#at the rate of this pregnancy that look like a YES

[hungermakesmonsters]

Take Me By The Hand

A Catch Me if You Can one-shot

Plot Summary : It's been three months since you married Billy Russo on that beach in Mexico. Three happy months. Now a shocking discovery threatens to tear everything apart and has you questioning what you and Billy want for the future.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Pregnancy mentions and smutty behaviour. 

Word Count : 6k

A/N : I promised a little continuation so here it is. It was really nice going back to these two after so long. If you haven't read Catch Me if You Can, I'd suggest starting here

Master List

Three Months Later.

“Well?”

Karen’s voice broke through your silent panic, pulling you back to the moment.

You stared blankly at the stall door, knowing she was about one second from trying to kick it down to get her answer (and, honestly, you weren’t sure her new Manolo Blahnik’s could handle it).

“I - I can’t look,” you said, your eyes fixed forward while your hands gripped the plastic strip.

If you looked down, everything was going to change. Your whole life would be turned on its head. Ultimately, it didn’t even matter what the result was because there was no way that you weren’t going to feel some strong emotion about it.

“You need to look, it can mess up the result if you leave it too long,” Karen said, toeing the line between being gentle and firm.

“I know, I just - I can’t.”

There was no explaining it, no putting it into words, because you’d never allowed yourself to consider a moment like it. You’d never thought that this was where your life would lead.

“Do you want me to look?” She offered.

No.

Yes.

Truthfully, you wished she’d never put the idea in your head to begin with. 

But, you knew that she was right; you needed to look. You needed to know.  So, you stood, slowly unlocked the door and let it swing open.

Karen looked about as nervous as you felt, but she tried to force a reassuring smile as she held out her hand. You hesitated for a second before handing over the pregnancy test, feeling like you were going to be sick - and, maybe you would have been, if you hadn’t already spent the morning throwing up.

“Oh,” Karren muttered. “Shit.” 

And that did not help matters.

“What? What does it say?” You asked, not even bothering to try and hide your panic anymore.

Karen took a breath and it felt like the longest two seconds of your life.

“It’s... it’s positive.”

“Oh.”

You slipped past her and headed to the sink to wash your hands.

“Oh? Is that really all you’re going to say?” Karen asked, placing the test down and washing her own hands in the sink next to yours.

“I - I don’t know.”

Suddenly you felt numb, like it was all happening to someone else and you were just a spectator. It didn’t feel real and, as much as you tried to think about it one way or another, you didn’t know how you felt about it.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” Karen offered.

“Is it?”

“Have you and Billy really never talked about kids before?”

“No...”

To say it out loud made you realise just how ridiculous you’d been - but what was life with Billy if not ridiculous? You’d known him for ten months before marrying him and, now, three months into that marriage, you were realising that you had no idea what he wanted for the future. More than that, you didn’t even know what you wanted.

“Fuck,” you muttered, gripping the edges of the sink and holding on for dear life. “What am I gonna tell him?”

“The truth,” Karen answered, drying her hands. “Tell him the truth so you can decide what you want together.”

“What if we want different things?”

That was what scared you the most, that you might find yourself wanting something that Billy wasn’t prepared to give, or that he might want something that you couldn’t give.

“Billy loves you, whatever happens, you’ll figure it out together.”

Despite your panic, you knew that Karen was right. After everything you’d been through with Billy, you knew that neither one of you would ever give up on the other. He would love you and support you no matter what you chose, and you would always find a way to make sure that his feelings were taken into account. You loved each other too much for anything less.

“You’re right,” you said as you took a slow breath, forcing away the panic.”We’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to tell him straight away, you can take a few days while you figure out what you want, and -”

“No. I can’t hide this from him. I’ll - I’ll tell him tonight,” you said decidedly, wanting to rip the bandaid off instead of letting your worry fester. “He’s picking me up at five - he said he’s got a surprise for me...”

“I think you’re gonna be the one with the surprise...”

“Yeah...”

With another deep breath, you dried your hands and straightened your clothes, thanking Karen for her support before she headed back to her office, leaving you to go finish editing and cleaning up a couple of photographs you’d taken for tomorrow's edition of The Bulletin. And, as you worked, you found yourself clock-watching, counting down the hours until you were supposed to be meeting Billy.

By the time you left work, he was already waiting for you, standing curbside next to the Wraith. There was a smirk on his lips and the way that the low glow of the early evening sun hit his face had you slowing a little to appreciate him.

You really had married the most handsome man in New York.

As he waved, you picked up the pace, bounding down the steps towards him. Despite your uncertainty and worry, the moment you reached him you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. A playful squeal pulled from your lips as he lifted you off your feet and spun you around, leaving you feeling dizzy, drunk on his love.

“I should meet you after work more often,” he muttered against your lips, his arms holding so tight it seemed like he never wanted to let you go.

(You hoped that he didn’t. You hoped that, no matter what happened, he’d never want to let you go.)

“You should,” you said, pressing your face to his neck and holding him just as tight.

Then, reluctantly, he lowered you back to the ground. But he didn’t pull back, didn’t give you an inch of space. After three months of marriage, Billy always seemed most at ease when he had you in his arms.

“So, what’s this surprise you’ve got for me?” You asked, knowing that you couldn’t stay standing on the sidewalk in each other's arms forever.

“It wouldn’t be a very good surprise if I told you what it was, would it?”

Finally, he stepped away, opening the passenger side door and holding it open for you while you climbed into the Wraith. Your eyes then followed him as he moved around the car and slipped into the driver’s seat beside you.

He was barely suppressing a grin - whatever he wanted to show you, he was excited, practically giddy.

You knew that you were going to have to carefully pick the moment to tell him that you might be pregnant, so you didn’t ruin whatever it was that he’d planned for you.

Billy settled in but didn’t start the car, instead his attention turned to you as he awkwardly pulled something from his pocket and offered it to you.

“I’m gonna need you to wear this,” he said.

A blindfold. 

For a second you just stared at him, confused.

“This better not be a sex thing right in front of my place of work, Billy,” you joked, but you knew he could sense your nervousness.

“It’s not, but now that you mention it...” 

You playfully swatted his arm with the back of your hand the second he started to laugh, rolling your eyes. Looking down at the satin blindfold ( because of course Billy had bought a satin blindfold for whatever this surprise was) your smile wavered a little, nerves threatening to get the better of you.

“I’ll drive carefully,” Billy reassured you as if he’d read your mind, “I promise.”

It brought a smile to your lips to know he understood your reluctance and the discomfort you still sometimes felt while in the car, even though you trusted him implicitly and knew he’d never do anything to deliberately put you in harm's way. You took a slow breath and gave him a nod before donning the blindfold and sitting back.

His hand gave your thigh a brief but reassuring squeeze before pulling away. Then you heard the engine start and felt the car start to move.

During the drive he made small talk, asking about your day and telling you about his. It was something you did every single day, often as a way to decompress and vent about the things that had bothered you so it could all be forgotten for the night. It had become one of your favourite parts of the day, sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine, listening to Billy complain about Frank and share his excitement over new contracts.

While you spoke, you tried to figure out where he was taking you and what his surprise could be, but as the sounds of the city faded into the distance, you found yourself at a loss.

To begin with you’d thought that maybe he was taking you for dinner, but all the fancy places Billy liked to eat were right in the city. So you started to wonder if he was taking you away for the weekend, but you were sure he’d told you he was needed in the office on Sunday.

Every guess brought with it too many reasons why it couldn’t be the case but, if nothing else, you were glad of the distraction, helping you forget about the very difficult conversation you were going to need to have with him later.

After about twenty minutes, the car finally slowed, then stopped. You heard him kill the engine, then step out. There was a sound like gravel as he walked around to open your door that raised more questions.

“Let me help you out,” he said, taking hold of your hand.

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he was grinning just from the tone of his voice.

Clearly, Billy was very happy with himself.

Stepping out of the car, your earlier thoughts were confirmed as you felt gravel underfoot. The crunching beneath your boots was, you realised, one of the only sounds you could hear; it was eerily quiet, save for the twittering of birds in the distance. You were definitely well outside of the city.

Billy took your arm in his and slowly started to lead you away from the car, along what must have been a gravel pathway, then he stopped. You heard him take a slow breath, trying to reign in his excitement.

His excitement would have been infectious if it hadn’t been for the worry that was still gnawing at your insides.

“Okay, you can look,” he said, letting go of your arm.

Slowly, almost cautiously, you removed the blindfold and your eyes instantly widened at the sight in front of you; a huge Georgian style house with three floors set in an enclosed bit of land with fences and trees concealing it from the road and from any other homes in the neighbourhood.

The lights were off and, as far as you could tell it wasn’t a fancy spa or B&B.

When you noticed the For Sale sign the penny finally dropped.

While you’d playfully talked about eventually moving out of the city, some part of you had never believed that Billy would ever actually do it. The penthouse was his home, the first and only stable home he’d ever known, the first big purchase he’d made when Anvil started turning a profit.

And you loved the penthouse too, even if you still thought of it as Billy’s home three months into your marriage. Still, as you stood looking at the beautiful house in front of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what-if. 

“You brought me to look at a house?” You asked, smiling awkwardly, too overcome by too many different emotions to really know what to think about any of it.

Billy nodded and took hold of your hand. “I saw the listing a few days ago and - just wait until you see it, you’re gonna fall in love with it.”

He didn’t wait before starting to lead you towards the house, looking as excited as a kid at Christmas as he pulled the keys from his pocket.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a realtor or something to show us around?” You asked.

“I pulled some strings so we can look around just the two of us.”

You gave him a look that said it all; of course he did.

Billy half-lead, half-pulled you into the house and into a large reception room, hitting the lights on his way in. His eyes fixed on you and drinking in the sight of you getting your first look at the interior of the house. There was a large wooden staircase leading up to the first floor, and the space alone was bigger than the apartment that you’d shared with Tammy before moving in with Billy.

Before you could even think to comment on the space or how spectacular it looked, Billy was steering you through another door and into the main room, the living room. There was a huge brick fireplace and, without any furniture, the space just seemed impossibly massive.

Instantly you found yourself thinking about gatherings, parties, that you could hold in the space, and how it would look with a large Christmas tree in the corner. And, of course, such thoughts had you spiralling, thinking about how the room would look filled with gifts for a child, and how Billy’s face would light up with another person to spoil rotten.

His hand tugged yours, pulling you from the thought as he guided you to the patio doors. Despite the fact that it was slowly starting to get dark outside, you could still see well enough to see the massive backyard and the -

“Is that a swimming pool?” 

It felt like some crazy fever dream. That is, until you remembered who you were married to. The house and everything about it was so completely and utterly Billy; stylish but ostentatious, charming but completely over the top.

Billy stood behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder as you both looked out.

“Just think, in the summer we’ll be able to spend days by the pool, drinking beer and getting wet,” he murmured in your ear.

The innuendo wasn’t lost on you but, while Billy was thinking about poolside sex, you were starting to worry about keeping a child safe around a swimming pool. You’d need to keep an eye on them at all times, and you’d have to make sure they learned to swim at an early age and -

Again you started to think about Billy with the child, picturing him in the pool, your child in his arms, kicking as splashing as he taught them to swim, making sure they were always completely safe. 

Slowly but surely, you started to realise that you wanted it. You wanted to see Billy with your child, sharing tender moments and all the love that you knew he was full of but often didn’t know what to do with. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asked softly.

You realised that you’d been quiet, not even responding to his joking. You turned in his arms and pressed a soft kiss to his lips to reassure him.

“I’m fine, this is all just... unexpected,” you explained. “But it’s amazing. Just - just a lot to wrap my head around.”

Billy nodded before gently taking your hand again and leading you through an adjoining room; the dining room.

Fortunately he didn’t linger, otherwise you would have been overwhelmed with thoughts of feeding times and Billy making ridiculous airplane noises while trying to get the baby to eat.

He didn’t stop until you were in the kitchen, turning to grin at you as your breath caught.

It was sleek and modern, a wide open space with an island in the middle, a breakfast bar and double oven.

“What do you think?” He asked, letting go of your hand so you could explore.

“We could have so many dinner parties,” you answered excitedly, running a finger over the marble countertop. “I could bake so many cakes, and learn to make fresh bread...”

The possibilities were endless.

It wasn’t even that the kitchen in the penthouse wasn’t amazing, but this kitchen had so much space, and you felt like you’d be able to cook and bake whenever you wanted without disturbing Billy.

You let out a squeal as Billy suddenly lifted you off your feet and deposited you on the island, instinctively parting your legs so he could stand between them and press his body close to yours. As he leaned in to kiss you, your fingers slipped into his hair, never wanting to let him go, never wanting to forget the way he made you feel.

“I like these counters,” he muttered against your lips, “they’re just the right height.”

To prove his point, he pressed his hips to yours, letting you feel the soft outline of his cock between your thighs. He wasn’t hard, but you knew just how quickly that could change if you decided to indulge him. But there was still so much of the house you wanted to see.

Laughing, you held him close. “Have you been looking around try to find all the best places to fuck me in here?”

Billy grinned and it was really all the answer that you needed.

“I’ve definitely been thinking about how much fun we could have in front of the fireplace in winter,” he said before capturing your lips in another eager kiss.

The spark between you would never fizzle, the want and longing you felt for each other would never go away - at least, you hoped it wouldn’t. You hoped that your secret wouldn’t be enough to destroy things.

You forced the thought away. No matter what came of telling Billy about your potential pregnancy, there was no part of you that thought he’d leave you over it. There was no part of you that would let him.

“Now I get why you didn’t want a realtor showing us around,” you said, your fingers still curled in his hair. As much as you might have wanted to stay in that moment forever, you were curious about the rest of the house and you knew the longer you dragged things out, the harder it would be to tell him. “So, where’s next on the tour?”

Billy’s grin stayed firmly on his lip as he helped you down from the counter and took your hand again. You loved seeing how excited he was to share everything with you, to show you a house that could potentially become your home, a home that you could build together.

He led you up the stairs and to the end to the end of the hall, opening the first door. It was a sizable bedroom with a modern ensuite bathroom. With no furniture, there wasn’t much to see so he quickly moved to the next door and opened it.

“I thought this one could be a good office for you,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze. “We could put in a desk, some shelves, and you could edit your photos in here, and there’s space upstairs that you could use as a studio.”

It almost brought tears to your eyes to hear just how much thought he’d put into it, wanting to make sure that you had space for your photography, something you didn’t really have in the penthouse.

The next three doors were more bedrooms, then there was another room that Billy explained would be his office. You weren’t sure why he’d chosen that room in particular until you were led into the next room; the master bedroom. 

He wanted his office close to the bedroom, so he could be near you when he had to work late.

Unlike the other rooms, there was a king sized bed in the master bedroom and the en-suite had a clawfoot bathtub as well as a walk-in shower that was more than big enough for the two of you.

Strangely, it was the sight of the bed that broke you. While everything had been mounting up since you’d taken the pregnancy test hours before, it was the thought of lazy Sunday mornings in bed with Billy that had tears starting to prickle at the corners of your eyes.

Sniffling awkwardly, you turned away from him, fingers scrubbing at your eyes, desperate to keep the tears from falling.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asked, confusion and worry warring for place in his tone.

You had to force yourself to turn back towards him, still desperately trying to fight the tears that were determined to fall. Your lips parted but no words came - you weren’t sure what to tell him or how to even start to explain.

“Sweetheart,” he said again, his voice threatening to break. “What’s wrong? Please - tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

For a few seconds all you could do was shake your head, knowing that you were about to change everything.

“You’re scaring me,” he confessed softly and your heart broke.

“I -” you managed to force the word, knowing that you couldn’t stay silent, “- I think I might be pregnant.”

“What?”

His question hung in the air between you for a few seconds as you mind scrambled over all the different ways he could mean that one little word. Billy’s expression gave nothing away, like he didn’ know exactly how to feel because he didn’t understand what you were trying to tell him.

“I thought you were...” he started and then stopped. “I thought you were on the pill.”

“I was - I am, but -” you took an awkward breath, “- last month, when we went to visit Sam...”

There was a flicker of realisation on his face; you’d forgotten your pills and, after a few too many glasses of wine, you were both more than happy to forget about protection in favour of intimacy. 

“I’m so sorry,” you continued, the worry you’d spent hours trying to suppress finally bubbling to the surface.”I know we’ve never even talked about having kids, and I don’t know if you want even them and I - I just don’t want you to think that I did this on purpose, because I didn’t. I promise, Billy, I -”

“Hey, sweetheart, hey,” he said firmly, taking your face in his hands and stopping you from descending into further panic. “Just breathe, okay? I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?”

“Of course not. How could I be?”

He was right, how could he be upset? If you were pregnant it was because of a bad decision that you had made together.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, not sure what else you could say.

“What are you sorry for?” He asked softly, still holding your gaze as he gave a reassuring smile.

You hesitated for a moment, uncertain before admitting; “I don’t know what I want.”

“You don’t know if you want a baby?”

You nodded. 

Billy didn’t say anything, instead he gave you time to put your thoughts and feelings into words.

“When Scott wanted kids, I was terrified. I knew he’d be a terrible father, and I couldn’t bear the thought of putting a child through that, but with you...” you trailed off, thinking of all the little moments you’d pictured as he’d shown you around the house, thinking about the future you could have together. “When I think about how good you are with Sam’s kids I - I know you’d be an amazing father. You’d love and cherish our baby, and keep them safe, but I...”

“What?” He prompted gently.

“What if I fuck up? What if I fuck up like I did with Lilly?” You asked, your voice turning quiet.

His arms wrapped around you almost instantly, and you found yourself pulled tight against his chest. In the time you’d been together, you’d confided with him more and more about your little sister, the events surrounding her death, and how you still felt responsible, so you knew Billy completely understood what you were trying to say.

“You won’t,” he said with absolute certainty. 

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you, sweetheart. And I know me. And between the pair of us, I know that there’s nothing that we wouldn’t do to keep any child of ours safe and happy,” he told you firmly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I won’t let you fuck up, just like you won’t let me fuck up.”

Pulling back a little, you stared up at him.

“Does that mean... do you want to have a baby with me?”

Billy looked at you, seeming a little lost in the moment, and you couldn’t blame him. It was a lot to drop on him, especially when you were looking at a house and he’d been planning out your child-free future. 

You weren’t the only one with childhood trauma; he’d been abandoned and hurt, he’d been left feeling worthless and alone. And, as he looked at you, you could have sworn that you saw a flicker of the uncertain boy that he used to be so many years ago.

He had just as many reasons to fear parenthood as you did.

“I’d never leave them,” you said as a gentle promise. “I’d never do what she did to you. And I’ll never leave you either.”

“I know you won’t.”

“And I would never let anyone hurt them the way you were hurt.”

He looked at you for a second, his eyes wet as he slowly blinked, fighting to stay in control of himself.

“We protect each other,” he said, “and we protect our child.”

“Does that mean -”

Again, there was another pause.

“Yes. I want to have a family with you,” he finally said.

For a few long seconds, he just stared into your eyes, then he was kissing you again, stealing your breath and the last shreds of your sanity. You barely noticed you were being moved until you felt the wall at your back, and the press of his body against yours.

“If we’re having a kid, we’re definitely gonna need a big house like this one,” you muttered against his lips, smiling and feeling like a weight had been lifted from you.

“Good thing I signed the papers yesterday.”

“What?”

“The house - it’s already ours, sweetheart.”

Despite your best attempts to pull back and wrap your head around what he’d just told you, you found yourself lost in his kiss again. All the changes that were suddenly happening in your life left you feeling dizzy and, for the longest time, you let him kiss you because it felt like the only sane and rational thing in your life, the only thing that made any sense.

“You bought us a house?” You asked when you finally managed to pull yourself from the kiss long enough to speak.

“I did,” he answered, finally pulling back a little, letting you see the sheepish smile on his lips. “I know I should’ve waited, but I fell in love with it when I saw it, and I wanted to surprise you.”

“I love it too. It’s perfect, Billy.” Then a beat later, you added; “thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?” He asked, confused.

“Because you’re amazing and I love you so so much and -” your voice trembled under the weight of your emotions, “- and I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for you. You make me  so happy, Billy.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. You’re everything to me and all I ever want to do is make you happy.”

“You do, Billy. You’re the best husband I ever could have asked for, and I know you’ll be the best father to our baby.”

He looked at you, unable to speak, unable to find the words to express everything he was feeling, but he didn’t have to. You already knew just by looking at him what he wanted to tell you, all the emotions, all the untempered love that was raging behind his dark eyes. So you decided to make things easier for him, and you kissed him again, pulling his body against yours, communicating in a language he understood and spoke fluently.

From there it could only escalate. 

Greedy hands pushed his jacket from his shoulders and your fingers started to tug at the buttons of his shirt, while he helped rid you of your blouse. The kiss became more hungry and Billy’s hands roamed your body, looking for the zipper holding your skirt up. You barely noticed it slipping down your legs, but there was no missing the sound of his fingers tearing through your tights and then your panties.

“Billy! How many times -” 

Before you could even finish your complaint, his lips had covered yours again, swallowing down grumbles and moans alike. Honestly, you’d all but given up on trying to stop him from destroying your underwear, knowing that he’d replace it, and that he’d quickly developed a fondness for taking you lingerie shopping.

Once his shirt was open, your own hand started to tug at his belt, rushing to get it open before starting on the fastenings of his pants, while Billy’s fingers dipped between your thighs. 

By that point it was almost like a dance and you both knew the steps well. Billy knew just how to touch you to make you shiver and keen against him, your fingers pushing down his pants and boxers while his fingers started to work you into a frenzy.

“I love you,” he muttered as his fingers stirred between your folds.

Your back arched, your own fingers lightly gripping his cock, drawing a groan from Billy. You had all the time in the world but there was something rushed and desperate about the moment, a need you both felt to be with each other in the most primal of ways. 

You moaned as a finger slipped inside of you and hitched your thigh on his hip. It didn’t take much to get you ready for him, his finger alone had you feeling wet and needy for your husband, eager for so much more.

He lifted you off your feet without ceremony, still kissing you as his finger was replaced by his cock. One of your legs wrapped around his weight while the foot of the other pressed back against the wall, letting you move against him and meet his thrusts as he started to fuck you.

It wasn’t a gentle thing - it couldn’t be, not when you were both feeling so much. You were reestablishing your connection, showing the other that, even though so much had suddenly changed, that the way you felt about each other was still the same. You loved him. Every single part of him, the rough and the gentle.

“Billy,” you cried out, over and over, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, pressing his lips to your neck. “I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

Once upon a time those words had been so difficult for him, but now they came freely and you knew he meant them.

Your hand slipped to the back of his head, fingers gripping his hair and forcing his head back so you could look at him, so he could see the utter sincerity on your face.

“I love you too,” you told him. “You’re mine.”

“All yours, sweetheart.”

And, that was that. It was all that needed to be said. Nothing was going to change between you, not really. Even with a baby, you’d still love each other just the same; you’d be yours and you’d be his.

You came suddenly, his name on your lips as you did.

Billy slowed but remained inside you, unsated. He smiled, watching you as you fell apart for him, biting his lip as your fingers continued to tug at his hair.

Before you could even come down from the high, he was carrying you across the room towards the bed.

The moment you hit the mattress, you couldn’t help but start laughing.

“I was wondering why the bed was the only piece of furniture in the whole house,” you said, pulling him close, reveling in the weight of his body on top of yours and the way he felt inside of you.

Billy’s lips pulled into a grin as he stared down at you. “Well, I was hoping that this was how the tour would end. I wanted to... give it a good climax.”

You laughed again, shaking your head, but before you could say anything, Billy started to move his hips again. This time he fucked you with long, slow strokes, allowing you both to enjoy the moment. It didn’t last long but Billy managed to pull one more orgasm from you before his own hit.

For a few minutes he stayed on top of you, reluctant as ever to pull out or move away from you, and when he did move, it was only to roll onto his side beside you.

You laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling of your new bedroom, while Billy began to absentmindedly ghost his fingers over your belly in a way that almost tickled.

“I’ll have my office in the room next to yours,” he said, breaking the silence.

Frowning, you turned your head to look at him.

“The nursery should be next to the bedroom,” Billy explained.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” You asked, a warm fondness filling you.

“Well, we’ve only got eight months to figure everything out.”

Seeing him already making new plans, completely altering his life for you and a baby made your heart feel like it was going to burst. You'd always loved Billy deeply, but in that moment you loved him even more that you’d ever thought possible.

“What else are you thinking about?” You dared to ask.

“Well, with a nursery, we'll still have two spare rooms…”

It took you a few moments to grasp his meaning.

“You mean… you want more than one?”

“Sweetheart, if we're doing this, we might as well do it right,” he said, grinning as he lifted his head to kiss you again.

“How many do you want?” You asked, laughing at how surreal it all felt.

“Well, I think the first one is going to need a friend, a sibling to have their back,” he said, trying to sound serious while fighting back a grin, “but the two of them will probably need a third to help them settle arguments...”

“Three? You want to have three kids?”

Being one of three, it shouldn’t have seemed like such a shocking idea to you but, given only an hour ago you’d been terrified that the thought of a baby might tear your marriage apart, you really hadn’t been expecting things to move so quickly.

“Three to begin with -”

“To begin with?” You interrupted.

Billy laughed at your panic, pressing his lip to yours.

“If they’re yours and mine, I want as many as we can have -  a whole baseball team,” Billy said, as if it was the most reasonable and rational request. “It’ll take a lot of work to make that many babies, but I’m up for it if you are.”

“You’re insane, Mr Russo,” you said, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him back into another kiss, “and completely insatiable.”

A/N : I've been wanting to do this for a while and I'm glad I finally got the chance. Even though I was always happy with how I ended CMiYC, I've always had loads a little head canons about how their happily-ever-after plays out. In the future I'll probably do more of these little one shots.

For regular follows of my blog, I don't think I'll be posting anything proper next week, though I'm hoping to at least have a sneak peek for my next full fic that I'm going to start posting on the 31st, but next week is basically going to be spent planning the next Billy fic and the new Bucky fic I want to start sometime next month, and maybe doing requests? I'm not sure yet, watch this space (I'm bad at planning things.)

Also I think I got everyone that asked to be tagged in Billy things? If not, please yell

Billy Russo Tag list :

@oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18 @danzer8705

@snowkestrel

[star-anise]

Warnings: Doomerism, climate grief, child death

The thing about having studied history and the psychology of trauma so much is that I can't pretend to myself that the world used to be better at sometime in the past.

Don't get me wrong; things are absolutely terrible right now and need to change, quickly.

But also, they're better than they've ever been for us as a species. It is literally mindblowing how much worse life was for us historically.

Have you seen one of those charts of the human population over time? Have you thought about what it actually means?

Because here's what I see: Humans have always loved things like living to old age, like having sex, like raising babies. Those are things we have always wanted to do. It's not like pre-industrial humans were giant pandas like, "Nah, rather not reproduce as a species. No thanks," and suddenly the Victorians discovered horniness.

Instead, for most of human history, we have died. At terrifically young ages. The few who made it to adulthood could make babies as much as they liked, and then overwhelmingly watched pregnancies miscarry, births end in tragedy, or babies die. Their own lives were constantly at the mercy of a world that could kill them without a second thought. To be human meant to live in a world full of a million little tragedies, all the goddamn time.

And then what happened was: The babies stopped dying. The effects of a lot of things from higher agricultural yields to public health efforts to mass communications made us the master over the diseases and maladies that once had us by the throat.

When we look ahead at catastrophe and terrors, yes, they're bad. But they'd have to be extremely bad indeed to measure up to the number of people who wouldn't even be alive in any other century.

And even the obvious bogeyman then, overpopulation—did you notice what's already happened? On that chart, there's the green measure of total population, but the thin purple line is the rate of population growth. Please notice that it peaked in 1968. It is, in fact, projected as entirely possible that within a century it could go lower than it was twelve thousand years ago, at the end of the last big ice age.

The moment babies started to live longer, people went, "That is too many babies. An absolutely unsustainable number of babies. People are crying out for help because taking care of that many children is completely overwhelming. We need to be able to fix this problem," and they invented birth control and fought to get it legalized. It hit the market in the late 1950s and in less than a decade, it had caught on like wildfire.

To me, this is the absolute opposite of an argument for passivity and political inaction. It's not that everything's going to be okay so why even try. It's that as it turns out, the human capacity to grow and thrive and make the world better is absolutely reality-defying. I don't have faith that all of our problems will be solved, but I do have faith that those problems are all the subject of passionate obsession of millions of people.

And apparently we have a really strong track record at that kind of thing already.

[levi-4uckerman]

just a lil something I’m working on…………….

TW: pregnancy, secret pregnancy

“Oh,” was all you could say, breathless at the little figure—; black and white and barely visible on the screen in front of you. It just barely resembled a human, with a too-big head and little nubs on the side that you could hardly even call arms. It was so stupid, so ridiculously not-real looking, but when the tech moved her wand just right, goddammit, it almost looked like it was moving and if it was moving then it was alive and if it was alive— 

“Is it real?” You asked dumbly. “Is… is this real?” 

She didn’t laugh at you, surprisingly. She merely smiled and said softly, “Yes, it is. It’s real.”

You tilted your head at the screen, trying to contain your increasing heart rate. “Is it… is it moving?” 

This time, she laughed. “It sure is. At this gestation, they’re able to float, bounce, and even swim around a little. You might feel intense twitches every now and then deep in your belly where the fetus is hanging out— that’s totally normal, and just it moving around inside its little sac,” she explained nonchalantly, as if she didn’t just confirm to you that not only were you pregnant, but you were pregnant with a real, tangible, moving *thing* inside of your body that was put there by—

“Would you like extra copies for Dad? Grandparents, maybe?”

“Yes,” you said, without thinking. You had no intention of sharing this with Gojo. You had no parents to share it with. But a part of your mind, something so deep and instinctive, wanted every moment of this little creature’s existence captured— on film, on paper, on everything. 

Before this day, you’d never once considered having children. Until you knew that those little twitches deep in your stomach had arms, legs, and a heartbeat. 

Maybe it was the fact that you lacked a purpose. Since the death of Suguru, your role has caused nothing but unrest amongst your colleagues. Unlike Satoru, you weren’t a teacher. You didn’t take the kids on missions. You fought well, but it felt like a performance these days— when was the last time you truly used your combat skills? You knew the fight was never really over, but… maybe this was the beginning of something. 

Something new. Something different.

Your hands went to cup your tummy, the being inside non-palpable, of course. This was… incredible. In all of your life as a sorceress, nothing felt quite as magical as the little thing growing inside of you. 

You tried not to think about its potential to throw the entire jujutsu community into chaos. 

Gojo Satoru. It always came back to Gojo.

hey! did you like this? it's based on this fic i'm writing! come take a look („ಡωಡ„)

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 2

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.8k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), explicit language, cheating, pregnancy, smut – PIV sex (doggy style)

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your summer babysitting job turned adulterous summer scandal.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for all the kind words and support on Part 1 of this! I hope you enjoy part 2, and who knows, maybe I'll write a part 3 one day lol. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Taglist: @scorpiosugar @diegojeanne @f4irygard3n @cvixmei @soniiyi - more tags in the comments

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You blink away the tears in your eyes, holding the pregnancy test, hoping that somehow, you’ll blink away the second line indicating that you are indeed pregnant.

“No way.” Chiyo waits for you outside the stall, the apprehension in her voice apparent.

“Yes. I’m…” There’s a lump in your throat you have to swallow before you finish your sentence. “Pregnant.”

Your best friend’s silence on the other side only makes you panic more, but you don’t blame her. What can she really say to make any of this better? To stop your world from turning upside down?

She whispers your name quietly, at a complete loss for words. Then, she clears her throat, sounding as if she’s fighting tears herself. “I’m going to buy you a melon pan. Just…wait for me here, okay?” It’s the only consolation she can offer you in this moment, huddled in a public restroom of a convenience store; you appreciate the effort, nonetheless. You wait for her to leave, completely alone now. As soon as she’s gone, you sob into your hands.

It's not that you oppose being a mother. You’ve always imagined handing a positive pregnancy test to the love of your life with the biggest smile on your face, excited to raise a family together. Ideally, this would have happened sometime in the future, once you’ve established yourself as a full-fledged adult. Not like this: twenty-one years-old, less than a year until graduation without the slightest clue what you’re doing with your life. Worst of all, the father isn’t your husband, a boyfriend, even a friend. It’s Toji Fushiguro, the dad of the little boy you babysat over the summer, the husband of the kind woman who hired you. You still haven’t forgiven yourself for your adultery, the guilt eating away at you since the start of that lecherous summer fling. And now, you have this pee-on-a-stick to remind you how incredibly reckless you were to get involved with him in the first place. How undeniably irresponsible you were to have unprotected sex with a married man. Sure, it was the best sex you’ll probably ever have in your life. But was it worth it?

You wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper, tossing it in the trash bin. Knowing that no good will come out of sulking in the 7-11 bathroom any longer, you finally exit the stall, washing your hands clean at the sink. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, fixated on your belly, wondering what it will look like round and full of life. It buzzes again, snapping you out of your trance. When you check to see who’s messaging, you almost drop your phone out of shock.

Somehow, someway, the universe has it out for you. Because in the most perfectly disastrous timing ever, Mrs. Fushiguro decides to contact you.

~~~

A week later, you’re sitting on the train, heading to the Fushiguro household. Your stomach is in knots, both from anxiety and from the morning sickness. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin sticky against your clothing in this hot weather. The closer you approach your destined stop, the more and more nervous you get, almost convinced to call the whole thing off.

Believe it or not, Mrs. Fushiguro did not contact you to confront you about the dirty deeds you did with her husband. Instead, she messaged you in dire need of a babysitter once again. She spares you the details, asking if you could meet her in person to better explain herself. And for whatever reason, you agree.

You haven’t come up with a solid plan yet on what you want to do about your little predicament. So far, the only people that know are Chiyo and your parents, who, after the initial shock of it all, have been surprisingly supportive. They advised you to take the rest of the term off, which you were able to get arranged quickly through your school. This gives you several weeks to decide what you need to do. With one issue resolved, it leaves you with the next, and the most pressing: whether or not you should tell the father. The last thing you want is to break apart the Fushiguro family. You’re fully prepared to raise this baby as a single mother, which, with the help of your parents and best friend, seems doable. Besides, you’re not even sure if you want Toji to be involved considering his complete lack of interest in his other child, Megumi. Despite that, you believe that as the father, he has the right to know. Can you gather the courage to actually tell him?

Still lost in your train of thought, you hop off to walk to the house. When you arrive, you spot Mrs. Fushiguro already outside, leaning against her car in the driveway with little Megumi in her arms. They both smile upon seeing you, warming your heart. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is to come. 

“Hello Mrs. Fushiguro,” you greet her, bowing politely, too shy to meet her gaze. “How are you?”

“Doing really well. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She lets her son down, who steps towards you until he’s hugging your knee, cooing. “I wanted to talk to you in person about my complicated situation.”

“Is everything alright?” you ask, unable to resist kneeling down to meet Megumi at eye level, making funny faces at him.

She giggles. “Oh, everything is great! The divorce finally went through and I’m living with my new boyfriend now, who’s been the absolute best, especially with Megumi.”

You make a shocked expression, mouth agape, exaggerated for the kid’s entertainment, though you’re pretty much stunned yourself. “Divorce…?”

“Yeah! Toji and I have been separated for a long time now. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that over the summer. You’re still so young after all, no need to rope you into adult things.”

You almost bust out laughing at the irony, but you hold your tongue, continuing to listen to her.

She sighs, flipping her long, beautiful hair behind her shoulders. “That being said, I still care about the guy. I mean, he is the father of my child. Without me or Megumi there on a regular basis, the whole house has gone to shit. It seems like he’s actually taking this divorce pretty hard. So, I want to hire you as a babysitter for my ex-husband. Just for a little while until he can get back up on his feet.”

Another shocked face, which makes Megumi laugh while dread sinks into your chest. “Babysitter…?”

“Babysitter, housekeeper, whatever you want to call it. You did such a wonderful job with him over the summer, even while you were taking care of Megumi! I don’t know what you were feeding him. Whatever it was, he was definitely a little bit nicer when you were around.”

Lewd flashbacks replay in your mind of Toji eating you out sloppily, slurping up all your pussy juices in every room of the house. You focus on the ground, too ashamed to look at her. “Mrs. Fushiguro, I don’t know if I can do this.”

She squats to your level, reaching for your hand, holding it gently in hers. “I know this is a lot of ask. You’re the only one I can rely on for this. Please.”

A sense of déjà vu hits you. There’s desperation in her tone and it tugs at your heartstrings the same way it did when you first met her a few months ago. It doesn’t help that Megumi is now squeezing the index finger of your other hand, eyes full of curious wonder, grip surprisingly strong for such a young child. Would she be pleading with you like this if she knew the truth about you, Toji, and the baby? Even though they were separated during this whole ordeal, it doesn’t make what you did any better; you still decided to do it regardless of their marital status.

Maybe you can use this opportunity as a way to atone.  

You finally look at her, giving the most convincing smile you can muster, trying your best to ignore the wave of nausea washing over you. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

~~~

Mrs. Fushiguro asks you to start at noon the following day, giving her enough time to notify her ex about your temporary employment. When you use the set of keys she gave you to open the front door, you step inside cautiously, not sure what to expect. You’ve been dreading this impromptu reunion all night, wondering if you could even face him.

It’s a mess inside, heaps of dirty laundry scattered all over the furniture, fast food wrappers and empty ramen bowls littered on the kitchen counter. There’s a stench lingering in the stale air in here and you almost think the worse, but Mrs. Fushiguro had warned you about this. Seeing it in person is more heartbreaking than disgusting. Toji really is taking this divorce hard. It wouldn’t be right to burden him with more life-changing news, right?

