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abbotjack · 2 months ago

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God I hate to be that person but ughhhhhh I love that jack fic where they find out reader is pregnant and I'm CRAVING a second part to that (if you're u to of course). Like, how it'd be during her pregnancy, him being sweet but also worried and protective. Omg I need more soft jack w a baby on the way!!!!!

The Camouflage Onesie

LIFE WE GREW SERIES MASTERLIST <3

content warnings: pregnancy, medical references, nausea/morning sickness, sexual content (explicit but consensual), body image changes, hormonal shifts, domestic intimacy, emotional vulnerability, labor and delivery scene, emotionally intense partner support, and high emotional/physical dependency within a marriage. yeah. pregnancy

word count : 5,735

WEEK 5

The test turned positive on a Sunday. By Monday morning, the entire medicine cabinet had been rearranged like it was a trauma cart.

Your moisturizer had been nudged over to make room for prescription-grade prenatals, a bottle of magnesium, a DHA complex, and—of all things—two individually labeled pill sorters with day-of-the-week dividers. One pink. One clear. Yours and Jack's, apparently.

You found him in the kitchen at 6:42 a.m., already in scrubs. He was calmly cutting the crusts off toast while listening to NPR and making a second cup of coffee for himself.

When he turned, he gave you a long once-over—not in a critical way, but diagnostic. Like he was scanning you for vitals only he could see.

“You’re flushed,” he said. “And your pupils are dilated. You feel dizzy yet?”

You furrowed your brow. “No?”

“Good. You’re hydrating better than I thought.”

You blinked. “Jack, I haven’t even said good morning.”

He walked over and handed you a glass of room-temp water. “I’m loving you with medically sourced precision.”

You stared at the glass. “This isn’t cold.”

“Cold water upsets your stomach. Lukewarm helps with early bloat.”

“Jack.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He tilted his head. “I’ve watched septic patients stabilize faster than accountants facing a positive Clearblue. I know exactly what this is.”

You pressed your hands to your face and groaned. “You’re not going to hover this much every week, are you?”

Jack leaned down, brushing a kiss over your shoulder. “No. Some weeks I’ll hover more.”

“I made your appointment already,” he said, voice casual. “Friday. Dr. Patel. 3:40.”

You blinked. “You didn’t even ask me.”

“She owes me a favor,” Jack said. “Got her niece into ortho during the peak of the shortage last year. Trust me—she’ll take care of you.”

You frowned, stunned. “How did you even pull that off so fast?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart. I’m an ER doctor. I have connections. I can get my wife seen before the week’s out.”

Your eyes welled up suddenly—caught off guard by how steady he was, how sure. You were still half-floating in disbelief. Jack was already ten steps ahead, clearing the path.

WEEK 6

You learned very quickly that pregnancy was a full-time job—and Jack approached it with quiet precision.

The first time you dry-heaved over the kitchen sink, he didn’t rush in with a solution. He didn’t lecture or hover. He just stepped into the room, leaned against the counter, and waited until you looked up.

“Still thinking about that leftover pasta?” he asked softly.

You made a face. “Don’t say the word pasta.”

He crossed the kitchen, wordless, and pulled open a drawer. Out came a wrapped ginger chew. Then he disappeared down the hall.

When he returned, he had your cardigan in one hand and a bottle of lemon water in the other.

You blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

Jack handed you the water first. “You always run cold when you’re nauseous. But I know you’ll refuse a blanket if you’re flushed.”

You stared.

He draped the cardigan over your shoulders.

“You okay?”

You nodded slowly. “I think so.”

“Okay,” he said. “Let me know when you want toast.”

You half-laughed, half-cried, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. “You don’t have to be this gentle every second.”

Jack leaned in. “I’m not being gentle. I’m being exact. There’s a difference.”

Later that night, you sat curled up on the couch, still wrapped in the cardigan, while Jack quietly swapped your usual diffuser oil with something new.

“Peppermint,” he said when you asked. “Helps with queasiness.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And the bin next to the couch?”

“Let’s call it contingency planning.”

You smirked. “You’re really building systems around me, huh?”

Jack looked at you—soft, certain. “No. I’m building them for you.”

He moved across the room and brushed your hair back off your forehead, thumb pausing at your temple like he could smooth out whatever discomfort lingered there.

“You’re not the patient,” he murmured. “You’re the constant. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep the ground steady under your feet.”

You didn’t have a clever reply.

You just pulled him onto the couch beside you and tucked yourself into his chest—grateful beyond words that this was who you got to build a life with.

WEEK 9

Jack was folding laundry on the bed when you walked into the room barefoot, carrying a bowl of cereal and wearing his old college sweatshirt.

You caught his glance. “What?”

He shook his head, smiled a little. “Just thinking you wear my clothes better than I ever did.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. He set a towel down. Reached for your bowl as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“I got it,” you said.

“I know,” he murmured, holding it anyway while you shifted the pillow behind your back. Once you were settled, he handed it back.

You took a bite, then glanced at the basket of half-folded laundry.

“You know that’s mostly my stuff, right?”

Jack looked at the pile. “It’s ours. Who else is gonna fold your seven thousand pairs of fuzzy socks?”

You laughed into your spoon.

He leaned against the dresser and just looked at you for a second. Not in a way that made you self-conscious—just soft. Familiar.

“You’re quieter this week,” he said.

You shrugged. “I’m tired.”

He nodded. “Want to go somewhere this weekend? Just us?”

“Like where?”

“Nowhere big. Just—out of the house. We could rent a cabin. Lay around. Sleep until noon. Let you pretend I’m not watching you nap like it’s my full-time job.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You do that now?”

“Not always. Just when you start snoring like a golden retriever pup.”

“Jack.”

He grinned, walked over, and kissed your temple.

“Alright, no trips. But at least let me cook something tonight. Something warm.”

You sighed. “You already do too much.”

He looked at you seriously then, crouched a little so you were eye-level.

“I don’t keep score,” he said. “I’m your husband. You’re growing our kid. If all I have to do is make dinner and fold socks, I’m getting off easy.”

WEEK 14

By week fourteen, the second trimester hit like an exhale.

You weren’t queasy every morning anymore. Your appetite returned. You could brush your teeth without gagging. And Jack, for the first time in weeks, actually relaxed enough to sit through an entire episode of something without checking on you mid-scene.

