#they both looked SO GOOD there and for what

[mwphisto]

LaDs Men and Some of Their Kinks

Includes: Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, and Caleb x implied female reader (separate of course)

Warning, this post includes: somnophila, dacryphilia, brat taming, scent kink, squirting, masturbation, master/pet play, spitting, cockwarming, and more.

A/N: I finished all of my work for university! Now I just have a final presentation next week (which I already did), and then I'll have earned my bachelor's degree! Now I can do some celebratory smutty writing to get back into the swing of things :)

Xavier

Somnophilia is high up there on Xavier's list, but not because he wants to use your body while you sleep. No, Xavier wants you to use him while he is somewhere far off in dreamland. He really wants to wake up to you with his cock down your throat. Even better? He's positive he'd cum on the spot if he woke up to you riding him.

Mutual Masturbation could send Xavier into a frenzy. He loves watching you pleasure yourself, especially when your eyes are glued to the way his fist pumps up and down his length. But he can never truly handle it for long, losing his composure before either of you can make yourselves cum. You're just too cute for him to resist.

Outdoor sex is right up Xavi's alley, though it really should count as he loves fucking you on his balcony. Xavier is quite accustomed to falling asleep in the cozy paradise he has put together on his balcony. Which means, it's also well equipped for him to fuck you stupid. Maybe it's the thrill of someone hearing, perhaps even seeing, or maybe his need to make sure everyone knows you are his (looking at you, Charlie). Regardless, he's rather fond of making you his.

Rafayel

Master / Pet had started off as a joke, almost an inside joke between the two of you after Ebb day had passed. Then, slowly, the joking terms of "pet" and "master" made their way into your intimacy. It didn't matter who donned what role; it just depended on the mood and perhaps even the situation that led both of you to the bed.

Squirting, Rafayel is utterly addicted to it. The first time he got you to cum that intensely, he ended up cumming himself. The lemurian isn't satisfied anymore if he doesn't end up soaked in your juices. He'll go as far as to ensure you are well hydrated before making any moves. This man has done his research, and so far it hasn't failed him.

You're his real-life canvas. Rafayel was shocked that you agreed the first time he asked the question. You had shamelessly stripped for him, nothing but a pair of panties clinging to your ass and hips. Your skin was his canvas, and the gentle, cool strokes of the paintbrush had goosebumps erupting across your arms. He didn't think it was possible to fall more in love with you than he already was, nor did he think it was possible to crave you as badly as he did when he dragged the paint-slick brush over the swell of your tits.

Zayne

Brat-taming just comes naturally for Zayne. Lucky for him, being a brat just happens to be second nature for you. Cool, calm, collected Zayne being pushed to his limits over and over again until he finally cracks. It's the outcome you've been craving from your stoic lover. And once you got it - ass cheeks bruised and your entire lower half being so sore that you're limping - you find that you're utterly addicted. Good thing your lover is on the same page.

Quickies in public spaces are a guilty pleasure. Everyone always expects Zayne to be so good, to follow the rules. Stepping out of line is far more addictive than being the goody two-shoes he's been his whole life. Having you half undressed, speared on his cock while your back is pressed into his desk? Your tits bouncing as you ride him in the front seat of his sports car? Fingering you while you sit beside each other in a dimly lit and crowded restaurant? He's on cloud nine.

Recording your little escapades had been the outcome at the end of the spiral. A spiral you started one evening as you bounced yourself stupid on Zayne's cock, the legs of the couch creaking under your efforts. You were being bratty, and he hadn't quite crossed the threshold yet to feel comfortable putting you in your place. Testing your limits, you had reached for your phone and began taking pictures of you and him as you ground down on his dick. Faces flushed and eyes glossy, Zayne still had those selfies on his phone, under a special album only he could see.

Sylus

Dacryphilia caught Sylus by surprise. He didn't realize how badly it would turn him on until you were choking on his cock with fat streams of tears flowing down your cheeks. You looked like such a mess, so utterly destroyed and he hadn't even gotten into that sweet pussy yet. Bless him, he came before he could warn you, too entranced by your sobbing face and mouth full of his dick to speak.

Cockwarming you has been Sylus' favorite activity besides getting to love you so thoroughly it left you breathless. He wants to be close to you, as close as his body could get and as close as you'd allow. Even on nights when you two haven't made love, he'll ask you rather shyly if he can slip it in. Much to his pleasure, you always let him, especially since you know he sleeps much better when he gets to hold you close... inside and out for that matter.

Sex toys are not off limits for Sylus, honestly, he quite enjoys them. He's well aware of his capabilities and, in turn, he is well aware of his limitations. He can finger fuck you until you're crying, sure. But shoving a vibrating dildo in that pretty little cunt is far more amusing to him. He gets off on having the control, watching your entire body tremble from vibrations so intense that nothing he could do himself would ever get close to replicating. His trick is that you don't get any access to the toys he uses on you. They are his use only, taken out just to drive you mad before he gives you what he really wants. You genuinely have no idea where your lover hides them afterwards.

Caleb

Spitting but not in a way you'd think. Caleb wants you to spit in his mouth, on his dick, use it as extra lubricant. Doesn't mean Caleb will deny you if you ask him to spit on or in you, but god does he crave the feeling of your saliva coating his tongue. He wants to devour you whole, in any way he can, spit included.

Power play is right up his alley. As long as you are consenting, Caleb will go to whatever extreme you desire. It could be as simple as using "yes, sir" or "yes, ma'am" or as complicated as full-on BDSM with safe words and real leather, cuffs, gags, and paddles. Whatever you're willing to give him to fulfill the fantasies, the colonel is willing to accept, and never once will he complain.

A big ole scent kink, he can't help it, you just smell so utterly addicting, it drives him insane. Your shampoo, your body wash, your perfume, your sweat, your arousal. You name it, if it's something on or from you, Caleb will probably love it. You didn't realize it started with your worn panties, ones he stole from the hamper after you would hop in the shower. Caleb was a pervert for it, and he knew it damn well, but it didn't stop him from fucking his fist while inhaling the heady scent of your dirty panties.

[reignpage]

❀ In which Nanami is put to the test by his insatiable, pregnant wife

Kento’s libido has always paled in comparison to his wife’s. That isn’t to say he can’t keep up or doesn’t, far from it. You may start the fun, but it’s he who ends it with you drooling, limp, and buzzing behind the eyes, barely able to even mumble a ‘thank you.’ 

It’s probably more apt to say that his libido only awakens when yours does, whether it’s from your light touches, the mischievous glint in your eyes, or low, sultry whispers in his ears — everything you do and say sparks his sexual spirit. You even joke that he’s wife-sexual and he doesn’t argue against that. 

But these days, he’s starting to question whether there are limits to his appetite and whether you have any at all. 

Now washing the dishes always ends up with your soft, protruding belly pressed against his back and your arms roving his front. You muse about how amazing his muscles look from the back, how broad his shoulders are, and how his hips seem to be getting narrower and narrower (it’s impossible, of course, but you're adamant). With his hands still sudsy, he knows he can’t sate your desire with his fingers alone, so he gets down on his knees, keeps his eyes on yours, and tastes you on his tongue until you tap out. 

Returning home from work comes with surprises too, usually involving his wife on her knees wearing nothing but the ring he kisses every morning and every night. Driving anywhere, for example, involves some heavy petting during traffic or, when you cannot possibly wait any longer, parking somewhere obscured and having a quick and steamy romp in the backseat. 

Or two. 

Up till now, he’s managed rather well; every needs you have are met and expeditiously, even before you were pregnant and especially so now that you are. But, when he wakes up, dazed, confused and with his cock being sucked and slobbered on, he’s met with your adorably round eyes and shiny, swollen lips wrapped around his equally swollen and plump cock, as he pulls the covers away. 

“Oh, s-sweetheart. It’s late. Did you get -hah- antsy again?”

You nod, cheeks hallowed to slurp on the bubbling pre-cum at his tip. He groans, head thrown back and blond hair spilling all over his pillows. His darling wife isn't the greatest in the kitchen or reading the room, but good God, are you amazing at bringing him to his knees? 

Inspirational, really. 

Cooing, he brushes your hair out of your face and sends a shaky smile your way. “F-feeling empty, my love? Lonely? Come up here, sweetheart. Let Ken take care of you.”

A pout graces those lips he loves so much when you nuzzle his palm.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Kenny. I really tried to hold back, I swear! It’s just like a craving, y’know?”

He’s got you straddling his lap soon, your huge shirt framing your larger-than-normal body, the neckline slipping off one shoulder, and nipples pebbled under the thin material — you look nothing short of the embodiment of temptation, the paragon of seduction.

“What did I say before? Hmm?” A thumb begins rubbing circles over your clit, concealed behind soaked cotton and it squelches under his touch. You’re both breathless, moving slowly, gently, lovingly in the dark like you have a million times before and will a million times after. “You can always come to me for your needs. I’d resent myself if I ever made you feel embarrassed or alone in this pregnancy. Every high and low, we face it together, remember?”

Growing more and more hungry, you find yourself no longer grinding down on his hand; instead, you’re gripping his length between your pussy lips, sharing in the wetness and seeking to hear more of his low groans as if it fuels you. “Ngh, Ken, I know. You’ve been so good t-to me; I just feel bad asking for more when you’ve —fuck, I’m gonna cum!— g-given me everything.”

These days you're more sensitive than usual and it's maddening trying to go easy on your poor cunt when his eyes are rolling back and his cock seems to have grown a mind of its own as it pounds your clamping, sloppy inside. Overstimulation is a common theme now and it's a bother to hide the twitch of his lips when you cry from your fifth orgasm in an hour with the end nowhere in sight. He never thought he'd like to see tears trail down your cheeks but this pregnancy's rewiring everything in your bodies.

“Have I not done a good enough job of making sure you know —that’s it, sweetheart, grind down on me, ah, s-such a good girl —e-everything that’s mine is yours?”

Gasping and whining, you admit, “Yes! Yes, you have.”

“And how m-many times—“ He groans, voice deepening into a growl, sounding almost angry that you need yet another reminder of your place in his life. “— have I told you that you don’t need to -hah- a-ask? That you can t-take from me whatever you like, whenever you like.”

Sweat is beading down your body, thicker thighs pushing through the ache from grinding down on his cock. His huge hands, safe and warm, are pulling you down. Kento’s perceptive eyes see the way they quiver with your feeble attempt to keep most of your weight off of him, but what you don’t know is that he can take it. That he doesn’t mind. That he craves your complete and utter reliance on him. 

“All the time!”

Needlessly worried about the growing heaviness of your body, he takes every opportunity to remind you that he doesn't work out for aesthetics. All that he does is intended to make you happy and he knows how much you love the burliness of his body, the strength in every limb, every muscle, and every flex. Sometimes, he puts on a show just to watch you press your thighs together.

“Then please act like it,” he hisses. “Please, just use me without hesitation. Fuck, d-don’t even bother with pretences. Just slide my —God, you’re so wet, s-sweetheart— s-slide my cock inside you and ride me till you cum. Until you’ve had enough.”

Your husband is close, too. His abs, sharp and well-defined, are tensing up, and the veins in his arms are popping with the effort to keep from cumming all over your sopping cunt before your cum drips down his balls. It’s crude, vulgar, downright shameful, he knows that. But you have a gift; you can drive him to insanity, to the very edge of reason, of self-control, dangling him right where you want him, sweating and babbling about another baby before you even had your first one, and then you pull him back to safety, and he returns as your husband and not your walking sex toy. 

"I wish you would just touch m-me without worry, my love. I hate to see you dig your nails into your own skin —your lovely, beautiful skin, so pretty and hnngh! all for me— b-because you're trying to hold back."

Mewling and clawing his clammy chest, you promise, "I will! I'll just take what I w-want. I'll k-kiss you and touch you and fuck you when I need to, 'kay, K-ken? Even when you're busy!"

"N-never too busy for you, darling."

Spasms wrack your body as he growls out, more to himself than to anyone else, "Never."

When you slump onto his body, shaking and mouthing adorations into the blond splattering of hair on his chest, he doesn’t even care that his orgasm was stifled. He can only rub your back reassuringly as he begins worrying about the pressure you’re applying on your belly. 

You laugh. “This pregnancy has changed you, Ken. You're just as bad as me, sometimes. Maybe your hormones are going crazy, too.”

He kisses your head, eyes crinkling at the corners and cock throbbing under your stomach from the sweet scent of you filling the air. “It’s only made me bolder, honey. More honest. Now, have you had enough, love? Should we get you back on your side of the bed? The doctors said you need as much sleep as possible and we have a big day tomorrow with our crib shopping, remember?”

Grinning ear to ear, you sit up again.

Kento recognises that glint in your eyes and he sighs. He's in for a long night.

“Are you insane? The night is still young, Kenny honey, and we need practice for baby number two, remember?”

Hooking your panties to the side for you, a chuckle leaves his lips, which he licks subconsciously, eyes drawn to the shiny lips slowly but expertly engulfing his cock, inch by inch. 

“I have a feeling we won’t be stopping at baby two tonight, darling.”

[ice-creamforbreakfast]

::Download my part:: (Patreon - Free) ::Download @moontaart's part:: (Patreon - Free)*

Everyone knows the girl from Flushing; the nanny and fashion icon that blew into the Sheffield family's life (and our livingrooms) on that fateful day in 1993 and kept everyone on their toes with her antics, distinctive voice, and vast wardrobe.

Moontaart and I decided to recreate some of her most iconic looks from the hit series so both you and your sims can relive the nostalgia and absolute fashion high that was The Nanny!

For the true nineties experience, we have a catalogue for you (not a real one I'm afraid!) to browse the various looks available in this collection.

More details after the cut:

Farrah(l) wears: Cheap and Chic Dress and Accessory Top, Vivienne Heels (plain), Yetta Nails (Moontaart), and Sylvia Tights Milla(r) Wears: Cache Dress, Vivienne Heels (glitter),Yetta Nails, and Sylvia Tights

Cheap and Chic Dress & Accessory Top(45 swatches, 4464 polys) - What says style and flair more than a keyboard dress? In anyone else's wardrobe, this would be a novelty; in Fran's, it's a staple! Comes with an accessory top (index finger left).

Nadine Dress (50 swatches, 4302 polys) - How does your hair look? No one cares when you're wearing this showstopper in Fran's favourite colour: leopard (as well as forty nine others)!

Cache Dress (45 swatches, 4764 polys) - Want to stay warm for winter, but still want to show a bit of skin? Who cares if your shoulders get a touch of frostbite!

Anissa wears: Nadine Dress, Yetta Nails (Moontaart)

Fran Turtleneck - Regular (50 swatches, 3264 polys) - Fran's wardrobe has turtlenecks in every colour and pattern! We have turtlenecks in fifty. Also available as an accessory top (index finger left).

Fran Turtleneck - Cropped (50 swatches, 3308 polys) - Showing skin in the winter? This cropped turtleneck will keep you warm...kind of.

Gabriella wears: Fruit Salad Jacket, Barbara Skirt (Plain, low waistband), Yetta Nails (Moontaart)

Fruit Salad Jacket (4 Swatches, 5626 polys) - This jacket truly is a feast for the eyes! Inspired by the Moschino original, this truly is a statement piece.

Flair Tee (50 swatches, 3252 polys) - showing skin in the summer? This cropped t-shirt won't keep you warm at all.

Barbara Skirts (45 glitter swatches, 50 regular swatches, 1152 polys high waistband, 1174 lower waistband) - Fran loves a miniskirt, even if she claims to have never worn short dresses since childhood. These skirts will really show off your legs...and perhaps your liver.

Esther (L) wears: Fran turtleneck, Barbara Skirt (metallic), Sylvia Tights Yasmeen(R) wears: Fran cropped turtleneck, Barbara Skirt (plain), Sylvia Tights

Maggie Jeans (54 swatches, 1120 polys) - Elevate your casual outfit in these lacey slim-fit jeans!

Izumi wears: Flair crop top, Maggie Jeans, Vivienne Heels (plain)

Vivienne Heels - Plain and Glitter Versions (45 swatches, 786 polys) - A carry-over from last month's Juno Collection, but we think Fran would approve! These are available in smooth leather and glitter finish.

Sylvia Tights (45 swatches) - Fran's signature opaque tights. Although she prefers black, the other forty four colours are nice too!

✨Be sure to check out Moontaart's part of the collab linked above✨ *Evan has said that he might be fashionably late (we think Fran would approve) but this post is scheduled because I'm off to an important benefit with Mr. Sheffield. Not really...I'm off out for a succulent Chinese meal but it sounds good right?

[fuctacles]

Obsessed

It's Munson Movie Night and Eddie is determined to watch something from this decade so he hides Wayne's keys and drives them both to Family Video.

Robin looks up when the bell chimes, and when she spots them her boredom turns into a smile. She raises her hand in a greeting and turns her head in search for, most probably, her staple hip attachment.

"Dingus!" She yells towards the backroom. "Your boyfriend is here!"

Eddie is good at quick thinking, it's a skill honed by playing DnD weekly and Gareth being a power gaming asshole. But this leaves him completely blank. Yes, he's looked at men with a lustful gaze once or twice, but it's not like anyone knows.

He glances back to see if there's someone behind him, but even Wayne has already passed his confused form to approach the counter.

Steve emerges from the backroom and his face lights up.

"Wayne, hi!"

He rounds the counter to hug Eddie's uncle like they're old friends and all Eddie can do is stare, because--

What.

[baby-yongbok]

"Let Me Make You a Mommy"

SKZ Hyung Line x Reader

⤷ Smut | drabbles/hard thoughts

⤷ WC - 1.6k [total]

⤷ CW - Breeding kink, praise, teasing, overstimulation, anal sex, unprotected sex, power play, body worship

⤷ A/N: I started writing for one and then I just decided to do all of them... Maknae line will be posted next friday!♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Chan

He’s buried deep inside you, slow and low, with his forehead pressed to your shoulder, groaning your name like a prayer that keeps getting answered.

You’re both so gone - sweat-slicked, sheets ruined, nails raked down his back. He’s been talking the whole time, voice dropping into that raw, ruined register that makes the filthiest things sound like gospel/

 So good, so tight, fuck, I missed this, made for me, you’re mine.

And then-

“Gonna make you a mommy.”

It slips out so fast he doesn’t even realize it at first. It’s not until your breath catches and your body freezes that he catches himself. And then he’s frozen with you, silently trying to find a pathetic cover up he knows won’t work. You pull back just enough to look at him, wide-eyed. 

“What…?”

Chan blinks. His mouth opens -then closes.

“I -uh…” A breath. “I didn’t… mean to say that.”

But you heard it. The way his voice cracked, the way his hips stuttered like the thought of it nearly made him come.

“You sure?” you ask, soft, curious. Not judging. Just listening. 

He groans, burying his face in your neck. “Don’t do this to me,” he mutters.

You laugh. “You did it to yourself.”

He’s still inside you. Still hard. Maybe harder after what he’s said. So you press your hips up just a little, clench around him, and ask, “You want to make me a mommy, Chan?”

“No,” he growls. Then again - less convincing, “Yes.” Then, quietly, “God, yes.”

He kisses you like he’s overflowing, confessing a deep dark fantasy. Maybe he is and it’s hot. The look in his eyes as he conjures up every single thought he’s ever had about breeding you full. 

“I think about it,” he admits. “When I’m alone. When I’m fucking you. When you smile at me in the kitchen like I wouldn’t drop to my knees for you.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I want you full. Round. Mine.”

You’re soaking now. And he feels it.

“You’re not letting this go, are you?” he murmurs.

You smile. “Not a chance.”

He growls again, grabs your wrists, pins them above your head.

“Then I guess I better make it worth it.”

And this time when he says it - “Let me make you a mommy” - he says it on purpose.

Minho

“You want it that bad?”

Minho’s voice is honey laced with venom, seeping into your spine as his hand pushes you down, face to the sheets.

He’s been working you open for what feels like hours, patience laced with punishment. Slick, stretched, and aching - but he still hasn’t fucked you where you need it most.

No - he took your other hole instead. Buried himself deep there, groaning like a sinner at the altar, while you writhed and begged beneath him.

“God,” he mutters, dragging out slowly, just to push back in with a ruthless roll of his hips, “this tight little ass’s already trying to milk me. But you want more, don’t you?”

You whimper, trembling, broken open and empty.

“Minho, please - please-”

He stills. Entire body locking up, voice turning cold and dark.

“Say it right.”

You blink, dazed. “W-what?”

His thumb brushes your lip from behind, a cruel mockery of softness. Then he thrusts just deep enough to make your eyes roll back.

“You want me to fill you up?” he asks, low and cruel. “You want my cock in your soaked little pussy? Want me to fuck you full and watch it take?”

You’re dizzy with it - with him - slick pooling between your thighs, untouched, throbbing. He knows it. You’ve been clenching around nothing all night.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say what you want.”

And then he drops it - just above a whisper, but it crashes through you like a bomb:

“Let me make you a mommy.”

You gasp - wrecked.

“Minho-”

“Say it,” he hisses. “Or I’ll finish right here. You’ll be dripping down your thighs, and you won’t get what you’re begging for.”

You're trembling. Desperate. You choke on it.

“P-please,” you whisper. “Make me a mommy.”

He groans - so loud it echoes in the room.

And in one breathless, brutal motion, he pulls out and thrusts deep into your soaked cunt, bottoming out so hard your body jolts. The stretch, the fullness, after so much denial. You scream his name like it’s a confession.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moans, heady and deep like his pace - already punishing. He’s got one hand in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. “Should’ve said it sooner.”

You’re sobbing now - too much, too good - each thrust tearing you in half and stitching you back together.

“Gonna fill you up so deep,” he pants, losing control now, “gonna stuff you full like you’re meant to be - fuck, baby, I’ll give you everything -”

You can feel it coming - his orgasm, yours, both tangled into something molten and terrifying.

And as you fall apart beneath him, tears streaking your face, voice shaking, he leans in close, breath hot against your ear.

“You’re my baby” he whispers, so sweet it hurts. “All mine, full and leaking.”

Changbin

He holds you like you’re breakable - even though you’ve already begged him not to be gentle.

The sheets are a mess. Your thighs are sticky, trembling from your second orgasm. Changbin’s flushed and breathless above you, gaze flickering between your eyes and the place where your bodies meet, like he still can’t believe this is real.

“You okay?” he whispers, thumb brushing your cheek, sweat-damp curls sticking to his forehead.

You nod, breath hitching as his hips roll again, cock dragging against your soaked, swollen walls.

“Too good,” you manage, “Feels too good - Binnie, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he says, leaning down to kiss your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. “You always take me so well.”

Then he slows, presses deep, and stays there, buried to the hilt, eyes locked on yours.

And in the quiet, he says it:

“Let me make you a mommy.”

You blink, stunned still.

His voice is soft. Barely a whisper. But it shakes.

“I want it,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. “I want to see you round with me. Full of me. I think about it all the time.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s still inside you. Still hard. Still there - every inch of him trembling with want.

“I want you like this forever,” he murmurs, slowly moving again. “Messy and mine. I want to come so deep you feel me for days.”

You moan his name, hips rising to meet his.

“You’d be such a good mom,” he groans, thrusts picking up. “So beautiful. So fucking sexy.”

