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syluses · 2 months ago

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separation anxiety

⤷ caleb experiences a rut after a long time, and it just so happens that you’re in his path.

cw. 18+ smut, hybrid! caleb, knotting, dubcon if you squint, breeding, obsessive/possessive behavior, perv caleb, fem human! reader, ruts, size difference, also a lil breeding, 3.5k words because i physically struggle to write smut without a preamble, reader is ovulating and it triggers his rut this time for whatever reason

an. saw this trope going around & wanted to try it <33 he’s got that DAWG in him 💪 also i cant decide if hybrid caleb gives german shepherd vibes or samoyed vibes…. that moments post lives rent free in my mind tho idk (>_<)

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, & 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅! (๑´ `๑)♡

Caleb would say he hates you for the time you’re gone, but it’d be a big fat lie. His love for you, big and bursting in his chest, deepens in the quiet windows where you’re present at work or running errands throughout Linkon before returning home to him.

There’s a permanence of you in his mind and being. He wants it no other way.

His devotion for you doesn’t necessarily drown him- no, you’re always there with a lifering waiting- but it certainly sweeps him up and threatens to.

He gets a bit ahead of himself sometimes, he’s aware of that; energetic, bulging at the seams with vigor; whether it’s an integral part of his personality or just a consequence of his breed, the pound he came from never quite knew. Your Gran never figured that out, either, and for as sweet and trying as she was, she soon realized she couldn’t foster him for long.

Because he was a big boy, hungry for attention and wired to please, well-meaning but oft over involved with personal space— and he brought a loaded package that your Gran just couldn’t sign her name off on, not after a few months, anyway. She tried her best before nudging him into your care, because she sure as hell wasn’t about to give him up to that squalid pound or the streets again- and besides, the mutt liked her granddaughter; all those visits she paid throughout the summer obviously endeared Caleb to her, and quickly.

You admit, it’s a mite difficult to juggle between long days at work, little tasks that drag you from point to point throughout Linkon, and your own personal life on top of caring for a hybrid stowed away in your shoebox apartment— but your grandmother was all but sapped of her energy then, turning to you for aid although she seldom ever did, and you’d always lend a hand where you could.

The mutt- Caleb, is his name (and you call it fondly even as he’s pawing at your thighs for attention or drooling on your collar)- has grown on you considerably in the past half year, anyway.

You won’t let him down or leave him at the curb. He’s yours. The red collar you bought him says as much, printed with your number on a silver plate, and he wears it not because you make him but because he’s proud of it.

He’s a good boy, he is. He always has been and for that you’re thankful.

Except, this week he’s… different.

As of a few days ago, it’s like he’s been testing the waters- and your patience- on just how far he can go before you tell him off or say bad dog. He must find them warm because he’s just been diving deeper as the week progresses.

You don’t know what to do. He’s oddly aggressive. It’s not rare at all for him to follow you all around your apartment, but he’s foregone the very last shred of respect for your personal space and nips when you try to push him away. Not hard enough to actually hurt- the yip you make is more surprised than anything when he pulls you back in and licks at the small red patch- but you look wounded at it.

Because Caleb doesn’t bite— he just doesn’t.

He wraps you up in seemingly endless embraces and breathes your smell in until he’s dizzy, laughing into your neck like a giddy child. He does this every time you try to leave for work and he’s made you late for it.

Maybe it’s just because you’re ovulating and a little hormonal, but it makes you quite sour and the mood stays even when you return in the afternoon. He’s never liked when you’re gone, sure, but he’s always been there to see you off at the door with a pout as you scratch behind his ear- more or less tame about it.

Your patience really frays at the odd uptick in his possessiveness, though. It’s hurtful.

You’ve always treated him less like a pet- a hybrid- and more like a friend, and you feel quite indignant for it when he growls and tells you that he hates the smell of other men on you, hearing none of your excuses that it’s ‘just coworkers’, glaring at you like some brainless extension of him. You feel less like a person and more like an object, a streetlamp in which he emerges from the shadows for just to piss on to show it belongs to him.

He’s touchy. Snippy. Glued to your side at all times. It’s concerning and frustrating and confusing all at once.

By the fifth day mark, on Friday night, you’re tuckered out by it and don’t question where he is when you return home early from a shift and he’s, uncharacteristically, not there to greet you.

A red collar however, laid on the floor, its tag glittering under dim hallways lights, strikes you as both curious and unsettling.

He never takes that off. No- says it’s his way of showing you and the whole world that he belongs to you, and— have you been too impatient with him lately? Brusque? Maybe you’re a little hormonal but it’s no cause to get short with him, even when he’s acting up, and what if he no longer wants you as his owner—

A gasp.

You find him in your bedroom, humping your pillow, yowling as he comes undone- unawares- and the walls spin as you nearly faint.

You drop your purse. “Caleb!” You shriek, and a visible shiver rolls down his spine as he turns around.

“Bad dog!”

✦

You sleep on it.

Well, you wash your sheet and your pillowcases- and then you sleep on it.

Maybe you overreacted. If anything, you should be grateful for what you walked in on because otherwise, he wouldn’t have known how to tell you he’s been going through a bit of a hot phase- the first of his you’ve experienced- and doesn’t know how to control himself.

You blush just thinking about it, shame knocking in your chest as your heart beats heavy. You feel awful for walking in on him for a number of reasons. One of them being he came all over your bed- and his tummy- and you had to clean both up through furious tears as you peeled your covers off the mattress and pointed him off in the direction of the bathroom, telling him to run the faucet and quick.

A pass of guilt, the fear of you being angry with him, made its round across his kicked expression but he held off on arguing.

For the first documented time in the whole week, Caleb appeared mellow- not agitated, restless, or tense- and rather crestfallen, and you noted it only vaguely as you irately turned on the washer.

Now, it’s in the forefront of your brain.

Well, if he’s been going through some kind of rut lately, it only makes sense he’d be all kinds of pent up, and that his release (albeit in an inconvenient way and place) would provide some relief.

It’s closer to noon when you finally exit your bedroom and meet him at the sofa- the same one you’d all but banished him to last night. He prefers to spend his nights with you, either curled up at your side or splaying his full weight over your back- a breed-relative habit, you’re sure. You’ve heard of some other kinds who enjoy a room to themselves or do just fine with the couch, on their lonesome— But not Caleb.

He looks tired but perks up when he hears you patter down the hall, violet eyes lighting when you timidly take a seat.

With a bit of hesitation, he inches closer until you sheepishly wave a hand and he barrels into your arms.

“Ah- Caleb-“

Before you can even apologize for your jumping the gun last night, he beats you to the punch. “M’ sorry. You don’t hate me for it, do you?” He sighs into your collar and you shiver, “I wish you could understand what it feels like- I wouldn’t have done it if it was somethin’ I could control, I hope you realize that.”

You swallow, digesting his words as you belatedly place a hand on his head to pet. He positively melts. “Y-Yeah,” you mumble back. “It’s okay. I actually wanted to say sorry too. I- I didn’t understand what was going on…”

A deep groan looses from his throat, his chest swelling with content as you itch that spot behind the furry ears say upright on his head. They give a few twitches as he leans against you and wraps his muscular arms around your middle, resting his chin by your shoulder.

“It’s my fault, though, not yours. I didn’t know how to tell you- I was worried you’d just end up scared’a me, or…”

His pause instills interest in you. Your fingers smooth back his brown locks, mussed from fitful sleep, and he sighs. “Or what?” You press softly.

You pull him back just enough to get a look at him, his cheekbones almost shiny with a dusting of pink. His thick brows furrow together.

“Or that you’d leave,” he whispers.

Your eyes widen. You lasso your arms around his neck and pull him to you, your head slotting above his shoulder as his fingers quickly move to support the position, one hand perched at your thigh and the other braced at your side.

“Nonsense,” you grumble at his ear, a bit angry at the suggestion. “I’d never leave you.”

Something hard, then, prods at your middle- too fleshy to be something in either of your pockets- and you stiffen at the realization as it comes a beat too late.

Caleb’s voice is breathy at your ear, low, his tail thumping on the cushion. “Yeah?” He murmurs, a pang of heat stirring in your belly at the sound. Suddenly aware, you gently go to push at his broad chest but he stops you with an imploring look- although the desire, brewing in dilated pupils, isn’t lost on you- and musters a pout.

It looks out of place, the wholesome gaze marred by hunger as it reshapes his puppyish look.

“Even when I am no better than a bad dog?”

Your brow quirks, “I didn’t mean it,” you whisper, wide-eyed as his eyes bore into yours. Every micro expression you make is being catalogued and noted with utmost care, his pink tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips as they grow dry.

“It’s okay if you did,” he murmurs back. “I’m just glad I have you around to remind me of my place…” Long, slim fingers reach up and you watch, unseeingly, as they stroke your cheek, his other hand creeping dangerously close to the waistband of your sleep shorts.

He chuckles, but the humor wanes quickly.

“Otherwise, I’d always be misbehaving. Do you even know what you do to me?” His voice is meaningful, torrid, as he draws in and the tip of his nose brushes with yours. You can’t find it in you to move as your thighs- the ones he slithers a singleminded hand in between- begin to roil with unexpected warmth.

You plant a hand to his chest, shying away, “C-Caleb-“

“Don’t worry,” he says sweetly, “M’ not gonna hurt you. I just….” He lets out a sigh, long and perhaps just a bit exaggerated- but it has the intended effect on you. You purse your lips and feel a trace of guilt twist in your heart.

“You drive me crazy. Y-Your smell- I don’t know why this is happening, either. Honestly? I haven’t had a rut in a couple years. But this…”

Caleb lets out a soft noise of pleasure, lending his full weight to you when he breathes you in and shakes.

When he speaks next, his words come out raspy and so low you hardly register them as his breaths grow labored- they’re all you can hear as the living room space shrinks down to just him and the knuckles that dare to dip into your panties.

“This is just too unfair. You won’t leave me hangin’, pretty,… w-will you?” Breathy. With an undeniable streak of need. You can’t miss the lust that usurps the softer parts of him and makes him look less puppyish and cheerful and more wolfish, calculating.

And, well, when he puts it like that, how could you?

✦

He doesn’t fuck you on the couch. He takes you to your bed and fucks you there like a lover would.

He fucks you deep and fast- to his credit, he doesn’t hurt you, staying true to his word, but the possibility of bruises becomes a nearer thing when he folds your legs back and his grasp becomes constricting, plunging in and out of your cunt with rapt focus. Indigo eyes glow with something feral, like you’ve given him no choice but to claim his ownership over you through sloppy kisses and clinking teeth as he pounds into you, driven him into a corner- but his touch turns worshipful when he presses his forehead to yours and moans.

“Ah- y-you feel so good, so tight,” he compliments, words almost slurred. His pupils expand and he looks no different than a drunken, babbling man, his cheeks a rosy red.

