#robert fischer

Bucky Barnes - He’s no virgin, obviously, but cockwarming in your mouth? That was definitely a new one. It’s not his favorite, but he likes seeing you so relaxed and calm. It reminds him that he’s capable of being gentle with someone so delicate. Plus it’s not too hard— he’s had decades to practice restraint, so he can handle sitting still under you while you nap with his cock in your mouth.

Dick Grayson - Honestly, he gets it— he has an oral fixation too lol, but he usually eats pussy instead. Dick prides himself on being a gentleman though so he’s had plenty of practice putting up with a boner for the sake of not ruining an innocent moment with a girl… Usually he just reads a book or watches a movie to try and not focus on the fact that his cock is literally in your mouth.

Jason Todd - He thinks it’s cute. You’re already so tiny compared to him, but when you use his dick as a pacifier? You just look so fucking adorable. If you’re ever in a situation where you can’t cockwarm him with your mouth, usually you’ll settle for suckling his fingers or his thumb— but you don’t like it as much because the calluses on his hands are too rough compared to his smooth, (sometimes) squishy cock.

Spencer Reid - He gets a little antsy to be honest, but if he has a book or some paperwork to go over, he can usually sit still long enough for you to get your fill. He knows exactly why people find comfort in this sort of thing, and he knows exactly why you specifically find comfort in it. So he doesn’t judge or think it’s weird. He likes being the one that you go to for this comfort.

Cillian Murphy - He finds it a little odd, but as long as you’re happy, he’s happy. Plus he likes how paternal and protective he feels when you’re laying on his stomach suckling on the head of his cock while he pets your hair. It’s usually enough to get you to fall asleep too. He thinks it’s cute hearing your soft snores as you drool a little bit around his cock.

Emmett - Makes his daddy kink go wild tbh. His little girl using his dick as a pacifier? Yeah. Half the time, he can control himself. But sometimes (usually after at least 20 minutes so you can have enough time to enjoy yourself) he’ll gently push on your head, urging you to start sucking more. You whine, but end up doing it anyway just to please him.

Jackson Rippner - Doesn’t like it at all. If you do it right after he fucks your face and shoots his load down your throat then he can usually put up with it for a little bit. But other than that, he doesn’t have the patience for it. Sometimes when you’re napping and he sees you sucking on your thumb instead, he feels a tiny bit of guilt very, very deep down... But not enough to get him to change his mind lol.

Jonathan Crane - He thinks it’s weird as fuck. Honestly he wants to delve deeper into whatever thing from your childhood gave you an oral fixation, but he resists (for now at least). He’s usually pretty good about not turning it sexual, unless he’s particularly frustrated or stressed from work or his… extracurricular activities.

Lenny Miller - He doesn’t really mind. Honestly, he finds it a little relaxing too. He likes coming home after a long, stressful day at work and just laying with his little girl, petting your hair while his dick rests in your mouth, feeling you suckle on the tip while you hug him tightly until you both fall asleep.

Neil Lewis - He’ll try it because you want it so badly, but after less than ten minutes of his cock resting in your mouth, he’s already hard and leaking. He ends up whining and squirming, trying to get you to suck his cock properly until you eventually just give in and blow him. If you do it right after an orgasm, he can usually last longer, but if not, you have ten minutes tops before he gets too needy.

Raymond Leon - He feels the same way about this as he does about most ‘relaxing’ things: it’s a waste of time. So he often tries to work while you’re falling asleep. You’ll lay between his legs with your head resting on his hip, his cock sitting in your mouth, and he only complains if he doesn’t have enough space to use his laptop/tablet.

Robert Fischer - He understands… When he’s feeling subby, he’ll sometimes do that on your nipple. So even when he’s getting hard, he’ll try to ignore it and let you enjoy this for as long as he can handle it. He just reminds himself over and over again that you always let him nurse on your tits for however long he wants, so you deserve to nurse on his cock every once in a while too.

