stars will fall @mydragulesebastian - Tumblr Blog

baby fever

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (MCU)

summary: In which Bucky can’t figure out why he feels so restless when everything is perfect in his life... until he does.

warnings: sex (18+), breeding kink!!! copious amounts of fluff and bucky being an adorable goofball

author’s note: ‘tis finally here!!! first fic on the new blog! also thought i’d do something new with formatting my fics! and once again, i couldn't help with keeping it short n sweet sorry! [wc: ~5k]

MASTERLIST // LIBRARY

Bucky doesn’t know what’s gotten into him lately.

There is this restlessness that keeps bugging him in the back of his mind. Sometimes it doesn’t let him focus on things. Mundane things, really. When he’s brewing the morning coffee. When he’s reading the paper. Or when he’s mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

He’s happy and it’s been years since he’s felt genuine happiness. He’s a free man, free to do what he wants. Free to talk, to walk, to wear whatever he wants. To eat whatever he wants. To feel whatever he wants. To love whoever he wants.

To love you enough and more to marry you and start his little family. He has all of this, he’s at peace. He gets to wake up every morning and is blessed to have the most gorgeous woman sleeping next to him. He gets to make a home with you, memories with you. Share your love for each other in your space, fill it with more love with things you love and care about.

And he has done that.

He’s a stable guy now, he’s got a wife and a home and the most adorable cat.

He can’t complain, he’s got no right to feel this restlessness. God knows, he doesn’t take a thing for granted in his life. Everything he has and everything he wants is right in the palm of his hands.

He should be happy. No, he is happy. He just wants to be… happier? Would it be completely selfish if he wants to be happier?

You’ve always told him, it’s a good colour on him. He’s gorgeous when he’s beaming and all smiles. Like a bright sunny day at the beach, warmth from the ocean water, warmth from the sun gently beating down.

You never fail to tell him that he has every right to be selfish, either. You love to spoil him rotten sometimes. Shower him with compliments, and constantly flirting with him – even though it’s been a whole year you’ve been married, been together for three years before that – not counting five years after the Blip.

Safe to say, he’s going to grow old with you. If science can help him do that, that is.

So why does he feel restless?

His question is answered one day in the most life-changing way.

The two of you were at the vet’s clinic, just a regular check-up for Alpine. She was seated in Bucky’s lap. He refused to get one of those pet carriers when the pet supply store owner urged him to buy one for Alpine. With the way she hissed at the cage, he could tell she didn’t like it.

While waiting for your turn, Bucky kept petting her back. Long, comforting strokes and soft scratches behind her ear, because she tends to get a little nervous during these visits.

The woman before you was called out. She was struggling with her newborn baby in the bassinet, and her dog whining – she looked helpless. While she tried to haul the bassinet and the dog to the doctor’s office – who refused to leave his spot because he didn’t want to go – you got up to help her.

“Let me help you, I can look after your baby while you’re inside.”

Much to her relief, the woman sighed. Your face is trustful enough, a kind smile on your lips.

“Thank you so much, sweetheart!” She said and handed you the bassinet. You told her it’s not a problem and she picked up the dog and went in.

When you came back, you left a seat to place the baby between you and Bucky. You look at your husband and the pure joy on your face lit up his heart. You picked up the baby. She wasn’t crying or throwing a fit, but she was just so adorable and you had to have her in your arms.

You cooed and called her all sweet names, talking to her in a different voice, a tiny one that made him smile on his own. He wondered what it would be like to watch you play with your baby like that.

That sudden thought answered his restlessness. The puzzle was finally completed.

It took him by surprise, though.

Does he want a baby with you? Yes, he’s pretty certain about that. One day he would want a little bundle of joy in his arms. Half like him, half like you.

But does he think he’s ready to be a father?

Are you ready to be a mother?

Yeah, those are the questions to which he doesn’t know the answers to.

But what he does know, is that he wants to have a baby. He just needs to know if you’re on the same page as him.

So Bucky… starts dropping hints.

They’re very subtle, considering he’s a 106-year-old, retired Avenger, determined to know your thoughts on having a baby.

The first one is when he brings home the mail after his daily walk around the block. You’re sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, eating a bowl of fresh watermelon, Alpine lazily draped next to you. Some movie plays in the background. Bucky, very subtly, drops a bunch of envelopes and magazines next to your feet and hands you the hydrangeas he brings you every day.