You were curled on the couch together—your head in his lap—when he slid his hand beneath your shirt and rested it on the soft curve of your stomach.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re subtle.”

“I’m consistent.”

You snorted. “You’re clingy.”

His thumb brushed just under your ribs. “I’m memorizing.”

You shifted slightly, tucking your feet closer. “You already know everything about me.”

Jack looked down at you, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I know the before. This part? This is new.”

He went quiet, and you could feel the shift in him—something deeper, more reverent than before.

“I’ve seen pregnancy before,” he said. “But I’ve never… watched it happen to someone I come home to.”

You turned your head to look up at him. “You okay?”

Jack nodded slowly. “I just keep thinking… you’re building someone I haven’t met yet. And I already know I’d give my life for them.”

Your throat tightened. You reached for his hand where it rested on your stomach, lacing your fingers through his.

“We’re doing okay, right?”

Jack bent down, kissed your forehead. “You’re doing better than okay.”

You smiled. “We’re a good team.”

“The best,” he said. “Even if you keep stealing all the pillows.”

You laughed. “You sleep like a corpse. You don’t need them.”

He grinned. “You’re getting cocky now that the nausea’s eased.”

“You’ll miss her when she’s gone.”

“No, I’ll just be glad to have you back.”

You rolled your eyes. “You have me.”

Jack kissed you again. Longer this time.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I do.”

WEEK 15

It started with the baby books.

Not the ones you bought. The ones Jack picked up—three of them, stacked neatly on the nightstand one morning after a grocery run you hadn’t joined him on.

You noticed them after your shower. He was still in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher, humming something that definitely wasn’t in tune. But the titles made you pause.

“‘What to Expect for Dads,’” you read aloud, holding the top one up when he walked in. “You going soft on me?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Hardly. Just figured if you’re doing the building, I can at least read the manual.”

You smirked, flipping through a page. “You’re the manual.”

“I’m the triage guy. I don’t have maternal instincts. I have protocols.”

You leaned back against the headboard. “You’re being humble, but you’re gonna ace this.”

He shrugged, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “I just want to know what’s coming. I’ve done newborn shifts. I’ve handed babies to people shaking so hard they could barely hold them. But this? This isn’t a shift. This is us.”

You touched his arm. “You’ve already done more than I can even keep track of.”

Jack looked at you for a long moment. Then placed his hand over yours. “I don’t want to just be useful. I want to be good. For both of you.”

You didn’t know what to say.

So you leaned forward and kissed him—gentle, deep. His hand slid to your stomach as naturally as breathing.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, “You already are.”

That night, when he thought you were asleep, he cracked open the book again.

And stayed up past midnight reading about swaddling, latch cues, and the difference between Braxton Hicks and the real thing.

WEEK 16

Jack stood in the doorway of your office for almost a full minute before saying anything.

You looked up from your laptop, eyebrows raised. “What?”

He didn’t move. Just scanned the room—your desk, the bookshelf, the little armchair in the corner that you never actually used.

Then, finally: “Is our house big enough for this?”

You blinked. “For what?”

He gestured vaguely toward your belly, then the room. “All of it. A baby. Crib. Noise. Diapers. More laundry. Less sleep.”

You smiled gently. “I thought we were turning this room into the nursery.”

“We are,” he said quickly. “I just… I keep running scenarios in my head. And this place felt huge when it was just us.”

You closed your laptop. “Jack.”

He looked at you.

“We’ll figure it out. We already are.”

He crossed the room, leaned against your desk. “I’m not trying to panic.”

“I know.”

“I just keep thinking about how everything’s going to change. I want to make sure we still feel like us once it does.”

You stood and wrapped your arms around his waist, head resting against his chest. “We will. You think too far ahead sometimes.”

“That’s my job,” he murmured.

“And mine is reminding you that it’s okay to not solve everything all at once.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I know. I just want it to be enough.”

WEEK 19

Jack was unusually quiet on the drive to the anatomy scan.

Not anxious. Just focused in a way that told you his brain had been working overtime since the moment he woke up. His hand rested on your thigh at every red light, thumb tracing small circles against the fabric of your leggings.

“You good?” you asked, turning down the radio.

He glanced over, nodded once. “Just running through the checklist in my head.”

You smiled gently. “You’re not at work, babe.”

“I know. But I’ve never seen one of these as a husband.”

You reached over and laced your fingers through his. “You don’t have to be perfect today. You just have to be here.”

He gave you a look. “I am here. That’s the problem. I’m so here I can’t think about anything else.”

The waiting room was dim, quiet, and smelled vaguely like lemon disinfectant. Jack sat beside you, legs spread in his usual posture, one hand on your knee. His thumb tapped once. Then again. Then stopped.

The tech was warm, professional. She dimmed the lights. Asked if you wanted to know the sex. You said yes before Jack could answer.

You held your breath as the screen lit up in shades of blue and gray.

“Everything’s looking healthy,” the tech said. “Strong spine, great heartbeat, long legs.”

Jack tightened his grip on your hand.

“And it looks like you’re having a girl.”

You exhaled all at once. Then laughed. Or maybe cried. It blurred together.

Jack didn’t say anything right away. Just stared at the monitor, jaw tense, eyes glassy.

You turned to look at him. “Jack.”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I just—” He swallowed. “She’s real.”

The rest of the appointment was a haze—measurements, murmurs of “good growth,” the gentle swipe of gel off your stomach. Jack didn’t let go of your hand the entire time.

That night, you came out of the bathroom in an old t-shirt and found him standing at the dresser, staring down at something small in his hand.

You stepped closer. “What’s that?”

He held it up without looking—one of the newborn onesies you’d bought weeks ago in a moment of cautious optimism. Light yellow. Soft cotton.

“You think she’ll fit in this?” he asked.

You smiled. “They’re tiny, Jack. That’s kind of the whole point.”

He nodded but didn’t move.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind. “You’re allowed to feel everything. It’s a big day.”

He turned, wrapped his arms around you carefully. “I think I was more afraid of not feeling it.”

You pressed your forehead to his. “You’re allowed to be happy.”

“I am,” he said, voice rough. “I just keep thinking about how I’m going to keep her safe. How I’m going to teach her to breathe through chaos. How I’ll probably mess it up a hundred times.”