So when Robert announced that the two of you were engaged, Daddy Dearest threatened to take away Robert's entire inheritance and replace him with someone 'more qualified' in the company. It was infuriating. You had been nothing but polite to the man and nothing but good to his son, but because you came from a working-class background, you were simply not good enough for Robert. Apparently, you were a gold-digging cock-sucking whore in Maurice's eyes. His words and everything, you had heard it all from behind closed doors when you eavesdropped on their conversation— eavesdropped over Maurice's scolding that was so harsh it left Robert in tears. As it often did.

Even with the threat of being left broke and jobless, Robert stayed by your side. You were the only real comfort he'd had in this life, and he wasn't about to give that up just so that he could still have his father's wishy-washy approval. Maurice's words were an empty bluff anyway.

Your engagement party was a disaster, at which you had begged Robert not to invite his father or any of his father's overly handsy friends and business partners, but he had anyway because he knew he had to. Maurice had found a way to make it all about himself as usual. The night had started off grand, in a sage green dress, and the sparkling diamond on your ring finger, you were positively glowing with joy and love for your future husband, who had stood by your side as you greeted each guest. It had been so nice, so special. Robert made you feel like a queen, sitting atop a throne made of soft touches and praiseful murmurs. He was smiling too, a lot, more than he had in a while. Robert always loved showing you off, loved to watch women coo and fuss over you; he especially loved the way other men looked at you, knowing they'd never have you. It was just so divine.

And then the sparkling evening fell flat on its face when Maurice Fischer clinked his champagne glass, with a butter knife you had already contemplated jamming in his jugular, and decided to make a toast in front of your entire family and friends, and even co-workers, spilling embarrassing secrets about Robert, about your relationship, making jokes about how he had placed bets on how long it would 'last', and even more crude jokes about how Robert must cry during sex. Everyone in the crowded room just grimaced and cringed, the spark of celebration suddenly snuffed out by the smug-faced head of Fischer-Morrow, who always knew how to dim your shine, and never knew when to shut his stupid fat gob.

It made you sick how a man could be so casually cruel towards his own child— his only child. If his mother were still alive, you would be sure that she'd slap Maurice right across the face. Hell, you wanted to do it for her, in honor of her name, but you refrained for Robert's sake. After that, Robert had tears brimming in his eyes, face hot and red with humiliation as he kept his head bowed. You were quick to grab his hand and leave, fleeing the place before Maurice could embarrass the pair of you any further. Other people started to pack their things too; the mood was entirely killed. No one was pleased, and no one was amused. Except for Maurice, of course.

That's what led you here, with Robert lying between your legs, hot water holding the two of you in a warm, sudsy cocoon. He had been hysterical in the car on the way back, the driver shooting you concerned glances through the rear view mirror; he was so hysterical, you were almost worried he might pop a blood vessel. He sobbed and shook, waving his hands erratically in the air as he babbled something about how he hated his father and wished he would just die already. You had never seen him this worked up, and you couldn't blame him. All he ever wanted was his father's love.

But you always knew how to soothe him, always knew how to give him what he needed. So here the two of you laze, flickering candles lining the rim of your clawfoot bathtub and bubbles crackling and swaying with each ripple of the silky water. Robert looked like an angel when he was like this, eyes squeezed shut and lips wrapped around your nipple. All you could do was caress your fingers through his hair, rubbing at his scalp as he suckled on your tit like it was his only lifeline, which in moments like these, it probably felt like that to him. His left hand lay on your waist while the other kneaded and squeezed your right breast in his hand, holding a fistful of your flesh. Robert's head was blank and empty, and his previous qualms had been eased into silence. If you were to ask him any kind of serious question right now, he’d merely reply with a dumb caveman-like grunt and then swiftly return to sucking. You were his own personal sanctuary.

"Oh Robbie..." You cooed softly, eyes half-lidded as you watched the way his eyelashes fluttered and flitted, nose scrunched up as he licked and lapped at the bud of your breast. Heaven, he was in heaven. His head perked up at the sound of your voice crooning his name, looking up with those wide blue eyes of his, all without pulling off from you. You laughed fondly, watching the way he finally popped off you. With spit all over his lips and chin, his hand moved to grasp your breast, squeezing and palming it as he slathered more soap all over the globes of your chest. Robert, easily distracted, hardly paid attention to your wanting stare, too absorbed in the way your tits looked covered in suds and moulded in his big, kneading hands.