“Binnie-”

“Let me give it to you,” he gasps, panting into your neck. “Let me fill you ‘til there’s nothing left but me.”

You come again with a choked cry, clutching at him like he’s oxygen. He follows seconds later, voice breaking as he spills inside you - hips stuttering, arms locked tight around your waist like he’s anchoring himself to the idea of you, forever.

And when it’s over, when your bodies are tangled and quiet, he’s still there. Still holding you like a promise.

Still whispering, “I meant it.”

Hyunjin

Hyunjin touches you like art. Slow, careful, like you’re something sacred he’s not sure he’s worthy of touching.

His hands move like he’s sculpting you, thumbs pressing into the wet between your thighs like he’s shaping something that’s already his. His eyes are wide, lips parted, gaze so tender it makes your chest ache. Every breath is drawn out like he’s memorizing you all over again. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, kissing your belly, your hip, the soft underside of your breast. “I want to give you everything.”

You press into him, breath hitching, and he just melts - forehead to your chest, hands gripping hard at your hips like he’s scared you’ll slip away. “Shit,” he whispers, voice shaking. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

He lines himself up, cock thick and heavy, dragging through your folds until you're gasping, aching.

“Breathe,” he tells you. “I’ve got you.” Then, he’s pushing inside - slow at first, like he’s afraid to break you. His mouth presses to your throat, his breath warm and shaking.

“Fuck - you feel like heaven,” he says, voice already cracking. “Every time.”

He starts slow, almost too slow - hips rolling like waves, each thrust deliberate. It builds heat low in your belly, that unbearable pressure that keeps you pinned under him. You’re nails skin into his shoulder harder with each time he sinks into you, making love. 

And then - something shifts.

You say his name, soft and wrecked. You beg him to go faster. You wrap your legs around his waist and meet his thrusts with your own, and that’s when the calm snaps.

“I want it,” he pants, his voice breaking against your skin. “I want to fill you up - want to feel you take all of me.”

Your hands claw at his back. He thrusts again, losing the rhythm, chasing something primal.

His grip tightens.

His pace turns brutal.

And his mouth finds your ear, breath hot and ragged.

“Let me make you a mommy,” he rasps, voice wrecked and raw and so, so honest. “Please - let me fuck it into you, let me give you everything - every fucking drop.”

You moan, breathless, trembling under him, and that’s all it takes.

He breaks.

“You want that, don’t you?” he pants, fucking you hard now, rhythm punishing. “Want me to fuck you so deep you don’t know where I end and you begin?”

Every thrust is frantic now - deep, bruising, like he’s trying to imprint himself inside you. His moans turn into whimpers, praise falling from his lips between curses.

“So good for me - fuck, you’re perfect - gonna look so pretty carrying my baby, fuck-”

When he finally comes, it’s with a shattered cry of your name, forehead pressed to yours, his whole body trembling as he pours everything into you like it’s a prayer. A promise

And you believe him.

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[thecherrypittttttt]

PEACHY; dr jack abbot x dr!reader

words: 8,800+

content warnings: a lil bit smutty, bit of an age gap, pining, the whole ED gang, fluffy <3

summary: the 4 times they didn’t get caught and the 1 time they did

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

In hindsight, the first time they were almost caught, was probably the closest call.

They were at a lake resort, about an hour or so outside of Pittsburgh, for the annual Emergency Department resident program retreat. The air was muggy - thick with humidity and loud with the mundane buzzing of mosquitoes.

Every year, after the chief residents graduate, the attendings take the whole program on a weekend retreat somewhere. Usually it is some random bed and breakfast that barely has a pool. Not that anyone cares. Everyone is happy for a weekend of relaxation and the chance to actually see the sun for 48 hours.

The hospital funds an abysmally small portion of the retreat since it is technically the time when everyone gives their feedback on the residency program. Graduating residents and attending physicians partake in evaluations on both the program and each other. The attendings rotate every year who pays for the rest of it. This year, it was Dr Abbot's turn.

Dr Abbot had spared no expense. They were at one of the nicest resorts in Pennsylvania. It had everything. Horse riding, axe throwing, two golf courses, bowling, cooking classes, a holistic healing spa, and what the residents had all decided was the one thing more tiring than the ED - the Team Building Adventure Package they were all signed up for.

The attendings spent the weekend doing who knows what while the residents conquered a high ropes challenge course, zip lining, and a climbing wall.

Yes, Dr Abbot had spared no expense but he had spared no free time either.

She was excited for this trip. For the sunshine, sure. But the chance to finally, maybe, get Dr Abbot to crack. She saw the way he tried to pretend not to look at her in the ED. She noticed the hoops he would jump through to have her on a case with him. The excuses he made up to text her - citing some random medical journal that yes, she was interested in. But she was far more interested in him.

If only he wasn't such a damn good guy. She knew he would never touch his resident no matter how much he liked her. They have had too many late night and early morning conversations up on the roof or at the diner next to the hospital or that bench in the park across the street where he had had his chance. So many times. She knew he was waiting for her to give the green light. For her to make the first move.

One night he started calling the bench in the park 'their bench'. She almost kissed him that night. But she chickened out. Now that residency was over and she would be starting as an attending at The Pitt shortly, she was feeling a newfound sense of confidence. So she bought a new string bikini for the retreat. If only she had had a chance to wear it. Or even see him.

Jack smiles to himself as he dips into the lake. He feels kind of bad. Making the residents work like this on the retreat. But he knew he couldn't see her in a bikini so he packed their schedules with the random team building program the resort had offered.

He already felt disrespectful enough with the thoughts he had about her when she was in hospital issued scrubs. If he saw her in a bikini, he would not make it through this weekend without cracking. Her half naked and technically no longer being his resident was a very dangerous combination and he was thanking his lucky stars that he had made it through the full 48 hours barely even seeing her. He missed her, of course. But she was better off without him. Practically 15 years his junior and Jack was almost certain she didn't see him as anything other than a good boss or a mentor.

Some nights he let himself think otherwise. Usually, when they'd go sit and chat on their bench and something in her eyes was practically begging him to kiss her. Jack would just chalk it up to him projecting onto her. Because gosh, he wanted to kiss her so bad. But he respected her too much to put her in a potentially uncomfortable situation.

Yes, they were close. Yes, they got along. Yes, they laughed together. Yes, they cried together and then comforted each other. But he did not want to be that male attending that took his resident simply being kind to him as romantic interest.

He lets himself actually think about her for the first time since they saw each other at check in. He can't help but huff a laugh to himself at the fact that she is probably pissed off at him for making them do so much physical activity over the weekend. He is definitely going to be hearing about it tomorrow on their shift. He can't wait to see her.

A creak on the dock shakes him out of his thoughts.

He must be dreaming. He did everything possible to avoid her this weekend. Specifically, her in a bikini. And here she was, practically glowing in the moonlight, wearing the tiniest purple string bikini and a knit coverup dress that wasn't doing much covering up. Jack is happy it is dark out because he is pretty sure that his face is tomato red.

She doesn't say anything. Just stops at the end of the dock, staring at him with her hand on her hip.

"What are you doing here?" is all he manages to choke out.

"Well, I bought this new bikini and haven't had a chance to use it because you've had us running around like a drill sergeant all weekend. Figured it would be a shame to waste it."

Jack is trying not to check her out but he knows he is doing a poor job when all he can respond with is, "Yeah, definitely"

She doesn't seem to notice. Just plops herself down onto the dock, her feet hanging in the water.

"Plus, I believe that I'm owed an evaluation with my attending."

Technically, a resident can do their evaluation of their primary attending with said primary attending. Since that is entirely counterintuitive to honest feedback, they give the residents the option to do it anonymously online or meet with another attending that is not their primary. No one ever does it with their primary attending no matter how good a relationship they have with them.

Jack knew she had already had her evaluation of him earlier today. She did it with Robby. He knew because he went against everything good and honest in him and read her file. He was dying to know what she said about him. And unsurprisingly, it was all good things. All professional things. Too professional for his liking.

Jack is typically a chatter box but the moon shining on her face is making her look more like a princess than normal and he feels breathless. He's happy to get out the couple words he is able, "You're brave."

They just stare at each other for a moment. It feels like a standoff. Who is actually going to acknowledge that they're both half naked and alone for the first time in well...ever?

"And you're stalling. C'mon, you get to give me feedback all day everyday. It's my turn, Dr Abbot."

She flips her hair and tugs her coverup up and over her head - sets it down onto the dock next to his prosthetic. Jack sucks in a breath and doesn't even try to hide the fact that he is checking her out. She's doing the same to his bare chest and biceps. Jack barely notices because he is too busy wondering where the hell she managed to get a bikini that small.

The little smirk on her lips is what confirms for Jack that she knows exactly what she is doing. Two can play at this game, he thinks. He skips the boring questions about patient care and gets right to the questions he knows she is hoping he asks.

"How do you feel your attending's behavior impacts your learning experience as a resident?"

"The praise is encouraging. But the staring, the intense eye contact-" she pauses and Jack would laugh at the irony of it all, her eyes boring into his as she says this, if he wasn't holding his breath in anticipation, "-is distracting. But still encouraging."

Jack is silent for a moment then gives himself a quick mental pep talk. If he can be brave enough to be in combat, he can handle flirting with his colleague, "Well, if my staring is such a problem, why does it sound like you like it?."

"You wish." She kicks her leg as she giggles, splashing him. Her giggles stop quickly, the second Jack's strong hands wrap around her lifted ankle. He feels a sense of pride at her gasp and lets himself think that maybe, just maybe, he makes her feel the same way she makes him feel.

If only he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. He takes her foot in his hands gently, massages the arch of it as he asks the next question, "How stimulating do you find your attending's teaching style?

Jack can't hide the smirk that takes over his face as he realizes that she is struggling to answer - because of his fingers, "Do you need me to repeat the question?"

She rolls her eyes. In the way she does so often, but this time it is a little different - forced. As she answers, she is hoping he hasn't noticed that her faux annoyance is actually just a front for how turned on she is over such little touch.

"Stimulating? Mentally, very. Physically, there’s a lot to be…desired."

He drops her foot in surprise at her direct answer and for the first time tonight allows himself to believe the fact that this might actually be happening. She takes his brief shock as her chance to dip into the lake. It's pretty shallow. The water line is high enough to lap at her neck , but short enough to where they both could either stand or tread water. He swims a stroke towards her, they are almost nose to nose but they do not dare touch. Jack breaks the silence, but not her gaze.

"To what extent do you feel your attending demonstrates ethical behavior?"

The question she has been waiting for. She doesn't miss a beat in her response, "To an annoying one."

Jack's eyebrows raise in surprise, "That's a first."

Somehow, they both manage to get a small laugh out. Jack is first and foremost a combat medic. There are numerous colleagues of his that would argue his use of, what they would consider risky procedures, isn't necessarily the most ethical thing of all time.

"Can you expand on what is so...annoying?"

"You're always looking but...you're never touching."

"Well, some would say that touching your resident would be unethical."

"Some would say that you’re teasing."

"Oh, really? Who? Did you raise your concern with Robby? What did he have to say?"

They both feel the air shift. It's the fun of their dynamic. He lets her have her fun. Lets her have control. Lets her take the lead. Lets her be her. Because they both know at the end of the day, the only other person she is ever going to follow the lead of, feel safe enough to be vulnerable around, is him. And he is damn honored.

"You know I didn't." He wants to kiss the pout off of her face - it's so cute.

"You know, he didn't mention you going to his evaluation in the tiniest bikini on planet earth so I am going to assume -" Jack traces the bikini strings on her hips then snaps them against her skin as she gasps at him finally touching her. "-that this is all for me."

Now she is the one left speechless. She recovers flawlessly, "Also, meant to put that in your evaluation. Too cocky."

"Why didn't you ask Robby?"

"Jack-"

"When I ask my residents questions, I expect an answer. You know that." Jack's hands move up, rubbing at the sides of her waist. He feels how fast her heart is beating now. The pace matches his own, making his breath hitch. The confirmation that she is feeling as keyed up as he is gives him the confidence to brush his fingers, just under her breast, but careful not to touch it.

"Because I don't want Robby to touch me." His hands drift to the back of her thighs, lifting her legs around his waist. She feels him hard against her and tries not to drop her head back in the satisfaction of finally feeling him. She reaches her hands around his neck, rests them where his curls are. The curls she's imagined running her hands through what feels like a million times. Jack's hands rub up and down the back of her thighs as he holds her up. His fingers are dangerously close to her ass, but again, he's careful not to touch. Not until she says so.

"Who do you want to touch you then?"

She rolls her eyes again. This one is different too. But it's not forced like the first one. It's frustrated - sexually frustrated. "You know who."

"Whitaker? Shen? Langd-"

She mumbles "You're so annoying" before she is going to kiss him. He doesn't know where this sudden will power is coming from, but he stops her, one hand holding her up and the other on the back of her neck - keeping her in place.

"What'd I say about when I ask questions, hm?" Jack can't stop staring at her lips. Her full, perfectly pink lips that are so, so close to his own. They haven't even kissed yet and he's so far gone. They both are. He feels himself harden more than he thought was possible as she practically pants for his kiss.

Jack can't take it anymore, his thumb reaches under her bikini top, grazes across her nipple. He'd rather bite it but he'll save that for later. He can't wait to find out what pretty noises she'll make then if these are the ones she is making now.

"Oh my god! You, Jack! I want you to touch me! Happy!?"

"Unethically so"

And in one swift movement, Jack pulls her lips to his, swiping into her mouth almost immediately. She whimpers at the feeling of his tongue against hers. Jack draws back just a little bit, to snag her full bottom lip with his teeth. He's pressing a searing kiss to her lips again as his hands reach for the strings around her back and then her neck, tugging them loose. His other hand that is kneading her ass grabs the strings on her bottoms, pulls those loose as well. He grabs the scraps of fabric and tosses them onto the dock.

He drinks her in and if he thought the moonlight made her look perfect earlier, he doesn't even have an adjective for right now.

He always assumed there would be a sun in heaven but now he is sure that there is a moon. She tugs at his curls as she presses another hungry kiss to his lips, her hands dragging down his body and slowly scratching his biceps. Yes, definitely a moon.

Jack dips his head, takes one of her breasts into his mouth. Licking and nipping at one with his mouth. Kneading the other with his hand.

He comes up for air and a bit of teasing, "This unethical enough for you?"

She smiles at him in a dazed way that makes his heart stop. "Almost" she whispers in his ear, letting her lips run down his neck - lightly kissing, sucking at the sensitive spots, and then trailing her tongue over them.

She runs her finger under the waistband of his swim trunks. He moans at the feeling of her finally touching him. He feels her smirk into his neck as he takes off his trunks, throwing them on top of her swimsuit on the dock.

Her mouth is on his again. Hot and desperate. Jack can't help but think he is the luckiest man on the planet now that he knows that she is just as needy for him as he is for her. She grinds her center down onto his hard length, and they both let out a groan. Yes, definitely the luckiest man on the planet.

"You know how long I have been waiting for you to kiss me?"

Jack is panting, he whispers back, practically speaking the words right onto her lips. "Didn't want you to feel weird. You deal with enough at work - you didn't need your old attending hitting on you."

"I knew it." That makes Jack pause.

"What?"

"You weren't making a move because you were my attending. I gave you so many damn chances and you would just stare at me. That bikini was my last resort."

"That bikini - is going to give me a heart attack. And I know this is ironic because we are skinny dipping and making out like teenagers who are past curfew but I have way too much respect for you to assume you loved me back without explicit verbal consent."

Jack doesn't even realize it slipped out until he sees the expressions move over her face. First surprise, then just pure joy, "Love?" she teases, her eyebrows raising and her hands clasped at the back of his neck.

Jack just grins, his thumb brushing her cheek as he kisses her again and whispers softly against her lips, "Yeah, I love you."

She tosses her head back and laughs. His favorite sound. Even though they are completely naked right now - it's her laugh that is making him blush the hardest. "God, I love you. I'm gonna leave the world's most positive review for that bikini because I have been trying to get you to admit that for years and if I knew that was all it would take - I would have done this a long time ago."

"Yeah?" Jack can't believe his ears. But she is nodding her head, mumbling to him that he is an idiot, and kissing him again because she can't get enough. Neither of them can. They have about four years to make up for. They could kiss forever. But a door slamming against the wood of one of the cabins breaks them apart.

"Oh my fucking god" she whispers. She would recognize that blonde head of hair anywhere. And under any other circumstances, she would be more than happy to see it.

Jack grabs their swimsuits off of the deck and into his hands, under the water and hidden from view. She flies under the dock. The space is small, but large enough for her to not have to go under water. She's hidden and doesn't have to hold her breath - that is all she cares about. She clamps a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

"I thought I told you that smoking was bad for you."Jack huffs. Dana laughs. There is a flicker of a lighter but it goes out just as fast as it was lit. It's broken. Dana sighs.

"Well, I need to go find a lighter that actually works but since I'm here - you feeling okay?" There's a lilt to Dana's tone. A teasing one.

Jack's brow furrows, "Why would I not be?"

"I don't know - I just transcribed all the attending reviews of the residents and I don't think I have ever read a more glowing review from you. I mean that thing could practically pass as a love letter.”

"She's a great doctor."

Dana cackles, "I didn't even say who it was."

Jack just laughs and for the millionth time that night he is thankful it is dark out because his cheeks are burning. "Okay, you caught me."

"But she is a great doctor. A great person too. Funny, kind, pretty, smart." a pause and then, "No longer your resident" another pause, "...single."

"Dana - what happened to you going to find a lighter that works?" That cracks a laugh from both of them.

"Fine, I'll leave you be - but you deserve to be happy too, Jack. So does she. I think you both do that for each other. Just keep that in mind."

"Goodnight, therapist Dana" Jack sing songs.

"Goodnight!" She yells back from her trek to the cabins. They wait for the click off the door before they are in the clear.

"Don't say a word" is flying out of Jack's mouth at the same time she teases, barely getting the words out between her giggles. "What a wing woman Dana is. Gosh, I just love her."

"Wing woman? Sounds like you have a crush."

Her eyebrows fly up her forehead in faux surprise as she points behind her to where Dana once was moments ago, "Oh, really? Because you’re writing love letters about me to our employer and everything. It sounds like you're obsessed with me!”

Jack mumbles a coy 'Something along those lines' and playfully tosses her bikini at her "Get dressed - lets go."

Jack is pulling his trunks on and jumping out of the lake and onto the dock. He tugs his prosthetic on and reaches out a hand to her. She just stares at him - blank and confused. They were finally there and now he wants to leave just because Dana had to smoke a cigarette.

He silences any doubt in her brain, "I'm not fucking you for the first time in a lake. You deserve a bed and not a UTI."

That tugs a laugh and a smile out of her. She ties on her bottoms and the bottom half of her top before she takes Jack's hand and climbs up onto the deck.

"Who knew what a gentleman you are." She turns her back to him, signalling for him to finish tying her bikini.

His whisper on the back of her neck makes her legs wobble in anticipation, "and I can't properly feel how wet you are for me if we're in the water."

"There he is."

They are a tangle of limbs and kisses and giggles as they slowly but surely make their way back to Jack's cabin. It is truly a miracle they don't get caught.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The second time they'd almost been caught was practically a year from the first. It'd been a year since the lake. A year of finally loving each other. A year of somehow, someway - not being caught at work - despite Jack being absolutely, positively awful at keeping them a secret.

They were head over heels in love and he was a shameless flirt. The only thing saving them was that he was a bad flirt so nobody had really noticed yet. Or so they'd hoped.

She had moved into Jack's house two months ago. If he had it his way, she would have moved in about six months ago. She was always there anyway. That is what he would say.

They had spent all morning hiding her stuff - making it look like she had never even stepped foot in the place. She was even practicing her reaction to 'seeing his house for the first time'. Jack couldn't stop smiling at her. He was just happy she was finally referring to everything in the house as 'theirs' and not 'his' - even if he was being bossed around. He liked it. He loved her. More than anything.

Every year, one of the attendings hosts a welcome barbeque for the new interns and med students that join the program in July. The whole program comes, at least the ones who aren't working, from the newest third year med student to the most seasoned attending.

Usually, if there is a new attending, they are supposed to host after their first year on the job. Jack made up some random excuse as to why he wanted to host. Everyone looked at him like he had three heads when he had volunteered but he knew that she couldn't exactly send out an invitation with the same address as him and not blow their cover.

They had spent all afternoon on absolute opposite ends of their backyard. Jack posted up with Robby at the grill. She was lounging on the pool chairs with Dana, Collins, and Mel.

She was killing him. She wasn't in that purple bikini. This was a work function after all. But she could wear a paper bag and Jack would be sweating so the high cut swimsuit she was in now wasn't helping his case. The only thing getting him through the afternoon was knowing how she would be once everyone was gone.

She likes to tease that he is the needy one. And normally, she is right. But if there's a couple hours where they are on separate shifts or apart for whatever reason, having to pretend like they are not practically engaged, she is on him like glue the moment they're together again. And she doesn't leave him be. Jack relishes in it.

Like he is right now. They're putting the house back together. Getting all her stuff out and back in its rightful place. When they set up this morning, they had basically split the house in half and tackled it that way. Now she trailed behind him like a cute puppy, holding onto his bicep and nuzzling herself into his side. "Can we please do this tomorrow? I just wanna lay with you. I'm tired."

Jack is so giddy, he practically giggles. He slowly lowers himself onto their plush patio furniture. Tugs her down on top of him. Her legs on either side of his waist and her arms finding their usual place around his neck - her hands in his hair. He cups her face, presses a long kiss to her lips and then speaks against them, "From what? Laying by the pool and teasing me all day?"

"From pretending that this isn't our house."

Jack grins at the emphasis, and then they're both in a fit of laughter thinking about the hilarity of the day. Of their situation. Of how they silently communicate that they don't think they can keep sneaking around for much longer. They don't really want to. They know this is it. That they are it for each other. So everyone is going to find out eventually anyways.

He imitates her, "Dr Abbot, where is the garbage can? Dr Abbot, where is the bathroom? Dr Abbot, where is the-"

She covers his mouth with his palm and feigns annoyance as she rolls her eyes. "I'm not going to ask where the bedroom is if you don't shut up."

"Don't need the bedroom. Got you right where I want you, baby." He's slipping off that damn cover up that is really never doing its job anyways and laying her down on the daybed.

He's kissing down her body, slowly. Doing his favorite thing - worshipping her. Her hands pull at his curls and he lifts his lips from her body only to murmur against her hip, "Been dying to taste you all fucking day."

He's pulled her bottoms not even halfway down her thighs when they hear the lock on their fence rattle. She is up and running into the house faster than Jack can even blink. He can't help but double over in laughter - he has never seen her move that fast in their lives - not even for a code.

Robby's voice shuts Jack right up, "Why are you laughing to yourself?"

"Why are you breaking into my backyard?"

"I forgot my sunglasses." Robby walks over to where Jack stands by the daybed. He picks up a pair of sunglasses off of the side table.

Abbot nods to them, "Those look like Heather's sunglasses."

Robby doesn't miss a beat, "And that-" he juts his chin towards the coverup that was left abandoned on the daybed, "-looks like something that belongs to another doctor we know."

Jack feels his face heat up, "She must have left it here."