You begin by gathering all the trash into garbage bags, flattening any cardboard to recycle. By the looks of it, he’s been living off junk food and protein bars for the past month. The refrigerator is near empty, aside from a questionable take-out container in the very back, which you end up dumping along with everything else. You make it your next task to get groceries after you load the washing machine.

When you return from the store, Toji remains absent. Nerves prevent you from leaning against the bedroom door to listen for any signs of him in there. His ex-wife mentioned that he goes out to gamble at the horse races whenever he’s short on cash, so it’s likely he’s there. Still, you’re anticipating his return, mentally preparing yourself for how you’ll behave around him. Given your current circumstances, you are serious about turning over a new leaf. No more funny business with him. Absolutely not.

It’s near dinnertime now and you’ve miraculously accomplished tidying the house and doing his laundry all within a few hours. You even managed to cook soup for dinner, full of hearty beef and fresh vegetables, something to provide nutrients compared to the processed food he’s been consuming lately. You’re stirring the pot when you hear keys jingle from outside the front door. He comes in, clad in a tight-fitting black shirt that accentuates his muscles and grey sweatpants that don't leave much to the imagination. A plastic bag is slung behind his shoulder, clearly from a convenience store. Despite his concerning diet, his physique is still impressive as ever. Just one glance at him has you fluttering below your belly, replaying the erotic memories you share together. You turn to face him, standing up straight, feigning confidence while you fret internally. He looks at you, brow raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Hello sir,” you greet him, bowing politely. Acting as if he’s a total stranger and not the man who rocked your entire world over the summer, now with evidence to prove it.

He sets the bag on the counter, revealing a couple of ramen packets inside. “What’s with the formalities?” he asks, grinning. “If I remember correctly, you were screaming my name nonstop the last time you were here.”

Heat rushes into your cheeks instantly, not surprised by his vulgarity, though still embarrassed. You clear your throat, trying to stay strong. “I’m here to work. Nothing else.”

He walks towards you, his stature casting a daunting shadow as he steps closer and closer, towering over you. His voice is low, borderline threatening to a point that has you trembling. “So you don’t want me to fuck you anymore?”

You swallow hard, composure wavering. “That’s right.”  Even you don’t fully believe it when it comes out of your own mouth, how can you expect him to?

There’s a strange look in his eyes, almost like he’s disappointed by your response. He turns his back to you, mumbling something about taking a shower. You watch him enter his bedroom, hearing him clear as day before he shuts the door with a dull thud. “I guess you don’t want me either.”

~~~

A week into being Toji’s live-in housekeeper, the two of you figure out a routine together that involves minimal interaction. You wake up in the morning to cook breakfast, eating it quickly and leaving the rest for him while you go out. You use this time to go for a walk, meet with Chiyo or your parents, do some grocery shopping, or just sit at the nearby park, enjoying the sun with your baby, who grows little-by-little each day.

Toji is usually gone the whole afternoon, either working out or gambling, so you’re able to do chores back at the house, like cleaning his room. He doesn’t return until dinnertime when tension seems to be at its highest. A big reason for that is because he’s made it a habit to eat right after his shower, shirtless and with his legs crossed on the floor, displaying a perfectly visible outline of his manhood. It’s distracting, to say the least. Chiyo mentioned the other day how you can have an increased libido during the first trimester. That’s definitely proving itself now.

Aside from the half-nakedness, something else surprises you about him. The two of you mostly avoid conversation with each other, eating in silence at the dining table while sneaking furtive glances whenever you get a chance. But he never fails to mutter, “Thank you for the meal,” before washing the dishes at the sink, retreating back into his room when he’s done. It’s the tiniest act of consideration that makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.

Tonight you sit across from each other as usual. You just finished eating the chicken katsu you made for dinner, along with a couple of side dishes you prepped earlier in the week. His abs look especially spectacular today and you find it harder than usual to stop peeking at them.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through me with the way you’re staring,” he says, chewing his last bite.

Shit, caught red-handed. You quickly look down at your empty bowl, mumbling an apology. “Sorry. I just…I can tell your hard work is paying off.”

“Yours too. The house has never been cleaner. And the food has never been better.” He’s looking directly at you, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you.”

It’s no good. Your hormones are raging, sexual desire courses through you, all from that stupidly handsome grin and a silly little compliment. How did you ever think you could resist him?

You stand up, grabbing everything from the table. “I’ll do the dishes,” you offer, walking them to the sink, trying to calm down.

It’s no use, though. He sees right through you.

He gives you only a minute alone before he follows you, caging you between his big arms, your back to him, his mouth hot on your ear. “Let me help you.”

You let out a frustrated huff, already unraveling from his proximity. The smallest jut of your hips and there it is, his erection pressed to your ass, throbbing and even more massive than you remember it. “Toji, we can’t,” you whine, not making any attempt to separate yourself from him.

He slides his hands around your hips, pulling you in closer, rubbing his rock-hard cock against you. “I know you want it. I know you want me.”

And he’s right. You do. You want him with you, around you, inside of you. In all the ways he’s had you before, in new ways he’s never had but you’ve fantasized about. There’s no denying it anymore. You want him. You want him so fucking bad.

He takes you right there at the kitchen sink, bent over with your grip tight on the edge of the counter, pounding away at your wet, needy cunt. Neither of you bother to remove your clothes completely, Toji’s sweatpants shrugged down his thighs just enough, yours pooled around your ankles, soaked panties at your knees. “Fuck, Toji!” you moan, sticking your ass out to meet his thrusts.

His fingers find your clit, rubbing slippery circles around it. “Say it,” he grunts, increasing the pace.

Drools leaks out from the sides of your lips, too fucked out to process what’s he’s asking you. “What?”

“Say you want me,” he demands, massaging your swollen bud so deep, you feel it all the way down to your fucking toes.

“I want you. I want you, Toji!” you respond breathlessly, squeezing him tight with your orgasm.

“Fuck, I missed you. Missed my good girl.” He continues to fuck you, slowly now, relishing every second of being inside you. “Always so fucking creamy for me, fuck.” He pulls you up to embrace you from behind, fingers still pleasuring you, his other hand at your chin to face you towards him. The two of you kiss passionately, lips smacking, tongues swirling. So sloppy and wanton that it puts you on the verge of another orgasm, completely succumbed to pleasure.

You sleep with him in his bedroom after several more orgasms and a big one of his own, wrapped comfortably in his arms, with his cock and creampie inside you the rest of the night. For the first time in a while, you’re oddly at peace.

~~~

Your reckless decision making has led you into another troublesome scenario. Fortunately, you haven’t had any morning sickness the entire first week of your employment at the Fushiguro household. Unfortunately, it decides to come back today. There’s no way you’ll be able to make it to the bathroom near your room, so you have no choice but to hop out of Toji’s bed and run into his, clutching onto the porcelain bowl until it’s all out. You rinse your mouth off at the sink, hoping Toji didn’t hear any of it. But you know all too well by now that luck is never on your side.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, watching you come out of the bathroom. “Did you just puke in there?” There’s a hint of concern in his normally blunt tone.

You nod, bending down to retrieve your underwear and pants off the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“Are you sick?” he asks, the worry even more obvious now.

Shaking your head, you respond, “No, I just…I’m feeling a little nauseous, that’s all.” You walk towards the door, still not willing to look at him. “There should be leftovers in the fridge, so help yourself to breakfast. I’m going to lay down.”

He calls out your name. “Wait – ”

You ignore him, closing the door shut behind you, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as you retreat into your own bedroom, muffling your sobs into a pillow. After your wild romp last night, this bout of morning sickness has swiftly brought you back to reality. You’re still harboring the secret growing in your womb from the man who gave it to you to begin with.

There’s a firm knock on your door, startling you. “Hey, it’s me.”

In this split-second, you decide to stop with the lies and finally tell the truth. You open the door, Toji standing in front of you fully clothed in his usual attire, a serious expression on his face. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Eyes still puffy from crying, you take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And you’re the father.”

His mouth parts the slightest bit, no words coming out of it. The silence seems to linger on forever. You fill it by rambling all the thoughts that have been swimming in your head the last couple of weeks. “Before you start freaking out or anything, I’m telling you so that you know. I don’t expect you to be involved. I’m perfectly willing to raise this child on my own. And besides, I won’t be completely alone. I have my family to help me, my friends too. I’ll be totally fine. This baby is going to be well taken care of, I’ll make sure of it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just didn’t know how. But I feel better already because this has been stressing me out. It’s all going to work out okay? I think. I hope.”

After the long spiel, he stares down at the floor, jaw tight, mouth opening and closing, unsure how to respond. Eventually, he says, “I have to go.”

