shook as he cradled Leo against his chest, staring down at him in awe.

His aquamarine eyes were wide as he stared down at the newborn. “Wow,” he whispered, his voice shaky. “He’s... so small. Like, really small. Are we sure he’s okay?”

“Lando, he’s a baby,” you said, exasperated but smiling, the exhaustion hitting you in waves. “They’re supposed to be small.”

“Yeah, but this small?” he asked, carefully holding Leo as if he were made of glass. He glanced at the nurse for reassurance. “Is this normal? What if I break him?”

The nurse chuckled. “You won’t, Mr. Norris. Just make sure to support his head, and you’ll be fine.”

“Support his head,” Lando repeated, adjusting his grip like he was handling the most fragile trophy in the world. Then he looked down at your son again, a mixture of awe and terror on his face. “Hey, little guy,” he murmured. “It’s, uh... it’s me. Your dad. I’m new at this, so, uh, go easy on me, yeah?”

You laughed softly, despite the ache in your body. “He’s not going to grade you, Lando.”

“Good, because I’m already giving myself a D+,” he muttered, carefully sitting beside you on the hospital bed.

Lando looked up at you, his eyes glassy. “You did so good,” he said softly. “So, so good. Thank you for... for him.”

As the tiny bundle in his arm let out a tiny whimper, Lando instinctively rocked him, whispering, “Shh, mate, it’s okay. Daddy’s got you.”

“You’re a natural,” the nurse commented, smiling as she adjusted your blankets.

“Really?” Lando glanced up, his grin sheepish but full of pride. “Because I feel like I’m one wrong move away from dropping him.”

“You won’t,” you reassured him, reaching out to touch his arm. “You’re already amazing.”

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re the amazing one. I mean, you just made a person. How insane is that?”

As he sat beside you, still holding him as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

You rested your head against his shoulder, watching as he studied every tiny feature of Leo’s face. “He’s got my eyes,” he murmured, awed.

“And your gap-toothed smile too, probably,” you teased.

He chuckled, brushing a fingertip gently over Leo’s tiny hand. “That’s not a bad thing. He’ll be unstoppable. Just wait until he sees his first go-kart.”

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leqonsluv3r · 8 months ago

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husband!leon kennedy

—re!4 husband leon x pregnant!wife!reader, a headcanon list

based on this one-shot request

masterlist taglist

an: decided to give you guys this hc list since you guys liked the oneshot so much, giving you guys a little peek of what happens after the oneshot. i’m finally moved and currently unpacking at my new place, i’ll be working on requests and opening them back up soon. hope you guys enjoy, pls reblog and like if you do <3

husband!leon who buys you all the food your body deserves. anything for his wife and his growing baby inside of you.

husband!leon who helps you plan and decorate the nursery for your child. he’s just happy he gets to be a dad, especially with you involved.

husband!leon who drives you to all of your doctors appointments, always having tears pool in his eyes whenever he sees your guys growing child on the ultrasound.

husband!leon who always lets you pick whatever you want for dinner, even if it’s not something he wants. as long as your happy and you get what you want.

husband!leon who massages your swollen feet after you complain how much they hurt. rubbing your calves and legs just to make sure your comfy. he wants what’s best for you.

husband!leon who rubs your belly when you both are laying in bed together, pressing kisses to it and talking to the unborn baby. he knows the baby can’t fully hear him yet but he’s too excited.

husband!leon who helps you pick out stuff for the baby to wear after you find out the gender. cute little onesies and footies, stuffed animals and whatever else your heart desires. only the best for his wife and his baby.

husband!leon who hangs up all the ultrasounds up on the fridge like a kid displaying artwork, he likes watching his baby grow. he’s still having a hard time believing he’s a father even if the evidence is right in front of him.

husband!leon who will go down on you because you can’t even touch yourself, making you moan and whimper. he knows the hormones make you more susceptible and more horny, he doesn’t mind one bit. knowing he’s the one that gets to ravish you when you’ve been pent up.

husband!leon who loves the fact that he can still fuck you like your not carrying his kid, practically crying on his cock as he pounds into you, rubbing your swollen tits and pressing kisses all over your body, caressing your belly. he knows you love it, giving each other what you want.

husband!leon who is the king of aftercare, especially when your pregnant. he helps you take a bath afterwards. giving you bubbles and even going so far as to getting in with you and massaging your back.

husband!leon who watches you struggle with the simple tasks you used to do before you were pregnant. if you need something from a shelf because it hurts for you to reach, he grabs it for you. if you can’t stop crying over the most simplest things, he hands you some tissues and holds your hand. he’s supporting you the whole way through this because you need it.

husband!leon who lets you lay on the couch on days your not feeling the best, letting you watch whatever your heart desires. even if it’s something he can’t even stand like the bachelorette or some bad reality tv show.

husband!leon who watches you open presents for the baby shower. your happy, opening little onesies and gifts from your guys friends and family. watching your mom cry happy tears when you open her gift; your stuffed bear from when you were a baby.

husband!leon who watches you hug your mom, stuffed bear still in your hand and tears pouring out of your eyes. he knows that you have been dealing with a lot going through this pregnancy and he’s just happy that your getting some joy out of it.

husband!leon who lets you have whatever weird craving your wanting. even if it’s pickles and frosting or peanut butter and graham crackers. he lets you have whatever you want, within reason, letting you have the cravings that make you and the baby happy.

husband!leon who when your doing the dishes, your water breaks. he doesn’t think first, he acts. he gets the bag that he’d packed and grabs you. he’s nervous but he’s doing his best to push his own nerves aside and get you and the baby to the hospital.

husband!leon who practically speeds down the interstate to get you to the hospital on time. weaving through a couple cars and speeding, all the while your hand is squeezing his in death grip as he just tells you to breathe through the contractions.

husband!leon who gets you to the hospital in one piece, your hand almost breaking his where he holds it. letting the nurse guide you into the delivery room to get you prepped for labor. your eyes are wide with pain and nerves, leon just keeps standing next to you, holding onto your hand and pressing kisses to your head the entire time.

husband!leon who watches as you push, push, and push over and over again. your doing so great and he’s so proud of you, being able to bring a life into this world, he’s never seen anything like it. he just rubs your back, the doctor kneeling in between your legs and helping the baby come out.

husband!leon who watches as the doctor tells you the babies almost here, your exhausted frame trying to push the baby out the rest of the way. he mumbles praises into your hair and ear, telling you that you can do it. you can push the baby out, you can get through this.

husband!leon who watches you do the final two pushes, the doctor helping the baby come out. leon hears the small cries before seeing the small baby being cradled in the doctors hands, his eyes watering at the sight. he looks over at you and sees how exhausted but happy you are, your eyes watering just like his.

husband!leon who watches as the nurse cleans and swaddles your guys baby, bringing it over to you. your eyes crying big tears. the baby looks just like the both of you combined, having your eyes and his cheeks. he sits gently next to you on the bed, rubbing your head. he admires you and your guys baby, how beautiful it is. how you did it, despite you thinking you couldn’t, he knew you could.

husband!leon who gets to hold the baby for the first time while you rest, talking to the baby in soft whispers, the babies only soft coos in response. “i’m your daddy, yeah…yeah, i’m your daddy…” he murmurs and watches as the baby wraps the tiny hand around his finger. “so cute…so cute…” he smiles as tears leak down his face.

husband!leon who days after you’ve healed from having the baby, you all three get to go home. leon goes from room to room with the baby, showing it its nursery and giving it a tour, even if his child isn’t going to remember this. he does it all the same.

husband!leon who changes his first diaper in the days following, who does it with pride. knowing that all his practice of learning the past nine months are going to use. he lets you rest and sleep whenever you have time in between feeding and bonding with the baby.

husband!leon who loves that he’s a husband and a father, he gets to watch his child grow. he gets to have that luxury and it wasn’t something he always thought was possible. and with you, it’s more achievable and he loves you even more for that if it’s even possible.

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namjooningera · 7 months ago

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Yandere JJK react to you getting your period

Characters: gojo, geto, Nanami, Toji

Your being held captive in their home, their love, but then you get your period. Unprepared.

Tw: basically all fluff, just period stuff. Slight Stockholm syndrome.

Nanami:

Nanami was a sweet man, really.

He just had his faults, like any person. He watched you for so long, then watched the hairs on his head start to grey. He couldn’t tell if that was from old age itself or gojos constant pestering that turned him old. And then there was you.

He really tried to hard to hold back, like any sane person. But he couldn’t. Watching himself get old, watching himself repeatedly be put in a friend zone. He couldn’t do it anymore, he wanted to have that domestic life, before he was too old to have one. And he wanted to have it with you.

So he snatched you.

Now, you lie in bed awake. You look over, and Nanami is sound asleep. Of course. At first, he let you sleep alone, for a few days that is. But he got impatient. He wouldn’t touch you though, he wouldn’t wanna stress you out or scare you. He knew that you just needed time to relax and then you’ll realize that this is all for your own good. He planned out everything for you. Buying you a closet full of clothes and shoes and expensive handbags all from your wishlist you could never afford. A fridge and freezer full of healthy foods for a special but yummy diet he prepared for you. The shampoos and body washes you use at home, here too. The house you both lived in now, like a replica of your dream home, with all your dream material inside. Except for Nanami. You didn’t want it from him.

And all those things, he focused on big picture things and occasionally the small details that go with.

But of course he forgot to buy you period products. Of course it went by his mind once at least, but he got so excited over spoiling you with other things that it went over his head.

So again, you sit on the bed, with a damp red spot under you, seeping from your shorts onto the bed. You quickly got up and ran to the bathroom when you realized your little accident.

And of course you accidentally slammed the door on your way inside. That startled Nanami. He tried to go back to sleep, but your absence in presence overwhelmed him.

He waited at first, but a few minutes went by, and he got worried. He slowly got up, walking over the door and softly knocking on it to not startle you.

“Honey? You okay in there?” He whispered gently, gruffy voice from just waking up.

You on the other hand, we’re stuffing napkins in your underwear, trying to make a makeshift pad. You didn’t wanna tell him you got your period. You didn’t wanna give him the satisfaction of taking care of you, going out of his way to get you hygiene products just so he can act like some loving husband who’s been doing this forever. Plus it was embarrassing. The blood stain on your pants, the cramps that slowly trailed to your stomach.

“F-fine!” You answered.

Obviously he didn’t believe that.

“You need any help in there? Should I come in?”

You grinded your teeth while adjusting your pajama pants. “Really Nanami I’m fine, will be out in a second..”

You talked to him like it was normal, like you weren’t being held captive in your-his home. The home he made you.

“…. Alright sweetheart. I’ll be waiting.”

Fuck. Of course he will be. You quickly wash your hands and step out, however the pain coursing in your stomach made you almost trip on yourself.

“Careful!” Nanami grabs you by your waist, hoisting you up from when you almost fell. God, it almost felt good. His insanely big and warm hands around your belly, warming up your sore belly.

Nanami holds your hand softly, trying not to scare you away, leading you to the bed.

That’s when you realize you never cleaned the stain off the bed. And that’s also when Nanami sees it, the red stain on the bed, on your side, the moon light from the window illuminating it.

“I umm-“ “are you hurt? What is that?”

He interrupted you, turning you around swiftly with one hand, looking at your bottom. Of course blush spread to your cheeks, seeing where he was glancing at.

“H-hey! Stop that!”

He sighed.

“Oh I’m so sorry honey. I forgot to buy you the products..”

You stayed silent, moving away from him and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, kind of a dick move.”

He looked actually hurt by that.

“I am so sorry ___. I never meant to neglect you”

Ok, why were you feeling bad all of a sudden? That puppy dog look in his eyes? The genuine apology? The way he was too scared to step closer to you because he was so upset with himself. God you actually were feeling kind of funny looking at the sight, it was a genuine care in his eyes.

“I’ll make it up to you honey, how about I go pick up some right now? Actually- I’m unsure on what products you like to use, my dear. Why don’t we go together tomorrow morning and pick up some products hm? And perhaps some snacks and warmers for your belly?”

You just stared at him.

He… was going to let you go out? With him? A grocery shopping trip? You didn’t wanna act super happy to not change his mind so you just shrugged.

“Umm yeah I guess so. We can do that.” You say nervously.

He smiles at you, a genuine smile.

Perhaps the domestic life was closer for him then expected

Gojo-

Your cooking lunch for yourself, lunch while gojo satoru blabs and yaps bout his day. His day with his students. It’s actually quite sweet you think. You can tell he genuinely cares for his students, and loves to teach. It’s nice.

But it would’ve been nicer in a different situation. A situation where your not constantly being watched, stuck in his home as his captive, his y/n. His domestic partner, his ___friend, his lover, partner. And he acts like it’s all ok, and honestly, you do to. You realized it was easier to go with it all. Fighting at first made everything so bad. It put him in a bad mood, which put you in a bad mood, which made the whole home uneasy.

When you acted like his partner, his domestic lover, he was so much nicer and less unbearable. Sure he’d yap your ears off, but he’d reward you with all kinds of things. Before you were never allowed to touch the stove, or even go near the kitchen. You constantly had to ask for food or snacks, even water. And he loved it. He loved that power, being able to ask you to say things for him to give you your water.

“What’s the magic phrase?”

“Gojo, please. I’m thirsty.”

“Magic phrase.” He said more serious.

“…I love you”

And then he’d giddily give you your water while kissing your cheeks and declaring his undying love for you, too.

But now, you could roam the kitchen, make your own meals (you found out as well, making him breakfast in the morning also gives you free rein over the home, it makes him so incredibly happy.) you cooked yourself some comfort food while he talked on the kitchen island, laughing about some conflict two students had.

But then you felt something warm soil your panties. Something that felt so awfully familiar that you grimaced. And yes, gojo noticed that grimace immediately, pausing in the middle of his sentence to ask

“-huh? Hey what was that? My story annoy you or something?” He raised an eyebrow.

“…No no, I just felt weird all of a sudden.”

“Huh?” He got up immediately. “Do you feel sick? Nauseas? Headache? Is your throat closing up? Sweetie?” He asked so many questions you almost got a damn headache.

“It’s fine just.. I think.. cramps.” You look down at your stomach, holding it.

He looks down at your stomach. And then I’d slowly dawns over him.

“Ohhh.” He says. “Oh.”

You both stare at each other for a few seconds before he smacks himself.

“Eh? Gojo?” You exclaim.

“Dammit! I forgot to buy those damn tampons. I was in the store- heading to that isle but then this free sample lady wooed me!” He said so very dramatically, acting as if was wounded, falling to his knees.

“Would you forgive me my dear?” He sighed, hand over his forehead, back arching on his knees, acting dramatically.

“Umm it’s fine. Can you just go buy them?”

He immediately got up and hugged you. “Oh my most forgiving loving partner oh my dear!” He held you tight, making you grimace with disgust. Get off me idiot, is what yo wanted to say. But you bit your tongue.

“You know, I could always use my fingers to plug it up so no blood seeps out-“

“Gojo!”

Geto-

Your sitting in his lap. Geto suguru says it’s your throne. Oh god ew. But, it puts him in a good mood. A good enough mood where you’re allowed to watch tv for an hour… well while sitting in his lap.

He hums and smiles while your back faces him, he snuggled his chest into your back while you try and ignore him, and just watch your favorite tv show. You try to imagine it’s someone else, anyone, but his smell, his arms, his presence alone reminds you it’s him.

Your old best friend.

Now boyfriend. Well, you didn’t choose that title for him. He gladly stole it. He stole you, happily. You knew there was something going on with him, something much deeper then a “bad mood” he was in constantly.

Satoru gojo told you not to worry about it. You asked geto about it, why he was being so closed off, why he seemed so… disoriented. Maybe you ended up becoming that hope that helped him feel better.

You remember when he smiled at you, thanked you for asking, that you were the only person willing to put up with his shit mood these past few months.

You stayed with him, basically nursed him. Made sure he eat and slept well.

And god did he want to reward you for that.

But then he realized he didn’t always have your time. Your attention wasn’t always on him. You had missions, family, friends, you had a life.

And his life, was you.

He watched you, with others. Spreading that same smile, same love, same nursing affection to others. And he realized, he wasn’t special. Sure he was your best friend, but you’d do the same to satoru even he felt unwell, too.

So he snapped.

And now, your captive, in his home, for what felt like weeks but probably not that long. Sitting his lap, chewing on a piece of fruit.

“What were you thinking about for dinner, love?”

He asks, that sinister smile he gives you oh so reminds you that he kidnapped you, that you’re a victim of Geto, and that this isn’t one of your hangouts as friends.

“Uhh I don’t care. Not really… fuck I’m craving chocolate.”

“Chocolate?” He grabs your arm slightly so that he can menouver u to your side, in order to see your face.

You hum, looking up at him- well avoiding eye contact.

“Yes- I guess I can drop by the store and bring you some chocolate my dear- but for a price.” He points to his cheek.

Ah, of course. You can never get anything unless you give him something to be satisfied about. You lean in to kiss his cheek, but something stops you.

A pain that crawls up your spine and down to your uterus, “S-suguru”

His eyes widens as you wince and crumble over, and he immediately puts his large warm hand over your lower tummy, trying to catch the pain.

“Sweetheart? Y/n? What’s wrong?” He frowned, smile dropping as you didn’t answer him.

But he answers himself, basically. When his hands go lower to try and find the source of your pain, accidentally swiping against your crotch, a it dampens his fingers.

Blood.

Of course at first, his mind immediately feels out, his eyes wide in alarm and his body almost trembling. You feel that immediately and look up at him.

“N-no sugu… it’s just my period..”

And a huge sigh of relief leaves his mouth, as he grabs a tissue to wipe his fingers and his other hand warms your tummy.

