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poisonofthepaint · 1 month ago

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total control

after a wild shift, you head back to jack's apartment to hang out like you usually do, but today, something feels different. inspired on the song total control by djo :)

cw: age gap, lots of exposition, kissing, dryhumping briefly, fingering, pet names (baby, sweetheart, good girl, honey,), jack calls reader young lady in a nonsexual way, jack is an old man and it shows, dom!jack, sub!reader, lmk if i missed anything

wc: 3.8k

It wasn’t completely unusual to go back to Jack’s apartment with him after a shift. It had become a habit after the PittFest casualty. You had been put in the red zone with Robby, Abbot, and Samira, and you and Jack had hit it off immediately. You flowed together so easily, it made you switch to night shift. The way he taught was more attuned to you than the way Robby taught. All excitement, all thrills, unconventional medicine, doing stuff you probably weren’t exactly ready for, but Jack was standing beside you the whole time. It wasn’t that exciting surgical stuff didn’t happen on the day shift, because it definitely did. But, when your mentor doesn’t have the boss breathing down his neck every hour, you can get away with a few more things. Jack let you do procedures that you had once believed you would only ever read about. Anytime there was something interesting going on, he’d pull you from the bedside of a patient just so you could perform it. Ellis joked that he was playing favorites, but he didn’t seem to care.

The first night shift you worked after PittFest, he had let you do a REBOA. The patient had fallen onto a wooden fence after a night of drinking, and he came in with the piece of wood still inserted right next to his pelvis. Jack stood at your shoulder, carefully walking you through everything. How to remove the wood, where to place the balloon, how much to fill it up. He described everything that was happening while you performed it. He was huddled behind you, almost whispering it into your ear. To say Walsh was pissed was an understatement, but after that? You never wanted to work while the sun was out again.

Despite the age gap, it had slowly divulged into a friendship rather than a mentorship. Jack was really, really fucking funny. He had always seemed like a hard ass to you when you saw him for the brief transitions from night to day, but on his shift, he was a lot looser, less tense. There had been times you had to step away to gather yourself. It was mostly that he didn’t bullshit people. He once told a disorderly patient that he was going to give him a spanking if he didn’t stop being a jackass to the nurses, and you thought you were going to die.

You started hanging out after your third week. At first, you would just go out to a diner after. A lot of time all you wanted after a shift was sugar, and you knew the waitress at the small joint. She would fire up the milkshake machine for you, even though it was seven in the morning. Jack gave you shit for it, but you didn’t care. He was more simple, just some scrambled eggs and sausage, maybe a black coffee if it was an especially difficult shift, and he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway.

But, you two were drawn together, it was a nice friendship. You trusted him to tell you what to do, and he trusted you to listen. And that was that.

The first time you went to his apartment, you were shocked by how empty it was. He was a simple man, to say the least. A recliner, a nice couch, a huge, mounted flatscreen, and a framed photo of some of his army buddies. Eventually, you convinced him to get a small, fake plant for the corner. He told you no at first, saying he didn’t need decorations, but the next time you came over, you saw a big, fake Monstera in the corner. He mumbled a quick, don’t even say anything, and you kept your mouth shut.

Hanging out with Jack after work in his apartment made you feel like a guy. He would hand you a beer some days, and turn on the TV. He watched old man shit, like Gold Rush, or American Pickers. You realized this was his equivalent to doomscrolling. It was his way to turn off his brain. At first, you found the hangout a bit strange. But then, you also realized that he probably didn’t know how to hang out with a woman half his age, so he just treated you like he would any of his guy friends, which you found inexplicably endearing. You would hang out for a few hours, talk about the shift, and then head home.

But today was different. Today, you felt the tension between you two. For the first time, you realized, oh, I might actually like this guy. Not in the friend way, not in the mentor way, but in a crush way. Usually, after a shitty full moon shift, you just wanted to be alone, but not today. All you wanted to do was watch American Pickers, drink his beer– well, drink the type of beer that you liked, that he had started buying for you– and sink into his couch. You realized, you didn’t just want company after this shift, you wanted Jack.

You push off the feeling as you exit the hospital together. Jack doesn’t live far, a fifteen minute walk down the street. It was nice out today, the sun shines down on you, it makes the top of your head feel hot. After the horrible winter, it felt really nice to see the big star again. You let out a content sigh.

“Sometimes I think the sun fixes everything.” you say, the vitamin D seeping into your skin.

“Why the hell are you on night shift then, kid?”

“Dumb question. Because if I work the day shift, then I can’t be outside while the sun is shining, duh.”

He opens his mouth in a dramatic way, raising his eyebrows, “Wow, you finally made a good point.”

You scoff at him, “Oh, c’mon,”

He looks over at you and gives you a small smirk. Like he knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he does.

“I cannot believe how many people were in tonight with dumb shit. Like, how do you even get a whole wine glass stuck in your foot? Literally, how is that possible?”

Jack shakes his head, “I used to think the full moon shit was a joke, but I don’t know anymore.”

The rest of the walk is quiet. You hadn’t even discussed going back to his apartment, it was just part of routine now.

When you reach the door, he unlocks it, and swings it open, heading to the fridge first to grab the two cans.

He settles into his recliner, and you go to your spot on the couch. You notice he folded the blanket you always use. You lay it across your body, and it smells, clean? Like fresh cotton.

“Did you wash this?”

“Yeah, you’re gross after your shift, didn’t want it on my couch.”

You scoff again, appalled at his truthful statement. “You’re one to talk, old man.”

“Old man?”

“You heard me.”

“I’ll tell Robby to put you on day shift if you keep talking like that, young lady.”

You don’t want to admit that the nickname makes your face feel hot, “God, please no, I cannot deal with Gloria.”

He huffs out a laugh, the TV is playing low in the background, the volume almost completely mute.

“Could you imagine if she saw how we dealt with that patient in chairs?”

“I think we would have to get the crash cart for her.”

He laughs again, and you both settle into silence. You want to talk more, you want to ask him if he feels this too– the pull to each other, like the moon and the tides. But you don’t know how far to push it. You want to do something about this crush, you don’t want to shove it down and let it get worse, and then really have to go back to day shift. But, you’re unsure how Jack feels, if he thinks of you that way, or if he just thinks of you as a young lady, as he put it.

After a while, when you’re almost drifting into a soft sleep, Jack speaks, “Hey, when that teen came in, and needed to be intubated, you didn’t start until I told you to, why?”

While Jack didn’t bullshit patients, he also didn’t bullshit you. He didn’t believe in biting his tongue, in letting things slide, if he wanted to know something; he asked.

“I don’t know, it’s complicated, and weird.” You didn’t want to admit the truth to yourself, much less to your boss.

“What’s complicated? You’ve done a million intubations. What stopped you?”

“Sometimes I feel, um–” You sneak a look at him and he’s already looking at you, his hands locked on top of his head. You notice his biceps bulging through the t-shirt he’s wearing, and it makes your throat feel dry. You reach for the beer, and take a long sip, needing some liquid courage. “Sometimes, I feel like I can’t do something unless there’s someone guiding me through it. I think that’s why I like learning from you so much. You’re always right behind me, telling me what to do. I know that I know how to intubate, but I’m used to being— told by you, I guess.”

He nods, a signal for you to keep talking. You’re sitting criss-cross now, body facing him. You stare straight down at your hands, twisting your fingers together in anxiousness.

“I just like to be guided sometimes. Maybe that makes me a bad EM specialist.” You leave out the part where Jack is really the only person you want to tell you what to do. If anyone else had told you to intubate when it was obvious to, you would’ve shot daggers through them. You feel the sudden urge to defend yourself, “I would know what to do if you weren’t there, I really would.”

“I know, that’s why it shocked me that you didn’t start.” Jack says, sitting forward a bit, “It doesn’t make you a bad EM specialist. You’re only in the second year of your residency anyway, you shouldn’t be doing everything by yourself.”

You nod, trusting what he says. “Is that weird?”

“No,” he says, and you swear you see his jaw tick. “No, it’s normal to want to be guided.”

“You’re very good at it.” you blurt out. “At guiding– teaching. I always just want to follow your lead, and do what you tell me.” You laugh; shake your head. “Sorry, I think I’m being weird. Maybe it’s the full moon.”

“Not weird, kid. I’d tell you if it was.” Jack gets up from the recliner and comes and sits next to you. “Can I ask you something else?”

You nod, and he doesn’t talk. He lowers his head so you can see him out of the top of your eyelids. You realize he wants you to look at him, so you do. “It’s your turn to tell me if I’m being weird, okay?”

You don’t move a muscle. Like you might scare him away.

“Does that translate to anywhere else in your life?”

“How do you mean?” You think you know, but you want to be sure.

He tilts his head in a quick flick, like he thinks you’re being obtuse on purpose. “In your personal life, y’like to be told what to do? Like to be— guided?”

“I think.” your voice is as low as the television. “I’ve never really done it, though. Never done it, like that, I mean.”

“You’ve never done it?” He has a small smirk on his face.

You groan and dramatically fall back on the couch, hands covering your face. “Yes, Dr. Abbot, I have done it.” You say, muffled, from the palms pressing into your mouth.

You sit back up. “Just not in the way you’re asking.”

“Yeah, because the people you’ve been with don’t know jack shit. I clocked it the first time we worked together, during PittFest.”

“I am not that easy to read.” You say it like it’s a fact.

“I hate to break it to you, honey, but you are.” He places a hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing deep circles, and you think you might combust right there, on his couch. “You followed me the whole night. Not a bad thing, it was nice knowing you were right there, ready to follow, to assist.”

His words are going in one ear and out the other, all you can focus on is his hand on you.

“Hey, you with me?” He inquires; reading you again. “I want to make sure this is okay, I can stop right now, and we can act like it never happened, okay?”

“Yes, it’s okay. More than okay.” You nod, locking eyes with him, so he knows.

“I want to treat you right. I want to turn your brain off, so you aren’t thinking about anything but me. Following my orders, doing exactly what I say. Do you want that?”

“Yes,”

That’s all it takes for Jack to kiss you.

He isn’t gentle with it. He kisses you hard, like he’s been waiting years to do it, despite only knowing you for a few months. You have trouble catching up at first. It’s true what you told him, that no one else seems to know how to treat you. It’s not that your other partners were necessarily bad, they just couldn’t read you like Jack can. No one else is able to.

He pushes you gently back onto the couch until you lay flat. His chest presses against yours and it’s comforting, like a weighted blanket. You try not to wriggle your hips too much, not wanting to jump too far ahead, but you can’t help yourself, they press up into his growing bulge and he groans into your mouth. He winds down on you quickly to meet you halfway, the lower halves of your bodies mold together. The friction it’s creating makes you think you could come just like this. It’s all so hot. There’s no other way to describe it.

Jack groans again, this time in dissatisfaction. His hand comes down fast between your bodies to press you back into the couch, his thumb digs into the spot of skin right next to your hip and you whine, the pressure sending a wave of arousal through your body.

“Not yet, honey.” His tone of voice is a lot kinder than the cruel hand pressing you down.

You feel like you’re in a club with the way your heart is thumping, you can’t help but count the beats of it, taking your own pulse into account. Jack moves away from your mouth to your neck, sloppily trailing kisses all the way down. You can’t believe that you were so close to sleep a few minutes ago, now you feel like you’re running a marathon.

He gets off of you, fully stands up. You’re out of breath, you try to make a noise of protest but nothing comes out, you stare at the ceiling for a second until he clears his throat.

“Are you sure–”

You jerk your head to look at him, “If you ask me if I want it again, I’m gonna scream.” Jack lets out a low laugh. “I’m just regaining my sanity.” you express.

“The whole point of this is you won’t have any sanity left. C’mon, let’s go to the bedroom.”

You stand and follow him back, you realize you’ve never seen his bedroom until now, and it’s the same as the rest of the apartment. Plain, minimalistic. He has black sheets with a white comforter, and his bed is made perfectly, probably a habit from serving.

You stand awkwardly in front of the bed, twisting your hands in front of you.

“Nervous?”

You hum in response, keeping your eyes on him.

“You know me, it’s the same as working. Just follow me, do what I tell you, yeah? Just be a good girl.”

The praise goes straight to your legs and you feel your knees wobble a bit.

“Take this off for me.” He tugs on your shirt, “And these too, while you’re at it.” He puts his pointer finger into the top of your pants and swipes in across your stomach, the digit edging on the top of your underwear. If you knew this was going to happen, you might’ve tried to wear better undergarments, but this felt better, in a way; more natural. You knew you didn’t have to play it up for Jack. It was nice that he didn’t need all the fuss, he just needed you.

Obviously, you do what he says, stripping the shirt and pants off. You take your bra off too, letting it fall onto his floor. He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head at the sight of your chest. “So beautiful.” Jack says, mostly to himself.

He walks towards you, until his body is pushing you back onto the bed. You sit instead of lay down, eyes staring straight into Jack’s. Sometimes his eye contact intimidated you, but not today, you wanted to catch every slight movement, every small inclination of what to do. His eyes shoot up to the top of the bed and then back at you, and you move yourself up until your head rests on his pillows. You feel loose, like your body has water running through your veins instead of blood. You feel like your limbs have connected to Jack’s mind, ready to do whatever he asks. Your brain feels a bit fuzzy, and all you register is that he’s climbed on top of you again, his eyes staring holes into yours. His shirt is off now, but he keeps his pants on. The vein on his bicep is prominent and it makes your mouth water.

He places his hands on the sides of your head. His lips ghost over yours, but he pulls away when you reach up to catch them.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to have you like this. I see how you are with Shen instead of me, how cocky you are, how independent you are. But anytime we’re on a case together, I know you’ll follow my lead. It’s not just about guiding, huh? It’s about me.”

You swallow harshly, knowing he’s right. Knowing that you’re independent when he’s not the one in charge of you.

“It drives me fucking crazy, sweetheart. Knowing that you only get this docile for me.” One of his hands starts trailing down your body, tracing your curves before it flows to the middle of your stomach. He rests his palm right on top of where you need him most, pressing gently. Your brows furrow, and he smirks.

He pulls your underwear off with one hand, and you lift your hips to help him. Once they're off, he slips a finger through your folds, feeling the wetness. He doesn’t say anything, just nods his head, eyes still locked to yours.

“I’m gonna make you come so hard that there won’t be anything on your brain after, okay?”

“With your fingers?”

“Is that doubt I hear?”

“No!” You protest. “Sorry, just— usually people care about themselves.”

“I’m not like other people, baby.” He makes a ‘tick’ noise with his tongue. “Thought I made that clear.”

That’s the last thing you hear before he stuffs two fingers in you. His mouth falls open at the same time that yours does. You throw your head back in pleasure, and your hand flies up to grip his arm. Your body writhes below you, like you’re chasing his fingers, making sure they won't stop.

“There you go, just like that.” he says, low, into your ear. “Tell me what you like about this. About us.”

You moan, trying to push out the words through the noises that involuntarily leave your mouth. “I like that you know I want you to take control. I like that you’ll always go to the diner with me, or let me come over when I have a bad shift, even when I can tell you want to be alone.”

“Yeah? What else?”

“I like that you call me sweetheart. Even before this, it’s always made me–god– always made me mad when other people did it. But it’s not condescending from you. I like how you look out for me at work. You can tell when I need a break before I do. I like how your fingers feel inside of me. I like when you take control.”

You pant, the ramblings taking the air out of you. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your leg and it makes you feel even hotter. Your orgasm is creeping up on you, your stomach tightening into a coil before you know it.

Jack moves quickly, so that he’s sitting on his knees. You wonder briefly if it hurts him to sit like that, but the thought leaves your brain when he brings his other hand onto your clit.

“Jesus Christ, Oh—”

“Not him, all me.” Jack says, cockily. You huff out a laugh before it’s taken over by another moan.

“You gonna come for me, baby?”

“Yes, please Jack.”

“God, you sound so good moaning my name. You’re fucking perfect.”

He picks up the pace, and you can feel the pressure building up behind your clit, your all familiar tell that you’re about to finish.

“Please, I need to come, please.”

“Asking so nicely. Of course you can, Go ahead.”

You preen; zero in on the feeling of your orgasm and let it wash over you.

“There y’go. Yeah, just like that.” His words barely register in your head.

It takes you a while to come back down, your brain still a bit fuzzy when you do.

“Good?” Jack asks once you’ve regained your breathing.

“Good.” You answer.

He makes you go to the bathroom before you get too comfortable in bed.

When you lay back down, your head falls harshly on the pillows, your body bouncing the bed lightly. He moves up next to you so that his head is on the headboard. He’s stripped out of his pants now, just his boxers on. He took the prosthetic limb off too, so that he could be more comfortable. He opens his arm and you scoot over to lay your head on his chest. He kisses your forehead, in a soft way. In a way that tells you this will happen again, that it wasn’t a fluke.

“Another question.” He says, softly, just loud enough to stir you from the sleep that was trying to take over your body again.

“Mm?” you reply.

“How long have you felt this way?”

“I think I always have, but last night was the first time that it was really obvious to me. You?”

“Yeah, same, actually. It was always in the back of my head but, wasn’t sure how to make it real until today.”

“Must’ve been that full moon.” you say, groggily.

He pets your head and laughs, “Yeah, must’ve.”

#jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x reader #jack abbot smut #the pitt fanfiction #jack abbot #jack abbot fanfic #jack ⋆⁺₊❅. ㅤ

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sabersandsnipers · 2 years ago

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Drabbles: Just One Bed

Featuring: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Lord Gortash

Inspiration courtesy of @creativepromptsforwriting

Astarion

There’s only one pillow. So you and Astarion have to share. Neither of you want the annoyance of waking up with neck pain. And after arguing for a bit, you realize neither of you is winning.

Despite trying his best to keep distance between you, it’s incredibly difficult while trying to share a pillow. His body cradles yours. His lips nearly touch the back of your neck. For a while he manages to keep his hands to himself, but as his eyes grow heavy, his arm snakes its way around your waist.

Your body feels like its on fire despite his cold skin. You’re worried the rapid beat of your heart will keep him awake.

Somehow sleep eventually finds you. In the middle of the night, you roll over to find a more comfortable position. When you wake up, you find your face buried in Astarion’s chest.

He himself hasn’t slept since you rolled into him. He’s kept his arm slung over you, though, and has listened to your steady breathing all night.

When you attempt to move away from him, his grip around you automatically tightens. You freeze, waiting for him to realize you’re awake, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t want to. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. Your body is warm and soft, and he never wants to leave this bed.

Gale

The bed is roomy, which you’re grateful for. There should be plenty of space for you two. There’s no blanket though, so Gale roots through the closet for one.

Gale clears his throat, and you turn your attention to him holding up a rather small blanket. One that definitely would not cover the whole bed.

“You have it,” he hands it to you. “I’ll be fine.”

You hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Most definitely,” he replies, already making his way to the bed.

You climb in next to him, pulling the blanket up to your chin. It’s barely big enough to cover your own person. You look to Gale, who’s turned away from you. He looks so exposed, and frankly, uncomfortable.

“Gale?” you say.

“Hm?” he turns to look at you.

“Do you want to share?” you ask. You hold up the blanket so he can slide in.

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He scooches over to you, and you let the blanket drop around you two. You let out a sigh of contentment as the warmth of Gale’s body presses against you. You usually run cold, so you’re grateful he accepted your offer.

He wraps his arms around you, because there’s no other way for you two to get comfortable. In the night, he even drapes a leg over you. You don’t mind, you even find yourself nuzzling into him, seeking every bit of warmth you can.

Halsin

A rainstorm tears your tent in the night. The cold splatter of rain on your face wakes you. Your bedroll is soaked, along with most of your belongings. You groan, getting out of bed so you can seek shelter with a companion.

Out of all the tents before you, Halsin’s calls to you. You know it’ll be the warmest. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you make your way to his tent.

You poke your head in. “Halsin?”

He wakes, an alarmed look on his face. “What is it?”

“My tent ripped. Can I stay with you?” A shiver slinks through your body.

He nods. “Of course.”

He opens his bed roll a bit, and you see he’s naked. Your jaw drops. You hesitate, part of you feeling like you’re crossing a line.

But then another shiver hits you, and you practically run into his arms. You sigh as you slide into the warmth of his bedroll.

Halsin groans. “You’re freezing.”

“I know.” You don’t hesitate to press up against him, soaking in all his warmth.

“You’ll warm up soon,” he says, rubbing your back. Then his voice hits your ear. “You’d warm sooner if you removed your clothes as well.”

Your stomach drops. You know if you do this, your companionship is going to get a bit complicated. But the thought of his hot skin against yours is too tempting.

He helps you out of your clothes, your heart fluttering the whole time. When you’re fully naked, he pulls you into his chest. Your heart pounds, but you relax against the heat of him.

He fully cocoons you, wrapping a thick leg around you to pull you even closer. You feel your body start to warm, and the shivers start to cease. You try to ignore how perfectly lined up you are to him. You know sleep will be impossible like this, but it’s worth it to spend the night in his warm embrace.

Gortash

You may have had one drink too many. The wine Enver provided for you was far too good to go to waste. And waste you did not. The last thing you remember is the soft cushioning of a bed before darkness took you.

The harsh morning light wakes you. The first sensation that hits you is that of a pounding headache. The next is that of a pair of strong arms encircling you.

Confusion hits you. You don’t remember going to bed with anyone. You feel your underwear is on, so nothing happened with whoever is in the bed with you.

You slowly turn your body to see who this mystery person is. You’re met with the strong face of Lord Gortash. Butterflies fill your belly. He simply invited you over for dinner, and here he is letting you sleep in his bed.

He’s sound asleep, his soft breathing evidence of the relaxed state he’s in. He’s sleeping shirtless, and you tentatively place your palms against his strong chest. You feel the strong muscles rippling under his skin.

He stirs slightly and you quickly hide your face against his chest. He shifts, his chest hairs tickling your skin. His powerful arms hold you so gently.

With your headache forgotten, and Enver’s body sending waves of warmth through you, sleep finds you again.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #halsin #enver gortash #halsin imagine #halsin x reader #Gale of waterdeep #gale x reader #gale imagine #Gortash x reader #enver gortash x reader #enver gortash imagine

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norrisainz33 · 15 days ago

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enemies to... || mv33

summary: y/n and max are longtime rivals and former friends who find themselves colliding on track in spain and being forced to confront the feelings they've both been burying

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader

fc & warnings: none and angsty, bad language, suggestive if you squint

requested: nope just inspired by spain

masterlist | pt. 2

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

f1 has made a post

liked by user1, user2, yourbff, yoursibling, mercedesamgf1, user4, user5, user6 and 634,530 others

f1: following an on track incident with mercedes driver, y/n y/l/n, max verstappen has dropped to p10 with a 10-second penalty.

view all comments

user1: DESERVED!!!!

user2: should've been more than 10 second penalty are you kidding

user3: nah max did nothing wrong

user4: max needs to leave y/n alone i'm so serious

user5: these two are always fighting

user6: i stand with my cancelled wife (max)

✿

you took a deep breath as you shut off the engine, your hands still trembling as you pulled the wheel out of its place and put it on the car. you had just spent the last five laps screaming over the radio, accusing max of deliberately turning in on you after he’d been instructed to give the position back. the contact had nearly put you both out of the race but somehow you’d limped over the line and managed to finish 4th despite the damage you sustained.

a forceful tap against your helmet broke through your thoughts and you looked up to find george standing at the side of your car. he offered his hand, no words, just calm eyes and quiet support. you hesitated for a moment, the tension in your shoulders refusing to ease but eventually took it. his grip was firm and grounding as he helped you out of the car.

“i heard what happened,” he said quietly once your feet hit the tarmac.

you ripped your gloves off, jaw clenched, gaze locked across the parc ferme where max’s red bull was being wheeled back into the garage.

"yeah," you snapped, pulling your helmet off your head. "and this won't be the last you hear of it either."

✿

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liked by user1, user2, yourbff, yoursibling, mercedesamgf1, user4, user5, user6 and 634,530 others

f1: two very different takes following the incident involving these two rivals in spain 🫢

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user1: y/n is handling this so much more gracefully than i would’ve

user2: i’d give anything to be a fly on the wall for when these two inevitably run into each other in the paddock

user3: max doesnt need to say anything! he did nothing wrong!

user4: i dont understand why people are giving max the benefit of the doubt here.

user5: y/n should be legally allowed to punt him off the track in canada

user7: ofc the big baby doesnt wanna talk about it.

usr6: y'all are so sensitive. max was just racing her! not his fault she was in the way

user8: taking it out on y/n as if she was the reason red bull had a shit strategy??? have some shame max

✿

“frankly he cost his team and himself a lot of points by pulling what he did today,” you said, voice clipped as you adjusted the collar of your fireproofs trying to keep your breathing even. “i mean i’m 4th in the race and 4th in the championship and that’s really all that matters to me.”

the skysports mic hovered just a little closer, hoping to get a good sound bite from you. “if max wants to be a big crybaby and ruin his own races... i’m all for it.” and with that, you finished out the interview with short answers about canada and your plans to not talk things out with max.

the walk back to your motorhome felt endless especially as fans called out your name and cameras flashed around every corner. you didn’t stop like you usually did... not for selfies, not for questions, not for anything. the last thing you needed was to see his smug face again so the quicker you got out of there the better. but as it usually does... fate had other plans.

you stepped into mercedes hospitality, finally exhaling, only to be met with an agitating grating voice.