When he leaves the house, you crawl into your bed, bawling until there are no tears left for you to cry.

~~~

You wake up in the late afternoon to an enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen. It’s been hours since you’ve been in bed, moping about how poorly everything went with Toji. His reaction left you devastated. While you always expected to do this alone, hearing his negative response to it hurts more than you anticipated it to.

Curious, you make your way into the kitchen, shocked to find Toji standing over the stove, stirring a pot, the soothing scent of soup surrounding you. “What’s going on?” you ask, noticing a plethora of fresh vegetables laid out on the counter, along with a big bottle of prenatal vitamins and various snacks.

He turns the heat off, covering the pot with a lid. “I’m cooking,” he answers, facing you with a grin on his face. “Bone broth is a good source of calcium. And you need to keep eating lots of veggies so our baby is strong, like me. No more of this instant ramen shit.”

“I thought you were upset,” you say, stepping closer to him.  

“I know. I’m sorry I left like that. I was shocked at first, I’ll admit it. But I started to get excited." He takes your hands in his. "I have a lot of regrets in my life, but being a father isn’t one of them. Being a bad father is. I want to change. I need to change. For Megumi. For our new little one. For you.”

Strangely enough, you believe in his heartfelt declaration. You smile at him, letting him go to stand in front of the stove, taking a whiff of the comforting aroma of the hot soup he made for you, happy tears welling in your eyes. He hugs you gently from behind, nuzzling his nose to you. “I’m going to do it right this time, okay? I know I can do it with you.”

As Toji caresses your belly, kissing you softly along the neck, you feel the weight that’s been heavy on your shoulders ease up. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

[drivebypainter]

What’s this? A fan fiction written by yours truly?! Yes! It is!

50% of All Marriages End in Divorce by Teacat11

Rated: Mature

Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Marriage, Fake Pregnancy, Queer Platonic Relationship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Obsessive Luo Binghe, Confused Mobei-jun, Tired Shen Yuan, Shang Qinghua & Shen Qingqiu Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence, Oblivious Shen Yuan, Awkard Kissing, Enthusiastic Kissing, Dubious Kissing, Delusional Thinking and Activities, Real Marriage, Happy Ending.

Summary:

"“Well it goes like this, if we get fake married it won't be suspicious to Mobei-jun or anyone else if we both wander off together to look for Moon-Dew Sun Mushrooms-“

“Sun-Moon Dew Mushrooms.”

“-and if one of us pretends to be pregnant-“

“WHEN DID PREGNANCY COME INTO PLAY?!”

“-then Luo Binghe won't hurt us, after all, he wouldn’t hurt a pregnant person or the pathetic husband of said pregnant person! Which means we could avoid having to die in the first place!” Shang Qinghua finished his explanation with jazz hands. Shen Qingqiu felt like spitting blood.

Or

Months after the Immortal Alliance Conference disaster, Shen Qingqiu learns a bit of crucial information: Shang Qinghua, the treacherous rat behind the disaster in the first place, is a transmigrator! The two immediately begin to work together to find ways to survive Luo Binghe's return and the subsequent demise of their sect and lives, and with few options and time running out, they come to a quick and easy solution to save their skins; get fake married."

[fangswbenefits]

Devotion

Summary: You give yourself to Miguel, and he's about to show you what complete devotion looks and feels like.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 6.5k

18+. Miguel POV. Reader POV. V*rginity loss. Cr*ampie. F*ngering. C*mplay. Org*sm denial. After care. Edg*ng. Br*eding k*nk. Mentions of pregnancy.

Part 1. Previous Part.

Thank you so much to @ancientbeing10 for the help with the Spanish 🩷

Miguel had scooped you up in his arms effortlessly and carried you to his bedroom, slowly placing you on his bed.

He then leaned in to place a kiss to your temple, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head back, hoping to have his lips on yours once instead. 

The truth was that you were absolutely smitten by him. Relationships are often complicated. People are complicated. Miguel was a complex person, and yet, you felt drawn to him.

You could still remember the first time you realised your feelings for him transcended those of a regular friendship.

It had begun with him looking after you in the lab. It had been innocent and fleeting enough, but the heart works in strange ways. The way he was so adamant about you having to take care of yourself awoke in you a feeling that you were seldom presented with:

Affection.

His lips hovered over yours, snapping you from your thoughts, and you brought a hand to the side of his face. "Please kiss me…"

Even through the darkness that engulfed his room, you could still spot a faint smile.

And he did as you requested. 

Your back arched nearly instantly, seeking more of him. Even though your body had barely recovered from your orgasm, you felt desire flare inside you at an alarming rate.

He quickly deepened the kiss by parting your lips with his experienced tongue, and you eagerly let him in, moving your hand to the back of his neck, yanking him closer.

Nearly losing balance, Miguel placed both hands on either side of you for support, settling in between your legs.

A moan rose in your throat, and you broke the kiss at the feeling of your clit throbbing, as the underside of his cock settled between your folds.

"We can stop."

You stared into his crimson eyes. "Do you want to stop?"

He pressed a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth. "This isn't about me."

Oh.

Desire had clouded your mind, almost making you forget that you were still very much inexperienced. But you still craved the fluidity and eagerness of couples who already knew their way around each other's bodies… with no virginity in the way.

Truth be told, if there was anyone who you'd give yourself to, it would be Miguel O'Hara.

You wouldn't utter these words out of fear of sounding ridiculous at best, and desperate at worst.

"I want more…" you whispered instead, rolling your hips and causing his cock to slide along your clit.

He moaned, but gripped your hip to a halt with strong fingers. "Are you on birth control?"

The question caught you momentarily off guard, and you blinked. "What?"

"If you want to continue… I have to know."

"Yes—Yes, I have an implant."

Hormonal imbalance had been the sole reason, though. Irregular periods accompanied by terrible cramps had taken a toll on you. 

Pregnancy had been the farthest thing on your mind.

Miguel groaned lowly before burying his face in your neck, lips caressing your flushed skin, which caused your hips to jolt into him.

He immediately hissed from the sudden friction, and began to match your tempo deliciously slowly.

You bit your lip, not wanting to moan embarrassingly loudly with each slide of his cock against your clit.

He quickly grazed his thumb across your lower lip, releasing it from your teeth's grasp. "Please… let me hear you…"

The plea mixed with his gentle touch was enough to have your mouth part in a whimper. 

"Louder."

Your eyes fluttered shut once the tips of his fangs began to poke your skin, and you couldn't hold back the loud moan that erupted from your throat.

Wet sounds and sticky sounds echoed all around you, as you began to drip, adding more and more layers of your own wetness around his cock. 

Ambient lights were suddenly switched on, an orange and yellow gradient filling your field of vision.

Miguel brought his lips to your cheek. "Are you sure you want this?"

You sank your fingers into his soft hair, arching your back slightly, your nipple piercings digging into the taut muscles of his chest.

In reality, you were terrified. Miguel seemed to be on the thicker side than what you had expected, and you didn't see yourself taking more than one of his fingers, so his cock definitely overwhelmed you.

Would it hurt? Would he be gentle? Would you even enjoy it?

The preconception that having sex for the first time was a painful ordeal was engraved into your subconscious. Growing up, you had heard some scary recounts of first times from your friends. 

But you were still clinging on to the hope that Miguel knew what he was doing. 

So you took a deep breath, staring into his eyes. "I'm sure…"

He shifted to press a kiss to your forehead. "You can tell me to stop if it gets too much," he murmured. "And I will."

You had no doubt he would. 

But it still made your heart speed up, and an uneasy feeling spread throughout your body rather quickly.

He reached over you to grip one long pillow and eased it under you until your back pressed against it, angling your torso so your eyes could be met with the sight of his cock dripping precum. 

Now you understood why he had turned the lights on.

Then, you heard a click and stared as he removed his dimensional travel watch, placing it on his bedside table.

Oh.

Your soaked folds were wrapped snugly around him, and you gasped as you spotted your swollen clit peeking from under his cock.

"Does that feel good?" Miguel asked, voice strained. 

You could only stare in complete and utter fascination, as he kept dripping more and more precum, the droplets eventually running down along your folds.

"Yes… you're really…" you paused briefly, completely transfixed with the amount of precum. "Is it normal for you to…"

Miguel's eyes followed your line of sight, and he chuckled upon realising what you meant. 

"With you, yes."

His bluntness had your walls clench instinctively around nothing in anticipation.

He then raised his hips and you watched as strings of precum mixed with your wetness dangled from his cock, before he kneeled at your side, slowly dipping the mattress.

You were about to protest at the loss of contact, but he immediately silenced you with a hungry kiss, drawing a couple of whimpers from you.

The taste of him had become so familiar to you by now, that it served to soothe your frustration and impatience.

Your hand tapped around blindly until it found what it was looking for.

Wrapping your fingers tightly around his hard cock, you tugged gently, and Miguel quickly broke the kiss with a delicious hiss. "Fuck…"

The heat pooling between your legs was becoming unbearable and, with each throb of your clit, uncertainty gave way to burning desire.

"Miguel… please…"

He pecked your cheek. "I need you ready for me."

You pouted in response. "I am."

He then brought his lips to your ear, whispering softly, "Can you take more than one of my fingers, then?"

Your heart faltered once you felt one hand trail down from your neck, caressing your hardened nipples, before traveling down until it reached your swollen clit.

"Can you, sweet girl?"

That term of endearment had begun to grow on you, and it almost made you moan out your answer.

"I think… I think so," you said, trying to muster your confidence.

He then pressed a kiss to the pulse point on your neck.

You watched as he traced your clit with his middle finger, coating it in your wetness. The view was hypnotic and you stifled a moan as he rubbed at your entrance once, before plunging the finger inside.

As if seeking an immediate anchor, you gripped his cock tighter, feeling beads of precum steadily spreading across your hand.

"Easy, cariño… not so tight."

This wasn't even considered dirty talking, but it was enough to have you buck your hips against him, and he eased inside easily, burying himself knuckle-deep. 

Crimson eyes watched your every reaction attentively, and you gasped as the heel of his palm pressed down on your throbbing clit.

"Tell me how it feels," Miguel cooed, sliding in and out of you at a torturous pace. "I need to know."

You hummed in response, trying your best to ride his finger through throaty whimpers.

He paused abruptly. "Use your words."

You snapped your half-hooded eyes to him. "It feels good… really go-" the word died in your mouth as he began pumping into you once again.

He unclasped your fingers from around his cock. "I know you're eager, but if you keep touching it like that I won't last…"

You were sticking out your lower lip in a silent plea, but decided to bring your precum-soaked hand to your breasts, letting the warm liquid drip onto your nipples, earning an approving growl from Miguel.

"Do you think you can take a second one?" he asked, bending over to swipe his tongue across one nipple. "You set the pace."

The sight of him tasting himself on you was the most erotic thing you had ever experienced, and you immediately nodded, just so you could feel his tongue again.

Suddenly, you felt a second digit probing at your entrance, and you couldn't keep your chest from heaving rapidly at the stretch.

Miguel shifted closer to you, catching your eyes in his. "Relax, cariño… you're doing great."

You tried. You really did try to stop your walls from tightening around his fingers, but your body was moving involuntarily at the sudden intrusion.

He placed a reassuring kiss on your cheek. "Nearly there…"

A raspy whimper parted your lips and you allowed yourself to relax ever so slightly, until he was buried as deep as he could.

The discomfort of the stretch turned into impatience, and you rolled your hips, seeking more and more friction.

"More…" you mumbled desperately.

Your eyes dropped to the mesmerising motion of both fingers sliding in and out, glistening with your wetness, as your swollen clit peeked from between your folds.

Wet sounds filled your ears and your head fell back once his palm pressed against your clit. Miguel immediately took advantage of this angle, and had his lips on your neck, sacking gently.

The familiar coil in your lower abdomen warned you that you were nearing the point of no return. The delicious friction mixed with his thick fingers fucking you at a steady pace.

"You're so close…"

You bit down on your lip so hard you feared drawing blood. At this point, you didn't trust yourself to utter any words, and chose to lose yourself in the blissful moment.

Miguel took your hand in his and had your fingers wrap around his cock once again with a hiss. He was so thick and hard and warm and leaking so for you.

"Let me fuck your hand…" he growled into your neck, snapping his hips. "Just… squeeze harder…"

You eagerly gripped him tighter, feeling strings of precum sliding down your wrists as he matched his hips with the tempo of his fingers inside you.

"Miguel… Miguel…" you managed to moan as you neared the precipice.

His lips were on yours all of a sudden, and you crumbled under his touch, whimpering into his mouth as his tongue found yours.

You were so close.

So deliciously close.

"You’re doing so good," he praised you over and over again.

Your back arched reflexively as the blissful turbulence of an orgasm began to wash over you.

And then, it was gone.

Your peak never came and your moans immediately died in your throat.

Confusion took a violent hold on you, as you slumped into the pillow and mattress underneath you.

Miguel had removed himself from you entirely, and you were left clenching around nothing, mourning the loss of his touch.

"Miguel…why?!" you protested, as you felt tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

You dropped your hand from his cock to grip the sheets, hoping to rein in your frustration in between sobs.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding truthfully. "I want you to come around my cock, cariño…" he added, before kissing your quivering lips.

You wanted to be mad at him for denying you of your pleasure, but he managed to gain a nod from you instead. 

The mattress dipped around you and even through closed eyes, you could tell he was positioned right between your legs.

He then brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. You felt slightly taken aback, not expecting him to do this.

"You taste really good."

You laughed nervously. "I do?"

His lips tugged upwards. "Don't take my word for it, then."

He brought two glistening digits to your lips and you immediately took them in, savouring yourself on him.

You sucked on him for a moment, enjoying how he looked so smitten by it.

He pressed your tongue flat with his fingers, before sliding out, saliva dangling from the tips.

"You're so hot."

That compliment threw you for a loop, and you immediately looked away, not quite feeling like you deserved it.

He cradled your face with his hands. "Look at me."

Slowly, but surely, your eyes met his as you tried to even out your laboured breaths. 

"You are. You are beautiful."

Your heart clenched and you were left speechless at how genuine he sounded.

You felt like you could cry from this. You didn't cry easily, but his words always found a way to tug at your heartstrings like no one had ever managed to. 

He craned his neck to press a soft kiss to your wet lips, and you felt his cock resting against your throbbing clit.

"Are you sure of this?"

"I am. Please, Miguel…"

He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs. "I'm not going to last long," he whispered softly. "But neither are you."

The jab at your stolen orgasm had you pouting at him.

He groaned in response. "Try to relax as much as you can, okay?"

You swallowed hard with a determined nod. "Okay."

You felt his cock slide along your soaked folds, grazing your clit, before you felt a small pressure at your opening.

Instinctively, you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the pain and discomfort.

But Miguel kept his hold on your face with one hand. "Please look at me…" 

You took a deep breath and mustered the strength to stare into his crimson eyes. 

"I've got you," he promised, brushing his knuckles across your heated cheek.

And you believe him.

Even when you felt the tip being pushed slowly into you, your breath caught. Your gaze faltered and your mouth fell open in a strained gasp. You felt his other hand press flat against your thighs, and you spread your legs as much as possible, hoping it would be enough to ease him in.

"Breathe…"

You slowly let out a shaky breath, realising he had stopped.

"Are you okay?"

No.

You wanted to be, but you could feel yourself tense up and you brought your hands to claw at his back, feeling the muscles underneath his skin flex as he adjusted himself.

But you still nodded. You wanted to be done with this. First times can be tricky, but you would have to keep your fear of pain at bay until the worst had come and come.

He pushed his hips into you again, and the stretch had you holding your breath again, as a sharp sting tore through your entire body.

You didn't dare breathe.

Your chest became so tight it ached, and you felt the familiar tension in your eyes, as the first tears began to blur your vision.

"Stop… please…" you begged, tapping on his back.

He immediately halted, his face softening. "Do you want me to pull out?"

You shook your head, the motion causing one tear to slide down from the corner of your eye. He captured it with his lips, a silent reassurance that he would take care of you.

Deep down, you feared he might be turned off by your hesitancy. You were sure he wanted to go deeper and faster, but the discomfort was gripping you hard.

"How much…" you sobbed, staring down at the length of your body to find where the two of you were connected. "... is it almost there?"

Miguel smiled warmly at you. "Nearly there, sweet girl."

Your lungs expanded with a deep inhale and you sighed through your nose. "Go…"

You dug your nails into his skin as he slid deeper inside, drawing a sharp gasp from you. This time, you had to bite down on your lip again, feeling Miguel's unwavering stare on your face.

"Tell me to stop, and I will."

But you didn't want him to stop. Not now. Not when you were so close to being filled to the brim with him. No amount of pain or discomfort would take that away from you now.

He was being so gentle and caring, assuring that you were the priority here. 

And you wanted this to be on equal grounds, soon.

His pleasure would be yours.

Your pleasure would be his.

He was kissing every single tear away, whispering praises, and you knew he was fully buried inside, once he stopped moving again.

This time, you felt him shudder under your touch, breath coming out in shallow pants.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice raspy and shaky.

"Yes."

You would be soon. 

The pain hadn't been as bad as you had expected and once you began to relax, you could feel the remnants of it slowly fading.

The two of you remained still for a few more seconds, with only the erratic breathing keeping you company.  

"I'm not going to last long," he confessed, burying his face in the curve of your neck. "Can you relax a bit more?"

You tried to drain the tension from your muscles, and you immediately felt his cock twitching inside you.

He was so deep...

"Please move," you asked, ready for what was to come.

Miguel inhaled sharply, and you felt him drag it out slowly, earning a few pained whimpers from how thick he was.

Before you could take a deep breath, he slammed slowly into you.

Your clit was swelling up again and you knew he had bottomed out again when you felt his balls press into you.

But you needed more. You needed to feel more.

"Can you go faster…"

He dragged his fangs along your shoulder. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. Please…" you begged.

Miguel set a slow pace at first, and you heard the wet sounds of your pussy clenching around him, which had him groan with each thrust.

Your gaze was on how his cock reappeared only to disappear back inside you, visibly struggling to move past your tightness. 

"So good… fuck…así… no pares," you heard him mumble mindlessly each time he pushed all the way back into you.

You managed to snake one hand in between your bodies, and you immediately gasped as the tips of your fingers slid past your clit only to finally touch his slippery cock.

His pace quickened slightly, and he removed your hand with his, pressing down on your pulsing clit.

"Just… just like that…" you whimpered breathlessly.

You arched into him, your pierced nipples digging into his chest, and he suddenly stilled.

"I need you to come first," he rasped, drawing circles around your clit. "Please… please…"

There was something incredibly riveting about having Miguel O'Hara begging. Such a strong and serious man, was now on top of you, completely taken by how you milked his cock, and how close he was

His thumb left your clit, and he pulled his torso away from you and moved back, pressing your legs together with both hands and pushing your knees into your chest.

The new position nearly pushed you over the edge, as your walls pressed further around his cock. His thumb was on your clit in an instant, and you moaned and whimpered, gripping the sheets with both hands, holding on for dear life, as he skilfully brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come for me… clench around me, cariño," he urged desperately.

You heard the sound of fabric tear as your grip tightened around the bedsheets, plunging you into a blinding orgasm. Your vision blurred and you arched your back, feeling rhythmic contractions ripple across your walls, gripping his cock hard.

As your chest heaved rapidly with a rush of adrenaline, you felt him slam into you only twice before reaching his own peak.

"Mierda, te sientes tan bien… carajo," he mumbled in between groans, as he buried himself as deep as possible, finally spilling himself inside.

Even through the numbness of your orgasm, you could feel his cock twitching inside you, filling you with a burst of warmth.

Beads of sweat poured from your skin, and you felt completely spent by the time he finally slid out of you. A whimper escaped your lips once he was fully out, and your walls involuntarily clenched.

You felt him slide his cock along your folds a few times, the added  friction on your oversensitive clit making your jolt.

He released his hold on your legs, and you let them flop down, feeling something beginning to seep out of you.

"Wait here," he said as he slid out of bed and pressing a sloppy kiss on your parted lips. 

You remained still for a few seconds, before curiosity got the best of you, prompting you to slide your band in between your legs. 

A warm liquid began to coat your fingers and you propped yourself on one elbow, watching in awe as your clit and folds were covered in his cum.

You dragged a small quantity from your entrance and brought it to your lips, eager to finally taste it.

Its saltiness and warmth invaded your mouth and collected it with your tongue, slowly swallowing all of it. 

"Does it taste good?"

Your eyes widened slightly as you found Miguel standing next to you, fully naked. He was a complete marvel of muscle and beauty, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as his burning gaze bore into you.

He had a towel in his hand, and slowly kneeled on the floor, tapping his finger to your jaw to have you fully face him.

Miguel was so very handsome. It was almost criminal. Sweat-damp strands of thick hair covered his forehead and you brought your free hand to brush some of them aside.

"Does it taste good, cariño?"

You smiled innocently, removing your fingers from your mouth. "You can taste it yourself."

Miguel's lips met yours and his tongue slipped past them hungrily. Your eyes fluttered shut and you pushed some of his cum with your tongue into his.

He eventually broke the kiss and you felt the soft fabric of the towel being softly pressed to your forehead.

Some drops of cum coated his gorgeous lips and you found yourself unable to look away from his face.

"Let me take care of you."

Affection and devotion.

You nodded as exhaustion slowly weighed down your body. 

His lips curled into a faint smile and you mimicked him. "What?"

"You're so… perfect," he drawled out, sliding the towel down the side of your face and neck.

You giggled. "Is this a post-sex thing?"

He arched an eyebrow, looking very serious all of a sudden. "You're doubting me?"

Your smile faded slowly. "Oh, I just… I… don't think I'm perfect. No one is."

Miguel pressed his lips together, his gaze shifting to your breasts as he continued to pat the sweat away.

"You are to me," he mumbled.

You had heard so much about love over the years, and thought Tom had been the personification of it in your life. Even after what had happened between you two, you never doubted he was the one who had gotten away.

But now?

You weren't so sure anymore.

And it wasn't because Miguel was so easy to offer you compliments and praises. That was easy to do. It was much harder to be stricter with those one cared about, and Miguel didn't hold back from grounding you when you needed the most. 

After all, he managed to get a hold of your heart with the way he took care of you.

Just like he was doing so now.

He reached in between your legs, and you jolted from the surprise.

"Was I too rough?" he asked, uncertainty dripping from his low voice.

You shook your head. "You were perfect."

His crimson eyes met yours and you smiled warmly, allowing him to clean the cum mixed with your own wetness. 

"You said no one is perfect."

"I'll make an exception for you," you said, feeling your eyelids grow heavier and heavier.

He leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek, and your vision darkened as your breathing steadied. You faintly felt more cum drip out, which Miguel quickly wiped, and vaguely wondered how much was still left inside you.

But your thoughts were cut off by your drowsiness, feeling exhausted and as you lay limp on the mattress.

You were almost dozing off when you heard his voice. "Want to take a shower?"

A grumble left your throat. "Later… I'm so tired."

"I'll carry you."

For the second time that night, Miguel took you in his arms with little to no effort, and sauntered into his bathroom, occasionally pressing loving kisses to your face.

You had looped your arms around his neck for support and groaned lightly as he stepped into the shower, tepid water hitting your skin gently.

"Can you stand?"

"Yes, yes…" you said, fighting through a yawn and landing on your feet and easing your hold around him.

Miguel silently washed your back witj both hands, and you were able to feel more cum drip from inside you, blending in with the running water.

You pressed your forehead to the tile as he moved the wet piece of cloth in between your legs, and you flinched away.

"Did I hurt you?"

"It's just a bit sore…" you breathed out, reaching down to touch your numb clit. "It's fine… don't worry."

You then turned around to face him and tip-toed to place a wet kiss to his jaw.

Adoration didn't even begin to cover how you felt about this man.

Maybe he would be your first 'I love you'.

Maybe.

- 2 months later -

Miguel shot his laser-like string of web to the side wall of glass that led to his apartment. 

The window was open, and he smiled to himself.

You were home.

He flung himself upwards, the opening presenting itself as the perfect entryway, and he swung through it, landing gracefully on the tiled floor. 

His digital mask vanished, and he ran a hand through unruly hair.

Immediately, his senses were hit with the familiar smell of freshly cooked empanadas, and he immediately smiled as you entered the kitchen, specks of flour resting on your cheeks.

"Hey, you," you greeted sweetly.

"Hey."

He closed the gap between you two in an instant, taking your face in his hands.

"Are these empanadas all for myself?"

Your eyes fell to his lips. "Depends."

He dusted off some of the flour with his thumb, raising an eyebrow. "On what?"

"Payment."

"Oh, really?"

You hummed, bringing your lips so close to his, he could feel your breath fanning them lightly.

"What sort of payment, sweet girl?"

He could almost taste you, and his heart jolted in his chest. 

It seemed that he was doomed to having your presence have this permanent effect on him. No matter how much time passed, he could not get accustomed to the hold you had on him 

"One kiss."

He quickly complied, tasting your sweetness.

You were quick to break the kiss, however. "And… promise you won't be upset."

At this, he felt a faint scowl settle on his face. "What did you do?"

The reply to his question came in the form of Peter B. Parker waltzing into the kitchen, with an empanada stuffed in his mouth.

He waved and tried to speak, but his voice only came out muffled and intelligible.

Miguel's scowl deepened and he glared at you, earning an innocent shrug.

"Peter and MJ are visiting, and I thought it would be nice to invite them over," you said endearingly, offering him a napkin.

Peter beamed. "Thank you! And Miguel… not a surprise to see you here," he added, wiggling his eyebrows.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he grumbled.

MJ walked in with Mayday clinging to her shoulder. "Hey, Miguel!"

He inwary winced, already anticipating an upcoming headache. In all honesty, he just wanted to spend some time with you after arriving from a mission, and now…

"MJ," he greeted flatly, before patting Mayday on the head, her curls bouncing lightly.

She stuck out her tongue in response before breaking into laughter.

"He's not even using doors anymore, Peter," MJ started with a devious smile. "It's serious."

Peter nodded, taking Mayday into his hands. "Definitely serious."

Miguel's scowl deepened further and he watched as you laughed nervously.

The two of you hadn't told anyone about your relationship. Miguel would rather keep it that way.

Why?

Because this was the result, and it annoyed him to no end.

"Oh, wipe that frown off your face, Miguel O'Hara," MJ scolded. "Everyone knows about you two, already."

"What?"

Peter quickly brought Mayday to him. "Here, hold her. It will calm you down!"

Miguel reflexively took her in his arms, but kept his gaze on MJ. "What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes, joining your side, as you began to clean off the counter. "All the missions together… always coming in together… spending time at the lab," she continued, listing off everything with each finger. "Peter and Jessica told me all about it."

Anger flared inside him briefly, but it quickly plummeted as defeat took over.

"Just a coincidence."

MJ shrugged. "Sure."

Mayday sat on his shoulder, tugging gently at a few strands of his hair, giggling. He winced in pain and removed her from him in an instant, holding her far away from him.

You turned to him and moved to grab her from his grip, pressing her adoringly against your chest. "Don't worry, Mayday. He's just a little bit grumpy, but he's a cutie, too!"

His scowl softened at the sight of Mayday melting into your touch.

You really were a natural at this...

"You're the cutest, though," you whispered in her ear, and she immediately gave you an ear-to-ear grin.

MJ was glaring intensely at him with a knowing smile, and he cleared his throat.

The last thing he needed was them realising how he yearned to be a father, with you carrying his children.

"You're so good with Mayday," Peter praised, stealing another empanada from the plate, and earning a death glare from Miguel who considered hiding them away. "Imagine Mayday and Jessica's kid having another friend to play with!"

Your eyes widened lightly. "Oh! I… I think…"

Miguel wanted to catapult Peter through the window, but he wouldn't do so in front of his wife and child. He always found a way to be inconvenient, and even though Miguel agreed with him on this, he couldn't let it show.

Out of spite.

MJ motioned for him to cut it off, and the two of them walked out, leaving a babbling MJ with you.

You chuckled. "They're good fun, right?"

No.

But he wouldn't dispute that with you, because this was what you did. You adored making people around you feel included and your love language definitely spoke louder.

As you rocked Mayday against your chest, lulling her into a peaceful silence. 

"Actually, I have something for you," you whispered with a smile.

Miguel's brow quirked again. "Please don't tell me Hobie Brown is about to burst through the ceiling."

His remark caused you to stifle a giggle. "No, but he might pop up later today."

Miguel's face hardened again.

"I'm kidding, Mr. Grumpy," you said, pointing to an envelope on the table. "Open it."

He glared suspiciously at you before shifting his attention to the piece of paper. Once he unsealed it, he peered closely at what was inside.

A small plastic rod.

His eyes widened and his lips parted.

That was…

"Yeah. I had my implant removed," you said, standing close to him. "The spider-doctor told me to wait out for my next cycle, but…" You began rubbing Mayday's back as she dozed off with a yawn. "Pregnancy can happen earlier than that if we try…"

Miguel was too perplexed to say anything.

You were indeed aware of his breeding kink, and he would gladly give you as much time as you needed. Even if you ended up deciding not wanting to have children, he would be more than fine with that decision.

He was too in love with you to push you beyond your comfort zone.

And yet… here you were, willingly fulfilling his wishes.

"Say something," you said, nudging his arm with yours.

He swallowed, finally meeting your eyes. "You didn't have to…"

You nodded. "But I want to, Miguel. And I know you want it, too."

There was no denying it. The past few months had been torturous at times. Each time he fucked you raw and spilled inside you, knowing fully well nothing would come of it. Witnessing his seed going to waste would torment him.

He pressed his hand to your head and pulled you against him, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Te amo."

You lifted your head to stare at him. "I love you, too."

- A couple of weeks later -

Miguel stormed into the lab later that afternoon, needing a refill of his serum.

But he didn't expect to see you still there, sitting on a chair, and tapping at the screen in front of you.

"What happened?"

Your head turned and he was met with tired eyes. "Oh, I was wondering if you could draw some blood."

Alarm bells chimed inside his head right away and he was quickly in front of you, scanning your face for any signs of distress.

"I'm okay, Miguel," you assured him with a faint curl of your lips. "Just want to check something."

You sounded off.

So he quickly gathered what he needed to comply with your request, always eyeing you from the corner of his eye.

He came to sit next to you and motioned his fingers so you'd lay out your arm for him.

"Did something happen?" he pressed again, pulling the sleeve of your lab coat upwards.

You shook your head, gaze dropping to his hands. 

He wasn't convinced in the slightest, but decided to give you some space, offering a respectful silence.

Hi fingers tapped your skin, tied a latex glove just above your elbow as a tournique, seeking a bulging vein. 

"It's funny…" you said with a sigh. 

Miguel lifted his eyes briefly, finding yours staring right back at him. "What is?"

The faintest tug at the corner of your lips had him relax slightly. 

"The first time I met you… you also drew my blood for testing," you said, and your tone told him you held the memory of it fondly. "And now, here we are again."

"Under different circumstances, I'm sure."

"Better ones."

He was unsure of what you meant by that, so he dropped his eyes to your arm again. Once he found what he was looking for, he punctured the soft barrier of skin, watching as the vial in between his fingers filled with liquid.

As he withdrew from you and pressed a pad to the wound, a weird feeling began to loom over him.

Could it be that...

He eyed you curiously, hoping for you to confirm his suspicions, but you remained silent.

"Apply some pressure," he asked, and you nodded, your fingers replacing his.

Scooting over to the analysis machine, he placed the vial inside and watched the liquid being sucked inside.

"Why do you need your blood tested?"

You shrugged, but he could sense you were holding something back.

By the time the first results began to appear on the hovering screen, he scanned them, looking for an outlier. 

It didn't take long for it to show up.

Miguel's heart lurched as the confirmation hit him, and he checked it twice, but there was no mistake.

< hCG (mIU/ml) - 145 >

The human chorionic gonadotropin was colloquially referred to as the pregnancy hormone, and its level could inform how far along a pregnancy was. 

This value had Miguel guess you were around three weeks. 

"Why didn’t you tell me right away?" he managed to ask, swallowing the lump in his throat.

He felt you looping your arm around his, resting your head on it. "I figured it would be more romantic than peeing on a stick and showing it to you," you chuckled softly.

In all honesty, he wouldn't care either way. 

How could he?

In front of him was the proof that the bond he shared with you was now bearing fruit.

"... besides… this is your field, right? Genetics," you said, tightening your grip around him. "It felt right for you to find out this way."

Miguel felt overwhelmed all of a sudden, upon realising just how you never missed anything. Down to the last detail. Everything you did always held a purpose, no matter how insignificant it might seem at first.

"I…"

You shifted until you were in front of him, and quickly laced your arms around his waist, placing your chin on his broad chest, eyeing him with absolute adoration. "Come on, Miguel… don't tell me you're surprised it happened so quickly."

He truly wasn't.

He had bred you over and over again over the past few weeks, always making sure you would lay still after each time, a pillow under you, not allowing any cum from going to waste.

You had protested at first, but he excelled at providing after care, and those sessions soon turned into opportunities at exploring your intimacy to the point you were eager to be filled over and over again.

His sweet girl…

"I think I love you," he blurted out, immediately realising how ridiculous he sounded. 

Your chuckle reverberated across his skin. "You think? I hope you're more sure than that. There's no turning back now."

His arms circled you, pulling you into a tighter embrace as his gaze met yours. "Thank you."

You quirked an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Everything."

Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who has been with this story from beginning to end. It means a lot. I hope you were able to connect with these characters in one way or another 🩷 I will be missing Miguel and sweet girl so much... this story wouldn't be anything without your vital support, and I will forever be grateful! Ruby~

Masterlist

[starboye]

starring: nate jacobs x male reader

request: Can i pleaaase request a sub Nate Jacobs. With him all dressed up in feminine lingerie with ribbons and stuff. And he gets thoroughly fucked and threatened with those pictures of Nate in them getting leaked and getting exposed. But nate is eager to please and does everything reader wants, despite his hyper masculine persona he has with everyone else. Nate also comes back, eager ,over and over to get fucked and suck and to wear those ribbons and feminine lingerie

warnings: smut, degradation kink, cursing, mention of male pregnancy, slight feminization, black mail, pet play (kinda)

now wasn't this a sight to see THE nate Jacobs under you as you pounded into him roughly, his hole now a messy wet cunt as he moans out your name like a prayer in a church. you had gotten some pretty incriminating evidence on the man of him taking your dick one night and you decided to use that against him and at first when he came over to get his hole pounded by you it was only supposed to be a one time thing.

something to just take the edge off from the weight of school but after you showed him those pictures of you covered in his cum he was willing to do any and everything to keep them from being released, and you took that further than ever now making him dress up in the cutest little lingerie outfit with some cute ribbons and bows and it was the most pretty shade of pink plus it came with a leash and collar so you had to get it.

the collar and leash now further showing how much of a bitch he was for you as his legs dangled on your sides while your cock abused his already sloppy hole more and more "yeah such a good cock sleeve for daddy right" you teased tugging at the leash, nate winces in pain feeling so stupid and low but there was no way he was gonna let you release those pictures of him and you "yes- ngh fuck- yes daddy" he whimpered feeling his third orgasm already approaching.

the way his pecs bounced up and down with your thrust made you even more throbbing in him and he could feel it all to well, your dick was drilling into his squishy walls at an absolutely ungodly rate but he loved it so much, it's like he was going cock drunk for you "you look so pretty for me like this" you say stretching the lace of the fabric back and letting it snap back onto his chest making his visibly shudder.

"y'know it's such a shame only I get to see this, maybe I should release these hm?" you taunt him holding the pictures in his face but he's to weak to try and grab it "please... please don't" nate begs weakly shaking his head. you chuckle at his words, he sounds such like a slut to you, the way he begs and moans and whispers for you just so he won't get outted as a dick whore who craves not the attention of the school but the cum from you.

"well keep taking this dick and I just might consider it" you say tightly holding the leash in hand while your free hand smacks nates ass to keep him aware and awake, no later than a minute after nate was arching his back and moaning out as he came all over his chest, further staining the perfectly good lingerie "y'think you got another in in there big boy" you question fondling his balls in you hand, over stimulating him slightly as he writhes in your touch.

"mhm" nate whine, his legs shaking like crazy beside you "eh nevermind I won't do that to you yet, I still need you to be able to walk home" you say noticing his shaking and pulling out, your loads squirting out of him but you couldn't let all those good juices go to waste so you plugged him up with a pretty pink butt plug "now get the fuck out of here" you harshly said getting up from your bed and going to take a shower while nate layed in his spot for a while absolutely out of his mind with a weak body.

when he finally heard you get in the shower he sniffed your bed for your scent wanting to savour it one last time before he leaves as he jerked off while sniffed your pillows and underwear, soon spraying his fourth load all over your sheets before he stops up and limped to the door to leave. in the later days nates tried to move on with life but he couldn't stop thinking about the greatest fucking you gave him and no matter how much he fingered himself at night it didn't compare to your dick so with half a brain filled with the thought of your dick he threw on the cum stained lingerie set and collar you made him wear that he kept and walked to your house with a jacket and some joggers over the lingerie.

he knocked on you door and you answered surprised to see him "what do you want" you ask and without a second thought nate walked in and kissed you deeply while stripping his clothes to show you his true slutty self "so I suspect you want me to fuck you again" you ask moving to sit on the couch "mhm" nate shyly bods embarrassed by his own whore like actions "well this time you're gonna work for it" you sternly say "yes sir" nate replied "get on your knees" you demand and nate immediately dropped to his knees and crawled in between your legs.

by the end of the night nate struggled to walk and had enough cum in him to make a baby and you had a lot more blackmail material on him but I have a feeling you're not gonna need it when he's pawing to get in your pants daily.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @itsares @gargoylesworld09 @kadenvatsune @fuckshft

[mariclerc]

An unexpected role | cl16

Summary: You revealed your little secret to your date, you didn't expect he would take it so well.

Warning: fluffy Charles, step dad!Charles, some tears while storytelling.

a/n: This is a little long story, but I hope you like it! Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

You never thought you'd go back to dating after the way your last relationship ended, which wasn't in a pleasant way... But here you were, in a coffee shop with a guy who was a known friend to your bestie, Lola, what seemed strange to you is that you never heard her talk about him... And obviously she hardly talked about him, since he is a racing driver.

To your surprise the date was going very well, you seemed to be in a fairy tale or something similar, you had a good feeling in your chest and it had been a long time since you had felt that way with someone.

“But I'm done talking about myself... Tell me more about yourself” He said while giving you a little smile, he told you about his races and that seemed very interesting to you, you used to be a Formula One fan when you were a little girl you watched the races with your father.

You let out a small sigh. "About me? I don't know what you would like to know about me, I don't think I have a very interesting life compared to yours.”

He denied while smiling. “You can tell me anything about yourself and I will find it very interesting.”

As if by fate, your cell phone, which was on the table, turned on showing a message from Lola, she was taking care of your little two-year-old girl Lily. The message said: “She just wanted to send her mama some kisses 😘” maybe she sent you a gif of your little daughter blowing kisses at the camera... You smiled a little when you saw the notification, what you didn't realize was the look of a certain green-eyed Monegasque who was also looking at the screen with curiosity.

“Um... Tell me you didn't see my screen, did you?” you said a little fearfully.

“I'll just tell you that I saw what was necessary... But now I am curious to know who that person is who sent you kisses” He tilted his head a little. “Do you have someone waiting for you at home?”

You took a breath, this wasn't the way you wanted him to know. “Actually... Yes, I have a little person waiting for me at home.”

You took courage and spoke again. “This wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you this, but,” you said with trembling hands. “I'm a single mom.”

You narrowed your eyes, expecting the worst possible reaction, perhaps he would get up from the table and leave without wanting to know more about you for the rest of his life, but you didn't expect his hand to rest on yours in a gesture that filled your heart.

“Wow... That's unexpected, but... Wow, I don't know what to say.” He said while giving you a loving look. “I don't want to sound nosy but you do have an interesting life.”

“Yes, well, dealing with a two-year-old little girl is not easy at all... But I wouldn't change it for anything.”

“Tell me about her… About you two actually.”

Just saying those words was enough to turn you into a first-rate chatterbox, you told him everything about you and Lily, the rollercoaster of emotions with pregnancy, the appointments to the gynecologist, the day she was born and so on, you practically spat out all the information there was and could be about the two of you. But his look of adoration and care did not leave his face, he listened attentively to every word you said to him, it was as if he were collecting data for the future? You didn't know exactly.

“Oh wow, that's totally amazing.” He said while having a small smile on his face. “I noticed you didn't mention her father, did something happen between you? If you don't want to answer, that's fine! I understand, there's no problem at all.”

You sighed again, there were few people who knew what happened between you and your ex, maybe telling him won't hurt.

“Well... He abandoned me when I told him I was pregnant, our relationship lasted almost two years, but when I told him the news, he left but without leaving me a nice little gift, a good blow on the cheek.” You said while chuckled. “And on top of that, my family didn't take the news very well either, they told me such hurtful things that made me feel unprotected and hurt by the people I least expected.” You said as you sobbed a little. “But hey, these are things that happen, right?” You said as you dried a few tears with your hand, but they kept coming, one of his hands rested on your face to dry your tears with his thumb and you smiled weakly.

“Oh God, I'm very sorry, I didn't imagine such a thing would have happened to you... But you are very brave and it shows, well, from what you tell me, that you do what is best for your little Lily." He said and your eyes crystalized again, you wanted to hug him, nobody had never said those beautiful words to you.

“Thank you Charles... I have never been told anything as nice as that.” You whispered.

“It's nothing, pretty. Now you will hear them more often.” He smiled as he winked and you giggled, apparently this date is going to lead to something very precious.

-

“Honey, stay calm baby, mama is trying to comb your hair.” You said as you tried to make Lily's pigtails, but she was a little restless today, excited perhaps.

You had been talking to Charles after that date, and now two weeks after that he is going to meet little Lily, he is taking you both to an ice cream parlor. You had been sending him pictures of her and so on, you talked about everything and at the same time about nothing, it was like an instant connection and that for you was fascinating, considering that he didn't run away from you when you told him everything you experienced with your daughter.

The sound of your apartment's doorbell distracted you, luckily you managed to do your little girl's hair in time.

“Let's see who's waiting for us at the door, little princess.” You said and took her hand, when you opened the door Charles was there with a shy smile and in his hands he had a bouquet of daisies and a little bag.