"I was talking about Shen." Robby jokes, cracking one of those smiles that reaches his eyes. A knowing smile.

Jack just has to laugh. It is Robby after all, "I'll bring it to her next shift."

"Oh, I'm sure you will, brother. I'm sure you will. Along with a coffee and probably an engagement ring if it was up to you."

If only he knew, Jack thought.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

After that day at the barbeque, Jack and her fess up to Robby and Collins. They were both their respective best friends. It was getting too hard and they really didn't see a reason for it anymore.

Robby and Collins were about as surprised as Jack and her were when they found out about them giving it another go - so not surprised at all.

It was Tuesday night the third time they almost got caught. A Tuesday night meant Robby and Jack had a basketball game for the ED's rec team and Collins and her would go to yoga and for a walk. Probably stopping at some kind of wine bar along the way that Jack and Robby would eventually meet them at.

Tonight was different though. Collins and her took their walk straight to the park district that the hospital league played at because tonight was the championship game and the whole department was going to support.

“Oh look who decided to grace us with their presence.” Robby teases the second they walk into the gym.

The boys on the team are warming up - Robby, Whitaker, Langdon, Shen, and Jack. She feels Jack's eyes looking her up and down - she didn't wear the matching workout set for no reason. The biker shorts were short and tight. The sports bra was low cut and tighter. She had a sweatshirt on over it though - gives him something to take off later.

Jack just smirks and tosses her the basketball. She catches it with ease and effortlessly sinks a shot. She hears Dana and some of the rest of their work friends cheer from their spot in the stands.

“Ooo look! She’s got better game than you, Dr Abbot” Robby nudges his shoulder.

She rebounds her own ball and shoves it back into Jack’s chest as she responds. He’s smiling down at her. He wants to kiss her so bad, "Someone has got to show you fools how it’s done.”

Her and Collins cross the gym and take the steps up into the stands to meet the rest of the department.

"Don't turn around, it'll make it obvious, but Dr Abbot is staring at your ass." Victoria whispers it to her like it’s the most scandalous thing in the world.

Victoria is being so sweet, trying to be helpful - she doesn't want to laugh at Victoria but Dana's response makes her and Collins crack up. They can't help it.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, kid!”

Oh and Dana knows now too. Dana is like a second mom to her. She couldn't not thank Dana for wing womaning for her that night out on the lake. Even if Dana was a little floored at finding out what she had actually interrupted that night.

"Dana!" She tries to pretend to be shocked. But their facade is fading quickly and neither of them particularly care too much. The only thing they care about now is the bet they have going on who is going to be the one to accidentally get them caught.

"Cheers!" Dana starts as she hands over a solo cup full of wine that she had packed in the cooler next to her. "to Coach Abbot." Dana finishes.

Now she is the one staring. Jack pulls off his sweatshirt, exposing his biceps in the tank style jersey they've all got on. She huffs a laugh at the fact that every other department has a color jersey and the ED's is camo patterned because Jack paid extra to get it. She can't necessarily claim she is paying attention to the game but she is paying attention to him and how good he looks as he plays.

She also feels a tug of pride in her belly. It may sound stupid, but playing a pick up basketball game was once thought to be impossible for an amputee like Jack. She had gotten him the special running prosthetics for his birthday. She had spent an exorbitant amount of money for him to be able to participate in this rec league. But she would have spent much more because it wasn't about the money. It was about him feeling good, feeling like himself, being able to do all the things he loves to do - no matter what. That was priceless.

The game flies by. So does the wine. At some point Dana suggests that if she had enough wine on her they should drink every time Jack looks up at her when he makes a shot and everytime Langdon airballs a shot.

The team sits on the bench as they prepare for the last quarter. A groan comes from Jack, then a low 'Fuck' and she is doing her best not to seem overly concerned. Suspiciously concerned. He doesn't seem hurt. He's been moving great.

But then she sees it. The broken running prosthetic. He places it in his bag and replaces it with his normal prosthetic. He seems fine but her heart sinks for him. He must feel her or something because he turns around and gives her a small smile and a thumbs up. That makes her feel better. Collins nudges her shoulder, pointing towards Shen who apparently had just called her name twice.

She tears her gaze from Jack now that she knows he is okay, “What?”

“We need a fifth person if Jack can’t play anymore.”

“Okay?” She asks, confused. What does that have to do with her?

“Jack said you played basketball in high school.”

“Not particularly well.” She glares at Jack. He knew she wasn’t great. Sure, she had a bit of a shot on her, but she hadn't actually played a game of basketball in over ten years.

“We don’t need well, we just need able.” Langdon pipes up in a completely non encouraging way that only Langdon can.

“Convincing.” she deadpans.

“Please, we just need someone who knows the rules. Unless anyone else in the department would like to reveal that they are secretly a basketball legend.” Shen looks at the department, sitting in the stands behind their bench.

The department looks at her. She sets down her solo cup and stands up, making her way down the few stairs to the bench, “I want it on record that I’m a glass and a half of wine deep. And Dana is pouring so that probably is more like two and a half."

Everyone claps and cheers and whistles. Then Jack takes off his jersey to hand to her, she takes off her sweatshirt and the whistles get louder.

Her sports bra dips lower onto her cleavage than she was planning on ever letting her coworkers see. She didn’t even know she had the mark on the top of her breast until Langdon yelled from down the bench, “What are you hooking up with a teenager or something? What’s with the hickey?”

She is absolutely beat red and Jack actually does a bit of spit take from his water bottle. Jack and her were adults. They weren’t in the habit of giving each other visible marks, but marking eachother in places noone else can see? That was a different story.

"Oh my god." She has never tugged a piece of clothing on to her body faster. The jersey falls over her like a dress, going past her biker shorts and hitting mid thigh.

She quickly scans Jack’s chest as he pulls a plain back tshirt on, praying to whoever will listen that she didn’t leave a mark anywhere on him last night. She sighs in relief at the fact that the only marks are his permanent ones. The ones she loves tracing - his freckles, his birth marks, some scars. She’s made a habit out of kissing the scars.

She would maybe be a little sheepish about wearing a jersey with a big 'ABBOT' on the back in front of all of their coworkers if Langdon hadn't just made her hickey everyone's business.

"Okay on that note, let's finish this game." She manages to huff a laugh and rounds the bench to sit with the rest of them. Landgon is bent over, tying his shoe. She knocks him over and he mumbles something about probably deserving that. She feels a bit better.

Jack is up and in front of the five of them, explaining some play on his white board as seriously as he explains assignments in the trauma bay. She takes a peak at their teammates, to see if they are also taking this as serious. They are - deadly so.

She can't help but start to giggle as the buzzer goes off and they're making their way to the court. They all look like they've seen a dead body, “Guys, lighten up. We’re playing radiology, not the 90s Bulls.”

She feels a gentle tug on the back of her jersey, pulling her back to the bench where Jack is. She slowly turns around to him, her eyes basically popping out of her head. Telling him what her mouth can't say. Could he be literally any more obvious?

“What can I do for you, captain obvious?”

Jack lets the jersey go immediately, “Sorry - habit."

Her heart warms at that because she gets it. It's hard when they're at work - not to reach out and just touch each other. Not even in a sexual way, just in the way that they feel like extensions of each other and it's weird to not be able to touch when they want.

She's technically still on the court and he is technically at the bench, but he is the closest a coach can get to the sideline without being on the court and she is the closest a player can get to the sideline without being out of bounds.

Close enough to hear him say, "Just wanted it also on the record that I’ve seen you accomplish much more impressive, physically demanding activities than a basketball game while a glass and a half of wine deep. Like when you were hooking up with that teenager last night.”

She can't help but whip back around agape at him, a smile threatening to take over her face, “You’re a dog.”

"And stop looking at me like that."

"What? I’m in trouble for looking at my coach?"

"You're in trouble for looking at me like that with my last name on your back."

She opens her mouth to respond but is interrupted by the referee who she is pretty sure is just a resident from psychiatry, "If the Emergency Department coach is done flirting with their new player, we can get this fourth quarter started."

She hears Collins and Dana cackle in the stands. Jack and her are both flushed for what feels like the millionth time that night and not from the basketball. The whistle blows and then the fourth quarter is well underway.

There is maybe a little more than a minute left in the game and against all odds, they are only down by four. She hasn't done awesome. She hasn't done bad. She's hit a couple mid range shots. Missed some too. But now she was definitely flushed from the basketball - they'd been running up and down the court for eleven minutes straight. And radiology had substitutions.

Robby makes an easy layup and they're back on defense. Radiology is passing the ball around, trying to kill time. She hears Jack tell Langdon to foul his player with the ball. He does, the guy misses both his free throws, and now the ball is back in their possession - for likely the last play of the game.

Robby dribbles the ball up the court. Maybe three seconds left and now they are only down by two. He dishes it out left to her. She's out on the left wing, behind the three point line and closest to the bench. The ball reaches her hands. All she hears is Jack muttering, "Shoot".

So she does. The ball leaves her fingertips and swishes through the net right as the buzzer sounds.

She turns around to look at Jack, her jaw dropped and a little shocked. "You did it! We won!"

And then they're both laughing. And his arms are around her waist, lifting her up and spinning her around before they both remember where they are. And who is watching. He sets her down and Robby claps a hand on her shoulder, "Be careful or we're gonna put you on the team next year."

"Absolutely not." She huffs, sipping her water bottle.

"I'm sorry - were you guys just hugging? We're all not going to ignore that, right?" Shen can't help himself. She knew he wouldn't.

"She did a good job." Jack says nonchalantly. As if they embrace like that all the time.

"I've done a good job all season. Where's my hug?"

"Those are reserved for players our coach has a crush on." Robby teases.

"Michael!" Heather chastises from the stands and that gets everyone going even more.

"Michael? Since when do you call him Michael-" Langdon trails off - figuring out for himself what's going on.

Jack and her just look over at Heather appreciatively. She mouths a silent 'Thank you' to Heather for taking the heat off of them.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

After seeing his last name on her back at the basketball game, and honestly way before then too, Jack could not stop thinking about calling her his wife.

They both knew that was eventually happening. They'd talked about it. They went ring shopping. She gave him a general idea of what she liked and then she left him to his own devices. She still wanted to be surprised. And she was still waiting to be surprised because he hadn't proposed yet. She was almost positive he had bought a ring because he had been acting so skittish the past week or so.

They're working the day shift together the fourth and final time they almost get caught. Robby and Collins went on vacation and they're covering their shifts for the week.

Jack is charting at the nurses station, trying not to stare at her everytime she walks by. It's been irritatingly slow. At least when it's busy they have something to distract themselves from each other.

“So Dr Abbot, who is she?”

They both freeze at Perlah’s statement. Jack stops typing. She was on her way to go round on a patient but quickly pretends she needs to make a pit stop at the nurses station to listen in.

“Excuse me?”

“The girl I saw you ring shopping for the other day.”

So he had bought a ring. She smiles to herself. Even more so when she sees how red Jack is. She winks at him from behind Princess and Perlah's inquisitive stares.

“It’s probably the same girl who decorated his house over the summer.” She pipes up from the back of the station.

Princess and Perlah laugh along with her. They're murmuring something about how they thought his home had a woman's touch to it at the barbeque earlier that summer as they're called away from the nurses station.

They leave Jack alone quicker than they'd leave Robby alone. They know he is not an open book and they'll respect that but that doesn't excuse him from some teasing. Especially if Perlah has got first hand information on him.

Jack stares at her, a smirk twitching, fighting to appear on his lips. She peels out of the station and to the staff lounge. Jack is hot on her heels and the staff lounge is thankfully, very empty.

"I could decorate the house if I wanted to. You just like that stuff." She playfully rolls her eyes and humors him.

"Sure you could, Dr Abbot. Just tell that girl she did a good job, yeah? On the house and the future husband."

"I'm not completely incapable of having taste, you know? I've got a pretty big diamond ring to prove it."

“I heard. Planning on doing anything with that anytime soon?"

He kisses up her neck, slow as his hands rub at her hips. He whispers as he reaches her ear, tugs a bit with his teeth and then, "Planning on doing a lot with it. And you. Exceptionally soon, actually."

Then he's pressing her against the wall next to the door and placing his lips on hers. His hand snaps at the waistband of her scrub pants, then under her top, over her chest and splays across her throat - lightly squeezing it. She whimpers at the sensation, her lips parting a bit further and Jack takes the opportunity to lick further into her mouth. They can never get enough of each other, they don't think they ever will.

This was especially reckless of them, though. They were plenty guilty of sneaking away to the on-call rooms or a supply closet, but the staff lounge during a fully staffed day shift was just further proof they were not keeping this sneaking around stuff up much longer, if at all.

She moans his name, quietly, as she reaches for his waistband. Any other time, when his brain was working, Jack would grab her wrist and tug her to an on-call room. But she's already got his head hazy and he knows they can't go much further in the literal staff lounge but he lets himself relish in her soft hand stroking his hard length.

He tells himself he'll give them just a couple more seconds - tie themselves over until they're off their shift. Or at least can find a supply closet that locks. There usual spot had been compromised two weeks ago since it no longer had a working lock. He is silently counting down from five in his head. Five seconds and then they'll be done. But god, she has no business being so damn good at this.

He only makes it to three when the door handle jiggles and they are flying off of eachother. He sits in the chair closest to them. He can't go back out there until he is a little less...excited. She has made it practically halfway to the staff pantry when Mateo steps in.

She snags a lollipop from the cabinet and unwraps it. Jack has to physically keep himself from groaning out loud when she winks at him and wraps her lips around it. Way slower than necessary, by the way. She waves hello to Mateo and then looks at Jack, "Hope you find your ring, Dr Abbot."

And then she is out the door, but not before she hears Mateo ask Jack, "You wear a ring?" She laughs to herself.

Oh, he'll have a ring on that finger soon. They both will.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Their luck wasn't going to last forever. They were honestly shocked they had made it almost eighteen months with only Dana, Collins, and Robby knowing. Sure, they got some suspicious glances from Shen or Ellis sometimes, but everyone else seemed none the wiser.

They had had the night shift from hell. Nothing tragic had happened, thank goodness, but it had been absolutely jam packed with cases. She doesn't think either of them had gone to the bathroom or eaten or even had a sip of water for the entire twelve hours.

She knew it wasn't healthy. It wasn't healthy for anyone, but especially for her. She had been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes as a baby and at this point in her life, she could guess what her blood sugar was without some kind of monitor inserted into her skin 24/7.

Of course, she typically wore one anyways. Especially at work. Like right now. She was dizzy and sitting at the nurses station, head in her hands, waiting for everyone to finally arrive for shift change so she could get the fuck out of there and go home with Jack.

She could feel the shakes coming on and she really did not want to pass out at work. She's kicking herself for not eating the many snacks Jack had been bringing her from the vending machine. Where was he finding the time to go get those? She had no idea. But the incessant flow of cases left every offering unintentionally untouched.

Jack was protective of her. Not in a weird, possessive way. But he loved her, cared for her, wanted her safe. Her passing out at work, or really anywhere, was not safe. He could also intuitively tell her blood sugar, high or low. And if she was having one of those days where she didn't want to take care of her diabetes on top of everything else - he was the one injecting her with insulin or making her a snack.

Her continuous glucose monitor was old, as a resident she could barely afford the one she had and then she just hadn't thought to change it once she got her pay raise as she graduated to an attending. She usually could just tell her sugar levels anyways.

Jack was the one who came home one day with a new one for her. This was like his super bowl. His two favorite activities - taking care of the love of his life and spending a lot of money on new medical gadgets - all at the same time.

This new one could connect to her phone, easily communicate her sugar levels in real time. When she never hooked that up because sometimes she just doesn't want to be constantly reminded of her diabetes, he just connected it to his apple watch.

That is how she knew the ED was busy. Because otherwise Jack would be standing over her, feeding her himself, until her blood pressure was back to a normal level.

It was almost like the thought of Jack summoned him. Jack was second to shift change, behind her. He strokes her hair a couple times and drops a bag of peach rings into her lap - taking advantage of the time alone.

“Sit and eat before you faint, please.” He says gently. He sets a glass of water on the desk in front of her.

“Jack, I’m fin-“

“You’re shaking like a leaf and your blood sugar is-“ he pauses and looks at his watch, “64 and dropping.”

“Why do you know her blood sugar?” Mel asks, as she walks up, genuinely confused.

Both Jack and her are frozen in place, staring at each other.

“And where did you get those peach rings? We don’t have those in our vending machines. Only at the store across the stre-“ McKay trails off as she puts two and two together.

“And why do you get her blood sugar sent to your apple watch?” Langdon chimes in, eyes darting in between the pair of them.

“Wait, is your glucose monitor connected to Abbot’s apple watch?” Whitaker with the questions now.

Jack just looks at her, shrugs, and digs into his wallet as they both laugh. “I knew you’d be the one to get us caught.” She mutters, satisfied with her victory.

He slaps a $100 bill onto her palm. She pockets it and tosses a couple pieces of the candy into her mouth, still chuckling.

“Get you caught?”

Robby, Collins, and Dana are laughing uncontrollably. Because of course this is the way they would get caught.

“If the peanut gallery could quiet down over there - I could let you all know that yes, her glucose monitor is connected to my apple watch because my fiance likes to play Russian roulette with her diabetes and that is not happening on my watch.” Jack's voice is serious but the big grin on his face is giving him away.

“Quite literally, actually.” she adds.

“Fiance?!”

"Yes, now hurry up with this shift change so I can get her home before she faints on a patient."

"I knew that house had a woman's touch!" Perlah yells from across the hall, not letting her patient get in the way of any gossip. Especially something this big.

Eventually, everyone calms down. Her blood sugar slowly rises as she eats. Jack stands next to her chair for the rest of shift change, her head leaning against his leg, his hand softly massaging the nape of her neck and her shoulders as the other hand takes notes for the both of them.

They wrap up shift change, not without a few jokes tossed their way, and then Jack is kneeling down to be eye level with her. "How you feeling?"

"Peachy." She giggles. So does Jack. They're both a little giddy right now. "Take me home?" she asks, intertwining his large fingers with her own.

"Gladly." He smiles as he helps her up and presses a kiss to the back of her hand, both of their backpacks on his back.

They don't escape completely unscathed. They both hear Langdon as they're halfway out the door, "Oh my god, that hickey you had at the basketball game was from Abbot!?"

"Nothing gets by you, Langdon." Jack claps him on the back as they exit.

Once they're outside, Jack presses a kiss into her hair and murmurs "I love you". Right in the middle of the ambulance bay - because he can now.

If he knew getting caught would feel this good he would have slipped a long time ago.

[no-144444]

the fuck up- o.piastri

꩜summary: the silence has become loud in the mclaren garage now they're back from their week-long break. what's making oscar so miserable? lando wants to get to the bottom of it...

꩜pairing: oscar piastri x ex! single mom! fem! reader

The sun began its descent over the flat city of Miami as Oscar and Lando sat to eat. Oscar did not want to eat with Lando. Lando very much wanted to eat with Oscar. Both of them had their reasons. Lando’s were; Oscar had been miserable since they got back from their week off, and he was too nosy not to ask. Oscar’s were; he’d had been miserable since they got back from their week off, and Lando was too nosy not to ask.

“How’s Magui?” Oscar asked, trying to make it seem casual. He’d never once asked about Lando’s dating life, mostly because he didn’t care. Lando smirked at him like he knew what was going on, and Oscar continued drinking his wine with a blank look on his face. 

Lando giggled lightly and sighed. “Oh Oscar… Oscar, Oscar, Oscar… sweet, young, naive Oscar,” Lando took a breath as Oscar rolled his eyes, this was getting repetitive already. “This is about Y/n!” He pointed a finger in his face and all he got back was that same blank expression, but inside Oscar felt that sting in his heart. “You’re missing her!” 

Try as he might, he couldn’t deny that. But that wasn’t the main issue. You’d been great. Mia was great. Oscar was the outlier. Well, Beth was the outlier. 

He huffed. “I miss my daughter,” he corrected. “And no, that’s not a crime.” 

“You’ve known your daughter for two months,” Lando scoffed. “You were in love with Y/n for years.”

“And I broke up with her,” Oscar shot back. 

Lando grimaced. “Don’t remind me. You were almost bearable for a moment there.” 

Oscar scoffed and crossed his arms, levelling Lando with his eyes. “I just don’t understand why you care so much.” 

Lando mirrored his position and realised how close he was to the answer, the true answer. Whatever was bugging him so much. “Because I was there for Y/n?” 

“And I wasn’t,” Oscar nodded, a self-deprecating smile on his face. “And everyone keeps reminding me of that.” 

Lando shook his head. “It’s your own failing-”

“I know that!” Oscar’s hand hit the table so hard it attracted the eyes of a few other tables. He cleared his throat as Lando did the same, offering apologetic looks to the other tables, then turned his attention back to the man in front of him. “I know that,” he repeated, like he was trying to convince himself of it too. “But I didn’t know,” he added. “I couldn’t have known-”

“You would’ve if you didn’t put your racing career before yourself,” Lando shrugged and it knocked the wind out of Oscar’s lungs. No one had ever framed it like that. That he’d sacrifice himself for his career. The story always was that he’d sacrificed his relationships, his schooling, his regular life- which was all true, sure. But no one had ever reminded him of the fact that he gave up the most important thing to him, because he thought it would make him quicker. Even with no way to prove it, he knew losing you had never been good for him, or his career. You had been the one thing he had for himself. The one thing that nothing in the paddock could touch, he wouldn’t let it. His racing brain switched off around you, and he gave that up for being an Alpine reserve driver. “Simple as, mate,” he added. 

Oscar was quiet for a moment. “What do you want me to say to that?” 

“I want you to tell me what happened last week because Y/n won’t,” Lando leaned in, almost putting his chin on the table, batting his eyelashes and trying to make Oscar tell him. Oscar rolled his eyes. 

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he shrugged. 

“Beth showed up, didn’t she?” Lando mused, biting his bottom lip in suspense. Oscar sighed and Lando’s jaw dropped, though his hands raised in victory, and quickly dropped back down again. “Holy shit. What happened?”

The early morning sun of Monaco was truly breathtaking, and Mia seemed to love it too. It was your first time in Oscar’s old place, the apartment he was lending to a friend while he set up base in London with you and Mia. He had offered to bring you both to Monaco so Mia could ‘see where he’d been all these years’, and so that you could get a break. 

“It’s beautiful,” Mia whispered, her tired voice small as she curled up into your side in front of the floor-length windows. You chuckled as she cuddled into your lap, falling back to sleep as you people-watched. You spotted the cars going past, the people walking their dogs, the people going for runs, the people going to work. You adored the just… watch the world pass by. You were so engrossed in it, you didn’t see Oscar come up beside you. 

“What do you think?” he whispered. You startled, but kept still enough to keep Mia asleep. He chuckled, as did you. His eyes fell to Mia in your lap, though you knew he was listening. 

“Struggling to understand why you left this place for London,” you answered, and he laughed. This was so… normal, but strange. It was all so domestic, and you’d trained yourself to not think that. You wanted him gone, out of your life and mind. You thought back to all those mornings and nights you spent with Mia as she grew, imagining Oscar beside you. Imagining him feeding Mia a bottle as the sun rose, when she was just new. Imagining him playing with her in the park. Imagining her cuddling into his side while you watched movies at night. Imagining him taking some of the load off your shoulders. You’d always pushed it to the back of your mind, reminding yourself that he wanted nothing to do with you. 

