#*quietly lies face down on the floor* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

noobsoconfusing · 3 months ago

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‘fill the void’_ hamzahthefantastic

summary: hamzah has been busy with the channel and misses you so much, so when you finally have time together, you kinda make it up to him.

warning: sub!hamzah, guided masturbation, lowkey cum eating, kinda gross, fluff and praise.

>_<

hamzah’s right leg bounces up and down in a desperate manner, erratic and anxious.

brown eyes shaky and glossy as he anticipates your company, your mere existence next to his. he bites his lip hard enough to wince but not that hard to draw blood.

as the elevator is taking way too long for his liking, he rolls his eyes and practically sprints up the stairs.

bad idea, oh god. –he thinks to himself, slowing down his pace as he gets to the third floor. two more floors to reach your shared flat.

the anticipation grows inside his belly, excitement even, to finally see you after such a long day. fuck, he misses you. badly. so badly.

as he fumbles with the keys, a groan escapes his lips when his hands start shaking. open, open, please just open. he mentally begs.

fucking finally, the door opens and hamzah shuts it closed as he enters, looking for you desperately, like a lost puppy looking for its owner.

“y/n! i am home!” he announces.

red and blue quickly make their way out of their shared bed, snuggling up onto hamzah’s legs, showing how much they missed their cat dad. no response from you, whatsoever.

“hey little guys, where’s mom, huh?” knowing he wont get an answer back, hamzah pets his cats and continues looking for you.

as he gets into your shared room, he sighs in relief. there you are.

though you can’t see him, as you quickly type something on the keyboard, sitting on the desk that faces the wall. you’re wearing his headphones, and he then thinks you might be doing college work or just being functional.

he sneaks behind you, and pauses for a moment. waiting to see if you can feel his presence. but as you’re too carried away by whatever the fuck you’re doing, you don’t.

“woah!” you whine when hamzah snatches the headphones off your head. quickly, you turn around on the chair to face your boyfriend. a big smile forms on your face. “hello!” you say.

hamzah pouts, “thought you weren’t home.” he says, pulling your body effortlessly off the chair so you can stand in front of him. “i missed you so fuckin’ much you have no idea.” he admitted

“hey, i missed you too.” you murmur as his body melts with yours in a tight hug.

you can feel how he inhales your scent, his hands slide to your waist too, gripping so hard you think it might bruise. he groans into the hug, a desperate sound erupting from his throat. and then you know whats up.

“you okay, love?” you ask, trying to pull away to face him but he grips tighter, audibly protesting for you to just stay there with him.

“need you. that’s all.” his voice sounds soft, still low and deep per usual. but you get to hear the smallness of his words, the warm sound of need.

“it’s fine, need you too…” you quietly admit, not breaking the hug still.

and the scene is just weird. how you two stand in the middle of the room, embracing each other and balancing as you try not to lose yourself and fall on the floor from how hard he hugs you

“bed, please?” he asks after a moment.

you nod. “yeah, bed.”

for the first time, he breaks the hug but only to quickly get rid of his shoes, he takes off the beanie he was wearing and pulls your hand so you can lay on the bed with him.

“you’re very warm, you feel good?” you ask, a tone of worry sliding out of your question.

his cheeks are flushed and eyes teary, he looks so stupidly good though, something about his needy image invites you, attracts you even more.

“i feel good now that i’m with you.” hamzah holds your hand in his, bringing it up to his face and just keeping it there.

“love you so much, yeah?” you say, caressing his features and letting him lean into your touch.

cozy. very cozy.

“get closer, please.” he pleaded, and when you didn’t move as fast as he would’ve liked, he took matters into his own hands. his hands gripped your hips, pulling them towards his own body, the space between you both nonexistent.

he kissed your neck desperately, hungrily, almost like he was starving.

“so fuckin’ pretty, ma.” he breathed out, a whine catching up inside your throat. that pet name always made you fuzzy inside.

“are you sure you’re okay, hamzah?” you were worried by how he was behaving. not worried in a bad manner, but surprised.

it seemed that now, the words had vanished from his brain, he acted completely out of impulse.

“mmhm, yeah.” he shifted on the bed, placing his leg over yours. “just… really fuckin’ need you right now… always do.” he kissed your shoulder and you shivered at the feeling of his lips on your body.

each time felt like the first time.

“tell me, hamzah.” your voice came out like a whisper, but it was fine.

his eyes opened and stared at you, the vague lighting of the room felt almost painful as it hit his sight.

“what?” big hazy eyes penetrating your figure, he almost wanted to swallow your image, engrave it onto his brain.

you gulped. closeness feeling way too intense now. you liked it.

“tell me what you need me to do.” he groaned at your words, licking his lips almost instinctively.

he was nervous all of sudden.

“i- i don’t know.” hamzah felt so small, so braindead.

every single time he was with you, he felt as if some switch inside his brain turned off, leaving you all the thinking work.

“i think you do know, yeah.” your hand traveled to his cheek, all the way down to his neck, and you let it rest there.

you felt him swallow, his adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“can you- uh, …please?” so fucked, that’s how he felt. you had barely done anything more than just exist, and yet he was fucked. how pathetic.

“hey, hey, words.” you tighten the grip on his neck, not enough to choke, just enough to feel his blood flowing through the veins.

he whined just so beautifully.

“y/n… p-please…” his lower lip trembled and you knew what he wanted. still, you waited for him to tell you. “can i kiss you?” please please say yes.

a smile appeared on your face and you nodded slowly. so tempting.

“sure.” finally, you thought.

he wasted no time, cupping your face with his big hands, and getting to taste your lips after what felt like ages.

oh how soft, how delicate. he melted right then and there, some part of his mind became mush, and all he could do was keep kissing you, it was messy, so desperate.

however, you started feeling needy too. a feeling so complex to understand. a feeling only hamzah could fill.

like an emptiness inside that you knew only he could fill up.

hamzah’s tongue pressed between your lips and you parted them, allowing him in. you couldn’t help but giggle at the feeling, at how he was practically desperately grinding his hips onto you without shame.

this man, you swore, couldn’t kiss you without getting his dick hard, and that was just the effect you had on him.

“oww, f-fuck, ‘s good” he breathed out, a whine almost. “you’re so pretty, i could eat you.” he said, his hands moved up and down your torso, feeling you up in such a hungry manner.

“damn…” you said quite surprised at his words.

as you were starting to feel not enough contact, you shifted on the bed, breaking the kiss for a moment, hamzah’s eyes stared at you worried, afraid he might’ve done something you didn’t like.

“wha-?”

“hold on, don’t be desperate.” you giggled, kindly pushing hamzah back on the pillows and straddling him.

“can’t help it, sorry…”

he groaned when you sat on his lap, your body perfectly pressing his.

“love you so much, y’know that? love every single thing about you, pretty boy.” your hands found support on his shoulders, he enjoyed this position so much, he got to see your face and at the same time found a nice good friction.

“god i love you, i love you, love you so m-much.” his hands gripped your hips once again, and he thrusted up to feel you. the hardness inside his sweats was painful, and only you could help him out with it. he closed his eyes when you grinded down too, your core pressing with him oh so perfectly.

“open.” you said, soft voice made him melt.

hamzah opened his mouth, eyes closed still, his cheeks so red and tongue wetting his lower lip.

you shook your head with a smile, letting an airy laugh slip past your lips. god he was so fucking cute like this.

“your eyes, silly, i meant open your eyes.”

“oh…” he giggled nervously, a new side of him you didn’t quite know about he had just showed. “sorry, baby…” he pulled up to kiss your lips once again, a peck this time.

“it’s okay, you’re pretty.”

fuck, hamzah could dry hump you for eternity. his hips were kinda tired, he wanted you to do the work for him, however, he couldn’t let you, he didn’t wanna be a bother. though, he wasn’t.

“wanna make you cum..” you said breaking the comfortable silence. not very much of a silence, since his moans would constantly be adorning the space surrounding you.

“j-just… do it- please, please i’ll do anything, i promise…” hamzah pleaded once again. it was weird. so cute though, you loved when he did that. that thing with his eyes, the lust, the love.

his hips began to stutter, was he close from just humping?

“gonna take these off, okay?” you said, asking for an already given permission.

he nodded so fucking fast you thought his head was gonna fall off his neck.

hamzah admired your actions, how you got off his lap to pull his sweats off, and he just let you do it. he felt like putty, like something maleable for you to play with. he liked feeling that way.

“pretty. very pretty.” you praised his bulge, taking your time to take his briefs off. almost like you wanted to tease him.

“s-stop…” he felt nervous. even if you had seen him plenty of times, still got nervous when you praised him.

“want me to stop?” you asked, attentively. your eyes scanned his figure, looking for any discomfort. you found any.

“no! no! please j-just keep going!” you took that as a cue to start. “fuck!” a high pitched moan left his soul.

his eyes rolled back when your flat hand placed over his clothed boner, and an idea popped into your head.

“do it yourself.” you bluntly said.

his eyes opened wide, looking worried and confused. he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“i want you to do it, hamzah. please yourself, come on.” you explained better.

“b-but…”

“shh, i know you can do it, yeah? you’re such a good boy, aren’t you? so pretty for me, so sweet, so obedient… c’mon.”

he groaned again, his cock twitching inside his briefs as you praised him once again. he nodded slowly, feeling dizzy all of sudden.

shaky hands took over, hamzah slipped his dick out of his underwear and shakily touched the leaking tip. fuck, he felt so stupid, almost like all his self-pleasing knowledge had been forgotten all of sudden.

“mmhmm, shit..” he cursed under his breath when it twitched again, leaking this ridiculous amount of precum just at the thought of you watching him jerk off.

he could feel your sight on him, so expectant.

“go ahead, love.” you encouraged him, sitting closer to him, your hand on his thigh. he shivered at the touch.

“o-okay, gonna start now..” he felt as if he needed your permission, which you had given him already.

his hand wrapped around his shaft, it felt slippery and wet from all the stimulation that kissing and humping you had given him. he moaned, satisfied. his thumb circled around the head, sliding easily, and then, when his hand tightened, he stroked all the way down.

“oh god, god, oh f-fuck, y/n?” it felt so surreal. he had jerked off infinite times before this, why was he so fucking sensitive now?

your hand caressed his thigh. “yeah?”

“n-nothing.”

“keep going, you’re doing very good.” you moved closer to kiss his temple, lovingly and gently.

hamzah stroked up, and then down again. he was going at a very steady pace, trying his best not to cum quickly, since he wanted you to know how much he could handle.

not much.

“gonna tell me what has you so needy?” you asked all of sudden. and then, hamzah thought it was rather interesting to have a conversation while he was pounding it.

“uh…i- i think it’s just w-work,” he managed to reply. “been away all week..” he added after a groan, slowing down his movements.

“don’t stop.” you warned, moving your hand to engulf his own, as you helped him jerk off, steadying his shaky moves. “missed me, huh?”

“fuck yeah, a lot.” mhmm. “missed y-your voice a-and you… and your touch and, and this…” his eyebrows knitted together, he opened his mouth to moan but it was silent when you made his hand stop. “p-please, keep going…” he begged.

“you do it, love.” you said, letting his own hand move and the other hand gripped the sheets so hard you thought he was gonna rip them apart.

the wet sounds of hamzah’s skin, the lewd sounds of his hand sliding up and down his dick filled the room. it made you unbelievably worked up seeing him so desperate. it was very pretty.

he was starting to jerk off quicker, the speed alarming you. short moans came out of his throat, curses too.

“ah, ah, ah- shit! wanna cum… gonna-, c-can i?” his movements erratic and inconsistent, the glistening clear fluid coating his hand entirely from how messy he had been.

he had been so good, waiting all week for you. even if he was away filming and you were busy with college. he had been patient and waited until you both could get intimate. so good.

“cum, hamzah, be good for me, okay?” you squeezed his thigh again, giving him reassurance.

he moaned loudly, his breathing stopped, it caught up on his throat.

“wanna fill you up, god, wanna fill you up so bad, s-so bad..” he rambled slurring his words.

inside his mind, the image of him filling you up with his warm cum. it always helped him reach a decent, more than good orgasm.

your thighs pressed together and your eyes widen at his words. you bit your lower lip, anticipating his release. a small, needy whine escaped from your lips.

hamzah’s free hand looked blindly for yours, awaiting to hold onto something while he let himself go. you linked your hands and he then, only felt like he could cum.

“o-oh fuck! y/n, y/n!” there we go, his low voice carried out a cry, so pathetic. he kept stroking, wanting to let out all the built up cum he had been accumulating all damn week. “owww…” he sobbed.

hamzah’s shaky hands let go of his shaft and he opened his eyes slowly. he looked down at the mess he had made. a puddle of cum settled on his tummy, part of the sheets and his hands.

you giggled, snapping him out of his trance. hamzah looked at you with droopy eyes, tired and sleepy. he smiled lazily. silently thanking you for everything you did for him.

“y/n, i love you.” he said after a while of just trying to catch his breath.

you took his hand, the one that had cum all over, and held it up. he looked at you anticipating, those big brown eyes staring directly at your soul.

then, you did it. you licked his fingers, tasting him in your mouth. his eyes widened, the sight of you practically eating his cum made him warm all over. the knot inside his tummy started to tighten once again.

“oww… you’re gross.” he playfully said scrunching up his nose. blatantly lying. he found it hot.

“nah, you are gross, look at this mess!” you pointed at the messy sheets. hamzah rolled his eyes and sighed, tired.

“your fault.” he giggled.

kinda your fault for how fucking adorable you were. your fault for making hamzah so stupidly horny. your fault for making him love you so much.

“need to clean you up, though.” you were going to get up and look for wipes but he held your hand, dragging you back in the bed with him.

“stay with me.” he said, looking at you with those eyes he knew you loved. persuading you into just laying there. next to him.

you couldn’t say no to him, not ever. so you gave in. you threw yourself on the pillows and held his hand. your breathing synced with hamzah’s.

realisation hit you then. you leaned up to peek and held a laugh when you saw the image in front of you. hamzah’s hand gripped yours as he felt you moving. you blinked.

“your dick is still out.”

post nut clarity hit hamzah too, however he was too calm and comfy to do anything about it.

“yeah, i know..”

“okay.” you smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. he leaned his on yours too, “i love you”

“mhmm, love ya’ so fuckin’ much too, ma, so much, you don’t even imagine…” hamzah snuggled closer to you, the warmth comfiness of your body next to his calmed his nerves.

comfortable silence filled the room, as your tender love filled the void.

>_<

sorry this took so long and sorry this sucks but i smoked some weed and kinda just vomited words and this came out bye

#slushy noobz #slushynoobz #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah fluff #hamzah imagines #hamzah x y/n #hamzah fic #hamzah x reader #hamzahsmut #slushy virus #slushy smut

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sweetpascal · 5 months ago

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𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

gif by: @richardgrimes

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: when you do the unthinkable, joel takes it upon himself to let out all of his anger and frustration onto you. the punishments that follow are ones that officially tear you apart and turn you into an unrecognizable girl.

warnings: MINORS DNI. DUB-CON. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], joel is VERY VERY VERY mean in this chapter, face slapping, hair pulling, hella manipulation, finger sucking, spanking as punishment [with his hand and belt], TW: isolation as punishment, TW: emotional abuse, joel spits on your face, oral [m receiving], TW: forced asphyxiation, joel has a very big dick ok, masochism, sadism, dacryphilia, kinda angsty ??

wc: 7.3k

notes: i felt kinda blah about this series cause i feel like i'm not making joel mean enough compared to how some writers write dark!joel (´•︵•`) so i got really sad and put all my emotions into this chapter as a coping mechanism and made joel REALLY fucking mean and just... a horrible and nasty man. trauma ?? i think so. ENJOY. ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

edit: i posted this later than expected UGH. expect two updates in one day.

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By the time you awoke, the space beside you in bed was vacant. You have no recollection of drifting off in Joel's embrace. As you rise, the fluffy blanket cascades down, gathering around your hips. Joel must have draped it over you once you had succumbed to sleep. The absence of his clothes on the floor and the chill of his side of the bed leave you questioning whether he stayed the night at all, stirring a sense of unease within you. He had done something new, something that made you feel good, and he wasn't here when you woke up. Why? Why wasn't he here? Why do you feel so cold all of a sudden? Was this something normal that men do? Embarrassed by the series of events from last night, you pull on your discarded panties and shorts.

The sunrise had not yet begun. Looking out the window, the sky displayed an almost purplish tint with the sun barely cresting the horizon. It was a cloudless sky, yet the faint chirping of morning birds could be heard from their respective trees. Unsure of the time, as Joel had confiscated your phone and you lacked an alarm clock, the day's start remained ambiguous.

As you tiptoe out of your room, you notice the house is completely quiet. Joel usually wakes up before dawn, but today, a faint snore drifts from his and your mom's bedroom. Moving down the hall, you gently push the slightly open door further. In the dim blue light filtering in from outside, you can just make out Joel's form. He's sprawled on his stomach in the center of the bed, clutching his pillow while your mom's lies abandoned on the floor. Shirtless, the sheets are drawn just below the dimples of his back. The bedside clock shows 5:22 AM.

