you’re pregnant but simonriley insists you still get your needs met?
“sit, mama, sit the fuck down.” simons gruffy voice rings out from behind you. six months pregnant and you’re big. doesn’t help that your daughters daddy is 6’2 and built like a tank while you’re slightly thick and way shorter.
you weren’t insecure on the baby weight or anything, but the thought of sitting on your husbands face and suffocating him at your size? a big no. “si im scared .. don’t wanna hurt you.”
he scoffs, biting at you inner thigh to make you yelp and bounce. his hands reached up to rub your swollen stomach. “you’re not gonna hurt me, sit on my face baby.” you don’t give in, your hormones making you stubborn and determined to be right for the past six months.
“five, four .. fuck it.” he grabs you and hauls you onto his face. you gasp, can’t help but moaning feeling his pointy noise rub against your swollen bud while his tongue laps through your wet folds.
you squirm desperately, trying to get off or get more? you didn’t know, at one point you feel yourself start to doze off at the feeling of your pussy get wet with your husbands saliva and your own juices. you wanted him to impregnate you again, immediately.
he squeezes your plump ass while eating you like his last meal. hands rubbing up everywhere as he praises you while muffled between your legs. you weren’t a fast comer, but God did his tongue move in waves through you making that tsunami come easy.
“si-umgh .. si i cant.” you grind in rhythm to his tongue. as you feel his grin against you, another poke comes through and the next second, two thick fingers are plunged into you.
“cum all over my mouth .. good girl.” his mouth and stubble is covered in your juices, his tongue lapping over and over to clean every spot of you squeaky clean.
you lift your hips shakily, moving down to sit on his lap as you watching him lick around his lips desperately, his tongue not long enough to get a drop left on his chin before he gives up and swipes it along his finger to suck.
“good time, aye?” he rubbed your stomach, eyes warm looking between it and you. you nod lazily, putting your head on his chest as you curl up.
if you knew it’d be that good you would’ve sat down a long time ago.
Satoru’s trying hard to keep a straight face right now.
Quite literally fighting demons to maintain a neutral expression.
You’re sitting in his lap sniffling, belly swollen for 6 months with his child, letting him wipe away your tears with his thumb.
“You asked me hic- for permission to hang out with your friends,” you hiccup “You’re so nice to me” the last part leaving as a whine.
Your husband hides his smile, “I’m sorry?”
“Nooo” you shake your head, dissolving into a puddle of tears “You’re so sweet…I-I don’t deserve it”
Impossible, he thinks.
“You deserve everything and more my lovely wife” he places a kiss on your hair, inhaling your scent.
“But t-toru I don’t do anything for you, I can’t even reach my own toes” you burst into tears.
Tutting he lifts your chin up to look at him, eyes stern “Don’t you dare be mean to my wife”. He’s messing with you but still trying not to make you more upset than you already are.
“Okay…” you trail off, breathing in, calming down.
Satoru sighs, not overbearingly never, just glad to have calmed you down. His large hands come to rest on your belly, feeling a sharp kick and a hiss escapes your soft lips.
He pulls you in tighter his entire world in his arms.
Simon Riley who becomes the most loving, attentive, domestic husband when his wifey is pregnant with their kid.
Johnny would make fun of him over all the different dessert recipes Simon would have spread all over his desk. Different sheets full of ingredients and steps to follow so that once he is back home, he can cook one for ____.
Although he has always been aware of his lover’s sweet tooth, he was definitely not aware of how that craving for sugar would intensify to an extreme once she got pregnant.
So he had to learn how to be good at baking. Had to waste a bunch of food only to get good enough to satisfy the hungry little bean monster inside that lovely womb.
His first attempts had to be shared with the rest of his team. They would all fuck around, joking about how the scariest bastard among them had become a mama hen just for that little babe.
Simon didn’t give a shit. After all, it was all for ____ and the baby growing inside her womb. His family.
So fuck them all, grown-ass soldiers. He would do everything to take care of his growing family, and there was not a single bit of shame about that.
.𖥔 ┈┈┈ .・. ┈┈┈ 𖥔.
I loved the scenario so much I felt like doing it a fanart jsjsjs Thx for reading !! <3
summary - you and jack have a little fun hiding your pregnancy from your coworkers.
cw - pregnancy
a/n - YAYY fluff! literally nothing but. i am falling in love with this little family and i have big plans. i also have a teacher!reader x robby in the works, and another all i want is you addition queued up. and im sorry but the idea that anything could possibly ever be hidden from dana is laughable. enjoy!!!
—
Being pregnant was no small feat. Your “morning sickness” held throughout the entire day. Your boobs were so swollen and tender you stopped wearing bras outside work. You were sweltering hot 24/7, and you hadn’t realized just how much sweat one person could produce. The fatigue was constant, but the smell of coffee now sent you dashing for the toilet. That is, if you weren’t already there, peeing for the millionth time that day.
You were only six months in, and you were sick and tired of being pregnant. And yet, the past four had been some of the happiest of your life.
Jack Abbot was unlike any other boyfriends you’d ever had. He never left your texts unread, even if he was in the middle of a trauma, somehow. He made you breakfast and dinner everyday without fail, no matter the hours he just worked. He paid enough attention to notice when you were running out of anything, and before you could realize yourself, a brand new bottle was taking its place.
Others noticed the differences too, not just in you, and your mood, but in Jack. He stopped taking overtime, volunteering to come in on his days off, or be persuaded to stay for “just one more patient” when he knew you were at home waiting for him.
It took about a week for Jack to convince you to move into his apartment. Not that it was a hard sell; his place was bigger, fancier, with a washer that could run at the same time as the dryer without crapping out. Romeo had settled right in, quickly finding his preferred spot in front of the radiator to bake his biscuits, though he was still wary of Jack.
Then there was Jack himself. Not the things he did, or the sacrifices he made, or the stuff he bought, but him. All the puke and stress and exhaustion seemed to fade the second he would lie down next to you in bed, hands in your hair, lips on your forehead. You could spend hours connecting the freckles scattered across his strong back, rising and falling easily as he slept. He smelled like sandalwood, and pine, and the fresh dewy scent of his shampoo.
Unfortunately, since you’d switched to days, the opportunities to lounge in bed with your gorgeous boyfriend weren’t as ample as you would have liked. It was still the best option, you had agreed, to go by your circadian rhythm, and get you some daylight, and prepare for when the baby came. But each time you had to say goodbye to Jack at shift change, your mood got just a little bit worse.
You knew, without confirmation but in your bones, that Jack had asked Robby to look after you during the day. His eyes lingered just a little too long, he checked in a bit too much to be normal. One time, he had actually scolded Dana, Dana, about bringing in lingering second hand smoke while you were charting. He’d had a hard time explaining that one, as you weren’t telling anyone about the pregnancy just yet.
You had a private betting board in the kitchen, amidst the meal plans, lists of banned foods, and reminders to drink water, guessing when people would start to catch on. They knew you were together. They knew you were maybe gaining a little bit of weight, even if you covered your growing belly with Jack’s baggiest sweatshirts. You were convinced that if you and Jack still worked shifts together, the cat would have been out of the bag by month three, the way he hovered.
Jack had already lost his bet of four months. You were sure that even if they figured it out, no one would dare speak up until month eight. Robby’s guess was about to expire at month six.
It was for the best, staying apart, but it sucked. So you had to take advantage of those perfect mornings when they did come around. When Jack had spent at least half of the night asleep, and he didn’t wake up for a run, and Romeo was curled in one crook of your arm.
This was one of those mornings. Your eyes were closed, letting the late spring sun fall across you and your purring cat. Your teeny tiny tanktop and underwear, the only outfit that didn’t have you waking up in the morning in a pool of perspiration, did little to cover your bump. Jack’s head was laying just next to it, staring hard. You sighed.
“Staring won’t make it grow, you know,” you said with a hint of amusement in your gravelly morning voice.
Jack grunted.
“You’re twenty-four weeks tomorrow,” he said. “Not to be rude or anything, but where is he?”
You chuckled.
“He’s in there, don’t you worry. Trust me, he had me up all night playing soccer with my kidneys.”
Now, you didn’t actually know if the baby was a boy. You were steadfast in your Team Green decision, and Jack was fine with whatever you wanted. However, when you told him your plan, he thought it best to temper your expectations.
“Just so you know,” he had said, “chances are it’s gonna be a boy. My grandpa had sons, my dad had sons, and my brothers all have sons. There hasn’t been a girl born in our family for generations.”
“Well, we’ll see,” you had replied.
“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up too high that it’s a girl.”
It became apparent in the weeks that followed that whatever he said, it was really Jack’s hopes that needed to stay down. You made it clear that it made no difference to you, boy or girl. After all, you wouldn’t truly know the baby's real gender until they were old enough to tell you themselves. But Jack? He wanted a girl bad.
You caught him lingering in the girl’s clothing section in stores, smiling at the little dresses and bows. He had much stronger feelings about girls' names than boys. He listened and looked with rapt attention as Craig from radiology showed pictures from his kid’s daddy daughter dance.
You tried to stay neutral, but somewhere along the way the two of you slipped into calling the baby “he.” Maybe it was about humanizing the little fetus, maybe Jack’s hopes weren’t completely dashed and he didn’t want to jinx it, you didn’t know.
“Well, it is your first pregnancy,” Jack reasoned with himself, stroking a loving hand across your navel. “I bet it’ll be bigger your second time around.”