And here he was. Wanting everything to do with you. 

“London has you two,” he shrugged. “Monaco doesn’t.” 

“But it has nice weather and a pretty killer view,” you teased. 

“You two are a pretty nice view,” he said before he knew what he was saying, and the air changed. You shifted your position. He cleared his throat and did that thing he always did when he was nervous or made a mistake, that ‘resting his chin on his hand’ thing. “And London’s not bad. Cheaper than here.” 

You chuckled. “You’re a millionaire,” you reminded him. 

He nodded and turned his attention back to the view. It was pretty stellar. “It’s nice, but I’d miss her too much.”

“Course,” you nodded, threading a hand through her hair. “I understand.” 

“Thought you would,” he chuckled. 

Knock knock. 

“Who’s here so early?” you questioned. “Are you expecting someone?” 

He shook his head as he stood. “Shouldn’t be,” he walked over to the door and (stupidly) opened the door without checking the peephole. Bad choice. 

Beth. 

“Where the fuck have you been?!” she demanded, loud enough to wake Mia in your lap, and you were genuinely too panicked to really know what to do. Who the fuck was this strange woman? Were you safe? How did she know Oscar? “I have been calling and texting you for weeks! Are you alright? Have you fallen off the face of the earth for some unknown reason?!” 

“Beth,” he said, his voice hushed. “Can we talk another time?” 

“Fuck no!” she scoffed, pushing past him at the exact moment you chose to jump up, trying to remove yourself from the room. Bad timing. She gasped louder than you’d ever heard. She was a woman who looked kind of like you… it was freaky. She stared at you for a moment, then turned her attention to… Mia. In your arms. The kid. The kid that looked like Oscar. 

Her gasp was even louder that time. “YOU HAVE A FAMILY?!”

“No! It’s not what it looks like-” you started, then cut yourself off. “Well.. yes, it is. But not like that. Oscar and I broke up years ago and I only realised I was pregnant afterward, we’d blocked each other on everything, and he only found out about this a few months ago. I don’t know who you are, and I’m just going to head-”

“Y/n-” Oscar’s voice called out, but the look you gave him made him shut up. You collected up your and Mia’s things and went for the door as Beth paced around the apartment. “Y/n, at least tell me where you’re going?”

“Lando’s, probably,” you answered before hastily leaving the apartment, and leaving him with the problem he’d been ignoring for weeks. 

“Her name’s Y/n,” she stated, her jaw open. “And you said it didn’t mean anything.” 

Oscar cringed. Ok, maybe he’d said your name once (or twice) during sex. Maybe he’d pretended it wasn’t a big deal, and that he was just naming famous people in his head to stop himself from cumming prematurely. Maybe he’d lied. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I know I’m an asshole-”

“Understatement of the century,” she interrupted. “Go on. Just break up with me now.” 

Oscar’s breath caught in his throat. “Do I really need to say it…?”

“Wow. So we literally meant nothing at all?” she asked, and he could see how upset she was. He didn’t deserve her, and he definitely didn’t deserve you, but if this wasn’t the universe giving him a chance at everything he’d ever wanted, he’d be damned if he didn’t take it, and Beth just wasn’t part of that. “I won’t let the door hit me on my way out, fuck,” she sighed as she pushed past him. “Y/n deserves better, you prick!” 

He knew she was right. He knew he should’ve just… he didn’t even know what he should’ve done. He just couldn’t stay done with you. 

“That bad, huh?” Lando nodded. “You really are a heartbreaker, holy shit,” he chuckled. Dinner had come and gone, and they were on their last sips of their drinks. 

“I’m a prick,” he nodded. “And Y/n has been so dry texting me, so I don’t even know if her and Mia are coming this weekend, or next.”

“They are,” Lando assured him. “Y/n might just… be a bit off. Shits happening at work and obviously not the best intro to your ex’s girlfriend.” 

“I broke up with Beth,” he corrected. Lando frowned. 

“Yeah, I know that. Y/n doesn’t. She thinks she’s medeled in your relationship and fucked it up for you, duh,” Lando shrugged. “Are you sure you know Y/n?” 

Oscar faked a laugh and flipped him off. “You’re so funny,” he added, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I know that. I just need to talk to her. And Mia. I mean, I know I’m not winning parent of the year, but all I did was fucking stand there, Y/n got her out of there. I couldn’t even stop Beth from coming in-”

“I hate to break your self-hatred rant, but we are in fact exiting my field of expertise,” Lando interrupted. “And dinner’s done. Call her tonight, see if she’s in Miami yet. If she is, go over there and hang out with your daughter. If she’s not, offer to pick them up whenever they get here. You’ll get through this, don’t worry mate.” 

Oscar wasn’t so sure.

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[erenists]

BREAKING NEWS: MEN CAN WHIMPER?

Synopsis: Situations where JJK MEN whimper! MDNI 18+

Warnings: Sub!Gojo, Sub!Geto, Sub!Toji, Sub!Choso, Sub!Sukuna, Sub!Nanami

Overstimulation (m receiving), riding, bondage (ribbons), sex toys (vibrator), teasing, orgasm denial, begging, whimpering, crying, humiliation, praise/degradation, multiple orgasms, orgasm control.

WC: 3k

Gojo Satoru 𝜗𝜚

The grip he has on your waist doesn't loosen, in fact it tightens not to get you to keep going like he usually does but to try and stop you.

"agh— sweetheart m-mind slowing down hah?" You only smirk looking down at him with your eyes lidded as your hips keep snapping down onto him riding him like you've got places to be.

"S'ok toruu, you can handle it big boy" cooing you take his face into your hands pressing a soft kiss on his forehead making him groan.

"Keep going and I might jus—" Before he can finish his sentence your hips roll in a certain way making him jolt his grip tightening and eyes squinting his jaw falling slack. "ohh fuck baby s-so good" He can already feel himself coming and you can too.

you speed up and he comes with a loud groan finally he can rest he thought — until you kept up the pace quickening. "Holy shit fuck fuck— baby w-wait fuck wait" He lets his head fall back tapping your hips trying to get you off. You shake your head grinning and then Gojo whimpers he whimpers like a lost puppy and you feel your pace falter a little. "toru.. did you — did you just whimper..?" You ask your pupils dilated and the look in your eyes scares Gojo half to death as he hesitantly nods. You lick a stripe on his neck and that's when you feel your hips bouncing like never before Gojos forced to dig his face into your neck not being able to hold himself back. "Haah— s-so fast b-baby soo good best pussy ever t-thank you fuck fuck cant handle thisss" you rub your clit to his whines nodding at his incoherent words hes spewing. one final strong bounce of your hips and both of you are gone, Gojos thighs shake his nails digging into you as he's cumming deep into your womb while you're squirting all over him.

"mmmm — we should do this again toruu~" You trace little shapes on his chest laying on him and grinning, you peek up and your grin falls into a soft smile seeing him sound asleep.

Geto Suguru 𝜗𝜚

Your boyfriend was so beautiful, his long hair was always so shiny and healthy, his face always clean and smooth and god did he look divine tied up with your pink ribbons against a chair, his cock out begging to be touched, best birthday gift ever.

You smile, approaching your boyfriend bending to your knees so you're at eye level with as he stares at you with a desperate look in his eyes.

"you should see yourself right now suguru, you look delectable" You drag your acrylic nail down his bare defined chest and he smirks up at you.

"Oh? is that so sweetheart, perhaps you should take a bite of me hm?" He purrs and you grin resting your free hand onto his head before slowly and softly dragging it down to grip onto his chin and tilt it upwards.

"Might just have to" Your tongue runs over your lips before you smash them on to his.

"Sugu — I got mph" you moan trying to speak in between the kisses but he really doesn't let up until you pull away. He stares up at you, his lips still chasing yours.

"as I was trying to say.. I got something I wanted to try on you sweetie..." His eyes lighten up with curiosity and excitement. "What is it sweets?" he tilts his head and you get up walking towards a small bag and pulling out a box.

"Are you ready to see sugu?" He nods slowly and you open the box revealing a vibrator. Getos eyes furrow before looking at you."Oh. Are you going to.. use that? on me??" Your sweet smile drops.

"No good?" "No s'not that just — whatever s'fine let's just try it out" It's not that Geto was entirely against using a vibrator on him it's just that Geto knew he was gonna have to prepare himself for a long night. You smile widely.

"YAYY thank u suguu~" You engulf him in a hug, his face pressed against your chest and to that he softly smiles. Who knows maybe you'll have mercy on him? ...

"Fuuuuck — I caant~ no more darling I'm all d-drained gagh-" He whines loudly thrashing around in the chair, the highest level of the vibrator abusing his tip. it was no use his pleads just fueled you to keep going.

"Sugu.. you promised me one more tho-" You look at him through your lashes and Geto swears he can feel a whimper brewing up as he shakes his head.

"I caaant" He's tearing up at this point not shutting up his whines on blast your smirk widening.

"S'ok keep going baby~ almost there mhmmm" You cheer Geto on and his teary eyes find yours. The look in your eyes has him squeezing his shot as his moans grow more and more pathetic.

"Haah — s'to much t-to much gonna fuck explode..." His brows stay furrowed, a look of bliss fully painted on his face and you slide the vibrator up and down his shaft.

"Goood boy..." His cock twitches at that and you don't fail to notice,

"Does someone like it when I call him a good boy? hmm..??" You start sliding the vibrator faster and faster and he swears he's about to meet god. "yesyesyesyes love it so agh m-much love you so hah much" he's straining against the ribbons and regretting agreeing to being tied up as your gift. He tenses before his cum shoots out flying all over you as he screams out.

"MOMMYY FUCK" your eyes blow open wide before smirking and he digs his face into your chest out of embarrasment.

"wow Suguru.. you did s'good for me huh? Give me another one?" You smile innocently and Geto actually sobs at that last question of course how could he say no to his princess on her birthday though? Toji Fushiguro 𝜗𝜚

You’re perched on top of Toji, completely in control, thighs pressed tight around his waist while he’s the one staring up at you like you’re a dream and a curse. He’s panting, trying to keep still, but his big hands flex like he’s dying to grab you.

“Aw, poor baby,” you hum, cupping his face, “too big for your own good, huh?”

Toji groans, clearly trying not to thrust up into you. “You’re so fuckin’ small, I’m gonna break you—”

You tighten around him just to hear him choke on a moan. “Don’t be silly, sweetie,” you whisper, lips curling against his ear, “I’m the one doing the breaking here.”

You roll your hips again and he sighs like he’s trying not to sob. His brows furrow, jaw clenched like he’s holding onto the last threads of control. But his thighs tremble under your hands. His cock twitches inside you.

You grin. He’s already close.

You lean in, pressing your chest against his, so slow and sweet it makes his breath stutter. “Look at you,” you murmur, grinding down just enough to make him twitch. “All those muscles, all that strength... and you’re just lying here. Letting me use you.”

Toji’s eyes flutter shut and his hands grip the sheets like a lifeline.

“F-fuck, I’m tryin’,” he chokes out. “Tryin’ so hard, but—shit—can’t hold back when you’re so—”

“Say it,” you purr, rocking your hips in slow, deep circles. “Say what I am.”

He lets out a sound soft and broken.

“Perfect,” he whispers. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, you feel so good, I—”

You shut him up with a slow drag of your cunt down his cock, your walls fluttering around him as his voice breaks. He gasps, a desperate little whimper catching in his throat. “There it is,” you smile, your voice like honey. “That sound I wanted.”

Toji whimpers again, louder this time, and his whole body tenses under you like he’s about to snap. His face is flushed, slick with sweat, lips parted as he moans helplessly with every motion of your hips.

“You gonna cry for me, big boy?” you tease gently, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone. “Wanna see you fall apart. Wanna hear how pretty you sound when you’re mine.”

“Yours,” he moans without hesitation, hands still clenched into fists. “Yours, fuck—I can’t, I can’t gonna cum—”

You clench around him and he shouts, hips jerking up involuntarily, eyes squeezing shut.

“No,” you command softly, grabbing his chin and making him look at you. “Ask.”

Toji’s lip trembles. You’ve never seen him like this—wrecked and obedient, so desperate he might lose his mind.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please let me cum, baby—I’ll be good, I’ll do anything, I-I can’t—please”

You hum, so sweet, so cruel.

“Good boy.”

And when you finally let him, when you start riding him like you mean it? He falls apart completely whimpering, moaning, shaking underneath you as he spills into you, cock twitching wildly.You ride it out, watching his eyes roll back, his mouth open in silent shock. And even when he cums, even when he thinks he’s done—he isn’t. Not until you’re finished. Choso Kamo 𝜗𝜚Choso is already breathing heavily beneath you, lips parted in a silent moan as you slide down on him slowly, dragging your nails up his bare chest as his head tips back.

“You okay, baby?” you whisper with a smile, even though you already know the answer. His hands are shaking. His thighs are trembling beneath yours. His whole body is tense from trying not to fuck up into you.

He swallows thickly, nods. “Y-yeah. M’okay.” You roll your hips once just once and Choso whimpers. You tilt your head, grin. “You sure?” His hands grip the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Y-yeah, I promise—just... fuck, just don’t stop.” You hum softly, cupping his cheeks in both hands and leaning down, your breath hot on his lips.

“You sound so sweet when you’re like this, y’know that?” You trail your fingers down his chest again, stopping to brush across his nipples—and his whole body jerks.

“A-ah—wait—” he gasps, squirming as you circle one with your thumb. “Sensitive, I—fuck—” You pinch gently and he lets out a high sound, eyes wide and glassy.

“Choso,” you murmur, mouth brushing his, “why’re you acting like you can’t take it when I’ve barely started?” He blushes hard, but he doesn’t look away he never does. He wants you to see him like this. Wants to give himself up completely.

“I can,” he whispers, desperate. “I can take it—just need you, need you to ride me—need you to use me—” You moan softly at how wrecked his voice sounds. You grind down again, this time more purposefully, and he shudders, hips jerking beneath you. His fingers dig into the sheets.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, “I’m gonna cum—please—please let me—”

You stop.

His whole body jerks at the denial, brows pulling together like he might cry.

“Not yet,” you whisper. “want you to wait a little more”

He whimpers again, a shaky, breathless thing that leaves his lips like it snuck out before he could stop it. His chest rises and falls rapidly as you start to move again, slow and deep, grinding your hips just right until his hands are shaking.

“Feels so good,” he gasps, staring up at you like you hung the stars. “I c-can’t think—‘m gonna cum, please let me cum, please—”

You lean down, kiss his cheek, and coo in his ear, “Then cum for me, baby. Be my good boy and let go.” And the second you say it? He breaks.

Choso cries out, clinging to you with trembling hands as he spills inside you, his thighs shaking uncontrollably. His whole body twitches with aftershocks, his head buried in your neck, panting like he’s run a marathon. You’re still moving, still grinding into him, milking him for everything he has.

“Good boy,” you whisper as his whines grow higher, more helpless.

It’s perfect.

Sukuna Ryomen 𝜗𝜚

He hates how good you make him feel.

The King of Curses reduced to this. Chest heaving. Lips bitten red. Fingers curled so tight in the sheets his claws have shredded the fabric. And worst of all? You’re smiling down at him like he’s the pet.

"You’re really gonna cum again?” you murmur sweetly, grinding down on him slow and steady. “Tsk. Didn’t even give me permission yet.” Sukuna bares his teeth at you but it’s all bark. His hips twitch up helplessly. He’s trembling. “F-fuck off,” he growls, trying to hang on to that last shred of dominance.

“You think you control me—?” You cut him off by rolling your hips just right tight, wet, perfect and he chokes on a moan. Loud. Desperate. So unlike him. You lean down, pressing your body over his, hands framing his flushed face.

“I don’t think, baby,” you whisper. “I know.” Sukuna’s tongue flicks out, panting, red eyes darting down to where you’re riding him like you own him which, by now, you kind of do. “You’re fuckin’ lucky I let you do this,” he hisses, voice cracking at the end. “Should tear you apart—should make you beg”

You slam down on him with a sharp snap of your hips and he gasps, eyes rolling back.

“Oh, please,” you scoff. “If you could take control back, you would’ve by now. But look at you.” You trail your fingers down his chest, scratching lightly. “Look at what I’ve turned you into.”

His skin is covered in bite marks. Scratches. Bruises from your fingers. He looks ruined, stretched out and stuffed full of you, whining like a toy wound up too tight.

“F-fuck,” he breathes, “too much—can’t—can’t—!”

“You can,” you purr, rolling your hips slow and deep now, savoring how his thighs tremble under your grip. “You will. Because I said so.”Sukuna’s fangs dig into his lip and his face scrunches up in frustration and humiliation lust. He doesn’t know whether to spit in your face or cry. And then you say it.

“Be a good boy for me.” Something snaps. He gasps, jerks forward, and cums with a half-strangled moan, shaking under you like he’s been shocked. His claws dig into the ruined bedding. His back arches up. He whimpers. You laugh softly.

“Aww. There it is.” Even after he cums, even as he’s still twitching from it you don’t stop. He lets out a wrecked sound, eyes wide with panic.

“N-no—wait, wait—fuck, too much—!”

“Shhh,” you coo, dragging your nails across his stomach as your hips keep moving, chasing your own high now. “You wanted to act like a king, baby. But look at you now. Crying for your queen.”

And the worst part?

He loves it. Nanami Kento 𝜗𝜚

Nanami’s always so composed—so serious. But now, under you, he’s a mess.

His usually steady breath is ragged, chest rising and falling beneath you as you slowly grind down onto him. His grip on the sheets is tight, knuckles pale, and his gaze is torn between pleading with you and still trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“You okay, Nanami?” you tease, keeping your pace slow, just enough to make him twitch but never enough to drive him to the edge. He looks up at you, face flushed, and his lips tremble.

“Please,” he pants, voice tight, “don’t tease me. I can’t—I can’t take it, please.” You hum thoughtfully, leaning forward, your breath hot against his ear.

“You’ve been so good for me, Nanami. I can see how badly you want it.” His body jerks under you as you slow your movements. His eyes squint shut, fists tightening.

“Fuck, please—” He’s begging now, desperate. He’s so proud, so used to being the one in control, but all of that cracks when you smile and lean down to kiss him, slow and deep.

“Shh,” you whisper when you pull away. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. So obedient.” That praise makes him shudder. His breath catches in his throat as you start moving again, this time a little faster just enough to get a strained moan out of him. His head falls back, and his hands fly up to grab your hips needy.

“Please, I’m—I’m so close,” he gasps, eyes wide. “I can’t—don’t make me wait—” You slow down again, watching him twitch beneath you.

“Don’t make you wait?” you tease softly. “But you’ve waited so patiently, haven’t you?” You circle your hips slowly, deliberately, watching Nanami’s face twist with frustration. He’s trying to hold it together, but you can see it—he’s losing it. He needs it so badly.

“God, fuck, don’t tease me like that,” he grits out, chest heaving. “I’ll do anything—please, I just need to—”

You cut him off by leaning down and kissing him, long and slow, pulling back just before he can get too comfortable. His eyes follow you, heavy with need, as his mouth opens again, and the whimper that escapes him is so soft, so broken.

“I’ll let you cum, Nanami,” you say, your voice smooth and sweet. “But not yet. I want to hear you beg for it a little longer.”

His hands shoot out to grab your thighs, holding you in place as his hips push up, desperate for more friction. His body is already trembling from the need, his face red, his voice small.

“Please,” he gasps. “I—I can’t wait anymore, I—please.”

You let him squirm under you for a few more seconds, drawing it out, until finally, you give him the release he’s been begging for. You start to move faster, your hips slapping against his in a steady rhythm, and his body reacts immediately—crying out as his cock twitches and he’s finally spilling into you, his whole body shaking from the force of it.

“That’s it, baby,” you murmur softly, kissing his forehead. “You did so well for me.”

He lets out a broken, desperate sob of relief as he comes down from his high, face buried in the crook of your neck, body still shuddering beneath you.

“Thank you,” he breathes, barely audible. “I’m yours...”

A/N: i have been so busy this week im so sorry about lowkey going ghost lol I hope you guys like this tho!! 😝

[asapeveryday]

ALL NIGHT -P.B

one night. one apartment. two people. enhanced stamina.

warnings: fingering, oral sex, strap-on sex, vibrator use, face riding, degradation, dirty talk, slight food play, overstimulation, slight/unintentional somno, drug use

tldr: you guys take drugs and then fuck like rabbits. like, seriously it’s kinda cray

PLEASE READ: i honestly know nothing about honey packs or ANY libido enhancer. from my research honey packs only work on men(?) but for the sake of this fic they work on women too.

i have no idea what it feels like to be on an aphrodisiac/performance enhancing drug or how it affects anything so please go into this knowing i am utterly freeballing in hopes of pleasing the anon who requested this as best as i can.

11pm

rain pitter-patters the floor to ceiling glass window of your apartment as a movie plays in your living room. The tv screen paints your light-lacking home with faint colour. Aside from the rain, soft moans ring out all through the air.

Her arm is slung over your shoulder, her body warm and pressed against you. She shivers as your finger tips dance between the hem of her hoodie and the skin of her toned stomach, you try not squeak when she tugs at your hair in return.

Nights like these are the best, snuggled under blankets and dim lights in front of the tv, Netflix on full volume, Paige by your side.

“You picked the horniest movie possible.” Paige snorts, her words buzz in your ear since your head is on her chest.

“I knew there were sex scenes…just not this many.” You sigh, biting a lip as the main character moans loudly again as the main love interest smacks her ass. “What is this, the third one?”

“Second. But this one is long,” Paige tuts, clicking her tongue as the fucking on screen gets more aggressive, “goddamn, how does he have the stamina for that?”

“I know!” You laugh. “And look, it’s getting light outside.” You point to the tv, where one of the windows in the movie shows the changing time. “When they started it was dark.”

“Went all night, huh.” Paige whistles. “Lucky guy.”

“Lucky?” You sit up, turning to face her. She immediately raises both her hands in surrender, eyes wide.

“Not because of her,” she groans, talking about the main character, “but they’re going for hours like it’s no problem.”

“You’d think as an athlete you’d have the stamina.” You laugh, though it’s cut short when her brow raises in that challenging way that always pisses you off. Her mouth opens, then closes.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head, but her face says otherwise.

“What is it!” You hiss. “Tell me.”

“It’s not me who doesn’t have the stamina.” She says, expression a mixture of superiority and guilt. “You can take like, two rounds max before passing the hell out.”

“Oh, what the fuck.” You frown. “Since when have you wanted to go for longer? What, do I go to bed and you’re just laying awake at night horny?”

“Psh, no.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m fine with two. Two is good, it’s enough.” She reassures you, hand on your waist. “But if you’d ever ask to keep going…”

“You’d have it in you.” You finish, understanding it’s no fault of your own. “I’d like to try, but honestly after cumming twice I’m tired.”

“I know, baby.” Paige shrugs. “S’not a big deal, I was just thinking. I can go for a while, but I dunno about all night anyways.”

“Yeah.” You settle, though sometimes tugs at your mind as you focus back on the movie. You watch as the girl is flipped from position to position, location to location, sexy music over the scene.