“Alright love. Why don’t you go clean yourself up and I’ll go to the store for some heat warmers and chocolate?”

You now, getting up, but then realize you don’t know where the period products are.

“Umm… where.. are they?”

He stared at you, the wires in his head starting to connect, and he realizes he never bought any in the first place.

“Oh dear..” he grumbles, “how inconsiderate and irresponsible am I…”

You sigh realizing the man hadn’t bought any.

“I’m sorry my y/n. Don’t worry, I’ll get you all the most luxury items, I..”

“Suguru it’s fine.”

But he still frowns, and he seems almost.. guilty. And that’s the first time you’ve ever seen this man guilty (in your entire time being held captive by him, at least.)

He stands there, unable to look at you or even move. It’s been so long since you’ve been outside.

And you want to breathe that fresh air so badly. You decide there’s no reason that you can’t live a little. You slowly step to him, this insane man that somehow has a heart, and get on your tippy toes, pecking his cheek.

You grimace, but come down immediately, looking up at him. Now his eyes are wide but happy as he looks down at you.

“I didn’t deserve that.”

You hum though. “Maybe.. just maybe suguru.. I can go clean myself and we could.. go together? I can show you all the products I like to buy..”

He hums and smiles down at you, ruffling your hair. “Ah your too cute. Never in hell, my love.”

…..

But after a lot of pouting and calling him “mean” and then trying to different approach, to flatter him, finally he agrees, as long as you wear some creepy ankle monitor (that unbeknownst to you, will shock you if you get too far from him), and a very gorgeous necklace, that’s obviously, a tracker.

You prounce around happily in the grocery store, showing him the products you like, and a reward for trying so hard, which he thinks you tried hard because you wanted to go on a date to the store with him (not that you wanted to go out in general). He buys you sweets, and snacks and heat warmers, all the things you point at.

He smiled at you as you giggle and jump around, the light finally coming back to your eyes. He pushes the cart as you head into another isle, pointing at the things you want, that he promptly tells you to throw in the cart.

And to everyone else, it just looks like some cute domestic couple, shopping for groceries.

But you know. And he knows.

And the diamond necklace you wear gleams with something other than just light from the shining crystal, but a tracker.

And the slight shock you get everytime you stepped to far from him, reminded you.

But that smile he gives you, it’s so familiar. It’s weirdly sweet. Like from before. Before his corruption.

And perhaps maybe, you do see a chance with him.

Toji-

He did this to keep you safe, you know that right? With all those he assassined, all those dangerous people he met, he knew he had to keep you safe.

And what better way to keep you safe than in its home? Surrounded by cameras? And alarms? And him to keep you company? It’s perfect right?

He isn’t home too often, sometimes you wake up and he’s gone. Not that you miss him of course. His creepy smile and weird chuckle when you fight back, scream and argue with him. The way he ruffles your hair roughly every time he’s about to leave, like your his child, the way he teases you that way. It’s annoying, and he bids you goodbye that way. He loves you, can’t you see? But he doesn’t really say it much. He thinks that his actions speaks enough words.

“I’m leaving. Mission.” He says while you just shrug, sitting on the sofa as you watch some random movie you used to watch in your childhood.

He wants an answer from you, a real one. A goodbye, or for you to come kiss him his goodbye.

He waits there at the door patiently, staring at you. You know what he wants but you roll your eyes slightly not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Doll.”

Oh, you know that tone. If you don’t get up he’ll make you. You get up slowly and grumble, your shoulders low and body dragging over to him.

“Bye.”

“That’s it?” He says disappointedly.

You sigh, wiggling your finger to him so that he may lean down to you. You kiss the space between his nose and lips so that you don’t have to kiss his lips, you didn’t want to. And luckily he let that go.

“Bye doll, I’ll be back in a few hours..” He ruffles your hair harshly, supposedly in a way that’s supposed to be loving.

He leaves, and you sit back on the couch, continuing the movie. But then you decide to make some popcorn, to go well with your movie. You get up and make the popcorn, microwaving it and finally, when it’s cooked, you empty it out in a popcorn bowl.

You go to sit down but notice a very familiar stain on the couch. A fresh stain. You sigh as you quickly grab some tissues from the coffee table to rub off the stain, then run to the restroom, to find some pads or tampons or anything really. You grab a spare underwear on your way there, but as you open the drawers, the cabinets, everywhere, there’s no sign of period products.

You sigh on the bathroom floor, finished. Then you remember the emergency button he has downstairs. It’s part of the security system for the entire home, however this is the only part you have access to. You run downstairs to it, a small screen on the side of the front door. You press the “emergency button” which dials Toji immediately.

He answers insanely quick, fear and pain in his voice as he answers.

“Honey? Doll? What’s wrong? Are you ok? Are you hurt-“

You cut him off. “I.. umm I’m fine? It’s not an emergency.. I just.. I need period products. Maybe some pads? I couldn’t find any..”

He’s silent on the other end, quiet. Then he chuckled nervously. “Oh doll, I’m so sorry I forgot.” He doesn’t really sound sorry, he sounds smug, but a hint of genuine empathy comes to you from it.

“I’ll bring you some, anything else you need from the store doll? I’ll be there in a second.”

You squint your eyes confused. “I thought you were busy? With your mission?”

He grumbles slightly. “Don’t worry ‘bout it doll. I’ll be home right now.”

He comes home with everything you need, so soon you think he must have been sprinting through the isles, throwing his cart everywhere. You laugh at the image in your head.

He brings you gifts to make up for it. Extra panties, fancy chocolate mousses, chocolate covered strawberries, heating pads and obviously the period products. And obviously, all of them. Tampons, pads, period cups, you know everything.

“Sorry ‘gain, doll.” He smiles down at you, no not smile, a smug smirk. He wants another again.

But as you look down at the material items, you look at him, and you think about how he’s the only person who ever really… no, you can’t think that way. You shouldn’t. Not about your captor at least.

But fuck, he’s cute. He’s tall, muscly, his voice…dammit. And he actually cares. You think this assassin, this killer, this insane man, actually cares about you. He actually loves you.

A special kind of love, that only you will ever get. He doesn’t share this love he has for you, with anyone else. It’s only yours, forever.

And fuck, maybe you’ve been neglected from that kind of love, all your life.

Your mouth starts to twitch, the corners slightly winding up into a soft smile as you look at a the gifts, up to him. You softly smile, and his smile goes from a smug smirk to a real soft loving smile, as he looks down at you.

He’s bad, you think.

He’s a bad dangerous man.

But he’s cute. But he cares. And his hand goes to your arm, softly caressing it in such a loving way, that you think that the butterflies in your stomach are no longer that disgust feeling of wanting him off you, but something else.

Something, that makes a pink hue cover your little cheeks. And makes your mouth twitch upwards just a little more as his thumb moves gently on your arm, his hand tightly holding yours in place.

Something that makes you think, that perhaps this isn’t, too bad.

Requests are open! This is my first yandere post, so it might be a little rough.

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violetrainbow412-blog · 3 months ago

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Day 3: favorite scent

Masterlist flufftober ��

Reblog if you liked it!

When you entered the conference room, the first thing you noticed was the strong scent filling the place. It was men's cologne, and as soon as it hit your nose, it completely overwhelmed you. But it wasn't an unpleasant dizziness; on the contrary, the woody artificial scent drove you wild. You loved autumn simply because of that.

“Sorry for the delay,” you apologized to the team, dropping into the last available seat. Next to Spencer.

You quickly grabbed the file that was on the table in your spot and took a glance at your colleague, who gave you a shy smile. You were a bit lost with the specific part your colleagues were reviewing, and he, noticing your confusion, leaned in to help you. That’s when the scent you had noticed earlier intensified, and when you turned to him, you realized it was coming from his body.

You registered your colleague’s light-colored shirt with a neatly tied black tie around his neck. His golden hair slightly brushed his cheek as he helped you, and suddenly you felt nervous, without really understanding why.

Reid found the file you were working on and then placed the folder in your hands. You whispered a small thank you, and he gave you a nonchalant expression, trying to tell you it was no trouble at all.

You had a rule you always tried to stick to, and that was not dating colleagues at work. Simply because it always complicated things. Morgan flirted with you all the time, but that was something he did indiscriminately, so you never took it too personally. As for the rest of the team members, they knew how to keep things professional, plus they were old enough to be your dad. However, that day you wondered if it would be worth ignoring that rule for someone like Spencer.

He was a broken guy, no doubt, and somewhat different from the others. But he was also sweet, polite, so intelligent, and humble that sometimes you found it hard to believe that so many good qualities could fit into one person. And the guy wasn’t bad-looking, to be honest. Although he wasn’t really your type, since you’d always dated more muscular men with a different lifestyle, exceptions could always exist.

And honestly, maybe his scent had something to do with your sudden fascination with him, because every now and then you sneaked glances at him as if you wanted to admire him with other intentions, not just as your colleague.

“Are you okay?” he asked once JJ finished presenting the case. That swollen belly from pregnancy was already starting to show, and you wondered when she would take her maternity leave.

“Yes, why do you ask?” you exclaimed absentmindedly.

“Oh, it’s just that you were late. You’re never late. And besides, you were looking at me a lot during the meeting, so I thought maybe you were worried about something and wanted to tell you that if you need to talk, you can tell me.”

Oh, sweet, sweet boy.

“I’m perfectly fine, Reid,” you laughed. Everyone had already left the conference room. “It’s just that I was so tired last night that I forgot to set my alarm, and then I overslept. But it’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“Maybe you should buy an alarm clock. Did you know the first alarm clock was invented by watchmaker Levi Hutchins in 1787? But it was for personal use only because he made it to wake himself up at 4 a.m. to go to work.”

“I didn’t know that. I’ll probably take your advice and get one,” you smiled at him, already used to hearing him have facts about practically every subject.

“Well, you know that if something’s bothering you… you can tell me whenever you want, okay?”

The sweetness and kindness of this man touched you, and you stretched out to hug him, hoping it didn’t cross the line of trust, as it was well-known that the doctor wasn’t too fond of physical contact. However, he gladly received you in his arms, making sure to hold you as close as possible.

“I know. You’re a good friend, Reid,” you thanked him softly. Once you broke the hug, you didn’t completely pull away, taking a moment to lean toward his clothes and inhale deeply. “Is your cologne new?”

“Uh, yeah. A gift from Morgan. But I think it’s too strong. I don’t know if I should keep using it…”

“I completely love the smell of wood,” you blurted out. “And it suits you very well. It matches you.”

Upon receiving that compliment, the boy blushed just a little, and still with his hands on your waist, he tried to suppress a smile.

“Well, in that case… if you like it, I’ll keep wearing it.”

“No! I didn’t mean that, it was just an observation. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

“My concern was bothering people with the scent. But now I see that’s not the case.”

A giggle escaped your lips, and then you pulled away, thinking that if you stayed in that position any longer, it could be considered inappropriate contact.

“I’ve always believed that a handsome man should wear good cologne. We women love that.”

The words left your mouth before your mind could reflect on them, and although you were embarrassed, you weren’t going to take them back. Spencer didn’t know which was worse: the fact that you had just implied he was handsome or that you were suggesting you were charmed by it.

“I’ll keep that in mind from now on,” he murmured playfully, almost bordering on a flirtatious tone.

The two of you walked out the door, chatting about a few other things so you could fully focus on analyzing the case once you got on the jet. During that time, he was thinking about two things he definitely didn’t want to forget: thanking Morgan and making sure to put on cologne every morning without fail.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2024 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

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carmenberzattosgf · 7 months ago

Note

the muscles…. let me pronebone with carmen PLEASE PLEASE JUST ONCE!! -💫

Well I didn’t know that position had a name but yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes

He has you flat on your stomach with a small pillow underneath your hips. This position makes his cock hit so deep inside of you, like feeling him in your guts kind of deep.

Carmen is already fighting for his life the second he presses into you. “Fuck, baby—so fucking tight—holy shit.” Maybe it’s confidence from not having eye contact, but Carmy literally cannot shut up when he starts thrusting into you at a rough pace. “Shit—you can’t keep squeezing me like that or I’ll cum.”

“Please, Carm,” you whine. Your head turns to look over your shoulder at Carmy. Fuck, he looks so gorgeous like this. He’s got both of his hands digging into the meat of your hips. Carmy’s biceps bulge from the way he’s gripping your skin. His teeth bite at his lower lip as his eyes watch the spot where the two of you connect, before darting over to meet your eyes.

“Yeah? Want me to stay inside and pump you full? Is that why you’re squeezing me like a fucking vice?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Please fill me up—want you to.”

Carmy drops down on top of you. His elbows hold his body weight up as his pace switches to slowed, deep thrusts. He wants you to feel how far he’s buried inside of you.

“Taking it so well—shit. S’like you’re made for me,” Carmy groans. His lips begin to kiss your neck and shoulders in an attempt to quiet his moans.

“ ‘m all yours, Carm. Feels s’good—so fucking deep—” Your speech is barely coherent. The pleasure is too mind consuming for you to care.

Carmy shifts his arms once again. This time his bicep wraps around your throat, lifting your head up. His other arm wraps around your lower stomach. Carmy’s palm firmly presses right above your mound, making you cry out from the sensation. Within moments, his hips pick up the pace again.

Needing something to brace yourself, one of your hands grasps his forearm. “I’ve got ya. Such a good girl for me. My good girl,” Carmy praises. Slowly, he begins to tighten his bicep around your throat. Your voice whimpers loudly at the pressure, unable to form words. You and Carmen had discussed play like this heavily before. Three taps on his arm and he would let go immediately. Since your palm stays firmly planted on his forearm, Carmy continues to squeeze your throat. Sloppily, he kisses at your cheeks, forehead, and practically any other parts of you he can get his mouth on.

The bicep wrapped around your neck brings stars to your vision. His thrusts have only gotten more powerful. Vaguely, you can hear the sound of the headboard banging into the wall. In an instant, the fire-feeling in your belly explodes. Euphoria flows through your veins as you reach your peak. “Carmy, Carmy, Carmy,” You repeat with a choked desperate voice. You say his name over and over again like it’s the only word you know.

Carmy’s not far behind. “Shit—that’s it. Going to fill you up—“ he pants into your ear. With a few more deep thrusts he’s spilling inside of you, whimpering into the skin of your neck.

Carmy has to go to the hardware store to buy a wall patching kit for the dents the headboard left in the wall of his apartment. He then orders some headboard stoppers from Amazon the very next day.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy bear #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy smut #brain rot

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jarofstyles · 8 months ago

Note

Can you write something about love bites pretty pleaseeeeee like Harry’s obsessed with giving them

Yes 🤭🤭🤭🤭 here is a tiny one!

Check out our Patreon

Warnings- kinda dirty hehe

——

“So pretty.” Fingers brushed over her sensitive skin as she looked in the mirror, trying her best to ignore how the sensation wanted to make her shiver. The large form behind her wasn’t helping her achieve that at all. “You look so gorgeous tonight but… my favorite are these.” The marks on the curve of her neck that he’d sucked into pretty bruises, blooming purple.

It was no secret between them that Harry quite liked the marks on her, but he liked putting them there the most. “Thank you.” She laughed through her nose, blending the makeup on her cheeks before setting the little sponge down. “But you’re very distracting, you know that? How am I supposed to cover them if you’re petting all over them?”

“Don’t!” The whine was nearly comical as she caught his scowl in the mirror. “Don’t cover up the art, precious. Leave ‘em there.” It was a travesty, in his opinion, any time they were covered with makeup. Even if she was quite talented at the magic of making them disappear, he didn’t appreciate his little marks of love being covered up. “S’not like we’re going to the Louvre- which, they’d probably appreciate the art anyways. We’re goin’ for drinks at a dingy club to buy overpriced martinis while we chat shit while I wait for you t’get tired enough for me to bring home and love on you.”

Harry was many things. Blunt was one of them.

“Tell me how you really feel, H.” She snorted, putting powder under her eyes. Her hand stuttered though, when she felt him tuck his face into her neck and a wet, hot swipe licked over the marks. It was a bit pathetic how quickly she felt lax, like a dog rolling over for belly rubs, but she gave a shaky exhale as his teeth found a new patch of skin to nibble on.

“I feel like… you should leave those marks so people know t’fuck off, that you get fucked well, that you’re mine. Let their imaginations run wild about how I gave ‘em to you balls deep, or if I did them just like this. As long as they know that you’re a loved and taken woman, m’a happy man.” The grumbles against her skin were finished with another bite, eliciting a noise blooming from her throat.

It was hard to say no to the man in most capacities, with his soft green eyes and his strawberry pout, but when he ran his hands over the front of her dress and his tongue over her throat as he found a new patch to work on, sucking harshly enough to make her knees weaken and her clit throb between her legs? It was impossible. “Harry…” the sigh of his name was accompanied by the lull of her head back against his shoulders, letting him slip his hands under the front of her dress and the makeup brush fall into the sink.

“Lucky we’re even goin’ out when all I want to do is worship that sweet cunt all night. But I’ll be good, I’ll let you get finished with your makeup and all that if you leave ‘em be. Show ‘em off for me. Please?” The plead was melted into her bones, breathing picking up as his fingers cupped over her lace covered cunt, holding it firmly. The man knew how to get his way and this was a solid example. The sweet and silly vibe of the room transforming into the hot and sensual teasing one that he had mastered the art of. “I’ll let you choose whatever you want me t’do to you tonight. Whatever my girl wants. Jus’ let me give you another one and leave my art alone. Everyone should be able to see it.”

How could she say no to that?

