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mollyrealized · 2 months

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How Michael Met Neil

original direct link [MP3]

(Neil, if you see this, please feel free to grab the transcript and store on your site; I had no easy way of contacting you.)

DAVID TENNANT: Tell me about @neil-gaiman then, because he's in that category [previously: “such a profound effect on my life”] as well.

MICHAEL SHEEN: So this is what has brought us together.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: To the new love story for the 21st century.

DAVID: Exactly.

MICHAEL: So when I went to drama school, there was a guy called Gary Turner in my year. And within the first few weeks, we were doing something, having a drink or whatever. And he said to me, “Do you read comic books?”

And I said, “No.” I mean, this is … what … '88? '88, '89. So it was … now I know that it was a period of time that was a big change, transformation going through comic books. Rather than it being thought of as just superheroes and Batman and Superman, there was this whole new era of a generation of writers like Grant Morrison.

DAVID: The kids who'd grown up reading comic books were now making comic books

MICHAEL: Yeah, yeah, and starting to address different kinds of subjects through the comic book medium. So it wasn't about just superheroes, it was all kinds of stuff going on – really fascinating stuff. And I was totally unaware of this.

And so this guy Gary said to me, "Do you read them?" And I said, "No." And he went, "Right, okay, here's The Watchman [sic] by Alan Moore. Here's Swamp Thing. Here's Hellblazer. And here's Sandman.”

And Sandman was Neil Gaiman's big series that put his name on the map. And I read all those, and, just – I was blown away by all of them, but particularly the Sandman stories, because he was drawing on mythology, which was something I was really interested in, and fairy tales, folklore, and philosophy, and Shakespeare, and all kinds of stuff were being mixed up in this story. And I absolutely loved it.

So I became a big fan of Neil's, and started reading everything by him. And then fairly shortly after that, within six months to a year, Good Omens the book came out, which Neil wrote with Terry Pratchett. And so I got the book – because I was obviously a big fan of Neil's by this point – read it, loved it, then started reading Terry Pratchett’s stuff as well, because I didn't know his stuff before then – and then spent years and years and years just being a huge fan of both of them.

And then eventually when – I'd done films like the Underworld films and doing Twilight films. And I think it was one of the Twilight films, there was a lot of very snooty interviews that happened where people who considered themselves well above talking about things like Twilight were having to interview me … and, weirdly, coming at it from the attitude of 'clearly this is below you as well' … weirdly thinking I'm gonna go, 'Yeah, fucking Twilight.”

And I just used to go, "You know what? Some of the greatest writing of the last 50-100 years has happened in science fiction or fantasy." Philip K Dick is one of my favorite writers of all time. In fact, the production of Hamlet I did was mainly influenced by Philip K Dick. Ursula K. Le Guin and Asimov, and all these amazing people. And I talked about Neil as well. And so I went off on a bit of a rant in this interview.

Anyway, the interview came out about six months later, maybe. Knock on the door, open the door, delivery of a big box. That’s interesting. Open the box, there's a card at the top of the box. I open the card.

It says, From one fan to another, Neil Gaiman. And inside the box are first editions of Neil's stuff, and all kinds of interesting things by Neil. And he just sent this stuff.

DAVID: You'd never met him?

MICHAEL: Never met him. He'd read the interview, or someone had let him know about this interview where I'd sung his praises and stood up for him and the people who work within that sort of genre as being like …

And he just got in touch. We met up for the first time when he came to – I was in Los Angeles at the time, and he came to LA. And he said, "I'll take you for a meal."

I said, “All right.”

He said, "Do you want to go somewhere posh, or somewhere interesting?”

I said, "Let's go somewhere interesting."

He said, "Right, I'm going to take you to this restaurant called The Hump." And it's at Santa Monica Airport. And it's a sushi restaurant.

I was like, “Right, okay.” So I had a Mini at the time. And we get in my Mini and we drive off to Santa Monica Airport. And this restaurant was right on the tarmac, like, you could sit in the restaurant (there's nobody else there when we got there, we got there quite early) and you're watching the planes landing on Santa Monica Airport. It's extraordinary.

And the chef comes out and Neil says, "Just bring us whatever you want. Chef's choice."

So, I'd never really eaten sushi before. So we sit there; we had this incredible meal where they keep bringing these dishes out and they say, “This is [blah, blah, blah]. Just use a little bit of soy sauce or whatever.” You know, “This is eel. This is [blah].”

And then there was this one dish where they brought out and they didn't say what it was. It was like “mystery dish”, we had it ... delicious. Anyway, a few more people started coming into the restaurant as time went on.

And we're sort of getting near the end, and I said, "Neil, I can't eat anymore. I'm gonna have to stop now. This is great, but I can't eat–"

"Right, okay. We'll ask for the bill in a minute."

And then the door opens and some very official people come in. And it was the Feds. And the Feds came in, and we knew they were because they had jackets on that said they were part of the Federal Bureau of Whatever. And about six of them come in. Two of them go … one goes behind the counter, two go into the kitchen, one goes to the back. They've all got like guns on and stuff.

And me and Neil are like, "What on Earth is going on?"

And then eventually one guy goes, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't ordered already, please leave. If you're still eating your meal, please finish up, pay your bill, leave."*

[* - delivered in a perfect American ‘serious law agent’ accent/impression]

And we were like, "Oh my God, are we poisoned? Is there some terrible thing that's happened?"

We'd finished, so we pay our bill. And then all the kitchen staff are brought out. And the head chef is there. The guy who's been bringing us this food. And he's in tears. And he says to Neil, "I'm so sorry." He apologizes to Neil. And we leave. We have no idea what happened.

DAVID: But you're assuming it's the mystery dish.

MICHAEL: Well, we're assuming that we can't be going to – we can't be – it can't be poisonous. You know what I mean? It can't be that there's terrible, terrible things.

So the next day was the Oscars, which is why Neil was in town. Because Coraline had been nominated for an Oscar. Best documentary that year was won by The Cove, which was by a team of people who had come across dolphins being killed, I think.

Turns out, what was happening at this restaurant was that they were having illegal endangered species flown in to the airport, and then being brought around the back of the restaurant into the kitchen.

We had eaten whale – endangered species whale. That was the mystery dish that they didn't say what it was.

And the team behind The Cove were behind this sting, and they took them down that night whilst we were there.

DAVID: That’s extraordinary.

MICHAEL: And we didn't find this out for months. So for months, me and Neil were like, "Have you worked anything out yet? Have you heard anything?"

"No, I haven't heard anything."

And then we heard that it was something to do with The Cove, and then we eventually found out that that restaurant, they were all arrested. The restaurant was shut down. And it was because of that. And we'd eaten whale that night.

DAVID: And that was your first meeting with Neil Gaiman.

MICHAEL: That was my first meeting. And also in the drive home that night from that restaurant, he said, and we were in my Mini, he said, "Have you found the secret compartment?"

I said, "What are you talking about?" It's such a Neil Gaiman thing to say.

DAVID: Isn't it?

MICHAEL: The secret compartment? Yeah. Each Mini has got a secret compartment. I said, "I had no idea." It's secret. And he pressed a little button and a thing opened up. And it was a secret compartment in my own car that Neil Gaiman showed me.

DAVID: Was there anything inside it?

MICHAEL: Yeah, there was a little man. And he jumped out and went, "Hello!" No, there was nothing in there. There was afterwards because I started putting...

DAVID: Sure. That's a very Neil Gaiman story. All of that is such a Neil Gaiman story.

MICHAEL: That's how it began. Yeah.

DAVID: And then he came to offer you the part in Good Omens.

MICHAEL: Yeah. Well, we became friends and we would whenever he was in town, we would meet up and yeah, and then eventually he started, he said, "You know, I'm working on an adaptation of Good Omens." And I can remember at one point Terry Gilliam was going to maybe make a film of it. And I remember being there with Neil and Terry when they were talking about it. And...

DAVID: Were you involved at that point?

MICHAEL: No, no, I wasn't involved. I just happened to have met up with Neil that day.

DAVID: Right.

MICHAEL: And then Terry Gilliam came along and they were chatting, that was the day they were talking about that or whatever.

And then eventually he sent me one of the scripts for an early draft of like the first episode of Good Omens. And he said – and we started talking about me being involved in it, doing it – he said, “Would you be interested?” I was like, "Yeah, of course." I went, "Oh my God." And he said, "Well, I'll send you the scripts when they come," and I would read them, and we'd talk about them a little bit. And so I was involved.

But it was always at that point with the idea, because he'd always said about playing Crowley in it. And so, as time went on, as I was reading the scripts, I was thinking, "I don't think I can play Crowley. I don't think I'm going to be able to do it." And I started to get a bit nervous because I thought, “I don't want to tell Neil that I don't think I can do this.” But I just felt like I don't think I can play Crowley.

DAVID: Of course you can [play Crowley?].

MICHAEL: Well, I just on a sort of, on a gut level, sometimes you have it on a gut level.

DAVID: Sure, sure.

MICHAEL: I can do this.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: Or I can't do this. And I just thought, “You know what, this is not the part for me. The other part is better for me, I think. I think I can do that, I don't think I could do that.”

But I was scared to tell Neil because I thought, "Well, he wants me to play Crowley" – and then it turned out he had been feeling the same way as well. And he hadn't wanted to mention it to me, but he was like, "I think Michael should really play Aziraphale."

And neither of us would bring it up. And then eventually we did. And it was one of those things where you go, "Oh, thank God you said that. I feel exactly the same way." And then I think within a fairly short space of time, he said, “I think we've got … David Tennant … for Crowley.” And we both got very excited about that.

And then all these extraordinary people started to join in. And then, and then off we went.

DAVID: That's the other thing about Neil, he collects people, doesn't he? So he'll just go, “Oh, yeah, I've phoned up Frances McDormand, she's up for it.” Yeah. You're, what?

MICHAEL: “I emailed Jon Hamm.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And yeah, and you realize how beloved he is and how beloved his work is. And I think we would both recognise that Good Omens is one of the most beloved of all of Neil's stuff.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: And had never been turned into anything.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And so the kind of responsibility of that, I mean, for me, for someone who has been a fan of him and a fan of the book for so long, I can empathize with all the fans out there who are like, “Oh, they better not fuck this up.”

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: “And this had better be good.” And I have that part of me. But then, of course, the other part of me is like, “But I'm the one who might be fucking it up.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: So I feel that responsibility as well.

DAVID: But we have Neil on site.

MICHAEL: Yes. Well, Neil being the showrunner …

DAVID: Yeah. I think it takes the curse off.

MICHAEL: … I think it made a massive difference, didn't it? Yeah. You feel like you're in safe hands.

DAVID: Well, we think. Not that the world has seen it yet.

MICHAEL (grimly): No, I know.

DAVID: But it was a -- it's been a -- it's been a joy to work with you on it. I can't wait for the world to see it.

MICHAEL: Oh my God. Oh, well, I mean, it's the only, I've done a few things where there are two people, it's a bit of a double act, like Frost-Nixon and The Queen, I suppose, in some ways. But, and I've done it, Amadeus or whatever.

This is the only thing I've done where I really don't think of it as “my character” or “my performance as that character”. I think of it totally as us.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: The two of us.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: Like they, what I do is defined by what you do.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And that was such a joy to have that experience. And it made it so much easier in a way as well, I found, because you don't feel like you're on your own in it. Like it's totally us together doing this and the two characters totally complement each other. And the experience of doing it was just a real joy.

DAVID: Yeah. Well, I hope the world is as excited to see it as we are to talk about it, frankly.

MICHAEL: You know, there's, having talked about T.S. Eliot earlier, there's another bit from The Wasteland where there's a line which goes, These fragments I have shored against my ruin.

