Okay I have decided that I am not going to be writing any more smut. I will just post my Luke Skywalker smut fic that is already finished in a few days and I'm done 😔 it makes me too uncomfortable
ahh love ur fics, could u make one where house helps reader while she’s going into labour
>>> Our Dawn <<<
Summery: Terrified by the ghosts of past losses, Y/N goes into premature labor at home, forcing House to shed his cynical armor, defy hospital protocol, and personally guide their miracle rainbow baby into the world.
Note: This fic is a mix between two requests, the other being:
Could you do one where reader gives birth to her and Houses rainbow baby? - @clownquirks
The pain didn’t start with a dramatic burst of water or a sharp scream. It started as a low, cruel ache in the small of your back at three in the morning, whispering a familiar terror into the dark bedroom.
You sat up instantly, clutching your swollen abdomen, your breath catching in your throat. No. Please, God, no. Not yet.You were only thirty-four weeks. The memories rushed back like a tidal wave—the sudden cramps of your first miscarriage, the quiet, devastating silence of the ultrasound room during the second, and the agonizing, premature labor at twenty-four weeks that had stolen your third baby before he could even take a breath.
Beside you, the mattress shifted. House was awake, his sharp blue eyes instantly cutting through the shadows. He didn't ask if you were okay; he knew the exact shade of pale your face turned when the trauma resurfaced.
"How far apart?" his voice was rough with sleep, but his hands were already steady as he reached for you.
"Ten minutes," you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Greg, it’s happening again. It’s too early. My body is failing her again."
"Hey," House growled softly, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. The cynical, sarcastic doctor was gone; his eyes were fiercely alive with a protective desperation. "Look at my face. Thirty-four weeks is not twenty-four. Her lungs are ready. You are ready. We are going to the hospital, and we are bringing our daughter home."
The trip to Princeton-Plainsboro was a blur of blinding headlights and agonizing, tightening waves of pain. By the time House wheeled you through the doors of the ER, you were sobbing, completely overwhelmed by the physical agony and the suffocating terror of history repeating itself.
The standard hospital machinery kicked in instantly. The on-call OBGYN, Dr. Thomas, rushed into the triage room with a team of nurses, gloved and ready to examine you.
"Get away from me!" you shrieked, pulling your legs back, pressing yourself flat against the headboard of the bed. Your eyes frantically scanned the room until they landed on House. "No! No one touches me but him! Greg, don't let them!"
"Y/N, I need to check your dilation, you're in active labor," Dr. Thomas said urgently. "Dr. House is a diagnostician, he isn't—"
"I don't care!" you screamed, your voice cracking with raw panic. A violent contraction seized your abdomen, making you arch your back. "He knows what we lost! He knows her! Greg, please! Only you!"
House didn't hesitate. He slammed his cane down onto a side table with a resounding clack that silenced the room. "You heard her. Step back."
"House, this is highly irregular, you're not on staff as an obstetrician—" Thomas argued.
"I have an MD, I've delivered babies in the clinic, and more importantly, she’s mine," House snapped, his voice carrying an icy authority that brooked no argument. He grabbed a bottle of sterile scrub, washing his hands with furious efficiency before snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "You want to stand there and watch to make sure I don't break a policy? Fine. But if you touch her, I’ll find out which pharmaceuticals you're taking bribes from and ruin your career by sunrise. Back off."
The OBGYN and the two nurses slowly stepped back, forming a quiet, watchful perimeter at the back of the room, ready to intervene only if a medical catastrophe arose.
Outside the glass doors of the delivery room, a small crowd had gathered. Cuddy stood with her arms crossed, her eyes shining with an anxious, protective warmth. Wilson was beside her, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pale with worry for his best friend. Behind them, Chase, Cameron, and Foreman stood in a hushed line, their usual medical detachment melted away by the sheer emotional gravity of what was happening inside.
House ignored them all. The entire universe had shrunk down to this bed, to you, and to the fragile promise of the heartbeat coming from the monitor.
"It's just you and me, Y/N," House murmured, moving to the foot of the bed. His voice was incredibly soft now, a low, grounding anchor in the middle of your storm. "I'm right here. I’ve got you. On the next contraction, I need you to push."
The wave hit you, a blinding crescendo of pain. You grabbed the metal bars of the bed, screaming as you pushed with everything you had left. The fear of failure, the grief of the babies you had lost, the agonizing hope for this one—you poured all of it into the physical effort.
