The kitchen was warm and smelled of cinnamon. Magnus sat at the counter, listening contentedly to Alec as he described the features of the new model of Shadowhunter gear he’d approved that morning. It was now early afternoon. Magnus had been baking, and Alec had made coffee, and they’d sat together and eaten and talked and laughed.
Magnus leaned against the counter, tapping his fingernails against his mug, and Alec’s eyes followed the movement. He caught Magnus’s hand, turning it over. “Your nails are chipped.”
“Mhm.” Magnus rolled his shoulders.
Alec ran his thumb over the chipped black polish “Do you want me to paint them again?”
Alec had painted his nails several times in the past. It had become a sort of ritual for them, a few moments of quiet time when they could just talk and be together. But this time….there was something Magnus had been meaning to ask Alec. He looked down at his hand in Alec’s, then up at his husband’s face. He reminded himself that Alec wasn’t the scared, repressed boy he’d been when they’d first met. But still….Magnus didn’t know how far he could push him.
He took a deep breath and went for it. “Only if you’ll let me paint yours.”
Alec’s face froze for the briefest fraction of a second. For a heartbreaking moment, Magnus saw the shadow of old fear in his eyes, a fear Magnus hadn’t seen in years. He remembered how when they’d first started dating, Alec wouldn’t even hold his hand in public. He was about to apologize and take it back when Alec’s face cleared. He glanced at the chipped polish on Magnus’s nails, then at his own hands, then back at Magnus’s. He was considering it, Magnus could see. Finally Alec swallowed and said, “Okay.”
Magnus looked him straight in the eye. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”
Magnus blinked at him in surprise, then smiled slowly. Alec gave him a small, nervous smile in return.
Magnus waved his hand, clearing away their empty plates. In their place appeared a collection of nail varnish bottles in various shades, some rags and a bottle of polish remover. Alec took Magnus’s hand in his again. He went to work with the polish remover first, carefully wiping away the traces of chipped colour from Magnus’s nails. Magnus relaxed into Alec’s hold. Alec considered the row of nail polish bottles, before selecting one in a glittery magenta. He pulled Magnus’s hand a little closer and swiped the polish carefully over a nail. Alec was always so conscientious and careful, Magnus reflected, even when he was just painting Magnus’s nails. It was endearing.
Alec finished one hand and blew gently on the polish to dry it. He reached for Magnus’s other hand and started on it. They fell into a comfortable silence together, Magnus enjoying the feel of the cool polish on his nails, Alec focused on his task. He had the adorable furrow between his eyebrows that he only got when he was concentrating hard.
Alec finished the top coat on Magnus’s nails and sat back, admiring his handiwork. Magnus wiggled his fingers, magically drying the polish, and reached for Alec’s left hand. Alec was tense for a second, then his hand relaxed in Magnus’s. Magnus rubbed his thumb over Alec’s knuckles comfortingly, and reached for a bottle of varnish. The shade he chose was a dark metallic blue, with just the faintest shimmer.
Alec’s eyes were wide as he watched the first stroke of the brush against his nail. Magnus admired the way the dark blue looked against his pale skin, then moved to his second nail. Alec exhaled sofly, and Magnus looked up to find him staring at the blue against his skin with an expression of wonder. By the time he’d finished one hand, Alec didn’t look apprehensive anymore, and reached to offer Magnus his other hand. Magnus finished his nails and screwed the lid back on the bottle. Alec was holding his hands out, staring at them like he’d never seen them before
“Do you like it?” Magnus asked.
Alec glanced up at him. His eyes were wet. “Yeah.” he said, sounding a little choked up. “Yeah, I— it’s really— thank you.” He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.
Magnus’s heart broke. He pulled Alec into his arms, holding him tight. Alec buried his face in Magnus’s shoulder and breathed in great, shuddering breaths as Magnus held him. Eventually he pulled away and gave Magnus a watery smile. Magnus caught Alec’s hand, with its dark Voyance rune, and curled his fingers into a fist. He held Alec’s hand between both of his own and pressed it to his lips, closing his eyes for a long moment. “I love you.” he murmured. “And I’m so proud of you.”