And this is how I think about life now. There is so much in life, no matter what your circumstances, no matter what, where you've got, what you've done, how much money you got, all that. Life's hard. I mean, you can, it can take you down at any point.

You have to find this stuff. You have to like find things that will, these fragments that you hold to yourself, they become like a liferaft, and especially as time goes on, I think, as I've got older, I've realized it is a thin line between surviving this life and going under.

And the things that keep you afloat are these fragments, these things that are meaningful to you and what's meaningful to you will be not-meaningful to someone else, you know. But whatever it is that matters to you, it doesn't matter what it was you were into when you were a teenager, a kid, it doesn't matter what it is. Go and find them, and find some way to hold them close to you.

Make it, go and get it. Because those are the things that keep you afloat. They really are. Like doing that with him or whatever it is, these are the fragments that have shored against my ruin. Absolutely.

DAVID: That's lovely. Michael, thank you so much.

MICHAEL: Thank you.

DAVID: For talking today and for being here.

MICHAEL: Oh, it's a pleasure. Thank you.

#neil gaiman #michael sheen #david tennant does a podcast with...#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #sushi #whale #the cove #oscars 2010 #coraline #mini secret compartments #howneilmetmichael #howmichaelmetneil

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klausinamarink · 2 months

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based on this hilarious video with Gianmarco Soresi whom I’ve been watching his comedy work for a few months now

read on ao3

“What do you do?” The standup of the hour - the guy had introduced himself as Eddie - points at Steve.

Flustered at the attention directing every eye in the club to his table, Steve tries not to stammer as he answers, “Well, uh, I make movies.”

“Oh!” Eddie genuinely looks interested. “So you’re a director?”

“Yeah, pretty much. At least I started out as an indie, but I have a big project that’s out and a couple more on the way.” One table nearby claps and Steve tries to wave them off to stop.

“So what was that big project? Was it something we would’ve seen?” Eddie repositions himself so he has one leg up on the stool. Steve stares at how lean they seem with the tight black jeans. He’s got them daddy long legs. His brain suddenly burps out and it nearly makes Steve lose his composure.

“Uh, ha, I did The Final Bat. It’s on Shudder.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly, perfectly hiding his internal cringe. The horror genre is way out of his league and Steve’s already seen The Final Bat being on a few critical lists damning the title as another cliche-filled mess. He only did it because he had finally caved to Dustin’s pleading to make at least one horror movie.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems ecstatic by this revelation. “No way! That’s sick, dude! So the next time you make a horror flick, you’re gonna watch Blumhouse and A24 coming in at each other with steel chairs for distribution rights.”

Everyone laughs, including Robin. She smacks on Steve’s bicep with a wide grin. He smacks her back before he turns back to Eddie and clarifies, “I don’t like horror! I’m not doing it again!”

Aghast, Eddie throws an invisible hat to the ground and stamps on his feet. “Come on! Then what’s the point of watching the studios bite each other’s dicks off when you’re slipping out to watch - I don’t know - the Barbie movie! Now they’re just fighting for the next shitty horror movie to exist!”

Steve covers his mouth but fails to hold back in the laughter. Eddie’s infectious energy is starting to get to him. It makes his chest clench with something other than the usual pains.

Eddie patiently waits for the patrons to quiet down before continuing, still attentive to Steve, “I’m just wondering actually if you ever done theater class.”

“Sure did! Two years in high school,” Steve confirms.

“Let me guess, they did Hamlet?” Eddie raises an eyebrow like it’s meant to be accusatory.

“Yep, soon after I joined.” Steve nods, the memory of that production flashing before his eyes. It had its ups and downs but it was one of the most fun things Steve had ever experienced.

“No wonder they started as soon as your handsome ass walked in the club.” Eddie says low and flirtatiously into the microphone, staring directly into Steve’s eyes. It echoes across the room and back, bringing the howling laughter with it.

Heat crawls behind his face. Steve keeps his hands on the table, forcing down the urge to hide behind them. “I-” He stops to cough, “I wasn’t supposed to play Hamlet.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, “What do you mean?!”

Robin answers loud enough for everyone to hear, “He was the grave robber, but the other guy who did Hamlet got into a coma a week before the show and Steve knew all the lines.”

“W-Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie holds his hands out, looking scandalous. He throws looks around the club. “Everyone, shut the fuck up right now! This is more important than caring about the rest of you!” Eddie drags the stool over and perches on it like a very much invested gargoyle, almost oblivious to the audience’s reaction.

“Okay, let me go through this.” He points at Steve, still holding eye contact as if Steve’s soul would provide the answer. “You weren’t Hamlet. You were meant to be the guy who gives him the skull to monologue. The OG Hamlet got into a coma for some reason-“

“Car accident.” Robin interjects.

“Yeah, no need to elaborate, ma’am. You, Steve-” Eddie breaks off for a second, holding back a laugh of his own. “You somehow knew all the Hamlet lines because you were waiting to skin OG Hamlet’s head and make his skull yours to do the monologue.”

There’s a scandalous outcry from all tables. Even when they mostly calm down, Steve uses the growing anticipation to ‘think’ about what Eddie just said before he casually shrugs and says, “Sounds about right.”

Eddie drops his face into his arm, letting everyone laugh at him. Steve lets himself break, his laughter bubbling out of him in a way that doesn’t sound so self-deprecating or hollow. If he was in a cynical mood, he would’ve thought it was pathetic that the only person who made him laugh so lightly again was some random standup.

After a moment, Eddie finally looks up, his face broken in disbelieving grin. He chuckles into the mic and looks back at Steve, “Sorry, it’s just I hear some wild stories in the crowd some nights and I think yours takes the cake.”

Steve smiles, “Thanks, man.”

Eddie stands up back, half-leaning onto the stool. “Do you still remember those lines? To be or not to be?”

The whole damn thing. “Uh… some of it?”

Eddie’s grin shifts into something more mischievous. “Let’s see who knows more.”

A collective oooh goes around the room, including Robin. She already has her phone out for recording. Steve rolls his eyes at her and takes a quick sip of his water. He clears his throat and starts, “‘To be or not to be, that is the question.’”

“‘Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune..’” Eddie says without missing a beat.

Oh, he thinks he knows it all. The sense of competition that Steve thought had died out with his future of a sports career reignites in his chest. He sits up even straighter. “‘Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.’”

“‘To die-to sleep, no more.’” Eddie slowly walks over to the edge of the stage, “‘And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.’”

“'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd.’” Steve almost shivers as he recites the line, uncertain if it’s from the club’s cooling temperatures or the intense gaze from Eddie’s eyes. “‘To die, to sleep.’”

“‘To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub,’” Eddie suggestively rubs a hand on his chest as he squats down. Steve’s eyes flicker to the hand, almost hypnotized by the motion. Nay, he shakes himself out of it. No distractions!

“‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.’” It’s getting harder to remember the following lines. That hasn’t happened before. Steve has never forgotten the damn soliloquy in years, even when other people try to challenge him.

Eddie continues, “‘Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely.’”

“‘The pangs-’” Steve feels his breath catching in his throat when he realizes, for the first time, what beautiful eyes Eddie has.

Oh.

Eddie suddenly perks up in excitement. For a second, Steve thinks that Eddie has come to the exact same thoughts for him. But then he remembers that he hasn’t completed his line, so Steve feigns defeat.

“I win!” Eddie stands up with a triumphant cry. He spreads his arms out to embrace the cheering whoops and applause. “And I’ve only got to play Hamlet in-” He spins around and crouches down so he can look Steve in the eye again as Eddie’s voice booms into the mic, “-FOURTH GRADE, MOTHERFUCKER!”

Steve’s not even mad. He just throws his head back, laughing and clapping along.

Almost too soon, Eddie moves on to heckle on another table. But he keeps glancing over at Steve, his smile widening every time. And Steve smiles back, feeling a laugh slip out of his slips at every joke. He watches Eddie more closely, feeling his heart pound faster in his chest the more Eddie stays onstage.

By the time Eddie has to depart and thank everyone for being here, Robin announces her need to go home and snuggle with her girlfriend.

“Man, that was the most I’ve ever laughed in this place.” Steve stretches his back, groaning at the little pops. God, being in his early thirties can be a bitch sometimes.

Robin only hums, moving her eyebrows up and down suggestively. Steve pointedly makes no further comment as he pays the tab.

Outside, the crisp night air welcomes him. Steve takes in a whiff, staring up at the light-polluted sky as he bids Robin a goodbye. Then he hears his name being called. He turns around and sees Eddie hurrying out the doors.

Steve feels a smile already on his face, “Hey, Hamlet.”

Eddie grins at him, teeth and all, “Hey, yourself.”

They stare at each other but it lacks the competitive intensity earlier. Steve likes this. But he already has a feeling that this won’t be the first time either one of them would challenge the other.

“Sooo…” Steve says when the silence stretches a little too long. He gestures between himself and Eddie, “Wanna restart our introductions?”

Eddie’s eyes brighten, “Yeah! Right, sorry.” He clears his throat and thrusts a hand out. “My name is Eddie Munson. Self-proclaimed comedian and musician. You may recognize me as the guy who beat you in Hamlet’s famous speech.”

Steve takes his hand. Eddie feels bony and thin, but large enough to fit perfectly into Steve’s palm. He tries not to sound so eager as he says, “Steve Harrington. Film director who doesn’t like horror. Believe it or not, I actually know the whole stupid thing.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, “Really? Like, no offense, but even if you remember that much-”

“‘And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.’” Steve winks with the Harrington Charm, smile and all.

Eddie stares at him for so long that Steve feels his heart racing for a different reason. And then, Eddie turns around and muffles a loud scream into his free hand. When the man turns back to face him, he’s sporting the widest smile Steve has never seen.

“You knew the whole thing!?” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with utter adoration.

“Yep.” Steve pops the ‘p’, grinning like a little shit.

“But why did you forget that line?”

“Let’s just say,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, “I got distracted by the pangs of love.”

Eddie bites on his lower lip as he swoons his body over so they are pressing against each other. With half-lidded eyes, Eddie whispers, “You know that part is Hamlet referring to missing his dead dad, right?”

Of course Steve couldn’t help but kiss him.

#and now for something silly #as if i don’t always write something silly for steddie #klaus writes #steddie #stranger things

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lethal-liability · 2 years

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I can't fucking stand my dad I'm so pissed at him this is the second fucking time he's let Hamlet into the backyard knowing he's been getting out and we haven't fixed the fence yet, and the second time that when I confront him about it, he admits to knowing the dog was missing and didn't bother to go look for him!!!

Hamlet is safe, by the way, I found him when I got home

#one of my childhood dogs died when he got out of the house and hit on the street and another one ran away and we never found her #im so sick of him being so flippant about the dog's safety!!#its a fucking miracle hamlet was sitting on the doorstep when i got home!#ugh im just so frustrated he just doesnt care #tw animal death #in the tags #ari screams into the void

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yorsgirl · 25 days

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Perhaps, in another realm

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: An elixir of life – you, destined solely for his consumption. Yet, in his pursuit, he forgot, he sipped away your essence, your breath of life.

Tropes: Dark romance, Angst, fluff.

Warnings: implied nsfw, implied forced intimacy, forced marriage, baby-trapping, knife play(intimate acts using a knife), yandere(someone completely infatuated with a person, prepared to commit violent acts for them) themes, isolation, trauma, one-sided love implied, non-explicit violence, mild stockholm syndrome(to empathize with one's captor), misogyny(the idea that women are inferior to men), minor character death, healthily unhealthy relationship, Sukuna being a red-green flag, Sukuna has eyes for no one except his wife, Cameo: Uraume (they/them pronouns).

General Warnings: Heian Era, strict Japanese setting, usage of Japanese terms(glossary provided), True form!Sukuna, husband!Sukuna, wife!reader, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 3.7k

Glossary

Ryomen Sukuna beholds secrets which he musn't.