A sweet smile flashed his way when you smell the lovely flowers. Since you’re very comfortable in your position – and since Bucky doesn’t want to distract you from his plan – he offers to put the flowers in the vase for you.

“Stay here,” he gives your shoulder a little squeeze and takes the flowers from you. “I’ll put these in water.”

A mumbled thanks and you adjust yourself, your feet now under you. And something catches your eye. A parenting magazine lies under the heaps of bills. You shuffle them away with your fingers and grab the thick booklet.

“Mother & Baby,” you mumble, confusion lining your expressions.

All the while, Bucky is peeping at you. Standing at the sink in the kitchen island, the water in the vase is overflowing. He realises that when the cold water trickles down the vase and his hand.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, closes the tap and throws the excess water. The flowers shoved inside the vase, eyes never leaving you. Licks his bottom lip as a nervous habit and wipes his wet hand on his jeans. Trying to seem busy and nonchalant as he blindly arranges the flowers.

“Bucky?” you call out, eyes never leaving the front cover of the magazine.

The vase nearly slips from his grip, he scrambles up to attention – very nonchalant – and hopes that his voice doesn’t squeak terribly when he answers, “Yes, baby?”

Baby. Did he have to call you that right now?

He could have called you anything, honey, angel, sweetheart. But no, he just had to call you baby.

“I think you got somebody else’s mail by mistake,” you said, placing the magazine back on the table. He walks over to you, “We don’t have a subscription for ‘Mother & Baby’. It might belong to that new couple who moved into 1C. I saw them with a stroller the other day.”

“Oh, huh…” he feigns a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh, I guess I didn’t notice. All the mail was just shoved into the box.” He scoffs as if it’s the mailman’s fault when it was Bucky who stole the magazine from the top of 1C’s box.

“Will you please give it to them?”

“Yeah, of course.” he shrugs and picks it up. Slips into his shoes and as soon as he’s out and shuts the door, he bangs his head on it lightly. “Barnes, you fucking moron.”

The next hint is when Bucky offers to babysit their new neighbours’ baby boy. It was weeks after that magazine debacle. In that time he’d earned the trust of his neighbours enough to let him babysit their kid while the new parents had a date night to themselves. It was a win-win situation. They were thankful and Bucky got a chance to execute his plan.

You were more than happy to help Bucky. In fact, you were elated. As soon as you were introduced to baby Will by your husband, you picked up the chubby kid and kept him with you the whole time. You only let Bucky have him when he needed a change of diaper and clothes for bedtime.

“I guess, I’ll have to do all the nasty work with our baby, too,” he mumbles, struggling to get Will’s clothes on after he finished powdering and diapering his cute little tushie.

“Yes, obviously. We all have our duties. I carry it for nine months and then you take care of it after that.” You shrugged, hands on your hips.

But what Bucky hung onto was the fact that you didn’t oppose the idea of having a baby.

That made him smile, it was a small one. Though it took everything in him to not turn it into a grin. He was happier than before.

Another hint was dropped soon after that, because for some reason you just couldn’t take a hint. And for some reason, Bucky couldn’t grow enough balls to ask you.

“Do you think babies are adorable?” he randomly asks.

Both of you, strolling hand in hand, in a park. Which was filled with new moms with their newborns and toddlers running around. Did he bring you out here on purpose? Yes, yes he did.

“Of course, they’re adorable,” you said, leaning into his warmth, curling your hand around his bicep.

“I like ‘em,” Bucky comments, watching two toddlers running towards each other to meet in a hug. His heart melts at the sight. But nonchalance is still his motto. He truly doesn’t want to scare you off. Although, you’re stuck with him. But that’s beside the point.

“You know what I like?” you ask, your tone low and a bit dangerous. A finger curling around the chain of his necklace where his wedding ring is looped in. Bucky has tried wearing it on his left hand, but it keeps slipping off. And he’s afraid of losing it. Bucky hums in response, a slight furrow of curiosity between his brows. “The baby-making bit of it.”

He full-belly laughs at that. Head thrown back and eyes crinkling at the corners. “I couldn’t agree more, sweetheart.”

Laughter aside, Bucky came to his senses when he realised that both of you, in fact, need to go through the baby-making bit of it. Not that he didn’t think about it. He was just so preoccupied with the fact that he wants a child, the sex part had fused with excitement.