You raised your eyebrows, smiling.
“Oh, so there’s gonna be a second time?” you joked.
“If you’ll allow it,” he said, smirking back. “Honestly, I want as many babies as you’re up to having.”
You hummed, pretending to think.
“You mean, so you can increase your chances of having a girl?”
Jack army crawled his way up the bed to leave sloppy kisses on your chest and neck. Your free hand went up to play with his curls.
“Is it so bad to want another little you running around?” he asked innocently.
“Yes,” you laughed. “Do you have any idea what I was like as a teenager?”
He furrowed a brow.
“Weren’t you a total nerd?” he asked, in the least judgemental way possible. “Weren’t you, like, in band and stuff? With the little uniform, and the trumpet case?”
You scoffed.
“First of all, I played the clarinet,” you said indignantly. “Second of all, band kids are fucking freaky. Trust me, you do not want our child doing the things I did.”
“Intriguing,” said Jack, leaning back on his hand to admire you. “What kinda things?”
“All kinds’a things,” you said cheekily. “I’ll show you some other time.”
You pushed yourself up to a sitting position with more than a few cracks in your spine and shoulders. Jack followed suit, an anxious hand on your back.
“What are you doing?” he asked, whiny.
You heaved yourself to your feet with a groan that startled Romeo off the bed.
“Well, I’m gonna go pee.”
“Uh huh.”
“And then I’m gonna get in the shower.”
“Okay.”
“And you’re gonna get in with me.”
Jack whipped off the covers with haste as you disappeared into the bathroom.
“Sounds like a great plan.”
***
The day after next, you were unfortunately parted once more as Jack dropped you off for the day shift. He had cooked you a massive breakfast of buttermilk pancakes, eggs over easy, sausage, fruit, and of course, your pile of prenatal vitamins.
“You know, the calorie recommendation for pregnancy only goes up by like four hundred,” you said as you poured syrup over your cakes.
“That’s bullshit,” he said over the lip of his mug of tea. He had gotten rid of every bit of coffee in the house since you gained your aversion. “It’s better to eat too much than too little. Gaining some extra weight during pregnancy isn’t the end of the world. And if maybe the weight sticks around afterwards, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, either.”
You gave yelp as he pinched your ass, grinning. Everything was part of his fucking agenda.
Jack walked you inside at the hospital, dropping your homepacked lunch in the fridge and giving you a quick kiss goodbye. You smiled after him as he walked out to his truck, mind most certainly not on work. Until someone snapped in front of your face.
“Rude,” you said in response to Robby’s knowing smirk. “I was kind of enjoying myself there.”
“Well, now I need you to kind of enjoy charts,” he said. “How are you feeling?” he added, hushed.
“Actually, pretty good,” you said, sipping some water. “I don’t want to jinx it, but I think the nausea is finally gone. You know, near the end of the second fucking trimester.”
Robby chuckled.
“Say, you haven’t had any odd questions lately, have you?” he asked innocently. “You know, like about wardrobe changes, or why you’ve been spending half the day with your head in the toilet for the past six months.”
“Nope.”
“No? Not even about your sudden caffeine cleanse?”
“No, nothing of the sort,” you said smugly. “I wouldn’t hold out too much hope, Robinavitch.”
“I have a few more weeks,” he said stubbornly. “I’m not losing faith.”
“You’re gonna lose,” you said. “These people are predictable. You know what is also predictable? My bladder, so I’m gonna go pee.”
“Be safe,” he said.
“Don’t cheat while I’m gone!” you sing-songed.
As you washed your hands, you examined yourself in the mirror. Your face was a bit rounder, your hair a bit fuller. Jack insisted you had the glow, and maybe it was the fluorescent hospital bathroom lighting, but you weren’t so sure. Taking a quick scan of the bathroom to assure you were in fact alone, you tentatively lifted the bulk of your sweater, a worn navy crew from Jack.
There was a small bump. You could see it if you tried, if you pictured yourself before pregnancy and compared it to the reflection of you you watched now. If you weren’t trying, it could have been explained away by a big lunch, or constipation. Not that you weren’t constantly constipated. Ah, the joys of growing life.
Though you might not have looked very big, you certainly felt big. There was a heaviness in your middle, a fullness that never went away. It was kind of comforting. Assurance that the baby was there with you, even if no one else knew it.
The door suddenly creaked open. You pulled the sweater down, just barely fast enough. Princess stared at you, your hands clutched in the material of the crew, bunching it forward. There was a split second where all you could do was stare back, before the thought of winning the pot kicked your mind into gear. You played a relieved smile.
“Oh, good, Princess,” you said, turning slightly further away from her. “Did I bleed through my tampon?”
“Oh,” she said, leaning down a little. “Umm… no, you’re all good.”
“Great, thanks,” you said with a smile, patting her arm as you passed. “See you out there!”
You had to congratulate yourself on your quick thinking. It was almost disastrous, messing up in front of Princess, one of the messiest gossips on the floor.
You told Jack all about it in the break room, as he came in early for shift change.
“Now, she thinks I’m on my period,” you said as you munched on yogurt covered pretzels. “Pregnancy is the last thing on her mind. Which means it’ll be the last thing on Perlah and Mateo’s minds, the loudmouths.”
“Nice,” said Jack. “I’m rooting for you. Ever since he won the Garcantos bet, I’ve been hoping to see Robby burn.”
“Also, I’m gorgeous and brilliant and you love me and want good things for me,” you added.
“Well, obviously those things,” he said, and despite the joking tone, you could tell he was completely serious.
The door swung open just then, and Dana appeared.
“Oh, good, Abbot,” she said, looking distracted. “You on the clock?”
“Sure,” he said. “Need me?”
“South four, been waiting for six hours.”
“Got it.”
He gave a peck to your forehead and made his way out. Dana gave you a knowing smile. Why did everyone have those around Jack?
“How’s it going with you two?” she asked, letting the door fall shut behind her.
“Great,” you said, a giddy smile of your own taking up your cheeks. “He’s such a sweetheart. And he cooks, too, and cleans. Literally won’t let me lift a finger.”
“That’s good,” said Dana. “I’m happy for you, you deserve it.”
Flustered, you just shrugged. You did, you were coming around to realizing. You had put up with a lot of shitty boyfriends before finding your soulmate, some you didn’t even realize were so shitty until him. The first time he woke you up with breakfast in bed, you couldn’t stop crying for five whole minutes. And now, having experienced it yourself, you would be suspicious of any man who didn’t take everything over the second his partner got pregnant.
As Dana smiled at you, you felt the sudden urge to spill your guts. If anyone would help you through a pregnancy, it would be her, the veteran. You’d probably be calling her up at least once a week once the baby came, asking for advice. Something about Dana’s warm presence just screamed at you tell me all!
Luckily, before you could do anything rash, the door opened again and the both of you were called away. But as Dana patted you gently on the shoulder, you got the sense that maybe she already knew. You just hoped she kept her lips sealed for another two months.
Your twenty-five week mark came and went without a whisper. You could tell because Robby was getting increasingly more annoyed whenever the bet got brought up.
“You’re wearing sweaters in fucking June,” he said angrily. “Doesn’t anyone gossip anymore? What has this place come to?”
You laughed.
“Whatever, Mike, just get ready to pay up.”
It was easy to laugh at him, but the past two weeks had been busy ones for the baby. The morning before you hit week twenty-six weeks, you were surprised to feel a bit of a stretch as you put on one of Jack’s scrub tops. Even with a sweater, you were just starting to pull on the fabric, and the hem was just slightly raised. If that wasn’t enough confirmation, Jack couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off of you as you got ready.
You had finally, officially, popped.
“Don’t look so happy,” you said grumpily, as Jack nosed along your neck, hands roaming hungrily under your top. “At this rate we’ll never make it to eight months.”
“Huh?” he said absently, eyes still focused down on your bump.
You huffed.
“Don’t you want me to win?” you asked, turning around in his arms so you were bump to belly. “Listen, the really stretched out sweaters are all in the wash, I need you to go out today and buy some of the biggest hoodies you can find, okay? Are you listening to me?”
He didn’t respond, so you grabbed his face in both hands and pulled it away from your middle to meet your gaze.
“Got it?”
“Got it, I got it,” he said quickly.
Robby hovered around you all day, anxious for victory. You weren’t in a good mood, tugging fussily at your too-tight top, trying to be inconspicuous. You barely glanced up from work to greet the new med students, and snapped at people all day.
By the time Jack arrived at half past six, you were eager to go, and Robby was practically vibrating with excitement.
“Hey,” said Jack as you tapped too hard at an ipad at the nurse’s station, pressing your bump against the high counter. “You okay?”
“Perfect,” you spat. “Did you do what I asked?”
“Yeah, they’re in the truck,” he said. “I figured you wouldn’t need them, since you were…”
He met your heated glare and took a step back.
“Why don’t I go get them?” he suggested.
“Why don’t you,” you deadpanned, turning back to your work.
You were going to win, you thought angrily, as the med students exited an adjacent room, following closely behind Dr. Santos. You turned to hand her the tablet, not reciprocating her smile. Can’t wait to see the look on Robby’s stupid face when —
“Oh, congratulations! When are you due?”
Your head snapped up. So did everyone else’s. Some random, gangly ass med student had a slowly fading smile on his dumb, stupid face as everyone began glaring. Dana peered at him over her glasses. Langdon was backing slowly away from the scene. Princess and Perlah looked ready to kill, while Whitaker was suddenly very interested in a spot on the floor. Donnie was just shaking his head.
