#Is late pregnancy risky?

[maisha-online]

The Journey to Motherhood: Navigating Pregnancy After 40

The Journey to Motherhood: Navigating Pregnancy After 40 #Pregnancy #PregnancyAfter40 #LatePregnancy #Motherhood #PregnancyRisk #PregnancyComplications #PregnancySupport

Introduction – The increasing trend of pregnancy after 40 In recent years, there has been a noticeable increase in the number of women choosing to embark on the journey of motherhood in their 40s. This shift in societal norms is a result of various factors such as career advancements, delayed marriages, and advancements in reproductive technologies. The decision to have a baby later in life is a…

[emeritusemeritus]

Hear me out! Possessive sex + Overstimulation + Brat Taming + Breeding. Both of the Weasley Twins please. 🤭

I just always have this thought of just teasing the shit out of them when they’re work and fleeing afterwards. It’s almost as if we took their job of teasing us, and I could just imagine how pent up and frustrated they can be when they can’t do anything since there’s kids and adults around. The joke shop is suppose to be an appropriate place especially when it’s meant mainly for kids..Perhaps, add a part where we purposefully flirt with one of our old classmates. You can choose who! If you don’t like this idea, I completely understand! Feel free to add some kinks if you like or story elements. 🫶

Hi Anon! I’m so sorry it has taken so long to get this out, writing has had to be on the back-burner for now but I’m slowly getting back! Sorry for the lack of smut, it’s more of the setup as I’m abit smutted out 🖤

Warnings: Sexual tension, brat behaviour, Dom!sub relationships, polyamory, teasing, sexual references, mild swearing. Flirting, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy kink, breeding kink.

Word count: 2.5k

Wonder Witch

You knew what you were getting into the second you opened up your wardrobe and changed into the outfit you'd carefully prepared for today. Your husbands had already long since departed the flat to set up the shop for the day, leaving you just a little later to sleep in, which you were thankful for.

Today was the big launch of new wonder witch products that the twins had been tirelessly working on, perfecting the range ready for the big launch today. You'd helped with ordering violently pink balloons to decorate every orifice of the shop, had banners printed and had even managed to convince Madame Puddifoot's to make some limited edition iced biscuits for the celebration, all in the same sickening shade of pink.

The icing on the cake was the costume that you'd picked out ready to hand out and display the new items, recreating the wonder witch icon on the packaging.

The dress in itself wasn't too risky, an array of pink and gold overlapping fabric that fell just above your knee, with a pointed witches hat in a smilies style. But it also had exposed shoulders with dropped sleeves and a corseted middle which hoisted in your waist to create a rather dramatic shape, highlighting your hips in a way that you knew would drive your husbands crazy. You carefully curled your hair and applied a healthy dose of mascara to really make your eyes pop before applying an equally vibrant lipsticks that you'd found matched the colour of wonder witch perfectly. You added a little highlighter around your cheeks to give you a little bit more of a playful look and slipped on your shoes to really help bring the look together.

When you looked in the mirror, you were more than pleased with yourself. You looked hot.

Checking the clock, you saw that it was 8:53am, just in time for the store to open. You could hear the twins flapping, mainly George, the moment you opened the door towards the staircase. They were bustling ready for the big opening and the unsurprising lack of Verity meant that she was probably going to be late again.

"Angel can you put these products on the... shit." George says the second you walk down the stairs, noticing the outfit almost immediately.

"What's up with you?" Fred asks, walking over to George under the staircase until he comes into full view, noticing that his twin seems to be frozen on the spot. He turns, looking towards the direction George seems frozen at and you watch as his eyes widen also comically wide. "Holy Godric."

"Morning," you say cheerfully, leaning up to press a kiss to George's cheek before doing the same to Fred as they look at you in complete shock, mouths slightly parted. "Where do you want me?"

"Um," George says, clearing his throat though his eyes hardly move from the curve of your breasts, a prominent feature of your dress. You fight the urge to laugh, wanting to keep up your little innocent play, pretending that you had no idea why they were looking at you like that.

"You want these on the shelf?" You ask, batting your eyelashes at them, watching as Fred's tongue pokes out to wet his lips.

The little clock on the wall chimes, signalling the store opening, just as you bend down to grab the box of products and you look up with pouting lips, watching as the twins hardly react to the chimes.

"You gonna unlock the doors big boy?" You ask Fred with a singular raised eyebrows, noticing how he doesn't even attempt to pull out his wand. A frantic knock on the doors pulls him out of his thoughts and you all turn to see Verity knocking to be let it, surrounded by a large crowd of customers ready to shop the new products. You flash a little wink at George as Fred unlocks the doors with a flick of his wand, the fireworks and the tricks beginning all in perfect synchronisation. When you look back up after picking up the box of products and see your two men still staring at you, completely unaware of the swarm of customers bursting through the doors, you knew today was going to be fun.

The store was packed right from opening, a never-ending swarm of people crossing through the doors until the shop was almost too full of people, all wanting to get their hands on the new merchandise. It was an overwhelming success, the new line of wonder witch products and cosmetics and you were thankful, fortunate and insanely proud of your husbands for pulling off the ideas you'd created together. You should have been tired, drained from the day as it neared closing time but truthfully you were on an adrenaline high, on cloud nine from teasing your husbands all day and seeing their increasing desperation.

All day you'd made sure to be a little bit of a brat, an utter tease whilst trying to portray yourself as an innocent Angel- something you knew for a fact that they didn't believe in the slightest.

George was easier to rile up, always quicker to respond to your more subtle teasing. You'd brushed past him a number of times today, the packed shop only aiding your need to slowly brush your ass against the front of his trousers as you squeezed past him or to pass something up to Verity on the stairs, ensuring that he got a face full of cleavage as you stretched up. You'd caught him staring at you more times today than you could count on all your extremities, especially when you climbed the stairs above him, ensuring that he knew your bare thighs were right above him.

Fred didn't always respond to subtlety, so you knew your efforts had to be boosted when it came to him. You'd purposely licked and sucked at one of the dark mark lollipops in the most outrageous way whenever he was paying attention and you'd even heard him choke on his own spit when he noticed.

You knew you had him when you were explaining to a group of seventh year girls about the patented daydream charms and how how they worked, passing out the colourful boxes items around the group as they accepted them with eager and curious eyes.

"Up to thirty minutes of pure, blissful imagination; let me tell you it will create a very realistic daydream of your choice so you know that boy you're crushing on? You're going to have the best thirty minutes of your life."

You're met with a round of playful giggles as you smile at them, knowing you were in for a good sale.

"Have you used it?" One of the girls asks and you nod eagerly with a smirk, knowing that Fred was just behind you from the way you could feel his presence, hearing him talk only moments before.

"Not since I married him," you say with a smirk as you receive another round of girlish giggles. "Between us, those thirty minutes with Fred were some of my most imaginative creations, believe me these little things are special," you say, twisting the box in your hands. "Just don't tell George." You watch as the girls' eyes light up and they quickly shove them in their baskets. You turn then, catching Fred's eye as he pretends not to have been listening and you act as if you're bashful about what he might have heard, placing a strand of hair nervously behind your ear as you walk away, making sure to sway your hips ever so slightly, knowing he'd be watching.

By lunchtime, you'd effortlessly riled them up to a point that it was so painfully obvious what they were trying to hide that you found yourself biting back a smirk for most of the day. They were so easily and deeply affected that it was rather fun to watch, but none more so than when Dean Thomas came into the shop just after the dinner time rush. You'd taken a quick break and had reapplied your lipstick, carefully checking you appearance before you walked down the stairs back to work. Dean had been talking to both of your lives near the stairs when he spotted you, eyes briefly widening as he took in your appearance. Unfortunately for him, Fred had been mid sentence and had definitely noticed Dean checking you out, making his go silent and cause a thunderous look to cross his face.

"Y/n, hi! It's good to see you!" Dean smiles as you approach them all, careful to avoid looking at the faces of your husbands who had now both caught on to Dean's over-pleasant demeanour.

"Dean, good to see you too!"

"You look good! Who knew that y/n (*maiden name) would become wonder witch!" His hands gesture towards your outfit and then to the display of new products to the side with your likeness on.

"It's Weasley," both twins said a little too quickly, in perfect synchronisation, making you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop a laugh spilling out at their obvious jealously.

"Of course," Dean says somewhat absently, not picking up on the sudden hostility aimed at him by the shop-owners. "So what have you been up to? Do you see the others much?"

"Didn't ask us this many questions," you hear George mumble under his breath to Fred, who has crossed his arms across his chest and is hardly blinking, watching Dean closely.

"The usual," you smile, shooting a fleeting glance at your two husbands who's red faces seem to match their hair. "Keeping these two in line, keeping the shop afloat," you joke.

"So no little Weasley's running about yet?"

You could almost sense the little eye twitch George did at the words and you were certain that Fred seemed to stand even straighter, making himself even taller to tower over Dean.

"Hopefully soon," you say, biting your lip and George's eyes flicker to you with a fire in them, your words affecting him more easily than you'd anticipated. Fred seemed to incidentally lose his footing and was knocked off balance for a second, breaking the rather playful mood that had settled between you and Dean.

After Dean had left with a few things he'd come for, you finally accepted your fate and let the veil slip enough to drop the innocent act you'd been playing all day. Fred had cornered you beside the till, a stolen moment of peace as you reached high up to re-stock the daydreams, flashing him with a glimpse of your stocking.

"Really Freddie?" You pretended to admonish as you felt his rather prominent evidence of arousal against your hip as he started to get grabby with you, nearing the end of his restraint. "This is a respected establishment Mr Weasley, there are children about!"

You shuffled past him with a little tut, hiding your smirk behind your hair, leaving him stranded with mouth agape at your sudden boldness. George wasn't faring much better, his eyes still fixed on the curve of your breasts whenever he caught a glimpse, silently watching you rile him up further and further as your act slipped away.

With one last attempt at completely flipping the switch inside of them, throwing them over the metaphorical cliff, you doubled down your efforts. It was nearly closing time and you walked slyly over to the cash register whilst George was cashing up for the night and began stretching, pointing out your chest and making some very questionable noises. You adjusted the little cold shoulder straps on your dress and readjusted your breasts in the dress, sensing your attentive audience of George who was close by and Fred who had stopped what he was doing to watch you from across the shop. You suddenly turned and walked behind George, placing your hand on his hip as you squeezed past to reach for a carrier bag, carefully dragging your hand over his lower back as you leaned down. When you began to turn and walk away, you felt a large hand shoot out and grab your wrist.

“Angel.”

His tone was clear and clipped, telling you everything you needed to do.

“I know exactly what you’re doing,” he says, moving to stand behind you in the near empty shop, an obvious erection pressing into your behind. “Keep going little brat, you’re only fuelling the fire.”

When he lets you go and turns back to his task with no other reaction, you knew it was time to slip away. You rushed up the stairs, carefully avoiding both of them, ready for the next step of the plan. You’d prepped dinner on your lunch break, wanting to get ahead for the night and flicked the oven on with a flick of your wand as soon as you made it upstairs. You kicked off your shoes, pulled off your panties and waited, busying yourself to ward off the desperate arousal you were feeling, anticipating a good but long night ahead.

As soon as you heard the familiar, incoming footsteps on the landing, you bent over in your skirt to slip the pie into the oven, giving them quite a show when they walked in.

“Fucking Godric,” you heard Fred exclaim when he stepped through the door, followed by a similar curse only moments later by his twin as they see your pussy on full display for them, peeking out from below the short skirt as you bend over.

“Princess,” he says, beginning to stalk over to you as you pulled yourself up, closing the oven. You looked at them innocently, big doe-eyes and fluttering lashes as you watched them darkly approach you.

“You were naughty today,” George says, his hand reaching out to cup the back of your neck as he pulls you into a devastatingly sinful kiss that immediately makes your nipples harden under the dress. You gasp into his mouth when you suddenly feel a hand creeping up your inner thigh, underneath your dress.

“Remember what you said to Dean, princess?” Fred asks, voice dangerously low, prompting you to nod whilst trying to catch your breath. You knew exactly what you’d said, what you’d hoped for.

“Reckon we should start now?” He asks, his hand ghosting over the curve of your ass, feeling the bare flesh underneath his fingers. “Want you knocked up right fucking now.”

“Agreed,” George adds, somehow looking and sounding ever darker and more determined than Fred. George suddenly reaches out and turns off the oven with a harsh flick of his wrist, smirking when you look up at him in confusion at him turning off the oven.

“We’re not gonna be done with you that soon,” he says with a devilish smirk. “Gonna cum in you over and over, taking turns filling you. There’s gonna be so much cum in you that you won’t know where you start and we end, get you all round from us. Now.”

“Get on the bed.”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 3: The Ones Who Died Without A Name]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Holiday” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

The Tahoe runs out of gas just west of Ashland, Ohio, coasting to a stop along the shoulder of State Route 96, sapphire skies and cotton ball cumulus clouds, emerald fields of Swiss chard and beets slowly being nibbled bare by deer and rabbits, the inheritors of an abandoned earth.

“Well, that’s it,” Baela says, offhand, blasé, as if it’s not a disaster. You’ve sorted this out, it didn’t take long: there are people who aren’t allowed to panic. If they do, it’ll be like a dam crumbling, and the flood will burst through to drown everything, like when Noah’s wrathful God decided it was time for the world to start over. Baela can’t panic. Aemond can’t panic. And maybe you can’t either. Rio gives you a skeptical look—Are we really about to walk to Oregon?—and you slap his thigh encouragingly as you climb over him and out of the Tahoe.

“Everyone gets a gun,” Aemond says as he starts distributing them: Rugers for Rhaena, Baela, and Helaena (although she winces as she obediently takes the revolver, immediately tucking it away into her burlap messenger bag), .22s for Daeron and Aegon, Remington 12 gauges for Jace and Rio, who gives you his M9. You’re better with it anyway. Aemond’s Glock 20 is in a handmade leather holster he took from the cellar of the house back in Distant, Pennsylvania. Luke, still a potential zombie, will not be armed; but Aemond slings the strap of a .22 over his own shoulder for in case Luke recovers.

“Safeties on, right kids?” Rio goes down the line checking everyone’s gun. “Remember what we practiced, use your sights, don’t go pointing the barrel at anyone unless you’re okay with blowing a hole in them. The noise is risky, but getting bit is worse, so use your best judgment.”

“I don’t have any of that,” Aegon says, grinning.

Rio grabs Aegon’s sunburned face roughly and smacks a kiss onto his cheek. “I know, Honey Bun. Don’t you worry. Stick close and I’ll do your thinking for you.”

You spy it up the road a ways on the right, half-obscured by tree limbs: a white and orange sign, a logo shaped like a diamond. “Oh my God. It’s a Stewart’s.”

“A what?” Aemond asks, squinting at the sign. It’s late afternoon, and soon the sun will be sinking into the west like a drowning man through deep water, and like all prey animals you are restless without the promise of shelter.

“A Stewart’s Root Beer. They used to sell hot dogs and barbeque and all these neat soda flavors like key lime and black cherry. We had one where I grew up. That was the fancy place. You knew it was a good day if you ended up at Stewart’s for dinner.”

Aemond considers you, that subtle ceaseless curiosity. “We can stay the night there.”

“I thought we didn’t want to waste any daylight, Aemond,” Jace jabs as he helps Luke—miserable but presently human—out of the Tahoe. “That’s what you said when I wanted to check out that Barnes & Noble, Aemond.”

“What the hell do you need books for?” Aegon says. He’s grabbing clear CD cases out of the center console of the Tahoe. He pounds on the eject button and then punches the CD player when he realizes he won’t be getting that particular disk back. “Oh, you bitch! I had Shakira on there!”

“I would like to preserve my ability to read at higher than a fifth-grade level. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I was going to work for Sullivan & Cromwell, you know.”

“And now you’re a jobless loser just like me. Isn’t life funny?”

“You can’t be serious,” Baela says to Aegon, his arms full of CD cases. “You’re going to carry all those to California? You don’t even have a way to listen to them.”

“I’m not leaving my mixtapes.” Aegon shoves them into a U.S. Army backpack he found at Fort Indiantown Gap and then hoists it onto his back with a grunt.

Aemond tells Jace: “We only have a few hours until the sun starts going down. We don’t know what’s up ahead. We should take advantage of a safe place to sleep if it’s available. Getting caught out in the open after dark is the worst case scenario.”

“Whatever, Aemond. It’s your call. Everything is your fucking call.” Then Jace plods out into a field of rabbit-ravaged Swiss chard to relieve himself semi-privately, his back to the Tahoe.

“Hey, Chips Ahoy,” Aegon says, taking the folded-up map out of the pocket of his shorts, mint green plaid. “Want to tell me if there are any nuclear power plants near our route so we can steer clear of them and not get irradiated?”

“Uh, well, I don’t exactly have them all memorized…” You examine the map, hoping the black-ink cities will jog your memory, trivia you catalogued years ago, snippets you’ve heard from your fellow seamen. “Perry’s in Cleveland. We won’t be anywhere near that one. Fermi is up by Detroit.” You hesitate as your fingertips skate past Chicago. “Braidwood, LaSalle, and Byron are someplace between Chicago and Peoria, but I’m not sure where. And then there are a few others around the border of Illinois and Iowa. West of that, I don’t know. Rio?”

“Cooper’s in Nebraska, dead east of Lincoln. That’s all I got.”

Aegon is nodding, making notes on his map with a glittery forest green gel pen. “Cool, cool. If I don’t end up eaten or a zombie, I can look forward to being a sterile, glow-in-the-dark mutant.”

Luke frets: “What if we accidentally drink contaminated water or something?”

“Then you die an agonizing death, kiddo,” Rio says. “Your cells dissolve and you turn into human Jello and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.”

Luke swallows noisily. “Awesome.”

“You might just get cancer if the dose is small enough,” you tell him. Luke does not seem pacified. Rhaena gives him a sip of warm Coca-Cola from a plastic bottle from the Wawa.

Jace comes trudging back to the road, zipping up his khaki chino shorts. “Alright, are we ready?”

Helaena is gazing solemnly out over the fields of green leaves, red roots that grow like arteries into the soil. “We should try to find antivenom.”

“Antivenom?” Aemond asks, distracted as he makes sure nothing of importance was left in the Tahoe. The keys are still dangling from the ignition; you won’t need them. There’s no breathing the Tahoe back to life. There’s no returning to Aemond’s house back in Boston. There is only the West, beckoning you to cross rivers and plains and mountains to join her, and to do it as people did two hundred years ago, no cars, no phones, no escape hatches. The only way out is through.

“For the snakes,” Helaena says.

Aemond stares at her. The stitches in his face are dissolving as the flesh weaves back together, jagged maroon scar tissue, beautiful savage ruins, landscapes of improbable survival. “Helaena, antivenom has to be refrigerated. Even if we miraculously found some, it wouldn’t be useable.”

She nods, eyes wide and glazed, still peering into the fields, into the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

A hand brushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, a whisper through the dissipating indigo of sleep: “Guess what today is.”

You startle awake and yelp as you bolt from your assailant. Aegon is watching you without any shame whatsoever. People are laughing as they gather up supplies so you all can get moving again, brushing teeth, arranging hair, drinking glass bottles of Stewart’s soda found last night in crates in the storeroom, snacking on bags of Utz chips. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows; specks of dust glimmer in the air like comets through the inhospitable void of outer space.

Luke says from where he is sitting on the floor, his arms and legs tethered: “Hopefully the day when somebody’s going to untie me.”

“It’s my birthday!” Aegon announces.

You’re still blinking at him, disoriented. “What…?”

“Aegon, I told you,” Aemond says, sipping a bottle of Stewart’s key lime soda. “It’s not your birthday. It’s not the 23rd.”

“It’s the 20th, right?” Rhaena says.

Rio looks to you, bewildered. “Isn’t it like the 25th?”

“We’re still in June?” Luke says. Now Aemond is hacking through his ropes with a hunting knife from the cellar in Distant, Pennsylvania.

“Your hand is healing up. Your color is good, your temperature is normal. I guess we can officially declare you human for the foreseeable future.”

“I knew it,” Jace says, combative so no one will see the desperate relief underneath.

Aemond examines your hands next, calloused over where the heat of the transmission tower burned the skin. There is no pretext for needing to tend to them any longer, no antiseptic or ointment or gauze. Aemond nods somberly at your palms, as if he isn’t entirely happy to pronounce them cured. His hands linger on yours for slow, unnecessary seconds.

“So what are we going to do special for my birthday?” Aegon presses eagerly.

“We’re going to walk between ten and twenty miles towards California,” Baela says.

“That’s not a birthday activity!”

Daeron groans as he inspects the screws and bolts of his compound bow. “Aegon, it’s not your birthday!”

“Shut up. You can’t even apply to get a credit card.”

“No one can get a credit card now! Currency is worthless!”

Rio offers you a cherries and cream soda. You take it and say: “Aegon, how old are you? On today, your alleged birthday?”

He hesitates. “That’s not the important part.”

Aemond smiles as he tells you, mock-whispering: “He’s thirty.”

“Thirty?!” Rio exclaims. “That’s like, an actual adult age. Marriage and a mortgage, shit like that. What were you doing before everything went insane?”

Aegon gestures vaguely. “I was considering a number of opportunities.”

“He was living on my couch,” Aemond says.

Rio shakes his head, grinning. “No job? No school? No nothing?”

“I wasn’t doing nothing. I played a lot of golf.”

“He was totally doing nothing,” Jace says. “I was in my third year of law school at Harvard, Baela was getting a master’s in Aeronautics and Astronautics at MIT, Rhaena just started an Anthropology PhD, Luke was getting a master’s in Screenwriting at Boston University—he was going to be very sad and very broke, but still, he had a plan—and Aegon was doing…nothing.”

“I’ve never had a real birthday party before,” Aegon tells you; and there is something in his murky blue eyes that is tremendously sad, wounded, childlike. “I might not get another chance.”

“What do you want to do?” Now people are alarmed, skittish glances and mouths open to object. You are encouraging him.

“I don’t know yet,” Aegon says. But he’s glad you bothered to ask. You can see it on his face.

It’s not until several hours later—after noon, the sun high and blazing, everyone’s unpracticed feet aching and blistering in their shoes—that Aegon experiences a revelation like the angel Gabriel appearing to the Virgin Mary or Sir Isaac Newton extrapolating gravity from an apple falling on his head. Aegon’s epiphany appears in the form of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio called Luxury Lanes. It is remarkably unluxurious, a nondescript black rectangular building with a few doors in the front, one small tinted window on each, and no other openings. To Aegon, it is an oasis in a desert.

“I want to go bowling!”

“Aegon, we’re not going bowling,” Baela says, breathing heavily but trying to hide it, her hands massaging the small of her back. Aemond is watching her worriedly. Baela is the only person not burdened with carrying any supplies beyond her hammer and shiny new Ruger—and she resisted this accommodation at first—but still, she suffers more than anyone.

“Once again, it is my birthday—”

“Aren’t bowling allies soundproofed?” Rio asks Aemond. “You know, so they don’t get noise complaints?”

“Uh, I guess so…?”

“It’s kind of a fortress, isn’t it?” Rio continues. “Not many ways in or out. We wouldn’t be seen or heard. Might be a good place to stop for the night. ”

“Yeah!” Aegon says. “Right, Aemond?”

Aemond looks at you. It takes you a moment to figure out why. “I think the bowling alley is a good idea,” you tell him. “It’ll be safe, assuming we can clear it. And Aegon can have his party.”

Aemond is skeptical. “A party?”

“Survival isn’t just about not dying. It’s also about holding onto the things that make us human.”

“Like bowling!” Rhaena says excitedly. “It’s preserving a tradition! And I used to be so good at bowling. I bowled a 250 game once.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Aegon says, still delighted to have her on his side.

“There’s a sign for a Walmart maybe half a mile up the road,” Daeron points out. “We could search it for supplies and then double back here.”

Aemond polls the audience. Everyone agrees.

Shenandoah is tiny, rural, religious, and out of the way from the major highways. The Walmart doors are chained shut with padlocks, and amazingly no one has taken that as an invitation to drive their car through them or otherwise shatter the glass yet. Rio is honored to be the first. He takes the butt of his Remington shotgun and punches through the glass of the locked doors, kicks away loose shards, whistles and shouts to lure out any zombies. A dozen of them come reeling out of the aisles and towards the doorway. Daeron shoots down most of them with his compound bow. Rio kills two with the butt of his Remington, his new favorite toy. Aegon, the birthday boy, uses his golf club to beat in the skull of a teenager who is still wearing glittery pink nail polish and fake eyelashes. According to her nametag, her friends and family once called her Raelynn.

Inside the Walmart, Jace and Aemond take one side of the store, you and Rio the other, doing a quick sweep to make sure you didn’t miss any undead employees or customers waiting for the chance to sink their teeth into you. And when that’s done, you begin shopping.

The shelves are probably two-thirds empty, but there are still treasures to be found. You push carts through the aisles and fill them with candles, lighters, Chef Boyardee, Doritos, canned soup, fruit snacks, tuna pouches, 5 gum, bottles of Snapple, socks and underwear, hair ties, t-shirts and shorts, Kleenex tissues, pads and tampons, toilet paper. Baela finds some cute maternity dresses. Helaena picks through the pharmacy for useful medications, Aemond shadowing her with a baseball bat in his hands and his Glock at his waist.

“Chips, they got Cheddar Whales!” Rio exclaims, tossing several boxes into your cart.

“I miss grocery stores,” Rhaena says as she climbs the shelves to get the last box of Teddy Grahams.

“I miss going to the mall and getting Auntie Anne’s pretzel nuggets,” Aegon commiserates. Then he stumbles upon the liquor aisle and his eyes light up like high beams. “Aemond!”

Aemond appears—perhaps a bit flustered—and deliberates for a while as he browses the selection, Aegon waiting anxiously, before he decides: “Since it is allegedly your birthday, you can drink tonight. And you can pick one other person to drink with you. But only one.”

“Rio,” Aegon says immediately.

“Come on!” Daeron whines.

Aegon is already putting bottles of Captain Morgan rum into a cart. “Sorry. Illegal. Underage.”

“I’ve helped you butcher countless zombies, but I can’t drink?!”

“Just Say No, as Nancy Reagan would tell an innocent child such as yourself.”

Jace strides over, sly and playful, gnawing on a Twizzler. “Aemond, were you over there rummaging through the medicine aisles again? What do you keep looking for? Condoms?”

There is an awkward silence, an extremely awkward silence. Aemond glares at Jace. Jace’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, I, uh…I was definitely joking. But…congrats on the possible future sex!”

“I already checked,” Luke tells Aemond apologetically. “You know condoms were the first thing to get bought up or looted everywhere.”

“Okay, great,” Aemond says quickly, willing the conversation to be over. There is blood, hot and mortified, flaring in his cheeks. He was thinking of you, he had to be; the only other single woman here is his sister, and obviously that’s not an option.

Jace takes another bite of his Twizzler. “Just pull out, man.”

Baela, incredulous, gestures to her belly. “Because that worked out super well for us.”

“I told you to stop riding me!”

“Yeah, a whole two seconds before you impregnated me with your super-swimmer Michael Phelps sperm.”

“Please don’t make me listen to this,” Luke begs. “I’m starting to wish I really was bitten.”

“Don’t you know all the tricks to not getting someone pregnant, Aemond?” Jace says. “Wasn’t that going to be your specialty? You wanted to be a vagina doctor? So don’t you know all the mysteries of the vagina, Aemond?”

“He was going to be an OB/GYN,” Baela says, unamused.

“Really?” Rio turns to Aemond. “Why would you want to do that?”

“So he gets to look at pussies all day,” Aegon says morosely, as if heartbroken that such a path is inaccessible to him.

“That’s not why,” Aemond insists, mostly to you.

You smile. “I didn’t think so. What’s the actual reason?”

“Interns do rotations in different departments so we can figure out what we enjoy and what we’re best suited for. I knew within two days of my OB/GYN rotation that that’s where I wanted to be. Giving birth is the only life-threatening trauma that is necessary for humanity to continue. I wanted to help people get through it as safely and painlessly as possible.” Then his gaze darts to Baela. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound worse—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m very much aware. It hurts like hell, people die. Believe me, I’d be thinking about that even if you hadn’t said it. I think about it all the time.”

“I have an idea you’re not going to like.”

“What?” Baela says. Aemond nods to the nearest shopping cart. “No way. You’re not going to push me around in one of those.”

“I believe it’s an adequate solution until an alternative appears.”

She sighs. “I’ve lost my body, my career, my society, my parents…must I lose my dignity too?”

Aemond winks. “Only when you’re too tired to walk.”

“Alright, Aemond. I realize you’re under the impression that this is a favor. So thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Let me give you a favor in return.” Then Baela begins shooing everyone except you and Aemond out of the liquor aisle. “Grab anything else you want, we’re leaving in five minutes! Jace, come look at the baby clothes with me…”

When the two of you are alone, Aemond says: “I really hope that didn’t make you feel too weird. I’m not someone who gets uncomfortable about the…um…the subject matter in general. But I wouldn’t want you to think that I was trying to…I don’t know. Assume anything or pressure you into something that you weren’t already open to. Obviously I like…um…I mean, enthusiastic consent is essential, and I just…I would never try to convince anybody or…you know what, I’m just going to stop talking now. Okay?”

“Aemond, I’m fine. I didn’t think it was weird.”

“It’s a compliment,” he confesses, flushing pink again, touching his chin, perspiration gleaming at his temples.

Now you have to show interest so he knows you’re on the same page. You’ve never had to think this way before, you’ve never liked anyone enough to play the game. “So hypothetically, if someone didn’t want to get pregnant but there were no condoms, pills, etcetera…what are the options?”

He looks at you, pleasantly surprised. “Well, there’s the rhythm method. It’s not perfect, but it’s been around forever and is reasonably reliable if done correctly.”

You are only vaguely familiar. “We didn’t get a lot of sex ed down in Kentucky.”

Aemond chuckles then leans in, a mischievous curl of his lips, a craving in the crystalline river blue of his eye. He grips the shelf above your head, his arm a canopy. His voice is hushed. The front windows of the Walmart face west where the sun is setting; golden light floods in to illuminate the store. “Is your cycle regular?”

“It is, actually.” This should be embarrassing, but it’s not; it’s exhilarating. You’re imagining him seeing you, touching you, unearthing secrets you’ve never been tempted to share with anyone else.

“So if we imagine it like a circle…” He draws one on the back of your hand, invisible, mesmerizing, blue-white lightning crackling up the path of your metacarpals, wrist, ulna and radius, humerus and clavicle, descending ribs like the rungs of a ladder to jolt the sinus rhythm of your heart. “The start of your period would be Day One.”

“Okay,” you say, hypnotized as his fingerprint skates in an arc across the bumps of your knuckles.

“Ovulation doesn’t happen until around Day Fourteen. You might have noticed some increased arousal and…wetness. Clear in color, elastic consistency.”

Your eyes are trapped in his face, smooth skin, jagged scar tissue. You tease him back, stepping closer. You can hear people snickering in the next aisle as they eavesdrop. You don’t care about them, and neither does Aemond anymore. “Now that you mention it…”

“That’s nature trying to trick you into reproducing. Day Fourteen is crunch time. Once ovulation occurs, the egg is only good for up to twenty-four hours. And then the rest of the cycle you’re effectively useless, as far as making miniature humans is concerned.”

“Wait, you’re telling me people can only get pregnant one day a month?” This seems improbable. “How has the species managed to survive this long?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Aemond admits. “Depending on the health of the specimens, sperm can survive up to five days inside a woman’s body. And it’s difficult to tell exactly when ovulation occurs. So, in practice, there’s basically one week a month when you’d want to avoid a man…completing the act, if you will.” He’s still smiling, taunting, famished, imagining the same scenes you are. You know this with a categorical certainty, as if you’re reading his thoughts like stark stripes of distance on a measuring tape. “And that’s also the week when your hormones are demanding you have sex, inspiring you to make all sorts of impulsive yet extremely consequential decisions.”

“Don’t I know it,” Baela laments from the next aisle, and there is a rupture of wild giggles.

“Anyway.” Aemond lifts his finger from the back of your hand and you have to stop yourself from reaching for him as he recedes from you. “There’s a basic overview.”

“It was very educational.” You follow him out of the liquor aisle.

“I’ve used the rhythm method for years,” Rhaena says as everyone makes their way towards the front of the store with their carts. “Clearly that’s just anecdotal, so don’t think I’m officially endorsing it. When I’m in my fertile week we add condoms. Well…we used to. Back when we could get them.”

“Ugh, I hate condoms,” Baela grumbles.

“We can tell,” Aegon says.

“I hate the way they feel, I hate the way they smell…”

“They’ve never bothered me,” Rhaena says. “I don’t notice that much of a difference. And it can be fun to try different kinds.”

“Are you on drugs?” Baela whirls to you. “Seriously, what is wrong with her? I’m right, aren’t I? Condoms are awful.”

Rio gives you a cautious look, uncharacteristically reticent. He’s not going to be the one to reveal it. He doesn’t know if it’s something you’re willing to share. But if anything is going to happen with Aemond—and you want it to, already you know you want him—then it’s something you think you should be honest about. You want him to know about you. You don’t want to have to create some false version of yourself to wear like a pelt, heavy, smothering, something that will inevitably need to be taken off.

“I am regretfully not qualified to say.”

“You’ve never used condoms?” Baela asks, a bit dubious.

“I’ve never done any of it.”

Everyone freezes at the defunct checkout counters and turns to gawk at you. “No sex?” Jace says. “No nothing?”

You shrug, smiling a little self-consciously. “I made out with a guy once.”

“The Marine from Corpus Christi?” Baela asks. They’re obsessed with him, they’re convinced there’s some lore to be excavated, translated, displayed like a relic in a museum. There isn’t. Sometimes people pass in and out of your life as seamlessly as shadows or sunlight, no weight, no indentations, nothing to recall or relay. He existed and then he didn’t. He was an airplane drawing contrails in the sky that faded before the blood red fire of dusk filled the horizon.

“No. Someone from home. Just a guy, not even worth mentioning.”

“Girl, you gotta fix that, soon, pronto, like yesterday.” Jace seems genuinely horrified. “You can’t die a virgin.”

“You really can’t,” Daeron adds, and Aegon pretends to be distraught over the loss of his youngest brother’s virtue.

“That’s what I’m always telling her!” Rio says.

“Not everybody wants to have sex,” Helaena murmurs as she records today’s findings in her spider notebook.

“True,” Jace concedes. “And that is totally legit. Mother Teresa, Queen Elizabeth, Jesus Christ, Buddha, Joan of Arc, Sir Isaac Newton, Nikola Tesla, the Jonas Brothers for a while, all great people. But Chips is not celibate by choice, correct?”

“Buddha had a wife and son,” Aemond says, preoccupied. He isn’t looking at you now, which is concerning; he’s peering down at where his hands grip his shopping cart, his brow creased with…what is that? Unease, disapproval, concern, thoughtfulness, fear?

“It’s not some big thing,” you backpedal. “I don’t have a hangup about it, I just never met a guy I liked enough, and enlisted men, they’re…well, a lot of them are taken, or cheaters, or idiots. Or all three.”

“Not to worry, Chipper.” Aegon claps a hand on your shoulder; and you aren’t sure if it is his purpose to break the tension, but he seems to have that effect regardless. “If you ever wish to be initiated into the art of lovemaking by a slightly below average and entirely unintimidating penis, I’d be thrilled to assist you. I love condoms. But in their absence, I am the king of pulling out. 100% success rate. Zero bastard children running around to my knowledge.”

“You should give Jace lessons,” Baela says.

And the last thing Aegon takes from the Walmart is a green battery-powered Toshiba CD player so he can blast to his mixtapes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Flickering candles lining the middle lane, drinks and snacks strewn across the tables, Rio’s Moonbeam propped up so it’s aimed at the disco ball still hanging from the ceiling from a time before the dead started devouring the living. Daeron is at the end of the lanes to reset the pins after each player’s turn. Helaena is keeping score in her notebook; Rhaena is currently in the lead by a massive 80 points. Aegon is wasted, dancing on a table and crunching Cool Ranch Doritos beneath his bare feet, his blonde hair flopping. Each time it’s his turn to bowl, Aegon has to roll the ball down the lane with two hands like a child. Rio, several shots deep but unable to feel much shy of half a bottle, is singing along with him to Cruise by Florida Georgia Line, but it’s really more like shouting, each sentence an off-key monstrosity that makes you laugh.

“Baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!

Down a back road, blowin’ stop signs through the middle, every little farm town with you!

And this brand new Chevy with a lift kit, would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it!

So baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!”

You cleared Luxury Lanes easily; the only difficult part was figuring out how to get into the area called the pit where, in normal times, felled pins were mechanically collected and sorted. There were two former employees roaming around back there in their tattered uniforms, snarling and drooling blood. Both were rapidly neutralized.

Someone always has to be by the front doors, watching through the small tinted windows for signs of trouble, whether from zombies or living humans. Aemond is currently on guard, nursing a Snapple. According to the bottle, the flavor is called Takes 2 To Mango. You grab your own Snapple—plain and simple Lemon Tea, no charming gimmicks—and walk over to join him.

“So now I guess it’s my turn to say I hope that conversation didn’t make you feel weird.”

He smiles politely, glancing out the window. “No, I’m completely fine.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to look at me differently than you would any other girl, like I’m better than them, or worse than them, or like there’s anything wrong with me, because it really isn’t something I consider to be paramount to my identity, and people always seem to get all twisted up about it, but it’s a pretty boring story, I just…”

“You’ve never liked someone enough to take the risk. I get it. I don’t think you’re a freak or anything.”

“Okay. Good.” The next song on Aegon’s mixtape is Shaboozey’s A Bar Song. Jace is dancing with Baela, spinning her around as she giggles. With Rhaena’s coaching, Luke bowls his first strike. You rest your head on the door as you gaze up at Aemond, the phantom of a smile on your lips. “I might like you enough.”

And he says as if it’s the worst thing in the world, a plague, an infection, an apocalypse: “You’d fall in love with me.”

It hurts, of course it does, this flippant rejection. He burns you, he cuts you, he stitches you up with no anesthetic. You try not to show it. “You’re…confident.”

“No, I don’t mean because of anything specific I would do, it’s just…it’s natural to form a certain…attachment. To the first person you’re with. It leaves an impression.” Not an impression like a first judgment, superficial and swift; an impression like an imprint, a hollow, a prehistoric fossil that is preserved through eons. “That was already true before. And everything is more intense now, because life is so…” Aemond takes a while to settle on a word. “Precarious.”

You say like a challenge: “Are you still in love with the first girl you slept with?”

A shadow that ripples through his face, a flinching he tries to hide. You shouldn’t have asked. Still, you feel like you need to know, like you’ll run out of oxygen if you don’t. “I think I’ve gotten enough distance from it to realize that she wasn’t…wasn’t good for me in a lot of ways. It was an unconventional situation. But I still carry all these pieces of her around with me, yes. I don’t think that will ever go away.”

“Aemond,” you say gently. “Who was she?”

He is evasive, smirking. “It’s a cliché.”

“Was she a patient? That’s very Grey’s Anatomy of you.”

“No. She was my professor.”

An older woman, wise and experienced and captivating and sophisticated. He’s cut you again, a blade slicing effortlessly through veins like soft butter. “Oh. From med school?”

“Undergrad.”

“You were really young,” you say, a little startled.

He nods. “I was eighteen when it started. I was this shy, insecure, friendless freshman, she was married with two kids around my age. And it was off and on, but there was never anyone else for me, she took up too much space in my head, in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe unless I knew we were okay.”

“It went on for seven years?”

This seems to stun him, hearing how much of his existence she bottled like a terrarium. “I guess so.”

Is she dead? Missing? Safe somewhere with her husband and kids? “Is she…gone?”

His gaze drops to the floor. “Yeah.”

“Did you see it happen?”

“I was the one who killed her when she turned.”

It’s indescribably horrible; you don’t know what to say. “Aemond, I’m…I’m really sorry…”

He is abruptly nonchalant, the blue of his eye cool and dispassionate. “Look, I’m not prepared for this to be anything more than casual. And I don’t think casual is really in the cards for us. So it’s probably best to leave it alone.”

“Right,” you agree numbly, not meaning it.

“We’re headed different places, I’m going to California, you’re planning to end up in Oregon, it’s just…a bad idea to muddy the waters, I think.”

“Because I haven’t done this before.”

He shrugs ambiguously. “It’s a contributing factor.”

“Well you seemed pretty interested before you found that out, so.”

“I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You aren’t offending me. You’re disappointing me.”

Now Aemond is offended. “By trying to protect us?”

“No, by saying you don’t think I’m a freak when you clearly do, and by having some savior complex, or a whore-Madonna complex, or whatever’s going on in your head, it’s always such a mystery to everyone else.”