“a crybaby, huh?”

you turned sharply, the door still half-open behind you. max stood with his arms folded, his jaw tight, his cheeks still red from the heat of the race and his narrowed eyes were locked onto you like a missile. “yes,” you said dryly. “an ego-driven man child with no concept of accountability.”

a couple of mechanics quickly ducked past, awkwardly pretending not to hear. you and max had a reputation especially after a few incidents last year... max stepped forward, voice low and sharp. “a man child? you’ve got to be kidding me.”

you scoffed turning on your heel. “max, I don’t want to fucking talk to you.”

“too bad,” he bit out, already following behind you, his footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway. “i don’t give a shit what you want.”

you reached your driver’s room and threw the door open, stepping inside quickly trying to shut it behind you but max caught it before it slammed in his face.

“get out!” you snapped at the dutchman.

“no!” he snapped right back. “not until you drop the ‘poor me’ act and admit you knew exactly what you were doing out there.”

“you are insufferable,” you hissed, tossing your gloves onto the couch. “you turned in on me, ignored the team and nearly wrecked both of us.”

“you dive bombed into that corner like you had nothing to lose!” he shouted.

“first of all, i did not dive bomb you and second of all, I don’t drive scared unlike the rest of the grid when big bad max comes by!”

silence crackled between you, thick and heavy, your chests rising and falling in sync as the adrenaline refused to die down. “you are the fucking worst, max verstappen,” you whispered, voice shaking with anger, frustration, maybe something else you didn’t dare name.

his eyes flicked to your lips for a half second before narrowing again. “funny. i was about to say the same thing about you.” the air between you sparked like static. neither of you moved. neither of you dared to blink.

"i hate you." he said, almost like he was trying to remind himself of it. max’s jaw ticked and for a second you thought he might back down. but instead, he took another step forward, closing the space between you. the door clicked shut behind him, whether by accident or intention, you weren’t sure.

“you think I hit you on purpose?” he questioned, voice lower now. “you think I’d throw away a podium just to mess with you?”

you let out a dry laugh, “wouldn’t be the first time you let your ego drive the car.”

he smirked, “thats so rich coming from you. you're the only person on this grid who wants to win more than they care about keeping the car on the track.”

“because I’m not here to play safe.” your eyes burned into his. “i race to win and if you can’t handle that -”

“i can handle you,” he said, stepping so close your chest brushed his. “that’s the problem. you don’t scare me, lieverd.”

the dutch slipped off his tongue like a challenge, like something heavier than an insult, something personal. your heart thudded against your ribs. “oh, you think calling me ‘darling’ in dutch is going to make me melt?” you scoffed, shoving at his chest. “newsflash, verstappen! i’m not one of your fans.”

his hand caught yours as it hit him, holding it firm between your bodies. his touch was calloused, warm. infuriatingly familiar.

“no,” he said, not taking his eyes off you or letting go of your hand despite you trying to pull it away. “you’re worse. you get under my skin and stay there.”

you hated how close he was. hated how your body betrayed you and wanted nothing more than to lean further into him. and before you could stop yourself, before logic could win over impulse... you grabbed his face and crashed your mouth against his.

it was teeth and frustration, months of tension and post-race fury unraveling all at once. his hand came up to the back of your head messing up your hair and anchoring you like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

a loud knock pounded at the door a short second before it swung open, "y/n/n, i wanted to check on you after -" the familiar sound of lando's voice filled the room and despite the speed at which you and max had pulled away from each other.. he absolutely saw it all. "oh wow! ok so…. you're fine i guess." he smirked.

you quickly patted down your messy hair and took a few steps away from max, "lando for the love of god you have to wait until someone replies back to your knock before barging in!!"

lando looked between you and max, completely ignoring your comment. "is this some sort of weird foreplay for you both?"

"lando," max warned. "please pretend like you never saw this."

"uhhh yeah, sure mate!" lando nodded but he was just about the least capable person you knew when it came to keeping secrets.

"i'm dead ass begging you to not tell anyone," you pleaded again.

"i won't."

✿

lando has added to his private story

view all story replies

maxverstappen1: say 1 word and no more trips on air max

lando: mmmm i think id survive mate

maxverstappen1: lando im begging you. this was the first and only time this has ever happened and i think her and i need to figure out what’s going on before the whole paddock gets involved

lando: 🫣 you two are no fun!! tho i really think you both need to be honest with each other because i am fairly certain you both have a thing for the other one and i just need all this feuding to end

ynuser: you literally stepped out of the room 2 seconds ago!!!!!!

lando: and? i’m efficient

ynuser: lando you’re my best friend and all but don’t think i won’t pull a max and try to run you off the track if you leak this

lando: only if you kiss me afterwards

ynuser: UGH NO

lando: don’t worry i’m just making you both sweat i won’t explicitly tell anyone

ynuser: 😔😔😔😔 in the 15 years i’ve known you you have never once been able to keep a secret

lando: slander! i kept the secret when you hid max’s gloves in karting and he couldn’t find them

lando: now that i’m saying that … have you had a crush on him since karting?????????

ynuser: you did not keep that secret you gave them back to him and no!!!!! i don’t know!!! i don’t think so!!!

lando: ughhhhh you don’t think so?! how do you not remember girl

ynuser: i mean maybe i did! i was more focused on hating his guts because he wouldn't stop beating me

lando: sounds like a crush to me

ynuser: shut UP!! i need to process this

oscarpiastri: story time !

lando: YIPPEEEEEE

georgerussell63: TELL NE TELL ME TELLLLL MEEEEE

lando: i unfortunately can’t

georgerussell63: you’ve gotta be kidding me mate

lando: the subjects of the story have threatened my safety

georgerussell63: so the story involves max?

lando: HAHAHAHAHA

lando: it doesn’t not include max

georgerussell63: and from there i’m gonna guess it also involves y/n/n

lando: you’re too good george

georgerussell63: i’m gonna keep stewing on the rest of this story. will report back when i think i figure it out

maxfewtrell: is it even a question mate???

lando: well … no!

carlossainz55: spill the beans mi amigo

lando: technically not allowed to spill any beans but catch me in the paddock and i might whisper some hints

✿

thankfully, max’s place in monaco was only a short walk from your own. under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have minded driving but in a place where everyone had a phone and every movement became a series of photos on some fan page as it often did in moncao, the last thing you needed was to be spotted pulling up to his building in one of your unmistakable cars. if someone clocked you heading toward the max verstappen’s apartment, alone, it wouldn’t take much for the internet to piece things together.

so instead of hopping into your mercedes, you opted for stealth. you dressed down in plain athletic shorts, a random hoodie you stole from george and a baseball cap repping some obscure american university with oversized sunglasses and headphones in, you looked more like a jet lagged tourist than a world-class driver sneaking off to see her biggest rival.

each step of the 1 km walk was filled with overthinking and stress. you kept replaying the past in your head, combing over all the little things max had done through the years, things you hadn’t ever though too hard about until now. maybe lando was right even though it pained you to admit that he may know something. max had unfortunately made it obvious you just hadn't been paying attention. from the karting days when he’d chase off any guy who got too close on track, to f3 when he picked fights with anyone who so much as looked at you twice in the paddock.

and then there was your 17th birthday party, mid-f3 season, when max had looked you dead in the eyes and told you you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. you thought he was just being nice since it was your birthday and you had a pretty rough race the day before but maybe he’d been serious. maybe you’d just been too naive to see it for what it was and too busy gaslighting yourself into believe max would never be interested in little old you.

you groaned under your breath, frustrated with yourself. how could you have missed all of it? you’d chalked up his distance after the f3 season to the pressures of moving up to f1 but maybe it wasn’t just that. maybe it was you.

by the time you reached his building and knocked softly on the door, your heart was already racing. there was a beat of silence then the sound of shuffling footsteps before the door swung open.

“you’re late,” max said, eyes scanning your face and outfit with that unreadable expression of his.

you glanced at your watch. “only by 2 minutes.”

he rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let you in. “can I get you anything? dinner’s still cooking.”

you slipped off your shoes and dropped your bag onto the counter, trying to steady your nerves. “just water.”

he moved through the kitchen quietly and when he placed the glass in front of you, he didn’t say a word just went back to stirring the pot on the stove. the silence was heavy and the tension was palpable.

without turning around he cleared his throat. “so… I wanted to talk and I thought it would be better face to face. so, thank you for coming.”

you nodded, picking nervously at your nails. “yeah. no problem.”

he turned off the burner and set the pot aside before finally facing you. “first off, i’m sorry. for spain that is... i shouldn’t have driven like that.”

you raised your hands slightly, voice soft. “it’s okay. we’ve both made dumb decisions on track.”

max shook his head. “yeah, but I could’ve hurt you. and if I had… i don’t know how I’d live with that.”

there was a moment of silence as his words sank in. “my behavior’s been childish,” he admitted. “i’ve been bitter and i'm fully ready to admit that i've also been jealous. i was so very jealous of the friendship you, lando and george had and still have and of how you're always able to light up a room when you walk into it and of how you so effortlessly always get everyone to like you."

"max-" you started before he continued.

"i know it sounds pathetic but i wanted nothing more than to be your friend all through karting and through f3. i did everything i could to try and get you to like me and i got so stupidly infatuated that i ended up messing it all up in the end. i just... i don't know... i pulled away after f3 because I was embarrassed. when I asked you out at that party and you rejected me, I didn’t know how to face you again. and then when you didn’t reach out either, i assumed you didn’t want me in your life anymore.”

“i didn’t realize you were asking me out,” you whispered. “i thought you just wanted to hang out as friends which we already did. and when you moved to f1, i figured… i just figured you wouldn’t want to waste time on someone stuck in f2. you were and are so good and focused and determined that i always felt intimidated and like a silly little distraction.”

max let out a short, breathy laugh. he ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the counter, still not fully looking at you. “god, we’re idiots,” he muttered and this time you cracked a small smile despite the lump in your throat.

“yeah,” you agreed softly. “world class athletes and total emotional amateurs.”

that got a quiet chuckle out of him, and finally, he brought himself to look at you. "why did you kiss me?" he asked and you could see the vulnerability written all over his face.

"because despite our silly year long feud which we apparently could have avoided, i haven't been able to let go of the crush i've had on you since we were kids."

he pushed off the counter, slowly stepping toward you. “so then you feel the same way about me?”

you looked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. “max… i--”

“i’m not asking for you to tell me that you love me or anything like that. not right now. i just want to stop pretending like i hate you. i want to stop turning every interaction into a fight because i don’t know how else to act around you. i want to be around you… properly. at the very least just as your friend.”

your stomach flipped at his words. all the years of missed chances and misread signals crashed into you like a wave. “and if i say i want that too?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiled it was soft and hopeful, a little nervous. “then i'll do everything in my power to do it right this time. starting by actually communicating my feels instead of bottling everything up.”

you stood from the stool, your steps slow but steady until you were right in front of him. “i guess i can give you a chance,” you said, teasing gently.

max raised a brow, a smile creeping to his lips. “just a chance?”

you let your head fall back with a laugh. “don’t push your luck, verstappen.”

he grinned, and for the first time in what felt like years, the tension that had formed between you began to finally unravel.

✿

f1 has made a post

liked by mercedesamgf1, lando, yourbff, redbullracing, isackhadjar, ynuser, yoursibling, maxverstappen1, and 834,222 others

f1: looks like our two favorite rivals have squashed their beef! y/n y/l/n and max verstappen arrived to the montreal paddock for media day together 👀🇨🇦

view all comments

user1: too worried about how shes out mogging him so hard to even be able to comprehend whats happening

lando: war is over! if only anyone listened to me EVER

danielriccardo: or me!! a certain dutch lion didn't listen to me either

lando: SMH

user2: not them walking in like they didn’t try to kill each other in spain 😭

geogerussell63: confused? ynuser unlock your driver room door rn i've been knocking for 3 whole minutes

ynuser: girl i'm not in there. i'm at the briefing YOU ARE ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE IN

georgerussell63: RUNNING

user63: nah i love yngeorge duo so much i wanna be their friend

lando: apparently everyone wants to be friends with y/l/nnorussell user63

ynuser: lando keep his mouth shut challenge failed

user63: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!

user3: we’ve entered the enemies to lovers era and i’m not emotionally prepared for this. i give it 3 more races till we get pics of them kissing behind the garages

isackhadjar: the plot twist of the century? are we being for real right now?

liamlawson31: i saw them with my own to eyes laughing together earlier

yukitsunoda0511: should we be afraid?

user4: this is why i trust slow burns. THIS is why!!!!

estebanocon: i’m scared

oscarpiastri: real

user5: now what in the fanfiction is this

skysportsf1 has posted an interview

view transcript

[reporter] “max, I have to start with the question everyone’s asking. you showed up to the paddock today with y/n y/l/n. should we be expecting fewer fireworks between you two this weekend?”

[max] “that depends. if she stops driving like shes in a demolition derby, maybe.”

[reporter] “so... not exactly a truce, then?”

[max] “we had a conversation and we’ve cleared a few things up.”

[reporter] “ok but things got heated after spain. you were both pretty vocal over the radio. what changed?”

[max] “sometimes you say things in the heat of the moment. doesn’t mean they’re the full story. we’ve known each other a long time and i think we forgot that for a while.”

[reporter] “so where does that leave things now?”

[max] “we’ll race like we always do. hard. but with a bit more respect, i think. maybe less screaming but who is to say.”

[reporter] “should we be reading into that very coordinated arrival this morning?”

[max] “you can read into whatever you want. i'm just here to win races.”

[reporter] “right, right. and if you win this weekend, will y/n be the first to congratulate you?”

[max] “she better be.”

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: i love a past friends to enemies to lovers fr. part 2 perhaps?????

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

978 notes · View notes

defmaybe · 2 months ago

Text

She’s American

LE SSERAFIM’s Huh Yunjin and MEOVV’s Lee Gawon x Male Reader

2.8k words

Title Inspired by The 1975’s She’s American

A/N: Part of @woollypoison's prompt event! The ending's a little rushed lol, sorry about that.

—

Being a gold-badge tennis umpire is, obviously, not simple, especially when you're the youngest one to ever do so. (The entire neighborhood came over to your house to celebrate upon the announcement.) Sure, the federation give you the women's matches. It's shorter during the Grand Slam, they said, but the sheer concentration needed is still pretty damn daunting. It took some time before those raised-by-television ticks are gone, but you made it, eventually.

Before every match, you have to learn about your players—style of play, cultural background, temperament. You've seen the racquet breakers. You've seen the profanity merchants (yes, you can curse in over twenty languages, that's one of the perks). You've seen the sweet-mouths. A lot you've come across during the first year you've officiated, and that has expanded your worldview by a lot.

—

A grunt, service.

The tennis ball bounces off from the racquet, flying over the net to the other side. Your eyes follow, fingers tapping on the armrest. It ricochets off the acrylic surface once.

A groan, forehand groundstroke.

The ball darts back to the opposite side. It hits the ground once; the sound echoes through the court. The seats are filled. There has never been any vacancy from the semi-finals onwards. The crowd is silent during the rally, locking their eyes on the ball. They are composing themselves well.

A cry, two-handed backhand.

The players' benches are full of belongings—towels, spare racquets, water bottles. Both of them don't seem to be the dazzling type with their possessions. The clouds make way for the not-really-summer-but-not-quite-autumn sun to stare down at the people below. Glistening skin. Loud breath. Squinted eyes. That's New York September for you.

The rally goes on. Both women voice with each of their hit. The sounds of the shots intersect with the movements. Your eyes focus on the ball intently, watching for an error. The ball seems to handle itself well, though, always landing inside the lines. It's probably twenty strokes already.

Then, a slice. The green ball floats awkwardly over the net. It lands inside the service box, bouncing forward shorter than it should. Loud thuds of the steps reverberate through the arena. A reach, defended. It flies over the net, albeit weakly. Then, a sprint. A slide. A remarkable volley. Oh, no chance of defending that.

"Forty, fifteen," you announce, and an applause follows.

—

Now, the benefits of being a gold-badge umpire aren't as prestigious as everyone makes it. You still have to cover the expenses for your trip first. The food is edible. There's no protection from the dipshit players on the courts. The salary is pretty much what you'd expect from a standard job. It's not that great.

You get this, though, at least.

Gawon's head is thrown back as your tongue drags along her neck, gathering the saltiness of her post-game sweat. Being slightly shorter than her makes it easier to do so. The nape is at your tongue level. Her body shudders every time your flesh plants itself on her skin, accompanied by a guttural groan with each lavish. The scent of her is overwhelming, yet so intoxicating. A hint of that player. What's her name again?

That doesn't matter, just lick Gawon's neck.

On your back, Yunjin digs her hand under your shorts, running her fingers along your perineum, starting from the base of your balls to the rim of your asshole. You spasm with each touch, barely controlling your moans from reaching the outside of this damp, heated locker room. Her tongue laps the side of your neck, savoring the late summer taste on your skin. No player is going to have the Tropical Boy title, because this young little referee is having it.

"You do this often?" Gawon asks, fingers digging into your scalp. She cut her nails, obviously, a standard for athletes.

"Once a month," you huff. It's an honest answer, just that you don't know how to classify it as: usually or sometimes or seldom. It's definitely frequent enough for you to come across an array of female players, at least.

"Slut," Yunjin scolds. Her hand grips on your balls tightly, making you squirm between the women. And of course, she giggles.

Gawon yanks your head away from her neck, boring her eyes into yours. There's nothing but lust on her face—the wanting eyes, the shaky breaths, the lip lick. Yunjin's still on your neck, getting that saline dripping down your skin from sitting in place for two hours, lazy ass. Her grip on your testicles loosens, going back to teasing your taint and keeping you on the edge.

Suddenly, Gawon presses her lips on yours, a little chapped. Her hand grips your hair ever so tightly, burning your scalp with her sheer force. The pain is always worth it, of course—mixing your sweats together, tasting that body salt lingering on your players' bodies, inhaling the scent of their perseverance from the last two hours. You're so much of a whore for it.

Yunjin pushes forward, teasing the edge of your boxers along with your shorts, threatening to pull them down in a single swoop. She runs her fingers towards your front. Oh, how you shudder when she grabs your length from the back. Yunjin then starts to rub your cock softly, all while planting her tongue on the back of your neck.

"I wonder what ITF would say if they know that one of their umpires is a sweat-obsessed whore," Yunjin coos, making sure to take a swipe at the tip of your cock. Your frame jolts in response. You know she's smiling, she always does.

You can feel Gawon slightly grinning against your lips, a more devilish one than that of Yunjin's. Her tongue attacks the inside of your mouth so easily, making you melt within her embrace. She's just so good at this. The sloshing sound of the kiss rings inside your ear. It's pretty ugly, nothing majestic like in the movies, but it feels like heaven.

Her hands slide into the space between you and Yunjin, landing on your plump ass. Gawon then gives the pair a squeeze, and you can only moan softly under the kiss. How nice it feels to be handled like this, and she shoots back at you, "God, your ass is just so, ugh, fuckable. Fucking dump truck of an ass."

Again, you just whimper whorishly into her mouth.

In a sudden, Yunjin pulls your garments down. They pool idly at your ankles. Your cock springs free in front of Gawon, so excited, as sweat falls onto the ground. Gawon hastily wraps around your cock with her gorgeous hand—long fingers, cut nails, rough palm. It's everything you want in a player—proper for a threesome session. Gawon takes a swipe on your tip, and this time, you feel the cold of your arousal smearing your head.

"Such a slut," Gawon sneers against your lips, rubbing the top of your cock with her thumb. She then pulls back from the searing kiss, taking a look at your twitching length in her hold. "A referee shouldn't be this leaky. You need more self-control."

"There are no regulations on that," you retort, shrugging. "You don't like leaky dicks?"

From behind, Yunjin is observing the exchange. She laughs occasionally at your banters, intersecting with licks on your neck that make you shudder.

"Too easy to be exploited. You'll sway too easily," Gawon says sternly, but she lets go of your hair, kneeling. Her hands rake on your shirt as she moves down your body, until her face is just right in front of your cock. The intoxicating scent of her body is gone, but your cock in her mouth is a pretty good exchange.

At the same time, you can feel the absence of Yunjin's tongue, replaced by the hot breaths against your ass. She spreads your cheeks open slowly, exposing your heaving hole to the heat.

"Yum."

And Yunjin's tongue dive into the between of your plumpness, tasting the fever that has been building up for the last few hours. You cover your mouth tightly as the wet flesh touches the rim of your asshole.

Gawon says nothing, instead envelops your cock with the warmth of her mouth. She makes sure to keep her tongue dragging against the underside of your shaft—more cum upon orgasm this way.

Your hands press onto the back of the women's heads, burying them in your sweaty body. Oh, to have your cores stimulated like this. You wish you could just do this fucking forever.

—

It's a wonder how nobody has come into this room for the last … how long has it been?

The room is definitely hot enough to keep Yunjin's body sweating. God, the smell of her cunt is just the fucking best. Your hand grips onto the side of her thick thighs. Her skirt blinds you from your surroundings completely. The inner shorts are gone; she might give them to you if your tongue is good enough. To wake up every morning and inhaling in her essence is just—

"Your tongue is just the fucking best, baby," Yunjin rasps, gyrating her hips on your mouth recklessly, spreading her tartness on your lips as you lie on the bench. Her hand grips onto the top of your head. You feel the crushing weight of her body on your lips. No relenting, of course. You're eating her pussy until she becomes a fucking faucet.

Yunjin isn't the only one who's enjoying your body, though.

Gawon's hand presses hard on your ribs, all the while impaling her pussy with your throbbing dick over and over. You feel her skin tremble on top of your chest—rhythmic. It's thrumming through the dust surrounding you. Her walls clench and heave and contract around your manhood. There's not a single ounce of oversensitivity plaguing beneath your skin after that dumping inside Gawon's mouth. Fuck, it feels too good. Those moans are a song—stuttered, airy, yet so consistent. Her shorts are probably somewhere in the room. You're being a good boy; she'll let you take it home. Your frame is taking a lot. But if that means your cock will pulse inside Gawon's cunt, and your tongue will dance on Yunjin's clit, you're more than happy to trade in your remaining years.

"Whore."

Gawon's word spurs you on, of course, and Yunjin is the victim of it. Your tongue works harder on Yunjin's swollen nub—sucking, nibbling, tugging on it. Your fingers penetrate her tight asshole with ease; the sweat helps a lot, and Yunjin can do nothing but convulsing on top of your face.

"Fuck, baby," Yunjin whines. Her clit pulses against your tongue in that rapid tempo you've always known. "Your mouth can do more than calling for outs, huh?"

She's close.

You don't reply, now pushing with your tongue into Yunjin's cunt. Your nose presses against her hair. She cries out in ecstasy, trembling and writhing on top of your head. Your thumb moves towards rubbing her clit frantically. Her moans grow louder and more chaotic with each passing second. You're ready to take her nectar, all of it, mixed with her filthy sweat, and you're going to love it.

Gawon ups her ante, grinding on your cock even faster. Her sweat falls on your dampened body, marking you as hers (co-opted with Yunjin). You're doing well, almost perfectly even, judging by those frenzied moans leaving her lips. The room is just their moans at this point, and you're more and ecstatic that they're the product of your doing.

"Mmm, yes, I'm fucking close, baby," Yunjin shouts. The slickness of her nectar and athletic filth drips down your cheeks. You're definitely not washing your face for a few days. Her tempo reaches its peak. Your lips can barely catch her movement, and she's not going to stop until she cums.

"Don't you fucking dare leave me behind, slut," Gawon huffs, slapping your waist to remind you of her presence. It's like you're forgetting her. She's lighting your nerves aflame! "Better breed me with this baby batter."

No pulling out.

Yunjin's moan climbs the scale. Her hold on your head trembles. She's going for it—to use your face as her canvas—and you're going to let her do it.

"Fuck!"

From your experiences, Yunjin's mouth is going to make an "O" shape. Her eyes will roll up in pure bliss. Maybe her tongue will even loll off her lips. You're pretty certain of those.

Though, what is definitely going on is her folds gushing clear liquid on your face. Her entire frame is shaking, spasming in a certain rhythm. You open your mouth wide, taking in her taste. It's saline, a unique kind of saline, and it's fucking delicious. Oh, you're drinking her filth gleefully.

"Drink it, baby, fuck, and tell me what it tastes like."

Yunjin continues to ride your face away with no caution. The spurts slowly subside. Shame. You cling on to the last remnants of her essence desperately, so eager to drink in as much as you can. Your tongue reaches for her core, getting that heavenly taste from the source. When the cascade stops, you can only lap at her sensitivity, and Yunjin lets out an wild wail, unable to stand against your lavishing any longer.

"Baby, baby, I-I can't …" and Yunjin detaches herself off your needy mouth. A string of something stretches between your lips and her wetness. God, you're such a whore for her pussy.

Light hits your eyes again, letting you watch Gawon's elated face. Her head tilts up. Her eyes are shut. Her mouth opens slightly, letting out those sinful moans and have them bounce off the walls. She's hugging you tightly with her walls, attempting to coax another wave of cum out of your balls.

"That was good," Yunjin says on your side. Her sweat falls down on your frame as she wipes her forehead with her hand. Indeed, you stick your tongue out for her taste. A little difficult with Gawon riding you, though.

"You really are a sweat slut, aren't you?" Yunjin coos, before kneeling down close to you. "Open your mouth, then."

She then hovers her sticky fingers over your mouth, slowly descending into it. The salty taste of her skin hits your tongue as you wrap your lips around her digits. And god, she just tastes so fucking good. You really are a whore for it.

