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the-ace-with-spades · 10 months

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this is part two of this angsty post about Baby Bradley (you might wanna read it first, just to make sense of this part) - Slider POV

It’s late, too late, when he hears the front opening. He is instantly on alert — Shay’s been sleeping for two hours now, conked out by a whole day at work and cooking up a baby inside her — because it’s too late for visitors.

He almost hits Baby Goose with a baseball bat.

Bradley is taking his shoes off, the spare key they have in the flower pot at the front stairs lying near his backpack. His hands are covered in dirt and he’s looking at Ron with his doe eyes wide.

Everyone says he’s Goose’s mirror image but when he stands there, curly hair getting too long again and messy, with those innocent big eyes and head tilted back, all Ron sees is Carole.

It always makes him melt into a puddle, too.

“Do your folks know you’re here?” Ron will take the dead silence as a no. “How did you even get here?”

Bradley is allowed to take the bus on his own, now that they live in one, stable place and Mav had gone on the three major routes with him — the bus to school, to Ron and Sarah’s house, and to the base.

Ice still insists on driving him around everywhere, just because he is such a control freak.

Bradley’s voice is barely hearable and he isn’t meeting Ron’s eyes as he admits, “I walked.”

They don’t leave that far away — less than two miles — but an eleven-year-old should not be walking around alone on the streets past nine.

Ron takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m going to call Ice—”

“He’s at work,” Bradley interrupts, because of course he does — he always has an answer, growing into the mini Maverick that he is.

“Then I’ll call Mav,” Ron counters.

“He’s asleep.”

“Then you shoulda thought about that before you walked here at one in the morning,” Ron points out before he steps back into the kitchen to grab the phone off the wall.

Midway through the kitchen floor, still in the dark since he forgot to turn on the light, Ron feels a weight hanging onto his pajama sleeve. “Do you have to call him?”

“Buddy,” Ron says because he’s so weak against those big brown eyes but can’t just let Bradley get away with everything. What he did was dangerous. He could have gotten hit by a car, kidnapped, or lost, or—Ron doesn’t even want to think about all the things that could’ve happened.

“I promise I’ll go back home before Mav wakes up,” Bradley pleads.

That’s really not the problematic part in the whole situation. “And what about when Ice comes home and goes to check on you and you’re not there?”

Bradley turns his head away and mumbles under his breath, “He won’t.”

“He won’t what?”

“He won’t do that,” he says, eyes on the floor.

And Ron doesn’t know what it is but there’s just something in his voice, in the way it cracks despite being so quiet, and in his posture, the way he raises his shoulders like a guard — and it’s make something under skin crawl.

“Bradley, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, turning away from him.

Ron is weak. He is getting bigger and bigger but he is still so tiny it feels like Ron could fit him in the palms of his hands. He looks even smaller, now, coiled up against Ron’s leg like he wants to turn invisible.

“Okay, you can stay the night—”

“Really?”

Ron would scold himself for falling for it, again, but Bradley’s eyes, even with the excitement in his voice, don’t lose the sad tinge completely.

“But only on the condition that I’ll call Mav anyway and tell him where you are,” Ron says, kind of proud of himself for not giving in completely. “And you have to get up bright and early tomorrow—today, so we can take you to school on time.”

He waves his hand, just so those doe eyes go away before he caves in completely.

“Go get your jammies and make those pearly whites—”

“You’re talking to me like I’m five again,” Bradley says and Ron holds back a smile.

“You gotta deal with it, kid,” he says, shushing him upstairs. “Go, I’ll call Mav.”

Ice’s house (and Mav’s, no that he’d call it that, ever, Maverick will never be his brother-in-law, even if they actually get married someday, he's going to be at best a menace-in-law) is on their speed dial as number one.

He’s expected to wait a few minutes on the line, until Mav wakes up and strides huffing and puffing into the kitchen to pick up the phone, but he barely gets the second tone and hears, “Hello?”

“Mav—”

“Slider, this isn’t a good time, Bradley is—”

“—here,” Ron finishes for him. “He’s here, Mav, showed up about ten minutes ago. Says he walked here.”

“What?” Mav spits out. “I was about to call the goddamn police! Ice, I was about to call Ice!”

Ron’ll never admit it but he agrees that Ice probably would throw a bigger manhunt than the police if he found out Bradley was missing.

“Look, he doesn’t want to go home—”

“Oh, hell no, he’s coming home now, I’m getting my keys—”

“I already promised him he can stay the night,” Ron cuts in, feeling a headache coming.