His murmurs are wet against your lips as they graze and mush with his, Caleb’s face so close to yours that his lashes tickle your brow as he gawks at you, so entranced by whatever it is he’s seeing to look away.

A fluffy tail sways unevenly behind him and touches your leg on occasion, almost like it’s trying to curl around you, prickling and eager. Every part of him gravitates to you. You’re the ground beneath his feet. Fertile land.

“And you’re all mine, okay? Nobody else’s. I want you to wear my scent- to carry me with you no matter where you go. You have to promise me you will- mmph- That sound good-?

“C-Caleb—“

You groan when he stuffs himself deeper inside and you swear you feel his length throb inside your walls, stretching. The veins running along his shaft carve out a new pathway in you, one special and just for him, as his balls- heavy and fat, with a hell of a lot to give- slap against your ass. Slick oozes out from the squelching seam of you, coating his thick cock but you still struggle to accomodate his size despite the lubrication.

He’s made to make you feel as if you’re losing your mind. You snatch your jaw with your own hand to keep the flurry of high-pitched sounds from spilling out lest they embarrass you, but he shoos it away and cuffs your wrists with a hand splayed over them.

“Nah- I wanna hear you, baby. You can’t keep holdin’ out on me like this... I’m giving you my all right now, so it should be pretty obvious that you can do the same, yeah?”

A mewl punches out from your lungs half a second later and he seems quite contented at that. He sighs, closing his eyes, saying,

“I’ve been good all along. Can’t you play the part, too? I just want you to see how much I really love you,” his confession is by no means considered casual what with the passion in which its conveyed, but you can’t help but feel it’s a little sudden, said a little too quickly, and you wonder if he means what he says or if the rut is responsible for all these novel, amorous feelings in him.

I mean, he’s probably too wrapped up in the moment to even contemplate his own admissions as they all spew out—

“Caleb, too big—“ you gasp, cutting him off, and he lets out a strangled kind of noise when your walls clamp around him.

Holyfuck holyfuck holyfuck do it again, he wants to say, suffocate me, but nothing comes out and he realizes after a long second that his vision has whited completely. He can’t see anything; he’s in a fuzzy, dazzling world with the blinders on and all he can smell and feel is you- your scent, sugar sweet and about as inviting as a barstool pulled out, envelopes him and he can’t breathe. Can’t speak.

He fucks into you with reckless abandon, huffs you in like it’s his final breaths, and then lets it all go without care for anything else. Far as he’s concerned, everything he knows is defined by you. This is a give and take relationship: he actually gives a damn about your opinion of him and takes all you have to offer.

He’s in love, puppyish and clumsy but fuck you lead the way and lead him on.

“Shh, I know,” he rasps out, steaming up your neck like a fogged window pane as he insinuates himself there. Your whole body feels like a furnace, burning up for him as he opens you up and tucks himself inside.

“I know it’s big, but you gotta be ready for-“ he clips his sentence short, thinking better of it.

He wants to warn you of his impending knot- the one that’ll no doubt leave you yelping and writhing away from him- you certainly deserve as much of a foreword to it, but part of him is just so terrified you’ll reject him or deny him the priviledge of shoving it inside you and fuck he can’t have that.

Caleb’s nothing if not loyal. He’s also nothing if not selfish. That’s always been a wriggling bug he’s tried to stomp out but it remains in the baser part of him, only amplified by the intense rut that came right out of the blue.

He wants you singing his name and bonded to him (or as much of a bond the two of you can form), and so that’s what he’ll get.

He’ll apologize later, and you will forgive him. So all’s fine.

“Y-You can take it,” is the simpler thing he settles on, and you let it pass, because between the fat cockhead splitting you apart deliciously and the sweet, somewhat perturbing nothings he gushes at your ear, you’re deaf to most of everything.

But when you come- unexpected and sharp, overwhelming your senses as your hips ruck up and he has to pin you down in place and ride it out with you as you cream around him- the scream you let out rings in your ears and so does his ferocious grunt. It’s loud and you’re so numb as seconds pass that feel like eons; pointed teeth teasing at the squishy chunk of your shoulder, invoking a buried sense of alarm.

And then he’s biting down hard- not just nipping- the pleasure thankfully driving off the pain as he ploughs inside, muffling a string of curses as he picks up his pace. Caleb gets sloppier and sloppier and then he’s burning white-hot inside you and moaning like a pornstar, pelvis juddering as he comes.

“Mmh- f-fuck- Good girl!” he rewards with half a brain, fucked out into perfect oblivion, and for a second you wonder why his voice sounds more meant for comfort than praise- until you expect him to pull out but he doesn’t, something big and round forming at the base of his cock that has his eyes fluttering back as it pops in. He goes boneless on top of you as every limb of yours stiffens and coils around his broad back.

You scream his name. He shivers.

It feels enough to shatter your mind- the pain searing you, but the ghost of pleasure that creeps up along your nervous system makes you go like jelly beneath him, helpless to whatever he’s got planned for you.

“C-Caleb, you-!”

“Yeah, a bad dog, a bad dog,” he stammers, whimpering at your earlobe, “I know, baby, I know. Just- don’t shut me out, okay? I- It’ll be over soon, just- ah- loosen up around it, okay? It’ll feel so much better that way. Just… hold on to me.”

“I-It hurts-!”

“Ngh, shhh…” He trembles out, shifting to sample a broken mewl from your lips, cupping your jaw with all the love in the world and staring at you as if you told the sun to rise this morning. “Be a good girl and take it, mm? Your pussy’s squeezing me so tight, I think she wants it too, but she has to relax a little first, yeah? Mm… I could give you a whole litter of pups. Give your Gran a bunch of cute lil granbabies to drive her crazy.”

You choke on your own spit, the brunet letting out a near delirious chuckle at the idea and your reaction to it before his brow gives a wince, your walls instinctively trying to push his swollen knot out.

“Wha- Caleb, is that even-?”

“I don’t know,” he kisses your forehead tenderly, his tail giving a heavy, excited thump behind him on the bed as you grab the sheets for dear life and they wrinkle, pinched like your conflicted expression.

“But I’ve been dyin’ to try it out for myself.”

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spurbleu · 2 months ago

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ovulation with the 141

strangely, out of the four, i feel like soap would be the most educated. he grew up with sisters. helpful (in his own, clumsy way) with the blunt pains of menstruation. because at the end of the week, he knows he gets to have you as much as he wants you. you’re almost as horny as him. almost. relishes spending hours fucking like rabbits. not above cutting a night out short if you express you’re needy. a true gentleman- well, until he’s not.

gaz is also pretty keen on things like this. probably tracks it with you. and that man prepares. buys you a set of lingerie, aphrodisiac honey, tests new cologne, the works. sex is romantic with him, but if you’re asking to be treated a little unkind he’s very willing. definitely teases you about it, though. buries himself to the hilt for your third round as you float in a sensitive come down, whispering “so greedy, already need me again?” you’d get mad if it didn’t turn you on.

simon, frankly, doesn’t focus on the biology of ovulation, but welcomes the change in libido. especially likes that he can end and start his day burrowed in your cunt, and the sensitive alters to your body- how easy it is to have you. once he picks up on the patterns every month, he’ll always stick particularly close to you- hands on your lower back in the grocery store, wrapped on your waist at the bar, resting on your thigh during drives- slowly making their way to your waist band…sneaky bastard.

your beloved price does his best to keep up, he does, but he is not in his twenties anymore. approaching forty, his body doesn’t always align with his desires. however, he’s no man to keep a lady waiting and wanting, so he’ll place a thick palm over your gut and eat you out until your immobile. if you try and swat him away he’ll bite your inner thigh, reminding you that “you asked for this”. and when you look at him the way you do after, sex stupor drooling from your sore cunt and swollen lips, he places an order for viagra.

#call of duty #cod #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x you #soap x reader #soap x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x you #141 x reader

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cherrygirlfriend · 3 months ago

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ examination table

pairing: gynecologist!rafe x reader synopsis: you go to get artificial insemination. your gyno has a different method. warnings/tags: smut, artificial insemination, unprotected piv, breeding kink, public sex, small surprise at the end, MDNI! wc: 1.2k a/n; aside from having to do a strange amount of research about ovulation, iui and me overall being against male gynos; this was fun.

rafe masterlist ♡

you couldn't resist the urge to tap the heel of your boot against the linoleum floor - rolling your golden wedding band so you wouldn't bite your freshly manicured nails. it felt like your heart was going to thump thump thump out of your chest and land on the floor in front of you.

there were only three other people in the waiting room, a few posters related to women's health decorating the otherwise plain, dull, light green walls of the office, the tick-tock of the clock and the hushed whispers of the two nurses behind the front desk being the only thing you could focus on, along with the overpowering stench of chanel no 5 that was wafting from the other customer waiting for her appointment browsing through an age-old copy of cosmopolitan.

you nearly hopped to your feet when the door to one of the offices opened, clutching your purse like it was the only thing keeping you afloat. "come in." doctor cameron said with a small smile on his lips, gesturing towards his office.

you followed the tall man into the sterile, white office, holding your arms tightly against your chest, your shoulders hunched. when doctor cameron noticed how skittish you were being, he offered a small smile, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder before using it to cup your cheek and lifting it up so you were forced to look at his freckled face, "there's no need to be nervous. this is a pretty regular procedure. you can change into the gown and lay down on the examination table."

when you let out a reluctant nod, the doctor walked further into his office, giving you some privacy. while you listened to him rifle through papers, slowly, you tugged your sweater off along with your jeans, leaving your underwear to cover your skin that was now in goosebumps while you covered yourself with the blue rustling hospital gown, until it came time to slip them off.

you took a few tentative steps towards the examination table, walking on your heels as your gynecologist turned to face you, your chart in his hands, his blue eyes skimming over the details as you sat down onto the examination table, the paper sheet rustling against the paper gown in a way that made you cringe.

"so, how many days ago did you take your last dose of clomid?"

"eight days ago." you said with a tight smile, fiddling with the hem of your gown, "and i did an ovulation test before i left home, and it said my ovulation should be at its highest."

"you've really done your homework." he chuckled, placing down the clipboard, placing his warm hand on your bare knee in a comforting gesture. "are you ready to get started? i've got your husband's specimen prepared. don't worry, the catheter won't hurt, you might just feel a bit uncomfortable for a moment."

you took a deep breath, closing your eyes and laying back as you steadied your breathing, trying your best to get comfortable. "ready." you whispered softly, opening your eyes to look up at the slightly yellow-tinted fluorescent light above you.

"it helps the sperm to travel if you've got your pelvis propped up." doctor cameron said in a slightly hushed tone, lifting your hips up and placing a pillow underneath your hips, his hands pressing your hips down to meet it, keeping them there as he looked down at you with a small smile. "there you go. are you comfortable?"

"it does." you swallow dryly, fiddling with the paper sheet underneath you, sighing. "i hope it works out. we've been trying to get pregnant for a year now."