"Bitch," Gawon huffs. Each contact of your thighs reverberates through the steamy room. Your body strains and jerks under her. Yunjin's fingers are silencing you, at least, lessening the risk of people entering.

Gawon's signs intensify. Her moans reach higher notes. The arms on your ribs are trembling. Her breathing quickens. She's close.

Gawon is not the only one close to bursting. You can feel the pulsing of your cock within her cunt. Your lips suckle on Yunjin's fingers more and more fiercely. That familiar feeling is building up inside your loins. You're close.

"I-I'm cumming, Gawon," you rasp with Yunjin's finger inside your mouth. Your hands go for Gawon's lean waist, brushing your thumbs against the lower swell of her chest.

"Don't fucking pull out. Don't fucking pull—"

The first of her juice touches your skin. Her face lights up in ecstasy—mouth agape, eyes shut, breathing halts. The entire body of hers freezes, unable to find any word to describe the state of her own heaven. Her cut nails dig into your flesh harshly. Oh, she's loving this. She's loving your cock.

You follow suit. The second orgasm of the day crashes over your body. You writhe under the immense pleasure, cock pulsing inside the warm, velvety walls of Lee Gawon's cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with Yunjin's digits inside your mouth.

"My goodness, it's coming out so much. It's hitting my womb so well," Gawon sings.

You gradually come down from your peaks, moans grow quieter and quieter. Gawon merely sits on you with a cock inside of her pussy, drizzling globs of cum into her wet, pretty insides. You just bred her good.

Yunjin pulls her fingers out of your mouth, leaving you feeling empty again. Gawon lifts herself off you, sending that oversensitivity all over your body. Strings of your sticky cum connects your cock and her puffy cunt. What a sight.

"Since you bred me a little too good, I'll give you my sweaty, smelly shorts. How does that sound, huh?" Gawon asks. Your cock leaves her with a small pop.

"Mine too," Yunjin adds. "Don't wash it, baby."

This is one of the easiest questions you've ever gotten in your life.

"Sure."

—

#yunjin #gawon #le sserafim #meovv #yunjin smut #gawon smut #le sserafim smut #meovv smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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beargyu313 · 18 days ago

Text

Heal my desire ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

This fic was heavily inspired by Riki’s mars placement (his whole tropical natal chart really)

⭑.ᐟ╰┈➤ Interpretation: He’s slow to act, but once he's sure, incredibly persistent.

˚.🎀༘⋆ Summary: Your younger brother Sunoo starts attending the same university as you. Along with him comes his childhood best friend Niki. Sparks begin flying between you two. Will you be able to keep your desire in check, or will it consume you instead?

ྀ. 𐙚 ̊ Word count: 12.7k

⋆˚࿔ Tags: fluff, slowburn-ish, eventual smut, brother’s best friend trope, older OC – younger Ni-ki,, smut tags: p in v, fem overstimulation, crying, ass eater Niki (he’s freaky), sexting, phone sex, slight praise kink, spanking, biting, chocking, obsessive sex, fem body worship

⋆˙♪ Playlist: emotional oranges – The Juice: vol. II (something about emotional oranges reminds me SO much of Riki)

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ A/N: first time I’ve written something of this length and emotional depth, feedback is appreciated<3 also planning a sunghoon fic next and I am open to hearing your reqs (it will most likely be an enemies to lovers)

You wouldn’t say going to university was the best thing that has happened to you – although it kind of was. As the oldest in your family, you never got to experience anything just for yourself, was never allowed to go anywhere without Sunoo tagging along.

It never really bothered you, at least until you came to uni. That was when you realized probably for the first time how freeing not looking after somebody actually was. For the first time in your life, you were allowed to put yourself first, not having to worry about anyone else. And it felt good.

You even got lucky with housing – getting an apartment close by your campus. You had your own bedroom and for the first two years a roommate as well. But since they graduated late, you were left with an empty room as the first semester started.

And in a way it was perfect. Because Sunoo got accepted into the same university as you, and since you didn’t currently have a roommate, it was simply assumed he would come to live with you.

You loved your younger brother, really you did. But somehow you couldn’t help but lowkey dislike the idea of him living with you. As soon as the thought hit you, you felt guilty, selfish. But as the day of his arrival grew closer, the feeling of resentment grew.

You couldn’t help it, even though you tried rationalizing with yourself – you lived with him before and it was okay, he was your brother! But at the same time, you hated how your parents just assumed he would come and live with you. Not even asking how you felt about it. And it brought up some deeply buried childhood feelings of forced passivity, of having to put other people before yourself.

The morning of his arrival was spent cleaning. Suddenly you noticed how much dust was sitting on the window frame, the overloaded kitchen counter and the dishes still in the skin.

It wasn’t like Sunoo would mind it or even notice it, but your mom would absolutely ask about it later on the phone, and you didn’t need another “You should set a good example” guilt trip on top of everything else.

By the time he rang the doorbell you were beyond frazzled. Exhausted. Still, you swallow down your feelings as you open the door. Trying to match Sunoo’s excitement.

“Noona!” he excitedly greets you, returning his hug you momentarily allow the familiar scent to calm you down.

“I missed you,” you honestly tell him. And that’s when you notice a tall figure entering behind Sunoo.

You do a double look as you realize who Sunoo brought with him. Niki walked in after Sunoo.

Very much not the same Niki you remembered.

He stepped through the doorway like he belonged there. His duffle bag slung over one shoulder, expression calm — even a little bored. And for a second, your brain couldn’t quite catch up.

Because it was Niki.

But taller. Leaner. Broader. Hair slightly longer. Clothes hanging off him in a way that made him look effortlessly cool. And suddenly you felt embarrassed for being in sweatpants, in your own home.

He met your eyes and — god help you — smiled. Not the gap-toothed, chipmunk-cheeked grin you remembered from middle school photos and summer sleepovers. This one was... different. A little crooked. Like he knew something you didn’t.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and smooth. “It’s been a while.”

It had. Too long, apparently.

Because somewhere in that space of a few years, Niki had evolved into the kind of guy that made your stomach do weird, panicked flips. And now he was standing in your apartment.

Like it was normal.

Like it was fine.

And it was fine, you remind yourself. Because this was the same Niki you’ve known practically your whole life. Same Niki who spent most of his summers over at your house, playing with Sunoo. Same Niki who would annoy you.

And just because he was hot, and not just hot but exactly your type kind of hot didn’t mean anything.

This was fine.

Forcing the sudden nervousness down, you beg yourself to speak like a normal person.

“Yeah, it has,” comes your stiff reply. But thankfully, Sunoo was great at smoothing over any initial awkwardness.

“You didn’t even clean up for us, huh? Love the hospitality, noona,” Sunoo teases.

“I did clean. Your face is just rude,” you scowl.

“Wow, the welcome committee is on fire today. Good thing I brought snacks. And Niki.”

“I told him not to announce me like I’m a prize he won,” Niki says, shrugging slightly, still looking at you. You gulp as you look away from him.

“Well. You do come with less mess than Sunoo, so… maybe a partial prize,” you speak, trying not to look at the way the black tank top hugged his waist, the low rise of his pants allowing his boxers to peek through.

“Okay, rude. You missed me,” Sunoo jabs back, used to your teasing.

“You were gone for three months, not three years,” you joke, even though you really did miss him.

“Nice place. Feels like you,” Niki steps past Sunoo, glancing around.

“…That’s either an insult or a compliment, and I’m too tired to ask.”

“Definitely a compliment,” he replies, the sincere tone making you momentarily pause.

“She’s blushing. Look at that. Niki, you broke her,” Sunoo laughs lightly, his eyes crinkling in what-would-be cute way if he wasn’t actively trying to annoy you.

“Shut up. Both of you,” you say, flustered. Leaving towards the kitchen.

“Come on, I’m starving. Didn’t you say you’d make that pasta you used to do?” Sunoo asks as he follows behind you.

“I said no such thing.”

“You did cook, though. Smells good,” Niki comments.

“…It’s literally just pasta,” you say, hating the way he was making you feel. The overflow of compliments. His intense gaze. The way he looked so at home in your place.

“Still. I missed it.”

You try to brush off the flustered feeling his reply gives you. Cursing inwardly at his smoothness.

“You’re just trying to get on my good side,” you reply, desperate to stop this conversation.

“Am I succeeding?” Niki asks as he smiles down at you. That boyish smile, the kind that makes you shy.

“…You’re obnoxious,” you say as you lightly push him away. A small smile on your face.

“Okay, stop flirting, I’m begging. I can’t live with this already,” Sunoo interjects, and you can’t tell if he’s serious or just joking around. Because this was not happening with Niki. You wouldn’t allow it. And you doubt Sunoo would be this chill if he knew what was going through your head.

“You haven’t even unpacked yet and I already regret this,” sighing as you reveal your true feelings.

“Too late. You opened the door,” Niki smirks, and you’re reminded of the way you three used to joke around.

“That’s not legally binding, you know,” you bite back with a smile.

“Pretty sure it is,” Niki says, wolfishly smiling down at you.

“So, pasta!” Sunoo interrupts.

And that’s how your first day with Sunoo as your roommate goes. Him and Niki spend the whole day in your apartment, asking you about anything and everything related to uni life. Which courses to take, which ones to avoid. About the extracurricular activities, the student-run café, even the annoying guy in the library who never returns his books on time.

Talking to both of them together was easy—too easy, actually. It reminded you of late summers and sleepovers and childhood in general, a time when everything felt both chaotic and safe.

For a moment, you even let your guard down, let yourself laugh like none of this bothered you. Like it didn’t throw your carefully built world off its axis to see Niki in your space, grown up and... confusing. You were sure that whatever weird feelings he brought up in you, was just because you hadn’t seen him for a long time, and the feeling would fade with time. It’s normal to be surprised when you see someone after a long time and they’ve grown up you convince yourself.

When they finally left to run errands and get their campus IDs sorted, you found yourself sitting in the quiet afterward, not quite sure what to do with yourself. There was pasta on the stove and two extra mugs in the sink. And a weird, fluttery feeling in your chest you pretended not to notice.

Later on in the evening when it’s just you and Sunoo, he brings Niki up.

“So. Be honest. Were you surprised?”

“About what?” you ask, genuinely not knowing what he’s alluding to.

Sunoo motions around as if it was the most obvious thing “Niki. I saw your face when he walked in. You looked like you’d seen a ghost. A tall, hot ghost.”

“I did not—shut up,” you lightly laugh as you deny.

But Sunoo’s quick wit catches on, “You’re not denying the ‘hot’ part, though.”

“Do you want me to poison your dinner next time or just salt it within an inch of its life?”

“Knew you missed me,” Sunoo grins. He tosses the dishtowel onto the rack, clearly pleased with himself. You roll your eyes but your lips twitch.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The next time you see Niki, you aren’t expecting it.

It was your senior-year elective—an advanced movement and performance theory class that counted as a hybrid arts credit. You'd signed up partly for fun, partly because the professor was lenient, and mostly because you thought it would have nothing to do with anyone in your major.

Which is why your brain short-circuited a little when you walked in and saw Niki. Already sitting. Already acting like he belonged there.

“You're in this class?” you ask, as you walk up to him, clutching your bookbag to your chest.

“Yeah. You said this professor was easy,” he shrugs, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I didn’t say that to you,” you say, as you take a seat next to him.

Niki shrugs, “Sunoo has a big mouth.”

“I thought you were undeclared,” you reply after a beat of silence.

“I am. But I needed an elective. And I like movement.”

“Since when?” your eyes narrow, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Since always. You just never noticed,” says Niki softly, his eyes focused ahead of him. And if you didn’t know any better you would think he was uncomfortable by your questioning.

The classrooms buzz dies down as the professor steps to the podium. Mr. Park was probably in his late 30’s, at the latest in his mid 40’s. And the reason you like him was because he was very laid back, you also heard from your friends he never failed anyone and always had the same exam questions every year. Exactly the type of easy course you needed.

“Okay everyone, for the semester project you’ll be working in pairs. It’ll be a fusion-based piece—contemporary with any personal style you bring. We’ll workshop it every week. Final showcase is in December. Questions?” His voice booms, before murmurs start.

Oh no, it seems he changed his course this year. Just your luck.

You sense Niki leaning in and stubbornly refuse to look at him.

“You gonna ask or am I?” he quietly asks, his voice sounding even deeper once he’s this close to you.

“What?” you play dumb.

“You’re the only person I know here. And I’m not about to dance with some dude named Brett who wore tap shoes to a contemporary class.”

You side eye Niki, then glance at Brett quickly. You stifle your laugh when you notice his attire. Tap shoes and tights, seems someone was taking this class seriously.

You giggle as you look back at Niki, “Fine.”

“Knew you'd come around,” he smugly tells you. His face close enough that you can make out the moles o his face. And you know you’re fucked when your heart rate speeds up.

After the class ends you find yourself in the on-campus coffee shop. Sitting by the window as you passively scroll through your phone. Opening a text thread with your friend, you start typing.

you [7:04 PM] you will not believe who’s in my elective

bestie [7:04 PM] 👁️👄👁️ spill

you [7:05 PM] niki. as in sunoo’s childhood best friend niki as in awkward middle school sleepovers and cheetos w chopsticks niki as in... is hot now niki like. distressingly hot

bestie [7:06 PM] WAIT ??? TALL NIKI? LONG LEGS NIKI ?? I thought he vanished after that bowl cut era ???

you [7:06 PM] he did and then he reappeared like a final boss

bestie [7:06 PM] LMAOOO STOP wait how hot. scale of 1 to id ruin my life for him

you [7:07 PM] im already halfway to ruined he smelled like... clean laundry and sin also we’re dance partners now. for the entire semester 🙂🔫

bestie [7:08 PM] you’re done for. you’re LIVING THE YN LIFE

you [7:08 PM] no bc if sunoo finds out my soul will exit my body

bestie [7:09 PM] sunoo doesn’t need to know unless you two are messing around 👀

Your stomach swoops as you read the last message. Flustered you send the last messages as you get ready to head home.

you [7:09 PM] BLOCKED REPORTED IM GOING HOME

You return back to your apartment, the front door softly clicking shut behind you. Sunoo texted you he’ll be home later, some orientation thingy keeping him preoccupied. The apartment is bathed in the orange hues of the sunset and you savor in the stillness and peace.

You sink into the couch, the memory of Niki creeping unwantedly in your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, about his pretty smile, about his deep voice – seriously his voice used to be so high pitched, this new version of Niki was giving you a whiplash.

Still. I missed it

Your mind drifts back to your conversation, but before you could fully spiral, you pick up the remote to numb your mind with some stupid TV show. Forcing yourself to think away any thoughts of tall boys who smell nice.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

You’re already stretching when Niki walks into the dance studio practice room. His white hoodie sleeves pushed up, black hair still slightly damp from a quick shower. He tosses his bag down with practiced ease, giving you a nod and a small grin that makes your stomach do an unhelpful flip.

Niki slicks the hair out of his face, in a casual manner addressing you as he puts a snapback hat on.

"You came early. Planning to show me up?"

You smile at him as you watch him start stretching in front of you. His hoodie rising dangerously when he stretches his arms above his head.

"Somebody’s gotta carry this partnership."

"Bold of you to assume it's not me," Niki smirks, watching you through the mirror.

You raise an eyebrow, but he just shrugs, dropping into a low stretch like he’s been doing this forever. You try not to stare, but he’s focused, surprisingly flexible. It’s hard not to notice how graceful his movements are. Like he knows exactly how much attention he’s drawing—and doesn’t care.

And that’s the part that gets you. His effortless nonchalance, it makes you feel as if he’s only halfway present with you, your mind wandering to dangerous thoughts of how you could make him fully focus on you.

The professor sent demo videos last night. You’d both agreed on All That Matters—partly because of the flowy R&B tempo, partly because neither of you wanted anything too theatrical.

You click play on the speaker, and Niki stands, holding a hand out toward you.

"Ready to stop pretending we don’t have chemistry?" he asks, his eyebrows slightly raised in an attractive manner.

You scoff, "Ready to focus, maybe," but let him pull you up anyway. His touch electrifying.

The first moves are slow — light footwork and mirrored movements. Easy to get through without contact. But then the bridge hits, and the choreography shifts.

He steps into your space without hesitation. A hand on your waist to turn you. You freeze, barely a second, but it’s enough for Niki to notice the shift. Quizzically looking at you in question.

"Sorry. Just… tired," you unconvincingly say, a slight shiver running down your spine where Niki’s hand rests.

He doesn’t push, but his hand lingers a moment too long. His intense gaze piercing right through you. As if he doesn’t believe you – but he doesn’t push it.

You move through the sequence again. This time, your hands brush. His palm slides against your lower back. You react less, but goosebumps appear on your arms. He notices that, too. And thankfully doesn’t comment on it.

You try to ration – you’re only being like this because you haven’t gotten laid in a long time. Definitely not because you find Niki insanely attractive.

When you pause to get water, you catch yourself watching him — really watching — the way his jaw clenches when he counts under his breath, the way his shirt rides up slightly when he stretches.

You look away fast. Hope he doesn’t notice.

But he does. Because unbeknownst to you he always noticed everything about you. Has been noticing, ever since you were kids. But he never made any moves on you, you never seemed interested before. Which worked, because he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Sunoo by fucking things up with you.

It did make him wonder what changed for you, or was he only imagining things in his head. That’s why he doesn’t call you out, only walking past you with a quiet "Same time next week?"

"Yeah" you nod, your voice coming out more breathless and softer than you intend.

He gives you one last unreadable look. Then leaves.

And your brain won’t stop replaying the exact placement of his hand on your waist.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

On the weekend you are cooped up in your apartment with Sunoo and Niki. The later coming over with the intention of just hanging out with Sunoo. But once the evening sneaks up and he still isn’t ready to leave he finds himself in front of your shut bedroom door.

He ponders for a moment before softly knocking.

“Come in,” comes your muffled voice, and he opens the door. He doesn’t know what he expected your room to look like but somehow it’s very much you. A neatly made bed in the corner, white dresser and your desk. Where you were sitting right now.

You had little trinkets all over your room, a few plants on the window still. It made Niki feel cozy and warm, everything reminded him of you.

“Hey,” he greets, scratching his neck as he’s suddenly unsure of himself.

“Thought we could get an early start on our theoretical part of the project?” he asks you and that’s how you find yourself on the floor, knees brushing with Niki’s as you two do research on your laptop.

Niki’s quiet presence lulls you into a comfortable silence as you two work, his voice breaking you out of your concentration.

“Still mad I showed up with Sunoo?” he softly asks, his voice hiding a certain tenderness, vulnerability.

“I was never mad. Just… surprised,” you tell him, your gaze still focused on your laptop screen.

He hums, “Sunoo said you weren’t thrilled. That you liked having the place to yourself.”

“It’s not that I don’t want him here. I just... finally got used to things being mine. My time. My space. It’s stupid,” you sigh.

“It’s not stupid.” A beat passes before he speaks again, “You’ve always looked out for him. For everyone, really.”

“Yeah. That’s kind of the problem,” you say, trying to joke but your voice sounding too somber even to your own ears.

You don’t know what you expected from Niki. You thought he’d be fun, maybe a little cocky. You didn’t expect… this. Didn’t expect him to look at you like he actually wants to know you. To listen. And most surprisingly, like he actually understood you.

A long silence stretches between you two, both deeply in your thoughts, before Niki breaks it again.

“…For what it’s worth, I’m not trying to mess that up. I can keep out of your way,” Niki tells you.

“…You don’t have to,” you softly tell him, finally meeting his eyes. And something in your chest tugs—painfully tender.

He really meant that. He’d leave if you asked.

He holds your gaze for a second longer, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slowly, he nods.

You look away first. Of course you do. Your throat’s too tight.

You both go back to your screens, pretending to work again. But something has shifted between you two.

A few minutes pass. And this time you’re the one who breaks the stretching silence.

“You’re not supposed to be this tolerable, you know.”

He huffs a laugh, “I get that a lot.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

In weeks that follow you and Niki fall into a routine. Joint dance practices between just the two of you every Thursday, and your dance class with everyone on Tuesdays.

It is a Tuesday currently, meaning the whole class is in session. Instead of a lecture hall you’re all in a dance studio today, your professor wanting to see how everyone is progressing.

Class is coming to an end and you’re picking up your water bottle from the side of the room when you spot him.

Niki is standing near the mirrors, still in his dance clothes, grinning at something a classmate next to him says, Eunchae you think. She’s twirling a strand of hair around her finger, clearly enjoying the conversation.

He says something back—low and easy—and she laughs, a little too loud. He doesn’t even flinch. Just leans a little closer, one hand tucked into his hoodie pocket.

You tell yourself it’s nothing, as you unknowingly burn holes into the two of them.

It’s fine.

It’s whatever. It’s normal to be overprotective of Niki – you’ve known him for forever you rationalize.

You scroll through your phone like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world, trying not to look. But your ears are burning. Your face feels hot.

Your friend in this class – Daniela – appears beside you, watching you not-watch them.

“You okay?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

You scoff. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re burning a hole in the back of Niki’s head,” she easily replies, glancing to look at him over her shoulder.

You wave her off, voice too breezy. “Please. She’s not even his type.”

Daniela stares. “You know his type?”

“I mean, obviously he goes for girls who—like—giggle like it’s a sport and wear matching yoga sets. He’s literally 19. He probably thinks lip gloss counts as a personality.”

Daniela blinks. “…Girl.”

You frown. “What?”

“You’re jealous,” she deadpans.

“No, I’m not,” you deny suspiciously fast.

“No, you definitely are.”

You scoff again, louder this time. “Okay, can we not? It’s Niki. He’s just—he’s a kid.”

Daniela doesn’t even dignify that with a response. She just gives you the look. The one that says You’re lying and we both know it.

You refuse to meet her eyes.

From across the room, Niki catches your gaze and gives you a little nod—like a casual hey, you good?

You roll your eyes and turn away, heart suddenly racing for no reason you’re willing to admit.

You’re still reeling later in your room. The day exhausted you more than it should. And it was barely 4 p.m. You wanted nothing more than to just lay down and not think or do anything for a little while. At least not until Niki comes over later in the evening, you two having made plans to go over theory together.

Your phone buzzes and you seriously contemplate ignoring the call, but relent once the caller calls you again when you fail to pick up the first time.

Incoming Call: Sunoo 🍊 it reads on the caller ID.

You sigh and answer.

“You better be dying,” you say, exhaustion creeping in your voice.

Sunoo doesn’t seem to notice as he brightly asks (read: expects) you to do him a favor; “Not dying. Just forgot my charger and my USB. And since you’re the best sister in the world you would bring them over to me?”

You are already starting to stand up, before he even finishes speaking. “Remind me why I’m not charging you rent?”

Sunoo laughs at that, “Because you love me.”

“True,” you softly reply, leaving your apartment and heading all the way over to Sunoo. Just an almost 30 minute walk, no biggie for someone who’s already so tired of this day.

You’re back home, in under an hour. Hair windswept, limbs heavy, stomach sour from scarfing down cafeteria fries while speed-walking half a mile. Not wanting to leave Niki waiting, since you were currently almost running late.

You drop your bag onto the floor, letting out an exaggerated groan as you sink onto the carpet in your living room.

Niki is already seated there and he watches you with that unbothered little tilt to his head.

“Long day?” he asks gently.

You shoot him a look, but it lacks bite. “Understatement of the year.”

He scoots over, making space for your laptop, but doesn’t press. Just gives you space and waits.

You both work in silence for a few moments before you speak again.

“Sometimes I wonder if people only know how to need me,” your voice is quiet. Unraveling.

Niki looks up from his screen. Doesn’t interrupt.

You laugh, bitter. “Sunoo called me earlier because he forgot his charger and USB and somehow that meant I had to drop everything and bring it. Like I’m campus tech support or something.”

A beat passes and then words start pouring out of you. “It’s not just him. It’s everyone. Professors. Classmates. Family. I say yes before I even think about it. And then I hate myself for feeling resentful after,” you don’t realize you’re shaking a little until you feel Niki’s gaze on you. Grounding you back into this moment with him, where it’s just you two.

Then he says, calm as always “You’re allowed to want space.”

You blink. The words are so simple they shouldn’t make your chest ache the way they do. But they land like a soft punch.

“You always take care of everyone. I don’t think anyone’s ever asked if you needed it too,” Niki continues and you wonder when he became so …wise, so observant of you.

Silence. The kind that’s full, not empty.

You don’t cry. But you do go still. Like something inside you just… let go.

When you finally meet his eyes, he’s already looking at you. Like he’s been looking this whole time.

“…Thanks,” you say, barely audible. “For seeing that. For not making me explain it.”

He just gives a quiet little nod. No smile. Just that same steady presence. Like he’s saying I’ve got you. Even if you don’t ask.

Your knee brushes his. And Niki wraps an arm around your shoulder pulling you close to him. You don’t flinch away this time – instead allowing yourself to soak in this moment.

It is only after you’ve let out a long exhale that you pull away.

“We should get back to this,” you say and miss the look Niki shoots in your direction.

You don’t allow yourself to dwell on this moment. No, instead you drown yourself in school work in the following days.

You're walking across campus with Daniela. The air smells like warm pavement and coffee—students are sprawled on lawns, music drifting from a Bluetooth speaker somewhere nearby.

You clutch your iced drink a little tighter as you talk, like that’ll cool the heat pooling low in your stomach from thoughts you’re not supposed to be having.

Daniela nudges you gently with her elbow. “So… what’s going on with you and your brother’s hot friend?”

You snort. “Nothing’s going on.”

She gives you a look.