“Hi cutie” He said with some tenderness and smiled. “Uhm... These are for you... I saw them and I remembered you, I don't know why, maybe because they are pretty like you.” He smiled and extended the bouquet of daisies to you.

“You didn't have to do it Charles," You said as you placed them in a vase of water. “My love, meet a friend, his name is Charles… Say hello darling.” You said to Lily, who was hiding behind your legs.

“H..hi!” Lily stammered, she talks a little, although sometimes she tends to be a non-stop chatterbox, but she's adorable.

“But it's the popular Lily! Your mama has told me a lot about you.” He said with a smile as he crouched down to be level with her. “Look, I brought you something.” He said as he took out a bunny stuffed animal from the bag, Lily's eyes lit up at the presence of the stuffed animal.

“Bunny!” She said as she stretched out her little hands towards the little stuffed animal and took it from Charles's hands.

“How do you say, honey?” You emphasized.

“Thank... You” She said while babbling between laughs, Charles gave her a little smile and a small kiss on her forehead, you can swear that when you saw that your heart melted completely.

“It's nothing little princess!” He said as he looked at you and smiled. “Okay, shall we go? Those ice creams are waiting for us!” He said in an animated tone earning a small jump from Lily. If this were a competition, he would already be ahead by a long shot.

-

After going for ice cream and going to the park for a while, sleep began to take over Lily, both you and she had spent a very fun day with Charles, it's been a long time since you had such a good time, with her you always do your best to do something fun between the two of you.

“Mama... Swleep” She said adorably as she snuggled up next to you.

“Don't worry little one, Charlie is going to take us home, you will soon be sleeping comfortably in your bed." You said as you smiled at your little girl, you turned your head and saw the green-eyed boy smiling as he took your hand.

Sooner than expected you found yourself at the door of your building while trying to lift Lily out of the car.

“Leave it to me, I’ll help you with Lily.” He said and he carefully took Lily from your arms and carried her against his shoulder.

You noticed how natural the scene was and how incredibly comfortable Lily was in his arms, you smiled. Only Lola did those things to help you get out of somewhere with Lily, but seeing him with her in his arms gave you a feeling of familiarity in your chest.

You entered the building and took the elevator until you reached your apartment, when you entered he gave you Lily again and you took her to her room to put her pajamas on, he looked at you tenderly from the door frame, it's incredible how he won Lily's affection so quickly.

“You are ready to dream, little miss!” You said as you placed kisses on her face and she giggled while holding the stuffed bunny that Charles had given her earlier.

“Chas! Chas! Bed!” She said a little enthusiastically towards Charles, your time to tell her a story was approaching.

He approached her bed and she smiled and then you started telling her the respective bedtime story. At the end of telling her the story, you approached her and kissed her goodnight.

“Good night my sunshine! I love you so much” you said as you gave her a kiss and she smiled.

“Chas!” she said towards Charles and he smiled.

“Good night little one! I loved being with you and your mama today.” He said while he gave her a kiss on the forehead and caressed her head.

“Morrow chas?” She asked as she looked at him sleepily.

He smiled and looked at you tenderly, as if he was asking permission or something.

“Only if your mama agrees, darling.” He said and smiled a little.

You sighed and smiled. “It's okay sunshine, Charlie can come tomorrow.”

After saying that she smiled again and you two left the room closing the door behind you, you sighed a little and smiled at him.

“Thank you for this nice evening Charles,” you whispered. “You didn't have to came here and...”

You didn't finish speaking when you felt his lips on yours, it was an unexpected but amazing action in a way. Was it something that was going to happen? Yes, but you didn't expect it to be so soon, maybe he also felt the connection between the three of you.

“I'm not lying to you if I tell you that I want this every day, I mean... I want to go out with you to the most childish place of all, I want to have breakfast with you, play dolls with Lily, be your supporter and your rock.” He said in a whisper. “And I know it's an unexpected role in your lives, but I would really like this... I don't know if you also want the same thing.”

You nodded, you wanted this too, for the first time you felt seen, you felt like someone was listening to you and little Lily and that's something important for you two, because at the end of it all, he was going to gracefully take on the most unexpected role of all... And who knew that a date with your bestie's friend would go so well.

[absurdthirst]

Ordinatio {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15.4k

Warnings: Political intrigue, force/arranged marriage, mentions of infertility, vaginal fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, breast play, nipple biting, riding, talks of family planning, pull out game, attempted theft, brutal attack, Marcus going feral, mentions of pregnancy, betrayal, gladiatorial violence

Comments: Forced to marry general Marcus Acacius, you are ordered by your emperors to spy on him in order to make sure that he is not indulging in traitorous acts. Quickly falling for the war roughened solider, you must risk the wrath of the Emperors in order to possibly have a future with him.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius 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.

Swallowing harshly, you wait for the carriage to stop in front of the palace that towers over the city below on Palatine Hill. The shuffle of the Praetorian guards always makes you nervous, they answer only to the emperor and would kill anyone they deem a threat. It’s nerve wracking to be summoned so late at night that the torches that normally light the streets were burned out and the silence makes echoes through the darkness. Your cloak covers your hair, hastily fashioned when your household was disturbed merely an hour ago. Just the order that you were to appear before Geta and Caracalla as soon as you dress. The carriage had been waiting outside and your servant was pushed away when she tried to join you. Leaving you alone with the guards to travel just outside the city. Everything looks ominous at night, maybe it’s because your late husband so often spoke of the rot beneath the surface, but you still shiver. Jumping slightly when the door opens and you are helped out and directed to follow the flowing cape of the guard into the large palace.

You are escorted through the halls until you enter a room to the side of the court, the fires burning and casting shadows on the marbled walls. You stand there, two guards on either side of the door, and you are there for several moments until the Emperors both stride in and you bow your head, heart thumping as you await the reason why you’ve been brought here in the middle of the night.

You shiver when you see the two most powerful men in all of Rome. Uneasy by their almost manic expressions as Geta practically giggles. “This will be perfect, Caracalla.” He coos, stepping unreasonably close to you and gripping your chin so he can examine your face. “What do you think?”

“She will be perfect.” Caracalla giggles, eyes manic and they inspect you, dragging up and down your body. “He will not be able to resist her once she is in his possession.” You frown, not liking where this could be going. “You are to marry General Marcus Acacius.” Geta declares and claps, you resist the urge to pull your chin from the Emperor’s grip. You open your mouth before you think better of it, allowing the Emperor to continue, “you’ll marry him and report back to us any conversations or exchanges he has with anyone in the Senate or the army.” Geta orders and you cannot withhold your tongue, “marry the General to spy on him?” You ask and Caracalla giggles, “yes.” Geta sighs, “your late husband was a good man. Misguided in his views to an extent but we know he would’ve married a good woman. You are still young, it is sad to see you widowed.” You don’t buy their false concern for your being. “And the General?” You question softly and Geta continues, “we fear the General has become too…influential in court and in the Senate. We wish to discover if he has plans to establish a coup. We wish to avoid killing our General if we can. Perhaps you could…influence him to withhold any plans of attack.” Geta hums and Caracalla smirks, “with your cunt.” Your chin is finally released and you offer them a stiff smile, “the General is not a stupid man, he would recognize the ruse.” You say, knowing you’ll be killed if you refuse. No one denies the Emperor of Rome. 

“He will not if we order the marriage. He still mourns his wife and child. Perhaps giving him something outside of war will mellow him from any unwanted…advances to the palace.” Caracalla raises his eyebrows, “do you not think you are up to the task?” He dares you and you swallow, “I- I will not disappoint you.” You promise, praying the idea fades with the sunrise and you can continue living in your villa without need for a husband. “Excellent. We shall inform the General of your wish to marry once the sun has risen. You may go.” Geta dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Yes, Emperor.” You bow your head and back towards the door until they say your name, “fail us and you will be fed to the lions.” Geta warns and Caracalla’s shrieks of delight echo off the marbled walls. You nod, bowing your head again and you rush out the room once the guards open the doors. You have to make a plan to survive, to escape from under the thumb of the Emperor.

Marcus sighs as he adjusts the cuff around his wrist. It’s elaborate and unnecessary. Just like the laurel wreath he wears in his hair. The trappings of Rome had once held appeal when he was younger, brasher. When his wife was here to greet him with a lusty kiss and promises of pleasures far beyond what he had imagined while laying in his cold tent outside the battlefields. Those dreams had long since been buried with her and the child she had suffered to bring into the world only to be lifeless when he slipped from her womb. Leaving him alone to focus on war and follow orders. Orders that he is increasingly uneasy with, the regrets of battle following him and the weariness of the continuous fight weighing on him. Roman conquests need to be countered with prudence, allowing the people to flourish in other parts of the realm instead of just the grandiose of the capital. He taps his hand on his knee as he waits, looking out over the olive trees in the gardens below and he wonders what war the emperors have decided to wage now, the senate unwilling or unable to keep them in check. 

“Ah General Acacius, thank you for joining us.” Geta crows as he swaggers into the room, Caracalla’s eyes manic and a grin on his face as he approaches Marcus. “Emperors.” He bows his head after he stands up, the laurel flashing in the sunlight coming through the linens covering the balcony. “So glad you could come on such short notice. We have some wonderful news to share.” Caracalla smirks and Geta continues by saying your name. “She is the widow of Senator Gracchus?” Marcus tilts his head, recognizing your name and he knows you from events thrown in the palace. “Yes. She is young, widowed at such a young age with no father to oversee her. She must marry again. And she will marry you.” Geta declares like it’s an honor.

Marcus pauses, his jaw tightening slightly and he clasps his hands together in front of his robes. “That is…..a great honor.” He says stiffly, immediately opposed to the idea, but he has to tread carefully with the emperors. They are impetuous at the best of times and have never learned how to accept rejection. Why would they have to when the world bows to their whims? “I fear that I would be unable to provide for a wife of such a status.” He adds, making it actually sound as if he has regret. “I spend so much time away from Rome, fighting for my emperors.” He sighs. “I fear that the young widow would not be happy with a husband such as I. Perhaps one closer to the senate might be more suitable?” 

“She does not wish to have another senator husband. She wants protector. Someone who can provide for her in ways other than coin. She expressly wishes for a gladiator and you are our most prized fighter. You are worthy of a high bred woman like her. Consider this a reward for your loyalty to Rome.” Geta insists, not letting Marcus push off the marriage. You must marry him. “A union like this will bring our fighters good spirit so they win our battles. Knowing they too could possess such a woman would motivate them to fight harder. The people want to see their General happy and we-” Geta gestures between him and Caracalla, “wish to award our greatest fighter with a grand prize. She is self sufficient, running her late husband’s household which we will assign to his brother as he had no direct heir. She will ensure your home is cared for and warm your cock at night.”

There is no way that he can reject the woman without offending the emperors. It seems as if he has no choice right now but to accept this. “You honor me.” He bows slowly, seething inside. He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t want to know you. He has no need for a wife and can have all the companionship he desires if he just wants his cock warmed.

A horse neighs as a soldier brings news from the palace and you scramble when your servant brings you the scroll. You quickly unroll it, praying to the gods that you have been released from your duty and your shoulders drop when you read that you are to marry Acacius in two days time.  Your villa will be transferred to the hands of your brother in law, Albus, as you are to move into the General’s villa. You fall into your chair as you reread the scroll. It’s over. You must marry and you are to be under the control of the Emperors. You could run, try to escape into the countryside but you know they would find you. No one escapes Rome. No matter how far you go, you will be found. You swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes, and you look up when Antonia enters, “is everything okay, matronae?” She asks and you nod, sniffing to control your emotions. “I wish for you to pack my things, I am to be wed to General Marcus Acacius. I will need to relocate to his residence after we are wed in two days' time.” You declare and her eyes widen, knowing of no existing relationship between you and the General. “Ye-yes, matronae.” She nods and rushes off, leaving you to wallow in your unfortunate luck.

“I will not do it!” The crockery shatters against the marble walls of the villa. The servant who had just brought the meal scurrying out of the room in order to avoid Marcus’s wrath. His chest heaves as he looks at the ruined meal, food scattered and his situation still just as hopeless as it had been moments before. “Fuck.” He hisses, dropping back onto the chair and reaching for the cup of wine that he hopes will drown his sorrow. He will be married in two days’ time. Another wife to bear his name and his children. He scoffs to himself and puts the wine to his lips. You had not born Gracchus any children so perhaps you are barren. It would be the gods favoring him if you were. He has no desire to have children, to leave a legacy behind. The pride he had for Rome had slowly eroded away over the years and campaigns, leaving him with a hollowness he can never tell anyone about. “Fuck.” He slams the cup down and rubs his hand over his face. The villa will be ready when you arrive, the servants already informed, he just needs to accept it himself.

You bid goodbye to the servants that you’ve overseen since you arrived at your late husband’s villa. They look sad to see you go and you take that as a compliment. You sigh and only Antonia follows you as you are helped into the quadriga as you depart for the palace. Your hair styled by your servant and the red veil placed over your head as you ride to your fate. The General will be waiting for his bride and you pray you don’t disappoint him. You’ve seen glimpses of him but you’ve never been able to properly look upon the man. “All will be well.” Antonia promises as she reaches for your hand to squeeze it. “I hope so.” You whisper, knowing this will be a life or death situation for you. When you arrive at the palace, you are helped out of the carriage and escorted up the stairs to the doors to the grand hall. You glance around, “am I not allowed to see my intended before we wed?” You ask the guard who doesn’t say a word. You swallow harshly and Antonia rubs your arm before she checks your long tunic, ensuring you are a beautiful bride. “Thank you, Antonia.” You murmur and she offers you a sweet smile, “I will be with you with every step, matronae.” She promises and you squeeze her hand and take a deep breath just as the doors open to reveal a grand hall full of the members of the court and Senate. The Emperors standing on the balcony with what seems like the entire Roman Empire watching below as General Marcus Acacius stands there dressed in white with a golden laurel atop his head.

Of course Geta and Caracalla have turned this into an ostentatious event. He would have preferred something intimate, or nothing at all. However, the emperors had other plans and invited the entire senate to witness the marriage. Marcus doesn’t flinch, standing tall and watching as you walk towards him. The red veil covers your face and he can make out your features as you move closer. You are a beautiful woman, but he’s never paid much attention to another man’s wife. Now you will become his wife.

You inhale deeply as you take a step up to the balcony and the General holds his hand out to help you. You thank him softly and the Emperors grin. Marriage is usually informal, decided upon between families and within the home but the Emperors planned for a spectacle. “We welcome you here to witness the marriage of a great Roman General, Marcus Acacius. He is to wed the widow of Senator Gracchus.” Geta announces and Marcus releases your hand. The marriage scroll is laid out on the table and you have no dowry. Lacking a father along with your late husband accepting your dowry, you have nothing to give but yourself. A fact that the general doesn’t seem to care about. The crowd cheers and the court claps, making you feel more like you’re about to become Empress than the general’s wife. “Let us witness their union. A gift from Rome to her greatest warrior.” Geta declares and the crowd cheer, making your hands shake slightly. “Now, join hands.” He orders and you nod, joining your shaky hands with Acacius who frowns as he grips your hands in his large ones.

Marcus doesn’t like the idea of you being a gift. Not caring for the implication you are being forced, even if both of you are. The whims of the emperors must be met. Your hand is small in his, soft. You are a woman of nobility, you are not used to rough men. That is what he is, despite the finery of his costume. He remembers a different wedding, a lifetime ago in the small parlor of his late wife’s house. He had been so excited then, and now he is hesitating to say the words that are expected. “Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.” He murmurs, his voice low and clear.

You swallow harshly, your throat dry as the Emperors look to you expectedly. You look at

Acacius and lick your lips. Caracalla shifts, his eyes narrowing slightly and you manage to choke out “ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” to seal yourself in marriage to the general. The Emperors grin and you know there’s no escaping this fate. Your union must be sealed with a kiss so you let go of Marcus’s hands and wait for him to lift your veil.

Marcus stares at you. Almost surprised to find that you are so young. He feels much older compared to your youthful beauty and he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a brief kiss while everyone around erupts into cheers. The marriage contract will still need to be signed, but the two of you are married in the eyes of Rome.

The cheers roar in your ears but you blank it out, focused on the rough looking man in front of you who is now  your husband. The Emperor snaps his fingers and his servant carries over the papyrus that will be the marriage contract between you and General Acacius. “Please sign to join in matrimony with your intended.” Greta orders you and you swallow, picking up the pen to sign your name on the marriage contract. Your hand shakes and you hesitate, not wanting to marry the man beside you but you have no choice. Caracalla stares at you, a menacing look on his face that has you scribbling your name in fear of the consequences of not marrying the General. You look up to see the grin of glee on the Emperor’s face and you stand up, handing the pen to Marcus.

Sighing softly, Marcus leans over and scribbles his name beside yours. Making the marriage contract legal and binding. You are now his wife in truth. “Excellent!” Geta claps his hands together. “Now we will slaughter a dozen pigs, sacrificing them to the gods for a blessed union!” It’s excessive and disgustingly wasteful, making Marcus curl his lip slightly. The animals would not feed anyone, and people in Rome were buckling under the expense of war.

You want to suggest a cake for Jupiter but you will not argue with the Emperors. You swallow harshly and the Emperors clap, approaching the balcony edge to declare the union. The crowd cheers, “feliciter!” and the Emperors spin around to both cheer, “let us feast.” You look at Marcus whose jaw is clenched and you bite your inner cheek, imagining he is not pleased with you, you are not young enough, pure enough. You have no dowry to provide. Perhaps you’re not pretty enough for him. Lacking in all aspects. You don’t have time to dwell on it when Antonia comes for you to prepare you for the feast. You look at Marcus as you are taken away and he nods, his laurel shining like he’s Mars himself standing there.

He has a wife. A woman that he knows nothing about is now under his care and carrying his name. He receives the congratulations of the Senate, aware that they are all just as confused as he is by the speed and celebration of the events. Especially when neither he nor you look particularly happy. Marcus had noticed how nervous you had seemed and had wondered if it was because of the emperor’s attentions or if you did not care to be under a man’s thumb again. He is aware of the way the two most powerful men are carefully watching him as he shakes hands with the senators, keeping his conversations brief because he knows Geta and Caracalla would rather be feasting than talking. They love to drink and carouse, and he hopes that the wedding feast they have prepared will not turn into the orgies they are becoming known for.

Antonia removes your veil and restyles your hair for the reception. She reaches into the pocket for the bottle of perfume oil, rubbing it into your skin to refresh you and you exhale shakily, realizing you are married once again. “I hope he is not cruel.” You confess to Antonia who shakes her head, “I spoke with one of his house servants, he is strict but does not hit them. I pray to the gods he treats his wife the same.” She whispers, knowing that most nobles would smack her for speaking as she does but you request her candid nature. “Very well, let’s return and feast. I am anxious for wine to calm my nerves.” You confess and Antonia nods, escorting you to the hall where the feast is being laid out for the guests.

Marcus has not yet sat down. Always finding it rude when a man would put his own comfort before that of his wife. While training with him, he had heard stories of Maximus’s devotion to the woman he had loved, the care in which he had treated her when she was alive before Commodus had her brutally murdered. He had treated his first wife the same way and had been rewarded with the loyalty and love that he had cherished when he was away. Eyes turn towards you when you arrive and Marcus is once again struck by your beauty, your slight apprehension as you look around for him and the surprise that he is not already feasting.

Antonia escorts you to the table where your husband sits alongside the Emperors who are gulping down wine like it’s going to evaporate at any moment. Antonia bows her head and rushes off to the servants area, watching you while Marcus pulls your chair out and gestures for you to sit. “Thank you.” You murmur, taking your seat and he sits down beside you, his posture stiff as you look at the food on display. “My Emperors have been most generous in their hosting of our union.” You declare to Marcus so Geta and Caracalla hear you, wanting to ensure they are in good spirits so you can leave the feast earlier than expected.

“Yes.” Marcus finds it to be a lavish expense that is completely unnecessary, but so many of the Emperor’s decisions cost the people of Rome. “The excess is very abundant.” He picks up the cup of wine that is at his plate and offers it up in a toast. “To Rome and her glory.” He offers. “And our Emperors that make it so.”

“To Rome and her glory.” You toast and Caracalla giggles, holding up his golden goblet. “And your Emperors.” He adds with raised eyebrows. “And her Emperors.” You declare with a stiff smile. You know you are playing a dangerous game with the manic leaders. Any moment they could change their mind and have you killed. You doubt you’ll be able to report anything on the general. He seems reserved and only speaks when he feels he has something of substance to add. He doesn’t speak at all while you enjoy the meats, cheeses, and fruits on display in front of you. You gesture for another cup of wine when Caracalla tuts, “you really shouldn’t drink so much. It’s unbecoming of the bride to be drunk when she takes her husband’s cock for the first time.”

Marcus’s brow arches up, wondering why the emperor is so invested in this marriage being consummated. Your fingers pull back from the cup as if you are being rebuked and the servant pulls the carafe of wine away, but Marcus turns around to take it himself, refilling your cup. “There is no celebration without wine.” He reminds them, refilling his own cup as well. “She has been a wife before, she knows what is expected of her.” The truth is, he has no intention of bedding you tonight, he doesn’t know you and he feels as if you don’t want him. This is a marriage that was forced on both of you by the whims of madmen.

Your eyebrows raise slightly at the defiance shown by Marcus. Something that would’ve gotten him killed if he were of a lower rank. Geta stares as Marcus takes a sip of wine and you follow your husband, taking a gulp as the Emperor tilts his head. It’s Caracalla that breaks the tension by throwing his head back and laughing, “this is true. She is no virgin. She has been trained and therefore should satisfy our great general before he has to venture off to claim more land for Rome and her people.” The Emperor grins and raises his goblet towards you. You offer him a stiff smile and glance around the room at the court and senate feasting while the people of Rome suffer for their gluttony. The feast continues with Geta and Caracalla standing up to mingle around the room, wanting to boast about their perfect match. “Shall we return to your villa? I am certain you wish to bed me and get some rest after such an arduous day.” You ask your husband softly.

He nods, figuring that he could speak with you in private without guards or servants around. It is rare to be able to speak freely. “Your possessions arrived earlier today and my servants unpacked them, but I am sure you wish to have things set up to your liking.” He murmurs as he stands up and reaches for your hand. “Do you have many servants coming with you?”

“Just one. Antonia. The others were my late - were Gracchus. They belong to his brother now.” You reveal and he nods as you take his hand. It’s calloused and engulfs yours, making you apprehensive that such a strong man could easily break you. You approach the Emperors and bow your head as your husband announces your departure.

Geta chuckles and nods. “Eager to fill her.” He claps Marcus’s shoulder and motions for the two of you to leave. “I do not blame you for wanting to feel the clutch of her cunt around your cock. The spoils of your latest conquest.” His shrill laughter grates on the general’s ears and he doesn’t do more than simply nod. “We have much to do.” He agrees.

Marcus escorts you through the bustling hall, Antonia and his own men on your trail as he takes you to the carriage that is waiting to bring you to his villa. Marcus helps you up into the carriage and you settle in to watch the city pass by on your silent journey to his villa. “I know that neither of us wanted to be wed but we must do what is required of us so we do not endure the wrath of the emperors. I wish for you to bed me tonight. To consummate the marriage as I do not trust that the Emperors do not have eyes watching our moves. If we fail to indulge them in our union, we will suffer.” You whisper, keeping your face turned away from your husband.

Marcus snorts softly and sighs. “I do not rape on a battlefield and I would not do so in my own bed.” He tells you. “We can send the servants away and say that we have fulfilled our marriage duties.” He knows you are uneasy so he doesn’t touch you. “I will not take a woman by force or coercion.”

You turn to look at him, his face flickered with each lamppost you pass, and you are surprised. Most men would have accepted your offer to have a warm cunt to spill inside without any care to how you feel or what you wish. “Thank you.” You whisper, knowing in that moment that the stories of the brutal warrior that fights for Rome has not returned to her streets. The man beside you is slow in his movements and you realize that he’s trying not to spook you. “I am no stranger to married life and I have heard that you were married too. I am sorry for the loss of your wife and child. I cannot - I cannot imagine-” You reach for his hand, “I lost my husband but I did not love him. My father arranged the marriage to guarantee his connections to the senate and we never were blessed with children. He was older, I was his third wife after his previous wives died from disease and a snake bite. He was unlucky and I do miss his companionship but I never loved him.” You confess, wanting your husband to know your history.

“Then you have my deepest sympathies that your second marriage is also not of your choosing.” Marcus looks down at your smaller hand in his and there is a moment where his heart jolts. You are soft and sweet and deserve much more than him. “My uxor- we loved each other very much. She was everything to me.” He admits. “I had thought to never marry again after burying her and our son.”

You squeeze his hand, “I’m sorry that you’ve been pushed into this but I want you to know that I would never try to take her place. This is an arrangement forced upon us. Your wife will be your true love. I am here to help with your household and provide you with a confidant if that is what you wish for.”

“You are a beautiful and youthful woman.” He murmurs honestly. “You won’t want to find pleasure?” He asks, wanting there to be honestly between both of you if this union is to be successful in the eyes of the Emperors. “What do you want out of this arrangement?”

“I want freedom. I have been running the household for a year and I wish to have my freedom, to not be under the control of my husband’s whims. I will provide for you a stable household and in return, I want to spend my time indulging in painting and needlework. My hobbies.” You confess, “and for pleasure…I have never known such a thing other than from my own hand.” You admit, “you cannot yearn for what you have not experienced.”

Marcus is stunned that you have never known pleasure. He would be lying if he did not immediately think to offer to show you pleasure. He could give it to you, he knows that. Even the whores that he sometimes uses that follows the army find pleasure with him. “I am gone from the city much of the time.” He reminds you. “The household is more yours than mine. The servants will do what you tell them to. Your time is yours to decide how to spend it.”

You nod, letting go of his hand, “thank you. Then we are in agreement. Our union will be one of convenience and to satisfy the whims of the Emperors. I will not sully your name by seeking pleasure from others.” You promise, “and I understand if you find your pleasure while you are away.” You’re a pragmatic woman, you know men need to find their pleasure.

“That will not happen.” Marcus admits. “It would be dishonorable to take another woman to my bed while you are my uxor.” He has a code that he follows. Even if he did not want to be married, he will not tarnish his reputation by seeking pleasure somewhere else. “I have a hand.”

You frown, knowing that most men would take your invitation and find the first whore to bury himself in. "Very well. We shall live our lives...together but separated." You declare just as you arrive at Villa Acacius. Marcus opens the door and holds out his hand, helping you out and you look up at your new home. It's not as grand as the Senator's home but it is beautiful. You enter the courtyard and smile at the servants awaiting your arrival.

Marcus normally allows the servants to run his household, not carrying much about the schedule of things as long as the place is clean. Now you might change things so he leads you over to them. “This is your new matronae, my uxor.” He introduces you. “She will oversee your work and any changes she wishes to make are to be treated as if they came from me.” He orders.

The servants nod, greeting you and some are more enthusiastic than others. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I want to observe during my first days here and then I will discuss what I’d like to change with input from you all on what you consider to be best.” You declare and some are shocked that you are considering their opinions. “My job begins tomorrow. For now, I’d like to retire to our rooms.” You declare and Antonia steps from behind you, “this is Antonia, my handmaid. She will be continuing her duties by my side.” You announce and the staff nod.

Marcus is pleased with the way that the introductions went and he turns around to stride off towards his room. He knows that you will have to sleep there, with him, but he needs a moment to change out of the cumbersome robes he had worn to get married in. Preferring a plainer, softer tunic when he is home.

You watch him go and Antonia is speaking with the women who give her a briefing on your new home. Antonia nods and turns back towards you, “let us get you ready for bed, matronae.” She says and you follow her to the room near where Marcus is changing. The room along from there is the bedchamber and you close your eyes as Antonia takes your hair out of its style to allow you to relax and you’re soon wearing a thin tunic, ready for bed. “I hope he treats you well, matronae.” She murmurs and squeezes your hand before she leaves you. You inhale shakily and enter the room you will be sharing with the general to find him standing there, shoulders broad in the thin tunic and he is looking to the streets below. “All is well?” You ask, letting him know of your presence.

Marcus turns and is struck by your beauty as he sees you in the simple tunics and your hair down. The jewelry is gone and you look like you are much younger than your years. It makes him feel older all of a sudden and he wonders again why the emperors would give you to him. “As well as can be expected.” He answers, watching as you look towards the bed warily as if you expect him to break his promise from earlier and throw you down on it. “I will sleep on the floor.” He assures you, making you drown. “That is not- it’s your bed.” You protest and Marcus snorts. “I have spent many nights sleeping on a rocky ground without a blanket.” He reminds you. “A floor with cushions will be a luxury.” He shrugs. “I wish to put you at ease.” He admits. “I will not take what is not offered, and you have no reason to offer if you find no pleasure in fucking.”

You stare at him and sigh, “I do not wish to cast my husband from his bed. We are well aware of the sexual act and what it takes to copulate. We can be adults and share a bed so you do not wake with an aching back.” You announce as you walk over to the bed. “I am weary. It’s been a long day. Get in bed and sleep, Marcus.” You order, not wanting to argue about this.

He stares at you for a moment and there is a hint of amusement that softens his features. “If you were a man, you would make a good general.” He hums, moving to the bed and throwing back the soft, clean sheets. “Come rest.” He urges once he has sat down.

You nod and sit on the bed, swinging your legs in and you pull the sheets up after Marcus slides under them. “I know I wasn’t what you wanted but I want to make this work.” You murmur and he hums, “we will.” He promises and you sigh, closing your eyes after he blows out the candle. You will need to report to the Emperors with something about him at some point and you already feel like you’re betraying him. “Goodnight.” You whisper and close your eyes as you fall asleep within moments, unable to worry about being in a strange place when you are exhausted.

Marcus lays in the darkness, listening to your breathing as it starts to slow down. The soft rustle of the sheets when you move. Looking over at you as the moon casts a pale glow through the sheer curtains covering the balcony. It’s a curse that you are so beautiful right now, since it has been some time since he has had a woman in his bed. His cock twitches as he imagines touching you, but he doesn’t reach out. Turning away and looking at the stand where his sword is displayed, sighing softly as he wonders how long it will be before the emperors send him off to war again.

You may have fallen asleep right away but you wake in the middle of the night. The moon is high in the sky and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. You inhale sharply when you remember you’re in Marcus’s villa. In your new home. You exhale and lean back onto the bed, looking over at the muscular back of your new husband. He’s handsome, no denying that fact, and he’s strong. Capable. Smart. All qualities to want in a man. You wonder what his desires are. He hasn’t been married for 20 years and you wonder who he fucks. He can’t be celibate. He’s a general. You’re not stupid enough to think he hasn’t slept with whores. You wonder if he pleasured them or simply took what he wanted. You can see his golden skin illuminated by the moon, moles and scars mapping his life before you and you can’t help but reach out to gently trace a path, your touch feather light. He grunts and you withdraw your hand, eyes wide at the idea of being caught. You sigh when he settles back down and you lean back on your side. Staring up at the ceiling, you imagine him giving you pleasure. You’ve read about it plenty of times but your late husband always fucked you to fill you. There was never a day in bed pleasuring each other. He had business to attend to in the senate and he didn’t have time for silly things like making his wife cum.

Marcus had woken up the second you touched him. Feigning sleep as he waited for you to slip from the bed. Only to feel you roll away from him and sigh. He wonders if you are regretting this, if you are doubtful of your future even though you had seemed to trust him enough to fall asleep. You grunt quietly and sigh, like you are thinking about something that is uncomfortable. “What keeps you awake, uxor?” He asks quietly in the dark.

His deep, sleep laden voice makes you squeak and you turn to look at him, his back still facing you. You bite your lip, wondering if you should lie or tell him the truth. You are no longer a young innocent bride. You were a widow, matured by loss. "I was wondering if you pleasured the lovers you've had during your time of being a widow." You declare, cheeks burning but you speak without wavering.

Marcus grunts slightly, the sheets rustling as he turns over to look at you. His dark eyes searching your face for some clue of what you are thinking. “Unless they cry out to gods falsely, I would say yes.” Marcus tells you, not bragging, but speaking honestly. “I do not like false attempts to flatter me and I prefer that a woman leave my bed with a smile on her face.”

You appreciate his candid response and you decide to be bold. You sit up, shifting to look down at him and you drop the sheets from your body. "I have never cried to the gods. My last husband would penetrate me without caring if I was wet enough before he would push into me. He would spill inside me and then go about his day, leaving me with my legs up in hopes of conceiving his child. He never - he never gave me pleasure or made sure I was enjoying myself." Marcus makes a noise of disappointment but you don't let him comment when you quickly add, "I want you to fuck me. Like you would a camp whore. I want you to make me cry your name so every god will hear me on Capitolium."

Pushing up to his elbow, Marcus stares at you seriously. “The camp whores are used to…rougher sex.” He warns you. “After war, after the killing- the urges to fuck are rough. There isn’t the pretty lovemaking that is slow and sweet.” His cock hardened even now thinking of it. “It’s hard and deep. Enough to steal your breath and make your tits shake from the force of my thrusts.” He arches a brow. “Are you sure that is what you want? I am sure your senator husband didn’t fuck you like I would.”

His words combined with his deep voice makes your cunt clench and dampen, and you lean closer to him, "my husband didn't make me see stars. He didn't make me cry. I want you to fuck me like you do those whores. Make me scream for all of Rome to hear. I can handle it. I can take it."

This time, the kiss Marcus gives you isn’t chaste. It’s not a quick pressing of his lips to yours to appease the Emperors. This is wet, carnal. Lunging forward and capturing your lips with his and sliding his tongue into your mouth as he rolls you onto your back. Completely and instantaneously taking over as his fingers reach for the hem of your tunic.

You gasp into his mouth, tongue meeting his and you whine when he breaks the kiss to drag your tunic up your body, tossing it down on the marbled floor. You shiver as the cool night air hits your skin and he shifts to kneel, his dark eyes looking down at you. You look up at him and reach for the hem of his tunic, already tenting with his arousal. "I want to see my husband."

He has no problem being naked, revealing himself for you. He pulls his tunic up and his cock catches, starting to bob as he pulls it up over his head and tosses it aside. “Spread your legs for me, bella.” He growls, his voice raspy and full of command. “Let me see my wife’s cunt.”

You are already wet just from the strength he displays and you whimper, spreading your legs for him and your slick is shiny in the moonlight as you put yourself on show for your new general husband.

Marcus groans, his large hands squeezing your thighs and then moving down to your hips, holding them as his thumbs spread apart the lips of your sex and his cock twitches. Sliding his fingers through your folds until he is circling your entrance with two fingers until they are wet with your desire and he pushes them inside your slick walls. “Perfect.”

You moan when his thick digits push into you, stretching you out. Your hands itch to touch him so you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock. “Not yet.” He growls, batting your hand away and you whine, both in frustration and pleasure as he starts to move his fingers. Slowly pumping them until he’s twisting his wrist so he can press his thumb against your clit. “Gods.” You gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets.

Leaning down, he bites at your nipple before running the flat of his tongue against it when you gasp. It makes him smile, the shocked sound you give. “You should see men suckling the tits of whores as they bounce on their cocks.” He groans against your skin. “They all love it, the men, the whores.” He continues to pump his fingers deeper into your cunt and loves how your walls start clenching down around them.

His words are scandalous but you gush at the thought of watching a scene like that. Something so sordid. “Marcus. I- do it again.” You beg and he obliges, leaning down to suck on your nipple before biting down. “Oh gods.” You whimper, your hips tilting as he works you higher and you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach. Something you’ve only ever done for yourself.

“That’s it.” He encourages you, his cock throbbing as he presses his thumb against your clit and pumps his fingers deep, curling them up inside you like one of the whores of his youth had shown him. He had been grateful to her ever since when he had been able to consistently please the women he was fucking, including his wife when he had married. “Why don’t you cry out for me, uxor?”

Marcus’s words send you over the edge. His claim of you both verbally and physically has you clamping down on his thick digits. “Oh fuck.” You curse, soaking his fingers when you cum harder than you ever have in your life.

He isn’t the type of man to just stop as soon as you start to cum. Continuing to work his fingers into you as he watches you come apart. Groaning quietly as your slick coats his fingers and slides down his wrists. You are wet enough now.

He takes your breath as he works you through it. “Marcus. Please.” You beg, wanting to feel him inside you, “I need you inside me.” You reach out to wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him like Gracchus taught you.

Marcus hisses, batting your hand away and for a moment you freeze, afraid you had done something wrong. “It had been too long.” He growls, grabbing your hips and flipping you over to your stomach to pull your ass up in the air. “I need to be inside you before I spill.”

The position is new and you gasp in surprise, looking over your shoulder at your new husband who has his cock in his hand, pumping himself as he smacks your ass with his free palm. “Fuck me.” You demand, arching your back to display yourself for him.

“You would make such a good camp whore.” Marcus growls, shuffling forward to line up. It’s not exactly a compliment to most high born women, but he doesn’t think you will take offense. His hand is on your hip as he presses the head of his cock at your wet entrance to push inside you in one, hard thrust.

He stretches you like you’ve never known but it doesn’t hurt. You moan in pleasure as he twitches inside your pussy, making you whimper his name. “Marcus.” You pant, “move.” You demand and he chuckles, “so desperate.” He pulls his hips back, leaving only the tip of him remaining before he pushes deep into you in one quick thrust. “Fuck!” You yelp, loving how he feels.

He chuckles and grips your hips harshly in his hand as he rocks into you. Watching as your body arches back as he pulls his hips back, withdrawing again. He had told you he wouldn’t be gentle with you and he is keeping his word. “Now you will cry my name.” He vows, pushing forward again to fill you up and rock your body into the bed beneath you.

He takes your breath away, feeling like he’s in your stomach and you cry out on every rock of his hips, falling forward onto your cheek as you grip the sheets that are crumbled beneath you. “Fuck, Marcus.” You cry, feeling your body jiggle with each thrust.

He had almost vowed that he would not touch you but he could not resist your request. Your body is so willing, so yielding to him, making him groan as he plows into you over and over again. Listening to your moans as he fucks you.

His hands squeeze your flesh and you are lost in the sensations. No one has made you feel like this before. “Gods, you’re - you’re so thick. Stretching me out, husband.” You whine, rocking back onto him.

He growls in pleasure, snapping his hips forward again and again. He won’t last long, he knows that. It’s been too goddamn long since he has fucked anyone. Leaning over your back, he slides a hand between your thighs and starts to rub the little pleasure button above your grasping entrance. “You are such a needy whore.” He coos in your ear.

His words make you squeal when combined with his fingers on your clit and it doesn’t take long for you to fall apart. You cry out his name loud enough that the servants will hear and your thighs shake as you clamp down on his cock.

“Shit, shit.” Marcus hisses in pleasure at how you soak his cock, rocking his hips through your pulsing orgasm. His body starting to tighten as he works himself closer. Pulling his hand away from your clit and grabbing your hips. Slamming his own against your ass for another few thrusts before he is ripping free of your cunt and taking his cock in his hand. Pumping furiously as he starts painting your ass with hot ropes of his seed.

You huff in disappointment when he spills hot cum on your ass. You wanted him to fill you up, to experience it. Not to become with child but to feel him. You look over your shoulder as he relaxes from his orgasm and he’s so beautiful. Jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, he looks like a god.

Marcus squeezes your hip with the hand that is still holding you and sighs. “Fuck.” He pants, feeling completely blissed out. Slapping your ass once before he is shuffling off the bed to reach for his tunic to clean your ass off. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You rest your cheek against the sheets as you let your body lay flat while he cleans you up. “I did. Why didn’t you- did you not wish to spill your seed inside me?” You ask curiously, looking over at him as he walks naked across the room, the moonlight highlighting his form.

Marcus picks up the pitcher of wine and pours a cup. Turning to you with a slight tilt of his head as he starts to pad across the floor back to the bed. “We have not talked about children.” He reminds you. “I did not want to fill you if you did not want to risk carrying my child.” He never spilled inside the women he fucked, always pulling out. When he started to cum, he had just acted on instinct. He takes a sip of the wine and offers you the cup.

You take the cup from his hand, thanking him soft and you watch him as he sits down beside you. He’s so broad. You imagine him protecting you, defending you. You shift closer to rest your head on his shoulder, feeling closer now you’ve consummated your marriage. “I do not mind children. I am not sure I can have them. Gracchus…he spilled inside me every time and it never took. Would I disappoint you if I do not provide you with a child?” You ask softly, pulling away from him so you can look at him.

“I …..never imagined having another child.” Marcus tells you honestly. He looks over at the sword on the display and then back to you. “If you never give me a child, I would not think it was because of you, but because the gods did not wish it so.” He rationalizes. “One day, I will leave and never return home, fallen in battle.” He accepted his fate a long time ago, made peace with it. “If you have no wish to risk carrying, I will spill my seed on the sheets.”

You barely know the man but to know he could die in battle makes your heart clench. “I’d like you to spill inside me if you wish to have me again. I enjoyed the pleasure. I want to feel you and if it takes, then we will be blessed and you can fight knowing your legacy will live on.”