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry smut #harry fluff #harry angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic #harry styles au

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btsvt-bar · 9 months ago

Text

FEVER ꩜ part two

pairing ꩜ journalist!mingyu x afab!reader x journalist!wonwoo

synopsis ꩜ a promotion at work, the new political reporter and a few bottles of wine. writing for a prestigious newspaper can be much more exciting than it seems. it all depends on who your co-workers are.

content/genre ꩜ frenemies with benefits, threesome, smut (18+ mdni)

author's note ꩜ not proofread.

part 2 is finally out!! sorry it took so long, i hope I can make it up to you with the plot I came up with. comments are appreciated! lmk what you think ♡

warnings under the cut!

part one | part two

warnings ꩜ smut, threesome, anal sex, oral (m. receiving), masturbation (f. and m. receiving), cum swallowing, double penetration, alcohol consumption, tipsy sex, sex in the workplace, voyeurism, tit sucking, jacuzzi sex, protected sex. lmk if i forgot something important.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

chapter three

When your boss announced his retirement, both you and Mingyu were nominated to the position. It was up to the board to decide, and you hoped they would choose you.

Being an editor in chief has always been your dream. Even before you started college, you knew you wanted to be the head journalist. So you worked hard for recognition and it happened, almost ten years later. You got promoted earlier, and now you’re at the club with your friends to celebrate it.

You’re dancing along with Yunjin, a mojito in your hand. The music is really loud and it reverbs through your body. Your eyes are closed, you’re just enjoying the moment as much as you can.

Some drunk girl bumps on you and you spill your drink. “Ah, shit!” You curse loudly. “I’m going to buy another one, wait here!” You yell at Yunjin and she gives you a thumbs up.

You work your way through the crowd and reach the bar with some difficulty. As you get there, you find Wonwoo sipping on some whiskey.

“I think I owe you congratulations, editor in chief.” He smiles brightly, making your insides burn a little. “Lemme buy you a drink!” He offers and you accept.

“Thank you!” Your voice is loud and excited. “That’s nice of you.”

He winks.

"I need to use the bathroom, can you hold my drink?" You ask.

"I’ll come with you and we’ll buy it when we come back."

You lead the way and Wonwoo holds you by the waist so you won’t get lost. His big hand burn your skin through the fabric of your clothes and you shiver slightly.

When you reach the dark hallway at the back of the club, you blindly enter the first door you find.

"Oh, I think we’re on the wrong place."

The bathroom had some lockers and you assumed it was for the usage of the working crew. The music fades away and you see Wonwoo’s closed the door.

"I think we’re on the right place." Wonwoo speaks in a low tone, making his voice even more sensual.

"Why is that?" you make a thoughtful pout.

Wonwoo approaches you slowly. The hot look he shoots your way sends a shiver down your spine and makes something in your belly twist and turn.

"I can show you better than I can tell you." he says while licking his lips and bringing both hands to your face.

"Go ahead." you reply and let out a sigh when the man slides his elegant nose against your cheek.

His breath was an intoxicating mixture of mint and alcohol, and that, mixed with his striking perfume, makes you completely trapped in his sensual and dangerous atmosphere.

"Are you dating Mingyu?"

"Does it matter?" you sigh.

"Yes or no?" Wonwoo pulls away, looking into your eyes.

"No." you roll your eyes, feigning impatience. "May I know why you’re so interested?"

Wonwoo gives a side smile, the kind that makes the hairs on your arms rise.

"To know if I can do this." he says and pulls you by the waist, pressing your lips together in a passionate kiss.

The kiss is hot and filled with pure lust as he searches for your tongue, which you willingly present to him, letting him explore your mouth as he pleases. Your fingers delve into the strands of his hair, pulling carefully.

You tilt your head a little so he can deepen the kiss. Wonwoo swallows all the soft moans you emit as he thinks about the things he would like to do. You feel his cock throbbing in his pants, transforming him into a needy being desperate for friction.

On the other hand, you feel your body overheating, almost as if you have a fever. You want the man in front of you with such intensity that you fear exploding if you have to wait any longer.

You break apart for air. Heaving chests, swollen and red mouths after the hungry kiss.

"Your idea gave me an idea." you say seductively. "Sit there.”

Wonwoo doesn't even question the request and sits in the huge wood bench. He sits with his legs open, trying to give his erect penis some space.

Your gaze settles on the spot between his legs almost immediately. You lick your lips in an unconscious gesture, thinking that you made the best decision of the night.

You kneel down in front of Wonwoo, and slowly run your hands and nails up and down his thighs. The man feels his head spin just thinking about where that would lead. All of this feel like he is dreaming. You squeeze his erection over his pants and Wonwoo lets out a hoarse moan. You keep teasing him like this for a few minutes, making him get harder and harder.

When you decide you’ve tortured him long enough, you open the button on his black pants and pull it down along with the white boxers, releasing him from the fabric prison. Taking his member in hand, you begin slow movements. Wonwoo lets out a breathless moan, he wasn't ready for that for the fast pace. So he squirms, trying to hold his body weight with shaky arms.

You stimulating him abruptly. Wonwoo opens his eyes, his eyelids heavy due to excitement. You stare at him through your lashes, a wicked smile plastered on your beautiful face. Without ever breaking eye contact, you poke your tongue out and lick his member, from the base to the head. You start to gently suck at it, swirling your tongue around the entire length and eliciting moans from Wonwoo.

The man grabs your hair, the sight of what you were doing driving him crazy. You start to take him in your mouth slowly, your hand stimulating what doesn't fit inside and the other playing with his heavy and hot balls. Wonwoo's head is thrown back as he sighed in pleasure, your skilled mouth and hands working on his cock deliciously.

Wonwoo pulls your hair lightly and lowers his gaze. Understanding what he wanted, you stop sucking him for a few seconds to give permission. Then, he starts to guide your head, speeding up the pace of things a little.

He closes his eyes tightly and mentally curses every swear word available in his dictionary, feeling closer and closer to completely catching fire. Wonwoo's abdomen tightened as he began to feel his peak, his moans getting louder and louder.

"I-I’m a-almost" he gasps when you squeeze his member a little harder. "I’m almost there, you can stop now" he warns, but you don’t care and redouble efforts.

You move your hand up towards his abdomen. In a few moments, Wonwoo’s mind goes blank, as if you controlled him, and he groans in satisfaction.

The hot, salty liquid takes over your mouth, and you swallow everything in the best way possible.

Releasing him with a pop, you admire the man's exhausted state through your eyelashes. Wonwoo collects a few white drops that escaped from your mouth with his thumb and you suck his digit clean. The man moans softly, completely spent. You sport a satisfied and cunning smile. Wonwoo caresses the skin just below your eyes with his thumb, wiping away the moisture and gently removing a fallen eyelash.

"I guess you just earned a day off now." you state while biting your lower lip.

Wonwoo laughs loudly and covers his face with one hand, his whole body shaking in amusement. "I’ll take you up on that, boss."

chapter four

Mingyu blinks several times as he tries to focus on what was written on the computer screen. The man was trying to write a short article about the NFL players' statements on the pre-season, but he couldn't stay focused for long. Sighing in frustration, the journalist decides to get a mug of coffee.

As he passes your empty table, he realizes he misses spending time with you. He’s used to sharing work space with you since you two were interns. Exchanging insults and secret glances had been part of the routine for years. So not having you around was strange, to say the least.

Arriving close to the small kitchen, Mingyu notices that two people are talking inside the room. He reaches out to open the frosted glass door, but stops halfway when he realizes that the people in question are Yunjin and you. Mingyu leans against the wall next to the door, hiding from your view.

"Where did you go on Saturday?" Yunjin asks as she stirs the spoon in the coffee mug.

"Nowhere?" you respond with a confused tone.

"Come on, Y/N." The other says while rolling her eyes. "You disappeared for about thirty minutes during the party."

You widen your eyes, understanding what your friend was talking about. Taking a sip from your own mug, you try to buy a few seconds.

"If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Dino!"

"For God’s sake, who did you kill?!"

You purse her lips, unsure of how to say what had happened. You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Not because of what you had done, but because of how it all happened.

"Don't worry, you won't need to help me clean up a crime scene." you laugh and Yunjin shows a smile. "I needed to use the bathroom…"

"Why do I feel like the end of that sentence is going to be shocking?" Yunjin rests the mug on the table, preparing herself for what you would reveal. "Go on."

"And Wonwoo went with me."

Outside the room, Mingyu feels his blood heat when he hears the exchange. He just couldn't tell if it was out of jealousy or embarrassment for eavesdropping.

"Aaaaand…?" Yunjin encourages you to continue.

"Why do you assume there's more to it than that?"

The youngest closes her eyes and gives you a bored look, as if to say “please, I know you!”.

"We kissed. And I gave him a blowjob." you speak quickly and quietly, leaving Yunjin stunned by the revelation. "Happy?"

Mingyu's eyes widen at the information. Now Wonwoo's smug expression made perfect sense. The other was passing him behind and, until that moment, he had no idea.

"Y/N! I can't believe you kept this from me all these days!"

"What did you want me to do?" you put your hands on your waist. "Hi, Yunjin. I just sucked Wonwoo off in the club’s crew bathroom. Do you want to see the place?"

"It would’ve been better than hiding this information!"

You throw a crumpled napkin in her direction, and Yunjin just laughed as she dodged the object.

"You are ridiculous!" you stick out your tongue and your friend returns the gesture.

"I can't believe something finally happened!" She takes a quick sip of the coffee she was cooling down. "What about Mingyu?"

The man straightens his posture when he hears his own name and frowns, trying to understand where the conversation would lead.

"What about him?"

"He's a little jealous, isn't he?"

"We’re friends. Who have sex from time to time." you shrug. "He knows that, or at least he should."

"And even then he won't make it easy for Wonwoo." Yunjin lets out a little laugh.

"He could stop being annoying and agree to have a threesome with me and Wonwoo, that's for sure."

Yunjin chokes on the dark liquid she was drinking. She wasn't ready to hear that.

Still standing outside, Mingyu takes a deep breath. Your last statement had come as a slight shock. He knew he definitely shouldn't be listening to that conversation, but his feet felt glued to the floor. Because he’s lost in his own thoughts, he misses Yunjin's response. But he comes back to reality in time to hear the end.

"Anyway, he can't do anything about it." you wrinkle your nose. "He could accept it, so everyone has fun."

Mingyu realizes that you and Yunjin could leave at any moment, so he returns to his own table as quickly as possible. He settles into the black leather chair, the information he had just acquired swirling in his mind.

So you wanted to have a threesome with him and Wonwoo? Normally, he wouldn't object if you expressed this desire to him. But it was difficult to say yes when the situation involved Jeon Wonwoo.

Yes, he was jealous.

Mingyu knew you were just friends, but he couldn't help but feel his blood boil when he understood that he was no longer your only focus. He liked having undivided attention.

He could stop being annoying and agree to have a threesome with me and Wonwoo, that's for sure. Your words echo in his head. Mingyu wanted to prove that your judgment was wrong.

The gears in his head began to turn. He had two options: leave that unrequited jealousy aside and surprise you or continue picking on Wonwoo and risk losing what he had. It seemed like an obvious choice.

The sound of Wonwoo's keyboard catches Mingyu's attention. The man looks at the other's profile, who was focused on whatever he’s doing on the computer.

Mingyu thoughtfully rests his face on his hand. He was determined to give you what you wanted, but would Wonwoo be willing to do the same?

He only had one way to know.

"Hey, Jeon." Mingyu calls and the other turns to look at him. "So, I was thinking…"

chapter five

You ring the doorbell at Mingyu's penthouse and sway anxiously from side to side as you wait for the man to open the door. He had invited you over for dinner — according to him, to celebrate your promotion.

I want to know if my new boss can spare a few hours to come over and have a bottle of wine with me. Maybe two, if you’re feeling generous. Mingyu's words echoed in your mind. “Have a bottle of wine” was your code for asking each other to have sex. Of course wine was involved, but it was nowhere near the main attraction of the night.

So you had high expectations.

The huge white wooden door opens, revealing Mingyu. You analyze him from head to toe. He wore a black fishnet tank top, his beefy chest on full display, black swimming shorts and black leather sandals. You bite your lower lip, already feeling your insides begin to stir just from that simple visual stimulation.

"Ah, finally!" he exclaims as he opens the door and you enter the apartment. Mingyu takes your bag — the one that carries your personal belongings to spend the night there — and the black Chanel you carried around every day. "I was about to start drinking your favorite wine without you."

The place was impeccably tidy, as it was every time you visited him. Mingyu was very organized at work, it was no surprise for you to discover that his house followed the same pattern.

"It took me longer than expected to get out of the Tribune." You sigh, exhausted after the day of work. "I'm ready to sink into the hot water of the jacuzzi."

"Let’s go, then."

You climbed the few steps of the staircase that led to the second floor of the penthouse, where Mingyu's huge suite and leisure area were located.

"I'll leave it in the room, can you go ahead open the wine?" Mingyu asks as soon as you reach the last step.

You nod with a smile and head to the bar area. As soon as you turn the wall that limited the room, you realize you’re not alone with Mingyu. Sitting with his back facing you, with a can of beer in his hand, is Jeon Wonwoo.

You freeze in place. What was he doing there? Mingyu and Wonwoo weren't friends. Why was the political journalist sitting on Mingyu’s balcony drinking a cold beer while listening to some hip hop coming from the speakers installed throughout the apartment?

"Do you like your gift?" Mingyu whispers in your ear as he sneaks closer. "I thought you deserved something special, boss."

You shudder at the proximity. Mingyu hugs you from behind, his strong hands flat on your stomach.

"I-I’m not sure if I understand..." you murmur. Your blood’s rushing quickly through your veins, overheating your body. "What kind of joke’s this, Mingyu?"

"There’s no joke, baby." he provokes. His hands played with the hem of the white blouse you wore. "I'm just making a new friend."

You take a deep breath in complete disbelief. Your skin burned with the promise of something you don’t even understand yet. Mingyu was up to something and the target of the trick was you.

"Did you make some kind of stupid bet? Whatever it is, leave me out of it!"

Mingyu lets out a low, amused laugh. He brushes your hair out of the way before placing a quick kiss on the side of your neck, and you instantly relax into his touch.

"Stop being annoying, Y/N. It's not what you're thinking." Mingyu says close to your skin. "And, fyi, I really bet on you. But not in the way you think."

You voice a sound of doubt, not understanding what the hell he was talking about.

He gives you another kiss, this time near your jaw. "Now, how about we drink some wine?"

That’s when you understand the real reason for being there. Mingyu had spoken from the beginning, but you didn’t get it. Using the metaphor you created, he invited you for a threesome with Wonwoo.

"Wine sounds good." you respond softly, feeling your head spin. "Both bottles."

Mingyu pulls you in for a quick kiss, pleased with your response. He caresses your cheek affectionately and you smile before asking "Do you want to start with white or red?"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

Your reflection’s slightly blurred. You tie your hair into a high bun and carefully adjust the straps of your bikini. You’re in the bathroom of Mingyu's suite, preparing to go to tbe jacuzzi with the men waiting on the balcony. When you’re satisfied, you open the sliding door and turn off the light before going out.

You stop at the door and lean against the dark wood while analyzing the two men who were talking near the railing. Wonwoo was already shirtless, wearing only white shorts. Mingyu says something that makes the other laugh. The animosity between them was forgotten many glasses of wine ago.

You analyze them both thoroughly. Jeon Wonwoo was the very definition of hot. The defined chest and marked collarbone makes your head dizzy. His abs were defined, but nothing too exaggerated, his arms are strong too. You want to feel the muscles under your palms. Kim Mingyu wasn't left behind. All the hours invested in the gym were worth it. You were used to seeing him naked, but you never stopped feeling your stomach heat up at the sight of his perfect body.

You’re slowly losing sanity, for sure.

"Ready for the jacuzzi, baby?" Mingyu's voice brings you to reality and you feel your cheeks heat up from being caught staring at them.

"Yes, sir." You turn around slowly, showing off your white bikini. "But you don't seem to be." You add, nodding at the lame excuse of a tshirt that Mingyu is still wearing.

"Why don't you help me, then?" He challenges with one of his eyebrows raised.

You shrug and approach him. Mingyu raises his arms and you remove his shirt while smoothing your hand over his toned torso in the process. As soon as he’s free, Mingyu discards the clothing on the lounger next to him. He holds your face with one hand and presses your lips together in a passionate kiss.

Wonwoo watched everything with interest. The wine served perfectly to calm him down and helped him get used to the idea of what you’re going to do, but it didn't stop his heart from beating faster in his chest.

Mingyu wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer. With a quiet moan, you allow him to wrap his tongue around yours, kissing you slowly.

Wonwoo approaches and starts kissing your neck, taking advantage of the fact that the area was exposed. You break the kiss to look at him, two sets of eyes burning with lust. Without further ado, you kiss. Wonwoo takes on the task of distributing kisses and caresses over your body. When you’re satisfied, you pull Wonwoo's lower lip between your teeth, ending the kiss.

"Shall we go to the jacuzzi?" You invite them before heading towards the raised area of the balcony.

You climb up the five steps carefully, Wonwoo and Mingyu following. They cross the few meters of the deck and stop at the edge of the jacuzzi. The water bubbled and gentle steam rose from the surface. You sit on the edge and put your feet inside, enjoying the warmth.

"I want champagne." You look at Mingyu, who carried a bucket with a bottle and glasses inside.

"You're very bossy." He jokes, but opens the sparkly drink quickly.

"We're having a celebration in my honor, aren't we?" you roll your eyes as he picks up a glass full of the bubbly liquid. "I can be bossy."

The men laugh at your words. Finally, they enter the jacuzzi and are submerged in the hot water. You stand between them, your left hand — which was holding the glass — resting on the edge.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the view. Mingyu's apartment had the perfect location: no buildings around and a clean view of the river.