Each dawn's awakening, he notes the sun's radiant dance on your irises. Marking the gentle arc of your lips, a telltale sign of mirth's embrace. By the garden's edge, he watches as the winds tousle and play with your hair curls.

With each flicker of your essence, he can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his own inability to guard his heart against the allure of your presence. Each time your unpredictability unfolds before him, he curses his own vulnerability for the arising tenderness within him.

It vexes him deeply.

Gnawing at the recesses of his, once assumed, dormant heart. Yet, now brought to life by unknown sensations – fuzzy and irksome.

An elixir of life – you. Meant to be solely consumed by him.

Your intricate curls destined to be twirled in his fingers alone. Singularly, he'd stand as the privileged observer, captivated by your brilliant elegance. Your figure draped in the resplendent folds of an opulent kimono, delicately bestowed upon you by his hands.

Thus, he embarked on the sole course he could comprehend – take you.

Splitting you away from the familiarity of a family, hearth and hamlet; for in his eyes, your fragile essence demands his safeguarding against this wicked, cruel realm.

Persuading you, that a life enfolded in his embrace had no reason for trepidation. Your purity, too immaculate to endure the harshness of existence.

Yet, persuasion faltered; your resolute heart held no inclination to remain in his grasp. Mounting a relentless siege, to break free from him and his distorted path.

"You crave peril as I assume, so be it," He conceded. "But know this: I'll be the sole peril haunting your very being."

Pressed beneath the weight of his body upon the bed, your resistance proves to be futile against his strength. Leaving you ensnared in a struggle where defiance falters in presence of his immense power.

"Isn't this what you desired? Didn't you yearn for peril?" He questions, his forefinger trailed across the delicate curve of your neck, assessing the rhythmic beat of your pulse point.

"Fear not, I shall burn the world down to literal ashes until none poses a threat to you, save for me, of course."

For danger, befalling upon you while his eyes held the witness and hands were the forebearer of pain – he'd allow. After all, he embodied peril, haunting humanity for centuries.

"My dearest," He began, twirling a blade before your defiant gaze. "I've wielded this to afflict your kin but fear not, it shall yield pure ecstacy for you."

Said so, he thrusted the timber end of the blade within your slick, delicate folds. Your screams shunned out over his malevolent laughter, fingers twisted the cotton sheets as he glided the blade in-and-out of you.

Blood dripped down his wounded hand, staining the white to red, yet his countenance held no response to pain. Gaze fixated upon your shuddering form, underneath him.

He was no stranger to the acts committed in bed. Knowledgeable of all ministrations and threads he needed to ensnared in order to make it pleasurable. Yet, you found no pleasure in this undoing.

The act of intimacy, which you envisioned to be filled with love while your lover would pepper kisses on your skin much akin to the gentle touch of spring's warmth.

That dream left shattered like shards of glass when your chastity was cruelly left to ruins under his harsh caress.

The night stretched on, your anguish unending as he remained vigilant, subjecting you to his torment.

When it ceased, he gingerly held your fragility while tears streamed down your eyes. He cradled your head in his palm, enfolding your trembling form against his chest as he murmured endearments into your parched ears.

You feebly hit on his chest, for you were seeking comfort from your captor – a sickening act.

He brought you pain and despair, yet here he was, bringing you solace in his arms. A sickening man, indeed, he was.

And with him, you were to stay.

You kneeled before the shrine deity.

Decked in a white shiromuku with traces of pink pattern embellishing the fabric, haori lowered just above your lips – grateful to the one who dressed you. Moisture laden lashes would've been a sight for sore eyes.

Beside you, your husband knelt. A black montsukini hakama draped around your self-proclaimed fiance and soon to be husband. Perhaps, you'd have seized the moment to admire him in such a lavish attire if he didn't commit the acts he did.

Abduction and coercion reigned heavy on your mind, the priest's chanting muffled over your loud thoughts. Your fear of the impending, palpable.

Later, you stood by his side, bedecked in jewels, unknown to you. Countless villagers and curses bowed before you but you were a foreigner to such deference.

It was his decree. For he was the King of curses and you – his consort, his queen.

Sukuna witnessed you gazing at the pond situated in his garden.

You gazed upon the lotus blooming at the heart of the pond, longingly. Reaching out for it, the trailing end of your garment splashed in the water – a futile attempt, too distant to grasp.

He stifled a snort on the brink of his lips as he descended into the garden, tethering on the stoned pads placed in between soil – approaching you.

"You desire that flower, wife?"

You rose swiftly, clutching the dampened hem of your attire. Refusing to meet his gaze, you brushed off the fabric, clearing away the soil.

"Apologies," You murmured. "I was just curious."

"That doesn't answer my question." He stated, an arch of his eyebrow at your frame. "Do you yearn for it?"

Standing before him, a hush lingered in the air, mere seconds passing. Fingers fidgeting, you nibbled on your inner cheek.

"Perhaps," you admitted, finally locking eyes with his feet once he takes a step forward. Bracing for the inevitable, you tightly shut your eyes.

You shouldn't have considered it. Entertaining the thought of plucking it behind his back, hoping he wouldn't notice, all the while unaware of his presence. You should have realized. Defiance in the past had met harsh retribution. This would be no exception.

"I beg–"

"Enough," He interjected.

You gritted your teeth, fists clenched tightly. This was worse. A single mistake, and you're sealed to a worse fate.

Yet, the vision never bore life.

He took your right hand, delicately clasping it within his own. Slowly, he pried open each finger, tenderly placing something within. Curiosity overrides your apprehension, and you cautiously open your eyes – finding the lotus nestled in your palm.

Your lips parted in astonishment as you gaze up at him, wonderstruck.

"Apologies should not leave your lips for trying to claim what is rightfully yours." He asserted, a ghost of an arc perched upon his lips.

"You desire something, you speak up," He waited, letting the words sink down. "Its upon me, how I'll bring it to fruition."

"You are to accompany master to dinner tonight," Uraume conveyed, head and eyes lowered in a humble bow.

The fusuma slid shut, signaling their departure, leaving you to your solitude once again.

Lately, companionship has been ceased from your existence. Confined to your chambers by Sukuna's decree that none other than he should share a moment with you. Save for his devoted servant and few maids he deemed worthy, who prepared you for the day.

Upon your bed, you rested, gazing into a void. Softly humming a melody, reminiscent of a distant song, echoing from the depths of your memory; harkening down the familial embrace in your ancestral village.

The day commenced to dusk, the sky donning a cloak of darkness – welcoming the night's silhouette.

Attended by chosen handmaidens, you were draped in a lavish kimono of crimson and ivory. Crushed red cherry paste graced your lips, a stroke of kohl ran along your lashlines.

You beheld your reflection, lovely; yet the joy eluded you. Unable to savor your captivating visage amidst your plight.

You were escorted to the dining hall by Uraume. As the doors parted, your captor, your husband, awaited you; seated on the head of the table. You took your place across him, evading his malevolent stare, your attention fixed solely on the delicacies presented by the servants.

"Afraid to meet my gaze, wife?" He inquired, his smirk palpable in his tone.

Still, you didn't meet his gaze, eyes fixed on your folded hands resting neatly on your lap. "I fear, I am not deserving to meet your eyes, your highness."

His sight danced upon your figure, measuring you as though you were his quarry. A chuckle escaped him as he poured the sake in his ochoko, indulging in a sip.

"Amusing, how you speak so when you are moons away from birthing my offspring, wife."

Your frame grew rigid, lips drawn tight whilst you glanced at your burgeoning womb.

Restraints couldn't bond you to him forever, he comprehended that moons past. Thus, he had to resort to unruly stratagems. Seeding you with his progeny – rendering you incapable of fleeing him.

If only, you acquiesced and remained by his side, as he craved, he wouldn't have acted thus. But your resolve left him with no alternative.

Not a matter to ponder his head upon, he would've planted his seed in you eventually. A kinship with you, his aspiration.

"I wouldn't leave you famished in such a state, wife. Begin eating." He declared, slicing a strip of meat with his chopsticks.

Eating, as if it were possible in such a condition. The satisfaction of a hearty meal has long deserted you. You didn't suspect the flavors of dishes perched before you. Furthermore, you lacked appetite.

You partook in meals solely to survive.

With adjoined palms, you offered a silent prayer to the almighty reigning above you. And so, you began.

Blood bathed the tatami mats of your chambers.

A severed head of a, newly appointed, handmaiden, laid near your feet. Her corpse, probably resulted into hundreds– no thousands of strips, indistinguishable.

Your stance remained rigid and motionless. Terror evident on your countenance, fragile fingertips shaking with shock and apprehension.

"Ah wife," Your husband's voice echoed in your ears. He approached you, stepping over the puddle of blood and sliced flesh.

"You weren't supposed to witness that– come," He gingerly caressed your skin, ushering you out of his chambers with a hand on your back.

"Uraume," He summoned his loyal servant, as on cue, they knelt before their master. "Have the maids tidy this mess."

With the subtle nod, Uraume pivoted around, carrying out their master's command alike a proclamation from thee almighty.

Snapping a life wasn't on his schedule today. He wished to spent it with you, hence summoning you back to your chambers.

Perhaps, a foolish handmaiden, attracted by his visage, made the decision to lure him with her appeal. Lowering her uniform to display her curve of of breast, singing praises of his brilliance to him.

Taken him to be resembling any ordinary man, giving into his desires by just any woman's revealed skin. Alas! He had no interest in any woman other than his wife.

An act of like that, only receives the treatment he'd bestow upon any mortal other than you.

Death.

"I must say, you look lovely, my queen." Twirling a strand of your hair, he pushed it behind your ear.

Upon the engawa of your husband's abode, you knelt, sight fixated on the swarm of fireflies illuminating the garden.

Sukuna held his stance beside you, lower two hands bearing his weight behind, the third perched upon his arched knee. He set the kiseru down with the fourth, his thumb and forefinger lifted your chin; coaxing your towards him.

"Intriguing, you are," He remarked, eyebrow arched.

"Such defiance you displayed upon our initial union, and now, you show indifference. Continuously subjecting me to such blank stares and compliance." A hint of exasperation lingered his tone.

"Isn't that what you wished for?" You retorted, a moment later.

Drawing you near, his lips brushed against yours, "Perhaps, I did do." He murmured, breath caressing your cheeks, prompting a flutter of your eyelids.

"But now, I yearn for something greater."

With that, he seized your lips in a fervent, fiery kiss. Only parting, a hair's breath away, to allow you to catch your breath.

He pivoted you gently, drawing you into his embrace. Two arms encircled your waist, one caressing your swollen belly. Third, Brushing aside your hair, you heard the tinkling of ornaments. Moments later, a chain adorned your neck, a crimson gemstone nestled between your collarbones.

"Ruby?"

"Rubies are ill-suited during pregnancy, its diamond" He corrected, whispering beside your ear, securing the clasp of the chain. "Unlike most, this one's tint sets it apart than rest."

"For what?" You questioned, assessing the gem like it were poison. Grasping it between your middle finger and thumb, the lantern lights reflected on its surface. Though small, you knew it amounted to more than your ancestral wealth.

"Do I need a reason to spoil my wife with jewels?"

A moment passed in silence, your gazed him through your peripheral vision, the next. "Perhaps not, its beautiul."

"Turn around," He commanded, you complied instinctively. Turning your body to face him.

His gaze met yours at first, second they drifted to the chain bedecked on your neck and on third, he glanced at both, at once.

The jewel's radiance evoked with you being it's wearer.

A grin cracked upon his lips, gingerly holding your cheek in his calloused hands in which you begrudgingly leaned in. With a mouth, summoned on his palm, he placed a chaste kiss on your skin.

"Just how Intriguing you are, wife."

Love for your son eluded you.