Alec’s other hand brushed his cheek. “I love you too.”
Magnus had thought that Alec might want to take the polish off straight away, but to his surprise, Alec kept it on for several days, even wearing it to work. And if anyone noticed that the Consul had blue sparkly nails, well, no one said anything. Isabelle raised her eyebrows when she saw, and didn’t comment, but after a Clave meeting she came up and hugged Magnus without saying a word. After that, Alec let Magnus paint his nails several more times — not often, but often enough that Magnus knew he liked it. Magnus would look at their joined hands, painted in bright colours, and feel a glimmer of warmth in his chest. He looked at Alec, so confident and happy and proud, and he ached with love.
thamepo is actually physically healing something in me while being a concoction of every single trope I love somehow brewed to perfection. the way they expressed such a necessary process of getting over fears and restarting with the same thing you've failed at while simultaneously executing the most perfect jealousy + feelings realisation arc ever by adding that sense of two members of this boyband fighting over the same person.... like why does this show literally have EVERYTHING damn
tom definitely read tons of homoerotic fiction in college all while not consciously picking up on it, but absolutely gravitating toward those themes and simply not touching any discussions of homoeroticism (and especially not whether it's *actually gay*) with a ten foot pole. just in his own little bubble with piles upon piles of everything but two men making love to each other in plain text, and no acknowledgment of why or what it made him, or even attempting to argue that it didn't because part of him just knew not to bring it up. maybe he could be seen reading them and he could respond if someone else initiated a discussion but if the word gay came up he'd go quiet and withdraw and feel discouraged from continuing to read it for a bit. maybe one day he came across Maurice and started reading and saw himself in it so deeply and simply had enough cognitive dissonance to not fully register the homosexuality until he was so far in that he could not possibly put the book down, and by the end he wept with the realization of what he was and it hurt so bad that he couldn't cope. he just put the book back on the shelf and stopped reading entirely for a long time.
SUMMARY: you blame your former best friend jack abbot for the assualt that put you out of work for four months. but somehow he didn't realize that, until you return and beat it into him
WARNINGS: very close best friends, fluff, angst, mentions of assualt, dana and emma duo, language, violence, poc reader, reader has curly/coily hair,
WORD COUNT: 2.7k
a/n: after about a month, i'm back yayy. i think this was a well needed break/burnout fallout, but seeing jack abbot in ep 7 in that freakin camouflage awakened something in me. and also samira AND jack, TOGETHER....nice. i want to do a way longer fic for jack, like bucky long, but we'll see
jack abbot was the sort of person who sat with you after a long, drueling shift. the sort of person who didn't touch you when you didn't want to be, but handed you a warm beer with a tiny smile on his face, like an olive branch, pushing you to spill your guts so your shoulders could relax.
before the accident, jack was your personal confidant, and sometimes much more than that. when you'd lost a patient with a deep laceration to her abdomen—which, for some reason, hit harder—he let you crowd onto his chest, pitiful tears wetting his black scrub top.
sometimes, the two of you would sneak off to the restroom, and just stare at each other for a moment, brains repressing the traumatic images you'd just seen. then, you'd laugh, and it was a hard sort of laugh that included shaking shoulders, sore bellies, and eyes that were oddly blank.
other times, abbot didn't talk to you at all, a certain shadow overcoming his features. and you knew to leave him alone then, and not because he would burst, but because abbot valued silence and solitude during those moments.
after the accident, he was no longer jack, but dr. abbot. no longer the man you thought about fondly in bed, but now, he was the one you imagined each time you looked at the hospital bills and scars that covered your abdomen.