Mingyu rests the empty glass on the deck and his eyes lock on you. Without breaking eye contact, he approaches you. His left hand squeezes your right thigh. "I think it's time for you to enjoy your gift." he whispers close to your skin, sending shivers through your body.

You try to kiss Mingyu, but he holds your chin and guides your attention to the other end of the jacuzzi. You stare at Wonwoo. He’s biting his plump lower lip at the scene. Unable to resist for another second, you call the man closer with your index finger and he promptly complies. You kiss Wonwoo as he pulls you onto his lap.

The addition of the hot water with Wonwoo's hands squeezing your waist and Mingyu's hands roaming your body made you feel like your blood is boiling in your veins. It’s the true feeling of a fever that gets higher by the second.

You separate from Wonwoo and give Mingyu a teasing look. He knows the game you’re playing, but he wants to see what you’re doing next. You start distributing kisses across Wonwoo’s jaw and neck, occasionally touching your lips in a tempting way. Wonwoo's big hands are now resting on your hips, tightly griping you when he likes the stimulation.

Mingyu calls you, needing some attention. You shake your head and plant a kiss at the base of Wonwoo's neck, without peeling your eyes off of the other.

"Are you really going to use him to make me jealous?" Mingyu grunts, feeling strangely excited about the situation.

"I don't particularly feel used." Wonwoo chuckled. Mingyu frowns. Of course that idiot would side with you.

"I'll only make you jealous if you're jealous of me, my dear."

"I’m not."

"Great. Then I can pay exclusive attention to him."

Mingyu lets out a low growl and grabs you by the wrist. You try to hold back a laugh.

"Okay. I'm jealous and I want some attention too." he reveals reluctantly. "Happy?"

You tilt your head, a mischievous smile painting your lips. You shuffle around to sit on Mingyu's lap, with one leg on either side of his body. He’s already showing signs of excitement and you let out a contented sigh at the feeling.

"Overjoyed." The kiss you exchange is hungry. You kiss passionately, your tongues caressing each other quickly and possessively. Mingyu looks for the clasp on your bikini and unties the white strings from your back and neck with ease. He pulls the fabric off and throws it anywhere, soon filling his hands with your breasts.

Your snake your left hand to the back of Mingyu's head and lightly pull the strands. With your free hand, you reach out to caress Wonwoo's erection through his shorts.

He closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh, happy to be getting some attention too. You brush your fingers across his lower abdomen, teasing him, and Wonwoo catches his breath. You play with the hem of his shorts for a few seconds, making him practically squirm in anticipation. Slowly, you enter the shorts, sliding your fingers gently until you reaches Wonwoo's cock. You wrap your hand around his thick girth and start moving back and forth inside the tight space.

Wanting to see the scene, you move away from Mingyu and fix your gaze on Wonwoo's expressions. His head’s hung back, eyes closed tightly and his slightly open mouth emits low, deep moans.

The water from the bathtub reached his chest, the droplets glistening on his golden skin. Meanwhile, Mingyu starts to guide your hips against his, both of you needing the friction. Suddenly, Wonwoo grabs your wrist, stopping the movements.

"Your turn." Once again, you sit on Wonwoo's lap. This time, you lean your back against his chest. He directs both hands to your breasts and squeeze them eagerly. He plays with your hard nipples between his fingers and kisses your neck, eliciting high pitched sounds of pleasure. You move your hips slowly, teasing his erection. After a while, Wonwoo's right hand continues to pay attention to your breasts while his left one slides down your belly and stops at the hem of your bikini. He pulls the fabric down and you help him remove the last item that’s somehow covering you. You open your legs widely, resting your right foot in the small space between both men, to have more stability.

You feel a third hand touching your thigh. Mingyu caresses your skin with one hand while the other slowly stimulates his hard cock through his shorts. You’re pulled back to Wonwoo when slides a thick finger inside you. Without encountering much difficulty, he fingers you slowly, earning a surprised exclamation in return.

"One more." You demand after a few seconds, thinking that the single digit is not enough.

Wonwoo readily complies and adds another finger, receiving a moan of approval in response. Mingyu lets go of your thigh and his fingers find their way to your clit. He draws small circles and see stars. It’s definitely a unique feeling to have two men in charge of your pleasure.

Not long after, Wonwoo feels you squeeze his fingers, an indication that you’re close to cumming, so he fingers you more vigorously. Your hands hold Wonwoo's biceps tightly and hides your face in his neck, preparing yourself for the explosion that’s coming. Mingyu continues his movements on you and moves closer, connecting his lips to your free breast. It’s the feeling you needed to push you off the cliff.

You shudder, feeling your insides melt and your mind fly thousands of meters away. You faintly hear someone talking, but you can’t make out a word. When you come back down, Wonwoo and Mingyu move away, giving you space to recover. You let go of Wonwoo's arm and small crescent moons are marked in the place where you clawed him without noticing.

"How about we get out of here?" Mingyu proposes and everyone agrees.

The wind outside punishes your naked body. You shudder and try to protect yourself with your arms. Mingyu hugs you from behind and guides both of you to the double lounger. While you get comfortable, the men remove their shorts to be completely naked. You get goosebumps, but that had nothing to do with the turbulent air around you. You let the vision of their naked form burn in your brain, wanting to remember this moment forever.

Mingyu climbs onto the lounger, positioning himself above you before kissing you again. You let him slide between your legs, his dick sliding with easy against your wet pussy. Wonwoo sits next to you and jerks his own cock. Mingyu lets go of you, leaving you wanting more. He stretches his body to the side table and returns with condoms and lubricant in hand. You open your mouth in shock when you realize Mingyu had actually planned this whole moment.

"Are you going to join us or just watch like you did in the archives room?" Mingyu teases Wonwoo, who rolls his eyes.

"If you keep teasing me like that, I'm going to start thinking that you're the one who wanted this threesome." the other sasses and grabs one of the condoms.

Mingyu laughs and turns to you, who’s silently watching everything. He gives the you a reassuring smile, his whole sexy persona fading away for a bit.

"How are we doing this?" you ask and lick your lips, looking forward to the main event.

"Mingyu in the back, me in the front." Wonwoo responds as he gets up from the lounger, already properly protected. "Is that okay with you?"

You nod, either way being completely fine. Mingyu sits in the empty space and slaps his hands on his thighs, inviting you to come closer. Anal sex was nothing new for you two, but you’re a little apprehensive every time.

Mingyu hugs you, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder. He stimulates your clit, hoping it’ll relax you. Soon enough, you feel less tense. "Do you remember our safeword?" Mingyu asks close to your ear, causing goosebumps.

"Tamagotchi."

"Good girl." he whispers and kisses your shoulder again.

Mingyu applies a good amount of lubricant to his cock and to your rim. He positions himself and penetrates carefully, pulling your hips down. He feels the familiar tightness and takes a deep breath, trying hard not to lose control and shove everything in at once. Concentrating on continuing to stimulate your clit, he is soon buried in you to the hilt. You move up and down Mingyu's length a few times, trying to get used to him.

"Your turn." You call Wonwoo when you think you can handle both.

Wonwoo licks his lips and positions himself between yours and Mingyu's legs. He adjusts himself as best he can to have support, staying close to you. You stare at his cock, salivating as you remember the feeling of sucking it. He was thicker than Mingyu, so you couldn't wait to feel him inside you after having sex with just the same guy for so long.

Wonwoo aligns himself with your entrance and slides in. You moan softly as you feel him penetrate and fill you. He proceeds slowly, afraid of hurting you. When he's completely inside, the three of you let out a sigh in unison. The men stand still, waiting for you to authorize them to start moving.

You had never felt so full before. Having Wonwoo and Mingyu inside you at the same time filled you in ways you only dreamed of. But that alone wasn't enough to put out the fire that consumed your veins.

Mingyu and Wonwoo also feel something different. It’s more then the tight fit of your inner walls hugging them. They feel each other through the thin wall that separated both your wholes. They won’t say it out loud, but it’s is slowly driving them insane.

"You can move now."

They begin to move their hips, each at their own pace. In a matter of seconds, they synchronize their pace. Two pairs of hands caress your entire body, leaving a warm trail wherever they touch.

Your bite your lower lip to hold back your loud moans, feeling like you’ll collapse at any second. Mingyu bites your shoulder to contain his own grunting and Wonwoo growls softly close to your ear, making you even more excited. You hands grab Wonwoo’s ass eagerly. They maintain the rhythm for several minutes, their bodies reaching a feverish state.

Mingyu feels like he's getting dangerously close to his peak, but he refuses to let it happen without you getting there first. So he kisses every available inch of skin and slides his hand between Wonwoo and you, once again stimulating your clit.

"Baby, I'm dying here. I need you to cum for us." he pants between moans.

"I’m almost there."

Wonwoo feels his muscles burn with effort, but he speeds up his pace. You bury your face in his neck and grab him tightly. You try to focus on everything that’s happening, on the hands that touch you, on the lips that wander over her neck, on the two men who are trying so hard to give you pleasure. Giving in to the sensations, when you least expected it, fireworks explode behind your eyelids.

For the second time, your body shudder as you let out a long, contented moan. Seeing you reach your orgasm, the men let go and followed behind, the two falling over the edge together. They slow their movements little by little, enjoying the ecstasy. Wonwoo pulls out, complaining about the loss of contact, and throws himself into the empty space next to Mingyu. He uses the last bit of energy to take you off his lap and place you between him and Wonwoo.

The three of you remain practically motionless for several minutes, your legs intertwined, each one enjoying the dopamine that circulating in your veins. When the cold of the night begins to become unbearable, Mingyu takes you in his arms and Wonwoo the glasses of champagne, and you the apartment.

"You were very good for us, baby." Mingyu praises you softly as he carefully places you on the bed. He plants an almost innocent kiss on your lips and heads to the closet looking for something to wear.

Now that things are over, Wonwoo doesn’t quite know how to act. He notices that his backpack is on the table next to the window and walks over to it, taking off a pair of boxers and putting them on so he doesn't feel so exposed.

"Hey, can you get my panties from the white bag?" you ask with a smile and he does as asked.

He hands the light blue cotton panties to you, who slide the fabric over your trembling legs. Mingyu returns wearing leopard print shorts and a Sid Vicious tshirt.

"Now, besides your panties, did you also lose your blouse, Y/N?" Mingyu teases, returning to the role he usually played.

"It’s not lost, you're wearing it." you reply and pull the hem of his tshirt up. Mingyu rolls his eyes, removes the garment by the collar and hands it for you to wear, but not before stealing another kiss from you.

Wonwoo feels uncomfortable watching the scene, as if he's watching something he shouldn't. "Well, I think it's time to go."

"No!" you exclaim and Wonwoo turns around, his face contorted in confusion. "We're going to watch a movie, I want you here too."

"We'll probably sleep within the first fifteen minutes..." Mingyu says with a laugh. "But you can stay and watch everything if you want."

Wonwoo seems to analyze the proposition. "You want me to sleep here?" He pats his hand on the bed, perplexed.

"Your dick was buried in me until fifteen minutes ago, so why can't we sleep in the same bed?" you retort with a shrug and Mingyu stifles a laugh at your words.

You settle in the middle of the bed and pat the free space on your left side while Mingyu walks to the right side. Wonwoo hesitates, but accepts the invitation.

As soon as he settles down, you lay your head on his chest and Wonwoo lets out a satisfied sound. His warm skin warms your cold cheek.

"You put on the bedding I brought." you comment, smoothing out the pink sheets you gave Mingyu a few months ago, after the two of you ruined a set of his.

"This ugly thing was the only clean one." he shrugs.

"It's not ugly!" You whimper and slap the man.

"It’s very ugly." He laughs while smoothing the affected area. The smile never leaves his face.

"It's not ugly, right Wonwoo?"

The man jumps slightly when he hears his name, his eyes staring at the sheet. "It’s cute." he agrees with you, making Mingyu roll his eyes and you giggle.

"Whatever, let's just pick a movie and sleep." Mingyu takes the remote from the bedside table and turns off the lights using the switch next to the bed.

The bright light on the TV shines and Mingyu chooses the movie Divergent, after much insistence from you. Wonwoo pays attention to the beginning of the it and relaxes into a comfortable position to fall asleep. Mingyu doesn't even try to watch, he hugs you from behind and hides his face in your hair. A few minutes later, you also fall asleep, still snuggled comfortably against Wonwoo’s chest. Closing his eyes, Wonwoo allows the exhaustion to take him to dreamland.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

m.list ♡

tags ꩜ @asscoups17 @wonvsmile @porridgesblog @gaslysainz @thepoopdokyeomtouched @sunset-sana @coupsgfsstuff @stagefrjghts @wonuwonder @pepmiw @walkxthexmoon @cecefarm @nerdycheol @thedensworld

thank you for reading! it made me really happy to see you wanted to be tagged in part 2, so i hope i made you justice 🫂🤍

#mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen hard hours #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo smut #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #minwon smut #wonwoo hard hours #mingyu hard hours #seventeen x reader #my works

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m0llygunn · 11 months ago

Text

friends with b(aby)enefits (eddie munson x fem!reader)

MONTH ONE: Just friends—what a silly concept. After your accident, Eddie's been a full-fledged comedian, ill-conceived jokes left and right... neither of you are laughing though when his 'comedy routine' comes back to bite the both of you in the ass.

cw: 18+!, mature language, smut, pinv sex (unprotected again smh), pet names, vomiting, a lot of pregnancy related topics, potentially dramatized pregnancy symptoms (for the plot obvi, also idk anything about pregnancy), mention of readers period, mention of birth control an: lots of minor time jumps/cuts but we get some eddie pov!!! wc: 8.3k+

0 / 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 00

Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, both palms pressed flat to your belly.

“How are my girls doing today?”

Comically loud, heavily puckered kisses scattered over the top of your stomach, catching you by surprise— not at all expecting to be ambushed with facetious affection by your friend.

Eddie thinks he’s a comedian.

With about a month of his poor taste in jokes, he thinks he’s hilarious— and a self-proclaimed prophet because he 'just knows' that it's a baby girl. He's full of shit and you desperately try to not give him the benefit of finding his terrible jokes humorous. To your demise, from time to time, they get you.

His latest stunt was when he greeted you for your usual Friday get together. He swung the door open quick enough to stun you and immediately dropped to his knees. With a firm hold on your hips, he leaned in close to your belly, “Hi, baby girl. Did you miss daddy?” he cooed with big eyes and an even bigger smirk.

With a hand on his forehead, pushing him away, unfortunately you laughed, and unfortunately it feels like all of his jokes are coming back to bite the both of you in the ass. It’s hardly been 24 hours since the offending, but objectively funny joke, and neither of you are laughing now.

“Maybe you just ate something bad?” he offers with sheer, dumb, hope. “Or maybe it’s the flu?” he says, snapping his fingers together like he struck the gold mine of an idea.

Eddie can be as hopeful as he wants, but as you lower yourself down to the couch from vomiting your insides out in the bathroom, the panic in his eyes is evident.

“Maybe,” you reply dully, dropping your head to rest against the back of the couch.

“Do you want to lay down? I can bring you to my bed?” he asks with concern lacing his words.

“I’m—” you start, but with acid suddenly rising in your throat again, your eyes go wide and you jump from the couch with a renewed energy, just barely making it to the bathroom.

────────────

To put it plainly, you vomited two more times after. When you finally felt like you were done throwing up, with an empty stomach and a sore body, Eddie helped you to his bed and you slept off your spell of nausea. When you woke up a few hours later feeling a touch better, both of you decided the best choice would be to buy a pregnancy test.

“Just to be safe, right?” he had said, eyes burning into you as you laid sprawled across his bed, feeling no longer nauseous, but instead like an empty shell of a person. “We should buy one, right?” he asked again, eyes growing wider in your silence.

It felt like even moving your sight line to look at him took too much energy, but you met his gaze, and he nodded his head like he had made his own silent conclusion.

“We’ll go after, okay?” he said, continuing his one-sided conversation. Standing from the edge of the bed he wiped his palms down the front of his thighs before straightening out and rubbing his hand down from his mouth to his chin. He nods a second time, doing what you assume is him coming to another silent conclusion. “I’ll get you crackers?” he continued, eyebrows raised.

With your eyes locked on him, you swallowed the dryness in your mouth. You hadn’t done anything notable, hadn’t even attempted to answer him, but his face softened, mouth turning into a regretful frown.

“Sorry you’re sick,” he said, bending down to pat your head, letting his thumb trace gently across your temple. It was a tender movement and you absorbed the warmth of his contact, letting your eyes blink shut. “I’ll get you water too, okay? Water and crackers and we’ll see how you feel after that.”

Eddie’s a lot of things, but nurturing and soft, and with high levels of compassion is not exactly how you would describe him. He can be those things, but principally, he’s more of an asshole— but one that you love enough to keep around, obviously. But an asshole, nonetheless. The last time you had the flu he laughed at you and made fun of the way you threw up, albeit, it was when you both were in your teens, but regardless, he was a dickhead about it— and most recently, when you had gotten a cold, he ceaseless made fun of your constant sneezing and the blazing red tone of your sore nose from blowing it so much, calling you Rudolf and asking how ‘Big Red’ was doing at this time of the year. Asshole.

Dichotomously to the Eddie you’ve known all these years, he grazes the backside of his knuckles across your cheek, rubbing them back and forth gently. It's painfully obvious he doesn’t do this often from the way his hand jerks, finger nearly poking you in the eye, but you appreciate the notion. You know you must really look awful if he’s managed to compose this much compassion for you.

────────────

They say that nothing makes people more productive than the last minute. As the pharmacy's closing time approached, it was only then when either of you felt so inclined to even mention going to get the test.