Robby, of course, lit up like a damn Christmas tree. Your jaw ticked.
“Ogilvie!” the other med student snapped, smacking him hard.
“What!” he said, rubbing his arm. “I just —”
“You fucking idiot!” hissed Santos, giving him a smack of her own. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Fuck!” you exclaimed, smacking the tablet down onto the formica with a bang. “Shit! October seventh! For fuck’s sake!”
“He didn’t — what?”
Whitaker, jumping to excuse his poor, ignorant, frustrating med student, stopped dead. Everyone’s gazes turned from Ogilvie to you, angry to bewildered. All except Dana and Robby, who glanced at each other with small smiles on their faces.
“Did you just say October seventh?” asked Mel. “Like… ”
“Like that’s a due date?” asked Perlah. “Like you're pregnant? Right now?”
“Yeah, I’m fucking pregnant,” you said, crossing your arms. You turned to Robby. “Are you fucking happy now?”
“Yes,” he said. “But I will give you a cut.”
“I should think so,” you said, grumpily allowing him to put an arm around you.
“Who’s the father?” Whitaker blurted out, before turning beet red, and stepping behind Trinity.
You made a face.
“Abbot,” you said. “Obviously.”
“Oh,” Whitaker squeaked, practically quaking under your gaze. “You and Abbot? I didn’t —”
“Are you serious right now?” said Trinity, shoving him out from his hiding place. “God, you’re such a huckleberry.”
You pulled away from Robby, dragging the sweaty crewneck over your head with some difficulty. You threw the stupid thing over the counter, smoothing down your hair.
“At least I don’t have to overheat everyday anymore,” you said. “Which, by the way? You guys are kind of stupid.”
At that very moment, Jack reappeared at your side, holding an impressive collection of oversized hoodies. Once again, all eyes shifted in unison, this time to the confused looking man you either wanted to kiss or strangle. He looked around, then down at you, and your bump. He opened his mouth, presumably to ask what the hell was going on, but everyone erupted into noise at once.
“Congratulations!”
“I’m so happy for you guys!”
“You should name the baby Princess!”
In an instant the two of you were surrounded, getting hugged, patted on the back, having your belly rubbed. It was kind of sweet, but you were already sweating before getting piled on with people. You finally managed to extricate yourself from the mass, when the rest of the night shift started to appear, and you had to do the whole thing over again.
Still, as you left that night surrounded by friends, who insisted on getting mocktails to celebrate, your heart was as full as your belly. Your baby was going to be the most loved kid in the whole world.
Summary: Steve Harrington has baby fever so bad it's practically a medical condition. He's going to be a disaster emotionally but he's going to be a perfect dad.
Pure tooth rooting fluff - warning you may swoon
A/N: I'm back on my girl dad Steve agenda! Yippie! I'm also starting working through my requests! Many for Joe few for Steve so allow my draft box to keep you entertained until then :3
Word Count: 1,026
The pregnancy test had barely dried before Steve Harrington lost his damn mind permanently.
Not in a bad way - never in a bad way. But in the way that had him waking up at 3 AM to reorganise the already-organised nursery drawers, in the way that had him pressing his ear to your stomach at the most random moments, in the way that had turned the former King of Hawkins High into a man who actually squealed in the baby aisle at Kmart.
"Baby," you called out from the couch, seven months along and feeling like a beached whale in the best possible way. "It's midnight. Come to bed."
You heard rustling from the kitchen, then the sound of something being dragged. Steve appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in seventeen different directions, holding a shopping bag that looked heavy enough to contain bricks.
"I couldn't sleep," he said, eyes bright and borderline feral with excitement. "I kept thinking about her."
"Steve, we don't even have a name yet."
"But we have a her," he said, like this was the most profound statement ever uttered. He dropped the bag on the coffee table and immediately lowered himself to his knees in front of you, gentle hands finding your swollen belly. "Hi, princess. Daddy's here. I got you something."
You ran your fingers through his hair, still damp from his evening shower. "What did you buy at midnight?"
He pulled out item after item with the reverence of someone handling ancient artifacts. A tiny pair of socks with strawberries on them. A onesie that said "My Dad is a Dork" in glitter letters. A stuffed demogorgon - soft and child-safe - that he'd apparently custom ordered from somewhere.
"Steve," you laughed, picking up the demogorgon. It's red and oddly cute, with button eyes and no teeth, just the blooming flower head. "Really?"
"She needs to know her roots," he said seriously, then ruined it by pressing a kiss to your stomach. "Your mom and dad fought actual monsters, princess. You're gonna be so tough."
"She's going to be a newborn, Steve. The scariest thing she'll face is gas and vomit."
He looked up at you, and your heart did that thing it had been doing since you were sixteen years old - skipped, stuttered, swelled. His eyes were soft, overwhelmed, his.
"What if I'm not good at this?" he asked quietly, all the manic energy draining into something vulnerable. "What if I - what if I mess her up? My parents weren't exactly - " He stopped, jaw tight. "What if I'm like them?"
You cupped his face, thumbs brushing over the worry lines he was getting from frowning in his sleep. "You're going to be amazing."
"You don't know that."
"I know you." You leaned down, kissed his forehead, his nose, his mouth. "I know you drove to three different towns to find the right crib because the first two didn't feel safe enough. I know you read three parenting books in one week and highlighted the important parts. I know you cried when we heard her heartbeat."
"I did not - " He caught your look. "Okay, I cried a little."
"You sobbed, Steve. You sobbed."
He buried his face in your stomach, arms wrapping around your waist. "I'm so scared," he mumbled against the cotton of your shirt. "I want to be perfect for her. For both of you."
Your heart broke open, warm and tender. This was the boy who'd faced down monsters without flinching, who'd fought in a war against things from another dimension, who'd become a hero without ever asking for the title. And here he was, terrified of being a father.
"Hey." You tugged his hair until he looked up. "You're already perfect. You're Steve Harrington. You fought with a bat that had nails in it to save a bunch of kids. You can definitely handle a baby."
"But what if she doesn't like me?"
"She's going to adore you." You smiled, feeling a tiny flutter against your ribs - her, awake and active, responding to his voice probably. "Feel that? She already knows her dad."
Steve's hand pressed flat against your belly, wonder transforming his face. "Is that - did she just - "
"She's saying hi."
He stayed there for a long moment, forehead resting against your stomach, whispering things you couldn't quite hear. Promises, probably. I'll protect you. I'll love you. I'll be there.
When he finally sat back on his heels, his eyes were wet again, but he was smiling. "I got one more thing," he said, reaching into the bag.
It was a tiny headband with a small bow, soft pink and impossibly delicate. He held it between two fingers like it might dissolve.
"To keep her head warm till she has hair." He said. "Which... Let's face it she's probably going to end up with my hair gene, but until then... I want her to feel like a princess. Our princess."
You took the headband, then took his hand, pressing both to your heart. "Come to bed, Harrington. Your princesses need sleep."
He helped you up - always so careful now, treating you like glass even though you kept telling him you weren't breakable - and walked you to the bedroom with one arm around your waist, the other carrying his midnight haul.
In the dark, curled around you with his hand spread over your belly, he whispered, "I love you. Both of you. So much it actually hurts."
"I know," you whispered back. "We know."
He was asleep in minutes, finally, exhaustion winning over anxiety. You stayed awake a little longer, feeling her move inside you, feeling his breath warm against your neck.
He was going to be incredible.
You knew it like you knew your own name. Like you knew that the boy who'd once been too cool for everything had grown into a man who was exactly cool enough for this - for late night shopping trips and nursery assembly and learning to braid hair someday.
Steve Harrington was going to be a father.
And he was going to be absolutely, perfectly, wonderfully terrified the entire time.
The smell of paint lingered softly in the air as sunlight spilled through the open nursery windows. And in the middle of it all stood Zuko, sleeves rolled up unevenly, as he insisted on making painting this room a team activity.
“You missed a spot,” you told him from your place on the stepladder. “I did not.” he insisted.
You pointed silently toward the wall behind him. He turned, frowned at the tiny patch of white near the trim, then sighed dramatically.
“Traitor.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. One hand rested instinctively against the curve of your stomach as the baby kicked lightly beneath your palm.
“The baby kicked.”
“Again?”
“Maybe if you stop yelling at the wall.”
“I was not yelling.”
You laughed, and he smiled despite himself before crossing the room toward you. Paint flecked his forearms and there was another streak across the collar of his tunic. You reached out to wipe some paint from his jaw with your thumb.
“You’re getting paint everywhere, Fire Lord.”
“Mm. Occupational hazard.” he replied.
“You’re painting one room.”
“A very important room.”
“Should have just let the painter do it”
His gaze drifted slowly around the nursery. The walls were becoming a soft yellow. The color you had chosen together after weeks of debate. A small crib sat near the far corner still waiting to be assembled, and folded blankets rested neatly nearby. Tiny clothes your friends had gifted were stacked carefully in baskets.
It still didn’t feel real sometimes but then the baby moved again. He crouched carefully in front of you, setting his paintbrush aside before placing both hands gently against your stomach.
He stayed still for a moment waiting for the kick. You watched his amber eyes widen just slightly at the feeling before something unbearably tender crossed his face. Wonder, fear and love alll at once.
Another kick followed against his palm.
“She's strong.”