"yeah?" he looked down at you, his eyes crinkling slightly, the feel of the pads of his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he drew small patterns to the hem of your hospital gown. "you know what people say helps with getting pregnant?"

"what?" you almost whispered, your thighs starting to form goosebumps under doctor cameron's fingers as they slowly slid under the crinkly god-ugly gown.

"orgasms." his hand continued to slide up your inner thigh, the metal of your doctor's wedding ring a pleasing contrast against your warm skin, "it's never been proven to be accurate, of course." his hand was just under your crotch, drawing infinity-symbols on your skin, a pondering look on his face as he cocked his head to the side, a small smirk appearing on his face, "but it never hurts to be thorough, right?"

doctor cameron had you folded over on the examination table, holding your legs at your sides, his warm lips placing sloppy, hot kisses on your neck as his cock slid out of you before slamming against your cervix, the man letting out a soft breathy laugh at every little gasp or moan that managed to escape your lips.

"how many times do i have to tell you, sweetie?" he mumbled against your skin, rafe's words intensified by the pace of his hips snapping against yours increasing, a loud yelp leaving you, "you don't need to try and keep quiet. no one's gonna hear us." he breathed out.

the pad of his thumb found your your clit, starting to draw small circles on it as the room was filled with your unsteady breathing combined with the lewd squelch of your pussy every time his hips met yours, "come on, let me hear all those pretty little noises... it's not like this is the first time we've fooled around here."

rafe tried pulling away from your neck, but you tugged him closer by his hair, holding him there as tightly as possible "god, rafe..." you moaned out, the doctor letting out a pleased hum against your skin.

"come on, sweetie... tell me how much you want me to put a baby in you, yeah?"

"so badly..." your back arched off the examination table while rafe's long fingers slid up to your breast, teasing it with small kneads and pinches before his left hand found your hand, your fingers intertwining with his, your matching wedding bands meeting.

"i love you so much... i can't wait for you to be all pretty and pregnant." he smiled against your skin, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

MEANWHILE….

"i wonder what's taking dr. cameron so long..." the receptionist wondered aloud with a frown on her pouty lips, turning to look at the clock on the wall as she tapped her pink fingernails against the desk, "i mean, it's almost lunchtime."

the other receptionist let out a snort, interrupting the movement of the file against her long nail, turning to look at the other girl with raised brows, chewing gum. "what, you don't know?"

"know what?"

"oh, this is good." the receptionist laughed, throwing her head back with laughter in her office chair. "you don't know who she is."

"what?" the other girl asked, huffing in annoyance as she grabbed a cheeto out of the bag sitting in front of them.

"that client is mrs. cameron."

"as in-"

"yup, that was doctor cameron's wife." she let out a loud snort of a laugh as she shook her head, grabbing a cheeto before going back to filing her nails. "guess she gets special treatment."

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science-hoes · 23 days ago

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Sugar Rush

Jack Abbot x Reader

Warnings: FILTHY SMUT, lactation kink, unprotected sex, language

Description: Jack isn’t bashful in bed, but there is one thing that he won’t ask for. When the Reader has a clogged milk duct, he finally gets his chance to take what he wants.

Jack Abbot Masterlist

—

Jack Abbot never shied away from taking what he wanted, especially when it came to you. Every move, every word was calculated and intentional. Just like when he got you pregnant on purpose after mentally tracking your ovulation week and demanding that you didn’t take a Plan B after he came in you.

“Almost 50, love. I wanna see our kids grow up.” He had mumbled in your ear as he reeled from his orgasm high.

You were so giddy and even more turned on that you didn’t dare disobey the direct order from your soldier. And he got exactly what he wanted. A month and some at-home pregnancy tests later, you knew you were pregnant. You had Robby’s wife confirm with a transvaginal ultrasound, and she printed out the pictures of the tiny little bean for you to take home.

You brainstormed the cute ways to tell Jack, searching through Pinterest and TikTok that night when he was working. But when you came in to relieve the night shift and kiss him goodbye before he went home, you couldn’t find him anywhere. Robby had confirmed your suspicions when he pointed to the ceiling, not a single word uttered.

Jack was sitting on the railing of the roof, watching the sun climb over the buildings, instead of his usual lean with the rail against his back.

“That’s making me anxious.” You had called out to him to make your presence known.

Jack didn’t turn around to acknowledge you. Instead, he waited until you leaned forward on the safe side of the railing next to him. “I killed another vet tonight.” He mumbled.

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes focused on the sunrise. “Jack, you didn’t kill anyone. You just couldn’t save him.” You spoke the words that he had whispered in your ear many times after a rough shift.

“Same difference.” He replied, knuckles white as he grasped the railing.

You grabbed his large bicep, your hand not nearly big enough to wrap around it. “Will you please come to this side with me?” You begged in a calm whisper.

Jack closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath of morning air. “Why?” He asked, but he knew why. You wanted him safe, with a steel rail in between him and his death. Not balancing on it like a fucking amateur acrobat.

You reached into your back pocket, grasping the folded papers there. “I have a surprise for you.” Your voice lilted as a smile grew on your face.

Jack huffed and finally met your gaze. “Do I look like I’m 6 years old to you?” He deadpanned.

You giggled and waved the folded papers in front of him. “No, you look 50.” You replied and let the papers unfold, revealing the chain of ultrasound pictures. “Which is why I think you’ll like these.”

Jack’s eyes blew wide, the sunrise reflecting every single color off his irises. He faltered a bit on the rail as he quickly climbed down, probably the closest he’s ever come to falling off the building. You grasped his tight fitting black undershirt in your fists to balance him as he landed on his feet to the safe side of the railing.

“Is that ours?” He asked, almost afraid to hear the answer in case it was “no.”

But you passed the sonogram pictures to his thick hands, letting his fingers trace over the tiny bean that was your baby.

“That’s an Abbot.” You confirmed, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing your head against his broad chest.

Throughout the pregnancy, Jack served you in every way imaginable. He cooked every meal, tended to every chore, anticipated your needs before you could even place them. In his eyes, as your body began to change, he swore you turned more into a goddess by the day. And he especially couldn’t stop looking at your breasts. The way they swelled and hung heavy on your chest was enough to make his mouth water. But, for the first time, he couldn’t bring himself to take what he wanted.

You returned from a long day shift, only your second one back from maternity leave, with aching joints and dark circles under your eyes. Jack was holding Daniel in his arms as he watched a replay of the Steelers game on the couch. The sight was a relief after a day of blood and chaos, and you silently snuggled against Jack.

“How are my boys?” You whispered, against his chest, letting a finger trace against Daniel’s cheek.

Jack pressed a firm kiss to your hair, inhaling your scent of vanilla and antiseptic, as he pulled you impossibly close. “We’re good. Just missed him. I think he was trying to stay awake for you.” He replied.

Your baby rested peacefully on his father’s chest, so tiny in comparison. Your heart swelled as you noticed his little fists holding onto the fabric of his old army shirt.

“I can’t believe you were a redhead.” You mumbled, tracing Daniel’s orange wisps on his head.

Jack chuckled, and the rumble of his chest caused your baby to stir, but not enough to wake. “He’s gonna drive anesthesia crazy.” He noted. “Redheads need more anesthetic.”

You giggled and nudged his prosthesis with your foot. He wore it around the house more often now instead of his crutches. He wanted to be able to carry his son wherever he went. “Is that what happened to you?” You asked.

He nodded with a dry laugh. “Oh yeah. I remember half of my amputation.” He confessed.

You grimaced at the thought, but then a jolt of pain shot through your chest. You shuddered and let out an uncomfortable breath.

Jack raised an eyebrow, thinking you were distressed about his story. “I couldn’t feel anything.” He clarified.

You shook your head and sat up. “No, it’s not that.” You said, clutching your breasts. “I think I have a clogged milk duct.” You hissed through another stab of pain.

He sat up straight with you, shifting Daniel in his arms. “Need me to look?” He asked.

Most of the time, you would have waved him off. You were a capable doctor and had read up on every single complication of motherhood during your pregnancy. But you weren’t sure how to fix this one. “Yeah.” You admitted.

Jack nodded and stood carefully. “Let me put him down real quick.” He said before disappearing to the nursery.

While he was gone, you shucked off your scrub top, but your breasts were still bound by your maternity bra. Your hand massaged at your chest, trying to relieve the pressure on your right breast where the suspected block was.

When Jack reentered the room, the sight of you was enough to make him freeze. Your palms kneading against your chest, moans crawling from your throat and leaving your pretty lips. He felt himself harden as he sat next to you on the couch again.

“Let me see.” He whispered because if he had spoken any louder, his voice would have cracked in desperation.

Jack trailed one hand behind your back and found the clasp of your bra, expertly releasing the hooks. A small bit of tension in your chest relieved when the bra fell from your shoulders, and you let out a shaky breath. Your breasts hung from your chest, overexpanded from milk buildup. Your nipples hardened as the cold air of the living room hit your skin.

Jack swallowed thickly as he tried to resist the urge to tackle you down and start sucking like an animal. He scooted closer on the couch, so he could examine you.

“Which one hurts?” He asked, amber eyes flicking between your breasts.

Your hand clutched your right one. “This one.” You answered.

Jack’s calloused but experienced fingers traced over your skin, searching for a hardened area. Your skin crawled with pleasure at his ministrations, but you were quickly snapped back to reality when he pressed against the spot where you’d felt pain earlier.

“Right here?” He asked.

You tried to twitch away from his grasp, but his hand held your breast securely. “Yeah.” You grunted.

Jack nodded and reached his free hand to your left breast, giving it the same examination. The way his eyes scanned your chest was so clinical and practiced. Like you weren’t his wife anymore but his patient. It was really, really attractive.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” He asked as his thick hands skimmed across every inch of your breasts.

You felt an uncomfortable rush of hormones in your rib cage as his hands continued to stimulate you. “Jack, you’re gonna have to fix it.” You groaned as your head dropped back.

His eyes finally looked up for the first time since your bra was discarded. “Fix it?” He questioned, but God, he knew what you meant.

The let-down reflex was nearing, and you couldn’t bear the discomfort in your right breast. You pushed him back against the upright couch cushions and straddled his hips. Your breasts hung above his face, and suddenly, he was as bashful as a teenage boy.

“Please, Jack.” You pleaded, massaging your right breast as the pins and needles sensation grew stronger.

Jack stared at you like a deer in headlights. The one thing he had been too shy to ask for because, well, it wasn’t supposed to be for him. It was supposed to be for your son. But here you were, straddling him, begging him to take what shouldn’t be his.

Before he could make a sound, you snatched the back of his head, fingers anchoring in his chrome curls, and shoved his face against your breast. His mouth latched onto your nipple like it was a primal instinct. His tongue suctioned underneath and began to suckle. His hands dug into your hips when his unconsciously bucked up against them.