“You’re not going to mess it up.”

He looked at you. “You really think that?”

“I married you, didn’t I?”

Jack smiled for real then. “You’ve always been the smarter one.”

You rolled your eyes. “But you’re the one who’s going to end up wrapped around her finger.”

He kissed your temple. “That part was inevitable.”

WEEK 25

Jack convinced you to finally start looking at houses.

You’d been reluctant—emotionally attached to the place you’d built your early marriage in, skeptical about change when everything in your life already felt like it was shifting—but Jack had waited. Quietly. Patiently.

And then one morning, while you were brushing your teeth, he leaned in behind you, kissed your shoulder, and said, “You deserve a bigger closet.”

That was how it started.

Now, you were standing in a half-empty living room with sun pouring through tall windows and a sold sign posted out front.

Jack had just gotten off the phone with your realtor. “It’s official,” he said, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Inspection cleared. We close in three weeks.”

You blinked. “We really bought a house.”

He walked over, wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, rested his chin on your shoulder. “Correction: we bought your dream closet.”

You laughed. “You think you’re funny.”

“I know I am. Also, there’s a window bench in the nursery. You don’t even have to try to make it Pinterest-worthy.”

You leaned into him, eyes scanning the bare walls. “I can already picture her here.”

Jack pressed a kiss to your neck. “I already do. I see her trying to climb that windowsill. Leaving fingerprints on every square inch of the fridge. Falling asleep on the stairs with a book she couldn’t finish.”

Your throat tightened.

You turned in his arms. “You really love it?”

He looked at you seriously. “I love what it gives you. I love that it lets you breathe. And yeah—I love that it’s ours.”

Later that night, back in your current house, you sat on the floor with your laptop open, scrolling through registry links and bookmarking soft pink paint samples. Jack handed you a cup of tea, then lowered himself on the couch beside you with a quiet grunt.

“Is it weird that I already want to be moved?” you asked.

He shook his head. “No. It’s called nesting. I read about it in that chapter you skipped.”

You shot him a look. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the one folding swaddles while you build spreadsheets. This is our love language.”

You leaned into him, content. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

WEEK 27

You’d been on your feet all day—organizing documents, boxing up odds and ends, making lists of what needed to be moved and what could be donated. Jack told you to slow down three separate times, each time gentler than the last.

But now, at 8:43 p.m., you were barefoot in the kitchen, half bent over a drawer of mismatched utensils, when he walked in, tossed a dish towel on the counter, and said, “Okay. That’s it.”

You looked up. “What?”

Jack didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. He crossed the room, took the spatula from your hand, and gently nudged you toward a chair. “Sit. Let me take over.”

You blinked at him. “I’m fine.”

“You’re stubborn.”

You folded your arms. “Same thing.”

Jack crouched in front of you, resting his forearms on your knees. “You’ve done enough today. Let me be the husband who makes you sit down and drink something cold while I finish sorting forks from tongs.”

You softened, your fingers drifting to his hair. “I know you’re right. I just feel useless when I’m not doing something.”

“You’re 27 weeks pregnant,” Jack said, voice warm. “You made a person and folded three boxes of bath towels. That’s two more miracles than anyone else managed today.”

You exhaled and leaned back.

Later, when you were curled on the couch with a glass of iced water and your feet propped on a pillow, Jack settled next to you and tugged a blanket over both of you.

“House is gonna feel real soon,” he said.

You nodded. “She’s going to be born there.”

Jack’s arm slid around your shoulders. “We’ll bring her home to that nursery. Hang that weird mobile you picked that I still don’t understand.”

“You said it was ‘avant-garde.’”

“I was being polite.”

You smiled, tired and full. “We’re really doing it, huh?”

“We are.”

You rested your head on his chest. Jack’s hand drifted instinctively to your belly, and stayed there.

“Hey,” you said after a minute. “Thanks for making me sit.”

Jack kissed the top of your head. “Thanks for letting me.”

WEEK 30

You caught him standing in the doorway of the nursery around 9:00 p.m., arms folded, shoulder braced against the frame like he was keeping watch.

The room was nearly done. Diapers in bins. Chair assembled. Books on shelves. But Jack wasn’t looking at any of that. He was staring at the window, like he was imagining the light that would come through it in the early mornings.

You leaned against the opposite side of the doorway, watching him.

“What’s going on in that head?” you asked.

He glanced over at you. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

Jack cracked half a smile but didn’t move. “I keep picturing her. Not just baby-her. Grown-up her.”

You walked toward him. “What version?”

He tilted his head. “Seventeen. Wants to borrow the car. Has someone texting her who I probably don’t like.”

You laughed. “You’re already dreading a boyfriend?”

“I’m already dreading anyone who gets to be in her world without knowing what it cost us to build it.”

That stopped you.

Jack finally looked at you then—really looked. “She’s not even born yet and I already know I’d lay down in traffic for her. And I know how fast people can break things they don’t understand.”

You rested your hands on his chest. “You’re not going to be scary.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Well. You’ll look scary. Army vet. ER attending. Perpetual scowl. Built like you bench-press refrigerators for fun.”

He snorted. “Thanks.”

“But you’ll love her in a way no one will mistake for anything but devotion.”

Jack leaned down, pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’m not good at soft,” he murmured.

“You’re good at us,” you whispered. “That’s all she’ll need.”

He pulled you into his arms then, one hand resting flat against the curve of your belly. “She’s gonna hate me when I make her come home early.”

“She’s gonna roll her eyes when you insist on meeting everyone she ever texts.”

Jack grinned. “Damn right.”

You laughed into his shirt. “You’re so screwed.”

“I know.”

But he held you a little tighter. Didn’t say anything else. Just stood there in the dim nursery, one arm wrapped around the two of you, as if holding his whole world in place.

WEEK 32

You’d read the pregnancy forums. The blog posts. The articles with vaguely medical sources claiming the third trimester came with a spike in libido. You thought you’d be too sore, too tired. Too preoccupied.

What you hadn’t expected was the absolute onslaught.

It was like your body had one setting: Jack. Crave him. Need him. Get him here, now, fast.

He’d just gotten home from a late shift, dropped his keys in the bowl by the front door, and disappeared into the shower while you laid in bed attempting to not whine out loud. That resolve lasted six minutes.