“She?” you teased softly, threading your fingers through his hair,
“Yea I think its a girl”
"A little princess.” you tease.
“I’m serious. What if she inherits my temper?”
“She will inherit your heart too.”
His gaze lifted slowly to yours. He would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified of messing this up.
“Ypu know I didn’t really have…” He hesitated quietly. “A good example.”
“You’re already better than him.” you say softly. Zuko looked down for a second.
“You’re patient,” you whispered. “You listen. You care so much. This baby is going to grow up loved, Zuko.”
Before you could say anything else, he leaned forward carefully and pressed a kiss against your bump through the fabric of your robe. The baby kicked again making you burst into laughter.
“Oh, see she's responding to you?”
“I’m her favorite already.” he said smugly.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Yes, but I’m painting her room”
“You’ve painted half a wall.” you snicker at his comment.
“And beautifully, might I add.”
You snorted and he stood again, stealing a quick kiss from your lips before reaching for the paint roller.
“Come on,” he said, nudging your hip gently. “We still have to finish before the baby gets here.”
“You say that like she's coming tomorrow.”
“With our luck? Probably.”
You smiled warmly as he moved back toward the wall, muttering under his breath about “traitorous corners” again. It felt warm seeing him happy, like sunlight through nursery windows.
An: finally taking this out the drafts
Disclaimer: I don't own Rights to any Characters mentioned nor do I consent to plagiarism of any kind. Thankyou ;)
Satoru pushed open the door to your shared apartment, the quiet hum of the city fading behind him. He had wrapped up his mission earlier than expected, eager to get back to you. The place smelled like chamomile tea and something faintly sour, probably from your morning sickness. He kicked off his shoes, sunglasses perched on his head, and called out softly.
"Baby? You home?"
No answer at first, just a sniffle from the bedroom. His heart twisted in that delicious way it always did when he heard you like that. Tears. God, he loved your tears. The way your long lashes clumped together, dark and wet, framing those big, vulnerable eyes. The slight flush on your nose, the way your voice cracked and trembled. And the best part? Only he could fix it. No one else got to see you like this, hold you, make you feel whole again. It made him want to lock you away forever.
He found you curled up on the bed, knees to your chest, that oversized sweater swallowing your frame. Your hair was a mess, face buried in a pillow. Pregnant belly peeking out just a bit, round and perfect. You looked up when he approached, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks streaked. "Satoru," you whispered, voice thick. Fresh tears welled up. "You're back."
He dropped onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his lap without a word. You fit so perfectly there, your weight a comfort against him. "Hey, hey. What's got my girl crying today? Talk to me." His hand stroked your back, fingers tangling in your hair.
You buried your face in his chest, shoulders shaking. "Just everything, Toru. You left before I woke up again a-and I hate that. I hate when you're gone before I even see you. Then the nausea hit hard this morning and it wouldn’t go away for hours. A-and... and my favorite dress. The blue one you like? It doesn't fit anymore. I tried it on, thinking maybe today would be okay, but it won't even zip. I look... I look huge. Y-you probably think so too. You've been staring weirdly lately."
Satoru bit back a smirk. The dress. Yeah, that was his doing. He had tossed it in the dryer on high heat last week, watching it shrink just enough. Not to hurt your feelings, never that. But fuck, you looked too good in it. Those curves hugging your body, drawing eyes from everyone. No one deserved that view but him. And he knew it would end like this: you in his arms, tears soaking his shirt, needy for his reassurance. His cock twitched at the thought.
"Huge?" He chuckled low, tilting your chin up. Your lashes were clumped, mascara smudged just a little, nose pink. Perfect. "Baby, you're carrying our kid. You’re not huge, you’re gorgeous. And I've been staring because I can't keep my eyes off you. Every inch of you is sexier now. Those hips? This belly? Fuck, it makes me hard just looking." You sniffled with a small giggle, wiping your eyes, but doubt lingered. "Really? You don't... you don't think I'm gross?"
His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek, smearing it deliberately. He loved how it glistened on your skin. Memories flooded him: the night he proposed, down on one knee in your tiny kitchen. Your tears had poured then, happy ones, splashing onto the ring as you nodded frantically. Or when he tickled your sides until you laughed so hard you cried, body writhing under him. And his absolute favorite, when he had your legs spread wide, cock slamming into your pussy over and over. You would grip the sheets, sobbing his name, babbling nonsense as orgasms ripped through you. Tears streaming, voice breaking. All his.
"Gross? Never." He kissed your forehead, then your nose, tasting salt. "You're mine. Every curve, every tear. Let me show you how much I need you." You hesitated, but your body melted into him, hands clutching his shirt. "Okay. Just... hold me first?"
He nodded, shifting so you straddled his lap, your belly between you like a warm secret. His hands roamed your sides, slipping under the sweater to caress bare skin. Soft, stretched just right from the pregnancy. He pressed kisses along your jaw, murmuring, "You're so beautiful like this. Swollen with my baby. No one gets this."
Your breath hitched, more tears slipping free. "Satoru... I feel so emotional. Like everything sets me off." He breathed against your neck, nipping lightly, "good. Cry for me. I really love it." The words slipped out before he could stop them, but you didn't seem to notice, too lost in the moment.
He peeled the sweater off you, revealing your full breasts, nipples dark and peaked. Pregnancy had made them heavier, more sensitive. He cupped one, thumb circling the bud, watching you gasp. Tears tracked down your cheeks as you rocked against him, feeling his erection press up through his pants.
"See? Look at what you do to me." He ground up, letting you feel the hard length. "I don’t need a dress when you’re already perfect naked and crying on my lap."
You whimpered, lashes fluttering wetly. "I love you, so much.” He replied, "I know," before flipping you gently, mindful of your belly, laying you back on the pillows. His mouth latched onto a nipple, sucking hard. You arched, fingers in his hair, a sob escaping. Colostrum beaded on his tongue, sweet and warm. He groaned, switching sides, kneading the other breast.
"Satoru! Oh God," you cried, tears flowing freely now. Your nose reddened more, voice pitching high. He pulled back, admiring the sight. Clumped lashes, flushed face, lips parted. His cock throbbed painfully. "Look at you. So pretty when you cry. Makes me want to fuck you senseless."
You nodded frantically, hands tugging at his pants. "Please…I-I need it inside. Make it better."
He stripped quickly, cock springing free, thick and leaking. Your eyes widened, more tears for some reason, joy or overwhelm, he didn't care. He settled between your thighs, spreading you wide. Your pussy was slick, swollen from hormones, folds puffy and inviting.
"Gonna fill you up," he promised, rubbing the head along your slit. You bucked, sobbing his name. "Yes, yes, Satoru!"
He pushed in slow, savoring the stretch. You were tighter now, pregnancy making you grip him like a vice. Inch by inch, until he bottomed out, balls against your ass. Your walls fluttered, tears streaming as you adjusted.
"Fuck, baby. So wet for me. Even y’re pussy’s crying for me??? H-hah…squeezing m’cock soo good." He started thrusting, deep and steady, hands on your hips. You gripped the sheets, back arching. "Too much... feels s’good... ah!"
He picked up pace, slamming harder, the bed creaking. Your belly jiggled with each thrust, your breasts bouncing. Tears poured, mixing with sweat. Your voice broke into babbles. "Satoru...mmh.. don't stop..."
"Never," he growled, possessive fire burning. Only he saw this. You sobbing, coming apart on his dick. No one else. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss, tasting all your tears. His hand slipped between you, thumb on your clit, rubbing circles.
You couldn't take it anymore, your pussy clamping down, creamingaround him. "Satoru! Cumming... oh fuck!" Sobs wracked your body, lashes clumped shut, nose bright red.
He didn't stop, fucking through it, chasing his own release. "That's it. Cry for me. All mine."
Your babbling turned incoherent, tears endless. He thrust deep one last time, spilling hot cum inside you, groaning your name.
You collapsed together, his weight braced on elbows. You sniffled, clinging, tears still leaking. He kissed them away, heart swelling. "Feel better?"
"Yeah," you murmured, voice hoarse. "You always make it better."
He smiled, secret kink sated. You were his. Tears and all.
Satoru lingered inside you, softening slowly, not ready to pull out. Your pussy milked the last drops from him, warm and content. He brushed hair from your damp face, thumb tracing the tear tracks. You looked wrecked in the best way: eyes puffy, lashes stuck together in little spikes, lips swollen from kisses and bites. That red nose tip made you seem so fragile, so his to protect.
"You know I didn't mean to leave early," he said softly, though part of him loved knowing it started your tears. "Mission ran long last night. But I'm here now. All yours."
You nodded, sniffling. "I know. Just... lonely sometimes. And the baby's kicking more than before. It feels weird…all the changes. Like I'm not myself anymore."
He placed a hand on your belly, feeling a flutter. His kid. Yours. Possessiveness surged again. "You're still you. Hotter, if anything. Remember when I proposed? You cried a whole river but I couldn’t find you any less beautiful." A watery laugh escaped you. "Dont remind me, Toru!"
"Hey, How could I ever let you forget? You were the prettiest yet that night." He grinned, thrusting shallowly just to make you gasp. "And when I tickled you last week? Laughing so hard you teared up a little. Fuck, that was so cute."
"Satoru!" You swatted his chest", fresh tears of embarrassment, "don't remind me."
But he did love reminding you. Every emotional outburst fed that hidden hunger. The joy tears, the laugh tears, the empathy ones when he talked about work. But nothing beat the sex tears. Like just now, you sobbing as he railed you.