"Good, beautiful, keep going," House urged. His hands were perfectly steady, guiding you, shielding you.
Hours bled together. You pushed until your throat was raw, until your muscles trembled so violently you couldn't hold your legs up. Through it all, House didn't blink. He wiped the sweat from your forehead, he let you crush his hand until his fingers popped, and he spoke to you in a way he had never spoken to anyone else—with absolute, unyielding devotion.
"I see her," House suddenly breathed, his voice catching. A look of pure, unadulterated awe broke across his hardened face. "She's right there, Y/N. Dark hair. Just like yours. One more push and she's out. Give me everything you've got."
With a final, desperate cry, you gathered every shattered piece of your strength and pushed.
The release was sudden and overwhelming. For a fraction of a second, the room fell into a terrifying, breathless silence. Your eyes flew open, your heart stopping, waiting for the nightmare to reclaim you.
Then, a sharp, angry, beautiful gasp tore through the air, followed by a loud, vigorous wail.
The sound shattered the ghosts in the room.
House immediately lifted the squirming, slippery, beautifully pink baby girl, laying her directly onto your bare chest. The nurses behind him moved forward with towels, but House gently waved them off, wanting to be the one to clear her airway, to wrap her up, to keep her safe.
You collapsed back against the pillows, your hands trembling violently as you cradled the warm, crying weight against your skin. "She's breathing... Greg, she's breathing. She's crying."
"She’s perfect," House whispered.
You looked up at him, and the sight broke your heart in the most beautiful way. Gregory House—the man who guarded himself with walls of stone and sarcasm—was crying. Large, silent tears streamed openly down his face, tracking through the stubble on his cheeks. He fell to his knees beside the bed, his cane completely forgotten, and buried his face in the crook of your neck, his shoulders shaking with deep, silent sobs.
You wrapped one arm around his head, holding him close, while your other hand held your daughter.
Outside the glass, Cuddy wiped a tear from her cheek and walked away to give you privacy. Wilson let out a long, shuddering breath, a massive, emotional smile breaking across his face as he followed her.
Inside, the room was filled only with the sound of your daughter's cries and the quiet weeping of two parents who had finally made it through the storm.
House pulled back just enough to look at the baby, his wet blue eyes filled with a tenderness that seemed entirely new. He reached out a trembling, gloved finger, and your daughter’s tiny hand instinctively wrapped around it, holding on tight.
"Aurora," you whispered, the name you had kept hidden in your heart for months, too terrified to speak it aloud. "Our dawn."
"Aurora," House repeated, his voice thick with tears, his lips pressing a long, reverent kiss against your sweaty forehead, and then against the soft cheek of your daughter. "You're safe. We've got you."
Warning ⚠️: This is pure smut! If you are underage or cannot handle it, please scroll away or proceed with caution.
🔧 🔧 🔧 🔧 🔧 🔧 🔧 🔧 🔧 🔧 🔧 🔧 🔧
Kenny smelled like cigarettes and exhaust, and his overalls were covered in motor oil. He was at your feet, and you could feel his hot breath on your ankles. He kissed both joints, then he gently placed the heels of your feet on his shoulders. You could barely comprehend the situation. This man whom you had met not even a few days ago wanted to ravish and love you. It showed in his facial expressions. He looked so incredibly needy, staring down at you with flushed cheeks and lust-filled eyes. He began licking a slow, hot stripe up your calf. “Kenny,” you whimpered warningly. “Not a word,” he replied with a harsh tone—he knew exactly what he was doing. He didn’t want any interruptions. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he murmured against your thigh. “And after, you’re going to thank me.” His tongue separated from your milky skin when he reached your inner thigh. He was teasing you. Kenny didn’t stop. In fact, he enjoyed knowing that he was driving you crazy. He stood up straight and used his knee’s to pin your legs to the bed. He slid a slow, torturous finger down you’re lower stomach until it found your entrance. He circled and probed around it experimentally, trying to determine just how tight you were. “This wet already?” He smirked arrogantly, knowing that he’d been the cause of your arousal. You, of course, just let out a soft moan. You were nervous. “Kenny,” you whispered again. “I want you, but I don’t know how—” Kenny cut you off sharply, looking downwards at you with a smug smile. “I’ll teach you, I promise,” he insisted. He knew exactly what you longed for, and he was going to give it to you, hard. And it was going to be delicious. He slowly, deliberately, pulled his finger out of you and unzipped his overalls until he was completely exposed. The tip of his manhood was angry and purple, twitching with need. However, the most striking feature of his member was the size. “Do you see what you do to me?” His words were whiney and desperate, meant