He downs the rest of his Snapple and shoves the bottle into the nearest trash can. You hear it thump against the bottom, no garbage bag. “Alright. This was fun.”

“Maybe you’re afraid of making a mistake, just like I always was.”

“Maybe I don’t want to have to teach you how to do everything,” Aemond snaps.

“I taught you how to shoot.”

“The fact that you don’t realize how wildly different those two situations are proves you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, bye. Sorry about your zombie girlfriend.”

Aemond glares at you, shocked, furious. “That was so fucking low.”

It was. You regret it. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him that. You flee to the far end of the bowling alley and sit alone at a table draped in shadows. After a while, Rio notices and ventures over to see what’s wrong, a bottle of Captain Morgan swinging from one hand. He’s tipsy now.

Rio sighs as he takes a seat beside you, reaching over to rub your back. His hands are large and indelicate; what he means to be comforting is more like getting manhandled. Sometimes he leaves bruises, but it’s not his fault. Nature gave Rio the body of a killer. If anyone is going to survive the zombie apocalypse, it’s him. “What’s going on, Chips?”

Your voice breaks as you say it; tears sting in your eyes. “I hate caring about people.”

He bursts out laughing. “Yeah, it’s the worst, isn’t it? But once in a while it works out.”

“Bryan.”

And now he knows you’re serious. You have his full attention, large dark eyes fixed on your face, lines etching into his brow beneath the artificial starlight of the disco ball. “What are you asking me?”

“We can’t leave them and walk to the West Coast ourselves, can we?”

“I mean, technically we could, but it would be really stupid. Everything’s so much easier with ten people. And also I think I’d have to kidnap Aegon and take him with us, I love that little dude. Why? Do you really want to leave them?”

“No.”

“I figured.” He offers you the half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan.

“I’m not drinking that.”

“Come on. It’ll take the edge off.”

You look at him. Rio looks back, smiling now.

“I’ll watch out for you,” he says. “And if you get bit I’ll shoot you dead, no hesitation, swear to God. I remember our promise. I won’t let you die alone.”

“You’re a good guy.”

“I know.” He nudges your arm with the bottle of Captain Morgan. “A few swigs won’t hurt. It’ll help you sleep.”

You take the bottle, twist off the cap, drink down amber-gold poison that burns like gasoline, like fire.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Headcanon: Soldier Boy as a father

Pairing: Dark Soldier Boy x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

WARNINGS: Implied Noncon/Forced Pregnancy.

Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Let me know your thoughts on this and please leave a comment or an ask, I feel like you guys are very silent lately 🥺

--

From the first moment that Ben holds the little baby in his arms, his whole world transforms radically.

The feeling of finally being able to see and touch the child he wanted for so long is indescribable. The love blooms in his heart wildly like it’s a force of nature.

The tiny boy feels so fragile against his muscled arms, not even the size of his arm. His eyes half-closed and mouth open as he soundly sleeps.

His skin is all wrinkled and bloody, but Ben swears it’s the most beautiful sight in the world.   

It finally feels like everything in his life makes sense, all the pieces clicking into place. In that moment, Ben knows everything he did to get to that moment was worth it.

All the screaming and pleading, the tense moments where you’d cry your eyes out in despair because you didn’t wanted Ben.

The times he had to force himself on you even though you begged him not to. All of it worth it for the mere sight of his son.

Ben vouches not to be like his father. He’ll do much better.

He tries to be a present father, wanting to raise his son with values of discipline but also with love.

But not too much love, he doesn’t want his kid to be a complete pussy after all.

He does install real man's values into his kid. To be brave, to never lback down from a good fight and to always speak his mind out.

Very toxic misogyny mindset, basically.

Father-son bonding time means taking the kid to some low-level missions, teaching him how to maintain his calm and how to deal with bad guys.

Although you freak out about him taking a small toddler to risky situations, Ben knows that your son is a strong supe. Not to mention that he wouldn’t actually let anything happen to the kid.

Another thing he teaches to your son is to always protect you.

“Listen to me, buddy. When dad is not around, you’re the man in charge, got it? That means mommy is your responsibility and you take good care of her. Don’t let her talk too much to strangers and if any man gets too close, just throw him a punch.”

And then of course Ben is gonna want more kids. He wants two more, at least.

Even if you don’t want more, it doesn’t matter cause in the end, Ben always gets what he wants. 

[queenimmadolla]

𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.

Summary: . . . Under a raging storm, your difficult pregnancy comes to an end. And so might you. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.

a/n: sorry I have to post this in parts, Wayne's World ended up being over 16k, so I split it up in three. part one's word count is 5.3k. this was a real labor of love and i hope you love baby wayne as much as i do. and for the people mad about the long post, sorry, had the 'keep reading' tab on but it kept fucking with the format and eating chunks of it. you're gonna have to scroll. let me know what you think? ◡̈

“Do you have a queen of hearts?” “Go fish.” You grumbled as Wayne reached forward, lifting–but making sure not to catch a look of the other side–a card from the deck to hand you. Your frown deepened when it wasn’t a pair for any of the cards you already had. “Nuts,” you mumbled, eyes darting to all the pairs Wayne had matched up on the small living room table, then down to the four pairs you had placed over your bulging stomach. It was risky of you to keep them there so late in your pregnancy considering how active your baby was but you didn’t feel like reaching too far for them, regardless of the fact that his kicks had sent them sliding down your sides twice now.

You’d been playing card games with Wayne for the past hour and a half, the raging storm having knocked out the power for the entire park. Eddie was with your friends, no doubt trapped at the pizza place Lucas’ parents had booked to celebrate his birthday. His actual birthday had been a couple of days prior but the Hellfire session that would have celebrated it had been canceled; you weren’t feeling too good and Eddie had stayed faithfully by your side. You hadn’t been feeling all that great when you’d woken up today, either. You’d forced Eddie to go, refusing to let Lucas down again even though you knew he’d understand. He was a sweetheart. So, Eddie had reluctantly gone, taking Penny with him.

The storm had come out of nowhere, you’d woken to a lovely day but you wouldn’t know it from how dark the sky had grown; the sun having been blocked by heavy rain clouds. 

Despite practically living at his girlfriend’s, just a couple of trailers down, Wayne had rushed over to make sure you were okay and to keep you company. You’d been watching an Indiana Jones movie and talking to Wayne about the apartments you and Eddie were looking at when the power went out but Wayne–always practical and level headed–pulled out some candles you’d accrued and a deck of cards he had remembered he stashed in one of the kitchen drawers to keep you amused.

You’d lost just about every game. Clearly, Wayne wasn’t going to let you win just because you were pregnant like Eddie did.

“This ain’t even one of them bettin’ games. How’re you still losin’?” Wayne chuckled, taking a sip of the tea (powdered, of course) you’d served him. 

  “Just my luck, I guess.” Wayne was referring to the game of Poker you’d played earlier. Unfortunately, you didn’t know how to play. While he taught you a little along the way, you’d still obviously lost and you were positive you retained absolutely no knowledge regarding the game.

Sensing your frustration, Wayne leaned forward from his place on the recliner he’d dragged to the otherside of the small table and placed his cards down, settling back into the chair with his old man creaky noises that you’d grown comfortable with him enough to tease him about (and always made up for with a sweet kiss to his head).

  “What say you an’ I just talk, hm?”

That was fine with you. You gathered the cards on your baby bump, tossing them onto the table alongside his, “Eddie won’t let me name the baby after him.”

“Really?” Wayne asked, eyebrows furrowed in a brief moment of confusion. He’d expected his eccentric nephew to want to leave behind some sort of legacy, nothing better than a child.

  “He’s playing devil’s advocate, shooting down every name I come up with but never giving his input, I’m starting to think we’ll have to just put names in a cup and pick one after I have him.” You slumped further into the couch, pouting through your exhaustion.

  “Now that sounds like ‘im,” Wayne scoffed, raising the mug to his lips once more before he really took in your appearance. 

  You looked beyond exhausted, skin dull, dark circles around your eyes and you lacked the spark always attached to your personality. You didn’t just look miserable, you looked sick.

  The mug was placed back on the table as he regarded you with concern, “You alright, darlin’? Don’t look so good.”

  You gave him a tight lipped smile that didn’t reach your eyes, hands settling to rest on your protruding tummy, “I’m okay, really, Wayne. I’m just very tired. I’ve had high blood pressure for the last couple of months, so the doctor says I’m considered high risk.”

  You had a doctor’s appointment earlier this week—with another one scheduled for tomorrow afternoon—and she’d also told you to do your best to relax, not to move around a lot and not worry too much about it, or it could get worse, so you added, “I just have to take it easy. Being tired just comes with it.”

  Wayne didn’t think it was right, if you were taking it easy, you shouldn’t have been so exhausted. Tired, he could understand but you looked beyond that.

  “Why don’t we get you into bed?”

  You nodded, agreeing only because you wanted to let him get back to Maude. Wayne moved around the table, offering you his hands to help pull yourself up. It was pitiful, your stomach wasn’t even that big but you were significantly weaker this pregnancy compared to when you’d been pregnant with Penny. 

  You slipped your hands into his, groaning as he pulled you up.

  “Lil’ man’s got you making old man noises, too,” He joked, referring to the grunts he’d make when he stood up with creaking bones for which you’d tease him.

  You laughed, small but genuine as you placed your hands on your lower back and stretched, “Alright, alright. You’re not wrong but I’ll remember this.”

  Wayne chuckled at your response, hand on your shoulder ready to guide you to your bedroom. He had no intentions of leaving the trailer, planning on camping out on the couch or the pullout that was still tucked into the corner until Eddie returned.

  You’d just managed to get your back to pop in the most satisfying of ways when you felt a bit of pressure between your legs—like you really needed to pee—followed by a rush of liquid.

  “Oh, fuck,” you mumbled, eyes squeezing shut to keep the mortification of having just pissed yourself in front of your father-in-law at bay, “I am so sorry, Wayne, I didn’t even know I had to… to…”

  You trailed off, staring down at the wet patch of carpet surrounding your feet. There was no noticeable urine smell, but what really concerned you was the red mixed into it, staining the fibers of the carpet.

  “Wayne…” Your voice was so small as you reached around you to hold your stomach, as if you could somehow protect your baby.

  Wayne saw it too, eyes wide and horrified when he’d realized your water had broken.

  “New plan: let’s get you to the hospital.” He tried to urge you forward but you wouldn’t budge, trembling in his hold.

  “I—I can’t,” you stated, voice hitching and laced with fear as you finally turned your head to look up at him. Wayne could see the terror in your eyes, the panic and the shine to them. Everything he was feeling inside, too, he just knew he had to keep it together for your sake. “I’m barely 30 weeks, he’s too early, he has to stay in there!”

  You were nearly hyperventilating, head pounding as horrible thoughts raced through your head. Your hands moved frantically over your belly, trying to feel a kick from your baby. When was the last time you felt him being active? Was he okay? Why was he being so still? Why did your water break so early and why was there blood in it? And what the hell was that loud pounding sound? It was your heartbeat.

  “Hey—‘member wha’ you told me earlier? ‘Bout what the doctor said? You gotta take it easy, right?” Wayne was panicking just as much as you but he knew he had to keep you calm, had to reassure you. 

  You swallowed hard, tears welling in your eyes as you nodded, following up with a watery confession, “Yeah. But I’m scared.”

  “Thas’ okay,” he stated, recalling a time he’d said the same thing to another scared mother-to-be just hours before Eddie had been born. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital and they’re gon’ take real good care of you. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

  For once, Wayne Munson’s eyes were easy for you to read, you could see the sincerity of them, the certainty and despite the fear still coursing through you, you believed him. 

  Finally, you moved and Wayne sprang into action, asking you the whereabouts of your coat, if you’d had a hospital bag prepped—which thanks to Eddie’s paranoia, you did—before he’d actually carried you through the heavy rain, out to the car. You’d been surprised, hadn’t expected Wayne to be that strong since he was more so on the gangly side.

  He’d ensured you were buckled in, made a last run into the house to make sure the candles were out before the two of you were braving the storm.

  It was a rough drive; Wayne was speeding but it wasn’t enough, the pushback from the wind made it seem like he was going uphill, losing speed rather than gaining it. The windshield wipers on his truck were working overtime to clear the constant stream of water from his view.

  You were faring no better, feeling weaker and more fatigued by the minute. Despite the cold weather, your skin became coated in a layer of sweat, though you were by no means hot. You couldn’t even register your own body temperature, too out of it as your forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window. 

  “We’re almost there,” Wayne promised, glancing nervously at your slumping figure. He was scared out of his mind now that he knew you weren’t just sick. Wayne Munson was afraid you were dying before his eyes.

  You stirred just as he was a few turns away from the hospital, face scrunching into a frown as you whimpered. Wayne thought you may have been in pain, he was wrong. You were hit with an intense need to push and you did, once and hard.

  The dull thud of something hitting the floor mats was somehow louder to the two of you than the raging storm. Wayne glanced away from the road and inhaled sharply when he watched you look down at the unnaturally pale baby, the only color on his skin was that of some of your blood.

  You reached down and picked up the smaller than normal baby, cradling him to your chest as you stared at his face. It was all squished up, and his eyes were closed, lips turning blue. He wasn’t breathing. 

  You turned him over, belly down in your hold as you patted his back. As you grew more anxious and fearful, you pinched the bottom of his tiny, soft foot and while he didn’t cry, he finally moved in your hold, his back expanding with his breath. A sign of life.

  The relief you felt was short lasting, your fatigue returning full force as Wayne pulled up the emergency entrance. Two staff members ran to the truck, approaching as their rain ponchos danced wildly in the wind. 

  “Sir, are either of you injured?” One of them, a woman asked before peering into the passenger window. At the sight of you, clutching the baby still connected to you via umbilical cord, the door was yanked open and she bellowed for a gurney which her partner sprinted to collect. 

  Wayne didn’t bother moving his truck, it was towards the end of the entrance, anyways. He hurried out and followed as they loaded you and the baby onto the gurney, running alongside as they wheeled you in. 

  You were trying so hard to stay conscious, trying to ignore the sweet allure of closing your eyes for a few moments of rest. The doctors and nurses around you were all barking orders to each other with a couple trying to talk to you but you couldn’t focus enough to know what they were saying.

  Once Wayne saw what operating room they were carting you off to, he ran to the nearest desk, asked for use of the phone and phone book. Once he’d placed the call to the pizza place, relieved the lines were finally going through again, he’d had a staff member search for Eddie. It hadn’t been easy hurriedly explaining to him what happened, but judging by how quick Eddie had ended the call, it was only a matter of minutes before his nephew turned up.

  Then Wayne ran to the area he’d seen them take you too, hurriedly dressing in a gown, a cap and mask one of the staff had shoved into his arms. They were still prepping you when they finally allowed him in and you were no longer holding the baby. He was in the arms of a nurse, still connected to you with his umbilical cord. 

  “Would you like to cut it?” She hurriedly asked, offering him a pair of surgical scissors. Wayne figured he was a better option than a doctor severing your connection so he did as instructed. She immediately carried him away and out of the room in a rush.

  “Where’s she taking ‘im?” He asked, voice full of worry. 

  “Neonatal Intensive Care Unit,” He was informed by another nurse who was setting up a barrier over your lower half, “He was born preterm.” 

  Wayne was somewhat familiar with it; he remembers Penny had briefly been sent there when she’d been born and suspected to have jaundice. After a few hours of whatever treatment, she was returned to you and Eddie, having a not very severe case of it which had been treated effectively.

  Wayne thought the whole process would be faster, he’d seen people rushed into surgeries in the movies and it had been instant but it wasn’t like that. They were still running around, setting everything up and new people kept coming into the room. It took more than ten minutes, but they were doing their best to keep you stabilized. He was holding your hand the entire time, squeezing every once in a while so you’d squeeze back and he’d know you were okay.

  You weren’t very vocal, eyes half lidded as they pumped you full of drugs to try to counter your symptoms and numb you.

  “‘M gonna check to see if Eddie’s here, alright?” He waited for your response, a very weak and monotonous okay before he gave your hand a final squeeze and let a nurse know he’d be checking to see if the father had arrived.

  He’d made it out of the operating room doors and was hurrying down the hallway, just about to breach another pair of large doors when they swung open and he had to jump back to avoid being hit. 

  “LORD!” He shouted and Eddie cursed, muttering a quick apology.

  “Where is she?” He panted out, chest heaving, eyes wild and frantic. Eddie’s hair was in disarray from having run his hands through it so many times as he sped to the hospital. He looked like the personification of panic, a mess.

  “Through them doors,” Wayne pointed in the direction he’d come from before yanking some of the sanitation wear off a nearby rack. “Put these on ‘fore you go in there. Where’s Penny?”

  Eddie was hurriedly yanking the scrubs over his clothes, “She’s in the waiting room.” 

  He clutched Wayne’s shoulder, wanting to thank him but desperate to get to you before he made a run for the room Wayne had directed him to while Wayne hurried to the waiting room, expecting Penny to be in the care of a nurse.

  He breached the doors and stood shell shocked at the amount of people who jumped to attention, faces filled with varying degrees of worry, anguish and fear; it was all of your friends, familiar faces he’d seen in the trailer before at one point or another. Penny’s curly head was visible from the arms of a tall redhead, wearing glasses.

  It seemed the entire party occupying the pizza parlor had filled the hospital waiting room, concerned about your wellbeing. 

  The sight nearly brought Wayne to tears.

  You could make out the sound of various monitors beeping, eyes trying to focus on the ceiling above you but everything was so hazy. You no longer felt fatigued, couldn’t really feel anything. A nurse had tried to check in with you earlier, get your attention but you couldn’t even hold a conversation.

  You felt a hand slip into yours again, and you squeezed it, turning your head to look at Wayne. Only, it wasn’t Wayne looking back at you. Eddie’s piercing brown gaze was easy for you to make out through the haze, and you were even able to smile.

  “Eddie.” You spoke it so softly but Eddie was still relieved, lowering his mask so he could press a kiss to your head.

  “Hi, baby,” he croaked out, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he stroked the side of your face. 

  “Dad’s here,” one of the doctor’s greeted him. Eddie recognized her as your primary Obstetrician, Dr. Eisenerg, the same doctor you had all your appointments with and the same who had delivered Penny. “Would you like the rundown?”

  “Please.”

   “Pre-eclampsia, I suspected as much during our last appointment, the next step would have been Bed Rest starting with tomorrow’s appointment, but baby couldn’t wait that long, could he, mom?”

  Eddie watched as you slowly shook your head, smile on your face because you were happy he was with you.

  “He was born nine weeks early, out of the hospital so unfortunately I don’t know his stats at the moment, he’s being looked over and assessed as I speak. He’s in good hands. I’ll have more information about him for you as soon as we get mom settled. We’re performing a Cesarean section to get the placenta out, she’s much too weak to push it out on her own.”

  God, Eddie loved your doctor. He’d write rock ballads in her honor for knowing exactly what to say to calm his ass down. After that, Eddie focused on you, trying not to pay attention to what was going on behind the cover they’d put up.

  “You sure know how to scare the hell out of me, baby,” he mumbled, eyes crinkling as he smiled under the mask, caressing your pretty face again. He’d never felt more fear in his entire life than when Wayne had spoken to him over the phone, informing him you’d had the baby early and they were taking you into surgery.

  You smiled and Eddie chuckled at the doped up expression on your face. He hadn’t seen it on you in months. You had to be high as a kite. 

  “Sorry, Eddie.”

  “It’s okay.” He pulled his mask down to press a brief kiss to your lips which you happily returned. “After you’re out of here, I’ll go check on our little dude, okay?”

  You nodded, reassured by Eddie that everything would be alright. You trusted him. Trusted him to let him know something you hadn’t yet voiced.

  “I’m tired, Eddie.”

  You slurred it so low, Eddie hadn’t caught it. “What was that, sweetheart?” 

  You didn’t answer him, eyes fluttering shut as multiple monitors began to beep, one at a higher rate and one much slower than the rest.

  “She’s hemorrhaging,” Dr. Eisenberg informed her staff, and Eddie paled. He’d heard that in enough hospital movies and shows to know it wasn’t good. The relief he’d momentarily felt fled from his body, quickly replaced by dread.

  He watched the movement around him, people shouting medical terms he couldn’t understand. He made the mistake of peering around the cover to address your doctor, horrified at the amount of blood on her gloves and the sleeves of her gown.

  Was that all yours?

  “What’s happening?” He demanded, breath hitching around the last word. 

  She didn’t look up at him, asking one of the attendings to escort him out. 

  Eddie called your name, over and over again as he was pushed out of the room, fighting to keep you in his line of vision. Your face, too peaceful looking to be resting, was the last thing he saw before the doors shut in his face.

  He’d made it back to the waiting room on autopilot, collapsing into the free chair next to Wayne, who was now holding Penny. When he’d first walked in, it looked like everyone wanted to bombard him with questions, the look on his face must have stopped them.

  He sat in that uncomfortable hospital chair, gaze unfocused and watery as he stared at nothing, the image of you on the operating table, eyes shut and appearing lifeless replayed in his head over and over and over again, torturing him.

  He had no idea how long he was in a catatonic state, only forced out of it when he registered a firm grip on his shoulder, shaking him.

  Wayne had been trying to get his attention since the moment a doctor called for him near the entrance of the hallway.

  Eddie snapped up, catching sight of the small woman, lightning fast and nearly tripping over himself trying to reach her, desperate for any news on your status. You were going to be okay, right? You had to be.

  “Edward Munson?” She asked.

  Eddie nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to find his voice, his throat was dry, felt like it was made of sandpaper when he cleared his throat, “Y-yes.”

  “I’m Doctor Houseman, Cardiothoracic surgeon, your son is one of my patients.”

  Right away, Eddie felt a sense of dread ooze over him, thick, heavy and suffocating like tar.

  “Your son’s limbs, most of his organs and responses are developing well. Ten toes, ten fingers and he can hear fine. His sight is a little sensitive, but should improve rapidly as should his growth. We are, however, concerned about his heart.”

  Eddie was sure he’d left his heart in that room with you, yet he still felt something in him plummet.

  “He has what’s known as VSD: Ventricular Septal Defect. A hole in the wall of his heart. It’s one of the more common heart defects at birth, normally the hole can close up on its own, be treated with medications or, if necessary, surgery. Because of his premature birth and how weak his body still is, he may not respond well to the medication and the odds of him surviving a surgery are low.”

  He felt the bitter taste of bile rise in the back of his throat.

  “We’d like to keep him for an extended stay in the NICU, let the hole try to close on its own. It still may be too much for him, but it’s his best bet.”

  Eddie squeezed his eyes shut at the first hot sting of tears, desperately trying to hold it together.

  It appeared today would be the day Eddie Munson’s world was due to come to an end, he knew he must have looked pitiful; a red-eyed, pale, clammy, crying mess on the verge of a nervous breakdown. You were lying on some operating table, bleeding out and now his son’s heart could possibly stop on him. Eddie’s was broken. He was broken.

  He sniffled, inhaling deeply before he forced his eyes back open, tears immediately cascading down his cheeks as he nodded and agreed with her plan.

  Dr. Houseman regarded him with sympathetic eyes.

   “Mr. Munson, I don’t believe in miracles. I used to be a general surgeon,” she started, “And then one day, my longtime boyfriend took me out for a night on the town, dancing. He had a heart attack that night, I spent the four hours in that waiting room thinking he was going to die. I’m not religious, but I prayed and I prayed he wouldn’t die. He did. 

  “I switched my practice, to see if I could save others from the same fate. Some I did, some were simply beyond anyone’s reach. Then one day, they brought in a little girl. Tiny thing, frail, six years old, the size of a four year old and she’d had a heart attack. I was sure she wouldn’t make it, tried like hell to save her but sometimes the circumstances just don’t work out in our favor and her body shouldn’t have been strong enough. But it was. She pulled through and she survived. I don’t believe in miracles, Mr. Munson, but she did teach me to have more faith in my patients. The same faith they have in me. Have faith in your son.”

  Then she was gone, whirling out the doors she’d come from. Eddie stared at them, wondering if she was on her way to tend to his baby. It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t even gotten to live yet, wasn’t even a day old and he was fighting for his life.

  Eddie felt Wayne’s firm grip on his shoulder and he turned around, briefly staring into his sorrow filled eyes before he collapsed into his arms and sobbed, shaking with each one that wrecked through his body.

  Wayne held him like he did when he was younger, when Eddie had finally come out of his room and let Wayne comfort him over the bullying he’d faced and the nasty things the other children had said about him, about the family he came from.

  Eddie cried and he didn’t care his friends were most likely watching him, he couldn’t hold it together anymore. Not when there was a chance he could lose his son. Not when he could lose you.

  “I can’t do it on my own,” he sobbed out against Wayne’s shoulder. How was he supposed to care for Penny without you? His family wouldn’t be complete, it’d be fractured, it would be broken. And if—it made him sick to know it was only a possibility and not a certainty—he took his son home, how was he supposed to raise him without you? What would he tell them? His son would be too young to remember, but Penny would. She’d miss you so much, he’d miss you so much. “I can’t, Wayne! I need her! She can’t leave me, I need her!”

  The statement triggered a worrisome thought process, what if you did leave him? When was the last time he said he loved you? You knew it, right? You had to know, he told you all the time but no matter how hard he tried to recall it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said he loved you and it made him sob harder.

  Wayne’s arms tightened around him, eyes clenching shut at the agony his boy was feeling. He was hurting too, he’d been in this position before. He’d lost her. Wayne couldn’t let Eddie believe he’d lose you, too. Couldn’t let him think he’d ever have to raise his family alone.

  “She ain’t going nowhere,” he forced out, throat thick with emotion. He was trying to believe it just as much as he hoped Eddie would. “It’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna be okay. They both are.”

  Wayne held him until Eddie stopped shaking and his sobs had subsided. Even then, he hadn’t wanted to let him go, wanted to protect him. But Eddie had his own kid to protect.

  He wiped at his face, taking a couple of shaky breaths. He wasn't okay, far from, but his broken heart was aching for someone he knew would manage to hold the pieces together without even trying, simply by existing. 

  He gave Wayne a brief, grateful smile that didn’t meet his eyes and walked over to Barb, his daughter curled up in her arms. He obviously hadn’t told Penny what was going on, as far as she knew, they had just been going to the hospital because her baby brother had been born.

  Her excitement quickly turned to exhaustion while her dad had been in the delivery room with her mom and she’d stopped running around to sleep in her grandpa’s lap. She’d been knocked out while Eddie was catatonic and had evidently slept through his hysterics, having been passed back to Barb when Wayne got up to comfort Eddie.

  He was relieved she hadn’t seen him like that.

  It was selfish of him, but Eddie woke her up, pulling her out of Barb’s arms and into his own.

  She stirred, raising her head briefly to look at Eddie with sleep heavy eyes, squinting before she nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck. Then, as if she remembered the reason for their hospital visit, she pulled away, an arm lazily resting over his shoulder.

  “Daddy?” She asked through a yawn, lips stretching into a plump ‘o’ before she smacked them together. 

  “Hi, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her crown and nuzzling his face into her curls, the pleasant smell of her sweet strawberry scented shampoo filling his nostrils. Her scent was comforting. 

  “Ganpa says the stoke came.”

  Stork. While Penny knew her baby brother was growing in her mommy’s belly, she also simultaneously believed a stork would be dropping him off, prompted by a number of childrens’ books and cartoons. 

  Eddie had tried asking her about her logic once and she’d made him feel thoroughly stupid for not understanding.

  “Yeah, it did.”

  Penny shook her head, something Eddie noticed she did when she was trying to wake up. You did the same thing, shaking your head whenever you were nodding off. 

  His heart clenched.

  “I see my baby brudder now?”

  For a moment, Eddie struggled to come up with a reply. He didn’t want to tell her the full truth, she was still just a baby herself. He didn’t want to lie to her, either, but he needed to protect her.

  “Soon, sweet pea.” 

  She seemed satisfied with that answer, curling up against his chest as he moved back to sit in the chair he’d been occupying before Dr. Houseman called on him. She quickly made herself comfy in his lap, little fingers pulling at the blue material of the scrub top he still wore.  

  “Know what, daddy?”

  Eddie hummed, stroking his hand through her soft curls, letting them wrap around his finger tips and twisting the ends. They were still short, not long or heavy enough to be weighed down so it still looked like she had the Annie hairdo. She was so adorable, it drove him crazy.

  “He looks like a ‘tato.”

  Eddie stilled, brows furrowing down at her in confusion. 

  “What?”

  “He looks like a potato,” she repeated, matter of factly, “Ganpa says.”

  Eddie’s eyes darted over to Wayne in the seat next to him. 

  “She wanted a description. You try comin’ up with somethin’.” Wayne had only gotten a brief look at the baby, he’d been almost unnaturally pale and covered in something that looked chalky and pasty. Reminded him of how potatoes look after being washed and air dried so it was the first thing that came to mind.

  Eddie highly doubted a potato was tucked into an incubator in the NICU.

  “I don’t think he looks like a potato, sweet pea.”

  “No,” Is all she said, resting her head against his chest and effectively smashing the curls he’d been messing with there. She wasn’t agreeing with him and Eddie knew it. She meant no, you’re wrong.

  He snorted, blinking harshly at how sore his swollen eyelids were. 

  “Alright, potato he is.”

  Penny didn’t know it and maybe in the future Eddie would tell her, she was getting him through this. His anxiety and panic had not left him, but it was easier to focus on a little light when it was curled up in his lap, telling him all about her baby brother she had yet to meet, with certainty they soon would.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

do u have any resources for how to do like . ok not sex ed per se. but i’m in a position where im interacting pretty regularly with a couple of 16-18 year old coworkers (im late 20s) & they see me as kind of a mentor or older sister figure. i’ve been finding myself in a position where they’ll try to get my advice on what seem like risk taking behaviors & i have a hard time balancing my advice between my belief in personal autonomy (ie they’re adults and have the right to make their own bad decisions) and OH GOD THAT GUY IS 30 RUN YOURE TOO YOUNG FOR HIM. bc in my experience telling teens that they’re immature or too young for something tends to be a nonstarter in terms of . them actually listening to advice. especially when theyre 17 but have a job and a lease. so i guess what im asking is do u have any resources or advice on how to parent high schoolers? im too young to be a father but i have found myself in this position and its giving me gray hair

okay listen. as someone who answers questions for a LOT of teenagers on here, the model I've always tried to embrace is "this is an intelligent person with thoughts, feelings, and desires that are exactly as complex as an adults, they just have slightly less lived experience in which to contextualize things." it's completely possible to give someone younger than you advice the same way you might offer input to someone your own age; just offer information without acting like they're dumb for needing it.

in the case of the age thing, you've obviously already clocked that "you're too young for him" is an approach that can easily come across as condescending and shut you down as a reliable your of advice. instead, let's try reframing this in a way that puts the issue where it belongs: on the 30 year old trying to date a teenager. it's not "ew, you're too young," it's "ew, I've known a lot of guys like him and they're always trying to date teenagers becase they think teenagers are dumb and easy to manipulate. people his own age probably all think he's a loser."

but, more importantly, it's not your job to stop them from making any risky decisions ever, okay? some of them are still going to want to hang out with that 30 year old. your role in that case is to help minimize harm. you can't make them ditch their creepy older boyfriend, but you can make sure they understand how to have safer sex, their options for protection, the realities of STIs and how to get tested + treated, the risk of pregnancy and options for unplanned pregnancies if that's an option. you can't run anyone's life for them, but you can always give them tools to be safer!

[joonberriess]

𓆩♡𓆪 “booty so big, lord have mercy,” — jock!jk

·˚ ༘ 💌 TAGS — creampies!! , protected and then unprotected sex, mean jk, smutty smut, based off of a ask, talks of pregnancy, pouty y/n bc she hates condoms, a little degradation, jk’s ass obsession plays a big part here !

It's soft and it jiggled. A lot.

Jungkook had this weird obsession with your tits sure, but your ass? That man worshipped it. You in general fit as his ideal type, he loved every single part of you. From your pretty little smile down to your soft plushy thighs.

If Jungkook had to name something he loved (body wise) it had to be both your ass and tits. You were so soft all over he couldn't resist himself. Whenever he'd come over after a long day in classes or at work the first thing he did was lay down and bury his face between those soft mounds of pure heaven.

An added bonus was the fact that you smelled like strawberries. As for your ass, now that was a whole different story.

He always had his hand resting on it, occasionally squeezing or slapping it for fun. He liked the way it jiggled a lot, especially when he fucked you. Whenever he fucked you from behind his eyes would drift down and watch as your cheeks clapped back against his pelvis. He loved it even more whenever he left handprints..

Jungkook knew he was lucky, and he was always smug about it whenever he heard other men complain about how you were taken already. He didn't have to lay his claim over you, one call of your name and you were running to him like a lovesick puppy. You losing interest? Not a chance.

You didn't seem to mind the obsession with your bottom, in fact you welcomed it! You always felt safe and sound in his arms, but him holding your ass cheek in his sleep? That was a win. You almost couldn't sleep if he didn't have his hand on you.

The same thing could be said about your tits. You loved having his marks all over and didn't seem to mind if he slept on them. One of your guilty pleasures you enjoyed was whenever he suckled on your nipple like a baby while he dozed off. It made you sleepy if anything.

Which leads you to your next point, the sex. Now, you both never used condoms or bothered with them because you were on birth control and so far nothing out of the ordinary happened. There was always that tiny percentage of pregnancy happening but you two just said fuck it.

It was highly risky given the amount of times Jungkook came in you. By some miracle from the Gods above somehow you still hadn't gotten pregnant. Jennie would nag about using protection and taking the extra measure to secure no pregnancy. You would whine to her that condoms didn't feel the same!

"But-but, Jennie!" You whine loudly, "I hate the rubber, I hate it, I hate it." You fuss angrily as you give her a little glare.

Jennie rose a brow, "Do you like babies y/n? Would you like to throw your twenties away for a brat?" She puts her hands on her hips disappointedly.

You stare at her with a sad look, "But my baby would be cute."

"And you look cuter without a child, your point?" She rolls her eyes, "You're barely even completing your second year of college you are not ready for a child."

"How about next year?" You tilt your head, giving her a ditzy smile.

Jennie sighs, "How 'bout no?" Your pout deepens and you turn away.

Needless to say you thought about it a lot, and while you did want a baby sometime and would be happy to be pregnant with Jungkook, Jennie was right. You needed to finish school first and start your career before settling down. Plus if you were pregnant that meant you couldn't go to parties with Jungkook anymore.

.... :(

You begrudgingly agreed to the condom idea, reciting in your head this was for your own good and his own good. You bring it up to him over dinner one night when he takes you out to get some late night food.

Jungkook was in the middle of grilling the meat when you spoke up, "Jennie said we should use condoms." You softly say as you watch him flip the meat to grill on the other side.

"Did she?" Jungkook says, not looking up from the task at hand, "And how do you feel about that?"

"I think we should.." You trail off, already grumpy and sour from thinking about having to use them, " 's to make sure I don't get pregnant."

Jungkook hums, "Okay." He says as he looks up at you, "If it's what you want we'll go get some after this."

You whine, "But-but," you pout sadly and give him puppy eyes, "you're not supposed to agree! I hate them."

"Baby," he laughs, "what do you mean? I don't think you know how it works, if you don't like something you have the ultimate say. I'm not going to get angry because you want to use protection." He says calmly whilst placing a few pieces of meat on your plate.

You begrudgingly glare at him, "I know.." You mumble softly and pick your chopsticks up, "I'll think about it, and when I feel ready can we stop?"

"I don't know baby, will we? Up to you." Jungkook says with a hum, "We'll do whatever you want."

The rest of dinner goes smoothly, he pays and drives you both to the nearest convenience store that's a block away from your apartment. "I'm going to get snacks." You smile giddily, already forgetting about what you two originally came for.

"Shit get me some starbursts or something." Jungkook calls out as you both split up to get your respective items.

You eagerly grab your beloved snacks, carrying a little basket around as you grab a cup of ice for a peach tea or something. Jungkook occasionally looks back at you but doesn't say anything when you push past him with a tiny "excuse me".

"Ready?" Jungkook grins, box of condoms already tossed into basket.

"Yeah." You mumble softly, snuggling into his side as you wait for the person in line to pay for their items.

Luckily the cashier doesn't care much about the condoms given that some have the tendency to be nosy and judgmental. You both pay for your items and head out to the car.

"Wait," you fuss over Jungkook and reach over to clean his cheek, "there."

He chuckles softly and starts the car, "You're cute." He sets his hand on your thigh like usual and gets going back to your apartment.

Jennie's car isn't in the parking lot lucky for you, you both head up and go right into your bedroom. "Hi Luna," you coo softly at your little bunny who's sitting in your bed thumping her little legs on the bed excitedly.

"I missed you too." You softly pout, leaning over the bed to caress her little head and smooch it. You don't bat an eye when Jungkook passes by and smacks your ass as he flops on the other side of the bed.

"You want one?" He offers, holding out the bag of candies you had picked out for him.

You shake your head and climb into bed with him, gently setting Luna on the floor as she hops away to her tiny home you have set up somewhere off next to your desk. "I wanna watch My Hero, the villain arc was pretty cool.." You mumbled softly and grabbed your remote.

Jungkook hums with a nod, not verbally replying as he's busy eating his candy. You manage to put the episode on and then turn to snuggle into his side, a leg tossed over his waist as you hug him. "Can I have one now?"

He tilts the bag towards you and you happily take a few to snack on while the episode starts. Jungkook gets comfy with you and wraps a arm around your waist, setting his hand flat against your ass, squeezing the cheek and rubbing his thumb against it.

You smile happily and snuggle close. Like every other night when you're with him Jungkook rubs his hand on your ass and occasionally squeezes it. He's touchy so you don't mind, but you know he's getting horny when he starts to lose all interest in the anime and starts kissing on your neck.

His lips press against your neck and sucks on a small patch of skin. His hand squeezes you tighter before trailing up to the curve of your waist, squeezing you there instead. You quietly sigh, eyes fluttering closed as you lean into his touch, "Jungkook," you whine.

Jungkook hums quietly, pulling away and going to another unmarked area on your neck to leave hickeys. His fingers press deeply on your hips as he noisily sucks on your neck. You can feel your pussy quiver and begin to grow wetter from his teasing.

"Turn over for me." Jungkook whispers against your neck, "Want to see that pretty ass baby."

You bite back a mewl and slowly turn over, raising your hips as you reach to yank your panties down. Jungkook easily helps you with that as he tears them down and tosses them into a random corner in your room. He lifts your hips up so your ass is in the air and your chest is on the bed.

"Damn," he mutters as he massages your soft cheek before suddenly bringing his hand down to smack it, watching it ripple in satisfaction. "So fucking sexy." He licks his lips.

A little groan escapes your lips as you turn to eye him with a pleading gaze. "Want it," you wiggle your ass side to side, "please?"

Jungkook smacks your ass one more time before he leans over to rummage through the bag of snacks, looking for the box of condoms. "Shit, give me a sec baby," he grunts as he finally finds the box and brings it out, tearing it open and tossing it somewhere as he brings the condom up to his mouth, tearing the foil.

You giggle quietly and lift yourself on your elbows, "You're so slowwww."

"Hush," Jungkook slips his sweats down to reveal his hard cock, "you're just a whiny little slut." He grins teasingly as he rolls the condom down on his cock.

You bite your lip in arousal from his words, pussy practically dripping. He taps the tip against your pussy, rubbing up and down your folds. You brace your hands on the bed in anticipation and look back at him, “Kook,” you plead softly.

Jungkook hums, “Stay still.” He reaches down with his free hand to steady you, cock against your hole before he presses in.

You inhale sharply, biting down on your lip as you suppress a quiet little moan. He fills you slowly, cock breaching your little pussy as you struggle to take him all in a smooth stride. His cock throbs a little and you’re angrily reminded of the stupid rubber in the way.

“I said to sit still,” Jungkook smacks your ass hard, “haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re cock drunk.” He gives a disappointed ‘tsk’ as he swats at your other ass cheek.

A loud cry escapes your lips and you deep your arch, hands fisting the sheets tightly. “B-But-But, I want it!” You angrily kick your feet, turning your head to shoot him a deep glare.

Jungkook grabs the back of your head and forces you back down, “And I said to wait.” He licks his lips, “Dumb little slut can’t even listen to simple instructions. Isn’t that right? ‘s long as you got a cock in you you’re happy aren’t you baby?” He coos.

You drool a little into the pillow and you find yourself pushing back against him despite the latter telling you not to. You force his cock deeper inside, ass flush to his hips as you wiggle around. Jungkook grunts in surprise as he manages to swat you once more before holding you still.

“Little brat.” He grunts, “You want my cock that badly? Was going to treat you like the princess you are,” he tuts as he then uses you for leverage, hips slamming into yours, “looks like that’s not happening.”