A splitting image of his father with the identical hair and carmine tinted eyes. You pondered if he'd grow up to be just like your husband.

At days, you couldn't muster the courage to cast your eyes upon him. His mere presence: a testament to your plight, evidence that you were no longer the woman you once were and evidence to your compliance to Sukuna's desires.

Even then, you never shied away from your duties as a mother.

Perhaps, some love existed, for he wielded your flesh and blood too.

You were rendered from ever escaping. Though half-heartedly, you didn't wish to leave your child with Sukuna even though you despised both of their existence.

In this era, nurturing a child as a sole woman was beyond grasp. For all held the thought, as a woman your sole duty was to remain by your husband's side and bear his offspring.

You couldn't return to your home either. Your father, though loved you, would never let you set foot in his abode ever again.

Reasons: You were abducted by a man, your chastity stripped off of you. You were no longer pure in any sense.

He wouldn't tarnish his family name and reputation for just a daughter.

Moreover, your matrimony with the wicked, king of curses had reached rivers far; binding you to his side forever.

Peril loomed at every turn, dangling your life by a single thread. Easily snapped by even the weakest of men. Sukuna's adversaries would leave no stone unturned to reach him, venturing as far to lay down the life of his innocent wife. Someone absolved of his transgressions.

Reluctantly, you accepted that remaining by his side was the wisest decision.

You cradled your son in your embrace, rocking him back and forth as you hummed a lullaby to put him to sleep.

Once his snores serenaded the room, you tenderly placed him upon his cot, adjacent to your own resting place. Gentle pats graced his chest, once you noted him stirring in the embrace of slumber.

"Come to bed," Your husband's voice echoed in your ears. Compliance swiped in your being, a swift rotation of your heels after you had checked your son to be far from awakening. You parted the curtains and perched upon the bed – lying beside your husband.

His arms encircled around your waist, drawing you to his chest, he inhaled your scent.

Your body tensed when his lips brushed against your nape. You dreaded the inevitable.

Six moons had passed, since he last embraced you intimately. The last two, post your son's arrival, were a blur of exhaustion. From tending to your physical strain and catering to your son's ceaseless crave of attention.

Tonight, all you longed for was to surrender yourself to slumber, wrapped in embrace of gentle linens. Alas, it seemed that wish would remain unfulfilled.

You were keenly aware of his intentions tonight – for he was but a man. Thus, you braced yourself.

You waited in anticipation, for him to act on his desires. Yet, it did not come to pass.

You cracked your eyelids open, stealing a glance at him. His carmine eyes met yours in a resolute stare, holding it with unwavering poise.

"Retire to sleep," he finally remarked, tenderly brushing aside the tendrils from your weary visage.

A year prior, during the early nights of your newly forged union, you would have taken a moment to contemplate his actions, perhaps even staying awake the entire night to discern his intentions.

Now, whether out of trust or simply exhaustion from the demands of motherhood – you found yourself slipping into a dreamless slumber without further ado.

The haunting nightmare of humanity, he was; yet, you found solace in falling asleep in his embrace.

His son has taken just after you.

Verily, his offspring could be likened unto a veritable likeness of himself in countenance, yet in comportment and carriage, he bespoke tales of you.

Awaking to the crack of dawn, shedding tears should companionship elude him. Taking solace in the embrace of the verdant garden, to which you oft escorted him. Even directing reproachful glances towards him, his father, whilst cradled lovingly in his paternal arms.

Beneath your eyes lay heavy shadows, hollows etched upon your cheeks, and a perpetual frown graced your lips, save for moments spent conversing with your offspring.

Sukuna escorted his sobbing kin from their chambers, affording you the much-needed respite that has eluded you of late; his offspring casted a disdainful gaze upon him.

"What? Speak up if you wish to," He queried, a playful lilt adorning his speech.

He tenderly traced his son's tender cheek with his claw, wary of leaving any mark upon his cherubic visage. His son seized his finger in both tiny hands, elevating it as though clutching a covert weapon – scrutinizing the nail and the ridges with keen interest.

His little one beamed, a gesture akin to the gentle breeze of summer, bestowed upon him by the heavens above. A giggle swift past his lips – a laughter, he assumed angel's melody wouldn't sound better.

His smile was yours – Sukuna realized. Perhaps, he hadn't completely taken after him in physical features.

Rocking his form back and forth on his arms, a tender smile danced upon his lips.

"Lower the tone, child. Your mother rests inside."

Sukuna couldn't help but contemplate alternative scenarios.

He sipped his sake, his gaze fixed upon your figure, leaning against the amado – your eyes lingering on the cherry blossom trees outside, in the garden.

The fragrance of spring permeated the air, imbuing a soothing atmosphere, starkly contrasting with the terror he instilled upon the village beyond the river.

At moments such as these, he can't help but ponder on the possibility of attaining a kinship with you, without resorting to unruly methods.

His thoughts rewind to the clash conversation he shared with you, mere moments past.

In your gaze, defiance ablazed, aimed straight at him.

"What's your intent? To end my life? Proceed, now. Who held you back? Proceed. Perhaps, I'd choose that fate over spending another day with you."

"Make no mistake," You pressed on. "My sentiment for you isn't love, don't deceive yourself. What festers within me is pure, unadulterated hate."

How could he let slip from memory? A curse he was, brutal and unyielding. Unwelcomed, marked with shame – The disgraceful one. How could he fail to recall? Love's realm, forever beyond the reach of his reach.

He seized you, by means unorthodox yet deemed vital. Yet, he finds himself lost in contemplation.

What if he had treaded a different path?

Would a love aglow your heart if he had courted you in a proper manner? Would you accept him in your life – a husband, a companion, a lover? Would you had willingly become his?

For your presence brought his heart back to life; in doing so, the life and light was lost from your eyes.

Scorned by the desire to claim you as his, the thought of your own desires, feelings was pushed to the desolate corners of his mind.

In another realm, he assumes– in another realm, he might have treated you properly from the very beginning.

In another realm, you wouldn't have to have a lingering threat struck on your mind. You wouldn't fear him.

In a realm beyond, you'd stand beside him by choice, not coercion. A realm where he'd navigate every step flawlessly. A realm where, instead of vowing to set the world ablaze for you, he'd pledge to journey with you until the world's end.

Perhaps, in another realm, you'd fall in love with him like he did for you in this.

A/N: uhm uhm uhm, just typed down an idea which I had for days + I used a new format of literal english (idk how it turned out, I am so sorry if it's cringe 😭) + I fucking don't know how to end stories so bear with me.

Pictures - Visual representations of architecture and attires described in this tale.

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animasola86 · 3 months

Text

Come back to bed, baby!

Notes: This is a continuation of It is that time again, darling - set about a year later.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut // Words: 10.1k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: Dad!Seb is back and he actually managed to put his breeding kink to good use. Or did he?

WARNINGS: NSFW! MDNI! Vague mentions of pregnancy, birth and undefined postnatal aches (bedridden reader). Angst and guilt and PTSD. Dirty talk and marital sex (including oral and vaginal sex and a special breeding kink)! Also babies and breastfeeding. Proceed at your own risk!

Come back to bed, baby.

“Come back to bed,” you whisper with a sigh as you look from your finally sleeping twin babies to the man pacing the little room. Sebastian slips his hand through his already messy hair and messes it up even more, a concentrated, serious expression contorting his handsome features.

He throws you a slightly pained look and exhales loudly. “It's not going to work,” he mutters under his breath, furrowing his brows, now pushing both hands through his hair.

“Sebastian,” you whisper and beckon him closer, your arms outstretched as you shift on the bed. Your babies lie in their crib next to you, breathing deep and peacefully, completely oblivious to their anxious father.

He finally listens to you and sits on the edge of the bed, gently grabbing your extended hand and cradling it between his long fingers carefully. You share a deep gaze, a soft unspoken understanding of your situation.

When the twins were born about two months ago, it hasn't been easy on you, and you were forced to spend your days in bed ever since until your body would finally fully recover.

Even though the birth of Beatrice and Bernie (you luckily could convince your eager husband to drop the name Bartholomew before your baby boy was born) has brought two new joys into his troubled life, he has been conflicted ever since because despite having birthed him a pair of twins before, this time it has really taken a toll on you – and in typical Sebastian fashion, he blamed himself for putting those children into you in the first place.

Fortunately it wasn't as bad that you had to stay in St. Mungo's, but being at home, bedridden, only able to nurture your newborns while you were barely able to look after Benjamin, Archie and Anne, hasn't been easy on either of you. And on top of that, your combined money resources started to dwindle now that your firstborns were to attend Hogwarts in a few months.

Sebastian has taken two leaves from his job as Professor for Magical Theory since the two of you had decided to try for another child: one to spend entire weeks holed up with you in bed, using every waking minute to successfully fill you with his seed, and one right before you had given birth to your new twins, which has been prolonged due to the unfortunate circumstances of their birth and what it had done to your body.

But the most unfortunate thing about it all was the fact that Headmaster Black refused to properly pay him for his absence, despite his eager attempts to somehow work from home and still try to teach his students – and not even Professor Weasley had been able to convince the stubborn man to change his mind: if Sebastian wasn't able to teach and be present while doing so, he was not going to get paid, end of story.

You usually didn't need much money. Living in Aranshire, you had a loving community around you, always willing to help, be it with babysitting or providing you with food, yet the last winter had been rough on your little hamlet, and your own little garden had suffered greatly, despite all your attempts to save it with magic.

The biggest issue were the needed supplies Benjamin and Archie were to bring to Hogwarts, and even the second-hand options didn't come cheap. Yet you never despaired, even though Sebastian became more worried by the hour, the lines on his forehead deepening every day.

“We'll manage,” you whisper as you squeeze his hand lightly, tugging at it to tell him to come closer. He complies and climbs into bed with you, carefully settling his long body next to yours to not hurt you more.

You've told him a lot of times that you weren't hurting (too much) and that you needed him to cuddle you properly, but he has become a little wary whenever you would wince slightly and let out a groan. You've tried to be brave for him, but he quickly saw through your charades. You were never able to hide anything from him.

He inhales deeply and nestles beside you, his head resting on your shoulder as he gently wraps one arm around your body and pulls you against him, his touches so much more careful than you were used to.

You can barely remember the times when he would just grab you by the waist and drag you towards him, or when he held you by the hips, his fingers bruising your skin, while he would pound into you relentlessly. You even missed the spanking and choking you used to let him indulge in whenever he convinced you to by looking at you out of those damn puppy dog eyes. By Merlin, you missed seeing the mischievous spark inside his warm brown eyes the most.

It wasn't that you didn't have sex any more. Even during your pregnancy you couldn't stay away from each other for long, always needing the other close, very close even, but the bigger and rounder you got, the more careful he became until he barely dared touching you at all, afraid to hurt you or your precious cargo. And after your body failed to recover from the strain of carrying and birthing two very proper children, he downright refused to put you in harm's way, especially if it was him who might cause you said harm.

Over the last weeks you were able to convince him that you felt better, and indeed you did, even though you still felt weak whenever you had to leave your bed – which was to expected from lying there all day and all night, you told him. Of course you knew why he was so concerned, and it pained you more to have him go through the anxiety of seeing a loved one struggling than it pained you to breathe properly.

You raise a hand and try to flatten his messy locks before you give up and simply stroke his head. He breathes deeply against you as if the weight of the world would be on his broad shoulders. It certainly feels like it to him, no matter how often you'd tell him that you will be fine, that everything will be fine again.

“I could get a job,” you say after a long moment of listening to his and your babies' soft breathing, the warmth of his body comforting you, almost drowning out your worries.

He shakes his head instantly. “No, you have to focus on getting better again,” he mumbles into your chest, his hand moving up and down your arm. “I'll find a way to get paid again. There has to be a way! Just because I decided to stay home after my babies' birth... it's not fair... what horrible times we live in...” he continues, mumbling against you, his hot breath grazing your skin where your nightgown has slipped down slightly.