to show you how much he coveted you. With a shallow thrust, he was partially inside. You gasped at the sudden, slightly painful intrusion, but it felt incredible. He stood still for a moment, letting you adjust to his bulky size. You could feel his shaft pressing against a spot inside of you that made you see stars. “God, you’re tight,” he grunted appreciatively. With one deep plunge, he drove the rest of his rod inside of you. He groaned loudly, letting his eyes flutter shut and enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him. After about thirty seconds, he set a slow rhythm with deep thrusts. Then, gradually, he started getting faster. His thrusts were intentional, intense. His new speedy, ruthless rhythm was designed to make you see stars, to make you feel good. Really good. If this was a test, he passed it. With each snap of his hips, you could feel yourself slipping closer and closer into ecstasy. He kept and kept, until suddenly, he began to sputter and tremble. His massive member began to twitch inside of you, a tale tell sign that he was close. He bent over you to press his sweaty forehead against your collarbone, and thrust a couple more lazy thrusts with aggressive grunts. Then it came. You felt his warm, thick seamen invading you and coating your walls. He rode out his pleasure, and then came up and looked down at you. He had this smug, arrogant look on his face—like that time when he’d just found the freeway. “Say it,” he commanded. “Say what?” You asked. “Thank you.” You said it. “I always knew you wanted to use my spark plug.”
i think one of the most astonishing things about house's character is how he does love.
house, a misanthrope, untrustworthy, abrasive, antisocial, is one of the biggest romantics in the series.
house, who can only deal with basically 1 close friend. house, who pushes everybody way -- the one thing he doesn't completely push away or outright reject is romance (or otherwise committed relationships depending on how you read hilson).
he was so deeply in love with stacy. head over fucking heels. they moved in together after a week. he stayed with her after the betrayal of her not getting his consent for the removal of his leg muscle, however bitter. he stayed in love with her for 5 years after they broke up. he cured her boyfriend despite the fact that he didn't even know if he wanted him to live out of love for her. he memorized her habits, went on and on about the necklace, boy was he devoted.
house, who didn't date again, not properly, for 10 or something years after her. house, who completely rejected the advances of a woman as smart, caring, and beautiful, and young, as cameron, because he just couldn't -- whether that be because he thought he was unlovable besides as a pity project, or something else.
then lydia came along. she changed him, in his own words. and then she left and broke his heart again.
and yet again, fresh off heartbreak during one of the hardest times of his life, he trusted cuddy. in the deleted version of the s7 premiere he remembered every time cuddy missed an opportunity because of his antics. he got her her desk from med school. he remembered her lock screen. she made him believe that even someone like him could find happiness. house who said 'i love you' back on the first day of the relationship. house who could NOT tell cuddy no after they got together.
and then she broke his heart, again. and however you interpret him riding off into the sunset with wilson -- romantically or platonically (i'm kind of on a platonic relationships kick right now, i'm not denying the subtext whatsoever, i'm just also really into them as friends) -- he fakes his death in one of the grandest sacrificial gestures of the series just to give wilson his last few months, together.
house, who, according to the show, believes in monogamy.
house doesn't love often, but when he's in it, he's the biggest idiot. just like everything else he does, he can only do all or nothing -- he's obsessive. he makes me sick. cameron said he knew how to love and she was fucking right.
Synopsis: Your boss is having a bad pain day, you feel bad for him and decide to help out.
Warning: This is soft smut, f!giving head and making out. This is my first House fic and my first smut written since 2021, so bear with me.
Dr. Jynes walked into the office. It was a quiet morning, unlike the one a few days ago and the days following that. House woke all of them up for a case: a girl who couldn't feel pain. She suspected that it had to do with something more; it's not just a coincidence that a doctor who's in constant pain would find an interest in a patient who cannot feel pain. She didn't mention it, of course; she would have, but she heard that Wilson did instead. It didn't matter now, it was over, she didn't want to mention it to Chase, Foreman or Cameron, they would immediately assume that she's just thinking about him too much because she's obsessed with him, two things wrong with that, she isn't thinking about it too much, it was obvious to anyone with eyes, and she's absolutely not obsessed with him. Chase and Foreman were sitting down, Chase doing a crossword, and it looked like Foreman was reading a medical magazine.