You take a long sip, buying yourself a second. “I mean, even if I liked him—which I don’t—I wouldn’t do anything. He’s younger. And Sunoo’s best friend.”

Daniela slows her steps. “That’s your reason?”

“It would just… complicate things,” you say, waving your hand like you’re brushing it off. “He’s literally nineteen, Dani.”

“What, and you’ve suddenly become eighty?”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Daniela looks at you for a beat, the kind of look that says okay, but you’re lying to yourself and I’m letting you. “Whatever you say.”

You don’t see him—Niki, standing behind the open glass door of the student lounge just off the path. He was on his way out. Until he heard your voice.

He doesn’t move. Just stands there, frozen.

The words Even if I liked him—which I don’t keep echoing in his ears. Over and over.

He doesn’t say anything.

He just leaves.

And you… never even knew he was there. You and Daniela reach the classroom taking a seat just before the professor arrives.

You’re confused as you look for Niki, he was never late. And yet, he steps through the door 20 minutes later and you move your stuff from the seat you were saving for him. Flabbergasted you watch him as he straight up ignores you, sitting somewhere else instead.

Weird. He always sat with you, but maybe he just didn’t see you…

The lesson was probably the most boring one so far, with you being used to talking through them with Niki. But now as you sit by yourself you find yourself staring at him.

He returns your gaze and there's a flicker of something you can’t read. Something almost guarded. But you’re probably just imagining it, he’s probably just tired or something.

The next day you receive a message from him, saying he can’t come over, because something came up. You don’t push it, but you can’t deny the pang of hurt that shoots through you, doubt setting in.

It doesn’t help when a couple of days later Sunoo mentions in passing, “has Niki’s been weird? You guys good? He hasn’t really talked about the project much.”

And you shrug it off, but you can feel that something is off, that he’s distancing himself from you. So you give him space. To cool off, for whatever it is you might have done.

Until you can’t take it anymore.

It happens when you two meet in the practice room. And Niki’s so obviously acting different. He doesn’t joke. Doesn’t tease. Keeps distance physically.

You don’t look at him when you walk to the center of the room. You don’t have to—you can feel the tension in the space between you already.

The choreo isn’t easy. It’s intimate, breathless, full of weight shifts and skin contact. The kind of dance that demands vulnerability, trust, proximity.

But Niki barely says a word.

He mirrors your movements with precision, his body effortlessly falling into rhythm with yours. He doesn’t look at you—but when his hand finds your waist during a partnered lift, you feel it linger a fraction too long.

His fingers accidentally slip under your shirt when he lifts you up. You shiver. Not from cold, but from how badly you wish you didn’t care.

You’re breathless for reasons that have nothing to do with exertion.

Still, something’s off. You’re off.

You mess up a foot placement during a turn. Miss the beat on a drop. And worst of all—you flinch when he touches you again.

That’s when he finally speaks.

Low voice. Quiet, but firm.

“You always think too much.”

You blink, startled.

He steps a little closer—close enough to feel the heat of his skin, but still not touching you. Not really.

“You dance better when you stop trying to be perfect.”

You meet his eyes for the first time in what feels like days—and he doesn’t look away.

Something in your stomach flips. The version of him you’ve been trying not to miss is right there. Not teasing, not cold—but unreadable, unreachable.

Strong. Steady. Saying things that cut a little too close.

You open your mouth to respond, but he steps back.

And just like that, his walls go up again.

You ask, in a snappier tone than you intend to.

“Did I do something?”

But Niki shrugs.

“No,” he says, not meeting your eyes.

You hate it, hate this, wish he would just go back to the way he was. The lingering touches, sneaking glances at you, making you laugh.

You miss him even if he is right next to you. Somehow it would’ve been better, you bitterly think, if you two fought – not whatever this was, you couldn’t stand it.

You force a small smile, trying again.

“Seriously, though. You’ve been weird since…” you pause, searching his face “…is it because of something I did?”

Niki shrugs again, and you want to scream when he hits you with another “no,” still avoiding your gaze.

“You sure? Because it kind of feels like I did,” you quietly say.

“It’s nothing. We should focus,” finally meeting your eyes, but his voice sounded flat, devoid of the usual warmth.

You nod, but the air between you two is tense. Silence cracks around the edges every time you try to fill it.

Later – after practice is over and you’re back home – you’re walking from the kitchen to your room, Sunoo’s voice echoes from the kitchen, playful but pointed.

“By the way, Eunchae said you and Niki make a cute team,” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully, “she was definitely fishing if he’s single, just saying.”

You half laugh, but it feels hollow to your own ears.

“Oh yeah? Let her shoot her shot, I guess,” you say it casually — but something tightens in your chest.

You close the door of your bedroom and pull your knees to your chest, sitting on the bed. Your room dim.

Why did it feel like you lost something you never even had?

You don’t know it but Niki is standing in the hallway just outside your apartment door, earphones in but not playing any music.

His face unreadable. Except for the way his jaw is tight. And the way he closes his eyes like he’s trying not to care.

But he can’t get the imagine of the longing in your eyes every time you looked at him. The way your eyes would narrow anytime Eunchae came up to him.

And that’s when it hits him you’re not rejecting him — you’re rejecting the idea of them. Suddenly the realizations don’t stop.

I make her nervous. She feels something. She’s lying to herself.

Let me remind her what it feels like when I’m close.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It’s class break and you’remid-convo with Daniela, laughing at something dumb. When you look across the classroom, Niki is standing by the door with Eunchae. He's listening politely, nodding at whatever she's saying—but he's not really with her.

His eyes are already on you.

Not staring. Not smirking. Just... watching. Still. Unapologetic. Like he’s reading a language only you speak.

You blink, unsettled.

He doesn’t look away.

Then, Daniela touches your arm, affectively breaking the moment.

After class ends, you brush past him on your way to the bathroom. It’s a tight hallway. You’re not even sure he’s going to acknowledge you, because he’s been like this—off. Too cool. Too quiet.

But then his hand brushes the small of your back as you pass. Not a tease. Not a game.

A claim.

You freeze for half a second, breath caught. Look over your shoulder— but he's already walking away.

You come out of the bathroom, scrolling through your phone as you wait for Sunoo, arms folded, head buzzing from the tension.

Niki appears beside you, “hey.”

“I didn’t think you’d say hi today,” you mutter, trying not to sound bothered.

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you wanted me to.”

You smile, faint. “You always let people decide that for you?”

He lets out the smallest laugh. “No. Just you.”

Your heart stutters. But you don’t look away.

He pushes off the wall and steps closer—slow, easy. Like he’s giving you time to move if you want to.

You don’t.

“I know what you’ve been telling yourself,” he says, eyes not leaving yours.

“That I’m too close. That it’s messy. That it wouldn’t work.”

You lift your chin slightly. “And?”

“And…” His voice softens, “…you keep looking at me like you want it to.”

You don’t answer right away. You feel it, that shift in the air—how close you both are to crossing whatever line you’ve drawn.

You study him. The way he’s not pushing, not assuming. Just waiting.

Quietly certain.

So you say it, “You think I don’t want this?” Your voice is soft, but sure. Steady.

His expression flickers—just a little.

You take a small breath. “I do.”

Another pause, “I just… I didn’t know if I should.”

He exhales, almost like he’s been holding it in. His hand grazes the back of his neck, a flicker of nervousness showing through.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” you add. And you mean it. “Not with you.”

For a moment, everything’s still. Then he says it—quiet and careful “Then don’t. Just let it happen.”

The corners of your mouth lift, despite yourself.

“Just once?” you ask, teasing lightly—but there’s sincerity in your eyes.

He grins, the first real one today, and it does something to you.

“Start with that,” he says.

You nod. Almost imperceptibly. But he sees it.

That night, your phone buzzes.

Kii<3 [10:25 PM]

Pick you up Friday?

You [10:27 PM]

Yeah.

You stare at your screen a beat longer than necessary. The tiny word — yeah — feels too small for what’s unraveling in your chest.

Because now it’s real. This thing between you. Not hypothetical, not flirtation buffered by excuses or safe distance. A real date. With Niki.

You press your phone to your chest and lie back, heart wild beneath your ribs. You’re nervous — obviously — but not in a way that makes you want to pull back. It's the kind of nervous that comes with possibility. The kind that reminds you you're alive. And beneath it, something warmer hums: excitement.

You can’t believe this is happening. That he wants this. That you said yes. That after all the circling and second-guessing, this is where you landed.

It’s terrifying. It’s dizzying. And it’s so much better than anything you ever let yourself hope for.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Friday evening.

You almost cancel.

You open your wardrobe, stare at your reflection, then close it again. Twice. Your hands hover over your phone more than once, thumb twitching toward his contact.

But then you force yourself to pull it together, deciding on a low crop top and a black skirt.

He’s already waiting when you step outside — parked just at the curb, leaning against the passenger side of his car. Streetlight catching on the edges of his hair, hands in the pockets of a jacket you’ve seen him wear a thousand times but never like this.

He straightens the second he sees you. Not obvious, but enough. His gaze trails down, slow — not in a possessive way, but reverent. Like he’s genuinely trying to commit this version of you to memory.

You’re suddenly warm everywhere.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice is too casual for how intensely he’s looking at you.

You arch a brow. “You’re staring.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Yeah. So are you.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips out, nerves tangled in it. “Don’t start already.”

He opens the car door for you, dipping his head close as you slide in. “Can’t help it,” he murmurs, low. “I’ve been waiting to look at you like this.”

Your breath stumbles. You don’t answer—just smile, tucking it into the warmth.

The drive is quiet in the most perfect way. His car smells faintly like him—clean, a little musky, like cedar and laundry and something unmistakably his. A soft R&B playlist drifts through the speakers.

You sneak looks at him when you think he’s not paying attention. His hand on the gearshift. The subtle way his jaw flexes when he focuses on the road. His thumb tapping along to the beat.

He catches you once, glancing over with the ghost of a smile.

“You look really pretty,” he says, almost shy. It’s not the kind of compliment that’s thrown out for effect. It lands warm, soft.

You laugh, nerves bubbling out. “You’re not too bad either.”

He grins. “Had to. Big night.”

By the time you reach the rooftop bar, the sky’s already in a blue-lavender stretch before night truly falls. Warm lights hang overhead, swaying gently. The music’s changed to something jazzy and slow, but it fits—like the world decided to match your pacing.

You’re seated in a quiet corner, the city stretching far beneath. He doesn’t look at the menu before ordering for you—he just knows.

Your drink arrives exactly the way you like it.

And when you ask, teasing, “You just memorize everyone’s drink order?”

He leans in slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “Only yours.”

You’re already laughing, cheeks flushed, the world softening at the edges.

His fingers brush yours. It’s not accidental. It’s intentional. A question he doesn’t ask out loud.

You don’t pull away.

There’s a little silence before you tease, “What, you stalking my habits now?”

“I’m cataloguing the things that make you smile,” he replies without missing a beat.

And you do smile. You try not to, but you do. It bubbles up before you can stop it. And that just makes him grin wider.

“Stop,” you say, hiding behind your cup.

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are.” He leans on his elbow, chin in his hand. “You always do that when you like something but don’t wanna admit it.”

“Now you’re making things up.”

“Now you’re avoiding the fact that you like me.”

You meet his eyes. And for a second, neither of you laughs. It lands deeper than it should. Like the words found a door you didn’t mean to leave cracked open.

You don’t say anything. Not yet. But your silence is a different kind now—not pulling away, just… caught.

And he doesn’t push. He just lets it be, the way he always seems to know how to.

You leave the bar after you two finish your drinks. The warm air inviting you on a walk. The city buzzes around you — soft traffic, neon flickers, the low hum of people living their lives — but you don’t really hear any of it. Not when you’re standing close enough to bump shoulders and not bother stepping away.

He reaches for his phone. “Smile.”

You do. Without thinking.

He takes a picture. You try to grab his phone to see it, laughing, but he slips it back into his jacket.

“Let me see!”

He shakes his head. “Not posting it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s just for me.”

You go quiet. Something in your stomach flips.

You stop under a streetlamp.

The light catches on his cheekbones, soft gold spilling over his lashes, his mouth, his collarbones peeking through the neck of his sweatshirt. He looks like something out of a dream. Which is annoying, because dreams aren’t supposed to smirk at you like that.

You cross your arms, partly to brace yourself. Partly because your heart won’t chill out.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, trying to sound unaffected.

Niki tilts his head, slow. “Like what?”

“Like you know something I don’t.”

“I do,” he says, easy. “I know how good you look under this light.”

You roll your eyes. But you're smiling now, and he sees it. He always does.

“You’re not slick, Niki.”

“I don’t have to be,” he says, and damn it, that grin should be illegal.

Your chest is tight in a way that’s too much and just right. You step in without realizing, close enough that chest touch. He holds onto your wait. You glance up—and he’s already watching you.

Not in that heavy, intense way he sometimes does. It’s softer now. But still locked in. Like he’s trying not to blink.

“This is weird,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “In a good way. I just… didn’t think this would ever actually happen.”

He leans in just a bit, voice low but warm. “Been thinking about it for weeks.”

“You’re such a simp.”

“Only for you,” he says, and there’s zero hesitation in it.

It knocks the breath right out of you.

He holds your gaze for one long, humming second. You can feel the tension hovering between your mouths like a question waiting to be asked.

“If I kiss you right now,” he says, voice barely above the buzz of the city, “you gonna regret it?”

You shake your head. A little too fast.

“Good.”

And then he leans in.

You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until he closes the last inch between you.

His hand finds your waist. Yours tangle in the front of his hoodie. And then—

He kisses you.

Not soft. Not tentative.

It’s hungry. Like he’s been holding back for weeks and the dam just cracked wide open. His mouth moves over yours like he’s trying to make sense of it, memorize it, own it. And you kiss him back just as fiercely—hands fisting in the fabric at his chest, pulling him closer, chasing the taste of him like it might undo you.

It’s too much. Not enough. Your thoughts dissolve. You don’t know where his breath ends and yours begins. The world’s gone blurry around the edges.

You gasp into his mouth when his fingers slide up, brushing your jaw, anchoring you there like he needs you solid in his hands. Like this isn’t real unless he’s touching you.

He groans—quiet, but guttural—and the sound shoots straight down, between your thighs.

You break apart just long enough to suck in air, both of you breathing like you just ran a mile.

His forehead tips to yours.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked and still out of breath. “We have to stop.”

You blink, still tasting him on your lips, dazed. “What?”

He shakes his head, eyes still closed. Like he’s fighting himself. His hands gripping your hips tightly.

“We have to stop. Or I’m not gonna be able to.”

You feel it in your knees. In your stomach. In everywhere.

He pulls back a fraction, gaze finding yours. His hands don’t leave your body, but they don’t wander either. Just… steady. Present. Hot with restraint.

“This isn’t how I want to do this,” he says, low. “Not like this. Not in a rush. You deserve better than that.”

You exhale shakily. He’s right. You hate that he’s right. And you love that he cares enough to be right.

Still, it takes you a second to find your voice.

“So what now?”

His thumb brushes your cheek. “Now I walk you to the car.”

He smiles. Kind of breathless. Kind of wrecked. Like you just rewired something in him.

“And then I go home and try really hard not to think about how good you taste.”

You grin, heart thudding. “You’re not gonna succeed.”

He raises a brow. “Not even a little.”

And this time, when you link your fingers with his, it’s easy. His larger hand engulfing yours. His shoulder keeps bumping into yours as you walk, and by the time you reach his car you’re safely tucked under his arm. Your torso to his side. And for the first time in a long time you feel alive.

You’re still on the buzz as you get ready for bed. Too lazy before to take off your makeup and change out of your clothes. Just as you’re about to head into the bathroom your phone pings and a grin unknowingly stretches over your face.

You bit your lip, trying to contain the quickly awakening tingles between your legs, as you read over Niki’s message. The memory of his lips on yours, his hands all over you replaying through your mind.

Kii<3 [11:12 PM] you still wearing that skirt from tonight?

You [11:13 PM] Yeah,, want a little preview

Kii<3 [11:14 PM] fuck yes don’t keep me waiting

You stand in front of the mirror, twirling as you try to find a pretty angle. You settle on you looking over your shoulder into the mirror, your hip popped in a way that accentuates your butt.

You [11:15 PM] Like it?

You ask after you watch his message bubble appear and disappear.

Kii<3 [11:16 PM] damn you’re unreal

im switching the phone to my left hand

You [11:17 PM] wait till you see what comes next

You giddly type, sitting on your bed – legs straddling the duvet underneath you as you eye one of your decorative pillows.

Kii<3 [11:18 PM] im ready. What’re you doing right now?

You [11:19 PM] sitting on my bed, got a pillow nearby…

Kii<3 [11:20 PM] want you to straddle it

You gulp when you read his text, already adjusting your position as you listen to his instructions. You can feel your underwear already sticking to you as you shift over the pillow. You gasp as you sit on the pillow, the wetness uncomfortable where it touches your skin.

You [11:21 PM] you’re crazyyy,, want me to take my panties off?

Kii<3 [11:21 PM] fuck yes

Your pussy clenches at his eager response. Imagining him in his own room, dick in his hand. You’re quick to move. Standing up you slide the panties down your legs, throwing them in the corner of your room. You contemplate taking off your skirt when you read the next message.

Kii<3 [11:22 PM]

show me everything, im so hard rn

You [11:23 PM] you like it? Decided to keep the skirt on..

but I don’t mind taking it off for you

You type, the photo you sent taken from an angle above. Your skirt is bunched at your waist, the fluffy pillow under you glaringly obvious. One of your hands is playfully pinching a nipple between your fingers, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Your eyes are half lidded, cheeks covered in a natural blush.

Kii<3 [11:24 PM] baby you’ve got me losing it over here

You [11:25 PM] Good. That’s exactly the plan

lemme see u too

You send and regret it almost immediately when you see his reply. Niki with his hoodie pulled up, covering his hair. His eyes incredibly dark, barely in the frame. At the center of the photo is his hand, rings covering his fingers. But that’s not where your focus lies.

You stare at his leaking cock. Standing proud as he holds it in his hand, veins visible as the slick of his pre-cum shines on every detail of his cock.

Before you even realize it, you’re moving on your pillow. You’re desperate to reach your release, so much so that you don’t reply to his photo.

Your ringing phone breaks you out of your humping and you momentarily pause your ministrations as you pick up.

“Liked it that much baby?” Niki teases you, his deep voice making your stomach swoop and pussy clench around nothing.

You whine, adjusting the corner of the pillow right under your entrance.

“You have no idea,” you rasp, “I’m gonna finger myself, the pillow isn’t really doing it for me.”

“Figured,” he replies, voice strained and muffled, “next time I’ll be the one doing that.”

“Yeah Niki? Wanted your fingers tonight,” you breathe, trying to keep it down – you didn’t want Sunoo to hear you.

“Fuck princess, I wanted it too, wanted to fuck you in my backseat, not caring who sees us,” Niki eggs you on.

And the image of you and Niki in his backseat. You straddling him and his hands all over you has you reaching your climax.

You moan, louder than you realize, “next time, ‘kay?”

“Next time what, use your words,” Niki gruffs and you hear shuffling in the background.

“Fuck me next time we see each other,” you gasp.

“Please,” you whine into the phone, “fuck fuck fuck, I’m close Niki. Are you close too?”

Your pretty noises make Niki furiously tug on his cock, you hear a small curse and then nothing.

After a beat Niki speaks, his voice breathless “next time, princess. I promise.”

Your phone call ends shortly after but no matter how many more times you make yourself cum that night it’s not enough. It doesn’t satisfy the ache you feel any time you try to stop touching yourself.

Frustrated you force yourself to try and sleep it off. When morning comes you’re a mess. Barely slept.

It’s not until Monday when you see Niki again – one of his family members had their birthday and hence he was absent over the weekend.

You see him before he sees you.

Just for a second—tall, hood up, bag slung low—his gaze flicking through the crowd. The second your eyes meet, something shifts. It’s subtle, but it knocks the breath right out of your lungs.

You thought texting would be enough. It wasn’t. Not even close.

Now here he is, in the middle of a bustling hallway—shoulders tense, mouth parted like he’s about to say something, but you both already know there’s no time. Your next class starts in three minutes, and someone’s already calling your name.

He doesn’t stop walking. Neither do you. But as you pass each other, your hands brush, and your bodies lean in just enough to feel the heat crackle between you.

You barely glance up, but you feel it—his eyes, dragging down the side of your face, to your mouth, to the line of your collar. And for a second you swear he’s about to grab your wrist and pull you somewhere you can’t be seen.

But he doesn’t.

Because right then, someone falls into step beside you, Sunghoon—a guy from class, talking about a group project. You murmur something polite, eyes still locked with Niki’s across the hallway.

You see it hit him. The flash of irritation. The stiff set of his jaw. His pace slows just a fraction, like his body won’t let him leave it alone.

You feel it too—the ache, the itch under your skin that hasn’t gone away since Friday night. Like your body knows it’s his you’re still wanting.

You don’t say a word. You just keep walking.

But you know exactly where this is going.

And so does he.

Just a few minutes before the class ends you pull the phone out of your bag, suppressing a smile as you see a text from Niki.

Kii<3 [1:32 PM] who’s the guy

you [2:39 PM] chill 😭 just sunghoon from my seminar we’re in a group project together

Kii<3 [2:39 PM] and you had to smile at him like that?

You roll your eyes at his dramatics as you write your reply. Holding your phone under the desk so the professor doesn’t see you texting.

you [2:40 PM] you’re ridiculous 😭 it wasn’t even like that also you literally walked past me and didn’t say shit

Kii<3 [2:41 PM] i was one second away from grabbing you right there in the hallway but i didn’t want to start a scandal

You clench your thighs together as your imagination goes wild. You two would definitely be trying it, in the near future.

you [2:41 PM] oh so you do have some self-control color me shocked

Kii<3 [2:42 PM] barely meet me after class we need to talk

you [2:42 PM] “talk”? 👀 should i be scared or excited

Kii<3 [2:43 PM] yes. ill be outside your building don’t make me wait

you [2:44 PM] i wouldn’t dare

Kii<3 is typing... Kii<3 [2:46 PM] better not bc the second we’re alone im making you forget his name

You’re only half surprised when you step out of the class 14 minutes later to see Niki waiting for you. The hallway outside your lecture room buzzes with students, the air heavy with end-of-day chatter and the scrape of sneakers. You step out mid-convo with Sunghoon, who’s animated about some shared group project, gesturing with his hands. You’re smiling, but not really at him.

Then your eyes lock with Niki.

He’s leaning against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable — until it’s not. His eyes drop to your mouth. Then drag over your legs. His jaw flexes like he’s biting back something unholy.

You slow your steps.

He doesn’t move.

You pass him anyway, because you’re petty, and you like the way his stare burns into your back.

“That guy talks a lot,” Niki leans down to whisper in your ear. His voice low, hand lightly touching your waist. Possessively.

You stop walking. Sunghoon keeps going, oblivious. You turn halfway, just enough to give Niki a look over your shoulder.

“Jealous?” you ask, smirking.

Niki steps fully into your personal space, pulling you into him by your waist, “no.”

His voice drops and the words leaving his mind make you freeze.

“I’m hard.”

You blink. A breath catches in your throat. Your stomach flips so hard it almost knocks the air out of you.

“Here? Really?” you ask, voice airy and breathless.

Niki leans in, grinning against your cheek “do you even realize how you look when you walk out of class like that?”

His fingers ghost over your wrist, featherlight. And goosebumps appear where his touch leaves.

“All I could think about was bending you over one of those desks.”

You don’t even have a witty comeback. Just heat — pooling low in your belly, throbbing between your legs.

“I have fifteen minutes,” you tell him, already so needy for him.

“That’s adorable. I need hours,” Niki teases you.

He glances toward the doors, then back at you, voice gravel “meet me at yours. I’m not gonna wait another fucking day.”

You don’t attend any of your next classes, instead you leave immediately.

The second your apartment door clicks shut, his mouth is on you. Your bag hits the floor. His hands are under your shirt, your fingers already tugging at his hoodie.

You gasp into his mouth when he lifts you — one hand under your thigh, the other gripping your waist like he needs you closer, deeper, now. He walks you backward until your spine hits the wall and your legs wrap around him automatically.

“Don’t tease,” you pant.

“I’m not in the mood to tease, pretty,” Niki darkly grins at you, his voice doing things to you.

The kiss is frantic. Teeth. Tongue. Groaning into each other’s mouths like you’re trying to crawl inside one another. Your skirt rides up fast, and you let it, let his hands explore every inch like they’re claiming you.

“Take it off. Take all of it off,” you moan against his jaw, kissing down his neck when his hands start pulling on your clothes.

Niki shakes his head a no, “do it for me,” he tells you as he leads you into your bedroom.

Clothes disappear — shirt tugged over his head, buttons popping open, Niki’s hands all over you. He lifts you up as he carries you to your bed, dropping you with a thud and following you down like he’s starving.

The air smells like skin and sweat and him — clean and warm and dizzying.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” Niki says as he hovers over you, his voice thick.

“Show me,” you say as you pull him in.

And he does. Niki kisses down your neck, his big hands on your tits. He’s going lower as he continues kissing you, listening to your gasps and small moans.

Niki pinches your nipple between his fingers, his mouth on your other boob. You moan, back arching off the bed. Your fingers tangle themselves in Niki’s hair as you pull him closer to you.

Your legs wrap around his torso, but Niki is already moving.

“Turn around,” he tells you, unashamedly palming himself through his boxers as his dark eyes drink you in.