When he walked into the bedroom, towel low around his hips, water dripping down his chest, you didn’t even mean to say it:

“I’m gonna die.”

Jack froze.

He crossed the room in seconds. “What is it? Where’s the pain?”

You were already on your back, one hand pressed to your belly, the other covering your eyes.

“Not pain,” you groaned. “Just hormones. God, Jack—this is insane.”

He crouched beside you. “You need to describe what’s happening.”

You peeked at him from under your hand. “I need you. I need you.”

Jack stilled. Blinked. Then dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a long exhale.

“Christ. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, laughing into your wrist. “I just—I’m desperate. I thought it would go away. It’s not going away.”

He lifted his head. Smiled. “Desperate, huh?”

“You’re not helping.”

“I think I am.”

Jack kissed your temple, then your cheek, then hovered over your lips. “You sure you’re good?”

You reached for him. “No. I’m feral.”

He didn’t waste another second.

What followed wasn’t frantic—it was focused. Jack stripped you with efficiency and reverence, lips brushing every newly sensitive part of you. Your belly. Your hips. Your breasts. He murmured to you the whole time—gentle things, grounding things.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he said, kissing the swell of your stomach. “You’ve been patient. Let me take care of you.”

“Please,” you whispered. “I feel insane.”

“I know. I’ve got you.”

He slid inside you slow, controlled, the way he always did when he wanted to make it last. But tonight, there was something more behind it—urgency without rush, intention without pressure.

You clawed at his shoulders, moaning into his neck. “Jack, Jack—”

“Right here.”

“I missed you today.”

“I missed you too. I always do.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, legs tightening around his waist. The angle shifted, and everything inside you splintered.

“Oh—God—don’t stop—”

Jack groaned, teeth catching your jawline. “You feel so good, sweetheart. So damn good.”

He guided you through it, one hand braced behind your head, the other cradling your hip like you’d break without it. When you came, it was with his name on your lips and tears at the corners of your eyes.

He followed seconds later, low and deep and steady, body shaking over yours.

Afterward, he didn’t move. Just curled around you, one arm anchored under your shoulders, the other stroking your belly in long, soothing sweeps.

“Still dying?” he asked eventually.

You huffed a laugh. “Little bit.”

Jack smiled into your shoulder. “Guess I’ll keep checking your vitals.”

He pulled back just enough to kiss your chest, then your stomach, whispering something you couldn’t hear but felt down to your bones.

When you shifted against him, needy again already, he looked up with a low laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Jack,” you breathed, “I’m not done.”

And Jack—predictable, capable, ready-for-anything Jack—just grinned.

“I never am with you.”

The second round was slower. Deeper. You rode his thigh first, panting against his neck, clinging to his shoulders while he whispered filth in your ear—soft, low things no one else would ever hear from him. He touched you like he already knew exactly what you’d need next week, next month, next year.

And when you collapsed against him again, trembling and sore and finally, finally full in every sense of the word—he kissed your forehead and said, “You’re everything.”

“I love you,” you whispered.

Jack tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your cheek.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

WEEK 35

The third trimester had turned your body into a full-time performance art piece. You were a living exhibit on discomfort, hydration, Braxton Hicks, and the high-stakes negotiation of shoe-tying. You’d stopped fighting the afternoon naps, started rotating three stretchy outfits on a loop, and made peace with the fact that gravity was no longer your friend.

Jack had adjusted too.

Without comment, he now drove you to every appointment. Without asking, he refilled your water before bed. Without blinking, he gave up half his side of the bathroom counter for the ever-expanding line of belly oils, cooling balms, and half-used jars of snacks.

But tonight?

Tonight he came home to find you crying at the kitchen table over a broken zipper on the diaper bag.

“Sweetheart.”

You looked up, cheeks blotchy. “It broke. It broke, Jack. And it was the only one I liked.”

“Hey, hey—breathe.”

You sniffled. “It had compartments. It had mesh.”

Jack took the bag gently from your hands, and examined the zipper like it was a patient in trauma.

“Looks jammed,” he said. “Not broken.”

You stared at him. “You don’t know that.”

He looked up. “I do.”

He walked over to the toolbox without fanfare, and returned two minutes later with a small pair of pliers. Thirty seconds after that, the zipper slid closed like nothing had happened.

You burst into tears again.

Jack set the bag down and pulled you into his arms. “Hormones?”

You nodded into his chest. “I love you so much.”

He smiled against your hair. “You want to take a bath?”

You sniffed. “Will you sit on the floor with me?”

“I’ll bring the towel and everything.”

Which is how twenty minutes later you were in the tub, steam curling around the mirror, your swollen belly just breaching the surface, while Jack sat on the floor, reading your baby book aloud like it was scripture.

“She’s the size of a honeydew,” he said, tapping the page. “Still gaining half a pound a week. Lungs developing. Rapid brain growth.”

You hummed. “She’s been moving a lot today.”

He smiled, reached over, and rested a palm over your belly. “She likes the sound of your voice.”

“She likes pizza. She tolerates me.”

Jack leaned over and kissed your temple. “She already loves you.”

You sighed, settling deeper into the water. “She’s going to love you more.”

Jack’s voice went quiet. “That’s not possible.”

You looked over.

He was watching you like he was memorizing the moment. Like he knew it wouldn’t last forever and wanted to hold every second of it.

“She’s got the best of you already,” he murmured.

You shook your head. “You’re the one who’s been steady through everything. She’s gonna know that.”

He kissed your hand. “She’s gonna know we did it together.”

And you believed him.

Even through the tears, the discomfort, the slow shuffle from couch to fridge to bed—you believed him.

WEEK 36

Jack came home with a basket.

Not from the store. Not from a delivery service. From the hospital. Carried under one arm like it was made of glass.

You were on the couch, half-watching a cooking show, half-rubbing the spot where the baby had been kicking for the last ten minutes straight. Jack came in, dropped his keys, and didn’t say anything at first.

He just set the basket on the coffee table and said, “Robby made me promise I wouldn’t forget to give this to you tonight.”

You blinked. “What?”

Jack gestured toward it. “It’s from the ER.”