sometimes you wondered if your blame was misplaced. perhaps it should've been placed solely on the man that put you into critical condition, but instead, you blamed your attending—the very man you continuously told about how uncomfortable you were around your patient.
like jack, sometimes you didn't know when to stop working, but after the accident, you were forced to take a couple of months off work and recover, not only physically, but mentally.
primarily, you were a night shift senior resident, but in order to avoid abbot, you took up dr. langdons shifts, even though he'd returned. and working day shifts, although different, was much better for your psyche than you thought it would be.
walking into the ER felt like blood was finally entering your veins, like your lungs had inhaled the saving breath—which smelt like nothing but cleaning supplies, nitrile gloves, iron, and hand sanitizer.
it was bustling as usual, but the first person that greeted you was dana, eyebrows raised as she eyed you, clad in your black scrubs, bag over your shoulder, a tiny smile on your face as she examined you.
"well, look who it is." her voice droned on, lips pursed as she glared lightly, "you're not supposed to be here, are you?" you rolled your eyes at her tone, leaning against the nurses' station, "they said four months, and—"
"—today makes it the fourth, doesn't it?" she rounded the counter and nodded slowly at you, like a concerned mother, "you look good." the shine in her eyes made you happy and you shrugged, "feel good too."
dana squeezed your arm and called princess over, who's eyes were wide as she saw you, "four months did you well."
greeting your co-workers took a few minutes, especially because you were returning to day shift after your four year run in night shift. you'd spent your student doctor years among dana, robby and the other doctors, then eventually, abbot convinced you to switch to night shift, not only because of the extra pay, but because he mentioned how bored he was without someone to match his humor.
thinking of abbot made your face scrunch as you moved past santos and mckay, walking into the locker rooms to put away your stuff so you could help with the incoming trauma.
while shoving your belongings inside your locker, you heard footsteps enter, rapid, then slow, then they stopped completely. you assumed it was one of your co-workers grabbing something before they returned to a patient, but when you saw the figure frozen in your peripheral, staring at you, you finally looked.
"hey." abbot said, frozen in his tracks, wearing that godforsaken camouflage uniform. his hands were braced within the bulletproof vest, police blaring at you.
you couldn't move for a few seconds, eyes widened as you watched him, as if he was an animal about to pounce. you could feel your scars burning beneath your underscrubs, eyes retracting towards the very room where you'd been almost killed.
when you didn't respond, abbot didn't comment on it, but you saw his shoulders drop, stance widening as he watched you slam your locker shut and approach him, desiring to leave. but when he didn't move out of your way, chest a few inches from yours, you scoffed, "what?"
his light brown eyes squinted, almost as if he were offended, "what do you mean, what? i've been calling you for months. ever since you left the hospital. you're lucky i didn't show up at your fuckin' apartment." his tone was light, but you could see the calm annoyance running through him.
but it did little to change how you felt about jack abbot.
"oh please, you fuckin' asshole." you pushed passed him, face screwed up into a nasty glare, hand hovering beneath the hand sanitizer dispenser sitting outside the locker room. abbot followed you, air catching in his throat.
"asshole?" he chuckled lighly, still following you, even as the trauma patient came in, an EMT reciting the case. you didn't reply as the patient was pulled into a room, shaking your head at robby as he asked if you needed more hands.
throughout trying to stabilize the patient, you could see abbot eyeing you, though he kept quiet in favor of privacy. santos noticed the tension almost immediately, her lips pursed tightly.
"great intebation santos." she thanked you, glancing between you and abbot. but when he met you at the patient board, you decided to say nothing, arms crossed languidly.
if he thought his little oblivious act would work on you, he needed to think again.
"if you wanted me to visit, i would've." he muttered, and you ignored him.
"okay so you're not mad about that—" you walked away before he could finish, meeting dr. king to treat another patient, her wanting to ask for your advice.
after that, hours passed without the two of you speaking. but the glances didn't stop. abbot seemingly couldn't keep his eyes off you, muttering to robby about you.