"What about when I fuck you till you can't talk?" He murmured, starting to harden again inside you. "Bawling my name, pussy creaming all over my cock. That's my favorite."
Your cheeks flushed deeper. "You're awful. I-I don’t... okay yeah. I get overwhelmed, but I’m not a crybaby!"
He rocked his hips, that pervert was already building friction. "Y’know I really wanna make you cry again? Show you how much I love this body?" Your breath hitched. You bit your lip, nodding. "Yes please."
This time he went slower, savoring. Pulled out almost all the way, then slid back in, grinding deep. Your hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging. Tears started anew as pleasure built.
"Look at me," he commanded. Your eyes met his, wet and pleading. "See? Only I get this. Your tears, your pussy, our baby? All mine."
"Y-yours," you sobbed, legs wrapping around him. "All yours, Satoru. p-please just a little harder."He obliged, pounding now, skin slapping. Your breasts leaked a little with each thrust, milk dribbling. He leaned down, licking it off, sucking again. You wailed, coming fast, walls pulsing.
"Good girl. Soak my cock." He flipped you onto your side, careful, spooning behind. One leg hitched over his arm, he rutted deep, hand rubbing your clit. Tears streamed out, voice breaking. "Can't... too much... Satoru!"
"C’mon baby, Just cry it out f’me yeah?" His free hand squeezed your breast, possessive grip. Cum from before leaked out around his pistoning cock, messy and hot.
You babbled, "Love you... so full... gonna cum again..." Body tensed, then shattered, squirting a little. He followed soon after. Flooding you with more of his sperm. "Take it, all mine."
Panting, he held you close, kissing your tear-streaked shoulder. You sighed, content, emotional storm passed. "Thank you," you whispered. "For always taking care of me."
"Always," he replied, heart full. His secret safe, your tears his addiction. And later, as you dozed, he thought about the dress. Maybe shrink another one tomorrow. Just to make you need him again.
a/n: I know I said I’d most likely post my object gojo fic today but when I saw so many people anticipating and looking forward to it I got so nervous and felt more unsure of my draft so It’ll probably be out tomorrow!!
also I’m not sure if this dynamic is problematic or if it counts as dubcon since I made satoru more manipulative than I expected, idk yall. imo even tho the reader consents he’s making you vulnerable and insecure just so you be closer to him…
anyways let’s just say toru was listening to some ironmouse
I want you crying for me I want you waah wah wah wah waah wah wah wah I want you fighting for me and when you lose go wah wah waah wah wah wah CRY FOR MEEE
Pairing: Hubby/NBA Player!Connie x Black!Pregnant!Wifey!Reader (Based on my headcanon HERE!)
Synopsis: After an extremely grueling basketball season, Titans champion Connie Springer is ready to start his night off right with his beautiful trophy...and no, not the trophy he got from winning the most anticipated game of the season. He means you, his adorable wife carrying his unborn child. But what should be a long night of clubbing turns into something hotter when he suspects that you're feel unconscious in your new dress due to the bun cookin' in your oven. How does your hubby resolve this? By bending you over and giving you a quickie in your dress, of course!
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); No Titan/Modern AU; Married AU; Sports AU; Body Insecurity; Latino!Connie; Some Spanish; Soft Dom!Connie x sub!Reader; Lactation Kink; Some Degradation ("Puta"); Praise; F*cking in the Mirror; Fingering; Pussy-Eating; Tongue Piercing; Tattoo Kink; Quickie Sex; Clothed!Reader x Naked!Connie; Mating Press; Riding; Connie F*cking You From the Bottom; Reader Cums 2x; Raw Creampie; Breeding
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: I'm so happy I was able to get this out!! I'm on a little weekend trip & got so caught up in work/school that I was afraid i wouldn't be able to make it to the end of May. This is a little fic for my Connie's b-day (month since i missed the day lmaoo) inspired by @laylathegoddesss's Eren x Pregnant!Reader fic. Please go give her stuff a read!! She's AMAZING!! i hope y'all enjoy!! <3 -love, Jazz
You stood in the full-length mirror leaning against the bedroom wall, staring at the plump woman standing in front of you.
Her stomach protruded so obviously from underneath her skin-tight black mini dress that it would've comical if the woman wasn't you.
Despite your 12-inch buss down flowing down your back in soft, black curls, soft, glamorous makeup, and gorgeous heels, you don't feel any bit of sexy, fabulous, or desirable. Unlike the trophy your husband treats you as, like the one he won earlier today at his championship game.
You ran your hands over your very pregnant stomach, your lips, slick with Fenty Beauty Lip Bomb gloss, downturning into a deepened frown. 'I look so fat in this.'
The thought came out of nowhere, conjured by the way the soft, black fabric of the bodycon dress stuck to your form, stretching over your stomach in the most embarrassing way possible. You would've loved the dress on your unpregnant, smaller body, but now? It made you look like a joke.
You didn't have time to inspect your tummy any more than you already have when you hear your husband calling from the bathroom down the hall. "Baby!" he called. "You ready yet? The ride will be here soon!"
"Uh...just a minute!" you called back. "I'm just puttin' on my earrings." You quickly waddled over to your vanity where you plucked up two diamond earrings that your husband bought you last Christmas. Just as you turned back around as you're fastening them, your husband is there, leaning against the bedroom door.
Connie Springer was truly the apple of everyone's eye...including yours. He was your husband. Your love. Your one and only. As the star player of his local basketball team “The Titans” and a member of the NBA, the Japanese-Latino player was no stranger to affection, both wanted and unwanted. Even though he’d been with you for four years before proposing and marrying you, Connie was still getting affections from every woman sitting outside at his games.
And why not? Connie was truly a hottie with his tan skin and muscles that glistened in sweat on the court; his buzz cut to went so well with the 24k diamond studs in his ears; his tattoos inking up and down his right arm and muscular calve; his charming smile and green eyes they blazed with fire during a game before he shot a basket and blew you a kiss in the bleachers.
You couldn’t believe he chose you out of all of the women at your local game. Not a model or a singer or an actress. You, a simple city girl who owned her own bakery, though that wasn’t some small feat.
You just figured a basketball player would rather date a socialite. But after Jean Kristen, Connie’s friend and fellow Titan player, introduced you to Connie at a celebratory party you were catering for them, sparks flew and Connie was instantly attracted.
As were you. To his hot-headedness, protectiveness, and bold personality especially. Despite his height, Connie was irresistibly confident and that made him irresistibly sexy to you.
Your man didn’t play about you. You sat courtside at all his games. Traveled with him first class. Was kept locked at his side on the street or in his lap at the club, no matter the stares. He decked paparazzi in the face, knocking cameras that tried to snap flicks of you on the ground. He argued people down on Twitter and TikTok who bashed you, including the fuck ass Shade Room on IG. He even had a bodyguard walk around with you once he found out you were pregnant.
You were his woman and he wanted everyone to know that. Now, years later, married with a baby on the way, nothing has changed. Except your body.
"What?" you murmured, flushing hot at his intimately soft look. Connie was wearing an Armani shirt with jeans, the cuffs rolled up to expose his yummy tattoos. The simple silver chain glistened like his stud earrings, making your stomach flip.
"You're just...perfect," he sighed, his jade eyes rolling over your body. "Can't believe how fuckin' lucky I am to have you." You flushed, biting back a smile. Of course, he’d say that. "You don't think it's too..."
You trailed off, biting your lip. As your husband slunk into the room, you twisted around to face the mirror. Your body seemed to change over night from the baby—wider hips, bigger stomach, larger tits plump with milk, a fatter ass, etc.
Though you’d take the fat ass and titties, the stomach is a whole other issue. At six months, you feel like a walking hippo. A balloon about to pop. You had to switch your wardrobe due to your weight gain.
"Too what, mama?" Connie murmured, coming up behind you to wrap his hands around your stomach. Something he always did. Despite his short height, he still stood a couple inches taller than you, the top of your head just brushing his chin. “Too...y'know...tight?" you asked, your eyes facing down at your tummy.
Connie pressed himself against you, giving you a feel of his bulge. “It ain't tight enough," he murmured against your neck. "Love it when you wear that sexy shit. I want everyone to know that your fine ass is mines." His hand cascaded down to your ass, possessively squeezing it.
"Like the big ass rock on my finger don't say that," you giggled, admiring the gorgeous diamond ring in the 24k gold band he slid on your finger at your highly-anticipated wedding. He smacked your behind at the little remark, making you squeak (and gush into your very expensive Savage X Fenty panties).
God, you loved how rough and hard Connie’s hands were! He was a grabber—always grabbing your waist, your ass, your tits, your tummy. He loved to grip your hair and pin your thighs back during sex, grab your throat and palm whatever he could. It always made you feel so kept and desirable, but lately, not even your man's handsiness could stop these insecure feelings taking over you.
“Really, Con, is this okay to wear for your party? With my tummy and all?" He met your gaze in the mirror, confused painted across his face. “Baby, why you askin' me that? You look amazing!" He paused, brows furrowed. "Why? You don't think so?"
Quickly, you tried to backtrack. The last thing you wanted was for him to worry about you on his big night. He just won a championship game earlier today! Tonight was to celebrate HIM! "No, no, it's not that! I-I was just wonderin' is all. Since we'll be around your team and big names in the sports business."