But every time you had sex, Bucky was incorrigible, horny, downright insatiable. It drove him insane that he would have to wear a condom for at least a few more days until he gets the courage to tell you what’s on his mind.

But the way he fucked you, he could tell something else would come over him. He felt like an animal in heat. He went hard and fast, was a bit sloppy at times, his cock would ache so much at the impulse control.

He swears, he could combust when he’d think about it. Think about not having to use that useless piece of rubber. Think about feeling your walls stretch around him. Think about nothing separating the two of you anymore. Think about filling you up, until he can’t anymore. Think about his baby growing inside your womb.

If he was being honest with himself, those thoughts were the only ones that helped his undoing every time you had sex.

So the fact that he was keeping it all inside his stupid little, fragile heart, didn’t help him.

God, why couldn’t he just tell you? You’re his wife, his other half, his soulmate. If he wants a baby, the two of you could start having the talk, at least get a headstart on the journey.

He’s pretty sure his emotions would burst out like an explosion. He’s taken back to the time when he was desperately and hopelessly in love with you, all those years back. When he met you in your restaurant, demanding the waiter to arrange a meeting with the chef because he wanted to give his compliments. You didn’t do that sort of thing at that time.

Now he thinks it would be a great meet-cute story to tell his kids. But how will he have them if he couldn’t tell you?

Just a few more days, and he’ll tell you. In those days Bucky conducts a little research. Google is his best option since he will not go to his friends to seek advice. Sam will only laugh in his face and Yori would start telling stories from his time – the old man could get a little explicit at times. Bucky could not live that nightmare again.

So in a world where people mostly searched, ‘My wife is pregnant, what do I do?’ Bucky searched things like, ‘How to get my wife pregnant?’, ‘How to get pregnant fast?’, ‘What are the best sex positions for assured pregnancy?’, stuff like that. He learned about the ovulation cycle. Learned how to record menstrual cycle frequency. Like any good husband would do.

Not that you will, but if you were to get a whiff of his search history, he would be mortified.

He knows there’s a fifty-fifty chance that your opinions on this baby matter could clash. But having absolute knowledge about this stuff is always good, right?

Bucky groans at the thought. He hopes there are no clashes in opinions. He drops his phone on his chest, heaving a sigh. The sunlight streams through the white cotton blinds as the wind gently blows them away. It’s been ten minutes since he’s been up. You’re already out of bed, probably cooking something. It’s Sunday, you like to take your time to make a big breakfast.

He finally gets up, padding over to the bathroom, splashes water on his face to wake his sleepy eyes. He notices that they’re out of toothpaste. Sighing, he checks the cupboard to get a new tube. While he was at it, he also noticed the box of condoms, which they’re almost running out of, too.

“This is a sign, Barnes.” he preps himself, huffing, “Man up and tell your wife you want a baby.” he nods to his reflection and brushes his teeth.

Bucky follows the smell of fresh waffles and berries and coffee, sweet maple syrup. Bacon and scrambled eggs.

But what really brings out his hunger is the sight in front of him when he enters the kitchen. You, standing at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee, dressed in his black button-up. Looking otherworldly, as always in his clothes. Always a pretty sight, always sexy. Always his.

The outline of your chest accentuated by the light material of the cloth. It leaves nothing hidden to his imagination. And boy, it’s running wild. Sweatpants hanging low, he feels himself twitch underneath the worn-out fabric.

Like a siren, you pull him in, and once he's standing behind you, he gives your waist a soft squeeze and your temple a loving kiss. Breathing in your sweet scent, combined with a hint of sweat and the activities that went down the night before. Hey, it was date night and you were wearing that particular dress he loves on you so much.

“G’morning,” Comes his sleep-tired greeting, thick with lack of use, but loving nonetheless. His mouth pressing on the area where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing languidly, running his tongue after he leaves a small nip.

Your reply comes in the form of a light giggle, the shoulder curling up against his honey kisses. “Morning… don’t tell me you haven’t had your fill yet?”

“With you?” More kisses to your neck, “Never.”

Soon his hands start to explore, pulling and squeezing wherever he finds soft skin. A little pinch your nipples, a harsh squeeze to your waist, deft fingers rubbing over your heat, slowly soaking your panties. You quiver, place the cup on the counter, afraid it will slip. His other hand massaging your relaxed shoulder. Lips as sweet as they are, keep pressing heated kisses along your neck and jaw.