The sounds that left your lips were vulgar, the sensation of pain and discomfort fighting against the pleasure of his lips around your nipple and his cock teasing your pussy through layers of his jeans and your scrub pants.

You shuddered as the let-down reflex initiated, and the first drops of milk dripped onto Jack’s tongue. He growled at the taste of the forbidden fruit, spurring him to suck harder. He used his free hand to clamp your other nipple in between his knuckles, tugging to release the milk on that side. The pain in your right breast slowly began to dissolve, and you yelped when a long drag from Jack’s mouth cleared the blockage.

Reluctantly, Jack released your nipple only to present the smallest clot on his tongue, his mouth starting to curl into a prideful smile. You let out a sigh of relief as Jack spit the clot out into a burping cloth from the side table, and he began to shift like he was going to get up.

You ground down against his hips hard in retaliation, drawing a startled groan from him. “You’re not gonna finish what you started?” You questioned.

Jack watched you with predatory eyes, and his hands squeezed your thighs. “Need me to fuck you?” He asked condescendingly.

You smirked and grabbed his face in your hands, puffing your chest out so that your breasts were showcased in front of his eyes. “Need you to milk me.” You corrected.

He wanted to play it cool. He really did. But his trembling hands gave him away as they moved to massage your breasts, letting the warm droplets race down his forearms as they fell. “You’re sure?” He asked, nearly choking on his watering mouth.

You squeezed your breasts on top of his hands, more droplets pearling at your nipples. “Daddy’s turn, yeah?” You teased, pulling off his worn out army shirt to reveal the corded muscles of his upper body.

His cock twitched at your words, and without another word, he dove into your chest, teeth snatching at your nipple again until he was latched. The short and fast suckles began to fade into deeper, longer sucks as your milk fully released to a constant stream.

He tweaked at your other nipple with his fingertips, pulling in a consistent pattern to release the milk from that breast. The pressure behind the stream caused it to spray onto his chest, decorating it along with his freckles.

You moaned in ecstasy as the oxytocin rush seeped across your body, and you began to unbutton his jeans. You managed to free yourself from your scrub bottoms and underwear without breaking Jack’s connection on your chest. You let your slick pussy slide against his abdomen for a few moments, combining your wetness with the rivers of milk that streamed from his chest.

“That wet for Daddy, huh?” He breathed in between swallows.

A desperate sound of confirmation left you as he twisted your nipple inside his hungry mouth. Your fingers quickly pulled his aching cock from his boxer briefs, sliding his jeans down enough to give you everything you wanted.

You sank down on his never ending length, the stretch still as paralyzing as the first time he fucked you. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock inside you. He groaned against your breast, teeth digging into your nipple as he felt the warmth of your pussy around him. You let out a scream at the sharp sensation, but he slapped his hand over your mouth.

“Don’t wake him.” He growled against your breast. “Daddy’s turn.”

Your cheeks flushed at his dominance, and you nodded against his large hand. That hand slowly trailed to your neck and squeezed against your pulse point. His hips began to roll as he continued to drink from your fountain. Milk dribbled down the edges of his lips when he came up reluctantly to breathe.

“You taste like a goddamn sin.” He mumbled, looking up to you with those bourbon eyes.

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and your fingers dug into his shoulder blades as you continued to bounce on his lap. At some point, he moved his focus to your other breast, draining its reserves.

“Jack, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” You panted in between his thrusts and suckling.

He just doubled down on his worship to your body, bucking his hips impossibly deeper into you and swallowing harder around your nipple. The spring that had been coiling tighter and tighter in your belly finally snapped, sending your white hot orgasm across your body. You went limp in his arms as he fucked you like a ragdoll, chasing his own release.

It wasn’t long until you felt his hips stutter, his characteristic finish before he released inside you, ropes of hot cum painting your walls. Even as he breathed sharply through his nose and moaned through his orgasm, his lips remained faithfully latched to your nipple. His sucks had slowed as he drunkenly swallowed around your breast.

The stimulation made you shiver, and you ran a hand through his dampened curls. “Had enough?” You questioned, secretly hoping he would say no.

Jack chuckled and released your nipple, leaning his head back against the coach. His lips were beautifully swollen, eyes dazed like he was inebriated. His chest heaved as his breathing stabilized, pools of cream in the crevices of the muscles and veins of his chest.

“I wanna overdose on this.” He mumbled contently. “Giving me a goddamn sugar rush.”

—

A/N: Yeah I’m gonna need to go to church after writing this one. Also this was my first Jack Abbot smut fic 💕

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #jack abbot #jack abbot smut #jack abbot x reader #Jack Abbott #Shawn hatosy

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intracervical1 · 1 year ago

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10 Intracervical Insemination Syringe Kits in 2024

Intracervical insemination (ICI) is increasingly recognized as a vital option for individuals and couples seeking to conceive. Surprisingly, a significant number of people explore ICI, and many are searching for reliable and effective methods.

Unfortunately, finding the right ICI kit can be challenging, as many available options are either overly complicated or lack efficacy. That’s why, when tasked with testing and reviewing the latest ICI kits, my primary objective was to identify a user-friendly and effective kit suitable for regular use.

One brand, MakeAmom, consistently stood out during my research, with numerous posts and positive reviews across social media platforms. It is a thoughtfully designed kit that claims to streamline the insemination process, and I was keen to evaluate its effectiveness. MakeAmom promises a straightforward and efficient approach without the need for complex or invasive procedures.

First Impressions Upon opening the package from MakeAmom and inspecting the kit, I was immediately struck by the high-quality materials used in its construction. Compact and elegantly designed, it reminded me of professional-level medical devices, akin to those you might receive from a healthcare provider.

#intracervical insemination #iui treatment for pregnancy #pregnant chemical #ovulation when to test #intracervical

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wonderlandwalker · 2 months ago

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Two can play (but three's more fun) | Steve Harrington x reader x Eddie Munson

stranger things masterlist / inbox

summary: when Steve catches Eddie staring a little too long at his girlfriend, he doesn’t throw a punch—he extends an invitation. And as Eddie quickly learns, Steve doesn’t just share; he teaches, with slow, filthy demonstrations.

word count: 5.2k

tags / content warnings: smut, just pure filth really, posessive steve, desperate eddie, a lot of swearing, I couldn't help it, maybe some repetitive words but smut vocabulary just has it's limits

a/n: I got insanely stoned and wrote this so if it came out too horny i'm sorry, also im ovulating oops. I've prolly been very inconsistent with grammar tenses but I can't be bothered to check it. I usually correct my grammar after i've already posted so the masterlist link has significantly less errors than earlier versions

The living room was bathed in the flickering glow of the TV, some forgotten horror movie playing on low volume—The Thing, maybe, or was it Halloween?—its eerie soundtrack warping under the weight of the thick, sweet-smelling haze curling through the air.

Eddie had outdone himself with this new strain, something sticky and potent that left his limbs heavy and his usual sharp edges dulled into something languid and warm, his thoughts perhaps a bit too syrupy.

“—I know I talk a big game, man, but fuck. I have no clue what I’m doing when it actually comes down to it.”

His voice was a low mumble, words slipping out like he hadn’t meant to say them at all. He tipped his head back against the couch cushions, staring at the ceiling as if it might hold answers.

Steve blinks at him, slow and rhythmically, before snorting. “What, like… at all?”

“Yeah, man. Like—” Eddie waves a hand vaguely, the silver of his rings glinting as he moves. “How the fuck am I supposed to know what sounds are real and which ones are fake? It’s fucking Russian roulette.”

The next reaction from Steve is immediate, no hesitation. Just a lazy, knowing smirk as he stretches his arms behind his head. “Huh. Well, once you know the difference, it becomes pretty obvious.” He pauses, just long enough to take a quick glance over Eddie’s face. “If you really need some pointers, I can ask my girlfriend if she wants to help you out.”

Eddie nearly comes crashing to the fucking floor.

Because fuck. He’s had a crush on you for, like, forever. Not that he’s ever admitted it out loud — not when Steve Harrington has a reputation for rearranging the faces of guys who so much as look at you wrong. Eddie has seen it happen: some poor asshole at a party, fingers skimming your ass as you passed, and bam — Steve’s fist in his jaw before anyone could blink. There’s even a rumour some other idiot once stared just a little too long at the way your lips wrapped around the neck of your beer bottle and then slurred, “Wanna spin the bottle?” Word is, Steve dropped him in one hit. No warning. No theatrics. Just pure, primal instinct.

So yeah, Eddie’s kept his mouth shut.

But now? Now Steve is watching him with this lazy, half-lidded expression, like he hadn’t just detonated a goddamn bomb in Eddie’s head.

“You’re fucking with me.” Eddie pleads, his voice rough.

Steve just grins — slow, deliberate — his eyes dark with something Eddie can't name. “Nah, man. She’s actually really into that kinda stuff.” His voice drops, gravel scraping over each word, and Eddie’s stomach flips “And I’d do anything for her.”

The air feels thick as Eddie’s pulse roars in his ears, his throat suddenly bone-dry. Was this a test? A trap? Christ. Harrington was going to be the death of him, and worse—Eddie knew he’d fucking thank him for it.

His fingers twitch at his sides. “...Yeah?”

Steve’s smile only widens, but his eyes soften. “Yeah.”

When Eddie shows up at your place the next night, he’s strung tight enough to power Hawkins twice over, his pulse hammering in his throat. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours convincing himself he’d imagined the whole conversation, that there was no way Steve Harrington just offered—

And then you open the door.

Dressed in nothing but one of Steve’s old band tees, the fabric riding high on your thighs, you greet him with a smile that damn near stops his heart. “Hey, Eddie.”

His mouth goes dry. And before he can choke out a response, Steve is behind you, hands sliding possessively around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. And then — Jesus Christ.

The kiss Steve gives you isn’t just heated — it’s filthy. All tongue and teeth, your fingers twisting in his hair as he backs you against the doorframe, his hands already under your shirt like it’s a regular Tuesday afternoon.

Eddie’s knees nearly give out.

“Watch,” Steve murmurs against your lips when he finally breaks away, his gaze flicking to Eddie over your shoulder. His voice dark and commanding. “And pay attention.”

Then, right there in the doorway, Steve pulls the shirt over your head — meticulously slow, like he wants Eddie to memorise every second. And, well — Eddie does.

He memorises the way your breath hitches when Steve’s fingers brush over your ribs, the way you arch into his touch, the soft, real sounds spilling from your lips as Steve’s mouth finds the top of your breasts—

Eddie’s throat protests as he swallows, fingers twitching at his sides like he can’t decide whether to bolt or drop to his knees.

Steve notices —of course he does— and his lips curl into something dangerously close to a challenge. “You just going to stand there, Munson?” His hands slide down your hips, squeezing just hard enough to make you softly gasp. “Thought you wanted to learn.” Eddie manages to get control over his brain just long enough to answer “I— Yeah. Fuck. Yeah. I do.”