Marcus chuckles. “You are a beautiful woman, one the gods would be envious of.” He tells you. “I am just a man. I would have you every night and at least once during the day if you were willing.”

You fluster, biting your lower lip as he compliments you. Your late husband never did so. “I will not complain if that is what my husband wishes of me.” You declare and he reaches out to grip your chin, “it is not about whether I wish it of you, it’s if you wish to have me.” He says and you look into those dark eyes, “I want you if you want me.” You promise and he slides his hand down to your neck, inhaling deeply. He never expected to fall into bed with the woman that was gifted to him but he finds himself eager to bury himself inside you again and fill you up. “Let us rest, corculum.” You say as you stand up to set your wine cup down on the table and you make your way back to the bed, sliding under the covers still nude.

Marcus hums in agreement and slides back into bed beside you. Pulling his arm back to allow you to curl against him if you wish. “I don’t mind.” He tells you when you hesitate. “We will rest and know that no one can claim we have not consummated our vow.”

You curl into his side, listening to his breathing even out and you focus on his heartbeat. You’re here to spy on him, to ensure he’s not hurting the empire with a coup but you aren’t sure if you can betray him like that. He’s already gotten under your skin. Eventually, you close your eyes and decide to see how things go. Perhaps it’s only rumors and there will be no evidence of Marcus Acacius’s unrest with Rome and her emperors.

****

Marcus groans, toes curling as he thrusts up into you. Watching as your breasts shake, mouth dropping open in a low moan of his name. It’s been nearly a month and he is still in Rome. The Emperors claim they want their general well rested for the next campaign and to give him time to spend with his new bride. He has enjoyed that. Since that first night, you have become insatiable and Marcus has fucked you in every position, on every surface of the villa. Spending more time with you than anyone else although you do disappear with your servant at times, claiming you prefer the peace of the women’s baths in the city center. He doesn’t begrudge you that, although he misses the time when you aren’t with him. He slaps your thigh, smirking when you clench down around him. Riding his cock is probably your favorite way to have sex and he doesn’t mind, your beauty entrancing him as you gallop towards the Elysian Fields of pleasure. “Cum for me, amica.” He moves to rub your clit like you enjoy, having learned your body well over the past weeks and his other hand drags your body down so he can suckle at your tits.

“Marcus.” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair as he bites down on your nipple and the change in angle has you falling apart for him. His fingers rubbing your bundle of nerves has you shaking and you have never known such ecstasy. You rock back onto his cock, trying to work yourself through your orgasm and spur his but it’s so much. Your thighs shake as you collapse on top of him, smothering him as you moan his name. He moves fast, rolling you over so you’re beneath him, his jaw clenched as he looms above you, his hand gripping your thigh to push it towards your stomach so he can work himself deeper inside your pulsing cunt. “It’s it, fuck. You are so deep. Keep going. Want you to fill me with your seed.” You order, watching him as he grunts. The last month you’ve been indulging in your new husband but as you look up at him, the guilt looms. Your trips to the baths have not been truthful. You’ve been to the palace to inform the emperors about Marcus’s interactions, his meetings while he is in Rome. You hate betraying him, wish you could go to the palace and tell them you’re done, but you know the emperors would have you killed for insolence and treason if you dared to deny them. So far, Marcus has met with a few senators at his home, discussing the mounting cost of the endless war, the endless conquests that have sent the Roman people into poverty. That idea alone is treason to the empire, to question the decisions of the emperors, but they haven’t dragged Marcus from his home. They are waiting for something and you don’t know what that is. Marcus reaches for your hand, lifting it above your head to bring you back from your thoughts and you moan, squeezing him inside your pussy. “Want you to cum for me, Maritus.” You order, sliding your free hand up his chest.

He groans, his thrusts stutter and he starts to give himself over to your command. Life with you has been so rewarding, so free. He has done nothing more than drink wine and have sex with you. Feeling more relaxed than he ever believed possible. The emperors had truly blessed him when they had forced the marriage and he can only hope that he had treated you well enough that you look on your union favorably. Every day he has spent with you has brought you closer to his once guarded heart and he knows that he would die for you. Having fallen for you sometime between the hours spent in bed and the conversations you have while you indulge in your hobbies. Often you would sit outside under a shaded tree and watch while he trains in the courtyard. Making him proud when you later attack him and beg him to fuck you after he is done and his sparring partners have been dismissed. It makes him think of a simpler life, leaving the army and moving out of the city to work a small farm. Leaving the intrigues of Rome behind.

You slide your hand up to caress his cheek, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulses inside you, painting your walls with his seed. “Marcus.” You whisper, wanting to tell him how you feel. You believed him to be a heartless brute from the stories you’d heard about the general but he’s shown you nothing but kindness. He’s funny, he’s smart, and he is loyal to Rome. Not her Emperors, but the Empire and you admire that. You know he risks his life trying to associate with the senators to try and quell the Emperors’ need for more land, more blood. You don’t want to betray him any longer. Tomorrow, you’ll go to the palace and try to end the task you’ve been given. You can no longer betray the man you love. He turns his head to kiss your palm and you offer him a loving smile, wanting to spend the rest of your life like this.

Marcus pulls out of you gently and rolls to his back, pulling you against him. He has learned that you enjoy the closeness after sex. The lazy conversation that can be shared after you are exhausted. Your last husband cared little about your thoughts and he can only wonder how foolish Gracchus was. You are far more insightful than anyone would believe, brains behind your beauty matching most of the officers under him. “You enjoy your baths, but have you always wanted to live in the city?” He asks, his fingers stroking your spine slowly.

You caress his chest as you throw your leg over his, enjoying the closeness. “Not always. I’ve imagined a little farm in the country. Growing my own fruits and vegetables, maybe even some vines to make wine. Peace and quiet and away from the hustle of the city. When I married Gracchus, I was barely grown, and I imagined having children and watching them run free in the country.” You confess, “what about you? Your position in the city is close to the gods. Only the emperors and senate sit above you. Would you ever give up that power?”

He hums, happy that you are sharing with him. “I am weary of it.” He confesses quietly. “I have never wanted power, fame or adulation. I want to live simply. Quietly.” He had hoped to save for a little farm when he was married to his first wife, but he had given up those dreams when she died. Now that yearning was starting to build inside him again. “Would you be happy to live that way with me? Without children?”

You smile, leaning in to kiss his jaw, “I’d follow you anywhere. With or without children.” You vow, “if you wish to leave Rome, I will be by your side.” You promise and he turns his head to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth and you moan at the way he devours you. “Insatiable.” You tease when you feel his hand trailing up your thigh to your cum slicked folds. “For you, always.” He promises and you giggle as he flips you onto your back, a growl escaping his lips. 

****

You are reading a scroll outside under the olive tree, watching Marcus as he trains, and you turn your head when Antonia comes into the garden with a scroll. “Matronae, your presence is required at the baths.” She says your code and you sigh, shifting to stand after you hand her the scroll. Marcus pauses his training to look over at you, “Maritus, I will be heading to the baths.” You declare and he sets his sword down, striding over to you to cup your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. “Be careful.” He demands and you nod, pecking his lips as you step back and Antonia follows you when you enter the villa to prepare to leave.

Marcus sighs and reaches for the cloth to wipe his sweat away. “We are finished for today.” He decides, suddenly restless and uneasy about you leaving the villa. He’s not a man who ignores gut feelings so he decides that he will change and go out. If he happens to be near the baths that you frequent, it will be a coincidence.

You glance around the street as you make your way down the cobbled streets that lead to the baths before you’ll detour to the palace. You look over your shoulder, feeling like someone is following you and Antonia will wait at the baths to keep your cover. She doesn’t know what you’re doing but she keeps your secrets. You turn your head back to the street and moments later, your coin purse is grabbed from your belt and you are shoved to the ground. You hiss, hands grabbing your belt to stop them from robbing you but the man slaps your face, causing you to cry out. You keep hold on the coins and the man hits you again, grabbing your arms and you know he’s bruised you with his grip. He wrestles you as he grabs your belt and yanks, desperate to get the pouch of coins from your body. You scream for help, trying to slap the man and Antonia jumps on him but he swings her off and she hits the ground with a thud, a dazed look on her face.

The moment Marcus hears the scream, he knows his gut is right. The hood over his head is thrown back when he breaks into a sprint down the street. Citizens and slaves alike turn towards the sound, but Marcus ignores them, turning the corner to see a man on top of you, drawing his hand back to hit you. “Arghhhhhhh!” His screaming war cry distracts the man, giving him time to tackle him off of you in a red hazed fury. Enraged that someone would dare attack his wife, Marcus Acacius begins to hit him, over and over again.

You scramble to sit up, your body aching as Marcus hunches over the man, hitting him over and over. The crowd watches in shock and you are frozen as you witness your husband’s ferocity in person. He hits the man over and over until blood is pooling on the cobbled street and you scramble to stand, swaying as you approach slowly. “Marcus. Marcus. Maritus. Please -” You collapse back to the floor, your body aching as you struggle to stand and Antonia crawls to you as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your servant's cry is what breaks through the focused rage. Turning to see you pass out and he immediately abandons his task. Dropping the unconscious man back to the cobblestones to scramble over to you. “Uxor.” His bruised and bloodied hands are gentle as he cradles you, scooping you up into his arms. “Get a hippocrates.” He demands, his eyes filled with rage that you have been hurt. “Have them come at once.” He turns and starts to run back up the streets, carrying you back towards the villa.nmm

Marcus carries you through the streets and your head lolls as you regain consciousness in his arms. "Maritus?" You whisper, head throbbing and he stops walking to look at you in his arms. "You're awake." He murmurs, "we must get you home. A hippocrates will be there soon." He promises and you nod, closing your eyes again as he carries you until you're set down on the bench in the entrance of Marcus's villa.

Soon the servants are scrambling, fetching cool water and clothes when he orders them to. The wine is brought and he urges you to open your eyes and drink some, knowing you must be in pain. “What happened?” He asks, ignoring his own injuries as he starts to lift your dress to check your body.

You gulp down the wine and look at your husband, "he came from nowhere. He - he wanted my coins. From my belt. He was trying - he hit me. Over and over. Threw Antonia. Where's Antonia? Is she okay?" You demand and your servant steps forward looking worse for wear but okay. "I am fine, matronae." She promises and you sigh in relief. "He slapped me and pushed me down. I wouldn't let him take the coin and he was hitting me until you came and Marcus, oh carissima." You gasp, looking at his bloodied knuckles.

You reach for his head but he shakes his head, “I am fine.” He insists, knowing that he has been through much worse. A few busted knuckles is nothing compared to battle. “Where do you hurt, uxor?” He asks softly, wanting to make sure that the hippocrates examines you thoroughly.

"My head and my back. That's where he hit me. He was - I was so shocked. I should've fought harder." You shake your head and Marcus cups your cheeks to examine the tender skin from the hits to your face. Luckily the bastard didn't break the skin. "You were brave. Most would've simply given him the coins." He murmurs and you nod, wincing when his thumb presses against your tender flesh.

“I should have killed him.” Marcus growls. “The guards will hold him, but I will have to go speak to them about your attack.” He won’t leave you until you are being examined, unless you want him to stay. “I should have sent one of my guards with you.” He murmurs guiltily.

Your eyes meet his guilty ones, “do not think that way. I have never been attacked before and I had Antonia. You did nothing wrong. I will wait for the Hippocrates.” You murmur, knowing he wants to go speak with your attacker.

He is stubborn, staying with you until the man he had summoned is ushered into the villa. “She was attacked.” He explains. “I want her examined and treated. Nothing is to be overlooked.” He leans down and presses his lips to yours briefly. “I will leave you to his care and return shortly.”

You nod and watch Marcus leave your rooms as the man asks you what happened. "I was attacked. The man hit me over the head several times and pushed me to the ground." You reveal and the hippocrates asks you to remove your tunic so he can inspect your injuries. "Your husband wishes for nothing to be overlooked." He says and you wince as he pushes on your lower back where you fell. He asks you several questions and you pause when he asks when you last bled. You frown, counting until you realize you have missed your bleed. "It could be the stress of the marriage and moving and-" The hippocrates hums, "perhaps but you must be careful in case you are with child. We shall wait and see if you miss your bleed again." You nod, knowing you must take care and you slide your hand down to your stomach as the hippocrate applies a salve to your tender aches. You redress after the hippocates leaves and you are confronted by palace guards. "You are being summoned to the palace." Antonia tells you and you nod, wincing as you take your cloak and let the guards escort you to the palace. Marcus is not there to argue your presence and no one says no to the emperors.

Marcus watches as the guards bring the criminal into the cell, smirking at the swollen features of the man. “You fucked up.” He tells the poor bastard. “You assumed to rob a noble woman, not realizing who she was married to.” The man whimpers, both from his injuries and the implication behind the words. “Who does she belong to?” He scoffs, trying to appear like it makes no difference to him. The guard holding his shackles chuckles. “You beat Marcus Acacius’s wife.” He tells him.

You arrive at the palace, guided to the room to wait for the emperors and you bow your head when they stride inside. “Ah, we heard news that you were attacked and your husband protected you. That is why you did not arrive. We trust you are well.” Geta says and you nod, “tender and bruised but not gravely.” You declare and they smile, nodding, “we are glad to hear that but we want to hear news of your husband. We hear that he met with Senator Brutus.” Caracalla tilts his head and you raise your chin, “I will no longer speak of my husband’s meetings.” You declare and Geta raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?” You clench your sore jaw, “I will not speak of my husband’s affairs any longer.” You announce and Caracalla laughs, throwing his head back. “The insolence.” He spits after his smile drops. “I love him. I do not wish to betray his trust any longer.” You say defiantly and Caracalla growls, “you cunt. We are going to have you killed for your treason.” He hisses and you stand tall despite your heart pumping. “No, no. We gain nothing by killing her. Let’s invite her maritus to witness her betrayal.” Geta smirks and you gasp, “no. No. He can’t know.” You plead and Geta smirks, gesturing to his guard, “chain her and send someone for Marcus Acacius.”

Marcus watches as the criminal starts to cry, begging for his life as he contemplates the punishment for this man. He should have him killed, but in truth, the man is less than a plebeian, begging and scrapping by for survival. A result of the emperors foolish taxes to support their war mongering. Because his wife was the victim, he can choose the punishment. “He will serve in the army.” Marcus decides. “Since he has a need to plunder, he can do so in the name of Rome.” He doesn’t believe the man would survive long, but he will have food and a bed until he does die in battle. “General.” The cell door opens. “The Emperors demand your attendance at once.” The head guard for the Emporers is the one speaking, making Marcus wonder what has happened now.

You are shackled when Marcus arrives, striding into the hall and his brow furrows when he sees you chained. “What is the meaning of this? She’s injured.” He growls at the emperors who had waited for him to arrive. “Your dear wife has a secret.” Caracalla grins manically, clapping his hands. Marcus frowns, “secret? We have none.” Geta smirks, “oh she does. She’s been spying on you. Delivering details of your meetings directly to us. You see, we were concerned about your influence in the army, we wanted to ensure you were not planning a coup. Your dissatisfaction with our regime has not gone amiss and we know you have been vocal about this with the senators. We simply had to take precautions to maintain our status in the empire. We had your precious uxor spy on you. We ordered her to marry you and she has delivered on our orders until today. Today she suddenly has loyalty to you.” Geta scoffs and Caracalla rolls his eyes.

His brow furrows when he hears the accusations and his eyes find yours, stomach twisting when he sees the guilt and truth of their words in your eyes. “Marcus, please-“ he turns his head, his heart twisting, ignoring your plea as he faces the two emperors. If they know the conversations he has been having, he is dead anyway. “Rome is crumbling beneath our sandals.” He implores them. “The weight of the campaigns is heavy. Today, she was attacked by a man who can no longer afford to feed himself because of the taxes imposed for the war chest.” He doesn’t look over at you. “The poorest of Rome suffer heavily.”

You watch Marcus condemn himself and you shake your head. The Emperors stare at him and you swallow harshly. “You shouldn’t have - Marcus.” You whisper and Geta stares at him while Caracalla growls. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t - I didn’t want to but they threatened me and I- I love you. I never wanted to do this.” You promise with a cry.

Marcus doesn’t look over at you, waiting for his Emperors to determine his fate. Gets curls his lips into a cruel smile and claps his hands together. “I have the best idea for his punishment.” He cackles. “He will compete in the gladiatorial games!” His wide eyes swing towards you. “And she shall watch!”

Your eyes widen, “no. No. You cannot do that. I am the one who betrayed him. I am the one who refuses to continue spying. Don’t let him- he is a good general. He’s fought hard for you. Please. Take me. Don’t let him fight.” You plead on Marcus’s behalf.

They wouldn’t listen to you anyway, they never listen, but Marcus shakes his head. “If the emperors wish for my life to be fought for in the arena, then they will have their amusement.” He answers them, making them smirk as their personal guards surround him.

You shake your head, tears in your eyes as Marcus is dragged off and so are you. Taken in opposite directions and you are pushed into a cell, shackled, and you sob for your husband. For the life you loved with him that is now gone. Even if he survives the arena, he won’t want you. You have betrayed him. You don’t know how long you’re in the cell with nothing but dirty water until the cell door is opened and you’re dragged out by the guards.

“We cannot have you looking like a prisoner.” Caracalla titters as he smirks at your dirty and disheveled appearance when you are brought in front of him and Geta. “So we must clean you up.” He snaps his fingers and a female servant appears. “Wash her. Dress her in robes that will hide the chains.” He orders. “You will be sitting with us, isn’t that fantastic?” He asks. “The best view in the house as your dear Marcus fights for his life.” He tilts his head. “And yours.” He adds menacingly. 

You are numb as you are cleaned and scrubbed by the servant, dressed in a clean tunic and she wipes your tears after she hides the chains beneath your robes. “It’s time.” The guard declares as he opens the doors and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You ride to the Colosseum with tears stinging your eyes and you’re dragged up to the balcony where the Emperors are sitting on gold thrones, matching manic grins on their faces. “So glad you could join us.” Geta chuckles and you are pushed into a seat beside him, your chains rattling but hidden. You refrain from glaring at him, clenching your fists, and the crowd roars as Marcus walks out onto the sands. Your breath catches and you want to close your eyes, pretend this is a nightmare. “And who is my husband fighting? What man could match my husband’s skills?” You ask the Emperor and Caracalla chuckles, “not man. Men.” You inhale sharply as four men walk onto the sands.

The armor that he wears is his own, the subtle needling of the emperors’ visible to the crowds but unknown to all but those he had conspired with. The message that even an honored general of Rome, a man who had spent his life fighting for her glory, was not immune to the will of her emperors. Turning to the stands, it is easy to spot Geta and Caracalla, both of them laughing and drinking, merrily watching men fight to the death. His eyes find you, the horror written on your face making him pause as he brings his sword up over his heart, signaling his fealty to Rome. He turns and honors the men who will be fighting him, knowing that they have no choice in their fight and accepting that they will do their best to kill him. He had always known he would fall on a battlefield, he had just never assumed it would happen in the Colosseum.

Your heartbeat is deafening in your own ears as you watch the men rush towards Marcus, his sword swinging within seconds and you are terrified that he’s going to be killed. Your battle worn husband has fought many during his life but you worry he will die today in Rome, the Roman people witnessing his death. A symbol that even a great general can be taken down. “Please. He didn’t do anything. He’s fought hard for you.” You beg Geta, who scoffs, “by conspiring with others?” You shake your head, “to protect Rome and her people. Not against you.” You plead your husband’s case but it falls on deaf ears as your husband takes one man down.

This is needless. Marcus pants, gripping his sword firmly as the next man attacks. Crimson spilling from the man in the dirt and being mixed into a bloody paste as the general blocks the lunge, his foot shuffling back and he almost trips over the body.

You gasp when he stumbles and one of the men swipes his arm, cutting him. “Marcus.” You whimper, not wanting to scream and distract him. He grunts and swings back, the man crying out when his arm is chopping off. “Please, maritus.” You beg, needing Marcus to win.

Another man rushes him while the man he had just injured drops his sword to grab the bleeding appendage. Causing him to shift focus and move to the other man, grunting out when he grabs the man’s arm as he swings his sword down and shoves his own blade into the gladiator’s belly. Watching as his eyes widen when the pain registers and he realizes he will die on the hot sands.

You gasp when he has one man left to kill. The Emperors frown and clap as expected when Marcus takes down another opponent. The remaining man swipes at him again and you are on the edge of your seat as you watch your husband fight for his life.

The last gladiator is obviously the most skilled. He was smart too, using the other men to exhaust Marcus as he fought for hard minutes at a time with little break between attacks. The days of little water and no food leaving the general much weaker than he would be under normal circumstances, no doubt planned by the emperors to make sure that he falls today. Marcus barely jumps back in time from a swipe of the sword, the tip dragging across the armor covering his stomach and he feels his resolve weakening. There is no point to continue.

You choke when the sword cuts close to his stomach and you stand up, yanking on the chains that bind you. You try to walk towards the balcony but you stumble. “Marcus! Marcus! You must fight, Maritus. Fight for us! For our baby!” You shout, pleading with him to fight for his life.

The roar of the crowd is loud but he hears your voice. The shouting cuts through the din and he stumbles back, turning to look at the balcony where you are watching. Your eyes are wide and frantic as you scream again. This time he hears what you are saying. Our baby. Our baby. You are pregnant. His mind is reeling when he hears this, ducking down from the next attack on instinct alone to be brought back into the fight.

You watch as he has more energy, spurred on by your words, and Caracalla growls, “sit the fuck down.” He demands and you refuse, remaining standing as you watch your husband swing his sword. His opponent is skilled but younger and Marcus has your future in his hands as he swings his sword. Swiping the man who cries out, Marcus grunts as he kicks at the leg of the man, making him fall. He moves fast, swinging his sword to behead the man. You scream in joy as the man’s head rolls, knowing that Marcus has saved you.

You try to scramble to the emperors but your chains keep you in place. “Please spare him. He’s won. He’s won.” You beg and Geta gestures for Marcus to come to the balcony. He bows his head, knowing he will be ordered to be killed soon after, and he makes his way up to the balcony. You swallow harshly and you want to reach for him when he walks past you to stand before the emperors, bowing his head before he lifts it to clench his jaw in defiance. “You have beaten men who should have killed you. You have won.” Geta declares and reaches towards Marcus’s belt, taking his blade from the sheath and he presses it against his neck. Marcus hisses as blood drips from the cut, his lip curling. “Please.” You whimper, wanting your husband to survive. “You will leave Rome today. Disappear and take your uxor. If we hear a word of betrayal, you will be killed before you even realize it. Do you understand?” Geta hisses while Caracalla shakes his head, wanting blood.

“I understand.” Marcus murmurs quietly. “I will leave Rome.” He knows that he cannot risk your life and that of a potential child, if you are indeed pregnant. He is weary and just wants to get away from the Emperors. His eyes cut towards the men, his disgust for them clear.

You watch as Geta lowers the knife and sheaths it back in Marcus’s belt. He looks over at the guard and nods for him to release you. The shackles fall to the floor with a clang and you rush over to Marcus, cupping his cheeks to make sure he’s okay. “Take your traitor wife and leave Rome today otherwise you’ll be killed.” Geta promises and you nod, caressing Marcus’s cheek.

Marcus doesn’t trust the other men to keep their word, but he nods. Letting the guards guide you off the balcony and he reaches for his knife when he is out of the Emperor’s presence. “Maritus-“ you murmur but Marcus cuts you off. “Be quiet.” He hisses, knowing that you are not out of danger yet. A shift of armor could be the only clue an attack from the guards is coming and he needs to be alert.

You cling to him as he escorts you out of the colosseum to the awaiting chariot that is waiting to take you back to Marcus’s villa so you can pack your things. You are helped onto the villa and you swallow harshly, “I am so sorry.” You choke out and he shakes his head, “not here.” He says still not comfortable that you’re safe and you nod, reaching for his arm.

Because of his training, Marcus is efficient packing up. He completely takes over and gives orders to the servants while he drags you towards the private quarters where you can be alone.

Your wrists are sore from the shackles as Marcus stands in front of you. Both of you are worse for wear. You are covered in dirt, him in blood as you stand in front of him.

He stares at you, wondering if any of the time you had spent together was real or if it was all to get him to relax around you. “Are you pregnant?” He asks finally, needing to know if you were just bargaining for your life and praying it would sway the emperors.

You reach for him but he takes a step back, “I- I think so. I’ve missed my bleed and I- I never do. I think I might be.” You say softly, not wanting to lie to him.

His jaw clenches and he nods. “Then we will see if you are before we decide where we will go permanently.”

You nod, “I- I know you’re angry that I betrayed you but I- I went to the palace to tell them that I was done telling them your secrets. I didn’t want to - I never wanted to betray you but they threatened me and I couldn’t do it anymore because I love you. I’m in love with you, Maritus.” You confess, eyes wide as you prepare for his rejection.

Marcus wants to deny you. To call you a liar but he doesn’t see lies in your eyes. Maybe he is a fool, because you have already betrayed him, but he believes you. “Are you not just saving your neck now?” He asks, wanting to be sure. “I have nothing now. No power, no prestige. If you go back to your Emperors and beg for mercy, maybe they will give you to another man.” You move closer to him again and he doesn’t step back.

You shake your head, “I don’t want another man. I want my husband. I want you.” You promise, “I love you, Marcus, and I know - I know you are still mourning your first wife, your love, but I want you to know how I feel, Maritus.” You murmur, caressing his cheek.

“I stopped mourning my first wife.” Marcus admits. “When I asked you if you imagined always living in Rome.” He hears the servants rushing around to pack up the household, but he doesn’t move, staring at you. “I was asking to see if you would move away with me. Before this. Before we were exiled.”

You nod, “before this…I would’ve followed you anywhere. I love you, Marcus. I never imagined when the emperors ordered for me to marry you that I’d fall in love with you. I’d follow you anywhere.” You promise breathlessly.

“I have no trust in you.” Marcus admits, watching your face fall, biting your lip as you nod. “But I know you were trying to survive the whims of our Emperors.” He steps closer to you. “And I will not let you suffer for that.” He promises, lifting his good arm to trail his fingers up your arm. “I love you, uxor. We will leave Rome and make our home somewhere else, away from the intrigue and betrayal of this festering city.” He smiles. “Perhaps we will have your dream of children running in the sunshine.”

You smile, imagining children running in the fields while you spend your days with Marcus in the sun without worry of the politics of Rome. You lean in to kiss his lips. “I know you don’t trust me but I want to earn your trust.” You murmur and he nods, “let us find a new home. Together.” He declares and you lean in to softly kiss him. 

****

“Maritus.” You moan, caressing his shoulders as you rock on top of him, your bump between you. “Uxor.” He groans, his hands sliding down your back as you ride his cock. “I love you.” You moan, “so much.”

The villa around you is still being cleaned and repaired, abandoned for such a long time but it will be worth it when it’s restored to it former glory. The fields outside are fertile and the bones of the home are sturdy. After the fire years ago, it had been left to let the vines overgrow. Perhaps it was fate that you and Marcus are settling and creating a family where Maximus’s was taken from him, but the former general just thought it was the gods way of finding balance. “I love you.” He promises breathless as he rocks his hips up gently.

You moan, getting closer and closer to your orgasm as you rock on top of him. His cock thrusts up into you and you cry out, falling apart as you soak him. You clench down around his cock and fall into his chest, your bump pressed against him. “Fill me up, Marcus.” You plead, wanting to feel it, feel him.

He chuckles softly, puffing out the sound as he works himself in and out of your cunt towards his own satisfaction. “It’s obvious I’ve done that.” He grunts, loving how your walls tighten around him. The baby will come soon and he prays to all the gods that they will spare you and the child. “Fuck.” He grunts, pushing deep and painting your walls with ropes of cum as he moans your name.

You run your fingers through his hair as he relaxes beneath you and you sigh, “te amo.” You murmur and he caresses your back while the moon shines through the linen on the balcony. 

****

Your screams echo in the halls as you bear down. You are in agony, Antonia pressing a wet rag to your forehead as you push. The women of the household surround you as you labor. “Gods!” You curse as you grip the sheets. It feels like hours of pushing and you’re exhausted. “One more push!” Antonia demands and you sob, shaking your head as you push and finally, the pressure releases and a cry fills the air.

As soon as the baby’s cry rings out, Marcus cannot stop himself. Pushing the doors to the bedchamber open, he rushes inside, his hair sticking up from long hours pacing and running his hands through it, worrying about your fate. “Uxor!” He only has eyes for you and the small little bundle you are taking from Antonia. Your face is drenched in sweat and you’ve never looked more beautiful.

You look up from the baby in your arms, a grin on your face as your husband rushes over. “It’s a boy.” You murmur, checking all fingers and toes are in place. Marcus grins, leaning in to kiss your sweaty forehead. “You’re incredible, amor.” He murmurs and you tilt your head to kiss him softly. The cord is cut and Marcus takes the baby in his arms, needing to claim him. He holds him up to the servants and says “My son.” He proclaims, cradling his son and he leans in to kiss you again. “Our son.” He says and you smile, taking the baby after he slides him back into your arms so you can have skin to skin. “What shall we call him?” You ask Marcus who leans over to kiss your son’s forehead before he kisses yours. “Maximus Acacius.” He declares and you grin, “it’s perfect.” A new life in a place that held such pain. Your marriage may have been arranged by the emperors but your life together is fuelled by love and by choice.

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Natural Breeding Clinic - Prologue

warnings: MDNI, breeding kinks, general sex, mention of infertility and insemination methods

a/n: It's here. Finally.

Teaser - Prologue - Patient 1

You take a deep breath and sit down in front of the laptop, waiting for the other person to join the call. Never in your life had you heard about such a unique reproductive center but lately, you’d been feeling the pull to start your own family. You’d discussed this with relevant people in your life. Everyone had said if you really wanted a child, then you should go with the options you thought were right for you.

You’d done the research, looking into different doctors and fertility clinics, but this one just stood out. There were testimonials from several happy families, saying their methods, though unconventional, were effective, and the doctors showcased on the website were all incredibly striking, each one handsome in their own way. But it was the success rate that caught your eye. A 98% guaranteed rate that you would be pregnant, and that pregnancy would be healthy. The site didn’t go into too much detail on their method, but the wording caught your eye.

“A natural breeding clinic” they’d called themselves. You’d finally bitten the bullet and called, requesting an information session. The screen suddenly lightens and you focus your attention as an attractive woman with shoulder-length brown hair comes into view. She smiles in a welcoming way before speaking.

“Hello. Am I speaking with Mrs. L/n?” You nod and smile back, trying not to look awkward or uncomfortable. 

“Perfect! My name is Shoko Ieiri, I’m the main coordinating nurse here at Jujutsu Fertility. Thank you for scheduling an information session with us.”

“Yes, of course. I just needed more details before I booked an appointment.”

“Indeed.” Shoko claps her hands together before continuing. “Let me start by telling you a little bit about ourselves. We’ve been around for almost 6 years now. What sets us apart is that we focus more on women’s comfort than most other clinics. And we are sought out by people who are willing to use a sperm donor. We do not perform insemination services with sperm that are not from our own stock.”

“Your own stock? Are you associated with a sperm bank? And screen all the donors yourself?”

“Not a sperm bank in the conventional sense. We have 5 doctors who keep excellent health and their sperm is regularly screened to ensure quality. They are the only stock we allow for insemination.”

You blink to make sure you haven’t misheard. “The…doctors? Are you saying the fertility doctor I’d be meeting with will also be my sperm donor?”

“That is correct.” Shoko nods her head to confirm. “You will be meeting with the doctor of your choosing for at least 5 sessions. They will need to be at least once a week. Some women take the week off and come in 5 days straight.”

“5…sessions?” you ask, confused by the wording.

“Yes. It’s to ensure the insemination process has occurred an optimal number of times.”

“Wait…so…I’m going to be inseminated multiple times? How much downtime do I need in between each insemination?”

“Hardly any. Our method isn’t like a typical clinic. Most women leave feeling very normal and a lot more satisfied than when they came in.”

“Not like a typical clinic? So…you don’t use the catheter method?”

“We use minimal medical equipment in our inseminations.”

“Minimal…so what does the procedure entail?”

Shoko clears her throat and continues. “So it begins with you choosing one of our doctors. We highly recommend spending some time on this part. It’s essential that you feel attraction towards your doctor. Once you make a choice, they will reach out to discuss how your insemination experience can be optimized for you. You will receive a biodata on their sexual profile, their preferred methods of arousal, and other relevant details.”

“I’m sorry, but what?” You are at the edge of your seat wondering if you’ve entered an alternate dimension. Surely, this was all being made up? “Arousal, sexual profile- why would I need all these details? I thought sperm donors only gave information like height, weight, medical history and stuff like that.”

“Why wouldn’t they? You’re choosing to be bred by them. They would have to make sure their patient is satisfied with the experience.”

“Bred?” You bleat the word stupidly.

“Yes. We are a natural breeding clinic. We use the method nature has provided to us to ensure a pregnancy.”

The gears in your brain start turning and something finally clicks.

“Are-are you saying…I would be having sex with my doctor?”

“That is correct.” Shoko smiles gently at you, pleased that you have finally caught on.

“The human body doesn’t necessarily enjoy having medical equipment inserted into it. All that cold plastic, and the mechanical methods of insertion. It puts the body in a state of stress. Not good for implantation. So our doctors will inseminate you through the process of intercourse.”

 Her words fall like a fog around you. You can feel your heart racing, a flush creeping into your cheeks. It was…insane. The doctor of your choosing was essentially going to fuck a baby into you. As your mind starts pulling up the images of their doctors, each one impossibly handsome and striking, you feel a familiar throb starting between your legs. Wetting your lips, you try to talk to continue with the information session.

“I see. And…there are benefits to this?”

“Yes. Intercourse allows the body to relax, releasing happy hormones. In this stress-free state, in addition to the knowledge that your doctor is someone you’re attracted to and trust, the chance of an implantation doubles.”

You gape at Shoko, your mind reeling from all the information.

“And…when you say the insemination process will be optimized for my best experience…?”

“The doctor you choose will ask you extensive questions about your preferences. What turns you on, positions, dislikes, toys. It’s to determine if they will satisfy your breeding experience. If they feel they might not be a good fit, they’ll recommend another one of our doctors.”

You swallow, your mouth going dry. “I see. And…what else do I need to know?”

“We will start by collecting your medical history and run some blood work to make sure your body is ready for an insemination process. Women who have a domestic partner will need to get both a waiver and a consent form signed by their partner that they have been informed what happens for the insemination.”

“Of course. Makes sense.”

“You will be assigned an emotional support companion during this process. It will either be myself or Mr. Ijichi Kiyotaka. We are there to help ease your nerves and ensure you enjoy the process. And all patients must think of a unique safeword to use during the insemination process.”

“Safeword?” you parrot back, still processing.

“Yes. At any point during the process, should you feel uncomfortable, your safeword ensures all actions cease and your doctor will give you some space to breathe and reassess the situation.”

All you can do is nod along. Shoko gives you a look of reassurance. “I can guarantee that most women are pleased with the results. And our doctors are quite skilled in what they do. It’s natural to feel a little shy and embarrassed but at the end of the day, we all share a common goal- a healthy baby.”

Despite your initial shock, you feel some of your trepidation fade away. Shoko continues.

“If you are ok with all of this, I can send you the forms to get the process started. Once those are filled, you can take some time to decide on your doctor. Then we’ll set up a call with them.”

“Thank you.” You make a split-second decision. “Please go ahead and send the forms.”

“Excellent. I’ll send them to the email you put in your inquiry. Was there anything else?”

You shake your head no. “I think I have all I need.”

“Great! I look forward to assisting you again.” Shoko ends the call and you immediately go the the website again to look at the doctors, one of which will end up fathering your child. Such a hard decision. How will you ever make the choice?

@thesunxwentblack @kentocalls @actuallysaiyan

@belle-oftheball34 @jesssicapaniagua

@figmentforms

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm V

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You feel terrible

"Mama! Mama! Maaama!" Little Maya said.

At two years old now, she was fairly active and enjoyed such things as continually saying your name and poking you in the cheek.

"Maya-bear," You croaked out," What is it?"

You felt horrible. A sudden bout of flu came over you this week leading to you spending all Thursday and Friday in bed and not coming into work.

Alexia had been out of her mind but you'd still insisted on making her go into work.

"Mami made pancakes." Maya wiggled her whole body in excitement and you allowed yourself a weak smile, reaching a hand out to cup her face.

"That sounds nice Maya but I'm still feeling sick."

"Feel sick?"

"Yes, Mama is feeling sick. My tummy is being mean."

Maya waved an accusing finger at your tummy. "Bad tummy!"

"That's right so Mama can't have pancakes right now."

"No pancakes?"

"None for me. Why don't you head down and tell Mami that I'm giving you all of mine?"

Maya was loathe to leave you but after much coaxing, she disappeared from your room. That let you bolt off to the en-suite to throw up your guts.

You'd spent most of last night hunched over the toilet bowl so it wasn't much of a shock that you found yourself there now.

"Amor?" Alexia asked, creaking the door open," Maya said you still felt ill?"

"I'm fine," You insisted," Go and help Maya with her pancakes before she gets all syrupy."

"Amor..." Alexia looked close to tears. She'd always been like this whenever you got sick.

Eli used to joke that Alexia would come it in a sympathetic sickness whenever you were ill.

She took it as a personal failing whenever any of her family were ill, always stressing about what she could have done differently even when none of it was her fault.

Just last week Maya had gotten a bad case of the sniffles and Alexia refused to touch her after remembering that Pina had sneezed in her general direction which prompted Alexia to blame herself as to why Maya had gotten ill.

"Is there anything I can do?" She asked.

"Ale, I love you but please go downstairs. I don't want to get you sick too. You've got matches coming up."

"Amor, I will gladly get sick if it means helping you."

"Alexia, go. We've got a little girl who I know is about to cover her head in syrup. Go look after her please."

You remained hunched over the toilet as Alexia pressed a firm kiss to the top of your head before retreating out of the room.

As soon as she was gone, you reached for the cabinet under the sink.

It was long shot and you knew it.

The rate of first round successful IVF was stupidly low. You were a doctor. You knew that.

Fertility was never your speciality but you knew the statistics. You knew the process. You know all the risks attached and everything that could go wrong.

But, still, you reached for the pregnancy tests that Alexia kept there.

You had been a little confused when you first moved into the house to find Alexia was keeping pregnancy tests in your bathroom. When you questioned her, she'd confessed it was make her come on her period.

She swore up and down that when she was late, she would pee on the stick and suddenly start her period the next day. Apparently Alba did the same and Eli swore by it.

You'd never heard of such a thing but you were glad for your wife's absurdity in this moment as you tore open the packaging.

"Maya-bear!" Alexia said," Let's keep the syrup in our mouths please."

Maya didn't answer her, merely shovelled more and more torn up pancake down her throat as Sinky and his sisters padded around ready to catch any dropped pieces.

Lady sat at the bottom of the stairs, pawing at the closed baby gate.

"I'm sorry, Lady," Alexia said," But she's sick. She can't have any visitors right now."

Alexia felt so defeated as she stared up the stairs. She was meant to be the family protector and she prided herself on doing a good job but this whole week had been one defeat after another.

First, Maya got pushed over at nursery and came home with a big bump on her head. Next Mr Stinky had to be taken to the vet for a strange lump on his legs that the results for still hadn't come back. Then Sinky and his sisters had lost their favourite ball toy at the park and some disgusting boy dog tried to mount Lady while Alexia was looking for it.

It seemed to be a terrible end to a terrible week when you suddenly fell ill and had to stay home.

You'd barely moved since getting sick, barely able to gather enough strength to shower or eat before hunching over the toilet to throw it all up.

Alexia swiped her tears away furiously as she dragged a wet cloth over Maya's chubby cheeks.

"Mami!" Maya giggled," No!"

"No?" Alexia repeated," You're all covered in syrup!"

"I like syrup!" Maya insisted," Syrup, my favourite!"

"Don't tell your Mama, she will be sad if you don't like her cooking anymore."

Maya looked like she was considering it but turned her head immediately at the sound from upstairs.

"Alexia!"

Lady barked loudly at the noise, jumping up and down and Sinky and his sisters joined in as well. Even Mr Stinky looked up from his regular napping spot at the noise.

Alexia nearly tore a fingernail off trying to unclip Maya out of her high chair and practically vaulted over the still closed baby gate to hurry towards you.

The last time she had heard you so panicked was when you were nearly married and appeared at her house in tears after being kicked out by your parents.

You were sitting on the toilet when Alexia and Maya burst in.

"Amor?" Alexia fell to her knees in front of you, still balancing Maya on her hip. "What is it? What's wrong? Tell me, it's okay. I'm here!"

In answer, you showed her your positive pregnancy test.

"I...You're?"

You nodded through your tears.

"We're having another baby, Alexia."

[taegimood]

— fate (c.sb) ♡

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader genre: angst, fluff, smut rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.1k warnings: toxic ex (emotional neglect, abandonment), unplanned pregnancy, body insecurity, pregnancy/breeding kink, brief smut, let’s ignore the questionable timeframe lmao

a/n - this is actually not at ALL what i had originally planned for this concept, it was supposed to just be another one of my lighthearted smutty ramblings (which i might still do in a separate post cuz this concept + soobin’s breeding kink is too juicy for me to pass up lmao) but i like it regardless.. i haven’t done an actual writing piece in ages. this one might be weird tbh lol but i hope you enjoy ~ [written w my lovely @miupow in mind <3]

──────────────────────

it had been 12 months since you met the man who you thought would be forever — foolishly, blindly — the memory as bitter as the winter when you first saw him, mistaken then as something sweet.

it had been 10 months since you began to give him everything that he wanted — the body and the heart that you were never one to gift lightly — convinced that it was love, that it meant more in his eyes that you could never truly seem to read (though you always managed to fool yourself that you could).

it had been 6 months since you started doing anything and everything to make him keep wanting you, losing yourself so slowly in the process that you couldn’t even see it until one day suddenly you did.

it had been 3 months since he left you faster than the changing season when you told him the news, a hurricane of empty eyes and venomous words thrown like daggers that left you bleeding…

and it had been 3 months with a baby in your belly when choi soobin came into your life.

this time, the winter was nothing in comparison to the softness of his smile and the sunlight in his eyes when he stepped through that coffee shop door and into your forever.

—

soobin knew from the moment he saw you that you were someone he could see himself falling in love with.