Connie was still giving you a concerned look, but you masked your true feelings with a plastic smile, draping your arms around his neck. "It's nothin', babe, really! I'm almost done anyway." Your husband looked like he wanted to say more, but his phone ringing in his pocket stopped him short. He slipped it out and read the text over.
He groaned, irked that the moment was ruined over some BS. "Shit, my driver just texted me sayin' he had a family emergency. Lemme order an Uber real quick." He gave you a quick kiss on the lips before he shot out of the bedroom, already on the phone with his driver.
As soon as he was gone, you waddled over to your walk-in closet and dug through your clothes for another dress. You had quite the collection, ranging from the business-like, sophisticated gowns to the tighest, sexiest club dresses. All kinds of designer—Gucci, Versace, Dior, Dolce & Gabbana—stared back at you, most from when your body was a lot smaller.
You felt tears burn in your eyes as you stared at them, grieving your old shape, but you pushed them away and picked out an off-the-shoulder black dress with a skater skirt flared to conceal your stomach. It wasn't at all the kind of sexy, jaw-dropping dress you had on before and even pulling it on, you felt internally guilty for changing clothes.
After you had the new dress on, you didn't feel any better. In fact, you felt worse. So much so that you sat on the edge of the bed you shared every night with your husband and felt like you could cry from how low you felt. You placed a hand on your stomach, feeling so many emotions that battled with each other.
If Connie hadn't came back upstairs whistling so happily, you would've definitely begun crying. Damn hormons.
"Alright, my beautiful wife! Let's getcha outta here so we can..." He abruptly paused, his full, pink lips turning into a worried frown. "Hey, what's up?" He knew from the moment he entered the room that you were down. He could read you like a book.
"Huh? O-Oh, I'm fine! I just got winded." But Connie didn’t smile back. He knew it was a shit lie. Worriedly, he sat beside you on the bed and placed a comforting hand on your thigh. "Baby, if you don't think you're up for this party, we can always stay home."
You gaped at him, upset at him even suggesting such a thing. "What?! Nooo! Connie, you just won a championship game and everybody is lookin' forward to seein' you! It's important!" Connie pulled a stern face, holding your hands firmly in his.
"You're important," he firmly replied. "You and my baby." His hand ran over your stomach, right over the gold buttons running down your dress. “Why'd you change your dress?" he bluntly asked, those green eyes daring you to lie to him.
You looked away, biting your lip. Usually, being vulnerable with Connie wasn't a battle, but this time? It was a damn war.
"I just...didn't like how the other one looked on me." The silence that stuck in the air was tense and thick. Connie was obviously upset with your confession, but he didn't show it just yet. "Why?" he demanded. "And don't try to bat your lashes outta this one, mi amor. Tell me what's goin on up here."
You felt tears prick your eyes, threatening to burst and ruin your makeup. You stared down at Connie's knuckle tattoos, unable to stare him in the eyes. "I-I...I just don't think I look sexy anymore. I feel ugly and fat a-and—oh!" Suddenly, you were over Connie’s lap with your ass tooted in the air for him.
"Connie?!" you gasped, looking back at him as he splayed you across his lap. "What are you—"
"Shut up," he snapped. "I don't wanna hear nothin' but those pretty little moans outta you.” Quickly, he hiked your dress up to show off your lace panties nestled between your plump asscheeks etched in tiger stripes and—
Rrrriiiip!
"Con!" you gasped. “Those were new!” You pouted as he flung the flimsy lace undies away somewhere across the room. “I’ll get you new ones. Now be quiet and take your punishment, wifey.” Before you could take a single breath, your husband was raising his hand over your ass and striking it down hard on your asscheeks.
SPANK!
You gasped and flinched as if you weren't aware that he was about to do this. Connie loved all of you, but he was an ass guy down to the T. He couldn't get enough of squeezing, smacking, grabbing, and caressing your butt every chance he got, even after matches right on national television.
But he especially loved hanging you over his knee and spanking you, just to hear you moan and scream for him. He loved punishing you just to see those tears and feel how wet you got from the sparks of pain and pleasure mixing into one intoxicating cocktail. “Ah! Con, wait!” you tried to protest. You squirmed, trying to free yourself, but Connie locked one arm around you to keep you there. “Ah-ah, you ain’t listenin’. That’s liable for another spank.”
SPANK!
You gasped as his hand came down again, much harder than before. You felt fire lick across your right asscheek, harsh and unbearable. “Ow!” you yelped, cringing at the pain. Your husband only watched, in love with the way your ass recoiled against his palm. “Hurts, mamas? That’s how I felt when you told me you changed your dress ‘cause you don’t think you looked sexy in it.”
SPANK!
He hit your left cheek this time, making your ass burn with a thousand fires all from his hand alone. “That’s how I feel whenever you feel insecure about that body of yours. The one I love so, so much.”
SPANK!
“Do you have any idea how fuckin’ hot you are? How many men would kill to snatch you up and take you away from me?”
SPANK!
“How many men would love to breed you? Give you a baby like I did?”
SPANK! SPANK!
“Do you like to hurt me, baby? You wanna see me heartbroken over you? Is that it, mamì?”
You were surprised you could even speak. Connie's assault on your ass has left you twitching and hot all over, your ass raw from the spankings. You also were wetter than you ever remember being since the negative feelings over your pregnant body. "N-No," you softly whimpered.
SPANK!
You let out a loud whine in anguish at the agonizing singe of Connie's assault on your ass, the fire against your cheeks getting much worse. "What was that, mama? I couldn't hear you." You were shaking as you replied, tongue-tied and teary-eyed. “N-No, Papì! I’m sorry! I just felt insecure!”
You sniffled as Connie began to rub his hand over your asscheeks, soothing the burn. "And why the fuck do you feel that, huh?" he growled. "Do you even realize how sexy you are? How hard you get me all the fuckin' time?"
You felt it now underneath you, pushing against your stomach. His hard cock chubbing against hiss slacks. "Connie," you whined. "That's so lewd." You tried not to rub against it, not wanting to throw in the towel and admit defeat just yet. "And you love it," he chuckled. "My good little girl."
The pet name made your stomach flip, his pet names always being your weakness. Your krypnonite. "But I'm not little," you muttered. Connie paused, quirking an eyebrow down at your little self-deprocating remark. "Oh, no?"
You squeaked as he suddenly yanked you up and placed you on his lap, your back meeting his front. He locked one arm around your midsection, placing you right on top of his bulge. "Then why is it so easy to lift you up and put you wherever I want, hermosa? Why don't I break a sweat when I pick you up and fuck you, hm?"
He began to rub himself against your pussy, causing your gush to ooze onto his cock, staining his slacks. "P-Papì, don't," you whined. You bit your lip as you felt your puffy pussy lips split open, causing more of your honey to spill out and embarrassingly soak Connie's dickprint through his pants. "'Don't' nothin'," he growled. "Don't make me smack this pussy...unless ya want that."
His hand skated down your pussy, pressing right against your slit in anticipation of a smack. "Ooo, I think you do. She just gushed for me!" He tsked, nibbling your earlobe, making you whimper at the contact. "Still so slutty. Keep it up and I'mma give you another baby, baby."
Your teeth sunk deeper into your bottom lip, excitment coursing through you at the idea of your hubby giving you another raw creampie. "But I won't do that if you don't put the dress back on," he whispered in your ear. And just like that, your stomach pitted and turned to ice. When you turned to look at Connie, his eyes were fierce and all ablaze. He wasn't playing with you. "B-But—"
"So I guess you don't want your husband to make you feel good before our night out together?" he cut in, raising a brow at you. "You don't want him to bust a fat load in you?" You paused, your face hot and your pussy wet as his fingers toyed with it. Your body betrayed you, dammt. "Mmm-hmm, that's what I thought."
Together, he helped you stand and undressed you, taking good care of carefully unbuttoning each button on your dress until it was off. You felt so loved and special as he slid the skin-tight dress back on you, no panties included. Then he had you stand between his legs as he sat on the bedside, grinning at you.
"Theeeere's my sexy wife!" he cooed. "Spin for me, mama." You tried to bite back your smile, but your joy took over as you twirled for him, giggling when he groaned at the sight of your ass pushing against the fabric. "Baby, THIS is what made you insecure? Dios mio, turn around and look at yourself."
He took your hands in his, pressing a sweet kiss to each knuckle. "You're beautiful, baby bump or not. But the fact that you're hold a little me or you in there makes you ten times more gorgeous." His hands released yours to hold your stomach, pressing a kiss to it before posessievely yanking down the window to your dress that showed off your cleavage.
You let out a little intake of breath as each of your full tits popped out for him, hanging like ripe fruit for him.
"Connie," you whined. Your husband was mesmorized as he massaged and held each tit in his hands, his thumbs running over the hard nubs. "Look at these full tits," he murmured before he leaned in to suck on each, his tongue swirling around the hardened peaks.
You moaned, knees almost buckling as he sucked and toyed with your nipples until he moaned in surprise as liquid leaked out of your nipples. Milk. "Lactating already, mama?" he chuckled. You flushed, realizing that this wasn't a kink you both explored. "I started early for the baby. Is that okay?"
Connie's eyes flashed with a lustful fire as he practically stuffed his face in your tits, motorboating you and making you giggle. "That's more than okay. Fuck, you taste so fuckin' good, mama." "He continued to suck on your tits, drawing milk out of the hard, brown peaks as you moaned and whimpered, gripping onto him for dear life. "Look at me. Look at how hard you've got your man."