You comply, laying on your stomach. Niki grabs you by your hips as he manhandles you on your knees, your front still on the bed.

You gasp when you feel his hands on your ass, gripping and kneading your cheeks.

“Baby please let me taste you,” Niki whines, his hands exploring everywhere from your ass to your inner thighs. He still hasn’t touched your pussy but you’re growing desperate as you push your ass close to his face.

Your mind is fuzzy as Niki traces his fingernails on the inside of your thigh, you shiver moaning before he even touches you where you most need him.

You can feel his breath on your slit, moaning as you push your ass in his face barely able to feel his lips on you.

Niki sees your struggle as he reaches for the pillow, resting it under your hips.

He murmurs against your skin “every inch of you drags me crazy, you know that?”

He lightly bites your ass, slapping it when you whine.

“Niki, need you,” you whine and gasp when you feel his mouth on you. His flattened tongue covers your slit and you push yourself into the warmth.

“oh god yes,” you breathe but pause once his hands grip your ass cheeks apart and he licks a long stripe from your slit, over your hole and stops at your asshole.

Your eyes widen when his tongue traces your puckered hole.

“what are you doing?” you ask as a pleasurable sensation you’ve never experienced before spreads through you.

Your pussy clenches when Niki lowly replies, “trust me,” and continues licking all over you.

“Taste so good,” comes his gruffy voice, he spits on the puckered hole, spreading the saliva with his middle finger.

you’ve never had someone play with your ass and while the sensation was new to you, it was also oddly pleasurable, your pussy pulsating as the pleasure is just enough to keep you at bay. But not enough at the same time.

Niki’s finger traces your hole, his other hand sneaking into your pussy entrance. You can feel yourself throb, the pleasure overwhelming.

Tears fill your eyes as Niki continues licking over your puckered hole, his middle and ring finger fingering your pussy in a hook motion.

You’re a moaning mess as you grip your sheets, legs spread as far as they can comfortably be. Loud licking sounds are covered by your squelching pussy and moans.

“Niki, I’m close,” you breathe, “please please please,” you whine, as tears build in your eyes. Enough to make your eyes glassy and makeup smudged but not enough to spill over on your cheeks.

“I like it when you’re like this,” he tells between licks, his fingers picking a slower and harder rhythm that has you seeing stars, his voice quiet and dark.

“oh my god, don’t stop talking,” you further plead, his voice driving you crazy.

“Only if you keep telling me how good you’re feeling,” he says as his nails sink into the skin where your butt and thighs meet.

“Feels so good Ki, you’re so good, please, don’t stop, plea-“ you mewl, only to stop breathing as the pleasure almost tips over. Niki feels your pulsating walls, knows you’re about to cum and he pulls back.

You whine, turning around, only to see Niki’s intense gaze on your ass, watching as your butt winks at him.

“You’re so hot baby,” he tells you and it’s enough to have you close again. His eyes travel up your body and you shiver under his gaze.

“Turn around,” he instructs with a light pat on your hip, his eyes not leaving yours.

You comply, laying on your back now and Niki hovers over you. His hand under your jaw as he tries to read your emotions.

“Pretty,” he breathes, “are you gonna cry for me?” he mocks, his lips in a fake pout. He kisses you softly on your lips one hand still holding your chin. His other grips your hair in a pleasurable pull and you moan, relaxing into him fully.

“See that,” Niki asks, buckling his hips into yours. You don’t realize when he took his boxers off but don’t complain once you look down.

His cockhead wet and inviting, dick standing red and proud as Niki ruts his hips into yours.

“You like dragging it out, don’t you? Making me watch while I fall apart for you,” you complain. He just smirks at you as he lines his dick over your pussy. Your lips are hugging him and you hear him curse in a whisper, his voice strained.

“You don’t even know how hot you look under me—fuck,” he shudders, closing his eyes tightly and resting his head on yours. You wrap your arms under his arms pulling him fully on top of you.

But Niki doesn’t let you, “I’m too heavy, don’t wanna hurt you,” he says.

“Then just fuck me already Niki,” you say your lip caught between your teeth.

“Hands above your head. Don’t move. I want to take my time ruining you,” he decides and he watches the way your tits bounce when you move. He lightly slaps one of them and teases his cockhead over your clit.

You’re barely breathing, as the anticipation overtakes you.

“Yes, please Niki just put it in already, I’ll listen to whatever you say, just pleeeease,” you whine.

You both groan once his cockhead pushes past your entrance, your walls are still pulsating and you swear you’re close to cumming and he hasn’t even entered you fully.

Niki seems to be going through the same dilemma, his brows furrowed, eyes closed as he sucks his breath in.

“F-fuck,” he growls, holding onto your hands that are still bent above your head in compliance.

His frame covers yours as he slowly continues bullying his dick into you.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he comments, “keep looking at me so innocently baby and I’ll be busting into you before I even fuck you.”

You whine, pushing your tits up in a silent plead. Your walls wrap around his length so tightly that you swear you can feel him deeper than he even is.

You look down and see only half of him has entered you. Niki pushes further in and you feel so full you can’t focus on anything else.

One of his hands leave yours, trailing down your forearm, to your shoulders and stopping once it wraps around your throat.

“Be good,” he tells you before he pulls out slowly, pushing back in with force.

“So tight,” Niki shudders. You wrap both of your hands over his arm that’s still holding you in place by your throat, gasping in pleasure at the slow and steady, rough pace he set.

Your mouth is open in pleasure, no sound leaving as you watch Niki fucking you. His eyes are everywhere on you, with his free hand he pushes your one of your thighs up and you’re squished.

Feeling so full you close your eyes in pleasure, the new angle has you clutching your toes and no sound escapes your mouth as you drown in pleasure.

Niki sees you and you can feel his dick throb in you, he picks his pace up and it has you seeing stars.

A loud moan slips out, Niki’s hand leaving your neck as he works over your clit. You’re a moaning mess, as Niki plays with you however he pleases.

“Fuck baby, you’re so hot,” he breathes and you feel tears spill down your cheeks as you get lost in pleasure.

His dick is pushing into you, fingers on your clit and you still. Not breathing as your hands claw at his back.

You’re cumming and Niki curses. He sheats his dick inside of you, your tight walls holding him hostage.

Your rigidness forces him to stay inside when his balls twitch. He quietly groans, his voice hoarse as you feel warmth in you.

You’re so overwhelmed by Niki, by the pleasure still hitting you in small waves so you can only lay back and watch Niki as he pulls out.

His cheeks and chest flushed in blush and arms pumped. You watch as his dicks softens, his chest rising in deep breathes.

“Let me ride you Niki,” you ask, his whole demeanor turning you on once again.

“What?” he breathes, letting you push him on the bed and straddle him.

His cum trickles down your thigh once you sit up, but you don’t care, moving to straddle him.

“Just let me,” you tell him, he hisses when you touch his dick but it’s already starting to harden under your fingers.

You pump him once, twice and deem it good enough, hovering over it.

You push it in and listen as Niki whines under you, actually whines. The sound travelling straight to your pussy.

“W-wait, baby wait,” he pleads but you don’t listen. His hands are gripping your hips in a bruising grasp.

“You're so obsessed with me," you moan when his hands travel to your boobs once again. He's squeezing and scratching at them, letting you ride his hard cock.

He's smirking "of course I am. Look at you. You think I could ever stop?"

You pick up the pace, your tits bouncing and Niki slaps your ass, leaning against your headboard as he lets you use him in any way you please.

You grind yourself, holding onto his shoulder and moving into a squatting position as you chase your climax.

"You're not gonna behave, are you?" you mewl once Niki starts pushing his hips into you. He overtakes your pace as he murmurs in your ear, lightly biting on your earlobe.

"Not when you're this close."

And you let him, hugging him as he sets a brutally fast pace, pounding into you roughly.

He manages to bend his legs, pushing himself over you as he forces you on your back once again.

He’s biting onto his lower lip as he fucks you, listening to your moans and gasps.

“Cum for me princess, let me feel you,” he says, squeezing your throat just enough to cut the oxygen off.

You don’t realize you’re drooling and Niki’s hips stutter. You feel him spill in you, and the sensation bringing you over the edge.

You gasp, mewling and clawing at his arm as you cum.

Niki pulls out, catching his breath before leaving to the bathroom. He’s back with a warm rag as he carefully cleans you up.

You hiss when the towel touches your skin, the scratchy surface harsh on your sensitive clit.

You playfully hit Niki once you see he is smiling down at you, “you did that on purpose.”

The sun’s barely up when you pad into the kitchen, hoodie-swaddled and still a little sore. You’re pouring coffee when the front door clicks open behind you.

Sunoo walks in, mid-yawn, backpack slung over one shoulder—and stops dead in his tracks when he sees Niki standing shirtless by the fridge, sleep-tousled, sipping orange juice like he owns the place.

He blinks. Once. Twice.

“Took you long enough.”

You freeze. Niki chokes on his drink.

“Sunoo—”

Sunoo drops his bag with a thud. “For the record, I came home last night and heard... things. So I very kindly turned my ass around and crashed at Heeseung’s.”

You open your mouth. Close it.

“Wait—you’re not mad?”

But your brother just grins, throwing himself onto the couch.

“Do you know how annoying it was watching you two eye-fuck across campus for months? I was this close to locking you in a closet.”

You groan, covering your face. Niki snorts, pink creeping up his neck.

“Please don’t ever say ‘eye-fuck’ again.”

You glance at Sunoo, unsure.

“You’re really not mad?”

He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Why would I be mad?” He shrugs, grin softening.

“I know Niki. He’ll treat you right.” A pause. “And if he doesn’t—well. I know where he sleeps.”

Niki holds up his hands, grinning.

“Not planning on messing this up, I swear.”

You smile—helpless, smitten.

Because somehow, after everything, this all feels right.

Sunoo flops back dramatically onto the couch.

“Ugh. Gross. I liked it better when you were both repressed.”

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚Bonus scene: final perfomance

Backstage hums with quiet chaos—zippers, footsteps, low murmurs—but you and Niki are in your own world. You're smoothing out the sharp edge of his collar, fingertips brushing the line of his throat. He’s warm, breathing a little too fast, and watching you like it’s a challenge.

“You’re not even touching me properly and I’m already losing focus,” he says, voice low, teasing—like he's half-joking, but mostly not.

You raise an eyebrow, smirking as your hand drifts down to adjust the hem of his jacket. “Guess it’s a good thing I’ll be the one bringing you back to reality later.”

He leans in a fraction—just enough to make your pulse skip. “That sounds like a threat. Or a promise.”

You glance up, meeting his eyes. “Why not both?”

There’s a beat of silence, thick with everything unsaid, and then someone calls his name from stage left.

But he doesn’t move—not right away. Just smiles that slow, dangerous smile like he already knows how tonight ends.

The lights are low in the campus studio, just enough glow to illuminate the stage and the semi-circle of classmates watching from the floor. It’s the last day of the semester, final showcase. Your professor announces your names, and then the beat drops. “All That Matters” by Justin Bieber.

You step out onto the polished floor, heart pounding in time with the bass. Niki’s already there, waiting for you in a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled, chain low on his collarbone. He looks unfair. Calm. Ravishing.

The music swells. You move.

It’s slow, almost hypnotic — all lingering touches and too-close footwork. His hand brushes your waist. You tilt your chin up. Bodies magnetized, orbiting, crashing.

When you straddle his thigh during the chorus, the entire room holds its breath. His hands settle on your hips like he was born to put them there.

You lock eyes.

And for a second, the world falls away. No classmates, no professor, no judging stares.

Just you and him — synced, electric, starved.

He murmurs just loud enough for you to hear.

“If I get hard during this, it’s your fault.”

You bite back a smirk.

“You’ve been hard since we walked in.”

He grins, dark and unrepentant, guiding you into the final step — a dip so slow and intimate it feels like undressing in public.

The song ends. Silence. Then—

Applause.

Cheers break out, someone even whistles, but you barely hear it. You’re too caught in the aftermath. Niki’s still holding you, one hand splayed across your back.

You whisper, breathless.

“I can’t believe we just did that.”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“Believe it. And later? I’m reenacting every second.”

#niki smut #niki fluff #niki image #niki scenario #enhypen smut #enha x reader #niki x you #niki x reader #nishimura riki #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenario #kpop smut #kpop fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen images #niki hard hours

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aventurinesweetheart · 2 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ MESSY EATERS ´ˎ˗

characters: SUNDAY, Aventurine, jing yuan, CAELUS, STELLE (more in pt2??) genre: SMUUUTTTTTTTTTTT summary: r they a munch? come find out! warnings: afab reader (no prns used), mentions of squirting, spit!, oral (reader receiving!) (also aventurine in his part bc yall 69), overstimulation, light dacryphilia, praise, playful teasing, generally messy oral sex, mentions of hickies?, jing yuan puts his thumb in your ass while he eats it from the back, mentions of cum eating in caelus’, face sitting (stelle), idk proceed at your own risk this is one of my more tame works so 🤷 a/n: this was not originally going to be my comeback fic but i was hit with a bolt of inspiration comparable to lightning

SUNDAY

→ now. just. hear me the fuck out. sunday is THE munch. do not fuckin play w me rn. he LIVVEEESSSSS to eat pussy — he gets off on pleasing his partner (he’s a bit of a service switch, willing to take up any role to make you happy) and making you cum all over his face. he loves making a mess out of you—sweaty with cum soaked thighs.. mmh, he gets hard at the sight and ends up digging back in to your puffy cunt, tongue fucking you with no remorse and keeping your thighs spread apart with a surprising amount of strength

→ if you let him, he’ll stay between your thighs for hours, until he gets lockjaw, so for your sake and his, please remind him that you both need breaks so you don’t pass out.

→ always praising you too, talkin ab how youre so pretty and well behaved for him (as he will eat the brat right out of you), and how he just can’t get enough of you

→ “mmnhg, fuck, you taste so good, dove, i could eat you whole.” and he Does.

→ sucks on your clit and curls his fingers so good inside you until you eventually squirt n make such a mess on his face — something that initially shocks him, but he quickly grows obsessed by it and wants you to do it again, even if you protest that you can’t!

→ “did you just..?” he asks in awe and disbelief, looking up at you with big, gold eyes. he couldn’t quite believe what he’d gotten you to do—all from a little stimulation? (buddy, you’ve been eating them out for the last half hour, AT LEAST)

→ it’s safe to say he becomes obsessed with you making an absolute mess on his fuckin face, and encourages you to make one everytime !! for a former priest or sum, he sure is unholy in the bedroom in your humble opinion!

“aa–ah! sunday!” you wail as he scissors your drooling, overstimulated pussy. your cheeks were flushed and eyes full of tears as he ignores your cries in favor of lapping and sucking away at your throbbing clit.

he had made you cum thrice now, and he was well on his way to working you to your fourth orgasm. perhaps sunday was a bit of a sadomasochist, as he focuses on overstimulating you and ignoring his own achey cock, straining horribly against his slacks, sure to leave a wet stain against his boxers.

sunday can’t help but moan into your cunt when you tug at his hair, forcing him closer to your core despite your protests that you couldn’t handle anymore. so, you squeeze your thighs around his head and throw your head back, uttering a silent prayer to whatever god may have been listening for any kind of mercy from this overwhelming pleasure.

and, finally, just as you’re pushed over the edge for the nth time, you actually fucking squeal! when you feel teeth come into contact with the almost hypersensitive skin of your inner thigh—and sure enough, there was your silver-haired boyfriend nibbling on your skin as gently as he can, not wanting to overwhelm you, but still wanting to play with you a bit..!

Aventurine

→ okay so. he can suck dick AND eat some pussy. my Bisexual Versatile Switch Icon. while he’s a bit of a whore, that just simply means he has more experience to please you with <3

→ REEAALLLLYYYYYYY into spit (im projecting) and i mean spitting in your mouth, you spitting in his mouth, spitting on your face, etc. but, and i say this with a devious grin on my face, spitting directly onto your pretty pussy of course ! <3 and diving in immediately after!

→ do not let him eat you out anywhere but the bedroom, bc he will make such a fucking mess out of the sheets, the couch cushions, fucking. anything wherever you are.

→ big on sucking your clit raw while he scissors your cunt apart and curls his fingers ever so nicely inside you. he just likes the feeling of it twitching and pulsing in his mouth, but he’s not afraid to tongue fuck you either

→ LOVES when you sit on his face oh my god PLEASE sit on his face—and if you’re fat? please keep in mind he’s a gambler and does not gaf if he dies from suffocation, that is a risk he is more than willing to take! if the pussy kills him, he can die happy.

→ but. wait. oh my god. 69ing with him. he LOVVVEEESSSSSSSSSSS to 69 oh my GOD holy shit. The 69er. always prefers you to be on top so you can still sit on his face tho.

“mmh,” aventurine moans into your cunt from beneath you, the vibrations only serving to enhance your pleasure. as a chronic yapper, he wants to tell you how good you taste, how sweet you are, how he can’t get enough, but thankfully, for your sake, your pussy was smothering and silencing him. all you could hear was the moans and grunts he couldn’t seem to stop making — but to be fair, neither could you, as he rolls his hips up, stuffing his throbbing cock further down your throat. his hands grip your thighs tighter, and you think you may have bruises in the shapes of his fingertips later, but you don’t really mind.

“nngh,” you echo his moan, and you feel his dick twitch in your mouth, and you know he’s close. you two had been like this for about ten or so minutes now, and he’d already managed to make you cum once—you’re just honestly surprised he’s lasted this long (or maybe it’s because you had to pull off of him a handful of times to selfishly catch your breath while he ruthlessly ate you out, even as his jaw began to get sore, he really didn’t care).

hollowing your cheeks out, you bob your head lower down his shaft, as one hand blindly moves to fondle his heavy balls as you focus on both getting him to cum and also the feeling of cum about to squirt down your throat. humming around him to assist you in your work, aventurine doubles down in his efforts of eating you out once he realizes what you were doing.

lifting you off his face ever so slightly, he takes a deep breath before locking the fuck back in and pulling you back down against his soaked face. his tongue eagerly dives into your slick hole and a chill runs down your spine as goosebumps cover your skin, your hair standing on end.

the blonde can’t help but moan again as he tastes you for the nth time tonight, as he sticks his tongue out as far out as it’ll go and he licks your velvety inner walls, uncaring of the way his drool and your cum coat his lower face.

“hmngh,” he hums pleasantly, as if he were enjoying a meal (and believe me, he was), and he pulls his tongue out of you to lick a hot line from your puffy clit to your twitching hole, where he reinserts himself and you moan around his dick again. this time, when aventurine bucks his hips up, he finds himself cumming with a groan, having to pause in his endeavors due to how intense his orgasm was.

thankfully, you were prepared to swallow around him as he cums down your throat, and you can feel yourself right on the edge as well.

“a–aven—” you whine, trying to lift your hips up—something he does not allow. in fact, he pulls your pussy flush against his messy face and easily finishes you off, until you’re creaming on his tongue and a few tears roll down your cheeks from the stimulation.

jing yuan

→ yall alr fuckin KNOW mr general will eat the FUCK out of some pussy !!!! he will make you cream yourself 3 times over before he even gets the chance to get his pants off i’m ngl.

→ and he’s always. Always. !!! so smooth with his words, you don’t understand how !! it’s not fair, really, the way he coos at you with that stupid lazy grin on his face. goddamn him.. and speaking of that lazy grin…… the general always likes to take his time with you—like he has all the time in the world!! and to be fair, he kinda does.

→ “shh, just stay calm and i promise you’ll get what you need,” he’d tell you sweetly, just to tease you for another seven minutes!! and it wasn’t even mean teasing! he was just genuinely enjoying his time and stretching out the foreplay, which made you feel a leetol bit bad.. because you knew he just wanted to appreciate you, but.. not bad enough to sit still for him!

→ he loves to slowly pepper your body in kisses, trailing down lower and lower until he’s nestled between your thighs and his head is dangerously close to your cunt — begging him for a kiss, or anything to soothe the ache between your legs

→ you can’t even dream of being a brat w this man icl, he will eat you right back into place. he’s big, he’s beefy, and he can absolutely manhandle you into whatever position he wants—speaking of, he’s quite fond of bending you over onto your hands n knees and burying his face right into your pussy from possibly the Most embarrassing angle

→ you can feel his nose brushing up against your asshole while he goes to town on your other hole, and the whole ordeal has you feeling more than shy.. but it’s okay bc jing yuan can be rather gentle with you — although.. he absolutely does Not pass up the opportunity to stick his thick thumb into your tight asshole, spitting directly onto the clenched ring to act as a lubricant of some kind

it’s all you can do to whine as jing yuan slowly works his thumb into your ass as his swollen lips are pressed against your slick pussy, licking away at your drooly slit. he’d had you like this for about twenty minutes now, bent over on all fours as he lazily eats it from the back. he’d been relishing in your taste and pretty noises when suddenly he got got the bright idea to try and stick a finger into your neglected asshole.

he had spit on it beforehand, to try and lubricate it, so it wouldn’t sting as much, but the sensation only served to make you yelp and turn your head back around to look at him.

“j–jing yuan!” you cry out, gripping the sheets at the feeling. “wh–wha—?”

“shh, it’s okay,” he says calmly, trying to soothe your qualms. “do you trust me?” he asks, moving his head away from your cunt so he can look you in the eyes, pausing in all his actions. when you nod your head after a brief moment of hesitation, the general slowly resumes the easing of his thumb into your slightly more relaxed hole as he goes back to eating you out.

once his thumb is fully seated inside you, paired with him licking away at your drooly cunt, goosebumps cover your skin at the dual sensations, and you don’t know how to react, but your body sure does! your asshole clenches around his thick and calloused thumb while your cunt flutters around the tongue now inside it, and it’s less than a few seconds later that you’re squirting on his face with a loud cry of his name.

CAELUS

→ okay. just hear me out Again. i think, both trailblazers for this matter, but stelle will get her own part in a moment. caelus isn’t necessarily a slob..? or maybe he is i can’t particularly remember icl i’m running off less than 4? hours of sleep in the last 38hrs and four (pacific punch) monsters lol. but either way when it comes to getting to go down on you—he all but makes out with your cunt and takes his sweet, sweet time eating you out; alternating between sucking harshly on your throbbing clit to licking your gummy inner walls

→ he can 100% get off on your noises and from humping the mattress, the feeling of your thighs around his head and your hands in his thick hair… mmmh he’s big on sensations, feeling things, feeling you…. oh aeons he is pussy WHIPPED !!! if you don’t stop him, he WILL stay between your legs, happily slobbering on your pussy and sucking on your swollen clit until you physically cannot handle it anymore

→ literally will do so until he makes you squirt on his face or until you actually cannot orgasm anymore—when there’s tears streaming down your cheeks and you’re crying out his name, pulling at his hair and begging him to stop; he just can’t help himself!! how’s he meant to have any self control when you taste so fucking good? when your reactions get him so hard!! fuck’s sake!

→ nasty disgusting boy.. a little too into spit and slobber and other bodily fluids (real big on fucking you first, then going down on you and eating his cum straight from you fluttering hole…… how sick he is.. because he really does take delight in these. simply put. fuckin sick nasty acts!) he’s obsessed with your cunt and he loves even more the person attached to it — perhaps what he’s getting off on isn’t the act itself, but the fact that you were, in fact, enjoying yourself, or that he was the one making you feel like this

though somewhat quiet outside the bedroom, caelus certainly moans like a bitch as he rolls his hips into the mattress beneath him and your thighs clench around his head. currently, he was preoccupied with your—would it be fair to say drooling if he was the one physically unable to contain his own saliva? while he was the literally drooling one, your pussy was certainly soaked !! both with your own juices and a genuinely disgusting amount of his spit.

he had been busy eating you out for the better half of an hour now, after he had actually fucked you once. he kind of does reverse foreplay, really—and he’s always so gross about it that you can’t help but feel flustered about it everytime, even if you were just as into it as he was.

caelus loved to fuck you first, maybe after a little bit of fingering just to get you ready for him, and then take his sweet, sweet time going down on you, and eat his cum out of your used hole—filthy slurping style. the noises he makes are always so fucking nasty and loud that you can feel yourself blush as he shamelessly slurps away at your cunt.

“cae-lus!” you cry out his name, all but yanking at his grey locks. “pl–please— i can’t!” you try pleading with him, vision starting to grow fuzzy around the edges.

“just— just one more..?” he asks, glancing up at you from between your legs. he’s already creamed himself twice and his jaw was genuinely sore, but god fucking damn he just could never get enough of you!!!

unfortunately for you, this was his third time asking for just one more. and you didn’t know how much more you had left in you considering you were having dry orgasms at this point. it was bordering on painful, even with your hypersensitive clit in his hot mouth, there were just too many sensations going on and you were too overstimulated. you really hope he meant just one more this time…… (and thankfully, he did.)

STELLE

→ okay. now. these will be a little similar to caelus’ since they’re technically the same person, but i’ll try n add some variety

→ i think stelle is messier than caelus tbh and idek how thats possible bc he’s so…... 💀 but anyway. stelle is Sick Nasty™ and a slob and a lesbian ik i said sunday is The munch but i may have lied. that title actually belongs to stelle. because holy shit

→ if caelus is pussy whipped then she’s fucking ADDICTED. stelle will take literally Any Chance you give her to eat you out, and she won’t stop until she’s satisfied. so. make sure you have time, because she takes an upwards of 45 minutes to feast on you everytime without fail

→ though quiet by nature, stelle does get a little more vocal in the bedroom—not as loud as caelus, but enough to take notice of. especially when she was in her happy place!! (between your legs)

→ she is a stone top in search of a pillow princess what else can i say?