"i haven't spoken to her in four months, and now she's angry. like i killed her cat or something." robby shrugged, moving back and forth on his feet, watching you speak to dana and perlah about some show that you spent your time off watching.
"she has a cat?" robby chuckled at abbot's deadpan face, then he continued, "i heard through the grapevine that she continuously told you about the patient and how much she wanted your assistance. why didn't you give it to her?" robby focused an adamant glance on abbot and the man paused, hands falling to his sides.
"yeah i think she asked for my assistance, but—wait, you think she blames me?"
"if it quacks like a duck and looks like a duck?"
the idea that you blamed abbot for your assault hit him like a brick. he could feel his brain clearing of confusion, realizing that your anger didn't come from some petty place of hurt at the fact that he didn't visit you.
"doctor, can i get your assistance on a patient?" abbot slithered to your side like a sly fox, hand resting against your arm gently, like the two of you were friends. like reflex, you snatched away from his grip, glancing away from perlah and staring at abbot. then, your professionalism kicked in, and you nodded.
abbot guided you over to a patient's room, but as soon as you pushed inside, him holding the door, and you saw no one lying on the bed, you grumbled, and turned around. "don't you get it?" he twisted the lock on the door and raised his hands earnestly, "you blame me."
he said it matter-of-factly, and that pissed you off. "yes, i fuckin' blame you! you were my attending—my supervisor!" you moved towards the hospital bed, picking at the linens just so you didn't have to look at him.
"if i told robby that i felt uncomfortable with a patient, the first thing he'd do is take over. no if ands or buts. but you, jack fuckin' abbot, you said i'm sure there's nothing to worry about, and give me a second. then finally, the only thing you could say was im so sorry. because deep down, you knew that it was your fault."
the pitiful tears that clouded your eyes weren't sadness, but rather a feeling of betrayal. jack abbot was your best friend—a friend you thought about in the shower and in bed, but otherwise, a friend.
jack was supposed to take over the case for you, and decide if the patient was a threat to staff, like an attending should've. but instead, he had that cloudy look in his eyes, whether from trauma or stress, you didn't know, and he pushed you aside.
abbot moved closer, close enough that you could smell his signature scent. "i'm sorry."
that was as much as a trigger as his face and you spun around and slapped him, so hard that your palm stung and his cheek was imprinted with a hand-shaped bruise. jack's mouth was ajar, and his eyes were watering with circumstantial tears.
"I don't want to hear i'm sorry, jack!" you shoved him in the chest, then you raised your hand again. you saw jack flinch, hands raised to catch your wrist, but eventually, he stopped himself and endured another of your hits.
"fuck." he muttered low, knawing on his cheek, staring down at his shoes, ashamed.
"you are the reason i have almost half a million dollars in fuckin' medical bills. you are the reason i can't sleep. so stop talking to me, stop looking at me. stop pretending everything's fine, because it isn't."
of course, for a few hours after that, people wondered why in the world jack abbot had a handprint on his face, but he ignored the questions and the looks, and reveled in the feeling of shame that you'd given him.
he knew you were right—of course you were. abbot didn't do his job that day, too caught up in his own mental state and the pressures of his job. and because of that, you were stabbed three times.
jack missed you every shift you weren't there, and he waited patiently for you to come back, gave you your privacy to heal, but subconsciously, he knew it was his fault.
"looking sad there kid. what's the matter?" dana questioned while you busied yourself with charting. you kept glancing over at abbot, sporting his handprint, attempting to explain to ogilvie how to properly speak to patients.
you glanced at dana, then at the new-grad nurse who'd been stuck to her hip. emma gave you a polite smile, and for some reason, that made you relax, leaning back in your chair and groaning.
"i was assualted last year—stabbed three times in the abdomen by a patient." you didn't give emma time to process before you were continuing. "i blame abbot," this time you glanced at dana, and she nodded in realization.