Inside: a soft blanket. A framed photo of the team crowded around a whiteboard that read “Baby Abbot ETA: T-minus 4 weeks.” A pair of hand-knitted booties labeled “Perlah Originals.” A stack of index cards, each one handwritten—Dana’s in looping cursive, Collins’s in all caps, Princess’s with hearts dotting the i’s. Robby’s simply read: Your kid already has better taste in music than Jack. Congrats.

You turned one of the index cards over, reading Dana’s note about how you were going to be the kind of mom who made her daughter feel safe and loved in the same breath.

“I didn’t know they even noticed me,” you whispered.

Jack rubbed slow circles against your bump. “They notice what matters to me.”

You looked at him.

He shrugged. “You’re my wife. You’re not just around. You’re part of everything.”

The baby kicked again. Hard enough to make you gasp.

Jack smiled, leaned in, and kissed the place she’d just moved. “She agrees.”

WEEK 38

You’d read about nesting, but you thought it would look more like baking muffins at midnight—not following Jack from room to room like his gravitational pull physically outweighed yours.

He didn’t seem to mind. He’d brush his hand down your back every time you passed, help you off the couch like you were recovering from surgery, and kiss your temple every time he walked by.

By Thursday, the baby bag was packed and parked by the front door. You’d zipped it, unzipped it, and re-packed it twice just to check. And when Jack got home that evening, he nodded at it, then set something down beside it with a quiet thunk.

You glanced over. “What’s that?”

“My go-bag,” he said simply.

You raised an eyebrow.

Jack nudged it with the toe of his boot. “Army-issued. Carried this thing through two deployments and six different states. Thought it’d be fitting to bring it into the delivery room.”

You blinked. “You packed already?”

He nodded, unzipped the top, and tilted the bag open for you to see: a clean shirt, a hand towel, a toothbrush, a few protein bars, and a worn, dog-eared paperback you recognized instantly.

“That one?” you said, surprised. “You always said you hated it.”

“I did,” he admitted, zipping the bag shut again. “But it’s your favorite. I read your notes in the margins when I miss you on long shifts.”

You crossed the room and leaned into him. “You’re something else.”

WEEK 40

You woke up at 2:57 a.m. with a tight, rolling wave of pressure low in your spine. It wrapped around your middle like a band and didn’t let go.

Jack was already shifting beside you. Years in the Army meant he didn’t sleep deeply—not when he was home, not when you were pregnant.

“You okay?” he asked, groggy but alert.

You exhaled shakily. “It’s time.”

He sat up immediately. “How far apart?”

“Six minutes.”

“Let’s move.”

By the time you got in the car, the contractions were coming faster—steadier. Jack didn’t speed, but he gripped the steering wheel like the world depended on it.

You were wheeled in through the ER doors—because of course you were going into labor at the hospital where Jack worked. Princess met you at triage with a knowing smile.

“She’s in three,” Princess said. “Perlah’s setting it up now.”

You were halfway into the room when Jack froze.

He turned to Collins at the desk. “Patel?”

“Stuck behind a pileup on 376,” Collins said. “She’s trying to reroute.”

Jack muttered something under his breath and scanned the monitors. “Where’s Robby?”

“Down in trauma. He’s finishing up a round.”

Jack didn’t wait. He left you in Princess’s care and went straight for the trauma bay.

Robby was wiping his hands on a towel when Jack stepped in. Hoodie half-zipped. Scrubs wrinkled. Wide awake.

“She’s in labor?”

“She’s in active labor,” Jack said. “And Patel’s not gonna make it, but—”

“You want me in the room,” Robby finished.

“I need you in the room.”

Robby dropped the towel. “Done.”

When Robby stepped into your room, you exhaled like someone had lifted a weight off your chest.

“Hey, doc,” you muttered through a contraction.

“You’re in good hands,” Robby said, glancing between you and Jack. “You’ve got half the ER out there whispering about it.”

“Tell them if they bring me chocolate, they can stay,” you joked.

Perlah dimmed the lights. Princess wiped sweat from your forehead. Robby took your vitals himself and kept your eyes steady with his.

Hours blurred together. Jack never left your side.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“You’re doing perfect.”

“She’s almost here.”

Then everything started to move faster. Robby gave a nod to Princess and Perlah.

“One more push,” he said. “You’ve got this.”

Jack leaned close, his forehead against yours. “Come on, sweetheart. Right here. You’ve got her.”

And then—

A cry. Loud. Full. Brand new.

“She’s here,” Robby said quietly.

Jack didn’t move at first. Just watched. His eyes were wet. His hand covered his mouth.

Princess handed her to you, swaddled and squirming. Jack kissed your forehead and brushed a tear off your cheek.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered. “You did it.”

Later, after they’d cleaned up and the room was quiet, you watched Jack walk over to the bassinet. He held up a camouflage onesie.

“Oh my God,” you said. “Seriously?”

He looked over, completely straight-faced. “This is important.”

“You’re impossible.”

He kissed you once, then again. And held her like he’d waited his whole life.

#request #anon request #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #dr abbot #dr abbot x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt hbo #pregnancy

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yunzyoi · 1 month ago

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (n.rk)

[NSFW] Chrome Hearts Rings - ni-ki x f!reader

𓂃۶ৎ [니키] Booking a flight on a random night just because you had a fight with your boyfriend is totally normal right? Traveling across the world just because you don't wanna see him it's totally normal, right? Getting drunk in another country and dancing with a total stranger, is beyond normal, right?

٠࣪⭑ cw/tags: smut, dom!ni-ki and sub f!reader student. porn with plot, unprotected sex, alcohol, smoking, exhibitionism, dirty talk, rough sex, drunk sex, fingering, squirting, public, car sex, cheating, jake, sunghoon and jay cameo, mdni. don't read if uncomfortable.

٠࣪⭑wc: 4k

٠࣪⭑ tags: @woniesbae @nicholaslefthand @littlesweettea-aine @puppiesfolder

Maybe having that fight with your boyfriend wasn't so bad. You wouldn't have met this cute stranger if it wasn't because of it after all ᯓᡣ𐭩

୨ৎ

First year of college had been close to hell. The huge change from High School to college was almost unbearable. Your A+ grades from High School were equal to a C in college and your need for academic validation was killing you. It was messy, the dorms, and campus, and the lectures. You were a mess as well, trying to just pass your classes. But what was making it really a living hell, was your boyfriend, Jay.