→ i really dont have much to say hc wise that i hadn’t alr mentioned in caelus’ so instead here’s a drabble of you sitting on her face

“st–stelle!” you gasp out, one hand gripping the headboard while the other covers your mouth in an attempt to contain your pathetic noises. you’d been sitting on her face for the past twenty minutes, and you’ve already came three times, about to be a fourth.

“mmngh,” she grunts from beneath you, grip on your thighs tightening. she couldn’t be bothered right now, not when she was busy enjoying her fucking meal!!

sucking on your clit, it doesn’t take long for the grey haired woman to force another orgasm out of you, something she’s quite pleased with. sure, her lower face was covered in your slick, but that wasn’t actually her problem—quite the opposite, really. it would become your problem whenever she decided she was done and that she wanted to make out with you so you could taste yourself in full.

“sens–sensitive!” you manage to squeak, head falling back as you openly pant, overstimulated from nothing but her mouth… just wait until she got the strap (8” btw)!

stelle hears what you say, and understands you’re trying to tell her to stop, but….. how was she meant to stop when you tasted this good? simple: she wouldn’t! because she hasn’t had her fill yet and she knows you have a few more left in you—she’s spent this long building up your tolerance and stamina, after all.

she doesn’t even bother to slow down while you cum, either! she just sucks away at your engorged clit while both her hands come up to grope your chest and play with your stiffened nipples. sucking on your tits was her second favorite thing to do to you, right behind eating you out, obviously.

her calloused fingers pinch and twist your nipples, making you moan softly as she presses her tongue flat against your cunt before inserting it into your slit, moaning into you at the taste. deciding she hadn’t had enough yet, she sets her mind on pushing you to a fifth, and maybe even sixth orgasm..! yes, that would be enough to satiate her for now.

she truly was addicted to you (it needs to be studied, actually..).

HSR m.list

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jxwl4k · 3 months ago

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Love, in a Bento Box .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x reader

⤿ Decorated bentos became their quiet way of saying I love you.

⋆˚✿˖° j speaking . . .

- the bento box is AI, I can’t find any bento box that is bakugou inspired so I have no choice but to ask AI for help😞

There was something quiet about the way love showed itself when you lived with someone. It wasn’t always grand gestures or dramatic moments it was in the small things. The kind of things you could miss if you weren’t paying attention. Like the sound of the front door unlocking at 1:23 in the morning. The weight of keys hitting the tray. The tired sigh of someone who just spent the last twelve hours saving lives and pretending they weren’t exhausted.

It was in the bento box left on the counter, wrapped neatly in cloth, waiting like a silent “welcome home.”

Bakugou Katsuki, now one of the top heroes in the country, had gotten used to the late nights, the sore muscles, and the blood under his nails. What he wasn’t used to was coming home to something warm. Something made just for him.

It started simply enough. You’d noticed how he’d barely eat after work either too tired to bother or too wired to remember. So, one night, you packed him a proper meal. Nothing fancy. Just the kind of food he liked. Spicy, heavy on the protein, balanced enough to not make him complain. You left it on the counter before going to bed.

He didn’t say anything the next morning.

But the bento box was empty.

And it kept happening every night after that.

Eventually, it became a quiet little tradition. Katsuki would come home, eat the bento you left out, and wash the box before crashing beside you in bed. You never really talked about it. He never thanked you out loud. But you didn’t need him to.

Then, one night, while you were curled up on the couch with your phone, you fell down a rabbit hole of videos—bento box artists decorating meals for their partners. Tiny sausages cut like octopuses. Rice balls shaped into cartoon faces. Little notes tucked between lettuce leaves. It was ridiculous. Cheesy. Over-the-top.

And you couldn’t stop smiling.

So you tried it.

The next bento was a bit more… playful. You shaped the rice into something that vaguely resembled his hero mask. Gave the eggs little nori eyes and blush marks. Tucked in a cherry tomato with a toothpick that said “爆ぜろ” explode.

You half-expected him to toss the whole thing out.

But the next morning, the box was, again, spotless. Not a single grain of rice left.

Still, you weren’t sure if he liked it, or if he just powered through because it was food.

So, a few days later, while he was rubbing the back of his neck and muttering about a busted mission, you asked, casually, “Hey… about the bentos. You okay with the way I’ve been decorating them?”

He froze mid-step, eyes narrowing just a little. “Why?”

“I mean, if you don’t like them, I can stop. I know they’re kind of silly.”

He scoffed. “They’re not silly.”

“…No?”

Bakugou looked away, jaw clenched like he was fighting a war inside his head. “They’re dumb,” he muttered. “But… in a good way.”

You blinked. “A good kind of dumb?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Shut up. You know what I mean. It’s like… they’re stupid cute, and they make my shitty day feel less shitty.”

You tried not to smile too wide, but he caught it anyway.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Tch.”

And that was that.

From then on, it wasn’t just tradition. It was your favorite part of the day figuring out what silly little thing you could hide in his bento next. A rice bear. A carrot shaped like a grenade. A tiny sticky note that said, “Don’t blow anything up (unless you have to). Love you.”

And even though he never said much, you knew he liked it. Sometimes he’d leave the note on the fridge. Other times, you’d catch him smiling barely, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth while watching you fuss over the presentation.

Love was loud when he was fighting villains, screaming orders, protecting strangers.

But at home, it was quiet.

It was bento boxes and rice bears.

And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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anashins · 4 months ago

Note

Can u write a enemies to fuckers Jaehyun smutty smut? 🤭

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: The smut is rougher and there is cheating involved

Word Count: 2,2k

Summary: In university, Jaehyun and you did everything to sabotage each other after a turbulent on-and-off relationship. Six years later, you meet again at your friends' wedding and need to decide whether to make amends or play this game all over again.

A/N: Hiii! This is inspired by "Tell Me Lies" and both are just very toxic. I enjoyed writing this very much though!! :)

“What is he doing here?”

“I’m sorry, I should have told you…”

It has been six years since you had last seen Jaehyun, and your university friends’ wedding was the very last setting you had wanted to meet him in again. If anything, you had hoped to never see Jeong Jaehyun again in your life.

Hadn’t you…?

“I just thought,” your friend, the bride, continued, “after all these years, you could be a little… friendlier with each other. After all, he’s still my husband’s best friend. Be honest, would you have come if you knew?”

No, you wouldn’t have. But you decided to let it slip since it was her special day and took your friend’s hand into yours. “You know I would do anything to support you today.”

Anything… just not this, you ended the sentence in your head, but stayed silent.

She knew, though. And just like you, she let it slip.

Of course, nobody could understand what you had to endure under Jaehyun’s temper during your time in university. In your first week, you had already hooked up and eventually dated for two months. Everything after that was a blur of an on-and-off whirlwind that was dominated by a lot of screaming, crying and cheating.

And eventually, you had failed your finals because of Jaehyun’s sabotaging actions for getting a little too flirty with the tutor. Shortly after that, he had enlisted and you had never heard from him again.

Except for the times you had looked him up on social media, and lately, more than ever before, possibly, because you had hoped that this scenario would take place after all.

… that you would meet him exactly here again.

Your friend went on to greet the other guests that were entering the venue, and you suddenly didn’t know what to do, the half full champagne glass nearly shaking in your hands. You sensed his presence with a bit of distance right behind you, sensed his gaze on your back.

Taking a deep breather in, you slowly turned around.

You have grown ever since. You were better than the person you had been in your early twenties, stumbling all over someone’s feelings and getting yourself belittled at the same time. You were mature and not even comparable to the almost-teenager from back then anymore.

You hoped Jaehyun was too.

“Hello,” he said with the familiar, low voice that made your heart jump a beat again. “Long time no see.”

Jaehyun in a suit and with slicked back hair has always been your weakness.

You were damned.

____

You bit into Jaehyun’s hand, hard.

But the only sound he let out was a low growl of endured pain before he shoved his palm harder against your mouth to make you stop moaning so loudly. The back of your head hit the wall in the process and a sting of pain crossed that area, but you didn’t pay much attention to it.

“Yes, you sound pretty hot when you shut up,” he murmured into your ear.

Jaehyun’s eyes then narrowed, but the look inside them was unwavering when he lowered his head and kissed the side of your neck, not afraid to use his teeth while doing so. The way they grazed over your sensitive skin was aggressive and tender at the same time. It didn’t make sense. Nothing with him ever did.

No one knew you two had secretly sneaked into one of the rooms at the wedding residency only half an hour after you had met again. How had it gone from a simple “Hello, long time no see” to “Moan again and I will shove something into your mouth to make you stop”?

You didn’t know. But Jaehyun pushing his fingers deep inside between your legs right now made you forget his threat. Instead of moaning this time though, you swallowed down every noise. You, too, didn’t want to risk everyone getting wind of the way you had folded in his arms. Again.

After all the vile things you had done to each other, hooking up again should not be on your list. But after all these vile things too, what had never changed was your nearly unbearable attraction to each other. And in the span of six years, a lot of pent up desire had to be let out.

Jaehyun tugged your panties aside so that his fingers had better access to their target area, causing your knees to weaken in the process. Your underwear was completely soaked, the dress you had carefully picked out for this special occasion was probably not in a much better shape. But at this moment, that was one of your least concerns.

You had your arms wrapped around Jaehyun’s neck, holding onto him as you tried to hook one thigh around his waist. He adapted to your change and you sank your teeth into his shoulder which you had freed of his shirt shortly before. Still knowing your angles and preferences, he put one arm under your leg and let you grind into his groin.

“The moment I saw you in this dress, I thought I had never encountered a more beautiful woman,” Jaehyun then said before he retreated his frenched fingers and slowly placed your leg back on the floor. “But I also thought that I needed to get rid of that dress as soon as possible.”

Bringing your face then close to his, he cupped your cheeks as you looked at him through half-lidded eyes, lips partially open as they had gotten so dry from all the quiet moaning. Jaehyun kissed you with a wicked grin, his fingers on your back finding its way to the zipper of your dress in an instant.

It hadn’t taken him long to have you sprawled out on the bed right in front of him. Your dress was hanging loosely around your waist with your upper body being entirely exposed, yet the fabric of the skirt blocked you from seeing what Jaehyun was actually doing right now, head deep between your thighs.

But what you knew from the feeling of his tongue draping over your sensitive folds, licking and sucking like all the times he had done in university quietly underneath the sheets, he made you come undone in this guestroom, legs kicking around so that he had to hold you in place with his hands grabbing onto your bum. Not only once, but twice.

Your muscles still shook when Jaehyun arose, wiping the back of his hand over his glistening lips, then letting his tongue collect the remnants of your juices from his face. Chest heaving up and down irregularly, you were trying your best to come down from your heights while Jaehyun was kneeling in front of you and ripped the condom open with his teeth.

You didn’t question the fact that he had been carrying it around in his suit all this time. Perhaps, you also didn’t want to know his intention from the very beginning, or with whom, as you were aware he was single right as of now.

Jaehyun helped you take off the dress fully before he put on the condom and settled on top of you. For the first time that day, you saw… what? Only fondness mirrored in his eyes? And only that, nothing more? As if that was possible. You loathed each other, still.

“How dare you look at me that way,” you whispered and stretched out your hand to touch his cheek. “After all the vile things we’ve done to each other.”

Jaehyun nestled into your palm, then took your hand and kissed your fingers. “Don’t let me being nice get into your head. It’s a one time thing.”

A corner of your lip tilted up to a wicked smile. “For sure. Because I will never forget you sabotaging my finals.”

“And I will never forget you sabotaging my relationship.” Jaehyun then shifted your fingers with one swift motion and pinned your hand against the mattress, holding you tightly by your wrists now. “But now I will make you forget your fiancé even exists.”

Your fiancé…

… never took you like Jaehyun used to. And sometimes you had wished he would, because no one you had shared a bed with after encountering him had even come close to what Jaehyun was capable of.

As before, he started off on top, slow and sensual, and his strokes deep and intimate. You could feel every inch of his body, your legs hooked around his waist and your arms folded behind his neck. His moans filled your ear and you got off on it, imitating his noises. It was your favorite position with him, because only then you thought you were really close, one unity. And sometimes, when he kissed you, it felt like you were being transported back to that fateful night many years ago.

Jaehyun didn’t make you cum again in the first position, but when you were on all fours with your back turned to him, you had a hard time keeping your body steady as he somehow hit all the right spots from this angle, his hands on your glutes determining the pace. Slapping sounds nearly louder than your suppressed moans filled the room, but at that point, you didn’t really care at all.

“Jae-hyun, plea-se…” you begged when you had already collapsed onto the mattress, only your bottom remaining in that position with Jaehyun’s help who was unwavering with his strokes, hitting you from the back over and over again. “I- want to-”

“Your opinion doesn’t matter,” he interrupted you. “Tell me that only I can make you cum like that and beg again.”

It was one of his favorite mind games, to twist and turn your words to his liking. But when he finally got an “Only you can make me cum like this, please let me cum” out of your mouth, you were gripping the sheets underneath you and screamed into the fabric until your lips were dry and your legs spasmed.

Not much later, you were sitting on Jaehyun’s lap, his length sheathed deep inside you with his arms slowly running up and down your sweaty back, chest to chest. You kissed his ear, then the side of his neck, then his shoulder where you had left an impressive bite mark. This time, it was Jaehyun who was trembling beneath and inside you, eyes closed to chase after his own release.

You hopped up and down his cock while holding onto his shoulders, the wetness making it hard for you to keep him inside sometimes as you knew he only got off the faster you went, so whenever he accidentally slipped out, Jaehyun got a well deserved breather that he used to kiss you - a little too long, a little too intimate.

He still came very fast into the condom, and you both collapsed onto the bed. Jaehyun had never been much of a cuddler, and you, despite always having been the opposite, had adjusted to his style.

But somehow, after this encounter, he was holding you in his arms and his fingers stroked your cheek - a little too long, a little too comfortable. Your head was lying on his chest, and you were able to listen to his heartbeat. It was a little too loud and beat a little too out of rhythm.

“I’m sorry I sabotaged your finals back then,” Jaehyun then confessed.

“I’m sorry I sabotaged your relationship.” You snickered. “There are probably a lot of things we should be sorry for.”

“I know. But for right right now, this is enough, isn’t it?”

“Mhhm.”

And quietly, holding each other, you made up after years of vengeance and grudges.

Just like that.

___

Sometime later, you got ready in the adjacent bathroom while Jaehyun got dressed outside.

You slipped back into your dress and smoothed the creases. There were a few stains that you sprinkled with water to clean a bit and just hoped that nobody would spot them. Your hair though… maybe you could ask the bride’s hairdresser to readjust your chosen style and put the blame on too tight bobby pins you needed to get rid of.

You took a deep breath in and opened the door in hopes you would find Jaehyun outside, ready to make up some kind of story for you and talk about who would leave first. But when you exited the bathroom, the room was empty…

… safe from your fiancé standing next to the messy bed, the remains of your contraception on the floor next to it.

You went pale.

“I got a message from your phone a few minutes ago to come here as fast as possible,” he stated dryly. “But I guess it was not sent by you.”

You had always been a creature of habit, same passwords and code combinations everywhere… for many years already. And Jaehyun knew.

“Damn you, Jeong Jaehyun.”

Two could play this game, even six years later.

You had not changed at all.

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x you #nct x reader #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios

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leo-in-the-pitt · 1 month ago

Text

Turning Point

This is Chapter 5 of the Beginning to End series !

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Wife!Reader

Summary: You and Jack are newlyweds who also just so happen to be expecting your first baby. These next 9 months will be the best and worst of your life whether you realize it or not.

Warnings: Established relationship, implied age gap, strong language, some fluff but also porn with plot, unprotected PIV, fingering, oral (both m and f receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, pregnancy, birth trauma

WC: 12.7k

First Night Back

Fortunately for you and Jack, Robby was able to get you a full week off before coming back to work after the wedding. The week was filled with you two sitting on the couch next to each other creating a registry for not only the baby but, for things to fill your home with eventually.

“You ready to go back tonight?”

“I wish I could stay home with you all the time but, yeah, I’m ready.”

The buzz of the ER returned like muscle memory.

You and Jack stood side by side in the locker room. His hair was still damp from the quick shower he'd taken before you left the house. You could smell his shampoo in it.

“Ready for the honeymoon shift?” Jack said, his voice dry but warm.

You snorted. “Nothing says romance like traumas and code blues.”

He leaned over and kissed your temple. “At least you’re here to make it tolerable.”

You walked out together, and the noise hit instantly—monitors beeping, a patient yelling from triage, an EMT calling out vitals mid-roll-in. It should’ve felt overwhelming. Instead, it felt weirdly familiar.

“Well, well, well look who’s back.” Robby said from across the ER.

Dana held her arms out. “We’ve got a full board just for you two. Pedestrian versus car in Trauma 1. Sepsis in 3. Psych eval holding in 5 and refusing meds. And,” she added with a smirk, “some kid in curtain 8 swallowed a Lego.”

“So glad to be back here,” you muttered, walking away to find your first case back.

You and Jack split off instinctively, no need to even speak. You caught him glancing at you as he passed. A flicker of we’re okay. We’re doing this.

The night was filled with case after case, barely any time to talk to each other. Mostly just him asking if you were okay in passing. But you always made time to catch each other eyes from across the ER.

There was a lull around 2am when Jack came to find you. He looked over at you, and his expression softened. “You sure you’re okay?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked tonight. Or this week.

You sighed. “I’m pregnant, not broken. I’m fine.”

“Just making sure.”

You leaned your hip against the desk, pretending you didn’t notice the subtle way Jack’s eyes scanned you from head to toe—evaluating.

“Jack.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender but said, “I’m allowed to care.”

You softened. He wasn’t wrong. It was part love, part habit. The way you’d both learned to read each other in triage, in chaos, in the stillness between codes. Except now the stakes were higher.

6:50 a.m. — Change of Shift

You were charting the last of your overnight notes when you heard them before you saw them.

Dana, breezing through the doors with a coffee in one hand and her ID badge already clipped on crooked. Robby beside her, muttering something. And Langdon, as always, trailing behind them.

“Look at you,” Dana said the moment she spotted you, dragging her chair backward across the floor to sit right beside you. “Pregnant and still functioning. Honestly, it’s inspiring. Or maybe terrifying.”

You didn’t look up. “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had a nap and a bagel.”

“Fair,” Robby said, dropping his bag on the counter. “But before we begin, serious question: Are you going to have your baby in this hospital?”

“Well, our OB is upstairs so don’t think we have too much on a choice. But no, you guys are not allowed in the room. You can all wait in the waiting room.”

Groans came from all of them before Dana and Robby walked away. Landon staying behind.

Langdon leaned against the counter, his eyes narrowing at your charting speed. “You’ve been up all night?”

“Sure have,” you said, popping the final signature on your trauma note.

“You should be home. Resting.”

Jack, walking past, paused just long enough to throw in, “She also threw a pen across the unit when her monitor froze, so…thriving.”

You shot him a glare, but your lips twitched. “It didn’t hit anyone.”

Langdon grunted. “I’ve seen less motivated attendings take two weeks off for a cold. And you’re still here?”

You shrugged. “Only sixteen weeks, not sixty. I can still do my job.”

“You look like something’s bothering you kid. You fuck up on your first night back already?”

“I’m offended that you would even think that but, no. Its about me and Jack.”

“It’s about your sex life isn’t it?”

“That obvious?”

“Somehow these conversations always turn into a sex talk regardless of how hard I try to say away from it and anyway you guys are married now and you’re carrying his child so even if I don’t want to think about it, obviously you guys are having sex.” Langdon blinked once. “So go on.”

You exhaled, feeling immediately ridiculous but too far in to stop. “It’s just- we’ve been weird lately. Hesitant. Ever since I started showing. I mean of course we had sex on our wedding night and one other time last week but, it felt off in a way.”

Langdon nodded, letting you keep going.

“He’s being careful. Like, overly careful. Gentle in a way that makes me feel like I might shatter. And I know it’s coming from a good place. I just- I miss feeling like myself. Like us. There’s this invisible line we keep dancing around, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s scared of hurting me. Or the baby. Or both.”

Langdon leaned back in his chair. “Definitely both.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen it before, felt it before actually,” Langdon said. “New father, already in love with a kid he hasn’t met yet, suddenly sees his wife as precious cargo instead of a woman with her own needs and desires.”

“So what, I’m just a vessel now for this baby?”

“No,” he said, firmly. “You’re still you. But he’s navigating something new. He’s terrified. And you’ve always been the strong one, so his instinct is to protect what he doesn’t understand.”

You were quiet for a moment. “And how do I deal with that?”

“Talk to him,” Langdon said simply. “Tell him you’re not made of glass. That being close, being touched, being wanted—it still matters. Pregnancy doesn’t erase who you are in the relationship. It just shifts the balance. He needs permission to stop treating you like you’re breakable.”

You nodded slowly. “And if he still hesitates?”

Langdon gave you a look. “Then you remind him who the hell you are.”

You laughed, tension breaking just a bit. “You’re not the worst at this, you know.”

Langdon reached for his coffee. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation.”

“Mel is really lucky to have you.”

He smiled gently. “Not as lucky as I am to have her.”

You stood. “Thank you.”

He looked up. “For what it’s worth, you two are solid. You’ll figure it out.”

You nodded again, already composing the conversation in your head. It wasn’t just about sex. It was about closeness. About not letting this new chapter turn into distance.

You grabbed your bag and stood slowly, a hand reflexively brushing your belly.

Jack appeared behind you, looping his fingers through yours. “Ready for our appointment?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Oh my god. I forgot about that.”

“That’s what you have me for.” He kissed your cheek.

As you walked out together, the ER faded behind you. There was no need to sneak out the back door to go upstairs to your OB. Basically the whole hospital knew you and Jack were expecting. News spread like wildfire once you told Dana, Mel, Robby and Langdon that they were allowed to tell whoever they wanted.

———————————————————————

16 Weeks - OB Appointment

The waiting room was quiet, bathed in that too-soft, too-warm light that always made you feel like you might accidentally fall asleep sitting up.

You were still in your scrubs, badge clipped to your collar, shoes a little scuffed from twelve hours of trauma and chaos.

Jack sat beside you, one leg bouncing restlessly.

He nudged your knee. “You good?”

You nodded. “Just tired.”

“Want me to be quiet?”

You glanced at him. “You’re never quiet.”

Jack smirked but didn’t argue.

The nurse called your name, and you both stood. Jack’s hand instinctively found your back as you followed her down the hall. She didn’t comment on the way your steps slowed, or the way your eyes flicked toward the ultrasound machine.

“Hop up here,” she said gently. “The doctor will be in soon. We’ll take a listen first.”

You lay back, pulling up your scrub top just enough to expose the curve of your belly. The nurse squirted cold gel onto your skin and pressed the doppler into place.

It took a moment—one long, aching second—before you heard it, the whoosh-thump-whoosh-thump of a tiny, relentless heart.

Jack let out a breath you didn’t realize he’d been holding. His hand found yours without needing to look.

“Strong,” the nurse said, smiling. “Mid-150s. Baby’s happy to be in there.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden sting in your eyes. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Or maybe it was the way Jack was staring at the monitor like it held every answer to every question you hadn’t asked.

Then the doctor came in. “Vitals are great, weight is on track, and baby is measuring right on schedule. Any new symptoms?”

You hesitated. “Some weird pulling when I twist or stretch. Sleeping’s harder.”

“That’s normal—your uterus is growing, everything's are adjusting. Stay hydrated, rest when you can, and if it gets sharp or constant, page me.”

You cleared your throat. “Can I ask something?”

Jack looked at you sharply.

The doctor nodded. “Of course.”

You didn’t look at Jack. “Is it safe, you know to- to keep being intimate?”

He almost choked letting out a cough.

“Absolutely. Unless your having complications—which you’re not—sex is totally safe. The baby’s protected by the uterus and amniotic fluid. It’s normal for things to feel different, emotionally or physically, but there’s no medical reason to stop unless either of you wants to.”

He stared at the ceiling, cheeks burning. Jack’s hand tightened around yours again.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

The doctor smiled at you both. “Just listen to each other. This is new territory, but you’re a team. You’ll figure it out.”

When he stepped out, the room was quiet again, save for the faint echo of that tiny heartbeat still ringing in your ears.

He turned his head toward you. “Didn’t see that coming”

You shrugged, sheepish. “I wanted to hear it from someone that’s an expert in this field.”

He laughed. “I needed to hear it too.”

Later That Night — At Home

The house was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of a lamp in the living room and the blue flicker of the TV.

You came out of the bathroom in one of Jack’s old t-shirts and boxers, towel-drying your hair. He was on the couch, legs stretched out, wearing sweats and a t-shirt with the look of a man who hadn’t stopped thinking since that OB appointment.

You sat beside him, letting your weight lean into his. He immediately curled an arm around your shoulder.

Neither of you spoke for a while. You just breathed, syncing up with him again.

Eventually, you murmured, “You were really quiet after I asked the doctor that question.”

Jack nodded. “Was just taking it all in I guess.”

You tilted your head toward him. “You’ve been scared around me. I guess I just thought our first week of together after the wedding would be us having sex everywhere and anywhere.”

“Yeah.” His voice was raw honesty. “You’ve been pushing through like nothing’s changed. But everything has. And I don’t want to be the reason something goes wrong.”

You touched his chest, over his heart. “Don’t be fragile with me here.”

Jack looked at you then, fully, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your face.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “And I didn’t know how to get back without hurting you.”