A loud cry bubbles out of your throat, you feel him start up a brutal pace. Right from the get-go the room is filled with wet smacks and loud thumping. He drives his cock into you, hitting those spots you love. It causes your pussy to grow wetter around him.

“Look at you,” he huffs out breathlessly, “always so good to me, taking me like a good girl.” He licks his lips and grabs both of your ass cheeks as he holds each cheek, “That’s right baby, throw it back for me.”

You whine loudly and brace your hands on the bed as you do your best to move back on him. Your ass jiggles in his hold as you manage to fuck yourself back on his cock. You set the pace, mewling and moaning in pleasure as he fills you over and over again.

“J-Jungkook..!” You gasp out, eyes teary and thighs shaky.

He hums lowly and smacks both of your cheeks, hips still as he watches you fuck yourself on his cock. There’s a audible squelching noises whenever you push back, a ring of creamy white forms around the base of his cock. He suddenly misses the feeling of you making a mess around him.

Jungkook slaps your ass harshly and pins you down, taking over once again as he slams his hips into yours. You cry out in pleasure and brace yourself against the headboard. Jungkook fucks you with all he’s got, like he’s taking his anger out on you or something.

“Fuck,” he moans out, “doing so good for me, wish I could fill your pretty pussy up.” His hips stutter at the mention of coming inside of you.

Your eyes water, vision blurred from the pleasure as you bite down on the pillow to muffle your moans. Jungkook moves his hands up to grip your waist, pounding you deeply as he aims his cock to hit your g-spot with every brush.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He coos softly.

You nod rapidly and reach between your shaky thighs to rub your clit in fast circles. The pleasure spikes up drastically and Jungkook lets out a soft moan when your pussy tightens around his cock.

“So tight,” he whispers out as he rolls his hips faster and faster.

Your hips jolt, pushing back on his cock firmly as you suddenly cum. Your toes curl and you yelp loudly in pleasure, “Jungkook,” you gasp, “J-Jungkook..!” You whimper loudly.

“What is it baby?” He breathlessly asks.

“C-Cum,” you whimper loudly and squirm around, “want your cum in me.” You mewl.

Jungkook groans, “Fuck,” he wants to so badly but you had told him already, “wish I could baby.” He whispers, stomach coiling as he feels his cock twitch.

You turn to give him a teary puppy gaze, “Please,” you whisper back and reach behind you to part your cheeks for him, “want your cum in me, don’t care about the condom.”

He moans loudly and swiftly pulls out, yanking the condom off as he strokes his cock rapidly. “Fuck baby, hold yourself open for me.” His eyes focus on the way your small hands struggle to hold both of your cheeks apart for him.

Both of your holes were exposed for him, and it didn’t help that the fat of your ass spilled through your fingers. He threw his head back and suddenly pushed in, coming deep inside. “Fuck!”

You mewl happily and let your cheeks go, feeling them jiggle a little as you happily take all of his cum inside. “Mmmm,” you close your eyes and wiggle your hips side to side.

“So much for the condoms.” Jungkook murmured as he ran his palm over your ass slowly.

You smack your lips together sleepily and turn around to smile at him, “I hate them, can we never use them again?”

“Do you want to be my baby mama?” Jungkook smirks back at you.

“Hmmmm… maybe. Not yet.” You giggle loudly as he tackles you, planting face kisses all over you as the night goes on.

TAG LIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @jungkookminthairwhen @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar

[hunters-vigil]

The Archon's Baby - Chapter 3 - Important Advice

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

request from ao3: Make one where they have a child but the female character doesn't tell Mavuika that she is expecting a child and distances herself from Mavuika please 🙏🙏

warning/mentions of: topics of pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms implied eventual character death of an NPC (but the reader is oblivious to this).

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu but Reader might not be from Natlan...

"Not a fan of going in the hot springs anymore?" Atea's voice snapped you out of your daze, sitting on a crate observing the Koholasaurs playing.

"Maybe another time..." you dismissed the question, turning your head as Atea held out a tray with snacks on.

"How are you doing, kid?" the older woman enquired, watching as your nose crinkled up at being referred to as a 'kid'. Meanwhile your hand sneakily reached for one of the crackers, surprised that they didn't make you gag as you got a whiff of them. Atea knew what she was doing, even if she was only acting on a gut feeling, having kept an eye on you since you arrived at the Toyac Springs.

"Fine, just... sluggish. Not been sleeping well lately." Rubbing at your eye for a moment, you avoided Atea's gaze. Unfortunately the woman knew you far too long to know it was more than just a bad night's sleep.

"Your body is cold but only your pelvic area isn't?" she only had to say those words for you to stare at her with wide eyes, but she made no comment on it, although, whatever advice she gave you went in one ear and out of the other, thanks to your panic.

"You're not hearing a word I'm saying, are you?" Atea deadpanned, but the soft smile on her face took the harshness out of her words.

"Sorry, I just-"

"It's fine, I can tell you have a lot on your mind." Atea sighed, frowning as you avoided her gaze, "don't be like me and live with regrets. You should tell her when you're ready, but don't leave it too late. She'll notice you're avoiding her eventually-"

"but the Pilgrimage, Night Warden Wars and Natlan's 500 year crisis come first..." you cut her off, before realising what she just said, "wait, you know-"

"I saw you two in the hot springs together, it was late, nobody else was around but I was going to... it doesn't matter now, but that better not be how-"

"Oh archons no!" you looked at her with horror, not realising that Atea had been going to the hot springs at night, only focussing on that Atea knew that Mavuika was your baby's mother.

"Okay, okay... eat your snacks and drink your drink before going home, okay? Are either of your sisters going to pick you up, or should I ask Mualani escort you back?" Atea questioned, waving to the hydro user who had been working at her parents shop as you two talked.

"Um... they don't know I'm here, they're both working and I was trying to figure out when to tell her but... then I heard she was nearby at the stadium, and ended up here..." you admitted, avoiding the stern look on the older women's face at the realisation of how far you'd walked.

"That's a long way for you to walk alone in your condition-"

"What condition? Are you alright?" Mualani enquired as you realised she'd made her way over.

"I'm fine, totally fine, nothing's wrong, everything is fine, right, Atea?" you stumbled over your words, looking towards the woman in question who only nodded in agreement.

"Mualani, I need you to take this one back to the stadium. There's no way for you both to make it to the Flower-Feather Clan before nightfall. Go slowly, only one of you has a weapon, so no unnecessary combat. Take plenty of snacks and water with you too."

"Okay, okay, no risky travel. I'd ask why but... you both are being weird, so. Are you ready to go now? I heard the Pyro Archon is coming to hang out with her 'hot spring buddies' and-"

"Yeah!" you cleared your throat, trying to hide your panic that Mavuika was probably on her way here already, "it's a long walk when you can't take risky shortcuts. Sorry Mualani. I'll see you another time, Atea?" turning to look at the older woman, but she only frowned slightly, reaching over to pet your head gently with an unexplainable look in her eyes.

"Travel safe now." Atea stated, turning on her heel to walk away, on a course with the children who were throwing stones in the hot spring again.

"What was that?" you whispered, frowning as Mualani began to guide you back to the stadium, where you could stay at the Weary Inn for the night.

"The way Auntie Atea spoke... are you sick or something?" the hydro user enquired as the two of you walked up the path.

"Or something..." you avoided her eyes, sipping from the waterskin that Atea had provided.

"Oh, okay. But you're going to be okay?"

"Eventually..." hopefully give or take nine or ten months, you thought to yourself as you avoided giving Mualani any real answers.

It was nearing sunset when you two reached the stadium, Mualani walking you to the Weary Inn to rest, before she left you with a quick hug, stating she was going to see Kachina and Xilonen at the Children of Echos before heading home.

"Please be careful." You advised her as she headed out, leaving you to retire to your room, laying down to rest as you watched the sun set from the window.

You should probably have eaten, but your exhuastion was taking hold, leaving you to drift into a gentle slumber. The door to your room opening went unheard by you; her heels on the floor as she removed them also caused you no distress as sleep kept its hold.

Only when a body laid down next to yours, arms wrapping around to hold you against her chest, did you stir slightly. Forcing your eyes open slightly, your panic immediately was quelled as you spotted her fiery hair. Mavuika...

[loveandmurders]

Hey sorry I was wondering if you would write a fic about the Sinclair Brothers having twin sons or like maybe triplets. How would they treat them? I've seen sinclair dad's but only with girls and I would just like to them with sons

Thank you :)

-👾anon

Hello sweet love, thank you for this very cute request <3

Hope you'll enjoy this <3

HAPPY FAMILY (female reader x poly!Sinclair brothers)

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of pregnancy sickness, of labour, mentions of a risky pregnancy for reader and the babies, overprotective parents, fluff.

Getting pregnant wasn’t part of your first plans.

You were living with your three lovers and enjoying yourself, doing chores around town and inside the house, having hobbies and sometimes helping to hunt down victims too. But you never saw yourself as a potential mother. It wasn’t that you didn’t like children, it was just that you didn’t particularly feel ready for it. And you were a little bit worried to have kids in the middle of a ghost town with no hospital nearby…

You knew your men would be more than happy to have children though. Bo was a family man and he needed heirs. You sometimes even suspected him to have a breeding kink. Vincent also wanted children, to make sure the family business would never disappear. And he would love to teach them how to sculpt. Lester loved babies and he would adore playing with kids and showing them cool stuff to do.

One morning you felt a little bit sick and weak. You hadn’t been able to stand the smell of the eggs Bo was cooking either, almost making you throw up. The boys had no idea what was going on, but it worried them. They didn’t like to see you ill or hurt. You weren’t sleeping the greatest either, even in their arms. You tried to deny the possibility of being pregnant until your period didn’t show up.

After a few weeks like that, you asked Lester to buy you a pregnancy test and to not say anything about it to the twins. He was really excited but did his best to keep it to himself. He secretly gave it to you and you went to the bathroom. Of course the test came back positive and you stayed for a long time staring at it while being locked up inside the room. You didn’t know how to feel about it. Lester was putting things away in the kitchen but once he was done, he just couldn’t stop himself from finding you. He knocked at the door.

“Hey, baby” he whispered. You got up and unlocked the door for him. “So?” he asked, trying to read your face.

“Les… I’m pregnant” you said without truly realising it and a bright big smile appeared on his face, he even had happy tears in his eyes. He was so full of joy. He couldn’t believe he was going to be a father. He had never been that happy before. He tightly hugged you before kissing you with fierce passion. You smiled against his lips.

“Ya need to tell the twins” he hummed and you nodded. You weren’t too sure how they were going to react but one thing was certain: they were going to overprotect you.

You sat the twins at the kitchen table while Lester was keeping an eye on Ambrose in case tourists came in. The two men were concerned about what you were going to announce because you had this serious expression upon your face.

“So, you know I’ve been a little bit under the weather lately and I can’t stand some smells anymore and all. And well… I’m pregnant” you finally said. You saw the same excitement lit up in their eyes than in Lester’s earlier that day.

“Ya what?” Bo asked with a smile, just to make sure he heard that right

“I’m carrying your child” you repeated and their happiness was communicating. Both the twins were soon all over you, kissing you and stroking your belly. You thought you were going to enjoy the pregnancy if they were all cuddly with you like that.

You had been right about one thing: the Sinclair men were impossibly overprotective and affectionate with you. One of them needed to always be with you. And they forbad you from doing a lot of the chores you used to. They were very gentle with you, trying their best to never do anything that could upset you. You had always felt like the most important person in their lives, but they proved it to you absolutely every day now you were pregnant.

You had been wrong on one thing: it wasn’t just one child you were carrying for them. You started to notice that when your belly got a lot bigger than it should have been for only one baby. You all agreed you needed to see a doctor. Bo was the one to come with you. He was so proud to play the father in front of the nurses and doctors. He was so proud you were having their babies. You all agreed you would never try to know which one of them was the biological father: they were all Sinclairs anyways.

Twins. 

You were expecting twins. 

And you almost wanted to kill the doctor when he told Bo you both would need to be very careful with you because it could be a risky pregnancy, especially because it was your first one. Bo wrapped an arm around your shoulder and very seriously nodded at the doctor. He also asked questions, trying to know how to care about you and his children the best he could. You had never seen him act so grave before. When you arrived at the car, you could tell Bo was tense. He was concerned about you and he was concerned that the twins would know the same fate as him and Vincent.

“They’ll be okay” you told him

“Ya’ll be okay too, darl” he replied and you smiled “Ya’ll go at the hospital, and they’ll care for the babies. And if anythin’ happens… Ya know we’ll always chose ya over the babies” he continued and you grabbed his hand. You shushed him.

“Nothing will happen. It won’t be like you and Vince, I’m sure of it. And of course it's a more risky pregnancy than if it was one child, but I know we’ll be fine and happy” you tried to reassure him.

“Ya’re not the one supposed to reassure me. We’ll take an extra good care of ya” he promised and you laughed, which made him arch an eyebrow at you.

“Not sure how ya can be even more extra with me. Any of you” you tenderly smiled at him and he relaxed at your words. He would hate to know you didn’t feel cared for or loved enough.

“Anythin’ for ya, mamma” he hummed and you blushed at the nickname while placing a hand over your stomach.

Your water broke one morning as you were getting up to grab a glass of juice. Bo and Lester brought you to the hospital as fast as they could, not caring about any kind of speed limit. Vincent was quite upset he couldn’t follow you there, but he wanted the best for the twins. He was so afraid that history was going to repeat itself. He didn’t want to create a small mask for one of his kids, he didn’t want to realise he created a monster with his brothers, he didn’t want you to be put into danger either. He knew that it had been very complicated for his mother and that she almost died. The three men had agreed that they would always choose you over the kids, no matter what. But it still would break their hearts to lose them.

You wished Vincent would have been by your side too, but you hoped you would soon be out of the hospital. You already wanted to be home, in your bed, surrounded by your five men. You knew life was going to be so good. 

The labour went by a lot better than anticipated. 

And the baby boys borned in perfect health conditions. You were exhausted but you asked to see them and Lester and Bo watched them and carried them with such happiness shining in their eyes. Your babies were already so loved. You even forgot about the killing and Ambrose being a ghost town. It was obvious that everything was going to be alright. 

Lester left to call Vincent. His hands were too shaky to send a message and it would allow him to babble even if Vincent couldn’t verbally answer. Vinny was too emotional to even write either so it was alright and he was so grateful that everyone was doing good. He fully let go of his work to finish preparing the house. He wanted everything to be perfect so the babies couldn’t get hurt and you wouldn’t need to think about anything. Vincent wanted you to just rest like you deserved to.

At the hospital, you were too tired to notice how Lester or Bo were reacting with the babies, and a lot of their attention was on you to make sure you were alright. Bo praised you a lot for having done such a good work. And Lester sneaked little chocolates and snacks into your room for you. 

It was when you finally reached back home, you realised how your husbands were reacting to their baby boys.

None of the men couldn’t stand hearing the babies crying. They instantly needed to reach for them and to cuddle them and appease them. They needed to protect the babies from any kind of traumas. They were instinctively caring fathers because they would rather die than reproduce what their childhood had been. No favourite, no scream, no abuse.

Vincent and Bo also refused to separate the baby boys; they wanted the twins to sleep in the same bed. They also tried their best to show the same amount of love to the two of them. They wouldn’t stand the idea that one of their kids would feel like they had a favourite. Lester seemed quite relieved about it. Your husbands often talked together late at night, when you were already resting, to decide what was the best to do for the boys.

You also often found Bo sleeping in an armchair as he had tried to watch over his boys. That way he was ready to take care of them the instant one of them would wake up.

Vincent was also the one taking care of them the most at night because he was a night bird anyways.

Lester was the one who knew how to make them laugh and to amuse them the most. He was good at appeasing them when they were crying too. He let his big brothers be overprotective, so he could be the fun dad. He was also finding them clothes and toys. He was already spoiling them rotten and you were powerless to prevent any of this.

Lester also loved to watch you feed the babies and he was often with you when that happened. And when he wasn’t there, it was Bo because the man wanted to make sure his babies and wife were doing alright. No need to say that Bo and Vincent were the most concerned whenever the boys weren’t eating as much as a few hours ago. You couldn’t stop rolling your eyes at them.

“They’re all right” you always said

“But we need them to be strong boys, and for that they need to eat well!” Bo exclaimed as Vincent nodded in agreement with his own twin.

“They’ll be strong. Have you seen their fathers and mother?” you smiled

The advantage of living with three men was they could take care of the kids and of the house and let you rest. Bo loved to take care of you and to wash you too.

Vincent enjoyed spying on you when you were with the boys. He loved when you were talking to them with so much love in your words and voice. He was so relieved to know that his baby boys were going to grow up in a loving family, even though they were surrounded by killers.

Bo was calling you “mamma” pretty much all the time now.

Lester once asked you how it was to be the matriarch of the family and Vincent was a lot more obedient to you than he used to be. If Bo was calling for him, he wouldn’t move, but if it was you, he was there in a flash.

You became the head of the family and your husbands made it clear that they couldn’t wait for you to get pregnant again because “the twins needed siblings to be protective of”

Thanks to you, the brothers knew that even killers deserve a happy family life.

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

“Every year, about 25,000 (UK) women who give birth — approximately 4 per cent — are so distressed that they meet the diagnostic criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder. That makes birth one of the biggest causes of PTSD in the UK according to the Birth Trauma Association charity – probably coming second only to sexual abuse and rape. Hundreds of thousands more women are traumatised. This is a major health crisis. And yet it is barely discussed…

According to figures from NHS Resolution, the arm of the Department of Health and Social Care that handles litigation, 62 per cent of the total clinical negligence cost of harm in 2022-23 (£6.6 billion) related to maternity.”

When my husband and I left for hospital on a Friday afternoon, we had no idea what would happen. The next few hours would change my life. For good and bad. It had all started with a cervical sweep the day before. I was 40 weeks and 4 days pregnant and, frankly, I’d had enough. My pregnancy had been uncomplicated in terms of my baby — she was healthy throughout, albeit had spent much of her time in the back-to-back position. But I had found the nine months increasingly difficult. From around 20 weeks I’d suffered from pelvic girdle pain, which, for me, meant increasingly agonising pain in my lower back. Walking and other everyday movements became difficult. The only place I felt vaguely comfortable was in water. Swimming was a relief.

Women are offered a sweep to help induce labour. A midwife inserts their finger and sweeps around your cervix. It’s about as basic as you can get. They’re trying to separate the membranes of the amniotic sac that surround the baby from your cervix. This then releases hormones, which may help start your labour. “Some women find the procedure uncomfortable or painful,” NHS guidelines say. I found it excruciating.

“Oh,” the midwife said, as I lay in a rather compromised position. “I might have broken your waters.” This didn’t make sense to me. I’d always assumed that when my waters broke, I’d know about it. Apparently not always, and I was instructed to call the hospital if contractions hadn’t begun within 24 hours as I was now potentially at risk of infection.

They didn’t start. And I did what I’d been asked. The voice on the phone was chirpy — everything sounded fine, stay at home, we’ll be seeing you soon enough. Half an hour later, my phone rang. “Where are you? You’re meant to be at the hospital,” the woman said angrily. I needed to come in immediately to be examined.

It was late Friday afternoon and it was busy. We took the last of the beds in maternity triage. And my waters broke in earnest. That solved the mystery, I suggested. No, I was told, and the water birth I’d hoped for was out of the question — too risky.

Strong and regular contractions started immediately. We were moved to a glorified cupboard that had been turned into a makeshift holding room. I was denied any pain relief because it was “too early”, and told that someone would bring me some paracetamol when they came to “examine” me.

It seems obvious when you think about it, but I had never been told what being “examined” meant. Nor thought about it. It sounds medical. But it’s literally a midwife sticking their fingers inside you. I was 3cm dilated. Plenty of time to go, apparently. It was 9.30pm. I felt sick and in enormous pain. Both were dismissed — until I vomited everywhere. And lost control of my bowels. This would happen several more times over the coming hours. I felt utterly ashamed. Again, it’s common — but I hadn’t been told.

I continued to ask for pain relief and continued to receive none. An hour later, I was 7cm dilated — in full labour — and finally received some paracetamol. There was no space on the labour ward. In just another half an hour, I was fully dilated and ready for the baby to come out. No one seemed to know what to do. The midwives were panicking. And that made me scared. This was my first baby. I didn’t know what to expect. We were rushed to the ward. Already, nothing had gone the way I wanted, or the way it had been talked about at National Childbirth Trust (NCT) classes. Eventually, I was given gas and air to ease the pain. But only for about 20 minutes. Apparently it was “distracting” me too much and I needed to push.

Two hours later there was still no baby and I was in agony. A doctor arrived, took a brief look and said cheerily, “You’re going to be fine. You’re going to get that baby out.” And then he left. My maternity notes state, “PLAN: continue pushing.” I have no idea what this refers to — like so many of my notes. There was no plan. If there was, it wasn’t one I had agreed to. Finally, after another hour the decision was made that the doctor would use a ventouse — a suction cup that sits on your baby’s head — to help deliver my baby. Apparently I consented to this, but I have no recollection of doing so. And I’m ashamed to say I didn’t know what was being asked of me. My doctor didn’t use the word ventouse. He used “Kiwi”, which is a type of ventouse. At the time, I didn’t know what either were.

I remember screaming in pain and then my daughter finally being born. She was placed on my chest for less than a minute. I was examined, told I had a fourth-degree tear that must be repaired and that I needed to sign a consent form for surgery straight away. “Look at the state of her,” my usually mild-mannered husband said. “How can she possibly sign a form?” I couldn’t. The writing on that form is barely legible, but they would not proceed without it.

I had no idea what had happened. I lay in an operating theatre in pain, silent tears rolling down my face. I was frightened. The anaesthetist was amazing and stayed with me while I was repaired. I am so grateful for that, at least. But I also feel guilty about it. It was half past three on a Saturday morning and she was the only anaesthetist on duty at the London hospital. Other women may well not have received the pain relief they needed because of me. “Will I be able to have any more children?” I asked as I stared at the ceiling.

After surgery I was moved to the high dependency unit (HDU) and reunited with my daughter. I finally held and fed her for the first time. That morning is a blur. My notes tell me we stayed in the HDU for five hours before being moved to a ward. It was there that I attempted to understand what had happened to me. I was in pain, barely able to move and soaked in blood. I asked various midwives to explain what had gone on. They repeated that I’d had a fourth-degree tear, but I didn’t know what that meant. One line, in scribbled handwriting, stands out when I look at my notes: “We don’t have any written info about fourth-degree tears.”

Eventually, a midwife appeared with some information they’d printed off after googling it. As I read it, I sobbed. I was 35 years old and thought my life was over; that I would be incontinent. And still no doctor came to explain. The medic who’d delivered my daughter was eventually marched to my bedside more than 48 hours later.

I am perhaps unusual in that I’ve always wanted children. We had done what many middle-class suburban couples did at that time and attended NCT classes. The underlying message of these was: try to avoid a caesarean section at all costs. “Natural” births were best, and even better just to breathe through it. No need for pain relief. I remember in our penultimate class bringing up the subject of tearing during labour. I had seen a TV feature on it that week and it struck me as important. “If most of us are going to tear to some degree, it would be really helpful to talk about that,” I remember saying. “It would be good to know how best to care for ourselves afterwards, that kind of thing.” The answer was no, there was no need. Instead, we proceeded to get on all fours and “moo” like cows and then practise putting nappies on a doll.

Up to nine in ten first-time mothers who have a vaginal birth will experience some sort of tear. The least invasive kind involves only the skin from the vagina and the perineum — the area between a woman’s vagina and anus. These tears usually heal quickly and without any treatment. Second-degree tears involve the muscle of the perineum and require stitches. Third and fourth-degree tears are the most serious. These involve not just tearing of the skin and muscle of the perineum but the muscle of the anus. In fourth-degree tears, the injury can extend into the lining of the bowel. These deeper tears need proper surgical repair under anaesthetic.

I don’t really have any happy memories of the first few days or weeks after we left the hospital. I was completely in love with my baby, but I felt shellshocked. I couldn’t process what had happened and there was no one who offered to help me. A different midwife was sent to our house every couple of days to weigh our daughter. I had no milk the first few days and she had lost a fair bit of weight. Even when my milk came in, I found breastfeeding painful and difficult, in large part because it hurt so much to sit down.

I cried quietly every day for several months. Often it would come completely out of nowhere. I’d be talking or watching television and I would just start to cry. Several midwives wrote in my notes in those early weeks the same phrase: “Mum is anxious.” I don’t think I was. I was traumatised. Several weeks later, I was told that I was “lucky” by the midwife examining my stitches. Apparently the doctors had done a “wonderful” job at repairing me and it looked “beautiful”. I now know that I was fortunate to be repaired properly and immediately after the birth. But the last thing I felt — then or now — was lucky.

After several months I desperately needed to have some control over my life again. I had never felt so helpless, lost and infantilised. But my overarching feeling was anger. I wrote to the chief executive and chair of the hospital to complain and was invited in for a debrief. The head of midwifery was lovely, apologised and followed through on her promise to try to prevent other women facing the appalling lack of communication I had. The hospital now has a specialist perineal health clinic too.

But the attitude of the consultant obstetrician whom I met with my husband floored us both. It was about six months after the birth, but I was still under the care of a consultant urogynaecologist. (I subsequently had two further operations: the first 14 months after giving birth to remove an undissolved stitch that was causing pain but hadn’t been spotted, and another six months after that.) My urogynaecologist had told me not even to consider giving birth vaginally again. The risk was too great, he explained. If I tore again, there was a 30 per cent chance I couldn’t be repaired and I’d be incontinent. The obstetrician said the opposite — don’t rule it out! I saw red. “How dare you,” I growled. I remember saying that he would never be so cavalier about a man’s body.

Every year, about 25,000 women who give birth — approximately 4 per cent — are so distressed that they meet the diagnostic criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder. That makes birth one of the biggest causes of PTSD in the UK according to the Birth Trauma Association charity – probably coming second only to sexual abuse and rape. Hundreds of thousands more women are traumatised. This is a major health crisis. And yet it is barely discussed.

“Birth trauma is a broad term, but generally it’s overwhelming distress that leads to a detrimental impact on well-being,” explains Susan Ayers, professor of maternal and child health at City University in London. Estimates “range massively”, she says, but having conducted research into birth trauma for almost 30 years, Ayers puts it at about a third. “If you ask women whether they thought they or their baby was going to die or be severely injured, then it’s around 19-20 [per cent] in the UK. But if people just ask women, ‘Was your birth traumatic?’ some of those estimates are up to 50 per cent.”

“I’M BEATRICE’S MUM,” EMILY SAID, introducing herself to a committee of MPs in March. “Beatrice died during labour at full term in May 2022.” Emily is one of a number of brave women who have shared their traumatic birth stories with the all-party parliamentary group (APPG) on birth trauma, during the first parliamentary inquiry into this issue.

“As soon as my labour started,” Emily explained, “I knew it wasn’t right, wasn’t normal.” The details are harrowing: a series of obvious but missed red flags and an attitude from medical professionals that can only be described as cruel. The midwife who shrugged her shoulders when Emily’s waters were meconium-stained; the consultant obstetrician who laughed at the “slimy” feel of that meconium while her hand was still inside Emily.

“The ultrasound scanning machine was brought in and showed that Beatrice’s heartbeat had stopped,” she explained. “At that point I begged, pleaded like I’ve never pleaded for anything in my life for a caesarean, and that consultant obstetrician refused. She said no. And she left.”

“It’s destroyed my life,” Emily says now. “I’m not the person I was before.”

This inquiry has been led by the APPG’s co-chairs, the Conservative MP Theo Clarke and Labour’s Rosie Duffield. They received more than 1,200 written submissions after asking women to share their experiences; that number doubles if you count the letters and emails they’ve been sent informally.

“The thing that’s really struck me is there seems to be a taboo around talking about the risk of childbirth,” Clarke tells me when I sit down with both women in Westminster. There shouldn’t be, she adds. “Something we’ve heard from a number of the mothers coming to speak to us is that there’s such a focus on the baby post-delivery, they almost forget there’s a second patient in the room, and that’s the mother.”

“I was constantly told by GPs that I had nothing wrong with me,” one mother, Sarah, told the MPs. She experienced a major tear that doctors and midwives failed to diagnose. “I was discharged two days later with [an] untreated tear, which very quickly led to enormous amounts of pain, incontinence, faecal incontinence and thinking I was going mad.”

“It’s very painful,” explained Jenny, who also experienced a serious tear that was left untreated, “but the long-term consequences of an unrepaired tear are that I had to give up my job. I’ve suffered PTSD, anxiety, depression. My activities are restricted. My life is impacted in that I have to meticulously plan my day around toilets.”

Another mother, Neera, lost three litres of blood and required more than ten hours of life-saving emergency surgery the day her daughter was born. The haemorrhage had not been picked up by staff. She said she is fortunate to have had the “means and support” to access mental healthcare over four and a half years of her five-year-old’s life. “I have personally spent over £6,000 and received more than 50 hours of mental health support,” she told parliament.

The women who have spoken to politicians as part of the inquiry had different medical experiences. But there were obvious similarities. Their concerns and their pain were dismissed. They were not treated with respect or, in some cases, like human beings. They felt helpless, angry and scared. “Nobody really cares about women,” says Kim Thomas, CEO of the Birth Trauma Association. “What we tend to find with most of these stories is there’s failure after failure after failure. Lots of things go physically wrong… and that continues afterwards in the postnatal period with really poor care.” Almost all women seeking out the charity say their experience was made much worse by the way they were treated during labour. “The number of stories we hear of women being shouted at by midwives or laughed at by midwives is quite extraordinary.”

Birth doesn’t have to be this way. And it isn’t for many women. But women, in England in particular, could — and should — be having better experiences than they are.

Let’s start with serious tears. The number one risk factor is being a first-time mum. There’s nothing much that can be done about that. But the next is having an instrumental vaginal delivery — and in particular one that uses forceps. “Data indicates that we use more forceps than other parts of Europe,” says Dr Ranee Thakar, president of the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (RCOG). While rates in several European countries hover at around 0 per cent, a 2023 study of assisted births in 13 high-income countries found England used forceps in a higher proportion of births — about 11 per cent — than any other.

There are cases where forceps must be used. When babies are premature, suction would cause too much damage to the head. But that’s doesn’t explain the discrepancy. “It’s education,” Thakar explains. “We should be trained to do both [forceps and ventouse], so that we provide the best care to women and use the right instrument for the right baby and the right mother.”

The risk of a severe tear when forceps are used is at least twice as high as with ventouse: 8-12 per cent compared with 4 per cent. Women should be told this. The recent parliamentary inquiry heard other suggestions that might explain why forceps use in England is so high. The consultant gynaecologist and obstetrician Dr Nitish Raut explained that when poor outcomes of childbirth become part of litigation, the question, “Why were forceps not applied earlier?” will be asked. Although they can cause injury to mothers, forceps are the most effective instrument for getting a baby out. If a doctor tries and fails to deliver a baby with the less invasive ventouse first, a record will be made at the hospital trust. It was suggested by others that this might also be pushing some doctors straight to forceps use even when they might not be necessary.

“Training is a really key part of everything here,” Posy Bidwell, deputy head of midwifery at South Warwickshire Foundation Trust, told MPs. “If we can train people, we can prevent these injuries happening. Many midwifery students wouldn’t know the impact that these injuries are having on women.”

Newly qualified midwives did not know enough about perineal damage, and yet they’re providing one-to-one care to women. Current training did not seem to see it as a priority: while several aspects of maternity care are mandatory each year, suturing and perineal protection are not.

Neither doctors nor midwives appear to be taught how to routinely examine women after they have given birth either. Where this was once part of mandatory medical training, doctors are no longer encouraged to do it, Raut explained.

England is short of as many as 2,500 midwives, the Royal College of Midwives (RCM) estimates, although people are wanting to train and join the profession. Donna Ockenden, who is reviewing maternity services at Nottingham and who previously did so at Shrewsbury and Telford Hospitals NHS Trust, cautions against being too optimistic, however. The focus needs to be on retention. “Two midwives don’t equal two midwives,” she told parliament, “of we are losing midwives with 20, 30, 35 years’ experience… and they’re then being replaced by a more junior workforce, who are not being supported in those early days of their career.”

In the past decade and a half, the UK has seen several NHS maternity scandals — in Morecambe Bay, Shrewsbury and Telford, and East Kent. In all these cases, some of the poor care provided to mothers and their babies was because of a push towards “normal” or “natural” birth and a desire to keep caesarean section rates low. The RCM ended its campaign for “normal births” in 2017, but its legacy persists. Some NHS trusts still talk about them today. A culture of cover-ups and a lack of care remains in others. Just last month, the Care Quality Commission found that staff at Great Western Hospital in Swindon had been downgrading third and fourth-degree tears, “which meant they were not investigated as thoroughly as they should” have been. The c-section target was only officially dropped in 2022. Does RCOG now accept that it was a mistake? “It’s difficult for me to say years later whether it was a mistake or not,” Thakar tells me. “I think there was a general trend at the time to put figures to caesarean section rates. But now we know that, we don’t do that.” It was now right that women were offered a choice; she insists she hasn’t seen an attitude against caesareans more recently.

Aside from any physical and psychological impact, traumatic births are costing the country billions. According to figures from NHS Resolution, the arm of the Department of Health and Social Care that handles litigation, 62 per cent of the total clinical negligence cost of harm in 2022-23 (£6.6 billion) related to maternity. Of the £2.6 billion spent on clinical negligence payments that year, £1.1 billion (41 per cent) related to maternity. (As the fact-checking service Full Fact explains, the cost of harm differs from the amount actually paid out in compensation: the former includes an estimate of claims expected in the future arising from incidents in that financial year.) The year before, maternity services accounted for 60 per cent of the total clinical negligence cost of harm (£13.6 billion). NHS England spends about £3 billion a year on maternity and neonatal services.

There is such a long way to go. The government is well behind on its long-term target of halving the rates of stillbirth and neonatal mortality by 2025; the death of mothers within 42 days of the end of pregnancy is at its highest rate in almost 20 years. And while only a handful of trusts have been subject to official investigations, there are signs that poor care is happening across the country. Only half of maternity units in England are rated good or outstanding; one in ten is inadequate. That is a damning indictment of the way so many women are cared for.

One crucial area of improvement does not cost money at all. It requires a shift in attitude to one where women are treated with respect, listened to and allowed to make informed decisions about their bodies and babies.

When I first heard of parliament’s inquiry into birth trauma, it was never my intention to share my experience. Doing so has been upsetting and uncomfortable. But as I sat listening to other women talk about how giving birth had affected them so profoundly, it felt dishonest to stay quiet. Difficult births are not something we should feel ashamed of — much as I know many women will have been, myself included.

[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins x Reader]

Part 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1&2- Initially set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death (Dumbledore). Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. On it got a angsty. So much angst I can’t tag it all. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

The return to Hogwarts.

Thank you to everyone who has reached out to be added to the Taglist, I have tried adding everyone but some blogs cannot be added? I will keep trying for you all 🖤

Apparating into Hogsmeade just outside the anti-apparition jinx perimeter was the only feasible way you could get close to the castle, but it was extremely dangerous, to say the least. There was a bounty upon all of your heads, none more than Harry who had been marked as undesirable number 1. Your plan was to sneak in through the Honeydukes cellar passageway, navigating Hogmeade in the dark just as you had the night George lost his ear to confront Snape. You wished you had the marauders map on your possession and had cursed yourself multiple times for not keeping it to hand, knowing that Grimmauld place was much too risky to return to now that Yaxley had discovered the location of the safe house after fleeing the ministry.

You had not anticipated the alarm that sounded out the second you all apparated into Hogmeade, the Caterwauling charm forcing you to run for cover the second your feet landed on the ground. Snatchers and death eaters were hot on your tails as you hid behind folded tables in the market, holding your breath and trying to control your shaking limbs. Snow covered the ground and you tried your hardest to hide your tracks but it was too late, all of you huddled together beneath a table as footsteps approached. Only when another alarm sounded off in the distance did the men relent and began running to investigate, assuming it to be Harry.

You stood quickly and beckoned the rest of your group to follow you, trying to slip through the jitty that ran between the Hog's Head and the side entrance to Honeydukes. Your heart sunk as you spotted a newly installed railing too late, cornering you and preventing you from escaping. You turned to Ron with a look of fear in your eyes, desperately trying to think up a backup plan as you tried to pull the secret passageways from your memory.

"Potter, in here!" A voice whispered from the side, urging you to run forward for cover.

A large portrait on the wall grabbed your attention immediately, a young girl with a clipped smile and distant eyes.

"You bloody fools, what were you thinking coming here?" The deep voice said, walking into the room. His likeness to your ex-headmaster was striking though not in the way that they were identical but almost as if they had the same kind eyes and long white hair and beards. "Have you any idea how dangerous it is?"

"You're Aberforth, Dumbledore's brother," Harry says, watching as the man briefly pauses mid-step before continuing on to peak out the shuttered windows, looking for any sign of suspicion with a vague noise of confirmation.

Aberforth kindly fetched some food and drink for you all though you don't launch for it as Ron and Hermione do, your stomach in knots about the next task.

"We need to get into the castle, tonight," Harry says with urgency, also not moving to reach for the food.

When Aberforth turns to him with a look of confusion and disgust, Harry presses, "Dumbledore gave us a job to do."

"Did he now?" Aberforth replies sneakily, pouring himself a drink. "Nice job? Easy?" He asks sarcastically, implying a conflict between them and previous knowledge of Albus' riddle like tasks. His face beamed with a sardonic smile that didn't reach his eyes, though he clearly found it an amusing situation.

"We've been hunting Horcruxes," Harry admits. Your gaze shoots your to him in surprise and alarm that he'd admitted it out loud to a man you barely knew. In truth, you had been more than hesitant about things since the incident with Bathilda, not to mention your multiple uses of Polyjuice Potion in the last few months alone. Quite frankly, you didn't trust anyone to be who they claimed to be.

"We think the last one's inside the castle, but we'll need your help getting in," Harry says. The tension on the room lingers as Aberforth places down his drink, eyeing Harry with suspicion, not astounded at the claim as you had anticipated him to act.

"That's not a job my brother's given you, it's a suicide mission. Do yourself a favor boy. Go home. Live a little longer."

"Dumbledore trusted me, to see this through," Harry counters, unfazed by Aberforth's harsh tone.

"What makes you think you can trust

him! What makes you think you can believe anything my brother told you! In all the time you knew him, did he ever mention my name? Did he ever mention hers?" Aberforth gestures to the painting of the young girl you'd spotted upon entering, her vacant expression never changing even as she's addressed.

"Why should he?" Harry begins to say, before Aberforth interjects.

"Keep secrets? You tell me." He goads.

"I trusted him."

"That's a boys answer," Aberforth dismisses. You cast a glance at Hermione as the two argue back and forth, keeping surprisingly cool under the tension. Ron, standing beside Hermione, looks less concerned as he continues to eat, shoving his mouth full of food as he watches the confrontation before him. "A boy who goes chasing Horcruxes on the word of a man who wouldn't even tell him

where to start. You're lying. Not just to me, which doesn't matter, but to yourself as well. That's what a fool does." Aberforth has taken a few steps towards Harry but he stands resolute. "You don't strike me as a fool, Harry Potter. So I'll ask you again. There must be a reason."

Harry remains resolute even as Aberforth moves ever closer to him, the tension lingeries thickly in the air as you await Harry's answer.

"I'm not interested in what happened between you and your brother, I don't care that you've given up. I trust the man I knew. We need to get into the castle tonight."

Ron's gaze flickers to you and you look upon eachother with an unreadable expression, both relating caution as you anticipate Aberforth's next move. Harry stands strong, not cowering under the dark gaze of your helper. After several seconds of intense, silent exchange, Aberforth shifts his gaze to the painting of the girl, his eyes softening as he glances at her, relenting.

The girl gives a nod, still holding her wistful smile and turns, waking off into the distance of the oil painting, her form getting increasingly smaller the further she walks.

"Where've you sent her?" Asks Harry, curiously watching the girl disappear from the frame.

"You'll see soon enough," Aberforth replies, a little cagey.

"That's Ariana, isn't it? Your sister. She's beautiful," you say, trying to pull Aberforth back on to your side, feeling like a disquiet was pulling at him and Harry that you didn't want to linger.

"She'll always be beautiful," Aberforth says, glancing at you briefly. You nod with a small smile, understanding his wistful tone.

"She died very young, didn't she," Hermione adds delicately, though Aberforth doesn't glance at her, nor reply for a few moments as Hermione's statement hangs in the air.

"My brother sacrificed many things, in his journey to find power, including Ariana. She was devoted to him -- he gave her everything, but time."