"Daddy?" you whisper faintly into the darkness, pausing for an answer. Only his soft snores, muffled by the pillow, meet your ears. Drawing nearer, you notice Joel is lying on his good ear, the other affected by partial hearing loss. The urge to rouse him is strong, yet you hesitate, knowing these moments of peaceful rest are few for him.

The rumbling of your stomach makes you whimper. Joel usually prepares meals for you when asked. Your mother, however, rarely agrees, often reminding you that you're old enough to cook for yourself. But Joel always protests, saying, "I don't want your pretty little hands to get all cut up and burned." Perhaps he wouldn't mind if you made breakfast just this once. It would be a sweet gesture to surprise him with breakfast in bed. You wonder if your mom ever did something like that for him.

"I'm going to make breakfast for us, okay, Daddy?" you whisper, a bit louder this time, your hand hovering just above his broad back. You can feel the warmth radiating onto your palm. When he doesn't respond, only emitting another snore, you quietly tiptoe out of the room and gently close the door, cringing when it makes a loud noise at the last moment.

Descending the stairs, a sense of unease weighs heavily in your stomach. Alone, with dark blue hues filling patches of the vacant house and shadows stretching across the walls, you almost feel an invisible presence. You find yourself wishing Joel were awake to fend off the lurking shadows. Rushing to the kitchen, you flip on the light, blinking against the sudden brightness until your eyes adjust.

Opening the fridge revealed a lackluster array of dinner leftovers, several half-empty condiment bottles, an empty milk carton, and a bag of grapes beginning to rot. It was disappointing to find nothing inspiring to cook with. A glance at the stovetop clock showed it was 5:30. The local market would open at 6, and it was only a half-hour walk away. However, the prospect of walking that distance didn't appeal to you, dramatic as it might seem. Your eyes then fell upon Joel's truck keys and wallet in the bowl on the kitchen countertop. Surely, he wouldn't mind if you borrowed them for a quick shopping trip.

Right?

By the time you returned home, it was nearly 8 o'clock. The neighborhood had fully come to life. The groceries in the truck's backseat jostled with every gentle turn. A sinking feeling emerged at the thought of Joel's anger over you borrowing his truck without asking and taking some of his twenty-dollar bills. Yet, it stemmed from a desire to do something kind for him in gratitude for his good care during your mother's absence. An excitement bubbled within you, eager to burst.

You hadn't planned to be out this long, but losing track of time and procrastinating on your tasks is a frequent issue. Joel often chides you for this, playfully urging you to get your head out of the clouds and to come back down to earth. Your only hope is that Joel remains asleep, unaware of your absence. However, the missing money from his wallet, the extra miles on his truck, and the depleted gas are sure to give you away.

As you park the truck in the driveway, you notice the porch screen is wide open, though you remember closing it before sneaking out. Your heart sinks at the sight of Joel's daunting figure in the doorway, his gaze piercing through the windshield. It's a wonder the glass doesn't crack under the weight of his stare. Your pulse quickens, a flurry of nervous butterflies takes flight in your stomach, and your palms dampen with sweat as you clutch the steering wheel tightly.

Joel points at you and then to the ground at his feet, silently mouthing, "Now." He then vanishes back into the house, clearly pissed off. Fear grips you, making it daunting to leave the truck's safety. After six agonizing minutes, you gather enough bravery to step out, your breath hitching in your throat and almost making it difficult to breathe.

After hoisting the grocery bags into your arms and nudging the back passenger door closed with your foot, likely leaving a mark on the polished metal, you make your way to the porch with unsteady steps. The door stands slightly open, and you gently push it wider. As you spin around to close it, a hand reaches over your shoulder and slams it with such force that the house seems to shake. Startled, you yelp loudly as Joel grabs your arm firmly and pulls you into the kitchen, his long strides causing you to stumble over your feet.

"Sit your fuckin' ass down," he practically barks, pulling out a kitchen chair and slams it down. He pushes you toward the chair so forcefully that the grocery bags tumble down around you. As you land on the wooden chair, the impact from Joel's shove nearly expels all the air from your lungs.

He stands over you from your seated position, towering and nearly trembling with fury. Joel's hands are clenched into tight fists, his knuckles whitening under the strain. He scratches his jaw and paces, a low growl emanating from deep within his chest as the intensity in his eyes burns fiercer. You close your eyes, sitting motionless, bracing yourself.

"Are you out of your GODDAMN MIND?!" He bends down to scream in your face, his face contorted in a way that makes him look scary and so different from the usual angry Joel you normally see. This Joel was drowning in rage. His eyes were nearly black and the lines on his face deepened as he snarled in your face. "You fucking ANSWER ME!" One hand grabs the back of your hair and yanks your head back so fast that your nerve spasms, a shrieking cry escaping your lips. His other hand grabs your face and squeezes your jaw so tightly that pain blossoms throughout your gums.

"Stop, stop, stop, please, stop!" You're babbling in his face, thick tears sliding down your cheeks from the intense pain in your scalp, neck, and jaw. You could barely catch a breath from how hard you're crying. "Da-Daddy, p-please!" You're grabbing on both of his forearms, nails digging deep through his long shirt, no doubt leaving indentations.

Joel only grunts lowly, his breath heavy and fast. His hands squeeze tighter, and he roughly shakes your head, loving the way your face scrunches up at the pain he's causing. Then, he forcibly pushes your head away, releasing his hands from your knotted hair and your already bruising jaw. Tears streaming down your face, you draw your knees up to your chest for comfort and hesitantly reach for the back of your head, while your other hand softly caresses your jaw. Your eyes are wide, reflecting a state of shock and fear. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his frown growing more pronounced as you quiver uncontrollably.

He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and flings it towards you. It strikes your knees and tumbles to the floor, unfolding just enough to reveal its barren interior.

"You take my fuckin' truck," Joel says in a low voice, trembling with anger. He steps back, his boots thudding on the floorboards. "You take my fuckin' money." At this point, you're nearly hyperventilating, silently cursing yourself for such a foolish act and expecting him to accept it. He goes on, his tone grave, "And you sneak out without telling me, huh? What, you want more freedom than what I'm giving you here?"

The anger that Joel feels is indescribable. It's coursing through his veins like heroin, poisoning his blood and gradually taking over his body. He doesn't know what to do, or even think. All that he can do is react. How stupid of you to think this was okay. How mind-numbingly idiotic it was of him to expect you to follow his rules and obey him like a good girl. As he looks down at you like smeared shit at the bottom of his shoe, there seems to be only one option left.

Before you can react, Joel has seized your arm and pulled you up from the chair, nearly dislocating your shoulder. His footsteps are long, resounding, and forceful. Tears continue to flow as he hauls you up the stairs. You stumble on each step, crying and sobbing, while you try to keep pace with him. Your knees are banging against every edge as Joel practically drags you up the steps.

"Da-Dad-dy!" Choking on your tears, you can barely see anything. Your vision is blurry, and your hearing is muffled. Every nerve in your body is on fire. "Pl-Please, Jo-el!"

"Get up, girl! C'mon. Get your fuckin' ass up!" He grunts through labored breaths, jaw clenching tightly as he drags your body by the arm up the last step. "I've had 'nough of you."

Suddenly, he kicks your bedroom door open, your heartbreaking cries falling on deaf ears. Your body is shoved into your room with enough force to make you collapse onto the ground. You're gasping for air, your fingers slick with sweat as they frantically claw at the rug, desperate to find something to hold onto.

Joel stands motionless in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you without a trace of emotion. Thoughts flood his mind, overwhelming him like a tsunami. Make her hurt. Make her cry. Make her beg for mercy. He retrieves a key from his front pocket and observes as you pathetically curl into a ball on the floor, your shoulders shaking violently while you cry into the carpet. His hand rests on the doorknob. Before leaving, he speaks in an unexpectedly gentle tone, "Until I believe you've learned your lesson, you're going to stay here, and you're going to think about what you did."

Then, he departs and forcefully closes your door. Amidst your heavy sobs, the sound of the bedroom door lock engaging is audible. Glancing over your shoulder weakly, you notice the doorknob has been altered from before. Gone is the twist lock, replaced now by a keyed lock mechanism.

The epiphany strikes with overwhelming force. Enclosed by a door that's locked and windows sealed shut, you find yourself imprisoned with no means of escape.

Unaware of how much time has passed, you stay on the ground, curled up, emotionless. The tears have stopped, leaving behind an empty stare. The night has already set in, shrouding your room in darkness from top to bottom. Joel's footsteps are audible everywhere, hardly silent. Whenever he approaches your door, there's a halt, a moment of stillness, and then the sound of his steps resumes. Undoubtedly, he was listening with his ear against the door. Each approach brought a heaviness to your heart and a sinking sensation in your stomach.

The aroma of garlic sizzling in oil drifted from the kitchen, prompting your mouth to water and your stomach to knot with hunger. You hadn't eaten since the night before. The clatter of pots and pans, either being used or stored away, brought tears to your eyes. "Stupid, stupid girl," you chide yourself. It was foolish to attempt a kind gesture for Joel, only to have it go horribly wrong. It was a rash and impetuous move. Now, he'll never forgive you for this. This realization has you weeping once more into the spit-soaked, tear-stained rug.

Engrossed in your thoughts, you fail to notice the door has come unlocked and now stands ajar, the hallway light spilling in and illuminating your huddled form. Joel pauses in the doorway, a plate of food in hand, and tuts softly at the pathetic sight before him.

"Sit up," he commands, making his way deeper into the dimly lit room. The sound of his rough voice had your entire body tensing and your quiet cries immediately halting. When you remain still, Joel becomes irritated and prods your hip forward with his muddy boot, leaving a mark on the pristine white dress you wore especially to surprise him. "I said, get your fuckin' ass up, little girl. Don't make me tell you again."

With trembling limbs, you gradually unfold yourself, grimacing as your muscles burn. Your scalp, jaw, neck, knees, and arms feel as though they are on fire. After hours of immobility and neglecting your aching body, the pain strikes you with overwhelming force.

Joel squats before you, emitting a soft grunt as his knees pop and his lower back tightens. In silence, he extends the plate of food between you both: parmesan garlic chicken, green beans, and red roasted baby potatoes. The aroma and appearance make your eyes widen, your mouth water, and your stomach rumble.

The moment your fingertips graze the plate's underside, Joel pulls it away and sets it on the ground. Your faint smile vanishes, replaced by a frown as you meet his stern gaze. He remains silent, his stare unwavering. Looking down at the plate, it dawns on you that there's not a fork, knife, or even a spoon in sight.

"Eat," he commands, his voice a quiet murmur. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes unblinking, his facial expression shifting subtly. The softness and tenderness that were once reserved for you have vanished. He never used to look at your mom the way he looked at you. But now, his gaze is identical. It leaves you feeling sorrowful and heartbroken.

Confused and very much embarrassed at not knowing what to do, you hesitantly reach out to grab the chicken with your bare hand. Joel's hand roughly clamping around your wrist and shoving it away prevents you from doing so. There was a surge of panic that shot through you like a shotgun blast.

"No," he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his scowl deepening. It's clear he's losing patience. Joel has no time for games. "Bend down… and eat," he commands.

There's a tense, heavy moment of silence as you thoroughly think about what he's telling you to do. Warmth spreads throughout your neck and rises to your cheeks before settling on the tips of your ears. Your heart plummets to your stomach. So, like an obedient little dog, you lower your head down to the plate on the ground and begin eating.

Joel smiles at your obedience, one hand gently petting your head and tenderly massaging the tendrils of hair connected to your scalp that he viscously yanked. He softly quiets you when you flinch and unintentionally whimper. He maintains the gentle, affectionate strokes of his hand through your hair, even gathering it into a ponytail to help you eat more comfortably.

"That's a good girl," he softly praises, settling onto his knees in front of you and using his other hand to gently stroke your jaw. "See how easy it is to obey Daddy? You just needed some of Daddy's tough lovin', huh?"

Is this what it was? Some tough love? You've never encountered that before, much less experienced it. Since you were never a problem child, discipline was seldom necessary. Maybe this is exactly what you needed to be a good girl for Joel. Maybe this tough love is what will help you do better and learn from your stupid mistakes.

As you continue eating, Joel finds himself slowly loving the sight of you eating like a fucking mutt in front of him. Knowing that he can push you so far as to do something like this excites him. His hand tightens in the makeshift ponytail he has your hair in, and his eyes darken. Letting out a whimper that was muffled from your food, you make sure to not complain about it to Joel. He was already upset with you from earlier and you really don't want to push it further.

"That's enough," he declares, his hand in your hair stopping your movements while his other hand takes your plate away, leaving half of the food untouched and uneaten. His hand pops you on the cheek when he hears you protesting, a pained yelp escaping your slobbered lips. He forces your head up to be eye level with his. "Listen to me, little girl. From this moment forward, Daddy will decide what you eat, when you eat it, and how much you can eat. Have I made myself clear?" His voice's tone is so authoritative that it holds no room for argument, not that you could muster one even if you wished to.

Nevertheless, you find yourself nodding within his grasp. Choosing not to protest was wise. Should this behavior be part of your punishment or his version of tough love, you certainly wouldn't want to witness him at full strength. Merely the thought was enough to make you shudder with fear once more. Joel was an incredibly strong man, often unaware of his own strength. He could break your jaw with one squeeze--he almost fucking did it this morning.

Joel mocks your nod. "Good," he hums, offering you a pleased smile as he lovingly strokes the apple of your cheeks. "Now, come to the bathroom so Daddy can brush your teeth."

Leaving your half-finished plate behind, you follow Joel into the hallway. You trail behind him aimlessly, your steps shaky and limping. He notices but chooses not to comment. It's for the best, a silent reminder that such consequences will recur if you act carelessly again.

Joel opens the door to the main bathroom and guides you inside with care. He lifts you with ease under your arms and sets you down on the countertop. A small squeak escapes from your chest, a sound that Joel finds adorable. He flashes a subtle grin and begins to wet your toothbrush, dabbing on the toothpaste. He shuffles between your thighs and thumbs your mouth open to start brushing your teeth. His actions brought you comfort, making you feel cherished and cared for. Even though you could have done it yourself, witnessing Joel display his nurturing side was touching. You longed to see more of this aspect of him, silently promising to be well-behaved with every passing minute.

"Alright, babydoll," he says as pats your thighs lovingly and rinses off your toothbrush after instructing you to lean over the sink and spit out the minty froth. "Now, get your butt back to your room and lean over the bed, panties off."

Joel notices the confusion spark in your eyes before it manifests in the furrowing of your brows. Your lips part to question him, but the words become stuck in your throat as his eyes darken and he gives a subtle shake of his head, tutting softly to himself.

"And here I thought you were goin' to start listening to me," he lets out a dark chuckle before invading your space with his strong chest pressing against yours. The force of the action causes your back to crash against the mirror, your head striking the glass while the sink spout presses into your lower back, causing discomfort and pain.

He bares his teeth just barely as he gets in your face, nostrils flaring and eyebrows furrowing, the storm brewing wildly in his eyes. Joel laughs gruffly as your eyes widen and you put your hands up in front of your body against his chest to protect yourself from his unpredictability. Oh, how cute. You were shaking under his hold like a frightened little bunny. Joel presses you harder against the mirror, no doubt forcing the sink spout deeper into your back. He grumbles pleasantly under his breath. He was causing this terrible fear clear as day on your face. The blooming bruises on your body are caused by his hands. The finger shaped bruises looked like a work of art on your delicate skin.

"Oh, babydoll," his breath fans across your face. He gives you a mocking pout, hushing you softly when the tears spill. "You're makin' it real hard not to paint that ass black and blue, you know that?"

Your bottom lip trembles and your body quivers, eyes shutting tightly as you mentally prepare yourself for Joel's next action. Tears spill and disappear underneath your aching jaw. He wipes them away at first, but when they keep sliding down, he wipes a tear-stained thumb across your lips before pushing the appendage deeper into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue.

"D'you taste that?" He asks you so quietly that you almost missed it. He's looking at his thumb between your lips and bites down on his own. Joel gazes into your wide eyes, which stare back at him as if he were the boogeyman. In a way, he is. "That's the taste of fear, sweetheart. Don't it taste fuckin' delicious?" The laugh he lets out is depraved, deranged, and delirious. With his thumb still in your mouth, he uses the other fingers to wrap under your chin before using that grip to force your head to move up and down roughly. "That's what I thought. Now, I ain't going to ask you again, babydoll. Take your ass back to your room and take off your fuckin' panties. When I get back, you better be leaning over the edge or so fuckin' help me God."

The mere threat was sufficient to send you scuttling down the hallway, pushing past Joel in a rush to get to your room. He watches you do so with a sadistic smile on his face. To see you react in such a way has him so fucking hard in his jeans. He cups a hand over the thickness and squeezes. There was a brief warmth pooling in his groin, and he let out a husky moan before his hand falls away. In due time, he silently tells himself.