Steve hums, pleased, and spins you around to face Eddie fully, his palm splayed possessively over your stomach. “Then get over here.”

It’s not a request.

Eddie moves like a man in a trance, close enough now to feel the heat of your skin, to catch the intoxicating scent of your perfume. His gaze darts between your face and Steve’s fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over your collarbone.

“First lesson,” Steve murmurs, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. “Don’t just touch. Listen.” His free hand reaches out, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and dragging it toward you. “Feel how she reacts.”

Eddie’s fingertips brush your waist—hesitant at first, then firmer when you shiver under his touch. His breath hitches as you lean into him, lashes fluttering when his thumb grazes the delicate curve of your ribs.

“Good.” Steve’s voice is low, eyes locked on Eddie’s every twitch. “Now kiss her.”

Eddie’s head jerks up. “What?”

Steve’s grin is all teeth. “Unless you don’t—”

“No, I—fuck.” He surges forward, crashing his mouth against yours like a man starved. It’s messy and desperate, and he barely gets a taste before Steve yanks you back by the waist, eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.

“Jesus Christ. Not like that.”

Eddie stumbles after you as Steve kicks the door shut behind them. “It’s like you were raised by wolves.”

Eddie opens his mouth to protest—then snaps it shut. Because Steve’s right. He’s a wreck.

“What are you waiting for, a written invitation?” Steve’s voice is rough with impatience. “Kiss her again.”

Eddie hesitates—just for a second—before lust wins the war. This time, when his lips find yours, it’s still hungry, but it’s also aware, his movements more controlled. For a heartbeat, he’s terrified Steve will deem him unworthy of you altogether and kick him back to the curb—until you moan into it, until your fists twist in his shirt and drag him closer.

Steve groans in approval against your shoulder. “That’s it,” he rasps, pressing you forward just enough that Eddie can feel your heartbeat against his chest. “Now slow down. Make her want it.”

Eddie whimpers, but obeys, pulling back just enough to tease your lower lip between his teeth before licking into your mouth like you’re water and he’s been dying of thirst.

The sound you make — the soft, wanting whine—it's the hottest thing he’s ever heard. Steve pulls you back again, but this time, there’s satisfaction in his grin. “See?” His thumb swipes over your kiss-swollen lips, smug. “She likes it when you take your time.”

Steve doesn’t let go of you—not really. Even as he nudges you toward the couch, his palm stays glued to the small of your back, steering you like he owns every inch of space you move through. Eddie doesn’t need to be told to follow; his pulse hammers in his throat, fingers flexing like he’s already imagining the weight of you beneath them.

“Sit.” Steve’s order cracks through the air, and Eddie drops onto an armchair like his strings have been cut.

You don’t get the chance to join him. Steve catches your wrist, yanking you back against his chest instead. His mouth brushes your ear, voice a low, possessive hum: “Nah, sweetheart. You’re staying right here.” His fingers trail down your arm before guiding your hand to Eddie’s jaw. “Let him earn it.”

Eddie’s breath stutters. Christ. Up close, you’re devastating. The way your eyes shimmer with pure lust, the way your lips part—just slightly—when Steve’s fingers skim over the lace of your bra. The syrupy moan you let out when he pinches your nipple over it, just enough to make your back arch—

“See that?” Steve’s voice is rough against your ear. “She gets loud when she’s turned on. You just have to know how to listen.” Eddie nods, swallowing hard. His hands hover over your hips like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve under his touch. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, Munson. You’re not going to break her.” He grabs Eddie’s wrist, pressing his palm flat against your stomach. “Feel how warm she is? How fucking desperate?”

Eddie’s fingers twitch. He can feel it—the rapid rise and fall of your breath, the way your skin burns under his touch.

“Now”, Steve murmurs, lips grazing your shoulder, “show me what you’ve learned.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice.

This time, when he kisses you, it’s relaxed—calculated. He licks into your mouth like he’s savouring it, one hand sliding up your ribs while the other tangles in your hair. And when you moan, when your hips jerk forward like you just can’t help it, Eddie groans against your lips like he’s just discovered fucking religion.

Steve watches, eyes dark with approval. “Better,” he rasps. Then, with a smirk: “Now get on your knees.”

Eddie freezes, and Steve arches a brow,“got a problem?”

“No—fuck, no.” Eddie’s already sliding to the floor, knees hitting the carpet with a thud. His hands find your thighs, gripping just tight enough to feel the muscle tense under his fingers.

Steve’s smirk widens. “Good.”

The praise goes straight to Eddie’s dick.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp—and God, Eddie’s never been so hard in his life.

Steve’s voice is a murmur as he trails a path down your throat, bruises already blooming under his mouth. “Now, make her beg.”

Eddie’s breathing is ragged as he looks up at you—fuck, the way your pupils are blown wide, the way your chest rises with every shaky inhale. Steve’s fingers are still tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing a stray strand behind your ear with a tenderness that feels domestic. Your eyes meet Eddie’s just before they flutter shut, and it’s all the permission he needs. His mouth finds the inside of your knee first, lips dragging slow and hot up your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm. Steve hums, tracing your ribs and sliding your bra strap down your shoulder. His palm cups your breast as it spills free, kneading with a lazy possessiveness that has your hips jerking forward — but Eddie holds you steady, determined.

His tongue traces past the waistband of your panties like he’s trying to memorise the shape of you, and when his eyes flick up to Steve, all he finds is lust, raw and unfiltered. So Eddie hooks his fingers into the fabric and pulls, dragging it down your legs as he kisses a trail after it, reverent even in his hunger. His fingers work you with surprising precision, his gaze desperate for approval — and when he curls them just right, you gasp, arching into his touch with a moan loud enough to make Steve’s smirk falter. He wasn’t expecting that.

The slip in Steve’s control sends a thrill through Eddie, and he murmurs against your thigh, voice rough: “You sound so fucking sweet — bet you taste even better.” Steve’s grip tightens on your hip, hard enough to bruise, but you don’t seem to mind.

He’d meant to teach. Now, he’s learning.

And the way you’re unravelling under Eddie’s touch stirs something awake inside of him. Eddie’s got a musician’s dexterity, his fingers able to coax sinful melodies from you with every twist. When you whimper Eddie’s name, Steve’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t stop him. Just watches with a gaze darker than the midnight sky itself as Eddie’s breath ghosts over you, your thighs trembling. “Please—”

The word barely leaves your lips before Eddie adds another finger, crooking them until your thighs squeeze around his wrist. He groans against your skin, resting his forehead against your leg as the vibration tears another broken sound from your throat. He fucks you with his fingers — slow and deep, then fast and relentless, like he can’t decide whether to savour you or ruin you.

Eddie, drunk on your praise, dares to glance up at Steve with a smirk. Steve’s nostrils flare, but instead of shutting him down, he drags a thumb over your cheek and growls, “You gonna cum for him?” You can’t even answer. Your back arches, toes curling, and Eddie drinks it in like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. The moment you shatter, he loses it. He’s not sure what destroys him more — the way you choke out his name, begging him not to stop, or the filthy, approving rumble of Steve’s voice as he speaks, “Good girl.”

Eddie finds himself at an impasse, torn between begging for more and staying silent as the two of you decide his fate. His fingers twitch where they grip your thighs, his breath ragged, his entire body coiled tight with anticipation—and fear. Steve detaches himself from nipping at your collarbone when Eddie wavers, his movements faltering. A reprimand flashes in Steve’s darkened gaze, sharp enough to make Eddie shudder again. “Didn’t you hear her, Munson?” Steve’s voice is a low, warning growl. “She told you not to stop.”

But Eddie freezes. The reality of where he is—what he’s doing—hits him like a freight train. He has no idea how to continue.

But Steve doesn’t tolerate hesitation. His hand fists in Eddie’s hair, yanking him forward with a rough, “Stop thinking.”

Eddie obeys like a man possessed, and the moment his tongue drags over you, his whole body jerks—holy shit. You taste even better than he could’ve dared to dream. Sweet, addictive, and the way you gasp when he flicks his tongue over your clit? He’s ruined. Forever.

Drunk on you—on the way your fingers tighten in his hair, the way you’re so wet it’s coating your thighs—he laps at you like his life depends on it. Steve watches with drowsy satisfaction, his palm sliding possessively up your stomach to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple just to hear you whimper for him again.

“Listen to how she sounds when you do it right,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with contentment. “Isn’t it the most beautiful sound in the world?” He doesn’t wait for Eddie to answer. Instead, he tilts your jaw toward him, locking you in a searing kiss. You moan into Steve’s mouth as Eddie continues, his tongue relentless, his own desperate noises vibrating against you. Steve chuckles darkly when Eddie whimpers, his cock straining against his jeans just from tasting you. He hasn’t even touched himself, but he’s so close he’s shaking.

“Are you going to come just from this, Munson?” Steve drags him off you by his hair, grinning at the dazed, wrecked look on Eddie’s face. “Fuck, look at him, darling. He’s a mess.” Eddie’s lips are slick, his chest heaving, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look black. Steve doesn’t give him a chance to recover. He pushes Eddie back into the armchair, his grip firm, dominant. Then he guides you onto the couch with a smirk.

“You did good,” he tells Eddie, voice dripping with condescension. “Now let me show you great.”

Steve doesn’t waste time. In one smooth motion, he hooks his hands under your knees, spreading you wide —putting you on display— before dragging you to the edge of the couch. His gaze locks onto Eddie’s, making sure he’s watching as he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, a shudder running through you at the sensation. “See how she shivers?” Steve murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, laced with something Eddie can only describe as devotion. “It’s because she knows what’s coming—” Then he devours you.

Unlike Eddie’s frantic, eager strokes, Steve’s tongue moves with precision — deliberate, decisive licks that have you arching off the couch within seconds. He teases you, circling your clit until you’re gasping, then he pulls back with a cruel smirk.

“Steve—” you whine, fingers scrambling at his hair. “Patience, sweetheart,” he muses — before sucking your clit between his lips, hard. Your cry echoes through the room, and Eddie’s hands clench into fists, his hips jerking helplessly as you overwhelm his senses without even touching him. Steve doesn’t let up; he works you with his mouth until your thighs tremble, until your moans grow longer and heavy, until you’re right there—, and he pulls away.

“No, no, baby, please—” you beg, but Steve just clicks his tongue, amused, sliding two fingers into you without warning. “Look at her, Munson,” he orders, curling his fingers just right, making you sob beneath him. “This is how you give her what she deserves.” His thrusts are ruthless, his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. You’re a writhing, whimpering mess, your nails digging into Steve’s shoulders as he fucks you on his fingers, his eyes locked onto Eddie’s the entire time.

“She’s close,” Steve taunts — he doesn’t even need to look at you to know, too busy watching the way Eddie’s jaw clenches. “You want to see what happens when she comes on my hand?” Eddie can’t even speak. He just nods, frantic. Steve smiles wickedly and makes do with the response. “Then watch closely.”