You did so, finding that his cock has grown in his slacks, twitching and pulsing against his fly as if he was about to bust out. "Yeah? You want this dick right now?" He paused, gripping his cock in his hand, palming himself to your heart's content.
"Yes, please, Papì." You tried to touch him yourself, but he stopped you, shaking his head. "Mmm...not yet. You gotta earn this dick first. Lay back f'me, but don't take your eyes off the mirror. I've gotta make my wife feel good, don't I?" He gave a wolfish grin that was so Connie-like that you giggled, all of those pesky little negative thoughts about yourself starting to vanish.
You bit your lip and watch him as he knelt down in front of you and opened your legs. When he got a look at your soaked little pussy, puffy from arousal and glistening for him, he almost looked pained. “Goddamn, mama,” he hissed. “You’re so wet f'me. You didn't need them little panties anymore.”
His eyes flicked up to yours, his hands laying on your thighs. ‘Okay?’ his eyes asked.
Wordlessly, you nodded, unable to speak. But he wasn't satisfied. He began to brush his fingers up and down your wet slit, paying close attention to your reactions. “No es suficiente, hermosa (Not enough, beautiful). Words, baby,” he growled. “Gimme words.”
SMACK!
His hand smacked lightly against your pussy, making you yelp in pleasure and your pussy throb against his palm. “Yes!” you moaned, your pretty red-painted toes curling in your heels. “Please, Con…please touch me.”
He gave you a devastating smile at your pitiful reaction, but didn't keep you waiting. He split your thighs wider, causing your pussy lips to slightly split and expose your dripping hole for him. “Shit!” he hisses, gaping at your sex. “You have the prettiest pussy, mamì. I can't believe I get this all the time."
“Thank y–!” But your words were cut off by a sudden gasp as Connie leaned in and began suckling on your clit and eating your pussy like a starving man. He was relentless with his tongue slashes, flicks, and long licks up and down your slit.
He moved his tongue like he was a master at eating pussy, paying close attention to your reactions even though you had this mouth over a thousand times before. But every time was still fucking amazing.
You moaned and whimpered above him, your fingers carding through his buzzcut as your other hand moved down to your pussy, trying to make Connie ease up on his immaculate, fast pussy-eating. "Ah, f-fuck...w-wait, Con, b-baby! Do we...oh, shit yes! Do you have time to do this?"
Your husband paused, his forest-green eyes boring into yours. "Who cares? We'll get there when we get there. Now move your hands before I move 'em for you." You gushed at the dominance in his tone, loving it when he shifted into such a demanding, bossy mood. "You're gonna ruin my dress, babe."
Your husband smirked, teasingly licking you from slit to asshole with his fat tongue, the cold metal of his tongue piercing making you moan. "Shouldn't I be sayin' that?" he chuckled. "You seem mad animate 'bout it now when you was the one who didn't wanna wear it."
He slid your dress up higher, exposing a bit of your pregnant stomach to him as you leaned back, both of your holes on full display for him. Connie loved you like that: slutty, open, and vulnerable on his bed. "I'll get you another one. It wouldn't be the first time I did that; besides, I paid for it."
And he did. He saw the dress in a window and immediately thought of you, FaceTiming you to show you. "You like this, amor?" he had asked, flashing you the slinky dress through the phone as he popped his gum. "I thought you could add this to your lil' club dress collection."
"B-But it was for your party," you whined, squirming as your husband wiggled his tongue in a way that made your eyes roll back. Connie glared at you from between your thighs, pissed that you're interrupting his meal. "Fuck the dress. And motherfuck the party."
You laughed but it turned into a breathy moan as he slurped at your pussy, drinking in every drop of your arousal you could give. "You say that now till Jean takes half the basketball cake. You know he's greedy for my cake."
Connie's eyes flashed with lust as he forced your thighs to your chest, stretching you completely open for him, exposing your ass to him. "I am too. And if Jean knows what's good for him, he'd better stay the fuck away from both."
You writhed and grinded your hips against his mouth as he dove back in, trying to get him closer. Your pussy pushed into his pillowy-soft lips and wet tongue that drew shapes and wrote hois name across your wet, swollen pussy lips and needy little clit. "God, baby!" you moaned. "Please faster! I-I need to cum in your mouth!"
Connie hummed in enjoyment, making the most salaciously lewd sounds as his tongue swirled in your wetness. "The feeling's mutual, mi amor," he cooed. He then pulled away from you, lips glistening with your juices. "How 'bout you..."
He sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap, making your seat hot for you. Pat, pat. "Hop up here in my lap, hm? I wanna feel your pussy squeeze 'round my fingers when I finally make you cum."
He nodded at the mirror across the bed facing the bed, his expression hot. "But I'll only make you cum if you keep lookin' in that mirror at yourself. I want you to watch yourself gush 'round my fingers f'me, okay?"
Connie always loved him some mirror sex...and so did you. You loved watching his pretty face contort in pleasure when he sunk in your pussy, railing you with all that he had until he blew a fat load in you. You felt your body tingle in arousal and excitement, your pussy thinking for you. "Uh...can you get naked first?"
He grinned at you, already popping onto his feet to undress. "What a little puta my wife is! God, I'm so lucky!"
Connie was right: fuck the party. As soon as he was down to his briefs, showing off every mouth-watering muscle, tattoo, and the ridges of his fat cock in his briefs, you weren't thinking about anything else but getting more of him.
And once you were sitting in his lap, all thoughts of going anywhere flew out the window. Because your husband had you locked in his lap, thighs spread, with two fingers stuffed inside of your pussy, making you watch him finger-fuck your brains out in the mirror.
Your mouth was a permanent O as you moaned and whined from Connie teasing you wet entrance, sliding his fingers in and out, slowly pumping them and curling them up till you keened. “So needy,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your neck as he continued, his expression lustful as he watched you in the mirror. "Mmm, that's it. So wet f'me. Feel so fuckin' good."
He dug his nose into the long curls cascading down your back as he got you closer, closer. The edges of your vision blurred as you raced towards your orgasm, your moans bouncing off of the wall. Your eyes closed as bliss took over, your clit throbbing. "Connie, m'close!" you slurred. "I'm gonna cum soon!"
“Que?” Connie immediately stopped, leaving his fingers in you. “And who the fuck said you could do that? I don't see your eyes on that mirror." Your eyes opened, staring at the pregnant woman with the brown skin and full lips, her pussy on full display in her man's lap.
"Look at yourself," he demanded. "Look at that goddess. Who's that pretty girl gettin' her pussy fucked?" He slowly pulled his fingers out of you and began to rub at your clit, making you groan from the sweet pleasure. "M-Me," you stammered.
SMACK!
You gasped as Connie slapped your pussy again, the sharpness of his hit almost making you gush. "Louder! Who is she?!" Then his fingers were back inside, pumping, stroking, pushing you towards a much-needed nut. "Me! It's me, Papì! I know I'm beautiful and gorgeous and...fuck, I'm gonna cum!"
Connie grinned into your neck, kissing behind you ear the way you liked; the shit that made you melt. "That's my good girl. Now cum for me.” And after a few more thrusts and some teasing moans in your ear that turned you into a puddle, you came on your husband's thick fingers.
The ink lacing his knuckles looked sinful, especially since his fingers were stuffed so nicely inside of you, sticky and glistening with your pussy juices. He made you cum the only way Connie Springer, NBA player, and your husband/baby daddy, could: hard and intense.
Your eyes rolled back and you twitched in his lap as your orgasm washed over you, taking you through space. When you finally came down, you were dizzy and supremely satisfied, feeling like the sexiest bitch to walk the earth. Connie peppered your face in kisses, making you giggle. “Muy bien (very good), baby! That’s my good lil' listener. Look at the mess ya made.”
He pulled his fingers out of you and pressed them, wet and sticky, against your bottom lip. “Now you gotta clean it up.” You pried your mouth open, sucking on his digits as you stared at him in the mirror. “Now what do you say?” he whispered, one hand lacing around your throat.
You swallowed as he squeezed, the act making your pussy throb. “Thank you, Papì.” He smiled, kissing your lips. “You’re welcome, baby. Feel better now?”
You did...but you couldn't let him know that. You needed his dick like you needed air to breathe. There was NO FUCKING WAY you could leave this house without getting dicked down by your man. “Not really. I could use a little more persuasion.”
He clocked that sexy little purr as you spoke, his eyes growing lustful. “Little slut. Of course, you could. Well—“
Ding-ding! Groaning, Connie snatched his phone from across the bed and looked at the notification there. “Damn. Ride will be here in 15 minutes.” Disappointment flooded in you. That meant no fucking until the party was over...which could've been 2AM for all you knew. “Oh. Well, we can always finish when we get home.”
Connie scrunched his face at you, disgusted by such a statement. “Da fuck? No way are you leavin’ this bed without gettin’ my dick in you.”
With ease, he scooped you up in his arms and placed you on your back on the bed. “B-But, Connie. Our ride—“
“Can wait. He knows who the fuck he’s pickin’ up, plus I tipped him extra.” Then he was snatching off his briefs, freeing his big, beautiful, fat, veiny cock from its prison, making your stomach flip with anticipation. “Now lay back f’me, baby. I can make you cum in 10.”
You had no doubt that he could, but the thing was once you and Connie started fucking, a quickie could turn into a two-hour fuck session. Nasty, sticky, wet, and messy: just the way you both enjoyed.