Shaking, stuttering breaths were muffled in the bedding. You did exactly as you were told. The tips of your toes just barely skimming the rug, you were leant over the edge of the bed with your panties pooled at your ankles. One of your hands had blindly reached across the bed to grab onto your stuffed animal to curl an arm around it and press it against your side. The only comforting thing you can have at this moment that can hopefully ease the unsettling anxiety that won't go away.

Uncertain of how much time has passed, it might have been five minutes, ten, or perhaps even an hour. You caught a fleeting sound of Joel entering the room to retrieve your plate, then he left, securing the door with a lock behind him.

Long stretches of silence enveloped you, allowing the sound of your own heartbeat to echo mercilessly in your ears. It was a fleeting moment of tranquility before Joel determined his next move. In this stillness, sleep nearly overtook you, the exhaustion from hours of weeping creeping up silently. Then, the door unlocks, knob slowly turning. The ominous creaking of your door opening has you tensing as you hold your breath.

The steady stomp of Joel's footsteps enters your room before the door is shut behind him. The sight of you in a position that he demanded from you was driving him fucking wild. Panties at your ankles and your cute ass on display, the hem of your dress stopping just at the middle of your cheeks. He can see your pussy nearly calling out for him to play with her. But he can't, not at this moment. He needs you to understand that your actions, done behind his back, were unacceptable. They were reckless and dangerous—just the thought of it is enough to make Joel feel like punching a wall over and over.

"Now, what am I goin' to do with you, babydoll?" The question is rhetorical. He knows what he's going to do to you, but you don't. Leaving you in the dark of where his mind runs wild, keeping you pure from his deranged, perverted thoughts was for your own good. He intends to maintain a safe distance to prevent any critical harm, beyond what has already been inflicted.

The sound of Joel's voice has your hips shifting, your pussy lips just barely parted to give him a show of your exposed clit poking out from the hood that protects the exposed nerve. As he gets closer, he can see your stuffed animal in a headlock under your arm. How cute and pathetic.

"I gotta say, honey," he starts talking, his voice humorless and no longer holding that warm tone he previously had when he walked in. "It was adorable you thought I was done with you tonight. I mean, you really thought Daddy locking you up here was all that he was goin' to do?"

Unsure if the question was rhetorical or not, you still answered in a breathy voice, "Y-Yes, Daddy."

A smile makes its way onto Joel's face. "Yes, Daddy," he mocks your high pitched, breathy voice. The act of him doing so caused an embarrassed flush to warm your cheeks and ears. To be mocked made you feel so small. But that's what you are to Joel; this tiny, little thing that is so easy to crush in his big hand.

His groin rests against your ass cheeks, both of his hands lifting your dress higher until it pools around your upper back, further exposing your naked body to his eager eyes. The rough denim of his jeans and the cold metal of his zipper pressing into your backside made you hiss under your breath. Joel's hands hold onto your hips, forcing your body further onto the bed until your toes are no longer skimming above the rug, your feet now only dangling a few inches up.

"That's more like it," he grunts quietly, biting down on the plump flesh of his body limp when he sees goosebumps erupt on your soft skin. So, so fucking soft and untainted. As one hand pins you down at your lower back, his other hand gently rubs across your left ass cheek. Barely glancing at you to make sure you're prepared for what's to come, Joel mutters, "Brace yourself, sweetheart."

Then, he thwacks his palm across your skin. The force and strength of the smack made you cry out in surprise and pain. He smacks your other cheek with the same force. He does it again and again, back and forth, back and forth. Your legs kick behind you as fiery warmth blossoms along your backside. Your arm squeezes tighter around your stuffed bunny as you blindly reach a hand behind you to cover your bottom. Joel was quick to grab your wrist to pin it at your lower back.

He doesn't fucking stop spanking you. Not even when his own handprint is starting to show on your skin. He grunts with every thwack of his hand across your sensitive flesh. The cries that are forced out of you were music to his ears. Your backside feels like it's on fire underneath his wide palm; he doesn't know when to stop or ease up. The frustration and irritation from earlier were slowly making their way into Joel's mind.

"Bad." Smack. "Bad." Smack. "Fuckin'." Smack. "Girl."

Joel grunts like an animal as the smacks happen in quick succession. You're wailing into the covers, feet kicking weakly as you try so desperately to wiggle away from him. He won't stop. The pain is indescribable. It burns so badly, throbbing non-stop and feeling like a million needles are being stabbed into your skin. Your throat hurts from your pain-filled wails that are muffled into your bedding.

He's panting heavily and sweating. Wiping a forearm across his forehead, Joel removes his hands from your body, tilting one hand to the side to observe your marked ass. His handprints are on your skin, clear as day. He can feel the blazing heat radiating from your backside. But again, he's not done with you yet. And he tells you just that.

"Quit your fuckin' whinin'," he orders, both hands lowering to his thick leather belt to undo it from the hoops of his jeans. "We're not done until I say we're done." He folds the leather and snaps it together, the resounding sound causing you to cry harder in the sheets.

You learned your lesson. You know that you've been a bad girl. You know this. But the words fail to emerge, your voice and mouth unable to coordinate effectively enough to communicate with Joel. A tumult of emotions rages through your violently trembling body: fear, confusion, intense pain, and fatigue.

Folded, thick leather smacking against tender, angry skin is what forces a scream to erupt from your throat. With your bunny discarded, both hands desperately grab at your bedsheets to pull you away from Joel and his offending belt. You can faintly hear him sucking his teeth before one of his hands roughly yanks you back down by the back collar of your dress.

"Cry as much as you want to, babydoll!" he shouts through your pained wails. Then, the belt strikes across your ass repeatedly. Joel was barely giving you time to breathe through your tears and dribbling snot and drool that slides down your chin. "Kick all you want! Daddy ain't stopping!"

He lowers the position of the belt so that he can strike the back of your thighs as well. You're sure that after tonight, you won't be able to sit or speak for a very long time, for your vocal cords are nearly shattered from how hard and loud you were screaming, and Joel's hands and belt are bruising your backside. You're wishing that this torture will end. You're wishing that Joel will stop and hold you while you cry in his arms like a blubbering baby. Stop. Stop. Stop.

"Stop!" You screamed and screamed, both hands desperately reaching back to cover your backside. Everything burns. Everything feels like it's on fire. The pain only intensified when Joel tossed his belt aside and resorted to the palm of his hand again. "Please, please, stop, p-please!" Your speech now slurred and unrecognizable from thick tears, your hands claw at Joel's wrist, his hand wrapped around both of your own wrists to pin at your lower back again.

Only then does Joel snap out of it.

He's breathing so heavy that an innocent bystander would think that he was having a panic attack. Joel looks down at his creation and finally pulls his hand off of your wrists. Your arms go limp at your sides; you don't even bother trying to cover yourself. He looks at your backside, his thumb gently wiping away some blood that dotted around broken skin that was caused by his belt. He hums thoughtfully, bringing his thumb to his lips and licking your blood from the tip. In a day or two, your ass was going to be badly bruised and marked, all thanks to him.

"Such a sweet girl," he whispers, leaning down to press his nose behind your ear and inhaling deeply. Your body violently shakes underneath his chest. His groin is crushed against your horribly bruised ass, the pressure of it making you cry weakly, all the energy suddenly drained from you once he stopped abusing your ass.

Glancing down at his hard cock, now thick and pressing uncomfortably into his thigh, Joel decided now would be a good time for you to make him feel good. Though he knows you're not up for it, he doesn't fucking care. A darkness lurks within his mind, akin to an alter ego that commandeers his body, a monster in its purest form. This other facet of him is sadistic, vicious, and relentless. With you, it's so easy to fall into this second body. It's addicting. He can't stop, even if he knows this is wrong.

With a hoarse grunt, Joel grabs the back of your arms and yanks you off the bed to drop you down onto your knees. With a hand under your chin to keep your face pointed up to him, his other hand unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, along with his underwear. He pushes both offending fabrics mid-thigh, sighing with satiated relief when his cock slaps up, nearly poking you in the eye.

You could hardly pay attention. Your eyes were unfocused and hazy, swollen lips parted to inhale and exhale shakily. You were so deep in another world that Joel had to roughly shake your head to bring you back down the earth. Unsure of why you feel so dizzy, you tried focusing on the pain in your backside that was still throbbing relentlessly, the burning fire now sizzling into a numb sensation.

"Tongue out," Joel demands roughly as he holds your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand as the other holds the base of his cock to tap his leaking tip against your lips.

Hearing his order, you look up at him with tear-filled eyes and do as you're told. You don't even know what exactly you're doing, but all you can hear in your mind is be a good girl and listen to him. Your eyes almost cross as you get a better look of his cock, and they widen comically. God, Joel was really long and thick. You wondered if all men were this size. It was intimidating to look at. You don't know if even less than half could fit in your mouth, let alone inside of you. Joel observes the revelation in your eyes and drops his left into a wink.

"Careful with your teeth, baby," his voice was gruff and strained, his mushroomed tip throbbing against your lips as his heavy balls tighten from the warmth pooling intensely in his groin. "Yeah, just like that."

His praise was something that you desperately needed tonight. Forgetting about the unrelenting abuse you endured on your backside, you can make it up to him by showing you that yes, you really are a good girl, and you will listen to him and do what you're told.

When you take too long to give Joel what he wants, he decides to take charge in one way that he knows how. Both hands grab either side of your head, forcing it to stay still as he shoves half of his cock into your mouth. Your eyes widened and you sputtered sloppily around his dick, your hands frantically fisting his jeans at his thighs. He grunts and groans, sweat pooling behind his neck and sliding down the line of his back.

"Goddamn," he hissed under his breath, moving his hips forward and back to start fucking your mouth with a brutal pace that has his balls slapping against your wet chin. "Born natural, ain't ya?"

Coughing and choking around his cock, you gagged and dry heaved as his thickness fills your mouth repeatedly. Spit dribbles down your chin and slides down your chest as you bite back the bile pooling in the back of your throat. Joel's breathing stutters for a split second at the sight below him. Your lips were obscenely stretched around his girth, eyes wide and glassy with thick tears just waiting to spill over. The sloppy, wet noises coming from your mouth nearly made him bust right in your mouth.

"Let me try somethin'," Joel mumbles to himself before roughly grabbing the back of your head and forcing your head all the way down until your nose and lips were crushed against his dark public hair. The contractions of your throat squeezing around his cock has him moaning gruffly at the ceiling, his head thrown back, Adam's apple bobbing in time with each moan that comes out.

Taking advantage of Joel's lax state, your nails dig into the thick meat of his thighs to push yourself off of him. His cock slips from your lips, strings of spit connecting from the enlarged tip to your puffy lips. You're coughing and dry heaving, your throat burning terribly. Joel looks down and grins wolfishly.

His hand languidly strokes his soaking cock. The sight of you struggling from his size was an image he wanted to engrave in his mind so he can watch it over and over again. He liked seeing you struggle. Hell, he fucking craves to see it again. Without giving you any time to prepare, he grabs the back of your head to force you down onto his cock once more.

The sopping wet choking sounds that are emitting from your throat are driving him insane. He wonders what would happen if he just...

Both hands roughly grab your head to yank you down until his cock goes down your throat again. This time, he keeps you there for a few, long, grueling seconds. You're sputtering wildly, eyes wide with terror as tears spill over your waterline. Your fists are weakly punching at his thighs, and you try to pull your head back, but Joel only crushes your head harder into his pelvis until your nose is pressed so deep into his pubic hair.

Joel grunts like a wild beast. "Just like that. Fuckin' choke on it." He sees your lashes flutter weakly, your eyes half-lidded and rolling into the back of your head. The lack of oxygen to your brain has your heart slowing dramatically. This is your death. Yeah, this is definitely how you're going to die: choking on Joel Miller's dick, also your mom's husband.

Suddenly, your head is pulled off and you're gasping for air like it's the last thing on earth. Your head is spinning and you're doubling over until your forehead is almost touching Joel's boots. Your throat burns and you can barely feel your tongue. This wasn't supposed to be happening. This is all your fault. You deserve this punishment. Bad girl. Bad, bad, bad girl. Slowly rocking yourself back and forth, you sniffle softly and take a weak glance up at him. A shadow almost casts over your face from where you kneeled, his long cock perfectly aligned below the ceiling light.

Joel bends down to lift you higher on your knees. His big hands gently hold your cheeks, and your eyes shut as this is the first tender touch you've felt in hours. You savor this moment, sniffling again and licking your bottom lip. Joel smiles sweetly, lowering his head to kiss your forehead, nose, and then your lips. A sweet little whimper reverberates against his lips. When he pulls away, he quietly instructs you to open your eyes, babydoll.

When you do, you're met with sweet, nice, tender Joel again. Have you really made it to the end of your punishment? Are you his good girl again? Is this really it? The moment doesn't last long. The smile on Joel's face vanishes gradually slowly. There's a sick feeling that returns back inside your stomach. This is going to be never-ending. This is your well-deserved punishment. Pain, pain, pain.

When Joel purses his lips, you flinch when a wad of spit lands on across the bridge of your nose and slides down your cheeks prettily. Your eyes open and your mouth drops. This was the most demeaning thing for him to do. Spitting on your face is a clear indication that you're nothing more than a personal toy for Joel to use. This whole entire night was of him showing you what you mean to him. The thought added a crack to your heart. All you ever wanted was to be good.

Joel's fingers filthily rub his spit all over your face, a crude smile on his face as he does so. His middle and index fingers are shoved into your mouth, the pads of his fingertips covered in his slick and are now laying against your wiggly tongue. "There we go," he breathes out, gently prodding his fingers further down your throat until they brush against your uvula, causing you to gag and sputter.

You barely have enough time to react before he's yanking his fingers from your mouth and landing a smack to your cheek. It almost sends you flying to the side if it weren't for his hand holding onto the other side of your face. Joel hushes you quietly when your eyes shut tightly, fire spreading across your face.

"This is for your own good, babydoll," he whispers against your forehead, pulling away to pop your cheek again, and then landing another smack to your other cheek. He shushes your pained cries again, giving you a messy, tongue-filled kiss. You can't stop crying against his mouth, snot, spit, and tears all over your face. The anguish won't diminish. It gets stronger and stronger the more Joel breaks you apart little by little.

His hands curl into your hair, tightening into fists and yanking your head back a few inches from his face. His eyes darken as he sees the fear in your beautifully broken eyes. He spits on your face once more, trailing his eyes over the artistic splatter across your nose and cheeks. His cock, still rock hard and soaking wet, hangs out of his jeans.

Joel is a patient man. In due time, you and he will finally become one. Whether you liked it or not, you were his--his to use, his to play with, his to destroy. You don't have a voice anymore. Joel Miller broke you apart with his bare hands and left you scrabbling to pick up the pieces.

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trashmouth-richie · 6 months ago

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➶ pt 1 1/2: DULEX (the gnat) a mid/prequel || emperor geta x reader

➶ 18+ smut 🥀 this takes place somewhere after reader meets caracalla and geta the first night she comes to Palatine Hill and where part one ended.

➶pt i: dulci ut rosa {sweet as a rose🥀 } pt ii: vitiosus + deliciosus

pt iii: frangere me 🥀 pt iv: ad caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

Licking up the hot spend that threatened to spill from your lips, you looked up at your Emperor. Your knees had gotten used to the stone floor, the sand no longer bothering you as it cut through your skin. Geta’s groans were low and guttural, every time. They never swayed, and neither did you as he pumped your mouth full every night.

His chin was tilted upward giving you a clear view of his thick neck. It resembled a tree trunk, a knob in the center where it bobbed with satisfaction, veining with cords that would tighten when he denied himself the pleasure of release. Some nights were longer than others, but they all started and ended the same way.

You told him every detail of what Caracalla had said during your evenings with him. Even the minute details of what he nibbled on during the vesperna, which was mostly fish, sucking the bones between his teeth and then using it as a tool to dig out the tender flesh between his gums.

Geta sometimes laughed at the things you told him. Other times he was angry, brooding beneath that glorious wave of honeypot curls.

Tonight, he didn’t ask for the secrets immediately on his arrival. Gets simply looked you over from head to toe, and when his eyes finished their feast he turned, cocking his head for you to follow him.

He walked with hands behind his back as he strolled an inch ahead of you, so close that if your hands and his were loose, they’d touch. He showed you around the palace, paintings with various strokes of colors making up different frescoes along the great walls. All of which made up the Roman Gods. Apollo and Diana in one showcasing the sun and the moon. Neptune, riding a massive stallion, a hurricane in his wake.

It was exquisite, the different materials used to makeup each piece was fascinating. Geta admired silently, and when he spoke in his native language, you were surprised.

Latin was becoming less and less common, but when he spoke, it rolled off his tongue in eloquence. Pure, unbroken, seductive. Flowing in a way you hadn’t heard in years. You could listen to him for hours.

Further down another corridor led to a great display of busts of Emperors before himself. He paused at one that looked fairly new, the marble uncracked and pristine. Geta, moved his fingers along the base of the heavy stone uttering quietly, “pater meus.”

You stood before the behemoth looking alter, taking in the intricate carvings of the handsome face, one that looked nearly identical to the man staring back at it. Turning towards him you managed, “Ita, Quomodo mortuus est?”