Jay was your boyfriend since sophomore year in High School, he used to be sweet and romantic. However, during senior year he became colder, yet so possessive. When you graduated, both ended up going to different colleges. You went to MIT and he went to NYU. You're still dating him, but he has become more and more controlling and toxic throughout the year. To the point where he will call you every time you get off campus.

It gets to a point, right? You couldn't bear it. He came to visit you in campus, you acted normal. But once you mentioned his controlling behavior he got defensive. It escalated into a huge fight, yelling, and insulting until your roomate stepped in and kicked him out.

Your fingers move quickly through the phone, tears in your eyes while you deal your best friend's number. Sunghoon picks up after a couple of minutes. He's sleepy, sounds like you just woke him up. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest. Sunghoon was in Japan right now, so it was probably really early for him.

"Hey, sweetheart" He says. "It's 6 a.m you know—" Sunghoon's heart drops when he hears you sob. He sits in his bed in one quick motion. "Hey, hey, what happened, tell me" He knew the reason you were sobbing, he knew the idiot who was making you cry. He tightens his fist on the sheets. "What did he do"

You break into tears, nonstop, just crying on Sunghoon like you always do. Every time Jay did something you'd just go to your comfort place: Sunghoon, your best friend since you were in Middle School. You tell Sunghoon everything through the phone as he tries to calm you down.

"I just wish you were here" you sob, sniffing a little and he chuckles.

Both staying silent for a little longer before Sunghoon speaks again.

"What classes do you have tomorrow?" He asks, something in his voice tells you he's got something in mind.

"Tomorrow's Friday, just one economy lecture" You say softly, your throat feeling rough from crying. "Why?"

"You up to book a flight right now and come to Japan with me for the weekend?" Your heart skips a beat. You can hear the excitement in his voice. "I'll pay it for you, a little treat, you'd stay with me, forget about Jay for a couple of days, clear your mind, yeah?"

"Sunghoon...I—" You knew Sunghoon was rich as hell but it was still hard for you to accept things like this, especially when it's so sudden. Yet your heart is almost breaking right now. "Yes, yes, thank you, Hoon"

You depart from LGA Airport at 10 p.m and arrive in Tokyo around 1 a.m on Saturday. Sunghoon recieves you with open arms and you just crash in them for a hug, a needed one. He takes you to his hotel, lets you take a shower and then you just fall asleep in his bed. He wakes you up around 8 p.m of the same day and chuckles at your state.

"Do you wanna hang out?" He asks. "I just got invited to a place"

You agree with Sunghoon to hang out and get dressed quickly, doing a simple makeup and spending more time than you should on your hair. The place where Sunghoon takes you is not exactly your type of place but you didn't care since you were with him. It was kinda like a bar, drinks, food, music, people dancing. Sunghoon guides you to a specific place where two guys are having a drink. One of them stands up waving, black hair, sharp features. He greets Sunghoon with so much excitement, perfect english and a thick aussie accent.

"Yo man! So long— That's your girl?" The guy lands his eyes on you, big smile, so happy.

"Nah, that's my best friend" Sunghoon chuckles as he introduces you both. "This is Jake, he's the guy that invited me" I nod and smile at Jake.

"Your best friend's so beautiful, huh" He laughs and you all glance at the other guy. Sharp eyes, a cigarrette between his fingers, hands full of Chrome Hearts. He's hot. "This is Riki, High School friend"

Riki nods and extends his hand to Sunghoon and then to you, giving you a nod, lips curling up in a smirk. You guys sit, Sunghoon next to Jake, and you next to Riki. Sunghoon and Jake quickly start catching up, Riki occasionally participating in their conversation. You feel a little akward. Suddenly Riki offers you a cigarrette.

"You smoke?" He asks. Oh. His voice was deep. You quickly shake your heard and he chuckles. "No smoke? damn"

"Nah I don't like that" You say softly while you see him take the cigarrete to his lips, following it with your eyes.

"You drink?" He asks next as he takes a drink to his lips as well.

"A little..." You say. It was true, you didn't really like it that much. He chuckles again, irritating you a little bit. He drinks a little while you get lost in your thoughts.

Somehow your mind flying back to America, to New York, where your boyfriend was. Your boyfriend that hasn't even tried to contact you yet. You chuckle and Riki looks at you as he exhales the smoke off his lungs. You grab his drink from the table and take it to your lips swallowing it all. When you stop, Riki is just looking at you with a smirk, he's not impressed, much less worried, he's excited.

"Damn" Jake says and you both look at him. "You okay?" He asks and you nod.

You look at Sunghoon but he isn't looking at you. You follow his eyes and they're set on a girl, blonde, good curves, at the bar. You tap his leg with your feet under the table and he looks at you. You smirk, doing a motion with your eyebrows. "Go" He bites his lips, indecisive and then leans closer to you.

"Will you be alright?" He asks, still worried about you and you just nod smiling. "Fine, don't drink too much" And with that Sunghoon disappears from the table.

"Oh that bastard" Jake says and stands up looking down at his phone. "I gotta go, it'll be quick" He glances at Riki and warns "Don't do anything stupid"

Riki lifts his arms like he's offended as Jake leaves. His eyes settle on you once you're both alone.

"So...rough day?" He asks looking down at his empty cup. You nod, not really wanting to talk about it. "You're good" He said. "That one was a strong one"

"The fact that I don't drink that much doesn't mean I'm bad at it" You say, loosening a bit with him. You've been akward and seating like a statue for about 20 minutes. He smirks at your response.

"Should we get another round? Two cups this time"

You don't even hesitate. You were totally down for more. Your mind just kept reminding you about your boyfriend, and how heartbroken you felt yesterday when he yelled at you. It's okay to sit down with this handsome stranger and have a drink, right?

About half a bottle later, you lean your head against Riki's shoulder, in a tipsy state. Riki chuckles. "Giving up already, princess?" You giggle biting your lip at the petname and then sit up straight.

"Did I tell you my boyfriend is a toxic bastard?" You murmur looking at him, honesty coming pureley from the effects of the alcohol in your system. Riki doesn't seem surprised or tuned in, he drinks a bit more and smirks.