Paige shifts in her seat. You tense as it gets kinkier by the minute. And then the scene is over, and they’re laying in bed as morning sun fills the room.

And you suddenly have an idea.

“Where are you going?” Paige asks, eyes following you closely as you move her hand from your body and slip off the couch.

“Wait here.” You mumble, sending her a coy smile as you walk out of the living room. You know she’s watching your ass as you walk away like she always does. She loves the pyjama shorts you’re wearing, says they do you justice.

After rummaging through the back of the closet in your bedroom, you finally reach a large shoebox. You’d bought a really sexy pair of heels for Paige’s first wnba after-party a while back, and kept the box to commemorate that…as well as a few other things related to you and Paige.

When she sees you walk back into the living room, shoebox in hand, she immediately straightens. Paige recognizes it, of course. She’s practically been a Pavlovian experiment, you can see it as she licks her lips with eager flourish as you stand in front of the couch, tossing the lid of the box off to the side.

“What’re we doing?” She says, smile evident in her tone. She even takes the blanket off of her, and you almost laugh and how ready she’s willing to be.

“Chill.” You hum. You take out the the few dildos you have, leather components for the strap, and a huge bottle of lube that’s half empty, before tipping the box upside down and watching as the contents spill all over the coffee table in front of the couch.

Dental dams, ripped fishnets, mints that make you salivate like crazy, fuzzy handcuffs, the batteries you use for your toys, and a lot of little plastic packets.

Paige just takes everything in for a moment, brows slightly taught in uncertainty. Her eyes catch on the plastic packets, and she picks one up for inspection just as you’d hoped.

“The fuck is this?” She murmurs, squinting to read the small text on the plastic. “Oh, shit.” She adds, meeting your gaze.

You simply smile. “Well?”

“Where’d you even get these?”

“A few weeks back when me n’ the girls went clubbing. The place was handing them out, and I decided to keep them for later.” You admit.

“Oh, so you’ve been plotting, huh.” She quirks a brow, clearly amused.

“Not really!” You whine. “I was just curious, I guess. I heard they give you crazy stamina….and like, uhm…”

Her stare is heavy on you, head cocked, grinning sly as a fox. “And what?”

“They make you like, super horny.” You finish, unable to hold her gaze. “And stuff.”

“Right.” She nods, attempting to hide her smile beneath her hand. She rubs her mouth in thought as she reads the packet again. “This is so sketchy.” She murmurs. “But if it works, we could probably go all night.”

“Probably.” You nod.

Her eyes meet yours again. “Would you…wanna?”

You take a packet for yourself, attempting to mull over the small text written over the plastic. It sounds like gibberish, but it’s late and she’s already looking at you with sheer excitement, so your answer is obvious.

“Yeah.” You nod. “Let’s try.”

-★彡

What started as making out on the couch turned into you leading her to your room by the hand, not even bothering to close the door before she’s on you again.

There’s no urgency, no burst of energy like what you expected. It’s fairly normal, slow and sweet as she dips her head opposite yours to kiss you.

Her hands swim under the crewneck you wear, settling firmly on the crook of your waist with warm, rubbing thumbs grazing over your skin. Meanwhile you make quick work of her mouth, your tongue darting in to meet hers, tasting her.

You stumble around the room stuck to her like glue before your legs hit the foot of your bed and you topple over back-first, giggling as she follows.

Her legs cage yours in, hands arms settle on either side of you, and her mouth trails sweet kisses all over your face, jaw and neck. It’s loving and gentle, even when one hand leaves your side and carefully tugs your pyjamas pants down. You lift your hips to help her as she takes them off, before spreading your legs a little wider for her on the bed.

“Thank you, baby.” She mumbles against your skin, sucking pretty bruises onto your neck as her fingers pull your panties to the side, and tentatively slide between your folds.

“You’re so wet already.” Paige chirps, and you feel her teeth bared in a smile with a shiver. “How do I know it’s not the packets?” She adds.

“It’s not.” You hum, sliding your hands under her hoodie to feel at her abdomen. “Just you.”

She’s satisfied with that answer, because her fingers go from teasing your entrance to actually being inside you. One finger at first, before she realizes you’re loose enough for another.

You let your breath hitch as she pumps in and out of you, a gentle rhythm of pleasure humming through your body with every thrust of her hand. She whispers sweet nothings, pretty baby’s and so good’s until you’re squirming against her.

You kiss her again, half to shut her up and half to keep any whimpers from spilling out—because those will only feed her ego. Her pace quickens, her kisses turn sloppy, and your stomach tightens as your high begins and ends. She doesn’t let up, not until you’re panting too much to kiss back, and with a jolt you cum all over her fingers.

You feel her start to pull back from you before you grab her hand, holding it inside of you. “Don’t stop.” You plead, not thinking in the slightest.

Paige falters. “You sure? You just-“

“I know.” You whine, spreading your legs. You did cum, but you just weren’t done, the buzz wasn’t enough, you wanted it to keep going. “Just, please.”

“Okay.” She kisses your face. “You’re spoiled, you know that?” Paige grins, though her fingers start pumping again and you can’t help but genuinely flinch at the sensation, it’s unlike before.

Your stomach is tight again, your core is tingling. The stimulation is too much, too soon, but you need it. Even when you struggle to hold your legs open, when you beg her to do it for you. She obliges, wedging her knee between your thighs so she can keep going, lips bitten as she watches her fingers disappear and reappear by the second.

When you cum again it’s drawn out, fingers clenching the sheets of your bed as you finish.

“Whoa.” Paige hums. “That was- that was good.”

“Mhm.” You mumble, pulling her back in for another kiss by the fabric of her hoodie. You came for the second time, but instead of feeling ready to pass out, you’re surprisingly energized.

She pulls away, still close to your face. You watch her eyes as they dart from your clenched fists around her clothes to your lips.

And you feel yourself twitch down there again.

In a burst of energy you roll over, taking her with you. The positions are reversed now, you on top and her caged in against the ruffled sheets of your bed. You make quick work of straddling her torso, and when your already swollen clit brushes against her shorts you let out a little sigh.

This sensitivity is definitely new.

Paige is watching your every move, licking her lips as you throw the remainder of your clothes off and onto the ground.

And then you slide off of her.

“Take everything off.” You hum, crawling towards the nightstand by your bed.

“Or what?” Paige teases.

You don’t respond, simply opening the drawer of your nightstand and taking out your favourite vibrator wand.

The minute she catches sight of it her amused smile drops. You haven’t used this one on her—you haven’t used any on her at all.

“You don’t wanna?” You ask, shrugging.

She frowns, clearly unhappy at your false disinterest, but she holds your eyes as she slips her shorts off of her legs, her underwear with it.

“And the hoodie.” You add, gleefully at that. “And lay down.”

Paige grunts, but pulls her hoodie over her head regardless. She’s not wearing a bra, to your delight.

“Good.” You purr. You crawl over to her, swinging your leg over her head so that your pussy is hovering over her face. Her hands grab at your ass, already knowing what to do.

You shiver when she forces you down, her tongue licking an agonizingly slow strip across your folds. Before she can get too frantic, you lean forward enough to place the vibrator between her parted legs, turning it on once it’s settled correctly.

The whimper she udders at the start of the machine vibrates through your body.

She struggles to find routine at first, jolting as you toy around with the settings of the vibrator, but before you know it she’s holding your pussy down like she depends on it, lapping and panting against your ultra-sensitive skin.

The stimulation is one thing, but the sound of her breathy moans from beneath you rile you up on an entirely new level. You’re absolutely buzzing with sensation, grinding frantically against her parted mouth trying to chase that high.

“You’re so good, baby.” You mew, rocking your hips on her face. “So good Paige.” You add, upping the intensity on the vibrator as a reward for her. She lets out a strangled moan at that, hands gripping the skin of your ass hard enough to leave fingernail indents. You try to rise a little, unsure if it’s too much for her, but she forces you right back down, her tongue swirling around your clit and nuzzling into you with feverish energy.

Her legs are squeezing tight now, soaking wet at the core thanks to the wand wedged between them. You feel it too, practically shaking atop her. Before you know it, a huge feeling of release washes over you in big, sobering waves. You can’t help but cry out as you cum, the feeling of her mouth lapping it up engulfing you wholly. In turn she starts grinding against the vibrator, and then she cums too.

You turn the vibrator off and lazily crawl off of her, collapsing by her side and into her open arms. You’re both hard-breathing, flushed messes, eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide.

“Holy shit.” Is all Paige can utter, her face glistening with what’s left of you. You can’t help but laugh, and she starts to laugh too, kissing your nose, forehead and lips with a smile.

Then the both of you are grinning and kissing, tumbling all over the bed like frantic teenagers. You thought you were exhausted till her teeth playfully pulled at your lip, and that burning spark in your gut came right back.

“Jesus,” you hum, sighing as her lips suck dark marks into your collarbone. “I could keep going.”

“So let’s keep going.” Paige murmurs.

“Mmh, seriously?” You sigh.

Her hands find your breasts, the calloused pads of her fingers brushing over your nipples. “We could go all night?” Paige smiles, eyes dangerously bright, full of energy again. “If you want.”

You hold her gaze as her mouth latches onto your chest, kissing all over the skin of your breasts in worship.

All night doesn’t sound too bad.

-★彡

1am

The next hour or so is filled with mindless making out, limbs tangled and shoulders bumping you suck every possible crevice of her face. It’s a break, in a sense, but a distracting one none the less. You’re both so incredibly sensitive, even the brush of her knee between your thighs sends waves of feeling through your body.

Paige’s lips struggle to part from you even when you both leave your room, stumbling around your apartment in an intimately naked scene, like she’s so obsessed that everything else has faded away. Even when she parts to grab another packet and the strap from the coffee table, her pinky finger stays lovingly entwined in yours.

You fasten it on her, adjusting every aspect with rigorous intent and bubbling excitement. Then you’re both stumbling through the place again, lips entwined with more ferocity.

It’s all in Paige’s control now, not that you mind. She’s leading with her tongue, her hands are groping whatever skin she can reach till you feel your back hit the surface of your kitchen counter. She lifts you up like you’re a doll, sitting you on the marble and pushing you to lie back against the cold material.

“What’re you doing?” You laugh, back arched to avoid the chill of your skin against the counter.

“Watch.” She orders.

She’s standing between your dangling legs as she rips the packet open with her teeth, drizzling the drugged-honey from your navel all the way to the valley between your breasts before tossing the plastic away.

You watch in excitement as her hands settle on either side of you, as she leans in and licks a clean stripe across your body, following the line of honey she drew till it’s all gone. The hairs on your arms stand up straight, goosebumps covering the expanse of your skin as her tongue cleans up the mess. Then she kisses you, and you taste it on her before she pulls away.

“Paige,” you whine, parting your legs, “please, please just fuck me.”

“I hear you, ma.” She rasps, fondling the silicone attached to her till the tip is grazing your slit. “You’re so fucking wet, I can tell you want it.”

“I want it so bad.” You nod vigorously. “C’mon.”

She pushes in, not nearly enough, then pulls back again. Then her hands are on your waist, pulling you forward and lifting your pelvis up just enough so that she can push into you at a better angle. You suck in a breath when she bottoms out, then bite out a whimper after the first thrust.

Then she sets her pace.

“Fuck,” you moan, “fuck, oh, Paige.” You cry out, hands trying to grip for anything you can on the flat surface of the counter. Slapping noises fill the room as her hips snap back and forth, lip bitten and eyes stark on the way you look splayed out on the kitchen counter like a meal. Your tits bounce with every shift of your body as she rocks against you.

“Just last week you could barely handle round two.” She grunts out. “Now look at you, moaning all over my dick. How many times are you gonna cum for me tonight, huh?”

The feeling of her filling you up makes you even more turned on. You can hear the noises of your slick against the silicon, the proof of your pleasure. It just feels so mindlessly good.

You reach for something, anything, but all you end up doing is knocking shit over. The sound of steel hitting the ground reverbs throughout the kitchen as an empty bowl and some cutlery fly off of the counter. You wince at the volume, but Paige leans in to grip your face.

“You’re a slut, you know that?” She bites, fully bottomed out, fingers around your face.

“Don’t stop.” You whine, shifting your hips. “Please, p.”

“You’re making a big fucking mess, moaning so damn loud and pushing things off the table.” Paige hisses, shoving your face slightly as she starts thrusting again. “Like a slut.”

“Maybe I am.” You choke out, feeling your core tense with every word. “I just need you so bad, need you to fill me up.”

“You don’t deserve it.” Paige grunts, grasping your skin so tight as her hips stutter agains you. “But I give you whatever you want, right? You just wanna get fucked.”

“Please, baby.” You moan, once again gripping nothing in attempt to smooth the pleasure. “Paige, please.”

She pulls your legs fully off of the counter now, roughly flipping you around and bending you over the cold expanse of the counter.

You’re breathless as one of her hands holds your back down while the other slaps your ass. Then she enters you again, slowly building up to the same rigorous pace as before.

The noises are louder now as your ass claps against her strap. You’re pushed forward against the counter with every thrust, your face smushed against the marble, lips choking out broken cries of satisfaction as she fucks you.

“Take it.” She mumbles, “You take my cock so good, baby.”

You cum with a full-body shiver, feeling the way it spills at she pulls out of you, the emptiness apparent.

It’s only a moments rest before you’re kissing her again, your back now meeting the wall before she picks you up. Her hands settle on your ass as you wrap her legs around her, and before you know it she’s fucking you all over again.

-★彡

3am

“Baby,” She moans, “Oh fuck, slow down.”

You can’t, or more accurately you won’t. You’re on a high, tits pressed against her back as her own are flush against the glass of your floor to ceiling windows. Rain hammers on one side of the glass as you fuck her against the other, skin sticky with sweat and arousal.

You can feel her legs shaking, you can see how her palms press against the window, or occasionally clench when you roll your hips just right. You rarely had the energy to use the strap on her, but thanks to your drug-induced heat, having the instrument was a blessing.

“Or what?” You breath against her neck, licking the spot where you left a hickey a few moments earlier, relishing how her shoulders raise in sensitivity. “Gonna cum like a little bitch?” You grin. The high of talking dirty felt good, you understood why she was so prone to it now.

“Yes.” Paige whines, voice raspy. “Fuck, yes.”

“You were calling me a slut earlier.” You bite, whispering into the shell of her ear. “But look at you now. What would happen to you if someone in the building across saw? Imagine the headlines.“

You grip her hips hard, forcing her into you, using her for your gain. She can’t even fathom your words, too drunk off of the sensations to formulate an answer.

“See? You don’t care.” You hum. “That’s why you’re not gonna cum yet.”

“What?” She finally snaps out of her daze, head whipping to meet your gaze as you slip out of her.

“No…” she bites her lip. “Wait, don’t stop.”

“Don’t be a baby.” You scoff, loosening the strap and stepping out of it. “Get on the floor. Legs spread.”

She’s a little confused, peeling herself off of the glass and stumbling around a bit, before you literally guide her to the hardwood and pry her legs apart with your hands.

The gasp Paige lets out when you lay down, lips against her pussy, is like music to your ears.

She’s already soaked from your strap, you can taste it as you press your tongue flat against her, sloppily kissing the mess between her legs as she throws her head back, hands gripping the hair on your head.

“Oh, god.” She whines.

“Shut up.” You snap, gripping the soft skin of her thighs. Her fingers tug at strands of your hair as you nuzzle into her heat, tongue swirling around her clit.

She’s grinding against your face, thighs shaking from the earlier denied orgasm and now your face between her legs. It’s almost too much when two of your fingers slip inside, tentatively pumping before they curl inside her.

“Shit.” She whines again, voice breathy. “Let me cum.”

You stop at that demand, smiling against her skin, fingers unmoving, and she groans in dissatisfaction.

“Beg for it.” You hum. “If you want it so bad.”

“Fuck, no.” She snaps, lips pouty as she looks at you. “Just—just keep going.”

You just raise a brow, slipping your fingers out of her.

“Beg.” You repeat, and you watch her mull the idea over. She’s never begged in her life, you can tell. Sex is easy currency for someone so sought after. “C’mon, begging never hurt anyone.” You add, licking a circle around her clit, to which she instantly screws her eyes shut in response to.

“Just beg for me, Paige.” You grin, kissing between her thighs. “Beg.” You tease her slit with your fingertips.

You can see her breaking, you can see it in the way her chest heaves, how her lip wobbles.

“Please.” She finally mumbles. “Please, baby. Please fuck me, please let me cum.” She moans pathetically.

Who are you to deny someone who asks so nicely?

-★彡

5am

You’re not sure what happened between ruining Paige on the floor of your living room to now, but you wake up groggy on your bed, sheets half off the mattress, legs tangled with hers.

You’re sticky between your legs, covered in sweat and god knows what else in general, hair totally a mess, lips swollen, ass sore—presumably from her hands getting a little too aggressive. She’s beside you, back pressed to your chest, her body rising and falling in shallow breaths of light sleep.

It’s still dark out. You cant’ve be asleep for long.

It takes great effort to untangle yourself from her and slip out of the bedroom. A hot shower is much needed, and the moment that steaming water hits your skin it’s like you’ve been regifted all of your energy.

You let your fingers dance all over the skin Paige had marked hours earlier, hickeys and bite marks tattering the expanse of your thighs, breasts, chest and neck. You think back to the start of the night—and everything that happened afterwards, and to your surprise, still have it in you to be turned on.

“What the hell is in those packets.” You mumble to yourself, letting your fingertips trail from your tits to your stomach, then lower, to the pulse between your legs.

Carefully, you let your fingers pull the hood of your clit back, rubbing the sensitive bud in slow circles. It feels good—not as good as Paige—but good enough. You can’t tell if you’re wet from the shower water or your own arousal, but it doesn’t matter. You speed up your hands anyways.

Soon enough your soft mewls fill the bathroom. You assume the sound of the shower covers them up a bit, now aggressively rubbing your clit in a pathetic chase for what must be your 5th orgasm that night.

And then you hear the click of the bathroom door, and you stop.

There’s a few quaint steps, they pause in front of the shower, and then continue. When the fogged-over shower door opens, you’re met with a freshly awoken Paige.

“Move.” She grumbles, stepping in with you. You oblige.

She’s covered in marks too, you can see it now that she’s showing off in front of you, wetting her hair and closing her eyes as her hands run over her tits, her stomach, the beginning of her thighs. Her neck is littered with pink and red hickeys, and her muscular back has long marks from your nails.

Her body is perfect. Breasts that fit in your hands like you were made for them, abs firm enough to ride on, legs strong and sturdy. Her back ripples as she runs her fingers through her hair. Her hands are personally your favourite, with her long fingers and veins.

You can’t help but slide behind her, running your hands all over her, gripping her ass and giving it a little playful smack.

“You’re so needy.” She scoffs, turning around and grabbing your hands, stopping you from touching her. “Calm down.”

“I can’t.” You frown. “You interrupted me. Now you have to deal with it.”

“Fucking whore.” She shakes her head, leaning in to kiss you. It’s aggressive, teeth clashing and lips bitten. Her hands grip your face, turning you to move against her the way she wants. “You jus cleaned off, now you wanna be dirty again.”

“You wanted all night.” You smile against her lips, letting your hands trail down to her pussy. “So I’m just giving what you asked for.”

“Don’t act like this is all for me.” She snorts, one hand leaving your face to graze your folds. “You’re selfish.”

“You’ve orgasmed more than I have.” You challenge, fingers toying with her.

“That’s such a fucking lie!” Paige groans, slipping a finger in you with ease.

“Maybe we’re even.” You shrug, biting your lip as she starts to pump in and out of you. Similarly, her lips part as you do the same.

“So—“ she murmurs, breathless already, “we keeping it even?”

“Yeah.” You nod vigorously, looking down to watch as your fingers disappear inside her—and as hers disappear inside you.

“Shit.” She sighs, watching the sight herself. “S’good.”

“Mhm.” You huff, throwing your head back. You can feel your stomach tensing already, skin hot and buzzing from her hands and the hot water. She adds another finger, you do the same. In no time you’re both heavy breathing messes, hands cramped and mouths entwined. She cums a little before you, but you keep going till you follow soon after.

She opens the shower door in a hurry, practically stumbling out with you alongside her.

The bathroom is full of fog, so you manage to turn the fan on before she tugs you out by the hand, right back into the bedroom.

Then you’re kissing again, slower, mumbling unintelligible words between breaths, parting to catch each other staring. Her eyes can barely stay open, and at one point you’re not sure if you’re kissing back. The ache in your gut, the one that’s been saying more, more, is dulling. You’re reduced to an exhausted hum, brain as foggy as your bathroom.

“M’ so fucking tired.” Paige whispers between little kisses on your face, hands holding you loosely against her.

You catch a glimpse of your bedroom window, and you’re surprised to see the beginning of morning, red hues mixing with the dark leftovers of the night.

She notices too, you meet her eyes as they part from the sky. She kisses you again, closed mouth, hands wandering.

“Good morning.” You mumble, lazily laughing.

“Good fucking morning.” She huffs back, holding you close. “That was something.”

You nod. “What is even in those packets?”

“Don’t wanna know.” Paige mumbles. You’re not sure if she says anything else, because your eyes shut right after.

That sleep in her arms is the best you’ve ever had in your life.

[starl1ght444]

jason todd x reader

── .✦ PT.2 fluff

PT. 1 link HERE

[you and jason have a kid together, making bruce a grandpa]

[ 8.5k word count ]

* ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

february sneaks in with cold mornings and quiet afternoons. your apartment smells like cinnamon from the candle jason insisted on lighting last night, and the windows are fogged from the heat of the shower you just stepped out of.

you’re still in your robe, fingers curled around a mug of tea you haven’t sipped yet. your other hand rests over your stomach—not dramatically, not in a movie-scene way. just… gently. like your body already knows something your brain’s still trying to process.

you hadn’t been trying.

not really.

not yet.

but lately your body’s felt just a little off—tired in a different way. hungrier at odd hours. your favorite coffee suddenly smelled like motor oil. and this morning, after staring at the little box on the bathroom counter long enough to forget how to breathe… the second line appeared.

positive. — and now everything is still.

you hear the front door open, the familiar shuffle of boots, the soft creak of your floors as jason walks in from his morning run.

“babe?” he calls. “i brought you that muffin you like—blueberry. they only had one left, so i fought a grandma for it.”

you laugh quietly, setting the mug down and stepping into the hallway just as he kicks his shoes off.

he looks up at you and instantly pauses. something in your face must give it away—something soft and shining and a little breathless.

he tilts his head, concerned. “hey… everything okay?”

you nod slowly, taking a step closer. “i… yeah. i think everything’s about to be.”

he sets the bag down. “what dose that mean?”

you reach into your robe pocket and pull out the test, holding it in your palm like it’s made of glass. — jason stares… and stares.

and then blinks. “is that—?” his voice catches. “are you—?”

you nod.

his whole expression crumbles. the kind of shift that only happens when something hits too hard and too beautifully to be fully understood in the moment. his mouth opens, like he wants to say something clever or brave or perfect—

but what comes out is small. raw. “you’re pregnant?”

you smile, a little teary now. “we’re gonna have a baby.”

jason stumbles forward and wraps his arms around you so tightly it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. one hand cradles the back of your head, the other trembling slightly as it presses to your lower stomach.