A ripple of shock wove like a needle across his face. Geta looked at you before you spoke, “mortuus est ex morbo.” It was no secret that Caracalla and Geta’s father fell ill and died unexpectedly.

Still, you’d never lost someone close to you before.

“Me paenitet,” you whispered. Even though Geta was a strange man to understand, you were still sorry for his loss. Emperor Septimius Severus was a great man, powerful and demanding to those around him, but still loved by Rome.

Geta looked at you with narrowed eyes, “death isn’t feared by warriors, only those who are weak are afraid of what lies beyond our world.”

He looked as if he would say something else, but he never did, only jerking his head as if to shrug clear his mind before turning on his heel walking quickly the way you came. This time, he walked further ahead of you, his feet slapping the marble floor as he went. A rolling sensation spurring in his nerves.

Geta had times of showing brute strength, other times he was almost kind to you, a friend perhaps. But his mind seem to change like the direction of the wind, like he pushed down anything that could possibly make him happy, make him let go.

“Tell me what he’s done on this day,” he suddenly ordered over his shoulder, his voice back to the bark it usually had, “from first light to his chamber.”

Stumbling over your words you began the lengthy, and extremely boring explanation of how Caracalla had spent his day. Before you could finish and before getting to the closed off corridor, Geta grabbed your arm pulling you down past the massive stone pillars. Into the open.

The humid air hung thick and wet on your skin. The moon was draped with clouds, a poor night for prey. With his finger pointing to the dirt, he motioned for you to kneel, and you looked at him startled. Out here, anyone could see you and report your trickery to one of the generals or worse, to Caracalla.

Raising his eyebrows in protest, the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fit as he assembled your hesitation, “No one will see your whore mouth as I fuck it, they are all tucked into their beds, or drunk.”

Nodding curtly, you obey, slinking to your knees, only to be stopped by his hand and brought back to standing before him. A look you couldn’t place was etched onto his features, as if he was fighting himself in his head, holding himself back.

Geta had been pissed beyond belief after visit his father’s busy. All he could do was be reminded of how his father left him here to rule with his brother. Caracalla wasn’t fit to be an Emperor. He was barely fit to be anything more than a wet dog.

Rage had filled his head as he stomped back to the hallway that was tainted with his moans and the slurp of your gags. He wanted to brutalize your mouth, maybe he’d end up knocking out one of your teeth, or bruise your throat so terribly that you couldn’t swallow anything but liquid for a weeks.

But now as you stood before him, he suddenly felt a sense of calm. Geta was always sure of what he wanted, what he desired. Since your arrival, you somehow seemed to put his maddening thoughts at ease. Just seeing your eyes and the way the suffocated moon shone in them… he couldn’t keep this act up much longer.

“Don’t… don’t move just yet,” he nearly whispered, releasing your arm and moving his fingers across your collarbone. His thumb outlined the marrow beneath the skin, and he moved to the curve of your jaw before placing the pads of his fingers on your lips.

He was right. They felt like the most expensive silk gold could buy, and for the first time in Geta’s life, he wanted to feel them on his own.

He’d fucked practically all the women of Rome, yet he never allowed them touch him in that way. But watching your lips move when you spoke the native tongue back to him made his cock jump, and his chest tighten. They moved in such a seductionous manner he felt as though he was in a trance. Your voice hypnotized him, your lips the object of his innermost desires.

Without thinking anymore of it, Geta leaned in, aligning his lips to yours, as he melted on the hot humid night beneath the Gods and anyone else to witness— he melted into his first actual kiss. As he pulled away from you, a delicate humming noise tickled his eardrum, a pestering sound, barely audible, something he’d been hearing more and more frequently…

-🔆part 3 is already being written besties

latin translation:

dulex— gnat

pater meus— my father

Ita, Quomodo mortuus est?— yes, how did he die?

mortuus est ex morbo— he died from an illness

me paentit— i’m sorry

☻ taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @fallout-girl219 @hellfireadmin @all-will-be-well-love @anythinggoesemily

@eddiesguitarskills @prestinalove @palomahasenteredthechat @wiltinglovers @razzeith

@workingwndrz @probablyin-bed @songforeddiemunson

#emperor geta smut #joseph quinn #emperor geta #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x reader smut #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta fanfic

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sonarspace · 7 months ago

Text

deception, nanami

content: mdni. angst. soft sex. breeding kink (? kinda) wc: 1.1k a/n: trying to get out of my writing slump but it’s bad! so here’s this…

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

nanami’s laying in your arms when he gets a call from ijichi telling him he needs to be at shibuya in an hour. and instantly you’re being filled with dread. “don’t leave,” you tell him as soon as he hangs up the phone.

but he’s already buttoning up his shirt. you huff a frustrated breath and follow him to the bathroom where he fixes his blonde locks.

“don’t go, please” you try again your voice breaking. his eyes meet yours through the mirror. your lips wobble as a tear escapes the corner of your eye. he turns around his eyes creased in worry. “darling, what’s wrong?” his voice’s sweet and soft dripping honey with every word he speaks.

“i’m scared,” you voice your worries into his chest – wetting his blue shirt with your salty tears. he tilts your face to meet his eyes. you’re quietly sobbing now – eyes red and nose turning a shade darker.

“don’t leave me,” your melancholic voice tugs at his heart. he can’t leave them when they need him the most. “i have to, it’s urgent.” he just says in return. it was hurting him to see you like this. be away from you in this state.

“no, ken, please” you drag out the word. his lips match your downturned lips. he hated not doing what you asked of him but this was different. he had people relying on him – the higher ups, his colleagues, the students, the first years…

he drops his head to yours in defeat. his fingers brush away the tears streaking your cheeks. “take me with you,” you request. “you’re pregnant,” he retorts. “so what, i can protect us,” you argue back. your technique similar to gojo’s, allows you to create an invisible barrier. the only difference was, you could include other people.

“i’m not even sure what’s happening there but i don’t wanna risk your safety.” he says placing his hand on your bump. he feels a light kick against his hand and smiles. “it’ll make you use too much cursed energy, there are too many people there,” he adds. “ken,” you’re about to say but you feel another kick – harder this time. as if telling you to listen to him.

he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. a part of him hurts as he lies “i’ll come back”.

“i love you kid,” he whispers as he places a kiss against your stomach. “i love you,” he tells you. holding your face firmly and placing a kiss against your lips — once, twice, and finally a third time. “i’m going to marry you when i get back,” he murmurs against your lips eliciting a teary laugh from your lips.

“promise,” you ask. “promise”. he vows.

but he doesn’t come back that night. or the night after. and you know it was normal for him to take a day or two for missions but the lack of texts and calls has you crying into his pillow. a text chimes from other side of the room. you get up and move quickly — shoko’s name on your screen. you feel like your heart going to jump out of your throat. this can’t be good.

shoko: i’m so sorry.

and you don’t need to read more cause your worst fear has come true. the phone slips out of your hand and hits the floor with a loud clack. you follow as your knees buckle and a weeping “no” erupts your throat.

you gasp for air through your cries. a set of arms pulls you into a hug. “i’m here, i’m here,” he whispers into your hair. “baby, i’m here.” he says again – louder this time. you calm down slightly pulling away from the embrace to see the face of the man you love so dearly.

“kento,” your voice cracks. a hand reaching up to touch his face. was he real? you feel his freshly trimmed hair prick your fingertips as your trace his face freely. his pink lips that kiss you and mark you like a canvas, his slender nose that nudges against yours playfully, & his brown eyes that never failed to take your breath away. “kento,” you say once again.

“yes, baby.” his eyes twinkle with love for you. “are you real,” you ask hazy from sleep. “i’m real,” he lets out a lighthearted chuckle. “you had another nightmare,” he cups your face and wipes away dried tears from your cheeks.

“i’m here. i’m okay. you’re okay. we’re okay.” he confirms. you sigh against his hand. his cold ring presses against your cheek and you’re reminded you’re married — have been married for a year.

you lay your head on his chest and he rubs your back comfortingly. “i was pregnant in my dream and you weren’t there”. he huffs in return. “and that’s why it’s just a dream. i’d never leave you. much less when you’re pregnant.” you smile into his chest.

“i want a baby,” you say. his body rumbles under yours with joyous laughter. “yeah?” he asks with a grin – his thumb under your chin pulling your face up to face him. “yeah,” you kiss him.

he kisses you back. his hand moves down to your neck – rubbing over your quickening pulse. you pull back and let his oversized button up fall off your shoulders. the slightly opened windows lets in a gentle breeze and hugs your body. the night sky is filled with moving pink clouds.

the sound of salty waves from outside, along with nanami’s gasping moan fills your ears as you lower yourself onto him. “ahhh,” your plushy walls are snug around his cock, making it hard for him to form a coherent thought.

before you can move too much, he flips you over. as much as he loved seeing you on top of him, he loved having you underneath him even more. loved seeing the way your eyes rolled back as he thrusts into you. the way your lips parted in moans and whines of his name.

“ken,” you whimper. he drops his head into your neck. kissing and biting at your soft skin. lolling out his tongue to soothe a bite. you wrap your arms around him. your nails dig into his back as he picks up the pace. the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter at the way his cock pushes against that sweet spot in you – turning your brain to mush and leaving your sentences incomplete.

your legs shake around his waist as you cum with a loud cry of his name. “you sure you want me to fill you up” he asks as you calm down from your orgasm. “filthy girl,” he teases when you nod with his fingers occupying your mouth. a muffled yes is all he needs to dump ropes and ropes of his seed deep into you. he pulls out his fingers from your mouth and replaces it with his tongue.

“we’re gonna make a baby,” he groans happily into your mouth.

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

a/n: comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

#✎ luna.writes #jjk #jjk nanami #kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #jjk fluff #jjk fic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami fic #nanami fluff #jjk drabbles #nanami drabbles

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desideriumwriter · 7 months ago

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Could you write something about Hufflepuff reader studying late in the library and she realizes she has to get back to her common room before curfew. As she’s walking back Fred finds her, walks her back to her common room while flirting and talking about random things. Just something sweet and cute. Thanks love 💗💗💗

this is suchhhhh an adorable idea!! a fun one to write too! tysm for the request!! <3

wc: 1.4k

f.w. masterlist | navi

The sun was still in the sky when you entered the library to study peacefully. Various classes had slapped you with an array of tests planned this week and you felt like a bundle of nerves.

So, you chose somewhere you knew there’d be no disturbances or noise to pull your attention from your books.

The sun had completely set now, the sky outside was black. You were probably one of the only people left in the library.

It was just you, several textbooks, notes sprawled across the desk you were sitting at, and the sound of the clock ticking.

You let out a heavy breath and flipped the page of your Potions textbook. Before beginning to read over the next section, you took a look at the clock on the wall.

9:47 PM.

You had less than fifteen minutes before curfew. Maybe you could finish this next page, maybe you could start heading back to your common room.

The walk back wasn’t terribly far, but you should probably start going now if you wanted to get there before the curfew bell rang.

Rubbing your eyes and gathering your things, you quietly began on your path back to your common room.

Turning the corner down one corridor, you ended up a bit behind a tall, ginger-haired, Gryffindor boy.

It didn’t take long for him to realize you were there, he looked behind him, looked back, then did a double take.

“Merlin, you scared me. I didn’t even notice you were behind me.” He halted.

“I know you.” You stopped and narrowed your eyes at the freckled boy.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, you nodded. “Is that a good thing?” He took a few tiny slow steps towards you.

“You're the one who set off all those fireworks off on the train home last year.” You stated, Fred winced.

Maybe it wasn’t a good thing. Most kids found that end of the year prank funny, until the express was stopped for nearly an hour.

“I’m one half of it.” Fred said, tilting his head to the side. “I’ve got a brother. We er…set them off together.” He explained when he noticed your puzzled staring.

He watched nervously as your face lit up in realization.

“The twins!” You pointed, “You both tried to put your names in the Goblet the other week!”

“Oh no, you heard about that too?” He let out a nervous laugh, hoping you wouldn't see the blush seeping across his cheeks.

Fred didn’t understand why he felt so flustered, he thought the incident was hilarious himself. But you were a stranger, a pretty stranger too.

“I witnessed it.” You tried to bite back any more laughter. “You had quite a mighty beard there.”

“Reckon it was better than Dumbledore's?” He brushed his fingers through his long hair.

“I’ll say you’ll be able to pull it off when you're a hundred years old.” You shrugged. “I’m assuming you’re Fred?” You guessed as you two began to walk side by side.

“I’m George.” He lied, no matter how many times he’s done it, he’s never got tired of pretending to be his twin just to mess with people. You nodded embarrassedly and looked at the ground, a twinge of guilt suddenly hit him.

“I’m kidding. I’m not George. I don’t know why I said that.” He stammered and shook his head, “You were right the first time. I am Fred.” You glanced back at him and gave him the sweetest smile. He felt like he could melt right into the floor.

“Well then, Fred, where are you coming back from?” You lifted your chin at him in a playful manner.

“Detention with Filch.” He sighed, you grimaced.

“Uck. Did they punish you because you tried to outsmart the age line?”

“Oh no, no. Being stuck in those stiff hospital beds felt like a punishment itself.” He scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyways, I got caught trying to steal ingredients from Madam Pomfreys cabinets.”

“Oh?” You let out a breathy chuckle.

And what about you? Where are you coming back from

“Just the library, I have a test in Potions tomorrow. I decided I should just try and cram in whatever knowledge I could.” You cringed at the way you began to ramble. While pushing open one of the kitchen doors it was impossible to miss Freds large frame moving in front of you to hold it open for you.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to the Gryffindor tower?” You said half-jokingly as you walked into the kitchen.

“I wanted to steal a pastry from here before I went there. Shouldn’t you be getting back to yours?” He poked.

“I am, I’ve been on my way back to the basement this entire time.” You crossed your arms playfully. His smile dropped and his brows knit together.

“Basement? Your dorm is in the basement?” Fred’s face scrunched up. You just let out a small mhm and nodded, pointing to the entrance hidden behind a stack of barrels at the end of the room.

He had to tilt his head a bit to the side to see the round door hiding behind the pile of wooden barrels.

“Seems a bit crummy to put a common room down there.” Fred said flatly, yet still looking displeased at the fact your dorms would be where the dungeons also are.

“I think it’s the coziest place in the entire castle.” You shrugged; Fred let out a small noise of disagreement.

“Eh, the Gryffindor tower is the coziest. We can put Hufflepuff as a not-very-close second, yeah?” He grinned at you.

“I say you’re wrong on that.” You hummed as you tried to bite back your smile, you failed.

“Yeah? You can come see for yourself! I’ll let you have a visit and see how wrong you are!” He teased, nudging at you with a playful sparkle in his eyes. You could feel your face heat up at how his voice sounded so much flirtier than a second ago. You just prayed he wouldn’t see it. To prevent him from seeing you in your blushing state, you swiftly stepped up to the barrels.

“Er, you should probably stand back a bit.” You pointed, Freds brows knit together in confusion as he looked at the ground and back up at you.

“It…sprays you if you get the code wrong, and there's already been a few times where I’ve messed up the pattern.” You explained, Fred only nodded and took a few steps back.

You tapped the barrels in the correct rhythm and stepped back once the door began to open slowly.

From the glimpse Fred got of the Hufflepuff common room, maybe you were right. The uncountable number of plants and warm glow of the room made it look like one of the most comforting places he’s ever seen.

“It was really nice talking to you.” You told Fred as you stepped inside. “Goodnight.”

"You said you had a test in potions tomorrow, right?" Fred pipped; you stopped the door from closing with your hand.

"Yeah, we have to make a certain one by memory."

“Perfect, I've got just the thing…” He said as he dug into one of his robe pockets. “If you're not sure you made yours correctly, try and sprinkle some of this in. It’ll help.” He pulled out an extremely small sack, filled with sparkly purple powder and dropped it into your hand.

“It won’t make my cauldron explode?” You teased, knowing of him and his twins' history of blowing up the school toilets.

“No, I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.” Even with that little smile on his face, you could tell he was actually being truthful.

“Awesome, thanks.” You grinned again, looking down and beginning to move away from the door.

Fred called out your name one more time, blocking the door from closing with his foot.

“I’ll probably be back here tomorrow night, if you’d like to chat some more?” His voice had gotten so quiet, there was a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’d really like that.” There you went again, with that sickeningly sweet smile. “‘Night, Fred.”

“‘Night.” Fred left the kitchen with a stomach full of fluttering butterflies and a grin on his face. He didn’t even bother to steal any pastries on the way out, he was too busy being excited for tomorrow night.

tell me what you thought!

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley blurb #fred weasley drabble #blurb #drabble #asks #requests #hufflepuff!reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fem!reader

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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I'm just throwing out an idea while attending to my garden of boundless wips but just imagine the compound getting attacked and the one area that's the most damaged is the lab. Hackers want to steal all the Stark technology and they stop at nothing, waiting for the team to leave before they destroy the building, blowing the structure till it crumbles. The only one still remaining in the building is the lab tech.