"Thank you Mr Dumbledore," you say quietly. He stares at you for a moment with an unreadable expression before nodding curtly and walking into the other room up the stone steps. You catch Ron's eyes who looks at you in question but you shoot him a harsh glare, telling him to back off. The four of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments, looking around the sparse room and waiting for your next instruction or sign.

"She's coming back! And she's got someone with her!" Hermione calls, scrutinising the painting as a very small figure emerges from the back of the canvas. The whole scene is slightly ominous as you wait for the image to become clear, a sense of dread filling you as you consider who would be with her. Had you been set up?

"Who's that with her?" Ron asks, moving to stand closer as you all fixate on the second figure, increasing in size as they move closer, seeing that the second person was limping. The second person moves behind the girl, concealed completely as the frame around the painting creaks open from the right side. You draw your wand, ready for whatever might be unleashed but frown as you see the opening to a dark and long tunnel, revealing exactly who was stepping closer. "Bloody hell!"

"Neville!" Harry says with a smile, thankful to see an old friend. "You look

"Like hell I reckon," Neville says, crouching down with his wand in his hand. His cardigan is marked and dirty, much like his face that holds scars and fresh cuts. "This is nothing. Seamus is worse. You'll see." He looks at you, then Hermione and then Ron, all with a smile as you greet eachother.

"Hey, Ab. We've got a couple more coming through," he says, turning to Aberforth and addressing him with a familiarity which tells you everything you need to know about the kind bar owner who had been exactly who he stated to be.

"I don't remember this being on the Marauder's Map," you say quietly with a tone of suspicion, looking at the walls of the damp and dark tunnel that surrounds you, completely unfamiliar to even you. Having George and Fred as best friends turned lovers ensured that you knew every secret passageway and hiding place in the castle, and this was one you had never found before.

"That's because it never existed till now. The seven secret passages were sealed off before the start of the year. This is the only way in or out now. The grounds are crawling with Death Eaters and Dementors," Neville explains, leading the way with his wand extended, exuding light to guide your path.

"How bad is it with Snape as Headmaster?" Hermione asks. Even in the semi-darkness you notice her gaze flicking to you at the mention of your old potion master and mentor.

"Hardly ever see him. It's the Carrows you have to watch out for."

"The Carrows?"

"Brother and sister. They're in charge of discipline. They like punishment, the Carrows," he says, pointing to the newest gash on his face.

"They did that to you? But why?" Hermione asks.

"Today's Dark Arts lesson had us practicing the Cruciatus Curse, on First Years. I refused. Hogwarts has changed."

You're amazed by the change in Neville, no longer seeing a scared boy but rather a confident man, no longer afraid to stand up for himself or the people around him. It's a bittersweet reverence you feel, conflicted by his words, knowing that this new regime must have forced him to change. You wondered about everyone else, how had they fared?

Just as you approach the end of the tunnel, a large door appears, blocking any further light. Neville turns to you all with a grin on his face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Let's have a bit of fun, shall we?" He turns back to reach for the door and slowly begins pushing it open, moving forward to block you all with his body.

"Hey! Listen up, you lot! Brought you a surprise," he calls out, addressing what you assume to be other students.

"Not more of Aberforth's cooking, I hope. Be a surprise if we could digest it," you hear a voice call back, a voice you instantly recognise as Seamus.

Without replying, Neville steps to one side and reveals you all stood behind him, Harry first with Ron, then you and then Hermione in near single file within the small entrance to the tunnel.

"Blimey!" Seamus calls out, his face amongst a sea of others who all turn to the opening at Seamus' exclamation. The crowd erupts with cheers and hollars, your names called out as people begin to stand, clapping and smiling up at you all. You recognise many of the faces there, Luna, Cho, Dean, Lavender, Cormac, Padma and Parvati, Nigel and more. You look around hopefully to try and spot Ginny but you can't see her familiar face nor the familiar red hair you're so hopeful to see.

You descend down the ladder and are immediately met with a surge of hugs, backslaps and handshakes as the group of your fellow students embrace you, greeting each of you with an excitement you'd not anticipated.

"Get the word out to Remus and the others that Harry and the gang are back," Neville says quietly to Nigel, making you freeze in Padma's arms. You naturally assumed 'the others' meant Order members, would they all be joining you? Would you finally get to see Fred and George again? And if you did, would they even want to see you?

You faked a smile as more people greeted you but you felt as if you were on autopilot, your mind spiralling at the idea of seeing your loved one's again and their reaction. You tried to focus of Bill's words from before, his tone was positive and present tense, hopefully they did still want you. You watched from over the shoulder of a student you didn't recognise to see Nigel scrambling to work an old battered wizard wireless, navigating through the crackles of it warming up, speaking quickly and fighting to keep the large headphones on.

"River, DA calling. Do you read? We have a new weather report: Lightning has struck. I repeat, lightning has struck."

"Okay, okay! Stand down! Let's not kill them before You-Know-Who gets the chance!" Neville says, trying to calm the group who have taken to mainly swarming Harry. The sea of people parts and Ron, stood beside Harry, takes your hand, pulling you in towards him as he does the same to Hermione, keeping you all close together.

"Right then. What's the plan, Harry?" Neville says, crossing his arms as he looks expectantly at Harry.

Harry gazes out over the expectant faces in the room, noting the hollow eyes and broken bodies and the desperate, almost palpable desire for hope amongst the crowd. For a moment he seems lost, remaining mute as he is awed by the sacrifice his friends have made.

"Okay. There's something we need to find, something hidden here in the castle. It could help us defeat You-Know-Who," he says determinedly, though if not a little lost. You share a look with Hermione that looks hesitant and concerned, both of you worried to give the game away.

"What is it?" Neville asks.

"We don't know," Harry replies.

"Where is it?" Dean asks, still looking hopeful.

"Don't know that either."

There's a brief pause that lingers with awkwardness, the sea of hopeful faces falling a little as the anticlimactic information is relayed.

"I realize it's not much to go on," Harry says.

"That's nothing to go on," Seamus says a little defensively, rendering Harry speechless for the moment, faltering under the unexpected backlash.

You spot the Ravenclaw banner in the distance and place your hand on Harry's shoulder, stepping in for him as it seems that he's a little lost for words, trying to navigate what exactly he could and should tell them.

"We think it's something to do with Ravenclaw," you say, side stepping to move in line with Harry at the front. "The thing we're looking for, it would be small, easy to conceal. It'd most likely be valuable and sentimental to Ravenclaw herself," you say, looking around at the sea of people who have turned their attention to you. You fixate on the eagle symbol on the banner, trying to look at the Ravenclaw students in the room, knowing they would be the most likely to have some information.

Your words are met with near silence and lost faces, confusion upon some as they look around at each other clueless.

"Well, there's Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem," Luna says from near the back.

"Oh, bloody hell. Here we go," Ron mutters under his breath behind you and you deliver a swift concealed kick to his shin to shut him up.

"The lost diadem of Ravenclaw? Hasn't anyone ever heard of it? It's quite famous," Luna says looking around as people turn in her direction, not taking her seriously.

"Yes, but Luna, it's lost. For centuries now. There's not a person alive today who's seen it," Cho says delicately, not wanting to humiliate Luna in front of the crowd. The other Ravenclaw's nod in agreement.

"Excuse me. But would someone tell me what a bloody diadem is?" Ron says, stepping to the other side of you so he doesn't get kicked again.

"It's a kind of crown. You know, like a tiara," Cho says.

You look towards Hermione and raise your eyebrows, seeing the same understanding in her eyes. It was possible, more than possible.

Just then, there's a distinctive rumble of the door opening and you freeze for a moment before you spot Ginny walking quickly over to the assembled group. She freezes for a moment, staring at Harry before mumbling his name with a smile. Ron gives a wave and says hi, though she pays no notice, still intensely staring at Harry who is staring back just the same.

"Six months she hasn't seen me and it's like I'm Frankie First Year. I mean, I'm only her brother," Ron mumbles between you and Hermione and you can't help but smile at his childish grumbling.

"Got loads of those, though, doesn't she? There's only one Harry," Seamus says, turning to you with a smile and a little wiggle of his eyebrows, making your heart flutter and your stomach tie into knots, having momentarily forgotten about the impending reunion with your boyfriends.

"Shut up, Seamus," Ron says without any real conviction, only to be interrupted by Neville who turns to Ginny with a frown.

"What is it, Ginny?"

"Snape knows. He knows that Harry was spotted in Hogsmeade," she says, still frozen to the spot, looking alarmed. Her gaze breaks away only briefly as she looks to you, then Ron, then Hermione. She eventually runs forward and embraces Harry, then pulls you in, then Ron and then Hermione.

"We need to do something," Harry says, turning to your group.

"How long until the order gets here?" You hear Ron ask Neville, trying to make a plan, knowing it would be foolish to act before the order had assembled.

"Anytime now, they've all been called to arms," he replies, looking back towards you as you nod. Trying to ignore the knot in your stomach and the lump in your throat, you turn to Harry, his gazed fixed to the floor, seemingly trying to think of options.

"Harry we need to overthrow Snape," Hermione says, a dangerous look in her eye.

"But we have to catch him off guard," you say, agreeing with Hermione. "We have to wait for the Order to arrive, if it turns into a fight we need backup. Neville how many of the teachers are on his side?"

"Just the Carrow's I'd say, most others have either been threatened, left or stayed to protect the students," Neville says, moving to stand closer to you all, the intel for the plan.

"We surprise Snape, overthrow and outnumber them, then we search the castle whilst the Order sets up defences," you say, looking directly at Harry so that he'd listen to your reasoning, "once we start this, there's no turning back."

He nods almost immediately, his gaze turning to you as he works through the plan in his head.

"That could work," Ron says encouragingly, moving closer to place a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Suddenly a loud alarm rings out, a whirring sound reminiscent of an old war time air raid alarm. You flinch, as does your little group though the other students seem completely unfazed, each of them dispersing to grab their discarded school robes.

"What's happening?" Harry asks, looking around frantically.

"Snape's called an assembly," Ginny explains, quickly placing her outer robes around her. "We have 10 minutes to get to the Great Hall."

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione exclaims as Harry reaches for a robe, quickly placing the cloak around him. So much for your plan.

"You wait here for the Order, I'll sneak in with the crowd, he won't be expecting that," he says, fingers struggling with the ties of the cloak in his haste.

"Hermione it might be the best way," you say carefully, expecting the disbelieving look she gives you. "Snape doesn't know Harry's already in the castle, right Gin?" You ask, turning to Ginny.

"No, the castle would be locked down if he did," Ginny says, agreeing with you.

"I have some Polyjuice potion," you begin to say but Harry stops you.

"No, it has to be me," Harry says, and you nod in understanding, letting him go.

The students pour out, including Harry who is concealed between Ginny and another Gryffindor student you don't recognise, leaving you, Ron and Hermione alone to await the Order's arrival.

The sound of the students marching in formation is an ominous noise, the steady beat of the synchronised footsteps only illuminating the quickened pace of your pounding heart. You took a seat on one of the crates in the back corner of the room, your back to both walls, staring into your lap and wringing your hands as nerves overtake you. The Order, most importantly Fred and George, would be here any minute and you didn't even know where to begin with greeting them.

Would they still want you?

Would they be harsh and dismissive?

Were they mad at you for leaving?

Your stomach flipped with nerves and you tried to hold back the nauseous feeling that kept rising up, your entire being riddled with anxiety. The others seemed to sense your internal distress and left you alone, standing together and talking quietly in the other corner. You pulled out the lebetum from your pocket to keep you occupied and distracted, looking into the frosted glass as you tried thinking of happy memories to see the words form but you were too anxious and conflicted to get a clear thought in your mind, the words remaining hidden. You still weren't certain what the exact use for it was, though it had helped you to retrieve the sword of Gryffindor. Why was the doe significant? You were pretty sure that Dumbledore's patronus was a Phoenix, so surely it couldn't be Albus helping you beyond the grave. The only clue you had was Dobby's cryptic message delivered just before he died, 'my boss was right'. But Dobby was a free elf, Harry had ensured that after the chamber of secrets, planting the sock which freed him from the Malfoys.

Just as you huffed out a breath of disappointment and placed the lebetum back deep into your pocket, a deep rumbling noise broke through the quiet room, alerting you to an intruder. Holding out your wand you waited a few seconds for the figure to appear, visibly shrinking in relief when you noticed Kingsley's signature blue robes coming into view. He was followed close behind by Remus and then Neville. Arthur and Molly stepped in and then Bill and Fleur. It was like you were being tortured on purpose, having to wait and sift through the familiar members until you finally saw the two near identical beings you'd longer for all this time.

They all naturally congregated around Hermione and Ron, greeting them with warmth having seen them first as they entered, your position partially hidden in the back corner. Almost immediately, you see George and Fred looking around worriedly as you aren't with Ron and Hermione. George catches your eye line first and you immediately stood up on shaking legs, feeling breathless and frozen in place, unable to take even a single step out of overwhelming fear that you'd be rejected after all this time.

His face erupts with sheer relief as he nudges Fred hard with his elbow, alerting his twin to your presence. Both twins turned to face you and within one second of turning, they run off from the group and bolt over to you, each pulling at your frozen form as tears erupt, free flowing down your face. George takes hold of you first, muttering unintelligible words as he cradles you tightly. The movement hurts your tender shoulder but you couldn't care less whilst you sob into his chest in relief. Fred speaks too but you can't make it out, both of their voices mixing to form a symphony of background noise. Fred then pulls you into his arms and spins you around, holding all of your weight as you sob and laugh at the same time. He puts you down on the floor and kisses you hard, hands tangling in your hair, no part of you left untouched as George grabs hold of your spare hand, feeling you firmly between them.

"I'm so sorry."

"I'm so sorry baby, I never meant-."

"You're really here."

"I love you."

"I love you."

"Missed you so bloody much."

You all speak at the same time, still clutching onto each other desperately as if one of you would disappear at any moment. George stops speaking and pulls you into a kiss, all his emotions pouring into the kiss, his remorse and regret, longing and desperation from the last months all culminating within him.

"I'm so sorry, I never meant to push you away, I took it out on you and I will never forgive myself," George says with a hiccup, still holding you as he pulls away from the kiss, speaking quickly so that he can be the first one to talk. Your tears have slowed now and from what you can see, both of the twins have their own tear lines too.

"No I'm sorry, I never wanted to leave you, especially not after everything that happened."

"We understand sweetheart," Fred says, stepping back in after giving you and George a moment. He places his hands onto your waist and you stand between both men, exactly where you should always be.

You hear a cough from the corner of the room and turn to see Remus with his hand in front of his mouth, looking sheepish and a little embarrassed having to break up your reunion. You understand, knowing that business needed taking care of first. You walk back to the group and are greeted warmly by Molly who pulls you into a bone crushing hug, followed by Arthur. Fleur then pulls you in and Bill strides over to you, placing his arm much more gently around you, knowing the problem with your shoulder.

"Told you," he whispers in your ear and you smile, gently elbowing him playfully which makes him laugh, your boyfriends paying close attention to your interaction.

"So where do we begin?" Hermione asks, looking towards Kingsley for leadership. He explains his plan but stops when he realises he doesn't quite know why you've returned.

"We need time," you say, standing straight. "We have to search the castle for something and destroy it."

"Then time you'll have," Kingsley says with a nod, ushering you all forward as you walk in formation towards the great hall where Harry would be revealing himself. You're flanked by your boyfriends, neither of them letting you out of their sight nor more than an arms length away as you walk between them.

Kingsley and Remus cast matching stunning spells as soon as you all round the corner to the hall, taking out the two deatheaters who were guarding the entrance to the hall.

You wait in tense silence, trying to listen in to what you believe to be Snape's threatening monologue until you hear a chorus of gasps, alerting you that Harry had made his move. It was time to act.

Next

Taglist:

@missryerye @football1921 @rk-ceres @weasleywheezer @lotusloisstuff @c0comichi @xthatpottahfanx @aigowen @fandom-taylor @weasleyluver85 @mariamkhaled87 @jewelsrules @ledger-kaos @bucksdonkey @clara-carpenter-morgan @jinxxangel13 @darkrozesblog

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 7

Prompt: Virginity Pairing: Stablehand!Minho(Lee Know) x fem!reader WC: 4.7k (ish) Summary: Laundry day, the watercooler of maidens, maids, and matrons. When faced with the harsh reality of what being a wife means, you ask your old friend Minho to help break you in a bit. A prequel my Two Princes series. You can read it without the context (as it is a prequel and thus before the events of that series) but it’s the same world. If you’ve read the series, it’s not SUPER tied or needed as context but it was a little thought i had when working on chapter 2 or 3 that I’d started to write at the same time.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Minho or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

Additional TW/CW Under the cut

TW/CW: Minho calls reader “little chick” and one “good girl”, unprotected penetration, bodily fluids, very VERY aggressively consent driven like tons of asking if everything is okay. 

TBH after last week’s prompt i needed something fluffy. It’s hard for me to come up with TW/CW outside of “they fuck consensually and nicely and fuck stuff happens.” Minho is a little bit of a teasing jerk i guess but in the most fluffy careful way possible.

 Pulling your skirts between your thighs you run from the kitchen, out alongside the fence of the small doctor’s garden, and onto the dirt road to the stables. Mind made up, you couldn’t slow yourself down now. You knew you only had precious few hours to catch him and daylight was dwindling. It wasn’t your fault, it was the matron’s who’d found your posture during the tea service “inadequate” and kept you late as punishment.  Huffing and puffing the stables near, no man nor horse in sight. You pick up the pace as much as you can, knocking furiously at the side door. Sweat dripping and hairs all out of place, the matron would’ve scolded you for showing up to anyone’s door this way. In all honesty her scolding would’ve started much before then, if she’d found out just whose door you were pounding on.  A man swings open the top half of the door, vest loose and sweat just beginning to soak through his white undershirt. He licks his lips and smiles. “Well, well, well. It’s been some time, little chick, since you last called.”  “Minho, I need you to take me.” You don’t mince words with him. You know not to.  His eyebrows shoot up, head shaking with confusion. The lower half of the door swings free, smacking loosely against your legs. “I’m concerned and intrigued,” he says, beckoning you in.

 Earlier in the week you’d made up your mind. You needed to lose it. When the older women had already headed back with their linens already hung neatly, the younger had stayed chatting a while longer. It wasn’t known what exactly started the conversation but if you were a betting woman you’d assume it was the rumor of a woman’s pregnancy only lasting a total of 5 months. Betrothed to a wealthy baron of the town and assumed a virgin, she’d quickly inflated with child upon sealing their vows. You’d expected giggles of disapproval but instead saw quiet shrugs.  “It’s like that sometimes,” one of the girls shrugs. “It’s probably best she went into that marriage knowing rather than it being her first.”  “I’d rather have it done by someone handsome and rugged and marry well later. She got a good deal there. Risky but a deal,” another concurred.  “Isn’t there value in learning together?” Your voice quivers slightly as you try to speak up. The girls blink back at you, like you’re an alien.  “Sure, but it’s a risk.”  “It’s expected but, to be upfront with you, I don’t know that I’d endorse it. Most men can’t button their own breeches in the morning, you can’t expect them to know what to do as it comes to women’s ways.”  You nod solemnly, hoping they didn’t press further into your history. Or what history you could claim. Mostly you’d learned from word of mouth or the occasional poorly discarded dirty pamphlet. Until that summer you’d assumed to most you were invisible, that was until your body grew into itself like a puppy growing into it’s ears. Even then a couple quick pecks behind an arras was nothing to boast about.

 Sliding the lock behind you, Minho pulls himself up on a gate, stretching his arms long to pull down the ladder to the loft. It had been ages since you’d last been in a place with him alone. Growing up under the watchful eyes of the castle as children inside the walls you’d been able to run freely around with him, a plethora of adults there to intervene if the two of you got into trouble. One to stick more to the shadows, he always pulled you into the sunlight. Coaxing you into his outdoor adventures, finding creatures to befriend and forging for snacks. The matron hated this of course, but you were a child before you were a girl. Somewhere along the line it shifted, becoming a girl first and foremost. Minho changed too.  Hopping down and landing softly in a cloud of dirt, he brushes himself off. “Ladies first, little chick.”  Hands on the ladder you begin to pull yourself up. Feet barely past the second wrung, Minho comes in behind you, bracing the sides of the ladder, face close to your lower back. “Won’t you be able to see up my skirt that way?” You turn and ask, eyes narrowed.  “Oh now you want to talk about modesty? When you were just at my gate shouting about bedding down.” Everything is phrased as a joke but his expression is serious. It’s hard to tell if you should laugh or not. “If I don’t stabilize the ladder and you tumble ass over kettle the matron will have much more of me than my head so I suggest you scurry on up, for the both of our sakes.” He smiles, patting your butt lightly.

 The loft has a low ceiling but wide footprint. It’s dimly lit but charming nevertheless. Minho has all he needs. A wash basin, chest of drawers, full length mirror, a bedside table with a small lamp. The bed is paradoxically huge and luxurious, albeit on the ground, but the biggest you’d seen outside of the guest’s quarters.  “I don’t have a place to sit but-” Minho’s head pokes over the edge of the flooring as you gasp. “The bed is comfortable. I caught it as they were turning over a room and smuggled it up here myself. Almost passed out trying to pull it up.”  You flop dramatically down, the boning in your bodice restricting your waist movement, freezing you in perfect vertical lines rather than letting your body naturally curve. Sitting bolt upright your lungs feel like they are in your throat, your feet hang off the side of the bed to keep your dirt laden shoes from the comforter. “It’s nice,” you bleat. “Soft.”  Wordlessly Minho kneels by your feet, pulling the laces loose and slipping your feet free of their confines. He looks up at you and your heart skips, his hands are rough on your stockings but somehow you don’t really mind. His expression quickly snaps to a devilish grin as he smacks your feet onto the mattress. “You can get comfortable then, little chick. Am I a stranger?” He stands quickly and moves to the washbasin, scrubbing the days work from his hands.  “You aren’t a stranger but,” you sigh deeply or as deeply as the bodice allows. “It’s been-”  “We’ve changed,” he nods, shuffling off his shoes and collapsing back into the other side of the bed. “Physically I mean. But what’s this about me ‘taking’ you? What has you all in a tizzy, little chick? Showing up at the stables asking for-”  You smack his arm and take as deep a breath as you can manage, “I heard a rumor,” you trail off.  “About me? Or you? Or someone else?” He barrages you for details.  “Let me get to it Minho! So bothersome, gosh.” You wince as you try to breathe again, leaning back to your elbows to give your organs more room to shift and relieve your lungs.  His hand comes to your shoulder and lightly presses you forward. “It’s tight right? Let me-” he pulls at the knot at the base of your spine, pulling each cross at your back loose.  “Oh AH,” you moan and slump forward as the bodice releases. “The matron-”  “That bitch,” he whispers under his breath, tickling your shoulder, just loud enough that you can hear it.  You giggle and lean back again. “Yeah, the matron said that if I laced it tighter I wouldn’t have such problems with my posture and took the opportunity to correct the matter.”  “So, back to the rumor you heard. Me, you, someone else? Why are you in my loft, in my bed, and allowing me to undress you?”  You roll your eyes at the ceiling. “Fine,” you huff, “First, the rumor was about this baron’s wife who spent only a few months pregnant before birthing the healthiest baby boy the midwife had ever seen. We got to talking and, well, there was a debate.”  Minho turns on his side, leaning over you slightly, just in your peripheral vision. “A debate? About me?”  “Not everything is about you, Minho, let me continue!” You spit back in frustration. “Anyway, the topic of trying the milk before buying the cow came up-”  “Virgin 'til the wedding night or sneaking off into a hay bale. I see.”  “Not a hay bale!” You smack his thigh lightly. “But yes, essentially. Should a woman be a little learned in the ways of the world or an innocent. The more the group talked about it the more I thought. Well it was a dumb thought. I worried,” you stutter, suddenly unable to get your thoughts out under his watchful gaze. “It’s nice to see you again.”  “All this talk of bedding down and you thought of your long friend Minho,” a smile creeps across his face. “What a strange little chick you are.”  “If you must know Minho, it wasn’t a fully innate thought of mine. Your name was mentioned. Positively.”  He smiles softly and flops onto his back. Both of you staring at the ceiling in silence for a moment. “I suppose, I train people to ride horses…” he drifts off.

 You thought laying in silence with a man might be awkward, especially after confessing your motives to him. With Minho it wasn’t. Ears full of the soft sounds of the horses heavy breaths below you instead of idle chatter. It was easy to imagine laying for hours letting your mind wander the landscape of sounds.  “So, little chick, truthfully, which did you want to investigate more? My aptitude or..”  “My problem. Or, it’s not a problem but, my…lack of experience. I trust you more than any man and to hear others tell it, my trust in this matter wouldn’t be misplaced.”  “Ah,” his small noise of acknowledgement is all you get from him.  Your stomach twists and plummets to rock bottom. Some part of your imagination expected him to leap on top of you and rip your clothes off. His chill attitude is hard to read, you don’t even know if he’s agreeable to it. “I was hoping maybe you’d…if today would be okay?” You ask and want to die.  “Right, yeah,” he turns over again to loom at your side. “I will absolutely comply with your request but I need you to be honest with me. Are you completely untouched? Truly and totally?”  You nod, ears burning, you turn away from him to hide the embarrassed expression you wore. “That’s the…I don’t even know where to start. I wouldn’t know where to start.”  His calloused fingers trace your forearm, small goosebumps prickling in his wake. “Well, we can start slow. You will tell me what you like, what you don’t, where to stop and I, in turn, will make it well worth both our time.”  “Really?” You spin around to face him, excited, mood totally lifted. He’s smirking to himself, an unrecognizable glimmer in his eye. Your heart beats out of your chest, tongue tied into knots. He’d always been Minho, your Minho. You’d seen him up close plenty of times but you’d never really looked at him like this. Strong nose, strong cheekbones, strong brow, strong jaw, everything about him was quietly strong. Even the line of his muscles below his shirt were long and lean, perfect for horseriding.  “Do you want me to undress you then? Or will you do it yourself? Some like the power of choosing what to reveal, others prefer the careful caress of another’s hands. You could start yourself and have me assist you or…”  “You. You please.” You sit up again, shuffling your back to him, offering your laces.  Every move he makes is languid, like moving through thick molasses. The string pops through the eyelets until the contraption falls forward, freeing you. He waits, gaging your reaction with a watchful eye. You’re unflinching, steadfast in your resolve. “Some men, are not as gentle as me.  Trying to keep your composure, your heart leaps to your throat. “Oh, I-” you stutter, unsure of the response to give.  “I’m known on occasion to not be so gentle too. If you would like, I can be with you too.” His tone is smooth as his hand travels down the soft cotton of your chamise. You’d never imagined how good a simple touch could feel, as though every nerve along your spine was sparking asynchronously, like a fire spitting tiny flames.  “Oh err, I suppose just, this? This is good, yeah.” You lean back into his palm, eyes closing.  Minho watches your face relax. Jaw unclenching and brow melting as he reaches the base of your spine, briefly stiffening as he loses contact to start back at the nape of your neck again. “I’m going to take off your skirts and stockings now, sweetheart.” He directs you, hands working at the knots that hold your skirt, waistbands loosening and falling around your hips. “I’ll need your help the rest of the way.”  Sliding back into the sheets, your hold your hips up to let him drag the skirts off in one bunch. “I’ve heard you use this tone before. With the horses,” you laugh nervously.  “Humans and horses aren’t so different,” he mutters under his breath, mildly annoyed with the perceived slight. “Both require respect to be ridden well. Respect, confidence, and trust. Otherwise one might hurt the other.” His words are reverent as he looks down at you. The orange hue of the late afternoon sun warms his skin, lips open ever so slightly. You realize his hand his placed carefully on your cotton covered bent knee. With so much as a flick of his wrist he could reveal you, the thought of which has your entire system vibrating on edge. Instead he maintains eye contact as his palm presses the fabric to you, slowly but surely guiding it down your thighs. It’s enough to have your body on fire, chest heavy as you remember to breathe.  The way you lean into Minho’s touch has him more turned on than he cares to admit. This entire experience was about you. It was not about him. It was a favor to you, not something for him to take advantage of. Yet he couldn’t help the pit of guilt twisting his stomach, almost relishing in the feeling. Your knees knock together cutely as the last bit of slip falls to your hips, leaving only your stockings for warmth. Your eyes could bore holes in him the way they are fixed on his lips. With a chuckle his hands run the length of your thighs, parting them and stripping back the last vestiges of fabrics on your lower half. “You want me to kiss you? I can kiss you.”  “Yes!” You practically yelp, tingling turning to burning turning into bursting in your gut. The press of his lips to your inner thigh is like salve, sensation just as intense as your back arches up and away from the mattress. “I like that. I like it a lot,” you pant as he hovers, waiting for you.  “Have you ever touched yourself?” His eyes flick to your pussy, legs akimbo and fully exposed.  You start to shake your head no and catch yourself, the shock of sudden embarrassment sending jets of cold down your spine. Could he tell? Could a man tell? “Not touched but I found this…lewd pamphlet in the trash…” you begin, forcing yourself to focus as his lips slowly travel towards your sex. Minho hums to indicate he’s still listening as he teases you. “...so I read that pamphlet and my stomach felt funny and the only thing that made it feel better was sliding my pillow between my thighs-”  A millimeter away from kissing your cunt he stops abruptly to look up at you with a grin. “Naughty, naughty, sneaking away with crass material to waste yourself on a pillow,” he laughs. “So never in yourself? Just riding your pillow.” He can barely contain his excitement, hand cupping you, middle and ring finger slowly stroking around your slit. Slowly he works his middle finger into your hole, tighter and wetter than he’d thought it could be. His digit moves with your hard breaths, stroking just barely inside of you. “I’m going to stretch you out a bit. How does this feel?”  “Like you’re petting my belly button from the inside,” you squirm, every other word catching for a second in your throat.  A second finger slips in alongside the first, eased by the gathering wetness. The pressure is strange at first, not painful but not comfortable. Not until Minho presses the heel of his palm to your throbbing mound, grinding it down as your eyelids flutter in delight. “You can moan if you want, if it feels good.”  Your mouth hangs dumbly, hips naturally working with his hand. “I don’t know how!” You pant as your ride his hand.  “You don’t?” Minho’s voice lilts with false sympathy. “You seem to be doing just fine with this. Just relax, no one can hear you out here. No one but me.”  Eyes closed you don’t even realize you’re moving in sync with him, face scrunching cutely. You follow him blindly, chasing an unknown feeling on a strange path. Suddenly your stomach swoops, eyes flying open with a gasp as your entire body tingles warmly.  Legs snapping shut on his body, you wriggle away from the stimulation. “I think I died. I think I’m going to pass out. What was that,” you ask. Your vision feels slow, body foggy, heart beating both too fast and too slow.  “Well the French call it the little death, if that helps.” Minho smiles and withdraws his glistening hand, holding in the light like a trophy. “Most oafs can’t do that, you know, that’s why all your little friends can’t keep quiet about me. They just go about blinding, inserting themselves and pounding away. Idiots. Animals.”

 Minho turns completely away for the first time since you got into his bed. Tugging the white shirt free, his back looks strong, stronger than you remember it being. Not that you thought about it much back then, him or his back. But now it was the only thing on your mind.  Pulling off his shirt his thumbs hook into the top of his drawers, pausing. “You’ve…seen a man before right,” he asks over his shoulder. “You know what a cock looks like.”  You can’t help the small nervous giggle that passes your lips. “I’ve seen one, yeah,” you reply with your stomach all aflutter. You’d seen them in passing or in paintings but not so closely. It feels surreal to think on the other side of him is that sort of thing.  “You know you should never giggle at a man in such a precarious position,” he scolds. “Now do you want to do it or shall I? We can stop now if you’re too nervous.” Minho really hopes you aren’t too nervous. With the time and effort he spent prepping you he’d inadvertently wound himself up as well, teetering on the edge of discomfort as his swollen cock pulses in its confines. God, the sheer thought you might take him up on his offer to stop here has his stomach swooping, playful expression turned serious.  Sucking in your breath and closing your eyes, “you. You do it. And tell me when. And then I’ll look.”  Nose scrunched and adorable, he smiles again. “Okay little chick, we’ll do it your way then. I’m going to unbutton my breeches, slide them off, and then you can open your eyes, or tell me to sod it and put everything back on.” Slowly his fingers slip the buttons through their eyelets, hissing with relief as his shaft springs free. He’s more naked than you now, although not by much, your chest still covered by your chamise. Fighting a smile as he looks at your both eager and apprehensive expression he announces his state of dress to you.  Cracking an eye open you see it, briefly and blurry. Instinct snaps you eyelid closed with a jump. Sheer curiosity gets the better of you quickly, screwing your courage up to open both of your eyes on your next exhale. “Oh wow,” you inhale sharply, eyebrows lifting with your lids. A few stiff blinks have your eyes cleared “It’s…you’re…” you can’t find the right words. He’s not like the paintings of men or sculptures or those you’d seen in passing, all of which had them loosely hanging, passive between their thighs. This, this is different. Veiny, thick, truly a muscle pointing proudly up and out from his stomach. The boost to his ego is unimaginable as you stare agog. Even knowing it was your first didn’t seem to fight back his swelling pride.  “Want to touch it?” It twitches as he talks. You hadn’t even realized you’d slowly raised forward from the sheets to look closer at it. Taking your hand in his he guides you to it until you’re naturally curling your fingers, around it. It’s softer than you thought it could be, velveteen and warm. The veins and muscle making ridges and grooves all down the shaft you stroke it slowly, face full of wonderment. Minho sighs deeply, shuddering. Though you don’t know the details of a successful handjob your eager curiosity makes up for it. A shiny bead gathers just on the slit, your thumb rubbing over it and smearing the substance over the head.

 “As lovely as your hand is, I think we have other matters to attend to,” Minho says and pushes you back to the mattress. “You’re lucky I have some oil for just this sort of occasion.”  He produces a small bottle from the opposite side of his bed, uncorking it and dribbling a small amount along his length. “You’re still sure?” He checks again, pumping his fist along his shaft to coat himself. “You’ve done so well today, there’s no shame in it. Ever. Even when it’s not with me.”  “Minho please, I’m not so little anymore. I’m not a child. It’s my decision. I want you. I want you to fuck me. I want you to be my first. I trust you. Can you just…do it already?”  He half laughs, more huffs at your frustrated outburst. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought you were.”  “Then WHY?”  “You’re really cute when you’re frustrated with me,” his smirk sends your heart flutter as he closes in on you. He hoists your hips with one arm and places a pillow beneath your hips, the display of raw strength sending the pack of butterflies from your heart into your sex. The blunt pressure of his cock, poised at your entrance, has your toes wriggling.  Your expression opens into something between ecstasy and agony as his hips press forward. A half caught grunt escapes your throat from someone deep in your gut. The stretch isn’t the most painful, it just feels so foreign it catches you off guard. Suddenly acutely aware of how little space there is between organs there’s still a dull ache as your walls adjust. “Hu-hurts a bit.” Your knees catch his hips to keep him from going any deeper.  “Let me distract you.” He starts pulling up your chamise, yanking it over your head with an urgency not yet seen from him. You don’t think your breasts are anything special to look at, especially splayed akimbo as they are. Yet Minho’s eyes say otherwise. Minho’s mouth says otherwise, attaching to your neck, mouthing away at your soft skin.  Your body reacts autonomously, hips rolling back and forth on his half speared cock. Nipples pebbled, his tongue lathes over one, rolling the other between his fingers. “Oh, oh, ohhhh lord,” you gasp and moan. “It’s good oh fuck Minho, it’s good.”  Grin grazing your oversensitive nipple he pushes his hips the final length in and stills, trying to keep himself from cumming immediately inside of you. Hot, tight, wet, he’s almost delirious with need as he hears your punched out groan. Releasing your tit with a pop he leans back to enjoy his handiwork. Impaled, your hair is wild on the pillow, chest rising and falling as you fuck yourself helplessly on his stiffened member. “It’s like you were made to take cock, you’ve already got the hang of it.”  “Feels good,” are the only words you can blubber out dumbly in response. Your half hearted excuse. “More, need more.”  “One man can’t exactly give that,” he chuckles. “You’re squeezing the sin from me, you know.” He groans as your walls flutter around him in a weak orgasm. He thrusts a couple times into you, noting how you meet each one, pelvis bouncing him deeper. As much as he loves when your chests touch, the intimacy of looking in your eyes, you asked for more. Taking what’s left of his strength he pulls from you, a look of shock and sadness crossing your face for a second.

 “You’re going to ride me now, since you wanted more.” He says laying on his back. “Climb up buttercup, thighs on either side” he slaps his own thighs to indicate where he wants you. “Now what you’re going to do is take my shaft and slowly sink yourself on it.”  He’s sticky with release but you oblige, eyelids fluttering as you sink down, swiveling and stirring him with your hips. Minho fights to keep his eyes open and watchful as a wave of ecstasy washes over him.  “Now bounce on it, doesn’t need to be fast just the one pace.” His hands at your waist help manuver you, holding just enough to help keep the rhythm. And what a delicious rhythm, tits bouncing dramatically with each smack of your ass to his pelvis. Curses you’ve never heard nor had yet been invented flow from his mouth as you hands start to explore your body. You touch the source of the white hot heat, clit engorged and sensitive. Slowly you circle it in time with your bounces, as though winding a music box.  “It’s happening again!” You whine and buck. “Minho, Minho, Minho, it’s happening!” Your bouncing stops, hips frantically grinding back and forth on him, hand trapped between you. Moaning and groaning your instinct takes over, working the man below you like an object.  “That’s it, cum. Let it happen. Let it go. Cum on my cock like a good girl.”  Its like he said the magic words, a floodgate opening as your walls flutter and bare down on him. He helps you along, holding you in place and fucking up into you through your climax, barely able to pull you off of him in time to spill his seed on his own soft tummy. It’s not a second too soon as you can hear the dinner chimes in the distance, the first reminder that you are being watched.  “Damn it,” he says through clenched panting. “The matron-”  “That bitch.”

 A bit bedraggled you dash back up the dirt path as the third dinner bell rings, the last of the series, marking you officially late. Other than the dull ache of your cunt you feel no materially different. Still you wish you could’ve stayed in the loft for ages. Your thoughts cloud your once empty skull with anxieties. You really wish you could’ve stayed.

 The light from a guest room shines down as you trot past the small kitchen garden. A man sitting by the window watches you, blonde hair haloed by the light. There’s something enchanting and honest about your disheveled state. Truthful to humanity. He had to see it closer. He had to be the cause of it. Taking out a pad of scratch paper he sketches quickly as he can, unprepared to attempt to capture your brand of beauty in quill and ink. He keeps the accompanying memo short; “a birthday idea.”

If you’re interested and HAVEN’T read Two Princes, it is linked in my masterlist. It’s FAR spicier so heed those warnings.

I felt a little weeeee bit rushed on this one but it was already so long, I might redo, I might not. IDK.

[mavrintarou]

Christmas Morning - Suna Rintarou [end]

This wasn't supposed to go this far lol

Warning: fluff; explicit smut (18+); surprise ending (is it really a surprise though)

Fourth part

.

“Goodness,” Wendy narrowed her eyes, staring at you for a solid thirty-seconds in silence, “you’re illuminating. Are you pregnant?”

Every time you meet up with Wendy for brunch, she’s always making embarrassing comments to you.

And what is even more embarrassing is that she is always on spot.

Though you are not pregnant, you definitely had a pregnancy scare.

You were more than a week late and you were never late.

“I’m not pregnant,” you answered with confidence.

You had taken four pregnancy tests and all came back negative but you period never arrived.

You were about to express your concerns with Rin but he confronted you first.

You stayed an hour later at work and Rin was at your place making dinner.

After a long day, you were ready to spend the rest of your evening with your boyfriend.

Boyfriend…

You had a stupid smile plastered on your face every time you thought of him as your boyfriend. Rin was adamant that you officially accept his request asking you to be his girlfriend, in which you said yes and that made him your boyfriend now.

“Rin?” you found him sitting at the kitchen table with his back facing you. “What are you –“ you look over his shoulder and whatever you were going to ask went dead on your tongue.

In front of him was the four pregnancy test in a clear bag.

He looks at you with a pale face. “Is… are these yours?”

You exchange looks from the pregnancy test to him. “Uh… yeah…”

“Were you going to tell me?”

You frown at him, “tell you what?”

“That you’re pregnant?”

“But… I’m not pregnant, Rin?”

It was his turn to frown at you, “you’re not? Then why are you taking these tests?”

“I took them to see if I am but they’re negative, see.” You pointed to the single line. “One line means negative.”

Rin covered his face with both palms and groan. “I didn’t even look at that…”

You laugh, pulling his hands away. “I’m sorry if I scared you – you weren’t supposed to find…”

“I was nervous… and excited.” He mumbled; his hands shifted only to uncover his eyes. “I saw them in the trash bin and all I could think about is that you’re pregnant.”