He crooks his fingers again, pressing deeper, and you don’t just shatter — you explode. Your back bows like you’re possessed, broken screams tearing from your throat as you squirt, and Eddie swears he’s seeing stars. Your hand finds Steve’s bicep, clinging desperately, like you’re afraid he’ll stop. Eddie can’t look away; he doesn’t dare blink — if he misses a single second of this, he’ll never forgive himself.

Steve works you through it, drawing out every last spasm until tears streak your face, until you’re oversensitive, trying to squirm away. Only then does he finally relent, licking his fingers with a satisfied hum before brushing featherlight kisses up to your neck. The moment you feel his proximity, you meet him in a kiss — not heated like before, but purposeful, delicate, like Steve is guiding you back to reality with it. He doesn’t rush you; he just lets your fingers weave through his hair until your breathing steadies. Then, he speaks again. “That”, he says, “is how it’s done.” He meets Eddie’s stunned gaze. “You shouldn’t even be thinking about getting your dick wet until she’s clenching around nothing.”

Eddie’s so hard it hurts. His cock throbs against his jeans, neglected and aching, precum soaking the fabric. He’s never been this turned on in his life—and the worst part? Steve knows it. The bastard smirks, dragging a thumb over your lower lip. You suck it in eagerly, tongue swirling, before he pulls away and stands. It’s a fucking performance. Steve undoes his belt like he’s savouring the way Eddie’s eyes cling to his hands, the leather slipping free with a final, damning shush. You whimper, still boneless from your orgasm, but your eyes flutter open when Steve’s palm slides up your thigh, squeezing. “Please, Steve?” you breathe, and his grin turns feral. “Not yet, love.” He glances at Eddie, whose throat bobs under the weight of his stare. “Munson hasn’t earned it yet.”

Eddie’s stomach drops. Fuck. He’s dripping in his pants, his hips twitching like a fucking teenager, and Steve’s going to make him wait? But then—

Steve grips Eddie’s chin, forcing his gaze up. “You want her?” he asks, voice rough. Eddie nods, greedy. “Then prove you can take care of her.” And just like that, Steve shoves him onto the couch with you. “Do it like I showed you.”

For a heartbeat, Eddie can only stare—at the way your breath hitches when he touches you, at the way your eyes lock on Steve, who’s sprawled in the armchair like it’s a fucking throne, lazily stroking his cock. Your lips part, and Eddie swears he sees your mouth water—fuck, it’s obscene. His hands tremble as he touches you—really touches you—this time. His mouth finds your thigh, kissing up the sensitive skin, trying to mimic the way Steve had worshipped you earlier. But when his tongue drags over you, your breath catches—wrong—and Steve’s low chuckle cuts through the room like a knife.

“Christ, Munson,” Steve sighs, his grip tightening around his cock. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Eddie grits his teeth. He is. He’s thinking about the way Steve had made you scream, the way your back arched off the couch like you were trying to fuse into him. He’s thinking about the fact that Steve’s watching, lazily stroking himself while Eddie fumbles like a virgin.

And the nail in the coffin? You’re watching Steve too. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes heavy with desire—but not for Eddie.

“Fuck,” Eddie rasps, pulling back. His voice is wrecked.“I can’t—I don’t—” Steve leans forward, fingertips ghosting over your throat as you keen toward him. “You can,” he growls. “Stop trying to perform. Just feel her.”

Eddie’s breath comes in sharp bursts. This time, when his mouth finds your cunt, he doesn’t think. He listens. To the way your breath catches when he licks a slow, experimental stripe. To the way your hips jerk when he sucks just there. And when your fingers fist in his hair—finally—it’s not to guide him, but to hold on.

“There,” Steve murmurs, voice thick with approval. “Now you’re getting it.” Eddie moans against you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat. Fuck. He’s dizzy with it—the taste of you, the sounds you’re making, the way Steve’s gaze burns into him like a brand.

But then Steve stands. Eddie barely has time to register the loss before Steve’s dragging him up by the collar, spinning him around to face you—really face you. Your lips are swollen, your chest heaving, your thighs slick with Steve’s work.

"Look at her," Steve growls, his voice a dark scrape against Eddie’s ear. "Don’t just glance—really look."

And Eddie looks. He sees the damp flush between your breasts, the way your hips lift like you’re already chasing it, the way your pupils blow wide when Steve’s thumb swipes over your bottom lip. "She’s not yours," Steve breathes, dragging his teeth over Eddie’s earlobe. "But fuck, look how bad she wants you to try."

Eddie’s pulse races. Then Steve steps back, gesturing like a king permitting a subject to kneel. "Go on. Make her forget my fucking name."

So he closes his eyes, trying to drown out the noise in his head, to sync himself with the thrum of your heartbeat beneath him, to dissolve into every breath you take. He wants to belong here, in this moment, where Steve’s approval hangs heavy in the air and your pleasure is the only thing that matters — success. A satisfied hum from Steve when Eddie finally finds the right rhythm, a broken moan from your lips. But your eyes — your eyes stay locked on Steve, even as Eddie’s mouth works you over. It’s still him you want. Hunger battles with pride in Eddie’s chest. He hates how badly he craves this—how much he needs Steve’s approval—but god, he longs to pull those sounds from you himself, to unravel you with nothing but his touch. And so he moves like a man possessed, single-minded in his mission to play you like an instrument, to pluck every string until you snap.

Your taste is intoxicating, something he’s already addicted to, something he’s not sure he can live without anymore. Your eyes scrunch shut as pleasure blooms, so lost in it that you don’t even notice Steve speeding up his strokes, his grip tight on his cock. Eddie gets close—so close he can practically taste your climax—but you linger on the edge, just out of reach. He’s aware he’s missing something, some final piece to send you over, but he can’t find it. Then your eyes flicker open again, searching for Steve’s gaze like it’s the only thing that can save you. And Eddie knows—he’s pushed his luck too far. Steve’s patience snaps—not with his pleasure, but with Eddie’s failure to give you yours. Next thing he knows, he’s being dragged back, the warmth of you ripped away too soon. Steve looms over him, a predator in human skin, annoyance rolling off him in waves. “If you want to get a chance to fuck her,” Steve growls, voice dripping with challenge, “you’re going to have to do better than that.”

Eddie’s brain becomes the mental equivalent of a dropped Wi-Fi signal—because did Steve just imply—?

Every touch, every taste Steve has allowed him, Eddie has devoured with insatiable hunger. But now it hits him—this is more than just a demonstration. Steve might actually let him fuck you. Or he would have. Now, Eddie isn’t sure he’ll ever get the opportunity again. A sharp, breathy cry from you yanks him from his thoughts. Steve has already turned you over, guiding you onto your hands and knees, one foot perched on the armrest behind you like a damn king claiming his treasure. Eddie is so close to your face now, your slick still glistening on his chin as you blink up at him, dazed. Steve teases your entrance with his cock, just enough to have you pushing back, begging for it. And for one glorious, heart-stopping moment—you look at Eddie.

Not at back at Steve.

At him.

Your gaze is pure, primal desperation—like he’s the one you need. Steve drives into you in one brutal thrust, and your eyes screw shut in ecstasy. You sob Steve’s name, but your eyes flicker back open as you you look at him.

“Baby, please—” And it dawns on him—you are begging Steve, but not for Steve. No, you’re begging for permission, your gaze locked onto Eddie like he’s the only thing anchoring you to earth. He doesn’t know what you’re asking for, but Christ, he already knows he wants it just as much.

Steve, of course, does understand. He drags his cock into you agonisingly slow, pressing tender kisses along your spine even as his voice comes out harsh. “You think he deserves it, honey?” You whine, desperate, but Steve doesn’t need more than that. He leans over you, his thrusts deliberate, sinful. “How could I ever say no to you?”

And fuck, Eddie gets it now—gets why Steve turns possessive, gets why you love it. He’s watching the two of you move like a single entity, Steve’s hips rolling into you with a precision that rewrites Eddie’s entire understanding of sex. And the real tragedy? He’s pretty sure you’re only getting started. Your fingers fist in Eddie’s collar, yanking him down hard. His breath stutters as your lips take him in, hot and needy, and he doesn’t think—just reacts, his hands tangling in your hair as Steve’s thrusts rock you forward, forcing Eddie deeper into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations nearly undoing him right there, but then your hand tugs at his belt loop like it’s personally offended you, and Eddie’s thoughts fry into static. What do you want? He glances at Steve for answers, but the bastard just laughs, driving into you harder like he’s savouring Eddie’s confusion.

And God help him, Eddie looks. It’s downright pornographic. Steve’s cock glistens as he pulls out, your body clinging to him like it never wants to let go, and every time he sinks back in, you clench, a broken noise tearing from your throat.

As Eddie freezes, you take matters into your own hands, undoing Eddie’s belt with ruthless efficiency. The zipper’s barely down before his jeans pool at his knees. He looks at Steve again—helpless—but Steve just shakes his head, smirking. “Jesus, Munson. Keep up.”

Your fingers brush the straining outline of his cock through his boxers, and his hips jerk. Your mouth finds the spot beneath his ear, teeth scraping, and—fuck—it nearly sends him over the edge right then. You’re not gentle. You know exactly what you want. In seconds, his dick is in your hand, your grip perfect, and the first stroke has him grinding his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. He wants to keep his eyes open—to watch, to devour every detail of every second—but his body betrays him. A shudder wracks through him, his lashes fluttering helplessly before his head falls back, lost to the crushing wave of ecstasy."

“Fuck—!”

Steve’s voice cuts through the haze, dark with amusement. “That’s it, sweetheart. Show him how good you can be.” His hand tangles in your hair—not guiding, just holding—like he wants Eddie to see he’s the one in control. That every gasp you make, every shudder Eddie can’t suppress, is because Steve orchestrated it.

“Bet he’s never felt anything like you.” Eddie’s thighs tremble, his cock twitching against your tongue. He’s close, too close, and Steve knows it—fuck, he’s enjoying it. “Look at him,” Steve murmurs, dragging his cock out of you just to slam back in, punching a moan from your lips. “Already shaking for you. Bet he wishes it was him inside instead.” His thumb swipes over your clit, and you whimper, your rhythm on Eddie faltering. “But he’s got to earn that, doesn’t he?”

Earn it? Eddie’s vision blurs at the edges. He’d shamelessly beg if it meant— Then your tongue swirls over the head of his cock, and he chokes, almost falling forward into you.

“Steady,” Steve warns, though his voice is anything but calm. “You cum before she does, and I’ll make you watch while I fuck her twice as hard.”