"Yeah? Why don't you leave him?" He asks leaning back. You take in his appearance for a second, longer than you should. His fit was extravagant, baggy jeans way too baggy, tank top, jacket and a lot of Chrome Hearts accessories. Dude was a Chrome Hearts freak. You blush a little when you look up and realize he was staring at you the same way you were staring at him. "So?"

"What?" You ask, blushy and giggly.

"Your boyfriend"

You bite your lower lip and sigh. "I love him, I can't just..."

Riki turns around a little, irritated, not by you but by your stupid argument. He serves another drink for himself and one more for you. You grab it, no hesitation. Music sounds in the background, Champaign & Sunshine, one of your favorites. The new song makes you excited. You stand up. "Oh my god, I love this song. Riki looks up at you with a smirk on his face. You swallow the rest of your drink and start moving to the music.

Riki presses his cheek against his hand, looking at you while biting his lip. He had to recognize you were probably the most attractive woman he had ever seen. You were smily, and blushy, and adorable, but his heart rate went up whenever you moved slightly towards him and the V line of your top moved lower. He wanted to be decent but every time you laughed softly and he looked down at you, you're breast were on his face. He watches you dance, as you move your hands down your body. The little set you're wearing making your curves more pronounced, Easier for him to imagine how'd be like to hold your waist while you dance.

You laugh when you look down at him and see him just staring. "What are you doing!" You say, yelling over the music. "Dance!" That's all you say before climbing on the table and starting to dabce up there. Riki moves quick, leaning back, finally a little surprised but quick to adopt his teasing demeanor. He smirks looking up. He has a good view of your ass from this angle and if he just moves a little he can actually see your panties. God, he was fighting demonds, he really wanted to be decent.

You look down at him, your heart skipping a beat at how attractive he suddenly looks. I mean, you already thought he was hot but now, now that he's leaning back, now that he's manspreading, legs taking more place than they should, looking up at you with that smirk and those hunter eyes, now he looks extremely attractive. Something in you just snaps, you start moving, slower, seductive, sexy. You wanna impress him, because you like the way he's looking at you. Because no matter what you do, he won't stop, and it's driving you crazy.

Your body heats up, you're not sure if it's the alcohol or how hard you're blushing right now. He takes that damn cigarrette in his mouth, eyes glued on your body as you put up a show for him. Your hands slide up your body, tugging on the edge of your top and you do it, what you never thought you'd do. You remove your top, right there, on the table. No one notices, everyone is past drunk, in their own worlds. And you don't care, you only care about the pair of eyes burning beneath you right now. You look down, Riki shifts in his position, bothered, he's feeling the heat too.

You're wearing a little lacy bra, small, tits pushing out, causing Riki to almost choke on his cigarrette. He knows you're doing it on purpose, he knows the show it's exclusively for him and that he has the VIP access. He bites his lips leaning his head back, groaning softly. He's getting worked up fast. You wave your hand at him, inviting him and that's it, something snaps inside him too and he climbs that table before his brain processed the invitation.

His body glues to yours from behind, hands on your exposed waist, his Chrome Hearts rings colder than ice making contrast with the heat of your skin. His face on your neck, lips against your skin. You can feel his breath tingling next to you ear and it makes you shiver, pushing yourself back against him to feel him. And you dance, moving your ass against his half- hardness. You arch a little, feeling him up, lifting your arms and leaning back against his shoulder as his hands roam your body.

"You're so beautiful, you know?" He murmurs in a low voice that makes you want to take off your panties too.

"Yeah, I get that a lot" You say playfully and he chuckles.

His hands slide up, easily wrapping around each of your breasts and you gasp but don't pull away. His lips press againat the crook of your neck and you shiver gasping again, making him chuckle.

"You're so sensitive" He whispers. "I'm not really doing much"

୨ৎ

You stumble against Riki's body as both of you exit the place from behind, he holds your wasit, kissing your neck while walking. He devours your neck, wet kisses mixed with bites. You moan softly, the alcohol getting the worst out of both of you. Riki slides down his hands, gripping your ass. You moan softly as he presses you against the brick wall of the parking lot.

"Fuck" He whispers.

You moan softly, wrapping your arms around his neck while holding your top in one of your hands. He chuckles while he continues to taste your neck. He pulls back smirking, admiring your flushed face and then leans down for a kiss. His lips crash with yours in a passionate kiss. Intensity of a huracane. He bites down on your lower lip, his tongue eager to explore your mouth. You moan softly and pull back. Suddenly feeling aware of your actions.

"No— No, I have a boyfriend" You say worriedly but Riki buries his face in your neck, kissing it deliciously, making your knees weak.

"Is he here?" He asks between kisses. "I don't see him"

His hand slides under you shorts, quickly reaching your pussy, feeling your wetness through the fabric of your panties.

"You're so wet" He whispers. "And I bet it's not for him?"

You moan softly, fisting Riki's jacket. His fingers move quick, pulling your panties to the side. Once you feel his fingers and the cold of his rings directly on your skin it's like you lose yourself. You moan again, his fingers teasing your entrance. Riki's breath becomes heavier, and he rests his face on his arm against the wall behind you.

"That's it, see? I'm making you feel so good, aren't I?" He says and chuckles seeing how you clinge to him while he fingers you slowly. "Want me to stop?"

"No– Please" You say leaning back your head. "Don't stop"

Riki's fingers tease your entrance a little, tips sliding in and out before finally shoving his fingers entirely in. You moan clinging to his jacket and he buries his face in your neck again, resting it there. His fingers move with precision, he knows what he's doing. He curls his fingers inside hitting your sweet spot and you hold onto him like your life depends on it.

From afar you two look like a couple having a cute moment, hugging each other. But no one can see his hand shoved in your shorts and his fingers working you like you've never been worked before.

Riki can feel your walls squeezing his fingers and the wetness spreading to the palm of his hand.

"Fuck, you're so wet" He says in a husky voice. "Come for me, princess"

You shake in his arms and he presses you against the wall a little while covering your mouth when you finally come undone. He works you through your orgasm until you've calmed down, then he removes his hand and holds you for a little longer whike kissing your neck.

"You okay?" He asks, licking your shoulder and you nod, too satisfied to even talk.

୨ৎ

Oh that bricks wall wasn't the end of it, once you two got in his car and Riki started driving, things just got even more heated and messier. You're next to him, legs open, panties gone, squirming and whining while his fingers sink in your pussy over and over again in every red light.