And staring into his moltenly-hot eyes, you knew that this would probably be either a quickie or an hour-long session depending on how he was feeling. “Just keep your eyes on that mirror. Am I clear?” He gripped your chin and forced it back, making you stare at yourself hanging off of the bed upside down in the mirror. “Y-Yes, sir," you whimpered.
Turned out that was hard to do when your husband was fucking you so good. He put you on your side to make it easier on your tummy and fucked you from the side, pumping his cock in and out of your dripping pussy, making the bed squeal and you make such slutty sounds. "Ah! Ah, fuck, Connie, yes!" you wailed. "Please do it faster! Harder!"
Your man hovered above you, hands gripping your ass and thighs, trailing over your tiger stripes, relishing every womanly part of you. "Yeah? That's how you want it?" he grunted. "Even while pregnant, you still wanna be put in the mattress. Dios miyo, what a sexy lil' whore I've got for a wife."
He put his foot up on the bed and thrusted in a way that put himself deeper, making you feel every inch of him. He pumped himself inside, in and out like a machine, never slowing or stopping. "I'm a whore for ya too, y'know," he panted. "I can't play one fuckin' game without thinkin' 'bout comin' home to you and fuckin' this pussy...makin' you cum over."
He smacked your ass hard, the sting mixing with the pleasure of your pussy being filled and your clit stroked against his toned stomach. "And over."
He flipped you onto your back, pushing your thighs up to stretch you, make you take him more. "And over again. 'Cause you fuckin' deserve it, baby. You deserve everything!"
You were losing your grip on reality, staring at your husband fuck you stupid in the mirror. "F-Fuck, Papì! You're so deep!" He met your eyes in the mirror, his pretty face and muscles adorned with tattoos and his tan skin glistening in sweat. "Tell me where you feel me, mamì. Tell me where my cock is."
You trailed a hand down to your plump, pregnant stomach, your manicure glistening at him. "Here. R-Right here." Connie grinned, loving to hear how much his dick had you going insane. "Maybe I can give you another creampie. Give my baby another baby...if that even works."
You had no idea, but the idea of being bred with another child by your husband made you want to squirt right there! "We can find out," you purred.
Connie smiled at you, flashing those pearly whites as he leaned down to give you a sloppy kiss, all tongue. "We sure can, mi amor. If you–shit–keep takin' that dick like that, I'll definitely give you another raw load." He fucked you harder, faster, deeper, making the bedsprings creak in protest below you. "How's that, hm?! That feel good?!"
He yelled at you as he fucked you dumb into your marital bed, his gold band listening at you as he held your throat. "Ye-e-esss!" you hiccuped, each word a jumbled meshment of words as you headed towards another fat nut. "Ohmygod, Con, I'm gonna cum soon! I'm s-so close!"
Your eyes squeezed tight as you felt it coming, Connie's grip on your throat increasing. "Yeah? You want me to make that lil' pussy cum for me?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, making you lose control of yourself.
"Sì!" you moaned. "Yes, please, please, Daddy!" But then...he stopped. Your eyes opened in shock as he paused mid-thrust, looking very disappointed in you. "Uh-uh. Not yet, princessa. You ain't do what I asked you to do."
"What?" you dumbly asked, discombulated from being fucked within an inch of your life to not anymore. Connie clucked his tongue at you, shaking his head like a disappointed father. “I don’t see them eyes on that mirror, sexy.”
Fear shot in your stomach as he pulled out, smacking his cock against your pussy before he moved away from you entirely. You sat up, confused and sexually frustated. “What are you doing?” you panted.
Connie smirked as he laid back on the bed, slowly pumping his hard cock for you as he waited for you to join him. “Hop up. I want you to ride me and don’t you fuckin’ dare take your eyes off yourself. I’m close and so are you, so you’d better make it count.”
You were a little nervous about sitting on him since you were so much bigger now with the baby, but Connie's grip was secure as you crawled on top of him, pressing his dick against your entrance. You tensed as he gripped your hips, pushing his legs up to keep you upright. "You won't fall, baby. I've gotchu. You trust me, right?"
You stared down into those eyes that you loved for so long and continued to. "Yes," you replied. "With my life." He smiled, his cock twitching against your pussy impatiently. "Then bring that ass down here and ride this fuckin' dick."
And with a smile, you did as you were told and gave Connie the ride of his fucking life. You put it down heavy, your ass smacking against his thighs, as your pussy sucked in his cock, getting it wet and sticky with your honey, drawing the sluttiest noises out of both of you. "Fuck, that's it!" he moaned as he held onto you for dear life. "Bounce on that fuckin' dick, babe! You love takin' Papì's fat dick, don't you?"
"Fuck, Con, yes!" you whined. "Yes, I love it! I-I love you so, so much, Papì!" You gripped his chest as you alternated between bouncing on his dick and grinding so you could stroke your clit against his pelvis. Any move you did made sparks of pleasure explode through you, making you lose your grip on reality.
"Fuckin' prove it then," he growled. "Fuck me back and cum for me. Watch yourself cum all over my cock, mi amor. Look at how perfect you are."
You did as you were told and stared in the mirror across the room. "Who's that pretty girl ridin' dick, hm?" Connie groaned out. You stared at the woman bouncing on the fat cock in her, her juicy tits bouncing in time out of her dress, her plump stomach on full display with the dress hiked up over your hips. She glowed from her toes to the tip of her head, so free, screaming sex.
Yes. That pretty girl was you. You were beautiful.
You watched your tits and fresh curls bounce around your shoulders more as Connie fucked you back, pistoning his hips up like a jackhammer.
"Sì, sì, sì!" he panted, each word leaving his lips like a mantra as he got closer to his orgasm, his cock swelling and throbbing inside of you. You could feel yourself getting close again, that knot in your core about to snap. "M'gonna cum soon, Con," you whimpered.
"Cum for me then, baby!" Connie moaned, moving a hand between you to rub your clit, desperate to get you there. "Don't hold back."
But you did. There was only one thing that could help you get there. "I wanna cum with you," you begged. "Please cum with me, baby. Fill me up...please?" Then you tossed your ass back in a way that massaged his balls, making his toes curl and his mouth open on a moan.
"Aww, my baby can only cum if her man cums with her," he cooed. "So fuckin' adorable...so fuckin' mine!"
Together, you fucked the shit out of each other, meeting each other's thrusts. When you slammed yourself down, Connie thrusted up, giving you deep dicking from below, your moans, gasps, and whines collaborating and mashing together to fill the bedroom smelling of mingled body spray and sex.
"You're too beautiful," he groaned. "Ay coño, I can't fuckin' stand it, babe! You're gonna m-make me—"
"Cum with me!" you whined. "Please, Connie, cum inside me! Gimme another baby! Please!"
And then, finally, something magical happened. With a moan of his name on your lips and a swear in Spanish on his, you and your husband came at the same time. Pleasure exploded through the both of you, shared between you, bonding you to one another for that one moment as you reached your pinical together.
You felt Connie blow a very fat, wet, creamy load inside of your pussy, shooting up your club until your eyes fluttered and rolled back while you came, creaming all over his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm as you collapsed against him, totally exhausted.
"Sh-sh-shit!" he hissed out, hugging you tight against him. He stammered and shook as he continued to cum, pushing his spunk deep into your pussy even as it dripped down your thighs and over your ass crack. "C'mere," he hissed before his lips were fiercely on yours.
You kissed, moaning into each other's mouths until finally, exhaustion took over and the high faded. You both began to softly laugh as Connie rolled you both over onto your sides so you were facing each other. He smiled at you, skin to skin, body to body. "You okay, mama?" he purred. "Was I too rough?"
You smiled as he sweetly caressed your cheek, pushing stray curls out of your face. "No," you giggled. "You were perfect."
"So were you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. And look! Not a stain on that pretty dress!" You laughed as you examined your dress and sure enough, there was nothing. Not even cum! "You feel better now?" he cooed.
You dragged yourself over to him, pressing yourself into his chest, needing to feel him against you. "Yes. Thank you, hubby. I'm sorry I was being so stupid."
Connie tutted, muttering, "Nonsense. Never that. And you're welcome, wifey. It's always a pleasure to show you how precious you are." His hand trailed down to caress your stomach, loving and adoring. "You and this little bun in the oven...maybe two buns now."
You nearly burst with happiness at the thought of starting a family with Connie. One full of love and no judgment. Nothing but happiness. You tilted your face up to kiss him, slow and passionate. "I love you, Connie."
Connie smiled against your lips, holding you close. "I love you too, baby. No matter what shape or size. You're beautiful no matter what form."
BEEP-BEEP!
"Shit, that's our ride!" he announced, instantly popping up to get dressed. "Let me get dressed so we can leave." Quickly, because time was of the essence though all you wanted to do was lay with your husband in the after-sex glow, you began to get ready too. "Okay! Let me just get some new panties."
Connie shook his head as he yanked on some new briefs and pants, fastening them. "Nah, leave those off. I'm gonna need easy access later." He smirked at you as you scowled at him, pretending to be disgusted by his perviness.
SMACK! You squeaked when he smacked your naked ass beneath your dress, already setting up a possible second round at the club. "Now let's get you in that club so I can make all the other dudes jealous that I knocked up such a baddie."
You smiled at him, your wedding ring glistening around your finger as you stared at yourself in the mirror, accepting and loving. "Yes, Papì."