“I missed my period for a week now, so I took these test but they’re negative.” You sigh, “but I still haven’t gotten my period either so…”

“So…” he repeated after you.

“So, until Aunt-Flo arrives… I don’t know.”

That night after Rin makes love to you, your period arrives.

“Oh gosh, Rin is so cute… at least you know he was excited if you were pregnant.” Wendy laughed, she has been laughing since you explained how Rin thought you were pregnant cause he didn’t know how to read a pregnancy test.

“I was scared,” you whispered, “we keep having risky sex like that… since then I’ve made him wear a condom.”

“Why not just go on birth control?” Wendy inquired.

You sink back into your chair, “I brought it up but Rin said he didn’t want hormones and all the other junk to go into my system. It’s not good for my body.”

Wendy clutch her hand over her heart, “what a gentleman. He’s thinking about your body… argh… if you don’t want him, send him my way.”

You kept it to yourself, but you almost blurted how he was supposed to choose her that night. If Wendy had not backed out and asked you to take her spot that day… Wendy would have been you this moment.

“Thank you.”

Wendy blinks at you, “for what?”

“Had it not been for you to ask me to take your spot, I would have never met Rin and be where I am right now.”

“It was meant to be, so don’t lose him.”

.

You haven’t heard from Rin in a few hours. He was overseas in Taiwan for a game and was due to return tonight. What time? He didn’t tell you.

It was close to midnight, and you were beginning to fall asleep. Turning your body, you leaned into the couch and closed your eyes, clutching your phone.

You slipped into slumber waiting for his message or call.

“Y/n.”

You hear yourself hum.

“Y/n, why aren’t you sleeping in your room?”

One eye cracked open to see your favorite person beside you. “Rin?” You rubbed your eyes, sitting up. “you’re home?” When your vision was cleared you stare at him confused as he continued to gaze at you. You cup his face, “are you okay?”

He nodded, “you said, you’re home.” He smiled and his hand cupped your face, “yes, I’m home.”

You pull him into a hug, “I don’t know why this time, I missed you so much.”

Rin pulls you tighter against him. “I missed you more.” He suddenly pulls away, “I have something for you.” He shifts away and grabs something before holding it to you, “for you.”

“What is this?” You glance at the bag with colorful tissue paper. “It’s not my birthday?”

“Correct, but it was White Day… well a few days ago but I wasn’t in town, so it doesn’t count… now open it.”

You pull out the tissue paper and your lips curve upward. “Chocolate…”

“Returning the favor, although you ate my chocolate… and I forgive you but I’m returning the favor…” He fiddled around before sighing.

You sensed the sudden mood change and set the chocolate back in the bag to tilt his chin, looking him in the eye. “What’s wrong?”

He only gazes at you for a few seconds before swallowing, “I know… I might be rushing it but I – I really, really, really feel like you are the one for me.” He looks deep into your eyes, as if he’s trying to read your mind. “I – I have something for you.” He reaches behind and pulls out a velvet box.

You hear your sharp inhale.

He cracks open revealing two rings. “I never thought I’d get couple’s rings but… here I am…” He paused, “will you accept and wear this couple’s ring with me, Y/n?”

You lifted your left hand and with a clear voice, “of course.”

Rin chuckles and shakes his head, grabbing my right hand, “this hand, well… I want to save the left hand for when I marry you so we’re going to wear this on our right side for now.”

He slips the ring on and you grab the other ring to slip it on him. You hold his much larger hand for a second before looking up at him. “I love you, Rintarou.”

His green eyes widen, “say – “ he choked, “say that again?”

Dropping his hand, you cup his face and kiss him. “I love you, Suna Rintarou. I love you.”

.

“EJP! EJP! EJP!”

The gymnasium screamed loudly for their home team as Suna – EJP’s Middle Blocker shut down their opponent and helped his team win the game.

This was your first game of his that you attended and tears pricked your eyes as you refrained yourself from screaming like a madwoman when your boyfriend earned the winning point.

Rin points in your direction and you point right back at him, mouthing I love you.

He mouths, me too and winks.

He is going to be the death of you.

.

Rintarou has become the best thing that has ever happened to you.

There was never a dull day with him.

Your relationship progress every day and your love for one another grew daily.

You guys were like every normal couple that have their good and bad days.

Usually both times resulted in hot passionate sex.

Especially after a disagreement.

Rin’s grip on your waist is bruising as he pounded into you from behind. The dress you wanted to wear to one of his teammate’s wedding was now wrinkled and bunched up at your waist with your thong – torn and looped around one ankle.

Five minutes ago, you guys should have been out the door.

As soon as Rin saw your dress, the dress, he did not approve of you wearing – he had you bent over his bathroom counter and took you from behind. He is still dressed in his suit with only his pants undone.

“You just want to be a bad girl because you know what I would do when you start acting like a bad girl, huh?”

Not entirely true, for the most part Rin allowed you to do what you wanted, and it was only when your really pushed his buttons to see how far he let you get away with your action that he would have to set your attitude and action straight again.

But you wanted to wear that dress, sure it was a little more revealing than what you’re used to, or what he was used to, but you were going to wear it anyways because he can’t tell you what you can and can’t wear.

An arm looped around your chest, pulling you against him. Your back arched as he slows down his thrusts but they are deep and slow, driving you crazy.

He combs your now messy updo hair behind your ear before nipping it with his pearly teeth. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror, “are you going to be a good girl and let me cum inside of you?”

He knows you would never say no.

You loved it when he came inside of you.

Probably more than him.

“Will you let me wear this dress in exchange?” You hear his scoff. “Then no… you can’t cum inside of me.”

“You play dirty, love.” He growled, you feel his cock throb inside of you, ready to cum. “Fine… and that dress will go in the garbage after tonight.” His hips fasten, your moan echoing loudly in his large bathroom.

You grip the counters again as Rin reaches to find your swollen clit, rubbing it. His teeth grazing the skin over your nape. “Rin,” you moaned, reaching behind to thread your fingers through his hair, you’re going to have to redo his hair after this. “… I’m so close… so close – cum… cum inside of me…”

Your body trembles in bliss, walls squeezing him and bringing him over the edge. His hot cum spurts inside of you but he doesn’t stop his thrusting.

You gasped, trying to push his hand away from your clit. “Too – too much…”

He hummed but doesn’t stop, slowly rubbing it and riding your orgasm as far as he can take you. His hips stops and so does his hand as he releases your poor over stimulated clit.

“Are we late to the wedding?” he asked after a few minutes of recovery.

Yes.

You both arrived to the wedding late. Unfortunately, you couldn’t wear the dress anymore because it was so wrinkled and had to redo your hair as well as Rin’s.

“Wipe that smug off your face,” you mumbled, slapping his hand away from your hips. He would only place his hand there again, rubbing the satin material of the dress he had chosen.

Before he could say something, the MC announced for all the women to step on to the dance floor because it was time for the bride to toss the bouquet.

You weren’t going to go up but Komori Motoya’s girlfriend grabbed your hand, tugging you along with her to the dance floor.

You stood in the back and at a distance, away from all the other excited women who was ready to catch the bouquet.

“One… two… THREE!” shouted the bride as she blindly tossed her bouquet over her shoulder.

You watched it fly in a nice arch and all the women in front of you shoving and shifting to snatch it…

The smile on your face faded as your eyes narrowed, realizing… it was coming… in your direction. “Uh…”

You began to panic, none of the women was coming for it, as if they are frozen in their spot. All their head and eyes are on you, waiting for your next move.

You wanted to run for it, but your heels was rooted to the floor as well.

“Catch it Y/n!” Motoya’s girlfriend shouted excitedly.

At the last second, you reached for it, catching it before it could hit the floor.

The room roared loudly, clapping, and cheering.

.

Rin held your hand as you two left the venue after saying goodnight to your friends.

The bouquet was in your other hand, dangling upside down. You tried pawn it off, but they all refused.

Even the flower girl who was eyeing it didn’t want it.

“You’re quiet.” He looks down at you as you guys waited for his car.

You glanced up at him, “you’re quiet.” You said back, after you made it back to the table with the bouquet, Rin kept his hands off of you and only chatted with his teammates.

“I am?”

“Yes, you haven’t said a word to me since I un-fatedly caught this thing,” you waved the bouquet. “If you feel nervous or anxious because I caught it – don’t worry and don’t listen to what anyone has to say –“

He pulls his hand away and steps in front of you, cupping your face and forcing you to look up at him. “Y/n, I am not nervous or anxious at all.”

His green eyes is telling you the truth when you searched them. “But you didn’t touch me…”

“I had to keep my hands off of you or else…” he didn’t need to finish for you to know what he meant. “You catching this tonight has made my heart accelerated but for good reason…” He knocks his forehead with yours. “You know what they say when someone catches the bride’s bouquet, right?”

You nodded.

“Good,” he smiled and pecked your lips.

“Suna-san, your car is here.”

.

Present day [from the first part of this series]

Wrapping papers scattered around Rin’s apartment.

From designer bags, designer shoes to limited edition books you have always wanted…

Rin has spoiled you once again.

You begin to clean up the room when you hear him clear his throat.

Turning around, your eyes widen, and your breath stilled…

“What… are you… doing?” you breathed.

Rin is kneeled in front of you with another velvet box in his hands, very carefully, he opened it to a single diamond ring.

“Y/n,” his voice croaked and he swallowed, “you are the love of my life. I cannot go a day and night without you. You bring out the best in me and you are the best thing that has ever happened in my life. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Tears have already rolled down your cheeks as you nod your head, “yes, yes I’ll marry you.”

He hops onto his feet and pulls you into a crushing hug before stepping back to take the ring out and slip it on your left hand. He brings your hand to his lips, “you’ve just made me the happiest man.”

“You need to open your gifts,” you pull away from him. You shove the smaller gift in his hands, “open this one first.”

Rin leans down to kiss you, “I don’t need anything else now that I have you.”

“Hmm, don’t be so quick to say that…” you mumble with a smile, pulling away. “Open.”

He pulls the ribbon and rips the wrapping paper off. He pulls out the card, reading it out loud.

Rin,

I tell you all the time how much you mean to me, but it seems to never be enough.

You are the greatest thing that has happened in my life, and I would never trade you.

Even for the first edition series of Lord of the Rings.

Every day is a blessing, even the days I want to whack a frying pan over your head.

But I love you.

Well.

We love you, daddy.

Y/n

You can see Rin re-reading the last part there.

His head snaps up and he digs further into the box.

He blinks and his face softens as he pulls out a bag of four pregnancy tests.

Four positive pregnancy tests.

“Are you…” he drops the stuff on the couch and pulls you into a hug before pulling away, “sorry, not too tight.” He mumbled before dropping down on his knees and stares at your belly. He lifts your shirt and places a kiss right above your belly button.

You grab the second gift that was in a bag. “This one too…”

Pulling out the tissue papers he reached inside and pulls out an identical miniature outfit that matches his volleyball uniform.

Clipped to the uniform were the ultrasound photos.

Rin covered his mouth with one hand, choking back a cry. His eyes filled with tears.

“Hi daddy, I can’t wait to meet you.” He reads the note you wrote on the first photo.

You reach to wipe his tears away. “Merry Christmas, Rintarou.”

He pulls you into his arms as you both fall onto his living room floor. “This is the best Christmas.”

You hold your left hand up to admire your ring, “indeed…”

Rin shifts around and hovers over you, he pushed your shirt up.

You just hit your twenty-week mark and was beginning to show.

“I’m twenty weeks pregnant.”

“How did I not… notice?”

You laughed, “because you were always so horny.”

Rin didn’t find it funny. “Did I hurt you when I was being too rough?”

You cup his face, “no love, you didn’t hurt me.” You rubbed his cheekbones, “but we probably should cut back on the roughness until I give birth.”

In a blink of an eye, you are maneuvered and straddling Rin. “Okay, you top so that way you are the one in control.”

You can feel his hard bulge through your cotton panties. “Rin!”

“You called it, I’m always horny. I’m even hornier now knowing you’re pregnant. How fucken sexy is that.” He pulls off your shirt in one swift movement and palms your breasts. “Will these get bigger?”

You moan, “yes…”

He pinches your nipples, “and full of milk?”

“… yes…”

Rin groans, pushing up against your core. “I need you.” He quickly pushes his boxers off and tugs your panties aside so you can sink down on him. “No wonder you feel… tighter…”

“They say sex can be sensitive during pregnancy.” You noticed how you orgasm faster than usual.

You rock your hips, pressing both palms on his chest for support.

“Not – “ he winces, “not too deep… or too fast, I don’t want to hurt baby…” One hand rest on your hip, trying to slow your movement.

You grab both his wrists and pinned them to the floor, “you said I get to be in control? So, let me do it.”

His eyes widen before they sparkle, “yes… mommy…”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t call me that when you’re deep inside of me.”

He smirked, “you don’t like it?”

“It’s weird…” you rolled your hips faster, circling your hips. “We should enjoy this time to ourselves before they arrive.”

“Yes mommy.”

“I will leave you high and dry if you call me mommy one more time, daddy.” You gasped loudly the next second as you feel Rin groan as he cums deep inside of you. “Rin!”

He lifts his hips off the ground and thrusts inside of you in shallow hits. “Fuck, call me daddy again…”

You lean down to his ear and whisper, “daddy Rin…”

.

“Where is mama?”

You abandon your cart of books and ran down the aisle to see your husband with the baby carrier and inside is your five-month-old daughter, Rise.

“We brought you lunch!”

. . .

E/n: Thank you for hanging onto this bandwagon.

@hellatrashdontask @queenelleee @wrongimagine @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @littlemochi @cloud-lyy @pana-dolle @haitanifxn @itsroseally @warrior-of-justice @jmnfilter @captainchrisstan @hannas16

[absurdthirst]

Married to the Mafia {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 33.2k

Warnings: Forced marriage, dub-con, virgin reader, threats and intimidation, talks of infidelity, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of anal sex, talks of infertility, breeding kink?, allergies, pregnancy, angst, heart break, medical emergencies, childbirth

Comments: Dave York never has anything pure, his life as the mafia leader for the York family pretty much assures that. But you are pure, and he wants you. Erasing your father's debt if you marry him to have his children, he finds himself fighting against the inclination to fall in love. How can the leader of the mafia love, after all?

Co-written by @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dave hates being kept waiting. One of his biggest pet peeves. He is a man who lives on a schedule so if one minute is off, he is annoyed, and when Dave gets annoyed...God help the people around him. As the boss of the biggest mafia family in America, undercover in the D.C area (which he says is full of crooks just like him except he knows who he is and doesn't pretend to be a martyr), he has to ensure that his operation runs smoothly. His father, God rest his soul, had taught him that letting anything slip leads to mistakes, and mistakes lead to being caught...or killed. He checks his watch just as the double doors to the hotel suite open and Dave shifts to stand, buttoning his suit jacket. 

"Mr. York, apologies for being late. Traffic was awful." The man says but Dave barely listens. his eyes on you. He's seen you before. During poker games between his men where you are serving drinks at the casino. He wanted to fuck you as soon as he saw you. When he found out you were a virgin, he wanted to marry you. Dave has always had the desire to marry but not for love, no, he wants an heir. He wants an heir from a woman who has never been fucked by anyone other than him. You are perfect. Beautiful, smart, pure. Everything he has ever wanted. His eyes meet yours, scared and confused. No doubt your father didn't tell you what you were doing here. 

Your father, as good a man as he is working for the York family, has a gambling problem and Dave took advantage of that. Deciding to offer to pay off your father's debts in exchange for you. It took some convincing, the man pretending to be hesitant in essentially selling his daughter, but he agreed after some persuasion. Now, here you are and Dave is ready to take what is his. "Hello sweetheart." Dave smiles, wanting you to relax a little. No one likes a stiff broad. 

"Mr. York." You almost whisper, certain that you are here because you did something wrong. Working in one of the York casinos was always risky - you never knew who would react badly to a loss - but you don't think you have done anything wrong, at least not to be fired or killed.

Your father looks stiff beside you, never explaining why you need to come with him to his meeting with his boss. You had just been told to get dressed in the outfit he had tossed you and make sure you wore minimal makeup. Apparently Mr. York had strict rules about the women who were allowed in the meetings with him if the modest white dress was anything to judge by. Nervous, you wonder why you are here, wracking your brain to try to think of what you had done that could have drawn the man’s attention.

Dave steps towards you, reaching out to grip your chin so he can look into your pretty eyes. "Did your daddy tell you why you are here, sweetheart?" He asks and you can't shake your head so you whisper, "no." Dave tuts, looking over at the older man who is sheepish. 

"I'm sorry sir, I thought it would be better coming from you." 

Coward, Dave thinks, but he doesn't care. He knows what he wants and he will do what it takes to get it. "Your daddy has allowed me the honor of marrying you. You're going to be my wife."

“What - no.” You want to shake your head again, but you don’t. “I- I don’t know you, not personally. You don't want to marry me, we aren’t - what about love?” Your eyes seek out your father, praying that this is some kind of trick. A joke between the men or perhaps a bet on how you would react. Your father would gamble on anything so you don’t put it past him. “I- I promised myself I would only sleep with the man that I love after we get married.”

Dave wants to scoff. What a juvenile concept: love. As far as he is concerned, it doesn't exist. People marry for convenience. People marry for money. People marry to fuck. He doesn't believe in love. His parents married to bring two mafia families together. An arrangement. He needs you to be on board. He's not a monster, he won't force you. He caresses your cheek, letting go of your chin, "that's why I want you. You are perfect. Pure enough to give birth to my heir. I want a child...children. You are the woman I want." He knows he has to entertain you if you are to agree. "Love...comes later." He nearly spits the word but he forces himself to practically coo it.

You aren’t naive, you know that there is something else going on. Dave York didn’t just decide that you are the woman he wants as his wife one day. Not when women throw themselves at him. “What else is going on?” You demand, looking over at your father who looks guilty. “What did you do?”

Before your father answers, Dave speaks. "Your father is a very lucky man. I have decided to pay off his...extortionate gambling debt in exchange for you. He agreed and I expect you will be resentful of me but I do plan to look after you. You will want for nothing. Whatever you desire, it will be yours. As long as you do as I say, you can have the world."

Jesus, you’ve been sold. Your eyes widen in horror and you almost start to cry. You have no choice in this, you are marrying Dave York whether you like it or not. “Dad….” You whimper and your father winces. 

“He promises he will take care of you.” Your dad assures you. “He is a man of his word.”

Dave sighs softly, stepping away from you to give you a moment to process and he knows this must be a lot to process. He is a monster but not that kind of monster. "The wedding has been scheduled for next month. I organized a wedding planner. You can pick whatever you want, cost is of no consequence. Pick whatever dress you want. It is your day and, despite what you might think, I want you to be happy." Dave offers, not liking the tears in your eyes. He shakes that thought away, knowing that softness is not a good thing. You will be his but he can never be yours. Not truly.

Feeling numb, you merely nod your heat meekly, looking down at the ground. “I don’t want much.” You murmur, knowing that you won’t have a wedding with a man you love. You won’t be an excited, exuberant bride like you had imagined when you were a little girl. “I will make sure that it’s worthy of you.” You add, knowing that he is an important man, and people will expect a certain level of sophistication.

Dave knows this is going to be difficult, trying to get you on side, but he will do it. He has to win you over to ensure you have his child. You’re the perfect candidate to be the mother of his child. “I will have my men go to your home to gather your things. You’re coming home with me now. Say goodbye to your father. You will see him soon.” Dave promises, wanting you to know you’re not his prisoner.

You turn to your father, angry and hurt that he would sell you to pay his debts. He has always been reckless, but this is over the top. However, he’s your father, your only living parent left. “Goodbye, I’ll see you soon.” You offer woodenly, only hugging him when he pulls you into his arms for a hug.

Dave watches the exchange, knowing your father feels guilty but the money...he owed a million dollars. He was gonna be killed if he didn't pay it off. Dave waits until you step back before he offers his hand. "Come on sweetheart, let's take you home." He can't wait for you to see the room he has set up for you. He knows you wouldn't want to sleep in the same bed as him right away until you adjust.

You bite your lip as you take his hand, allowing him to lead you from the hotel room where you had met him. “Why did we meet in a hotel room?” You ask curiously, wondering if he conducted all his business in the hotel or if it had been for some other reason.

Dave sighs again under his breath. The truth is that he had a woman in the hotel room. One of the women he fucks around with on a regular basis. All of them know the arrangement - it’s just sex. Dave York doesn’t do emotions and if they got a new purse out of it, they are happy. However, that’s all over now. He will have to be more discreet if he fucks around. He doesn’t need you hearing about it. “I had a meeting. Wanted privacy.” He answers smoothly, hoping you don’t notice the wrinkled sheets despite him having the room made up after his escapade. “Don’t worry about that now, let’s get you settled.” He insists, guiding you out of the room and away from your waste of space father.

You sigh, knowing that he’s lying and he won’t tell you the truth. You had noticed the bed was mused and he obviously had been fucking someone in the room before you had arrived. Probably the woman who had been waiting for the elevator when you arrived on this floor. Your stomach flips, unhappy with the idea of your husband sleeping with other people, although you know that you won’t have a say in what he does. He owns you. You will just have to continuously get tested to make sure he doesn’t give you something. You don’t want to hurt any potential children you have. Instead of saying anything, you just bite your lip and watch your feet as he leads you down the hall to the elevators, trying to figure out how to handle this.

Dave sees his men trail behind and he gets into the elevator with you, just you. They will take the other one. “I know this is a lot to take in but we will have a fulfilled life together. You can have whatever you want. Jewelry. Purses. Clothes. Shoes. Cars. Whatever your heart desires.” He promises and you let go of his hand, swallowing harshly as tears sting in your eyes. 

“My heart wants love.” You choke, a tear escaping as reality hits. 

Dave steps towards you, reaching up to gently wipe the tear away. “Don’t be a silly girl. Love…it’s just what people say to each other when they want to fuck. Have you ever been in love?” He asks and you shake your head. “Exactly. How do you know it’s what you want?”

You blow out a sigh, knowing that he won't understand. "I want to be with someone because I cannot bear to be away from them, not because they can buy me jewelry and purses. Just like I want them to only want to be in my bed and not have liaisons in hotels with whatever woman they fancy." You murmur, batting his hand away so you can wipe away your own tears. "I want laughter and happiness. Jokes and dancing in the kitchen. I want butterflies when he kisses me. For him to be able to come to me for comfort when he's upset or stressed."

Dave pauses, realizing he has never seen that kind of companionship. His parents were very cold towards each other. Civil but practically lived separate lives. His mother raised him and served on several charity boards while his father ran the family business, being kept away at all hours. “Sounds like a Disney movie. It’s time to grow up. Face reality. This is real life, sweetheart and you’ll realize that sooner or later, all that shit is just a dream.” He’s harsh but you are pissing him off. He’s offered you things that most women would be humping his leg for and you want things he can’t buy you. Things that, quite frankly, don’t exist. The elevator doors open and he wraps his arm around your waist. “Chin up. Don’t want people to see you’ve been crying.” He orders quietly, guiding you through the lobby to his awaiting car.

You realize that this is your life. You can either make the best of it, or you can wallow in misery. Wallowing can be saved for when eyes aren't on you. You lift your head and lean into his side as if you want to be there when the doors open, plastering a brilliant smile on your face. As if you were the luckiest woman on earth for what is happening. Some might think that you were, but you don't.

Dave smiles at a few of the staff who greet their boss, and he guides you towards his awaiting car. The driver opens the door of the town car and he helps you into the backseat before sliding in beside you. The door shuts as his driver and guard get into the front seat and he looks at you. Christ, you're gorgeous, even when you've been crying, and he swears he will do what he can to make you happy. Within reason. Dave doesn't do emotions.

You don't remember most of the car ride, looking out at the world as it passes by. Once in the car you feel his eyes on you, but you don't acknowledge it, knowing that he would talk if he wanted. It wasn't as if Dave York needed permission to do anything. If anything, you needed permission. Since you were technically his property, bought with the sum of your father's gambling debt. Soon enough, you are pausing at a large set of gates and they swing open ominously, the walled estate of his is now your prison.

Once the car comes to a stop outside of the main building, Dave exits the car and holds his hand out. You ignore it, helping yourself out of the car and he swallows down the urge to roll his eyes at your childish move. He plasters a smile on his face, guiding you into the house and his housekeeper. Mrs. Jenkins is waiting for your arrival. "Welcome home sir." She greets Dave. "Sweetheart, this is Mrs. Jenkins, my housekeeper. She is going to show you to your temporary room. I have some work to attend to so I will see you for dinner." He kisses your cheek and walks off, knowing that this transactional engagement doesn't require all of his time.

“Hello.” You offer, nodding politely at the housekeeper, she looks like she is a nice lady. She’s not in charge of Dave and can’t make him change his mind, so there is no reason to be rude to her. “I apologize for any inconvenience I’ve caused.” You offer. “I will try not to be too much trouble.” As much as you hate that this is happening, you wish Dave had stayed so you at least could have a familiar face. 

Mrs. Jenkins tuts, "trouble? None at all. You are going to be the lady of the house. Come on honey, let me show you to your room." She gestures to the hallway. "And you can tell me what foods you like and what time you eat breakfast. I want to prepare something special to celebrate you being here. It's about time we had a woman in the house."

“Oh.” You brighten up and bite your lip. “I like making french toast.” You admit, knowing that it takes awhile for the custard casserole that you make to set up. “Would it be…okay if I used the kitchen sometime?” You ask. “I love to cook and perhaps there can be a night where I cook for the staff instead of them taking care of us.” 

Mrs. Jenkins smiles, already liking you. “You don’t have to do that. We are here to look after you and Mr. York. Please, you can use the kitchen whenever you wish. This is your home now. Whenever you need something, you tell us and we can get it for you. I will have the chef make you French toast for breakfast tomorrow.” She declares as she opens the door to the biggest guest room of them all, already set up with your things since Dave had his men get it all from your home.

“Wow.” You gasp breathlessly, looking around the ornate room. Your things look out of place, as if they don’t belong, but you had not lived in opulence. Your father’s house was modest and you hadn’t been concerned with having the best of everything. “It’s beautiful.” You look over at the housekeeper, knowing she had set everything up. “Thank you so very much for arranging everything.”

She smiles, pleased you are happy. She has missed having someone else in the house. Dave tends to keep to himself and she wants children to run around after and assist with so she’s eager. “I hope you’re happy here.” She pats you on the shoulder. “Dinner will be ready at 6pm.” She announces, “I will leave you to settle in.” She steps back out of the room, leaving you as she shuts the door.

You look around the room and sigh. It’s a beautiful gilded cage, meant to distract you from the fact that you have been bought by a man who doesn’t love you. He bought you because you are a virgin, untouched by anyone else. Sighing, you walk over to the book shelf that was loaded down with your favorite books and pick up one of the sweetest romances you had been reading. Maybe there was some way to find a way out of this. Before you were married. 

Dave walks into the kitchen, his suit jacket and tie abandoned and his sleeves rolled up. His home has a big dining room but he hates eating in there unless he has a party. It’s too big and he feels stupid. When you come into the kitchen after Mrs. Jenkins went off to get you, Dave is once again taken back by how pretty you are, even as you glare at him. “Glass of wine?” He asks, reaching for the bottle of red he had the cook air earlier.

“Why do you want me?” You demand, ignoring his question in favor of one of your own. “Is it just because no man has touched me? That’s the requirement to carry Dave York’s heir?” You ask sarcastically. “Why not use one of the women that fall into your bed?”

He bites his lip, keeping his eyes on yours. “I want you because you…you are gorgeous. I know you’d be a good mother. You aren’t greedy or flashy. You aren’t desperate for wealth and you don’t want to show off. You want to live a simple life and be happy. The fact that you’re a virgin…it’s what I have always wanted. Someone pure since I’m…I’m not. In any way shape or form. I picked you because you’re perfect.” He answers, hoping you will accept his response and he pours you a glass of wine.

You take the glass and nod. “I’m not perfect.” You correct him. “Far from it. But I know that I am what you want because I am pure.” You take a sip of the wine. “Does that mean that you won’t want me once I’m not pure?”

Dave shakes his head. “No. I want the mother of my children to only have my cock inside of her, filling her up, impregnating her.” He says it nonchalantly but his cock twitches at the mere idea of you being the mother of his children, cumming on his cock and no one else’s.

You snort and send him a narrowed eyed look. “While you are trying to impregnate me, you won’t be sleeping with your floozies.” You tell him. “I’m not catching something that I pass to the children.”

Dave clenches his jaw, the retort that threatens to spill over his lips nearly escapes but he stops himself, offering you a soft smile instead. He has to pick and choose his battles and you just said you’d let him knock you up. “Of course sweetheart. Just you. Until you’re pregnant.” He promises, offering a compromise and the guard brings over the large velvet box. “What is that?” You narrow your eyes. “You get to pick your engagement ring.” He declares, opening the box to display the five ornate rings.

Your eyes widen at the size of the rings. “I- they are too big.” You tell him, sure that you would never wear something so big and ornate. “I - is there something simpler to wear? I would never wear these beyond events you want me to attend.”

Dave sighs, knowing that most women would kill to be given one of these rings, let alone be allowed to pick one. He does know of a ring that is simpler, but he didn’t think you’d want it. “I do have one. I- it’s my mother’s ring. Wait here.” He stands up, making his way to his office and the safe, quickly opening it to grab the small velvet box and he returns with it, sitting down then opening the box to show you the simpler ring.

“Oh.” You sigh softly and your eyes go slightly dreamy at the simple ring. The diamond is still bigger than you would like, but it’s a solitaire with a thin band. “It’s beautiful.” You reach for it and hesitate, looking at Dave for permission. “May I try it on?”

Dave nods, taking it out of the box, and he can’t stop himself from staring at your dreamy eyes as he slides the ring onto your finger. It’s a perfect fit. He inhales sharply, admiring how the ring looks on your hand, his hand still holding yours as he cradles your fingers.

Dave realizes that all the money he has could never replace this ring and he hopes you care for it. It looks perfect on your finger and he swallows harshly, knowing his mother would’ve loved you already. “It’s yours now.” He rubs his thumb over the ring before he lets go of your hand, just in time because the cook sets the dinner down in front of you. He snaps the other box shut, he will have someone return those rings tomorrow.

You feel weird with the weight of the ring on your hand. Unable to keep from glancing down at your hand continuously as you pick up your fork and knife. “Dinner looks delicious.” You comment. “I’ve asked if I could perhaps cook sometime.”

Dave is shocked. The kitchen hasn’t been cooked in by anyone other than a chef since his mother died. “Uh yeah. You can. Of course you can. You cook?” He asks, cutting into his food and he is pleasantly surprised. Yet another reason why you are perfect for this position.

“I do.” You nod quickly. “I normally cooked for me and my dad.” You tell him, cutting into your own food. “I love to experiment with new dishes. Love to bake. I routinely bring in cookies or cakes to the others when I work - oh, does that mean that I am not working anymore?”

Dave immediately wants to say no to you working but he can’t take your entire life away from you. He can keep an eye on you at work and he can let you have some freedom. “Until we are married. You can continue working until we are married.” He compromises.

“Good.” You are relieved at that, giving him a genuine smile and you reach over to touch his arm without thinking about it. “I am glad that I can keep working, I want to be able to say goodbye to the friends that I work with.”

“I will have a guard keeping an eye on you though. I’m a powerful man, sweetheart. I have enemies. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me so a guard will always be near you while you work.” He adds, cutting into the chicken before taking a bite.

You grit your teeth, hating the fact that you will have someone watching you at all times. However, he could have just told you that you wouldn’t be able to work at all, so you will take the win where you can get it. “As long as they don’t interfere with me working, we will be okay.”

“They will just be watching you…unless they need to intervene. You’re going to be Mrs. York. You’ll be the wealthiest woman in this cesspool of a town. Those asshole politicians think they run shit but they don’t. I do. And you will be beside me, my beautiful wife. I will have the wedding planner come tomorrow so you can start telling her what you want.”

You nod, wondering what he would want for the wedding. “Is there anything in particular you want?” You ask him, wanting to know more. You just know Dave York, the boss. But he’s going to be your husband and you want to know him as the man.

He thinks about it for a moment, remembering the photos from his parent's wedding. "I want red roses. Lots of them. Everywhere. Money is no object." He tells you, and you nod, "why red roses?" He smiles, setting his knife and fork down since he has finished eating. "They are beautiful but have thorns that can hurt, make you bleed. They are the best of us both. You, sweetheart, are the rose. I am the thorns."

You lift your brows at the surprising sentimental viewpoint. Nodding again, you give a wistful smile. “That will be the flowers for the wedding then.” You decide. “Blood red roses and white baby’s breath.” It would look striking of course, classic. The comment that he had made gave you a small amount of hope that he might be a secret romantic. You smile at Dave again, your eyes softer.

Dave hums with agreement, your soft smile making his stomach twist and he forces himself to ignore it, reminded once more of what connections can do. He has to keep his distance. Mrs. Jenkins gathers your plates once you've finished eating and brings in the dessert. "I thought you might like something special since it's the night of our engagement." He hadn't even asked you but he wants you to think he somewhat cares for you. You won't be open to having him inside of you without him being nice somehow. He hopes you like the delicate cake he had asked the chef to prepare. His favorite...raspberry and vanilla.

“Oh thank you.” You bite your lip and look down at the cake that is brought out. It’s beautiful and it looks delicious. Except…you won’t eat it. It looks like it has raspberries and you are allergic to them. “It looks beautiful. Is this your favorite?”

Dave nods, eagerly digging into the cake and you hesitant, not picking up your fork. "Is something wrong?" He asks and you bite your lip, nervous to say anything. 

"It has raspberries and I'm allergic." You declare and Dave immediately regrets not asking you if you had any allergies. He should know this stuff. 

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I didn't know." He stands up, taking both your plate and his and walks into the kitchen. 

"Dave." You call out and he ignores you, coming back a few moments later with a plate of the chocolate cake the chef had prepared earlier alongside the raspberry one. 

"You're not allergic to chocolate, are you?" He asks hesitantly, cursing himself for not asking you beforehand. There's so much he has to learn.

You smile at the new cakes in his hand. “No, I think I would cry if I was allergic to chocolate.” You joke. Dave nods and sets down the cake in front of you and sits down. “You didn’t have to give up your own cake.” You protest softly, hating that he was giving up eating his favorite cake because of you. “I would have been fine being around it, I just can’t eat it.” 

“Oh.” He flushes slightly, realizing that he should’ve asked that first but he knows people can be allergic just from airborne particles. “It’s okay. I like chocolate too. More indulgent.” He winks at you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible and he finds it’s not as hard as he thought it was going to be. “I can eat that tomorrow. Now, eat your cake.” He orders softly.

Picking up your fork, you feel a bit more relaxed. He had shown more heart than he realized in that small little action and you feel better about this idea. You really wish that you had a choice about marrying a man you love, but maybe Dave is right, maybe love will come with time. 

Dave watches you dig in, happy you are eating the cake, and after you’ve finished, Mrs. Jenkins comes in to clear the plates. “I have emails to respond to. Get some sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow. Night sweetheart.” He says, standing up, and he drops a kiss to your forehead before he strides off, reminding himself that this is an arrangement. Nothing more.

****

Rushing around the craps table at the casino, you drop off the drinks at the blackjack table like you had been ordered to. The last few days have been a whirlwind and honestly the scheduled day of work was a nice break from picking out colors and arrangements, music and all the small details that go into a wedding. Dave hadn’t lied when he said there was no limit to what you could spend, but you were trying to go for elegance and yet have it feel like you were actually in love with your intended. Fulfilling drink orders and caring for the gamblers, even with the security that was shadowing you, was a needed change.

Dave enters the casino, deciding to visit you. He had accepted yesterday that he is looking forward to marrying you. You are smart as a whip, funny, and ridiculously sweet. Far too sweet for his murdering ass. He has learned about your interests during dinner and he plans to get you the cooking things you want but could never afford. Like a pasta maker. Who makes pasta? Apparently you do. The staff are always on edge when he enters one of his establishments and that’s just how he likes it. 

He strides over to the table you’re serving, just about to greet you when he sees the asshole put his hand on your ass. His pace quickens and he grabs his knife from his jacket, opening it and in a flash, he grabs the man’s hand from your ass and slams it on the table, his knife going through his palm within seconds. “Fuck!” The man screams. 

“You never touch her again. Otherwise the knife will be going in your fucking chest. You understand?” Dave growls. The man’s gurgled wail of pain isn’t good enough. “Do you fucking understand?” Dave hisses and the man nods, crying out in pain and he screams when Dave withdraws his knife, turning to you.

Your eyes are wide and you are stunned into silence. It was quick and brutal. You know what kind of man Dave is, you’ve heard the rumors but you’ve never witnessed anything like this. Security always drags off the people who are causing problems, but Dave had not only done this very publicly - since all eyes are on this table - but he also ruined one of his busiest tables. Your mouth drops open in shock and you look back at the man before looking back at Dave. He had just stabbed that man, for touching your ass. Granted, you didn’t want him touching you, but you don’t think the action warranted a knife through his hand. 

Dave looks at you, seeing the horror in your eyes, and part of him feels guilty you had to witness that, the other part feels happy you’re horrified. Reminds him that you could never love a monster like him. “Come on sweetheart. You’re done.” He says, grabbing your waist and guiding you towards the staff area, feeling pent up enough to fuck but he can’t.

“Wait, I have to finish working.” You tug on his hand but he ignores you, continuing on towards the doors that are clearly marked ‘Employees Only’. 

“No, you are finished.” Dave growls. “You are not working here anymore.” 

You huff and tug on his hand again. “You said I could work until we get married. I haven’t said goodbye to everyone! It will leave them short staffed.” 

“I will make sure they hire someone else. You can get your goodbyes now without going back on the floor. You are done here. No one touches what is mine. Tell me, how many fucking times does that happen?” He asks, furious that this could’ve been happening without his knowledge.

You bite your lip, looking up into his dark eyes. He’s livid and you know you shouldn’t lie to him. Right now, you see why everyone is scared of Dave York. “At- at least once a shift.” You admit softly. “Although it happens to other girls more.” You add, as if that makes it better. “We just deflect or joke around with them so that they stop trying to grope us. We have a symbol for marking the ones that are handsy in the system. Put it next to their names to let the other girls know to be on the lookout. Since the manager says that it’s a part of the job serving drinks here.” 

Dave shakes his head. He might be a murderer but he’s never been a perv. He’s pissed, shaking his head. “I am going to tell security that anyone doing that will be thrown out and banned. No one should be pulling that shit. You aren’t gonna be working here anymore sweetheart. If you want a job, I’ll find you something else. The next person that feels you up is a dead man. That fucking manager of yours is a dead man. Get your stuff, you are leaving after you say your goodbyes.”

Gathering up your things, you feel Dave’s impatient gaze on you. He’s irritated and it’s because you opened your mouth. Yes, the servers and drink runners here had continuously gone to the manager about people sexually harrassing them until the man had simply stated that it was a part of the job and if a high roller asked you for sex, to consider it a compliment - but that didn’t mean the man deserved to die. Once you have your things, you turn to him quietly and walk over to where he is standing. 

Dave is practically vibrating with anger as he guides you back into the main hall. Some brave men look around at him, others try to avoid his eye and therefore his wrath. "Say your goodbyes sweetheart." He orders, grabbing your things and handing them to his guard standing nearby. He crosses his arms, knowing that he could easily kill that motherfucking manager, but not today, he wants to take you home first. He won't allow anyone in this sewer of a town to touch what belongs to him.

You quickly say goodbye to the girls that are standing around, word going out on the floor and others rushing over to hug you. You had made a lot of friends here, some of those attending your wedding, but you wanted to say goodbye. You wish you had more time, but Dave is tapping his foot and you rush back over to him. “I’m- I’m ready.” You offer quietly,

Nodding, he reaches for you to pull you close, a protective hand around your waist, and he glares at anyone who looks his way while he guides you out of the casino and to his awaiting car. Once you're inside, he pulls out his cell and dials his right hand man, Resnik. 

"Boss?" Resnik answers immediately. 

"I want Liam Pollock in the building this evening. He's the manager for the casino on Fifth. I want to have a chat with him." Dave declares, "make it 8 o' clock. I want to be on time for dinner with my fiancé." He hangs up the phone, sliding it back into his jacket and he doesn't look at you, not wanting you to see the monster that lures in his eyes.

You bite your lip, wondering if you’ve made a mistake. Wondering if you should have lied to Dave about what was happening in his casino. Instead of dwelling on it, you decide to watch the people passing. “Since I’m off work, why don’t I fix dinner tonight?” You offer, turning to look at his side profile.