“holy shit,” he breathes into your hair. “we’re having a baby.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes wide and wet, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks like he’s scared you’ll fade.

“are you okay? like—really okay? you feel alright?” he asks quickly, too quickly. “is anything hurting? should we call someone?”

“i’m fine,” you promise, laughing a little through your tears. “i’m okay, jase. really.”

he nods, but you can see the way his thoughts are spiraling—half joy, half panic, all love.

“you’re gonna grow a whole baby,” he whispers, voice full of awe. “you’re… incredible.”

you cup his face with both hands. “we are.”

he leans into your touch like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “you’re sure you’re not scared?”

“i am,” you admit. “but it’s the good kind. the kind that means this is real.”

he presses his forehead to yours, breathing deeply. “i’m gonna take care of you. both of you. whatever you need—i’ll do it.”

“i know.”

“i’m not gonna be perfect,” he says quietly. “but i swear, i’m gonna love this baby more than anything in the world. and i’m gonna love you even more for giving them to me.”

your heart swells so full it aches. “we’re really doing this,” he whispers.

you nod, blinking away tears. “yeah. we are.”

and then he kisses you, soft and slow, like he’s memorizing the beginning of a brand-new chapter. his hands cradle your sides like he’s holding something sacred.

because he is. — because now, there’s three heartbeats in this little apartment. and jason’s daydream? it just started coming true.

“we need to make a doctor’s appointment,” jason said his head over filling with questions, incredibly nervous to mess up.

“i’ll make one for next week.” smiling down at his hands, holding you steady in place.

and you did, you made an appointment later on for next week. they got you in fairly quickly. the waiting room is too bright.

soft jazz plays from a corner speaker like it’s trying too hard to be soothing. the walls are covered in pastel posters and diagrams of smiling cartoon babies that don’t make any sense unless you’re already half asleep.

you’re sitting in a stiff plastic chair with jason next to you, his hand laced through yours. he’s been silent for the last five minutes—too focused, too still. but it’s not nerves. it’s something else. a quiet intensity, like the kind he gets before patrol, when every thought is narrowed to one single moment.

except this time, that moment is here— and it’s you.

you nudge his leg with your knee. “you good?”

he turns to look at you and softens instantly. “better than good. just trying to stay calm.”

you smile. “you’re squeezing my hand like you’re about to disarm a bomb.”

he loosens his grip but doesn’t let go. “sorry. can’t help it. you’re… you’re in there growing an actual person. i still haven’t wrapped my head around that.”

before you can reply, a nurse pokes her head through the door and calls your name. “ (y/n)—“ jason stands with you, helping you out of the chair like you’re made of glass, his hand on your lower back the entire walk down the hall.

the exam room is colder than expected, and the paper on the bed crinkles under you as you lie back.

the nurse is kind. she asks a series of routine questions—when was your last period, are you taking prenatal vitamins, any morning sickness? jason answers half of them for you, the kind of eager that would normally make you laugh if it weren’t so endearing.

when the gel is squeezed onto your belly, his hand finds yours again. he strokes your hair back behind your ear without even thinking about it. he keeps watching your face instead of the monitor like he’s searching for any sign that you’re okay.

and then— a soft fluttering sound fills the room. your heartbeat stills.

the nurse turns the screen toward you both and points. “there’s baby,” she says gently. “and that—” she increases the volume slightly, “is the heartbeat.”

jason stiffens like someone just knocked the air from his lungs.

his grip on your hand tightens. and then he’s crying. quietly, but undeniably.

his free hand covers his mouth, shoulders shaking with the kind of silent, overwhelmed happiness that only comes once in a lifetime. his eyes stay fixed on the tiny flickering image on the monitor—unbelieving, awestruck.

“that’s our kid,” he whispers, like it’s a secret, a prayer, a dream coming to life in front of him.

you can barely see through your own tears, but all you can do is nod and squeeze his hand back.

he turns to you, eyes red, face glowing in a way you’ve never seen before. “you’re amazing,” he says. “you’re so amazing. you’re doing this. you’re making life. i’m just—i don’t know how i got this lucky, im so so proud of you sweetheart.”

you laugh through a sob, and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, then one to your damp cheeks.

“you okay?” he asks, brushing your hair back again.

“i am now,” you whisper.

jason just stares at you a little longer, like he’s committing this moment to memory. because he is.

because this feeling? this overwhelming, impossible joy?

he never wants it to end. and in his arms, with you beside him and the sound of your baby’s heartbeat echoing in the air— he knows he’s never been happier.

“so who’s gonna be the one to tell your fami— nose goes!” you shout quickly bringing your finger to your nose laughing with tears still in the corner of your eyes carelessly dangling.

“nos—damnit!” jason sighed “i hate that game.”

the sun is still high when you and jason pull up to wayne manor.

the engine cuts off with a low purr, but neither of you move right away. your hands stay folded in your lap, heart thudding in your chest. jason glances at you from the driver’s seat—eyes soft, mouth twitching with a mix of nerves and excitement.

“you ready?” he asks, voice quiet.

you turn to him and nod. “are you?

he huffs a laugh, fingers reaching across the console to gently take yours. “nope. absolutely not.”

but he squeezes your hand anyway, and the look on his face says everything. he’s ready in the way that counts. terrified, maybe—but glowing with it.

the front door opens before either of you knock. dick waves from the threshold, wearing a smile and an apron dusted with flour. “you guys are late. dinner’s almost ready.”

“we were, uh, taking our time,” jason says, helping you out of the car like you’re suddenly fragile china, even though you’re not even showing yet.

dick raises an eyebrow. “is that code for something?”

“we’ll explain inside,” you say, smiling softly as you head up the steps.

inside the manor — the smell of garlic bread and roasted vegetables wafts through the massive foyer. you can hear tim and damian bickering in the distance, steph’s laugh cutting through the noise. alfred passes through the hallway with a wine glass in one hand and a towel draped over his shoulder, nodding to you both with a kind smile.

“you’re just in time,” he says. “i’ve made enough for ten. though, knowing master grayson, that may only cover seconds.”

“appreciate you, alfred,” jason says, patting his shoulder.

you walk through the manor side by side, surrounded by the easy chaos of family. and the longer it takes to get to the dining room, the more the nerves grow. it isn’t fear, exactly. just… weight. the kind that comes with sharing something real. permanent. world-changing.

jason’s thumb brushes yours. “we’ll do it after dinner. once everyone’s in one place.”

you nod again, your stomach fluttering for reasons that have nothing to do with morning sickness.

at the dinner table — by the time the entire family is seated—bruce at the head, alfred near the kitchen doors, and the rest of the siblings scattered down both sides—it’s noisy, messy, and full of laughter.

dick tells a story about stephanie beating him in a sparring match, and she doesn’t even try to deny it. damian rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smirk creeping across his face. tim’s already halfway through his second helping, duke close behind. cass and barbara are on either side of him, teasing them between bites.

you’re tucked beside jason, his arm brushing yours every so often. and the moment feels golden.

but jason hasn’t stopped glancing your way, and you haven’t stopped feeling the secret burn beneath your ribs.

“we should tell them,” you whisper to him between bites of garlic bread. “before dessert.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, eyes flicking toward bruce. “before someone starts guessing.” — as if on cue, bruce glances your way, then jason’s, with that subtle, unreadable batman stare.

“you two are unusually quiet,” he says mildly.

“just thinking,” jason replies smoothly. “about how to say something important.”

the table quiets just a little—not fully, but enough for the tension to thicken.

you press your hand lightly against jason’s knee beneath the table.

he clears his throat. “so. uh. we’ve got news.” — cass is the first to go still, eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.

tim glances up from his plate. “what kind of news?”

you look around at the people who have become family in more ways than one—people who have fought beside each other, bled together, laughed together.

and now, you were about to hand them something fragile. something that meant everything.

“we’re having a baby,” you say softly, voice shaking just enough.

silence. full, pin-drop silence. then—

“NO WAY,” dick shouts, practically launching out of his chair.

“holy crap,” steph yells right after, hands flying to her mouth. “are you serious?”

barb’s eyes go wide. “you’re pregnant?”

jason grins like he can’t hold it back anymore. “yeah. we are.”

chaos breaks loose. tim drops his fork onto his plate and just stares at you both, jaw slack. damian blinks once, then twice, trying to process it. barbara claps her hands together in pure excitement. and dick? dick practically vaults over the table to hug jason, nearly knocking over a pitcher of water in the process.

“DUDE,” he says, squeezing him tight. “you’re gonna be a dad?!”

jason laughs, hugging him back. “apparently.”

“i’m gonna be an uncle!” he yells, turning to you with wide eyes. “you’re gonna be a mom?!”

you laugh, covering your face with your hands as he pulls you into the hug next. “yes! i am!”

steph runs around the table to tackle you both next. “your glowing!” — cass gently nudges steph aside to wrap her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder.

tim finally finds his voice. “wow. just—wow. congratulations. seriously.”

and damian—stoic, sharp damian—leans back in his chair and stares at you both for a long, unreadable moment. then, with a quiet nod: “i suppose this means the next generation of vigilantes is on the way.”

everyone groans. “not even born yet and you’re already recruiting them?” tim mutters.

“shut up, drake,” damian replies, though there’s no real heat in it.

at the head of the table, bruce hasn’t spoken yet. but when you look at him, his eyes are wet.

not enough to spill. just enough to shine.

“you’re really going to be parents,” he says, voice low.

“yeah,” jason says again, a little quieter now. “we are.”

bruce nods slowly. “i’m happy for you. for both of you.”

then—so softly it nearly gets lost in the noise— “i hope i’ll be a good grandfather.”

the table falls quiet again. jason’s breath catches.

and in a rare moment, one almost no one would believe unless they saw it with their own eyes—

jason rounds the table, hugs bruce, and holds on for a full five seconds.

just five. but it’s enough. it says everything.

after dinner but before the dessert is cut, you and jason slip away from the dining room. not for long—after the laughter and the hugs and the congratulations, the manor slowly starts to breathe again. jason squeezes your hand and leans close to your ear, his voice quiet beneath the hum of voices around the dining room.

“come with me?” he murmurs. “want to talk to alfred, just us.”

you nod, heart full. he doesn’t flinch when you enter. doesn’t turn around with surprise. he just speaks in that warm, knowing voice: “i wondered when the two of you would find me.”

you smile gently and walk up beside him, standing close enough for the soft scent of bergamot to curl around you. jason steps behind you and rests his hand on the small of your back.

“we didn’t want to tell you in front of everyone else,” you say softly. “you deserved something quieter.”

alfred finishes pouring the hot water, then finally turns to face you both. his eyes are kind, his hands still, waiting. “we’re having a baby,” jason says. simple. honest.

and that’s all it takes. — alfred’s face shifts in that slow, subtle way only he can manage. not dramatic. not surprised. just… reverent. like the words have landed somewhere deep in his chest and are still echoing there.

“i thought as much,” he murmurs, voice velvet and pride. “but to hear it confirmed… what a gift.” he reaches for your hand first, holding it between both of his, fingers gentle and steady.

“you will be a remarkable mother,” he says. “i can already see it in the way you carry yourself. with warmth. with care.”

your throat tightens. then he looks to jason, and the silence between them stretches—not heavy, just full. thick with unspoken history and all the moments that led to this one. “and you,” alfred says quietly. “i have never been more proud of you than i am right now.”

jason blinks. his jaw tightens, like he’s trying to hold something back. “you mean that?”

“with every fiber of my being.” alfred moves forward and rests a hand against jason’s cheek—something he hasn’t done since jason was much younger. “you will be a kind, strong, devoted father. the sort of man you once feared you could never be.”

jason’s eyes shine, and he nods once. “i’m scared,” he admits.

“good,” alfred replies with a small smile. “that means you care deeply.”

he pulls them both into a hug. tight, long, grounding. — you think maybe it’s the best moment of the night.

but you haven’t seen what’s coming in the living room yet.

the couch cushions are sunken with the weight of so many bodies. duke has claimed the arm of the chair like it’s a throne. steph and tim are tangled up in a blanket on the floor. barbara perches near the fire, her eyes full of light. cass sits quietly on a cushion with a faint smile on her face, watching the room with quiet happiness.

you’re curled up next to jason on the couch, your knees tucked under you, his arm loose around your shoulders.

and that’s when you hear the soft thud of paws. — titus enters the room slowly, sniffing once, then twice, before making a direct line to you. his tail wags just slightly.

“hey, baby,” you say softly, reaching down to scratch behind his ears.

he steps closer, then gently rests his heavy head right on your stomach. jason freezes beside you, watching like he’s afraid to breathe. you smile, petting titus gently, your fingers threading through his fur. “he knows.”

titus lets out a deep sigh, then pushes himself a little higher—climbing halfway onto the couch before resting one massive paw across your thigh and his head against both you and jason.

“hey—” damian’s voice cuts in, sharp. “titus. get down.” titus ignores him entirely, clearly thrilled with himself.

“he’s being protective,” barbara says with a laugh. “he loves them.”

“he loves me,” damian says, visibly scowling. “he was trained to respond to my commands—”

“he’s got priorities now,” duke says with a grin. “he’s got a baby to watch over.”

“he’ll still love you, d,” steph teases. “you’re still the firstborn in his heart.”

damian doesn’t dignify that with a response, but the tips of his ears are pink. you laugh gently as titus shifts again, now practically in your lap, his chest pressed to your belly and nose nudging under jason’s arm. “he’s not going anywhere,” you murmur, hand still stroking his fur.

“good,” jason says softly, kissing your temple. “i want the baby to know him.” there’s a pause as the fire crackles softly.

then— “wait,” tim says, suddenly sitting up straighter. “does anyone remember the bet?”

steph gasps. “the baby bet from the barbecue!”

duke whistles low. “oh, yeah. we all threw in guesses for when they’d announce.”

barbara points a finger in the air. “i said christmas.”

“i said summer,” duke adds.

“thanksgiving,” tim mutters.

steph holds up her hand like she’s in court. “i said mother’s day!”

all heads turn toward bruce, who sits quietly in the corner armchair with a glass of something dark in his hand. he doesn’t smirk. doesn’t gloat. just lifts his brow like he already knows what’s coming. “new year’s,” dick says, groaning. “he said new year’s is when you’d announce, so technically he’s the closest”

“so… bruce wins?” steph says, groaning.

bruce sips his drink. doesn’t say a word. “ugh,” tim groans, flopping backward onto the rug. “of course the batman wins the baby bet.”

“he wins everything,” duke says, pointing at him.

“wait you guys made a bet on when we’d get pregnant?” you say, sitting up for a second grinning at the family while jason fake gasped, not entirely surprised by the family’s decision, more surprised someone didn’t offer him to help them out on the bet to get you pregnant sooner.

“well.. duh. did you see the way jason had that baby craving at the barbecue? we all knew someday soon it was gonna happen.” tim poked a joke and some half humming in agreement, others laughing.

“baby craving and barbecue don’t sound right together, i just can’t believe bruce won though! ” you laughed laying back down on jason,

jason grins, eyes flicking toward you. “he’s probably been planning his grandpa debut since the barbecue.”

“i can neither confirm nor deny,” bruce says, finally letting the corners of his mouth tilt up.

then barbara leans forward, eyes shining. “so… when are you due?” you glance at jason, who’s already smiling. “october thirty-first,” you say softly.

there’s a beat of silence. then— “halloween?!” dick laughs. “you’re having a baby bat on halloween?!”

“that’s the most gotham thing i’ve ever heard,” tim says.

“no capes for the baby,” steph says. “not until they’re at least walking.”

“i’m designing the first onesie,” barb adds. “it’ll have a tiny utility belt on it.”

damian glares at the room. “you’re all ridiculous.”

you sigh against jason, heart full, his hand resting over your stomach again—right where titus still snoozes contentedly. laughter and warmth fill the air like golden smoke. and for a moment, the world outside doesn’t matter.

just this. your family. your baby bat. and all the love waiting to meet them. the days pass like a soft breeze—gentle, slow, golden.

you blink and it’s august.

you stretch and it’s september.

you exhale and suddenly october is whispering around the corners of your apartment.

the light is different now. golden and low. afternoons spill through the windows like honey, and the air tastes like cinnamon and cool breeze. leaves have started to fall outside, painting the sidewalks in deep reds and soft golds.

your belly has grown, round and lovely, full of life. your skin glows with it. your body moves differently, gently, carefully, but your laughter still comes easily when jason is near. he doesn’t let you carry anything anymore. not a grocery bag, not a folded blanket, not even a mug of tea.

“you’re carrying a baby,” he says, brushing your hair back one night as he tucks a pillow behind your back on the couch. “let me carry everything else.”

he’s serious about it. borderline obsessive, even. but you let him fuss. mostly because it makes him happy. and maybe a little because you like seeing the way his eyes go all soft and focused when he’s looking at you. — especially now.

jason wakes up early—earlier than he needs to on a weekend—but he moves quietly, careful not to wake you. the second he hears you stir, he’s back at your side, pressing a kiss to your temple. “breakfast?” he asks, rubbing your shoulder gently.

you nod, still sleepy, and that’s when he leaves to meet alfred at the manor.

you found out from bruce that jason started asking for cooking lessons. just a few things here and there. mostly your favorite comfort foods. especially the ones that still don’t trigger nausea. “gotta keep her happy,” jason told alfred, scratching the back of his neck. “baby too.”

they make a list. soups. light pasta dishes. herby potatoes. the exact way you like your toast. how to time it so you don’t smell it cooking too much, just in case the scent turns your stomach.

he writes it all down. bruce catches him once, leaning over the stove with a furrowed brow, stirring something with absolute focus. “you’re taking this very seriously,” bruce had said.

jason just shrugged, a towel slung over his shoulder. “it’s for her. and the baby.” and then quietly, under his breath: “i don’t want to mess this up.”

your family comes into town for the weekend, the baby shower just a few days away. your little niece—is bigger now, walking stronger, speaking more words. and the second she sees jason again, her face lights up like a sunbeam. “jayjay!” she squeals, arms flung wide as she waddles toward him.

jason is toast. he crouches instantly, catching her mid-run and lifting her high into the air, spinning her gently with a laugh.

“there she is,” he grins, kissing her cheek. “my favorite partner in crime.”

she babbles something incomprehensible, then grabs his face in her little hands and squishes his cheeks. he lets her. he just laughs, holding her like she’s the best gift in the world.

you watch them from the doorway with your hand on your belly, your heart aching in the best way. you and jason don’t want anything over the top. so it’s simple. a mix of both families. your parents help set up in the backyard of the manor. your aunt brings homemade pies and little favors. cass helps hang streamers. steph handles the playlist. dick handles the jokes.

your niece follows jason around like a little duckling. she insists he sit next to her during cake. insists he play with her in the leaves scattered across the yard. she even tries to share her juice box with him, which he pretends to sip from with a grin. “you’re gonna be such a good dad,” you hear barbara whisper to him when she catches them sitting on the lawn together, the toddler’s tiny hand in his.

he doesn’t say anything at first. but his smile grows—quiet, proud, a little overwhelmed. “i really hope so,” he murmurs. “i really want to be.”

the manor gets quieter, cozier. sunday dinners become a routine again—alfred always insists you sit with your feet up, and bruce somehow always ends up next to you, asking quiet questions about how you’re feeling.

cass sits close, brushing a protective hand over your shoulder now and then. damian keeps sliding books about parenting across the table to jason like he’s passing secret files. and every week, someone brings something for the baby—booties, blankets, soft clothes in soft colors. — you swear even titus has started lying a little closer to you than normal.

you and jason spend your nights curled up on the couch, watching old movies, his hand always on your belly. sometimes feeling for movement. sometimes just needing to touch you, to remind himself that this is real.

that this dream is alive and growing. “how’s our little bat today?” he whispers, kissing your bump one evening.

you smile, carding your fingers through his hair. “kicking me all day. strong little thing.”

he smiles. then kisses again. then rests his cheek there, eyes fluttering shut. “can’t wait to meet them,” he murmurs.

“me too,” you whisper back. — you’re almost there.

that’s what everyone keeps saying.

“you’re so close.”

“any day now.”

“you’ve got that glow.”

you smile when they say it. or at least, you try to.

but god—if they only knew.

if they knew how your feet throb just from standing. how you haven’t slept more than two hours straight in weeks. how tying your shoes is officially impossible without assistance.

you’re not glowing—you’re sweating. you’re swollen. you’re exhausted.

and worst of all…

you’re hungry. all the time.

but everything makes you nauseous again.

your favorite meals? suddenly your stomach’s worst enemy.

things you craved just last month? now send you running for the bathroom.

you cry about it once at two in the morning, sitting on the kitchen floor in one of jason’s hoodies, staring at a piece of toast like it’s betrayed you.

he finds you there, bare feet cold on the tile, eyes wet and tired. he doesn’t ask what happened. he just sits next to you, pulls your legs over his lap, and wraps his arms around your middle.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, wiping your face. “i know i’m being dramatic.”

“you’re growing a human,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder. “you can be as dramatic as you want.”

you don’t even realize you’re shaking until his hand starts rubbing slow circles into your back. your forehead leans against his neck and you just… breathe.

jason.

he’s the only thing making this bearable, the only thing not making you nauseous or upset. only makes him you cry because of how understanding he’s become.

years ago a different version of jason would be incredibly impatient, and tried all the time. but growing with you for so long and filling in all the gaps of his personality has made him a better person for you, and your baby. gratitude on both sides of the story. 

your body hated everything but him

he helps you out of bed in the mornings, kneeling at your side before you even ask. your ankles ache. your back hurts. there’s pressure—so much pressure—deep in your hips, and some days your belly feels too heavy to even carry. “you’re doing so good,” he says, easing your weight into his arms.

“i feel like a elephant,” you mumble.

“a very cute elephant,” he grins. you swat at him halfheartedly.

he helps you into the shower. sits on the closed toilet lid while you rinse off, just in case you feel dizzy. he wraps you in the biggest towel you own, kisses the crown of your head, tells you how strong you are. tells you how beautiful you are. tells you he’s proud of you.

you cry again one night when you try to roll over in bed and can’t.

you’re stuck.

actually stuck.

you groan in frustration, tears prickling at your lashes from how uncomfortable you are. your legs feel like lead, your belly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, and your pillows are all wrong. “babe?” jason mumbles, half-asleep.

“i can’t move,” you whisper, feeling defeated.

his eyes snap open. “okay—hang on, i got you.”

he’s gentle. careful. strong in the ways you need him to be. his arms slide under your back and legs, easing you with such softness that it makes your chest ache. once you’re shifted, he cups your face.

“better?”

“a little,” you breathe.

he grabs an extra pillow, fits it behind you just right, and kisses your temple. “you need anything else?”

you shake your head. and your voice cracks when you say, “just stay close.” his hand finds yours beneath the blanket, fingers intertwining. — “always.”

you hit thirty-nine weeks on a thursday

the doctor says everything looks good. baby’s strong. heartbeat steady. but you? you’re ready. so ready.

“how are you feeling?” your OB asks kindly.