“I could knit or... weave or whatever else these ladies here do,” you say, ignoring his objections. “Or I can learn to make things knit themselves, and then we could sell what I made...”

He scoffs lightly, the sound a rare one these days. “No offence, darling, but you really aren't particularly dexterous when it comes to making things. No one wants to buy a pair of mismatched socks fit for a troll or a house-elf, not even house-elves would want to be given that...”

“I'm sure there's a market for it!” you say with mock-indignation before you laugh softly, the motion causing a deep rooted pain to jerk through your lower body. He notices your wince before you do and quickly leans up to place a warm hand on your stomach, looking at you with more worry lines etched into his face.

“You need to get healthy again first,” he whispers, almost pleadingly as he brings his face closer to yours, your noses touching as you feel his hot breath on your lips. “I need you to get healthy again.”

You inhale deeply and gently grab his chin, rubbing your thumb over the stubble that has gotten more over the last weeks. “I'm fine,” you tell him and close the distance between the two of you when you press your lips to his, savouring those sweet little moments where you can feel him close to you, each kiss reminding you of all those years you spent with each other, all the hardships you conquered, all the nights (and days) you had become one when your bodies moulded together in perfect harmony.

He leans back slightly, his lips ghosting yours as his dark eyes bore into your own. “Don't lie to me,” he says quietly, with a hard edge to his usually soft voice.

You hold his gaze. “I will be fine,” you correct yourself and pull his face to yours once more, needing to kiss him and forget about the aches of your body. He exhales loudly against you, but then shifts beside you and gently cups your face with his big hands as he kisses you back softly, still watching you closely out of half-lidded eyes.

You lean into his touch and close your eyes, relishing in the feeling of his warm lips, his even warmer tongue as he slips it into your mouth, and his hot breath that always made you feel light-headed. Your fingers scrape over his stubble, the sound sending pleasant shivers down your spine as a quiet moan escapes your throat.

He leans back at the sound and your eyelids flutter open as you look at him with your lips tingling. There it is, the fire burning in his eyes, the desire to coax even more noises out of you. Despite not being able to touch you properly, he never fails to let you know how much he wants you, how much he adores you and cherishes you and desires you.

How much he wants to ravish and devour you if only he could.

You see him looking towards the crib where your babies still sleep peacefully. It had taken you three children to finally get the hang of how to properly make a baby fall asleep, though it certainly helped that Beatrice and Bernie seemed to be connected even after having shared the same womb. You sometimes find them lying together holding each other's tiny hands, and the sight always brings tears of joy into your eyes, making you forget everything else their birth brought upon you.

Sebastian's eyes linger on them for a moment longer, before he looks back at you, the fire still burning in his brown irises. And then a smirk grazes his lips, and you stare at it longer than you should, savouring the rare sight.

You are tempted to pull him back for another kiss, but then he gently cradles your head and makes you lie down again before he cuddles close to you, pulling your body half-way onto his as he presses his front against your rear. You shift against him, turning your head towards him. His arms are around you as he brings his face close to your ear, his breath ghosting your skin.

“Do you think they can hear us?” he whispers softly, the low timbre of his voice vibrating through your very core, coaxing a soft whimper out of you.

You shake your head, knowing that a troll could storm your house and your twins would still sleep through it. They'd only wake when they would be hungry, and luckily they had a set schedule, giving you a few more hours of peace, though the same couldn't be said about your breasts if you've read the look in your husband's eyes correctly.

As if willing your suspicions to life, you feel his hands moving under the hem of your nightgown, confidently sliding over your stomach and up to your plump mounds. His big hands barely fit around them any more, but it doesn't stop him from giving them the proper care they need. You lean against him and inhale deeply, licking your lips as you feel his fingers pinching your nipples carefully.

Despite his no-sex policy and giving extra care to not put a strain on your body, he still sneaks in the occasional grope as his slight obsession with your breasts never left his lust-filled mind. He adored them when you were a teenager with not enough flesh to fill out any proper dress, and he adored them more and more with every child you've given him and every gram of extra fat those same children have gifted you.

And you learned to crave his careful touches, the tender and the rough ones, even though the latter have become so scarce. With his arms snaked around your body, he fondles your soft flesh gently, rubbing his palms over it and rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers until they are hard and almost leaking. You take a shuddering breath as he leans his forehead against your ear and presses his lips to your neck, his tongue gliding over your pulse until he hums softly when he can feel your rapid heartbeat vibrating against him.

“Imagine,” he says quietly between kissing and licking your neck, while he keeps massaging your breasts with careful fingers, “the things we could do... with Ben and Archie in Hogwarts, and Anne with Edgar, and the twins sleeping peacefully...”

A soft moan escapes you. “I do that, every day,” you confess just as quietly. “It keeps me sane while I lie here... waiting to get better... waiting for you to push me into the bed again, bury me under your body as you bury yourself into me...”

He exhales loudly against you, the grip of his hands getting a little firmer as he grazes his teeth over your pulse. You shiver. “You mean when I bury my cock into your pussy,” he repeats with a dark chuckle. “You've gone soft on me over the last months. Where's that dirty mouth of yours?”

You give him a tiny smirk. “I have innocent babies around me all the time, I don't want their first word to be something like... that...”

He snickers against you. “Come on, these are British kids, they'll learn to talk like that soon enough anyway. They'll say cunt as if they'd be talking about the weather... Don't worry about them.”

You roll your eyes, inhaling deeply to push your chest into his hands as he's stopped groping you for a moment. “So what are you imagining while you lie next to me, unable to do the things you want to do?” you whisper as you turn your head to him, meeting his heated gaze.

He resumes his fondling, pinching your hard nipples almost a little too rough now. You take a sharp breath, and he stops for a second, but then continues nonetheless, seeing the blissful spark in your eyes.

“Oh, so many things... most of all I want to see you come undone in front of me, I want your eyes to roll back and your lips to part for those soft noises to come out and your face to contort in nothing but pure ecstasy. I want to see your body convulsing in pleasure after I rub you or finger you or lick you or fuck you...” He sighs and closes his eyes for a second, surely picturing the things he's just told you.

You let out a soft whimper. “I'd love to feel weightless again,” you then admit. “Floating so high it will rival any broom flight. I want to feel you twitching inside me, your hips jerking against me as you push so deep you'd prod my womb, and I want you to fill –”

He stills his movements and exhales almost angrily. Your eyes flutter open as you watch him with a frown. “No,” he says quietly and stares back towards the crib, slowly withdrawing his warm hands from your slightly aching breasts. “I... I don't think I can do that... ever again,” he whispers barely audible when his eyes wander back to your body, lingering on your lower half where the dull pain hums deep within. “I can't bear the thought of hurting you again, of making you go through all of that again... It was my seed that did this to you... You're in this bed because of me...”

“Sebastian!” you say almost sternly as you've had this conversation many times before. “I told you, it's alright. Look at your babies, they are as healthy as can be, and I will be too. I am here, aren't I? You heard the healer, it could have been so much worse, but it wasn't! I'm still here!” You grab his chin and make him look at you. “We've both wanted this, I wanted this, and believe me, I will do it again!”

“No, you won't! I can't lose you!” he pleads and presses his lips together, his eyes wandering away again.

The turmoil is etched deep into his features, and it breaks your heart seeing him like this. You know he wanted to add a “too”, and it hangs between you like a dark cloud of a past you both tried to work through, but never actually succeeded to do so. So many years after losing his sister it was still hurting him, and it hurt you even more not being able to help him through the pain. You've tried, everything, but it was a black spot on his soul that would never go away.

“You won't lose me,” you say softly, waiting for him to look back at you. When he does, you smile at him. “I'll always be here. I promised you, and I always keep my promises, you know that! I gave you five healthy children and I would have given you more. But I can't have you worrying so much, you know it'll only destroy you. And I need you, more than ever, all of you.” You pull his chin towards you and press your lips to his. “Even your seed in my womb,” you add in a low whisper against his mouth.

He furrows his brows despite your consoling words. It takes him a moment to consider them before he exhales deeply, his breath hot on your skin. “We'll have to be extra careful then, from now on, you know that, right? And I'll never stop worrying, you know that's part of my charm.” You smirk darkly at that, and you see the corner of his lips twitching slightly too. “But I have to admit, I missed filling you up to the brim...”

You laugh quietly, forcing yourself not to wince under the motion. “I missed that too... Do you remember those weeks we spent in bed? Weeks! It was all a blur at the end but I've never felt so exhilarated, so full, so weak and yet so elated to hopefully walk out of it carrying your child. Well, even if walking was not an option after all of that...”

He chuckles softly. “Oh, I always think back to that...” he purrs against your lips. “You've never looked better than with my seed seeping out of your pussy...”

“And all the positions we tried?” you go on, smiling happily as you think back, leaning your forehead against his. “I didn't even know half of them. But leave it to my bookish husband to teach me something while trying to hold his cum inside me...”

He smirks wider, tilting his head to kiss you gently. “And you know, there's even more we could try once you're feeling better,” he whispers between kisses before his lips move along your face back to your neck. Then his tone gets a little darker. “There's so much I still want to experience with you.”

“And you will,” you whisper back, grabbing his hair as he starts nibbling on your sensitive skin. “I'm here for it, for all of it. For you,” you add and press your lips to the top of his head.

He sighs contently and wraps his arms around you carefully as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath a little jagged as you feel his shoulders shake slightly. You swallow hard and rub his back when you can feel his tears dripping onto your skin.

Taking a shuddering breath yourself, you lie in each other's embrace for a long moment as you hold him as tightly as you can until he's calmed down again. Nuzzling your nose into his soft hair, you fill your nostrils with his scent while his warmth seeps into your body, relaxing the soreness you feel within.

“Sebastian,” you whisper quietly after yet another moment as he just lies in your arms, breathing deeply. “Let's make love tonight...”

He stirs slightly and slowly turns his face to you, his cheeks red and wet, and his eyes puffy, but on his lips you find that wicked smirk you've always loved about him. “What was that?” he asks hoarsely, his eyes boring into yours.

You return the smirk and raise a hand to gently wipe at his cheek. “I want you to put your cock into my pussy...” you whisper, blushing deeply.

He laughs softly and leans up to claim your lips for a heated kiss. You gasp against him, and when you do, he draws away and watches you closely. “Are you sure? Do you really feel up for it? I don't want to hurt you...”

You sigh and grab the back of his neck. “You won't. But I can't do much, you'll have to do all the work...” you tell him, chewing on your lips.

His smirk grows wider. “Not a problem!” he says with a chuckle. “No problem at all! Let me handle it, darling,” he adds excitedly and kisses you again, his hands back down at the hem of your nightgown to slowly push it up your body until he gently pulls it over your head, leaving you completely exposed to him.

He follows suit quickly, and you can only blink a few times, and he's suddenly naked next to you, his warm skin pressing against yours. His eyes roam your body for a long moment before he moves his hands carefully over your skin, starting from your hips upwards until he's back to fondling your breasts.

You let out a soft whimper and lick your lips as you watch him, shifting beside him until he pushes you gently into the mattress to stop you from moving. “Just relax,” he tells you quietly, smiling up at you as he lowers his head towards your tender chest. You inhale deeply and move right against his eager mouth as he closes his lips around your left breast, gently flicking his tongue against the hard bud.

Biting your lip, you throw a cautious glance towards your sleeping babies, but they are still breathing softly, tucked in and unaware of their parents' marital activities. When you look back at Sebastian, his eyes meet yours, and your cheeks warm up under the intensity of his gaze as he suckles softly on your sensitive mound.