"Riki" You moan softly and he chuckles removing his hand again once the light turns green. You protest and he bites his lips.

"You really cannot wait" He says turning right and driving into a building's parking.

"What?" You protest again at his words but he's already leaning for a kiss.

His lips collide with yours with more intensity. Something about Riki is that he gets more and more excited and every new kiss becomes more dirty. His tongue licks your lower lip while grabbing your waist and pulling you into his lap. You can smell the alcohol and cigarrettes in his breathe and it somehow just turns you on in a nasty way. He buries his face in your neck, hands on your waist. You're only wearing your bra by now.

"You look so pretty like this" He says in a husky voice. "All naked in my lap"

You moan softly leaning your head back. This man hasn't stopped giving you compliments since you two escaped from that bar without telling Sunghoon or Jake. His compliments sound sweet, he isn't trying to be nasty yet.

"Where are we?" You ask softly and he pulls back smirking at you with messy hair.

"My building" He says breathy.

You tilt your head, leaning for a short kiss. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him and groaning into the kiss. You bury your face in his neck and start nibbling and licking. Riki groans again, shifting in his seat and you can feel his cock straning against the fabric of his pants. Your hands slide down his body and up again only so you can remove his jacket.

Riki groans, rolling up his hips. You moan softly sliding down your hands until your fingers reach his belt. Your hands move quick. Riki smirks, seeing the change in your demeanor. You were holding back until now, torn between your loyalty to Jay and your attraction towards Riki, whose last name you don't even know but thinking of Jay only makes you want to throw up every time. Riki helps you with his pants, his hard cock springing free right in front of you.

Riki gasps, looking down and hisses when your hand wraps around it. You smirk biting your lip and squeeze it a bit before moving your hand slowly. It's already leaking pre-cum so it's easy for you to move your hand. Riki holds your hips and leans back his head groaning and gasping.

"Oh fuck— Oh don't stop" He says between moans.

You increase the speed of your hand and lean forward to attack his neck with bites and hickeys. Riki moans, his fingers digging in your hips.

"That's it, Oh– don't stop, you're doing so good" He whispers looking at you with hooded eyes. You bite your lip feeling his hands move to your back to finally unhook your bra, removing the last piece of clothing on your body. You moan softly when his hands wrap around your breasts and aqueeze them.

"God, you're so perfect" He whispers and you moan again. "Fuck, I want you to ride me"

You stop for a second looking at him and he smirks pulling your hips towards him. It's quick, one second your hands were on him and in a blink his cock was on your entrance. He pushes you down slowly and you just moan hiding in his shoulder.

"You're so wet" He whispers breathy. "So tight"

You moan sharply when he bottoms up an lean against his chest. He doesn't give you time to adjust, his hips snap, moving upwards at a fast rythm while you hold onto him. You're sure your moans are heard in the entire parking lot and you don't really care right now. You're only thinking of the way Riki's cock is filling you up. He thrusts up into you, making you moan harder with each one.

He stops for a second and you take over, moving your hips in circles, Riki groans letting you move by yourself. You moan again bouncing a little until he starts moving again, pressing you against the wheel and thursting up into you again at a diabolical rythm.

He grabs your breasts again, squeezing them and then leans to take one of your nipples into his mouth. The moans and the sound of his cock going in and out of you echo inside the car. You can feel your orgasm building up and he can feel your walls squeezing his cock impossibly.

"Oh, fuck—" He groans against your chest, his thrust becoming erratic.

You moan louder, your head leaning back as you feel it coming. It's hard, almost leaving you with no breath, your legs shake violently and your nails dig in his shoulders. You coming on his cock was his last straw. He thrusts up two or three more times before pulling you up, grabbing his cock and fisting it quickly until every drop of his cum has splashed over his own clothes and your bare stomach and chest.

୨ৎ

The night didn't end in the car, once you two managed to get to his penthouse—yes, gis penthouse—without getting caught, Riki probably fucked your soul out. He fucked you against the kitchen counter first, then you two somehow fell on the couch, where he ate you out. His tongue moved so perfectly that you came undone in seconds. Then, you ended up in his room, fucking again like there's no tomorrow. He probably made you diacover new positions because the way this man found a new angle every time to deatroy your insides was insane.

Something is for sure, you've never had such a crazy night in your life. No, Jay does not fuck like this.

You sigh against the pillow. Not a single inch of guilt in your body. Riki groans next to you, his arm covering his eyes. It's been about 30 minutes since the last round. You stir in his bed and manage to speak.

"Are you tired?" You ask, very innocent question.

Riki chuckles. "You wanna go again?"

"Oh– That's not what I meant"

"I can go again if you want to, princess" He affirms and smirks looking at you.

"Where do you get that energy from, oh my god" You laugh softly. By now, you're both sober.

"Uhm...I'm young?" He laughs too and turns to his side.

"Young and rich, I see" You say looking around. "Fancy place."

He chuckles pulling closer to you, his fingers on your chin while leaning for a kiss. "You're welcomed whenever you wanna forget about that asshole"

You bite your lip rolling your eyes. "I'm gonna break up with him when I get back to America"

Riki smirks. "Yeah?" You nod looking at his lips shortly. "That's good" He whispers. "He doesn't deserve those skills of yours"

You chuckle as he buries his face in your neck, kissing and nibbling.

"I can't believe I'm in a stranger's penthouse right now" You laugh softly. "I don't even know your last name"

"Nishimura." Riki says pulling back. "Nishimura Riki"

Gosh, even his last name is perfectly moanable.

"Nishimura? Like the clothing brand?" You say tilting your head and he chuckles.

"Where do you think the penthouse came from?"

"No way" You say but you're not really that interested, just shocked that you're really in Nishimura's bed right now. "Damn"

Riki kisses your collarbones. "Impressed?"

"A little" You respond.

"Enough to make you wanna stay 'til morning?" He asks, his kisses getting a little hungrier.

"Mmh is that an invitation?" You ask tangling your fingers in his hair. "I'll have to accept it, would be rude to say no"

Riki smirks as he settles between your legs and continues to devour you whole.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen niki #nishimura riki #riki x reader #enhypen riki #ni ki #ni ki enhypen #riki nishimura x reader

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