Eddie’s groan is nothing short of pure agony. Steve fucks you more slowly then—cruel, like he’s savouring Eddie’s torment—dragging his cock almost all the way out before sinking back in, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to make your eyes water. But your dedication doesn’t waver; if anything, it burns hotter. “Shit—” Eddie’s hips jerk involuntarily, but you swallow him deeper, humming around the salt-bitter heat of him. His fingers scramble at the cushions, knuckles white. “Jesus, sweetheart, where the hell did you learn—?”

Steve’s laugh is a dark, knowing thing against your neck. His hands slide up your thighs, spreading you wider as he presses inside, slow, letting you feel every fucking inch. “She’s full of surprises,” he murmurs, lips grazing your ear. “But you’re not going to last long enough to find out, are you?”

Eddie’s groan disintegrates, the way you swirl your tongue around him, the slick pressure of your throat—it’s nothing like the groupies who’d thrown themselves at Corroded Coffin. This is ruination. This is worship. Your mouth works him with practiced greed, and Eddie’s vision blurs.

“Fuck, I’m not—I can’t—”

“Yes. You can.” Steve’s voice doesn’t leave room for argument—this isn’t a suggestion; it’s a command. His hand moves from your scalp to your nipple, pinching just shy of pain until you whine around Eddie’s cock. His other hand slips between your legs, circling your clit with filthy precision. “You going to come for us, sweetheart?” he rasps. You nod frantically, lips stretched lewdly around Eddie. “Good. Let him see.” You break with a cry, muffled around Eddie’s cock, and Steve growls as your body clenches around him. “That’s it,” he grits out, hips snapping harder, “that’s my girl—” Eddie’s spellbound.

Steve fucks you through it, your tears smearing Eddie’s thighs. His breath comes in punched-out gasps, cock twitching against your tongue—

Steve loses control first. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he spills inside you, forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.

Eddie’s hips stutter when you whimper, oversensitive, as Steve grinds into you one last time—claiming you like he wants to brand the feeling into your skin. And then— “Fuck!” Eddie’s back arches, his cock jerking as you pull off with a slick pop, begging Steve for mercy. He comes untouched, frustration and relief searing through him as he gasps your name like a prayer. Steve laughs, low and satisfied. Eddie’s too wrecked to care, chest heaving—until Steve’s next words send him tumbling straight back into want.

“Let me know if you’ve got any requests for the next lesson.”

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cherryredstarz · 3 months ago

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Little Apple 🍎🍼

A/n: my ovaries crave daddy Caleb, that’s it.

Cw: pregnancy, birth, fluff, sweet little babies, semi-obsessive Caleb

When Caleb discovered you were pregnant, he was thrilled. Yes, he knew before you told him, but unsurprisingly, he knows you better than anybody (he’s been diligently tracking your menstrual cycle when when you begin ovulating for years).

When you gathered up the courage to tell him and show him two positive pregnancy tests, and scooped you up in his arms like a princess, kissing his beautiful girl senseless.

Caleb will do anything and absolutely everything to make your pregnancy as easy and comfortable as possible. He’d rush out at three in the morning to satisfy your pregnancy cravings, rub your swollen feet and calves in your later pregnancy. The colonel would even press his face into your pregnant belly, feeling the little one kick. Caleb is ecstatic.

He’s prepared with a hospital bag as soon as you go into labor, and safe to say, he was nervous. He’d hold your hand through your child’s birth, kissing your forehead and wiping away sweat from your body. Caleb will whisper words of love and encourage—it’s heartbreaking to see his pipsqueak in pain. He’ll stick up for you and defend your requests to pushy or overbearing nurses and doctors; your husband won’t let ‘hospital policy’ ruin your birth experience.

You give birth to a tiny, healthy baby girl—and Caleb feels a new type of love rush through his body—for their baby. A tiny, perfect being that is a result of your unwavering love.

Caleb would carefully drive you and your tiny infant home, and did everything possible to ease your burden and take care of your child. Late night feedings, comforting your baby while you get some much needed sleep, cleaning and cooking while you rest and heal.

At night, he’d cradle his daughter, his Little Apple, brushing his thumb against her soft, chubby little cheek. She was perfect, from her tiny feet to the sleeping pout on her lips. Your baby has your eyes and his nose and hair—she’s beautiful. And Caleb adores her fresh baby smell. Neither of you can get enough of it.

Your little family is utterly perfect.

#fluff #romance #lnds caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x fem reader #caleb x mc #caleb x you #caleb x reader #caleb smut #colonel caleb #love and deepspace #baby #pregnant reader #pregnancy

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spingu · 3 months ago

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inane ramblings on ttc and hockey players in the tags

#going through the whole ttc process is really making me realise how hard it must be for nhl players to family plan/get pregnant #because they are away SO consistently and there's no pattern to roadies and away trips and the schedule is so NOT family friendly #and the window each month is small right. and what if your husbands road trips/away games just fall at the wrong time month after month #which is very much my current mood as husband is meant to be abroad for a huge chunk of march and is currently away now #and my ovulation was supposed to be thursday - meaning we could have tried when he's due home on friday #but no! ovulating today. monday. pointless. he's hundreds of miles away today and will be until the end of the week #genuinely cried over my ovulation test this morning because ???? this is the last month he's even vaguely around at the right time until ma #trying to comfort myself with the idea that at least he isn't stuck on a 15 day roadie to western canada #spoke to a friend at the weekend who was like oh but you can try the other three weeks of the month! (when not on your period)#and i was like... yeah. but you do realise you can't get PREGNANT for all of those three weeks #like. there's a tiny window. it's hard to work out when it actually is and still the odds are maybe 20-25% every month when everything work #but yeah. trying to comfort myself that there are lots of other women who's husbands/partners work unsociable jobs and must also deal w thi #anyway. radioactive bad mood today #ttc tag

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stellamarielu · 8 days ago

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hi hello everyone! i’m ovulating and can’t stop thinking about getting knocked up by jack abbot…

It’s 7:12am. You're looking over the status board, deciding which patient will be your first of the day, when McKay casually announces the arrival of bagels in the break room.

You reply that you haven’t been able to eat breakfast for the last few days. Telling her that something about the meal has been making you constantly nauseous. You couldn’t even get down one bite of oatmeal yesterday morning without gagging.

She just laughs. Telling you that your predicament reminds her of when she was pregnant with her son.

She reminisces on the months of not being able to keep down any food before noon, while sipping on her 12 ounce drip, and all you can do is stare at her with wide eyes while your mind runs laps trying to remember when your last period was.

You can practically feel Jack’s stare on you from his position on your left. There's no doubt, he can hear the conversation between you two as he types up his last report of the day.

Your gaze instinctively darts to his.

Neither of you say a word as you watch him bite at the inside of his check, pursing his lips, fighting back some sort of smile.

His expression holds something between question and revelation, as his eyes float back down to the computer in front of him again.

There’s a calming factor in the glance shared between you. Something in his amused expression instantly calms the nerves flourishing in your stomach at the mere thought of an unplanned pregnancy.

You look back up at the names of patients waiting to be seen, and pretend not to be struck with the realization that your period was, in fact, four days late.

It's a busy morning, there's no time for you and Jack to share a moment of privacy before he's giving you one last look of reassurance, and placing a gentle hand on your lower back as he brushes past you with his things.

As soon as you get a moment, you pull out your phone to send him a text— trying to figure out what to even send him before landing on a simple, I'll pick up a test on my way home.

Not even ten seconds later his reply comes across your screen,

Already on it.

And then another.

I love you.

#file this under jack having a secret relationship with a day shift attending #maybe i just need to make a tag for it #bc every time i write for him i gravitate to that dynamic #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #the pitt #jack abbot fluff #stellamarie chats! abbot

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luvyeni · 7 months ago

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( reaction ) riize when you’re ovulating ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 라이즈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ using riize when you’re ovulating ヾ

OT7!라이즈・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ wc ・ ‎1k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. hear me out ☝ riding Riize and using them like a toy or whatever you want because you're ovulating.....

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 <3 !!!

﹙ 𐙚 : shotaro ﹚ .ᐟ

your ovulation week really puts his dancers' stamina to the test , but he does keep up – ready to be used by you whenever you need him. “again baby?” he smiled as you climbed into his lap. “so-sorry taro , but i need you.” the feeling of your warm cunt suffocating his cock. “fuck , don’t worry baby , take what you want love.” lets you move on your own pace , just sitting back , toying with your sensitive nipples. “fuck baby you feel good?” he was smiling as you used him , he loved this. “so sensitive baby , you gonna cum again?” you nodded , legs tired as you came , but that didn’t stop you. “taro , need you.” he sprung into action , wrapping his arms around your waist fucking up into you. “fuck taro im gonna cum.” it’s not about if he cums when you’re ovulating it’s about calming you down for a while , and if that means letting you use him to cum then he’s down forsure.

“that’s it baby , i know you want to cum again , cum for me.”

﹙ 𐙚 : eunseok ﹚ .ᐟ

the only time he’ll let you do what you want — but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have control of the situation. “slow down now.” he commanded , you whined , your clit grinding against his pelvis. “fuck , I said slow down.” he slapped your ass. “seok please.” you whined , holding his shoulders. “listen here.” he grabbed your cheeks, you finally slowed down. “just because you’re ovulating doesn’t mean you can act like a disobedient slut.” he let your face go. “o-okay.” you moaned , he tapped your ass. “good , now keep going.” you resumed bouncing on his cock , his tip kissing your cervix. “yeah fuck just like that.”

“that’s it keep bouncing on my dick like a good girl and i’ll let you cum as much as you want.”

﹙ 𐙚 : sungchan ﹚ .ᐟ

he loves this, he wants you to do this, use his cock, milk him for all that he has and then more. sex when you’re ovulating is the best sex in his eyes ( even tho it doesn’t matter ) it last for hours and almost every day … he’s in heaven. “oh fuck you’re killing me baby.” he chuckled , his head sticking to his forehead due to swear as you sunk down in his cock for like the 5th time , already full of his past loads. “fu-fuck im gonna shoot blanks if you keep going.” your sweet cunt clenching around him. “we-we can stop.” he slapped your ass making you yelp. “did I ask you to fucking stop?” so you didn’t you actually sped up. “yes fuuuuck.” his hand coming back down to your ass again. “that’s it.”

“keep going , use my fucking cock.”

﹙ 𐙚 : wonbin ﹚ .ᐟ

now this little fucker is a tease, he knows you’re hornier than normal because you’re ovulating, but he just can’t help but tease you. “no don’t move yet.” you whimpered out. “stop it.” he had been holding you down on his cock, feeling him twitching inside of you. “i need to fuck you.” you moved your hips against his wishes , he chuckled at your neediness. “need to fuck me?” he groaned watching your precious cunt suck him in. “so slutty baby.” he said , slapping your ass as you bounced on him, legs slap against his. “using my cock , fuck , humping me like a bunny in heat.” you moaned. “is that what you are? a slutty bunny wanting to use my cock to get off?” you nodded , “yes , please fuck!” he slapped your ass , signaling you speed up.

