#(it's currently at over 4k of pure smutty goodness skdfhkh)

[sagesolsticewrites]

one of me is cute but two, though? (Brady x Jules)

Come on, I had to do one smutty blurb before kinktober ended… 🤭 

Brady? ✅ Breeding kink? ✅ Alexa, play Juno 😏

Word count: 1.8k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Masterlist

Lifted effortlessly into her husband’s arms as they opened the front door and crossed over the threshold. Being set down as if she were made of glass, arms twisting around her waist from behind as she took in the empty rooms, sun streaming in through the windows, dust swirling through the golden rays. A tender whisper in her ear, lips just barely brushing her skin.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Brady.”

This was how she had entered her new home— their new home— after a blissful ten-day honeymoon.

She and Johnny had spent the day wandering the house, sat on the hardwood floor eating sandwiches they’d picked up on the drive from the lakehouse, picturing the empty rooms filled with furniture that hadn’t yet arrived, the bare walls covered in pictures of memories yet to be made.

Her husband’s hand curled around her waist as they peeked into a sweet little room just down the hall from the master bedroom.

“I think this one,” he murmured as she took in the bright space, the last rays of sunset washing it in a rosy flush, “would be perfect for a nursery.”

She couldn’t help the way her breath caught in her throat at his words, but… yes, Jules could see it so clearly. A little white crib next to the window— facing east, oh it would be lovely in the mornings— books and toys scattered around the room, the walls a sweet pale pink— or blue, she supposed, if they had a boy, but she had a feeling…

She felt eyes on her, and blinked, turning to see John staring at her apprehensively.

“Is that… something you’d want?”

She was nodding before he’d even finished the sentence, words tumbling out over her lips.

“Yes, Johnny.”

She’d wanted it long before that bittersweet day he’d left for England, held out hope that it was still somewhere in their future each torturous day he was gone.

A ring, a house, a life, a family of their own.

They had the first already, had the beginnings of the second, had all the time in the world to build the third.

That last one…

Heat stirred to life in her belly and oh, she wanted.

Her desire must have been plain on her face— as plain as it was on her husband’s when he leaned closer, breath fanning over her cheeks.

“Is that…” he started, and there was a roughness to his voice that hadn’t been there a moment ago, “Is that something you’d want now?”

Her heart skipped a beat as she met his darkened gaze.

“Yes.”

Her mind went blank as John’s lips met hers, tugging her hips roughly against his, guiding her down the hall to what was now their bedroom.

She was no stranger now to intimacy with her husband— their ten days alone in a lakehouse farther upstate had given her what felt like decades of experience. 

But that had been pure newlywed bliss, a consummation of their marriage a dozen times over and then some.

This was different. 

This was purposeful.

She recalled the homilies she’d heard in Mass, emphasizing the sanctity of marriage, of the bedroom, the lesson drilled into her as a good Catholic girl that sex had one purpose: procreation.

She’d learned it was so much more than that on their honeymoon, that the pleasure she’d found in her husband’s arms, his mouth and hands tracing over her skin as if she herself were a holy thing to be worshipped, was the farthest thing from a sin.

There was something powerful, though, in fulfilling this purpose, in allowing themselves this not just because it was what they were supposed to do but because they wanted it.

John’s nimble fingers made quick work of stripping away each layer of clothing that separated them, heat pooling between Juliet’s legs at each brush of his fingers against her skin, until he was laying her back gently on the mattress in the middle of the room that would serve as their marital bed until their furniture arrived.

“You’re sure?” He murmured as he hovered over her, tender eyes scanning her face carefully.

She didn’t know how many times she could say it.

“Yes,” she pleaded, her voice coming out as a desperate whine, “yes, Johnny, I want this, I want you.”

Something in his adoring gaze shifted at her tone, and he leaned down to softly press his mouth to hers.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

The words were mumbled sweetly against her skin as he trailed a path of hot kisses over her cheek and down her neck.

She tilted her head to allow him better access, and his next words were hot against her throat.

“Thought about this for so long, honey… getting you pregnant, giving you a child…”

All she could do was let out a shaky exhale, hips rocking up against her husband’s. 

He muffled a groan in the crook of her shoulder, his grip on her hips tightening as he held her down. He lifted his gaze to meet hers, pupils wider than she’d ever seen them. There was something feral, primal glinting in his deep blue eyes— where had this come from?

“None of that now, sweetheart,” he warned gently, “Let me do all the work, yeah?”