You took his hand and brought it to your belly. “We’re right here. Still me. Still us.”

He leaned in, forehead pressing to yours, like he’d been waiting all day to just be this close.

“We can go at whatever pace you want.”

“Jack, I’m growing a child, there’s are so many hormones flowing through my veins and these hormones are telling me that you need to have sex with me as much as you possibly can.”

“Tell me if something’s too much,” he said softly. “If anything feels wrong. I just- I want you to feel good. Wanted. Safe.”

You smiled. “I already do.”

The kiss started soft but, deepened quickly. Not rushed. Just full of need that had gone unsaid for too long.

His hands found your hips like he remembered them. You pulled him closer, needing that weight, that warmth, that certainty that came only from this—from him.

You climbed on top of him without hesitation. Your legs wrapped around him, his thumbs rubbed small, knowing circles just above your waistband. His tongue finding your mouth, swirling around yours. You lifted yourself around him, resting your bodyweight onto his lap.

He let out a soft groan. You adjusted yourself and felt his excitement growing underneath you.

His hands now inside your shirt around your waist. You reached down to the hem of his sweatpants. He adjusted himself off the couch slightly, just barely giving you enough space to slide your hand into his boxers.

“Ah fuck.”

You wrapped your hand around his already solid cock, your thumb rubbing past his tip, already slick with precum.

“Excited already…daddy?” You whispered, lips curling into a smirk.

He let out a breathy laugh, but there was a softness in it—like this moment meant something more than just release. “Why don’t you keep going and I’ll let you know.”

His hands left your hips and went above his head as you put your hand onto his chest. You other hand began to pump up and down on him. Firm enough to make him squirm underneath you.

He was breathing hard and fast. His eyes closed with his head up to the ceiling. You could feel the veins on his cock pulsating in the grasp of you hand.

His hands left your hips and rested above his head, giving you control. You placed your free hand on his chest, steadying yourself as your grip on him tightened. You began to stroke—slow, firm, deliberate.

He was breathing harder now. His jaw clenched, eyes shut tight, chest rising and falling in quick succession. You could feel him throbbing in your hand, every pulse syncing with his shaky breaths.

You leaned in, your lips grazing his ear. “Cum for me, Daddy.”

“Fu—fuck, babygirl.” His body tensed beneath you, arching as his orgasm hit. You felt him spill over your hand—hot, sticky, desperate.

You stroked him through it, coaxing every last drop out of him. And when you were done, your hand slid out and came to your mouth, licking him off your fingers one by one, eyes locked on his.

“That’s my good girl,” he breathed, brushing your hair back, his hands settling around your neck. “Clean up the mess you made.”

“Love how you taste in my mouth.” You grinned, collapsing beside him on the couch.

He put his hand on your thigh, stopping you from going any further. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Thought you needed a second before we do anything else.”

He nodded his head upwards. “Fuck that, get on top of me right now babygirl.”

He lifted up his hips up, pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles before sitting back down on the couch.

You stood up off the couch, putting yourself directly in front of him. “Take them off.”

You lowered his boxers on you, red lace panties underneath.

“Those too.” His eyes were dark, voice deep.

Panties hit the floor with you stepping out of them. His shirt the only piece of clothing still on your body, barely covering your lower half.

“Come up here.” He tapped his thighs with both hands.

You straddled him again, knees pressed into the cushions on either side of his legs. His hands gripped your waist under the shirt, tugging you closer. You framed his face with your hands and kissed him—hungry, messy, needing more.

He was hard again by the time your hips shifted just enough.

He grabbed himself with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance. He slid inside you in one long, perfect motion.

Your breath caught.

He filled you. Completely.

He pulled your body closer, lips crashing together.

You rested for a moment, letting yourself adjust to his size inside of you. His hands moved to your lower back, holding you there, grounding both of you in the moment.

“God, baby,” he whispered against your collarbone. “You feel so fucking good.”

You breathed out shakily, forehead resting against his. “I needed this.”

“I know.” His thumbs followed the curve of your hips. “Me too.”

You rolled your hips—slow at first, savoring the way his breath caught, the way his eyes fluttered closed. The drag of him inside you was almost too much, but somehow not enough.

Your bodies moved together, falling into rhythm like muscle memory.

“Look at me,” he said, voice rough and quiet.

And you listened.

He cupped your face with one hand, the other gripping your hip to guide your pace. There was nothing rushed about him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured. “Carrying our baby. Still wanting me to fuck you.”

Your heart swelled, throat tightening. You bit your bottom lip as you rocked against him harder, chasing that edge—but not just for the release.

His hands slipped up your back, under your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. His mouth found your chest, trailing kisses across your breasts, slow and open-mouthed, worshipful. You threaded your fingers through his silver curls, gasping when he sucked gently at your nipple.

“Jack—” His name broke in your throat.

“I’ve got you,” he said, kissing you again. “Let it go.”

You ground down harder, your body tightening, the heat building deep and fast now. He matched you thrust for thrust, his hips lifting up off the couch.

“Cum for me,” he growled into your neck. “Let me feel you fall apart while I’m inside of you.”

Your climax hit fast and hard—hips bucking, breath caught, muscles clenching around him. You cried out his name as waves rolled through you, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He wasn’t far behind. His grip on you tightened, and with a low, groan, he spilled into you, pulling you down to him, chest to chest, heart to heart.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just held each other. Just breathed.

You rested your head against his, bodies slick and tangled and trembling.

“Fuck I missed this,” you whispered. “I missed us.”

Jack kissed your forehead, lips lingering. “We’re still us. Just more now.” He looked down at your stomach.

You smiled into his skin. “Yeah. More.”

His hands settled over your belly, still resting inside you.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you, too.” You kissed him again—slow, deep, and full of all the things you couldn’t say out loud.

———————————————————————

18 Weeks

“So, been meaning to ask you, you guys doing any better now?”

“Oh, Lang, trust me you don’t wanna know how much better we’re doing.”

“Yeah, I really, really could’ve gone my whole life without seeing the look of your face right now.”

“Whatever, guess your advice worked.”

He lifted his coffee cup up in a salute. “My advice always works. Anyway aren’t you guys supposed to go look at a house later?”

Langdon perked up. “House hunting again? I thought you guys were getting burned out.”

“We are. We’ve looked at, like, fifteen places and nothing feels right. So I’m not getting my hopes up.”

He shrugged, easy and steady. “You’ll find it. That ‘oh, this is ours’ feeling. It shows up when you least expect it.”

You gave a half-smile. “You get surprisingly sentimental when you’re over caffeinated.”

He grinned. “Kid, I get sentimental when I care. And you two? You’re the real deal. Don’t settle for a house that doesn’t feel like it knows your names already.”

After Shift

The sun was at its highest point when you pulled up in front of the house.

Jack was already waiting on the sidewalk, hands in his coat pockets, rocking on his heels. He gave a small wave when he saw you.

“This the one?” you asked as you stepped out, eyeing the house.

“Apparently,” he said, looking up at the place like it was a riddle he couldn’t quite solve. “Our agent said it just came back on the market this week.“

The exterior was older—white paint a little faded, porch railing crooked. But the windows were big, the trees in the yard were bare, leaves on the ground, and there was a creak in the front step that made you smile for no reason.

The agent greeted you at the door and waved you in with a soft “Take your time. Take it all in.”

You stepped inside—and something shifted.

It wasn’t flashy. The floors were original hardwood, scuffed in all the places that said someone lived here for a long time.The kitchen was dated, but the sunlight poured in like the house knew how to catch it.

Jack walked a few paces ahead of you, quiet. Not cautious—just thoughtful.

You followed him through the living room, past a fireplace that would need work, and into a small room tucked in the back.

You looked around—window facing the yard, soft echo from your footsteps on the floor. Small. Safe.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked over to the window and looked out into the overgrown backyard.

“I can see us here,” he said, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You stood next to him, shoulder against his. “Even with the popcorn ceilings?”

He smiled. “Especially with the popcorn ceilings. Definitely getting rid of those though.”

Jack followed close behind as you climbed the creaky stairs, your hand grazing the banister that could definitely use refinishing.

At the top, the hallway narrowed. Three doors, slightly ajar.

You pushed open the first one. Small. Bright. The window faced east—you could already imagine morning light filling the crib, soft blankets folded over the chair you’d place in the corner.

Jack stepped beside you. “Definitely the nursery,” he said softly.

You moved to the second room. Bigger. The shape of a bed against the wall, dresser under the window, maybe a little chaos in the corners—Jack’s shoes, your half-read books.

“Our room,” you said.

He nodded, and then nudged the third door open with his foot. The last room.

Neither of you spoke as you stepped in. It was almost identical to the nursery—same creaky floorboard near the closet, same slanted ceiling that gave the space a little character. But this time, when you looked at it, you saw something different.

A twin bed. Toys on the floor. A sleepy toddler dragging a blanket behind them on a Sunday morning.

Jack moved behind you, his hands slipping onto your belly from behind, chin resting gently on your shoulder.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked quietly.

“I might be.”

“A second one?”

You turned your head toward him, half-smiling. “Too soon?”

Jack grinned. “Little bit. But not really.”

The baby kicked again—like he was chiming in.

You laughed. “You hear that? Your brother’s already opinionated.”

Jack kissed your shoulder, his voice warm against your skin. “Guess we’ll keep the extra room ready. Just in case.”

You both stood there a moment longer, wrapped in silence and the distant sounds of the old house settling around you.

———————————————————————

20 Weeks

Your next OB appointment. You didn’t remember this one either. Not that you needed to. Jack kept track of everything—dates, vitamins, test results. He was your living, breathing calendar.

This appointment you wanted go over your birth plan.

“Of course. Let’s talk about what’s important to you. Any specific preferences? Vaginal delivery? Epidural? Who you want in the room?”

You looked at Jack first. He gave you the tiniest nod, that quiet go-ahead he always gave when the decision was yours, and he’d back you no matter what.

“I’d like to try for a vaginal delivery,” you said. “And I want an epidural, if I don’t need to feel all the pain, I don’t want to.”

The doctor made a note of it. “Totally fair. Birth doesn’t always go according to plan, but we’ll make sure you feel supported every step of the way.”

“And I’ll be there,” Jack added, like it wasn’t even a question. His voice was steady, but there was something in the way he said it. You reached for his hand without thinking, and he took yours immediately.

The OB smiled again. “Husband in the room. Got it. Anyone else?”

“No, just him. No matter how much anybody else wants to come in, I need them to stay in the waiting room, unless they need to drag jack out of the room for freaking out too much.”

“Which is a very real possibility.”

“Got it. Any thoughts on interventions? Vacuum, forceps, C-section if needed?”

You hesitated. That part scared you more than you liked to admit. But Jack squeezed your hand before you could answer.

“I’d like to avoid a C-section unless absolutely necessary,” you said. “Same with everything else, if possible of course. But do whatever you have to.”

“Completely reasonable. We’ll aim for low intervention, high support. I’ll note that flexibility is key. How long are you planning on staying at work?”

“As long as I can.”

You didn’t need to look at Jack to know that he was shaking his head.

“All up to you. If you want a note that you need to stop working let me know. It’s yours whenever you need.”

You exhaled slowly. It felt like you were drawing the map for a trip you couldn’t see yet but, at least now, the path had a shape.

The rest of the night was spent relaxing before your next shift. Going over your plan with Jack again. And getting some much needed sleep before work.

That night, between cases and chaos, you caught him just as he was sitting down to chart.

“Hey, um—can I talk to you really quick?”

His head snapped toward you, brows pulling in. “Yeah. What happened?” His hand went straight to your belly.

You placed your hand gently over his. “The baby’s fine. Perfect, actually. I just...need to show you something.”

You held out your hand, fingers beckoning. Jack narrowed his eyes, voice softening. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

You smirked. “Don’t worry about it.”

You tugged him into the empty on call room, backing up until your spine met the wall.

His eyes darted around the space. “What are we doing in here?”

“Everything,” you whispered, grabbing the front of his scrubs and pulling him in close. “I need you right now, Jack.”

He hesitated only a beat, eyes going toward the door. Then he sighed, low and hungry.

“Well, if we’re doing this here...” His hand slipped away from your waist. “At least let me lock the god damn door first.”

The soft click of the lock was the only warning before you reached for your waistband, untying your scrub pants. Your top hiked up slightly, revealing the curve of your belly.

Jack’s eyes darkened as his hand found your stomach.

“God, you look so fucking good,” he murmured, voice rough. “Carrying my baby. Still this desperate for me to be inside of you.”

His hand moved lower, cupping you over your panties. “Fuck. You’re soaked already.”

“All for you,” you whispered.

His thumb pressed through the fabric, slow and deliberate.

“Ja-Jack,” you gasped, shifting your hips into his hand. “Please. I need your fingers inside me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He slid your panties aside, two fingers running along your folds—slow, teasing strokes that sent electricity racing through your core. He dipped just enough to coat his fingers in you, but not enough to satisfy.

Then, finally, he pushed inside.

You bit down on your lip, head falling back against the wall.

His other hand came up fast, covering your mouth.

“Shhh,” he whispered in your ear. “Quiet, babygirl. Don’t want anyone knowing how fucking filthy you get for me.”

Your hands searched behind you, gripping for anything to brace yourself. The angle. The pressure. The thickness of his fingers curling just right.

Moans broke from your throat, muffled against his palm.

He moved faster, deeper. Fingers fucking you with practiced precision while his thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit.

Your body started to quake.

“Look at you,” he growled. “Falling apart on my fingers. My perfect girl. My perfect mommy.”

Your eyes rolled back as the orgasm slammed into you—white-hot, unexpected, unstoppable.

You shook against him, clinging to his arm as your legs threatened to give out.

Jack held you upright, never letting go, fingers slowly easing out as he kissed your temple.

Still breathless, you whispered against his shoulder, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not a chance. You’re carrying my whole world in there.”

Jack pulled his fingers from you slowly, like he hated to let go.

You were still trembling, thighs pressed together, leaning against him for balance as he gently fixed your panties back into place.

“Fuck,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your temple. “You okay?”

You nodded, eyes glassy, breath still uneven. “Yeah, yeah Just don’t think I can walk back out there yet.”

He chuckled, low and quiet. “You’re gonna have to. I’m not carrying you back to the nurse’s station with your legs like jelly and my cum on your thighs.”

You smacked his chest, trying not to laugh.

A sound. The unmistakable knock on the door.

Both of you froze.

Then came a voice—muffled but unmistakable.

“Hey, Abbott you in there? We got a GSW coming in 5!”

Dana.

Jack’s eyes went wide. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle the nervous laugh bubbling up.

He mouthed fuck and motioned silently for you to stay put while he moved toward the door.

“Yeah, one second” he called, voice a little too casual.

In one smooth motion, he straightened his scrubs, cleared his throat, unlocked the door—and stepped out.

“Sorry,” he said to Dana, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s go?”

Dana blinked at him, skeptical. “You’re sweating. You okay?”

Jack smiled. “Yeah just- just wanted to grab a quick nap. You know how these rooms get, pretty stuffy in there.”

You could hear the forced calm in his voice, and it made your cheeks burn.

Dana glanced past him, trying to peer into the room. “You in there alone?”

Jack blocked the door slightly with his body. “Yup. Just me.”

A beat passed. Then she raised an eyebrow.

“You seen your wife?” Dana asked. “She just kinda disappeared. Gonna need her for this one too.”

“Bathroom, I think,” he said smoothly. “You know, gotta pee all the time when you’re pregnant.”

Dana made a face. “Ugh. Say no more.”

Jack waited until she turned down the hallway before he exhaled and slipped back into the room, shutting the door behind him again—quietly this time.

You were still against the wall, lips parted in disbelief. “Did we seriously just almost get caught by Dana?”

He grinned. “We absolutely got caught by Dana.”

You stared at him, then burst out laughing—quiet and breathless and wild.

“I can’t believe you just lied to her face like that.”

Jack leaned in, hands braced on either side of your head. “I’d do a hell of a lot more than lie to protect this.” His voice dropped low.

Your laughter faded into something softer. More vulnerable. You reached up and brushed a thumb along his jaw.

“Next time,” you whispered, “we pick a room that doesn’t echo.”

He kissed you, slow and lingering.

“I’m already looking forward to next time.”

“Oh, you’ll get a next time. I’ll make sure of it.”

———————————————————————

22 Weeks

Just four weeks after looking at the house, you two were moving in. Everyone had been helping. Everyone.

People constantly at the apartment helping you pack things into boxes. Robby and Langdon going to the store with Jack to pick up all the furniture you wanting for the house. Dana, Collins, and Mel helping you find the perfect decor.

And now here you stood in the middle of your new living room, surrounded by cardboard boxes and the faint smell of old wood and fresh paint.

Jack was upstairs, wrestling a dresser up the narrow hallway, swearing under his breath in the gentlest way possible. You could hear the dull thud of a drawer sliding out, followed by the scrape of furniture against the banister.

Your hand rested on your belly. Twenty-two weeks. So close, yet so far.

You turned slowly in a circle, trying to decide which box to open first. The one labeled KITCHEN – FRAGILE stared back at you like a challenge. You ignored it and went for the one marked BOOKS – LIVING ROOM.

Jack thumped down the stairs a minute later, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Okay,” he said, out of breath. “I don’t care what the listing said, that hallway is not ‘spacious.’”

You grinned. “You got it up there, though?”

“Barely. I think it’s staying with the house when we die.”

You sat on the arm of the couch, letting the stretch in your lower back ease out. “I was going to start on the books.”

Jack glanced at the box. “Start with the ones we never read but pretend we did. Those can go on the living room shelves.”

He crossed the room to you and crouched down, one hand brushing against your knee, the other settling on your belly. “How’s he doing?”

You shrugged. “Chattier than usual. I think he likes the noise.”

“Or he’s already judging our furniture arrangement.”

You looked around. The couch was at an awkward angle, the coffee table hadn’t made it in yet, and you still hadn’t decided if the painting from your old apartment belonged anywhere in this new place.

It was chaos, but it was yours.

Jack leaned his head against your leg. “We’re really doing this,” he said, quieter now. “This whole thing. House. Baby. All of it.”

You ran your fingers through his silver hair. “We are.”

You felt home.

——————————————————

24 Weeks

Your belly had rounded out more noticeably now. Jack couldn’t keep his hands—or his eyes—off of. Even during the most chaotic shifts, he found a way to check in: a hand on your lower back, a squeeze to your palm during charting, the kind of quiet glances that spoke louder than words.

You were 24 weeks today, at work while he was at home. Hopefully putting together more furniture that had just come in.

He texted you during rounds. “24 weeks. Viable. Our little one could make it of their own now.”

That night, it stormed. The kind of downpour that made traffic impossible, left sirens echoing too often, and made everything feel a little more raw.

You came home late, soaked and silent. Too tired to cook. Too wired to sleep.

Jack was the one who finally said it, after hours of half-watching some muted show from the couch.

“Come here.”

You were already next to him, but he opened his arms like he meant it—like he needed more.

You crawled into his lap, careful of your belly. He cradled you against him, one hand on your thigh, the other curved protectively around your stomach.

“The baby kicked earlier today,” you whispered into the crook of his neck.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to wait until it was just us.”

His expression softened. He brought both hands to your belly now, thumbs brushing side to side like he was trying to feel her through will alone.

And then, like magic, another kick.

His face lit up like he’d been handed the universe.

You nodded, and he exhaled the kind of breath people only release when they’re holding too much love at once.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love with something I haven’t even met.”

You leaned forward and kissed him—soft and slow.

Your hand slid under his shirt, fingers tracing the planes of his chest. His lips moved against yours like a promise.

He lifted your shirt carefully,, until your belly was exposed.

Then he sank to his knees in front of you on the couch, lips brushing against the stretch of skin just above your navel.

“Hi baby,” he whispered. “It’s Daddy. You keep growing strong in there, okay? I’ll take care of her out here.”

You blinked back sudden tears, heart too full, body aching with love and something deeper.

He looked up at you, reading your expression instantly.

“C’mere,” he said softly, rising to his feet.

“Let me take care of you, too.”

———————————————————————

26 Weeks

The nursery didn’t look like much yet—just a pile of boxes, a folded-up rug, and the smell of fresh paint still lingering faintly in the air. You stood in the doorway with a mug of chamomile tea, watching Jack wrestle with the instructions for the crib.

You stepped inside, careful over the half-unrolled rug, and knelt beside him. “Want me to read while you build?”

“God, yes. I’ve been pretending this part makes sense for twenty minutes.”

You took the manual, flipping through to the page with the exploded diagram. “Step one says attach Panel A to Side B using bolt type—wait, why are there three types of bolts?”

Jack looked at you like he might cry. “They’re identical, I swear.”

You laughed, and he softened at the sound, reaching to squeeze your knee. “Don’t laugh at the father of your child in his hour of need.”

“I’m laughing with you.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“Not yet.”

You handed him the correct bolts—probably—and settled beside him, your back leaning against the wall.

You watched as he slowly pieced the frame together, getting into a rhythm. The room felt warm, despite the January air outside. You two had basically ignored the holidays with everything else going on.

The walls were pale blue now—soft and quiet.

Jack slid one of the sides into place, then sat back on his heels, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Oh god, it’s done,” he declared.

“Certified by the ER doc?”

“I’ll get it notarized.”

You looked around. The rocking chair was still in the box. The mobile was still in the bag. There were folded baby clothes in a laundry basket in the hall, waiting for a dresser you hadn’t found yet.

But the crib was up.

Jack sat beside you, his shoulder against yours, both of you looking at it like it had just made something real that wasn’t quite real before.

“You okay?” he asked after a while, voice low.

You nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Just hitting me a little.”

“What part?”

You took a breath, exhaled slowly. “That there’s going to be a baby sleeping in that crib soon.”

Jack looked over at you, and his expression softened into something you’d seen a thousand times but never got tired of. That quiet, steady awe he reserved just for you.

“Our baby,” Jack said.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “You think we’ll be any good at this?”

“I think we’ll be tired. And messy. And figuring it out every day. But yeah.” He kissed the side of your head. “I think we’ll be pretty damn good.”

You closed your eyes for a second, letting the weight of the moment settle.

“You know,” Jack said, voice casual, “we still haven’t settled on a name.”

You smiled. “We’ve ruled out a lot, though.”

“That counts for something.”

Jack looked over at you. “Okay, so what do you like?”

You hesitated, watching the light from the window spill across the floor. “I keep thinking about names that sound solid. Not trendy. A name that would be good for when he’s an adult trying to get a job.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully. “I still like Wesley for a boy.”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah. That one can stay on the list. Even though you heard it on TV somewhere and it has no meaning to us”

“It’ll have meaning once theyr'e here.” He turned his head toward you.

“I think it kicked just now, maybe it is a boy after all,” you whispered, one hand on your belly.

Jack moved to kneel in front of you, resting his palm gently over yours.

“You like that one, huh?” he said to your stomach, smiling.

You both sat with it for a minute in silence. It was the kind that stretched and softened between people who knew how to share it.

“So Wesley for a first name or middle name?” Jack sat up, crossed his legs. “Do we honor someone? Or do we just pick something that sounds good?”

You shrugged. “We still have a couple weeks. I’m sure something will come to us by then.”

Jack looked up at you, eyes soft. You reached for his hand, and together, you sat there, naming the future, one piece at a time.

———————————————————————

28 Weeks

You hadn’t planned on finding out.

At first, it was just going to be a surprise. Something you’d discover together in the delivery room, sweaty and overwhelmed and crying. But over time, the not-knowing started to weigh heavier than expected.

Jack never pushed. But you caught him daydreaming from time to time, talking to your bump in quiet moments, cycling through baby names. Jack had a strong feeling you were carrying his son. Only talked about boy names.

So when your OB offered to write it down in a sealed envelope, you nodded without hesitating.

You didn’t want to open it. Until tonight.

“I want to know,” you said softly, sliding the envelope across the kitchen counter to Jack. “If you still do.”

He looked up from where he was getting dinner ready, eyes wide.

“You sure?”

You nodded, pulse already racing.

He wiped his hands on a towel, drying them carefully before picking it up.

“You open it,” you said.

“No,” he said gently, “I want to see your face when you find out.”

Your chest tightened. Hands trembling just slightly, you broke the seal. You unfolded the single piece of paper.

And read the word.

BOY.

It didn’t hit you all at once.

Then Jack stepped around the counter, reading it over your shoulder.

And everything stopped.

He laughed—but it broke halfway through, a sound caught between disbelief and something close to a sob. He pressed his forehead to yours, arms wrapping around your waist and belly in one movement.

“A boy,” he whispered. “We’re having a son.”

You laughed too, and suddenly the tears came fast.

Jack held your face in his hands.

“A son,” he said again, voice. “I swear I’m going to love the hell out of this kid.”

You ran your hands through his hair, brushing it back from his face as his eyes stayed locked on your belly.

“I think he already knows,” you said.

Jack looked up at you, eyes glassy. “He’s going to know everything. Every day. How much we love him. How much he’s wanted.”

And for the first time in weeks, the future didn’t feel so far away.

———————————————————————

32 Weeks

Your schedule had barely lined up with Jacks in the past couple weeks. But once it did, Jack had plans for you two.

The night went on, chaos as usual. Until 4AM.

He caught your eye in the hallway—just a glance, but you knew that look.

You had just sat down to eat a quick snack when he appeared behind you, voice low, warm against your ear.

“Follow me.”

You glanced around. “Jack—”

He turned, walking away like he hadn’t just whispered something that set your skin on fire.

You followed him anyway.