"i asked him three fuckin' times to take the patient. and because he ignored my request, i was stabbed." the anger piqued again and you grumbled, running a heavy hand down your face.
"am i wrong to think that way?"
dana ignored your first question, "you slapped him?" you let out a humorless chuckle, "yes, i slapped him." dana let out a good laugh, then she leaned closer, eyeing you hard to make sure you were listening.
"no, you're not wrong, sweetheart. abbot should've taken the patient off your hands, but whether or not you're pointing the blame at the right person is the question." emma nodded slightly and you gave her a tiny, poisonless glare.
"how?" dana could feel your irritation and she patted your arm, "that man should've never stabbed you. and abbot was your friend, he would've never purposely put you in harms way." you attempted to speak, but she raised her eyebrow.
"you have a right to be angry, no one doubts that. but do you really want to lose a great friend? abbot regrets it—everyone can tell, even if we don't know the reason."
you glanced over at the man, noticing he was speaking to mohan now.
talking to dana and emma didn't make your anger dissipate, but it did help you understand his point of view a little more. you knew abbot got into bad states of mind sometimes, usually because of stress, and whether or not that was the reason he ignored your requests was lost on you.
"speak to him." emma muttered lightly, grinning at you and you let out a huff, chuckling, "i wish that was the easy part.
finding out a way to pull abbot aside was the hard part, but speaking to him about your feelings was going to be the hardest part, especially since you'd just slapped the shit out of him twice.
though, he made it easier for you. abbot didn't stop those little glances, so eventually, after handling a triple trauma, you nodded him over, standing beside the restroom.
jack came over relunctantly, wavy salt and pepper hair his victim as he ran a hand through it, eyes squinting. he was hovering over you slightly, head tilted.
"i'm so sorry—"
"—stop talking, jack, please." you spun around and pushed into the restroom, and so did jack, his hands rubbing together absentmindedly. you leaned against the sink, while he stood in front of the door, staring at you.
"i was...wrong, to slap you. i was—no, i am angry, because you could've prevented all of it." your voice was increasing in its waivering, toe tapping rapidly against the ground. "after i went home from the hospital, i wanted to die."
the words made his face screw up in dispair and he shook his head, "fuck, fuck." jack moved closer, "i have no excuse for my lack of judgement. i was stupid and—"
"i miss you, abbot. i really do, despite the anger." you leaned against his chest, arm wrapping loosely around his waist. jack stood there frozen for a moment, then he relaxed, returning your hug and refusing to let go.
when you hugged jack, there was a certain comfort that came afterwards, like nothing bad could ever happen when you were in his arms. the friendship you had with jack took precedence over your anger, and him owning up to his terrible mistake was just as fulfilling as a good meal after a long day.
jack ran his hand beneath your shirt like he used to do, fingers digging firmly into your back. it was grounding, his hand, and the scent of him was overwhelming.
"what can i do to make it better?" he muttered, but you shrugged, "never do it again. stop letting your personal issues take over your work." you knew he felt hurt at the statement, and you checked his face to make sure. and just as you suspected, his nose was scrunched unpleasantly, but he nodded nonetheless.
"what else?" jack ran a hand over your hair, smoothing down the curls.
"buy me dinner for the month." he hummed at that, "what else?" his fingers ran further down your back, then his grip wrapped around your waist.
"you want to do more?" you glanced up at him, eyebrows raised, but abbot shrugged, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, "''course i do. my debt to you won't ever be paid."
⟡ Jupiter in the 2nd House — can hit rock bottom and still somehow land on their feet. Just when they think they’ve run out of resources, something appears that allows them to rebuild. This is the type of person that could be having the worst week, but still somehow obtain luck or abundance without explanation.
⟡ Mercury in Cancer — often feels more than they can explain and explains less than they actually feel. Their thoughts and emotions tend to arrive intertwined, making communication symbolic, emotional, or indirect.