he had no idea what made you say yes when he asked if you would have a cup of coffee with him;

(maybe it was the fact that he tripped and spilled his milkshake all over you while trying not to look like a loser as he passed by your table and then profusely promised to make it up to you and your poor pair of soiled sweatpants);

and he also had no idea what kept your pages closed even as he got to know you, what kind of shadow it was that would pass over your eyes at his compliments or what made you flinch at an accidental touch of your hands —

but he did know that more than anything he had ever wanted,

he wanted to see the smile reach your eyes.

~

falling in love with soobin came easily.

no matter how hard you first tried to fight it, deny it, run from it… it was as if loving him was something that you were simply made to do.

every soft smile, every careful touch, every word a caress as gentle as the breeze on a summer sunrise; every part of soobin slowly began to fill the cracks of your shattered heart with gold.

the day that he found out about the baby was the day that he told you his heart was yours.

“i know it hasn’t been long and i know i may sound crazy, but whatever happens or whatever doesn’t, y/n, i will love this baby, and i will love you.”

if this child’s father was a starless night then soobin was entire galaxies, the warmth and resoluteness in his eyes enough to melt away any claim that that man had left behind, and as far as you two were concerned, this baby’s real father was standing right here at your side.

——

it’s become harder to find room to love yourself these days as the months go on; your growing belly making it difficult to feel attractive, the insecurities that came with those months of feeling unwanted slowly creeping back into your mind and telling you that you’re not enough to make him stay.

logically, you know that your pregnant body is the only body of yours that soobin has so far seen, and of course here he is still wanting you — he proves it almost every night — but regardless you find yourself crippled by doubt and shame.

frowning at yourself in the mirror after every shower, stuck between the bubbling feelings of love for your baby and the guilt of hating how your body looks because of it.

little do you know, soobin has realized something about himself that he never saw coming before:

your pregnant body has him absolutely losing his mind.

he’s never felt so turned on in his life than when he’s got you laid across his sheets in the evenings with the curve of your swollen belly brushing against him as he slowly fucks into you, your tits full and bouncing softly with each thrust, small hands clutching onto him, your face flushed and beautiful and more undone than he’s ever seen it — free to let go of yourself in his arms.

it’s in these moments that he’s convinced he was made to worship your body with everything that he’s got.

soobin is so desperately attracted to every part of you, so determined to pour his love into you as many times as it takes for you to be able to see exactly what he sees every day;

he can’t help himself, can’t keep it in as he ravishes your cunt, the things he moans and whispers like a prayer in your ear enough to send shivers straight down to your core and push you over the edge every time.

you’re so so beautiful, baby, gonna be the most beautiful mama..

he touches you like he’ll never get the chance again.

perfect belly, perfect tits.. wanna fill you up like this, want you pregnant with my babies, f-fuck-

his name falls like a chant from your lips;

wanna give it all to you one day- wanna make you my wife and fill you up all round and pretty- you’re just s-so pretty, bunny, so perfect.

you feel prettier each time you fall apart.

i love your body, love our baby,

‘n i love you,

i love you,

i love you.

and when you ask him one morning if he means those things he always says, watching as a familiar rosy hue dusts across his dimpled cheeks, soobin takes your hand in his and promises you a lifetime.

——

it’s winter — your favorite season.

the air is crisp and full of starlight as you take a deep breath, the world falling quiet when you meet your husband’s eyes.

“the kids are asleep,” he whispers from the doorway,

and you’ve never been gazed at so tenderly.

you think about where you started and where you are now.

it’s been 5 years since choi soobin walked into your life, bringing the glimmering sun along with him.

5 years since he began showing you the meaning of well-kept promises and honest eyes,

of things that last and things that are allowed to be let go.

5 years since you welcomed your first child into your arms

and 3 since you welcomed your second; all beaming smiles and dimples just like her daddy;

and it’s been 12 months since your belly started growing with your third.

as you look down at the sleeping baby in your husband’s arms, every severed string of the past melts into one.

you smile at the boy from the coffee shop.

he smiles back, and soobin has all he’s ever wanted, because he has you —

because finally the smile reaches your eyes,

and he’s home.

[rhaenyrathecruell]

          Angelic

            Aegon ii Targaryen x pregnant wife! Reader  

Word count:1,108 

  Warnings: pregnancy, Aegon is his own warning, and labor, blood and mentioning of death.  

A/n: hey y'all, happy house of the dragon Sunday!  sorry for the long wait for this one shot. If you like this I made a Robb stark one shot too!  Thank you! Enjoy! 

 Screams could be heard through the red keep, servants scrambling grabbing towels. The princess had gone into labor. Aegon is drowning in his cups as usual. He groaned as he clutched his head, what was all this commotion about? He jumps up as his mother the queen slams open the door. 

 The displeasure of being interrupted and his headache did not help his mood to not be sour. “What? Must you be so loud?”  

He looked up at his mother noticing his mother’s scared expression and labored breathing. “Mother?” the prince asked now suddenly sobering up at the sight of his usually calm mother so stressed and disturbed. The queen stared at her son and said in a Shakey voice “y/n has begun her labors.” Aegon jumped up from his bed and quickly rushed out the door with Alicent following him. 

 “Where is she? In her chambers?” Alicent quickly replied “yes, she’s in her chambers with the maester and a couple midwives. She was asking for you.” Aegon may not be the most caring person to his wife but he loved her in his own way. He could feel his heart beating like it did when they got married. 

 The halls feel never-ending as they make their way to the princess’s chamber. When they finally make it to the door, they can hear cries of pain and hushed talking between the midwives and the maester. Aegon burst through the door, the hinges rattling from the force of it. 

“Y/n! My love I'm sorry it took me so long.” he cried out as he rushed to her side. Alicent closed the door and went to converse with the maester. 

“Aegon I'm scared.” y/n said, with tears in her eyes from her physical pain and from her worries. Aegon puts his palm on her cheek and wipes her tears with his thumb. He could see the pain and fear in her eyes.  

He finally finds his voice and says in a shaky voice “i won’t let anything happen to you or our child. I swear this on the old gods and the new.” He cringed internally, he sounded so unsure when he said that. He had to be strong for her, for their child. Y/n rests her head in his palm, exhausted from everything. Aegon looks over at the maester and his mother, they speak in whispers. 

 “What are you whispering about over there? My wife needs assistance maester. You are here for that not for gossiping with the queen.” he says with pure frustration in his voice.  The maester immeditally comes over and checks how much y/n is dilated. He looks slightly worried. Aegon’s heart drops in his stomach. “what? Why do you have that look on your face maester?!”  

The maester sighs, “your grace she is dilated but the babe is breached.”  

Y/n gasps “what oh god.” 

Aegon is confused, “what does breach mean maester?” he asks his heart rate going up by the minute. He squeezes his wife’s hand in silent support. They would figure this out, they had to.  

“During a normal birth the babe is facing head first. In your wife’s case the babe is coming feet first. I must go in and manually turn the babe before she starts pushing.” The maester explains, while ordering the midwives in position.  

Aegon sits there like a fish out of water for a minute before immediately turning to his wife.  As he looks at her face his chest tightens with worry and sympathy for his wife as he sees her scared expression.  

Y/n pulls aegon close to her as she is moved downwards on the birthing bed so the maester can attempt to move the babe. She gets close to aegons ear before saying “if they can’t turn the babe, they will want to cut me open like my mother. Please don’t let them aegon. Please don’t let me die.” she sounds frantic and scared.  

Aegon tightens his hold on her as her words sink in. He pulls her chin up to look at him, before he looks deep into her teary eyes and says “i would never allow them to hurt you, my love.”  

Y/n visibly relaxes at his words, the maester looks at the young couple. 

“are you ready for me to attempt this your grace?” he asks aegon. 

Aegon replies “don’t ask me, ask my wife you idiot.”  

The maester’s eyes widen in apology before looking at y/n, who nods in agreement. The maester’s hands are cold and rough from age. Y/n tenses as the maester attempts to move the babe. She clutches Aegon's hands tightly as he whispers encouragements in her ear.  

The maester’s sudden words break the silence as he exclaims “i feel the babe! I'm going to attempt the rotation now.” the maesters hands leave y/n’s body and he lets out a relived sigh.  

Aegon asks suddenly “is it done? Did you, do it?”  

The maester nods “it is done now all that is left to do is push.” 

Everyone in the room lets out a sigh of relief that the princess and the baby were out of danger for now.  

Alicent finally breaks her silence “thank the mother!” 

Aegon kisses his wife’s head as she begins to push. Y/n’s face is scrunched up in pain as she pushes. Shes sweating and grasping Aegon's hand in a iron grip. Aegon is not fazed, as he gives words of encouragement and tells her she's doing good. 

Y/n stops pushing to catch her breath before she pushes one last time with all her might with a scream.  

Finally, y/n collapses on the bed in exhaustion as the babe comes out with a shrill cry.  

The maester hands the baby over to the young couple, the babe resting in its mothers arms no doubt feeling the love in the room. The maester speaks “a boy your grace.”   

Wides smiles are on Y/n and Aegon's faces as they sit and admire their beautiful son. Aegon breaks his eyes away from his newborn son and looks at his radiant wife. In that moment he swore he would never dishonor her. She was angelic like she was sent from the gods themself. He was never more in love than in this moment.  

Y/n breaks the silence “Aemon, his name is Aemon.”   

[whizzing-fizzbee]

I Love You, It's Ruining My Life

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (profanity, smut, adult themes), all characters are adults Words: 16,004 Themes: ex-lovers, rekindled romance, failed marriages, unhappy marriages, post-Hogwarts, adulthood, cheating, infidelity, jealousy, pregnancy, mild violence, language, smut, happy ending

Summary: You were supposed to be happily married to your handsome and successful husband. You most certainly were not supposed to think about your ex-boyfriend, Sebastian Sallow. After all, it's been five years since you broke up amid your graduation from Hogwarts. But when your husband surprises you with the announcement you're moving to Feldcroft, you despair over your new neighbors.

Notes: This was obviously inspired by Taylor Swift's "Fortnight." I debated with myself about including any smut with this, so I wrote it in such a way that you, the reader, can choose. Part I is the story. Part II is a smutty epilogue, which you can skip if you'd like. Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Part I: Turned Into Good Neighbors

“Darling? Are you home?”

You looked up from your novel at the sound of your husband’s voice calling from the kitchen. It was a quarter past 6 p.m. and you made a mental note that he was an hour late.

“In here,” you called, ensuring your tone didn’t expose your annoyance. He was a good man, you told yourself, and he worked long, hard hours to provide you with a nice life.

“Ah, there you are,” Oliver said as he appeared in the doorway. You smiled up at him as he approached to plant a kiss on your forehead, his usual greeting. The next step in this routine was for you to ask him how his day went, and then he’d sit down and tell you everything he did at work for the next 20 minutes.

But today was different, and while you usually welcomed change, this was a bigger surprise than you had bargained for.

“I have news,” Oliver declared. You decided his gaze looked more excited than concerned, so the tense manner in which your posture had straightened relaxed, but just slightly.

“News?” you repeated. “What is it?”

“I bought us a new cottage,” Oliver revealed excitedly. You couldn’t help but blink at him.

“A new cottage?”

“Yes, in a quaint little hamlet in the Highlands,” Oliver said. “Far away from the bustle of the city.”

“And we’re going to live there?” you asked.

“Aye, we are,” Oliver said. “I can simply floo to the Ministry for work every day. And we can apparate or floo back here to London any time we want.”

He spoke as if it were the most simple, obvious decision in the world, but your stomach twisted into knots. 

“We’re moving to the Highlands,” you repeated. The faint twitch in Oliver’s jaw indicated he was growing annoyed with the way you were repeating his words, but you were having a difficult time processing such a significant revelation.

London had been your home for the past five years, two of which you spent living with Oliver in your home together. Though city living wasn’t your dream, you’d established your roots there with friends and a life that kept you occupied. The Scottish Highlands would be vastly different from this life, especially since you hadn’t been there since your Hogwarts days.

“Look, I know this is sudden and that I’ve surprised you,” Oliver said, his tone steady and gentle. “But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’ve always said London doesn’t suit you and that you miss the Highlands. Now’s our chance to take advantage of that. It’s a perfect opportunity.”

It was true, you missed the Highlands. They were nostalgic to you, a reminder of your years as a student. Your life had been defined and shaped by the adventures you had across the Highlands’ hamlets, the good and the bad. You missed the people, the peace, the picturesque landscape and the slower pace of it all.

But you hadn’t asked to move there. You didn’t tell your husband you were intent on leaving your perfectly content life to buy a new home and make new friends.

“The cottage is lovely,” Oliver continued boastfully. “Or at least it will be. I got a fantastic deal on it because it requires some minor repairs and renovations. We’ll be able to put our own personal touch on it.”

You didn’t want to fight with Oliver. Your marriage had been rocky, to put it lightly, and the two of you were presently in a good place. You hadn’t had a fight in weeks, and it made you hopeful that your turbulent days were behind you. 

So in order to keep the peace, you flashed a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. After all, Oliver was the one working to create a life for you both, together. 

“It sounds lovely,” you said. “Which hamlet is it?”

“A brilliant little place to the south of Hogwarts,” Oliver said proudly. “Feldcroft.”

One month later

The spring air felt clean and refreshing against your skin the moment you emerged from the floo flames. It was a stark contrast to the heavy, dirty London air that clouded your lungs and made your eyes occasionally burn.

It was new, yet so familiar, you instantly felt the memories beginning to stir. You gazed around the hamlet, which looked largely unchanged since the last time you visited years back. Some of the cottages looked older, worn by time and the harsh, salty sea air that carried in from the coast. Other buildings were new, including a row of three small shops that hadn’t been there before.

The wood lookout tower was still there, looking weathered and rickety now. The recollection of the first time you visited Feldcroft surged immediately.

You flew there from Hogwarts when you were fifteen on a quiet Saturday morning to visit your friend, Sebastian, and his sister, Anne. The events of that first day remained vivid, but not as sharp or as provoking as the events that occurred the last day you were there.

You could still remember the smell of the Feldcroft catacombs, damp and deadly. You could hear the raucous echoes of spells ricocheting off the walls, the hiss of the inferi that circled you, and the cries of despair when Anne Sallow found her uncle’s body. You could still see the blinding green light that erupted from Sebastian’s wand the moment he changed everything.

“Darling?”

Oliver’s voice yanked you from your memories. The thoughts had left you winded, your palms sweaty and your mouth dry.

“Sorry, what?” you asked, turning to meet Oliver’s concerned gaze.

“I said, are you ready? Our cottage is just this way.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Sorry, I was just… feeling nostalgic,” you laughed, flashing a smile for good measure.

“Ah, I’ll bet,” Oliver said as he offered you his arm to guide you through the hamlet. He began rattling off every fact he could find about Feldcroft and its history, as if you weren’t well versed in the events that had happened there during your teenage years, as if you didn’t have your own history with the town.

But as he rambled, you could feel your heart beginning to pound in your chest as that particular cottage came into view. You swallowed as it drew nearer, your eyes scanning it carefully for signs of life.

It was mostly unchanged from the last time you saw it. Flower boxes hung from the windows now and you noticed a row of pink rose bushes in the front. There were new wood shutters flanking the windows and the door was painted a deep shade of green.

It looked lovely as ever, but the memories tied to it clouded your head with dread. 

“Are- are we nearly there?” you asked, interrupting Oliver’s explanation of the hamlet’s first inhabitants.

“Just about,” he replied. “It’s just ahead, over there.”

Panic surged through your body, rising in your chest and blooming through your limbs as you realized how close you were coming to that cottage. Your feet suddenly felt as if they were carrying lead, the thud of each step reverberating in your brain.

“That one, right there,” Oliver said, gesturing toward your cottage as you passed the well at the center of town.

No. No way. Surely, not.

But Oliver steered you closer and closer until that cottage was in front of you. You passed it, your heart slamming in your chest as you snuck a glance toward the front window, before Oliver stopped outside the cottage next door.

“Here we are!” he said happily. “Home sweet home!”

You recognized this cottage, too. It belonged to a nice vendor named Bernard Ndiyae back when you were fifteen. It appeared worn down now, clearly having been vacant for years, but it looked cozy.

“Well?” Oliver’s voice said in your ear as you realized he had been watching you closely for a reaction. “What do you think?”

You made a careful point not to glance at the home next door, its rose bushes threatening you with thorns in spite of their beauty. Instead, you smiled up at Oliver and squeezed his hand.

“It’s perfect.”

---

The cottage certainly did need work, but thanks to some useful conjuration and transfiguration spells you learned from Professor Weasley, you had the house looking like a home in no time.

The fireplace now crackled with warmth thanks to repairs to the cracked chimney, the dusty wood floors were restored to a fresh gleam, and the kitchen was clean and functional.

You spent your first three days decidedly confined inside the cottage, working to put your own touches on the interior. It was necessary work, not just for the sake of your home, but for the preservation of your sanity.

You didn’t dare go outside. You didn’t even cast a peek out the window toward the next door neighbor’s house. Not until one morning, four days after you moved in, to begin your work on fixing the cottage’s exterior.

Oliver had taken a few days off from work to help with the house, which you appreciated. He had been putting in 10-hour work days, so you enjoyed his company while you had it. 

That morning, he badgered you to join him outside so the two of you could decide what to do with the landscaping and garden, and what color to paint the front door. You begrudgingly agreed, blaming your allergies when Oliver called you out on your reluctance.

When you stepped outside, you couldn’t help but appreciate the warmth of the sunlight that seemed to breathe new life into you after spending days inside that dusty house.

But your euphoria was quickly quashed by the sound of splashing water. 

“Oh! Hello!” a cheery voice said from the direction you had been desperate to avoid.

You held your breath as you turned to the source, your gaze falling on a pretty blonde woman who was watering the rose bushes in front of thatcottage. She appeared to be about your same age, though she was noticeably shorter and very pregnant. 

“Hello,” Oliver said, making long, quick strides toward the short fence separating your homes as he kept one hand gently placed at the small of your back.

“Welcome!” the woman said, the high pitch of her voice already grating on your nerves. She smiled warmly at you, but something about her gaze unsettled you. “We were wondering when we’d get to meet our new neighbors. I’m Wendy.” 

You and Oliver introduced yourselves as Wendy finished watering her roses. “I’m afraid my husband’s at work,” Wendy continued. “But you’ll meet him soon enough.”

Soon enough. You couldn’t be certain, but somehow you just knew you wouldn’t need an introduction.

“Have you lived here long?” you asked carefully.

“Oh, I’ve only lived here for a couple of years, since we got married,” Wendy explained. “But my husband has lived here since he was a boy. He inherited the cottage from his late uncle.”

The air immediately left your lungs and you began racking your brain for any excuse to retreat inside your cottage and never leave again. Better yet, an excuse to leave Feldcroft and never return again.

Instead, Oliver took control of the conversation to sing Feldcroft’s places and to dote his historical knowledge on Wendy, who appeared too polite to not listen. 

How could this possibly happen? How did you end up back here, in this hamlet where your history was tainted by some of your worst memories? How did you end up living next door to the boy who had dragged you to Hell and back, only to clip your wings when you thought you’d reached Heaven? Most important, how were you ever going to possibly face him again?

It would be inevitable and anything but easy. It never was with him.

“You two will have to come over for dinner soon,” Wendy continued. “Sebastian would love to meet you.”

There it was. That name. His name. It wasn’t easy to hear it five years ago and it wasn’t easy now. Sure, you’d moved on and were perfectly content with the life you’d built with the husband you loved, but the past, those memories, still twisted your stomach into knots that left you winded.

There was something about the notion that he had moved on too that produced a pang in your chest that left you stricken by guilt and shame. Of course he moved on. He was the one who ended things with you, citing your different paths in life as you prepared for your futures outside of Hogwarts. That reason hadn’t been good enough for you, but you knew holding a grudge against your teenage boyfriend was senseless and unbecoming. 

Now, you’d be living next door to him and his beautiful wife who seemed to radiate in ways you never could. Of course he found someone who was the epitome of human sunshine, a staggering contradiction to you. You were intense, prone to moody bouts of cynicism and warring convictions. You weren’t the type to light up a room or charm your way into the hearts of all who crossed your path. You were a lot, yet it seemed Sebastian had found someone who managed to be much more, but in all the right ways.

But propriety was important and you had a husband who was trying to make you happy. He bought you this cottage with the hope of returning you to a world you once loved, though you knew it was also his ploy to silence all of your recent arguments.

So instead of hexing Wendy Sallow into the next century, you forced a kind smile.

“That’d be lovely,” you said, your voice taking on a sickly sweet pitch of too much enthusiasm. “Please let me know if I can bring anything.”

“Wonderful,” Wendy cooed. “Well, I should get inside. Time to start working on dinner.”

She bid you farewell and you watched as she retreated inside that cottage that had once welcomed you. Even several months pregnant, she moved with a level of dainty grace that made your lip curl. You wanted to drown her in a lake.

“Well, she seems nice,” Oliver commented once she was gone. You nodded silently. “It’s nice to know our neighbors are friendly people. Perhaps we’ll be able to get to know them more.”

“Perhaps,” you said, praying your steady tone would drown out the silent screams ringing inside your skull.

---

Despite the tension you felt every time you stepped outside your cottage, you couldn’t help but ease into a comforting routine in Feldcroft. It was peaceful there, and the inhabitants lived at a much more pleasant pace than bustling London. You liked it there, but you also hadn’t run into the reason you’d avoided the hamlet in the first place.

One morning, you visited the store to pick up some items for dinner while Oliver was at work. It was warm outside and you enjoyed a slow stroll home with your groceries, the scent of spring easing your posture.

As you reached your front door, you fumbled in your pockets for your keys when a familiar voice greeted you.

“Hello.”

You froze. Did he realize it was you? Was there time to scurry inside your cottage before he figured it out? Perhaps you could apparate on the spot and never return.

It was all so deranged. You were a hero at one point in your life. You saved Hogwarts during a goblin rebellion, not to mention the countless creatures you freed from poachers and the dark wizards you defeated. You were anything but a coward, but one stupid man made you that way.

Slowly, you lifted your head to turn and meet his gaze. He froze, too, as you watched the recognition settle in his eyes.

“Hello, Sebastian,” you said quietly. There was no edge to your tone, nor was there any fondness. You were simply greeting him as cordial neighbors do.

If you hadn’t been wondering if you were going to be sick on your own front steps, you might have actually taken glee in Sebastian’s reaction. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, the color drained from his freckled cheeks as he struggled for words.

“I… you… It’s you,” he finally managed. You pressed your tongue into the roof of your mouth to stifle a snort. How very unromantic it all felt after all these years – you, fumbling your house keys and Sebastian, void of any coherent sentences. The two of you seemed as awkward and unrefined as your 15-year-old selves.

“It’s me,” you replied, and you couldn’t help but offer him a smile.

You knew this moment was coming, so you had spent the past week mentally preparing for it. You vowed to endure it with dignity. No hard feelings, no familiar longing or spite. You were going to handle it with class and poise, the way you always took care of business. That’s all this was anyway, right? It wasn’t personal. You and Sebastian hadn’t been personal in years. You were neighbors now, and neighborly relations could be handled as strictly business.

You tried not to stare too long. He was still youthful, but his boyish features had sharpened into handsome angles. You could see traces of stubble casting a faint shadow along his jawline, which was more defined. His skin remained freckled and his hair was still disheveled, an indication that the same Sebastian still lingered inside him.

“You’re my new neighbor?” he asked, still looking alarmed.

“I’m afraid so.”

An anguishing silence fell between you, but you were determined to force him to speak first. Maybe it was immature and petty, but you had decided to let Sebastian determine how far your new relationship as neighbors would go.

“My wife… my wife told me she met the new neighbors but she didn’t mention names,” Sebastian continued. “She didn’t mention it was anyone I knew.”

“I figured I’d let you decide if she needed to know that information,” you said simply. It was true. It wasn’t your place to reveal your past with Sebastian. He should be the one to tell Wendy, if he even wanted to. “If you’d rather pretend we’ve only just met, I’ll fully understand,” you added.

Sebastian couldn’t begin to compute how to relay your connection to Wendy – he was still stuck on the fact you were even there in the first place.

“How… why…” he started. Even after all these years, you could read him.

“My husband,” you answered without waiting on him to ask questions. “He bought this cottage without telling me. Wanted to get out of London. I had no idea until he brought me here.”

Sebastian didn’t respond as he mulled over your words, clearly unsure of what to say. His eyes were determinedly avoiding you, as if looking at you would expose all your shared secrets to everyone in Feldcroft.

“Your wife is lovely,” you offered in an attempt to facilitate the conversation. 

“Oh. Yes, she is,” Sebastian mumbled stupidly.

“When is your baby due?”

“Two months.”

“Is it your first child?”

“Yes.”

Another silence emerged and you couldn’t help but eye Sebastian with the faintest air of amusement. The Sebastian you had known could rarely keep his mouth shut. This Sebastian seemed unable to speak in complete sentences.

“Look,” you said, your tone shifting to something much more pointed and serious. “I know this is bizarre. Believe me, I would never have agreed to move here had I known. But maybe we can both just pretend like the past doesn’t exist and get a fresh start.” Sebastian frowned but said nothing in protest, so you continued. “My husband doesn’t know anything about us - our past. He only knows that I used to spend time in Feldcroft during my Hogwarts days. We don’t have to tell them. We can be strangers turned neighbors.”

Still no response from Sebastian. His abnormal silence was making you nervous, yet annoyed. After all this time and all he had put you through, surely the least he could do was acknowledge your words with civility.

Finally, his eyes met yours, though they were difficult to read.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, sending you deeper into your unsettled state. “I-I’ve always wondered how you were doing, how you ended up.”

You weren’t prepared for that. Though he was likely just being polite, you hadn’t expected him to admit to thinking about you. 

“I’m doing just fine,” you said, unsure who you were trying to convince. “Looks like you are as well.”

Sebastian nodded carefully. “You said you came from London. Are you… did you end up becoming an auror?”

The question was innocent enough, but it made your stomach twist and your eyes drop to the ground in shame. “No,” you said, taking care to keep your tone neutral. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“What about you? I remember you wanting to be a curse breaker.”

Sebastian nodded. “I was in Egypt for a year, now I travel for work, mostly curse breaking cases within a hundred-mile radius.”

Despite your past differences and old wounds, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for him. He had been so remorseful for the mistakes he made during your fifth year, you were happy to see his success in spite of it all.

“And Anne?”

“She’s still with us,” Sebastian said with a faint smile. “She lives at a care facility owned and operated by St. Mungo’s. They keep her comfortable there and she’s made good friends.”

“And Ominis?”

“Still the same old Ominis.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of your mutual friend. “He works at the Ministry. Part of the Wizengamot.”

“Ominis, a purveyor of justice? How original,” you quipped. 

Sebastian barked a laugh, the sound beckoning you with nostalgia. “I reckon Ominis felt the need to make up for… well, you know,” he said.

Of course you knew. You and Ominis covered for Sebastian when he killed his uncle. It was you who had convinced Ominis not to turn Sebastian in, and Ominis in turn convinced Anne to protect her brother. 

“Good for him,” you said, still smiling at the thought of Ominis Gaunt sitting in court. It certainly suited him. It also made you miss him.

You had tried to maintain your friendship with Ominis beyond your seventh year, but it became collateral damage as your turbulent relationship with Sebastian splintered. 

“Your husband,” Sebastian finally said. “Is… is he home?”

“Oliver. His name is Oliver. He’s at work,” you answered. “He works for the Ministry as well. In the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

Sebastian tilted his head. “I’m surprised Wendy didn’t recognize him,” he said. “She works at the Ministry as a receptionist, though she mainly just sees Ministry visitors, not employees.”

“Oliver comes and goes a lot,” you said with a shrug. “They have him traveling quite a bit.”

“Makes sense.”

You could feel the conversation reaching a conclusion, or at least you hoped that was the case. Sebastian’s eyes continued to linger on you and you prayed he blamed your red cheeks on the sun. 

When several moments ticked by with no spoken words, you cleared your throat.

“Well, I’d better get this food inside,” you said, hoping your tone sounded more pleasant than nauseous.

“Right.” Sebastian shifted from one foot to the other, his hands shoved inside his pockets. “Er, I’ll see you around then.”

“Sure, see you around, Sebastian. It was, um, nice to meet you.”

“Right. Nice to meet you, too.”

Once you were inside your cottage, you slammed the door shut, your back pressed against it to catch your breath, your satchel of groceries forgotten on the floor.

Seeing him shouldn’t affect you like this. You were married. He was married. You shouldn’t feel a thing toward him, not after five years and the pain he inflicted on you during your breakup.

You should hate him.

By the time Oliver arrived home, you were in a sour mood, annoyed he was late again and mentally drained from your reunion with Sebastian. The dinner you made had grown cold from waiting for Oliver, leaving you to pick at your plate void of any appetite.

Oliver could sense the tension but tactfully chose to keep to himself. After dinner, he retired to his office to read, leaving you to clear the table.

What you really needed was to clear your mind.

Still fuming over Oliver’s tardiness, you flicked your wand to send the dinner dishes sailing toward the sink where they clattered audibly. Without acknowledging your husband, you pulled a sweater on and slipped outside, the door shutting behind you with a quiet creak.

You knew exactly where you were headed. It was the same place you and Sebastian frequented as teenagers to watch the stars when you were bored at night. You climbed the lookout tower, only slightly wary of the way it creaked and groaned beneath your footsteps to the top. When you reached it, you froze.

“Sebastian?”

“Heard you coming,” he replied. “Thought it might be you.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll go-”

“Stay,” he said quietly. “I assume you need to clear your mind about something. That’s the only reason anyone comes up here anymore.”

“I… yeah,” was all you could manage.

Sebastian gestured to a wood crate that sat opposite him. Years earlier, the two of you would sit on the floor of the tower, your legs dangling over the ledge as you gazed across the Feldcroft region’s landscape.

Your eyes scanned the view for the first time in years. Dusk was darkening the sky, but the scene appeared mostly unchanged. It comforted you, despite the unsettling company sitting across from you.

Neither of you said anything at first. What could you possibly say? You squirmed in your seat, silently willing Sebastian to be the first to break the silence. It was torture, because you wanted to be angry at him; instead, you were merely desperate to talk to him.

“What are you really doing here?” he finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Did your husband really just surprise you with a cottage in Feldcroft and force you to pack up and move here?”

You frowned at him, anxious that he might believe that you moved there for him. But you were also afraid to tell him the truth, to spill your personal troubles so quickly after your reunion.

“He really did,” you sighed. “But I suspect he has ulterior motives than simply trying to make me happy.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to frown. “Isn’t that what a husband is supposed to do – make his wife happy?”

“Is that what you do?”

“Of course.”

How lucky for Wendy.

“Well, I suppose he just wanted an escape from London,” you finally said with a shrug, prompting another lengthy silence.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Sebastian suddenly said. When you looked up, you noticed he wasn’t looking at you. Instead, his eyes had fallen on something distant, likely nothing in particular at all.

“Trust me, neither can I,” you breathed with a faint chuckle.

“I can’t believe it’s already been five years since we graduated and since we... broke up.”

“Feels like yesterday in many ways, yet also feels like a lifetime ago,” you said simply. 

Sebastian finally turned his gaze to you, studying you with a curiosity that made you straighten your posture and hold your breath.

“So what have you been up to then?” he asked. “You mentioned you’re not an auror, so what are you?”

Your face fell. How could you possibly answer that with any dignity? The truth was shameful and, knowing Sebastian, he’d be disappointed in you. But you married Oliver, not Sebastian, and your husband’s opinion mattered more. 

“I’m… not much of anything,” you finally admitted. There was no use lying to Sebastian. “I don’t work. Oliver takes care of me.” Sebastian hummed a response that ignited your defenses. “What?” you demanded rather sharply.

“Nothing,” Sebastian replied simply. “I’m just surprised, is all. You never struck me as the housewife type.”

“And why not?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Sebastian chuckled. “Wendy’s probably going to quit her reception job and stay home once the baby arrives. The hours can be erratic and she doesn't like the work. It’s just… you always struck me as being different.”

“Different how?”

Sebastian shrugged. “You were the only person I’d ever met who was more stubborn and daring than me,” he answered. “You were always off on some adventure, saving or helping someone in need. You could never sit still and relax. You were always keen to use your magic for good. Just surprises me to hear you prefer to stay home.”

You bit your tongue. It wasn’t that you preferred to be a housewife. You wanted to become an auror, to do exactly what Sebastian had said - to use your ancient magic for good and to prevent more dark wizards from hurting anyone else. You had been well on your way, too. The Ministry had accepted your application to its auror division, but then you met Oliver.

Oliver preferred you to stay home and allow him to take care of you. He promised you invitations to elite social events and that you’d never have to worry about finances, not that you cared about those things. When you told him you wanted to work, he gave you an ultimatum, and you were in no place to turn down such a favorable marriage prospect. 

You’d be more willing to stay home if you had children to take care of, but it wasn’t until after your wedding that Oliver made it clear he wasn’t interested in starting a family. You were crushed by the revelation, but clung to hope that someday he’d change his mind.

“Staying home just works better for Oliver and me,” you said quietly. You were afraid to meet Sebastian’s gaze, because you knew he’d see through that excuse. That was the terrifying, yet thrilling part of being near Sebastian – he read you like the hundreds of books in his collection. 

“But you’d rather be working,” Sebastian said carefully.

“Of course. You can take the woman from the duel, but you can’t take the duel out of the woman.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk. Merlin, that smirk was still there and it still made your insides melt.

“Why don’t you tell him you want to work?” he asked.

“Why don’t you mind your business?” you retorted. Your eyes widened the moment the words left your lips. Horrified at your lapse in decorum, you hastily apologized.

But this was Sebastian, and he knew your true wit and grit better than anyone. He barked a laugh. “I knew that scrappy spirit was still in there somewhere,” he said, his tone carrying an old fondness that made your heart ache.

But you couldn’t allow Sebastian to reel you back in, even if he wasn’t trying to do so. He had hurt you and you’d likely never forget it.

Sure, you recovered from the heartbreak, but you still remembered the way it made you feel. That memory dictated every relationship you had since Sebastian, including your decision to marry Oliver. You chose the safe bet, the one that wouldn’t make you feel that level of heartache ever again.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snapped. “At least not anymore.”

Sebastian flinched at your tone. “I suppose that’s true,” he said with a frown. “And I suppose I deserve your hostility.”

“I’m not hostile-”

“It’s okay,” Sebastian cut you off with the wave of a hand. “I know I didn’t treat you all that great back then. I messed up bad and I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”

You paused, taken aback by his vulnerable admission. You hadn’t expected that from him, not when you’d only reconnected hours ago. You had assumed he had spent the past five years without giving you another thought.

“It’s not something worth fretting over,” you finally said, hoping your tone was gentler. “I mean, it all worked out in the end for the both of us, right?”

“Right,” Sebastian agreed, his eyes returning to the distant landscape. “But still, you didn’t deserve the way I treated you, or the way I broke things off.”

“Sebastian, we were eighteen,” you said, your lighthearted tone betraying the hurt you’d carried inside your chest for five years. “We were both young and dumb. A relationship like that was always going to be fleeting.”

“Still, I’ve never felt good about how we left things and I’m sorry for it. I've missed you terribly.”

It felt like something in the atmosphere had shifted, like that apology had been the missing piece to the puzzle of your past five years. But the weight that should have lifted off your shoulders pressed down harder when Sebastian’s gaze met yours again. His apology should have set you free with closure and loosened the ties that bound you to your past. Instead, it made you long for it.

“You don’t need to apologize, but I appreciate it,” you said, offering him a reassuring smile. “And I must say, this is the strangest second chance fate has ever handed me.”

“Too true,” Sebastian laughed. “It’d be a shame to waste it.”

You swallowed, willing yourself to have the strength to forgive Sebastian and the resolve to allow him back into your life, even just as your next door neighbor. 

“Then we won’t,” you said confidently. “It would be nice to have a friend in Feldcroft… again.”

Sebastian’s signature smirk returned as he appeared relieved by the olive branch you’d extended. “Hopefully this time around we’ll have a little less death and destruction.”

“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” you teased. “What’s a few more ruined lives?”

---

In the weeks that followed, you and Oliver settled nicely into life in Feldcroft. You found ways to keep yourself busy while he was at work and the other villagers eventually grew to recognize and greet you as one of their own.

You also became friendly with Sebastian and Wendy, though the sight of them together made your eyes darken and your stomach lurch.

You came to understand their routine, too. Sebastian would disappear for work, sometimes for several days at a time, leaving Wendy to tend to the cottage and water her stupid rose bushes when she returned home from work in the evenings. Sometimes she'd stop you for a chat, asking you about your day. You couldn't help but feel judged for the way you'd tell her about your trips to the store or the long walks you'd take. You wondered if she judged you for being a housewife, though she never made any disparaging remarks. Still, it made you want to poison her stupid rose bushes.

It wasn’t fair, the way you longed for her demise, and you knew it. Wendy seemed like a perfectly nice woman who had simply been lucky enough to win Sebastian over. The important thing was that she made Sebastian happy, or so you assumed. You couldn’t imagine they’d be expecting a child together if they were unhappy.

But one evening, your curiosity piqued as you left your cottage for the produce stand on the edge of town. As you locked the door, the sounds of shouts echoed from Sebastian’s home. You froze, your ears focused on the voices. One was clearly Wendy’s, the other’s presumably Sebastian’s. You didn’t want to eavesdrop, but you also wanted to ensure no one was in danger.

Quietly, you lingered beside Wendy’s stupid rose bush, your ears still straining to listen. Wendy’s anger was evident in the shrill pitch of her voice, but you couldn’t make out all the words – just something along the lines of, “What kind of father…”

No. You shook your head and forced yourself to continue your route to the shop. Sebastian and Wendy’s disagreements were none of your business.

But as you reached the path that connected your cottage to the remainder of the town, the sharp bang of a slamming door made you jump. You spun and spotted Sebastian storming out of his cottage, his expression contorted in frustration. He froze when he spotted you, his posture becoming less rigid.

You cursed under your breath as Sebastian approached. Should you admit you’d overheard anything? Should you play dumb? Would he think you were eavesdropping on purpose?

“Need some company?” he asked.

“Oh. I- er… sure. I was just walking to the produce stand. Need some carrots,” you replied. Sebastian merely nodded, his jawline looking taut as he gestured for you to continue walking.

“So I suppose you couldn’t help but overhear all that,” he said as he fell into step next to you.

“Sebastian, it’s none of my business-”

“It’s okay,” Sebastian continued. “We just argue like that sometimes. I say something stupid that Wendy doesn’t like and it escalates into a shouting match.”

“You, say something stupid? Never.” You cast a nervous glance at Sebastian, hoping your jest didn’t upset him more. His lips curved into a small smile.

“I guess you’ve been in Wendy’s shoes a few times, haven’t you? And I was the one who put you there,” he said quietly.

“Sebastian, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know. I just…” he sighed, his eyes shifting upward as if the answers to his problems were spelled in the sky. “I just wish Wendy understood my past.”

“Does she know… about Solomon?” you asked carefully. Sebastian shook his head.

“No. She only knows he died when I was fifteen.”

“Oh.”

“She doesn’t understand why…” Sebastian squeezed his eyes closed for a fleeting moment, willing the words to surface. “She doesn’t understand why I’m afraid to be a father.”

You let his statement settle before you gazed at him with empathy. “Does she know about your parents?” you asked.

“Yes. She knows. Honestly, my frustration with her isn’t even her lack of understanding, considering she doesn’t know how or why Solomon died. It’s more about the hostility she shows when I try to discuss it with her. She becomes so angry and says hurtful things. It’s like she cares more about becoming a mother than she does having a happy family.”

You didn’t want to take sides in an argument that had nothing to do with you, especially when you knew one party much better than the other. But you couldn’t help but sympathize with Sebastian's situation.

Of course he was fearful about being a parent. His own died, leaving him and Anne behind at an age too young to fend for themselves. They’d left him with Solomon, a man too angry and bitter about his own life to properly care for two children. Then Anne was cursed, leaving Sebastian as the only person willing to fight for her.

Then there was Sebastian’s dark past. Though he’d worked hard to right his wrongdoings, you knew he was still bothered by them, still fearful of the sinister acts he was capable of.

Sebastian’s hesitations were fair and you understand why he had them. 

“Sebastian, you’re going to be an amazing dad,” you said assuredly. “I know your past has you scared, but you aren’t that person anymore. You can’t punish yourself forever. You deserve a good life, and so do your children.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course.” You turned your head to look him in the eye to emphasize your sincerity. “Sebastian, despite your past – and ours – you’ve always been one of the best men I know. You might be stubborn as hell, but you’re also fiercely loyal. You’re smart when you aren’t impulsive, and your intentions are always noble. You'll be a tremendous father.”

Sebastian nodded quietly as he considered your words. He wasn’t surprised you understood his concerns. You always understood. 

“I just don’t want to let anymore people down,” he said quietly.

“You won’t,” you said confidently. “You’ve learned from your mistakes, which is going to make you a great father.”

“Thank you,” he said as the two of you reached the produce cart. “For being understanding about everything. You’re the last person who should have anything nice to say about me.”

“Sebastian, we were teenagers,” you said as you tossed a bundle of carrots into your basket. 

“But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“A favor?” You couldn’t help but snort as you paid the shopkeeper. “How was breaking up with me a favor?”

“I guess I was still punishing myself,” Sebastian replied. “I knew you were destined to do great things in a society full of lofty expectations. I thought being tied to me would bring you down.”

“A lot of good that did me,” you said, forcing an ironic laugh.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Sebastian said quietly. 

You offered him a sad smile and a gentle touch to the forearm. “It’s okay,” you said with certainty. “All water under the bridge.”

Sebastian nodded in appreciation as the two of you headed back toward your homes.

“So what about you and Oliver?” he asked. “Do the two of you plan on having children?”

You pursed your lips, unsure of how to answer. But given how Sebastian had just opened up to you about his marriage, you decided you could do the same. 

“It’s complicated,” you started. You could feel Sebastian’s eyes drift toward you with curiosity. “Oliver doesn’t want children. I didn’t know that when we got married and I haven’t been successful in changing his mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said, his voice tinged with sadness. “You’d be a wonderful mother.”

“It’s okay. I’m starting to accept it,” you said with a shrug. You didn't dare allow Sebastian to see the tears that welled in your eyes.