The jet nears the compound; Tony and Steve are already suited up again while Sam adjusts his wings, Nat and Clint armed and ready to go.

Everyone but Bucky.

"Tony was anyone still in the building?" His face is filled with horror, staring at the smoke emitting from the areas that were hit, his heart hammering against his chest.

"My lab tech, y/n, she was still working when we left" Tony ran a hand over his face and the color drains from Bucky's cheeks.

"WHERE IS SHE" Bucky does everything in his power not to lose control, snapping back into soldier mode and strapping his weapons, shoving past Steve so he can jump out first as they near the compound.

"Barnes its okay, we'll find her" Tony reassures him but he can't hide the confusion on his face because why on earth was Bucky this concerned over his lab assistant. They had never spoken a word to each other, in fact he didn't even realize Bucky knew you existed.

"She's pregnant!" Bucky had never sounded so scared in his life, pulling himself together to keep from breaking down.

"What-when-how-how do you know" Tony had never felt more confused in his life while the others all whip their heads around, shocked at what he'd just said.

"That's my wife"

The jet doors open and Bucky is the first one out, sprinting through smoke and flames till he gets to the worst part of what's left, debris and rubble scattered over the floor. Bodies hit the floor as he takes out anyone that he sees without a second guess. He frantically searches, holding back his emotions till he spots the broken glasses first. Dust and crumbles cement cover your unconscious form, blood dripping from you forehead and he doesn't pause to try and wake you up himself.

She's in his arms and he's rushing to the med wing while the rest of the team trail behind him, seeing as he's already killed anyone that broke in. Once your taken in, all he can do is wait, pacing up and down the hall till he's given the all clear to see you. He sits by your bed, desperately holding onto your hand, Steve being the first to check on his best friend while the the others quietly enter after.

No one breathes a word till you finally open your eyes, giving you and Bucky privacy till you're ready to see the others. He's tucked into bed with you as they enter, his arm wrapped around your tummy, rubbing soft circles with his metal hand. You weren't showing much yet, seeing as it was still early on.

"Okay, spill, when did you marry my lab tech" Tony playfully teased while Bucky blushed, hugging you closer.

"Last year" He admitted, while Steve smirked, coming over to check on you.

"Doing okay sweetheart?" The blonde asked, plopping down on a chair beside your bed, smiling when you nodded, "How's my godchild"

"You knew?" Sam wacked Steve's shoulder only to be met with a snicker from both soldiers.

"Who do you think was the bestman" The captain smiled proudly while you giggled, giving Tony a sheepish smile.

"I was gonna tell you Mr. Stark"

"When, did you think I wouldn't notice a little super soldier running around the lab?" He cocked an eyebrow with a smile.

"You knew?" Sam repeated, still deeply offended while Steve shook his head, kissing your forehead before getting up so you could get some rest. The rest of the team followed after, deciding to bombard the two of you with questions after you'd slept.

"YOU KNEW?"

"Give it a rest Sam"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Almighty Captain, Never lies, Sir Honest A Lot, YOU KNEW?"

"Sam"

"YOU KNEW?!"

I'm sorry, this wasn't the most organized drabble, just an idea I wanted to toss out into the world.

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thevoidstaredback · 8 months ago

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Damian lost. Damian has never lost before. He never loses! Losing means you're weak, and Damian is not weak. He grew up fast and strong and is only ever getting stronger!

But he couldn't kill her.

Damian had been raised to think that love of any kind was a weakness. Grandfather did not love mother because he is not weak. Mother loved father and that made her weak. Damian could not love Danyal because that would make him weak. Grandfather expected great things from him. He could not afford to be weak.

Before they were set to leave Nanda Parbat to live and train with their father, Damian and Danyal had one final lesson with Grandfather. A fight, two versus one, on the edge of the Lazarus Pits.

Danyal did not survive. He did not resurface from the depths of the green water.

Grandfather called him weak. Mother said nothing. Damian was given no time to mourn before he was handed to his father with strict orders not to tell him about Danyal.

For all Grandfather and mother had done to him, Damian could not bring himself to kill either of them. His father had taught him to love, that it was a strength.

Damian loved his mother. He realized this as he stared into her eyes, his katana at her throat, his boot pinning her down. He could not kill her.

"You are foolish, habibi." she scolded, kneeing his back and sending him rolling forwards off of her and to the edge of the Pits. "You have discarded all I taught you."

"I have only added to those lessons," he faced her, "I remember everything you have taught me."

"You lie like your father. Obviously and bluntly."

"I have never lied to you."

"Then you have forgone my lessons!"

"Because you abandoned me!"

"I sent you away to learn. I came back for you. You abandoned me."

"A mother's role to teach her child just as the father's role is to protect." Damian leveled his weapon at her again. "You left me in the care of everyone but yourself, Talia Al Ghoul. You were only ever our mother in title, not name."

Talia lunged forward, meeting Damian's sword with her own. "You know not of what you speak, foolish child!"

"I know plenty!" He pushed back, forcing her back several feet. He followed if only to get away from the edge of the Pits. "No thanks to you."

"I gave you everything, Damian."

"No. You took everything from me. You held it all as a reward out of my reach."

"You wouldn't be where you are today if it wasn't for me and your Grandfather." she stated as though it were an undeniable truth, "Whether you acknowledge it or not, we raised you."

"I raised myself."

"We taught you everything you know."

"I taught myself!"

"We made you perfect!"

"You killed half of me!"

The silence overwhelmed the fighting in the tunnels, the shouting and running and bubbling of the Pits were all drowned out. Talia's sword lowered shakily. Damian's remained raised and steady.

"You allowed Grandfather to take Danyal from me. You forced me to forget him. You killed half of me."

"Habibi-"

"No!" He was shaking now. "He was my better half, just as I was his. And you took him from me."

"Damian-"

"You took my brother from me!" He charged madly at her, rage and grief overtaking him. "I will never forgive you for that!"

Talia matched him blow for blow. "Love is weakness, habibi. That is why he died. Danyal loved you and he paid his price for it."

With a scream, Damian doubled his efforts. His blows grew weak with rage as his mother pushed him back.

Damian knew he could not kill her. Some part of him still yearned for her approval. Some part of him still loved her.

Talia's sword impaled itself into the area below his sternum, piercing the armor and skin and muscle, stabbing through to the other side, the hilt stopping it from moving ant further.

Suddenly, the silence flooded over the cavern again. A shrill ringing filled Damian's ears as his grip weakened. His katana fell from his grasp, clattering to the floor so loudly, but so, so quietly. Blood spilled from Damian's mouth with a cough.

Talia drew her sword back, throwing it behind herself as she caught her son. Love is a weakness, but that had not stopped her before. Why hadn't it stopped her now?

"Damian? Habibi?" She cradled his body on her lap, her hand turning his face to her. "My darling?"

Damian's eyes were vacant, staring into a distance unseen. He heard nothing, felt nothing. He knows what was coming next. Sleep. Release. Soon, he'd be in his brother's arms again, just like when they were children. They'd have so long to catch up with each other.

Damian closed his eyes with a soft sigh.

Storyboard Part 2

#damian doesn't survive #i pulled this out of my ass #i need to sleep #but i had to get this out of my head #all of my knowledge is from fanfics and other fanon #dp x dc #dcxdp #damian wayne #talia al ghul #part 1/2 #reunion of brothers #only because theres a lot that needs to happen but this is a good place to end #this won't be a huge thing though #sorry not sorry

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angelyuji · 7 months ago

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homelander realizing that you could make a great mom to ryan and kidnaps you, but realizes you were partly why ryan is not like him??? yeeah im thinking thoughts.

tw // physical abuse, mental/emotional abuse, implied noncon, homelander being homelander

honestly the ending got pretty sad idk why i think its cuz i feel so bad for ryan becuz he deserves so much better than shitty homelander and i wish his mom didnt die poor baby angel :( anyway....

"what have bullshit are you teaching him." john's face, twisted with wrath, was only a few inches away from you. you try to inch back, but he grabs your face. gripping your jaw with one hand, he forces you to look back at him. "answer the fucking question, (y/n). what poison- what LIES are you teaching my son?" your face hurts and you feel tears well up in your eyes.

"dad, she's not doing-" ryan tries to interject, to stop his father, but john raises a hand at him.

"don't. don't protect her. talk now, (y/n), before i really get angry." his eyes flash red and you feel your heart stop.

you sniffle, "john, i swear i'm not teaching him anything. i don’t know-” before you could finish, john backhands you, sending you to the floor. your vision goes white from the pain and you can’t help the screaming sobs coming out of you. when you look up, you see ryan in tears. you can’t even muster a smile to make him feel better.

“ryan, go to your room.”

“but-”

“NOW.” you hear ryan’s defeated steps go up the stairs. your scalp stings as john grabs a fistful of your hair to pull you up. “my son is the most powerful creation on the planet alongside me. i will not let you turn him into a pathetic, worthless worm like you. understand, (y/n)?”

his face is close to yours. you can feel his fury and you nod, afraid to speak.

"say it. say you understand."

you choke, "i understand... i'm sorry, john." his grip loosens and you collapse to the floor, shaking wth sobs. you hear him huff quietly to himself.

"so fragile and weak, why would you think ryan should be like you and not me, his father?" you look up at him and he stares down at you. you try to speak, but he holds a hand up. "i don't want to hear it." you look down. the room fills with silence, interrupted occasionally with ryan's footsteps from upstairs. "fucking pathetic." you hear him mumble. "go upstairs and collect yourself. i don't want to hear your sniffles when i fuck you tonight." he rolls his eyes and waves you away.

you stumble up the stairs and finally make it to the bedroom, collapsing into the bathroom. you sit in the bathtub, knees against your chest, sobbing.

"y/n?" a small voice comes from in front of the door. you quickly wipe your tears.

you clear your throat, "come in, sweetheart!" you watch as the door is opened, hesitantly. ryan comes in, slowly, and closes the door behind him. he looks at you, eyes filled with guilt. he sits down next to the bathroom. "you're growing up so fast..." you try to smile and brush your hand through his hair.

ryan puts his head down on the edge of the bathtub, "i'm so sorry, (y/n)..." your heart hurts and you cup his face in your hands.

"none of this is your fault, ryan. you did nothing wrong." you watch tears fall faster down his face. you pull him into a hug. the edge of the bathtub was digging into your skin, but you felt ryan relax and you knew you could be in pain for a little while longer.

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luveline · 1 year ago

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𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

spencer comforts you with facts and affection alike when you worry you aren't as pretty as the girls on his team. requested here. fem!reader, 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Photographs can't accurately capture how beautiful Emily Prentiss is. JJ and Penelope are both gorgeous too, but it's Emily who startles you. Her hair a cool black colour and curled around her demure face, the line of her nose and her deep, dark eyes. Her lips, picture perfect and painted a soft pink.

The prettier you find her, the more your heart sinks.

Spencer squeezes your shoulder. It's bold for him to do so in front of his friends (his family, really), he can barely show you affection in the grocery store without turning rosy. You preen at the touch, but the feeling of insecurity remains like an irksome gnat zipping around your head.

"We didn't think we'd ever get to meet you!" Derek is saying, a casual arm thrown around Penelope's shoulders, a drink in hand.

Rossi couldn't attend and JJ felt too pregnant, bringing your party to a solid six. It still feels like a lot of people to meet at once.

You hold the flute of your glass in a nervous hand, fingers stickied by condensation. You have a feeling that you're in trouble, all these profilers assessing your behaviour, nowhere to hide. "No, I'm," —you raise your voice to hide the funny tremor that's taken hold— "so happy to meet you all, I promise I've been trying!"

"Whenever she gets time off, we're on a case," Spencer says.

Emily smiles widely at your statement. It's such an open, friendly look, it floors you. You look down at your drink and blink.

You don't know it, but the team exchanges glances at your behaviour.

"So, do you enjoy your work?" Emily asks. "Or hate it, like us?"

Hotch laughs and moves his pint glass onto a coaster. "I think it's safe to say that none of us hate our jobs."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. I can't imagine how hard it is, how hard you all work," you say. Spencer's hand drifts down your back. "But you have each other."

Emily does this thing with her eyes and if you weren't in a happy relationship, you'd probably be a puddle at her feet. "Too much of each other," she says jokingly.

She's gorgeous, and Spencer sees her every single day? You're nothing compared to her. Not smart, not strong, and nowhere near as pretty. You could never measure up.

"Would you, um, excuse me?" you ask, moving your purse from your lap and onto the table.

"You okay?" Spencer asks, looking up as you stand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just gonna use the bathroom," you say quietly. You aren't, but if you were, you wouldn't really want to broadcast that anyhow.

You try not to wobble on the way to the bathroom. The weight of five pairs of eyes follows you as you leave, four of which are trained in the art of spotting lies. Everything isn't okay, and they know that, and by extension —all the effort you made tonight? Getting your hair done, your nicest clothes, your makeup and your perfume? It might as well be a huge blinking neon sign that says you're trying really hard, and it doesn't make a lick of difference.

You sidle into a stall, pulling the lid of the toilet down with a tissue and sitting on it heavily. Elbows on your knees, you hunch your back and hide your face in your hands, breathing in the smell of bleach through quick breaths. Water drips somewhere near the sinks, the cacophony of the restaurant hushed.

You've never felt naturally pretty. With Spencer, it hasn't ever mattered. He's never given any indication that he cares. But…

"Loser," you mutter to yourself.

"Hey, Y/N?" Spencer asks, his voice bouncing off of the tile.

You freeze. "Two seconds!"

"You're not really using the bathroom," he says incredulously.

"Says who?"

Spencer laughs, his tone wry, "I know you really well, you realise? Like, better than I know anyone else on the planet."

"Then you know I'm having an authentic pee and need my privacy."

"Come on out."

The ringing of the lock slotting free is like an announcement of your embarrassment. Spencer's standing a half a foot from the doorway, keeping his distance from the no man's land that is the ladies room. You're going to use it to your advantage, only he holds out his hand expectantly. When you take it, he pulls you out of the bathroom and firmly into the restaurant hallway.

You can't escape his concern, nor his hands as they cup your face unexpectedly.

They feel as nice as they look, deft fingers pressed to your skin like you're one of his puzzles to decipher.

"What upset you?" he asks.

"Nothing your friends did, I promise."

"But something." He smooths a hand down to your shoulders. He's not quite frenetic but certainly close to it, searching for a problem he won't find on the surface. "You're insecure about something," he deduces.

You cringe bodily. "I'm not."

"What is it? Is it your necklace? It really is nice, the colour goes with your skin. It's understated."

"It's not my necklace, Spence."

"Then what is it?"

"I just…" You pull his hands from your neck and collar to hold them, looking up into his melty brown eyes wishing he weren't so hard to say no to. "Feel like you could do better."

He frowns. It's a pout, and endearing, but not what you want to see.

"I love being with you, I just think, you know, you're so handsome, and you have all these pretty friends," you say.

"You think you're not pretty?" he asks. He sounds gutted, if a little confused.

"Not like her." Your voice quivers.

The first time you got upset in front of Spencer, he wasn't sure what to do. He ended up putting an arm around your shoulder, your brand new boyfriend out of his depth. You've both had some practice at comforting one another now, and any hesitance Spencer held is gone. He wraps his arms around you like he's afraid you'll fall over, the crease of his stressed brow smushing against the side of your face.

"Don't think that. Why would you think that?" he asks quietly.

"I know I'm not pretty like some girls," you say, surprised by the ferocity of his reaction.

"You don't know that, because it's not true. You're beautiful." He squeezes your side between his fingers, something contemplative about the way his thumb curls upward. "Do you know how many books I've read?"

"Thousands."

He hums. A hand grasps at the back of your neck. "Thousands of books. I know so much, especially about the human body. I know that falling in love can make some people feel the same effects as cocaine. Staring into their eyes can synchronise your heartbeats." He encourages your head back. "Butterflies are adrenaline and when I look at you I can't get them to stop, even if I know it's chemical." Spencer's eyes are lit with something you don't often see directed at you, a furious conviction. "What we think we know isn't always fact, so if you think you're not pretty…" He nods his head gently to the left. "There's only really one thing left to do."

Your heart feels like it's being juiced. "What's that?" you ask.

He grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. Fingertips to his breastbone, he holds it flat. Sure enough, even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, you can feel the rapid capering of his pulse.

"It's like that pretty much any time I look at you."

"Spence…"

"I know it's bad," he says.

"Are you messing with me?"

"Yeah, I did a lap before I came to find you– No!" He laughs, giving you an admonishing look. "Why would I mess with you? How could I?"

"I don't know."

He dips in to kiss your frown. "You're so pretty," he whispers. "So, so pretty. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, no matter what you think."

You don't believe that you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, but you believe that he believes it. He has no reason to lie to you, nothing to gain. He could've said, Hey, you're pretty, and left it at that. He could've been angry with you for leaving the table for something some people would say was superficial. But Spencer's your sweetheart.

"Do you want to go home, angel?" he asks, looking at you worriedly.

"No." You don't even have to think about it —you've done enough thinking. "I don't want to go home. Sorry, Spencer. I feel better." And you'll stay out all night if he's going to call you angel again.