⟡ Mercury in the 12th House — writes with clarity and depth, then speaks as if they forgot everything they know. Many are far more articulate through text and writing than in person.
⟡ Saturn/Pluto in the 8th House — repeatedly outgrows versions of themselves. They can become fixated on one identity, belief, or label, making it a singular aspect their entire personality until it no longer fits and another transformation begins.
⟡ Mars in the 12th House or negatively aspecting Neptune — may insist they aren’t angry while unconsciously acting from months or years of repressed frustration. Their anger often hides from them before it hides from anyone else.
⟡ Chiron in the 1st House — carries evidence of their struggles in a visible way. Others often recognize their resilience and their strength despite obvious wounds/pain before recognizing anything else.
⟡ Chiron in the 10th House — develops a public identity connected to overcoming adversity. Their pain and personal struggles are often well-known and talked about. Their struggles act as the source of guidance or wisdom that they offer others.
⟡ Mars in the 1st House or Mars-Ascendant aspects — attracts competition without trying. Their drive, confidence, or intensity can make others feel challenged even when no challenge was ever intended.
⟡ Gemini influencing the 5th House — rarely wants only one creative outlet. Gemini thrives on variety wherever it’s placed. In the 5th House, interests tend to multiply, branch out, and evolve throughout life.
⟡ Capricorn energy — in personal planets can be incredibly hard on themselves while also being the most patient person in the room with everyone else’s mistakes.
⟡ Venus in Aquarius — can mistake fascination for romance. Sometimes they genuinely believe they’re in love when they’re actually captivated by a person’s unique mind, life experience, or perspective. They engage in “social experiments” for better or for worse.
⟡ The underdeveloped expression of Venus in the 12th House — may become obsessive or codependent, especially in dynamics involving women or softer/emotional individuals. They may also find themselves attached to unavailable people who are already taken, unequal relationships, or dynamics that require endless sacrifice.
⟡ The house containing the Moon often shows where the emotional world fluctuates or goes through phases. The themes of that house tend to wax, wane, retreat, and return throughout a person’s emotional life.
⟡ Strong 8th House placements — notice shifts in energy, tension, and unspoken dynamics long before anyone else acknowledges them.
⟡ Pluto in the 1st House — has probably been described as intimidating by people who barely know them.
⟡ Neptune influencing Mercury — understands metaphors, symbolism, dreams, and subtext with surprising ease but may struggle with overly literal communication.
⟡ Saturn influencing personal planets — often spends years feeling “behind” only to develop mastery in the very area they once felt insecure about.
⟡ 6th House placements — tend to discover that their mental and physical health are deeply connected. When one suffers, the other usually follows.
⟡ Moon in the 4th House — may go through periods of craving visibility and recognition followed by periods of wanting nothing but privacy, familiarity, and emotional retreat.
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~ Readings available ranging from $10-$20 USD. 10+ years of experience. See the pinned post on my blog for details!~
Caleb fucks you in hopes that one day you’ll love him. Maybe one day you’ll see that he’s truly the man for you. No one else will ever know you the way he knows you. No man will ever go the extra mile to please you the way he does.
He’ll do just about anything for you. The things he’s already done for you are questionable. He’d never confess to his doings, knowing that they’re short of a crime. Caleb can only hope that if you ever find out, you’ll understand that he was doing everything for you.
What you think you need isn’t always what you actually need, which is why Caleb is always there to push you in the right direction– Or push everything else out of your way. And Caleb knows that he’s done everything right, because every time you stumble, you find your way to him.
The countless times where a boyfriend has left you or something hasn’t worked out, you turn to him for comfort. You lay in his arms and cry to him about your losses and tragedies, and he helps you. He helps you in your vulnerable state, and before you know it, you’re under him as he finds the best way to lift up your mood. The way that he’ll get you to love him.