Dave is surprised that you want to cook dinner for him. “You’re not gonna poison it, are you?” He jokes, smirking at you. “If you want to work, I can find you another position in the business. Something behind the scenes. I just - I cannot have you out on the floor. I’d kill too many men.” He says without any humor, deadly serious.

Your eyes widen and you almost laugh, thinking he was serious. Until he doesn’t laugh at all. Then you choke slightly and cough. “Oh, uh, I guess whatever you want me to do.” You murmur, feeling a bit uneasy. “Do you want me working? I know that I will be worried about having my own money.”

“You don’t have to worry about money when you’re a York, sweetheart. I am having a pre-nup drawn up that you can review with your own attorney, paid for by me, picked by you, which offers you a very good alimony in case we divorce. As for while we are married? You will have your own credit cards, you could spend a million bucks and it wouldn’t make a dent.” He reveals, knowing he had to have this conversation at some point.

You shake your head. “I don’t want your money.” You insist. “I don’t have to have a lawyer read over anything. Your money is yours, I just- I can’t even imagine you allowing a divorce.” You reveal, knowing that despite what he said, once you’re married, the only way that you are leaving the family is in a casket.

Dave doesn’t argue with that. He won’t divorce, absolutely plans not to, but shit happens and who knows? He wouldn’t leave you in the lurch. Especially since you’d be the mother of his child. “The child would remain in my care, of course if we were to divorce.” He says, like it’s obvious. “You will hire an attorney of your choice and you will review the pre-nup. Then we will get married and you will give me an heir to my empire.” He declares like it’s easily done.

You bite your lip, not willing to say that you would never abandon a child that you had. “Fine.” You huff. “I will hire an attorney to go over any paperwork that you send over.” You don’t feel like he will drop this and you don’t care about money, but he seems obsessed with making sure things are settled. Maybe it was because you’ve never had money.

Dave hums with contentment, pleased that you didn’t argue. The car pulls into the estate and Dave’s door is opened. He turns to look at you before he gets out, “you are to be my wife. I won’t have anyone saying I don’t provide for you. I will give you a credit card and you will go shopping for new clothes. I want you to get whatever you want. It’s the least I can do since you are mine.” He says, getting out and buttoning his jacket as he enters his home, making his way to his office to prepare for beating your moron manager.

You don’t appreciate the way that he simply walks off from you, but you hold your tongue. Instead you walk into the kitchens and smile at the cook. “I want to give you a night off.” You tell him with a smile. “Is that alright with you?” The cook nods with a smile. 

“Of course it is. It’s your kitchen.” He tells you, although you don’t argue that you aren’t married to Dave yet.

****

Dave enters the house, the smell of whatever it is that you’re cooking hits his nose and he inhales deeply. He groans, his stomach rumbling and he walks into the kitchen. Your ex manager, Pollock, will be ensuring that no one touches anyone inappropriately in his casino and that involved teaching Pollock is a lesson. Dave usually has his men take care of such…messy interactions but this time was personal. His knuckles are bruised but he had cleaned up enough to return home to you. He walks into the kitchen after hanging up his jacket and he sees you at the stove, barefoot and wearing an apron. It’s adorable and sexy at the same time. He wants to wrap his arms around you and kiss your neck but he doesn’t. You aren’t open enough to him yet. “Something smells good.”

You turn and notice the specks of blood on his shirt and the bruises on his knuckles. You bite your lip and don’t say anything about his appearance, just turning back to the stove. “I’m making roast chicken and vegetables, mashed potatoes and gravy.” You offer him. “And I made a pudding for dessert. It’s not fancy, but it was a last minute meal.”

Dave is impressed and he walks closer to you, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. “Sounds delicious, sweetheart. You want any help?” He offers, “maybe I can open a bottle of wine.” His eyes drift down to your ass, those leggings you changed into making his cock twitch.

“That sounds good.” You glance back over at him and your eyes drift down to his knuckles again before you stir the boiling potatoes again. “Whatever you want with the chicken. Did you kill him?” It’s the first that you’ve acknowledged his disheveled appearance and you are trying to seem nonchalant about it.

Dave chuckles, admiring how ballsy you are to ask him. He shakes his head, shifting away from the counter and he walks over to the resting chicken, grabbing the carving knife. “I didn’t kill him. He, however, won’t be allowing any handsy fuckers to touch the staff.” Dave replies just as nonchalantly.

“That’s good, the girls don’t deserve that kind of treatment.” You firmly believe that. “I believe that he would have had us sleep with the men if it meant they spent more money in the casino.” You fork up a potato and check that it’s perfectly tender, flipping off the burner and moving the pot over to the sink to drain the potatoes to mash. Watching carefully as you pour off the seasoned water and move over to the counter to start adding butter and milk and more spices to mash in with it and whip them to a creamy perfect consistency.

Dave clenches his jaw, “knew I should’ve killed the motherfucker.” He hisses under his breath, grip tightening on the knife as he cuts the chicken and puts it on the awaiting tray. He sets the knife down and walks over to you. “No one…you didn’t - no one has touched you before?” He asks, wanting to double check.

“No.” Shaking your head, you stop stirring the potatoes before you turn to him and frown. “I haven’t ever done…anything. I mean, I’ve been kissed, but nothing beyond that.” You grab the bowl to transfer the potatoes into and sigh, “I’m sure you want to have that verified by a doctor?” You ask.

Dave trusts you but he wants you checked out by a doctor for your overall health as well as your virginal status. He walks over to you, stopping you scooping the potatoes so he can grip your chin, making you look at him. “Who kissed you?” He asks, wanting to know.

Your breath catches, staring into his dark eyes and you wonder if he will try to kill the man who had kissed you. “I- it was in high school.” You admit quietly, telling him the name of one of his own men. “It never went beyond that. I swear.”

Dave hums, content that it was a while ago. No doubt that teenager had kissed you poorly. He wants to kiss you now, slide his tongue into your mouth and show you how good it can be. “I want to kiss you.” He declares, his dark eyes focused on yours, never shifting and it’s intense.

“You bought me, didn’t you?” You ask softly, knowing that he could do anything he wanted with you. The fact that he was marrying you was surprising now that you think about it. He could have just taken your innocence instead of making you the wife of the most powerful man in the city.

He shakes his head, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "I won't force you. I may be a bad man but I will never make you do anything you don't want to do. I would hope that I am not repulsive to you, that you would want me to touch you eventually. Let me kiss you, show you how good it can be." His voice lowers, his eyes focusing on your lips.

You bite your lip, watching his nostrils flare slightly in response and you swallow. Nodding, you watch his eyes meet yours again. “I- you can kiss me.” You know that you have no clue what you’re doing and perhaps when he sees how unskilled you are, he won’t want to go through with this.

Dave leans closer, his lips brushing yours until he tilts his head, kissing you properly. His hand cups your cheek, his other hand gripping your waist to pull you closer and he hopes you enjoy the kiss. He wants you to marry him, to have his child. It will make his life easier if you are on board. His tongue slides along your lower lip and you whimper when he pushes his tongue into your mouth. His stomach twists as he realizes this is the first time he has kissed since his college girlfriend. He never liked kissing his dalliances since it was too intimate but you are to be his wife so he needs to offer you some intimacy. He pulls back after a moment, pecking your lips. "Food is getting cold. Let's sit down." He says, trying to ignore his long frozen heart as he turns back to the plate of carved chicken.

You stand there for a few moments in shock. Awed at how your stomach had flipped and dipped when his mouth covered yours and his tongue caressed inside your mouth. “Yes. Dinner.” Shaking yourself out of your stupor, you dish up the gravy into a boat and rush to bring everything to the table while Dave brings the platter of chicken. Now dinner feels intimate, like you were cooking for your fiancé. Which you guess you were, his ring still on your finger.

Dave watches as you sit down after he’s taken his seat and he hates how his lips tingle from the kiss. He hasn’t had that happen before. He clears his throat and starts to serve the food, placing some chicken on your plate. The silence is heavy but not uncomfortable. “Did you get the flowers ordered?” He asks after several moments.

“I did.” You nod and spoon up some of the mashed potatoes and pass the potatoes to him. “I think we have ordered every red rose within two hundred miles.” You laugh quietly and give him a small shrug. “There will be plenty of flowers for the wedding and reception.”

"Good. I want it to be the wedding of your dreams...well almost." He adds, knowing you want the ridiculous addition of love but since when has love ever been good? Great men have failed, some died, because of love. It's insanity. "You have your appointment to go dress shopping?" He asks, "you have no budget. I want you to pick whatever you want."

You open your mouth and then close it, wondering what he would say if he knew what you really wanted. “I made an appointment, but I - I would like to see if they can alter my mother’s wedding dress. I’ve always dreamed of wearing it.” You reveal, biting your lip as you wait for his reaction. “With modifications, of course.”

He’s taken back that you want to use your mother’s gown. It’s sweet and he already knows the best tailor to send you to to have it adjusted. “Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want. This is your wedding. Perhaps you can buy a dress for the reception?” He suggests.

You nod eagerly, happy that he would allow you to have your mother’s dress. “That would be nice. The wedding dress can just be for the ceremony and I’ll change into a party dress for the reception.” You decide, giving him a sincere smile.

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart. Do you want to have anyone at the wedding? Your father of course is invited but any other friends or family?” He doesn’t just want it to be all his associates. He doesn’t really have friends. All of his “friends” would step on him the moment he slipped up and they had a chance to get above him.

“There are a few from work.” You admit quietly. “I don’t have a lot of friends. I was busy working and trying to keep my father from gambling too much.” You huff, “I obviously failed on that front.”

“Invite your friends. Whoever you want. As for your father…he is invited but I will not fund any more gambling. He got up to a million bucks in debt. He was gonna be killed by his other lenders.” Dave reveals, wanting you to know that he did something good even if you aren’t happy with the result.

“Oh my god….” You whisper, feeling sick to your stomach at what could have happened. Your father would have been killed. Men had been killed for much smaller sums than that in the gambling world. You sigh and for the first time, you thank him. “I appreciate you saving my father.” You hum quietly. “Even though it was for selfish reasons, you still did something nice.”

Dave finds that he likes you thanking him. He likes your praise and that unnerves him. Usually, he only appeases himself, does what he wants, but he finds himself - for a moment - wondering what you’d expect from him. Shaking it off, he nods and digs into the food, trying to ignore that nagging feeling. “That was delicious, sweetheart. Thank you.” Dave hums, rubbing his belly. He should go for a run tomorrow morning, and try to trim up for the wedding.

“Oh, thank you.” You fluster slightly and bite your lip as you try to suppress the happiness that surges through you at him enjoying your cooking. You love cooking too much to have to never do it because your husband hates your food. “Maybe I can do it again sometime?”

“Anytime you want. God, it was amazing. I haven’t had a meal that good since my Mom died. Shit, don’t tell the cook that.” He pleads, knowing the cook won’t be pleased by that statement but it’s true. The cook is too fancy sometimes. You giggle and wink at him, making his cock twitch and he huffs at himself, reaching to gather the plates to distract himself.

You are in shock that Dave is picking up his own plates and yours to take into the kitchen. It’s the picture of domesticity. The only thing that is missing is music playing and laughter, followed up by the two of you dancing. “I’ll have to make you some of my favorites.” You promise as you bring the rest of the dishes into the kitchen behind him.

Dave watches you as you begin to wash up and he helps, loading the dishes into the dishwasher. He doesn’t remember the last time he did this but he can’t allow you to cook and clean up. “Go get the pudding, I’ll finish this up.” He orders, loading the plates after rinsing them.

Drying your hands off, you turn away to go into the refrigerator to pull out the two dishes of chocolate pudding you had made, along with the homemade whipped cream. “I know it’s almost childish, but-“ You shrug as you bring the bowls over to the counter near the sink. “It reminds me of desserts with my mom. She loved chocolate pudding.”

Dave groans, “I do too.” He follows you to the table and sits down, taking the dish with eager eyes. “Can I- I saw a summary but…what happened to your mom?” He asks, wanting to hear the story from your lips.

You sigh and your spoon drags through the whipped cream. “Mom and dad wanted lots of kids.” You explain, looking up to give him a small smile. “Did you know that?” Dave shakes his head, unaware of that but he knows you are an only child. “They promised me a brother or sister for Christmas but mom went to the doctor when she was late and they both came home crying.” You scoop up some of the pudding and examine it so you don’t have to look at Dave. “She wasn’t pregnant. She had cervical cancer. She- it was quick. Spread throughout her body rapidly and by Christmas, we were visiting her grave and dad was losing himself in the casinos and card games.”

Dave stares at you for a moment, looking into your eyes that are watering, and Dave wants to take all of that pain away. “I’m so sorry sweetheart. That - there’s nothing I can say to make that better but I promise you, when we are married, you can have as many kids as you want. If we have a daughter, you can name her after your mother.” He vows, reaching for your free hand. He squeezes and sighs, now understanding why your father is the way he is. 

“My parents…they were killed. I was, God, around twenty two and my mom wanted me to attend this stupid political gala and I refused to go. I was young, wanting to go out and party. I didn’t want to put on a suit and go make small talk. They went without me and on the way home…their car skidded on black ice. Turned over and went down a hill and hit a tree. Both of them, their driver, and their guard…dead. I still remember getting that call.” He shivers slightly, “and then I had to take over the family business. I didn’t have time to grieve, I had to get to work. So I did and here I am today.”

“I’m so sorry.” You don’t think, reaching out and covering your combined hands with your free one. “That is horrible, you didn’t have time to mourn and you should have.” You don’t like the fact that you are marrying a man you don’t love, but you hate that he has been alone and unable to process that grief. “Were they - was it a good relationship?” You wonder if that is why he doesn’t put any stock in love.

Dave sighs, looking down at your hands. “My parents were arranged. My mother’s father knew my dad’s father and they arranged their marriage. It was a good choice based on political and financial factors. Love? Didn’t apply. They barely spoke. My mother was always busy with charity events and my father was running the family business. They didn’t love each other. It was convenient to them both. I admired my parents but when they died, I realized that admiration couldn’t save them. It didn’t help me run the business at such a young age.”

Understanding now what made Dave York think that love wasn’t necessary, you pat his hand softly. “I’m sorry.” You murmur softly, your heart breaking at the younger Dave not having the loving home you believe all children deserve. Yours hadn’t been perfect, but it wasn’t cold. It sounds like they had little time for the child they created together. “I- I know you speak of heirs, and they are the future of your dynasty, but…” you shake your head. “My children will know love.”

With a sigh, Dave pulls his hand away from yours. He doesn’t want to argue about fucking emotions anymore. If you want to believe in that shit, who is he to stop you? He wants you to be there for his children, to be a good mother and give them what he couldn’t have from his own mother. “The President will be attending our wedding. I gave a lot of money to his re-election campaign so he will be attending with the First Lady. I want to keep the President in my pocket. He knows to leave my…less than legal business alone.”

“Okay.” The moment has passed obviously and your own sigh is much quieter. Looking back down at your pudding and trying to ignore the pang of hurt and sadness at the coming lifetime of loveless interactions. “I will make sure that you are not embarrassed.” Your chair scrapes back from the counter as you stand, suddenly not wanting the sweet dessert. “I am tired.” You announce, dumping the bowl in the sink. “Goodnight.”

Dave watches you go, forcing himself to ignore the way his stomach twists at the sad look on your face before you get up. He stands up, grabbing his own dish and washes everything up, cleaning down the countertop and table so Mrs. Jenkins doesn’t have too much work to do, and he makes his way to his study. He didn’t even get to thank you for dinner. He wanted a business only marriage…so why does he want to go and see you? To make you smile. “Fuck.” He huffs, slapping his cheek softly to make himself see sense. This is an arrangement. Only an arrangement.

****

Taking a deep breath, you try not to cry. Not tears of happiness as you stand in the altered perfection of your mother’s wedding dress and look at your reflection. In a matter of minutes, you will walk down the aisle to marry a man who doesn’t love you, and you don’t love him. Everything is picture perfect and it’s all a farce, an image for him to project to the world. The powerful mafia boss with his virginal bride, pure and innocent, to bear the future generations of his dynasty. You look away from the mirror, blinking quickly so you don’t ruin your makeup and straighten your spine. Today is the result of the last month of careful planning and you will not ruin it for him. You will give him what he’s bought. “I’m ready.” You tell the coordinator, nodding for emphasis.

Dave adjusts his bow tie as he stands at the altar. Waiting for you, he’s anxious, especially since the crowd is large. Pretty much all of D.C are in attendance. The President sitting with his security, and Dave’s own security are scattered throughout the room. He worries for a moment that you have run away, decides to try and escape him. His worries are assuaged when the music begins and the doors open. You didn’t want any bridesmaids and Dave doesn’t have a best man so your father walks you down the aisle and Dave’s stomach twists when he sees how beautiful you look. He can’t look away as you make your way down the aisle to him and he knows he made the right choice. This past month, you’ve been civil towards him, cooking meals now and then but he wouldn’t let you break down his walls. Staying away almost every day to ensure he wouldn’t want to get attached. He shakes your father’s hand when he approaches, taking yours after letting go to escort you the rest of the way to the officiant.

Dave leans in as the officiant begins to ramble. “You look beautiful.” He whispers and you offer him a small smile, “thank you.” He truly means it. Your mother’s dress is gorgeous with the alterations and the red roses in your hand highlight your complexion. You look like an angel and he guesses that that makes him the devil. When it’s finally time for the vows, Dave repeats what he has to say, barely paying attention to them. They don’t matter. He won’t be obedient and loyal. Never has been. He slides his finger into your finger, his dark eyes meeting yours as the officiant turns to you for you to say your vows.

“I.” Your voice is clear, without a waver in your voice to indicate any nerves, is picked up easily by the microphones for the video and the guests in the back of the large church. “Take you, David Anthony York, to be my husband. To have and to hold, in sickness and health, to forsake all others, for as long as I live.” You know your husband will not be faithful, having gone to the hotel where you had been told you were marrying him, several times in the past month. You have already told him what you expected and if Dave didn’t listen, there was nothing you could do about it. There was a ring for Dave, the thick gold band fits perfectly on his hand but you aren’t sure if it will be worn beyond tonight. You slide the ring on his hand and turn towards the officiant again.

Dave doesn’t listen to the rest of the speech, not really interested until the officiant declares you husband and wife. Announcing that Dave can now kiss his bride. He hasn’t kissed you since that night in the kitchen so he steps closer, reaching out to cup your cheeks and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that declares to everyone in the ballroom and the world that you belong to him.

You feel the possession in the way that his lips cover yours. He’s not kissing you in love and joy, it’s to show status. You are now his completely. Your eyes flutter closed, knowing it will look better on camera, as if you are melting into the kiss. Listening to the applause from the guests as Dave breaks off the kiss.

He smiles, grabbing your hand to walk you down the aisle as everyone cheers for the newly wed couple and once you’re beyond the double doors, he drops your hand. He ignores your hurt look and the photographer comes over so he wraps his arm around your waist. “Come on sweetheart, let’s take some photos.” He hates taking photos but it’s necessary for his heir to have photos of his parent’s wedding day.

It’s hard to smile for the photos when it’s obvious that Dave is putting very little effort into making this day enjoyable. You are stiff in his arms and any hope you have for the future dies. You stand how the photographer tells you to and smile when they say smile, plastering the look on your face - one that doesn’t reach your eyes.

Dave is grateful when the photos are over. He fucking hates taking photos and his mind hasn’t been changed. He takes your hand once more, guiding you into the ballroom that is being used for your reception and the crowd cheers as the band announces Mr. and Mrs. York. Dave guides you to the dance floor, not even knowing what song you picked for the first dance but he is a surprisingly good dancer. All those years of fighting made him coordinated.

The guests are already starting to drink, several open bars that are scattered throughout the reception hall are already packed with people to get booze. Waiters are gliding around the room with canapés and champagne to those that don’t want hard liquor. You try to focus on the crowd, instead of the man that is guiding you through the dance. After this, you will go change into the dress you had picked out for the party, packing your mother’s dress away carefully.

Dave smiles as he twirls you around, leaning in to softly kiss you once the song ends. He doesn’t listen to a lot of top 40 music nowadays, but he knows Adele and you picked one of her songs for the dance. He wants to roll his eyes but he doesn’t. 'Easy On Me' isn’t exactly romantic. “Strange song choice sweetheart.” He comments as he pulls back, knowing he has to go mingle while you go change. He wants your wedding dress on for the first dance for photos but now you can go get out of it. He’s hoping you picked some of the lingerie he sent you to wear under it.

You don’t answer him, instead you walk out of the reception hall and hurry with the coordinator back to the room you had used to get ready. The next dress is sexier, more flirty than the wedding dress and it matched the white lingerie you had picked out. You have no doubt that Dave would want to consummate your marriage tonight and you were honestly scared of it. You don’t know what kind of man, lover, he is and you’ve only shared three kisses.

Dave greets people as they approach him, business associates both legal and illegal all gathered in the same room to celebrate his wedding. He waits for you to get changed and when the band announces your return, his cock twitches at the new sexier dress you’re wearing. A perfect virginal white and he immediately wonders what you have underneath it. You approach him and he kisses you again, pressing his lips to yours to show his intentions. “So fucking beautiful and all mine.” He murmurs against your lips, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you close while the crowd cheers.

Dave grins, turning you around so he can guide you over to the President’s table. “Mr. President, Ma’am.” He greets the couple, “this is my beautiful wife.” He introduces you, wanting you to have the honor of meeting the only man possibly as powerful as Dave in this country. He can easily whisper in the man’s ear to get shit done, he’s just gotta offer a few million towards his campaign.

It’s a bit surreal, the idea that the President is at your wedding and you shake his hand, trying not to grimace when he kisses the back of your hand in a wet, opened mouth kiss. Barely resisting the urge to wipe your hand off, you turn to his wife and greet her warmly, wondering if she accepts what kind of man she is married to.

Dave clenches his jaw at the way the president kisses your hand. He wraps his arm around your waist, dragging you back towards him after you’ve greeted the First Lady and he turns to the President, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “You ever touch my wife again, I’ll make sure no one in D.C even remembers your name.” He threatens, knowing that even the secret service won’t intervene in his threat. Dave pulls back and plasters on a fake grin as he turns to you, “shall we go eat, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” You aren’t hungry but you want to get away from the President before something else happens to cause a scene. The last thing you needed was your wedding to be surrounded by scandal. “Is it what you wanted?” You ask as the two of you are seated at your wedding table.

Dave smiles, nodding. He’s not sure if you mean the wedding or you but he knows he’s happy with both. “I am very happy. The wedding is incredible and so are you. My beautiful bride. I can’t wait for tonight.” He reaches down to squeeze your thigh.

You bite your lip, staring down at your plate as you try to hide how worried you are. You know what to expect, you aren’t naive, but you had always imagined giving yourself to a man you loved.

Dave noticed your hesitancy and sighs. “Don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll look after you.” He promises, leaning closer. “You’re gonna cum on my cock tonight.” He coos, squeezing your thigh before letting go.

Your cheeks heat up and all you can do is nod as you try to eat a little bit of the beautiful meal the caterer has made. It’s easily a dinner that is easily better than any state dinner. However, you are so nervous, you can barely stomach anything.

Dave watches you barely eat and he isn’t happy about that. Wondering if it’s anxiety. He will ensure you eat later. He will get you whatever you want. “It’s time for the cake cutting.” The band singer announces and Dave guides you over to the huge cake, smiling as he cuts it with his hand over yours, the cameras flashing. He kisses you before feeding you a piece of the cake. Wanting you to be fed and comfortable. He feeds you another piece of cake, happy you chose chocolate. “Now it’s time for the garter toss before the bouquet toss.”

Shivering slightly, you allow Dave to guide you over to the chair that had been set in the middle of the dance floor while all the single men are invited on the floor to try to catch your garter. You’ve never had a man touch your bare thigh where Dave is going to be reaching and it embarrasses you that it’s going to be done in front of all these people. Sitting down in the chair, you’re shocked to see Dave kneel down and give you a smug wink before he starts sliding his hands under your dress. 

Dave ducks under your dress, his hands sliding along your thighs - clad in silk stockings - until he finds the garter. He shifts closer once he is between your legs and he inhales deeply the heady scent of your body and it makes his cock twitch. When he looks up and sees the pretty white lace covering your virgin cunt and the matching garter belt he groans, loving how sweet and innocent it looks. He knows he can’t take advantage so he finds the garter on your leg, gripping it with his teeth and slowly, so slowly, drags it down your leg.

Your gasp of shock makes everyone laugh, your new husband’s head under your dress. You hear some vulgar comments, but you are too busy burning in embarrassment from him seeing you under your dress. Cringing and trying not to when you feel the grade of his teeth on your skin.

Dave emerges from your dress, victorious with your garter in his teeth, and he winks at you before he shifts to stand up, his cock semi hard and he discreetly adjusts himself before turning back to the group of single men. “Ready fellas?” He asks and all of them cheer. Part of him doesn’t want to give up your garter but he knows this is good for show. He tosses it, rolling his eyes when Resnik catches it. He turns back towards you, holding his hand out to help you up and he notices your flustered appearance. “Nice panties sweetheart.” He murmurs with a smirk.

“Oh my god.” You huffs, ready to just melt into the floor. This man was your husband by law and had every intention of taking your virginity tonight, but you are so flustered by the fact that he just saw your panties. “Shut up.” The coordinator saves you from saving anything else, bringing over your bouquet while the DJ announces that the single women should come to the dance floor for the tossing of the bouquet. Giving you something else to focus on besides the fact that you hadn’t missed the way that your husband had to adjust himself right in front of your face.

Dave watches you toss the bouquet, one of your coworkers catches it and flushes when she has to dance with Resnik. Dave wraps his arm around your waist and kisses your neck. “They’d make a good couple.” He murmurs. 

You scoff, “pretty sure murderers aren’t her type.” 

Dave snorts, “yet you married one.” He is anxious now to get this reception over with so he can get you back to his home. He can’t wait to see you. All of you.

“It wasn’t as if I had a choice.” You remind him, pulling away and giving the excuse that you wanted your glass of champagne. While you were tossing the bouquet, you noticed a lot of your guests were well on their way to being drunk and it sounds like a perfect way to survive your wedding night. You don’t want to remember it. Tossing back your head, you down the rest of your champagne and motion to a waiter to take this glass and give you another.

Dave frowns, grabbing the glass before you can take it when the waiter returns. "Don't you think you've had enough?" He reprimands, setting the glass down on the nearby table then he grabs your hands. "Why are you trying to get drunk?"

You snort, annoyed that he has taken away the glass from you like a naughty child. “Perhaps I wanted some liquid courage, this is my first time.” You remind him, as if he had forgotten. “Forgive me if I just don’t trust that it will be an amazing experience.”

Dave feels himself get pissed at that. He reaches to grab your chin, making you look into his eyes. “Don’t you ever think that I am a selfish lover. Tonight, you might be losing your virginity but I will be good and make you cum. I want you to enjoy having sex with me. We need to have sex multiple times to make sure you’re pregnant, so why wouldn’t I make it good for you? Don’t ever fucking assume sweetheart. You’re done with the champagne. I want you to remember tonight.” He orders.

Your eyes prick with tears and you know that this - everything - is what Dave wants. If he wants you sober, he will have you sober. “Yes sir.” You hiss spitefully, furious that you have no say in anything in your life. You will be fucked regardless of your own wishes and get pregnant when he wants you to be. Your doctor’s appointment proved to him that you are indeed a virgin and fertile.

Dave caresses your cheek, leaning in to kiss your forehead despite you shoving lightly on his chest. “Go say your goodbyes. We are leaving.” He orders, stepping away from you to bid goodbye to the important people and he tells the wedding coordinator that you are leaving so the guests can see you off.

You stall as long as you can, making sure to make every person feel like they are special. You see Dave coming back over to where you are, going through his goodbyes much quicker and taking you by the elbow to hurry you along. You want to cry, but they will see that and you can’t have that. Instead you plaster a smile on your face as people file out of the hall, ready to shower you in bird seed before you climb into the car to take you back to Dave’s house.

Dave takes your hand and smiles as the bird seed is thrown over you, people clapping as he guides you to the car and helps you in before he slides in beside you. “You ready?” He asks. You don’t even look at him, staring out the window as the car pulls away. Dave sighs when you don’t respond, leaning back into the seat .

Your knees tremble, your nerves getting the best of you. You wonder how he is going to touch you. All the porn that you’ve watched is geared towards women and Dave - despite what he might say - is going to be concerned with his own pleasure. You don’t need to cum in order to get pregnant. “Why are we going home? Wouldn’t the hotel be more appropriate?”

Dave looks at you, a smile on his face, and he reaches out to stop your knee bouncing. “I wanted our baby to be conceived in my home, not my hotel. Plus…I don’t want any interruptions. I want it to be just us.” He removes his hand from your knee, looking back out of the window.

You bite your lip, even more nervous now that you know that you will be alone in the house. Often there are plenty of people roaming around but if Dave wants it empty, it will just be you. “How long are you having the house to ourselves?” You ask, trying to make it seem like you aren’t terrified.

“As long as I want.” He answers without looking over at you. He knows you’re nervous, can feel it in the air, but he won’t allow you to use that as an excuse. You are nervous of the unknown but he knows he can make you relax. He meant what he said. You need to enjoy sex with him and he wants to fuck you to get you pregnant. Once you’re pregnant, he’ll go back to his women. Not wanting even more attachments. The car pulls into his estate and he thanks the driver once the car has stopped, opening his own door and making his way around to open your door. 

For a split second, you consider jumping in the driver's seat and stealing the car. It’s completely ridiculous and it makes you snort, slightly panicked as Dave opens the door and holds out his hand for you to take. Swallowing, you let him guide you out of the car and into the house.

Dave unlocks the unusually quiet house and turns towards you. “I’ll go wait in my room for you. I’m sure you’ll want to get ready, freshen up.” He tells you, “I’m going to get a scotch. You want anything?“

“You don’t want me drunk.” You remind him as you turn towards the stairs without waiting to see what he has to say. You climb the stairs and sigh. You are going to strip out of the dress and put on the robe that you had bought with the lingerie. You know Dave will want to see what you are wearing underneath. Maybe after it’s over he will send you back to your room.

Dave ignores your sass and makes his way to his office, pouring himself a scotch, then he makes his way upstairs to his bedroom, leaving the double doors open so you can come in when you are ready. He didn’t want any staff in the house for this moment, his cock already half hard with the fact that he is going to be taking your innocence tonight.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of your bedroom and make your way down the hallway to Dave’s suite. The master suite was larger than yours and you pause when you see the doors are open in invitation. Making you swallow again before you slink into the doorway. Watching him stare out the window while he sips his scotch, you wonder if you will ever come to love the man you call husband.

Dave turns when he hears you enter his bedroom, feet bare and robe swaying around your ankles. He’s never seen a more angelic sight, especially since you are wearing virginal white. Your face is pinched but he shifts to sit down on the plush seat by the window. “Sit.” He orders, grabbing the chair to drag it in front of him. You frown, confused as you sit down in front of him. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, the scotch sloshing as he grips the glass. “Take your panties off and spread your legs. I want to see what I paid for.”

Your face burns and you close your eyes in utter humiliation. Swallowing again, you turn around, knowing you will have to unclip your stocking to slide your panties down. The fact that this man bought you is never more obvious than right now. Fingers shaking, you unclip the delicate clasps that keep your thigh highs up so you can do as he orders.

Dave watches you as you roll your thigh highs down after unclipping them and you seem to take a while but he doesn’t rush you. When you’re done, you reach up, hands shaking as you hook your fingers in your panties, lifting your hips so you can push them down to your ankles. You kick the lace aside and inhale deeply, face on fire as you open your legs to display your cunt. Dave’s eyes focus on your pussy, untouched and fucking perfect. “Christ.” He hisses, fingers flexing against the glass he’s holding. “Have you ever touched yourself, sweetheart?” He asks, voice raspy.

“Y-Yes.” Your voice is low and you wonder if he will be upset that you’ve touched yourself. Wondering if he wanted you completely innocent. “I’ve just- I’ve never  put more than a tampon inside me.” You admit quietly. You hadn’t ever wanted to stick your fingers inside yourself, but you had the standard doctor’s visits.

Dave’s nostrils flare as you confess you haven’t really touched yourself. “Have you ever made yourself cum?” He asks, sipping his scotch while keeping his eyes between your thighs, loving the thatch of curls above your pretty folds.

“I think so….” You whisper, your cheeks burning. “I- it felt really good.” You try to explain as you think about the times you had touched yourself in the dark. “It’s not like I’ve really…talked about this with anyone else. Not even my friends.”

“You will with me. I’m your husband. I want you to spread your folds for me, use your fingers to show me the pretty pussy that’s now mine.” He orders, shifting to set the glass of scotch down on the table beside his chair.

You bite your lip, shuddering slightly and taking a deep breath before you try to follow his orders. Fumbling for a moment before you pull your lips apart, your index finger pressing against your clit and you gasp and close your eyes so you don’t have to see him watching you.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” His voice lowers even more and you reluctantly open your eyes and look across the room. He tuts, shifting closer and he grips your chin to keep your eyes on his. “Keep looking at me.” He orders, licking his finger on his free hand and he brings it down to your clit, slowly rubbing the bundle of nerves.

Moaning quietly, your hips squirm, away from his touch or seeking it - you don’t really know. Not that Dave York would allow you to refuse his touch. Your eyes are watching his darken with desire. “Fuck.” You whimper quietly, shuddering when a burst of pleasure rushes through you.

He watches you as you whimper and he rubs your clit a little harder, wanting you to get wet enough for him to open you up a little. He releases your jaw, leaning in to kiss along it instead. “That feel good, baby?”

You can’t help but breathe out a little sigh of agreement. You bite your lip to try to keep from making too much noise. Even though it’s not like the house isn’t empty.

“Good. Wanna make you feel good. Wanna make this pussy mine in every way.” He rubs your clit, wanting you to cum like this before he starts to open you up for his cock. He doesn’t want you to be in a lot of pain. His cock is hard in his pants but he doesn’t adjust himself, wanting to focus on you.

Keeping your eyes on him, his fingers make your hips start to move again. Rolling against his hand on instinct and your own moans getting louder. Watching the pride bloom across his face and your breathing speeding up.

“Good girl.” He coos, needing you to cum, so he rubs your clit a little harder. Loving how you are already so responsive. “Want you to cum for me. Want that pussy weeping for my cock.” He tells you, pressing his lips to your jaw again.

The feeling of his mouth on your jaw makes you fall over the edge. Crying out loudly, you feel your entire body tense up. You’ve felt that before but not nearly as intense as what you have been able to do. Feeling your cunt start to clench down around nothing.

Dave fucking loves watching you cum. Already addicted to it. He rubs your clit to work you through it for a moment then he slides his finger lower, circling your entrance and he slowly pushes his finger into you.

“D-Dave.” You gasp out his name, feeling his fingers start to push inside you. It feels foreign and fantastic. “I- oh god.” You moan, reaching down and grabbing his wrist. You don’t know if you want him to stop but you need to touch him. Wishing you had something more than just being married between you.

He pauses, watching you to see if you wanted him to stop but you don’t. He continues, pushing his finger into you, groaning at how fucking tight you are. “Jesus. I’m gonna have to work you open. You’ll never take my cock otherwise.” He murmurs, pumping his finger in and out of you.

Cheeks burning, you whimper at the way he talks to you. It’s different than being talked to by men hitting on you, you would never have let them touch you. But this man is touching you. He’s your husband. “Just-“ you bite off the order to tell him to get it over with as you moan again, his fingers curling up and pressing against something wonderful inside you.

"There it is, baby." He murmurs, pleased you are moaning and relaxing. He works his finger into you, curling it into that spot and he adds a second finger, wanting to slowly open you up. "This okay?" He asks, pumping his finger a little deeper on each movement, his dark eyes. watching your face.

“I- don’t stop.” You had meant to tell him that it didn’t matter if it was okay. That he had bought you and this was what he wanted. Instead you beg him not to stop, but it feels so good. Your eyes flutter every time he pushes his fingers deeper and you moan his name quietly.

Dave wants to make this good for you. He scissors his fingers, working you open even more and he curls them. His thumb pressed against your clit. He wants you to cum on his fingers, he wants to see you fall over the edge again. “Cum for me baby. Cum again.”

The way he orders you around should piss you off. But it doesn’t help that his tone is low and raspy, helping that fire in your belly burn brighter. It only takes a few more pumps of his fingers and you are crying out again, this time your walls squeezing his fingers while you try to grind down on them as much as you can with your legs draped over the arms of the chair.

Dave hums in delight, working you through it and he shifts off of his chair, withdrawing his fingers and he kneels in front of you. “My beautiful bride.” He murmurs, kissing your inner thigh, his dark eyes looking up at you as he kisses along the sensitive skin until his tongue slides through your folds, groaning at your tangy taste.

His words makes your traitorous heart leap in your chest. Right before your entire body turns to melted wax at the touch of his tongue to your cunt. You never expected him to do something like this. Your head drops back against the chair and you moan out his name again. “Oh Dave, oh shit.”

Dave caresses your thighs, squeezing the flesh while his tongue flicks your clit. He loves how you taste, knowing that he isn’t the type of man to go down on women but this is your wedding night, your first time. He wants this to be special for you. His tongue delves into your tight pussy, curling and he shifts closer to press his nose to your clit.

Whining is definitely not a sound you thought you would make during this, but you are. Loudly and enthusiastically while you experience something that you’ve only read about or watched. It is as good as everyone says and your hand reaches for the back of his head and your fingers tangle into his hair to hold onto.

Your whine is music to his ears, his tongue delving deeper, and he shakes his head so his nose rubs your clit. One of his hands slide up your body, cupping your lace clad breast, pinching your nipple through the material while his tongue curls deep in your cunt.

You whimper from the pressure against your clit and give a soft cry at the surprise of his tongue piercing into you. Making you shudder and rock your hips. It feels strange, but not unpleasant, but his nose against your clit feels amazing.

He needs you to cum one more time. His hand sliding higher to take over from his nose, his thumb rubbing your clit while his tongue keeps curling deep inside of you. He loves how you taste, mixed with the scotch he’d been drinking, you’re a fucking treat.

Your eyes slip closed again, not to keep from looking at Dave, but because the pleasure is starting to get to be too much. One hand in his hair and the other clawing at the chair, you feel your body start to shake again. Crying out as the rush of heat spreads through your core and you hear Dave groan into you.

He loves hearing you cum. It’s music to his ears, and he works you through it, his tongue lapping up every drop of your cum. He smacks his lips when you push his head away when it becomes too much, and he kisses your thigh while you come back down from your orgasm.

Panting softly, you try not to jump when Dave’s hand squeezes your breast again. “Get up, sweetheart.” He orders. “We are moving to the bed so I can strip you down.” Your stomach flips and you nod, moving so you can stand after Dave rocks back away from you.

He helps you over to the bed, his lips pressing against your jaw as he reaches around you to unclasp your bra. You whimper and he chuckles against your neck as he drags the straps down and steps back to look at your tits. “Fucking perfect. Shit. I can’t wait until those are full of milk.” He groans and reaches out to squeeze your breast.

You shudder and look away, fully aware that his plan for you includes being pregnant just as soon as possible. Swallowing, you stand in only your garter belt, letting him touch you how he wants. Your breathing is shallow, almost panting but it’s mainly from being nervous.

Dave wants you completely naked, so his hands slide down to unclasp the garter belt, tossing it aside so he can see every single inch of you. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He groans, cock now throbbing and he reaches up to tug on his bow tie, starting to undress himself

Laying down on the bed, you try to keep your eyes off of him but you are curious as to what your husband looks like. After all, this is the man that you are married to, the man whose children you will bear. Biting your lip, you watch him strip off his shirt after removing the cuff links and unbuttoning it. You wonder if the other women he slept with anticipated sex while watching him undress or if they were merely giddy about the things he could offer them. Right now, you feel like you are going to be sick. 

Dave takes his time to strip off, setting his clothes over the back of the chair you had soaked. He finally gets down to his briefs and pushes them down, allowing you to see his hard cock for the first time. The first cock you’ve ever seen and if he has his way, the last one you’ll ever see.

“God.” Your eyes widen as you take in the sight of Dave’s heavy, thick cock. You’ve only ever seen one in a porn and it looks a lot more intimidating in person. “I- I don-don’t know.” You stammer, sitting up and shaking your head. “It- that is - oh God.”

Dave can’t help but feel a little smug at your reaction but he won’t let you get too anxious. He shifts to kneel on the bed, grabbing your waist to lift you up onto the pillows and he kneels between your thighs. “It’s gonna fit baby. Don’t worry.” He slides his hand along your thigh before pushing two thick digits into you. “It’s gonna hurt for a moment but then it’s gonna be good.” He promises, curling his fingers until he withdraws them, shifting to position his cock at your entrance. He slowly pushes in, just the head, and gives you a moment.