“Bucky, we gotta at least get through breakfast… Please – oh,” A heavy sigh parts your lips when he nips at the pulse under the tender skin of your neck.

He can’t tell if you’re pleading him to go on or stop.

“Cheesy as it may sound, you are my breakfast, baby.” he cheekily says into your neck, hips pressed to your ass. His palm, large and callous runs under his shirt, pressing against your belly. That insane rush of electricity zipping down to his dick and he’s fully hard in seconds. Rutting against your ass once again.

The hand on your abdomen only seems to drive his brain towards the possibilities, and before he could gauge his words, he’s speaking, breath hot and clouding with lust when he says, “I wanna have a baby, honey.”

The way your body tensed before his own doesn’t go unnoticed by him. With a hand on your waist, he turns you around, cupping your cheek. Plush lips brushing against your own, reeling you into his touch.

“Let’s make a baby, sweetheart.” His voice is a husky drawl of a request.

And you’re astounded, “Bucky –”

“I know this is sudden for you.” he reasons, “But I’ve been thinking about it for a month now. And it’s killing me, not being able to tell you. We don’t need to do anything right now. I’m just –” he breathes hard, nose flaring, “God, the thought alone makes me so hard.”

A shuddered breath rattles out of your lungs, your bite your lip, but he pries it out with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

“Let me just fuck you right now. We can talk later. Just please, let me –”

“Okay,” you nod, fingers run through the short hair on his nape, the other hand fisting his shirt.

“Okay to what?” he stops to take a look at you, hand on your chin to make you look into his eyes.

“Let’s make a baby,” you kiss his lips once. But that just changes the entire course of this morning. A peck on his lips won’t cut it.

A sort of a growl leaves his lips, wetting his bottom lip, blunt nails holding you in a bruising grip as he turns you around once again. He rips your panties off your legs, using his foot to discard them once they reach your ankles. A nudge to your legs to part them and you brace yourself, a tight grip on the edge of the counter, anticipating his next move. Because, right now, you can tell he’s not the same Bucky anymore. Your affirmation on his request turned something entirely different in his brain – maybe he even short-circuited.

With a simple tug at the lapels of the shirt you’re wearing, he rips it open, the buttons falling on the granite countertops with a clattering sound. You’re bare before him in seconds, breathless before he even had a chance to touch you properly. A sweet whine parting from your lips when he squeezes your ass, his touch rougher than usual, spreads your cheeks and then –

“Oh, my God, Bucky –” he’s slipping his fingers inside you, collecting the wetness, holding your waist in a bruising grip. You roll your hips, trying to seek more of his touch. Your head feels heavy from the impact his words and his touch have on you.

You’re unbelievably wet, seeping down your thighs, down his fingers. Soaking him and still unable to stop yourself. His blood pumps a little harder in his chest, in his veins, breaths growing shallow with each passing of his fingers inside your tight, wet heat. Your legs start to shake after a particular thrust, unable to hold yourself up, crying out with tears burning behind your eyes.

You’re right there on the edge when his thumb stops circling and his fingers leave you empty.

“Why’d you stop?” you pant.

“I need to be inside you,” he groans, quickly taking off his shirt and sweatpants. His cock slaps wetly against his abdomen, twitching painfully when he touches himself. A few strokes, languid pulls that have his knees buckling, his hand joins next to yours on the counter and he lines himself along with your heat, “You sure you don’t wanna talk about this first?”

He can’t help but ask you, giving you an out before anything happens. He’s not sure why because he’s only wanted this for so long.

“Oh, Jesus – fuck, Bucky!” you pant, “Just fuck a baby into me already!”

The way he whimpers at your plea, desperate and frustrated, it’s hard not to comply with you, he slips right into you. He’s not met with much resistance, you’re impossibly wet and he’s sliding home in one long thrust. And the stunted breath that rags out of his mouth at the feeling of your walls clenching around his bare cock for the first time, it nearly sends him reeling.

Forehead on your shoulder, breathe hot on your back, Bucky holds off on fucking you right away. He can’t wrap his head around this feeling.

God, he needs a second.

“I can feel just how wet you are,” he whines, “Remind me, why did we ever use condoms?”

“The hell, if I knew,” you reply with a huffed chuckle.

“This has never felt so fuckin’ good,” he moans, starts moving, sliding out of you, leaving you almost empty before he’s rocking hard, back in. It’s enough to force the breath right out of your lungs.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about fucking you like this? With my bare cock inside you – Ah, shit.”