“You can’t promise him stuff like that!”

Ron might be a dad-to-be only, but he can understand why Mav is pissed off. He certainly would prefer if his kid that he thought was missing came back home so he could at least see that he is safe and in one piece and maybe so he can ground his ass but Bradley—there’s just something off.

“What, do you want me to send him home so he runs off again to some unknown place in the middle of the night?”

“Oh, he can try,” Mav says. “Even if he somehow managed to sneak out again, I’ll now know where he is. I’m going to take my chances.”

“I don’t think he’ll come back here again, not knowing I sold him out to you and let you take him back home,” Ron says. He can hear Mav groan into the phone in frustration and he gets it, he really does, but— “He looks upset, Mav, okay, I don’t know what happened but he wouldn’t have sneaked out on a whim, you know that.”

It takes him fifteen minutes and about a dozen promises to talk Mav into letting Bradley stay the night — he knows Mav probably won’t sleep a blink anyway — but finally, Ron settles on making them some tea so they can have a talk about safety and not giving his parents a heart attack.

And about whatever made Bradley act out like that.

He comes back downstairs and the ginger tea is already lukewarm enough to drink — they only have ginger tea now because Sarah is still nauseous despite being well out of the first trimester. Bradley sits down with him at the table, his Spiderman pajamas on, takes a sip and promptly grimaces.

“That’s yacky,” Bradley says.

“Believe me, I know, kid. It was two against one,” he says, feeling sleepy out of a sudden. “Your aunt would bite my head off if I said anything, anyway.”

Bradley still drinks more because he’s a good kid that never complains. Or maybe because he doesn’t want to talk to Ron.

“You want to tell me why you left home so late?” he prompts. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Bradley crosses his legs on the chair — Ice would’ve told him to sit properly but he’s not here so Ron lets it slide. Bradley shakes his head, wordlessly.

“Did you argue with Mav?” Ron tries again. Bradley looks away, at their fridge and the family photos and their collection of sonograms, and shakes his head, eyes not present. It scares the shit out of Ron. “Bud? Did someone say something? Do something, to you?”

“No,” he says, finally, barely hearable. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ron weighs his options. Bradley's always been a kid with lots and lots of emotions but usually, he wouldn't mind displaying them raw — he could push but he isn't sure whether that would help or harm the situation more. He doesn't want to pressure him but he also doesn't want him to feel like he's alone with whatever made him act like this.

“You want to sleep in your room? Or do you wanna sleep with us, today?”

"Could I—" he begins and then closes his mouth. Ron lets him think through whatever is going over in his head, waiting, until Bradley asks quietly, "Could I sleep with you?"

"Of course you can," Ron says straight away, still feeling unsettled, like he's missing something. "Just try not to wake up your aunt, she's really grumpy in the morning lately. Don't tell her that I said that, either."

Bradley’s been—quiet.

The night visits became frequent. Frequent enough that after the fourth time Ice, like the insomniac he is, woke up and went to check on Bradley to find him missing, Mav and Ice bought him a bike. It was safer if he had lights and a helmet on, and the trip to Ron and Sarah’s house took him less time that way. It still isn’t safe but Bradley hasn’t even tried to wake any of them to take him to Ron in a car, like they promised they would, so any alternative was better.

Ron can’t exactly pinpoint what changed aside from how Bradley’s no longer bubbling a mile a minute and how he seems both clingy and unusually detached from them. He’s been staying vaguely around them but never close enough to touch, like he used to.

Today’s been especially strange. Bradley hasn’t even let Sarah cuddle with him after dinner. He helped her prepare the food, quiet and way too focused on tasks for the bouncy eleven-year-old he is, just asking her what to do next and not even humming along to the radio in the kitchen.

Ron, if this was any other kid, would say he is jittery about the parent-teacher meeting and what his folks would hear while talking to his teacher but in all honesty, Bradley doesn’t have anything to worry about — he has perfect grades, and aside from that fight he’d gotten into a couple weeks ago Ice and Mav already know about, he is a sweet, a bit shy kid who isn't much trouble.

Ice and Mav show up to pick him up at half-past eight. Sarah’s already gone for a nap that will turn into nine hours of sleep and Ron and Bradley are quietly sitting in the living room, each reading their own book. Their faces are turned into a grimace from the minute they step in to greet Ron and Mav is observing the kid like a hawk.