After Eddie got you your water and crackers, you started feeling much better, and feeling much better meant it was easy to pretend like nothing had happened. You both unhealthily and aggressively ignored your potential futures by acting like it was any regular Saturday evening. You talked about your upcoming work week, and watched the usually shitty reruns on TV. Eddie made some freezer-burnt chicken nuggets, you warmed up some soup, and it was boring and uneventful, but it was the most comforting that boring and uneventful could be.

The sun began to set and it was like the ticking of Wayne's alarm clock on the coffee table beside you only got louder and louder as time went on.

“S’almost eight,” Eddie had eventually mumbled. You swallowed, keeping your eyes on the TV as you found this particular old rerun episode of Mama’s Family to be the most interesting thing in the world, which is odd considering you usually change the channel whenever it's on.

With both of you sitting at the couch, feet kicked up, resting side by side on the coffee table, Eddie moves his foot far enough to just barely knock yours— an attempt to pull your attention away from the screen.

“The show’s almost done,” you say, turning your head towards him but keeping your eyes on the TV.

“The pharmacy closes at eight.”

“I feel fine,” you shrug.

Moving your feet from the tabletop, Eddie copies you, putting his feet down on the floor, but he goes a step further, sitting up from the couch. He stands, facing you, but you keep your eyes on the TV, ignoring him fivefold. He props his hand on his hip, arm bent at the elbow, one foot tap away from looking like someone's mother. You ignore him tenfold.

“You want to stay here while I go?”

“Go where?”

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” he laughs. You can hear the amusement in his voice. His hand drops from his hip and you look at him to see the smirk written across his face.

“Go where?” you double down. Huffing a laugh from his nose, he turns, opting to get himself ready, and begrudgingly, you do too. With your feet dragging through every step, you get in the car, and Eddie drives the two of you to the pharmacy.

────────────

Under the bright, white fluorescent lights of aisle number eight, you and Eddie stare your potential future down. An unnerving amount of tests sit on the shelf at eye level, some with cute little daisy packaging, others looking sterile and pharmaceutical.

“Why are there so many options?” Eddie asks, picking one up and flipping it to read the back. You look at the price tags and your mouth nearly drops to the floor.

“Why are they so expensive?” you ask, taking the box out of his hand and putting it back on the shelf.

“Hey,” he objects, reaching out for it. “That one says response in twenty minutes.”

“That one is, like, twice as much as that one,” you argue, pointing to another test.

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing the test from the shelf. “That one says a two hour response,” he continues, pointing at the exaggerated font on the front of the test in his hand, waving it in your face. “I’d rather be shitting my pants for twenty minutes than two hours.”

He’s acting normal, braggart and teasing, you can’t muster that same energy. Your stomach swirls and squeezes and does everything it shouldn’t do. Nerves or nausea, you’re not sure. A ceiling light flickers two aisles over and you can’t stand being here.

“Maybe…” you pause. Your hands start to turn clammy. “Maybe we shouldn’t get any,” you say, shifting in place. You turn to fully face Eddie, looking at him as he has a boxed test pulled close to his face, reading the side of it. “Maybe we should just go home.”

Eddie turns to you, brows furrowed. “No— what? You just spent the whole day throwing up, we gotta get something,” he says, looking at you like you’re insane. The ceiling light flickers again and you definitely feel insane.

It wasn’t the whole day, it was just the morning, you nearly object until you realize it doesn’t help your case.

Bringing your hand to your mouth, you chew on the edge of your nail, distracting yourself from the tremble in your limbs. From left to right and back again, you flutter your sight over the different options. There’s too many. Too many and it’s overwhelming.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly. The weight of his arm settles around your shoulder, pulling you so that your bicep meets the edge of his chest in a half hug. “Don’t be nervous,” he continues, in a low coo. You step inwards, turning the half hug into a full hug. Taking a deep breath, all you can muster is a short nod of your head.

His arm moves from your shoulder, hand grazing down to your mid back. Focusing your attention on his touch, you take another deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent. Smoky, woodsy, and a contradicting sweetness from whatever shampoo that was probably the cheapest and on sale.

“We’ll be fine, remember? You probably just ate something bad.” he says. He rubs his hand up between your shoulder blades and back down. You want to believe him, you really do.

“I’m scared,” you say quietly.

“Why?” he asks, voice just as small as yours.

“It… it doesn’t feel like I ate something bad.” You swallow down the jagged edges of emotion that your voice gets stuck on. His hand, mid rub, pauses and you pull away enough to see him. His eyes glaze over with something you’re unsure of before he quickly blinks it back.

“Well…” he swallows. “What does it feel like then?” he asks, brows turned upwards. He's nervous, you’re nervous, and the light flickers again, reminding you where you are.

“Can we go home? Please.” Your nerves become far too jittery and it’s starting to turn into nausea again. Your stomach lurches and Eddie watches you for another moment, eyes searching yours until he nods, patting your back before pulling away.

“Yeah. I’ll just buy this one and we can go.” He takes your hand in his, twenty-minute-test in the other, and he guides you to the front of the store.

────────────

“It’s almost nine now, so it’ll be ready at…”

“9:20,” you say when Eddie takes a concerning amount of time doing the math. The ride home was quiet. Being out of the fluorescence helped your nerves, and as you got further and further away from the pharmacy, and closer and closer to Eddie’s place, you started to feel normal again.

“I knew that, I was just… thinking,” he responds. He sits up from where he was crouching in front of the dresser, using it as a table to put together the test.

Decidedly, it was just nerves that had put you on edge, that’s it. The test is nothing but precautionary, just to rule out what could have made you sick. Eddie joins you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Uh— before, we get a response,” he pauses, wringing his hands together. His eyes move down to his lap and your chest tightens. “I just want to say that whatever it is… I don’t regret what we did… and whatever it is, I’ll be there… for my girls.”

He looks at you, his smirk widening by the second, and you can’t help the snort of laughter from escaping. Like every other ill-timed joke that he's pervasively told over the last month or so, he gets you, and you appreciate it this time as it lessens the gnawing feeling in your belly.

Despite the joke, when you really look at him, with his lips spread in a smile, his eyes swarm with the same trepidations that you feel. He’s a comedian but even the comedian is human. You try your hand at lightening the mood.

“What if it’s not a girl?” you ask, playing along. He smiles, bumping his shoulder into yours as he huffs a breath from his nose. Shaking his head in an almost mirthful way you think you were successful until his demeanour drops into something serious.

“What did you mean earlier?” he asks “When you said that it doesn’t feel like you ate something bad?”

“I just— I don't know. I just, I thought I had a feeling,” you explain. Eddie hums, eyes now set forward on the test. “I think I was just nervous, that’s all.”

Twenty minutes has never felt longer. Eddie accepts your answer at face value but doesn’t do much to show it. He doesn't do much in general, and neither do you. At the ten minute mark, his hand found your knee. At the fifteen minute mark you were curled under his arm, resting your head on his chest as he rubbed up and down your arm. In the last minute, you had taken his hand in yours, playing with his fingers as you watched the seconds tick by on his Casio watch.

21:19:59 turned to 21:20:00, and you turned to Eddie. Synchronously and in silence, you parted from each other. He stood and you sat. He moved to the dresser, and you held your breath.

With his back facing you, you watch with unblinking eyes as he reaches for the instructions. Humming to himself, your lungs ache. You try to parse the meaning behind his tone, or vibration, or pitch — or anything that could give way to what he's seeing, but it’s far too vague. Taking a deep and vital breath, filling your choking lungs, you're just about to ask, mouth already open when he speaks.

“It says negative.”

“It says negative?” you parrot in disbelief.

“Negative.” Eddie firmly answers.

There’s no way. You should feel a weight lift from you, but, evident avoidance aside, that feeling is still there, stronger if anything.

“I…” you start, interrupting the loud beat of silence. “I’m not saying I want to be pregnant… but I think it’s wrong, Eddie.”

“Wrong? How could it be wrong?” he says, turning around to look at you.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Aren’t they, like, only guaranteed to work like 95% of the time?”

“That’s still a lot of the time,” he says, copying your shrug.

“Yeah… but—” you shake your head, stopping yourself. This is what you wanted right? Why would you fight against the answer that you mostly hoped for? That you were already certain about in the car barely an hour ago. “Whatever. It’s probably right. I think… I think I’m just… tired.”

Eddie nods, agreeing with you. He turns enough to set the test down, abandoning cleanup for another time— gross, but when he asks you if you’re going to sleep over, you willingly ignore the unsanitary act of leaving a used pregnancy test to sit and simmer bacteria growth.

“You gonna sleep here?”

“Can I?’

“Of course,” he laughs.

────────────

If it were a peaceful morning, you would have woken up to the warm, red tinted sun coming into Eddie’s room through the maroon coloured bed-sheet-turned-blinds.

If it were a peaceful morning you would have woken up to shared warmth, his arm just barely tossed over your hip, hand resting in the dip of your waist.

If it were a peaceful morning you would have been able to bask in the meaning of having him beside you— what it meant beyond just shared warmth, what it meant beyond friendship.

If it were a peaceful morning, oh, if it were a peaceful morning…

If it were a peaceful morning, you wouldn’t have woken up to rising bile in your throat and your heart hammering in your chest. It's not a peaceful morning, it's a race against time. With your hand cupped to your mouth, ripping yourself from the shared tangled sheets, tripping your way to the bathroom over the crap on the floor, time almost wins.

You made it by a stroke of luck with not a second to spare.

────────────

“It must be the flu,” you had croaked weakly. Eddie nodded, looking at you with tired eyes that had been startled awake by your fumbling and awful retching.

“Yeah, it’s definitely the flu.” It was not a whole hearted agreement, but there was no way any bad food would still be in your system. And with a negative pregnancy test, the flu is the only answer. Obviously.

The next day, in the quietness of your apartment, you kept a preemptive bowl next to your bed, just in case.

Thank god you did because it was the worst it’s been yet, and with your temperamental luck, you would not have made it to the bathroom this time.

────────────

“Hello?” Eddie answered from the other end of the telephone line.

Your untouched breakfast sits on the table as you stand in front of your wall-hanging phone, leaning against the counter to stop yourself from keeling over entirely.

“It's me.”

“Oh, hey, didn’t think I’d hear from you so early, what's up?” His near chipper attitude is grating and if you could strangle someone through the phone you might have muscled up the last of your strength and considered it.

“I’m still sick.” If you sound as awful as you feel, and equally as annoyed, it's because you are every terrible emotion in the dictionary. You are the essence of a bad mood, a side effect of how sick you’ve been.

“Shit—” he cursed. “I have work in thirty but I can stop by after?”

“Yeah, you already told me you were working,” you snark, because obviously he has work. It’s Monday.

“Do you want me to stop by after?

“I'm just telling you that I’m still sick.”

The call lulls and you can hear a slight rustle from the other end.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you’re sick and I feel bad,” he says, voice turning up like he's asking you if that is an alright answer. It’s not, and you twirl the phone cord between your fingers, distracting yourself from scoffing and saying something you know you’ll regret.

The call lulls for another moment and he clears his throat, coughing right into the receiver.

“Uh— aside from being sick… everything else okay?” he asks tentatively, pausing too frequently that it annoys you, even more so than you already are.

“I’m fine, I just feel like garbage.”

“Nothing else bothering you? I have a minute, we can talk?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“You’re— and don’t bite my head off— but you’re not on your period?”

“Why would you ask that?” You meet his stupidity with a harsh and rightfully deserved defensiveness. “Don’t you think I would tell you if I was? You know, all things considered.”

His voice raises as he comes to his own defence. “Well, I just thought… 'cause you thought that maybe there was a chance that the test was wrong, but then we agreed it wasn’t and…”

“And?”

“And you’re in a bad mood.”

You hang up the phone and when it rings again, you let it.

────────────

Eddie spent the whole day being eaten alive by his thoughts. You said you had a feeling, and Eddie knows you well enough to know you wouldn’t joke around about stuff like this. He would, he has, but you wouldn't.

Since the moment you told him that you weren’t on birth control, he had been thinking about it. Hypothetically, having a kid with you wouldn’t be the worst. He’d actually… like it… maybe? Would he say that to you? No, but it's not an awful thought.

Sure he made jokes out of it, but that was just his ill mannered way of accepting the fact that he kind of, maybe, potentially, would like having a kid with you… and being more than just friends. But he could never tell you that, so he made stupid, stupid jokes.

But now that having a baby with you is less hypothetical, he’s fucking scared. Not because it’s with you, but because he might be having a fucking baby. That’s terrifying in and of itself.

When you first started feeling sick, he let himself really believe for about an hour that maybe you had eaten something bad, but in his heart of hearts, he knew. There was no way. Four weeks and 3 days after he came inside you— not that he's keeping track of the days— and you’re suddenly experiencing ‘food poisoning’, even though you didn’t eat anything particularly abnormal or poison-like?

You’re pregnant. So fucking pregnant. There’s no way you’re not.

“Hey, Bill. You have kids, right?” Eddie had asked as he sat down at the break table with one of his more favourable colleagues.

Bill, more or less his mentor— or more eloquently put, the kind soul that's been helping him work his way up to being an actual mechanic and not just the guy who cleans and sweeps up after them like he’s been doing for the last year and a bit. He’s an older gentleman, doesn’t do much small talk, is in a permanent old man bad attitude, but he’s a good guy— reminds him of Wayne at times. Eddie trusts him enough, especially not to go talking about him around town.

“Uh-huh. Grandkids too,” he answers, barely looking up from his newspaper. Eddie knew this of course, but he couldn't think of any other way to approach the topic.

“Right, sorry,” Eddie apologizes, wringing his hands out of nervousness and dragging out the point of interrupting Bill’s lunch break.

“You gonna be a father?” Bill asks bluntly.

Father? Eddie's familiar with a particular ‘F’ word, uses it way too fucking much in fact. Father, on the other hand, is an ‘f’ word that was barely in his vocabulary, he could go weeks without letting that word pass through his thoughts, let alone it being a descriptor of his very own character.

Eddie’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open as his breath stutters like a kid getting caught red handed. “No.” he stumbles to answer. “Uh— maybe. I don’t know. We don’t know.”

“So what are you askin’?”

“Your girlfriend— uh, wife—”

“Wife,” Bill answers with an annoyed ring to it.

“Right, your wife… What was she like when she got pregnant?”

Bill shakes his head, ignoring the question. “Did she take a test? They have those now. Can buy ‘em at the store,” he gruffs.

“We did, but it was negative. She… she said they’re wrong sometimes though, and she thought that… she thought that maybe it was wrong?”

Bill sets down his newspaper, the edges of both his fists meeting the surface of the table top. He looks to Eddie, catching his flighty eye contact, giving him his full attention.

“Morning sickness?”

“She’s been sick the last couple of days.”

“Hormonal?”

“Hormonal?” Eddie asks, quirking a brow. Bill rolls his eyes, not unlike how Wayne has done time after time.

“Bad mood? Mood swings?”

“Kind of?”

“I won’t go into detail because I respect my wife,” Bill says, eyeing Eddie through slanted eyes. “Any changes that aren’t to do with her mood?” he asks, looking down the slope of his nose.

“Huh?” Eddie thinks hard, trying to decipher what Bill means. Bill gives Eddie an encouraging nod that quickly turns short-tempered.

“Her body? Any changes?” Bill grumps.

“Oh.” Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Uh— I don't know. She’s not really my girlfriend, we’re just friends.”

“Just a friend you got pregnant?” Bill’s near-permanent-scowl breaks into a smile, lips turning at the corners in a sadistic way, eyes gleaming with taunting amusement. Eddie feels his palms start to sweat.

“So you think she’s pregnant?”

“I think you’re up shits creek with a turd for a paddle, kid. Gettin’ a friend pregnant,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he laughs to himself. He fixes his newspaper back upright, picking up where he left off in the classifieds.

“Well, we’re good friends. I— she… we—” Eddie thinks about telling him that it’s you— Bill knows of you. Eddie’s talked about you enough, but he bites his tongue for the same reason that he didn’t go to Wayne about this— it would be all, ‘just ask her out’, ‘quit pussyfootin’ ‘round it,’ but he doesn’t get it, he can’t just ask you out. He—

“You like her more than a friend.” Bill says, making Eddie freeze. He opens his mouth to speak, to deny, to confirm, to anything, but nothing comes out. “Oh you got it bad, huh?” Bill continues with a teasing smile.

“C’mon, it’s not—” Eddie tries to object but Bill sees right through it.

“You love her?”

“I…” Eddie swallows, thinking over his answer. “I don’t know…maybe?”

“Well, you got an interesting journey ahead of yous if she really is pregnant,” he laughs again.

And with that entirely unhelpful conversation, Eddie spent the rest of the day not only ruminating on you being pregnant, but now, his feelings for you as well.

────────────

After work he went straight home, showered, got redressed in sweats and the cleanest shirt he could find and beelined straight for your apartment. He made one quick stop at the pharmacy but quicker than even he anticipated, he was at your front door.

He knocked, and then there you were, opening the door for him, not exactly smiling— but not looking angry either, or sick, which is a good start.

Greeting him with a quiet ‘hello’, you opened the door wider. He stepped into your apartment, and like he mentally rehearsed, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. Before he could look at your reaction, he turned, hiding his face behind the curtain of his still damp hair, and kicked his shoes off.

He’s just trying to get back on your good side. After this morning— your bad mood, and then him only making it worse by asking if you were on your period, which he knew you weren’t because you said that it's been weird since you stopped birth control but… yeah, he’s just trying to get on your good side, definitely not anything more than that.

Clearing his throat and praying his cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel, he tries to move on. “How’re you doing?” he asks. You spare him, and you don’t mention the kiss nor give him any weird reactions— which is good, right? You would tell him off if you didn’t want him to kiss you, right?