“Believe me, I have,” you’re surprised you could get the words out through your gasps.

This… new version of sex, where he can feel every soft glide of your walls, where you feel every smooth, hard ridge of his cock, drives you both insane.

Only makes him move faster, makes you spasm around him quicker. Your broken moans spur him on. He pulls you flat against his chest, his vibranium arm cool across your blazing torso, holding your body close to his as he picks up his pace.

It’s all primal. His instincts, animalistic. The only goal in his mind to fill you up full of him. His right hand travels down to your belly once again, feeling the outline of his cock moving inside you. Turns him on beyond his imagination. And he can’t wait to see you get round and big, to watch your breasts grow heavier, larger. He remembers reading they get sensitive, he wonders if you’ll come with just a touch of his hands, with just a swipe of his tongue when you reach that stage.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me once again,” he breathes out, fingers inch down to where he disappears inside you, again and again, collecting the wetness that trickles down your thighs only to help him circle your nub.

“I want this, Bucky. I wanna have your baby, oh please –” you writhe against him, push your ass back into his hips, your back arching away, cool vibranium fingers toy with your nipples.

“You have any idea the research I did for this?” he chuckles, helplessly, grinding into you, more so than thrusting, the tip of his cock brushing your sweet spot, deliciously, repeatedly once he finds that angle. “All the positions we could try out to get you pregnant? Just thinking of all the ways I could fuck a baby insida’ you. Drove me nuts, honey.”

“Bucky –” Your walls grip him tighter, and he almost stutters to a stops.

“You’re close, aren’t you? Shit, squeezing me like a vice, sweetheart.” You nod and at this point, you’re wailing. The only way to muffle yourself is when you turn your head, a hand at the back of his neck to guide him closer for a kiss. Your tongue laves at his, and he tries to keep up with his thrusts but they’re getting sloppy with the way you suck on his bottom lip.

A final push and a splurge of white-hot intensity distributes itself all over your body, starting from your belly, reaching up to your chest as it swells up, flushed. And he’s coming too, balls pulled up tightly, he grows painfully hard inside you right before he releases. Breath hot and heavy, sweaty chest shivering with the aftershocks.

“I wanna go again,” he says, panting, noses at the underside of your jaw. You turn around to face him, eyes wide, still trying to catch your breath.

“Really?” you croak out.

But he gives you that smirk, it turns your insides to mush, “What? Are you tired?”

“I’m not a super-soldier with an insane sex drive, baby. I might need a minute, though. I’m not sure if I can even hold myself up.” you huff out, resting your head on his shoulder, grateful for his arms around your body as it sags against his.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Bucky says before pulling out. He turns you around and picks you up before even a drop of his come can seep out of you. A yelp tumbling out of your lips as he hangs you over his left shoulder, your arms finding purchase on his body, though you know he’ll never drop you.

“Bucky! Put me down!” you squeal, all the blood rushing your brain for a second. His vibranium palm is secured around your legs, the other hand kneads your ass, as he walks down the hallway to your bedroom.

“Nope!” His answer is punctuated with a sharp spank on your ass.

He carefully settles you on the bed, body sinking into the soft mattress. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch him crawl up the bed on his knees. He stalks you like a predator, eyes hungry and dark, brimming with pure, unadulterated lust.

Your legs widen on their own, his hands rest on your knees as he settles between your thighs. That’s when you start to feel a sort of warmth trickle down your weeping cunt, but Bucky is quick to catch it.

“Not a chance in hell,” Two of his fingers gather the hot trail right before it soaks the sheets, he shakes his head, pushes it back where it came from. And oh, your head falls back, as a languid moan escapes your lips, you can’t help it. You can’t keep looking at the way he stares at you down there. Ready to devour you without a single breather.

He’s hard and sleek and glistening. Bottom lip trapped between his teeth, he curls his hand around his girth. Releases a shaky breath when his thumb grazes over the tip. He’s a throbbing, pathetic mess above you. Unable to control this insatiable appetite for sex that suddenly came over him. It’s surprising, but what else would you expect from a freaking super-soldier all set to breed you?

He slides himself between your folds, once, twice, a third time only to watch your writhe against the sheets. Hands caressing your curves, your breasts, tugging and squeezing. Legs somehow spreading wider.

“One more time and we’re done for today, yeah?” he asks, eyes finding yours, “I wanna try this one position I saw this morning.”