“like my ribs are being karate-chopped from the inside,” you deadpan. she laughs, and jason does too—but his hand never leaves your back. his thumb strokes your spine. his other hand is braced on your thigh like he’s anchoring you to the earth.

you feel so worn thin. so… done. but when you look at him—messy hair, tired eyes, t-shirt wrinkled from worry—you feel a little less overwhelmed. after the appointment, you don’t feel like going home. you sit in the car in the clinic parking lot, both of you quiet.

then jason reaches across the console and gently places your hand on your belly. “you know what i think?”

“hmm?”

“i think they’re gonna be kind. like you.” his voice is soft. so, so soft. “i think they’re gonna have your eyes.” — he kisses your palm. “and i think i’m the luckiest bastard in the world.”

you turn your head, lean into his shoulder, and for the first time in days—maybe weeks—you don’t feel so tired. just full.

full of love. full of something so big and gentle it makes you forget about the pain for a little while.

the final week creeps by

jason starts working from home more, just in case. he puts together the bassinet with dick. tim installs the car seat. duke helps you organize baby clothes. cass leaves post-it notes with hearts and smiley faces in every drawer. damian makes sure titus is trained to stay gentle and close.

and bruce? bruce quietly offers to be on-call for anything.

“day or night,” he tells you both. “whatever you need. just say the word, there’s enough room for you to stay at the mansion too.. don’t be afraid to ask.” silently hoping you’d take him on the offer.

alfred checks in with food daily. he starts prepping snacks you can stomach again—things he knows won’t trigger nausea. small containers left in your fridge. teas that soothe your heartburn.

“you’re almost there,” he says kindly, helping you into a chair one night at dinner. “and you’ve done wonderfully.” you glance at jason—already sitting beside you, already moving to rub your aching back—and you smile softly.

“we’ve done it,” you whisper.

it’s quiet. too quiet, almost. but not in a bad way.

the whole world feels like it’s holding its breath. like time has slowed just for the two of you. outside the windows, the sky is painted in gentle blues and sleepy grays. the wind rustles the early fall leaves, and there’s a softness in the air that only comes in the stillness of the night.

jason’s hand is warm in yours as you walk down the hallway helping you after dinner, just the two of you. no family tonight, no phones buzzing, no background noise. it’s just him. you. the soft rhythm of your hearts.

you stop in front of the nursery. — the door is open just a crack. golden light spills out from the small lamp inside. the room smells like fresh cotton and baby soap. faint hints of wood polish and lavender from the drawer sachets alfred insisted on tucking into the dresser.

you take a slow breath. and then you step inside together.

the nursery feels like a dream it’s not overly fancy. not too perfect. but it’s yours.

there’s a soft, plush rug under your toes. calming colors on the wall. a bookshelf already half full with bedtime stories and soft-spined fairytales. a rocking chair in the corner that dick and barbara had fixed up themselves. and right there in the center of the room—the crib. the crib jason built with bruce, over a weekend in early september, hands calloused but careful, sanding the edges to perfection.

you both stand in the doorway for a long moment. not saying anything. just looking. “we did good,” you finally whisper.

jason lets out a breathy laugh. “we did great.”

you turn to look at him—his face lit gently by the warm lamp light, his expression soft and full of something so open and vulnerable it makes your heart squeeze. “come here,” you say gently.

he follows without hesitation, wrapping an arm around your waist, his hand settling right where your belly curves. your baby kicks once—just a soft flutter—but it makes both of you smile.

“they like your voice,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

“they like you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “they’ve got good taste.” — you stand there a while, just holding each other

then jason leans down, hands on your belly, voice barely above a whisper. “hey, little bat,” he says. “we’re ready for you. whenever you’re ready to come meet us.”

you feel your throat tighten. your chest swell. there’s so much love in this room it feels impossible to hold all at once. and when jason stands again, you reach for him. cup his face between your hands. trace your thumbs over his cheekbones. and he just—melts under your touch.

your voice is quiet but steady. “jason peter todd, i love you.”

his eyes soften instantly. “i love you too.”

you shake your head a little, laughing through the tears starting to prick your lashes. “no—i mean i really love you. like… i didn’t even know a love like this existed until you. you’ve been everything i’ve ever needed without me even knowing i needed it.”

you take a shaky breath, thumb brushing under his eye. “you take care of me like it’s second nature. you protect me without ever making me feel small. you make me laugh even when i feel like crying. and you’ve made this—this whole thing—feel like the most beautiful adventure, even when it’s been hard.”

his jaw tightens. eyes glassy. “you’ve made me feel safe in my body when it’s been the most uncomfortable it’s ever been,” you continue, voice thick with emotion. “and not just that—you’ve made me feel beautiful. powerful. like i can do this. because you believe in me so deeply that sometimes i forget to be afraid.”

you pause. smile, small and teary. “you’ve always been my home, jason. and now… we’re about to build one. with our baby. and i couldn’t be more grateful that it’s with you.”

you don’t expect the tear that spills down his cheek—but when it does, you’re there. kissing it. holding him like he’s held you through every ache, every sleepless night, every emotional spiral. he pulls you into his arms, careful of your belly, careful of your everything, and just breathes you in.

“you’re my safe place, my homeland,” he whispers into your hair. “you’ve bewitched me, and im so honored to make you feel these ways” he leans in to deeply kiss you “i will love you permanently….endlessly…until we’re both dead in the dirt, and even then, i will find you in the next life…i will find my way home to you.”

the two of you stay there until the moon’s high

rocking slowly in the chair. your hand in his. the soft light of the nursery casting shadows that dance gently on the walls. the room is quiet. safe. sacred. you don’t know it yet, but you’ll go into labor in the morning.

but tonight? — tonight is soft. and warm. and full of everything that matters.

you and jason.

in the nursery.

wrapped in each other’s arms. waiting for your next adventure to begin.

you wake up to sunlight— it slips through the curtains in long, soft beams—painting gold across the floor, the blankets, jason’s cheek. you lie still for a moment, soaking it in.

the apartment is quiet. still. warm. and jason is right beside you, deep in sleep.

he’s on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other hand still curled loosely in yours. his chest rises and falls with a steady rhythm, and there’s a softness to his face you rarely get to see outside moments like this. no tension. no shadows. just peace.

it’s rare—so rare—that he sleeps this deeply. without jerking awake from a nightmare. without the haunted edge to his breath. without flinching from invisible memories. and it makes you feel warm inside. honored. protective.

he deserves mornings like this. he deserves every good thing. so you try not to wake him.

you shift slowly, carefully easing his hand from yours. your belly is heavy—so heavy—and the ache in your back reminds you you’re nearly at the finish line. the baby is still. calm. and for a moment, so are you.

you swing your legs over the edge of the bed with a quiet breath. your slippers are just a few steps away. you’ll just get up, stretch, maybe make some tea. let him sleep a little longer.

you press your hands to the mattress, count to three in your head, and push yourself up— and then you freeze. the first thing you feel is the pop—a subtle, strange sensation deep in your lower abdomen.

and then comes the warmth. sudden. unmistakable. soaking down your legs and onto the floor in seconds. your breath catches. you stare down, stunned. “noway…”

you whisper it under your breath like saying it softer might make it untrue. but it’s true. you know it is. your water just broke.

you freeze for a second—then panic sets in “oh my god—oh god—” you reach behind you blindly, grabbing the edge of the bed for support.

jason stirs at the sudden shift in movement. you try to stay quiet—try to breathe, to stay calm—but your hand’s already shaking when you reach out and whisper his name. “jay…?”

he hums, half-asleep. “mm?”

“jay—baby—i think it’s time…”

his eyes snap open. and the moment he sees your face—wide-eyed, tearful, panicked—he’s up in a heartbeat. “what—what’s wrong? what happened?”

you swallow thickly, gesturing to the growing wet spot on the rug. “my water broke.” — he stares. blinks. processes. then moves.

the switch in him is immediate. he helps you back onto the bed with practiced, gentle hands, brushing damp hair from your face. his voice stays calm—steady—but you can see the storm in his eyes. “okay. okay. we’re good. i’ve got you,” he says, already reaching for his phone. “i’m calling the doctor. don’t move. breathe.”

you nod. trying to. your heart is racing. your hands are clammy. it’s too early. it’s real. it’s happening.

you blink away the nerves, squeezing your eyes shut as a wave of sensation rolls through your belly. not quite pain. not yet. but pressure. the kind that makes you feel like everything is beginning to shift.

jason’s voice is low as he talks to the OB’s office, repeating things back with mechanical calm. “yes. yeah—contractions haven’t started yet. water broke just now. no blood, no pain yet. we’ll head in right away.”

he hangs up and turns to you, dropping to one knee at your side.bhis hands are on your thighs, grounding you. “we’re okay. you’re okay.”

you stare at him. wide-eyed. overwhelmed. “you were sleeping so soundly,” you whisper, guilt creeping in despite everything, a tear wanting to form.

“baby—i don’t give a shit about sleep right now.” he smiles through the nerves, voice thick with love. “you’re about to have our baby. of course you wake me up.”

your laugh is watery. tired. real. brushing his sleepy hair with your nails through his scalp. “you’re not scared?”

he looks at you for a long moment. and his eyes are gentle when he says— “i’m terrified. but i’ve never wanted anything more.”

everything becomes a blur after that. you change into the softest clothes you can manage. he lays towels on the car seat. grabs the hospital bag. calls alfred. calls bruce. tries to keep from pacing holes into the carpet when your first contraction hits in the hallway.

it’s mild. more pressure than pain. but it stops you in your tracks—and jason is right there, supporting you with both arms. “breathe,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you. just breathe.”

he keeps whispering to you the whole car ride. rubbing circles into your hand. kissing the back of it at red lights. promising you that everything is going to be okay. and somehow—you believe him.

by the time the hospital comes into view, the sky is a perfect watercolor soft pinks. sleepy oranges. the kind of morning light that makes everything look a little sacred.

you close your eyes against the sun filtering in through the windshield, resting your hand over your belly. jason glances over and sees it. he doesn’t say anything—just reaches for your hand and links your fingers together. he lifts them to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. then your wrist. then the ring on your finger. you meet his eyes. and he smiles, teary-eyed and full of everything he doesn’t know how to say.

“we’re gonna meet them soon,” he whispers. you nod.

“we’re gonna be parents.”

the hospital room is quiet. soft beeping. the sound of nurses moving gently behind the curtain. the monitor beside you blinking in slow, steady rhythm.

your hand rests over your stomach, and jason hasn’t let go of your other one since they settled you in. he sits in the chair pulled close to the bed, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on you like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

but there’s a knock at the door. gentle. polite.

and when it opens, bruce steps in first, tall and still in his long dark coat, followed by alfred—warm-eyed and careful, holding a small thermos in his hands. “sorry,” bruce says softly, his voice lower than usual. “we didn’t want to intrude.”

you sit up a little, smiling tiredly. “you’re not, please, come in.”

jason straightens beside you, glancing over. there’s that flicker in his expression—still not used to this side of things. to being cared for by the people who used to only see him bleeding or bruised.

but they’re here now. and that means everything.

bruce steps closer, settling near the edge of the window. his eyes flicker from the monitor to your stomach, then to jason.

you expect him to look stoic. but instead, he looks… proud.

“i know your parents are on their way,” he says after a moment, voice quiet, “but if anything happens before then—i want you to know you’re not alone.”

you blink slowly, heart tight. “thank you,” you whisper. “they’re trying their best. flight leaves in a few hours but… they’re pretty upset they can’t be here for this part.”

“we’ll take care of you,” alfred says softly, stepping forward and setting the thermos down on the little side table. “your mother asked me to tell you she packed extra socks in your go-bag. and your father wanted me to remind you not to forget your phone charger.”

you smile at that, feeling your throat tighten. “they really did try to plan for everything,” you laugh, teary-eyed. “they’re so nervous.”

“as they should be,” alfred says gently. “it’s no small thing, after all. your world is about to change.”

you nod slowly, swallowing hard. bruce steps forward now, one hand resting on the rail of your hospital bed. “i’ll be right down the hall,” he says. “if you need anything. if jason needs anything. just press the button and i’ll be here.”

you glance at jason—and he’s just staring at bruce like he’s seeing him clearly for the first time. “thanks, bruce,” he murmurs.

bruce nods. then does something unexpected.

he reaches out and clasps jason’s shoulder. a firm grip. full of meaning. “you’re going to be a great father.” — jason swallows. hard.

his jaw flexes like he’s trying not to fall apart from just those words alone. bruce lets go. steps back. gives you both a final, warm look before slipping quietly out of the room to give you space.

alfred stays behind for a moment he sits carefully at the end of the bed, his hands folded in his lap, eyes soft.

“may i?” he asks. you nod. and he gently takes your free hand between his. his palms are warm and familiar, worn from years of care. “when jason was little,” he says slowly, “and he first came to live with us… he used to ask me to read him bedtime stories. not every night. not at first. but once he felt safe enough. once he knew i wouldn’t leave.”

jason shifts beside you, blinking hard. “his favorites were the ones with found families,” alfred continues. “ones where broken boys were loved anyway. where someone stayed. where someone always came back.” you feel your eyes sting.

“and now,” alfred smiles, eyes shining, “he gets to give that story to someone else.” you reach out with your other hand and squeeze jason’s knee. — he squeezes back, too overwhelmed to speak. “you’ll do beautifully,” alfred says, looking between you both. “i know it.” you nod, voice thick with tears.

“thank you for everything, alfred.” he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. the same one he’s given a hundred times to the boys who grew up under his care. “always,” he whispers.

then he stands and quietly excuses himself—leaving you and jason alone once more. — you sit in the silence for a while

your head tilted against the pillow. jason leaning closer, resting his forehead against the back of your hand.

“they love us,” you whisper.

“yeah,” he says, voice hoarse. “they really do, they love you so much… you brought us together again.. ”

and for a while, that’s all you need. your family is on their way.

the family you chose is right here.

and the one you’re building?

is just about ready to meet you.

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

:3 yayay!!! im not gonna leave you on a cliffhanger, i hate them so much so im currently writing pt.3 rn!! lmk what you’d like to see more of in it!!

also what do u think the gender will be :o

THANK U SM FOR READING MWAAHH right on the forehead <3 also i see the comments, u guys are so sweet ☹️ lemme just smother you with hugs, or give you a solid high five that echos yk! haha

have a good day / night wherever you are!! 🫂

[navybrat817]

Seb's new Variety photoshoot did things to me Navy, and now thots of sucking the living shit out of his cock consume me.

UNTIL I MEMORIZE EVERY VEIN 🥵

TRULY. And I have to use the image you sent me.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 660

Warnings: Implied smut, implied oral sex (m. receiving), implied vaginal and anal sex, dirty talk, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

Banner credit to @cafekitsune

Okay, but imagine. Bucky taking a shower after a long day. Maybe he worked up a sweat fixing his car or bike. He wants you because, well, he always wants you, and you were sweet enough to leave him be and not tease him. Not that he would’ve complained if you did strut around to distract him, but his want for you only increases since you left him alone. Covered in sweat and grime though, he wants to be a gentleman and shower first so you don’t have to deal with the mess. 

There will still be a mess, but that’s beside the point.

Sighing under the spray of the water once he’s undressed, he can’t help but picture you as his eyes slip shut. He thinks of your lips on his skin as you kiss down his body, taking your time to worship and drive him crazy. He can practically feel your hands move up his thighs once you’re on your knees. Licking his lips, he can imagine the feigned innocence so clearly in your eyes before you wrap your hand around his hard cock and dart your tongue out to taste him.

Your sinful mouth was made for his cock to ruin, just like the rest of you.

“And what has you all hot and bothered?” 

Bucky tilts his head and opens his eyes, smirking when you push the curtain open more to join him, your clothes on top of his on the floor. Your nipples are already hard and he doesn’t have to touch you to know you’re wet. “You,” he says, unashamedly stroking himself as he fully faces you. “It’s always you.”

How could he want anyone else when he has you?

You hum and run a finger along his arm, chasing a droplet of water. “Were you thinking of anything in particular?”

“I was picturing you sucking my cock,” he answers, smirking again when he hears your breathing pick up. “You always take me so well.”

“Is that right?” you smile, placing your hand over his to help him stroke himself. “Well, we both know I have a dirty mouth made for fucking, and you have a gorgeous cock made for sucking.”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps, stroking faster.

“Maybe I should get on my knees so you can fuck my throat right here. Make that daydream a beautiful reality,” you suggest, leaning in close enough for your lips to touch. “Look up at you with tears in my eyes as your soul leaves your body.”

Bucky’s eyes almost rolled back. If anyone could suck the soul out of him, it was you. Each of your holes took him to a kind of heaven he didn’t know existed.

“But before your soul leaves your body, I want to memorize every vein. I want my throat molded to the shape of your cock,” you continue, letting your tongue move along the seam of his lips. “And when you’re done, I want you to wreck my pussy the way I deserve.”

A growl escapes and Bucky’s proud he doesn’t come then and there. “Greedy thing, wanting me to ruin your pussy, too.”

And Bucky will. He’ll fuck your throat and watch as tears spill over when you take him deep in your throat. He’ll fuck your pussy until the only thing you remember is his name. 

“Yeah, I’m greedy when it comes to you.” You wait a beat before you smirk. “So, you should probably fuck my ass for good measure.”

Bucky’s hand freezes because he knows he’ll blow his load if he doesn’t stop. “What did you say?”

“I said you should fuck my ass, big boy,” you repeat, and Bucky wonders how he got so lucky to find you. “If you’re up for it.”

Bucky is more than up for it.

And just when he thinks he can’t love you more, you go in for the kill. “Oh, and fuck me bare. I want you to drip out of me later.”

Okay, lovelies. Go about your business! Nothing to see here! Love and thanks for indulging me in my nonsense! ❤️

[gurugirl]

Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover | shy dom!harry

*originally posted on Patreon but due to the use of the word daddy it had to be removed*

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: No one would ever know that your shy, quiet boyfriend likes to dominate you in bed every night.

A/N: This is an apology for not having mean king out this week! I've been stressed and busy and while I've got chapter 3 mostly ready I don't want to post til it's 100%. So enjoy this fun little taste of my shy dom!harry in the meantime! xoxo

Word Count: 2.8k

Warning: smut, sub/dom dynamics (Harry's degrading but also gives praise!), daddy kink, size kink (yes always size kink)

. .

When you first met Harry you never imagined the kind of person he was under the quiet shy-guy façade. You had brought your old laptop to him in hopes that he could fix it so you wouldn’t have to buy a new one. His small computer repair shop was highly recommended. And when you saw him, well, he was something out of a dream. Tall with tan skin and light green eyes, a soft smile, dark curls, and he appeared healthy and strong.

Except he was very shy. Quiet. You explained to him the issue with your laptop and he ran a cord up to the desk and plugged it in, typed something on your keyboard, bringing up a strange screen. You watched as he did whatever he was doing and wondered if this guy had ever been laid. You soon learned just how wrong that initial perception was.

“You spend a lot of time here?” You asked in hopes of striking up a conversation.

He scrunched his brows together and looked up at you. “Uh… yeah.” And then he looked back at your screen intently.

But you didn’t stop there. If there was one thing about you it was that you could be kind of relentless. You’d get something out of him one way or another.

And oh boy did you get it. After he told you what he thought he could do to repair your laptop and that he’d have to keep it for a few days you gave him your contact information so he could call you when it was ready. From there… it was kind of a whirlwind after you asked him to hang out a few times.

You knew you could be a bit bossy and direct and so it felt like a really good fit as you got to know him the few weeks after first meeting him. He didn’t seem to mind you making all the plans and telling him what to do and when you introduced him to a couple of friends you ran into at the park one day they also noticed how quiet he was too. He was polite, but he didn’t talk much so you commented to your friends that he was just shy right in front of him and that was the first time you noticed that look from Harry. A sharp glance that made the hairs prick up on your skin. You brushed it off but wondered if he maybe didn’t like you talking about him like that in front of him. Had he been embarrassed by that? You hadn’t said anything mean or untrue but there was something in the way he looked at you that gave you pause.

And that night was the first time you had sex with him. He followed you into your apartment when you expected him to just drop you off like all the other times you'd hung out with him before.

“Oh you’re coming inside?” You grinned at him and he remained quiet as he stalked behind you until you’d opened your door and Harry slammed it closed behind him.

The Harry you knew in public had suddenly been tucked deep down into some hidden pocket and this new brooding man stood before you with dark eyes and a smirk on his face. “Did you have fun bossing me around all day? Talking about me to your friends and laughing?”

You were stunned as he moved in toward you and both of his hands ran up the back of your neck and he titled your head back. “Well? Was that fun for you?”

Swallowing you let out a shocked laugh. “Uh… I mean… I didn’t like mean to hurt your feelings… I just thought…” Of course, you couldn’t find the exact feelings and words at that moment because this was a different man standing over you gripping the back of your neck.

“Can’t spit out your words, little brat? How unusual that you suddenly can’t yammer on. I’m gonna make this easy for you. Now, you do what I say and keep your mouth closed for once. I don’t want to hear you talking back to me anymore tonight.”

And even if you wanted to you wouldn’t have been able to. You were not only stunned into silence but half the time he had his cock down your throat making you gag around him as he praised you for being so quiet for him. You hadn’t expected any of it but you fucking loved it. When he made you pull his pants down and get on your knees the first sight you caught of his dick was something unbelievable. You hadn’t realized he was going to be so immense.

But he was and he taught you a lesson that night. And that was to not judge a book by its cover. Quiet and shy in public but once the doors were closed he was a caveman who liked to dominate and spank you, spit in your mouth, and fuck you until you were nothing but a puddle of mush and silence and serenity.

You were obsessed.

You still kept up your normal daytime appearances. You were the bossy, mouthy, and outgoing girlfriend to everyone who knew you and he was the compliant, quiet, and shy boyfriend. No one had a clue. They all thought you were the one wearing the pants in the relationship. And you did it in front of everyone. You told him what to do and often would order his meals for him and talk over him if he did speak.

But he was the one in charge the moment you two were alone.

And you knew you were in for it that day. You’d gone out with some friends again for lunch and you sat on his lap with your back to him and yapped loudly to your friends about whatever. You ate his sandwich and then laughed when you pretended to realize that he was still there. “Oh god! I almost forgot you were here, you’re so quiet, Harry! You’re like a piece of furniture!” Your girlfriends laughed with you.

You felt him pinch your thigh. And not a nice little teasing pinch. A bruising one that made you jump and you turned to look at him and there it was. That look. You bit your lip and turned back to your friends and continued being a bit of a brat. You knew he’d have something to say about you calling him a piece of furniture. You couldn’t wait to see what he might do.

And it should have come as no surprise to you that when you got to his house, he had you naked and gagged, on your hands and knees while he sat in his chair with his feet on your back like you were a fucking stool for his legs. Payback for the furniture comment.

Drool was falling from your mouth and pooling on his carpet as you tried to stay steady but the longer you stayed in your position the harder it became to not wobble, especially with the way he was shifting his legs around and crossing them over your back and shoulders.

“Pathetic,” he murmured when he saw the puddle of saliva on the floor. “But it sure is nice and quiet like this. Prefer it actually.”

He read in silence for what seemed like forever until you nearly fell over and he pulled you up and dragged you between his legs, keeping you on your knees. “Pull it out and suck.”

So you did. You looked up at him as you undid his pants and he pulled the damp handkerchief from your mouth.