You gasp and your eyes close, turning your head away. “Look at me.” Dave huffs, gripping your chin lightly and turning you back towards him. You want to refuse him, but you shouldn’t. His lips slide over yours softly and you whimper again, opening your eyes to look up into his dark ones. It feels different, but he doesn’t hurt you and your walls clench around him experimentally.

He pushes deeper into you. You’re so fucking tight and the fact that you are completely his has his ready to cum but he doesn’t, wanting to savor this moment. He pushes deeper, rocking his hips to work you open. “Relax.” He orders, feeling how tense you are beneath him.

You try, gripping the sheets under you as you try to force your body to relax. It’s impossible though. It’s pinching slightly and it’s nothing like you had imagined. No soft, loving words or whispers of adoration. You get the feeling that he’s being more gentle than he normally is, but there no love in this. You choke back a sob and try to remind yourself that he promised you that it would be okay.

Dave caresses your side as he pushes into you, wincing when you gasp at the final push to seat him fully inside of your tight, wet cunt. “Oh fuck.” He groans, trying to control himself while he presses his forehead to yours. “You’re so perfect. So fucking perfect and all mine.” He rasps, slowly rocking his hips now that you seem to relax beneath him.

You take deep breaths, trying to focus on the way that he feels inside you. His body is hovering over yours and you feel the slow grind of his hips. Your body seems to know what to do, your walls fluttering around him and squeezing down on him every time he pushes deeper when he pulls his hips back. “Yours.” You gasp out, knowing that you are his.

He fucking loves hearing you say it. He grabs your hand, lifting it above your head so he can admire the beautiful rings on your finger that display the fact that you are his. He grinds deep, rocking his hips, and when he thinks about getting you knocked up on this first time, he loses it. With a low groan, he cums. Painting your walls with his seed.

You feel the heat, hearing him groan and stiffen over you. He’s cum. Closing your eyes, the tears squeeze out and you turn your head away while his face is buried in your neck while he continues to rock into you. It’s over. He’s taken your virginity and possibly filled you with his baby. Making your heart ache knowing that there is no way you can ever tell your future child that you created them with love.

Dave grunts as he finishes rocking inside of you, kissing your neck. "God that was good. Sorry you didn't cum. Next time." He promises, shifting to pull out of you. "I'll clean you up then I gotta go to my office and do some work. You should get some sleep." He says, shifting off of the bed to walk into his bathroom, wetting a rag and carrying it back in.

You cringe and try not to flinch when he wipes you clean with efficient swipes of his rag over your cunt. Disappearing back into his bathroom while you lay there for a moment before you bolt off the bed. If his room is like yours, the closet is inside the bathroom and you hurriedly gather your lingerie and the robe before you rush out of the room for the safety of your own room, trying to hold back the tears.

****

Dave never came into your room. You had cried and then soaked in a bath after you had calmed down. You were stuck in this, it was too late to regret it and there was nothing that you could do change it. You just have to make the best of it, but it hurts to know that he hadn’t even cared enough to come to you after he had finished his work. He was probably glad you left his room, his dismissal clear from his attitude. Dressing quickly, you slip out of your room, eager to eat something and hopefully make it back before Dave ever woke up.

**** 

Dave looks up as you enter his office, tears in your eyes as you avoid looking at him, and he frowns. You look relieved. "What's wrong?" He huffs, not having time for dramatics. "I got my period." Dave sighs, knowing that it would take more than one fuck to knock you up. Since hearing you cry, he left you alone, but he needs to fuck you again. "When your period ends, we will have sex until you are pregnant. I want you to track your fertility. I will have the doctor help you to ensure you are pregnant before your next period." He says before turning back to his computer. The discussion is over.

You stare at him for a moment and huff. “Maybe you should get checked by a doctor.” You hate the way that he is just dismissing you. It’s obvious that you are nothing more than his little pet. The virgin (not anymore) bride to keep to breed his spawn. “You should get tested, that way if you are sterile, I don’t have to endure being in your bed.” You hiss before you turn around and stalk out of his office, angry at the bastard now.

Dave rolls his eyes. He had already been tested. He knows he is fertile. He’s a man who lives for the details. He tries to keep away from you, knowing you hate him. He doesn’t need you to love him, he just needs you to have his child. 

****

“Don’t forget we have the charity dinner tonight. I am having Manuel come over to do your hair and makeup. Theres a new dress hanging up in your closet.” He says while he eats his breakfast opposite you.

“Whatever you need.” You answer, poking at your own breakfast. You aren’t very hungry, it’s been days since the scene in his office and he has barely spoken to you. The house stays quiet and you hate it. “I will be ready when you need me to be.” You finished your menstrual cycle last night and you are hoping to get a few more days before he makes you come to his room.

“Tonight. I want to fuck you so be ready for it.” He says like he’s discussing the weather. “We will need to have sex every night until you are pregnant.” He declares, not willing to negotiate. This isn’t a negotiation and he wants to show you off tonight. His beautiful wife.

“Of course.” Your jaw clenches slightly but you don’t say anything else. You are just his brood mare and the sooner he gets you pregnant, the sooner he will leave you alone. There’s nothing between the two of you beyond the fact that you are married. “Anything else?”

“Make sure you don’t have this attitude tonight. I need to make sure no one questions this marriage. I need my associates to believe you at least like me.” He can’t say he isn’t bothered by how much you hate him but he can understand. “I didn’t pay for you to hate me.” He quips as he sets his coffee cup down, looking at you.

“Hard to like someone I don’t know.” You mutter under your breath and narrow your eyes at him before you change into a bright sunny smile and look adoringly at him. “Is this better, honey?” You coo mockingly, knowing he he could care less about how you actually feel about him. He’s made that clear.

Dave shakes his head, grabbing your hand. “Don’t mock me sweetheart. You might not want to be married to me but you don’t want to know what I’m capable of. I can break you down. I can destroy you. Destroy your father. Don’t ever fucking forget that.” He squeezes your hand before he lets go and stands up. “Be ready for six.” He orders then strides out of the room.

“I fucking hate you.” You hiss quietly, tears forming again and you feel completely alone even though you know that there are people around. 

****

At six, you are ready. His stylist had come to fix your hair and makeup. It was flawless and the dress that had been picked out was stunning. You would be the Belle of any ball, although you would not be on Prince Charming’s arm. After breakfast, you had walked outside for hours, talking to yourself before you had gone into the kitchen and started baking. Muffins, cookies, and cakes were all piled up on the counters as you thought about your dilemma. You decided that while you would never love Dave, you wouldn’t fight him anymore. It wasn’t doing you any good. So tonight, you were going to be the perfect dress up doll. Give him exactly what he paid for.

Dave adjusts his bow tie, making his way to the foyer to wait for you. The car is ready and he is anxious to see what you look like in the dress he had picked out. When you appear, walking down the stairs, his cock twitches and he holds his hand out. “You look gorgeous sweetheart. Perfect.” He kisses your cheek and is surprised when you don’t wince. “Come on, let’s get in the car. The sooner we arrive, the sooner we can leave.” He’s excited to strip the dress off of you.

You hum in agreement and let Dave escort you out to the waiting car. Thanking him as he helps you in and closes the door behind you before he climbs in on the other side. “I asked the stylist to do my makeup in a way that you preferred.” You offer by way of conversation. “Which charity event is this tonight?”

“Who the fuck knows? Probably something to do with orphan children. Or animals. I don’t know. I just show up, write a check, smile for some photos and leave. I get sick and tired of these events. My parents used to drag me to them constantly. We will go, give the check, have a dance, and come home so I can fuck you. Your period is over?” He asks for confirmation.

“Yes.” Apparently charity work isn’t his favorite thing. But you remember that his parents died while attending an event such as this. “It ended last night. They don’t last long.” You aren’t going to lie to him, knowing it’s useless to do so. “So don’t plan on making small talk, good to know.”

Dave looks out of the window, watching D.C pass by until the car pulls up to one of the hotels. Not one of his. He sighs as the door is opened and Dave helps you out, wrapping his arm around your waist as he guides you into the hotel and to the ballroom. “You do look beautiful tonight. I’m the luckiest man in this entire place.” He tells you as he notices the stares of other men.

You flash Dave a smile, one meant to show everyone that he was the best man in the room in your eyes. “Thank you, honey.” You reach up and smooth the lapels of his tuxedo. “I have to make sure that I am suitable for the most powerful man here.” You coo, knowing others will hear and spread gossip about how Dave York’s wife simpers over him.

He grins, loving how you coo over him and he leans forward to press his lips to yours, claiming you in front of every men and woman who dares to desire what belongs to him. His hands slide down to almost grab your ass, his tongue dipping into your mouth before he pulls back and kisses your lips once more. “Let’s get a drink and drop off the damn check.”

You are going to have to get used to the way Dave operates. He can just turn off the charm like a switch, blowing hot and cold so much that you are reeling from that kiss. Instead of protesting, you tuck your hand around his arm and lean into his side like the dutiful wife, determined to make sure he has nothing to complain about tonight.

Dave guides you over to the host of this evening. Some old politicians wife who loves to throw a party and call it a fundraiser. Dave knows they pocket a large chunk of money but doesn’t dispute it as long as they vote the way he wants them to when it comes time. “Janice. How are you?” Dave charms the old woman who kisses his cheek, leaving her old fashioned lip color on his skin. “Wonderful Dave. How are you? Is this your new bride? Our invite to the wedding must’ve gotten lost.” Janice offers you a fake smile. Dave chuckles, just as insincere. “It was an intimate wedding.” Janice snorts, “with most of D.C in attendance.” Dave wants to roll his eyes but he offers her a charming smile and hands her the check. “Here’s my donation. Now, I am going to take my wife on the dance floor.”

Dave guides you away before you can do more than smile and nod to the older woman. “Should they have been invited?” You ask, knowing Dave had produced the list of people attending beyond those you wanted to come.

“No.” Dave scoffs as he strides out to the middle of the floor with you on his arm. “Her husband won’t be re-elected next year.” He tells you confidently before he pulls you against him.

“Oh.” Your hand slides up to wipe away the woman’s lipstick off his cheek. “Then I won’t worry about it.”

“You shouldn’t worry about it. These people think they run the show but they don’t. The man who has the money runs the show…me. I won’t let these sneaky fuckers ruin my business, my country. I control their asses with my money so she can bitch all she wants but her and her husband are of no use to me.” He loves the way you wiped the lipstick from his cheek. “I hate that shade. Like your lipstick more.” He murmurs, his eyes dipping down to your lips.

“It goes with the dress you picked.” You fluster slightly, even with your feelings towards your husband not the best, he was very handsome and it is disconcerting to have his attention on your mouth. “I assume it was you. And thank you, it’s gorgeous.” He does provide many expensive things and you know he could make you pay for them if he wanted to.

Dave smiles, starting to move you around the dance floor. “You’re gorgeous. Every man in here wishes he was me. I am so proud to have you as my wife. When you’re pregnant…Christ, you’re gonna be the most incredible woman in this town.” He promises. “I know…I know you hate me but I do want you to be happy with me. I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“I don’t….hate you.” You turn your head and look across the dance floor, noticing a lot of eyes on the two of you. Photographers are snapping photos and you know it will end up in the society section of the newspaper. “I don’t know you.” You turn back towards your husband. “I just - I wish that it wouldn’t seem like a business deal.” You confess. “Why do you want me pregnant so badly?”

Dave sighs, his hand caressing your back as he turns you away from the photographers. “I-” Before he can answer you, his name is called and he turns his head to see old Oliver Platt. One of his father’s associates who has since retired to allow his son to take over. Dave continues dancing with you as Oliver guides his wife over, swaying her to the music.

“How are you, son? This is your beautiful bride we have heard so much about from everyone.” Oliver beams and Dave nods, offering the old man a smile before introducing you. “She’s gorgeous. Your old man would’ve been proud of you, ya know. Always said he couldn’t wait to see you married with kids of your own, running the show. Look at you now.”

Dave’s smile falters but remains in his face. “It’s good to see you sir.” Dave offers him with respect, his heart aching, and Oliver winks at you.

“You got a good man there. Look after him.” He orders then dances his wife to another associate.

Dave stares at a blank spot across the room for a moment until his dark eyes come back to you. “To answer your question….I want a child because I don’t have a family. My parents are dead. I have no siblings. No aunts and uncles or cousins. My grandparents are dead. It’s been just me for long and I want a family to protect and who loves me for who I really am. Not just what I can give them. I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He knows he sounds vulnerable and he avoids that at all cost but right now, you’re his wife and he trusts you. Even if you do hate him.

Your heart aches for Dave, knowing that admitting that must have been very hard for him. He’s not a man who likes to expose weaknesses. He’s lonely, a feeling you can understand and relate to. Your own life was lonely and filled with worry about your father for so long. Maybe this could be a fresh start for the two of you. Taking a deep breath and deciding that you will make the first move, you lean in and press your lips to his. It’s a gentle kiss, more comforting than passionate but you know it catches him off guard. “Take me home, Dave.” You ask him softly, accepting that you are going to willingly go to his bed until you are carrying the beginning of the family he wants.

Dave is shocked by the soft kiss and your words, certain that you loathe him, but here you are, looking at him like that and asking him to take you home. He nods, reaching for your hand, and he doesn't bid goodbye to anyone as he guides you through the ballroom and out to his awaiting car. He wants to touch you, to kiss you, to make you moan his name. He wants you to want him. When you're in the car and driving home, he shifts closer to you, kissing your neck, the scent of your perfume driving him crazy. "I want to fuck you." He groans, his hand on your thigh where the dress slits to expose your skin.

“That’s why we are going home.” You remind him breathlessly. His lips on your skin makes your pulse jump and you know that your attraction to Dave isn’t linked to your heart. It makes you sad, but you push away the thought. “Or we can fuck right here.” You offer, taking his hand and sliding it up further. “I’m not wearing anything under this dress.” You reveal.

Dave groans at the feel of your bare pussy. Wet but not wet enough for him to fuck you. He kisses your neck again, biting down on the sensitive skin, and he slides his fingers through your folds until he finds your clit. "Want you to cum on my fingers first." He murmurs, rubbing your clit slowly.

You are biting back a soft moan, closing your eyes as his fingers work over your sensitive skin. Whatever else can be said about Dave, he doesn’t mind touching you. You know enough about men that most would have already been pulling their cock out and getting ready to slide inside you. “Dave.” You whimper, knowing that he won’t stop until you are cumming for him. 

Your whimper has him hard as a fucking rock and eager to make you whimper his name again. He rubs your clit a little harder, remembering what you liked before, and he groans when your hips buck into his hand. "Stay still." He orders, kissing along your jaw. "You looked so beautiful tonight. Every man in there wanted to fuck you but they can't because you're mine. Only I get to touch this pussy. Only I get to make you cum."

He loves to remind himself and you that you are his. But instead of rolling your eyes or making some kind of snarky comment, you give another soft moan. “Yes you do.” You agree breathlessly. “Make me cum. I want to feel good, Dave.” You reach up to stroke his cheek and turn your lips to his. 

He groans into your mouth, tongue immediately plunging in to caress yours, and he slides his fingers lower to push two thick digits into your tight cunt, his thumb pressing against your clit. "So wet for me." He murmurs, loving how wet you've become, and he begins to pump his digits in and out of you.

In a move that is shocking to even you, you push your dress up to your hips and move to straddle your husband. Your neck is bent down so you don’t hit the top of the car but you don’t care. For the first time since you had married Dave, you want this. Maybe it’s pity, or acceptance, you aren’t sure - but you want to have sex with Dave, and you grind down on his fingers shamelessly. 

Dave is shocked at your sudden move and he is fucking hard as a rock, his fingers pushing deep into you as he kisses you, his tongue tangling with yours. He curls his fingers, his covered cock pressing against your thigh.

The kiss becomes heated, frantic and your hands move from his shoulders where you were holding them for stability, to his hair. Tangling into his locks and tearing apart the carefully styled look that portrayed his power and status. You tug on it, moaning into his mouth when his other hand grips your hip even harder and his fingers push a bit harder into your cunt. “Dave.” You pull away from his lips and your teeth nip down his jaw. “Can I- can I touch you?” 

"Yes. Yes. You can touch me." Dave permits and you reach down to work on unbuckling his belt. "Eager, are we sweetheart?" He teases, making you huff until he curls his fingers just right to make you moan and grind down onto his digits. "That's it baby. Want you to cum for me."

You squeeze his cock, not too rough, but you grin when you are rewarded with a quiet moan from your husband. “I want to-“ you break off, embarrassed by the thought you had of kneeling down and sucking his cock in the back of the car. “You know.”

"Jesus. You never have to ask if you want to do that, sweetheart." He promises, "but you need to let me cum inside of you. Not down that pretty little throat." He orders, withdrawing his fingers to help you release his cock from his pants.

“Okay.” Nervous, you slide off his lap and kneel between his spread thighs. Looking up at his dark eyes and then back down at his cock. Your fingers wrap around him again and you give him and experimental pump. “I’ve never done this before.” You confess, aware that he knows this. “I don’t know if I’ll be as good as the other women you have.” You don’t say more, not wanting to anger him so you lean forward and take the tip in your mouth.

Dave's retort that you are his wife so this will automatically be better dies on his lips and he groans at the way your lips look wrapped around the head of his cock. "Jesus baby. You look so pretty." He hisses when you experimentally take him deeper. "Do what you want. I can guide you but I want you to do what feels right."

Surprised that you aren’t being urged to take him deeper, you do just that. Realizing that Dave has done nothing but make sure that you aren’t hurt during sex or that you are ready for him has you dripping. He might not love you, but he cares about you in his own way. You know that other women aren’t given the same courtesy instinctively. Moaning around him, you squeeze the base and give him a gentle suck. 

"Shit. You are a natural." Dave hisses, watching you as you experiment with his cock. "Such a good girl. Such a perfect wife. You are doing a good job. Taking my cock in that pretty little mouth. You gonna do what you want to me?" He rambles, glad the driver is paid to keep quiet.

You hum, feeling powerful as you feel your husband’s control slipping. Right now you are in control and you feel like you could tell him to do anything and he would. Instead of testing that theory, you think about all of the things you had read and watched, pulling off of him again to kiss the tip and kitten lick it before you take him deeper again. Pushing him to the back of your throat, right before you gag and you slide a hand down to gently explore his balls. 

"Careful. Don't - shit - don't hurt yourself." Dave orders, reaching down to cup your cheek despite the urge to thrust down your throat. He won't hurt you, won't add that sin to the neverending list of reasons why you hate him. "Shit. You are a dirty girl, aren't you? Where - fuck - did you learn this?" He pants.

Satisfied that you are pleasing him, you pull off his cock with a smirk. “I might have been a virgin, but I still read and watched porn.” You admit, rolling his balls around in your palm and your other hand slowly jerks off the base of his cock. “Plus, I love eating bananas.” You tease before you lower your head again and take him back into your mouth.

Dave's cock twitches inside of your mouth and he lets you bob your head a few more times until he grabs the back of your neck to drag you off of his cock. Reaching for you, he pulls you up into his lap. "You're gonna tell me what you read and watched while you ride my cock." He says, reaching between you to grip his cock and he checks you're wet enough before notching the head at your entrance, groaning at how hot and wet you are as he thrusts up into you while pulling you down.

“Dave!” You cry out as he stretches you. There isn’t the pain that there had been the last time, but you feel him just as vividly. Instead of trying to squirm away, you grind down on him, your head falling forward onto his shoulder while he grabs your hips. “I- I don’t know all the porns.” You admit breathlessly. “A website. Bellesa House.” You whimper when you pull your hips up by bracing your knees on the seat and then quickly sink back down on him. “B-books are in my- my room.” 

“What do you want? What have you seen in the porn or read in the books that you want done to you? Or to do?” He asks, his voice low and raspy as he tries to control himself. You are so tight. He grabs your ass, helping to guide you as you rock on his cock.

“I want- I want you to cum down my throat.” You know he won’t, not this time. But you want to taste more than the salty spurt of his pre-cum. Dave groans, and you think he’s going to say no, but you keep talking. “I- I want to be- to be taken from behind.” You admit, cheeks burning as you try to voice what you had seen. It had turned you on and you imagined being fucked like that but you couldn’t imagine it realistically. 

He loves hearing you talk like this. “Not so innocent. That sweet little virgin rubbing her clit while thinking of swallowing cum and getting fucked from behind. What a little whore.” He teases, kissing your neck. “We can do that. Just want you pregnant. You can swallow my cum after you’re pregnant. I can fuck you from behind when we get home. I want you to ride me now. Cum before we get home.” He smacks your ass.

Squealing, you move a little faster on his lap. Bouncing on his cock unsteadily before you start finding that natural rhythm that makes it feel so good. “Dave.” You moan softly, ducking your head down and biting his bottom lip. “Slap my ass again.” You demand, enjoying the sting so much more than you thought you would have. 

He obliges you, slapping your ass again, and he hisses when your walls clamp down on him. "So beautiful." He murmurs, kissing your chest and he reaches up to tug on the gown, breaking the strap so he can pull it down and wrap his lips around your nipple, biting down on it.

You whine, having played with your nipples before, but Dave hadn’t sucked on the first for long. It makes you clench down around him again and roll your hips fast. “Oh god.” You whimper, making him chuckle. “Not God baby, your husband.” He corrects you and you tug on his hair harder. Pulling him towards your breasts more. “Fuck.” You gasp out, not even worried about the driver up front, too engrossed in the way that he is making you feel. 

To see his previously virginal wife ride his cock like a pro and moan like a whore, it has him ready to cum. You are a fucking angel and devil combined in one beautiful package and he knows in this moment that he has made the right choice. It would be easy to love you but he won't allow himself. Love gets people killed and he won't do it. He switches to your other breast, ripping the other strap of the expensive gown and he groans when your walls flutter around his length.

“Fill me up.” You gasp out, feeling your cunt start to clench down around it. It’s dirty sounding, filthy - but right now it sounds like the sexiest thing ever. “P-please Dave.” You beg, grinding down on him as your hips stutter. “Fill me up, want to feel it.” 

Dave wants you to cum first, you haven't cum from penetration. He clenches his jaw, willing himself to hold off from cumming, and he reaches between you to rub your clit. "Cum first baby. Need to feel you soak my cock."

It only takes a few more rolls of your hips before you are crying out. You stiffen in his arms, your walls shaking around his length and you feel the hot rush of pleasure flood your core and hear the squelch the next time you slide up on his cock. 

Dave loves seeing you cum, the way your mouth opens and your brow furrows, it's fucking art. He lets himself go, grabbing your hips to pull you down onto his cock, pushing into your tight walls before painting them with his hot seed, a low groan escaping his lips while he buries his face in your neck.

This time, you don’t cry. Instead, you drop your cheek onto his shoulder and sigh, trying to catch your breath. “Oh wow.” Giggling, you can’t believe that you just fucked your husband in the back of the car. Feeling free and slightly thrilled about that. Feeling him throb and your walls randomly flutter around him as you both relax. 

Dave kisses you softly, praying that you just got pregnant, but he knows it’s unlikely since you aren’t ovulating. He sighs and shifts you off of him, grabbing his handkerchief to clean you up and he just straightens himself up as the car pulls up to the house. He can’t allow himself to be fully invested in this marriage. Love causes distractions which cause mistakes which ultimately lead to death. He refuses to be his parents. Getting out of the car, Dave helps you out and you lean against him until you’re inside. “I have work to do.” He declares, gently pushing you away.

You stare at him for a moment, unable to believe after that he is pushing you away. “Okay.” You watch him walk away as you hold onto the straps of your gown. He obviously wants a family that he can pay attention to at his leisure. When he decides that he wants to give you more attention, you will have a headache.

Dave sighs, shutting down his computer, and he knows you hate him but what can he do? It’s better this way. The less attachment the better. Especially when you demand a divorce. You wouldn’t want to stay married to a man like him. Dave bites his lip and remembers the way you felt around him and his cock twitches. “Fuck.” He groans, rubbing his thighs, and he stands up, malign his way to your room. “Sweetheart. Can I come in?”

You had been reading when your door knob turned before the lock stopped him from opening it. Huffing, you set aside your book and stand. After he had left you, you had taken a bath and changed into your sleep clothes. Walking over to the door, you fling it open. “No.” You state firmly. “You cannot. I- I don’t understand you. You blow so hot and cold and I’m not putting up with it.” You tell him. “We have a fantastic time in the limo and then you just push me aside. I’m your wife, not some whore you fuck in that hotel room.” Tears gather in your eyes but you ignore them. “You want to treat me this way? Fine. Your sex for the day is already accomplished. There’s no need for you to come inside or touch me again tonight.”

Dave wants to push past you and enter your room but something inside of him tells him that it will do damage to your somewhat reasonable relationship. Dave slams his hand on the door frame, leaning in slightly. “Fine. I’ll go to the hotel and find one of those whores if my wife won’t let me fuck her.” He growls, pissed off at you for thinking he’s cold when you are like the damn arctic. “I won’t touch you tonight. I’ll touch someone else. Enjoy your evening…sweetheart.” He adds sarcastically and stalks downstairs, calling for his driver to take him to the hotel.

You swallow, heart plummeting as you hear him slam the front door of the large house and you are left with the ringing silence. You have lost this round. He doesn’t care enough about you to even hide the fact that he wouldn’t be faithful to you. Tears in your eyes, you start walking down the hall towards the kitchen. It’s not like you will be able to read your book tonight while you listen for him to come back. You might as well do some baking. Maybe you would drop off treats for some of the local food banks or soup kitchens around the city. Something to make you feel better than you do right now.

Dave enters his home, pissed because he couldn’t bring himself to fuck another woman. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to risk catching something and passing it onto you and therefore a baby, but in reality he couldn’t do it. He stalks into the house and he frowns when he walks in to the kitchen to find you baking. “What’s all this?” He gestures to the cupcakes and muffins and cookies covering the countertops.

“Baking.” You answer as you turn around to slide another tray of muffins into the oven. “I knew that I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep, so I decided to be productive.” You turn around and take the oven mitt off before you look over at him standing in the kitchen doorway. “I’m planning on taking them to the soup kitchens and orphanages tomorrow. Give them a treat and credit the York family.” You are surprised he’s home, having anticipated him to be gone all night rather than a few hours. “Was your night to your satisfaction?” You ask politely.

Dave is taken back by how kind you truly are. He knew that before he married you but for you to bake cookies for orphans? Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking angel. You deserve to be treated as such. “No. I am not satisfied because my wife wouldn’t let me touch her. I spent the entire night imagining spreading her legs and burying my tongue in her cunt but I couldn’t do that because she barred me from her room.” He steps closer to you.

“You didn’t find someone else’s pussy to lick?” You ask with an attitude and Dave chuckles.

“No one else’s pussy seems to do it for me now. Tell me to stop.” He orders, his fingers trailing along your arms and he spins you around. “Tell me to stop and I won’t put you on the counter and bury my tongue in your sweet cunt.”

“Stop pushing me away the second you finish with me.” Your demand, looking into his eyes and then at his lips. His tongue is good, even as inexperienced as you are, you know that. “I just want to feel like I’m more than a trophy and brood mare for you.”

“What do you want from me? I can’t give you love. I know you want it but I can’t - I can’t love you. I can give you anything else in this world. I am a killer, a cold bastard who doesn’t even know how to cuddle. Can’t you accept me as I am?” He pleads, looking into your eyes.

Your heart breaks, hearing that he will never love you. At least it’s honest, and that’s a start. “I want faithfulness.” You admit. “I- you won’t love me, I’ll- I’ll accept that.” Your voice wavers slightly but you continue on. “Just- when we are done, talk to me. Even if it’s about your work. Share it with me. A marriage is supposed to be a partnership, so share your burdens with me.”

He nods, reaching for your hands. “I can do that.” He promises, squeezing your hands. He knows he should work on his aftercare. “I can be faithful to you, I don’t - your pussy has honestly ruined any other for me.” He admits, blushing a little.

You snort and lift a brow, not quite believing him. “It’s because it’s a new toy.” You remind him. “I’m sure you won’t feel the same way when I’m fat and unattractive carrying that child you want.” You reach up and poke him in the chest. “Speaking of - you may not be able to love me - but our children will never know that their father doesn’t believe they hung the moon.” You tell him fiercely. “They will brag to their friends that they have the best dad in the world.”

Dave chuckles at your ferocity, it’s sexy and admirable. “I’m sure they will tell everyone their mama is the best in the world more than me. You’ll be an amazing mother. I can’t wait to witness it.” His hand slides down to your stomach, wishing you were already pregnant. “Besides, I think you’ll be the most beautiful pregnant woman. I think I’ll want to worship you.” He murmurs, his cold heart thumping when you offer him a bashful smile. “Now, are you gonna let me lick that pretty pussy?” He hums, kissing the side of your head.

“You really didn’t touch someone else?” You ask quietly, looking at him solemnly and Dave shakes his head.

“I didn’t.” He promises you, making you lunge forward and press your lips to his. Your marriage is tumultuous and there have been some hard feelings, but you want this to work, because you are his. Yes, it will hurt that he will never love you, but you will worry about that later.

Dave groans at how eager you are, his hands squeezing your ass until he grabs your thighs, managing to lift you onto the countertop that is covered in flour. He reaches for your shorts, dragging them down your legs along with your panties until he pushes them apart. “Best fucking pussy in D.C.” He growls before he dives in, sliding his tongue through your folds.

You giggle at his actions, plopping you down into flour without a care. “I- you only have ten more minutes Dave.” You tease, looking over at the timer on the counter top. “Think you can make me cum that quickly?”

Dave pulls back to smirk at you, “please baby. I’ll have you cumming in seven.” He dives back in, sucking your clit into his mouth and he has never been a man to give oral unless he’s going to receive too but fuck, you’re so sweet. Just like you, sweet and a little sour. He loves it. His tongue flicks over your clit and his finger circles your entrance before he pushes it inside of you.

“Cheater!” You gasp, tangling your fingers into his hair and sliding down the counter, pushing some of the flour onto the floor. “N-not f-fair to use your fin-gers.” You pant out, smirking the entire time. You love the smirk he had given you and the playfulness in his tone. That is what you want from him.

Dave chuckles at your protest but suck’s your clit into his mouth. He never said he plays fair. He always gets what he wants and that will be him making you cum in less than seven minutes. He pushes another finger into your cunt, curling them before he resumes sucking your clit.

You whimper, whine and moan your way closer to an orgasm. Every suck if his mouth is paired with a curling of his fingers and you are just barreling closer to falling apart every second he is touching you. Rocking your hips again this face, you lean against the cabinets and moan out his name, hoping the housekeeper doesn’t come into the kitchen.

You cry out, pulling at his hair while your entire body bows up and you start to cum. Flooding his fingers with your release and your thighs close around his head. “Dave!” You cry out in pleasure.

He hums, making your thighs shake, and he works you through it, loving the way you cry out his name. He pumps his fingers a few times until he withdraws them, sticking them into his mouth to clean them up while your chest heaves as you relax from your orgasm.

“Jesus.” You sigh, blissed out. “That is so much better than what I could do.” You admit softly. Taking a few breathes, you open your eyes and look at Dave. “How do you want me after I pulled the muffins out?”

Dave waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle, and he loves the sound. He winks at you and reaches for your shirt, glad you didn’t put a bra back on. “I want you to bend over the kitchen table, I want to fuck you from behind.”

You pull the muffins out of the oven completely nude, with Dave behind you trying to pull his cock out of his pants like he had in the limo. You set the tray down on a cooling rack and bend over the counter, laughing when your breasts are dragging through the impression of your ass from earlier. You look over your shoulder and shake your ass at him playfully. “Hurry up.”

He chuckles at your impatience, slapping your ass then he grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and pushing in without premise. “Fuck.” He hisses at how tight you are, his forehead resting against your back as he looms over you.

“Oh fuck.” You feel him from the sex in the car on the way home, but he feels amazing right now. Even larger from this position. “Dave.” You whimper quietly. “I- I want you to fuck me.”

He kisses your spine and he starts to move, a quick, hard pace that has your hips slamming against the edge of the counter. He groans your name at the way your cunt grips him and he can’t believe he ever thought any other pussy could compare. This is his cunt. He owns it. He just wonders if you are starting to own his cock. “Shit.” He hisses to himself as he realizes he is starting to care.

“Fuck.” You reach back and grab onto his hip, urging him on. You love the way he feels shredding up into you. Wondering if tonight in the kitchen is the night you get pregnant. “Fuck Dave.” You whimper, collapsing forward and your breasts press into the flour.

He grunts, sweat beading on his brow from the force of his thrusts. “So fucking good. So good baby. Jesus, such a good pussy. The best. And mine. God, gonna knock you up right now. Just - just need you to cum again.” He pants, squeezing his hand underneath you to rub your clit.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” You whine, pushing back against him and gasping when he finds your clit with precise accuracy. “I- oh god, I’m gonna cum again.” You slap your hand down in the flour and wail his name again, clenching down around him.

“Good girl. Good girl. Fuck. Gonna make me - you’re so - oh fuck.” He growls, burying his cock deep inside of you and painting your walls for the second time that night.

You pant, feeling him continuing to grind into you as he rides out his high. As you catch your breath, you wonder if he will push you away again or actually try to open up slightly. If he doesn’t, you will just try to get pregnant as quickly as possible.

Dave sighs, kissing along your neck. His instinct is to pull out of you and rush off to his room but he can’t. Even if he wanted to, he can’t leave you right now. He grabs a clean dishcloth from the nearby drawer and he pulls out, gently cleaning you up. “Gotta shower with all the flour that’s on you. Or do you want a bath? I can go run it once you’re done baking.” He offers, wanting you to be happy and not sad with him.

“Shower.” You decide, biting your lip and looking around at all the food. “Will you take one with me? Then I’ll put this stuff away.” You will let him escape after the shower, knowing he doesn’t want to spend too much time with you.

Dave nods, knowing it's getting into dangerous territory but he can't refuse you when you look at him like that. "Okay baby. Let's go shower." He takes your hand and decides to let you guide him. "Yours or mine?" He asks, not caring about the flour that's all over his suit and the house.

“We can use mine.” You offer softly. “It will give you a reason to have to leave.” You squeeze his hand in yours to let him know that you aren’t upset about it. You asked for time after sex and he’s giving it to you. You wouldn’t be bitchy because he didn’t live up to romance novels.

Dave appreciates your acceptance that he won't be your prince charming. He lets you guide him to your bedroom and he watches you lean in to turn on the shower. "You've got flour all over your ass." He chuckles, slapping your ass playfully and he works on undressing himself.

You giggle and turn around to watch him undress. “Flour on my tits as well.” You remind him, watching him reveal inch by inch with every article he takes off. You step into the shower and adjust the spray, watching the flour start to stream down your body in white rivulets. “Maybe you did it this time.” You murmur, mostly to yourself as you run your hands over your body.

Dave hears you and he is torn. Part of him wants you to be pregnant, anxious to see you grow with his child. The other part of him wants to keep trying to get you pregnant. He kicks his boxers aside and steps in behind you, groaning at the hot water hitting his chest. "Are you ready to be pregnant?" He asks.

“I- I don’t know.” You confess. “Our relationship is very…precarious, but then again - it is what you married me for.” You step to the side and reach for your body wash. “I think I’m- I’m afraid.” You sigh softly. “Who knows what will happen while I’m pregnant. Most women are hormonal and you aren’t known for your patience.”

He watches you, knowing that your fears are valid, but he would never reprimand you for your hormones. He reaches for your cheeks, bringing your eyes to his. "Sweetheart, if you are - or get - pregnant, I will worship the fucking ground you walk on. I have wanted this, a family, for my entire life and for you to give it to me...I could never thank you enough. Please don't be scared. I'll be there for you." He promises.

You swallow and nod, hoping that he’s telling the truth. “You say that now, but wait until I’m crying because the pickle and chocolate chip muffins don’t taste like I imagined.” You joke, wanting to lift the atmosphere a bit.

He chuckles, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, and he leans forward to kiss your forehead. "Ice cream and pickles was what my mom craved. Anything you want...it is yours. I can give you whatever you want." He promises.

You sigh, handing him the body wash, "except you." Dave doesn't respond, working on cleaning himself off.

The rest of your shower is quiet, not uncomfortable, but it’s clear that the two of you are lost in your own thoughts. Once both of you are clean, you turn off the water and brush past Dave to reach for a towel for him as you step out. “Have a good night Dave.” You offer softly. “I’m going to go clean up the kitchen and then go to bed.” You lean in and press your lips to his. “Sweet dreams.”

He wraps the towel around his waist, watching you go and he wants to drag you back into his arms. Shit, he’s already in deep and he doesn’t know how to pull himself away from you. He needs to stop feeling like this. He grabs his clothes and makes his way back to his room, determined to not go back and crawl into your bed.

It doesn’t surprise you that Dave is gone when you come back to your room. The baked goods stored and the kitchen cleaned, it’s been at least two hours. Climbing into bed, you sigh softly. You’re probably never going to know what it’s like to sleep in the same bed as him. 

****

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for Mr. York?” Mrs. Jones asks as she frets. “He should be awake soon and you can have breakfast together.”

You smile at the older woman and continue to put the boxes of goods into the car that the driver had pulled around to the kitchen door. “No, I want them to have them while they are still fresh.” You explain. “Mr. York knows I am delivering them. He won’t even notice that I’m not at the table.” You promise with another smile. “He’ll be reading his paper or answering emails on his phone.” Turning to the driver you nod. “I’m ready to go. You have the list of addresses.” You had woken up early and written cards to go along with the treats, explaining who they were from and why. It was a gesture that you hoped makes Dave’s family name shine.

Dave comes downstairs dressed in a crisp suit, ready for his day of meetings, and he frowns when he doesn’t find you sitting at the kitchen table. He looks at his housekeeper. “Where is my beautiful wife this morning?” He asks and she tells him that you’ve gone out to deliver the baked goods you made last night. With a sigh, he resigns himself to breakfast alone until he makes his way to his office, driving himself since you have taken the driver.

You come back home, feeling better and happier than you have in quite awhile. You had delivered the muffins, cookies and cakes to surprised and grateful directors on behalf of the York family. Early enough for breakfast to be able to watch the kids in the orphanage enjoy the rare breakfast treats that made them all think it was a special occasion. You had cried when you had gotten back to the car, vowing that you were going to get Dave to either donate to them or arrange a charity event to bolster their stretched budget. Feeling a little disappointed that you had completely missed Dave, you decide that you will take lunch to him at his office to make up for it and surprise him.

Dave is surprised when his secretary pages in to tell him that you are here. He tells her to send you in and stands up, his jacket already removed and tie loosened. “Hey sweetheart. What are you doing here?” He asks, kissing your cheek. He thought he wouldn’t see you today, knowing that it’s going to be a long day.

You hold up the large bag you had packed from the kitchen with a sweet smile. “Since I didn’t make it back in time to see you before you left, I decided to do the wifely thing and bring you lunch.” You bite your lip and look at him playfully. “Is that okay? Or do you have a lunch routine I shouldn’t interrupt?”

Dave thinks about his schedule and remembers he has a phone call with a CEO of some new tech company who wants his investment. Dave picks up his phone to dial his secretary. “Hey Sally, can you reschedule that tech kid for another time. I am going to have lunch with my wife instead of speaking with that little Zuckerberg wannabe.” He orders and when she says “no problem sir,” he hangs up and turns back to you. “What has my beautiful wife brought me for lunch? Herself?” He teases, wanting to be a little less formal around you now.

That thought had crossed your mind, so you send him a smirk. “That’s for dessert.” You tease, happy that he hasn’t sent you away. “I packed up some sandwiches and some soup that I had made last night between baking batches.” You know it’s not the most formal lunch, he probably at five star restaurants for lunch, but there had been something very sweetly domestic about fixing the lunch yourself. “A fruit salad, some tea. Just something to power you through the day.”

Dave is taken back. He doesn’t remember the last time someone cooked for him that he hasn’t paid as a cook or a restaurant. “I- Wow. You made all of this?” He asks when you start to unpack it. You nod, biting your lip and he is in awe of you. “Thank you.” He kisses your cheek and guides you over to the table in his office so you can eat together.

You set out all the food, happy that he is impressed with the simple fare. You had made the sandwiches thick, fresh vegetables and avocado on them along with meat and cheese. “So this morning, I dropped off the treats to the orphanage that is close to our house.” You tell him after taking a sip of your tea. “Dave, their budget is so stretched that can barely make the necessities.” You tut. “The kids thought it was Christmas morning to have the muffins and be told that there would be cookies for dessert tonight.” You look over at him. “I was thinking about either setting up a charity event to raise extra funds or seeing if you would make a donation.”