The sight sends shivers down your spine, and you feel the heat pooling between your legs, the warmth even reaching the dully thrumming ache that binds you to the bed. Your hand moves down to stroke his hair as he moves his own to your right breast to give it the same attention he gives the other one as his long fingers knead your soft flesh carefully before he becomes a little bit more daring and pinches your nipple at the same time as he grazes his teeth over the one in his mouth.

You gasp and squirm slightly, your lips parting to let a soft moan escape you. His eyes remain on you as if he still worries about hurting you, but you only grip his hair tighter and push his head downwards, away from your breasts to a place you really need him. He complies a little reluctantly, licking and kissing your plump mounds and hard nipples as if saying goodbye to them before he moves his lips down between them until he presses his mouth to your stomach softly.

There he rests his head for a moment, his rough cheek on your abdomen as he listens into you like he has done every time you were pregnant with his children. Your fingers dig through his locks, gently caressing his scalp, and you feel him purring against you. His hot breath grazes your skin as he exhales loudly.

He leans up then, his eyes on you. “Do you really want this?” he asks quietly, worry etched into his face.

You nod, your fingers moving down to trail the line of his jaw, scraping over his beard, until you push your index finger against his bottom lip. “I want you,” you say softly and watch with reddening cheeks how he leans in and pulls your finger between his teeth, his tongue circling it eagerly as he sucks on it with his eyes sparkling.

When he releases it with a wet pop, he grabs your hand and plants more kisses on it until he presses his lips to the ring on your finger. “Anything for you, Mrs Sallow,” he tells you hoarsely and gives you an almost coy smile as he lets go of your hand and places it carefully on your stomach.

He then moves down and settles right between your legs, firmly pushing them apart with his elbows. His hot kisses on your hipbones make you whimper softly as you shift against him until his big hands rest on your thighs to hold you down gently. He moves his lips over your mound and straight to the throbbing bundle of nerves, his eyes wandering back up to you as he starts to suck on your clit.

You twitch against him, wincing slightly as the motion causes something to stir within you. He pauses slightly, holding your gaze, but you just smile at him bravely, hoping to encourage him to keep going. He does, eventually, his tongue flicking against your sensitive nub as he breathes loudly into the soft hint of hair above it. His hands rub over your thighs, his thumbs teasing at the insides as he keeps lapping at your sensitive skin, humming softly against it which in turn coaxes those sweet sounds out of your throat.

You close your eyes and lean your head into the pillow, trying to relax under his ministrations, when in reality you feel the tension building up in your stomach as your walls start clenching and unclenching needily. He seems to sense the contractions of your body and moves one of his hands along the inside of your thigh until you can feel his fingertips brushing against your folds, gently stroking your outer labia as he keeps sucking on your clit, his stubble adding to the friction that you so desperately try to chase.

A deep moan escapes you as he pulls the throbbing nub between his teeth at the same time as he sinks his finger into your slit, rubbing up and down through your slick before he pushes carefully against your entrance. When your eyes flutter open, his heated gaze is on you as he stills his movements against your clit and presses his finger slowly into your eager pussy, so much more gentle than he usually does it. He moves it around in teasing circles, literally testing the waters as he stretches your entrance slightly.

You take deep breaths, licking your lips, your chest rising and falling faster. You see and feel him swallowing against you before he pushes his digit deeper, slowly, ever so slowly, opening your tight channel. He halts the motion when he is knuckle deep in you, his fingertip pressing gently against your walls before he curls his finger slightly, the tiny movement causing you to gasp and twitch against him.

He brings his attention back to your throbbing nub as he keeps licking it with rough strokes of his tongue while he moves his finger within you, slowly in and out, over and over again, and it's the steady rhythm that drives you insane with need. You feel your walls tightening around him, yet before the tension eases, he slips his finger out, but only to push two of them into you now. You groan softly at the stretch and thrash your head back slightly as he starts pushing them in and out faster until he moves against you relentlessly.

Watching you from under his lashes, he leans back and replaces his mouth with his free hand, rubbing fast and tight circles around your clit while he fingers you with reckless abandon. You moan and whimper, the tension growing almost unbearable before it suddenly explodes into a bright flash of light, making stars dance behind your eyelids as you squeeze your eyes shut under the sensation, the low thrumming in your womb surprisingly only adding to the feeling of pure bliss as you succumb to his eager touches.

You come around his fingers, your hips jerking upwards as your body convulses, your lips parting to let a soft cry fall from them. While you still feel the tremors of your orgasm, you barely feel him pulling away from you until you feel and taste your own slick on his lips as he pushes his mouth against yours.

Grabbing his hair with a shaking hand, you kiss him back hungrily, your moans swallowed by his tongue as he presses it against your own. He rests on his arms, careful not to put any weight on your body as he hovers above you, his knees caging you in while his hard erection lies eagerly twitching on your stomach.

You meet his gaze during the soft wrestle of your tongues, and after a long moment, he leans away, giving you another peck, before he nods wordlessly and sits back on his knees to gently pull your legs out from beneath him and rests them on his thighs. You go a step further and carefully wrap them around his waist as you watch him breathlessly.

Yet before he brings his cock even in the vicinity of your pussy, he freezes, and you see a dark shadow crossing his features as he looks away for a moment. Only a few seconds later, he raises his hand and moves his fingers, guiding his magic through the air to open the top drawer of your night-stand before a small vial floats out of it and right into his big palm. He turns it between his long fingers and frowns.

“Will this still work?” he then asks hoarsely, looking at you with deep lines on his forehead as he shows you the contraceptive potion. “It's quite old, isn't it?”

You throw him a warm smile before you take a shuddering breath, still too worked up to breathe properly. “It'll be fine. I once drank a Wiggenweld potion I found in an old cave and it was fine. Come on, let me take it,” you whisper and hold out your hand.

He watches you with a raised eyebrow but then hands you the small vial, watching you cautiously as you uncork it and down it in one go, the warmth of the liquid settling in your stomach immediately as it magical properties spread through your body. Closing your eyes to breathe against the slightly bitter taste, you give him back the empty flask which he discards quickly.

You see him opening his mouth but before he can voice his concern once more, you smile at him. “I'm fine. Please, can we continue? I really need your cock right now...”

He inhales sharply before the slight shadow of a smirk graces his lips. Without another word, he puts one hand around his length and one hand between your legs, rubbing your clit once more for good measure to make your thighs twitch against him before he swipes his tip through your wet folds and then slowly pushes against your entrance.

You brace for his intrusion but as soon as he sinks his tip into you, you moan softly and lean your head back, your hands falling to your sides while you grip the bedsheets as tightly as your pussy grips him. He moves his hips further until he bottoms out inside you, his entire length buried deep within, prodding at your cervix. As he lets you adjust to his size, you feel blissfully full, smiling softly as you remember the countless times he's filled you out like this before.

He leans back down on his arms and slowly raises his hips, pushing your legs up slightly as he watches you closely. Your hands move to his wrists as you hold onto him, your eyes wandering over his face, trying to convey just how fine you feel. The look in his eyes is one of concern and concentration, and you can only imagine how hard he is fighting his natural instincts to fuck you senseless right now.

You cross your feet behind his back and gently grind your hips against him, giving him the go to start moving. He doesn't hesitate long, but the motions of his hips are deliberate, slow, careful, as he pulls out slightly to push back in, back and forth, in and out, his pace contrasting his heavy breaths. He is too considerate for his own good, and even though you admire him for his strength to hold back on your account, you want nothing more than to have him pound into you at the same pace as he has done countless times before.

You inhale deeply and close your eyes, remembering how he used to fuck you, with his hands gripping your hips or with his body flush on top of yours, pinning you to the bed as he ruts his hips against you, be it with his eyes on you or from behind with his hot breaths in your ear. You moan softly as the memories alone make your walls clench around him.

He seems to understand your need now and starts moving faster, his breaths strained as he grips the bedsheets next to your hips, still too anxious to touch you properly. Your hands move up his arms, and as you feel his tense muscles, you rub them softly. While he pushes his pelvis harder against you, slipping his cock in and out faster with your walls assisting him in pulling him deeper with each thrust, your eyes flutter open and you meet his heated gaze.

“I love you,” you mouth between soft whimpers, and he holds your gaze with dark eyes before he suddenly halts his motions and leans closer to you, his lips hovering over yours, and it's you who claims his mouth for a much needed kiss as you grab the back of his neck with both hands, pulling him towards you before he almost looses his balance and threatens to fall on top of you.

Yet it is exactly what you want, and you keep pulling him despite his obvious resistance. He looks at you, slightly out of breath, as if asking for permission, but you only wrap your arms and legs tighter around him until his heavy body is lying on yours, pushing you gently into the bed while his warmth seeps through your skin, calming the initial turmoil within you.

He captures your lips for another kiss as he starts moving his hips against you once more, the new angle giving him the opportunity to really rut into you, and each thrust sends shivers down your spine and rocks your body beneath him. You moan into his mouth while he cradles your head between his arms as he leans on his elbows, taking some of his weight off you.

Your hands hold onto his broad back, your fingernails sinking into his skin before you scratch them over it as he pushes hard and fast into you, every time hitting that sweet spot deep within, and you cry out against him, your noises muffled by his tongue pressing into your mouth. The tension builds as rapidly as he moves his cock inside your tight channel, and while he still pounds into you with almost desperate abandon, you come around him with a force that makes your entire body shudder and twitch beneath him.

The deep rooted ache in your stomach is silenced by the orgasm crashing through you, and for the first time in a long while you feel like yourself again, weightless and elated, happy in his embrace, happy with your body as it convulses as you want it to convulse: in sheer bliss and not uncontrollable bouts of pain. You melt into the sensation and are barely able to kiss him as his movements become even more erratic.

You groan against him, his heavy breaths mingling with yours, causing you to feel light-headed and dizzy, but in the best way possible, as you feel him thrusting into you, the tension in his body a telltale sign that he's close to climaxing as well. He is lost in the moment, leaning his forehead against yours, but before he gives you that final thrust, the tiniest of hesitations makes him freeze for a second.

You're quick to grab his face and look deep into his eyes before you whisper breathlessly: “Come inside me. Please. It's going to be alright...”

You see his lips moving, but no sounds come out, and instead he resumes rutting into you, frantically, definitely desperately, before he finally groans loudly and pushes hard into you, his tight balls pressing against your arse as he starts twitching inside you, emptying himself completely as thick ropes of cum shoot into your womb, the feeling as familiar as the sight above you. You caress his cheeks through his release before he collapses on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Your hands move to his back, and you rub it softly, soothing the red lines you left on his skin, as you hold him in your embrace while he slowly relaxes against you, his cock still throbbing inside you, your walls tight around him as if to embrace him as well, as if to welcome him back, eager to not let him go just yet.

Your heavy breaths ease slowly, and you close your eyes as you nuzzle your nose into his hair, relaxing beneath him. Yet when he suddenly stirs, his hips moving upwards as he gently tries to unwrap your legs from around his waist, you grab his shoulders and, against the ache in your thighs, keep your legs crossed behind his back. “Stay,” you whisper hoarsely. “Please...”

He lifts his head slightly and looks at you, his eyes wandering over your flushed face. You hold his gaze before you pull him towards you to claim his mouth. The kiss is lazy and comforting, coaxing him back into lying down on you, slipping his cock back in all the way as he breathes loudly against you. You hold him and kiss him, savouring his warmth for as long as you can.

“How do you feel?” he asks between kisses, his voice low and as hoarse as yours as it vibrates through your head.

“Better,” you reply, pressing your lips to his cheek. “So much better.” And it's true. With his weight on you, the pain within dulls to a barely there throbbing. “You know, I think all I needed to recover was your seed in me...” you jest quietly and move back to capture his lips.