"Good morning," she said, putting her bag down. The guys said their respective greetings. "Where's Cameron?" She asked; they shrugged. "She's okay, just late," Chase said, and they nodded and sat down.
"So, no case?" She asked after a few minutes, not really interested in her book at the moment. They shook their heads. "Maybe House has another one, but we don't know since he hasn't come in yet," Foreman said the other part louder, clearly frustrated with their boss's lack of punctuation.
Suddenly Cameron came in. "Hi," she smiled at her friend. "Ohh hi, yn!" You're here early." Cameron smiled, hugging him. She chuckled. "No, you're just late." She gave her a sympathetic smile. Cameron was about to reply when House suddenly came in; he looked… Grumpier, if that was even possible, and he was gripping his leg hard. "House, you okay?" She asked, concern on her face. "Perfect, just had a hooker last night, had to have a morning sesh too, didn't want to waste my money." He said. Yn didn't change her concerned expression; he rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, yn." He sighed.
"So where's the case?" Chase sat up, putting the crossword puzzle on the table. "No case." He said, putting his cane against the glass table and putting his right leg up on it.
"What? What do you mean?" She was confused. "I mean we don't have a case, as in there's no blue folder in my hands, see?" He waved his hands in front of her face; she ignored him, not reacting at all. "All of you are doing clinic duty." He said, " Hold up, what?" Foreman sat up, yn rolled her eyes. "That's your clinic duty, which Cudy made you do." Cameron crossed her arms. "Come on, guys, let's just go finish it." She sighed, grabbing her lab coat. " Thank you, yn" House said. "Not doing it for you, House." She sighed. "Yeah sure, like you don't want points so you could get into my pants." She slightly blushed; no one noticed, but House- he is always watching her. He watches for every single twitch of her muscle, watching for every single blood vessel going to her cheek when he directs a dirty comment at her.
They walked out of the office. "I really don't get you," Chase said while walking. "What do you mean?" She was looking down at the ground. "Cameron finds House hot because she wants to fix him, but you don't have a history of a dead boyfriend," Chase said. Cameron glared at him; he shrugged. Yn chuckled. "Just because I respect House and would rather do the thing he told me to do immediately rather than for me to argue with him just to do the thing either way doesn't mean I want to fuck him, and I do not find him hot." She said. Foreman laughed. "Sure, just keep telling yourself that."
It was dark by the time they were done with everything. The team went home- well, everyone except yn. She needed to talk to Wilson. Knocking on his office door and opening it, yn walked inside. "Hey," she smiled. Wilson's eyes lit up. "Hi, yn." He smiled. She sat down opposite him. He leaned back. "What's wrong?" She sighed, rubbing her hands against each other. "Just... Have you seen House today?" She nervously asked. Wilson raised his eyebrow. "Yes, why? did he insult you again?" she chuckled. "No, no... Well yes, but uh, that's not it. He looks really bad today, like he's in more pain." Yn explained, watching Wilson's expression soften. "Yeah, I noticed too; he said it's just a bad pain day." He said, "It doesn't look like it." She sighed, looking down, thinking over whether she should ask him what she was planning to ask. "Do you think I should check on him?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Check in... On him?" She nodded. "He's not a monster; if he's feeling bad, he deserves care." Wilson sighed and raised his arms in relief. "Listen, I can't stop you from doing anything. If you feel the need to go check in on him, go do so." She slowly nodded, looking down, thinking it over. She suddenly got up, leaving the office, Wilson just hoped she made the right choice.
She rushed inside of her home, she just needed to grab a few things, she grabbed her phone charger and her hoodie. Walking into the kitchen she looked over tea collection, she wanted to make some tea for House, she assumed that he didn't have any in his home. Gathering all of her things and packing them into her tote bag, it was a beige bag covered in pink floral design. Her car was waiting outside, she got in and turned on her iPod, playing some quiet jazz while starting the drive to House's apartment.
The motorcycle was the sign that she has reached it, she parked her car and got up, making sure all of her stuff was there. She walked towards his apartment door, ringing his doorbell, hearing heavy and slow footsteps getting closer, she straightened her back, she didn't know why she was so nervous. House was confused to find her, and yn could tell so by the look on his face "What are you doing here?" His eyes were red and they looked even more tired, his hair was sweaty and a mess, he was wearing a black graphic t-shirt. "You look terrible." She said, unable to hide the concern in her face "Well thank you" She rolled her eyes "You know what I mean." She looked at him with a serious face, he sighed, opening his door wider, letting her in.