"Well, let me know if you need me to tell you again."

The chances of you surviving such an ardent speech a second time are low. "I won't be doing that."

Spencer shrugs. "You'll let me know, even if you don't think so. You have a tell when you're upset."

You spend the rest of the night making up for your disruption (which Spencer's friends immediately dismiss without questioning), shepherding the crisper curly fries on to Spencer's plate because he likes them that way, and begging him to tell you what your tell is with subtle pleading glances and a hand on his knee. Nothing inappropriate, but affectionate nonetheless.

He doesn't tell you no matter how much you ask, and maybe it's the drinks or the way the scone light kisses his cheeks in a warm buttery light, you can't find it in you to be mad.

"Keep your secrets," you say, chin tilted upward. You're failing to glare at him, too much love in your eyes for it to be believable.

"You're beautiful," he says back, mirroring your expression playfully, before leaning down for a chaste kiss.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!! if you did, please consider reblogging, it makes a big difference to me<3 have a good day!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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callsigns-haze · 15 days ago

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What ruined this Christmas so quickly? Lies. 2

Part 1 here

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x wife!reader

Summary: Just a few weeks before Christmas all goes downhill. You're left taking care of the kids and leaving work early and now your husbands brings up the topic of moving as soon as possible to San Diego. You're overwhelmed but he's willing to go no matter the lies he told.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, mentions of sickness, lies, overwhelmed reader, arguments SMUT

Word count: 10.6k

At 6 a.m., the household stirred to life, much earlier than Bradley had hoped. The first sound was Theo’s sharp cry from the baby mattress nestled beside the bed. The sudden noise startled him out of a restless sleep, his eyes snapping open. Before he could fully sit up, another sound followed—Anna’s small voice calling out from her bed in their shared room.

“Daddy! Theo’s crying!” she called, her voice groggy but insistent.

Bradley groaned softly, rubbing his hands over his face as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He glanced at Theo, whose little fists flailed in the air, his cries growing louder by the second.

“Alright, buddy, I’m coming,” Bradley muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

Anna was already out of her bed, her messy hair falling into her eyes as she clutched her blankie and stood near Theo’s mattress. She looked up at Bradley with wide eyes. “Is Theo okay?”

“He’s fine, Annabelle,” Bradley assured her as he scooped Theo up, gently rocking him. “He’s just hungry.”

Anna trailed behind him as he headed to the kitchen, still clutching her blanket and dragging it along the floor. “Can I help?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“Why don’t you sit at the table, and I’ll get him a bottle?” Bradley suggested, nodding toward the dining area.

Anna complied, climbing up onto one of the chairs and resting her chin on her arms as she watched him move around the kitchen. Bradley quickly prepared a bottle, testing the temperature before settling into the chair beside Anna to feed Theo.

“Did you sleep okay, Banana?” he asked, glancing at her.

She nodded slowly, but then scrunched her nose. “Not really. I woke up a lot because Judy was coughing.”

Bradley frowned, his gaze flicking toward the hallway. He’d check on Judy as soon as Theo was settled. “She’s still not feeling good, huh?”

Anna shook her head solemnly. “No. She said her throat hurt last night.”

Bradley sighed, the worry from the night before creeping back in. Between Theo’s early wake-ups, Anna’s boundless energy, and Judy being sick, it was shaping up to be a long day. And you were still at work, likely swamped with tasks after your overnight shift.

“After this, we’ll check on Judy, okay?” he told her.

“Okay,” Anna agreed, stifling a yawn.

Bradley gently lifted the now-empty bottle from Theo’s little hands and brought him up to his shoulder, patting his back softly. Theo squirmed a little before letting out a small, satisfying burp.

“Good job, buddy,” Bradley murmured, his voice low and soothing.

He looked over at Anna, who was still sitting at the table, her head resting on her arms. “Hey, Banana, why don’t you go watch some TV for a bit? I’ll put on your cartoons.”

Anna perked up at the suggestion, nodding eagerly. “Can I watch the animal show?”

“Sure thing,” Bradley said with a tired smile as he stood up, balancing Theo in one arm. He guided Anna into the living room, turning on her favorite wildlife documentary. She climbed onto the couch, pulling her blanket up around her shoulders as she settled in.

With Anna occupied, Bradley carried Theo back into the kitchen and placed him in the bassinet by the window. “Alright, buddy, time for a little rest,” he whispered, gently tucking the baby blanket around him. Theo blinked up at him sleepily, his earlier cries now a distant memory.

Satisfied that Theo was settled, Bradley headed down the hall to Judy’s room. He pushed the door open quietly, peeking inside. Judy was still curled up in her bed, her face pale against the pillows. Her breathing was slow and a little raspy, and her hair was a messy halo around her head.

“Judy?” Bradley whispered, stepping closer.

She stirred at the sound of his voice, her eyes fluttering open. “Hi, Rooster,” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bradley said softly, sitting down on the edge of her bed. He reached out, brushing her hair back from her face. “How are you feeling?”

Judy shrugged weakly, her small shoulders barely moving. “Tired,” she murmured.

Bradley frowned, resting the back of his hand against her forehead. It was warm—warmer than it had been the night before. He grabbed the thermometer from her bedside table, turning it on before gently placing it in her ear.

When the thermometer beeped, he checked the reading: 101.5°F. A low-grade fever.

“Still warm, kiddo,” he said softly, setting the thermometer aside. “Your throat still hurting?”

Judy nodded, her face scrunching up slightly.

Bradley sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Alright. I’ll get you some medicine and a glass of water. Maybe some honey for your throat.”

“Okay,” Judy mumbled, her eyes already starting to close again.

Bradley stood and pulled the blankets up around her, tucking her in snugly. “I’ll be right back, Jude,” he promised, smoothing the covers over her.

Bradley descended the stairs quietly, the creak of the old wooden steps under his weight barely audible over the sound of the TV in the living room. He peeked over to check on Anna, who was completely engrossed in her wildlife show, her small form bundled under her blanket on the couch.

Satisfied she was occupied, he made his way into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet where you kept the kids’ medications, pulling out the liquid acetaminophen for Judy. He set the bottle on the counter, then grabbed a clean spoon from the drawer and filled a small glass with water.

Bradley thought for a moment, remembering your go-to remedy for sore throats. He reached for the honey jar, scooping out just a little to stir into the water. The warm mixture would be easier for her to sip without irritating her throat further.

Balancing the items in his hands, he glanced at the baby bassinet near the window. Theo was still sound asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Bradley took a moment to adjust the blanket over him before heading back toward the stairs.

As he passed through the living room, Anna looked up from the screen.

“Is Judy still sick?” she asked, her voice soft with concern.

“Yeah, Anna, she’s still not feeling great,” Bradley replied, pausing to ruffle her hair. “But I’m giving her some medicine and water. She’ll be okay.”

Anna nodded, her attention returning to the TV. Bradley continued upstairs, carefully balancing the glass and medicine bottle as he made his way back to Judy’s room.

Bradley stepped quietly into Judy’s room, the glass of honey water and the medicine bottle still in his hands. She was half-sitting up now, propped against her pillows, her pale face peeking out from under her blanket. Her tired eyes opened a little wider when she saw him.

“Hey, Jude,” he said softly, sitting down on the edge of her bed. He placed the glass on her bedside table, then unscrewed the cap from the medicine bottle, carefully pouring the correct dose into the small plastic cup.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said gently, holding the cup out to her. “This will help with the fever and make you feel a little better.”

Judy wrinkled her nose but obediently reached for the cup. She hesitated for a moment, looking up at Bradley with a wary expression.

“It’s not going to taste good, is it?”

Bradley chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Probably not, but it’s quick. Just take it all at once, like a champ.”

Judy sighed and tipped the cup to her lips, swallowing the medicine. Almost immediately, her face scrunched up in discomfort. She started coughing and gagging, her small body jerking forward.

Bradley reacted instantly, grabbing the bucket you had placed beside her bed the night before. He held it in front of her as she coughed and retched, her face turning red.

“It’s okay, Judy,” he said quickly, rubbing her back as she spat into the bucket. “You’re alright. Just breathe.”

She sat back after a moment, her eyes watery and her breaths shaky. “It’s so gross,” she whined, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I know, kiddo,” Bradley said, setting the bucket down on the floor within easy reach. “But you did it, and I’m proud of you. The worst part’s over now.”

Judy gave him a small nod, leaning back against her pillows. Bradley picked up the glass of honey water and handed it to her.

“Here, sip this,” he said. “It’ll help get rid of that taste.”

She took the glass and drank a little, her face relaxing slightly as the sweetness replaced the bitterness of the medicine.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded again, her voice still a little hoarse. “Yeah, a little.”

Bradley smiled, tucking the blankets back around her. “Good. Now, just rest, okay? I’ll check on you in a bit.”

Judy yawned and settled deeper into the bed, her eyelids already drooping. Bradley picked up the medicine cup and the spoon, giving her one last look before quietly leaving the room, making a mental note to wash out the bucket later.

Bradley made his way downstairs, pausing briefly to check on Theo, who was still sound asleep in the bassinet. Anna was sprawled on the couch, her blanket twisted around her legs as she watched her wildlife show.

“Hey, Banana,” he called gently, stepping into the kitchen. “You hungry?”

Anna turned her head, her messy hair falling into her eyes. “Yes! Can I have pancakes?”

Bradley chuckled, opening the fridge to grab the milk and eggs. “Pancakes, huh? Alright, but you have to help me eat them. No leftovers today.”

“Deal!” Anna called, hopping off the couch and running to the kitchen table to watch him.

As he set the ingredients on the counter, Bradley pulled his phone from his pocket. He tapped out a quick text to you, knowing you’d probably already been up for hours.

Good morning. Everyone’s up—Theo cried at six and woke Anna. Judy’s still running a fever, but I gave her some medicine. Making pancakes for Anna now. Hope you’re doing okay at work.

He hit send, set the phone down on the counter, and grabbed a mixing bowl. Anna swung her legs back and forth from her chair, humming a little tune to herself as she watched him crack eggs into the bowl and whisk them together.

“Can I help stir?” she asked eagerly.

“Of course,” Bradley replied, sliding the bowl closer to her. He handed her the whisk, steadying her small hands as she giggled and stirred with all her might.

As Anna concentrated on her “stirring duties,” Bradley glanced at his phone, wondering if you’d have time to respond. Even though things were tense, he hoped the text would at least remind you he was trying to keep everything under control at home.

As Bradley finished helping Anna stir the pancake batter, a faint rustling sound came from the baby monitor on the counter. He glanced at the screen and saw Theo standing up in his crib, gripping the rails for balance with a wide, toothless grin. His messy curls flopped as he bounced slightly, his usual morning energy already on full display.

Bradley sighed, amused, and looked over at Anna. “Okay, kiddo, keep stirring, but don’t go near the pan, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Anna nodded seriously, though she wrinkled her nose. “I know, Daddy. I’m not a baby.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t let me smell burnt pancakes, okay?” he teased.

When he walked into the room room, the little boy’s face lit up. “Dada!” Theo chirped, gripping the crib rails tighter and bouncing again.

Bradley couldn’t help but smile. “Good morning to you too, buddy.” He reached into the crib and scooped Theo up, holding him close. Theo leaned into his chest, his little hand grabbing at Bradley’s shirt as he mumbled another “Dada,” the only word he could say so far.

“Let’s go get you some breakfast,” Bradley said, carrying him downstairs.

Back in the kitchen, Anna was standing on a chair near the stove, pointing at the pan dramatically. “Daddy! They’re burning!”

“Anna, what did I just say about getting near the pan?” Bradley said, his voice sharper than he intended as he hurried to the stove. He turned down the heat and flipped the pancakes, a couple of them slightly darker than intended.

“Sorry!” Anna said, shrinking back into her chair.

Bradley sighed, adjusting Theo in his arms and softening his tone. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just let me handle the stove, alright?”

Anna nodded, and Bradley leaned over to kiss her head before moving Theo to his high chair. He strapped the toddler in and placed a few of his favourite baby biscuits on the tray. Theo immediately grabbed one and started gnawing on it, babbling happily between bites.

“Dada, dada,” Theo mumbled again, his eyes sparkling as he held up a soggy biscuit like it was a prize.

Bradley chuckled, wiping a bit of drool from Theo’s chin. “Yeah, that’s me, buddy.”

Bradley finished the last batch of pancakes, carefully flipping each one before stacking them on a plate. He grabbed the syrup, a small bowl of fruit, and a glass of milk for Anna, carrying everything over to the table.

“Alright, kiddo, dig in,” he said, setting the plate down in front of her.

Anna’s face lit up as she grabbed her fork. “Thanks, Daddy!”

“Just don’t eat too fast,” Bradley warned with a chuckle, ruffling her hair.

He turned his attention back to Theo, who was happily munching on his biscuits, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. Bradley grabbed a small bowl and filled it with some mashed banana, sitting down in front of Theo to spoon-feed him between bites of his own breakfast.

“You’ve got it easy, little man,” Bradley joked as Theo eagerly opened his mouth for another bite. “No flipping pancakes for you, huh?”

Theo responded with a delighted, “Dada!”

Bradley smiled, but his mind wandered briefly to you. He wondered how your morning was going—whether you’d had a chance to breathe or if work had been as hectic as always. He checked his phone on the counter, but there wasn’t a reply yet to his earlier text.

Turning back to the kids, he saw Anna stabbing her pancakes with a fork, her mouth sticky with syrup. Theo babbled happily in his high chair, smearing mashed banana on his tray.

“Alright, Banana,” Bradley said, slipping back into her nickname without thinking. “After breakfast, it’s straight to the bath for you and your brother. Deal?”

Anna nodded with a grin. “Okay, but only if I can have bubbles!”

“Deal,” Bradley agreed, wiping a bit of banana from Theo’s face as he started planning out the rest of the morning. Breakfast, baths, checking on Judy again—it was all manageable.

---

You stood at the whiteboard, marker in hand, as you stared at the equations you’d been working on for the past hour. The formulas were complicated—strings of variables, constants, and brackets that seemed to taunt you with their complexity. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you tapped the end of the marker against your chin, trying to pinpoint where the calculations felt off.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Still trying to crack the code, Einstein?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you turned to see Matt leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. His shirt was untucked, and he had a coffee cup in hand, looking every bit the definition of laid-back.

“Don’t you have your own equations to mess up?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

Matt laughed, stepping into the room and taking a sip of his coffee. “Probably, but it’s more fun watching you battle it out with the whiteboard.” He tilted his head, squinting at your work. “Let me guess—still on the orbital trajectory adjustments for the new satellites?”

You turned back to the board with a huff. “It’s not the trajectory that’s the problem. It’s the stupid velocity constraints. They don’t balance with the fuel consumption models.” You gestured at the rows of calculations, frustration creeping into your voice. “If I adjust for the constraints, it throws off everything else.”

Matt took another sip of his coffee, stepping closer to inspect the equations. “You know, this whole perfectionist thing you’ve got going on—it’s a little exhausting to watch.”

“Then don’t watch,” you quipped, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Come on, you’re killing me here,” Matt teased, gesturing at the board. “You’re like one of those geniuses in movies who refuses help until the last second when someone like me swoops in with a fresh perspective.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Fresh perspective, huh? Let me guess, you’re about to tell me to carry the two or something equally ground-breaking?”

Matt grinned. “No, but I’m just saying, you could take a break. Sometimes the answer shows up when you’re not trying so hard.”

You sighed, stepping back from the board and glancing at him. “You’re probably right. But if this doesn’t get done by tomorrow—”

“Yeah, yeah, the world ends,” Matt said with mock seriousness. “Look, I’ll even buy you a coffee if it’ll get you to step away for five minutes. You’re scary when you’re this focused.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes again, but his teasing did make you feel a little lighter. “Fine, but only because I need caffeine.”

“Caffeine and maybe some company,” Matt added with a wink as he headed toward the door.

You chuckled, grabbing your notebook and following him out, already feeling the weight of the equations lifting just a little.

As you walked out of the office with Matt, your notebook tucked under your arm, he glanced sideways at you, his teasing grin fading into a more serious expression.

“Alright,” he said, stopping abruptly and turning to face you. “What the hell is going on with you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“You.” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “You’ve been wound tighter than usual all week. And before you try to brush me off with some ‘I’m fine,’ let me remind you that I’ve worked with you long enough to know when you’re not fine.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping slightly. “Matt, it’s nothing. Just… normal life stuff. Kids, work, schedules—”

“And yet, you look like you haven’t slept in days, you’re laser-focused on this project like it’s your lifeline, and you’re snapping at everyone who so much as breathes wrong around you,” he said, crossing his arms. “So, no, it’s not nothing. Spill.”

You hesitated, the weight of everything that had been piling up threatening to spill over. Finally, you leaned against the wall and ran a hand through your hair. “Bradley’s leaving again.”