“I’m doing fine now,” you reply, turning to lead him to the kitchen. He follows behind, humming an acknowledgement. At your counter is a full, waiting dish that looks like and smells like spaghetti. You sit back in your seat, and he takes the one next to it, putting his brown shopping bag down in front of him.

He watches you as you bring a forkful of your dinner to your mouth. “You’re eating, you must not be feeling sick anymore?”

“No, I stopped feeling sick around lunch and then I was starving,” you say through a second mouthful, swirling your third bite around the fork.

“Nice,” he nods. Eddie’s not sure of much, not now, hardly ever, but you feeling better around lunch means you only felt sick in the morning, and you being sick in the mornings falls exactly under the conditions of morning sickness… and that means…

Swallowing down his thoughts in a thick gulp, he reaches for the pharmacy bag. “Well, I bought another test just in case,” he rushes out quickly, moving to take out the good part of his shopping haul to lessen the blow if the test somehow pisses you off. “—and I also bought you—”

“Liquorice! Oh my god and popcorn,” you say excitedly, interrupting him with the loud crinkles of you grabbing for the package of candy, quickly ripping it open.

Eddie watches you closely, the way your eyes light up for some of your favourite foods. He was taking a risk, buying you snacks when he knew that you’ve been sick but it was that or flowers and flowers seemed a little too… forward?

Your reaction to the snacks though, it’s not abnormal, but it’s not exactly normal either… a bit too… ravenous? To be fair, you were sick and now you’re feeling better, maybe you are just extra hungry…. But then again, there's also your bad mood earlier and sure you felt like shit from being sick, but you were usually pretty happy whenever you talked to him. He wasn’t used to all of these… mood swings.

Symptom after symptom, his thoughts finally bubble out. “I think you should take the test again,” he says, interrupting you as you rip open the bag of popcorn. You pause and he holds his breath.

With a shrug, you resume your movements, reaching into the bag and grabbing a handful. “But I feel fine?” you say, waving Eddie off.

“I think… maybe just in case?”

“Here, sit down, I’ll get you some spaghetti,” you ignore him, standing from your seat. “It’s so good, I swear. This is my second plate full.” You grab a dish from the cupboard, serving some up from a pot on the stove top without waiting for a reply from Eddie— not that he had one, he was too stunned by your unconcerned mood to think of one.

Adding a slice of garlic bread to the side of the dish, you place it down in front of him, quickly moving back to your own seat to dig into the popcorn and finish your own meal.

“You didn’t go to work today?” he asks after mumbling a polite thank you.

“No, I called in. When I got the promo, I got like six extra sick days, plus vacation time, so I figured I might as well use them,” you shrug indifferently.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, taking a quick glance at you before looking back to his plate of food, moving his fork around the plate absentmindedly. “Do you happen to have… better insurance with your job now?” he asks, attempting to match your aloofness.

You pause your fork before shoving it in your mouth, opting to turn to look at Eddie. He purposely avoids your eye contact, continuing to swirl his fork in his food.

“Why?”

“Just curious,” he shrugs. “Whenever I get my promo—” he pauses. “—if I get the promo, Coop gives out some shitty insurance plan. Was just wondering what you were getting these days,” he continues nervously.

“I have insurance.”

“Good.”

“Why’s it good?” you ask, squinting your eyes at him.

“Is it not good? You get sick, you don’t have to pay as much— I think that’s objectively good.”

“Fine,” you relent. You stare at him for another moment, but when you finally go back to your food, Eddie lets out a long breath that he was holding in before going back to his food.

He finishes his plate while lost in a daze of thoughts. There’s no way you weren’t pregnant. Absolutely no way. He doesn’t know much about pregnancy, that’s for sure, but this is checking off every single box in his very limited knowledge of symptoms.

He only withdrew from his head when he felt you staring at him yet again. You had pushed your plate back on the counter, head resting in the palms of your hands as you watched him intently with a particular glint of something in your eyes, something that he’s only seen two other times.

“Hi?” he says shyly, cheeks tingeing pink.

“You kissed me on the cheek when you came in,” you state.

“Yeah, I did,” he nods, cheeks deepening to crimson under your close watch.

“Do you want to stay the night?” you ask, stretching your leg out under the counter, running your foot along his shin.

Eddie chokes on his food before looking at you with wide eyes. Elbow bent to cover his mouth as he clears his throat from his sputtering, his eyebrows raise high, hiding under his bangs as he works through your suggestion.

“Like stay the night or just stay the night?” he asks, eyes burning into you out of shock.

“I just kept thinking about before… and, you know…” you say, shrugging, hooking your foot around his calf.

“So like, stay the night?” he asks, eyes glimpsing down at your outstretched leg.

With a sly smile, you nod your head making Eddie’s eyes grow even wider.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m really sure.”

Eddie takes a final bite of his food before pushing back in his chair. You excitedly stand, taking Eddie’s hand and leading him to your room.

Maybe it’s a stupid thing to do when you’re both still up in arms about being pregnant, but Eddie would be a fool to say no to you. He physically couldn’t, has never had it in him. It doesn’t help that he really likes you and might potentially love you. And after all, he’s just a simple man.

────────────

“Harder.”

Your desirous voice echoing off of wallpapered bedroom walls, airy moans embellishing every thrust, Eddie does his best to give you what you want. Round two and countless of your orgasms later, you’re still begging Eddie to keep going.

Round one was fantastic. Sincerely earth shattering and left him winded and full heartedly wishing he took up track in his freshman year instead of smoking cigarettes.

The night started with you riding him, insisting that he laid back, and who was he to say no to that? He watched you intently, grasping at your hips with each rise and fall, feeling the way your body nearly trembled over his own as you made yourself feel better and better. He was completely enamoured by the way your mouth rounded into a perfect oval, the way your eyes welled as you rose up and down, enjoying yourself truly and utterly. Then, when he took over, you were begging, whimpering, and moaning for him. He swore he had never came that hard in his life.

With the long day of worrying and his stress induced sleepless nights wearing on him, he was nearly nodding off when you were on him for round two. It was exciting— you needing him like this, and his cock was kicking up again before he could process it.

You came again, adding another tally to the growing tab of how many times you’ve come tonight. This time, you were on your hands and knees, back in a deep arch as he watched the recoil of your ass with each of his thrusts.

The only thing on his mind was you. How you felt so perfect around his cock, how pretty you sounded whining and begging for him to keep going, how beautiful you are, and how badly he just wanted to keep making you feel good, but then it was like a switch flipped in his head.

He heard it once, how pregnant women would sometimes get really horny. Insatiably horny— and you just kept asking for more, begging for him to keep going. You were cumming and still managing to ask him to keep going. He had never had sex like this before.

His skin that had grown damp throughout the night, covered in a permanent sheen of sweat, now drew dry, just like his mouth. His thighs burned, his calves begged for a break, his balls were aching from staving off his own release, and now there was very little uncertainty in his mind that you weren’t pregnant.

Mid thrust, you clench around him, stealing his already stolen breath, pulling from his meandering thoughts. He refocuses his gaze on the bounce and jiggle of your ass and the sweet noises singing from your lips before letting his palms slide down the slope of your arched back, giving himself better leverage to keep going.

There's no doubt in his mind that he can finish this round. Not only would he feel like an asshole if he tapped out now, but he would also feel like the biggest idiot because this has been it for him. This is the orbiting thought in his mind, the exact scenario that he conjures up in his imagination during his alone time.

Swallowing thickly and taking an open mouth breath, he moves a hand from your back to wrap around your torso, finding your clit with his finger tips. “One more. Gonna give you one more, pretty girl,” he rasps, voice horse and ragged from his near panting. Your back arches even deeper, hips pressing back into his as you let out a wavered moan.

“Feels so good, Eddie. Love your cock, feels so good,” you cry, taking heavy, moaning breaths between words, your voice staggering with each of his thrusts that push you further up into the mattress.

“Mhm, know you love it, baby. Sucking me right in, n' so wet for me," Eddie says through exasperated breaths, words coming out babbled from his focus on not cumming as your walls squeeze him harder and harder.

“Want you to cum inside me again,” you whimper out. Eddie doesn’t answer, he just thrusts harder, rolling his hips against your backside, making you moan louder and giving you the last of every ounce of energy he has left in him.

When he feels your pussy start to flutter, tensing, and pulsating around him again, he knows you're close.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” he breathes, voice only getting lower and more ragged from the absolute marathon of a night.

“Gonna cum, Eddie.” Your voice rises so high in volume that Eddie's certain your neighbours can hear.

“Cum for me baby, wanna feel you squeeze my cock one last time tonight,” he grunts, starting to feel delusional with the way his head spins. He grips his free hand on your hip, pressing his fingers into your skin and grounding himself to you, trying to push away some of the daze to think clearly.

Eddie feels your tightness pulling him in almost immediately. He holds off his own release for as long as he can, bringing you through your orgasm until he can’t take it anymore. He pulls out just in time for his own release, sending his cum spurting over your lower back as his chest practically explodes, burning lungs having all the air expelled from them in a wheeze as he stutters through his orgasm.

After taking a few, long moments to catch his breath, he reaches for the same towel he used earlier, wiping you clean before falling to your side feeling absolutely exhausted.

“Wanted you to cum inside,” you say pitifully, cuddling closer to him.

“Can’t, you're not on birth control, we didn’t have a condom.”

“You did it before,” you pout.

“Yeah.” Eddie says, exhaling deeply.

Yeah and now he's 99.9% sure you’re pregnant.

“It’s late, got work tomorrow,” Eddie says, eyes unwillingly fluttering closed as you push your way closer to him, pressing your bare chest to his, speckling gentle kisses along his neck.

“Are you sure?” you ask, pressing another kiss to his skin. He barely has the energy to respond and you deflate against him with a sigh.

“Baby,” he coos, frowning when he looks at your lower lip jetting out in a pout. As much as he’d love to keep going, he physically could not go for another round. His cock might let him despite it feeling nearly raw from all the friction, but his aching body definitely would not. “Let me just hold you, okay? We can cuddle,” he offers to try to fix your frown. It only works the slightest bit, relaxing the crinkle in between your brows.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his hold. You let out a quiet whine at first, clearly upset, but you eventually relax into him, melding to his side. It’s not long before Eddie’s out cold, completely wiped clean of energy.

────────────

You woke up, ripping yourself from Eddie’s grasp, hand over your mouth, rushing for the bathroom again. Eddie follows behind you, barely alert, but at your side, rubbing your back.

When you were certain everything inside your stomach was gone, you sat back, leaning against the edge of the tub.

“Think I should take that test.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

────────────

With the anticipation of waiting another painstaking twenty minutes, you sit on the ledge of the tub in your bathroom, watching Eddie’s back as he tinkers with the test again. The tailbone pain from sitting on the ceramic edge is nothing compared to the swirling nausea growing from your nervousness.

He had sat with you for a few minutes like the last time, but got up halfway through to get you water. He dallyed in the kitchen for a few minutes, and it was far too casual for you, especially too casual for the dramatic dungeon master himself. It was almost unnerving.

At the fifteen minute mark, he sat with you again, throwing an arm around your shoulder, and you couldn't help but nuzzle into him. If his casualness was him disguised his nervousness, he doesn’t let on.

This time, at the twenty minute mark, his watch beeped the grating default Casio alarm, and with the chime of a button being pressed, he stands, turning his back to you as faces the vanity. You don’t follow him, you couldn’t at this point, you feel welded to the tub ledge.

Unlike last time, he doesn’t look at the instructions. He doesn’t hum. He doesn’t make any noise, he just turns to you, his body blocking the test. You feel your heart rate pick up, but he doesn’t give anything away with facial expressions or body language.

His mouth opens, he takes a breath, you hold yours once again.

“Well…” he starts. “You were right.” His tone is flat and you blink, trying to clear your confusion.

“I was right?”

“Yeah.” he shrugs. “About the last test being wrong.”

“No.”

“Yup,” he affirms, putting a plosive pop at the end of the word. Too casual.

With your heart pounding in your chest, thumping miles in minutes, you couldn’t process this even if you wanted to, so you don’t. You deny it.

“You’re lying,” you state, ending your words with a light huff of laughter. Surely, this is all a joke. Eddie’s a comedian, right? Ill-conceived jokes left and right over the last month, this has to be one of them.

He doesn’t smile. His eyes don’t light up. He doesn’t laugh. “Come look,” he says, beckoning you over with a tilt of his head.

You sit up from the ledge of the tub, moving to stand next to Eddie at the counter. He pulls out the instructions, pointing to a diagram.

“If the liquid turns blue, that means pregnant."

You look at the test, not bothering to look where Eddie points. Blue liquid sits where any other colour should be.

“It’s blue,” you state.

“Pregnant.”

Pregnant.

The moment is eerily still. In the movies this is where the happy couples jump with excitement. In TV shows, they call family and let them know their good news. In commercials, they celebrate. They hug, they smile, they cry happy tears together.

Eddie’s your best friend, but you’re not a couple, this wasn’t planned. So you both stand in silence, staring at the positive test.

“What do we do?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“We could go get something to eat? I can call out and we can rent a movie or something?”

“Something to eat?” you laugh. It’s positive and he’s thinking about eating?

“Yeah, you should try to eat something,” he shrugs, turning to look at you.

“Eddie. I’m—” Pregnant, you go to say but the word dies on your tongue. “Why are you not freaking out?” you say, staring at him with wide eyes trying to understand how he’s not affected at all by this. You’ve known Eddie a long time and he’s not exactly the calm and collected type.

“Well…” he shrugs. “When you said that you thought the first one was wrong, I trusted you more than the test. Believe me, I’ve been freaking out, but now… it’s, kind of, settled in already, I guess.”

“Settled in?” you say, jaw dropping in shock. It’s your body, you were mostly certain you were pregnant— in denial at times, yes, but you knew, yet having it confirmed is still shell-shocking. How has it already ‘settled in’ for him?

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “If you want to keep it, I’m happy. If not, I’ll support you.”

“Happy?” you say, bewildered.

“Well… yeah. We’ve... we've been friends forever. A kid that’s part you and part me? That’s fucking awesome, how could I not be happy, y’know?” he says, moving backwards to sit on the ledge of the tub. He leans forward with his hands on his knees, watching you with eyes that are too calm. Too, too, too calm about this.

In your quiet mental chaos, you take a final look at the blue liquid before moving to sit next to him. Your skin prickles with cold shivers but you feel hot all over, like there's a flame of nerves in your belly and a hot air balloon in your chest making each breath feel laboured.

“I’m…” you stumble over your words. “I— pregnancy is so— Eddie,” you breathe out. Your eyes inevitably start to water.

“Pregnancy is so Eddie?” he laughs before turning towards you, noticing your eyes turning glossy. His face drops immediately, features turning soft as his brows turning up in concern. “Hey,” he hushes. “It’s okay. We’ll be fine, remember? Everything will be fine,” he assures you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder again, bringing you closer to him in a hug.

“I know, I just—” you force a breath in your lungs. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“You can cry, it's okay,” he says quietly, and unfortunately, each of his nearly-whistled, whispered consonants pulls out a wave of fresh tears from you. His hand rubs over your shoulder and your cheeks only grow damper. “It’s okay to cry,” he repeats and you press your face to the cotton of his shirt. He pulls you in tighter, rubbing your back in long, steady strokes.

Eddie’s seen you cry more than a handful of times— more than several handfuls of times, but this is substantial— it just feels different. Different because you’re pregnant. You’re going to have a baby. A baby with Eddie. Your best friend Eddie. Eddie, who you’ve had sex with three times. Eddie, who you’ve known forever, who you’ve spent day after day with, as a friend. Friends. You’re pregnant. Holy shit.

Your mind races and you divert your thoughts before you stray down that road. “It’s gonna be half you and half me,” you say, mostly to yourself, repeating his earlier sentiment.

“Half you, half me,” he echoes. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and yeah, this is different— different because Eddie doesn’t kiss you on the top of your head. He doesn’t give you kisses on the cheek either. Eddie’s given you noogies, he’s butted foreheads with you, even flicked you on numerous occasions, all particularly during your shared middle school years, but kisses? Kisses are unheard off. What you guys have been doing lately is unheard of.

“We had sex and now we’re having a baby,” you state plainly, trying to bring any coherency to the situation, desperately needed to hear the unheard of.

“We did and now we are,” Eddie laughs.

“You came inside me and now there’s a baby in there,” you continue, hearing every syllable of your own voice.

“That’s—” Eddie laughs quietly again. “Yeah, that’s how it works.”

“I had morning sickness.”

“Yes you did. And mood swings.”

Pause.

“No I didn’t!” you gasp, pulling back from Eddie to look at him with a scowl.

“You kind of did,” he smiles, dimples set deep in his grin.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You were also insatiably horny. I was getting leg cramps all night because of you,” he says, bopping your nose, making you scrunch it. Asshole.

“I was not ‘insatiably horny,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Well… if it’s any consolation, if you wanted to have sex again, I could cum in you now, ‘cause you can’t get any more pregnant than you already are,” Eddie says matter-of-factly, purposefully batting his lashes, playing up a faux coyness just to get a rise out of you. Such an asshole.

You respond by hitting him in the stomach, followed by pushing him until he almost falls into the tub, grabbing onto the shower curtain to stop himself.

“Hey— hey, you were the one asking for it!” he defends, corners of his lips turned up in an untimely smirk.

“I’m never having sex again,” you shriek, burying your face in your hands.

“Well, let’s not make drastic choices right now,” he says amusedly, bringing you back in for a hug.

“I’m serious. Never again. Not with you, not with anybody. Ever.”

“Let’s just get some fresh air, maybe we’ll start thinking straight about this,” he laughs, pulling you to stand up and guiding you out of the bathroom.