He scoffs into your mouth, but there's a twinkle in his eyes as he watches you. His tongue keeps circling yours lazily before he moves his lips over your cheek and down your jaw to kiss your throat, his hands caressing your head, with his fingers tangling into your hair. “I love you,” you hear him mutter against your skin as he nibbles softly on your neck. “More than you think... more than I can bear sometimes... I would die without you...”

Your heart swells, with love and concern for him, and you rub his back in a soothing fashion as you fight back tears. A stifled sob makes it past your trembling lips nonetheless, and he leans up at the sound of it, looking at you with furrowed brows, a panicked look in his warm eyes.

You swallow and shake your head at him, pressing your lips together as you blink quickly. He reaches one hand up to cup your cheek and wipe at your wet skin. “Are you hurting?”

“No,” you whisper with your voice shaking. “I'm just... so...” You sob again and close your eyes, more tears spilling past your lashes. “I love you so much, Sebastian. And I'll... never leave you... I promise...” you manage to croak out between crying quietly. He puts both of his hands on your face and brings his lips to yours, gently kissing you as you shiver beneath him.

You kiss him back and slowly calm down again, leaning into his touches as you focus on him and him alone. Your breaths mingle in your mouths as you lean your forehead against his, a blissful dizziness pushing aside your worries.

“And... whatever comes our way... we'll manage... we'll deal with it... together,” you whisper barely audible.

His eyes are dark and swimming in emotions as he watches you, then nods slowly. “Together,” he repeats and takes a shuddering breath. “Always.”

“Always,” you say with him and smile warmly. He leans in to kiss you again while slightly shifting against you. You sigh quietly as you feel him moving within you.

For a moment he just looks at you as if to make sure you're still here before he gives you another peck and leans away then, undoing your connection so fast you can barely protest against the sudden empty feeling inside you. Your legs fall to his sides, twitching as they finally relax.

He rolls off you, but then gently grabs your shoulders and turns you onto your side as well until your rear is pressed against his front. He doesn't hesitate at all when he slips his cock between your thighs as he pulls you closer to his chest. You inhale deeply and snuggle against him, grabbing the arm he snakes around you.

You're both facing the crib now where your twin babies still sleep peacefully, their tiny breaths a comforting sound in your ears. Sebastian leans his head on your shoulder and inhales deeply as he moves his other hand to your stomach, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. A soft moan escapes you as you move against him, your thighs clenching around his hot member comfortably until you feel him harden between them once more.

As you turn your head slightly to watch him out of the corner of your eye, you reach one hand down between your legs and guide him back into your pussy, the familiar feeling of being filled out calming you immediately. He shifts against your rear as he pushes in as far as he can before he just rests there, holding you to his body, his hot breath making strands of your hair fly.

You close your eyes and lean against him. “I missed this...” you murmur softly.

“Me too...” he replies, his voice a low hum in your ear. “Do you think –”

“– we can do this more often now?” you finish his quiet question and smirk. “I sure hope so. No, I know so, because I do feel better, really. You make me complete, Sebastian,” you add and turn your head more to brush your lips against his cheek. He leans in and claims your mouth, smiling against you.

“So it was lack of sex that made you ill?” he muses with a smirk that is both mischievous and concerned, the duality of his emotions making you chuckle.

“It was lack of you,” you whisper against his lips.

“But I was here, I was always here,” he protests quietly, leaning back a little to look at you, slightly hurt.

You reach up a hand and caress his stubbled cheek. “You've been bearing the burden of our life alone for the past months, always worrying about my health and money and our future, and I feel... horrible for putting you through this, for not being able to do anything.” He opens his mouth to object, but you put a finger to his lips. “But I am here too and thanks to your intensive care, I am better, and we'll manage this together now, do you hear me? Let me carry some of your worries as well, please.”

He listens intently, his eyes boring into yours, the lines on his face deepening before they relax again. “We're not selling your hideous socks,” he then says with a smirk that reminds you so much of the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

You laugh, both relieved at his calm tone and offended by his words. “Then we can go back to tomb robbing, how's that?” you suggest and poke your tongue out at him.

He stares at your mouth, then grins. “I promised you an honest life, so no, we'll not traipse through cobwebbed old caves ever again,” he says firmly, kissing your cheek as he leans away slightly, the hard lines back on his face. “We'll find a way. I'm sure there are still some people who owe you a favour or two.”

You snort at that as you think back to your days of helping everyone you met without the slightest hint of hesitation. “An honest life, huh? Sounds a bit like extortion to me,” you tease, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“It's called justice, darling. And it's only fair. You've done so much for so many people, me included, and you need to think of yourself for once.” His voice is low and a tad too serious for your liking.

“I'm a mother of five and a wife, I've had my time of thinking of myself,” you whisper. “It's us now. But you're right, we shouldn't be afraid to ask for help ourselves.”

“Not exactly what I said, but fine,” he agrees with a soft chuckle and kisses your jaw, shifting his hips against you as he presses his hand to your stomach.

You lick your lips and close your eyes, slowly going back to feeling the present instead of worrying or thinking about the future. His warm body moulds to yours as he starts grinding against your arse while your walls clench lazily around his cock.

“So, are you up for another round or do we just lie like this for a bit?” he whispers into your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Why do I have the feeling that you want to make up for all those months we weren't able to do this in just one evening?” You chuckle softly as you turn your head to him, meeting his gaze, his eyes sparkling wickedly.

“You said you feel better. I'm trusting you that you're not lying to me. Are you lying to me?” he asks with his eyebrows raised.

“I'm not lying to you,” you whisper back, putting your hand on his as he rubs your stomach. “I do feel better and if you're fine with me just lying here, then please, go ahead and use me as you see fit.”

He groans into your ear. “Ugh, the temptation...” he hisses through his teeth. “Don't say that, I might not be able to hold back.”

“Then don't,” you challenge with a smirk.

He stares at you, breathing loudly through his nose before he closes his eyes and nods quietly. “If you insist,” he murmurs and moves his hand to your hip, digging his fingers into your skin, and you moan softly under the familiar sensation.

His other arm snakes around your neck and holds you gently pressed to his chest as he starts pushing his hips against your arse, slowly at first, then quickly losing all kind of control until he pounds into you with all he has. You melt into his embrace and moan louder, the tension within coiling up as your walls tighten around him.

Your eyes roll back as you cry out in nothing but bliss while your orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave, causing your body to shudder against his. His grunts are loud in your ear as he keeps thrusting into you, in and out, faster and harder, unrelenting until another wave of pleasure crashes over you.

While you float in the wonderful weightlessness of your release, he thrusts into you mercilessly, his movements much rougher than before as he slips back into his old behaviour, and you relish in the feeling of submitting to him fully. Your stomach fills with a warmth that is not just his seed as he finally stills inside you, pumping hot spurts of cum into your womb once more, but a warmth that exceeds the physical nature of his touch.

You feel safe and protected, completely at ease, knowing he is right there, pressed against you, holding you, caring so much about you that you could feed off his love for years and years to come. Centuries even, for all eternity for all you care. It's always been him, and through all the hardships in your lives, you've been together, and you've always come out the other end, holding each other, being together, no matter what.

You reach a hand up and grab the back of his head, your fingers digging into his hair as you pull him towards you for a kiss that hopefully conveys all those emotions swirling within your body. He breathes heavily against you, the hand on your hip easing its grip before it snakes up to cup your face as he kisses you back passionately.

You're lost in his embrace, sinking into his taste and smell and feel, almost completely oblivious to your surroundings. That is until you feel your breasts tensing up, just seconds before you hear a soft little squeak followed by a tiny little sob. Your eyes fly open and so do Sebastian's, before you both look towards the crib next to your bed.

Your twin babies stir, softly cooing. You breathe deeply against him, and without another word, he slips away from you, not caring about the mess you both created as he quickly walks to Beatrice and Bernie and leans over the crib with a soft smile on his hard features. You watch him as you roll onto your back and shift against your pillow, sitting up slightly. He picks up Bernie first, the little boy already sporting some of your features, while your baby girl definitely comes after her father.

He carries your son to your side and places him gently into your arm, lining him up to suckle on your breast. You look up at him shortly, noticing the almost envious look in his dark eyes that makes you smirk slightly before you wince when your baby boy starts nibbling on your hard nipple. Sebastian meets your gaze, before returning to the crib and gently lifting his tiny baby girl into his big hands, cradling her with his cheeks flushed.

When he puts Beatrice down in your other arm and docks her to your other breast, he looks at you lovingly before slipping next to you on the bed and supporting your shoulders as you feed his children. You inhale sharply under the eager sucking of your twins as you cradle them to your chest, trying to relax while you lean against your husband.

“You look so beautiful right now,” he coos into your ear, his breath ghosting your skin. “Look at what you're able to do, look at our babies...”

You do and smile softly, watching the tiny humans in your arms. In the end it was all worth it, all the pain and aches and those weeks and months you were battling against your own body. Seeing your children, healthy and eager to grow into this world, and seeing the soft expression in Sebastian's eyes, makes up for everything. You turn your head and brush your lips against his jaw before he leans in and captures them for a gentle kiss.

When he leans back, he smiles at you disarmingly, making your cheeks burn. He shifts against you as one of his hands moves over the tiny head of his son, while you gently rub your daughter's back as both of them still suckle eagerly on your breasts. For the longest moment you both watch them feed, content in each other's embrace.

Beatrice is the first to be sated, and when she lets go of your breast with a soft popping sound, Sebastian is already there to pick her up and lean her tiny body against his shoulder, as he stands from the bed and paces the room slowly, rubbing his daughter's back until a little burp breaks from her cute little mouth. You watch him, while you cradle Bernie in your arms, and smile softly.

“My good little girl,” he coos as he keeps walking her around the room, holding her gently to his bare chest. The sight warms you from the inside, and you almost don't notice when Bernie stirs against you, squirming slightly.

You lift him up and smile widely at him, meeting his curious big eyes, before you press your lips to his small forehead and inhale deeply, his sweet infant scent filling your nostrils. Next to you Sebastian is putting Beatrice down into the crib again and turns back to you, gently taking your son from your grasp, and repeats the motion he did with his daughter. Bernie's burp comes loud and immediate, and Sebastian's surprised laugh fills the room and your heart.

“That's my boy,” he chuckles and cradles his son in his arms for another moment while you start swaying the crib to calm your little girl, your eyes locked to the tall form of your husband.

You've always known he'd be a good father, and he even exceeded your expectations and became the best father you could have wished for for your children. He was always there, not shying away from doing anything when it came to his offspring, from changing diapers to bathing them or nursing them to sleep even if he was tired and exhausted himself. It was his unyielding love and support that convinced you to add to your family in the first place, knowing that he would always take care of your kids and you.

He notices your loving stare and smiles at you, his cheeks slightly flushed as he walks back to the bed and sits down on the edge, holding Bernie in his arms, as he leans towards you and presses his lips to your forehead. You take the infant from him and put him down gently next to his sister, who immediately stops her slight squirming. The twins cuddle together, and you gasp softly as they touch hands shortly after.

Sebastian wraps his arm around you as you both watch them in silent admiration. Leaning against him, you grab his other hand and hold it tightly before you raise it to your face and kiss his fingers, resting your lips on his ring. He hugs you tighter, breathing deeply. You snuggle against him and place your joined hands on your lap. He slips his fingers between yours and rubs your thigh with them before he turns his head and looks at you.

You look back, filled to the brim with happiness. His hand tightens around your waist as he pulls you closer to him until he lifts you onto his lap. You wrap your free arm around his neck when he suddenly stands from the bed and cradles you in his arms, a soft smile on his face as he carries you towards the small window of your bedroom.

“Look,” he whispers into your ear, and you follow his gaze through the old glass panel into your backyard, where your oldest twins play catch with a surprisingly nimble Edgar Adley.