Matt frowned. “Leaving? Like, for work?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “He got orders to go back to Top Gun after New Year’s, and we just—” You stopped, shaking your head. “We just moved into a new house. The kids are finally settling in, and now we’re talking about uprooting everything again. And on top of that, I’ve been missing work because the kids keep getting sick. It’s just… a lot.”

Matt nodded, his expression softening. “Damn, that’s rough. So, what—you’re trying to juggle all this and act like it’s no big deal?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug. “What else am I supposed to do? Someone has to keep things running.”

He sighed, taking a step closer. “Look, I know you’re Superwoman and all, but even you can’t do everything on your own. It’s okay to admit you’re struggling.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well, admitting it doesn’t exactly fix anything, does it?”

“No, but it might help you breathe for a second,” Matt said, his tone softer. “You don’t have to carry all this by yourself, you know.”

You looked down at the floor, his words hitting a little too close to home. After a moment, you pushed off the wall and straightened up. “Thanks, Matt. But right now, I just need to focus on getting through this project.”

He nodded, though his expression was still sceptical. “Alright. But if you need a break—or, you know, someone to vent to—I’m around. And I mean it. Don’t implode on me, okay?”

You managed a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you sat back down at your desk, your phone buzzed faintly against the table. You picked it up, your finger hovering over the screen as you noticed a text from Bradley—sent two hours ago.

Bradley: Good morning. Everyone’s up—Theo cried at six and woke Anna. Judy’s still running a fever, but I gave her some medicine. Making pancakes for Anna now. Hope you’re doing okay at work.

You exhaled, a mix of relief and guilt washing over you. Relief that he was managing things at home, and guilt that you hadn’t seen the message sooner. You could picture it all: Theo’s loud cries breaking the early morning quiet, Anna’s groggy but cheerful energy, Judy still curled up in bed trying to fight off her fever.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment as you thought about how to respond. Finally, you typed back:

You: Hey, just saw this. Thanks for handling everything this morning. Hope Judy’s feeling better and Anna didn’t burn anything in the kitchen. I’m okay—just busy. Miss you.

You hit send and stared at the screen for a second, hoping he wasn’t feeling overwhelmed with the kids. Part of you wanted to check in more, to ask if he needed anything, but the other part knew he’d already tell you if things were falling apart.

---

Upstairs, Bradley stood in the bathroom, already drenched from the mini war happening in the tub. Anna sat in the bath surrounded by bubbles, her wet hair sticking to her cheeks as she held her rubber duck like a shield.

“Anna,” Bradley said, trying to keep his voice calm, “you have to let me rinse the shampoo out. It’s not an option.”

“No!” she squealed, clutching the duck tighter and leaning back against the tub. “It’ll get in my eyes!”

“It’s tear-free shampoo,” Bradley explained, holding the showerhead above her head. “I promise it won’t sting. Just tilt your head back for me.”

She squinted at him suspiciously, her lower lip sticking out. “You said that last time, and it still got in my eyes.”

“Because you moved, Banana,” Bradley countered, sighing. “If you stay still this time, it won’t happen. I’ll be super careful.”

Anna crossed her arms, her duck now floating aimlessly in the water. “Can I hold the sprayer instead?”

“No way,” Bradley replied quickly, knowing where that would lead. “Nice try, but you’re not soaking the walls again.”

She huffed dramatically but leaned her head back just enough for him to start rinsing her hair. Bradley kept one hand cupped above her forehead to shield her eyes, moving as quickly as he could.

“See? Almost done,” he said, his tone softening as he worked.

“Are you gonna make me wear my itchy shirt today?” she asked, her voice small but filled with suspicion.

“No itchy shirts,” Bradley promised. “You can wear your unicorn one. Deal?”

“Deal,” she muttered, relaxing slightly as he finished rinsing the last of the suds.

“Alright, all done!” Bradley announced, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her. He helped her out of the tub, lifting her onto the bath mat and crouching to dry her hair.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we have pancakes for dinner too?” she asked, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Bradley chuckled, rubbing the towel over her damp hair. “We’ll see. But only if you help clean up your toys this afternoon.”

Anna nodded solemnly, as if agreeing to a very serious contract. Bradley kissed the top of her wet head and sent her off to her room to get dressed.

“Need some help, Banana?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

Anna turned, holding up two options—a bright pink shirt with a sequined unicorn and a plain blue one. “This one, right?” she asked, waving the unicorn shirt.

“That’s the one,” Bradley said, stepping inside to help her. “Let’s get your arms through.”

He crouched down, guiding her small arms into the sleeves before tugging the shirt over her head. Anna giggled as the sequins caught the light, and she twirled around dramatically once it was on.

“Perfect,” he said, grabbing a pair of leggings from the drawer. “How about these to match?”

“Okay, Daddy,” Anna agreed, hopping on one foot as he helped her pull the leggings up. Once she was dressed, she grabbed her teddy bear from the bed and gave Bradley a quick hug.

“Thanks, Banana,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Now, go downstairs and grab your blanket if you want to watch TV while I get Theo ready, okay?”

“Okay!” she chirped, dashing out of the room with her bear in tow.

Bradley smiled to himself before heading down the hall to Theo’s room. He peeked in to find the little boy standing in his crib, clutching the bars and bouncing slightly. As soon as Theo spotted Bradley, his face lit up.

“Dada!” Theo babbled, his chubby hands reaching out.

“Morning, buddy,” Bradley said, scooping him up. Theo nuzzled into his shoulder, still warm and soft from sleep. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?”

Bradley carried Theo into the bathroom, where he had already set up the baby tub. Placing Theo on the changing table, he stripped him out of his pyjamas, chuckling as the baby wiggled and babbled nonsensically.

“You’ve got a lot to say this morning, huh?” Bradley said, tickling Theo’s belly and earning a squeal of laughter.

Once the baby was undressed, Bradley lowered him into the warm water, using a small cup to pour water over his head. Theo splashed happily, his tiny hands slapping the surface of the water as Bradley worked quickly to clean him.

“Alright, let’s get the wiggles out so we can finish this bath,” Bradley said, laughing as Theo kicked his feet, sending water everywhere.

By the time he had Theo clean, dried, and in a fresh onesie, Bradley’s shirt was damp again, but he didn’t mind. He kissed Theo’s forehead, earning another delighted babble, before carrying him downstairs to join Anna in the living room.

When Bradley reached the bottom of the stairs, carrying a freshly cleaned Theo on his hip, he stopped short. There, on the couch, was not only Anna wrapped in her favourite blanket, but also Judy, who was sitting upright with a smug little grin on her face.

“Judy,” Bradley said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing out of bed?”

She looked up at him innocently, the picture of health despite the pale flush still faintly dusting her cheeks. “I don’t even feel sick anymore,” she declared confidently.

Bradley narrowed his eyes playfully and set Theo down in his high chair before crossing his arms. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, you had a fever, were coughing, and didn’t even want to eat.”

Judy shrugged, pulling Anna’s blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I feel better now. Maybe it was just a short fever. Can I stay down here with Anna?”

Bradley sighed, walking over to her and kneeling down. He placed a hand gently on her forehead and frowned. “You still feel a little warm, Jude. And you were coughing your head off last night.”

“Not anymore!” she said quickly, her tone slightly defensive. “See? No coughing.”

As if to test her theory, she cleared her throat a little too theatrically, prompting Anna to giggle.

“Nice try, kiddo,” Bradley said, shaking his head. “You might feel better, but you’re not completely out of the woods yet. You still need to rest.”

“I was resting,” Judy protested, crossing her arms. “I was just resting down here instead of in bed.”

“Uh-huh,” Bradley said, unconvinced. He glanced at Anna, who was grinning and trying to hide behind her teddy bear. “Did you drag her down here, Banana?”

“No,” Anna said with a giggle. “She came by herself!”

Bradley chuckled despite himself, ruffling Judy’s hair. “Alright, you can stay for a little bit. But if you start feeling worse, back to bed you go. Deal?”

“Deal,” Judy said, her grin widening.

“Good,” Bradley said, standing up. “But no running around, and no bugging your sister. I’m serious.”

Judy nodded obediently, but the mischievous glint in her eye made Bradley sigh. He could already tell the two of them were going to keep him on his toes for the rest of the day.

Bradley sat at the kitchen table, Theo contentedly babbling in his high chair beside him while Anna and Judy were watching cartoons in the living room. His laptop was open in front of him, the faint glow of the screen reflecting in his furrowed expression as he scrolled through flights to San Diego. He knew he shouldn’t have been doing it now—not while you were still at work, not after last night’s argument—but the guilt weighed heavy on his chest as he clicked through dates and options.

The sound of his phone buzzing on the table jolted him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen: You calling.

His stomach sank. Swiping to answer, he quickly cleared his throat before pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, trying to keep his voice casual. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, the faint hum of noise in the background suggesting you were still at the lab. “I just wanted to check in. How are things going there?”

Bradley glanced at the laptop screen guiltily before closing it with one hand, his voice even. “Everything’s good. Anna’s watching TV, Judy’s feeling a little better and came downstairs for a while. Theo’s eating some biscuits—he’s got crumbs everywhere.”

You let out a small laugh, but there was a tiredness behind it that didn’t go unnoticed. “Sounds like a regular circus.”

“Always is,” Bradley replied lightly, forcing a small chuckle of his own. He could still feel the guilt gnawing at him, threatening to push its way through. Tell her, his mind urged. Tell her the truth. But the words wouldn’t come. Not yet.

“How’s work?” he asked quickly, steering the conversation away from his internal struggle.

“Busy,” you admitted with a sigh. “I’m still stuck on these formulas, but Matt’s been helpful—well, as helpful as he can be while teasing me.”

Bradley smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“I hope so,” you replied. There was a brief pause before you asked, “How’s Judy? Is her fever still hanging on?”

“Yeah, a little,” he admitted. “But she says she feels better, so I’m keeping an eye on her. If it spikes again, I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” you murmured softly. “Thanks for handling everything today, Brad. I really appreciate it.”

Bradley’s throat tightened, the guilt pressing heavier now. He swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair, his free hand running through his hair. “Of course. You don’t even need to thank me.”

“I’ll be home in a few hours,” you said gently. “Hang in there.”

“You too,” he replied, his voice quieter now. “Drive safe.”

As the call ended, Bradley stared at his phone for a long moment before setting it face down on the table. He glanced at the closed laptop, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. He hated lying to you—hated himself for making this choice. But now the lie was already out there, and he wasn’t sure how to take it back.

“Dada?”

Theo’s little voice broke through his thoughts, the boy’s crumb-covered hands reaching toward him. Bradley managed a smile and leaned over to wipe Theo’s fingers clean. “Don’t worry, buddy,” he muttered softly, mostly to himself. “We’ll figure it out.”

Bradley sighed and pushed the laptop aside, rubbing his hands over his face as the weight of the morning settled over him. The guilt still gnawed at him, making his chest tight. He grabbed his phone off the table and unlocked it, navigating over to the Dagger Squad group chat. He hadn’t checked it since last night, when he’d texted them—“I’ll be there after New Year’s.”

The group chat was buzzing with unread messages.

Payback: Man, I can’t wait to get everyone back together. San Diego’s been too quiet without us.

Coyote: You say “quiet,” but I think you just miss the Hard Deck.

Fanboy: Don’t act like you don’t miss Penny’s drinks too, Coyote.

Phoenix: I miss Penny’s drinks. And her scolding Hangman when he gets out of line.

Bradley snorted quietly as he scrolled down. It was the usual banter, familiar and light-hearted—something that usually made him smile. But today, it just made his chest feel heavier.

Hangman: Rooster, you better not back out on us, man. You already promised.

Bradley stared at the screen, feeling his throat tighten again. I’ll be there after New Year’s. That’s what he’d told them last night. He hadn’t even mentioned it to you yet, at least not fully—not the truth.

Phoenix, always the perceptive one, had sent a single message underneath Hangman’s teasing.

Phoenix: Everything okay, Rooster?

Bradley hesitated, his thumb hovering over the screen. She was the only one who knew—who knew he had you, the kids, the life he’d built in Virginia. She hadn’t pried, but she always seemed to sense when something was off.

He started to type: Yeah, all good. Just a lot going on here.

But before he could hit send, Theo babbled again, snapping Bradley out of his daze. The little boy was playing with a biscuit, smacking it on the tray of his high chair. In the background, he heard Anna giggling at the TV, and Judy shifting on the couch.

Bradley exhaled sharply and backspaced the message. He tossed his phone onto the table, face down, just like before. He couldn’t deal with the Daggers right now—not when the truth was eating him alive. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep all the pieces of this lie together.

---

A couple of hours later, Bradley stood by the sliding glass door that led to the backyard, holding Theo securely on his hip. Judy and Anna were bundled up against the crisp air—Judy in her puffy jacket and a knit beanie, and Anna in a bright pink coat that made her look like a tiny marshmallow.

Despite still having a slight fever, Judy had begged to go outside, insisting she felt fine. Bradley had relented, on the condition that they both stayed dressed warmly and didn’t overdo it. So now, the two girls were darting around the small garden, giggling as they kicked a bright red ball back and forth.

“Careful, Jude,” Bradley called out, keeping his tone light but watchful. “Don’t overdo it, okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad!” Judy shouted back, grinning as she kicked the ball toward Anna, who squealed and chased after it with her arms flailing.

Theo babbled something incomprehensible and pointed toward his sisters, his little hand grasping the air. Bradley smiled and bounced him slightly on his hip. “You want to join them, huh, bud? Not yet—you’d get run over.”

Theo pouted dramatically, resting his head against Bradley’s shoulder, but his gaze never left the backyard.

Bradley shifted his weight, leaning against the doorframe as he watched the girls play. The sound of their laughter filled the air, and for a moment, the tension from earlier eased just a little. Anna tripped over her own feet and fell into the grass, bursting into a fit of giggles as Judy helped her up.

“You two good?” Bradley called out again, unable to stop himself from checking.

“Yes, Daddy!” Anna replied with a wide grin, waving at him before immediately turning her attention back to the ball.

“Alright, just remember the deal—if you start feeling tired, it’s back inside,” Bradley reminded Judy.

She didn’t answer, too focused on kicking the ball again, but Bradley could see the flush on her cheeks wasn’t just from the cold. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on her, just in case her fever crept back up.

Theo wiggled in his arms, and Bradley kissed the top of his head. “You’re a handful already, you know that?” he murmured, though the fondness in his tone made it clear he didn’t mean it.

The baby cooed in response, his small fingers grabbing at Bradley’s shirt, as if to say he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

As Bradley adjusted Theo on his hip, keeping a close watch on the girls playing in the backyard, the faint sound of keys jingling at the front door caught his attention. His head turned toward the noise, and a second later, the door creaked open.

“Hey,” your voice called out, tired but warm. The sound of your bag dropping near the entryway followed, and Bradley could practically hear the relief in your movements—finally home after a long day.

“In here,” he called, his tone lifting as he shifted Theo slightly to free one hand.

A moment later, you stepped into the kitchen, your coat still on and your scarf loose around your neck. Your gaze softened the instant you saw Bradley standing by the door, Theo snuggled against his chest.

“Hi, Mama,” Bradley greeted with a small grin, nodding toward the baby in his arms. “Theo’s been waiting to see you all day. Isn’t that right, bud?”

Theo immediately perked up at the sound of your voice, his little arms reaching toward you with an excited babble.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” you cooed, stepping closer to take him from Bradley’s arms. Theo practically launched himself into your embrace, resting his head on your shoulder as you kissed the top of his fluffy hair.

“How was your day?” Bradley asked, stepping back slightly to give you space.

You let out a long sigh, still holding Theo close. “Exhausting. But it’s good to be home.” Your eyes drifted toward the sliding door, where Anna and Judy were still playing outside. “Why’s Judy out there? Isn’t she supposed to be resting?”

Bradley scratched the back of his neck, giving you a sheepish look. “She said she felt better, and her fever’s just barely hanging on. I figured a little fresh air wouldn’t hurt, as long as she’s bundled up and not running around too much.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully but didn’t push it. “Alright. I’ll trust your judgment for now.”

Bradley smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Good, because I already promised her.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as Theo nuzzled closer to you, clearly happy to have you home. “Let me get changed, and then I’ll help with dinner.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Bradley assured you, motioning toward the counter where pancake batter was still visible. “Anna demanded pancakes this morning, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to want them again for dinner. I’ll handle it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he said with a wink. “You’ve had a long day. Let me take care of the chaos for a little while longer.”

You smiled softly, leaning into him for a moment before heading upstairs, Theo still cradled against you. Bradley watched you go, his heart feeling a little lighter now that you were home.

Upstairs, you quickly peeled off your work clothes and slipped into something more comfortable—a soft hoodie and sweatpants, nothing underneath, craving the warmth and ease after a long day. The scent of home—faintly of pancakes and something floral from the detergent—wrapped around you as you brushed your fingers through your hair and headed back downstairs.

The moment your foot hit the bottom step, you were ambushed.

“Mama!” Anna’s voice rang out, high-pitched and gleeful as she launched herself at your legs, nearly knocking you off balance. Judy followed right behind, slightly more reserved but with an unmistakable brightness in her eyes.