"Mmm...?" He hummed, eyes glazed over and glossy, a bleary look on his face as his hips slotted between your thighs, leaky cock sliding between your folds. He was drunk on you, lost in a bliss that had him all forgetful of the rough evening he had. "Wha...?" Robert looked as clueless as ever, as if you had just pulled him out of another world, and in a way, you had.

A path was drawn with your fingertips, sliding down over his chest and the slight pudge of his stomach, even stopping to play with the dark tufts of hair that grew along the way of your trail. And then your hand found his cock, hanging heavy and thick in your palm. Robert's eyelashes flittered, his hips adjusting forward like some kind of greedy puppy dog, desperate for more, maybe a little too over-eager for it. He'd take anything you gave him, as long as it was you. The warm water made it too easy to work him, fingers curling around the base of him and squeezing experimentally, just to hear him whimper.

You hold him like you would a leash; firm, commanding, and tight. Tiny waves swayed over the pair of you with each jerk of your wrist and Robert's pathetic little ruts, desperate to have more, desperate for you to keep going. He'd be happy even if this was all you gave him tonight. Your left hand, the one so brilliantly adorned with his engagement ring, cupped his face tenderly, thumb brushing along the arch of his cheekbone. Robert was so pretty it hurt, like some kind of marble statue you would wonder over for hours on how it was possible for any human being to create such perfection. How did a wretched, rotten man like Maurice Fischer produce a delicate beauty like Robert? You'd seen photos of his mother; he looked just like her. The only slight resemblance he held to his father was his coloring and maybe the ridge of his eyebrows.

"Ah... Fuck..." He hissed, letting his head fall back down like his mouth was magnetically drawn to your nipple, lips wrapping around the soft, sweet bud. The chemical taste of soap on his tongue didn't matter, not when your thumb swiped across the pink head of his cock, lips gasping around your nipple as he sucked on you harder, his eyebrows furrowed in pure concentration like this was the most important thing in the world. Like a man on a mission. "Mm... Pleasmmph... Mmm..." A muffled bunch of words vibrating through you as his cock twitched in your warm hand.

"God, you're sweet." You chuffed, gripping him firmer and fisting him faster, watching the way the lean muscles in his stomach tightened and quivered-- no doubt from the pleasure that was curling itself around his insides. Robert's eyes shot open, eyelashes framing those baby blues and fluttering with each slow blink.

"You... You shouldn't baby me so much," Robert huffed out, mouth hovering over your nipple. He almost sounded frustrated. Right as he started to speak again, an involuntary whimper escaped from between his pink lips when you started focusing your hand's attention right on the tip of him. He was just so sensitive, so susceptible to your touch. "I don't..." Robert whined, eyebrows scrunched up as he finally looked up at you, pleading with you. "Don't know what I'd do without you, mommy..." He dived into you then, kissing you so suddenly you could almost taste the words on his very tongue. Your tongue was lacing with his in no time, sticky taste buds suctioning together as he started eagerly fucking up into your fist. Robert's hips rippled with each harsh jut, muscles trembling beneath the skin of his backside. At this point, you weren't even doing much of the work; his body had a mind of its own as he licked into your mouth and thrusted into your clasped fingers. He was getting closer; you could tell that much by the way his hips recoiled and stuttered in their giddy thrusts. "Robert...." You breathed out shakily, just as affected by the sight of him like this as he was by you. Your legs spread, clit pounding furiously to the point it was all you could think about, and your ankles hooked over his hips, digging into his lower back and pulling him closer. When you let go of his twitching cock, he gasped, eyes widening in astonishment and offense. "Need it inside, baby, yeah." You sighed, biting back a smile at the look on his face. "Mhm..." Robert huffed, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip as his nose nudged against yours, his hands finding your waist as the head of his cock notched against your entrance. "So warm, mommy," Robert said delightedly, eyes squeezing shut, eyelashes fanning out across his cheek, lips parted now as he pushed into you. His face gradually gets more scrunched up until he's finally seated in you, mouth fallen open in a tight 'o' and eyebrows knitted together. He looked like he was struggling not to bust right there. "Fuck... Fuck... Fuck... Oh fuck..." His voice was all pathetic and high-pitched, like he couldn't control the way he sounded; your walls pulsing around him certainly didn't help.