He can’t help the impressed noise that escapes his mouth. Your charity is unusual. Sure, he donates to charities but that’s mostly for tax credits and for political gains, not for actually caring about the cause. He decides then and there you can give to whatever charity you want. “Whatever you prefer. If you wish to throw an event and plan it, the money is yours. If you want to just donate, the money is yours.” He promises, sitting down and admiring the sandwich you made. He groans and picks it up, taking a bite and moaning at the simple but delicious food.

“Why not both?” You ask with an excited smile. “Set a budget for me to use or donate and whatever doesn’t go into the event, will be the first donation check for them.” You immediately start thinking of ideas that would both draw in some of the wealthy politicians and perhaps allow the kids at the orphanage to come and enjoy themselves. “Would that be okay? And would you allow me to open up our house? I am thinking of a fair, or carnival type of atmosphere? Family friendly and good PR for a lot of politicians.”

Dave ponders it. He’s always been a private man and doesn’t like strangers in his home, especially considering it’s not common knowledge about his less than legal dealings. He considers it and the hope in your eyes has him saying yes. “You can do whatever you want sweetheart. You can have whatever you want.”

You can’t help it, jumping up out of your seat, you press a kiss to his cheek. “I will make sure the event stays to the grounds. The house will be off limits.” You promise, understanding he might be wary for strangers to be milling around his house. “We just have a lot of green space that would be perfect.”

Dave pulls you into his lap, cupping your cheek so he can press his lips to yours. “I will hire an event coordinator to help you. I don’t want you to stress about it.” He murmurs against your lips. It’s far too easy to be intimate with you, you seem to bring it out in him.

You smile and kiss him again, pecking his lips happily. You are the wife of a wealthy and influential man, you want to make changes where you can and his approval means at lot more to you that you had first anticipated. “Thank you.” You whisper softly. “Eat your lunch so you can either go back to work or have dessert.” You tease.

Dave keeps you on his lap, not wanting you to move as you eat your sandwiches and he kisses your neck after you’ve finished eating. “I do believe I was promised dessert.” He coos, sliding his hand along your thigh.

“You want a quickie in your office?” You ask as you twist around in your seat and press your lips to his. “A nooner before you have to go back to boring business? Or do you…” you bite your lip and grin at him. “Do you want to take a call while I’m sitting on your cock?”

Dave groans, "shit. I want both. Next time...next time you can sit on my cock." He reaches for your dress - thank fuck you're wearing a dress. "Want you to ride my cock here."

You are thrilled that he’s already talking about a next time, meaning he enjoyed you coming to bring him lunch. You moan softly when he hooks his fingers under your panties and starts pushing them down. You’re already wet, having anticipated this happening, your slick is already coating your lips and his fingers slide through your folds easily.

He groans at how slick you already are, quickly finding your clit to rub the bundle of nerves while he fumbles with his belt, wanting you to cum on his cock. He is so happy you want him, are eager for him. He manages to unzip his pants, "take my cock out." He orders with a pant, his fingers pushing into you.

Moaning quietly, you reach into his pants, and pull his thick cock out. “Fuck, someone is eager to get inside me.” You tease, rolling your hips on his fingers while you spit in your hand and reach down to start stroking his cock. “You want me to ride this cock?” You purr softly in his ear before you nip his lobe. 

Dave hisses when you bite his ear and he groans when you twist your wrist. "Please baby. Need - need you to fuck me. Please ride my cock." He doesn't beg but right now, he feels like he's gonna die if he doesn't get inside of you. 

The begging catches you off guard and there is nothing you wouldn’t do for him when he use that tone with you. It’s sexier than his demanding tone and you’ve come to find that you enjoy it. Batting his fingers away from your cunt, you scramble to get into position and you don’t even wait, sinking down on him quickly with a moan loud enough that his secretary hears you.

“Oh fuck.” Dave groans, his head going back as he closes his eyes. Your pussy is so wet and tight around him. He doesn’t know if anyone else would compare. He grabs your hands, securing them behind your back to arch your figure so he can bury his face in your tits, kissing along the flesh. “Want you to ride my cock.” He orders. “Please.” He begs a little more.

Planting your feet on the floor, you push up off his cock almost completely before you sink back down. Moaning and leaning back to give him more access to your breasts while you start to ride him. It makes your thighs burn, but you love the sounds that he makes, that your cunt makes as you take him again and again. Starting to become addicted to the way that Dave feels inside you. You know that you will want to do this again and again. 

Dave watches you, enraptured by your very being, and he grabs your dress, shoving it up so he can watch his cock disappear inside of you over and over again. Fuck you look gorgeous. "That's it baby. Shit, look at you riding my cock. My sweet little wife is actually a dirty little whore." He teases, looking into your beautiful eyes.

“Your dirty little w-whore.” You pant out breathlessly, trying to keep the pace steady. You know he will like that. “O-only yours.” It’s true, and you know it makes his cock even harder to know that he’s the only one that has seen you this way. “Oh fuck, Dave.” 

"Jesus." Dave lets go of your dress, reaching to grab your ass and he spreads your cheeks, pressing his finger to your puckered hole, loving how it flutters under his touch. "So good. All mine." He groans, cock twitching inside of you and he kisses along your neck.

“Only- only cock to be inside me.” You moan when his cock twitches. “When- when I’m pregnant,” you pant. “I - I want you to fuck my ass.” You admit, cheeks burning with excitement and embarrassment. He wanted to know what you want, so you don’t feel bad about telling him that.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” The very thought sends Dave over the edge and his cock throbs while he paints your walls with his hot seed. He buries his face in your chest as he slowly thrusts up into you until he relaxes beneath you. You are a little disappointed, realizing that it’s gonna be a repeat of your wedding night. That is until Dave shifts his hand to rub your clit. “Want you to cum on my cock.” He orders, kissing along your chest.

“Dave.” You whimper and your walls clench around his spent cock, making him hiss. You had expected him to be done and this has you eagerly rolling your hips, careful to keep him inside you, “fuck, I’m gonna cum all over you.” You pant, leaning in push his face into your breasts harder. “Fuck baby, rub it faster.”

He bites down on your nipple through the thin material of your dress and your lace bra. He groans when your walls squeeze him and he rubs your clit a little harder. “Cum for me.” He pleads, wanting to hear and feel it.

You throw your head back, following his order and soaking his softening cock with your juices as you cry out his name. Gasping and trembling in his arms as he’s the only thing keeping you upright.

He loves it. Wrapping his arms around you after working you through your orgasm to pull you close. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, it’s too dangerous, but you seem to make him want it all with you. It’s both scary and exhilarating. “So good.” He murmurs, kissing you softly.

You hum against his lips, smiling in pleasure and kissing him back multiple times before you pull away. “We should clean up, and then I need to let you get back to work.” You murmur softly, aware that he would want space after this. Cupping his cheeks, you kiss him one last time before you start to stand, groaning softly as he falls out of you.

He grabs the napkins you’d brought with you to clean himself up, tucking himself away and he reaches for you, gently wiping you clean. “I hope you’re pregnant. I can’t wait to see it. See you full of my baby.” He caresses your stomach after pulling your dress down and replacing your panties.

You smile again and lean in to kiss him. “We’ll keep trying until I am.” You promise, knowing that is his greatest wish. Quickly packing up the remnants of lunch, you shoulder the bag. “I’ll see you when you get home, honey.” You tell him. “Have a good afternoon, okay?”

Dave nods, kissing your cheek, and thanks you for lunch. It’s weirdly domestic but he doesn’t hate it. In fact, he can’t wait to get home and see you. Shit, what is happening to him? He wants to be inside of you again, and he realizes it’s not just to get you pregnant.

****

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that the timer hasn’t gone off yet. You need to wait until the full three minutes is up and not get your hopes up too much. Only a day late for your period, you are already freaking out about the possibility of being pregnant. Not that it would be a bad thing. You’ve been trying. The once a day edict that Dave had set down after your last period had quickly turned into several times a day. You going to his office for lunch more often than not, sex when he gets home and sometimes, even before he goes into the office. The timer scares you, making you jump and you brace yourself, turning the test over and gasping when you see the word ‘pregnant’ clearly on the digital readout. Laughing happily, you race out of your private bathroom to get ready to tell Dave when he gets home. 

Dave walks into the house, setting his briefcase down and he shrugs off his jacket, placing it over the chair in the hallway. “Honey, I’m home.” He calls out. It had originally been to annoy you but now he loves saying it and you love hearing it. The marriage he had forced for an heir is slowly becoming real and it terrifies him but he can’t seem to stop. He walks into the kitchen to find you icing a cake. “Baking again?” He teases, loving how you love to cook.

“Your home!” Your smile is brilliant and you rush over to hug him, piping bag still in your hand. Your lips easily land on his happily, loving how he immediately wraps his arms around you and kisses you back. “I sent everyone home tonight.”

He smirks, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “Why? You want me to eat you out on the kitchen counter again?” He coos, kissing your neck. You fluster, unable to believe that the poor housekeeper walked in on you both before she was due to clean up the kitchen.

“No.” You huff, burying your face against his neck and inhaling the muted scent of his cologne. He always smells good and you wish that at least one night you could sleep in his arms, but that isn’t the deal. “I- I have a surprise for you.” You admit softly, pulling away and walking over to a beautifully wrapped gift. “I was going to wait for dessert tonight, but I can’t.”

Dave frowns, “you didn’t have to get me anything sweetheart. I don’t - have I missed a half anniversary or something?” He tries to figure out what he has missed. When you hand him the gift without an explanation, he frowns even more. He carefully opens it, eyes on you until he looks down.

You had gone out and bought a cute little onesie, proudly proclaiming ‘Daddy’s My Favorite’. You had placed the positive pregnancy test on top of the onesie right below the words. Your grin is wide as his brow furrows for a second, obviously not understanding right away.

“You- you’re - you’re pregnant?” He chokes out and you nod, still grinning. Dave stares at the test again, caressing it and there’s a lump in his throat which he chokes on. For the first time since his parents died, Dave cries. He sets the gift down and reaches for you, pulling you into his arms as he cries with joy because you’re pregnant with his child. It’s his dream come true.

Surprised that your husband is crying, you wrap your arms around him and stroke his back and neck. You don’t doubt that he is happy, you know they are tears of joy but it still takes you off guard. Your own tears spill over and you cling to him. “I’m pregnant. It’s happening. We’re having a baby.”

Dave pulls back, grinning at you and he cups your cheeks, leaning in to kiss you. “You’re incredible. I- I am so happy.” He murmurs, looking at you in awe. His lips pressing against yours again.

You lean into the kiss, happy that you can give him what he wanted. He’s wanted this from the beginning, it’s why he married you. “I made a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow. Just to get the ball rolling.” You tell him after you pull back. “I know you can’t take off to come, but I will let you know what they say.”

“You can FaceTime me so I can be there even if I can’t physically be there. You’re going to relax. I don’t want you stressing or doing too much. Feet up all day. You’re gonna be a queen during this pregnancy.” He orders, wanting you to be looked after and cared for beyond anything else. “God.” He reaches for the test again, tears stinging his eyes again. “I can’t believe it.”

You want to roll your eyes at how bossy he’s already being, but you understand him enough that you know it out of concern for the pregnancy. “You can’t believe it?” You ask playfully. “So you weren’t trying to knock me up multiple times a day?”

Dave chuckles, kissing your forehead. "Thought we were just having fun." He teases, stepping back to place his hand on your lower stomach. "I want you to have everything you want." He tells you and your eyes meet his, showing him what you truly want, and he doesn't want to ruin the moment. "Almost everything." He murmurs, avoiding your eyes, no doubt full of pain. "What have you been baking?" He asks, changing the subject.

You sigh and move back over to the cake. “I was making a double white chocolate cream cake.” You explain. You had noticed that he did love your chocolate cakes and you wanted it to be good. “One layer is pink, one layer blue since we don’t know the sex.”

"I don't care if it's a boy or a girl. As long as it's healthy." He promises, watching you continue working on the cake. "What do you want?" He asks you, knowing you must think he wants a boy. He honestly doesn't mind.

“A healthy baby.” You don’t care if you have a boy or girl either. You are sure that you will be having another, Dave won’t want there to be just one child and you want your child to have playmates and siblings.

The words would be too easy to say, they'd slip off of the tongue like honey, and it would be right for the moment, but Dave cant' say them. Love is...it's not what he's feeling. Or is it? He doesn't really know how love feels. He's never been in love before. He can't love you though. Love destroys, love causes mistakes. He can't handle mistakes. Therefore, he clears his throat and steps away from you. "I'll, uh, leave you to your baking. I gotta - I have work to do. Let me know when dinner is ready." He rushes out, making his way to his office.

Your heart drops, although you know it’s Dave pulling back. He had promised you that he wouldn’t love you. He was intent on keeping that promise, for whatever reasons were his own. Instead of crying and feeling heartbroken, you go back to decorating your cake. You figured out that you would have to love enough for both of you, because you had fallen in love with your husband over the past month.

****

Dave holds your hand, watching the doctor move the wand around your stomach, and he’s nervous. You’re finding out the gender today and he is anxious. He isn’t one for reveal parties and he wanted to find out with just you, looking at the screen. “Congratulations. It’s a boy.” The doctor announces and Dave swears his entire life has been leading up to this moment.

“Oh my god.” Your eyes water instantly and you can’t wait for the doctor to clean the jelly off your stomach to be able to caress it again. Looking over at Dave, you love the look of awe on his face as he watches the monitor. Squeezing his hand gently, your heart swells - falling deeper in love with Dave. “We’re having a boy.” You whisper, smiling at him when he looks at you.

Dave leans down to kiss you softly.“Thank you. Thank you.” He murmurs, wanting to tell you what he can’t say but how can he? He promised himself he wouldn’t. “You’re incredible.” He whispers, kissing your lips again. “A boy. Our baby.”

“Our baby.” No matter what, you had created a life with Dave. Your child would be a new life in the world. To love unconditionally. The doctor cleans up the gel and prints off picture while you look down at your belly. “I love you baby boy.” You murmur softly. “Your daddy and I love you so much.”

Dave swallows the lump in his throat, his eyes stinging with unshed tears and he covers your belly with his free hand. He kisses your forehead, wanting to silently tell you how he feels without actually saying anything. Dave won’t even admit it to himself, he can’t. He won’t.

****

You can do this. You take a deep breath and push the door open to his office, knowing that he might tell you no. Dave looks up and gives you a smile, his eyes immediately drifting down to your swollen belly with pride. “I - I was wondering if I could ask you something. I request of sorts?”

Dave tilts his head and sets his pen down. “What do you want sweetheart? You want that ice cream again? I can send out for it.” He says and frowns when you shake your head, moving closer to his desk.

“I want…I want you to sleep in the bed with me. At night…I get cold and I want - I want you to hold me.” You bite your lip and Dave sighs, standing up.

“Sweetheart. I can’t do that. I’m sorry. I’ll get you some blankets but - but I can’t do it.” He wishes you could understand.

You shake your head, tears filling your eyes, once again wishing that you didn’t have these feelings for Dave. “I’m just asking you to sleep with me.” You protest. “You- you told me I could have anything I wanted when I was pregnant and you- you barely touch me now.”

“You can have anything. I can buy you an entire fucking McDonalds if you want a burger and fries. I can buy you a spa if you want a massage. You can have anything you want.” He counters, annoyed that you’re upset with him when you know the deal. It’s true he hasn’t touched you since you got pregnant but honestly, it’s because he is terrified of hurting you. He doesn’t want to harm the baby and he definitely doesn’t want to delve into ‘making love.’

“I don’t want a fucking burger.” You growl, tears streaming down your face. “I want my husband! I want you to touch me, to make me believe that you didn’t lie to me.” You choke back a sob. “You- you’re going to the hotel aren’t you? You decided that I’m not what you want and you’ve started sleeping with those women again.”

Dave shakes his head, placing his hands on his desk. “Goddamnit woman. What I do, who I do, is none of your fucking concern. You don’t own me. I own you. You’re mine. I don’t belong to you so if I decide to go fuck some whore in a hotel room, that’s my choice. You need to calm down for the baby.” He reminds you with a hiss. Hating himself for what he said but he can’t tell you what he really feels, how he wants to grab you and worship you, make you feel every fucking emotion he feels for you.

Your heart shatters, making your shoulders drop and your sob springs from your throat. “I- I was wrong.” You choke out. “I- I thought me loving you was enough. That- that- that I could love you enough for both of us.” You shake your head. “I was wrong.” You turn and rush out of the room as fast as you can manage with your pregnant waddle. The confirmation of him sleeping with other women has crushed you and you need to get away from him.

Dave slumps down into his plush chair, his heart aching for you. All he wants to do is run after you, pull you into his arms and tell you how he feels. He knows that most people would think he's being crazy but it's better this way. If something happens, he can protect you. You hating him is better than you loving him, it will protect you both. His mind runs over the words "I thought me loving you was enough." You love him. His heart aches even more he's certain it's shattering to pieces in his chest.

Rushing out of the house with your purse, you brush off the driver’s offer to take you somewhere. You can drive yourself and you need to get away, clear your mind. Driving through the streets of D.C., you find yourself in front of the orphanage. The charity event had been a great success and you were proud of the improvements that had been made. Making your way to the door after making sure you don’t look too upset, you knock, knowing that you can check up on some of your favorite children to take your mind off the fact your husband doesn’t love you.

“Mrs. York. What a pleasure to see you. Please, come in.” The orphanage manager greets you, ushering you inside. “Gosh, look at you. When are you due?” She asks, a soft smile on her face as she guides you towards the staff room so you can sit down for a moment.

“It seems like any day, but I have another month.” You tell her with a small laugh. You already feel better, the atmosphere had become very homey with the upgrades. The sounds of feet pounding upstairs makes you smile and you look around. “Things seem to be going well. How is everyone?”

“Oh wonderful, Mrs. York. We- we cannot thank you and Mr. York for your generous donations. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your kindness. Would you like a cup of tea? We have pastries too. Strawberry danish.” The older woman offers, grabbing the teapot she was drinking from and a new cup to pour you some then she gets the tray of baked goods. “Please, help yourself. I’m sure you’re starving.”

You give a small laugh, selecting a delicious looking danish and setting it on a napkin. The tea is a very welcome thing, taking a sip of it before you speak again. “It’s fate that this all started with me bringing you baked goods.” You offer, smiling as you reach for the danish and take a bite.

“Yes. You are an excellent baker. Our pastries simply don’t compare.” She replies with a soft smile, watching you chew on the danish until you choke. “Mrs. York? Is everything okay?” She asks and your eyes widen, dropping the danish onto the table. “Mrs. York?”

The tingle in the back of your throat had instantly turned into your throat starting to close. Gasping for air, you manage to croak out, “all-er-gic. Rasp-ber-ies.” Your reaction is terrifying you, not sure what would happen with the baby. Your purse is in the car and you feel like your drowning, unable to pull in a breath. “D-D-Daaave.”

“Oh my God. Do you- do you have any epipen? I think - I think we do. Oh God. I’m so sorry. I thought- I need to call an ambulance.” She fusses, unsure of what to do first so she calls out, telling another woman who immediately rushes to get the epipen and demands the manager calls an ambulance. She pushes the epipen into your thigh, “it’s okay dear. We are gonna get you help.”

You feel the roaring in your ears getting louder, your vision starting to narrow and get fuzzy around the edges. A clear indicator you’re going to loose consciousness. You grip the table and feel your body become even heavier, praying that no matter what happens, the baby will be okay. Dave can lose you, but he wants his son. Maybe it will be better if it works out that way. That is your last thought before your eyes roll back and you slump back in the chair, unconscious.

****

Dave is typing an email when his cell rings. It’s an unknown number which usually he ignores but something tells him to answer it. “Mr. York?” The voice says. “Yes.” Dave answers hesitantly. “This is Sibley Memorial. I’m calling because your wife was brought in with an allergic reaction-” Dave doesn’t even listen to the rest of what she says. He hangs up and sprints to his car, speeding out of his estate like a madman and not giving a fuck about any speed limits as he drives to the hospital. He leaves his car outside and rushes in, slamming his hands on the desk and demanding to know where you are.

You can’t open your eyes. They’re too heavy, but you feel people moving around you. The wild beeps on a monitor makes your lashes flutter. Your chest feels heavy, aching even, but you still can’t seem to force yourself to respond to anything.

Dave listens to the doctor, wondering what the hell happened, and when the doctor says "emergency c section due to lack of oxygen" and he chokes on his own breath when the doctor says "I need you to give me permission and...decide which one to save if the situation calls for it." Dave frowns, not quite understanding since his heart is hammering a mile a minute. "Do you want us to save the child or the mother?" The doctor asks, "if needed."

Dave feels sick. He knows that if he was asked this before you got married, he would've picked the baby without question. Now, he can't imagine his life without you. "Both. I want you to save both." He demands, starting to panic.

"Mr. York...if we can't save both..." The doctor trails off and Dave pinches his nose, trying to stop himself from crying.

"My wife. I want you to save my wife." He whispers, knowing that he couldn't live without you, he wants you more than he wants a baby. Something he never imagined he'd say. The doctor nods and calls for a nurse to prep for the emergency c-section, telling Dave to wait in the family room until they come to get him.

Your lashes flutter, hearing doctors and nurses moving around you. Talking and yet not able to make out what they are saying. You try to reach out, lift a hand but all you can do is move a finger. Your head lulls and you feel a mask come down over your mouth. More time, more mumbled talking until suddenly you hear a loud voice.

You hear Dave’s voice, making your brow furrow. What is he doing here? Where are you? Your blood pressure spikes, panicked and upset. You don’t know what is going on and all you can do is try to move but you can't. Breathing fast and your heart rate climbs.

"Sir. We need you to wait outside." The nurse pushes on Dave's chest. "Code blue! Code blue!" The doctor shouts and everyone starts to rush around you.

"What is going on? What the fuck is going on?" Dave shouts, trying to remain in the room but he is pushed by a few nurses outside of the room. "What's going on? What the fuck is happening with my wife?" He shouts, slumping when the doors shut behind the nurses as they go back into the room. He tries to get back in until he finds the door is secure and he chokes, tears in his eyes and he is scared. Terrified for the first time in his life. He's going to lose you. He's going to lose you before he ever truly had you.

Alarms beep, loud and intrusive. You hear shouted orders before the black consumes you again. The last thing that you manage to think of before you slip under is that Dave won’t have to worry about you. Your needing him to love you will be over and he can keep himself closed off.

Dave paces, his heart pounding in his ears, and he wants to demand the very best doctors for you, demand that they do something. Anything. When the nurse comes to find Dave, she says that you are stable but they are monitoring you and he can't see you yet. Dave wants to stomp but he doesn't. The nurse asks if he wants to see the baby and he nods, nearly crying. He follows her to the nursery and the nurse shows him how to hold the newborn baby that is placed in his arms. "He's healthy?" He asks and the nurse nods.

"Perfect. He's absolutely fine."

Dave chokes, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looks down at his child. The very thing he has wanted for so long but it's not enough. He wants this moment with you. "Hey buddy. I'm your daddy. Mama is - Mama will be here soon to see you. She is gonna be such a good mom. You're gonna be so spoiled and loved. I already love you so much." He murmurs, kissing the baby's forehead.

It’s hours later that Dave is allowed in your room. You’ve been cleaned up and moved to a private room, wires and IVs running all around you. The nurse brings the baby down from the nursery to stay in the room, telling him that the baby being here will be good for you. Perhaps wake you up sooner when you hear him cry. Your breathing is steady and the beep of your heart monitor is the only sound in the room when she closes the door behind her.

Dave just watches your chest rise and fall. He can't believe he nearly lost you. You're here and he grips your hand while his eyes flick over to the baby who is asleep. He wishes you were awake to hold the baby, he wants to see it. "Sweetheart." His voice is raspy from his tears. "I need you to wake up. Please. Our son needs you to wake up. You are- I love you. I love you so much." He finally admits, resting his head on your joined hands. "Please wake up."

You’re dreaming. You have to be. You are in a place where Dave is murmuring for you to wake up, that he loves you. Wrapped around you in bed, his hands caressing your swollen stomach and promising that he loves you. Tears leak out of your eyes because you know that it’s not true, he won’t love you. Not because he’s not capable, you know he is. He won’t just because he doesn’t want to.

Dave squeezes your hand, looking up and gasping when he sees tears rolling down your cheeks. "Hey hey sweetheart. It's okay. It' s okay. Please, open those beautiful eyes. Show me those pretty eyes and wake up." He pleads, kissing your forehead and cheeks, tasting the salt of your tears.

It takes you a long time to open your eyes, fighting not to leave the dream where Dave loves you and wants you like you want him. You groan quietly, your entire body sore and blink against the light that overwhelms your eyes before your vision starts to clear. “D-Dave.” You whimper, wishing that he was with you.

“I’m here baby. I’m here.” Dave cups your cheeks as your eyelashes flutter until he can see your beautiful eyes. “Oh thank God.” He exhales deeply, kissing your forehead. He knows he should call for the nurse but he can’t believe you’re awake. “I’m here.” He repeats, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones.

“Wh-what happened?” Your groggy and unable to remember much. “I- I had a- it was raspberry.” You remember the danish and the worry on the director’s face when she injected you with the epi pen. Looking over, you see Dave, relief and worry mixed on his face and it confuses you. “I- the baby?” Your eyes widen and you look down, your stomach flatter than it had been.

"He's fine. You - they had to do an emergency c-section and - and he is healthy but they asked - they asked me who to save." He chokes, unable to imagine a world without you or his son. Especially you. "He's healthy. You - fuck - you were into code blue and they - just - you're okay." He chokes, kissing your forehead again, just breathing you in.

Your heart aches, hating that you didn’t know that you had given birth. That you didn’t get to hold your son the moment he came into the world. “It’s okay.” You assure him, knowing that he would choose his son. You were replaceable. “You don’t have to explain. I know how you feel. Of course you would choose him.”

Dave frowns, looking at you with pain in his eyes. He could’ve lost you and it would’ve killed him. “I didn’t choose him. I chose you. I wanted them to save you. I’m - he’s here and he’s healthy thank God but losing you? I wouldn’t have survived it because - because I love you.” He admits, knowing that he can’t stop it anymore. Love is weakness, love destroys, but love also makes him stronger and he has created a son with you so how can he possibly believe it’s wrong? “I love you.” He declares, looking at you, begging you to believe him.

You shake your head, frowning at him because you don’t want to get your hopes up. “Don’t- don’t say that because I had an allergic reaction.” You beg him, “I can’t - it would kill me if you changed your mind.” You rasp out. “I love you, and I just- please don’t say it unless you mean it.”

Dave shakes his head, "no. No. It's because I love you. I'm sorry I didn't say it - I was terrified because you are - I love you so much it's scary. I have never felt like this before and our son...he's so beautiful and you gave him to me and I nearly lost you." Dave chokes on a sob, tears spilling down his cheeks. "I love you. Please, you gotta believe me. I love you."

You are so very tired and your body aches, but you pull your hand out of his and reach up, cupping Dave’s cheek. Trying to wipe away his tears. “I believe you.” You whisper, crying yourself because you never thought you would hear those words. “I love you so much.”

Dave grins, turning his head to kiss your palm. “Do you want to meet our son?” He asks, lowering his hand from yours. You nod and he walks over to carefully pick the baby up. He places him on your chest, wanting you to be as close as possible.

“Oh my god.” You gasp out, cradling hun close and running your hands over his little body. Checking fingers and toes and stroking his cheek. His eyes are closed, and you look up at Dave in complete wonder. “He’s okay?” You ask, needing to make sure. “My - it didn’t hurt him?”

Dave shakes his head, tears in his eyes as he thinks about how you didn’t get to see your son be born. “He’s absolutely fine. He’s early but healthy. No issues. It didn’t hurt him.” Dave confirms, leaning down to kiss your forehead before kissing the baby. “Thank you. I love him so much. I love you so much.” Dave murmurs in awe.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, both to Dave and to your son. Leaning down, you press a kiss to your son’s forehead. “I- She thought they were strawberry danish and I was upset. I just wanted to feel okay for a few minutes.” You look back over at Dave guiltily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put him in jeopardy.” You had been so cautious about dealing with your allergy so you didn’t accidentally hurt the baby. And now this happens.

“Don’t. It’s not your fault. How were you to know? You’re both okay. That’s all that matters. I - I nearly lost you.” He chokes again, resting his forehead against yours and looking down at the baby. “I was so scared.” He admits in a quiet voice.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” You close your eyes and stroke his hair as you hold the baby close. “I’m not going to leave you. Not when I know you want me here.” You promise softly. “Besides, we have to give our son a sibling.”

Dave smiles, knowing that you need to discuss you having another child after such a traumatic experience. He isn’t fussed about another one if it means keeping you healthy and safe. “I don’t want to just be married in name anymore. I want to be your husband. I want to sleep in bed beside you and kiss you properly and tell you I love you.” He reveals, leaning in to kiss your forehead again.

****

"I want to drag you off and take advantage of you." Dave growls as he presses a kiss to your jaw, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You always say that.” Leaning into his embrace, you sigh happily as he scatters kisses down your skin. Despite the years, and five kids changing your body, Dave still found you irresistible. The kids are growing up with their parents constantly flirting, kissing and sneaking off for some alone time when you can manage it. “What has captured your attention this time?” You ask playfully, swaying with him as he continues to grope you.

“This dress. I want to just duck under it and suck on your clit.” He slides his hand down to your stomach, “and then I want to put our sixth baby inside of you.” He kisses your bare shoulder. “Kids are busy and there’s enough adults here including their nanny. Let’s sneak into the house so I can touch you sweetheart.” He pleads, pushing his hardening cock against you.

“Dave York.” You sound scandalized as you turn around in his arms and wrap your own around his neck. “Are you proposing we sneak away from your eldest’s birthday party so we can have a quickie?” His grin is unrepentant and even after seven years and five kids, your cunt clenches. Leaning in, you kiss his lips. “Meet me inside in two minutes.” You order him breathlessly. “I’ll go first.”

His grin is wicked and he playfully smacks your ass as you walk off. He searches for the kids and finds their nanny racing after them along with the housekeeper and he is reassured they will be safe. He practically counts the seconds and rushes into the house, finding you in the guest bathroom downstairs. “Fuck, you look so sexy today. Must be some kind of glow from the kids.” He groans, immediately pulling you into his arms so he can slide his tongue into your mouth.

You giggle into the kiss, your own hand sliding down and cupping his already hard cock. “Someone is excited about the quickie.” You tease, already tugging at his belt so you can touch him. “I fucking love you.”

His hands side under your dress, groaning at your lack of panties since it’s a maxi dress, and his fingers immediately find your clit, rubbing soft circles while he kisses you. “I fucking love you too.” He declares against your lips.

After DJ’s birth, the two of you had learned that sex could be even better when your true feelings were involved. The sex before had been great, but now it is amazing. “Dave.” You moan quietly, even though the house is empty except for the two of you. Your hips push forward to his hand and you hold onto his shoulders as your knees start to tremble.

“Good girl. My beautiful girl.” He murmurs, kissing your jaw and he slides his hand back to push two fingers inside of you, his thumb pressed against your clit. “So goddamn tight even after five kids.” He whispers in awe.

You chuckle and squeeze your muscles around him. “All those Kegel’s I do.” You tease. “I have to have a strong pelvic floor for all the kids we have.” You don’t regret a single one of them and love teasing about how many more you would give him. “Ready to give me number six?”

“You ready?” Dave asks, knowing you have talked about it and you had the IUD removed last week. You’ve both been so busy you haven’t had a chance to touch each other. “You want me to fill you up with another child? Want me to get you knocked up again so I can worship you?” He asks, pumping his fingers a little faster.

“Fuck.” You and Dave had discovered that once he allowed himself, he had a very large breeding kink. And that transitioned to a pregnancy kink. “Yes baby.” You pant, body racing towards your first orgasm. “I want you to put another baby in me.” Your eyes slip closer and you let out a soft cry when you cum around his fingers when he presses them against that spongy spot.

Hearing you consent to putting another baby in you has Dave ready to fuck you and when you soak his fingers, he fucking loves it. “Jesus.” He growls, working you through it until he removes his fingers, rapidly working to pull his hard cock out of his pants. “Pull your dress up and bend over the bathroom counter. Want to look at you in the mirror while I fuck you.” He orders, pumping his cock a few times.

Whirling around, you stick your ass out enticingly and shake it at Dave. Giggling when he slaps your ass and then grabs your hip with one hand as he shuffles closer. Your eyes meet in the mirror and your mouth opens when he starts to push into you. Moaning loudly. “Daaaaave.”

He loves your face when he pushes inside of you. The way your brow furrows and the little pout you have when you moan his name. It’s gorgeous. He pushes deep, already on the edge at the thought of getting you pregnant, and he loves how you clench around him. “So fucking perfect. Mine. My beautiful wife. All mine.” He declares, kissing your neck as he leans over you. “Watch me fuck you.” He orders, gripping your chin to make you look in the mirror and he starts to move inside of you.

You watch, loving the way that his jaw sets, his eyes darken every time he pushes deep inside you. He still loves that he is the only one that has ever gotten to touch you. That everything you have done has been with him. “Fuck.” You lean back against him and watch your body bounce forward as he thrusts into you.

Your whimpers spur him on and he keeps his eyes on you. “I love you sweetheart.” He pants while his other hand squeezes your hips, sliding up to cup your breast. “Want to see these full of milk again.”

You chuckle, considering you had just weaned your youngest off your breast less than eight months ago. “You just want fresh milk again.” You tease.

Dave grins against your skin, “maybe I do. Love fucking you and tasting it.” He admits like you didn’t already know. “Want to see you round with my baby again. Let everyone know you’re mine.” His hand caresses your stomach and he slides it lower so he can rub your clit.

“Ev- oh shit - everyone knows I’m yours.” You pant, walls clenching around him as he pushes you towards the edge. You feel it building and it’s going to be a rush of pleasure. A few more thrusts of his cock and swipes of his fingers and stars burst behind your eyes. “L-love you!” You cry out, soaking his cock with your juices.

When you cry out, squeezing him tight, he knows he won’t last long. Never does when he’s trying to knock you up. With a groan, he thrusts a half dozen more times until he is burying his cock deep inside of you. “Fucking love you too sweetheart.” He chokes out, biting down on the back of your neck to smother his loud growl.

You whine in pleasure at the feeling of him filling you up, shuddering because you know that it’s possible that he just got you pregnant again. You love the thought of it. When he stops biting your neck, you turn your head and kiss along his jaw while he shallowly thrusts into you. “God, I love when you do that.” You giggle against his skin. “It’s so sexy how much you love getting me pregnant.”

“Love seeing you round with my child. Love seeing you be a mother.” He admits, pulling into of you after softly kissing you. “I thank God every day that I picked you to be my wife. You’re my greatest blessing sweetheart.” He declares, kissing you once more before he reaches for a hand towel to clean you up. “Now we gotta slip in these quickies while the kids are distracted until you’re knocked up.” He grins and you giggle, “you’re insatiable.” He pulls you into his arms after tucking himself away. “For you. My beautiful wife. I love you Mrs. York.” He declares.

“I love you.” You whisper, kissing him softly, unable to believe you adore this man when you hated him so much to begin with. After checking your appearances, Dave smacks your ass and takes you hand to guide you back out to the party. Dave York finally has the family he has always longed for.

[jongbross]

all i got (byun baekhyun x reader) [request]

pairing: bodyguard!baekhyun x pregnant!reader

word count: 587

genre: fluffy

warnings: mentions of pregnancy and bbh being the sweetest

a/n: my first ever request <3 they're open btw, feel free to send something in.

it was too silent for a thursday night, so that could only mean one thing. 

baekhyun walked slowly into the bedroom, turning on the lights and instantly smiling at the sight of a very comfortable you wrapped in a white, fluffy blanket. you looked peaceful, and even with the blanket around you, baekhyun could still see your arm lovingly wrapped around your big belly.

he walked over to you while loosening his tie. he wished he could have put you to sleep, he wished he could have talked to your stomach like he used to do every sunday morning he'd be off work. 

being a bodyguard was a risky job, he knew that. but still, baekhyun didn't ever put too much thought into it, at least until you came around. all it took was three years for him to officially make you his, giving you his last name; and then one more year till a little somebody was added to the mix.

that changed baekhyun's perspective of life. he wasn't scared of putting his life on the line to protect his clients, but now he is; he didn't mind coming home late every night, but now he does. he didn't regret it, though - having a family with you was the biggest dream he had but never knew about it.

sitting next to your sleeping figure on bed, baekhyun slightly pulled the blanket off you, resting his hand on top of yours on your belly, caressing your skin and smiling when he felt the baby kick.

"little baekhyun was quiet the whole day, don't you dare make him fuzzy now", your sleepy voice surprised baekhyun, who chuckled.

"hi, babe."

you opened your eyes, taking in your husband's features. his eyes were tired, surrounded by dark circles. you took your hand from under his and reached for his face, caressing his cheek.

"hey", you softly said. "tough day?"

"paparazzi was all over my client today, some stalkers too", he shrugged. "the usual."

you hummed in response.

"are you hurt?", it took some time for baekhyun to reply, so you knew what that meant. "where?", you asked.

"my rib is hurting a little bit, i think one of the stalkers tried to push me off the way with their phone or something", he calmly explained to you. "but it's okay, i bet it will only leave a purple mark on the skin."

sighing, you seated on the bed beside him, reaching for his tie and white blouse. "let me see it."

"no, it's okay", he stopped your hands. "i'll take a look in the shower."

"is there anything i can do to help you then?"

baekhyun smiled once again at your words, pulling your hands to his lips. he kissed your knuckles, breathing in the scent of your skin. "wait for me, i wanna fall asleep with you."

"yeah, okay. your son is awake too, i can feel him moving around, so i definitely won't sleep right now."

"he is happy to hear his dad's voice!"

baekhyun kissed your cheek and briefly caressed your stomach before getting up from the bed.

"you joke like that, but it's true. he misses you when you're not around."

"just like his mom~...", baekhyun sang, blinking at you. he took in the way you laughed at him, ears getting slightly pink.

his heart raced. yeah, he definitely needed to be more careful at his work now, if that meant he could always come back home to you, your beautiful smile and your sure beautiful son.

[radioactivewisdom]

Do you think that so many women are dumb because they can afford to be? Since so many women hide behind their "hubbies", and are 9 times out of 10 the collaborators, not the pioneers, there's not that much at stake for them, so they can cruise through life avoiding bigger responsibilities?

I mean, I am not the only who sees how allergic many, many, many women are to accountability, right? Even calling them out on the most basic things, like making the observation that a woman's position in sexual intercourse is risky (pregnancy, disease) and dangerous (male violence) leads to being shit on by them, apparently that makes those of us who point it out into misogynists, and all sorts of other evil labels that they can vaguely apply. It's quite a mindfuck, pardon my French, to be denied basic truths viciously by basically any woman I attempt to confide in.

And many people have this image of motherhood that it's overly caring, involved, the protector from the father's violence, but in my family and acquaintance circles, the women are not the dependable, but the dependent, dependent on their husbands, ofc. When I was a little girl, I used to feel ashamed to be female due to how humiliating they made it look. It's a bit ironic, because people nowadays say that it's men who lack role models, but in truth it's always been women whose "role models" were limited to upper class prostitutes and mentally-deficient tradwives. Idk, it really unnerves me that women are painting themselves as good people, when all they are is spineless, and would be doing the exact same things their husbands are doing if they weren't so cowardly. The mentality is certainly the same, but the wife lacks the willpower, and the job falls on the person who has just a bit more reason to self-assert, the husband, I mean, his "masculinity" is on the line, is it not? Just something I've been thinking about lately.

And as a last note: thank you for your blog, radio. It's probably one of my favorite corners on this website, I always check back in whenever I find the time <3 :)

Absolutely. Despite all of the complaining, embodying this world’s ideals is the easiest route to take. There are social benefits and rewards to being a “feminine” woman, which includes marriage and motherhood. Many women are just envious that they aren’t allowed to be as openly degenerate as men, and much of the “equality” they’re after is behaving just as badly. This is why they want consequence free sex because men get to just walk away from it, so why shouldn’t they? Anytime a terrible mother is brought up, they’ll chime in and say “but men are worse parents! why are we held to a higher standard?” An accountability free life if what they’re after, even though they’re supposedly superior to the sex they claim isn’t held responsible enough. I LOVE what you said about women being the ones who lack role models. So true, we’re surrounded by women who try and encourage us to be just as dumb as them. I understand why many girls are upset in youth and even fear womanhood because of what they’ve seen. Women can only have the moral high ground because they’re comparing themselves to the lowest of the low. Funny that they’ll chatter all day about how men are so beneath them because of their bad behavior, but don’t you dare think you’re better than them for choosing better. Thank you for sending me this and allowing me to share it. There’s so much wisdom in your words! I’m glad that my postings are ones you look forward to :)