The man you once assisted back in your teenage years has been a great help to your little family over the last decade and you couldn't be more grateful to him or his young wife for looking after Benjamin, Archie and Anne while you were bound to your bed, only able to look after your newborn twins while Sebastian has been looking after you.

Your gaze wanders on, and you find your sweet little daughter, the spitting image of yourself, sitting in the grass surrounded by her dolls and a stack of old books, while she moves her tiny fingers over a row of little flowers she braided together, completely oblivious to her brothers' playfulness. Yet when another boy approaches the fence, his hand held by a young blonde woman you know as Edgar's wife and the daughter of his late best friend Milo, she looks up curiously.

Sebastian chuckles. “Look at her, she's just like her mother,” he muses and kisses your cheek as he shifts you on his arms. “Completely oblivious to the world until a good-looking boy approaches and captures her attention.”

You scoff. “Remind you of someone, huh?”

“I was better looking,” he says with a smirk.

“And you weren't five when we met!” you laugh. “Though I'm sure you were already breaking hearts at that age.”

“Breaking hearts?” he repeats and looks at you slightly offended. “If anything, I was and am a heart-mender,” he adds and leans in to kiss you softly. “I did just cure you with my seed, didn't I?” he whispers under his breath and you blush deeply as you stare at him with your lips parted.

“Put me down,” you tell him softly after a moment of watching him closely, as you listen to the workings of your body, trying to distinguish your rapidly beating heart from the usual throbbing in your stomach.

He raises his eyebrows, but complies, gently setting you down until your feet touch the old floor boards. You hold onto him as you look up into his concerned face, your legs trembling slightly. His hands are on your waist, holding you just in case your body decides it isn't ready yet. But you feel surprisingly stable. When you put a hand on your abdomen, you inhale deeply, but the ache seems to have quieted down immensely.

“As weird as it may seem, but I think you're right...” you whisper and smile at him softly, but with your face flushed properly. “Though we shouldn't tell anyone about how I got better, okay?”

He laughs, the low rumble vibrating through your body. “We should also make sure you're properly healed,” he whispers and leans down to press his forehead to yours. “I might have to put in more...”

You cough slightly when you choke on your own spit at his proposal, but then reach up a hand and touch his face, your expression as serious as you can make it look while you feel yourself flooded with mischief and anticipation. “Yes, you might have to. Just to be sure.”

Sebastian's face lights up completely before he picks you up once more, wrapping your legs around his waist as he puts his big hands on your bum cheeks. You beam at him, your hands holding onto his shoulders. Slowly he carries you back to the bed, his eyes momentarily wandering towards the crib, but your twins are already sleeping again, fed and happy, their tiny fingers entangled, as their parents crawl back into bed.

When he puts you down on your back, hovering over you, you shake your head and motion him to roll around until you can lie on him. Once you rest on top of him, you smile down at him, cradling his face between your hands. He watches you with a warm smile as his hands come to rest on your hips, gently gripping your soft flesh.

You give him a short but heated kiss before you sit up on your knees, grinding your pelvis against his groin in slow circles while your chest bounces with every undulating motion. He sighs deeply beneath you, licking his lips.

“By Merlin's bloody facial hair, I've missed seeing you like this,” he whispers breathlessly, his hands moving up to grab your plump breasts, groping them with eager fingers.

You throw him a sultry smile as you move your wet folds over his hardening cock and reply with a breathy whisper: “Well, you better get used to it again. I have a lot to make up for.”

End notes: This started out with the idea to gather some prompts to write short smut or fluff or angst oneshots but then I got inspired to finally continue my Dad!Seb fic and here we are. The angst was real in this one, but also the tooth achingly sweet family life fluff.

By the way: Yes, I ship Edgar Adley with his late friend Milo's daughter. Listen! There is a blonde girl in Aranshire, maybe 8 or 10 years old, and I HC that it's Milo's daughter AND I see Edgar taking care of her after Milo's death (he did say he wanted to pay for her Hogwarts supplies one day) and when she grows up, they fall in love and have a baby boy and everything is happy! This story plays at least 13 years after we do that quest for him, so why not, huh? (Also did you know: that man with that sexy accent is voiced by the same guy who voices Victor Rookwood? WTF!)

As I mentioned in the first part (It is that time again) I borrowed the names of three of Sebastian's children (Benjamin, Archie and Anne) from @subastian-swallows, but added my own for Beatrice and Bernie (short for Bernard btw).

Seriously dude, five children! Two pairs of twins? Chill! His poor wife! No wonder she ended up bedridden! By the way: I have no idea about the topic and I didn't want to research too much because in the end it doesn't really matter, maybe it's even a magical malady, who knows. So please don't ask me about details! (I also have no idea if my descriptions of breastfeeding are anywhere near the real thing, so forgive me for my ignorance!)

And yes: she was healed by his magical cum, believe it or not. I don't make the rules, that's how the world works in my head!

[ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #reader insert #angst #fluff #smut

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itscherrylipsforme · 2 months

Text

A love story yet to be written: Jason Todd x Vigilante!bookworm!fem!reader

Summary: The mysterious Red Hood has been your loyal teammate since you became another one of Gotham's vigilantes. Many literature puns and "subtle" flirty comments later, he has decided that it's time to meet you when you two are not covered by the city's darkness and your secret identities

Warnings: Just dozens of references to my fave classic lit authors and novels

Requested: yes

Words: About 1570

Author rambles: God, this has been on my drafts for so long. Glad I was finally able to publish it. Thanks to the anon who sent the request, hope you like it 🫶🏼

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Gotham’s skies were pitch black when you submerged, like every twilight, in its streets and roofs. Masked face, combat boots, dark sweater and jeans paired with a black leather jacket and a bulletproof vest under all of it. Pointed daggers on your belt, a pair of guns attached to your back harness just in case. Being a vigilante was not an easy side job, but you needed to do it.

Some people simply can’t watch their whole world fall apart and stare blankly. And you would certainly not stay back when your beloved city was drowning in corruption and crime. Growing up you had always been aware that they were others protecting you. Batman, Robin, and the other peculiar crime fighters that had joined them with the pass of time. But being honest, Gotham was a criminals dump, and all the help they could get counted.

So, you decided to do you your bit. Trained hard, learned how to hide in the shadows and started to feel that what you did matter to your people. Recognition was not long in coming, although fame was not what you were after anyway. One night a camera caught you beating up one bastard who was trying to assault a young girl, next day you were on the news. Dusk they called you and you were not annoyed by the nickname, it suited you in a certain way.

You soon became another no-faced admired warrior to your neighbours. Not bad for the girl who used to be bookworm theatre kid back in High School. Becoming one of Gotham’s saviours was not one of your dreams job as a child, but life has surprising turns waiting for us. What was even more unexpected is that you ended up meeting one of the other vigilantes and that he had become an interesting fellow during the otherwise solitaire superhero’s nights.

“Nice to see you here in the dead vast and middle of the night, darling” He greeted you, after hearing your feet landing in the same rooftop he was in. Didn’t matter if he was backwards, you had started to think he had developed a sixth sense to notice your presence. You could almost bet he was smiling bellow his metallic helmet.

“Good night, Hodd” You answered coming by his side. “Shakespeare, wasn’t it?”

“Smart girl. Hamlet, more precisely” You agreeded “You arrived later than you use to”

“Missed me, geekie boy?” A little chuckle broke the silence of Gotham.

“Of course I did! I would not wish any companion in the world but you” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his gaze locked in the city’s sky. “And admit it, you are as much a nerd as I am”

“The Tempest? Have you been rereading Uncle Willy’s plays again?” The question ended up sounding like a half-joke half-teasing “And you are right, bookworm and proud. We wouldn’t get along so easily if I weren’t. I declare after all that there is no enjoyment like reading”

A slow nod was the only answer you received. You were certain that a smile was decorating his face at the moment. But not in a million of years you could have imagined that his usual smirk was now followed by a pinkish tone in his cheeks. How long he had been like this around you? He couldn’t recall exactly. This flirting slightly hided between book quotes and glances had been part of your friendship for quite sometime now.

The only problem? He couldn’t bear with being just a friend anymore. When it had all started? He didn’t know. Maybe the night he met you. And when the two of you started patrolling together like every other night, he couldn’t help coming back to those sweet memories still fresh on his mind.

“Another superhero wannabe” that’s what he thought when he first saw you moving from celling to celling without the grace and rhythm that only years of practice can give you. And he was not wrong, you were an amateur, one who still need to practice, but you definitely were determinate enough for that. Jason was not aware of this, therefore he decided to have some fun.

“What are you doing here?” He asked jumping to your side with a voice tone much deeper than his usual one.

“Patrolling” You managed to say in a whisper, rising your head to look at him directly. Shivers run through your spine, not knowing what to do. But you would not allow him to notice your fear.

“Scared of me darling?” He leaned a little so he could be nearer to your face.

“Not even a little, I know who you are” You answered and somehow the most daring and wittiest part of your mind chose to add the next sentence “And also there is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others.”

“My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” He finishes almost instinctively.

He stared at your for some instants, not believed the words that had just come out of your lips. Another vigilante? Who quoted Austen? The night was turning up to be quite interesting.

“You are a sharp girl, with a good book taste” He resolved. “Red Hodd, at your service” He offered you his hand and his presentation, although it was no needed.

And that’s how all started, now a few months later you two keep protecting Gotham from whoever and whatever treats it. This night had been tranquil, a seldom occurrence, and Jason hadn’t talked to much, his mind was focused on a matter which had been troubling him for weeks. When the first rays of light threaten to appear, it’s time to farewell. Not without cracking some bad puns first of course.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Dusk is the sun.” He smirked once again.

“First, that’s contradictory. Second, you seriously have to get over your Shakespeare era”.

“Does that mean I don’t get a proper goodbye?” Even with his voice modulator you could hear the teasing edge on the question.”

“Of course, you do” You tried to come up with something silly, yet sweet. “Good night, sweet prince, and flights and angels sing thee to thy rest!”

With that you made a small joking bow and left the rooftop to go back home. It had been enough; Jason had made out his mind. He was going to look for you. He needed to see the unmasked face who had been able to be the first one to win his heart. Luckily, one of his many siblings is a professional hacker.

A bookstore, somehow, he was not surprised at all when Tim found your worked there. In his jean’s pocket there was a small piece of paper with dozens of cheesy books lines that made him think of you. "You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read." "We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright." “You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how” … And those were only the first ones. There were not enough words in the books from your bookstore to describe how nervous he was and how much he wanted to tell you he loved you. But he could at least try.

Your elbows were resting on the counter, another novel laying in front of you. When the doorbell rang announcing another client, you immediately smiled and looked at Jason. You left your seat to meat him by the door, the book long forgotten.

“Took you long enough to find me, geekie boy” You gritted him.

All his speech and quotes banished in the air with just a single sentence of yours. He finally came to himself.

“Wait, were you waiting for me?”

“Of course, I did” You chuckle, God he loved that sound “For almost two months, after all your bad pick-up lines I thought you would be ready to come and met me in person”.

“But… How have you recognized me?” Confusion was still seen on his face.

“Easy. Looked for the libraries and bookstores that had your favourite tittle. Cheeked the names of all the men who borrowed or bought them. Looked for their photos on the internet and compared them with the physical description I had from your” You shrug your shoulders as that work was nothing to you “I am a vigilante after all”.

“I have a brother who would love to meet you, you know?”

“Maybe later, but I guess you came here because you had something to tell me”.

He took a deep breath. Just a few hours, that was all he needed to win you over this time. "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.” He said softly, but determinate “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I love and admire you.”

Just after he finished your lips were meeting his in a soft and sweet kiss, like the ones written in romance novels.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul” You whispered to his ear.

“Actually, that’s from the movie, not the book”.

You had to kiss him again, this time with more passion, to shut him up.

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader

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