As you neared your cottages, Sebastian heaved a sigh. “Well, I suppose I’d better go accept my punishment,” he said, his voice laced with bitterness. He rested a gentle hand on your shoulder that lingered for a fleeting second. “Thank you for… you know.” 

You nodded in quiet, mutual understanding and offered him an encouraging smile. “Anytime.”

In the weeks that followed, Oliver’s absence became more prominent. The previous hour or so he’d turn up late after work had stretched into several hours. Once or twice, he failed to come at all and claimed he was called away on last-minute business, or was simply too exhausted and had slept in his office at the Ministry.

You had no proof, but you knew better. Your instincts told you he was with someone else, but you had no means of confirmation. Yet despite your nagging concerns over your husband’s whereabouts, your mind was more occupied with the man living next door.

Your evening rendezvous on the lookout tower with Sebastian became a frequent occurrence. When he was home and Wendy had fallen asleep, the two of you would sit on the tower together. Sometimes you’d chat the entire time, reminiscing about your Hogwarts days. Other times, you’d sit in silence for stretches and merely appreciate each other’s presence. It was nice to have a friend, even if that friend had a wife you wished would fall into a sinkhole.

One evening, you sat alone on the tower, wondering where your husband was this time. He should have been home three hours ago and you hadn’t received a word from him. 

The familiar sound of Sebastian’s tread carried up the tower’s steps and you straightened in your seat as he emerged at the top, his hands stuff casually in his pockets.

“There you are,” you greeted.

“There you are.”

Typically, your mutual greeting made you smile, but Oliver’s antics weighed heavy in your chest as you wondered what to do about him. Though you had come to accept his infidelities, you weren’t sure how to confront him without proof, and you didn’t know what that would mean for your future. 

You weren’t scared of the shame that would accompany a failed marriage – your reputation had been dragged around your entire life and you knew you’d recover. But Oliver and his rules had made it so you weren’t financially independent. Without him, you’d have no home, and you had no job to earn your own income. He had made it so that you needed him.

Sebastian recognized your tense demeanor immediately. “Something wrong?” he asked, peering downward at you in concern.

You swallowed, unsure how to reply. Sure, Sebastian was your friend again. He’d been your only friend since you moved to Feldcroft. But you weren’t sure you should reveal the latest details of your troubled marriage with him. Was it appropriate? Did he even care? Were you crossing a line?

“I’m fine,” you answered with a shrug. “Just tired is all.”

“Liar.”

You looked up in surprise. He looked concerned, yet you could see the faintest trace of smugness. He could still see through you and it was clear he enjoyed it. 

That was the toughest and easiest part of your relationship with Sebastian, even after all these years. You couldn’t keep secrets because the two of you could read each other in ways no one else could.

You heaved a sigh as you tried to decide which detail to reveal first. Sebastian seemed to understand you were struggling, so he took a seat on the crate across from you and waited patiently.

“It’s Oliver,” you started. You paused, waiting for Sebastian to interject with some kind of snarky remark, but he remained quiet, nodding at you to continue. “He’s been… pretty absent lately. He gets home from work hours late, or sometimes he doesn’t come home at all.”

“You think he has someone else,” Sebastian said blankly. 

“I don’t have proof.”

“You’re sure he isn’t simply putting extra hours in at work? Wendy does that for the extra pay. Says we could use it when the baby arrives.”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I can’t prove anything. All I have is my gut instinct.”

“And what is your instinct telling you?”

“That something isn’t right.”

Sebastian sat back, his hands resting on his knees as he considered his words carefully. “Is there a specific person in mind?” he asked. “Do you know who the other woman might be?”

“No idea. Outside of his family and me, Oliver doesn’t really spend time with anyone else. Most of his friends are through work and I don’t really know most of them.”

Sebastian exhaled slowly through his nose. You were surprised by the way his jaw seemed to twitch, a familiar tell that signaled he was trying to suppress his rage.

“You don’t deserve that,” Sebastian said quietly, his eyes wandering toward the sky that was shifting to nighttime.

“I don’t know, maybe I do,” you admitted. “It’s not like I married Oliver because he’s the love of my life. Maybe this is payback for that.”

“Why did you marry him then?” Sebastian asked sharply. 

“Because he was safe,” you answered. “And because I lost my way. I lost myself when I met him. I had grown so used to taking care of myself that I thought I wanted someone to take care of me for a change. Oliver takes care of me, even if I’m not the only woman in his life. He’ll always come back to me.”

“You deserve to be the only woman in his life. And you deserve to be with someone you genuinely love,” Sebastian said quietly.

“I guess I just didn’t get that lucky."

The revelation was a sad truth you had never admitted out loud. You were grateful for the things you had, but many people mistook your life for something glamorous. They deemed you lucky – you were born with a rare, powerful ancient magic. You were declared a hero by your school, your name famous to all who passed through Hogwarts. You married a respected man with money so that you didn’t have to work.

Nevermind the omnipresent burden you had carried since the day you learned of Isidora Morganach and the repository. Nevermind the way people stared and whispered when they recognized you. Nevermind your loveless marriage that isolated you from the friends and career you wanted. Nevermind the fact your neighbor was the only person you ever loved.

To everyone else, you had it good. For all you cared, your life peaked years ago.

Sebastian was looking at you with a deep frown, an expression you chalked up to pity. 

“So what are you going to do?” he finally asked.

“I don’t know,” was the best you could offer. “He’s made me too dependent on him to leave him. I don’t have a job. I’d have nothing, nowhere to go. I’d have to start all over.”

“Would a fresh start be all that bad?”

It was a simple question, but the answer felt heavy. It was true, you only stayed with Oliver for the convenience. The two of you were compatible enough for a pleasant relationship, but you certainly didn’t feel any overwhelming love and adoration for him.

Leaving Oliver could lead you to someone you did love properly, and vice versa. Perhaps you could start a career and build a life you felt proud of. But leaving Oliver could also mean something much worse, and being with him wasn’t the most miserable life you could dream up.

“I don’t have any proof that he’s having an affair,” you repeated. “And I can’t just leave him without reason.”

“You aren’t happy,” Sebastian pointed out. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

You wanted to agree with him. You wanted to put yourself first and give yourself the opportunity for the life you wanted – even if the one you’d always envisioned included the man sitting across from you. But you knew simply wanting a better life wasn’t enough. There were rules and expectations in your society. Leaving your husband simply due to unhappiness would blacklist you immediately. Though you didn’t care about the parties and decorum, a tarnished reputation could make life miserable. A proper divorce would require a legitimate reason.

“I’d need to catch him cheating,” you said. “I’d need a valid excuse for divorce.”

“So then let’s catch him.”

“What? How?”

“We follow him,” Sebastian said simply.

“Sebastian,” you said, your tone laced with warning and hesitation. It felt eerily reminiscent of your Hogwarts days, particularly your fifth year when the two of you were prone to risky adventures and questionable decisions. “We can’t just stalk my husband in hopes of catching him in the act.”

“Why not? We’ve done it before.”

“That was when we were children.” You couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “It was unwise tracking poachers and Ranrok’s loyalists then, and it’d be unwise tracking my cheating husband now."

“So you’re just going to sit back and do nothing, let him get away with it while you pine for the life you deserve?” Sebastian asked, his tone reflecting his obvious irritation. “You really have changed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re backing down from a challenge,” Sebastian said. He leaned back on the crate with his arms crossed. “And worse, you’re backing down from standing for what’s right.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it? Because the version of you I used to know never would have sat in silence when faced with injustice. Even when I killed Solomon, you only decided to protect me because of Anne.”

“I protected you because I loved you.” The words left your lips before you could think better of it, and you bit the inside of your cheek in instant regret. Sebastian failed to maintain a stoic expression, frowning as the statement stirred more guilt inside him. 

The comfortable bond the two of you had built over the past few weeks was compromised as the silence that fell between you felt somber.

After several moments of internal struggle, Sebastian sighed and leaned forward on the crate, his elbows resting on his knees.

“All I’m saying,” he finally started, “Is that I’ve seen you fight some of the most dangerous people and creatures on Earth. I’ve seen you keep your composure and resolve under unfathomable circumstances, and you never took the easy way out by compromising your morals. You’ve done immeasurable things for other people out of love, but that should include yourself, too.”

“Even if I wanted to end things with Oliver and catch him cheating, I can’t exactly just cast disillusionment charm and expect to trail him around the Ministry all day,” you said.

“You’re right, you can’t,” Sebastian agreed. “Good thing I have a better idea.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” you muttered. It was the following morning and you were standing in Sebastian’s cottage as he rummaged through a trunk in his bedroom. As he searched, your eyes drifted around the room.

It was different from the last time you were there. There was much more decor, surely Wendy’s doing. A coat rack in the corner held a pink sweater that you decided was ugly before Sebastian's voice pulled you from your judgmental musings.

“Ah, here it is,” he said, pulling a shimmering cloak from the trunk. “Haven’t needed it in quite some time.”

“And where did you get an invisibility cloak anyway?” you demanded. 

“Found it on one of my work assignments,” Sebastian said proudly. He pulled the trunk around his body so that only his head remained in view. “See? Much better than any disillusionment spell.”

“And you expect to just trail Oliver around the Ministry all day while we huddle beneath that cloak?”

“Of course not. We’ll hide in his office and wait until the end of the work day, see where he goes.”

“And how do you expect to get inside his office? We can’t just waltz into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

“Good thing we know someone else who works at the Ministry,” Sebastian said smugly.

“Oh Sebastian, we can’t drag Wendy into this-”

“Not Wendy,” Sebastian cut in. “I’ve not said a word to her. She’s been too stressed to think straight lately, with the baby coming.”

“Who then?”

Sebastian smiled at you. “You’ll see.”

You and Sebastian waited until noon to apparate to the Ministry to ensure you’d arrived while Wendy was on her lunch break. Once you were past the reception desk, you stepped into the lift and Sebastian led you to Basement Level II. 

“Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” you hissed as you stepped off the lift. “Sebastian, what are we doing here? What are you going to do, have Oliver arrested?”

“Believe me, if infidelity were a crime, I would.” He glanced at his pocketwatch before leading you toward an inconspicuous door at the end of the corridor, guiding you inside.

“Sebastian, this is a broom closet. What the hell-”

“You’ll see.”

“It’s dark and it smells in here. I-” The door swung open and you froze as you took in the newcomer’s appearance. “Ominis?”

Your former friend looked amused. “The two of you hiding away inside a broom closet. It really is like old times,” he said. Sebastian ushered him inside and shut the door with a quiet snap as you blushed. “I should have known it would be some precarious, covert mission that would reunite the two of you.”

You threw your arms around him in a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

Ominis hugged you back, pulling away to smile at you. “While I’m also thrilled for this reunion, I must say, the circumstances are concerning – again, not that I’m surprised given that it concerns you two,” he said.

“Sebastian didn’t give you the details?”

“Sebastian, provide details before doing something potentially stupid and risky? Have you forgotten the past?”

You laughed, relieved that Ominis hadn’t changed, before you launched into an explanation of why you were currently hiding in a broom closet inside the Ministry of Magic with your two former closest friends. When your explanation was complete, Ominis’ expression was ambiguous.

He heaved a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You don’t deserve that,” Ominis said with an air of sadness. “I’ve run into Oliver a few times for work purposes and I never found him as charismatic or astute as he seems to think he is. You deserve better than him." You opened your mouth to respond, but Ominis continued, his expression shifting to something more serious. “You two do realize this is utterly insane,” he said. You and Sebastian swapped a glance but said nothing. “I could jeopardize my standing with the Wizengamot if anyone finds out I helped you two sneak into Oliver’s office.”

“Which is why no one’s going to find out,” Sebastian said simply.

Ominis sighed and you couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all. You and Sebastian, tasking a reluctant Ominis to help you carry out a daring task that could get all three of you into trouble... 

“Just like old times,” Sebastian quipped, as if he could read your mind.

“All right,” Ominis said. “You have the cloak?” 

“I do.”

“Well put it on then. I’ll show you where to go and get you into Oliver’s office, but consider my involvement complete after that,” Ominis said.

“Yes, sir.” Sebastian draped the cloak around himself and then motioned for you to step closer. You froze. You hadn’t been that close to Sebastian in years. Ominis quirked an eyebrow as if he could sense your discomfort but said nothing.

You moved closer to Sebastian and he draped the cloak around you. The proximity made you tense, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as the scent of Sebastian’s cologne found you.

Fearful Sebastian would hear your heavy breaths, you kept your jaw clenched as Ominis swung the closet door open.

Once certain no one else was in sight, Ominis strolled toward the lift, where you and Sebastian squeezed into a corner to avoid detection by its other occupants. As more wizards and witches filed in, Sebastian pressed up against you, the two of you so close you could feel his chest heaving. His frame felt much sturdier than his teenage self and it made you want to snake your arms around him, to feel how much he had changed with the palms of your hands.

Once the lift reached Basement Level 5, Ominis strode to the corridor that led to the Department of International Cooperation’s International Magical Trading Standards Body offices, where Oliver worked.

Ominis offered polite greetings to passerby until he reached a row of doors. He glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, but the department was largely vacant due to the lunch hour. He knocked gently on the second door and waited until he was sure no one was inside to answer it. He cracked open the door just wide enough for you and Sebastian to file inside.

“Oliver, you in here?” Ominis called out as he stuck his head inside the office for good measure. He paused to give you and Sebastian time to slip inside before he muttered, “Must be at lunch. I’ll come back later.” 

The door snapped shut and you and Sebastian exhaled a simultaneous breath. “We did it,” Sebastian said.

“Yes, but now we have to wait,” you said. “Perhaps we should sit in that corner, there. I doubt anyone would venture over there. We can sit comfortably and stay hidden beneath the cloak.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement and the two of you retreated to the corner of the room where you sat on the floor, your backs against the walls. 

You took a moment to gaze around Oliver’s office. You’d never been there before, but it appeared to be an accurate reflection of him. A stately chesterfield sofa sat against the wall, a stack of books neatly placed on the table next to it. Various quidditch team pennants hung neatly on the walls and Oliver’s school quidditch trophies gleamed on the top shelf of a bookcase. 

Sitting on the corner of Oliver’s desk was a single frame that contained a portrait of you. 

You studied the photo of yourself, watching the woman in the frame wave and flash a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

The adrenaline rush of sneaking through the halls of the Ministry of Magic was suddenly replaced by a surge of sadness as you remembered why you were there to begin with.

Oliver wasn’t the love of your life. After two years of marriage, you merely tolerated him most days, maybe liked him on your best days. Losing him wouldn’t destroy you – not in the way losing Sebastian did. But still, Oliver was your husband, and you’d be a liar to deny the hurt his infidelity would cause.

Sebastian stirred next to you. You couldn’t help but smile as you remembered how the teenage version of him couldn’t sit still for too long without fidgeting. 

“So tell me,” you said quietly, keeping your eyes on the door for any sign of movement. “What name do you have picked out for the baby?”

“Well, if it’s a boy, he’s got to be Sebastian Jr.” 

“Then let’s hope it’s not a boy,” you quipped, drawing a grin from Sebastian.

“And if it’s a girl… I’m not sure. Wendy and I are sort of at odds over the name.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, she likes the name Doris,” Sebastian said. “Which is a fine name and all, but I’d like to name her some iteration of Anne. Maybe Anne-Marie.”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Anne’s perfect.”

“The truth is, I’m not sure how much longer Anne has left,” Sebastian said, his expression becoming serious. “The curse has really worn her down in the last five years. She’s so frail now, and she just doesn’t have the same fiery spirit. She’s tired of fighting.”

“Oh, Sebastian,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“She’ll keep fighting as long as she can, because that’s who she is, but I can tell it’s wearing on her.”

“She’s one of the toughest people I’ve ever met. And probably the only person more stubborn than you,” you said with a sad smile. “I’m sure she’d love to have a little niece with her namesake. And I’m sure any kid of yours will be just as gutsy as Anne is.”

“You’re damn right,” Sebastian said proudly.

The two of you fell quiet for a moment, the hum of the Ministry's offices echoing to fill the space. You thought about how bizarre your current scenario was. A few months ago, you’d have thought you’d gone mad if you had told yourself you were going to reunite with Sebastian Sallow and sneak through the Ministry of Magic to stalk your potentially cheating husband. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” you said softly. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“I’d do anything for you, you know that. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean we stopped being kindred spirits.”

His words made your chest contort. Even when he belonged to someone else, even when he was set to start a family with her, he still cared about you. It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t quite so heartbreaking.

“I’m glad such a bizarre twist of fate made us neighbors,” you managed with a soft laugh.

“Indeed. Life wasn’t the same without you.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” you laughed again. “Though it was much more stable and my stress levels dropped considerably.”

“That’s an interesting way of saying life was boring without me,” Sebastian mused. “Though I could say the same.”  He cast a sideways glance at you, studying your expression from the corner of his eye for a moment. “My biggest regret in life is walking away from you, you know.”

Your chest caved at his statement and you swallowed, praying he couldn’t hear the way your heart threatened to hammer itself out of your chest. Part of you wanted Sebastian to continue spilling his innermost thoughts, to learn more about how he felt about you; the other part wanted him to shut the fuck up before he broke your heart all over again.

You dared to tilt your head to look at him and were surprised to find he was looking directly at you, too. You wondered if the sadness in his gaze mirrored your own, but you said nothing. Instead, you could feel him breathing as your treasonous mind made you wonder how it would feel to kiss him again.

You determinedly averted your eyes from his lips, refusing to reveal what was on your mind. You held Sebastian’s gaze as long as you could, as if his thoughts might permeate your own if you looked hard enough. You could see the familiar traces of affection in his eyes that once overwhelmed you with love.

But before any more thoughts could be expressed, the doorknob twisted. You and Sebastian both straightened, your eyes darting to the door as you held your breath. It was still 20 minutes until 1 p.m., meaning Oliver was returning from lunch early.

He strolled in with an aggravated expression that made you frown in confusion. But the answer revealed itself sooner than you ever could have imagined.

The clack of heels on the stone floor echoed their way toward the office, indicating a woman was close behind him. Your gaze darkened as you prepared yourself for the woman who was likely your rival.

You weren’t prepared to see Wendy Sallow.

Sebastian tensed immediately next to you, so you did the only thing that calmed him back when you were teenagers. You placed a gentle hand on top of his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze, silently begging him not to act. His breath hitched and you clenched your jaw.

“Oliver, we’re running out of time,” Wendy said with a frustrated tone. Oliver shot her a sharp glare and waved his wand, the door swinging shut with a firm snap.

“I’m aware of that,” Oliver replied curtly, gesturing toward Wendy’s pregnant stomach. “But I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

“You said you were going to leave her.”

“I said I’d consider it, and in due time,” Oliver responded irritably. “I didn’t say I’d do it so soon. And I certainly didn’t expect you to end up pregnant.”

“Well, this baby should be all the reason you need,” Wendy said. “You promised you’d take care of me – and our child.”

The room seemed to tilt, Oliver and Wendy’s bickering becoming a low background whir that your brain threatened to tune out as the reality of the situation unraveled itself at the expense of your nervous system. Your chest felt so tight, you wondered if you were suffering from cardiac arrest, and you suddenly felt so hot, you were certain the building was on fire.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was rigid next to you. Your heart dropped as the reality sank in. Sebastian would walk away from this moment with more scars than you. You had entered that office prepared to learn of your spouse’s infidelities, but Sebastian hadn’t. He was supposed to be the innocent, third party in all of this.

You realized you had to keep your composure in order for Sebastian to keep his. You had to silently convince him to control his emotions before he gave you both away.

The hand that rested atop his knee found his hand instead. You gripped it tightly, squeezing hard to send the message. You didn’t dare glance at Sebastian, fearful that doing so might evoke his rage, or your tears.

“And I will take care of you, darling,” Oliver said, crossing the office to place his hands on both sides of Wendy’s waist. “And our child.” He placed a gentle hand on Wendy’s stomach and you started to feel nauseous.

For two years, Oliver refused to father a child with you, and you were his wife . He had given you a barrage of excuses, claiming he wanted your attention all to himself, or that children were a tremendous financial burden. 

This was an act of betrayal beyond any pain you’d ever felt. Worst of all, Sebastian had to share in it. Even now, all these years later when the two of you had built separate lives, your pain was mutual. It was beginning to feel like you and Sebastian were linked for life.

Suddenly, you let out a quiet gasp as you felt it. All of the fury and pain inside of you had clashed and boiled. It was currently coursing through your veins in the form of your ancient magic. 

You could feel the familiar tingle rush through your fingertips and you dug your nails into the back of Sebastian’s hand to send him a warning. He cast a sideways glance at you and understood what was happening. He'd seen it before. He shifted, reaching in his pocket for his wand to ready himself. Though you could control your ancient magic, you couldn’t hide it, and anyone in your vicinity would be able to feel it.

The room’s atmosphere began to shift, the air becoming heavy as your ancient magic rolled through it. The background sounds of conversation, footsteps and rustling parchment fizzled as the hum of your magic swelled. Oliver and Wendy both froze as they felt it, the hairs on their arms standing upright.

Your magic caused the invisibility cloak to flutter, its fabric dancing in the sunlight that drifted through the window curtains. It was enough to catch Oliver’s eye and you watched as his hand disappeared into his robes. He sent a basic cast toward your corner that narrowly missed your head.

You and Sebastian dove in separate directions, the cloak falling to a pile on the floor. The room grew quiet as Oliver and Wendy watched in shock while you and Sebastian climbed to your feet.

“What in Merlin’s name-” Oliver started.

“Sebastian?” Wendy gasped.

Sebastian didn’t speak, a rare change in his usual demeanor, but the severity of his gaze was perilous. His chest heaved and his fingers gripped his wand so tight, his knuckles were white.

“How long?” you finally asked, shifting your gaze to Oliver who still looked stunned. “How long have the two of you…”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Oliver demanded.

“Sebastian, love, it’s not what it looks like,” Wendy interjected. She moved toward Sebastian, her hands outstretched and her doe eyes wide as they silently pleaded with him. 

“Don’t,” was all Sebastian said, his voice steady but quiet.

Wendy whimpered. If you hadn’t been so furious, you might have laughed at her. 

“How did you get in here?” Oliver continued. “How long have you been here? Were you following me?”

“I said, how long have the two of you been doing this?” you repeated. 

Oliver appeared to be searching his mind for explanations, but he knew you were too smart to entertain any of them.

“Darling,” he started. “It’s not what you think. It’s much more complicated-”

“I think you’ve been having an affair for quite some time,” you said. “But I didn’t expect it to be with our neighbor.” Your ancient magic surrounded you with a blue haze as you glared at Oliver. “Is that why you moved us to Feldcroft? So you could be closer to her? So that you could see your child?”

“How do you know it’s his?” Sebastian suddenly asked, his gaze on Wendy. “How can you be sure it’s not mine?”

“Sebastian-” Wendy started, her eyes sparkling with tears.

“Answer me.”

Wendy recoiled, her heels clicking on the stone floors as she lingered next to Oliver. “I’m sure,” she squeaked. “It happened when you were away… in Portugal. I know it’s his because you and I hadn’t-” She let out a sob that made you flinch.

“So this has been going on for months,” you said blankly. “And what were you two going to do when the baby arrived?” You turned on Wendy, your glare brimming with disgust. “Were you just going to allow Sebastian to believe it’s his?”

“I…” Wendy’s sniffled. “Oliver said he was going to be with me. I was going to tell Sebastian then.” Her eyes pleaded with Sebastian. “I didn’t mean to cause any harm. I just… Oliver said he would take care of me. I just wanted to be taken care of.”

It was a jarring realization for you. The life you had grown to detest was the life Wendy wanted. You dreamed of a career, a husband who understood you and a family to call your own. Wendy wanted to stay home and be doted over. It was as if the two of you had ended up in the other’s fairytale.

The hurt in Sebastian’s eyes broke your heart. You hated how unfair life had been to him. Dead parents, a cursed sister, a cruel uncle who never wanted him. Sebastian had worked hard to make up for his past, but now life had betrayed him with an unfaithful wife and a child that wasn’t his.

“I don’t understand,” you finally said, frowning as you tried to make sense of the entire situation. “There were nights… times when you’d come home late, Oliver. But Wendy… I’d see you at home with Sebastian.”

Oliver and Wendy swapped a glance and your braced yourself for more bad news.

“Our townhome in London…” Oliver said. “I… I didn’t actually sell it. It’s still mine. Sometimes I’d stay there after we… I just couldn’t face you, darling.”

“Couldn’t face me,” you repeated blankly. “So you could have an affair with another woman – our neighbor – but couldn’t come home and look me in the eye when you were done fucking her?”

“Oh, don’t act so innocent,” Wendy spat. You flinched at her sudden outburst, her tone reaching a new shrill. “I’ve seen you and Sebastian sneaking away to have private little conversations about your past. Don’t think I didn’t know about the two of you. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you looked at each other, like two lovesick puppies.”

“Nothing has happened between us since we were eighteen,” you said, glaring at Wendy. “Sebastian has always been faithful to you.”

Wendy forced a laugh. “Sebastian hasn’t touched me since you moved next door,” she said. “At first I thought it was because of my pregnancy, but then I saw the way he’d look at you, the way he’d rather spend time with you. It was never about me. It was always you.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to speak but Oliver cut him off.

“I know all about you, Sallow,” Oliver said. “Your dead parents and shamed uncle who was ousted by the Ministry. Your cursed sister stuck in St. Mungo’s. You can’t give your wife a life worth anything.”

The entire time, you had been worried for the way Sebastian might act. You didn’t consider your own reaction. But your ancient magic surged again, ignited by Oliver’s harsh words toward Sebastian, sparking a sudden crackle over the room you couldn’t control.

Oliver recoiled at the sound, mistaking it for an attack from Sebastian. He hit Sebastian with a basic cast, which sent him backward. 

“Oliver!” you hissed, moving to check on Sebastian, who scrambled to his feet. Before you could beg him to refrain, Sebastian retaliated with Diffindo. Oliver spun from the red flash that sliced toward him, but it nicked him across the torso while Wendy let out a scream.

The conversation was over. It was now going to end in a duel and a peculiar twist of fate, with you and Sebastian against your husband. 

Sebastian cast a barrage of spells at Oliver that sent parchment and paperwork flying. Oliver managed a Protego charm, its rebound causing the spells to ricochet throughout the office. One skimmed the top of Oliver’s desk, sending its content scattering, while another careened into the bookcase, smashing his trophies. Your eyes shifted to Wendy, who continued to scream. You refused to attack a pregnant woman, but pointed your wand at her in case she dared to attack Sebastian.

“Go,” you ordered. “Get the fuck out of here and stay away from Sebastian. I don’t want to ever see you again.”

She blinked in disbelief, but scurried for the door, the clack of her heels echoing until the sound faded down the corridor. Oliver had moved toward the door to follow her, but Sebastian remained on him, his force of spells driving him backward into the hall.

“Sebastian!” you shouted, following after them. “Sebastian, stop! We’re in the Ministry. The aurors will be on you in a heartbeat.”

He didn’t listen. You watched as he sent a Confringo spell at Oliver, which deflected into a row of desks, setting them ablaze. A handful of workers who had returned from lunch were backed up against the dark stone walls, their eyes wide as they took in the scene.

“Sebastian, you can’t!” you begged. “Think of Anne. Think of Ominis… think of me.” 

You don’t know what made you say it. After all, you and Sebastian had only reconnected recently. He had been the one who left you five years ago, so you didn’t know why you thought he’d care about you now.

But he was here with you. He’d been the one to plan this entire day and help you get answers about Oliver long before he had any idea his own wife was involved.

Sebastian paused for a fleeting moment, his eyes drifting to you with understanding. Time seemed to slow when your gazes locked and you begged Sebastian with your eyes to come to his senses.

His pause gave Oliver just enough time to react.

“Incarcerous!” Ropes shot from Oliver’s wand, whipping through the air until they coiled tightly around Sebastian. He fell over, writhing on the floor as he struggled against them.

And before you could stop to reflect, your ancient magic acted on your behalf. You didn’t need your wand as the blue static enveloped you, illuminating your frame. One dismissive flick of your hand blasted Oliver backward until his body skidded across the floor against the far wall in a heap.

Your eyes scanned the room for any more potential threats, but you noticed it had cleared out. You turned to Sebastian and waved your hand again, the ropes disintegrating as you knelt next to him.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You stared at one another, unsure what to say or what to do next. “We should go,” you finally said. 

“Right.” You helped Sebastian to his feet and he cleared his throat. The awkward tension wasn’t lost on either of you, but Sebastian took your hand and apparated, leaving the Ministry behind with a sharp crack.

Eighteen months later

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You froze in your tracks, a tiny smile forming across your lips before you turned to face your husband.

“I was just going out front,” you said innocently. “The daylilies need watering.”

“You’re supposed to be on bed rest,” Sebastian said, his arms folded across his chest as if he were stern with you.

“I’m fine,” you groaned. “The doctor told me to take it easy. I’m simply tending to my garden, not dueling any poachers.”

“You’re nine months pregnant. You need to stay off your feet.”

“I’m going to hex you off your feet if you don’t back off.”

Sebastian smirked and took a step toward you. “That’s exactly the kind of attitude that got you pregnant in the first place.” He reached for your arm and gently tugged you closer, his arms wrapping around you despite your large belly keeping you separate.

“Just let me water the daylilies first.”

Sebastian relented and followed you outside, where you used Aguamenti to water the bright flowers you had planted to replace the rose bushes. You smiled to yourself as you let the peaceful scene settle around you. You’d picked daylilies for their resilience – beautiful, yet tough as nails and difficult to kill. They were a symbolic reflection of both you and Sebastian, as well as your relationship. 

You moved into Sebastian’s cottage shortly after your divorce with Oliver was finalized. Your relationship didn’t rekindle immediately after that day you discovered Oliver and Wendy’s affair at the Ministry of Magic. You hadn’t expected it to.

Instead, you and Sebastian both needed time to heal from your broken marriages. You recovered quicker, given that your marriage had been built on convenience, but Sebastian needed more time to grieve. Not only had he been betrayed by his wife, he had to accept her child was never his.

You were patient with Sebastian, careful to give him all the time he needed to mend. Though you were hopeful time would heal the wounds and bring you two together again, you made sure to keep your proper distance. 

Eventually, you and Sebastian fell into a comfortable routine. Ominis introduced you to the head of the Ministry’s Auror Division, which eventually led to a spot with the Muggle Prime Minister’s security detail. Sebastian helped you regain your strength and skills as the two of you sparred in friendly duels in a fields west of Feldcroft. You finally had started the career you wanted with hopes you’d someday advance from protecting the prime minister to hunting down and catching dark wizards. 

You and Sebastian spent your evenings talking quietly, cozied up next to the fire. You’d lounge on the sofa and he’d sit opposite of you in an armchair, both of your noses in books. But eventually, Sebastian began to join you on the sofa, sitting next to you every night until you felt comfortable resting your head on his shoulder. Other times, he’d stretch out with his head in your lap.

Finally, the traces of pain left his eyes and he returned to his normal self. He had also filed for divorce and Wendy agreed without another word. The last you heard, she and Oliver moved into your old townhouse together and she gave birth to a baby girl she named Doris.

Your closeness with Sebastian returned with a blend of nostalgia and unfamiliarity. You joked and teased just like you did as teenagers, but your romance carried a new level of trust that surprised you. Sebastian broke your heart once, but the pain and anger you carried was long gone. Now, it was replaced with the mutual understanding that you and Sebastian had been given a second chance you both refused to ruin.

You fell in love again slowly, then all at once. You and Sebastian had gotten married a year ago.

Now, Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, smiling gently as he watched you quietly. You pretended not to notice at first, until you flicked your wand toward him to spray him with water.

“You little-”

You laughed as he lunged for you, pinning your arms behind your back so that you’d drop your wand. It clattered on the stone pathway and rolled toward the cottage next door. You and Sebastian watched in silence until it came to a stop a few feet from the house. Lights were on inside and you could hear laughter from the family who had moved in a few months back. They were an older couple with a pair of twins who attended Hogwarts.

“Not thinking about leaving me for the neighbor, are you?” Sebastian murmured in your ear. He stood behind you, pressed against your back so that he could place his hands on your pregnant belly.

“Hmm, not sure he’s my type,” you mused.

“Good. Because I’ve killed before and I’d do it again. Wendy didn’t deserve it, but you – I’d kill for you.”

“Sebastian!” You whirled around to scold him and he laughed, gently pulling you close again so that he could press a kiss to your forehead. You continued to glower at him until he bent down to retrieve your wand from the ground.

“You know,” he said as he steered you past the daylilies and back toward your cottage. “I never liked those roses anyway.”

Part II: There We Were Forever

(Smut warning - minors DNI)

One year later

“Is she asleep?”

You nodded quietly as you joined Sebastian in the kitchen to help him finish clearing the dinner dishes. 

“She’s out,” you said, waving your wand to send a stack of dishes toward the cupboard. You slowed your motion, moving your wand with precision until the plates settled with a quiet clink. “She was exhausted.”

“Good.” Sebastian tossed a dish rag on the counter and moved toward you, his hands resting on the small of your back as he kissed your temple. “I bet you’re exhausted too.”

You nodded. Motherhood was the toughest task you had ever faced, but you couldn’t be happier. Your 1-year-old daughter, Anne Marie, was your proudest accomplishment. 

“I’ll finish cleaning up,” Sebastian said. “You go relax.”

You smiled in gratitude and retreated to the sofa by the fireplace. It crackled quietly as you sank into the cozy cushions and closed your eyes. A gentle smile rested across your lips as you silently appreciated the moment. Just three years ago, you were still married to Oliver, trapped in a life you didn’t want. Now, you were happy and full of appreciation for all the moments – the good and bad – that had led you to this point.

Your eyes remained closed but you could sense motion nearby as Sebastian settled in beside you, his arm draping gently around your shoulders.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” he mumbled in your ear before he nuzzled your neck. He left a trail of kisses from your collarbone, up your neck, to the soft patch of skin behind your ear.

Sleep sounded positively blissful, but not nearly as blissful as whatever it was Sebastian had in mind.

You tilted your head to the side to allow Sebastian more access to your neck. You could feel him smirk against your skin as he shifted his body to face you better, one hand resting atop your thigh.

He kissed you as if his lips were searching for something rare, though he’d kissed you like that just hours earlier before he left for work. Those same lips had spent the early hours of the morning between your thighs, ensuring you’d relax a little before your daughter awoke for the day.

Now, Sebastian’s hand inched higher beneath the hem of your dress, his thumb tracing lazy patterns across your skin as he continued to kiss you.

Your own hands gripped the front of Sebastian’s shirt, balling and tightening the white fabric in your fists to emphasize the sinful thoughts escalating inside your mind.

A whimper escaped your throat as Sebastian’s fingertips brushed against your panties covering your core. He shifted again until you were on your back, your head on the armrest on the couch as he loomed over you. 

He had you in a similar position in bed this morning, and the memory of it made you shift your hips as the familiar ache of lust swelled between your legs.

Sebastian’s fingers dragged against your panties again until you felt them inch to your hips, curling around the waistband on your side. He guided them downward, tossing them lazily on the floor as he returned his eyes to you.

Your own gaze fell to the bulge in his pants, which had the fabric so taut, it looked painful. You bit your lip as you eyed it, picturing Sebastian’s full, unclothed length in your mind despite having seen it countless times. 

You suddenly felt guilty as you remembered that Sebastian had only serviced you that morning. He had helped you achieve your own release – twice – but Anne Marie’s wails from across the hall interrupted you before you could return the favor.

Despite the positively anguishing ache that was coursing between your thighs, you started to sit up to take control. But Sebastian was in no mood for a fight.

“Bad idea, love,” he purred as he gently pushed your shoulder back down. You narrowed your eyes in protest, provoking a wolfish grin from him.

His hand snapped back to your entrance, and before you could protest, a finger was edging its way inside you. The best you could manage was a moan.

“That’s better,” Sebastian cooed as he slipped another finger inside. He pumped his hand, the friction of his calloused skin stimulating pure bliss against your slick interior in sweeping motions. “Just relax, my love. You deserve some rest.”

Sebastian used his thumb to drag circles over your clit as his index and middle fingers glided in and out of your entrance. You pushed back with your hips, guiding your most sensitive spot over his fingertips. He curled his fingers and you gasped at the welcome, warming sensation building there.

A few twists of his fingers and just the right amount of pressure from Sebastian’s thumb nudged you over the edge. A loud moan echoed through the living room as your walls clenched around Sebastian’s fingers, which continued their beckoning motion inside of you as they worked through your orgasm. They sank back inside of you, pressing into your soft core until your body relaxed around them.

His fingers were slick as he removed them to suck on them, his eyes dark with satisfaction at your submissive state.

“Now it’s my turn,” Sebastian said, sitting back as he unbuttoned his shirt. You used the time it took him to undress to catch your breath. Your eyes roamed his bare chest until he began kicking off his trousers, the sudden sight of his erection reenergizing your tired body.

It was an erotic vision that prompted your filthiest thoughts as all you could picture was the way you would stretch around him until he fucked you so hard, your knees collapsed.

You couldn’t believe you ever allowed yourself to tolerate another man.

“Come here,” Sebastian growled as he settled upright at the center of the sofa. You straddled his lap, using the scant remnants of self-control that remained to slowly ease yourself around his cock. Sebastian’s head fell backward to rest against the back of the sofa, his eyes falling shut at the sensation of your cunt surrounding him. “Going to reward me for my generosity this morning?” he asked.

You hummed a reply as you lifted your hips slowly, delighted by the sensation of your folds dragging along Sebastian’s length as you worked up and down with deliberation.

You leaned back slightly and Sebastian’s eyes fell open to gaze at you. He frowned as he realized you were still in your dress.

“This needs to go,” he said as his hands searched for the hem. Once he found it, he helped you yank the dress over your head until it heaped on the floor in one fluid swish of fabric. “Much better,” Sebastian mewed as his eyes fell to your breasts. He groaned in pleasure as they bounced when you sank downward again, his cock filling you entirely.

As you continued to lean backward, your fingers gripping the back of the sofa for leverage, the angle made your eyes roll back as you concentrated on the feeling of Sebastian’s tip plunging inside of you, pressing against that same spot that would make your toes curl.

"You're too fucking good at this," Sebastian hissed.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed as you could feel the familiar uprise of another orgasm. Its threat surfaced quickly and you had a momentary, fleeting thought of using a silencing charm the next time you decided to let Sebastian ruin you in the living room. That thought was interrupted by the eruption of pleasure that made your cunt contract.

"I'm coming," you whined as you sank down once more, Sebastian's cock slamming into your sweet spot.

Your hips drove downward, settling in place as your walls quivered around Sebastian’s cock. He held still to allow you to ride it out, your wetness trickling to the base of his shaft.

“So fucking good,” he groaned as he felt your orgasm subside. “You always feel fucking incredible.”

By now, you were reaching the point that lay beyond exhaustion. Your legs felt weak from riding Sebastian so hard and your head felt hazy, but you’d be damned if you walked away again without feeling Sebastian’s sweet release.

“Let me up,” Sebastian said, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair to gently pull you backward. You obliged, praying your knees wouldn’t give out as you stood. 

“On your knees,” Sebastian ordered as he gently nudged you toward the sofa. You obeyed, your knees sinking into the cushions as you leaned forward against the sofa back, your hands clutching it in anticipation. You felt Sebastian kneel behind you, his own knees settling between your spread legs.

He rested one hand on your waist as the other wrapped around his cock to ease it back inside of you. Your cunt accommodated him with less resistance this time, but Sebastian grunted at the tight heat that swallowed his cock.

“Like it when I take you from behind?” he murmured against the back of your neck.

“Yes,” you breathed as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade. 

“Want me to make you come again?”

“Yes.” You whimpered to emphasize your greedy desperation. Sebastian made you come twice that morning and twice now this evening, but the feeling of your cunt stretched around his hard length made it difficult for you to think rationally. “Sebastian,” you whined at his lack of movement. You bucked your hips backward, drawing a resounding moan from him.

“Just like that love,” he breathed. 

You ground yourself backward, Sebastian’s cock burying itself inside you repeatedly, the sounds of slapping skin clapping across the room. Sebastian’s grip on your hips tightened until his primal instincts overpowered him.

He thrust himself hard against you, his fingers sinking into your flesh to leave inevitable bruises. 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned as he drove himself harder inside you. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sofa, your cunt gripping at Sebastian in an attempt to stir up one more orgasm.

Sebastian’s cock pounded against your sensitive spot and you cried out in encouragement, pleading with him to grant you the privilege of one more moment of euphoria.

“Come for me,” he commanded. You moaned in response to indicate how close you were, rocking your hips backward to meet Sebastian’s rhythm. His thrusts became more erratic, an obvious sign he was nearing his peak.

“Right there,” you managed as you squeezed your eyes shut, every ounce of your focus on the building sensation. Almost there. A few more strokes should do it…

The pleasure made your thighs shake as you released a breathy cry that was followed by the sounds of Sebastian’s thrusts fucking you to completion. The orgasm erupted in forceful waves that fluttered through your walls until you collapsed over the back of the sofa.

The sight of your satisfied, fucked out frame was Sebastian’s ultimate climax. He grunted as he thrusted hard and held you flush against himself while he spilled inside you. You couldn’t help but release one final moan at the sensation of his heat pooling within your cunt until he pulled away. It dripped from you, cascading down your thighs as you feebly straightened to your feet.

Sebastian’s arms were around you instantly, pulling you close as he held you quietly, both of your panting the only sound in the cottage. You slumped against him, sleepy and sweaty, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I can’t believe we didn’t wake the baby,” Sebastian mused softly.

Your eyes opened and drifted over the scene of your sins. “I can’t believe we ruined the sofa,” you frowned.

Sebastian barked a laugh and pulled you in close again, your head resting against his chest. “Wendy picked that out years ago. I never liked it anyway.”

[hawkinsbnbg]

spilled milk

prompt: new | word count: 517 | rated: M | tags: omegaverse, recreational drug use, mildly dubcon, male lactation, false pregnancy, mutual pining | @steddiemicrofic | ao3

steddie bingo prompt: high | @steddiebingo

Steve grimaced when two dark spots appeared on the front of his shirt and just grew bigger as seconds went by. Sighing, he got up to go change his shirt for the third time that day.