Pregnant.

tags: @princesatracionera @venuslayla23-blog @mastermindmiko @tlclick73 @yujyujj @josephquinnsfreckles @uselessnewt @animechick555 @prestinalove @sluggzillaa @daisyridleyss (if you want to be tagged for the next part I kindly ask that you please reblog!)

thank you for reading! <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader

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avocado-writing · 3 months ago

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Kinktober #25

25. Pussy Slapping // Non Con - Dub Con // Titty Fucking (X24 x reader. dark, be warned)

You have been pushed into a corner with one dull realisation: you have no time.

One of you is going to die and it can’t be Logan. It can’t. You know he’s goddamn self sacrificing to a fault but Laura is a factor here too, and she has a better chance with him than with you.

You tell Logan to give you his suit jacket and, though he doesn’t know why, he obeys unerringly. The shotgun is next, a bunch of shells deposited into your pocket.

“Go,” you say, loading them into the barrel, “I’ll hold him off.”

“But…” you don’t remember the last time he looked so torn, age and fallibility painted over his face as if with brushstrokes. You hold his cheek in your hand, memorising the feel of his beard.

“Go.” There is no arguing with you. Laura begins to lose it, her voice rising with panicked Spanish as she realises you’re going to be left behind, but Logan hauls her over a shoulder and starts to run. She screams and reaches for you, tears streaming down her cheeks, and you can’t bear to face it for too long or your heart will break.

Buy them time to get to the car. That’s all you need to do. Then they’ll be safe.

“Come on,” you mutter, waiting for the beast to arrive. The wind picks up and you hope the scent of Logan is carried from his jacket, enough bait for the creature to take.

The treeline moves, and then there it is, stalking out towards you. Fierce, furious eyes. Nostrils flaring, scenting the air as it moves. Targeting you.

You fire a round into its belly.

“Let’s go, you fucker,” you hiss.

It howls in pain as skin fixes itself immediately, teeth bared to as if it is about to show you what it will rip you to pieces with.

You have its attention. You start to run.

It lets out a roar and starts to chase you, feet beating loudly on the dry grass. You shoulder your way through the trees, thin and vicious as they whip you, drawing blood with every slap. You can hear it coming after you, moving far quicker than you can, hunting you down, oh god, you’re going to face the end of your life–

It tackles you hard to the ground as you swing your gun around to aim at it. It knocks the weapon from your grasp and you watch with horror as it slides far away.

X-24 stares down at you, the weight of its body pinning you to the ground. You grit your jaw so hard you fear that your teeth might shatter. If you’re going to die, you’ll do it without looking away.

“Do it,” you hiss, defiantly.

But it doesn’t.

X-24 holds your gaze. An agonising moment passes as you wait for him to sheathe it claws inside of your soft belly, finish you off… so imagine your surprise when it buries its face into your neck.

“Oh… oh!” you whisper, feeling how it nuzzles into where your pulse beats, how its tongue flits against your pulse. Its hips dip down to notch into the space it’s forced your legs open to create and starts to grind down into you, simulating fucking with none of the relief.

Your eyes go wide.

“Wait… wait…” you grab it – no, him, surely – and hold him back. He whines like a dog and his hips don’t stop their movement, but they do still a little. He’s hard as rock against your clothed cunt, incessant with his little thrusts. “You want to…?”

You’re not sure if he has the capacity to speak back, at least not at the moment, but he understands enough to realise you’ve cottoned on. He must see this as consent, as his hands drop to your jeans with a snik you recognise from Logan, begins to slice them off of you. Panic floods you. He’s the enemy, isn’t he? This isn’t… you don’t…

“Ah–no…” you mutter but, for some reason, you can’t muster much force behind it. This thing… this man… it's just a feral version of Logan, no? The same as the man you love? Is it that affection for you is so hard-wired into his DNA that it comes through with every single iteration of him, even something as wild as this?

Perhaps it would not be such a bad thing. Perhaps what this creature needs is someone to show it softness.

“Whoa, okay. Slow…” you whisper, reaching to cup his jaw. X-24 whines at the touch, nuzzling into you as he removes the scraps of your jeans from your waist. You move his face to look up at you, make eye contact to try and assert your dominance, even now. Treat him like a needy puppy.

“We can, okay? We can. But go slow, baby.”

Your words sink in and when he goes to tear off your underwear, he is gentler. The shock of cold air still makes you shiver when it touches your surprisingly wet cunt but you are warmed when he buries his face against your folds, scenting and licking you desperately. You gasp at the suddenness of it all, go to bury your hands in his hair like you would with Logan… only to be disappointed when you realise it’s been buzzed to his skull. You drop your grip to the grass instead, pulling up tufts as you try to hang on.

There is no skill in what he is doing, he just desires to be as close to you as he can, totally drown himself in your musk. The feeling of his beard on your clit keeps strumming pleasure through you, though, and the way he attacks you with lips and teeth soon has you coming all over his tongue. He lets out a ragged groan, dragged deep from the cavern of his chest, and then he’s over you again: hips jerking down ineffectively against yours.

“It’s okay, shh, wait…” you mutter, hands going for his fly and freeing his hard cock as quick as you can. There is no surprise: you are faced with Logan’s length and girth, thick and hard and oozing with desire for you. X-24 growls a little and then wastes no time in finding your entrance, sliding himself up to the hilt in one motion which has you gasping and writhing.

Logan would let you adjust, tease you. This creature, this man, does not have the facility to understand that. He ruts wildly, dragging himself out to the tip and then slamming back home, obsessed with the way your needy cunt soaks his entire cock, entranced by the idea of more of you. His hands wrap around your thighs and pull you even closer to him, as if he fears that if he doesn’t pin you down that you’ll disappear. You clutch onto his shirt and try to ground yourself.

“I’m not going anywhere… It’s okay…”

He growls and whines as his pace picks up, hips slapping loudly and lewdly against yours in the quiet of the woodland around you, and then with a snarl he’s releasing himself into your body; filling you full of cum and, as far as he is concerned, claiming you.

He at least has the acumen not to collapse on you, crush you with his skeleton. Instead he nuzzles his face into your stomach as if trying to guard the womb he’s just flooded with himself. As the world settles again you stroke your fingers against the prickle of his hair, not entirely disliking the way he holds you in a vice-grip.

He whines at the softness of your touch, and you can almost make out a word.

“Mine.”

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g-hughes · 5 months ago

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Cover Art - L. Hughes

main masterlist || l. hughes masterlist || taglist

synopsis: Luke finds out that he's on the cover of his favorite childhood video game. inspired by seeing the pictures of the Hughes for the cover of NHL 25

word count: 1.3k

warnings: this was written in like half an hour so probably spelling mistakes.

The summer was slowly winding down. The fun and excitement of the lake house, started to turn into the dreadful packing and cleaning that came at the end of a not long enough summer. Most of the hockey players that had been inhabiting the house had left, heading back to their respective cities for the upcoming pre-season training. The Hughes brothers were doing everything they can to soak up the last couple of weeks before they were back living across North America.

You were sitting on the dock, your book carelessly left half open across your lap as you scrolled through social media. The calming sound of the water playing as background noise as you soaked up the morning sun. Jack and Quinn went to the rink for an early morning skating session, leaving their younger brother asleep in his bed. You didn’t blame the elder Hughes brothers, it was like waking a bear when it came to getting Luke up.

The quiet pad of feet on the wooden dock, pulled you out of your tik tok trance. A smile graced your features as you watched Luke, his hair disheveled peeking under the hood of the red Devils sweatshirt he put on, paired with black Devils gym shorts walk towards you. He plopped down unceremoniously in the chair next to you, squinting out at the water.

“Did they leave me again?” His voice was thick with sleep still. You nodded your head, “Assholes.”

You chuckled, putting your phone down next to you, “I think they would have an easier time waking the dead than you.”

“Rude,” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. You shook your head and stood up, knowing that your boyfriend needed to have a meal in his belly before he fully woke up.

“C’mon, I’ll make you breakfast.” You held your hand out to him, which he took. Luke sat down on one of the barstools as you moved around the kitchen to find what you needed to make breakfast. First thing you did was pull out a bowl of fruit, placing it in front of him.

“I think you should leave your suitcase and stuff here,” Luke said, picking out some grapes. He could never tire of you fitting into the lake house like you owned it. It was your second summer here, and it already felt like you had been here from the beginning. After last year, you had left some of your things here, so it would be easier to travel back once the season had ended.

“I already did leave some stuff here,” You responded, grabbing the carton of eggs out of the fridge.

“No I mean, like all your suitcases. Just leave them here like we do. We can get you new clothes and stuff back in Jersey.”

You turned and looked at him, “We do not need to buy me a whole new wardrobe when we get back to Jersey. I can take stuff back and forth.”

“Yeah,” He shrugged, “But you’d be like. . . moved in here. . . like the rest of us.”

“Luke Warren Hughes, is this you asking me to move into the lake house?”

“Well, if you-” Luke’s words were cut off by his phone ringing, his agent’s contact displayed across the screen, “Hold that thought, I gotta answer this.”

You nodded, watching Luke as he walked quickly out the backdoor, answering his phone. You couldn’t help but watch him as he paced around on the back deck. Even though Luke was locked into his contract for another couple of years with the Devils, you knew that nothing was for certain. It had been a difficult summer, watching as some of Luke’s closest teammates were traded away and shuffled around the country. He was never one to get over emotional about things, but you knew that some of these trades had him feeling sad.

When he came back inside, you did your best to pretend that you weren’t staring out the window at him, continuing to cut fresh veggies for an omelet.

“What was that about?” You asked calmly, your heart beating erratically in your chest.

“Chris, he uh. . . he said that EA sports contacted him,” Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. You looked up at him, “They’re working on the new edition of NHL 25, and they want me and my brothers to be on the cover.”

“What?” You asked in surprise.

Luke shrugged as he said again, “They want me on the cover.”

“Baby, you’re going to be on the cover,” You watched as the excitement slowly started to fill his eyes. A pink blush arising on his cheeks as the weight of the phone call and your words resonated in his brain. The video game that he had been playing since he was a child. The video game that he spent hours playing with his brothers, his best friends, and teammates, wanted him on the cover.

“I'm gonna be on the cover,” Luke smiled.

“You’re going to be on the cover!” You rounded the kitchen island, and all but jumped into his arms, wrapping your own tightly around his neck. Luke buried his face into the crook of your neck, “I am so, so proud of you.” You lifted his head and looked into those hazel eyes you loved so much, “You deserve this. You worked your ass off all season to prove yourself.”

“Yeah but there’s better-“

“No,” You shook your head, “There’s no one better for the cover. You proved that you aren’t in the league just because your last name is “Hughes”. You proved that you’re in the league because you are worthy of it. And you did it all on your own.”

“Not all on my own,” Luke shook his head, “I couldn’t have gotten through the rookie season without you. Especially when Jack got hurt.”

You remembered those weeks where Luke let the outside noise seep into his head. He hardly ever scrolled through social media comments but you had caught him scrolling through twitter, searching himself up and seeing what random people were saying about him. You watched as all the doubt filled his mind and it didn’t help that the Devils weren’t having a great season. But slowly, you pushed away those feelings, reminding Luke every day as he went to the arena that he deserved to be there. That he worked just as hard as anyone on the team, and he was just as good as anyone on the team.

“Well baby,” You smiled, running your hands through his curls, “You made it and you’re on the fucking cover of NHL 25!”

“I’m on the fucking cover,” Luke smiled, grabbing you by the thighs and lifting you up, your legs wrapping around his torso, “Forget breakfast, I wanna celebrate.”

note: do you think Luke knows how proud the whole hockey community is of him? Like he's not just Jack and Quinn Hughes' little brother. He is Luke Hughes, Calder Trophy nominee, and cover player for NHL 25. I am so excited to see what this season has in store.

#Luke hughes #Luke hughes fic #Luke hughes imagine #Luke hughes fan fiction #Luke hughes x reader #Luke hughes x oc #luke hughes blurb #lh43 #hockey fic #hockey fan fiction #hockey imagine

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francixoxoxo · 4 months ago

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MDNI; nsfw smut headcanons!!

Billy doesn’t have all the time in the world, but whatever he does have, he wants to spend it with his girl. So whenever you and him get more than a minute alone, best believe that man is jumping on you!! Billy knows how to make it last, but with the hectic life he leads, he’s got real good at quickies. Give him five minutes and he’s gotten an orgasm or two out of you, pumping his fingers into your cunt or laving his tongue over your clit. Give him ten, and he’s bending you over the nearest surface, his chest to your back so he can whisper sweet words while he fucks you into tomorrow. Sometimes he’s laying down his jacket on the ground for you to lay on, or even lifting you against the wall, his hands holding you up under your ass. Stark comparison to the man who gently buttons your shirt back up, fixes your hair, sends you off with the sweetest of kisses to your forehead and promises for later. Billy knows every bit of your body like the back of his hand, and he doesn’t want to wait for the “right time and place” to get you off. Well, that doesn’t mean he isn’t keeping you up all night the moment he gets the chance to really take it slow.

Finnick has a bad history with intimacy, if you could even call it intimate. He didn’t even think he’d look forward to it with you; as healthy as it is, he just didnt feel right mingling something he associates with pain, with you. But after the first time, oh, his mind is changed. He only ever wants it with you. He’s not into anything degrading, anything harsh. His experiences with that have never, ever been good, and he can’t bring himself to want that with you. Finnick’s loving, he’s gentle, that man takes his sweet time. He takes his time roving his hands over your form, murmuring praise to you. He’s damn experienced, sadly. He knows every trick in the book to get you to come; a hand pressing on your lower belly, a pillow under your back, just the angle that’ll make you wail. No matter how aggressive or rough you ask him to go— because honestly, he wouldn’t ever suggest it first, I feel like he gets enough of that from clients that he can’t get with it, especially not with someone he loves so much— he’s telling you just how perfect you are, just how amazing you feel around his cock, and just how beautiful you look underneath him. Finnick’s also probably the best ever at aftercare; showering with you and washing your hair, or just cleaning you quickly with his own discarded shirt, grabbing you a bottle of water and snuggling up close. Of all the experiences he’s had, he still enjoys the afterglow the best.

Coriolanus likes control in almost every aspect of his life. Your sex life is no different, but frankly, once he discovers the feeling of you on top of him, he makes an exception. It has to be his favorite, watching you fuck yourself over his cock, your freshly manicured nails scratching the back of his head. The snarky, brattish side of you had always been his favorite, the side that snipped back at his comments and curled her lip when he was being stupid. When you get tired and your rhythm ticks off, he’s grabbing your hips, bullying his dick up into you while you groan into his neck. He’ll kiss the bruises and wipe the tears afterward, when you’re cleaned and wrapped up in his blankets. And and and lingerie, don’t get him started. Coriolanus insists on buying you a new pair every occasion; birthday, you get a maroon, lacy set. Anniversary, obviously you get a blood-red crotchless pair. He passes a bill, you’re out to celebrate? Coryo hums that maybe you should open the gift when you get home. He has good taste, your husband. by the time you step out of the bathroom you change in, he’s already rock hard in his slacks, reaching for you. Sure, he loves buying you lingerie and clothes, but he likes ruining them just as much.

I’ll just say it bro Sejanus is huge. Not just in stature but his ahem. His weiner. He’s stupid thick, and the first time he pushes in, he can tell you’re already gone. It takes a minute to get used to, no matter how often you have sex, but Sejanus is a patient guy. He smatters kisses along your shoulder and your chin, and once he starts to push his hips into yours with purpose, his forehead rests against your cheek. He’s gentle, this boy, attentive, listening to every cue he can pick up to make sure you like it. Just because he knows he’s a lot for you to take, he’s sweet and careful, murmuring that you’re doing good as his cock stretches your walls to the brim. I think Sej would be a bit quieter, he’s more focused on listening to you than talking himself, but that doesn’t mean he lets a handful of groans and “fuck, you’re perfect”’s slip. Honestly, fucking Sejanus is being trapped under him, his large frame locking you in place, his burly arms bracketing your face like walls. When this man’s inside you, there’s not much that can get him to stop or distract him. He’s also totally the type to crack either a very lame dad joke or an awful dirty joke during sex, your breathless giggling prompting his own laughter, even if he’s literally balls deep. Afterward, he pulls you to him, grabbing onto you like you’re his personal teddy bear, mumbling that you can both shower in a minute, but he just wants to hold you. You end up in soft, quiet conversation about everything and nothing, filling the scarce space between your faces with silly thoughts until one of you dozes off.

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midnight-writing · 7 months ago

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Poolside Confessions

Pairing: Conrad Fisher x gn!reader

Series: The Summer I Turned Pretty

Summary: One late-night talk by the pool leads to realizations between Conrad and you.

Word Count: 1,641

Warnings: Light marijuana usage

A/N: I tried to keep this gender neutral. Reader is written on the shyer side, just didn’t want to add too many modifiers to the pairing. No use of y/n. Not beta read.

The sun is low in the sky as you gaze out through the kitchen window toward the back patio. The horizon is starting to shift from light hues of blue to a blend of yellows and reds. The view is beautiful, but you’re instead focused on the figure sitting at the pool edge.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to see Conrad sitting out there, somewhere on the edge of the pool, but for some reason you had the urge to join him this time. Fortunately for you, you weren’t involved in any of the conversations going on in the kitchen where you were all sitting or standing around. So you slip your way past the kitchen archway, over to the patio doors then out the back.

You pad your way down the steps toward Conrad, trying to at least make some noise with your bare feet so you don’t startle him. You sit down next to him, keeping a decent space between you both in case he really doesn’t want to be bothered right now. As close as the two of you are, it’s still difficult sometimes to see the signs of whether he actually wants to be alone. When you’ve sat —your knees tucked to your chest and your hands wrapped around them— he doesn’t shift or make any attempt to move away, a good sign.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks, not yet looking at you, his eyes set on the pool water as he lifts a joint to his mouth.