"You're so worked up, honey," You purred, though your control was surely loosening with each nudge against your G-spot. Your fingers clawed at his back, feeling the delicious flex of muscle underneath softer-than-silk skin. Robert's whines escaped his mouth in time with each thrust, every time the tip of his cock bottomed out inside you, another gasp or another whimper would fall out of his mouth like a mantra, getting breathier with each second passing.

"Mommy, I'm not gonna last like this, o-oh god... I..." His voice falters, eyes half-lidded as he looks up at you. He lifts you upright suddenly so you're straddling him, and for a moment, you think that's his signal for you to start moving, for you to take control, but that thought was quick to be wiped from your brain as he starts thrusting up into you with a newfound kind of vigor. "Need to cum..." He cries. "Need to cum, mommy, please let me cum..." He pleads as if you could deny him when he was like this.

Robert's fingers dig into the fat of your hips, one hand moving down to grab a handful of your ass as he rocks you back and forth, all while moving his hips in steady, hard ruts. The bath was half-empty by now, suds of soap and puddles of water soaking the bathroom floor, more splashing out with every movement the two of you made.

"R-Robert...!" You exclaimed, mouth falling open, eyes widening momentarily before rolling into the back of your head. Your orgasm had hit you out of nowhere, washing over your body from head to toe. You clamped down tight around him, body falling slack in his arms as you kept them tight around his neck. Robert wasn't a particularly big man, but he was strong and sturdy and could manipulate your body in his hold however he pleased, even in a state like this. "Robbie... Nghhh... Oh god... I... Fuck... Oh fuck..." The rest of the words that fell from your mouth were mostly unintelligible; your orgasm had seeped deep into the wrinkles of your brain by now. Your toes curled, jaw slack, thighs shaking around him as he picked up the pace.

"Oh my god, mommy, are you cumming? A-Am I making you cum...?" Robert panted out, letting out a low, stiff grunt as his face fell forward, burying his nose between the warmth of your bouncing tits. He could die happy like this, he thought, wrapped up in you like this. "Please... Oh god... Please..." He was so loud, and he didn't even realize it, voice echoing off the tiled walls of your steamy en suite.

You felt it then, hot spurts of his cum filling you, though with the lukewarm bath water around you, it all mixed in as one feeling. You were coming down now, but still, your orgasm was intense and hot to the touch and had you all boneless and dumb. Your fingers lazily card through the baby hairs that had grown too long at the base of Robert's head, your nose nudging at the crowns of his forehead. His mouth was back on you again, your back arching into him as he sucked eagerly on your nipple once more. Robert's hips slowed down, his hands still holding onto your hips like his life depended on it, resting the weight of his head on your warm chest as he lazily sucked at you.

You stayed like that for a little longer until you managed the strength to pull away. The bath had gone cold by now, and as you rose from the cold, soapy water, water dripped down the elegant rolls and curves of every crevice of your body. Robert stayed on his knees, eyes widening as he looked up at you like he was witnessing some kind of fertility goddess hovering above him. Once again, his hands were on your hips, eyebrows furrowed in a quiet sort of pleading, mouth getting closer to your wet, creamy cunt, dripping bath water, and his recent spend.

The hazy light of the bathroom glowed from behind your head, forming an illusion of a halo, light catching in your hair. You didn't stop him; you simply leaned back against the cool wall, focusing on trying not to slip as you held onto his brown locks. Robert latched on quick, tongue swiping through your sticky folds and moaning even louder than he had when he had his cock buried in you. You tasted like bathwater and cum, so clean and wet and so fucking warm. His tongue rolled continuously over your throbbing clit, sucking it into his mouth entirely until he had you cumming all over again on his pretty face just like that. A mix of your arousal and cum covering his lips and tongue, covering his chin in an iridescent shine. He lapped you up, obscene slurping heard as he burrowed his nose right against your heat, breathing your scent in and moaning against it.