“Is that what got you all worked up?” you chuckle, “As long as you’re doing all the work.”

“Gladly,” he mumbles, and the slide is easy, and the moans that slip out of those plush pink lips, easier, softer. It’s so filthy – the wet, squelching sounds that now accompany your sweet love-making. Bucky leans down to be closer to you, a gentle hand cupping his scruffy cheek to guide him for a kiss as he sinks right in until there’s no room left.

Noses brushing, heads tilting, mouths divulging for deeper kisses, wet and warm and sloppy as he begins to move. He’s gentle this time, threading your fingers through his own next to your wild hair laid out on the pillow. His wedding ring lands on your sternum, right above your beating heart.

The overwhelming feeling from before, the primal instinct that had taken over him had settled down… for now. He just wants to make love to you, in your bed, create life inside you, for both of you.

He’s desperate, light-headed from all the blood rushing south. Even though you’ve done this countless times, you’ve never seen him like this. It turns you on beyond your imagination. How his hunger turned into anguish. How he’s the one that has turned into a pleading, whimpering mess.

You kiss him until he eases into your touch, delicate fingers running all over his hot skin, over the ridges of the muscles on his back, smooth and rippling. Over his erratically beating heart that you help calm down a bit. Tongue seeking out his own, to make him focus on this one feeling at a time. And he kisses you back, for what feels like an eternity.

When the need for air arises, he pulls away but presses his forehead against yours. Breaths mingling, hot and damp. Then he adjusts himself, in a way where he’s slipping inside you even more. Your calves are brought to be placed on his sturdy shoulders, secured there by his arms bracketing the outside of your thighs. It’s a good stretch, comfortable in a way that makes you purr like a kitten.

And then he begins his move once again, hips undulating, rolling deliciously, lazily. The sweet symphony of your love-making soon fills the room. Both of you moaning, panting, the sounds softer than before. He kisses you some more, pouring all his love, all his affection into this simple act because he cannot express it any other way. This right here, your cocoon of love and warmth, desire and lust is all you want, all you need.

He whispers sweet nothings, he calls you sweet names, he tells you how he cannot wait to start a family with you. How completely and hopelessly in love with you he is, and how it’s the only thing that helps him get up every morning. You, your love, the warmth that your offer him.

His lips catch a tear the dares to roll down the side of your face, tasting the saltiness. Legs giving out, slipping down his shoulders but he doesn’t stop moving.

Not when you’re both so close, not when your hand travels down to claw at his back, grounding him into you, not when you’re grinding yourself against him, and definitely not when you beg him not to stop.

Your soft hand around his sweaty neck urges him to look into your eyes. And he’s helpless when you whisper, “Come inside me.”

“Jesus, sweetheart –” He feels that tingling at the base of his spine.

“I want it, please, Bucky.” God, you don’t have to plead. Chest rubbing against chest, sweat sticking and fusing your bodies as one, hearts beating as one. Toppling over together.

“Oh, fuck me,” he all but whimpers, hips stuttering to an abrupt halt as he spills into you.

He stills once it’s all over. Those glazed, coral blue eyes gazing over your features. Lips pressing over the delicate frown between your brows, to ease it, to calm you. More kisses follow, on your eyelids, on your cheekbones, down your jaw and neck, and your clavicle, and finally a lazy one to your lips. You brush away the dampened hair that fall on his forehead, kissing him just as fervently.

“I love you,” he beats you by a fraction of a second because you utter the same three words right after him. A bite of your lip to stop the laughter from pouring out. The dimpled smile you give him clutches at his heartstrings. His chest swells impossibly large and he’s never been more in love with you.

“I hope this works,” you mumble, your knuckles gently brush over the top of his cheekbone. Eyes on his, soft and loving.

“It will,” He assures you, with a sweet kiss placed over the golden band of your wedding ring.

“If it doesn’t, we have all the time in the world to try more.”

“Hmm,” He grins, “Let’s hope we can try all the positions before we get pregnant.”

“But we can get pregnant and still have sex in those positions.”

“No, I wanna see which one worked for us.”

You laugh, “Why does it matter?”

“You never ask a man why the position matters.” He states it as it is. A stern but playful pout on his lips.

“That makes no sense.”

“We’re just gonna have to agree to disagree, sweetheart.”

-fin

i hope you enjoyed reading! as always feedback is greatly appreciated! :)