"I don't need your pity." House said, limping towards the couch "I am not giving you pity, I am going to make you some tea." He rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch, "tea?" She nodded, turning on the kettle "Green tea, it always calms me down." After a few minutes she put the hot water in a mug with the tea bag "sugar or honey?" She glanced back at him "I prefered to be called 'daddy'." She chuckled, blushing slightly. House leaned his head back while rubbing his thigh, she gave him the mug, he took a sip and immidietly sat "ah! It's hot!" Yn shrugged "I thought it would be obvious." He rolled his eyes and put the mug down onto his coffee table "even bad head would be better pain relief than this hot water with so called 'taste'!" She blushed deeper from the comment, but she caught herself, ready for a response "too bad. I only give good head." She shrugged and leaned back, he looked back at her, surprised at her comment, she felt proud, she managed to surprise THE Gregory House. They were just looking at each other in the eyes, the only thing that could be heard was their breaths, the tension was getting thicker, their inner tempature rising.
Suddenly House pulled her into a kiss, she didn't pull back, eventually figuring out his rithym. She pushed him back against the brown leather couch. He winced, she immidietly pulled away "I'm sorry, you okay?" He nodded, rubbing his thigh which was now very close to hers, she put her hand on top of his. "Please, let me help you." He looked up at her "I can give you head if you want?" She straightened her back, he was surprised, she gently pushed his hair back "let me help you." After a few moments, House nodded.
She carefully got off his lap, but it still made him hiss out in pain, she got on her knees, thanfully he had a surprisingly comfortable carpet. He continued to quietly whine and whimper, it was clearly worse than she tought. Carefully she undid his belt and placed it beside him, she was constantly looking at his face, looking for any changes. The jeans were next, she unzipped them and carefully pulled them down untill they were pooling at his feet, he wasn't fully hard, to her slight dissapointment. "I need a lot of foreplay." He said, closing his eyes from the pain "finally a man with taste" she said, making him smirk.
She rubbed her hand against his still clothed dick, making sure to hit all of tthe spots. He ground his hips up, she gently rubbed his left leg, making sure to take extra care of his inner thigh. As soon as a wet spot started to form on his underwear she knew it was time to pull his boxers off. The boxers joined the jeans down at his feet and he hissed from the air hitting his most private place. Gently she started to his it down, he moaned out, gently grasping her head, not forcing her movement nor controling it but just feeling her. She pulled away and looking up at him, he whimpered "Just take the pain away."
She started to suck, being extra careful at his tip, gently rubbing it with her tounge. He was going insase above her, the warm feel of her mouth was making his nerves jump all over his skin, he felt the need to arch his back and she barely even started. He continued to hold her head, she looked up at him, he looked at her dialated pupils, he had no doubts that his were dialated as well. When he saw her eyes, filled with so much love for him, he was confused, he definitly didn't deserve it. Nontheless, he started to rub her cheek, holding it like it was the most precius dimond. She continued the sucking motion only this time going harder, making him groan and throw his head back, hard. He instictly started to buck his hips but stopped after a few seconds "sorry" He whimpered out, she shook her head slightly, making sure not to hurt him with her teeth, she gently lifted his hips, giving him the sign that he can continue. House didn't need to be told twice, he immidietly started to buck, this time taking control, gripping her head with his hands. Down in crotch yn could smell his musky scent, it was bitter and strong at the same time, it was his on a whole new part of him. He whined, feeling so much pleasure that he didn't know what to do with his body. "Oh god.." He grunted, she knew from that that he was close so she sucked in her cheeks, she looked up wathing his eyes flash open, and immidetly roll back, she felt the warm saltiness hit the back off her throat, she relax her throat muscles as he continued to give his last feel long thrusts, the orgasim leaving. After that his hands fell on the couch, she carefully pulled away, making sure not to graize his dick with her teeth.
His head was still rolled back, his body warm and tingly with satisfaction. Carefully sitting right next to him she caressed his hair back, watching his slight smile, she couldn't help but smile herself. She kissed his stubbled cheek.
Saw Superman last week and loved it. I kept thinking, “this is the closest we’ll ever get to seeing Luke and Mara onscreen,” especially during this scene in particular.