"Mommy," Robert hummed, more like a praise rather than a title. It was when he started to lean back in for more that you stopped him. You were tired and god, you hated telling him no, but when he was in these submissive moods, he was insatiable, and he was probably already getting hard again. You were tired, and as much as you loved having his mouth on you, you just wanted to crawl into bed and hold him. "Taste so good..." He added, trying one last time to convince you. "Nuh-uh..." You denied with a dopey smile, running your fingers through his wet hair as you stepped out of the tub. Robert sighed, pulling the plug out and letting the water screech as it drained. "It's late, you had your fill, honey." "Never enough," He whispered, coming up from behind you, wrapping you up in his arms. "Jus' wanna be close to you," He rasped out, voice low and gravelly, breath smelling of you as it fanned your neck. You could tell he was starting to come out of his dazed state by the way he was talking, voice low and baritone again instead of breathy and whiny like before.

"Mhm," You mused, peering back at him from over your shoulders, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously at him, only for him to groan in response. He was so easy to tease. His fingers ran over your hips and tummy, kneading at the flesh. "You say that every time." "And every time I mean it more than the last, I'm obsessed with your body," He huffed, burying his nose into the crook of your neck as you grabbed the pair of you each a towel. He said those words as if you weren't already fully aware. "My fuckin' wife..." Robert said more to himself than to you, really. "Your future wife," You corrected with a fond smile, pecking his flushed cheek and handing him the fluffy white towel. "Don't get ahead of yourself now," You giggle as you towel yourself down, wrapping yourself up in the towel that probably costs more than it should. Everything in this house had some kind of ridiculous price tag on it. "The wedding's not for another two months..." "Make it a week," Robert purred, and that's what had you pausing, a question mark practically appearing above your head. "I can't wait any longer, I want you as my wife now, I want to finally make you Mrs. Fischer..." He insisted, he was convincing that it was for sure. You were so choked up at the idea that he wanted it so soon that you couldn't even speak; you only sputtered and then thrusted yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. "My father won't be happy, but I don't care; he won't be there, in fact, it'll just be us and maybe a few of our close friends."

You had felt the same way; you'd been waiting to get married for so long now. All the closer dates didn't match up with Robert's busy schedule. He had initially wanted a big wedding, with business partners and distant relatives there, and investors of all kinds, and while you had been hesitant, you agreed. As long as you two were getting married, that was all that mattered to you, even if you weren't too thrilled by the idea of some flashy wedding. But things had changed, and Robert had a change of heart. You could see it in his eyes, a new kind of determination that didn't involve his father or the business. Just the two of you. "You really mean it...?" You whispered, eyebrows raised, wary enough to not get your hopes up. "I'll call my assistant in the morning, he'll arrange it," Robert nodded, leaning closer. Sometimes it really felt like it was just the two of you in this godforsaken world, lost in your own little world. "You'll be mine, and there'll be nothing my father can do to ruin this for us." Then he was sweeping you off your feet, picking you up bridal style, of course, and carrying you to your shared bed, which was too big for its own good. You felt ecstatic in that moment, an overwhelming sense of excitement and affection washing over you as Robert and you made love right there in that very bed. Robert was content once more, no longer a simpering mess of a man but confident and sure of himself, taking control as he lay on top of you.

"No one can take you away from me..." He'd whisper into your hair as you fell asleep, nude bodies intertwined like twisted roots of a tree. "My wife." He declared proudly as you drifted away to a soft, gentle sleep.

-

The house, with its vast rooms and endless hallways, feels both protective and suffocating. The heavy silence is broken only by the distant ticking of an antique clock, a stark reminder of time slipping away. Thomas’s polished shoes echo on the marble floors as he moves through the dimly lit spaces, his keen eyes scanning every shadow and crevice. The opulent decor, a testament to his success, now seems to mock him with its cold grandeur. He enters the library, where shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books line the walls, their spines gleaming in the faint light. The room smells of old paper and cigarette a sanctuary for his restless mind on many nights. But tonight, it offers no solace. He moves on, his pace quickening, his heartbeat mirroring his urgency.

As he strides through the dining hall, the long table stands like an island in the middle of the room, set for a feast that never seems to be eaten. The chandelier above it sparkles, casting prismatic reflections around the room, but Thomas’s eyes are unseeing. He is a man on a mission, driven by an anxiety he rarely allows himself to feel.