The on-call room door clicked shut behind you a moment later. The lights were off. Jack didn’t turn them on.

He just backed you against the wall with a hand on your belly and a kiss that made time stop.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured against your mouth. “You’re happy. Glowing. Carrying our son.”

His hands slipped under your scrubs. One slid around to the small of your back, the other resting protectively over your bump.

“I love how you say our son,” you whispered, already breathless.

“Say it again?”

You smiled. “Our son.”

His hand dipped between your legs without hesitation, cupping the heat he knew was waiting for him.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he groaned. “You’re always so ready for me.”

He lifted you onto the edge of the nightstand, working fast but careful.

Your legs parted, scrubs halfway down, his mouth on your neck, hand moving between your thighs until your head hit the wall behind you.

“Quiet,” he whispered. “You know these walls are paper thin.”

“Then don’t make me moan,” you shot back, voice thick with want.

His grin was wicked. “No promises.”

He dropped to his knees and disappeared between your legs, and all you could do was bite your knuckle and hope the shift stayed quiet five more minutes.

Jack’s tongue dragged through your folds like he was memorizing you all over again.

Slow. Deep. Obsessive.

Your thighs trembled around his shoulders, your hands gripping the edge of the cot so tightly your knuckles ached.

“Jack—” You breathed his name like a warning.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow.

His tongue circled your clit with precision while his fingers slipped inside you, curling up at just the right angle.

It was too much yet somehow not nearly enough.

You came hard and fast, biting back a cry as your body arched.

He stayed with you the whole way, holding your hips, riding out every pulse of your orgasm like he wanted to feel it himself.

By the time you opened your eyes, he was already standing, undoing his scrub pants with one hand, eyes locked on you like he might not survive another second without being inside you.

“Turn around,” he said, voice rough and ragged.

You obeyed, turning to face the wall, breath still uneven.

He slid into you slowly, deep and the sound that came out of both of you was pure relief.

“God, you feel so fucking good around my cock babygirl.” he groaned.

Your forehead pressed to the wall, mouth open, body rocking back to meet his every thrust.

“Harder,” you whispered. “I can take it daddy.”

He gave you what you asked for. Each stroke slamming into that sweet spot inside you, his body hot and heavy behind yours, his rhythm fast and hungry.

“You’re mine,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “My wife. The mother of my child. My whole fucking world.”

You pushed back into him harder, chasing that edge again.

“Then don’t stop,” you gasped. “Show me.”

And he did.

The pleasure built fast. Frantic and unstoppable. You reached between your legs, fingers circling your clit.

“Ja-Jack—”

“Fuck, I’m close.”

“I’m gonna—”

You came together, your body clenching around him, his hips jerking deep inside as he spilled into you.

The only sound in the room was your breathing, shaky and uneven.

He leaned over you, still buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck.

“Get dressed before someone…

A knock at the door made you both freeze.

“Hey!” came Robby’s voice. “Tell me you’re not doing what I know you’re doing in there!”

Jack groaned and dropped his head into your shoulder, chuckling.

“One minute!,” he whispered. He pulled out of you slowly. “Worth it.”

Since this had become somewhat of a habit, Jack had towels ready to clean himself off of you.

You tried to walk out first. Tried to act like it was just another on-call nap.

But you didn’t even make it to the nurse’s station before the ambush.

Robby stood with a cup of coffee in hand, leaned against the counter with the same smug look he wore anytime he caught anyone doing something even almost against the rules.

“You two owe me new ears,” he said flatly. “And a therapy session.”

Dana, sitting beside him, didn’t look up from her chart. “At least pretend to be subtle next time. We have patients trying to survive, and you two are in there giving the walls a show.”

You felt Jack step up behind you, his hand finding your lower back as always.

“We were gone maybe twenty minutes,” he said.

Dana finally looked up. “You were gone forty-five minutes. And you walked out looking like you just finished a marathon.”

Jack grinned unapologetically. “Best forty-five minutes of my life.”

“Yeah, we all know that wasn’t the first time.” Said Robby while rolling his eyes.

Langdon appeared from around the corner, perfectly deadpan. “If HR asks, I didn’t hear a thing. But if I ever get stuck in that on-call room, I’ll just sleep outside instead.”

You groaned and buried your face in Jack’s shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around you like a shield. “Hey, she needed a break. Doctor’s orders.”

Robby snorted. “Oh yeah? Was the baby involved in that medical necessity?”

Jack didn’t miss a beat. “He approved.”

That brought everything to a halt.

Dana’s eyes widened. “He?”

You blinked, cheeks warming. “Yeah. We decided to open the envelope.”

Langdon raised a brow. “So the orgasm was celebratory?”

You made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Can we please change the subject?”

Too late. Dana stood, walking around the counter to hug you with a wide grin.

“A boy,” she said warmly. “God help us all.”

Jack leaned in and kissed the side of your head, completely unbothered by the teasing. And for a moment—amid the chaos, sarcasm, and inappropriate comments, it felt like everything was exactly how it should be.

“Hey, you ready to head home?”

“Yeah, I just need to talk to Robby first. Should be quick.”

“Glad you’re finally taking your time away from here.”

You went to Robbys office where Collins was sitting inside talking to him.

“Hey, you mind if I steal your husband for a couple of minutes?”

“He’s all yours.” As she was walking past you, she put her hand on your growing stomach. “Hey there baby boy!”

You stepped inside and shut the door. “Ugh, this back pain is going to have me admitted soon enough.”

He nodded and gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Sit. Talk to me kid. Whats going on?"

You lowered yourself into the chair slowly—thirty-two weeks in, and even basic everything came with sound effects now.

Robby leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. “How you feeling?”

“Tired. Hungry. Nervous.”

He nodded. “So, business as usual.”

You cracked a smile. “I- I wanted to get started the paperwork for maternity leave.”

Robby didn’t say anything for a second, just looked at you. Not with surprise, he knew it was coming.

“When are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’ll think I want to work up to 36 or 37 weeks, depending on how I’m feeling.

“Think that’s a good idea. How long do you want after?”

“Well I think that 12 weeks would be good enough but, Jack wants me to take 6 months.”

“If you take 3 months or 6 months, you’ll always have a place here.”

There was a quiet moment. He scratched something on a notepad, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “You know it’s going to be weird here without you.”

“Don’t worry, you’d have to physically drag me out of here to keep me from coming back after.”

“I know.” He gave a faint smile. “Still going to be weird.”

You shrugged. “You’ll have Jack. He’ll keep you in line.”

Robby snorted. “Jack barely keeps Jack in line.”

“Yeah about Jack actually.” Your tone became more serious. “He’s just been so anxious recently, you know all the baby stuff and now the house and work. I- I need to know that if something goes wrong during delivery…if something happens to me…” You took a deep breath. “You’ll take care of Jack.”

Robby didn’t move. For a long second, he just stared at you. Then he leaned forward, slow and steady, until his arms rested on the desk in front of him. “You think he wouldn’t be taken care of?”

You shook your head. “No, that’s not—he’d survive. Of course. But he’d fall apart first. And he wouldn't let anyone see it. Not even Dana. Not even Langdon. Not anybody. He’d keep working. He’d try to act like he was okay, and it would eat him alive.”

Robby sat back slowly, his face unreadable. Then he spoke, and his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “You think I haven’t already thought about that?”

You blinked.

“I’ve known Jack for too long,” he said. “Watched him lose patients. Watched him get in fights. Watched him fall in love with you so fast it scared the hell out of me.” He let out a dry breath. “I’ve already thought about what I’d do. I just hoped I’d never need to.”

“I know it’s unlikely,” you said, more to yourself than to him. “But things go wrong. Even when they’re not supposed to.”

He nodded slowly. “You’ve been on both sides of the trauma bay. You know better than anyone.”

The room went quiet for a long time.

Then Robby leaned forward again, lacing his fingers on the desk.

“If something happens,” he said, “I’ll take care of him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t drown in it. I’ll bring him home. I’ll put food in his fridge and get him to shower and tell him he’s not okay, and that’s fine. I’ll do all of that. As many times as it takes.”

You swallowed hard, eyes stinging.

“But,” Robby added, “You don’t get to disappear on us. You hear me?”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”

“I mean it. You’re allowed to be scared. But you don’t get to check out. Not if I’ve got a say in it.”

You nodded, brushing at the corner of your eye.

Robby stood and came around the desk. For a second, he just looked at you—like a brother would. Then he reached down and pulled you into a hug, careful of your belly but not at all careful with his heart.

“I got you,” he murmured. “Both of you.”

And for the first time in weeks, your breath felt like it reached all the way down into your chest again.

You let the silence settle for a beat, eyes drifting to the framed photo on Robby’s desk— a picture of Collins and their child at the beach, sand stuck to their legs, wide grins that didn’t care about sunscreen or the time.

He caught your gaze. “It changes everything you know. Having a kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ll be good at it, though. Both of you.”

You blinked a little too fast and looked down at your hands. “We’re trying to figure it out.”

“You don’t have to know everything yet. You just have to show up.” He paused, then added, “That kid’s already luckier than most.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just nodded. Let the words sink in.

Robby cleared his throat and reached for a folder. “I’ll email you the HR packet. We’ll work out the schedule. You just tell me if anything changes, okay?”

You stood, placing a hand on your belly with a small smile. “Thanks, Robby.”

As you turned to leave, he added, “Hey.”

You looked back.

“If I hear even one more thing about you and Jack using that on-call room like a honeymoon suite, I’m locking it from the outside.”

You laughed. “Deal.”

And as you stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind you, you felt a little lighter.

One step closer to meeting your son.

———————————————————————

34 Weeks

Jack stood alone at the supply cart, restocking syringes with mechanical precision. The rhythm of it was almost meditative.

Robby found him there, hands in his jacket pockets, lingering like someone who had something to say and didn’t quite know how to start.

“Glad she took the night off.”

“Yeah she spent the whole day throwing up, almost had to bring her here as a patient. But she’s okay now, just needs to rest for a couple days.”

“You think she’ll make it to 36 weeks here?”

“For the baby’s sake, I hope not. But knowing her and her stubbornness, she will."

Robby leaned against the wall, silent for a moment. “She came to see me 2 weeks ago.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly. “About the maternity leave?”

“Yeah,” Robby said. “But not just that.”

Jack set the last syringe into place and shut the drawer. “Okay?”

Robby watched him for a second. “She asked me to take care of you.”

Jack stilled.

“She said if something happens, during delivery, if so…meshing happens to her, she wants to make sure you’re not alone.”

The silence stretched between them.

Jack didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Just stared at the closed drawer like it could explain something.

Robby stepped forward, lowering his voice. “She’s scared, Jack. Not of being a mom. Not even of labor, I don’t think. But of what it would do to you if something went wrong.”

Jack’s jaw clenched. He nodded once, like that was all he could allow himself.

“I told her I’d look out for you,” Robby said. “I told her I already planned to.”

Jack finally looked up. His eyes weren’t wet, but they were close. “She shouldn’t be thinking about that.”

“She’s a doctor. A damn good one. She knows the risks. Seen more than anyone should have to.”

“I know, I know.” His voice was rough, low. “I just- I don’t want her scared.”

“She’s not scared of dying,” Robby said gently. “She’s scared of leaving you. It’s not the same thing.”

Jack looked down again, rubbed a hand over his face. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, quietly: “You’ll keep your word?”

Robby didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I will.”

Another pause.

“I can’t lose her Robby,” Jack whispered. “I won’t make it.”

Robby put a hand on his shoulder, solid and sure. “You’re not going to.”

Jack nodded, slow. Then rubbed both hands over his face again, this time with more force—like he could scrub the fear off.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

Robby let his hand fall away. “Just- when she needs you to act calm, act calm. And when she needs you to panic a little? Panic with her.”

Jack cracked a faint smile. “You give this speech to every soon-to-be dad?”

“Only the ones who might implode if things go sideways.”

Jack smirked, barely, but it was there. “Fair enough.”

They stood there a minute longer both carrying more than they said.

And then, like always, they went back to work.

Except now he pulled every OB resident he trusted into side conversations. Asked about signs of hemorrhage. About shoulder dystocia. About NICU protocols and what really happens when things don’t go as planned.

He framed it like curiosity, like professional interest—but Dana knew, and Langdon knew, and Robby definitely knew.

———————————————————————

36 Weeks

You were exhausted. Sitting at home all day wore you out more than you ever thought it would.

The kind of exhausted that made you feel like everything in your body was weighing you down.

Thirty-six weeks. You’d stopped counting days. But Jack still looked at you like you were the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen.

Which, at this moment, made you feel like you needed him just as much as he needed you.

You were lying on your side in bed, a hand resting protectively over your belly, when he came in from his morning shower. Damp hair. Bare chest. Sleepy smile.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, eyes flicking to your bump. “Need anything?”

You looked up at him, slow and deliberate. “Yeah actually,” you said softly. “I need you.”

He crawled into bed beside you, careful as always, hand coming to rest on your thigh.

“What kind of need are we talking here?”

You shifted, moved with deliberate slowness, until you were kneeling between his legs. Belly full and round between you.

His eyes widened—concerned first, then darkening quickly as he realized where this was going.

“Babygirl, are you sure ? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want you. But you’ve just been so tired lately.”

You looked up at him. “Let me take care of you.”

He swallowed hard. His cock was already twitching in his boxers, barely hidden.

You pulled his waistband down, freeing him.

Thick and heavy, already hard in your hand. You kissed his tip first, slow and soft, tasting his precum.

He groaned immediately, hips twitching. “Fuck.”

You took him into your mouth, just the head at first, letting your tongue swirl around.

His hand found your hair, gentle, never pushing, never rushing.

“You’re so good at this my dirty girl,” he murmured. “God, baby, you don’t have to…”

You went deeper, and he lost the rest of the sentence.

You worked him with your mouth, your hand wrapped around the base, moving in slow tandem with your tongue. He was unraveling beneath you, every sound he made proof of how much he needed this, needed you.

He brushed your hair back, groaning your name. “I’m close,” he warned. “You want me to?”

You pulled back just far enough to say, “In my mouth, Jack. I want all of it.”

That was all it took.

He came, hips bucking once, his hot release spilling onto your tongue. You kept going, gentle, milking him through it until he was panting, eyes glazed over like he’d just saw heaven.

When you finally sat back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, he looked up at you like you’d just knocked the breath out of him.

“So me babygirl. Show me what I gave you.”

He sat up, looking directly into your eyes. You opened your mouth, his cum spilling out of the corners. With his thumb, he guided his seed back into your mouth until you sucked on his thumb. Getting every last drop of him.

“Swallow me.”

And you did.

“I do not deserve you,” he whispered.

You smiled, easing back beside him. “You really, really do.”

He pulled you close after that, one hand on your belly, the other tangled in your fingers.

“Just remind me to return the favor,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You smirked. “You’ve got four weeks, daddy.”

And Jack? He looked ready to make every one of them count.

———————————————————————

37 Weeks

Jack didn’t make a big deal out of the due date. He didn’t talk about it much, didn’t circle it on a calendar or start any countdown. But you knew he was keeping track. He always kept track.

You started noticing the little things first. How your car’s gas tank was always full. How your overnight bag slowly filled itself, snacks, chargers, an extra hoodie he never wore but packed anyway because you liked it.

He just did it. All of it without you ever saying anything.

Sometimes you’d catch him in the nursery at night. Not doing anything, just standing there. One hand on the crib rail, eyes tracing the space like he was rehearsing something he couldn’t quite say out loud.

He rewired the baby monitor so it reached farther. Tested it three times. Installed a soft nightlight in the hallway, not because you needed it, but because he couldn’t stand the idea of fumbling in the dark if something happened.

There was a checklist in his notebook. Not digital—written by hand. Folded neatly in half and kept in his back pocket when he came home from work.

Jack didn’t talk about fear. He didn’t talk about worst-case scenarios, or about what could go wrong. But when you reached for his hand at night, his fingers were already waiting.

One evening, you found him sitting on the floor beside the crib, tightening one of the screws even though it didn’t need it. You leaned against the doorframe and watched.

“You think he’ll like it?” you asked quietly.

Jack looked up at you. Nodded. “Yeah. I think he will.”

You didn’t say anything. You just put your hand over his.

———————————————————————

38 Weeks

You were done waiting. Having your baby in April felt nice.

Every step felt heavier. Every hour dragged.

Thirty-eight weeks, swollen and aching, and somehow still wanting him inside you more than ever.

Jack had been hovering since you took the first test.

You came into the bedroom after your shower, towel slung around your waist, damp hair curling at the edges. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hand resting instinctively over your firm your belly.

“Hey,” he said softly, already reading the look in your eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “But I need you to help me.”

He crossed the room quickly, crouching in front of you. “What’s wrong?”

You leaned forward, lips brushing his ear. “I need you to fuck me again.”

He pulled back slightly, eyebrows raised, lips parting. “You serious?”

“I’ve read every myth and midwife blog I could find. Sex helps induce labor. And if this baby’s ready, I am, too.”

This wasn’t just sex. It was trust. It was the both of you saying: Let’s do this. Let’s meet our son.

He stood to meet you at the edge of the bed.

You lay back on the bed, shifting carefully, hips wide to make space for everything you were carrying. He climbed over you like he’d done it a thousand times but, this was different.

His hands trailed down your sides, reverent. His eyes never left yours.

“Tell me if anything feels wrong,” he murmured.

“Only thing that feels wrong is not having you inside of me fucking me into labor.”

That pulled a groan from his throat.

He knelt between your legs, guiding himself into you slowly, carefully. You were wetter than you’d expected. Desperate.

“God,” he whispered as he slid in. “You feel incredible.”

You wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling full and stretched and grounded.

Every movement was slow at first, deeper than fast.

Jack bent to kiss you, moaning into your mouth as your hips rolled up to meet him.

“You good, babygirl?”

“Better than good. Don’t stop, daddy.”

And he didn’t.

He moved like he was trying to memorize your body one last time before everything changed. His hands on your belly, his forehead pressed to yours, soft grunts against your skin.

Then suddenly—your body tightened.

Not in pleasure. But in pressure.

You gasped, hand flying to your stomach.

“Jack—”

He stopped instantly. “What? What is it? Did I hurt you?”

“No—no. I thi- I think that might have been a contraction.”

He blinked, his entire body going still. Still inside you. “Like a real one?”

Another one followed, sharper. “Fuck,” you hissed. “That’s definitely real.”

Jack pulled out gently, panic and awe crashing over his face. “Okay. Okay, baby—uh—do we call the OB? You want to go now?”

You grabbed his wrist, eyes locked on his. “Jack. Finish what you started.”

His mouth dropped open. “You still want..”

“I’m not in active labor yet. Might as well fuck me until I am.”

He laughed, full and loud, and kissed you hard.

“Well,” he muttered against your lips, guiding himself back in, “if my son wants to arrive in style.”

And with that, you rode wave after wave—of contractions, of pleasure, of something sacred and wild and absolutely yours.

By the time the next contraction hit, you were already moaning into his neck.

And your labor had officially begun.

———————————————————————

Jack’s hand never left yours during the car ride, one on the wheel with one hand, gripping yours with the other. The go-bag was already in the car with everything you could need while in the hospital. Plus more.

You were timing the contractions on your phone, trying to breathe through them, but they were coming faster now. Five minutes apart. Then four.

By the time he pulled into the hospital lot, you were doubled over in the passenger seat.

“Fuck,” you hissed, clenching his hand. “That one hurt.”

Jack threw the car into park and jumped out, rushing around to your door.

“Okay, let’s go. Slow and steady.”

You were halfway to the entrance when a voice called out—

“Hey, that looks like an ‘I just had sec and now I’m in labor’ face.” Robby. Of course.

Jack just flipped him off without breaking stride. “Call OB, she’s in labor. Now.”

Dana was at the triage desk when you walked in, her eyes wide.

“Whoa, whoa—are you…?”

“Yep,” you gasped. “Contractions. Thirty-eight weeks. We’re about to have a baby.”

She jumped up from her chair. “Got it. OB’s on call. We’ll page them. You need a wheelchair?”

“No,” you gritted out. “I can walk—”

Another contraction hit, and your knees buckled slightly. Jack caught you with both arms.

“You’re not walking anywhere,” he muttered, already lowering you into a chair someone had wheeled over. “I’ve got you.”

The elevator ride was a blur. Someone shouted “incoming labor!” over the intercom, and by the time the doors opened on L&D, a nurse was already waiting with a gown and a monitor.

Dana, Robby, and Langdon had followed the chaos up as far as they could. The doors started to close again, but not before you looked back and saw them.

Robby grinning like a lunatic. Dana blinking hard like she might cry. Langdon sipping coffee and saying, “Don’t forget to breathe, Jack!”

Then the doors shut. Hours blurred. Morning into afternoon.

Contractions. Monitors. The deep, low sound of your own breath trying to ground you. Jack never left your side. Even after three coffees and a panic attack in the hallway.

“You’re doing amazing babygirl.” he whispered, brushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“I better be,” you groaned. “You’re the reason this is happening.”

He laughed softly, kissed your forehead. “Best thing I’ve ever done.”

Then your OB walked in, checked your dilation, and said the words:

“It’s time to push.”

Jack froze. You squeezed his hand so tight he winced.

“Ready?” He asked.

Jack nodded for you both. “Yeah. We’re ready.”

Your legs were up in stirrups. The pressure was unbearable. But Jack was there, one hand gripping yours, the other bracing behind your head.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered. “So, so good. You’ve got this.”

Your OB sat between your legs, calm and steady.

“Okay, next contraction,” he said. “Push for me.”

You nodded, bracing yourself. Then it hit. Face twisting in pain.

Jack was right there, voice in your ear. “That’s it. Come on, babygirl. You’re almost there.”

Your OB’s voice cut through the haze. “He’s crowning! One more big push—just one more!”

Tears blurred your vision. You weren’t sure if they were from pain or adrenaline or love.

Maybe all three.

“Come on, mama. Bring our boy home.”

And with one final, scream—you pushed.

And then,

A cry.

“Time of birth: 2:24 p.m.,” said the OB.

But you didn’t hear anything except the sound of your son’s first breath.

Jack choked out a sob beside you, hand covering his mouth as he stared.

“He’s here,” he whispered. “Oh my God. He’s here.”

They laid your son on your chest, slippery and warm, his fists clenched tight as he wailed against your heartbeat.

You looked down and lost yourself completely.

Tiny nose. Your dark hair. His father’s eyes.

He quieted the second you touched him. Jack leaned over you both, tears streaming freely now.

“Hi, baby boy,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I’m your dad.”

You looked up at him, your hand reaching for his face.

“We did it,” you breathed.

He kissed your lips, salty and trembling. “You did it,” he whispered. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Alright, have to deliver the placenta on your next contraction.”

You leaned your head over to the left, looking down at what was happening to the lower half of your body.

Your expression faltered. Your eyes rolled slightly.

Jack’s smile vanished. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” he said quickly, cupping your face. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyelids heavy. Your sight of Jack directly in front of you becoming blurry.

“Alright we got some bleeding here.”

Blood. Everywhere. Jack could hear it pouring onto the floor below you.

“She's hemorrhaging!” a nurse shouted.

“You shouldn’t be in here Dr. Abbot!” Said your OB as a nurse pulled your son off of your chest.

“No, I’m not leaving her!”

“Someone go get Robby!” A nurse yelled from across the room.

“Jack..” You managed to get out in a whisper.

“I’m right here. I’m right here babygirl. I’m not going anywhere.”

“N-no, his name… Jack.” you breathed. “Your name. He should know who he comes from.”

Jack shook his head, blinking hard, lips trembling. “Don’t say it like it’s goodbye.”

“It’s not,” you whispered, your breath catching. “It’s for him. Just in case. I want him to carry you forever.”

Jack leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, tears slipping from his eyes and into your hair. “Okay,” he choked out. “Okay, we’ll name him Jack. Our boy. He’ll know.”

Your eyes fluttered, body growing heavier by the second. You exhaled, barely audible.

Jack kissed your cheek, your forehead, your lips—desperate to keep you tethered. “I love you. Don’t let go. Please, baby, don’t—”

Your eyes shut.

The commotion around you barely audible as you slipped out of consciousness. “BP’s dropping—she’s crashing!” “Get her to ICU now. We need to intubate and stabilize.”

“No, no—” Jack stumbled forward, but Robby caught him, using all his strength to pull Jack out of the room and into the hallway.

Jack could barely breathe.

He didn’t even realize the team pushing your crying baby boy passed and down to the nursery.

“Jack,” he said carefully. “Listen to me.”

Jack shook his head. “She was fine—she was fine a couple of minutes ago, Robby. What the fuck happened?”

“I know. But she’s not now. She’s in the best hands. Let them work.”

“I- I can’t do this without her, Robby. We’re supposed to be talking about the rest of our lives right now. I won’t make it through this alone. I need her.”

“You’re not alone. We’re all here with you. And with her. There’s a waiting room full out there just for you guys. You don’t need to do this by yourself now.”

He lowered himself to the cold, hallway floor. Arms went up, hands above his head, fingers intertwined in his hair.

“I can’t lose her Robby.” His voice broke as he looked up, tears pouring down his face, eyes already bloodshot. “This is all my fault.”

His entire world just changed in the blink of an eye. Because your family just began. But you weren’t there for it with him.

———————————————————————

Wooo, my longest fanfic so far! Y’all I had to take so many breaks while writing this. Also accidentally deleted the whole thing and almost threw my laptop across the room but, here it is! And there obviously has to be another part.

Let me know what you guys think down below please ! :)

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