“Fuck, Caleb.” Your nails dig into the skin of his back, your body overcome with pleasure as you become one. His cock thrusts in and out of you, hitting every right spot. Your body is turning into putty, your brain fogging up.
Caleb holds onto your headboard, damn near banging it against the wall so the neighbors can hear. He’s claimed you, no one else can approach you. No one else better approach you. You’re his and his alone. He hasn’t put in this much work just for someone else to come and swoop you off your feet.
“You’re so fucking perfect.” Caleb’s lips meet yours in a brief sloppy kiss. He pulls away just to moan your name, letting you know just how good you feel around him.
He looks down at you with so much adoration. Lust. Care. Love. Obsession.
He wishes he could see you like this often– With your lips parted as you moan his name over and over again because you can barely handle taking all of his dick. It’s just too much for you. Too perfect and you aren’t used to perfection. There’s no position he likes better than this one with you underneath.
“You feel so good. So fucking tight.” He says through gritted teeth. There’s nothing that Caleb likes better than the feeling of your tight cunt around him. He tries not to lose control, knowing that the moment he loses control, there’s no turning back.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head. His cock hits all the right spots– Caleb knows your body well, hoping that you’ll effortlessly come back to him. You’ll crave for his touch because no one knows you and will never know you like Caleb.
He can’t help but appreciate just how beautiful you look while you take all of him. And that feeling brings up a repressed desire. An idea that you’d turn down if you weren’t cockdrunk. You’d look so beautiful carrying his baby.
Yeah… He’s going to cum inside you and make you carry his baby.
“Gonna knock you up.” Caleb’s thrusts pick up speed, the sound of your skin slapping loudly overtaking the room. The idea of you with his baby turns him on more than it should. And by some miracle, you don’t protest. Instead, you moan.
“Caleb!.” You moan. The neighbors can surely hear how Caleb fucks you into oblivion, and he’ll proudly wear that on his sleeve. Not only do the neighbors hear his name, but he'll have proof that you’re only his soon enough.
Knocking you up isn’t a repressed desire anymore, now it’s a need. He fucking needs to claim you in a way that no one else can ruin. Even if you try to get away, and move on like you usually try, you’ll be stuck with him one way or another.
“You gonna make me a daddy?” He asks as his hand goes down to play with your clit. There’s no response as you bite your bottom lip, getting hit with a sudden clarity. But that clarity fades away sooner rather than later, and you end up nodding in response.
“I’ll make you a daddy.” You respond, words that bring a smile to his lips. You’re making a mess all over him. Caleb likes to think that the idea of having a baby with him excites you the same way it excites him.
It’s what you both need. Like this Caleb’s workload lessens. There won’t be need for threats or sneaking around for some of your rather unsavory items. He’ll walk around with a clearer conscience and he won’t have to worry about bloodstains on his clothes– Not that he’d go as far as to kill someone for you, though the thought has definitely crossed his mind. With a baby, Caleb will have you all to himself.
Caleb fucks you with hopes that you’ll love him back but if this doesn’t work, then knocking you up surely will.
“Can’t wait to see you all big and round with my baby.” He’s slowly losing control. “Gonna give you every last drop of my cum.”
“Give me all your cum.” Your hand goes down to play with your clit. His moaning gets louder, his thrusts becoming sloppy, his release near. He needs to come inside you.
“You’re going to be all swollen while pregnant with my baby.” He’s stumbling over his words as your pussy squeezes around him. You aren’t the only one with a clouded mind. His words are repetitive, but it’s the only thought on his mind.
You have to close your eyes, your back arching while you get louder and louder. Your legs quiver as you come around his cock.
“Fuck–” He mutters. His lips meet yours again, his thrusts slowing down as he releases his seed inside you. He stays buried inside of you, and when he pulls out, he pushes his cum back into your pussy. By no means was he bluffing. He’s completely serious when he says he wants to knock you up.
He’ll make sure you’re completely his in every way. You'll love him one way or another.