Finally, he reaches the living room, a vast space dominated by an enormous fireplace. The flames within flicker and dance, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. And there she is. His wife, his beacon in the storm of his life, sitting on the couch in an awkward yet somehow comfortable position. The sight of her instantly softens his stern expression, though worry still shadows his features. She’s nestled into the corner of the couch, her swollen belly making her position look ungainly to anyone else, but Thomas knows better. He sees the way her hand rests protectively over her stomach, the way her eyes are half-closed in a state of meditative calm. She’s wearing a loose, flowing nightgown that accentuates her maternal glow, the fabric cascading around her like a gentle waterfall.

“Love,” Thomas says softly, his voice a gravelly whisper that cuts through the silence. “Y’alright there?” His thick Birmingham accent adds a rough edge to the tender words, a contrast that defines him so well.

She looks up, her eyes meeting his with a tired but loving gaze. “Tommy,” she replies, a small smile curving her lips. “Just needed a moment. The baby’s been restless tonight.”

Thomas nods, understanding immediately. He crosses the room in a few strides, his presence a mix of power and protectiveness. He sits beside her, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. Gently, he places a hand over hers, feeling the life within her. It’s a moment of connection, grounding him in a way few things can.

“Been lookin’ for you,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort. “Worried me, y’know.”

She chuckles softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I’m fine, Tommy. Just... needed to be alone for a bit.”

Thomas’s eyes soften further, the hard lines of his face easing as he takes in her serene expression. “Y’should rest more, love. Don’t want you overexertin’ y’self.” His voice is firm yet gentle, the protective husband surfacing through the tough gangster exterior.

She nods, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes. “I know. It’s just... there’s so much to do. So much to prepare for.”

Thomas sighs, his hand moving to gently caress her cheek. “Leave it to me. I’ll handle everythin’. You just focus on our little one, yeah?”

He could see the strain in her eyes, the toll the pregnancy was taking on her. His heart ached for her, wishing he could take away her discomfort. "I wish I could do more," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

She smiled again, squeezing his hand. "You're here, Tommy. That's enough."

But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted to do more, to alleviate her pain in any way he could. His mind raced, trying to think of something, anything, that might help. Then she spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Tommy, Ada said if it gets too heavy, you can lift my belly a bit with your hands. It might help.”

Tommy's brow furrowed as he processed her words. It was a simple gesture, yet one that could provide her with some relief. He looked into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, and he knew he had to try. "Alright, love," he said, his voice firm with determination. "Let's give it a go."

He moved closer, positioning himself in front of her. His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard work, gently interlaced under her belly. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Slowly, he lifted, supporting the weight of their child. She let out a sigh of relief, her body relaxing into his touch.

"Better?" he asked, his voice soft.

She nodded, her eyes closing once more. "So much better. Thank you, Tommy."

He held her there, his strong arms supporting her, providing the comfort she so desperately needed. In that moment, all the worries and burdens of their world faded away, leaving only the two of them. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to simply be present, to cherish the moment.

"You're incredible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Strongest woman I know."

She smiled, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks. "I have to be, married to you."

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah, I suppose you do." His gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. "But I wouldn't change a thing. Not a bloody thing."

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable and reassuring. Tommy's thoughts drifted to their future, to the life they were building together. It was a life filled with uncertainty and danger, but it was theirs. And as long as they had each other, he knew they could face anything. Eventually, he shifted, carefully lowering his hands and easing her back into a more comfortable position. He smiles, before cupping her face; his hands calloused from years of work, are surprisingly gentle as they cup her cheeks. He brushes a few stray strands of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear with a care that belies his hardened exterior. The feel of her skin under his fingertips is a reminder of all that he has fought for, and all that he stands to lose.

“Love,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, thick with his Birmingham accent. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The words are simple, but they carry a weight of sincerity that is unmistakable.

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and fatigue. Pregnancy has been both a blessing and a challenge, but in this moment, with Thomas so close, she feels a sense of peace. He leans in, closing the small distance between them, and presses his lips to hers. The kiss is intense, filled with a passion that speaks volumes of his devotion. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a promise, a silent vow that he will always be there for her.