Bradley curls his legs closer and gives Ron a very short look, the big doe eyes telling Ron he is about to ask if he can stay the night. Ron shakes his head before he does it long enough he’ll give in.

“Go say bye to your aunt, buddy,” Ice tells Bradley which is a code for an adults-only conversation.

Ron doesn’t like it.

“She’s asleep,” Bradley points out.

It’s the truth, but Mav still hasn’t said anything, just staring at Bradley, so Ron says, “You can wake her up for a minute, she’ll probably want to know you’re going and will give you a kiss goodbye.”

Bradley hesitates, looking between Ron and Ice like they're tricking him into something. He and Sarah didn't have the greatest of starts — she moved to California not long after Carole got diagnosed and was the least familiar face during that hard time, often completely omitted when Bradley sought out adult comfort. It's been getting better and better the more time they spent together, and Bradley's been especially warming up since they told him about the baby — Sarah would talk to Bradley about the pregnancy often, explaining different things, taking him to shop for baby clothes, letting him think of baby names, letting him touch the baby bump. Ron has thought that maybe Bradley finally felt included enough by her to include her in his little trusted family.

Ron sometimes wonders if it's because Bradley knows he'd almost become his stepdad before he and Carole called it quits — they never told him they were together, tried to test it out before Bradley became attached but maybe they hadn't done a good job of it. Maybe when they broke up when it kept on feeling weird with Goose's memory still in both their heads, they should've explained it to him. Maybe he felt like Sarah took Ron away from him and his mom when he started dating her not long after she moved to San Diego.

"You go, bud, you're probably the only person that won't make her grumpy," Ron encourages.

Bradley jumps off the couch and meticulously puts his bookmark in his book and closes it, careful not to crease the pages or the spine — in a mirror image of Ice, because of course — and walks away to the corridor.

They listen until the bedroom door closes behind him, Ice picks up Bradley’s book and puts it in his jacket’s inside pocket, and Ron turns back to the adults-only conversation with a heavy heart.

“He’s apparently been asking about adoption,” Maverick finally says, barely audible.

“I thought you already adopted him. The guardianship was switched to custody after a year, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, he, uhm—”

He doesn't continue and it's scaring the shit out of Ron. He looks like a wreck of a person.

“He’s been asking whether we can give him up,” Ice supplies, voice perfectly leveled, his hands tucked into his jean pockets. Just, expressionless, really.

“For adoption?” Ron asks. Ice nods. “Jesus Christ.”

Even with how withdrawn Bradley's been, he'd have never gone into that territory with his theories.

No wonder Bradley didn't want to say a goddamn word about what was bothering him.

Ice takes a deep breath and says, voice urgent, "Look, he comes to you a lot when he's upset, did he say anything? Anything that could explain where all those questions came from?"

“No,” he denies instantly. “Do you think someone at school could, you know, be a bit too nosy again?”

They had that problem before, in Lemoore, straight after Carole's death and before they moved, when some concerned parents had started asking too many questions about who Mav was and how he was managing Bradley's childcare and who was Ice and why was Ice so involved. It was the whole reason CPS has even bothered to look at Mav's custody agreement and put Bradley in foster care for so long.

“Bradley barely talks to the other kids, still, even if someone’s parents—” Mav stops and his gaze gets all wet and it doesn't go away even when Ice grips his hand. "I don't know."

"Come on, you know it's not—You're doing everything the right way, Mav, he's been through a lot but you could see he is dealing with it now and he's been happy, it's not—"

Ron doesn't know what he wants to say.

"Just talk to him," he says in the end. "He's your kid, just make sure he knows that."

When he looks at Ice, he doesn't know how to react — he's never seen him looking so lost.

"Where's he anyway? He should be back by now—" he grumbles. Maybe actually having Bradley within their range of sight, unharmed and present and not at some strangers house god knows where would make them feel better. "I'll go get him."

Ron walks to their bedroom like a robot, trying to school his expression by to calm so his helplessness doesn't show.

"Buddy, what's taking so long, did you fall asleep too—"

He stops talking at the view he gets when he opens the door — Bradley is curled up around Sarah’s baby bump, his hand under her t-shirt, and Sarah is dozing off again with her fingers in his curls, blinking sleepily at Ron.

"The baby is kicking," he says and he's whispering like anything louder would spook the baby into hiding again.

“I’ll come back in five minutes, buddy,” Ron says, keeping his voice low.

Ron's been baby-proofing the house for what feels like weeks now and Sarah is still insisting it's not enough, finding new boops and beeps to improve. And Ron loves her, really, but he also still works about fifty hours a week and the kid is not going to even be moving much for at least six or seven months after they pop out.

They're certainly not going to let the kid out alone on the terrace for longer than that, he's sure, but he's also sure if he told that he's nine months pregnant wife, he'd be sleeping on the couch.

So he's modifying the terrace, so they have baby doors to the steps and the spaces in the little fence around the elevation is baby-proofed with a bouncy mesh net that their baby can smash their face all they want and not fall off.

It's almost eight already and Ron is still going at it, knowing he won't have the time later in the week but also running on about five hours of sleep, when he hears Bradley's bike rattle on the gravel on their driveway.

"Hey, kid," he says, not turning around from the task and trusting that Bradley is not going to run over Sarah's pansies again. Ron really doesn't want to find her planting new ones while nine months pregnant and he knows she would. "You here for anything in particular or just passing by?"

Bradley stops the bike, getting off and carefully avoiding the flower rows, thankfully. He is walking the thing now, to leave it next to their ugly garden shed.

"I was sick the whole week and now I don't understand my science homework," he tells him. "Mr. Kraig said I should come to the extra classes but we have a test before that."

Ron doesn't look from where he's measuring the stupid tiny fence. "Isn't this something you usually do with Mav and Ice?"

“I didn’t want to bother them.”

“So you thought you’d bother me?”

It’s just a joke — if Ron was a little less tired, he’d have remembered that Bradley’s already been feeling fragile around all the adults in his life and not having the greatest of times in general. He’d have been less snarky or maybe he’d have said nothing or maybe he’d prodded a little bit about why Bradley doesn’t want Ice’s or Mav’s help with homework anymore.

It’s just a joke but he doesn’t even manage to turn around and he hears the bike’s chain rattle as the kid starts biking off god knows where, not looking back.

“Bradley—”

He stands up to go over him but the stupid baby doors are in place and he trips when he tries to jump over them, knocking down the roll with the mesh net. It unrolls on the grass and by the time he's untangled from it all, he can't see Bradley on either end of the street.

"Sarah—" he calls out as soon as he's back in the house. "Call Ice and tell them to call us if Bradley turns up back home."

"What? Ronnie, where are you going?"

He's grabbing his car keys because like hell he's just going to sit and wait.

Bradley didn't say a single thing, just ran out. He's not coming back to them, he knows, and he's not sure how long it'll be before he caves in and goes back home.

He doesn't like it. He doesn't like it all.

He keeps on driving around in circles between theirs and Ice's house, looking out for Bradley's bike anywhere on the road, turning up back to check with Sarah that Ice hasn't called every twenty minutes or so.

It's getting dark when he notices Bradley's bike on Ice's porch.

"I'm going to call Sarah, tell her you're here already," Mav says and he dips into the kitchen.

Instantly, Ron's eyes search for Bradley and he's there, in one piece, in their living room, still getting scolded by Ice.

When he notices Ron and their eyes meet, he looks away, stepping to the side enough that he's well hidden behind Ice's legs.

Ice turns around. "Slider—"

Maybe he's too big, too old, for that, but never for Ron — he grabs Bradley under his arms and hugs him, one hand on his back, another under his thighs. It's as easy as it's always been despite what everyone says.

"Jesus Christ, kid," he blurts out. "You scared the living shit out of me."

"I’m sorry,” Bradley says and his voice is hoarse.

“No, I am sorry, kid,” he says, adjusting Bradley in his arms so he can flatten his cheek on Ron’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear, you’ll never — never, all right? — bother us, I just—It was a bad joke, okay?”

“I know,” Bradley mumbles into his collarbone. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, kid,” Ron insists.

He maneuvers him in his arms, detaches Bradley’s hands from around his shoulders so he looks at him and his eyes are shiny and red, and god, Ron just wants to take it all back, take it all away.

He doesn’t know what is going on with Bradley lately and he isn’t telling them but he wants them to have a safe place in them, he wants him to keep coming to them until he finally lets them help with whatever is happening.

“Promise me you know that, promise me you know you’ll never ever bother us, no matter what.”

Bradley doesn’t reply anything to that, instead saying, “Can you put me down? I’m not five.”

“Bradley,” Ice reprimands and Ron doesn’t care if he has a tone when he speaks to him, he just cares that—

“Promise me you know,” he repeats.

“I know, I promise,” he says.

He’s still not looking at him or at Ice, and he still seems so small, like he’s trying to take the least space he can, but he’s—he’s promising and Ron has to let go off him at some point, as heartbreaking as it feels.

He sets him back down on the carpet and Bradley curls into himself even more.

Ice opens his mouth, probably to continue the scolding and use Ron’s worry as a leverage, but Ron catches his eyes before he says anything. He shakes his head.

Juliette Nicole Kazansky Kerner was born on Friday, just a few minutes after three in the morning, after about twelve hours in labor and delivery.

They've decided early on that it was just going to be the three of them in the delivery suite and then for another twenty-four hours. Ron's mama was coming from Minnesota in about a week and that left just Ice and his little family.

They know the plan so they come in on Saturday, after breakfast, after Sarah slept off the exhaustion and is finally ready for visitors.

There are congratulations and hugs and then Julie crying and asking for food. There is the moment Maverick gets to hold her when she doesn't want to burp and gets her to do just so like it's the most natural thing and the moment after when Ice is looking at him with that smitten expression that Ron used to make fun of, before it became almost constant on him whenever Maverick is around.

There's a moment when finally, Bradley gets a very close look at Julie and stares at her with his mouth open and eyes wide and Sarah asks him, "Do you want to hold her?"

And then he's listening like his life depends on it when Sarah and Mav explain to him how to hold a baby and how he needs to be very careful with her head and not make too many movements not to drop her.

“She’s so tiny,” Bradley says and Ron is pretty sure he's repeated it at least three times now.

“That’s why you have to be really careful with her, buddy,” Ice says, adjusting Bradley's arm so it's holding their little Julie closer to Bradley's chest.

They're safely sitting in a big armchair with a pillow underneath just in case, but Bradley seems to have taken the cautions to heart and is holding Julie's limp head up and coconing her with his arms like it's a mission.

“She looked bigger in Aunt Sarah’s belly,” he says, still sounding awed.

Sarah laughs because truly, Bradley was the only one who could indirectly call her big and not unleash a hormonal wrath.

Maybe he said it too soon because Sarah starts crying instead, her lips are trembling when she looks at the two of them from where she's lying in bed still and next thing Ron knows, there's a waterfall.

She's smiling so he isn't too worried. He gets a whiplash because in less thirty seconds, Ice is crying to, still hovering over Bradley like the control freak he is, and if Ice is crying, that means Mav is not far behind.

Bradley lifts his head from where he was gazing at Julie and okay, Ron is a bit teary-eyed, too, by the time Bradley asks innocently, “Why is everyone crying?”

Those big doe eyes just make him weak. He's just praying he'll have more restraint with his own kids.

The nurse comes in to check on both Sarah and Julie, telling them she's probably going to be discharged tomorrow morning if their obs keep on being so good.

"We probably should grab something to eat," Ron supplies. "There's a buffet nearby."

Sarah had refused hospital food. And he's not going to be refusing her some good food when she's just popped a whole human into the world.

Bradley, realizing that standing up would mean letting go of Julie, asks, “Do I have to go with you?”

“No, but remember Mav is going to be picking your food if you stay and you know how he feels about vegetables,” Ice says.

“It’s fine,” Bradley decides and wow, the kid is really smitten, too. “Can I stay?”

They switch Bradley from the armchair to sitting next to Sarah in bed, just in case, and he's pouting the whole two minutes he doesn't have Julie in his arms.

"That was adorable," Ron says as soon as they leave the room. "I didn't think he'd take so well to her."

“I kinda wish we could have another kid just so he could be a big brother,” Mav says and he sounds like he's still melting inside.

“Yeah,” Ice agrees absently and he sounds so dreamy Ron snorts. “What?”

“Tom ‘I Don’t Like Kids’ Kazansky wanting more kids is never not going to be amusing,”

“It’s different when it’s your kids,” he protests, not ashamed at all.

And Slider supposes it is, at least for Ice because Ice is so good with Bradley, loves him so much, that he sometimes wonders if Ice's aversion to kids was just some way to protect him from heartbreak when having kids seemed impossible, given who Ice tended to love.

"Our three-month check up is on Friday, do you think you will be able to go with us? It's at six."

He's unpacking groceries in the kitchen, late after getting back from work, and Sarah is sitting in her rocking chair, nursing Julie for the last time before they put her to sleep for the night — she's going to wake up at least twice, but she seemed to have faded into tiredness as soon as Ron got to hold her for five minutes.

He's pretty sure he's only got paperwork to do on Friday so he should be fine, but—

“Thought it was going to be on Saturday?”

“Tom mentioned Bradley’s match is on Saturday, I thought you’d probably like to be there, too, so I made the switch,” Sarah says.

“He didn’t say anything about a match,” Ron notes. “Baby Goose, I mean.”

“We missed his last two so I thought we should probably start going to them again,” Sarah explains gently, her voice going quieter as Julie starts to fall asleep mid-feeding again. “He’s apparently banned Ice and Mav from coming because he’s embarrassed when they come, you know Tom is a bit of a soccer mom and—Ronnie?”

He—He feels it again, the feeling that something is wrong, but he can't really explain what is wrong with Bradley's behavior — kids do grow, get embarrassed by parents and uncles and want more independence. It just doesn't sit right with him.

“He didn’t tell me about his matches,” he realizes. It’s baseball season, it’s been for weeks. “He hasn’t slept over in four months, Shay.”

“He’s almost a teenager, he’s bound to start thinking you’re uncool,” Sarah says and it doesn't—

She isn't saying anything that doesn't ring true, Ron himself had those thoughts when he was much younger than Bradley. But it doesn't sit well with him. Bradley's been so off before Julie was born, for months, and now suddenly he seems to be not only fine, but fine without any of their support.

Sarah bumps Julie's nose, putting her shirt back over her arm and grabs the towel to put over her shoulder—

“At least you’ll have this one thinking you can save the world for a few more years," she says. "Can’t imagine how Mav and Ice are feeling right now.”

some people requested tagging so here you go hons: @callsign-hummingbird, @happypopcornprincess, @nearlynadin, @strangelove97, @pollyna, @heartthyshark

i know it's been a long time so let me know if you don't want me to tag you for the next part

#two more parts coming - IceMav pov and adult bradley pov #icemav #bradley rooster bradshaw #ron slider kerner #sarah kazansky #as Ice's sister and Slider's wife #mavdad #icepops #baby goose #top gun #my fics #tw pregnancy & breastfeeding - background #op #charlie writes

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bit-dodgy-innit · 2 years

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Trying for Two

Part of my 500 Follower Celebration set in my SHAPE OF YOU AU

The Prompt: You and your husband begin talking about if you’re ready for baby number two. Steven, being the sneaky little shit he is, does everything he can covertly to make sure you conceive so he can get your milk-filled tits back

Requested by: a few lovely fellow heathen nonnies and the wonderful @fangirlfreakingout

Pairing: Steven x afab!reader, with background Marc x afab!reader and Jake x afab!reader, Reader is married to the system

Word Count: 2k (short but horny I promise!)

Spice-o-meter: 🌶🌶🌶, Rated Explicit, Minors DNI!

CW/TW: Talk of pregnancy, breastfeeding, lactation and conceiving, p in v sex, nipple play, lots o’dirty talk, daddy!kink, breeding kink, mention of bondage, unprotected sex, a smidge of unprotected cumplay

A/N: THANK YOU EVERYONE for the amazing response to last full, hope y’all enjoy this fun romp!! Our 🍈🍈 loving daddy!Steven is back in full force in this one, using his big brain and…other things for horny purposes!!

It couldn’t have come at a more unexpected moment. You and Marc had finally wrestled Nyla down for bed and collapsed on the couch with the telly on, watching 8 Out Of 10 Cats of all things. Perhaps something on the quiz show had prompted Marc, inspired him to share with you, but you nearly dropped your wine glass when your husband remarked, seemingly out of nowhere, “It’d be good for Nyla to have a sibling.”

Out of the four of you, Marc had been the hold out on Baby Number Two. Steven had wanted another kid basically as soon as you’d popped Nyla out, and when you mentioned it to Jake about a year ago, he was on board. Understandably, Marc had his reservations. He was so protective of your daughter, and you knew however irrational it may be, Marc was petrified that a similar fate would befall his children as he and Randall.

It was almost a blessing in disguise that Nyla had been a surprise, since she drastically reduced the potential overthinking about kids. Once you’d discovered a baby was already on the way, both of you knew wanted her without much doubt.

You schooled your face to appear cavalier and casual, the last thing you wanted to do was spook him. “That’d be nice wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“I’ll give Doctor Slater’s office a ring in the morning.”

Your statement was a test. If Marc walked it back, then you knew he really wasn’t ready. But he didn’t say anything, so you took his lack of protest as confirmation. It was downright strenuous to keep your cool for the rest of the night and quell any urges to rejoice now that Marc had finally caved on another baby.

It was not a surprise however to wake up next to Steven since he lectured on Wednesday mornings. When your alarm went off and you rolled into his arms, the first thing he whispered to you was “We’re having another baby.”

“We‘re having another baby,” you echoed with a wide grin.

The two of you shared a chaste kiss, then Steven pulled you closer to him, no doubt for you to feel his morning wood. “What do you say we start trying right away?”

It was a tempting idea, but it was also a miracle that Nyla hadn’t burst into your bedroom yet.

“Later baby,” you promised him. “She’ll be up any minute.”

Steven surrendered with another kiss. He was willing to wait…for now.

***

This time conceiving was so different than with Nyla. There were cycle tracking apps, appointments with Dr. Slater, and not to mention a two-and-a-half year old to manage in the midst of everything.

Most experts said the best way to ensure a pregnancy ASAP was to have sex everyday, which of course the boys were thrilled to hear. Even though you had no trouble getting hot for each other still, the difficulty was finding the time and energy. You had been back at work for a while now, and Nyla was non-stop.

So Steven decided to take things into his own hands to help the process along. He started waking up extra early to jog on the mornings he fronted, since exercise supposedly helped sperm count. He threw out Marc’s beer and Jake’s “secret emergency” pack of cigarettes due to a study he’d read about them compromising one’s virility, royally pissing off his alters in the process. Your husband wouldn’t let you so much as move after sex either, fetching everything you’d desire to keep you still and try to increase conception.

Disappointment was inevitable when you got your period the first month after you and your husband started trying for Baby Number Two. The last thing Steven wanted to do was put pressure on you, stress was the worst thing for fertility. Besides, he loved you and didn’t want you to feel like you were lacking in any capacity.

He did however, intensify his covert conception efforts. He read that yams increase one’s chance of fertility and added it to the weekly shop. You were slightly puzzled that Steven was suddenly so keen on having sweet potatoes at least once a week for dinner, but Nyla liked them and your husband always offered to cook when you had them so you weren’t going to complain.

He also learned that morning sex was marginally better for conceiving, so he began waking you up with head so you’d be all pliant and open to sex first thing. Though that was no great effort on his part, his favorite thing to eat was your pussy.

Obviously, Steven wanted to have another child with you because you were his soulmate, and the vision of two little pairs of feet pattering around your home never failed to choke him up. But there was another, more selfish, more horny reason he was so eager for you to get pregnant again.

He’d hidden it well until you two had a date night. Nyla was at home with your trusted sitter Sam, and Steven took you to a restaurant on the river you both loved. Despite his steadfast commitment to veganism, your husband insisted on ordering oysters for the two of you (another fertility-friendly food, not to mention an aphrodisiac too). It hadn’t helped that you’d worn a low cut top that perfectly framed two of his very favorite parts of you.

When you’d gotten home, you wanted to check on Nyla even though Sam had reported she’d fallen asleep a few hours ago without much fuss. Steven undressed in your bedroom while you kissed your daughter in hers, sporting a very prominent hard on by the time you joined him.

“Mmmm, is that all for me, Doctor Grant?” You purred as you climbed on the bed and reached into his boxer-briefs.

He answered you with a groan and crashed your lips together.

“I think I’m feeling the effects of those oysters,” you lilted while you stripped out of your top and jeans.

A devilish smirk spread across his lips. “Let’s hope so.”

Steven had tremendous willpower, but all bets were off when he was inside of you and you talked dirty to him.

“Oh yeah Daddy,” you moaned as he hammered his throbbing cock into your slick cunt. “You gonna fuck a baby into me?”

“Mmhmm,” he responded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips while he pounded you from above. “Gonna shoot so deep in your pussy.”

You whimpered, “Make me all big and swollen with your baby.”

“Fuck…ungh, yeah,” he assented, and you clenched down around him, which short-circuited his brain “Can’t wait to watch you grow so big with Nyla’s little sibling.”

You dug your fingertips into his biceps. “You’ll have to take good care of me when I do.”

“Going to take the best care” he vowed. “I’ll rub your feet and shoulders, lick this tight little cunt whenever you want…and-ah-I’ll drink from your titties when they get too full.”

There it was. Steven was bloody desperate to get your huge, milk-filled boobs back, and in his opinion, they couldn’t return soon enough. Thankfully, you were turned on enough to go with it without asking any questions for the time being.

“Wanna start as soon as your milk comes in,” Steven revealed, cupping your boobs in his hands, trying to recall the size they’d grown to when you were breastfeeding. “We wasted so much time before.”

“You can have as much as you like,” you told him, mewling when he licked over a nipple.

Steven straightened up and hoisted your hips to wrap your legs around his waist, effectively putting you into a version of a bridge yoga pose. The switch in position made him even more frantic as he watched your boobs bounce harder from the force of his thrusts.

“Good, because Daddy needs his milk,” he rambled. “Need to bury my face between your huge, dripping titties, suck all of your sweet milk down.”

You keened at the image your husband described as he speared you on his cock, the incline allowing his pubic bone to grind against your clit just right. “Ohhh honey, gonna come.”

He spurred you on. “Yeah? You gonna come for Daddy?”

“Uh huh!” You shrieked as your climax surged through you, the force of it strong enough to white out your vision for a moment. That didn’t stop you from babbling, “Come on, Daddy, fill me up with your cum…give me that big load.”

“Bloody hell,” he swore. Steven was so aroused by your back-and-forth he could hardly keep his grip on your hips while he hurdled toward his release. “Want me to pump you full?”

“Please,” you whined through the haze of your post-orgasmic fog.

Steven came so hard he was sure that he triggered a switch, since he had no memory of flopping down on the bed next to you. As soon as he came back to himself and waved a thank-you in the mirror toward Jake who presumably laid him down, Steven scrambled upright in bed, fighting off the lethargy that always followed a particularly good orgasm.

“Don’t. Move.” He whipped back the blankets to make sure none of his cum had leaked out of you.

Your husband did in fact spotted a little drop trickling from your hole, and swiftly collected it on his finger to push it back in. A little whimper escaped you when Steven did, still sensitive from your climax. “Sorry babe, but we gotta make sure it takes.”

“We only just started trying,” you countered.

“True, but we’ve already waited ‘cause of Marc,” he pointed out, rising from the bed to grab both of your pajamas. “We’re also not getting any younger, you know?”

Part of you wanted to slap Steven for making even the faintest reference that you were aging, but it was then you started to put two and two together. “Is that why you wanted to try out bondage last week? Because if you tied me to the bed I wouldn’t move after sex?”

“No!” he denied while pulling on the old UCL t-shirt and boxers he slept in.

Your husband was a lot of things: brilliant, nurturing, incredible in bed, but one thing Steven was not was a good liar.

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed. “The morning runs, the oysters…it’s all to make sure you knock me up!”

Steven blushed. Come to think of it, his body was in great shape for its age, and most people were having kids later. Doctor Slater didn’t have any concerns on your end either. So when the source of his enthusiasm dawned on you, you couldn't believe you hadn’t reazlied it sooner.

Unlike your husband, you weren’t in a tremendous rush to get pregnant. “You want my big boobs back as soon as possible!”

“I…” Steven had no leg to stand on.

You obscured the breasts in question when you pulled on your nightie. “Steven Grant!”

“Shh!” The last thing either of you two needed was Nyla waking up. “I’m sorry, alright? And no, I don’t want to conceive as soon as possible only because we’ll get to…you know…revisit everything we enjoyed when Nyla was born. I do truly want another kid.”

It was impossible to stay cross with Steven when he spoke to you like that, his eyes so earnest and vulnerable. “I know, I know. But, you just…you didn’t need to be so sneaky! I’d expect that shit from Jake, but you?”

“I’m cunning too!” he protested. Leave it to him to get defensive about the strangest things.

“You are, but in other ways usually,” you relented, pulling the blankets back up again. Steven followed suit when you settled yourself against the pillows, turning off the lamp on his nightstand. You laid next to him in the dark for all ten seconds before you asked, “do you think it took?”

He shrugged “Dunno, but I can’t remember the last time I came that much.”

It more thoroughly debauched sex, but soon you, your husband, and Nyla were celebrating the confirmation that Baby Number Two was well on their way.

Taglist: @twwcs @rmoonstoner , @hot-mess-express1 @murdickdocked @toracainz @saahmi @unspokenmoon @winterbiipp @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6 , @harrys-tittie , @ninebluehearts , @lucianadraven32 , @dawnsutopia , @strawberry1042 @nikitawolfxo @stormkobra-5

A/N: It’s baby number two time!! This one came out quickly and while it’s not exactly the 10k fuckfest my last one was I know it was a popular fill so I hope everyone enjoyed!!

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