Her gasp as his hand dipped to explore her soaked core was swallowed by his mouth landing on hers once again. She tried to arch into him, to lean into his touch, but his remaining hand on her hip kept her pinned down.

“Be patient, Jules,” he murmured into her mouth. “‘M almost there, honey.”

True to his word, a moment later there was the familiar brush of him at her entrance. Juliet’s hands flew to grip his shoulders in anticipation, open mouth still close enough to his that they were breathing the same air.

His hand moved first, shifting from her hip to press against her belly, holding her firmly against the mattress.

Her breath left her in a rush, heat spreading across where his hand splayed over her stomach.

Then came the familiar pressure of her husband splitting her open, a wanton moan tumbling from her lips into his mouth as he filled her, a slight hiss as her nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to ground her.

A string of increasingly desperate pleas escaped her as he remained still for one, two, three breaths, Juliet was going to die if he didn’t start moving soon—

“Shh, I’ve got you sweetheart,” he soothed, his free hand drifting to brush across her cheek, the metal of his wedding band cool against her flushed skin, “You just— God, you look beautiful like this.”

Some part of her went soft and gooey at his sweet words, preening at the compliment.

A larger part of her could only let out an impatient whine, her green eyes round and pleading.

A dark chuckle and a brush of his thumb across her cheek was her only warning before his hips rocked back and snapped back into her.

Juliet let out a cry, throwing her head back as her husband quickly found a rhythm, hitting a spot inside her that had her seeing stars with every thrust.

“You look— gorgeous like this—” John huffed, “but— fuck— my wife with a baby in her—”

A sound like she’d never heard erupted from him, as if the thought alone was driving him mad.

“You’ll be breathtaking, Jules,” he gasped, “Won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

A broken gasp of his name was all she could manage as she came closer to falling apart with each passing second, it was all too much, the intensity of his gaze, his voice—

“How many?”

Oh Lord, why was he asking her questions? She could barely recall her own name— her world had narrowed to her husband driving her towards ecstasy and the children that would be the result.

“How many do you wanna have, Jules?” He tried again, breath hot against her already burning skin.

Oh.

She tried to think. Two. Five. Seven. How many were on a football team? That’s how many she wanted, she wanted to give him a whole football team of children for them to herd to Mass every Sunday.

“As many as you want.”

Juliet heard the answer fall from her lips in a moan as if somebody else was saying it, and her climax rocked through her body at the exact moment her husband emptied himself into her with a stuttering groan.

When she returned to her body, John was looking adoringly down at her, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair somewhat damp, and she was sure she looked the same.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing a stray curl from her sweaty forehead.

“Hi,” she breathed, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

John's gaze swept over her face once more before he dipped to kiss her, smiling against her mouth.

She grinned right back, arms winding around his neck to tug him down onto her.

They rolled so they were laying on their sides on the mattress that would serve as their bed for the time being, the whine that escaped her as he slipped out from inside her muffled by his kiss. 

Once he’d sufficiently kissed the air from her lungs, John pulled back to meet her eyes.

“Are you alright?”

She took stock: she was already aching, the insides of her thighs felt hot and sticky, and the rest of her skin was burning too.

“I’m perfect, Johnny.”

“You’re sure? It wasn’t too much?”

A grin spread across her face as she shook her head.

“Perfect.” She said again.

An almost disbelieving giggle tumbled from her lips as John pulled her close.

“We’re going to have a baby,” she whispered in near-wonder, beaming up at her husband.

“We are,” he said with an answering grin, “And if we wanna increase our chances…” 

A brush of lips to her cheek.

“We can keep doing it again—”

Another kiss, this time on her other cheek.

“—and again—”

A kiss on her nose.

“— and again.”

He punctuated his suggestion with a tender kiss to her lips that had Juliet’s toes curling. Her limbs already felt like jelly, and yet her skin tingled at the thought of doing it again and again with this same goal in mind.

One cursory cleanup with a washcloth later, John flicked off the light as he passed the switch on his way to rejoin his wife in bed. He reached over to the stack of spare blankets, plucking one from the top to drape over the two of them— night had fallen, and they had a busy few weeks ahead as they started on building their new house into a proper home.

“I can’t wait to start a family with you, Johnny,” Juliet murmured into the darkness of the room, absentmindedly tracing shapes onto her husband’s bicep.

“Me too, sweetheart,” was his tender reply, mumbled into the crown of her head, “me too.”

She snuggled closer to him, and let the steady beat of his heart under her ear lull her to sleep.