“Managed to escape like you did,” you reply and rub your shins absentmindedly to induce some heat. Shorts and a tank top had worked well for the daytime temperatures, but as the sun left the sky, a light chilly breeze came in. He doesn’t respond, instead he simply holds out the rolled-up piece of paper, you take the joint, put it to your lips and breathe in, letting the smoke ruminate a moment before you breathe it out. “Too many conversations at once,” you add on then hand it back to him. You enjoyed the company but there were too many voices, some too loud for you. Leaving the house not only gave you a chance to indulge your curiosity about Conrad but it let you calm your anxiety.

“Oh and here I was thinking you came out to see me,” he teases, “I’m offended,” he sets a hand on his heart.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “I did come out here to see you, dork, getting away was just an added plus,”

“Yeah, I’ll buy that for now,” he takes another hit of the joint, but when it's your turn and you reach for the joint, he leans back on one hand and uses the other to hold the cigarette far from you.

“What- hey, I thought we were sharing now,” you question as you reach for it.

“After you just called me dork?” his eyebrows scrunch slightly.

“Oh come on,” as you reach for the joint, he’s leaned back, and you’ve turned your body to face him as you lean over him slightly. He just puffs smoke at your face in response, that smug look on his face returning. You sigh in defeat and sit back beside him once again, inches closer this time.

“Seems like I’m a bad influence, especially if you’re willing to try and fight me for my own weed,” he turns to finally look at you. He knows that the one goal you have this summer is to socialize more, yet here you are.

“The worst,” you reply as you take the joint when he finally holds it out to you again.

“What were they talking about?” He's curious, you know he needs the space but you’re also aware that missing out on conversations can still bug him sometimes.

You think back to the kitchen, “One was about something funny that happened at Jeremiah’s job today and another was about Laurel’s new love interest,” you smile at those last words. You’ve been friends with Belly for years now and have subsequently been to the vacation house quite a few times in the past few summers. Over the time you’ve known Belly you’ve gotten to know her family amongst others in her circle, which is how you got to know the Fishers.

“Cleveland,” he says knowingly.

“Mhm”

“Does it seem serious? It’s been a while since she’s seemed interested in anyone like that,”

“I’d say so,” you nod with a slight shrug of the shoulders. “They definitely like each other at least,” you add.

You sit there quietly for a few beats. Simply passing the joint back and forth. He’s caught you rubbing your arms for warmth this time and within a few seconds his sweater is off and he’s holding the maroon fabric towards you.

You know he won’t take it back despite being left in only a shirt, wordlessly you take it and slip it on over your shoulders. Your senses are doused by the smell of his cologne mixed with the salty water of the nearby beach. You do your best to not purposely inhale more and try to focus on simply adjusting the collar.

“So,” he finally breaks the silence, “Do you have any love interests?” he mocks the tone you’d used earlier.

Yes, you think, but instead you ask, “Do you?”

“You’re avoiding the question,” he tilts his head at you slightly with a raise of his brows.

“I plead the fifth,” you decide.

“Seriously? I'm just asking, you’re not under arrest,” he chuckles.

“So if I try to run you won’t stop me?” you ask.

He smiles and lets out a breathy laugh as he shakes his head at your evasions.

You’re unsure what to say. You do have a crush, however, said crush is sitting right next to you, completely unaware of your dilemma. You aren’t sure if you are ready to tell him. Tell him that you’ve been crushing on him ever since that pool party during your second summer in Cousins, that your best friend technically had dibs. For the longest time you’d decided to bury that infatuation for Belly’s sake. She’d grown up with the boy, confided in you when she was swooning for him with no clear sign of requited love. You did your best to be there for her.

Now, however, she’s infatuated with a new boy. Cameron. She has been for a while now and it doesn’t seem like there’s any sign of it going away soon. Belly had even gone along with Taylor’s comments about you and Conrad, a good sign, yet you still didn’t trust it.

“Fine,” you concede. “I’ll only tell you, if you tell me who you have your sights set on,” you attempt.

“Deal,” you held up your pinky finger and he intertwined his own with yours. “There’s this boy…,” you begin as your hands fall away, and you can swear you see Conrad’s shoulder fall slightly. You decide to focus on the water instead. “He’s hmm…,” you try to choose your words carefully. “He’s… thoughtful, puts himself before other people, kind of broody sometimes, funny… oh and he’s taller than me,” your final comment earns a chuckle from the boy.

“Does every crush of yours need to be taller than you?” he questions, “Both Alex and Bailey were,” he adds to prove his point.

You give him a push on the shoulder, “Coincidences,” you state.

“Anyways, your turn,” you turn to look at him.

He runs a hand against the back of his neck. “Okay, so they’re really sweet, smart, doesn’t take any of my shit…, oh and they are shorter than me,” he mimics the excitement you’d used earlier when giving that last detail.

“You didn’t tell me their name,” you point out.

“Neither did you,”

“Touché,” you sigh. Something stirs in your gut, a mix of butterflies and nausea because you’d just confessed your feelings about Conrad to himself and he seems to be crushing on someone else. “Have they shown any signs of liking you back?” you ask as casually as you can, ready to offer advice if that’s what he’s been searching for.

“I’m not sure, they think I’m a dork apparently… so it’s hard to tell,” he chuckles lightly but it’s leaning more towards nervous laughter than full on amusement.

“Sounds like-,” your laugh is cut short by your thoughts, you wanted to say that she sounds like someone you’d get along well with but then it dawns on you. “Oh,” you slowly turn your head towards him. He’s looking at you with that smug smile on his face, unlike you, he is way better at hiding his nerves. Your cheeks are already heating up and you can feel that nausea settle in.

“Took you long enough…,” you want to kiss smack that smug look right off his face.

“Blame the weed…?” you smile nervously.

Those few inches left between you are crossed as he pulls you closer to him by your waist. You turn to face him properly, propping yourself with an arm. The smell of weed lingers in the air, but the joint has been put out for a while now.

“I was talking about you, in case that wasn’t obvious…,” you almost stutter over your words.

“You were?” he asks but you can hear the sarcasm as plain as day.

You nudge his shoulder with your palm, “Shut up,”

“Why don’t you make me,” he quips back. Then the distance between your lips is covered as you bring your mouth to his, resting a hand on his shoulder to support yourself. Luckily, at this point the patio is shrouded in darkness, and one would really have to squint to see your silhouettes. “This okay?” you ask, and he nods before kissing you again.

#conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #conrad fisher x gn!reader #conrad fisher x shy!reader #conrad fisher imagine #midnight writes stuff

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gloomysoup · 15 days ago

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home is where you are

@steddiebingo prompts: hurt/comfort (main card) and home (christmas card)

rating: Teen+ | word count: 2400 | tags: omegaverse, alpha eddie, omega steve, mpreg, insecure steve harrington, hurt/comfort, fluff | ao3

Eddie came home from work to absolute chaos. Addie and Violet were sitting on the living room floor, arguing over whether to put the white lights or the colored lights on the Christmas tree, which he had put up the night before. Addie wanted white, but Violet wanted colored. Eddie was almost certain none of their lights from last year were even going to work, so they'd have to buy new ones anyway. James and Lucy were fighting over an orange crayon at the coffee table, two blank pieces of paper and a whole assortment of other colored crayons in front of them. Steve and their youngest, Grace, were nowhere to be seen, but Eddie could hear movement in the kitchen. Eddie quickly slipped his boots off at the door and swooped in to de-escalate all the arguing.

He started by grabbing a second, emergency, box of crayons from the cabinet that held the art supplies. He pulled out an orange one and handed it to Lucy, so she would stop trying to take the other one from her brother. Then he moved to the older two girls, squatting down in front of them and picking up two strings of lights.

“Why don't we put the lights away for now, my loves? They probably don't even work. I’ll take you both to the store this week and we can pick some new ones out together. How does that sound?”

They easily agreed, and Eddie was incredibly grateful that everything was solved quickly tonight. Once all of the pups were settled and occupied, not a single argument left to be had, Eddie moved to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway to smile at what he found. Steve was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of boiling macaroni noodles with Grace on his hip. He was swaying back and forth, softly humming a lullaby as he did.

Eddie slid up behind him, leaning in with a hand on Steve’s other hip to kiss his cheek. “Evenin', beautiful,” he whispered. Steve smiled and turned his head to get a proper kiss.

“Hey, baby. How was work?” Steve asked after they had separated.

Grace was grinning, trying to scramble from Steve’s hold while saying, “Da!”

Eddie shrugged, taking Grace into his own arms. “Nothin’ new. Missed you, though. How was your day? Pups drive you too crazy?”

Steve hummed in consideration. “Hectic. Lots of arguments today. Oh, Lucy broke one of the nice glasses that Joyce got us. She was trying to be like Addie and Violet and help put the dishes away, but she dropped it and it shattered. Everyone was okay, though, and I’m pretty sure I got all the glass cleaned up.”

Eddie’s hand looped around further to rest on Steve’s swollen belly. “And how was the little one today? Not causing too much trouble, I hope?”

Steve huffed a small laugh. “Not letting me actually get anything done today.” He put down his spoon and leaned back into Eddie’s chest. “Every time I finally got the rest of the pups settled down enough to do something, I either had to pee or sit down for a little bit. By the time I was done, someone else needed something, and the cycle repeated.”

“That's okay,” Eddie murmured, nuzzling his nose against the shell of Steve’s ear and taking a deep breath of his scent. He always loved how much sweeter his mate smelled during pregnancy. It was one of his favorite parts of the experience. “I'll finish the chores for you after dinner. You just worry about relaxing.”

“Eddie, no,” Steve argued, moving to stir the pasta again. “You just worked a ten-hour shift. You shouldn't have to come home and do everything here too. I'll take care of it.”

“You will do no such thing.” Eddie adjusted his hold on Grace, who was snuggled against his chest after not seeing him since the night before. She had been the only one still asleep when Eddie left for work that morning. “You chased our little pack of hooligans around all day while growing a pup. You deserve to put your feet up and relax for the evening. I'll take care of everything else. Don't worry about anything.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder with a frown. “At least let me help. Then we can get everything done faster.”

Eddie smiled and kissed Steve’s cheek again. “Whatever makes you feel better, my love.”

Dinner in the Munson household that night was quite the affair, as it usually was with five kids under the age of eight. Afterwards, Eddie corralled all the pups upstairs for baths and pajamas while Steve cleaned up in the kitchen. By the time everyone was clean, clothed, and settled on the couch for one last movie before bedtime, Eddie was wrecked. He loved his children more than anything in his life (except maybe Steve), but they were exhausting. He had no idea how his mate did it all day long.

Finally, he started the movie and went to track down his superhero of a partner. It didn't take him long at all. Steve was in the laundry room, loading the washer to get one more in for the evening. Eddie came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his husband and kissing his cheek. He pulled Steve back into his chest and swayed gently. He reveled in the way Steve instantly sank into his hold, body going lax and a sigh of contentment leaving his lips.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Eddie whispered.

“Mmmm, tell me again?” Steve replied just as softly.

“I love you so so so much, my love.” Eddie gently tightened his arms around him. “You are an absolute wonder. I don't know how you deal with our little gremlins all day and not just completely lose your mind.”

Steve hummed, a soft smile on his lips. “They're not so bad. Most days. It helps that Addie, Violet, and James go to school five days a week.”

“A saint,” Eddie said, slowly releasing his hold on Steve to dramatically collapse to his knees in front of him. “I worship on my knees in your holy presence.” As Steve laughed, Eddie leaned forward with his hands on Steve’s sides to press a kiss to his belly. Their pup moved beneath his touch. Eddie would never get tired of the feeling. It always amazed him, just what Steve’s body was capable of, especially when it came to creating life.

“Come on, up off the floor,” Steve finally said, grabbing Eddie’s hand and starting to pull him up. The alpha went easily, rarely one to say no to his omega.

With the pups suitably distracted for at least a little bit longer, Steve and Eddie set about the quiet routine of getting evening chores done. They didn't speak much, just moved around each other in a comfortable silence. Eddie did the day’s dishes and wiped down the countertops while Steve folded laundry at the table. The movie in the living room was still going when Grace started getting fussy. It wasn't long before Violet was calling for them to make her stop.

“I'll get her,” Eddie said softly, not wanting to break the calming atmosphere in the kitchen. Steve nodded, still folding laundry, while Eddie headed for the living room.

Grace was pushing at Lucy when Eddie walked in, and Lucy was quickly losing patience with her little sister. Eddie picked Grace up, trying to remedy the situation, but that just caused a full blown tantrum. She kicked and screamed, fighting against Eddie and her own exhaustion. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. No matter how hard he tried to put out a calming scent to soothe her, it was all for naught. She just kept screaming and kicking and writhing. Steve quickly appeared in the doorway, looking a little worried. As soon as Grace saw him, she reached her arms out.

“Give her here,” he said gently, coming over to take the screaming toddler from Eddie’s arms. “I'll sit with her.”

Eddie nodded and passed her off to Steve, watching as Grace instantly began to calm down. He made sure Steve was comfortable on the couch with Grace curled into his body before leaving to finish cleaning up the kitchen and folding laundry. By the time he was done, the movie was over. All five of their pups were fast asleep on the couch. Grace was curled up on Steve’s lap, her head pillowed on his chest. Lucy was situated firmly in Steve’s side, while the older three were piled up and stretched out across the other cushions.

Eddie was extremely careful in his extraction. He took Addie and Violet upstairs to the room they shared first, then James to his room. When he came back, he slowly picked up Lucy and let her burrow into his neck while Steve carefully tried to stand up with Grace. It was a lot harder the further along this pregnancy got, but Steve was nothing if not determined. He never let anything slow him down; not even being nearly eight months pregnant. Again, superhero. Eddie was obsessed with him.

After a very long, very chaotic night, all of the pups were finally tucked away in their beds. Eddie and Steve could actually take a minute to breathe without someone needing something. As they did every night, once the children were tucked in and sound asleep, they curled up on the couch together with some random movie they'd seen a hundred times before. It was more for the noise and familiarity than the movie itself. Steve was tucked against Eddie’s side, his head resting where he could hear Eddie’s heartbeat, just like every night. Eddie held him close, breathing in Steve’s scent and letting himself finally relax for the first time all day. They both remained quiet for a while.

Something deep down in his gut was telling Eddie that something was wrong. Something was bothering Steve, festering in his mind. Before he got the chance to ask, Steve was opening his mouth to speak.

“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” he asked so softly, Eddie almost didn't catch it. If their house hadn't been so quiet, he might not have heard him.

“What do you mean?” Eddie tightened his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Steve shrugged as best he could from under Eddie’s arm. “I just- Do you think all of this is just a big mistake?” Eddie’s heart shattered at the broken lilt to Steve’s voice, the tremble of his words. “Is having another baby a mistake?”

Eddie frowned, trying so hard to control his scent. “Of course not. What's wrong, baby? Where is this coming from?”

Steve sniffled a little, pressing his cheek a little more firmly into Eddie’s chest. “I don't know. I just- We already have five kids, Eddie. Our- our house isn't that nice. We don't really have a whole lot of extra money. And with Grace’s medical bills… maybe- maybe we should have just stopped after James, or Lucy. Maybe everyone was right, and this is all just a big mistake.”

Eddie shook his head, feeling the fabric of his t-shirt start to dampen. “Absolutely not,” he said. He pulled away, shifting so he could fully look at Steve. “Baby, this is not a mistake. I don't know who’s putting these ideas in your head, but they're wrong. So what if we don't have the nicest house in Hawkins? That's never mattered. Not to me, not to the pups. It's just a house, Stevie. And so what if we don't have all the money in the world? Our family has a roof over their heads, clothes on their bodies, and they never have to worry about going hungry. Our pups are loved. Why should anything else matter?”

Fat tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks. Eddie caught them with his thumbs as he cradled Steve’s face in his hands.

“I love you, Steve Munson,” he continued, unable to stop now that he was on a roll. “I love you, and I love our pups, and I love our life. I don't care about money, or our house. All I care about is our family. Our five little pups, who bring me so much joy every single day. Sweet little Sophia, who is going to be so loved, just like her siblings. You, the love of my absolute life, who has given me so much to be grateful for.”

Tears were welling up in Eddie’s eyes against his permission. He just loved Steve so much, and he hated seeing him so upset.

“Eddie,” Steve whispered, voice shaking with his emotions.

“Stevie, honey, I cannot even begin to tell you just how amazing I think you are. How strong, capable, loving, and wonderful. The greatest gift of my life is getting to be a dad, and you have given that to me six times now. I am so deeply in love with you, and our big family. I would never trade any of our pups for anything in the entire world. I don't need a fancy house or money, because you and our babies are my home. I don't care what anyone else has to say about it. I am obsessed with you and our six little pups, this house with its scattered Christmas decorations that we haven't had the time to put up yet, and every single other thing about this little life we’ve built for ourselves. Fuck everyone else. This is the only thing that matters.”

Eddie held Steve to his chest as he cried, rubbing his back and whispering all of his love into Steve’s ear in the hope that it would sink beneath his skin and stay there forever.

Later, Grace will wake up and need Eddie to put her back to sleep. Later, Lucy will crawl into bed with them and cuddle up to Steve. Later, Eddie will help Steve make breakfast before going to work. Later, they’ll put up decorations and stick the Christmas presents under the tree. Later, they’ll have a newborn in the house, someone else for Eddie to love with everything he has.

Later, Eddie will still be deeply in love with the home that he and Steve have built together, regardless of what anyone else has to say about it.

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