According to Robin's theory, aside from kick-starting his late presentation, his desire to get pregnant had tricked his body into a false one.

And for some stupid reason, he’d usually lactate a mortifying amount around Eddie, leading to many awkward moments when he had to flee from the Munson’s new apartment with some half-assed excuses. He’d tried to hide it at first, using bandaids, replacing his polos with sweaters, hunching and zipping up his jacket when his shirt got too soaked.

Then again, it never once occurred to him that Eddie's nose wasn't broken like his own, which meant the alpha could sniff out his secret easily no matter how thick his sweater was.

They were lounging on Eddie's bed just as usual, chatting and smoking together. At some point, Eddie’d mentioned how sweeter he smelled lately and wondered if he’d switched colognes.

Considering Steve was always loose tongue when high, he’d blurted out everything about his lactation, how tender his nipples had become, how they felt itchy right now with the bandaids on them.

Calmly, Eddie’d offered to help him ease the discomfort.

Without thinking twice, Steve’d agreed. He took off his shirt and showed his bandaged nipples to those hooded eyes, feeling thrilled when he heard Eddie curse quietly.

“Can I..?” Eddie’s hands hovered over his chest, trembling with great restraint.

And suddenly, Steve couldn't quite remember why it was a bad idea to let Eddie touch him anymore. So he nodded with a breathless Yes, moaning softly when Eddie peeled the bandaids off, exposing his puffy red nipples to the cool air.

“Oh, babydoll,” Eddie murmured reverently, watching the milky rivulets soak his chest hair and roll down his tummy before disappearing into his waistbands.

Steve bit his lip, feeling coy all of a sudden.

“You like it?”

“Fuck, I do,” Eddie groaned. “Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, too. You're so hot, Steve.”

The praise went straight to his cunt, making him pulse and leak profusely, drenching his panties and the sheets beneath him. Burned with embarrassment, he whimpered and tried to pull away.

“Hey, hey, ‘s okay, sweetheart,” Eddie caught his wrist and tugged him close again, thumb stroking his scent gland to soothe his nerves.

“But I’m ruining your sheets–”

“Then ruin ‘em,” Eddie looked at him meaningfully. “Why d’you think I always make us hang out in here?”

Oh.

Oh.

“You like me?”

“Too much.”

Steve knew what love looked like, had seen it in the mirror before, and now it was gazing back at him from those chocolate eyes.

“I like too much.”

Eddie smiled, fond, and kissed him silly. Soon, he was stripped naked and laid down on his back with Eddie curling over him.

“Gonna treat you right,” Eddie mouthed at his nipple, making him whine. “Gonna keep you, my sweet boy.”

And Steve knew his milk wouldn't go to waste anymore.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"A Family for Christmas"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem. reader/"you"

Tags: Christmas fluff, kid fic, p in v sex, oral sex, fingering, a/b/o, adoption, infertility struggles, pregnancy, breeding kink, fluff & smut, somnophilia, "Daddy/Momma" kink, actual Daddy kink

Word count: 8400

Summary: On Christmas Eve, you and Bucky plan a special surprise to tell the girls you want to adopt them. Little does Bucky know, you have a special surprise for him, too.

Bucky wakes early that morning to a bedroom suffused with the faint light of pre-dawn, the sun not yet having risen high enough to creep past the edges of your bedroom's south-facing windows.

When the girls first came to live with you, he'd made sure that their bedroom was the one with the west-facing windows—on a bit of advice from Sam, who claims that it can occasionally buy a little extra kid-free time in the mornings. That advice seems to be bearing out, as Bucky closes his eyes again and feels the stillness of the house, and then your quiet breathing in the bed beside him. He uses his enhanced hearing to listen for any sounds of movement outside the bedroom—an only recently acquired habit of necessity, and one which he'll never in a million years complain about. His heart is full, now that he finally has to listen for the pattering of little feet before he can reach for you.

The edges of his mouth curl up when he doesn't hear any sign of rustling from the girls, and just like that, he's suddenly twice as aware of his morning erection as he was before. He stretches his spine without moving his limbs and inhales deeply, blinking his eyes open. One hand comes up to stifle a yawn as the other one trails down over his stomach, between his legs, and curls over the achy line of his cock. He gives it an absentminded squeeze where he's half hard from sleep. "Hmm."

To his right, the bedroom windows are frost-kissed, the world outside covered in a blanket of white. And there are big, fluffy flakes still falling steadily. For a very split second, he forgets about his cock as his chest fills with warmth at the thought of how excited the girls are going to be. It hasn't snowed yet this year. Hasn't been cold enough. But the temperature took a dive over this past weekend and has remained below freezing ever since. Win had come home from her preschool class last week having learned a "snow dance," which she's been faithfully repeating each morning, noon and night, in hopes of getting a white Christmas. Being from Florida, the only place she’s ever seen snow is in a very particular Disney movie. Bucky's mouth twitches at the buildup he can see through the frosted windows. Looks like all the dancing paid off. It's the first snow of the year and it's a heavy one—thick and powdery, like an image off a postcard. And right before the holidays, too.

A white Christmas, Bucky thinks. God, could this year get any better? He answers his own question with an emphatic 'yes', when he catches your scent on his next inhale.

Oh. Right.

It's probably indecent to hold thoughts of Christmas and the kiddos in such close proximity to the baser ones of arousal and sex that sidle up right alongside them, at that first good lungful of your scent. But if it is, Bucky's too shameless to care. His cock twitches against his palm as more blood rushes south.

He gives it one more, indulgent squeeze before turning over in your direction and sidling up behind you. His hand slips over your waist and his hips snuggle up against your bum. You're still asleep, he can tell from your breathing and the laxity of your body. He smiles and hums beneath his breath, enjoying the moment for himself. He nuzzles against your hair and the back of your neck, taking in the scent of your shampoo, your skin, and a growing secret. The best kind of secret. A Christmas miracle.

You haven't told him yet. Either from nerves or from wanting it to be a perfectly-timed surprise, you’ve kept it to yourself for weeks. Bucky thinks it’s adorable that you think he doesn’t know. You’re his whole heart, but every time he re-remembers that you're carrying his child, he swears he falls impossibly more in love with you. He's impatient and eager to be able to talk about it, to gush, to “nest,” as the baby books call it nowadays. But he doesn't want to ruin the surprise that he’s sure you’re planning. He's being patient so that you can have that special moment of the big reveal. He won't spoil that for you by letting it slip that he knows. Lord knows you may never get the chance again.

The two of you have tried for so long. Years and years. So long that you’d actually stopped trying and accepted that “God had a reason for everything,” and that a family would have to come some other way. Bucky doesn’t have as deep of or as dogmatic a faith as you do—he’s always been open to trying IVF or surrogacy, but you’ve been adamantly against it, calling it selfish, wasteful, and greedy. He doesn’t necessarily agree with that, but he’ll never argue against it, not when it’s what brought the girls into your life.

He listens carefully for any noise beyond the bedroom door again, but still hears nothing. He hums in pleasure and lets his erection press up against your behind, nuzzling the scent rich crook of your neck as he starts up a lazy roll of his hips. He’s expecting you to wake, but as the seconds tick by and you remain asleep, a naughty little thrill grows inside his gut; one that goads him on and makes him wonder how much he could get away with before you wake up. Grinning, he kisses lightly over your bond mark, only letting his tongue slip out to taste your skin after another moment. His right arm curls over your waist, hand sliding over the softness of your lower belly in a way that makes his cock throb. God, he thinks as he holds you there, a repressed groan aching in his throat. Right there. It’s right there inside of you, growing day by day, little by little. A piece of you and him.

Sweetheart, he thinks, wanting so badly to praise you, to kiss every inch of your body and tell you what a magical, wonderful creature you are, his omega, his wife, his mate. For a split second he almost loses control, as a surge of lust and possessiveness rolls through him. He manages to quell it though, forcing it back with clenched teeth and tensed abdominals. He keeps his touch on your belly soft and gentle because he doesn’t want you to wake, not yet. Carefully, he lets his fingers splay wide to cup where you aren’t yet showing—not by much, at least. You’re nowhere near needing maternity wear, body not having changed enough for anybody to tell the difference when your clothes are on. But naked, he can tell the difference.

There are always tons of cookies and pies around the house this time of year, the both of you putting on a little seasonal pudge most winters. Bucky likes it. It’s why December through January are his favorite months to fuck you, funnily enough. By the time you start talking about dieting and hitting the gym again every February or March, he’s always forced to say goodbye to that extra softness. He’s never told you any of this, lest you bite his head off for saying he prefers the weight—or “fluff,” as he calls it in his head. He’d probably have attributed the weight gain to the time of year, if he didn’t have your scent to know better. He’s got no clue how far along you are, but he’s been able to smell it clearly for half a month now. These past two weeks have changed you, your scent stronger and sweeter, carrying notes of yeasted dough and pancake syrup underneath your usual juniper and vanilla scent. Your normally flat belly fills out his palm a little better now, and it does things to Bucky, to touch it like this, to feel the place where he knows there’s life inside of you, a baby that he put there. He can’t wait to watch you grow, to see it, to feel it.

He has to hold himself back from the rumbling growl that wants to form, stifling it in his throat and grinding his cock against the plush swell of your ass for relief. You make a sweet little hum of a noise in your sleep, and he thrills with that gleeful naughtiness again as he smooths his hand back up your stomach and waits for you to calm. You do, remaining asleep, and Bucky sets his mouth to your shoulder so he can look over and watch the trajectory of his hand as he brings it up to cup your breast.

So soft.

He’s always amazed at how incredibly soft you are all over. Low body fat and toned muscles seem to be what’s in these days, but Bucky will never understand. How could he ever want anything but this? This feminine, accommodating softness that gives so beautifully to his touch? Fuck. He lets his thumb swipe out against your nipple, whisper-soft, back and forth, until he feels it pebble underneath his touch. The feeling makes him smile against your skin. Such a good girl, he thinks. You’re always so responsive to his touch, even when you’re fast asleep.

He gives the tip of your breast a little press between his fingers. Not even a pinch, not really. Only as much as he knows he can get away with without drawing you from your slumber. Then he slides his hand back down to explore between your legs. He skims his fingers as far as your closed legs allow, but it isn’t far enough, so he eases his thigh forward against yours, encouraging you to part your legs, holding his breath as he waits to see if it’ll wake you. But to his delight it doesn’t. You barely even stir, making a soft little sigh in your sleep and smacking your lips before settling again, and fuck, why does that turn him on so bad? Maybe it’s the thrill of getting away with something, of having you all to himself, not having to share you with anybody else—not even you.

That’s what it is, he thinks, cock aching and leaving sticky trails of precum on your ass where he’s just barely rubbing off against you. It’s that you’re so perfect, so perfectly sweet and all for him, responding just like you should even without meaning to. And he’s the only one who gets to do this, to see this, have this. The only one who gets to experience you this way. It’s so thrilling to see how far he can push it, how much acquiescence he can coax from your perfect body without you knowing it. He holds his breath and lets the pad of his forefinger graze your clit, just barely, applying almost no pressure as he moves it infinitesimally back and forth in little, nudging motions, pushing your delicate skin this way and that. Awakening that spot gradually enough that it won’t wake you.

He lets his tongue trace over the scar tissue of your bond mark while he does it, giving you a line of heat and sensation from your two most sensitive erogenous zones. Bucky woke up hard, so he’s had a head start on you in the arousal department from the very beginning, but he can feel it as your body sends blood south, your clit growing puffy and swollen, lips blooming open, wetness greeting his fingers on the next pass he makes over your entrance. “There you go, Sweetheart,” he breathes, not even a whisper, pleased and even more turned on when you give a little shiver in your sleep. Subconsciously, your hips begin to move, chasing the pleasure that you aren’t even aware you’re feeling. Bucky chuckles and lets the tip of his finger dip into your entrance, just to the first knuckle, over and over again to tease and coax more of that sweet nectar out of you. “Atta girl,” he praises softly, dragging his slicked fingers back up through your folds, spreading it around. “So fucking sweet.”

In your sleep you make a low, whining sound, your hips chasing his hand. He gives your body what it’s instinctively seeking, flattening his fingers and starting up a slow, gentle motion over your clit. He rubs in lazy circles, hoping that the steadiness of the pressure will be enough to keep you from waking. He doesn’t want you to wake. Not yet. He stops touching you for a brief moment to take his cock in hand and drag it back and forth through your soaked folds, coating himself in you with another stifled curse. Just this, he thinks, as he lines himself up at the right angle and starts to push inside. Just this, just the tip. He just wants to get inside while you’re still asleep, wants you to wake up and have it be the first thing you feel, wants to hear the hitch of emerging consciousness in your breath and feel you clamping down on him as you wake.

He pushes in, your body tight enough that he needs to go slowly to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. It helps that you’re wet. God, so incredibly wet. And all for him. Yes. He grits his teeth through the push, overcome by the exquisite feeling of your body opening up to him, all that tight, velvet fucking heat. Fuck. He groans and pulls you back against him as he bottoms out and grinds a little, his hip bones up against your chubby little ass. His fingers dig a little more harshly into your waist than he means for them to, and he can tell that that’s exactly when you wake up, because your body suddenly stiffens in awareness … and then shivers loose as you moan. “Hey, Sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing your neck and continuing to grind deep inside. His hand on your waist slides back over your belly and down between your legs. He starts pressing gentle circles over your clit again while he fucks you with slow, shallow thrusts.

You whimper and let out a soft, “Ohn,” that just about does him in, a sleepy, aroused and confused, “Bucky?” following right after.

“M’right here.” He kisses a line up your neck, all the way to the shell of your ear. “Right here, Doll. How’s that feel? You don’t mind that I put it in, do you baby? Just couldn’t stop myself. M’sorry. You looked so good lying here, all soft n’ sweet. Just had to. Had to feel this sweet pussy on my cock. Couldn’t wait. Wanted to see you wake up feeling good.” Your vulnerable little whine makes his cock throb, and he coos along with you. “Shhh, I know, I know. It’s okay, Sweetie. Just enjoy it. Gonna make it so good for you, I swear. Gonna make you cum. You don’t even gotta do anything, okay? Mm mn, promise. I’ll do all the work. Gonna make you feel so good, babygirl.”

“M'kay daddy …”

He’s ninety percent sure you say it without meaning to, but it makes his mouth curl darkly anyways, as he slips his other arm underneath you and brings it up to your neck with a murmured, “Yeah Sweetheart?” Just like always, your cunt flutters madly the second he’s got his hand on your throat, holding you back against him as he kisses your bondmark and keeps working steady circles over your clit. He can feel your body beginning to tremble as you get close, and he purrs in encouragement, still fucking you languidly, being sure to angle it the way he knows gets at that spot inside. “S’that good?” he whispers, dragging lips over your skin and relishing the shudder he gets. He already knows the answer, he just wants to make you say it, because he knows how hard it is for you to say anything at times like this. You’re a typical omega in that way: quick to dissolve into sobs and babbles, unable to produce much coherent speech once you’re feeling good, half your brain offline for the focus that’s between your legs, too lost in your own pleasure to be useful for anything else. Bucky relishes it, every time. He prompts you again, giving a gentle squeeze to your neck to encourage you. “Tell me baby, c’mon.”

You give the sweetest little whine and nod your head, your heavy swallow felt against his palm. “Y-yeah.”

“Good girl,” he praises, hips working in time with the slow motion of his fingers. “What do you need? Want me to stay like this, or go a little harder?”

You shudder in his arms from the question alone, already reduced to a boneless puddle in his arms. “This,” you manage to eke out in between your needy whimpers. “Nnngh … th–this.”

“Okay, Honey. Okay.” He keeps fucking you like that: lazy, early-morning sex, hips rolling luxurious and slow, pressing up on your ass with each indulgent slide in, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge, your cunt weeping so much that it’s obscene the way your slick gets all over his thighs and yours, his balls, his pubic hair. When you finally shudder and start to come, he hugs you tightly back against his body and stays buried, rubbing down on your clit and giving you deep-seated grinds to work you through it as he murmurs endless praise into your skin, telling you how good you are, how pretty, how perfect. “Ooh, that’s it, there it is. Just like that, huh? There’s a girl, just like that, ooh. You’re so good for me, Sweetheart. Fuck. So good.”

Your pleasured sob sparks something primal in him, and even though he wasn’t close before, he suddenly is, his belly spilling over with arousal at the sound of your cries and the feeling of your sweet cunt locking down on him in orgasm. “Fuck,” he grunts shakily, vision losing focus as his knot swells, growing inside you rapidly. You cry out at the feeling of it, and he quickly covers your mouth with his hand, muffling his own moan against your neck as his knot pops all the way and catches against the desperate lock of your body. “Ohfuck. Shh sh sh, Sweetheart, the—fuck—ohh, the girls,” he gasps against your skin, humping hard against your tie as he just barely remembers that the two of you have to be quiet these days.

You sob behind his hand, too lost in your instincts to obey. “Hmmph, mmm!” It’s muffled, your hot breath against his palm and straining body under his hold pulling a growl from his chest, though he fights to hold it in. He can’t help it, he loves it when you struggle.

“Fuck, baby, fuck. You feel s-so fuckin’ good …” You squeal as he tugs his knot against your tie again and again, triggering you into a second orgasm. You squirt this time because you’re knotted, the space between your bodies and the sheets getting wet from it. Bucky’s already in the middle of his climax, too lost in the pleasure to really notice, at least for that next minute or so. He always comes hard with you, his body recognizing its mate and knowing it’s safe to be lost to the world for those few, delirious moments. By the time the most intense part is done and he’s back in his head again, you’re crying, sobbing softly against his palm as he fucks a third, and then fourth orgasm from you. “Shhh,” he soothes, sucking over your  bondmark to show you he’s back with you again. “M’here, ‘mega. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He’s still coming, balls contracting in slower pulses as he fills you with his cum. The thought of breeding you up makes him groan and close his teeth against your glands, even though logically he knows that nothing can take, not when you’re already pupped up. He groans all over again and puts his hand back over your lower belly, feeling that barely-there slope where you’re growing his baby.

Fuck, his fucking baby. He bites down without meaning to—hard enough to draw blood. Your squeal brings him back to his senses and he lets up, kissing the skin where he’s bitten in apology. “Sorry, Sweetheart, m’sorry, sorry.”

You aren’t upset, if the smell is anything to go by. He brings his hand back down to your clit and starts rubbing circles again. “Gonna cum again?” he rasps.

“Bucky, no. I c-can’t.”

“Sure you can,” he rumbles, pushing down hard on your clit and tugging his knot hard enough that it’s actually faintly uncomfortable for him. But he doesn’t care, he does it for you, because he wants another one out of you and he can feel your body getting ready for it even as you whine and grab onto his wrist where he’s rubbing your clit. “One more,” he husks against your neck, tasting the blood that’s pricked to the surface. “C’mon, one more baby. One more to make me a daddy.”

He doesn’t know why he says it, maybe it’s another way to try and get you to tell him the good news, even though he’s promised himself he won’t rush you into telling. All he knows is that your body shudders in his arms when he says it, your cunt quivering around him as you helplessly fall into another orgasm.

“There’s a girl,” he praises, wrapping both arms around your middle in a big hug to let you come down from it. “So gorgeous, Sweetheart. Feels so good.” He holds your body tight to his as he finishes coming, hips slowing down from a gentle roll into nothing as the both of you catch your breath. The room’s silence seems to shrink, as the both of you come back to your senses and he strokes softly over your stomach. He doesn’t let himself settle his hand on your belly again, knowing that it could tip you off that he knows, if he goes cradling you there too much all of a sudden. Instead he splays his hand out wide just beneath your breasts, pulling you tight to him and rolling onto his back. You huff a surprised little laugh as the move jostles you backwards with him, his knot tugging just a bit more from the angle once you’re resting on top of him.

“Bucky,” you huff, amused.

He tightens his arms around you stubbornly and stuffs his face in your neck. “Mmm, what.”

You laugh again, then ‘yip’ in surprise and fall into a fit of giggles when he humps up against you in retaliation. He growls playfully, though he’s grinning against your skin where you can’t see. “Mmm, hold still, ‘mega. I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what?” you laugh.

“Mmmr. Marking my territory.” He says it in a gruff voice that makes you giggle again, and he digs his fingers into your waist where you’re ticklish.

“Oof! Ha! Buck-ee, nooo!” You shriek, body heaving with laughter (and then a bit of a moan at the end there, too, when your squirming causes his knot to tug hard against your tie.)

He hums in pleasure at the way your breathless laughter turns back into that soft sound of pleasure, and some of his playfulness fades as he hugs you tightly back against him again, both arms wrapped snug around your middle as his mouth finds its way back to the crook of your neck. “Hmmm,” he sighs, feeling sated and almost incandescently happy. Without really meaning to, his one hand winds up resting lower on your belly, and he strokes the soft stretch of skin between your navel and your groin. “You lie here and be my good girl ‘n’ hold still now,” he purrs, deciding off the cuff to try and provoke a revelation out of you. “Might’a knocked you up, just now. Gotta make sure it takes.”

Your giggles fade completely and you go very still on top of him. He holds his breath, thinking that maybe, just maybe you’re about to say something, that you’ll finally decide it’s time to tell him that you’re pregnant. He busies himself with kissing and sucking your bondmark, feigning nonchalance while you work up the nerve. He hears you lick your dry lips, feels your delicate hands land on top of his at your waist and your belly. “Bucky,” you say, and his heartbeat quickens because he can tell from the tone of your voice that you’ve decided it’s time. “I have to tell you something.”

“Hm?” he acts unconcerned, even manages to think of saying dryly: “Please don’t tell me you forgot to get something for the cookies? The stores are gonna be nuts today.”

You huff in exasperation and he silently congratulates himself on an act well-played. “No, we’re fine on ingredients. … Babe, I’m—” Your words are abruptly cut off by the sudden sound of tiny feet ‘thwapping’ down the hallway. Bucky thinks, shit! just as you go rigid and squeak, “Oh no!”

You both grab for the covers in a mad scramble to cover up. You’re the one who actually manages to grab them, and you pull them up over the both of you in record time. Bucky grabs your hips and turns onto his side, dumping you back in front of him just as the doorknob moves. “Fuck, fuck,” he hisses, as the sudden change in position pulls on his knot. You make an adorkable little squeak of a noise and he starts kind of panic-laughing against your shoulder as you clutch the sheets to your chest.

“Shhh-sh-shh!” You’re slapping backwards at him, mostly hitting his thigh and falling into some contagious snickering yourself, when the door busts open and two little girls with bleary eyes, Christmas jammies, and some very messy hair come tumbling in.

“Mommeeee!”

“Buckeeee!”

“It snowed, it snowed, it snoooowed!”

Bucky’s still got his cock buried in you, and he can’t seem to stop cracking up against the back of your neck as you scramble for an explanation for the girls as to why you’re all sweaty and why they have to go back to their room for a few minutes before Mommy and Bucky can take them outside to play in the snow.

Lily is only twenty months old and doesn’t have her hearing aids in, so she’s really just following her sister’s lead more than what’s being said, the excitement of the moment making her squeal in joy as Winnie keeps asking over and over again if Santa has come, and if they can build a snowman like Olaf.

Bucky rests his forehead against your upper back and feels that liquid-gold feeling begin to fill his heart again, as he listens to Winnie’s excitement and Lily’s semi-coherent babbling, and you speaking to them both in your “mommy” voice, reminding them that Santa isn’t coming until tonight, when they’re asleep. Winnie is frustrated that she has to wait a whole other day, but you placate her with promises of all the fun things they’re going to get to do today, if only they stay patient for a few more minutes.

“How many minutes?” Winnie asks, and you stammer a bit as you try to think.

“Erm, um …”

“About ten,” Bucky murmurs against your back.

“Ten minutes, Sweetie,” you say, and Bucky chuckles again and humps against your tie once, just to be a jerk. You make a little sound of surprise, but to your credit you manage to cover it up with a fake cough, and more instructions for Winnie. “Um, now go on back to your room and, ahhm … just wait for me to come get you, okay? If you want to play in the snow today, you have to go and wait patiently. That’s the rules.”

Where most kids might whine and complain and stomp and beg, Winnie gets real quiet and serious and straightens her spine like she’s taking down instructions for a very important task. “Okay Mommy,” she agrees, her curls tossing as she nods her head. “Here we go. We’ll do a good job.”

Bucky’s heart breaks a little at how serious she sounds, because he knows that she honestly believes that her day of fun in the snow depends on it (just like he already knows that you’re already holding back a wince in front of him, regretful for having phrased it that way). Win still doesn’t yet fully understand that nice things won’t be taken away from her here, and that she doesn’t have to worry about making “mistakes” anymore.

“Okay, Win,” he hears you say kindly, though there’s a slight warble of sadness in your voice. “Good job. I’ll see you in a few minutes. You can play with your toys until I come get you.”

“Okay Mommy. Don’t worry. We’ll be quiet.”

Ouch. Bucky hides his wince against your shoulder, and your voice kind of cracks when you manage to eke out a halting reply of, “Oh. That’s … That’s okay, Win. You don’t have to be quiet, just play nice, okay? I’ll come get you soon. … Love you, Sweetie.”

No child should look like they’ve been given the keys to the kingdom, when they’re told they’re loved. It should be commonplace, an everyday thing that gets a smile and a thoughtlessly-chirped “love you too” in response, not a wobbling chin and big, watery, amazed eyes. But that’s how Winnifred still reacts, even after all these months. And especially with you, her Mommy. She hasn’t quite made it to “Daddy” yet, since men are scary to her still, but Bucky’s just glad that she’s been warming up to him this holiday season. His heart squeezes mightily as the little girl reaches down for Lily’s chubby hand and takes it in hers, just like a little grown up. “We’re gonna play bears,” she tells her sister, and tugs her along authoritatively. “C’mon Lily.”

Once they’re out of the room and the door is shut, the both of you release your breath in sync. “Ugh,” you say, and he nods against your back and groans softly in agreement.

“We gotta get a doorknob that locks,” he mutters. It’s the same thing he’s been saying for weeks, but he really means it now. This is a little bit funny and not at all sexy. Normally his knots take no less than ten to fifteen, and he can already feel himself ebbing. “M’gonna go to the hardware store,” he grumbles, hands returning to explore your body. He feels you huff in amusement more than he hears it. “I am.”

“Thought you said the stores would be crazy today.”

“Hmph.” He cups your lower belly again hopefully, but it doesn’t prompt anything out of you. “I’ll go after Christmas,” he decides, which makes you giggle.

“Sure you will.”

“I will! Right after.” The stores really will be nuts today, and with all the snow, he’s got zero intention of going anywhere other than out to build an Olaf. “Ugh,” he groans, as he remembers that you have a driveway now. And a property line with a sidewalk. “Blugh.”

“What?”

“Gonna have to shovel,” he mourns. He thinks fondly of how the two of you used to live in a nice apartment complex—complete with snow removal service and a heated parking garage. “Remind me why we moved out here again?” he says, kissing up to your bondmark and nuzzling there. “Was it something to do with a sudden acquisition of … little creatures?”

“Mmm. So the girls can have a yard to play in,” you say. It sounds like you’re smiling with your eyes closed, and it makes Bucky smile too.

He wraps both arms fully back around you again, sighing happily. “Right,” he says softly. “Now I remember.”

You’re secretly grateful for the girls bursting in that morning. They’d saved you from a moment of weakness. And you’ve been planning such a cute little way to tell Bucky the good news. The Amazon package of what you need for your surprise arrived yesterday, and now it’s Christmas eve, getting dim outside as evening approaches, and you’re finally about to get to do what you’ve dreamed of doing for years.

Tell your husband that you’re pregnant with his child.

You can’t seem to stop smiling about it, even as you face off against the aftermath of an afternoon of cookie making. Bucky must’ve grabbed every single variety of sprinkles off the grocery store shelves, you’re convinced. And some of them even wound up on the cookies!

The rest are decorating your table and the kitchen floor.

The zippers of the girls’ snowsuits ‘tick’ around in the dryer as they tumble through a cycle behind the laundry room door, a bit of comforting background noise to the holiday music Bucky’s got streaming for the girls. It’s a soundtrack from one of those stop-motion Christmas specials that always run on network tv this time of year—something about misfit toys. Your mouth ticks up where you’re crouched down on the floor with the dustpan, as you hear Bucky responding with the occasional happy comment from over in the living room. The girls are in there with him, bopping around on a sugar high, dancing to the music in their Christmas outfits. You hear Winnie squawk to Bucky to “watch! watch this one Bucky!” at something she’s doing, and shortly thereafter, a bit of clapping and Bucky saying, “aw good job, Win, that was a good one.”

He really loves those girls, you think warmly. Bucky prefers the old-timey Christmas songs from back in his day—Nat King Cole and Perry Como and Bing Crosby, that sort of stuff. But he’s been cheerfully putting up with the goofy kids’ music all afternoon. There’ve been so many little things like that, since you started fostering the girls; small ways that he’s changed for them, to be a good father. Despite the trepidation you’d both felt in the beginning, parenting just seems to have come naturally to the both of you. “Mommy” is a recent development, with Winnie only having started calling you that since around the end of October. You’d taken her trunk-or-treating with your local mom’s group, and you could see that it was her hearing all the other kiddos exclaiming “Mommy, mommy, mommy!” over their candy hauls that had tipped her over the edge, wanting to fit in and have a “Mommy” too.

With Bucky it’s a little different, and you both understand why. Every small moment of connection between him and the girls has been counted as progress, and he’s been so good with them, so patient. It even makes you tear up sometimes, when you catch him in a particularly tender moment with the girls. Winnie still keeps her distance from him in certain ways, but it’s been getting less and less, and Lily’s young enough that she doesn’t remember as much of her home life from before. She trusts Bucky completely. She’ll often put her arms out to be picked up, or want to sit in his lap. That’s what can really get the waterworks going for you. Especially these days. Pregnancy hormones are no joke.

You’re drawn from your musings at the sound of toenails clacking across the kitchen linoleum. “Oh. Hey Fred.” Normally sentient Fred has deigned to leave his spot by the furnace vent to help you in your clean up efforts. “Mighty generous of you, lazybones,” you say to the basset hound on his next snuffling pass-by. His ears seem to be picking up as many sprinkles as his actual tongue does. You roll your eyes and move onto another spot with the dustpan.

“Okay girls, big smiles. Win, why don’t you hold Lily’s hand for this one?”

The girls shuffle closer together where they’re sitting on the hearth, with Winnie obediently taking hold of Lily’s pudgy little hand. Just before Bucky snaps the picture, Lily giggles and rests her head of curls on Winnie’s shoulder. Bucky beams and gets the photo. “Great job, Sweetie! Oh gosh, that was a good one.” 

Winnie’s already reaching for her halo that you made her take off for at least some of the pictures. Lily claps and picks up her Santa hat and yanks it back on her head. “ ‘Ta!” she says, her way of referring to Santa (it took a while to figure that one out.) She makes the sign for sleep, and you feel emotion well up behind your eyes again. You smile and sign no. “Not yet, Sweetie,” you tell her and sign. “But real soon.” 

“We still have to put Santa’s cookies out,” Bucky says to get the girls excited. “And Elfie’s gotta turn on the outside lights.”

Elfie is currently on the wall, rock climbing up some Christmas bows. You’ve convinced Winnie that Elfie uses his Christmas Magic every night to turn on the colored lights that Bucky’s strung up on all the bushes outside. And anything Winnie believes, Lily automatically believes, too. The girls both gasp and run (well, Lily toddles) to the front window, where Winnie chant’s “Elfie, Elfie!” and Lily follows along with “fee, fee, fee!”

You reach for your iPad on the couch cushion, opening the garage’s app and tapping the control to turn the lights on, and Winnie and Lily’s delighted shrieks hit the air. They have their noses pressed up against the window, their gaping mouths making condensation form on the glass, which they keep giggling and wiping off. “Buckee! Mommee! Olaf got the lights!”  

“Oh, wow. Isn’t that something?” 

Bucky had snuck out while the girls were donning their costumes earlier and added a strand of lights across the newly-built snowman’s stick arms. You catch his eye from over top of your iPad, right at the end of rolling your eyes and grinning. He’s grinning too, and both of your smiles soften into something tender, the girls’ fuss over the lights outside fading to background noise somehow. Love you, Mommy, Bucky mouths.

Oh no. You blink your eyes rapidly to make the tears building up behind them go away, and Bucky chuckles at you because he knows what’s up. You wave your hand at him with a scoff. Damn pregnancy hormones. He probably thinks you’re turning into the biggest sentimental sap these days. If only he knew the real cause behind it. He will soon. “Okay okay, enough of that. Christmas lights aren’t going anywhere. Let’s get this tree decorated!” You clap your hands and wave the girls over, impatient to get to the box of ornaments waiting to go up.

You and Bucky have each chosen the holiday traditions that are most important to you, to share with the girls this year. Christmas is mostly foreign to them, every new thing you introduce extra magical in their eyes, because the closest they ever came to “Christmas” before you was a mall Santa that, according to Winnie, had hugged too much and didn’t smell very nice. So you and Bucky both want to make this year special for them. You’ve crammed as many winter activities into the last few days as possible, and already today you’ve made sugar cookies, decorated them, (cleaned up the friggin’ sprinkles), played in the snow, and built an Olaf. Attending the four o’clock mass with the children’s nativity play was your tradition, and now that evening is drawing in, it’s time for Bucky’s. His family always put up their tree on Christmas eve when he was growing up, which seems like a gigantic waste of twenty-six perfectly good tree days to you, but it’s meaningful to him. So, you figure what better way to sneak in a surprise announcement than with your husband’s favorite Christmas eve tradition? 

Hidden inside the jumbled box of ornaments is a new, keepsake ornament: unglazed bisque in the shape of a stork, carrying a bundled baby with “coming in 2025” printed on the bundle. You’ve buried it all the way at the bottom, underneath the familiar ornaments that he’s expecting.

“Mommy can I wear my halo still for doing the tree?” 

“Sure Win. Wear it all night if you want,” you laugh. “Except you have to take it off at bedtime.”

“I’m still gonna wear my Santa hat, too though,” she says, saying it in her mini grownup voice, but looking at you with big questioning eyes right after, just to check. 

You give her a smile to reassure her. “Yep you can wear both.” 

“Yay!” She rips her halo off and goes to grab her Santa hat.

Lil’ already has hers on, having refused to wear the halo you’d bought for her angel costume in the nativity play. You suspect that she didn’t like the way the plastic headband touched her hearing aids. But the soft fabric of her Santa hat seems to be fine, so the play had had one red-capped angel this year. 

Bucky calls the girls over to where he’s kneeling by the ornament box and tells them about how every Christmas eve, they decorate the tree. “I’ve put the lights on it, but I probably need some helpers for the ornaments.” He levels Winnifred with a serious, grown-up gaze. “Do you think you could help me do that job?” 

Bless her neglected little heart, Winnie nods seriously. “Yeah. I can do a good job.”

“I’ll bet you can, Sweetheart.” Bucky’s gaze goes soft on her, and then he peeks over her shoulder at you. “Mommy, should we make it a Christmas eve present instead?” 

You nod and cover your mouth, barely holding your happy tears in (goddamn pregnancy hormones). “Mmhm. Yeah,” you manage to eke out, trying to keep your voice from warbling. You’ve got to keep it together for the girls. (It would’ve helped if your jerk husband hadn’t just called you “Mommy.”). “Yeah let’s do it tonight.” (God help you, when it comes time to try and get them to sleep).

Bucky grins and goes to get the two small gift boxes that have sat wrapped underneath the tree since not long after Thanksgiving. You and Bucky have more to be grateful for than ever this year. The adoption hasn’t been made official yet—you’ll need to go in front of a judge for that—but it’s been approved, and you have an appointment for the ceremony on New Year’s Day—If the girls want it. Bucky and you have both agreed that you’ll just remain fosters, if Lily or Winnifred seems uncomfortable with it.

 “Here, c’mere,” Bucky says gently, sitting cross-legged in front of the tree and beckoning the girls over. Lily hurries to go and plop herself down right in Bucky’s lap, and Winnie follows along a little less surely, but she can’t help but be excited about getting her very first Christmas present (in life, not just this season, sadly). “These are your special Christmas eve presents,” he says, handing one box to Winnie and the other to Lily, who takes it with a happy squeal. Winnie looks up at Bucky with big, amazed eyes. “We can open them?”

“Yep,” he says. “And there’s a special message inside. So we’ll read that together, okay?”

“Okay!” Win’s enthusiasm has outshined her perpetual but waning nervousness around Bucky, and she sits cross-legged like him and scoots in close to him and Lily. “Okay Lil’,” she instructs in her little grown-up voice, pointing at the bow on her box and ripping the paper. “Like this! You gotta open it, see?” 

You watch with a smile as Winnie rips open her package and Bucky helps Lily open hers. Once they’re open, the boxes reveal boxes, printed with pictures of little figurines. “What is it?” Winnie asks. “A dolly?”

“Nope not a dolly.” Bucky is grinning, but you can see the nervousness in his eyes, too. He wants the girls to be happy so much, and he wants Win to feel safe and want to stay with you. “Open the box,” he tells her, already helping Lily to open hers. You watch as Win’s small hand closes around the figurine and pulls it out. “They’re called Snowbabies,” Bucky tells her, smiling in that specific way you’ve come to recognize as nostalgia. 

“Snow baby?”

“Yeah. Careful they’re breakable, so you have to hold them and not drop them.” Bucky turns Lily’s figurine over in his hand, and Lily reaches for it. 

“Careful!” Winnie worries, but Bucky pats her knee reassuringly and smiles. 

“S’okay, Honey. We’ve got it.” He helps Lily not to drop her figurine, which is a little cherubic child in a snowsuit, on a sled. Winnie’s is a similar one, but hers is building a snowman. 

She gasps and holds it up to show you. “Look Mommy! Just like me!”

You laugh along (only a little watery, now). “Yeah, how ‘bout that?”

“These were popular when I was a kid,” Bucky tells Winnie, speaking close to Lily’s ear to make sure she hears clearly, too. “I’ve got some really old ones that my sister saved for me, but I thought it’d be nice to give you ones of your own. These are newer ones, and they’re special ‘cause they’re ornaments, see?” He holds Lily’s by the ribbon that’s looped at the top. 

Win’s eye get wide, and she finds the ribbon on hers, too. “We can hang them on the tree?”

“Sure can cupcake, but hang on, hang on!” Bucky laughs and catches her sleeve where she’s about to get up, ready to hang her ornament immediately. “Wait. Look here. There’s a secret compartment where you can put a message, see?” He shows Lily the little spot by her snow baby’s hand, where a little slip of paper rests, rolled up. “Look for yours,” he tells Win, and she doesn’t miss a beat, quickly pulling out the little scroll of paper that’s tucked away near her snow baby’s hand. 

“Wow.”

“Yeah. So Mommy and me wrote a special message on these, for you two. Want to read them together?” 

Winnie nods, her eyes back to being big and round. Bucky smiles at her, and you see something shift in Winnie’s expression. She seems to settle on something and scoots a little closer to Bucky. “Okay.”

Bucky visibly swallows, emotional, and it takes him a second before he’s able to continue. You come over and sit with them on the floor, too. Lily takes the opportunity to crawl over into your lap, and you let her sit there and kiss her curly hair. “Here,” you tell her, “Let’s give Bucky the paper, kay?” You help her to take the slip of paper out of her figurine, and Bucky unrolls the two pieces and places them on the carpet, one above the other. 

Neither of the girls can read of course, but Bucky’s been practicing “reading” books with them for a while, as a bonding activity and to increase Winnie’s self confidence around him. She seems happy to help “read” along, and Bucky reads aloud and points to the words,

“Dear Winnifred and Lily, we are so happy to have you in our home with us”—Your heart squeezes as you spot Win’s little mouth moving along silently with the words, just a beat behind Bucky saying them—“We know it was new and scary at first, but we hope that you have had a nice time living here, and feel happy and safe. That is the most important thing to us, because we love you.” Bucky pauses and his eyes flit to Winnie, and then you. 

You smile and nod, encouraging him to go on, but you can tell that he’s getting choked up, so you read from the second piece of paper, “We love you so much that we want you to stay with us always and be a family. Winnie, Lily, will you make us the proudest parents in the world, and let us be your Mommy and Daddy?”

You barely make it to the last word, your throat closing up there at the very end. And you use every ocular muscle in your possession to keep the tears from falling. Hold it together, hold it together.

Win blinks adorably with her mouth open in a little ‘o’ for a minute, as her little four year old brain processes it all. She gasps all of a sudden, and Lilly mimics her with a gasp, too. You can’t help it, you sob a little when your laugh comes out at that. “What do you think, Sweetie?” You ask Winnie, since she’s the one you’re really looking at for a reaction. Lily might not fully understand yet, but she seems interested in her sister’s reactions, and you know that whatever Win decides, Lil will follow her lead. You hold out your hand for Winnie to take, and she puts her little hand in yours and says,

“You gonna be my real Mommy?” 

You sob again and smile and nod, giving her hand a squeeze. “Yeah, Sweetheart. If that will make you happy. I would really like to be your Mommy—Your real Mommy,” you add after a beat. 

Win’s always been a very perceptive little girl. “She knows what’s up” as Bucky likes to say. And now is no different. Her eyes fill with wonder, like you’ve told her about Santa Clause and presents all over again, and she looks from you, to Bucky. He’s holding it together a little better than you, but his eyes are dangerously shiny, with tears threatening to break. 

“You can be my real Daddy, Buckee?” she asks, and Bucky’s really nearing his breaking point it would seem, because he goes disturbingly red in the face and nods hastily, sniffling once and then croaking out a hoarse, 

“Yeah, Cupcake. I can be your real Daddy. I would like that very much.”

“Forever?” she asks, amazed. You laugh-sob again and Bucky tells her yes, that you will be a family forever, if she wants. Then, heartbreakingly, Win gets a little frown of concern and looks at her sister again. “And Lily too?” she checks.

Bucky laugh-sobs like you, and he nods. “Yeah Hon. And Lily too.”

Winnie’s face bleeds from concern, to wonder, to joy in a few, glorious heartbeats as she figures it out. It’s the longest few seconds of your life, and you and Bucky are both holding your breath. “Oh wow,” Winnie says, and then, surprisingly, she moves quickly over to Bucky and buries herself against his chest with an excited little whine, her fingers digging into his sweater as she hugs him for the first time ever. “Daddy!” she cries happily. “You can be my real Daddy! And Lily too!” 

Bucky loses it for real then, the tears breaking from his eyes. He wraps his arms around Win’s little body and hugs her back for the first time. He kisses the top of her head, then looks at you. You’re giving Lily a hug in your lap, and she’s making excited noises because she can tell that her sister is happy and excited. She laughs and babbles, and you look to Winnie, who spends a few long moments burrowing against Bucky’s chest before she squeals and pulls away to come over and excitedly give you a big hug, too, exclaiming, “Mommy!” 

You laugh and give her a hug, kissing her cheek and getting your tears on her. “Love you, Wing-Ding. I’m so happy to be your Mommy.”

“My real Mommy,” She corrects, and you laugh-sob again and agree. Win pulls back in concern and looks at you. She reaches out to touch your face. “Mommy, why you crying?”

That certainly doesn’t help the tears, but you’re laughing, too, and you tell her. “Because I’m so happy, Honey. Sometimes people cry when they’re very, very happy.”

Her face splits in a smile. “Me too!” She looks at Lilly and grabs her hand joyfully. “Lily too!” Lily agrees with a happy little squeal, and then Win jumps in an excited circle, clapping her hands and saying “Wow!” a bunch of times, the ball on her Santa hat bouncing along as she goes.You and Bucky meet each other’s eyes and share a lovestruck smile. This has to be it, you think. This has to be the happiest a person can feel.

“Love you,” Bucky murmurs.

You nod tearfully and murmur back, “Love you.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, please please consider giving it a re-blog: it means the world to me, and it helps my story reach more readers!

💖Snow babies were a very popular decorating item for the holidays, back in the 1920s/30s/40s

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This has been a fill/submission for:

❄️Fluffcember (@fluff-cember): Day 25 - "the perfect gift"

❄️Into the Omegaverse (@intotheomegaverse): Day 14 - ornament keepsakes

❄️Bucky Boy Bingo (@buckyboybingo) : B1 - caught in the act [card: Sarah-writes-Stucky]

❄️Sebastian Stan Bingo (@sebastianstanbingo): G3 - Accidental Pregnancy [card: sarahowritesostucky]

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❄️Marvel Smash Bingo (@marvel-smash-bingo): G4 - somnophilia [card: sarah-writes-stucky]

❄️December Daze Challenge (@the-slumberparty): "the first day of snow."