The moment his length was freed from his boxers he had his hand on the back of your head and pushed you down until you were gargling and sputtering around him. You kept your hands over his thighs as he bucked up and sighed.

“Fuck… all this mouth is good for is sucking cock isn’t that right?”

You couldn’t answer. But you'd have said yes if you could've.

The zipper on his jeans was irritating your chin but you’d never complain. Your face was hot and you pulled breath in through your nostrils every time you were allowed to come up for air but he pushed you down over and over again until he was satisfied with how well you’d taken him and then brought you up to look at your face. “Look at what happens to you when Daddy’s cock gets stuffed in your mouth. Just a drooling baby with her eyes all crossed. Acts all tough and bossy all day with me but can barely make a peep when my dick is in her face.”

You moaned and reached for his dick, opening your lips but he wrapped a hand around your throat and pushed you back as he stood, pulling you up with him. “Open.”

You parted your mouth and stuck your tongue out with your head tilted back just before he spit into your mouth and you kept yourself still as he inspected. “Swallow.”

Gulping down his saliva you fluttered your eyes up at him before he pushed you over the arm of his chair with your ass up and began to spank you. You jolted at each strike to your bum but the smile on your face juxtaposed the sting his palm caused your backside.

“You know you can’t get away with being a brat. Daddy’s always gonna win in the end. But you love it don’t you? Love getting put in your place.”

Harry’s cock was still swollen and thick, hanging out of the front of his pants as he groped your plush bottom and spread your cheeks, spitting a glob of saliva over your ass hole and another over your pussy. You were angled just right for him. He loved it when you were draped over his chair like this. Could see your anus and your wet pussy and could do what he wanted with you.

You squirmed your hips gently and then felt the hot skin of his tip pressing into your cunt. The first dip in always stretching tight and achy around him. You let out a pitiful cry and heard him laughing behind you. “This is Daddy’s hole isn’t it?”

He drove into you, filling your insides with inches and inches of length and girth before backing and out plunging in again.

“It’s Daddy’s!” You moaned.

Another gob of spit was dripped over your anus and then you felt him push his thumb inside. “Yes, it is. And this one too, yeah?”

“Yesss…”

His chair creaked as he pounded into your guts and your moans were muffled into the fabric of the chair as he panted in pleasure.

You loved when he stuck a finger or two in your ass while he was fucking you. It kind of held you in place because he didn’t fuck your pussy gently. It helped ground you in a way.

“My bratty girl is so sweet and obedient right now. Just offers her little holes up to me and lets me have my way because she knows she’s been naughty all day. Laughing at me, pretending she didn’t know she was sitting in my lap, eating my food...”

He groaned when he ground in, swiveling his hips in circles and sliding his thumb in, and pulling it back slightly to put more pressure on your anus. Everything was wet. Soaked. And you could hear it with every thrust he made.

Suddenly he pulled his cock out and his fingers were gone and you whined when you felt him leave your body but he didn’t give you much reprieve when you felt his hands grasp your chin and lift your face up to look at him, standing over you with that dark smile.

He slapped his heavy, wet cock into your cheek and puffed out a laugh when he did it on the other side, your arousal getting smeared on your face. “Is this what you love? Daddy’s big cock in your face?”

You gulped. “Yes. Love your cock, Daddy.”

Keeping your eyes on him he smacked his length over your mouth, popping it past your lips before pressing his hands into your cheeks, his thumb on one side and fingers on the other. “Open.”

The moment your wet lips parted he dipped into your mouth, watching the way your jaw went slack and how your lips wrapped around him. He didn’t shove himself in too far, but just enough that it had your eyes watering as you struggled to keep looking up at him.

He cooed at you and as he rocked his hips in and used his free hand to land his palm down on your sore bottom again. Your ass was still up with your hips down over the arm of the chair and you blinked trying to clear your blurry eyes. “Taste that?” Another harsh smack to your bottom.

You moaned around his cock in response.

“That’s mine. Your pussy juice that makes a mess of my cock... Mine. This ass?” He slapped your bum making you jump. “Mine. This throat and this mouth? Mine.”

You gurgled when he pressed in, grazing just the beginning of your tonsils before slipping it back out to the tip. “Everything is mine. So keep that in mind next time you mouth off to me in front of your friends.”

He pulled his cock from your lips and you gasped a breath and watched him as he tilted your neck upward uncomfortably. “Now do you want to come?”

His fingers were still smushed into your cheeks as you let out a feeble yes.

“How bad do you want it?”

He loosened up his grip so you could respond. “Please. So bad, Daddy. So fucking much. I’ll do anything. Every bit of me is yours… You own me…”

He kept his expression unreadable as you continued. “I need you. I want you to make me come. Please, Daddy. You’re everything… I'm begging you, please… I worship the ground you walk on.”

You knew the drill. He expected to hear you grovel for your orgasm. Especially after the kind of display you put on earlier. He listened to you demean yourself and praise him, beg him…

When he released your face he grunted and you felt him behind you again, this time pressing his warm, sturdy chest into your back. “Good girl, Y/n…” He pressed his cock back inside of you, slicing your through to your tummy and spreading you open as he slowly thrust.

“You always learn your lesson don’t you, baby? Need Daddy and his big cock to make it better?”

You nodded and whimpered. The delicious feel of him opening you up and sliding in would never get old.

“I know you need me, baby. Daddy needs you too. Wants to make you happy and give you the whole world… Gonna let me have that orgasm now? Gonna show me what a good girl you’ve been for me?”

He shoved his hand under your hips and found your clit, making you cry out. He knew just what you needed.

Slow strokes of his long dick wetly opened you up, his balls pressing into your skin every time he bottomed out, his deep voice in your ear. “Come for Daddy. Give Daddy your orgasm like a big girl. Come on honey…”

His voice was tight and you knew he was beckoning you to come so he could come too.

“M’gonna come… thank you, Daddy!”

You unraveled around his cock, spasming and moaning, drooling into the seat of the chair as he rolled your clit between his fingers and fucked into you so deep you saw stars. But then you felt his cock pulse and throb and he pressed his lips to the skin behind your ear and he moaned deeply as he pumped into you, relief taking over both of you.

When he pulled out he kissed your shoulder blade and pulled his briefs up his strong legs and walked away from the chair as you watched him with a pounding heart. He put some music on and pulled a book from the shelf before returning to the chair and helped you up so you could sit in his lap and he could read to you.

Your shy, quiet boyfriend was the only one who got you. The only one who understood who you really were. Deep down you were just a soft and submissive girl who wanted someone to spank her, to tell her what to do and how to do it, and then to love her and read her books and tell her she was his best girl. No one else would ever have guessed.

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[spurbleu]

john price and his divorced vibes ring true in my heart and notes app once again. cw. slight suicide ideation.

“it’s me or there.”

that’s when it ended. four words, four years, give or take. snuffed out in the aftermath of a hospital visit that wouldn’t have been concerning if john were younger. if he didn’t have you.

he’s seen the cyst of it. the bloated, inflamed beginnings of a divide. the graves that anxiety digs under your eyes. the tears when he returns home- not from joy but from relief.

(maybe that’s always what it’s been- just assumed they were the same. it took looking at your signature on separation papers to make him realize just how wrong he was).

but tonight, you aren’t crying. not now- not in front of him. he can tell you practiced, by the ridged way you sit under the lamplight he had helped you fix last month, hands crossed over the dining room table (oak from the backyard). eyes that build a wall between your body and the woman he married.

“don’t make me choose.” is what he said, which didn’t sound like a real answer to him.

but there was only one reply that would’ve made you stay.

so he survives like he always has. still takes his coffee black, although has to relearn how to use the machine without your help. wakes up at five to a colder bed. still gets deployed for missions, where he doesn’t talk about it.

(still wears the ring, though.)

and without him really knowing it, years go by. he gets shot again, and this time he isn’t just lucky he’s alive, he’s surprised.

(angry, too. hoped that stupid, bullish operative would’ve made the fuckin shot. gave him an honorable death. born from steel so he might as well die by it. maybe it would have made you understand. maybe you would have spoken at his funeral.)

kate makes him take the office job he hid from you. hates it, but eventually the body aches subside and so does the resentment.

it’s early, when he catches sight of you in a café. can’t help himself, and suddenly he’s ordering his coffee with a little bit of cream, and finding your table.

you’re still wearing a ring, but it isn’t his. the subtle roundness of your stomach isn’t, either. that burns more than the cigars he quit last week.

you ask him how he’s been. he says fine. when he asks you the same, you mimic his response- although you’re telling the truth.

“still working?”

he forces a laugh. it comes out pained. “at a desk, now.”

you nod like you saw this coming. “how’s that?”

he tells you about the long days. the creaky chair that leaves faux leather pieces stamped to his trousers. about the annoying, young coworkers. about the window that overlooks a city he didn’t think could be beautiful- but when the sun hits it right he’s proved wrong.

once he meets your eyes, they’re glossy. a teary shine that shocks him until he’s forced to remember the way you looked at the alter. the flush of your cheeks. the curve of your smile, which is practically the same now as it was then, if not a little sadder.

because it hurts. hurts that he is only now accepting peace. that if he hadn’t idled, he could’ve had the very rare opportunity to keep. his promises, his good ending, his wife.

but he didn’t. and now the both of you have to look “could’ve been” in the face. a face that you had loved. a face that john, despite his best efforts, still does.

you wipe your tears and apologize. say the pregnancy is making you weepy. that you’re just so happy he’s doing well. that he’s safe. alive.

he nods. he understands. he lets you lie. because he knows, that as he stands, you want to ask him why. why it took him so long. why he couldn’t quit it for you, when he was always going to end up doing so anyway.

he leaves you without an answer for a second time, but this time it’s because he truly doesn’t have one.

but he doesn’t leave without saying, “I’m sorry.”

and maybe that’s enough.

you will never see him again. he will see you, once. at a playground, with a stroller, and a man who looks like he’s good to you.

he will walk to the pawn shop across the street and sell his wedding ring. the number they give him is far below what it’s worth, but he doesn’t correct them.

because what would he know.

[formulaonecrumbs]

he’s so pretty

Lando Norris x gf!reader

summary: lando’s so beautiful and reader makes sure he knows it.

warnings: NONE.

A/N: (i’m getting to more requests bare with me, i’m not used to having this many) i got inspo for this cuz i was on pinterest and saw some pictures of lando looking BEAUTIFUL and i just sat there in awe of him. had to translate it into a fic 🙏🙏

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

you never really remembered when it started, calling lando pretty.

maybe it was the first time he showed up to your house dripping rainwater, curls stuck wetly to his forehead, cheeks pink from the cold. or maybe it was the day you watched him laugh so hard at something you said that he couldn’t catch his breath, his whole face lighting up like the sun had made a home inside him. maybe it was even earlier than that, when you were just kids and you thought he looked like the boy version of a storybook character, the ones whose smiles made you believe in magic.

you didn’t know when it started. you just knew you loved it. and now, being able to say it whenever you wanted — being able to kiss his pretty face after — felt like the biggest kind of magic.

“you’re so pretty, lando,” you said once, casual as anything, as you both lounged on the couch, your feet kicked up on his lap, his hand absentmindedly tracing shapes against your ankle. he didn’t react right away, only glanced over at you with this small, almost shy grin, like he still didn’t know what to do with the compliment even after months of being yours.

but you said it again the next day, and the day after that, and eventually it became a part of the air between you.

“pretty boy,” you’d hum as you adjusted his tie before some event he didn’t want to go to. “prettiest boy i know,” you’d tease as you ruffled his hair, ruining whatever careful styling his team had done, and he’d just shake his head and pull you into him, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead like he couldn’t help it.

you loved the way he reacted every time, like he couldn’t quite believe you meant it but wanted so badly to.

and lando, for all his confidence on track, was soft around you. soft in a way he wasn’t with anyone else. soft in a way you adored.

you’d say it after a race when he was sweaty and exhausted, pulling him close despite the mess. you’d say it in the mornings when his curls were wild and his voice was rough and he looked at you like you were the first good thing he’d ever seen. you said it because it was true, and because he deserved to know it every second of every day.

one lazy afternoon, you ended up at the lake near his place — your place, now, sort of, with how often you stayed over — where you always went when everything felt a little too loud.

he was stretched out on the grass, eyes closed, face turned toward the sun, and you sat beside him, knees pulled to your chest, just watching him breathe.

he looked… peaceful. and stupidly beautiful.

and before you could even think about it, the words slipped out again. “you’re so pretty, lando.”

this time, he opened his eyes slowly, blinking up at you with a lazy, fond smile. “you say that like it’s new information.”

you laughed, tossing a blade of grass at his chest. “it is. every day. new levels of pretty achieved.”

he caught the grass and twirled it between his fingers, the softest blush creeping up his neck. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you love it,” you said easily.

he sat up then, reaching out to tug you toward him until you were half sprawled across his lap, giggling as you went. he held you there, arms looping loosely around your waist, looking up at you with a kind of wonder that made your heart trip over itself.

“i really do,” he murmured, like it was a secret.

you leaned in, brushing your nose against his. “good. because i’m not planning to stop.”

he kissed you then, slow and lazy and full of sunshine, like he had all the time in the world just to love you.

and maybe he did.

later, as you lay tangled together on the grass, his fingers playing with your hair, he whispered, “you’re the only person who sees me like that.”

you blinked, tilting your head to look at him properly. “like what?”

“like… i’m something more than just a driver. like… i’m enough, just like this.”

your heart twisted, too full of everything you felt for him. you pressed your hand over his chest, right where his heart beat steady and sure. “lando… you’re enough. always have been. always will be.”

he pulled you in tighter at that, burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

and you knew then — the way you always had — that you were going to spend the rest of your life telling him how pretty he was.

pretty when he won. pretty when he lost. pretty when he was laughing. pretty when he was hurting. pretty just for being himself.

because he was.

and because he was yours.

THE END :>

[nochepsicodelica]

"Gentle," you murmur, lips curled softly in amusement as you watch Toji plant kisses all over your bare thighs. "Geeentle," you repeat, when he starts inching closer to the inner part of your thigh. Then you see it, the hyper focus he holds on the plush area of your legs. You watch as he prepares to strike, his mouth widening while he starts leaning in closer.

"Gentle, gentle, gentle-- Wait, Toji-!" You blurt, needlessly, since he didn't make any attempt to slow down once he set his plan in motion. Your laughter interrupts the stillness of the once calm room, while Toji is just there with his teeth, harshly, sunken into your thigh. It's warm, it's wet, but most of all, it stings.

After relaxing his jaw, his grip on your delicate skin loosens, and he pulls away, before taking his sweet time to admire his newly created masterpiece. He rubs the temporary impression he left on you, eliciting an expected but still mildly unpleasant soreness with every press and drag of his fingertips.

"That was a good one, huh?" Toji murmurs, a smug grin on his face as he leans in to leave a much gentler brush of his lips on the "affected" area.

You scoff and roll your eyes, but agree nonetheless. He doesn't need to know that, though. "Pshhh, it was alright. I'm not missing a chunk out of my leg or anything, so..."

"Mm..." he hums, like he got your message loud and clear. "Let me try that again, then."

"Wait, no, please! No! Oh god, please, no! Please don't," you cry out, like you're auditioning for the most dramatic TV series. He laughs at the way your legs shuffle before he can get another good bite on you.

"I didn't even do anything and you're already crying," he says, unfazed but stilled entertained, as usual. He's used to your dramatics, by now.

"Ahh! That's what you say to me every night."

"Damn right," he says, proudly, in agreement, reciprocating your menacing grin. "You're chicken, baby," he fires, dropping the grin almost instantly.

"You're chicken, baby," you sling back, turning his insult on him.

"If you let me get another bite in, I'll take it back," he says, bringing your legs back to where they rested before, carefully, so that you don't pull away again.

"But, but, but-"

"But, but, buuuuuut," he mocks, sounding like a mosquito and snickering when you deadpan.

"You're not funny," you say, your voice icy. It's hard to stay serious in the moment, considering how ridiculous the whole situation is.

"Look at you. You wanna laugh. Aaaand your lips are twitching. They're starting to curl."

"Stop narrating my movements, damn it," you chide, giving into the laugh he witnessed slowly unfolding.

Chomp.

Your laughter doubles down, and you swear you feel the breaths coming from his own chuckle on your skin.

"Oww," you wail, pushing at his head to try and shake him off, but he's like a dog with an object it refuses to let go of. "Toji, i'm gonna scream in three... two..."

He loosens his hold on your skin, pulling away completely to avoid setting off the siren that is you, his very lovely lady.

"Don't," he strictly instructs.

"Hm, maybe I should do it, anyway. I'm in so much pain."

"Is that a threat, baby?" Toji asks, scarred side of his lips curling. He watches you shrug in response, followed by a sassy tilt of your head, as if to say, 'what are you gonna do about it?'

"Be good."

"Be nice," you retort.

You both just stare at each other for a couple seconds, eyes never separating from each other. It's a brief moment between lovers who enjoy these little showdowns and how they almost always immediately come to an end when both of you inevitably crack.

Starting with you...

Your lips being tightly pressed together does nothing to suppress the loud snicker that cuts through the silence you both created. Toji follows almost instantly, unable to hold back his own entertained grin as he leans down to leave gentle, soothing kisses on the new impression he made on your thigh.

"You're nutso," you say, nothing but love in your tone, as you delicately run your fingers through his hair.

"You love it," he responds, caressing your thighs in his warm hands as he continues to soothe your tender skin with his lips.

[moonstruckme]

Ohh now that I have permission to request, could I request newgirl au rommates!marauders with a reader who is very independent and tries to do and deal with everything on her own. I mean we know how codependent the boys are and I would love to see how they would interact with a reader who is the complete opposite

Thanks for requesting (you never need permission babe haha) !

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Sirius lets out a low whistle, crossing his arms as he leans his hip against the couch to watch you. “Training to leave us for the circus?” 

“Ha ha,” you monotone. Your voice falters slightly as you wobble on the ball of your foot, standing on tiptoe atop a pile of thick books atop a chair in order to reach the uppermost shelf of the bookcase in your sitting room. “Do you guys never clean up here? It’s gross.” 

“Sounds like you’ve just answered your own question,” he says. “Why are you messing with it?” 

“Because,” you strain your reach, running a dusting wand along the shelf and stifling a gasp when your pile of books threatens to tip, “it’s the only empty shelf, and I have stuff to put here.” 

“Shit, babe, can’t your stuff wait a while? Remus will be home soon.” 

“So?” 

“So,” says Sirius, “he’s a tall bloke. He could at least reach up there without so much…peril.”

You make a dismissive noise. “I’ve got it.” 

You overextend your reach a tad, the books leaning precariously. The ball of your foot shuffles a few inches to the left in a semi-frantic instinct to regain your balance, but after a second you have to bail out, hopping down onto the chair and then the ground with a thunk that’s sure to win you favor from your downstairs neighbors. 

“Yeah,” Sirius drawls. “Looks like it.” 

You make a face at him. James comes out of his room as you’re moving the chair a couple feet to the left to climb back up. 

“I can’t decide…uhh…” He watches you ascend with brows drawing together in concern. 

“She won’t be deterred,” Sirius says swiftly. “What can’t you decide?” 

James’ eyes stay stuck on you as you pick up the dusting wand to try again. “I, erm, can’t decide what to have for tea.” 

“You said the other day that you were craving Thai,” Sirius offers. “Order takeaway?” 

Though you’re turned away, you can practically hear the smile enter James’ voice. “Genius. You want in?” 

“Sure. Pad see ew, please.” 

“Got it. What about you?” James asks you.

“No, thanks.” The duster looks suspiciously clean for how far you’ve gotten. You attempt a little hop to see the shelf. “I’ve got leftovers.” 

“Right, okay—god, please don’t do that.” James’ voice pitches when your books sway after another hop. “It’s a long way down the stairs if you break your neck and we have to call 999. Why did you say we can’t stop her?” he asks Sirius. 

“I tried telling her to wait for Remus—” 

“That’s a good idea. Remus is tall, love, let him do it.” 

“—but she wants to do it herself.” 

“Oh.” Similarly to how you could hear James’ smile before, now you can hear the lack of it. “I see. This is like the jar thing?” 

“The jar thing?” Sirius asks with mild interest. 

“Yeah. I found her struggling with a jar of spaghetti sauce the other night” —you roll your eyes; struggling seems a bit superior— “so I tried to help, but she wouldn’t let me. Accidentally shattered the whole thing in the sink trying to get it open.” 

At this point, you can feel both James’ and Sirius’ pointed stares at your back. You keep about your business as though you can’t. 

“We can’t have you breaking bones the way you broke the jar,” says James. “We don’t have liability insurance.” 

You huff a laugh. “I’m not totally familiar with how insurance works around here, but I don’t think you need that if you’re not employing me.” 

“Whatever.” Sirius’ voice is dispassionate. “If she wants to break her neck to prove a point, that’s her prerogative.” 

James sounds about to protest, but then you hear the door open. 

“What the fuck?” Remus asks under his breath, as though speaking to no one but himself. “What are you doing up there?” 

“It’s fine,” you insist, though admittedly it takes some willpower to continue dusting when your quietest roommate sounds so horrified. “I’m cleaning.” 

You hear the door shut and the lock click. There’s a papery shuffle as Remus sets down whatever he brought inside. “Why?” he asks, bewildered. 

“Uh, because I don’t want my books on a dusty shelf?” 

“Let me take care of that. Come down from there.” You start turning to give your rebuttal the same as you had to Sirius and James, but before you can Remus’ hands are at your waist. Your balance falters. 

“Careful,” he tsks, his grip on you tightening momentarily. “Step down, one foot at a time.” 

You find that, with his hands on you and his tone so resolute, you have a harder time refusing him. You put your foot down on the chair. 

“There you are.” Remus doesn’t seem inclined to release you until you have both feet on the ground, but he turns to give James and Sirius a look. “You were just going to let her do this by herself?” 

“We tried to tell her,” Sirius defends them. “She won’t have any help, she’d rather smash things.” 

Now Remus turns back to you, bemused. “Smash things?” 

“It was an accident,” you mumble. “I wanted to open my own jar.” 

“You’ve got to let James handle jars, babe,” Sirius tells you sagely. “He needs it, it makes him feel good.” 

James shrugs as though this may or may not be true. 

“Please,” Remus pinches the bridge of his nose, “no smashing anything while I’m away. Jars or bones.” 

“That’s what we were trying to tell her,” James says helpfully. 

You cross your arms, avoiding anyone’s eyes. “Fine.” 

Remus sighs. “Thank you.” He sets a fond hand on the top of your head, and the familiarity of the gesture sends a pleasant warmth all the way down to your toes. You feel a tad less aggrieved. 

“Thank goodness,” says James. “Hey, does this mean I can start opening your jars for you? And you’ll have takeaway with us tonight?” 

Your flatmates all look at you. “Sure,” you relent. “That would be nice, thanks. But I’m not going to start joining you for those bedtime stories you do in Remus’ room every night.” 

“I’m an unwilling participant in those,” Remus protests unconvincingly. 

“You should rethink that one,” Sirius advises you as he sits down on the couch, pulling out his laptop to begin ordering dinner. “We’re reading the Wrinkle in Time series right now; it’s riveting.”