“then speed up slut, ride my cock like you mean it.”

﹙ 𐙚 : seunghan ﹚ .ᐟ

wants to treat you like a princess when you’re ovulating; but knows you like to take control when you’re ovulating so he lets you — at least that’s what you think. “baby slow down.” he said softly, holding your waist. “i'm not going anywhere princess.” you whined as you held his shoulders, his cock stretching you out just how you wanted him too. “just want to fuck you.” he chuckled, kissing your bust tenderly , you nipples sensitive. “you feel good, baby.” he said , he’d hold off on cumming simply so you could continue. “fuck hannie im gonna cum.” he let you cum , but you kept going. “fu-fuck baby.” he groaned. “hannie im gonna cum again.” you were insatiable but he knew you’d calm down eventually. “go a head princess.”

“cum all you want.”

﹙ 𐙚 : sohee ﹚ .ᐟ

sohee ears and his cock stands up the moment you randomly told him that you were ovulating. “lay down.” you told him, and he obey — because why wouldn’t he? you unbuckled his pants, ridding them of his bottoms along with your bottoms. “so pretty baby.” he groaned as you stroked his cock, sinking down on him. “oh fuck use me baby.” you began to move you hips , bouncing on his length. he was more of a mess than you were , you were using his cock as your own personal toy , you had been at it for about an hour and you didn’t seem to have any plans on stopping any time soon. “oh fuck baby.” he whined , throwing head back in pleasure. “fuck.”

“just keep using my cock , keep making yourself cum on me.”

﹙ 𐙚 : anton ﹚ .ᐟ

gives you exactly what you want , no fighting. he just lays back and allows you to do what you want to do. “o-oh fuck.” he moaned. “fuck baby this feels so good.” your hand was wrapped around his neck lightly not choking him as you rode his cock. both of you were lowkey fucking each other out , this always happened when you were ovulating and he loved it. he’s a dom , but he loves when you take what you want from him. “wait baby fuck.” he moaned , the room was hot , and both of you were sweaty — and anton was spent, you had milked him dry , but you weren’t letting up. “fuck baby i don’t think i can cum again.” you whimpered , still needing his cock even if you were already stuffed full of him. “pl-please one more , just one more.” you moaned. “fuck im gonna cum.” he was sure he was gonna start shooting blanks soon , but he allowed you to keep going.

“fuck baby keep going if you want.”

©️LUVYENI

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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 1 year ago

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Preggers

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: fluff, smut!

a/n: sequel to Racing Simulator, enjoy!!!

"Fuck.." You sighed closing your eyes. Your palms were sweating and resting on the sink as you waited for the results of the pregnancy test you just took without Lando knowing.

Your mouth went dry and your legs wobbled when you opened your eyes to see another line appear on the test. Positive.

Your body felt as if a heat wave just hit you. You were overwhelmed by a wide range of emotions as you put your hand over you belly trying to make yourself aware that a new life will grow in you in the coming months.

You decided to take the test secretly without anyone knowing because you didn't want anyone to put any kind of pressure on you. You've been feeling weird for the past two weeks and as a woman you knew something was happening to your body something you've never felt before.

The possibility of being pregnant immediately crossed your mind especially after coming onto Lando like a horny teenager that day in his racing chair. You were well aware that there was a great chance you were gonna get pregnant because you were ovulating and that very day you just had to spice it up.

You wisely tried to hide symptoms like nausea, inexplicable feeling of fatigue and headache. You even tried to fool yourself by attributing it all to stress at work, but it was only when you missed your period you decided to stop denying the possibility that you are pregnant. And now that you are standing over the sink looking at two clear lines, you have convinced yourself that a woman's intuition is never wrong.

You didn't even realize that a few tears ran down your cheeks until you looked yourself up in the mirror and blinked a couple of times. Taking a deep breath in you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over your face to come to your senses before going to look for Lando.

When you finally managed to get yourself together, you went to the kitchen, leaving the test behind in the bathroom. You poured yourself a glass of water looking over the kitchen island at Lando who was lying on the couch in the living room.

"Baby?" He asked looking at you from the couch, but you just kept staring at him without blinking. "Is everything okay?" He asked again, but there was no answer from you which instantly made him get up and walk over to you.

"Y/n, what's wrong? Talk to me." His gaze was full of concern as he cupped your face between his hands making you look up at him.

"I-I.." You stuttered, struggling to get the sentence out. "I have to tell you something." You put your hands over his tightening your grip around them.

"What? Tell me."

"Uh..I.." Nervousness washed over you, words didn't have the courage to leave your mouth because you didn't know what his reaction would be. you didn't often touch on the topic of children even though you had been together for 4 years. You loved each other more than anything, but you wanted to enjoy your youth as long as you could.

"Y/n, please, tell me what's going on. You're all pale and I'm getting really-"

"I'm pregnant." You cut him off making his jaw drop and eyes widen. It took him a second to process what you just said before he chuckled and let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Baby..are you really?" His eyes sparkled. You didn't know at that moment, in fact, you were even confused by his reaction, but it was as if he had been dying to hear those words all this time.

"Yeah..I just took the test in the bathroom" You nodded your head smiling with teary eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours and laughed sweetly before tightly wrapping his arms around yours shoulders.

"You're freaking me out a little with how happy you are" You admit pulling back from the hug to look at him.

"Of course I'm happy. My woman is having my baby. How could I not be?" He couldn't hide his excitement and that was definitely a relief and an encouragement, but you were still kind of terrified of the new unfamiliar situation you found yourself in. "Are you not?"

"I mean..I'm a little scared. I wasn't expecting this now" He raised his eyebrows giving you a doubtful look tilting his head to the side making both of you laugh as he remembered that day he finished inside you without you complaining. "Oh stop it!" You laughed, softly punching his chest before he pulled you to himself again and you leaned your head against him.

"You have nothing to be scared of okay? I'll take care of you, of us. " His words and his hug were enough to erase every fear, every uncertainty and question mark above your head. His embrace was your safe haven, your refuge and your home where you felt the best. "We're in this together. It was going to happen sooner or later."

"You've thought about us starting a family?" You ask looking up at the blue eyes.

"For quite some time now"

"Really?" You asked visibly taken aback, but positively surprised.

"There was one particular moment when I started fantasizing about us having a kid. It was when you met Mila for the first time. When we came for a family dinner at my parents' house and then after a while you disappeared from the table and I found you two in the playroom having a tea party." Both of you smiled as he tucked your hair behind your ear reminiscing the heart warming moment.

"The way you played with her, the way you talked to her..It was so natural for you and she was delighted with you. I was just standing there at the door admiring the two of you and then my mom saw me and it was like she could read my mind right at that moment. She was like "don't wait for too long Lando". And that's when I knew, I knew you'd be the one to carry my baby one day. Nobody else but you."

"Baby, that's so sweet.." It looked like the pregnancy hormones had already kicked in because his words made you a whimpering mess beneath him. You were sobbing as you listened to the man you loved more than anything talk about everything a woman could wish for.

"Just think about us lying in bed in the morning, our baby between us. We're looking at her, kissing her, cuddling her..I can't wait to protect both of you for the rest of my life you know?"

The scene that you pictured in your head was heaven itself just like he described it and now the excitement and joy prevailed in you and the color returned to your face when you realized that everything would be fine. Everything would be just like you've always dreamed of and more.

"Now I can't wait to meet baby Norris." You said quietly giving a soft long kiss to his lips.

"Yeah, baby Norris." He proudly repeated after you loving the way it sounded. "And when are you going to let me make you mrs Norris?" He asked and you smiled shyly looking down.

If it only had been up to Lando, he would probably have married you that day when you met Mila. He knew you were the one for him. You were the one thing he was completely sure of without a single doubt in his mind. You felt the same way about him as well, but you always thought that you should wait a little longer, that you are too young, that you are not in a hurry. There was also a constant pressure from the public that you were not ready to deal with so Lando waited patiently for you to be ready.

"Now is the perfect time to take my last name." He said.

"No, people will think that you're marrying me only because you got me pregnant and I don't want that."

"I don't care what others will think. You and I both know that's not true. C'mon, baby, be my wife." He kissed you and you wrapped your arms around his neck giggling into the kiss as he seemed to propose you right then and there.

"Maybe I should accept it now that you're offering because maybe you won't want to marry me later when I'm all fat and swollen."

"Me not wanting to marry you? That is unlikely to ever happen. Besides," He says between kisses, gripping your ass he pulled you to him pressing you against his already semi hard crotch. "I can't wait to have you walking around with round belly and full breasts. Fuck, it's turning me on so much." His hands moved to your belly gently rubbing it then up to your tits underneath your cropped wide t shirt giving them a tight squeeze.

"Is that so?" You smirk deciding to go along with what he just started. "You gonna help me out with sore breasts?"

"Fuck yes baby. Gonna take such a good care of you. " The soft kisses quickly turned into more passionate and deep ones pushing tongue into each others mouth. "Turn around for me" You do as he pleases bending over the kitchen island as he grinds himself against your butt.

"I'm so hard, can you feel it?" He whispers into your ear making you shiver. Pulling your legging just below your butt, his hand slips inside your panties. His fingers quickly trace over your wet folds before attaching them to your sensitive bud. "So wet for me, fuuuck. You're my good girl, aren't you?" You nod closing your eyes and throwing your head back on his shoulder.

"Arch your back for me" He gently takes your hips in his hands pushing you onto the hard cold surface and collecting your hair into a ponytail. Teasing you with his tip at your entrance you push yourself back against him until you have him deep inside you.

"Ahh, feels so good"

"I wish you could see my point of view right now, so fucking hot." His eyes were glued on his cock disappearing into your pussy, drenching him in your wetness. "I'm not pulling out anymore, I'm gonna cum in you every time you let me fuck you"

"Oh Lando..yess, please"

"Everyone will know that I'm the one who put a baby in you. That I fucked you so good, filled you up so deep, yeah? Shit, baby.." His hands were desperately clutching at your hair while he was slamming hard into your hole. The slapping of your skin against his echoing through the kitchen.

"Yes, you fuck me so good Lando. Keep going, I'm so close." A couple more thrusts later, his hot breath against your skin and soon you were reaching your highs panting out his name.

"Fuck baby, look how much you came" His eyebrows furrowed and lips parted groaning when he saw that you left white ring around his cock taking him again and again. "Gonna play with your pussy every day. Shit, I'm gonna cum, oh shit" The sight drove him crazy, you could feel him pulsating before he spilled his cum inside you pushing his cock as deep as it went.

"You did so good, so so good." His arms pulled you to him trapping you in a tight embrace as he left small kisses on your cheek and your shoulder.

You wince as you feel him pull out of you, your juices dripping down your thighs making him curse under his breath. Unable to resist the urge, his hand slips down to your thighs collecting the dripping cum with his fingers and rubbing it all over your pussy again.

"My beautiful, most beautiful pregnant girl."

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