“Mom’s home!” Judy called, her arms wrapping around your waist while Anna clung to your legs.

“Hey, girls,” you greeted, plastering on a smile and crouching down to hug them both. Anna nuzzled into your neck while Judy leaned her head against your shoulder.

“Dad let us play outside,” Judy said, glancing toward the kitchen, where Bradley was wiping down the counters. “Roo said I still needed a jacket, though.”

You managed a chuckle, kissing the top of Judy’s head. “Well, he was right about that.”

Judy looked up at you, a question in her eyes. “You’re okay, right?”

The question caught you off guard, and you forced another smile, nodding. “Of course, baby. I’m just a little tired from work.”

“Okay,” she said simply, her worry fading as Anna wriggled free from your arms and ran back toward the living room. Judy followed close behind, but not before giving you another quick hug.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Bradley came up behind you, his voice low. “You’re tense.”

You glanced at him, trying to play it off. “I’m fine. Just tired, like I told Judy.”

He gave you a look—one of those knowing looks that made it clear he wasn’t buying a word of it. “You’re faking it for them. I get it. But don’t do that with me.”

You sighed, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I just... it’s been a long day, Roo. Can we not do this right now?”

Bradley’s gaze softened at the use of his nickname. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Okay,” he said gently. “But we’re talking later. You know that, right?”

You nodded reluctantly, stepping away to join the girls in the living room. Your heart ached a little as you watched them laugh and play, their innocence filling the space while the weight of everything else lingered just beneath the surface.

Later in the evening, when the girls were distracted with a cartoon and Theo was dozing in his playpen, you found a moment with Bradley in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, sipping from a glass of water.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice to avoid the kids overhearing. “So… about those orders,” you began, keeping your tone casual but feeling your chest tighten.

Bradley set his glass down, his expression shifting slightly. “What about them?”

“Are they finalized? I mean, do you have to leave right after New Year’s, or is there some wiggle room?” You tried to sound neutral, but your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie betrayed your nerves.

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “They’re pretty firm,” he said after a beat. “It’s just a short thing. Five days, tops. Test some equipment, then I’m back here.”

You searched his face for reassurance, but something in his tone made your stomach twist. “And this just came in last night? You told me you got the email while I was at work, but… does it really have to be that soon?”

Bradley’s jaw tightened, and he pushed off the counter to stand closer to you. “Yeah, it does. They want it handled right away. I wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter behind you. “It’s just… after everything we talked about last night, this feels sudden. Like we’re jumping into something before we’ve even had time to catch our breath.”

“I get that,” he said softly, his voice low. “I hate the timing, too. But it’s not like I have a choice.”

You nodded slowly, the tension in your chest still there but tempered by the sincerity in his voice. “Alright,” you said, though the word felt heavy. “If you say it’s necessary, I’ll trust you.”

He reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I know it’s a lot, but I promise, it’ll be fine. We’ll get through it, just like we always do.”

You squeezed his hand back, offering a small smile even as doubt lingered at the edges of your mind. “I hope so, Roo. I really do.”

Bradley rubbed the back of his neck and let out a breath. “I think I’m gonna go for a run,” he said abruptly, setting his water glass down on the counter.

You blinked at him, surprised. “A run? Right now?”

“Yeah,” he said, avoiding your eyes as he stretched his arms. “Just need to clear my head a bit.”

It wasn’t like him to go for a late-night run, and the excuse seemed thin, but you didn’t push. “Okay,” you said cautiously, tilting your head. “You sure everything’s alright?”

“Yeah,” he said too quickly. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Don’t wait up.”

Before you could say anything else, he was out the door, leaving you standing in the kitchen, unease gnawing at your stomach.

The cold night air hit Bradley’s face as he jogged down the quiet street. His legs moved automatically, the familiar rhythm doing little to ease the weight in his chest. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out mid-stride, scrolling through his contacts before dialling Phoenix.

She picked up after a couple of rings. “Bradshaw, what’s up?”

He slowed to a brisk walk, his breath visible in the cool air. “I need to talk to someone.”

Her tone immediately shifted. “What’s going on? You sound off.”

Bradley hesitated, glancing up at the stars above him. “I lied to her, Phoenix. About the orders. I told her it’s official and I have to leave right after New Year’s, but it’s not. Not really.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment before she let out a sigh. “Bradley… why would you do that?”

“I don’t know!” he said, his frustration slipping into his voice. “I panicked. I know she doesn’t want to move again, not so soon. And she’s been exhausted with work and the kids. I just… I couldn’t tell her the truth, not after everything we talked about last night.”

Phoenix was quiet for a moment. “So what’s the plan? You can’t keep this up forever. She’s gonna find out.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell her eventually, but right now… I just needed to get out of the house. I couldn’t sit there and keep lying to her face.”

“Bradley,” she said, her voice firm but kind, “you’re making this harder on yourself. You need to come clean before this blows up in your face.”

He let out a heavy sigh, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “Yeah, I know. I just… I hate disappointing her, Nat. She’s been through so much with me, and I keep dragging her into this Navy life, uprooting everything every few months. She deserves better.”

“You’re not giving her the chance to handle it,” Phoenix said gently. “She’s stronger than you think, Bradshaw. But you have to be honest with her, or this is gonna end badly.”

Bradley nodded to himself, even though she couldn’t see him. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Good,” she said. “And call me if you need backup. You know I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Nat,” he said, a hint of gratitude in his voice. “I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Bradshaw. Now go finish your run and think about how you’re gonna fix this.”

He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket, his feet picking up their pace again. The truth weighed heavily on him, but he knew Phoenix was right. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.

Bradley kept running for another hour, pounding the pavement beneath his feet as the chill in the air seeped through his clothes. Each stride felt like an attempt to outrun his guilt, but no matter how far he went, it lingered in his chest. His thoughts spiralled back to you, the look in your eyes earlier, and the way his lies felt heavier with every word he spoke.

The quiet streets of your neighbourhood were illuminated by scattered streetlights. Occasionally, the sound of his rhythmic breathing and footsteps was interrupted by a barking dog or the rustle of leaves. He picked up his pace, pushing himself harder, as if the physical exertion could bring clarity.

Finally, after an hour of circling the area, his body began to ache, and he slowed to a jog, then a walk. Bradley tugged his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the time. 10:47 PM. The house would be quiet by now.

When he stepped through the front door, the warmth of the home enveloped him, contrasting sharply with the night’s chill. He kicked off his sneakers quietly, leaving them by the door before padding into the dimly lit living room. Everything was still, and he immediately felt the familiar peace of home settle over him, though it was tinged with unease.

He made his way upstairs, his movements deliberate to avoid creaking the wooden steps. First, he peeked into Theo’s room. The baby was sound asleep in his crib, one tiny fist curled next to his cheek, his chest rising and falling softly. Bradley adjusted the blanket draped over him, a small smile tugging at his lips despite everything.

Next, he checked Anna’s room. She was sprawled across her bed, her blankie tangled around her legs, and her teddy bear clutched tightly against her chest. Bradley carefully tucked the blanket back over her, brushing a stray curl from her face. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, mumbling something incoherent before settling again.

Finally, he opened Judy’s door just enough to see her. She was curled up under her comforter, her head resting on the pillow, her hair fanned out around her. The bucket from earlier sat untouched beside her bed, something he forgot to do. Her soft breathing reassured him that her fever seemed to have finally broken.

Satisfied that all the kids were okay, Bradley quietly shut her door and made his way to your shared room. The faint glow of your laptop illuminated the space as you sat cross-legged on the bed, engrossed in whatever you were working on. You were dressed in nothing but an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, your hair pulled into a loose bun.

You looked up when you heard him enter, your eyes meeting his. “Hey,” you said softly, glancing at the clock. “You were gone for a while.”

“Needed to clear my head,” he replied, his voice just as quiet. He moved toward the dresser, grabbing a clean shirt. “How’s work?”

“Fine,” you answered, your tone neutral as you looked back at your laptop. “Just finishing up some calculations for tomorrow.”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He glanced at you as you tapped away on your laptop, your focus seemingly elsewhere, though he could sense the undercurrent of tension between you. Running a hand through his damp hair, he let out a sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“When did we get so complicated?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You paused, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Turning to face him, you raised an eyebrow, clearly taken off guard by his question. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I just feel like… like I keep screwing up. Like I don’t know how to make things easier for you—for us.”

Your gaze softened for a moment before you looked away, sighing softly. “Bradley, we’ve had a lot on our plate lately. Between the kids, your job, my job… it’s not exactly easy.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice tinged with frustration. “But it feels like every time I try to do the right thing, I end up making it worse. I hate feeling like I’m letting you down.”

You leaned back against the headboard, closing your laptop. “You’re not letting me down,” you said gently, though your voice carried an edge of exhaustion. “I just wish we could have a little stability for once. For the kids, for us. Moving again so soon… it’s a lot, Bradley. It’s not just about the logistics—it’s everything.”

He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out the truth about his orders. The guilt was suffocating, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. Not yet.

“I’m trying,” he said finally, his voice thick.

“I know,” you replied, your tone softening again. “But sometimes it feels like we’re trying to solve different problems, and we’re not even on the same page.”

That cut deeper than he expected, and he could only nod, his throat tightening. He wanted to tell you everything, to come clean about the lies and the guilt eating away at him, but the words refused to come. Instead, he reached out, placing a hand lightly on your knee.

“I love you,” he said, his voice earnest. “Even when I screw up, even when things are complicated—I love you.”

You placed your hand over his, giving it a small squeeze. “I know you do, Bradley. I love you too.”

You reached for Bradley's hand, tugging him gently until he slid down onto the bed beside you. Without a word, you shifted, pulling him down flat on his back as you hovered above him. His eyes searched yours, the weight of his emotions evident in their warm brown depths.

Before he could say anything, you leaned down and kissed him, deeply and passionately, pouring every bit of love and frustration into the moment. His hands came up to cradle your face, holding you close as he kissed you back with equal intensity.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing heavily. You gave him a small, teasing smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.

“You chose me, Bradley,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady. “You chose to stop and help a complete stranger on the side of the road when her car broke down, even though she had a screaming four-month-old in the back seat.”

His lips curved into a small smile as he listened, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist.

“And then,” you continued, your tone turning playful, “you saw me again at the bar, and you still decided to ask me out, even though I had spit-up on my shirt and probably looked like I hadn’t slept in a week.”

Bradley chuckled at that, his fingers tightening gently on your sides.

“You chose me,” you said again, your voice softening as you looked down at him. “Even though I’ve screwed up plenty of times. Even though I came with a whole lot of baggage. And somehow, you still make me feel like I’m worth it.”

His smile faltered, and his gaze softened, guilt flickering in his expression. “You are worth it,” he said firmly. “Every bit of it. You and the kids are my whole world, Y/N.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his once more before pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “So stop acting like you’re the only one who screws up. We’re in this together, okay? Even when it’s messy. Even when it’s complicated.”

Bradley nodded, his hands sliding up to your back, holding you close. “Okay,” he whispered.

Bradley grinned up at you, his hands sliding to rest on your hips as you straddled him. “You know,” he said, his voice light and teasing, “I don’t think either of us has been this eager in… ages.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you smirked down at him. “Oh? And whose fault is that, Roo?”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing against your waist. “Probably mine. Between deployments, kids, and life, I guess I’ve been slacking in the ‘sweep-you-off-your-feet’ department.”

You leaned down, your lips brushing his in a teasing kiss. “Hmm, maybe just a little,” you teased, pulling back with a playful glint in your eye. “But let’s be honest—when was the last time we had some proper alone time… you know, when I was ovulating?”

Bradley’s brows shot up, and a sly grin spread across his face. “Oh, you’re keeping track now? I didn’t know this was a strategic operation.”

You laughed, poking his chest lightly. “Strategic? Please. You know exactly what I mean. The stars aligning, the timing being right, the kids actually staying asleep…”

He groaned dramatically, dropping his head back against the pillow. “So, what you’re saying is, it’s been forever since we’ve had a shot at this under ideal conditions.”

“Exactly,” you replied with mock seriousness, folding your arms as if to make your point. “And guess what? I am ovulating right now, and we’re here, alone… at least for the moment.”

Bradley’s hands tightened on your hips, his grin softening into something more tender. “Well, then,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “I guess it’d be a shame to waste this rare alignment of the universe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “Smooth, Bradshaw. Very smooth.”

He leaned up, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, his hands pulling you closer. “I might be smooth,” he murmured against your lips, “but you love me anyway.”

You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you teased, your voice softer now, the playful mood shifting into something more intimate.

Bradley’s eyes met yours, filled with warmth and love. “And you’re lucky I’m head over heels for you. Even when you’re giving me hell,” he said with a grin.

“Even when I’m giving you hell?” you repeated with mock offense, though your smile gave you away.

“Especially then,” he replied, pulling you down into another kiss.

Bradley smirked, his hands sliding up your sides as he tilted his head back against the pillow. “So, let me get this straight,” he began, his voice dripping with playful mockery. “You’re saying you’ve been walking around here, tracking your ovulation like it’s some top-secret NASA mission, and I’m just now finding out?”

You laughed, leaning closer, your hands braced on either side of his chest. “I didn’t think it was relevant to bring up until now,” you quipped. “You’ve been a little… distracted, Roo.”

“Oh, I’m distracted?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who has apparently been plotting a perfectly-timed rendezvous and didn’t clue me in.”

“Plotting?” You gasped in faux outrage, sitting up and folding your arms. “It’s not plotting—it’s practicality! You’re lucky I’m even trying to be efficient here, considering how often you’re either deployed or running off to fix the next crisis.”

Bradley chuckled, his hands finding your hips and pulling you back down toward him. “Efficient, huh? God, I love when you talk sexy like that,” he teased, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smile. “I’m being serious, Bradley!”

“Oh, I know you are,” he replied, his voice turning low and mock-serious to match yours. “You’re dead serious. I mean, what’s more romantic than hearing, ‘Hey, Roo, I’m ovulating—let’s get to it.’”

You smacked his chest lightly, unable to suppress your laughter. “You’re such a jerk!”

“But you love me,” he countered smugly, leaning up to nip playfully at your jawline.

“Do I?” you teased, feigning doubt.

“You do,” he said confidently, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “Because no one else could handle your spreadsheets and star charts for… whatever science-y ovulation data you’ve got going on over there.”

You laughed harder, shoving at his shoulder. “Oh, shut up, Bradshaw. It’s not that complicated!”

He grinned, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face in your neck, his laughter muffled against your skin. “Sure it’s not,” he teased. “But hey, since the universe apparently aligned for this moment, I’m not about to waste it.”

Bradley's teasing grin softened as his hands slid beneath the hem of your hoodie, his touch warm against your skin. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “I’m starting to think you’re overdressed for this conversation.”

You let out a soft laugh, arching a brow at him. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his fingers brushing over your sides as he eased the hoodie up. “And since I’m already doing all the hard work, the least you can do is cooperate.”

“Oh, the hard work, huh?” you teased, lifting your arms so he could pull the hoodie over your head.

He tossed it aside with an exaggerated flourish, his eyes trailing over you with a mix of warmth and hunger. “See? Now this is much better.”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips as your hands moved to the hem of his shirt. “Your turn, Bradshaw. Fair’s fair.”

He raised his arms obligingly, letting you tug his shirt off and revealing his toned chest. “There. Happy?”

“Getting there,” you teased, your hands sliding over his shoulders and down his chest, fingers tracing familiar lines and scars.

Bradley’s grin widened as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re being awfully slow tonight,” he murmured. “Not that I’m complaining… but I thought you were all about efficiency.”

“Efficient and thorough,” you countered, sliding your hands to the waistband of his sweatpants and tugging them down just enough to tease him.

He groaned, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer. “You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his voice low and husky.

“Not before I’m done with you,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him, slow and deep, as the rest of your clothes slowly joined the growing pile on the floor.

Bradley’s breaths grew heavier as his hands roamed over your body, his lips following wherever his fingers traced. His kisses were deliberate, slow yet urgent, as though he was savouring every inch of you while unable to get enough.

“God, you’re impossible,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough with need. “I swear, you make me feel like I’m drunk every time I touch you.”

Your laughter was soft, teasing, as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Drunk on what?” you asked playfully, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and hazy, filled with nothing but you. “Drunk on you,” he admitted, his tone utterly serious. His lips trailed down your neck, grazing your collarbone before he found his way lower. “On everything—your body, your mind, the way you feel, the way you sound…”

You gasped as his hands gripped your thighs, his touch firm yet reverent as he settled between them. “Bradley…”

He looked up at you, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. “Drunk on your pussy,” he murmured, his words sending shivers through you. His hands slid up your sides, grounding you and electrifying you all at once. “You do something to me, Y/N. Something I can’t ever get enough of.”

You could only whimper in response, the tension in the room palpable as his lips began to explore, his movements languid and worshipful, as though he wanted to memorize every reaction, every sound you made.

And as the night deepened, it was clear—Bradley was entirely lost in you, intoxicated in the best way possible. Hopefully tomorrow he'll get the urge to tell you.

Part 3

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