His hands move from her face to her shoulders, sliding down her arms and resting on her swollen belly. He can feel the life growing inside her, their child, the future of the Shelby legacy. The thought fills him with a fierce protectiveness, a determination to shield them both from the dangers of his world. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“You’ve got to know,” he whispers, his voice husky with emotion, “I’d do anything for you. Anythin’ to keep you safe.” His words are punctuated by the gentle movement of his hands, caressing her belly as if to reassure both her and their child of his unwavering commitment.

Thomas stirred from sleep, his body instantly alert despite the lingering remnants of exhaustion. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes, casting faint, golden lines across the bed where he lay. His hand reached instinctively to the other side, expecting to feel the familiar form of his wife beside him. The cool, empty sheets met his touch instead, sending a wave of unease through him. He sat up abruptly, the fine sheen of cold sweat on his forehead catching the light. He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face as his sharp blue eyes scanned the room.

The clock on the mantel ticked softly, marking the time as just past nine in the morning. Thomas swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the chill of the wooden floor against his bare feet grounding him. He rose to his full height, stretching out the tension in his muscles. He was dressed only in his boxers, the morning air cool against his skin. The bedroom was silent, save for the sounds that nature produced in the waking hours of the morning.

His mind raced through possibilities as he left the bedroom, each step measured and deliberate. The house was vast, and his wife could be anywhere, but his instinct told him to check the usual places first. The corridor outside their bedroom was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn against the morning light. Thomas moved with purpose, his eyes darting to each doorway as he passed. He checked the nursery, but it was empty save for the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the window. The sitting room was similarly deserted, the furniture untouched and the air still.

Thomas’s worry deepened with each empty room. He descended the grand staircase, his hand trailing along the polished banister. The ground floor was no different – the study, the drawing room, all empty. He paused at the doorway to the dining room, listening intently. The faintest clink of cutlery reached his ears, a sound so subtle it could easily have been missed. Relief washed over him, but he kept his composure as he moved toward the kitchen, the source of the noise.

The kitchen was a contrast to the rest of the house – warm, filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and other culinary delights. The sight that greeted Thomas made him pause in the doorway. His wife was at the counter, her back to him, completely absorbed in her task. She was preparing her favorite pregnancy craving, a look of contentment on her face as she worked. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she had her loose, flowing nightgown, made of soft, breathable fabric, was adorned with delicate lace and ribbon trims. He had it made especially for her.

A soft chuckle escaped Thomas’s lips, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Hungry, eh? For whatever you're eatin' at what... nine in the mornin'..." His voice was low, the thick Birmingham accent adding a familiar roughness to his words.

She turns to him, a small smile playing on her lips. Her eyes are bright, despite the early hour, and there's a certain glow about her that he finds both endearing and reassuring. "Well... I originally woke up because I had to throw up... but then it wore off and I just sat there for a bit before I actually did throw up..." she explains, her voice trailing off as she takes another bite.

He crosses the room to her, his worry giving way to a tender affection. He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle and careful. "You alright now?" he asks, his voice softening. "You and the little one?"

She nods, placing the bowl on the counter. "Yes, we're fine. Just one of those mornings."

Thomas wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He can feel the slight swell of her belly against his skin, a constant reminder of the new life growing inside her. "You should've woken me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She laughs softly, resting her head against his chest. "You need your rest too, Tommy. Besides, it’s nothing I can’t handle."

He holds her for a moment longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. The kitchen, with its warm morning light and the comforting presence of his wife, feels like a sanctuary. A stark contrast to the chaos and violence that often defines his life outside these walls. He pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a mixture of love and concern. "If you need anythin', you come get me. Don’t try to be too strong on your own."

She nods, understanding the depth of his worry. "I will, I promise."

They both stood there looking at each other.

"Any plans for today?" he asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

She looks up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I was thinking of organizing the nursery a bit more. And maybe take a walk in the garden if the weather holds."

He nods, appreciating her simple plans. "Sounds good. I’ve got a meeting later, but I’ll be back by lunch. We can go for that walk together."

She smiles, the idea pleasing her. "I’d like that."

Author’s Notes: