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wileys-russo · 5 months ago

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found out today that mary is a junior black belt in judo.. fic request where she insists she can protect you (cocky af) and does show up when needed (you can think of a situation) but later there's something dumb like a spider and mary freaks out.

reader takes the mick out of her and her black belt status.

itsy bitsy spider II m.earps

"only me darling!" you looked up from the stir fry you were almost finished as keys jingled and the door popped open, the thud of your girlfriends bag hitting the wall followed by a quiet string of swear words making you smile and shake your head.

"you know babe the wall doesn't move, its still there every single time you come home and bump into it." you teased, glancing at her with a smile over your shoulder as she joined you in the kitchen.

"and do you know love that your jokes still aren't funny, every single time you tell them." mary teased back, pecking your lips sweetly and tapping at your ass with a wink as you smacked her across the back of the head with the spatula in your hand.

"ow! baby." mary gasped in shock, rubbing at her head with wide eyes. "reflexes like a cat earps, hands off the merchandise unless you're invited to touch." you winked, flicking off the stovetop and moving the wok off the heat.

"how was judo?" you questioned, hearing her rummage through the fridge before it closed with a gentle thump and you heard the sound of her chugging water.

"good! i'm bloody exhausted though, they paired me up with the new trainer for sparring and he did not go easy." mary exhaled as she finished the entire bottle of water.

"you are actually a mad woman mary. do you know any other professional footballers who choose to do another sport with a load of intense training alongside football?" you tutted, never having been overly fond of the girls favourite pastime.

but you knew judo made her happy and acted as a form of self care and stress relief for the keeper, though not one you ever pretended to understand or enjoy forever worried she'd hurt herself.

"no, which is why i know i'd beat them all in a fight." your girlfriend grinned cockily with a wink making you roll your eyes as you dished up. "here, refuel karate kid." you handed her a bowl as she kissed your cheek appreciatively.

"karate is very different from judo its-" though at your raised eyebrow your girlfriend stopped her little rant. "have i told you i love you?" she smiled charmingly instead as you hummed. "mm not in the last five minutes you've been home, better pick your act up." you sat down and looked to her expectantly.

"mary!" you scoffed when she remained silent, kicking at her as she sat beside you on the lounge and sent you a cheeky smile knowing exactly how to wind you up.

"come here stroppy." you hurried to place your bowl down beside hers on the coffee table as she grabbed at you, pulling you to sit on top of her.

"i love you i love you i love you i love you-" she repeated over and over as she showered your face with kisses, your scowl melting easily into a lovesick smile. "better?" mary beamed, kissing you properly with a loud mwah and a wiggle of her eyebrows making you laugh.

"yes. now shut up and eat your dinner."

"baby come to bed, please! i'm tired and i want a cuddle." you groaned halfheartedly, unable to hold back your laugh as mary insisted on showing you a new move she learned today she'd spent a while perfecting.

"look babe i promise this is much more impressive when there's an actual person being flipped and not just my verbal description. promise! consider me your personal security guard, i can always protect you." mary assured as you shook your head.

"mary my love for the hundredth time i believe you, in fact i have never questioned that. now come to bed!" you laughed and made grabby hands which of course were ignored. "oh i know! you can help me demo, then you'll really understand." mary perked up as your eyes widened.

"absolutely not. mary-mary!" you squealed as before you could blink you were yanked from the warm safe cocoon of your duvet and your feet hit the carpeted floor of your bedroom.

"right. so as i was saying-" you continued to protest and it continued to fall on deaf ears as she just talked over you, walking you through the move as she grabbed your hands and swiftly turned you around.

"-and then you drop the shoulder, twist the wrist and flip!" you grunted as suddenly you were upside down momentarily before your back hit the mattress and you blinked in shock.

"see! way more impressive." your girlfriends cheshire like grin appeared above you as she jumped on top of you, legs either side of your hips. "do not manhandle me like that again i am not a crash test dummy!" you warned, pushing at her shoulders and flipping your positions.

"thought you didn't mind being tossed around baby." mary smirked, hands on your hips and pulling you down properly on top of her. "don't distract me with sexy talk earps. i. am. not. your. judo. partner!" you smacked her repeatedly with a pillow as she held her hands up to try and shield herself.

"i know...you're much better looking." "mary!"

you awoke several hours later to a scream, bolting upright in bed and clutching at empty sheets where your girlfriend had once been soundly asleep beside you, heart racing at her absence.

scrambling to your feet and cursing under your breath you looked around for a weapon, grabbing the first thing you could which was the bedside lamp, yanking the chord from the wall as you took a shaky breath.

but hearing mary yell out your name again you frowned, all but kicking open the bedroom door and brandishing the lamp around, swinging it as if to hit an invisible attacker with every step until finally you rounded the corner into the kitchen.

"what happened? whose hurt? was there a break in? do they have a weapon? did they steal anything?" you started to fire off question after question, alarmed greatly by the way the taller girls face was white as a sheet and she shook like a leaf, clearly panicking.

"kill it!" was all mary barked out shaking her head as you frowned. "kill who? all i've got is a lamp!" your own head darted around anxiously, taking in the seemingly empty house around you. "that! chuck the flaming lamp at it then we can get a new one!" mary demanded as you stepped closer and followed her outstretched finger.

"mary alexandra earps." you started slowly, placing the lamp down on the counter slowly. "please do not tell me you just woke me up screaming the house down at 3:42am...for that." you deadpanned, hands on hips and glaring her right in the face.

"baby less talking. more smacking or stabbing or burning or swatting-just kill it!" mary ordered again, backing away even further until she hit the counter behind her.

"mary. i thought we were being robbed!" you snapped, exhaling and rubbing your temples with your fingers, your half awake pre panicked state causing a headache to come on. "well he's hardly on the lease is he!" mary snapped back with a huff.

the 'he' in general was an itsy bitsy black spider, barely the size of a two pound coin, huddled just above the top of the fridge minding his own business.

"jesus christ mary you're literally a black belt in judo and you can't kill a tiny weeny spider?" you mocked sarcastically, rolling your eyes and turning to rummage around beneath the sink for the fly swatter.

"it's huge! and hurry, and its got those evil beady little eyes that are just following me around and-" you tuned your girlfriend out at that point, grabbing the fly swatter and within seconds all that was left was a small black smear which you promptly on your tippy toes wiped with a tissue and dumped in the bin.

"well now that seemed a bit harsh, you could have relocated it babe." mary chimed in, though at the very slow way you turned to face her, bags under your eyes which were narrowed into a murderous glare she paled once more.

"sorry, thank you darling. i love you, so so so so much!" mary tried again with a smile as you only hummed, flicking off the kitchen light engulfing her into darkness and stomping back off to the bedroom.

when mary joined you a few minutes later your face was illuminated by the soft glow of your phone screen. "what are you doing?" your girlfriend asked gently, rounding the bed to her side, still cautious of how you might be upset with her.

"opening all my online dating profiles back up, but adding in my bio that you need to be able to kill bugs to date me." you replied nonchalantly, the goalkeeper shooting up bolt straight beside you. "you're what!?" she asked in disbelief, scoffing as words failed to come to her making you chuckle with a small smile.

"not really, idiot." you nudged her as she sighed deeply with relief, laying back down in bed and knowing she deserved that after the wake up call.

"what are you really doing?" she asked curiously, head rolling onto your pillow as she squinted at your screen you made no move to hide from her.

"editing your wikipedia page to say you're a black belt in judo whose terrified of itsy bitsy tiny little spiders." you replied honestly this time, mary humming with a nod as she settled back into bed, eyes closing momentarily before they slammed open again.

"oh well thats a relief i thought that-wait you're what!?"

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #mary earps x reader #mary earps #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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luveline · 1 year ago

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𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐧 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

things aren't the way you planned coming home with your newborn, but you have eddie there to lean on when things get hard (and an unlimited supply of 'munson-style' hugs). requested here. infatuated dad!eddie x mom!reader, 3k.

cw post partum recovery, reader is suffering from some symptoms of post partum depression

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"You're sure you can manage?" Wayne asks, his voice buzzing down the line.

Eddie peers out of the kitchen into the living room quietly. You're sitting on the sofa in a shape that can't be comfortable considering your recent stitches, the baby on your thighs where you've brought them together, your hands delicately posed on either side of his head.

"I think so," Eddie says, answering Wayne's questions with honesty. "She's feeling a little better today."

"It's hard, Eds. You take care of her and call me if you need help, okay? I'm proud of you. Both of you."

It catches Eddie off guard for a moment. He's done enough crying lately, clearing his throat to say, "Thanks, Wayne. Call me tomorrow."

"You call me, I don't wanna wake anyone if you're sleeping."

They say their goodbyes. Eddie leans against the kitchen doorway to spy on you and the baby. Babies cry more than he ever could've imagined despite the warnings, but it's quiet, too. There are moments of peacefulness like this one breaking apart the chaos.

You're whispering something. Eddie stands very still, wishing the dishwasher would magically silence itself. He strains to hear you.

"I love you," you say. "Sorry I'm tired, honey. I promise I'll be better. You're so beautiful."

Eddie bites his cheeks, wondering if his family (his family!) aim to make him cry and little else tonight. He gives himself a look in the mirror magnet on the fridge framed by a We Love Michigan border, rainbows and cute elk surrounding something less pretty. His hair is frizzy but that's nothing new, greasy at the top and dry at the bottom. He scrapes it back into a scrappy bun and wipes the oil from his face with his sleeves. He's in dire need of a shower.

Resigned, he steps out of the kitchen, new socks slippery on old linoleum before finding stability on the crush of carpet in need of a vacuuming in the living room. You look up and bless him with a smile.

You've had a bad case of the baby blues, though the midwife assured him that was normal, and not to worry unless it continued past the first few weeks.

Well, Eddie will worry. Any depression you experience breaks his heart, no matter the cause, and no matter how temporary it may be. Just 'cos a cut might heal doesn't mean it didn't hurt when you got it.

"How do you feel?" he asks cautiously.

You make a face that he knows precedes a lie. "Don't worry about me."

He sits on the arm to look down at the baby —his baby, his son— in your hold, your face moving immediately to rest on his thigh.

"I'm okay, teddy," you say.

"How about you?" he asks the baby, taking his hand gently.

The baby doesn't open his eyes nor answer the question, well and truly asleep.

"Do you think Charlie was the right name?" you ask, stroking his small face lightly.

"If we hate it, we can just call him Wayne."

Eddie's out of this world lucky that you'd liked the name and loved him enough to name the baby after his uncle. Charlie Wayne Munson, born six pounds and two ounces, the smallest baby they saw all week in Hawkins General.

"He looks more like a Wayne than a Charlie," you say, rubbing your cheek into Eddie's sweatpants.

"He's so fucking beautiful," Eddie says, getting his hand behind your shoulders. He gives your back a loving rub, up and down the whole stiff length of it. "Would you relax? Or tell me what's wrong? Please?"

"Nothing's wrong… Look how perfect he is, I'd be a freak to act like something was wrong," you say, the exhale of your words warming his leg.

Eddie rubs his hand up with a tad more roughness until the cinch between your shoulders has flattened.

"You're having a biological reaction," Eddie says, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head. "Don't feel bad about feeling bad, sweetheart. This is a physical thing, that's all it is. You're not a freak for feeling wobbly."

You relax even more, pad of your thumb swiping Charlie's smooth cheek.

"Want me to make you feel better?" he asks.

"How?"

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking we'd make a list. Starting with a hug, quickly followed by something amazing to eat before Wayne wakes up."

"Charlie," you correct with a small laugh.

"Is there a nickname for Charlie?" Eddie asks. "What are we gonna call him? Lee?"

"We'll think of something," you promise.

Eddie isn't worried about it. He figures there's at least five years of nickname time to get one that sticks. For now, he has a list to make and things to do, and the first is making sure you're as well as you can be. He starts with the hug, pulling what you want for dinner from you one soft kiss to your temple at a time. Chicken pot pie? Ramen noodles with a fried egg on top? Sesame chicken? Triple cheeseburgers?

You can't decide. Eddie chooses breakfast for dinner. It won't take long —he can fry the sausage, eggs, turkey bacon and toast in one pan.

He keeps the door open to watch you, though nothing is actively wrong. You're deflated now rather than tense, petting and fawning over the baby as much as you can without waking him up.

"Just as handsome as your dad," you say.

It's a lovely sentiment but Charlie does not approve. He blinks awake, signified by your saccharine, "Hi, baby boy," followed by ten seconds of awe-filled cooing. Eddie's frying some bread in the pan but dinner can wait, he wants to see the baby with his eyes open again.

By the time Eddie reaches the couch, he's crying.

You move him carefully into a rock-a-bye hold and shush him. "It's alright," you say.

"He sounds like you."

"What?" you ask between shushes, hand tapping a slow and gentle rhythm into Charlie's swaddle.

"He sounds like you when he cries," Eddie insists.

Not your pained screams a few days ago nor your heart wrenching tears when you're feeling at your worst, but your hormonal sobbing. Like when you saw the commercial about the new 'shoplifters exposed' program on CBS that featured an old lady who stole a tangerine from the grocery store and got arrested despite her having alzheimers. She didn't mean to, Eddie, why would they make her cry like that? In fairness, it was a very upsetting commercial, but you cried for four hours, and for days afterward your eyes would well with tears and he'd know exactly what you were thinking of.

"When you're on your period," he explains. "When you know you wouldn't usually cry."

"You think so?" you ask.

"I think the solution is the same, too."

You nod your agreement. "He's hungry."

You and Eddie feed the baby with varying levels of success. Charlie doesn't wanna latch even though it's a bottle teat, causing some confusion —is he not hungry? Is he cold? No, sweetheart, he's not cold, he's got two blankets and the thermostat's at 68 Fahrenheit. Maybe he needs a new diaper? You check. His diaper's clean.

You're looking more and more defeated by the second. Eddie sits beside you to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. Babies are hard to look after, but he knows you'll both grow into it. You're exhausted from nine long months and a turbulent half day stint of pushing and crying and turning the bones in his hands into powder, your hormones are going crazy, and you're having a tough time. This won't be your forever feeling (though if it were to last, Eddie would stay at your side through that, too, that's not a question).

"You know what else works when you're not feeling good?" Eddie asks, offering his arms. He isn't some muscled herculean shape, but when you hand Charlie over, his arms look strong. Capable. Holding Charlie feels just as perfect as holding you. "A Munson-style cuddle," he finishes, trying to speak to his wailing son in that same bubbly parentese you've started talking in.

Eddie did a lot of talking to your bump while you were pregnant, but he was usually just trying to make you laugh. There were times where he'd lay with his nose against your hip and his arm under the bump, wondering about moments like this. What was the baby going to look like? What colour would his eyes be? What will it feel like to hold the baby in his arms?

Charlie feels lighter than Eddie first prophesied. Small. He has eyes like yours rather than eyes like his and he couldn't love it more.

Eddie takes the bottle when you offer it and sandwiches the baby to his chest. He doesn't want to condescend you, doesn't want to shoo you off, but Charlie's crying around the bottle and you look veritably miserably.

"Do you wanna go and make sure the food isn't on the turn?" he asks. When he realised the baby wasn't going to go down easy again he put your plates on a baking sheet and put the oven on low to keep it warm.

You hesitate. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I think so, sweetheart. We're barely a room away, alright?"

He's called you sweetheart more since the birth of your son than ever before, which is insane; Eddie's called you sweetheart likely twice a day since the day you met. That's a whole lot of sweethearts.

With the baby's changing mood comes a change in the weather. Eddie pats his little back, a quiet thump thump thump, while rain lashes the closed windows. The baby finally decides he's hungry, and the mood turns from frenetic to ambient almost immediately.

"You make sure you eat if you're hungry!" Eddie calls to you.

"Are you sure?"

"I think…" He drifts off, distracted by Charlie's long eyelashes, the way they skim under his eyes and the tiny noises he makes as he suckles. "Aw, baby," he murmurs, "good job. I knew you were hungry. You sounded just like your mom." He can't help grinning. Eddie is really talking to his kid right now, his real life baby. "You made her super emotional, but you're her whole world now. You're mine, too, obviously, but I'm cooler than this." He sighs. "No. I'm not. This is the coolest thing ever."

"What do you think?" you ask softly.

Eddie looks up. You're standing at the door, staring at them like they're made of sparkling diamond, every inch precious.

"Right. I think that we're gonna have to start eating when we can. Wayne never had a baby, but he said I was bad enough as a teenager, and Steve said he's lucky if he gets to eat a hot meal some days."

"Steve does have three," you say, frowning. "We really can't eat together anymore?"

You ask like you're less bothered than you are. Like a gimmicky Oh, man. Eddie knows it hides a real worry, and right now he's trying to give you the world on a silver platter, so he dots a little kiss on Charlie's head and says warmly into his skin, "No, that's not true. You're going to be such a good kid, me and mom will be eating together all the time. Isn't that right?"

Eddie looks at you with his head still tilted down. "I wanna eat together, okay? Everything's changing, but dinner doesn't have to. I just wanted you to eat 'cos you left half of your waffles at breakfast."

"I can wait."

"Then let's wait. You wanna come and hold him?"

"No, he's settled. I don't wanna mess it up again."

"You didn't," Eddie says, firm and sweet at once. "Sweetheart, come here. You didn't mess up, okay? I'm serious, come and sit with me."

You hesitate in the way. You're still unsteady on your feet despite the few days you've had to recuperate. Though your hair is cleaner than his it certainly isn't clean, nor are the clothes you've pulled on. Eddie read up and asked around on what would be comfiest for you, debating nightgowns and silk pyjamas at length, but all you've wanted to wear is a hoodie you've had since you were a teenager and a pair of sweatpants with fraying cuffs. He loves it —you look like an adorable dork.

Your stomach visibly churns. Eddie thinks you might chuck up, is already pulling the baby to his chest to place in the bassinet when you take a short, quiet gasp for air.

"Sorry, I don't know why I feel so on and off. I know it's just hormones. I promise I feel happy– I feel happy–" You gesture an open palm toward him. "He's gorgeous, Eds, he's everything I wanted and so much more, I just– I just feel like crying and I don't know why," you confess, blinking to suppress tears, shifting your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Eddie detests seeing you this uneasy, and he swoops in to correct it.

"Come here," he says again, no hands free to hold out to you. He hopes his voice is inviting enough.

You shrink into yourself. "I'm being weird."

"I like when you're weird. I kind of love it. I don't think we'd be in the mess if I didn't love it."

"It's a mess?" you ask.

"It's perfect."

You finally smile, creeping around the bassinet and the needlessly baby proofed coffee table to sit on the edge of the couch with him. Charlie makes a sound in the back of his throat.

"Hear that? He knows you're here," Eddie murmurs, making room for you hopefully.

You sidle up to his thigh and lean on his arm, careful not to knock his elbow. You watch Charlie drink his bottle for as long as there's milk left, two ounces knocked back like it's nothing.

Eddie eases the teat from Charlie's lips carefully. With care but a clumsy imprecise manoeuvre, he lays Charlie down in the bassinet. He has a lot of hair for such a small baby, enough to stroke back from his forehead, soft under Eddie's fingertips.

"He's really, really beautiful," Eddie says quietly.

"I know," you say, an anxious hand on your cheek. "I can't believe something as good as him could come from someone like me."

Eddie stands between your legs, resting a loving hand at the slope of your shoulder. "Why would you ever think something like that?" he asks, his voice as soft as it's ever been, but with a smile in case you don't want to talk about it any more.

"He's… I'm just not…"

Eddie gives you time. You've needed it ever since you went into labour, time to piece things together.

"I really thought I was ready," you say, looking up at him with a pinch between your eyebrows.

He brings his hand up to cup your face. You don't lean into it. "Alright, I'm going to talk for a little while, 'n' I know you won't agree with everything I'm saying but I need you to know that this is how I really feel, yeah? Buckle up." Eddie bends down, unafraid of embarrassing himself because it's you. "I know you think these feelings are your fault… that this is some failing, like you're–" He drops his voice to a whisper, "Like you're being a bad mom already, but it's not the truth."

You startle at being read so easily. "Eds," you mumble.

"We knew this might be how you felt afterward, the midwife talked and talked about baby blues and you said–"

"I said I couldn't understand how I'd ever feel sad once he was born," you say, looking at his neck rather than his face.

"And that's fine, you know? You're not a bad person for thinking it would be perfect and then changing your mind."

"But he is perfect," you say.

Eddie rubs your cheek. "He's perfect, but this is hard. Being a new mom with your stitches and your aching tummy and all the gross fluids–"

You laugh through a groan, pressing your eye into his hand.

He leaps to keep it going. "This isn't how you expected to feel, but that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Cry if you feel like crying and don't feel fucking guilty about it, this sucks. You had to do the world's most tumultuous campaign for the last nine months and suddenly you're standing at the start of a new one that takes up, like, a gazillion pages with half health and an equally useless companion."

Your lips press into a thin line, but your eyes are soft and bright despite their obvious fatigue. You bracelet his wrist with your fingers and push his hand further into your cheek.

"My dork," you murmur.

"You understand it, don't you? Makes you an even bigger dork."

You nudge your nose into his palm. "I understand. Thank you, honey."

Eddie's not done. "You said you don't know how something good like him could come from someone like you? I don't think bad was a possibility."

Your second thank you is better. The first wasn't inauthentic, but this one sounds as though you genuinely believe him. Eddie bows down into a crouch to wrap his arms around you, the majority of his weight on your shoulders and avoiding your sore lower region, and the entirety of his love pressed to your cheek, a long, mindless kiss.

"I love you," you say.

Eddie tucks his head against yours, ignoring his protesting knees. "I love you, too."

Your food turns to dry mulch by the time you remember it in the oven. You're too distracted by Eddie's hug, his offering for a shoulder massage, and the subsequent second hug that ensues, your back to his chest, dozing in the sanctuary of his arms. Munson-style cuddles are his expertise.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thank you for reading!

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cyrusthedragon · 1 year ago

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Mother of his child

Explicit ‼️ MDNI ‼️ NSFW 18+

I promised and I did: Simon sucks his wife's titties while talking about a big happy family with her.

Relationship: Simon Ghost Riley / f!Reader

Tags: porn with plot, dominance, married couple, rough sex, established relationship, breastfeeding, creampie, LOTS of dirty talk, some of spit play, LOTS of milk, LOTS of breeding, LOTS of 'mama'-calling, nasty stuff, happy family fluff for aftercare, size kink, sex after some time, no "Ghost", babying Simon.

Simon Riley really loves his wife, like... possessively. Almost obsessively.

Notes:

f!Reader gained weight after giving birth, and she has too much milk. Greedy and perverted Simon can't think about her selling her milk to people who have feeding problems. He's jealous.

You and Simon serve(d) together.

(Kinda, cuz it's funny, but not actually) Bossy!Reader in the end.

You and Simon have a newborn child.

Trigger warning: English isn't my first language, so, please, write a comment if I did a good job, I need to know if it's good, cuz I'm not really sure. But i enjoyed writing it! You can subscribe to me, I'll write a lot more about him! And I take requests, hehehe, especially most dirty ones. So. Please, enjoy ♥️

AO3

"You'll bore a hole in me..." you said under your breath, touching baby girl with just your fingertips and not taking your eyes off of her.

Simon immediately straightened his back, paying attention to the book in his hands again, and you chuckled softly:

"What's going on in your mind, baby?"

Silence in the room, only a soft melody from somewhere in the house, and the three of you sitting in your bedroom: you, feeding your precious baby girl, she, smacking from the delicious milk, and your husband, trying to pretend he's reading his book. Considering how he didn't touch a single page for the last fifteen minutes, he was either repeating that one spread or trying to memorize it all.

Or just being a pervert.

It's Simon we're talking about, no one on Earth would ever suspect him of thinking about something nasty, but... You were his wife. Mother of his child.

You knew there was something in those blue eyes of his - he looked at you exactly like that one day when you... When you decided to have a child.

You weren't, actually.

It was an accident.

But when you told him about your pregnancy and asked if you should take a Plan B, for one moment after that horrific word, he looked at you, almost shaking from nervousness, with something in his eyes that you recognized as a... Reluctance? "Yeah," he cleaned his throat, moved his gaze away because, obviously, the floor was way more interesting than a damn pregnancy test in your hands, "yes, you're right, Plan B... We shouldn't.. we should, uh...". Words have never been one of his strengths, if you were not in bed.

You looked at him trying very hard to say something, and one thing in him just matched you so perfectly, that for one second you thought maybe.. maybe...

"Can we keep-"

"What if we..."

You said it at the same time, and neither you nor he understood who was saying what, but the excitement was so loud, that you couldn't resist impulses to grab his hands. Neither could he help but stretch out his arms to you and hold you to give you a hug, even if he himself was just as terribly scared.

That shit was scary. No doubt.

It would not have been that horrifying if not for these thoughts of yours. Common.

"If we..." you heard Simon speaking, felt him swallowing loudly, "Maybe, if.. maybe we can..."

"Can keep it?" you helped, squeezing him with all your strength just to feel yourself safe. "You think we can?.."

"I think... I think I want to, but.."

"You want?"

And that was the moment when you moved away a little to look him straight in the eyes, seeking there for something you weren't sure exactly what.

"Yes?.." he answered under his breath. As freaked out as you were. Of course, he was. Both of you were soldiers, to the core. No one of you ever dares to dream about having a baby... It's a huge responsibility, and neither he nor you thought you could handle it, that's why you always used protection to minimalize your chances. It doesn't mean you didn't want to - hell yes you wanted, especially with Simon, and the more you got to know him, the better you understood he wanted this, too.

A family.

A real family, bonded with each other, someone you can hold in your hand and give all your love, all your affection, untapped awe for having something you and Simon created together. Holy hell, you married a dead man, did you think you had no strength for a little human? Just a baby? It took almost half of a year for you and Simon to finally get married, you took his last name and did it with all your patience, although the boys in one-four-one started calling you Mrs. Riley a long time before you became Mrs. Riley, and all these troubles, years of waiting for something with him, all this situationship, candy-bouquet period, all of it...for being afraid of having a child? It can't be that ha-

You were selfish.

Thinking about yourself, not your baby, who would most likely live alternately with one parent, then with the other - depending on which one of you would be called for a mission. You knew it. You knew you can have your parental leave, for twelve weeks, and, and, and...

"..ve. Love!" you shuddered - Simon rarely used to raise his voice at you, and often it was because of how easily you were distracted by thinking about something very important to you. You lose your patience when you were afraid of something. You blinked, looked up at him, and suddenly he was so calm that you were immediately infected by his calmness, without realizing it. "Breathe, love," he whispered, holding your face in his palms, so huge compared to your head. "Do you want to keep her?" and when he asked, looking you dead in the eyes, he already knew your answer, but...

You breathed out: "Her?"

Eyes to eyes, one very important dialogue without a single word between you, your shiny to his bright, deep ocean blue. "I want a girl," he whispered, not even blinking. "I want a boy", you said lowing your voice to match his, and he nodded, pulling you closer to touch your forehead with his. "Then... Let's see who it will be," Simon's lips were so close to yours, you half closed your eyes, pressed your lips into a tight line, and then closed them completely when he murmured in your mouth before kissing you full of his endless gratitude: "...shall we?"

And that was it.

You lost your little bet and were very happy about it.

The little one was happy, too, sucking milk, already ready for her beauty sleep, so beautiful, and a bit... sassy, biting your swollen nipple with per pink gums, making you hiss and chuckle softly. She had her father's shiny eyes. Your love. Your precious child.

"Simon, darling, you're staring." You finally moved your eyes from your daughter to your husband, smiled at him and he could no longer pretend he was reading his book. He wasn't. "Am I?" you heard him sighing, but his gaze started to be a little more... heavier than a second before you decided it was enough for baby girl and took her away from your chest. "Yes, darling, you are," your voice softened, small one whined, lying on the bed, twitching her hands and feet, and you giggled: "What a greedy creature... Never enough for her." But she quickly calmed down - the music changed to a comforting lullaby... You could finally get up and stretch your legs, fix your dressing gown, and move to Simon, sitting on the armchair.

"You didn't answered my question."

Baby monitor right behind your girl, and you allowed yourself to go straight to the kitchen - hungry as hell, while Simon simply followed your steps God knows why.

"What question?" He asked, watching you getting your snacks.

Bare feet, loose hair, mid-thigh gown, and the wet spots in it, right in front of your nipples. You're still leaking. And mouth-watering. And holy shit he just can't stop looking at your covered chest, how heavy your breasts are, how they freely jiggle when you're just moving. "Simon." he can't hear you, all his nature is focused there where your nipples touch your closes, these eyes are wild. You watched him, busy analyzing your chest or whatever, and didn't get yet the hell was wrong, but it's Simon, so... Whatever he was thinking about he would tell you, sooner or later.

But you didn't expect 'sooner' will be that...soon.

You turned your back to him to find something in the fridge and gasped when he suddenly lifted you, sitting you on the table, face to him. "Riley, the hell are you?!-" and then you met his eyes again.

Truly, wild.

"What? Eat your food, love." his voice was strange, he completely was strange, something just cracked in you, a blush appeared in your cheeks immediately, then he pulled back the gown and your hand trembled, accidentally dropping a snack on the floor.

He bared your chest with a face like nothing happened, and you swallowed your tongue like a proper coward, did not know how - did not want to - stop him and did not even try to interrupt whatever he was going to do. You felt the shivers down your spine - his hands on your ribs, fingertips almost tickling you, forcing you to smile, but there was nothing to smile about, just your husband being odd and making your legs shake with just his hands.

God, you didn't touch him for almost six months...

"I can't," you whispered, shutting your eyes while feeling his hand off you and somehow knowing for sure he was pulling his mask up to his nose.

"Why?" The hoarse voice of his just drove you crazy. Your brain was about to explode with this sudden satisfaction he brought to you by massaging your torso and jelly belly, and you couldn't answer properly: "Because you... What are you... Just take what you want already." You hissed, and maybe it would be fear for him to feel embarrassed by your tone and hands, hugging his head, but he did not care anymore or simply did not understand that, so he just... Did it.

You felt his wide tongue in front of your nipple.

And you inhaled.

"Simon... Simon, what are you doing, Simon..."

Your voice was less caring than you wanted it to be, and he didn't even look at you to answer: "Joining you to eat a snack."

"Oh I'm a snack now, wonderful..." words came out of your mouth before you shut it, "You little pervert, are you seriously going to su-... Oh, god."

Tongue swept all over your breast before Simon straightened up to his full height - and even though you were sitting on the table, he had to tilt his head to look at you. Giant. His gaze was much heavier than before, his pupils bigger, his brows furrowed to let you know, he was ashamed of you:

"That's how your talking to a baby, love?" Simon murmured and you did not even try to believe what you heard. He continued, seeing your confusion: "I see... I'm no longer your baby, am I?"

"Wha-.."

Oh.

'"What's going on in your mind, baby?"'

So that's what it was all about.

"You pervert," you said, watching him laying you down on the table and towering over you like he was some kind of mountain of muscles. This whole situation was quite crazy, and you swallowed, losing all your boldness just because of how dominant he became, taking your hands in his one so tightly that you couldn't move your fingers if you wanted to. Breath-taking Simon. First, you met on your first night together. A completely different person than what you usually see. His gaze was on you, examining you - how the fabric glided effortlessly over your body, showing up your ribs, tummy, chubby sides (you gained some weight after giving birth and were a little worried about it, but the way he cravingly looked at your fat...), your white panties, already wet for him. Of course, you were wet. He was between your legs, holding your hands, ready to eat you up.

"'Baby?..'" you whispered under him, trying to move your feet, but his other hand grabbed your knee abruptly and pushed it aside, leaving you completely open to him. "Don't try to hide, mama," you gasped at his words, heart started beating faster, and his head lowered to touch your belly with his lips. Soft and full. "It's nothing you need to be ashamed of.. if it's not me. Are you ashamed of me, mama?". Impossible, how he affected you with this damn 'mama' spoken by his powerful, quiet voice, "You don't need to be ashamed. Didn't you say today that your breasts are full? Don't you remember?".

You swallowed your saliva, chest up and down, and your voice cracked when Simon slightly touched underneath your filled breast, "I said we can sell it... There are many people with.. problems with.. with feeding. Simon, what are you-"

"Stop asking. You don't trust me?"

"I do, but-"

"No 'but'."

You should've said something, but when he grabbed your tit with his wide palm, compressed your nipple lightly between the index and middle fingers, everything that was in your head vanished immediately. Milk ran out over his fingers, to his wrist, and tangled in his short hair above the tattoo. "So easily, mama," he murmured, following the drop of your milk, "you're so full.. and you wanna give this to someone else? You wanna take it away from our daughter? Deprive her of that, mama? Is that what you want for her?"

You just said there's too much milk in you, useless milk, because your girl never starved, but the mere idea of giving part of you to someone who wasn't his child, just made him so, so jealous. You choked - Simon pulled your nipple with his fingers as if in punishment.

"No, no, of course not, I just wanted..."

And then the moon fell:

"You can give it to me." Your eyes widen in shock. And you saw him raise his milk-stained hand and watched his tongue follow the line from elbow to finger, licking your juice. "Sweet..." He murmured, "So sweet, so delicious..." And before you even realized, he sat you up at that table, wrapped his hand around you, and pressed his open, greedy mouth to your milking breast, moaning, like it was the best thing he ever tasted. A cry escaped your lips, you instantly grabbed his head, closed your eyes tightly - your nipples were so, so sensitive after feeding, and now he almost ate 'em. Shivers ran through your body, every cell was tense, trembling legs closed behind his back, as if locking him with a fuckin' padlock pressed against your body, yet still fully dressed. "Madman," you whined, squeezing the back of his balaclava, "you're a madman, Simon Riley, you're out of your mind...Teeth-!" Your sob forced him to let go of your chest with a loud smack, just like your baby did before, and the marks of his teeth were clearly visible on the soft, full flesh around your nipple.

"Watch your teeth- god, you-" you cried out, almost ready to hit him on the back, but then he, stooped, suddenly looked up at you, so innocent, so open, that something in your gut began to tighten. "Something wrong, mama?" He said, and you miraculously felt how his second hand was lost between your thighs. Breath didn't want to recover, he clung to you, pressing his cheek against your chest, and milk flowed out of you harder.

"No..." You answered, not sure if he's a pervert for calling you 'mama', or you for enjoying it so much, "Nothing wrong, baby... Just.. watch your teeth, okay?" Eyes to eyes, without a blink, you sucked air through your teeth and slowly put your trembling hand at his half-covered cheek, stroking until he closed his eyes, "You want to be good for mama, don't you, baby?"

"Mhm", he whispered, kissing your hand softly.

You didn't know your first sex with Simon after such a long time would be like that, but his finger, just one, was in your underwear and it pressed your clit so good, that you almost lost your mind, tilt you head back.

"I will be good for you, but I'm so mad at you..." Suddenly his voice softened and your hips tensed; his palm was fully in your panties, squeezing your cunt, pressing the middle finger to the entrance.

"Why mad, baby?.."

"I'm so mad you want to give yourself to someone else, mama," and when he opened his eyes, his finger entered you on the first finger phalanx, you hold your breath and bit your lip - you forget how big his fingers were, one of his like two of yours, and there was no lubricant, just your sloppy juices. Every tiny scar on his finger was fully felt, every callus, every cut. "You wanted to share yourself with hell knows who. That's how you feel about us, love? Is that it? Instead of giving everything to your, to my child, our child, you were going to.. what?" finger thrust further, you gasped, he pressed you into himself tighten. One small kiss to your neck and you already was useless, when he lifted you again and whispered in your ear while carrying you to the couch and putting you on his thighs so that you could lay down on him completely naked.

You don't need clothes, do you?

"You were going to waste it, love." He continued. "Instead of calling me, your husband, to help you."

"Help me with what?.. sucking this milk?.."

"Exactly, love."

You would've chuckled, but then there was a crack and your torn panties fell to the floor.

He tore them on you.

Animal.

"Beast..." You whispered, putting your head on his shoulder and feeling him squeezing your tits once more with both his hands.

"Me?" Simon's soft laughter was almost unbelievable, "No, no... I'm not. You are. A little cow, mama. Leaking your sweet milk. Just like a cow. Allowing me to drink it..." he pressed his face into your chest, threw you back, milk splashed from your nipples and hit him right on the balaclava, "What a mess you are. You're looking? Look carefully." fingers squeezed one nipple, twisted, pulled, milk splashed in all directions, flowed all over your chest and down to your torso, and his hands, warm, making you whine and mumble in pain in half with pleasure, just like a cow. "Oh love, and not just here. Don't take your eyes off, watch how wet you are, you ruined my clothes," his second hand went down to your groin, suddenly you wanted to cover yourself, but his middle and index fingers had already opened your vulva, revealing his hungry gaze your lower lips. "Look at you, you're soaking, mama... Do you hear it? That's your sound."

The sloshing of your juices as he circled around your entrance, the crackling of his clothes as you squeezed his shoulders, your whimpering as he purposely ignored your hard clit - all this cacophony was his symphony for your ears, and only yours.

"You sound so well, love..."

"Simon.. Simon, please, Simon..."

"What 'please'?"

"Simon, please, I want to kiss you..."

"Kiss me then."

"No! No! Please, Simon, I want to kiss you so bad... Please let me just-" and your shaking fingers touched the edges of his balaclava, throwing aside.

Scars.

Scars all over his face.

His bright eyes, his short blond hair, and all these scars made him look way older than he was. Breath-taking Simon.

You couldn't resist the impulse to praise him like he always secretly loved:

"You're so beautiful..." Fingers ran over his cheeks, cheekbones, brows, nose, lips, so kissable, you pressed your mouth to his with a hiss, feeling Simon again in you with his whole finger. "Damnit, baby..." You said, silencing him by taking his tongue with yours.

His hand on your ass, his finger fucking you, so tight girl, he loves feeling your walls around him, up and down - you got up on him, fucking yourself with his finger, and lowered to feel how he put his second finger to your entrance. Your breath hitched as he broadened your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside. Juices sloshing, his panting against your neck, his other hand gripping your ass so hard it threatened to bruise it, and his fingers fucking you like he was re-examining you - twisting the hand, pushing in, speeding up and massaging your inner lips and your clit, making you moan so loud, thank god rooms were soundproof. "I want to be inside you so bad, mama..." You heard him, hissing in your skin, biting it with his sharp teeth, you could've just hugged him tighten, "So wet, so delicious, look at you, how beautiful you are, ready to carry my second child...are you ready, mama?"

"Second child?.." you whispered barely audible, eyes watering from his aggressive pounding, and almost whining when the sound of unfastening the belt reached your ears and the cold steel of its plate touched your hot skin.

"Of course," and he didn't even stop pounding you, that dirty pervert; pulled his boxers down, letting the cool air touch the head of his cock. Red, wet head. Big. Thick. You didn't have to look at it to instantly lower your palms down and, howling like a wild dog, grab his cock with your both hands. "Fuck, love..." He cursed, clutching your ass, "You missed me, huh? Did you?"

"I did, I did, so much, baby, so much..." your trembling voice, your confident hands stroking his already hard fat dick, your cunt, shrinking from the memory of how sweetly he filled you that last time before your pregnancy... You, cock-drunk, beneath him, full with his thick hot sperm and covered by it all over your body - your ass, your vulva, your belly, your face; he came so much then, it was your first night together after you both returned from your mission. And now you can have it again... Finally.

"Pink on your cheeks suits you, love," he murmured, stroking your cheek like you did with his, "but I prefer your tears..." and before you even understood, his tongue already was on your face, licking off salty tears, mumbling, moving his hips to you while you jerked him off. "Everywhere... Wet everywhere... Did you always have been such a dirty fat slut?.. Crying, milking, soaking... I can eat you alive. Show me your mouth," he took his hand off your butt, roughly opened your mouth, looked, "Oh, I see... Would you mind, if I-"

And you felt his saliva on your tongue before Simon finished his sentence.

"There you go, such a good girl..."

But he didn't even think about letting you swallow his spit, and while you were trying to get back into rhythm, drunk on his saliva, he threw you onto the sofa, covering you from above, like a goddamn wall: "No, no, don't close your mouth." An animal, a real beast, twice your size, towered over you, mocked you, deprived you of his fingers and you could only helplessly scratch his hands near your head and push your pelvis in him, trying to somehow sit on his cock with your pathetic leaky pussy. "Don't close your mouth, you don't want me to fuck you, mama?" Sly bastard, so different, so cold, so soft for all of them, role model, best fighter, squad pride...Made fun of you, so turned on. You nearly hated him for this, but couldn't deny how you loved him above you.

"I want," trembled lips parted, saliva flowed slowly down your tongue to its root, your heavy breath was the only music for him.

"You want? Then be good for me, and I'll be good for you, mama, your good, good baby boy, mama... I would be anything for you, open your mouth, open it, let me fill you everywhere, will you, please?"

You barely had time to grab his short hair when he pressed his mouth to your mouth, but your tongues did not touch each other, you only shared your breath with him, as you always did, and when the tip of his fat cock touched your entrance, you held your breath, feeling how, along with his length, ripping you apart, widening you, inch by inch, he poured into you also his spit. Thick saliva - that's how hungry he was for you, his mouth was full of this viscous liquid.

"Good mama," words were hard for you, he closed his eyes, stopped at how tight you were, grabbed your leg, and slung it on his belt, thrusting deeper into you. Each vein on his long cock, each brought so much pleasure to extremely tight you... It was nearly impossible to move, but he always was stubborn and even when the drop of sweat ran over his neck, he continued entering you, sadistically slowly. "Relax for me," he almost begged, and you whispered:

"I've already..."

"So that's how tight you actually are, then, huh?" Seems Simon was starting to lose patience, fingers of one hand pressed on the upholstery of the sofa near your head, the second he squeezed your breast as if in revenge: "I almost forgot how it's like...when you're not in the shape of my cock." he sucked in air through clenched teeth, staring into the tears in your eyes, like he wanted to lick them again, "But it's okay..." He continued, thrusting you exactly to halfway of his cock, "We have plenty of time to make you perfect for me again, love. It's okay. I'll fuck you 'til you'll be open for me every time I want to fill you with my cum. You like my cum?" you cried, his heavy hand gave a slap on your ass, "Of course you do... Mama's such a slutty thing, she's always ready for me to cum in her, give her so much of my sperm, so she can give birth to our future big family."

"Big..." You whined about how he was ripping you with his dick, demonically slowly to the very core, to the root. You felt the warmth of his full, heavy balls, as he promised, filled with his cum just for you, and your back arched in an unthinkable angle, as soon as you felt the coarse hair on his groin.

"Yes, love, big family," and even his mumbling reached you with difficulty, you suffered on him, scratched him, beat, squeezed him with your legs, wriggled like a snake, and he hung over you, indestructible, like a rock, tried to take a breath from the pain in the cock. "Me, you, our children, so many children..."

And there was the first thrust.

Right on the nerves.

Until the pitiful cry and eyes rolled back.

Big, big, big-

So fucking big-

"What, you can't handle me anymore?" his hoarse rough voice came from above and your body shook as he thrust into you and slap your thigh, leaving the big red shape of his five fingers. "How you're going to have my children then? Be the mother of my babies, raise 'em, feed 'em with that delicious milk of yours-" Simon compressed one of your nipples again and you choked on a scream as the milk spurted freely up. "Dirty, dirty mama..." Was his only response.

And he fucked you.

To the cries, putting all his strength into you, moaning loud and clear, just like you love, forcing you to beg for his cock, but already fuckin' you, watching your tits jiggle and milk splash everywhere, spoil his clothes, get on your cheeks. To legs shaking, to an exhausted body, growling in your face how much he's going to cum in you so that you burst from his sperm, pregnant with his children, forever, for your whole life, so everyone, every fucking single one from everywhere could see whose are you, who you belong to. This belly, squishy and fatty, this face, these tits, hips, legs, feet, mouth, this milk, and other juices, these eyes, beautiful, beautiful eyes, these delicious lips, this heart and soul - all, all for him and his children, all for the Riley family, all of it for them and no one else, no one fuckin' else. You're trapped here, you're never gonna leave this man and his child, you belong to them with your whole being, you understand that? Do you, mama? Do you understand there's no escape, he would fight Death if that sucker would ever allow himself to at least think about taking you away from Simon; he would fight Death, and he would kill it because no one has the slightest right to take even a piece of you from him.

"Mine," he groaned, sinking his fangs into your neck, suddenly grabbing you by the waist and lifting so that you sat on his cock as tightly as physically possible, and kept fucking you, beating out from you every moan, every deep scratch your nails left on his shoulders as you bathed his neck with your tears. Pressed into each other, like two halves of a whole, crazy, lost in each other, interwoven, and you won’t understand where you begin and he ends. Your cunt hurts, but the pain is so sweet that you're not sure you want to cut it, you're not sure you want him to stop, to be more gentle, not pounding you like a fucking hammer, and the angle is so right - you can feel not just his dick deep inside you, but how your clit is stimulated by him, his rough movements. Oh, this beast, this madman, this insane man... So insane just for you. You cried out, moaned: "Simon... Simon! Simon!" as if it was the only thing you remembered in your life, and the rubbing of your bare nipples against his outer clothing forced you to snuggle closer to him and at the same time as if trying to get away from him.

He was no longer there, he was all inside you, thrusting you like it was his last day, angry, but carrying you so perfectly that you could've let yourself lay on him, and you knew he would never let you fall.

"Simon, Simon, listen, listen to me, please-" your trembling voice almost vanished in all these sex sounds, but he pushed you closer (there was no 'closer') and you simply whined: "Simon, I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum, I'm going to- I want to cum so bad- please, Simon, I wanna cum, I want you to cum, please, cum with me, please-" Your fingers pulled back his hair. You yourself pulled back, arched in your back, and instantly your muscles contracted on his cock, forcing him to fall, falling with you on the soft sofa. A little more and he would've crushed you with his weight, but with a desperate groan he managed to grab your hands and, lacing your fingers together, lean on them to hang over you, not for a second slowing down the speed of his deep, passionate thrusts.

Your useless legs struggled to stay on his lower back, your breasts were shaking painfully and you felt the blessing of heaven when he clung to you, pressed, as tightly as it was physically possible, and instantly squeezed you in both his hands. "Cum for me," he moaned in your ear, his veiny cock almost touched your uterus, but it seemed that if he wanted to, he would fuck your womb just to impregnate you. "Cum for me, mama, let me see how happy you are to be pregnant for me, just for me, showing people how you love me, scream, mama..."

Heavy breathing, deep unforgiving pounds, bursting cock, burning heart, nails scratching his strong broad back, ribs compressed with iron arms - and you, so tiny compared to him, you, so little, so fragile looking in his arms... were ready for anything for this man. "Cum for me," he ordered, grunted, and you tensed on him, squeezed him with all your might to his own loud moan, and tears gushed from your helplessly rolled eyes. His moans, low but beautiful, just for you, were the only thing you heard in your petite mort.

And his seed filling you, hot, thick, was the only thing you felt.

The maddening feeling of being filled with rich cum, his cum, your husband's, your man's, drove you to a silent scream, to open mouth from which no sound came out, and saliva flowing down from the edge of your mouth only to dry on your cheek when you tilted your head back. And as if boiling sperm in you, poured into your insides.

"Greedy mama..." you didn't even come to your senses when you focused your blurred vision on Simon overhanging you, cupping your wet cheek with his large hand. His quiet, purring voice settled in your head like a gooey honey. You could nearly discriminate his words. Not understanding what was happening around, hearing only his voice and feeling only him in you, you were like gutted and thrown into the light while his sweat dripped on you from above, and his heavy breathing only miraculously did not blow you away. "Just like that..." Even his voice cracked, this man couldn't resist the devil, and mumbled inaudibly: "So good for me... So good... Such a good girl..."

Hot seed in you, his weight on you, his warmth all over you, his loud breath and your inner muscles tightening and loosening around him while he, overstimulated, continued moving in you, also overstimulated, and the movements were so...gentle ... So soft... His soft pounds, his smooth swings, almost like trying to rock you, but that orgasm was so blinding, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't concentrate on the outer world, just him and his hands, his hips between your legs, his balls tightly pressed to you, his cock inside you completely... So... Soft... Hot... Your body temperature was almost past its peak... And that gentle touch Simon gave you on your belly, lying his head on your shoulder.

After what he did, you barely remember how carrying he was... This big softie...

"You..." your hoarse voice sounded like you hadn't spoken in at least ten years, there was fuckin' Sahara in your throat, and your eyes couldn't even close from the experienced orgasm, "What you just... What you... Wha-...."

Tied tongue refused to obey.

You literally could not utter a word, only mumbling something incomprehensible.

Boneless.

Dry out.

Dehydrated.

The son of a bitch literally sucked all the juice out of you.

"Si..bl... Bml... Ah......"

And when he, as exhausted as you, pulled away to kiss you on the pink hot cheek, after all, that he had done, you nearly could look at how calm he was.

"You alright, love?"

Blue eyes glanced at you in slight worry, he stroked your wet hair, raised himself with both hands to look at you, but you could not take your eyes off him. You stared at him in disbelief or shock - doesn't matter, you just experienced the nastiest sex in your life, and he was so calm, so confident, like nothing happened, like it was a daily basis for you - being fucked 'til semiconscious state while your husband was 'mama'-calling you and sucking your tits, and, holy shit, did that really-

"Do I..." You swallowed, looking him dead in the eyes, without a single blink. "Do I look like I'm alright?... Do I?... And what happened with 'mama', baby?.. what happened with 'mama'?" suddenly your voice became demanding, insistent, from somewhere you found the strength to weakly hit him in his rock-hard shoulder, and Simon's eyes flashed with shame for a second, then he moved them from you, almost trying to hide, while leaving your core and sitting on the edge of the sofa at your useless boneless legs still shaking from whatever the hell that just was.

He inhaled, "I..."

"Shut up." and he closed his mouth instantly, staring at the floor, even before he heard properly what you said. "You sucked my milk."

"Um..."

"I said shut the fuck up- You just- where are my pills?"

"What?"

The slight surprise in his voice almost pissed you off and it was funny how he almost trembled with fear and tried to shrink under your gaze: he, that behemoth of a man, two meters tall, mountain of muscles, Lieutenant, a brave soldier of the Queen, Chain Dog of Captain Price and Commander Lasswell, trembling under your gaze, your, women half his height, twice as weaker than he ever was, furthermore, unable now to even wake up on her own, move her limbs, he was fuckin' scared-

Indeed.

You did have power over him.

"My pills." You barely raised your voice and he already was on his feet, pulling on his pants and trousers, looking for your plan B.

You watched him, nervously seeking after them, making as much noise in the bathroom as he would never make on a battlefield, and you could almost see his shaking hands turning the whole room upside down.

"We're gonna have a nice long talk about all of it," you heard yourself surprisingly serious, when he came to you with a glass of water and your medicine, helping you, holding your head for you to drink, "we gonna..." you swallowed the pill from his hands, drank all the water from the glass without taking your eyes off him, and exhaled loudly as he kissed your cheek after.

"We're gonna?.." he echoed you and you saw him squatting down next to the couch, against your head, so you could lie down and look him straight in the eyes without getting tired.

"We're gonna clear up your... This. Simon."

"Mhm?"

"Eyes on me."

"They already are, ma'am."

You could've laughed, because he never called you that unless you were extremely serious about small things in your life, no one ever saw him mocking you, or smiling like this, widely and openly, but there were topics you wanted to discuss before admitting that both of you were total perverts, and nothing would even help you clean your conscience from it.

To be fair, you didn't actually want.

You knew he was more playful, more... Different when you were alone, there were demons inside his pretty blonde-haired head, that was true, you knew the man you married, and he never was such a jealous person without any reason, and... You didn't know how, but you were sure this talk about 'sharing with someone else' wasn't just... Dirty talk. There was something else deep inside.

"You're thinking too loud, love," you heard him hawed it out and then felt his strong hands on your aching legs. "Again."

"I'm just... You know what?"

"Mm?"

"We... We should..."

"We should?.."

"We should... Holy hell, Simon... You..."

"I was serious about what I said, love."

Boom.

You tilted your head, met his eyes, moving from your legs to your face.

His deep and at first sight as if almost naive eyes.

"About?..." You whispered, feeling something strange growing inside you with every second he was looking deep into your soul.

Nasty, nasty soul.

"About having a big family." you felt his gentle kiss on your ankle, his head relaxed near your feet, he mumbled, "We already have one pretty girl... I want more. I want... I want to come home... And see a hoard of children running to me... Meeting me... And you... And then I'll sit with them, and you will work, and, imagine... Coming home, where there'll be a bunch of kids, siblings, maybe playing with each other, or arguing, or... Else. Our little world."

"Our little world..."

Unbelievable.

Dreamy, absorbed in his fantasies, soft, affectionate Simon. Telling you about that.

"Even if we could... What if something goes wrong?.." you couldn't resist your fears, not for yourself, but for hypothetical children. "What if... We won't be able to give them what they deserve?.."

And suddenly he smirked:

"I'm not telling you making a second one right now, am I?" your eyes met, your uncertain, and his, surprisingly romantic. "I'm just... Maybe we shouldn't stop at just one. She needs a friend. We were able to do so many things. I will buy a big house somewhere in the middle of nowhere..."

"With a garden and greenhouse?"

"Yep. I will arrange the area. Maybe we can have cows?"

"And chicken."

"And chicken. And..."

And you completed his sentence without looking at him, just knowing what he would say:

"...and have a daydream house with white picket fence and a golden retriever..."

"I prefer Alsatian."

There was something wrong with this man. Who was without a drop of doubt thinking that you two, and now with the third little human, can have that unrealistic happy lovey-dovey life.

Scarred soldiers, hardly married, only a year ago trembling from fear because of the thought that you would have a child in your house, such an irresponsible thing to do- and- and- now-

Now he was saying you can have more, can take responsibility for more people, more little ones- where were the guarantees that he would not die in the field? where were the guarantees that you would not be killed? where there were guarantees that you could become good parents, raise good children, fulfill your duty to them, and remain happy, not break down, challenge life, who stubbornly told you over and over again that you weren't made for this, you simply cannot have this, this isn't for you, and-

There really was something wrong with him.

And maybe, only maybe, there was something wrong with you, too.

Because you believed him.

You believed him with all your being, you trusted him, you knew he would never betray your trust, he would do more than everything to keep his promises, you knew the word "family" wasn't just a sound for him, and you became his family, he did not just wanted kids and that shitty house, fuck it, that wasn't about the house.

All of that was only about you.

Making family with you.

Having kids with you.

Introducing you as his wife, being a father to your kids, calling you the mother of his kids, knew exactly that is your and his blood running in their veins, that's your common children playing in the garden.

And in his face, which for some reason everyone finds impenetrable and dispassionate, you read so much that your heart breaks, your breath hitches, your pulse skips a beat:

Simon Riley doesn't want this house without you. He doesn't want kids without you. He doesn't want any white picket fence, no garden, no greenhouse, nothing without you. It's all is just meaningless for him, if it's without you.

You are that one thing that makes him believe he's unstoppable. You're that one person for whom he wants to try, despite fully understanding how hard, almost impossible it will be. Definitely will.

The man will move mountains just for you.

He would fight Death, and he would kill it just for you.

That's truly crazy.

But once again, if he's crazy, then you are too.

"Okay..." your quiet voice sounded in the silent room, only the cozy melody accompanying your words. "Alsatian it is."

It took a second, stretching for years, for him to slowly, with the grace of a well-fed tamed predator, get up from the floor and lean towards you, giving you the most tender kiss you have ever felt.

Delicate as silk, sweet as chocolate, a touch of love.

All his feelings for you couldn't fit in one kiss. But he needed to try.

And as soon as you relaxed, trusting yourself to his strong, safe arms, loud baby cries came from the baby monitor.

Damn.

Simon pulled away from you with a quiet "Don't move, I'll go get the Princess" and you couldn't help but giggle when you heard him open the door to your bedroom and start talking like an idiot, cuz she just loved when he was goofy around her.

In one second, promises to make you perfect for his fat cock again, and in the second after that, rocks your common child while making hilarious noises to pacify her.

"Simon!" And when he, rocking your tiny Princess, looked out from behind your bedroom door, you said helplessly, unable to remove the silly smile from your face, "I love you, baby."

His gaze softened.

"I love you, too, mama."

Oh, this man...

Oh this man!

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thedevilrisen · 6 months ago

Text

Prompt Poll - Two

Quinn Hughes x Y/N

Prompt: "When you said you were sick I thought you meant a cold, not the freaking plague."

Description: Y/N got sick, Quinn wasn't expecting it to be this bad.

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Would be greatly appreciated if you could reblog. I love talking to people so say 'Hi' if you want to. Feel Free to send in requests as well. I'm happy to write for most hockey players.

Warnings: Sickness, swearing and thats proabably it! Please tell me if anything else should be added.

-Sincerely thedevilrisen.

-:-

Groaning and half-heartedly, blindly grappling in the general direction of the repeated vibrations of your phone against the wood side table, roused unceremoniously from your self-accredited worlds worst sleep. When you finally came in contact and stupidly turned the offending device straight into your face, hissing as the bright light kissed your sleep and sickness rumpled features, you vaguely registered a text from your boyfriend Quinn.

Hey Honey, how's the cold coming along?

Getting worse to be completely honest with you.

Aw no! Lucky I'll be home in a few hours to take care of you! We are just about to board the plane so I thought best to touch base. x

Thank you Quinny, have a safe flight. :) Read 9:58pm

Quinn POV:

Sneaking in quietly I made sure to gently close the door and be careful not to kick my shoes off into the wall as to make as little noise as possible.

My attempts were in vain however as I heard a very aggressive and horse-sounding coughing fit coming from the bedroom. Walking along the hallway and noticing the soft light bedside lamp flowing out of the room from under the door.

I opened the door to be met with what should be considered a biological war hazard. There was a ungodly mound of tissues on what was normally Quinn's side of the bed, a few soup bowls and coffee mugs stacked precariously on the side tables and a snuffling, moving lump with messy brown hair splayed in a way that would make Cousin It jealous.

"Quinn?" you rasped out.

"Jesus. When you said you were sick I thought you meant a cold, not the freaking plague!"

"I did sa-" you started to mumble but were cut off by a small coughing fit. "I did say before you boarded the plane that I was pretty sure it was getting worse."

"No shit!" the young man laughed scruffing a hand down his face.

"he-" you sneezed "hey, enough of the sass mister, im sick. take care of me."

"Nooo, your all yicky!" he playfully groaned

"But you promised!" you pouted and flopped back down into your warm fuzzy bed.

"I did, my love." he walked around your side of the bed and crouched to your height. "And I always keep my promises."

Kissing your head he walked into the ensuite and flicked on the light. He had ruffled through the mirror cabinets and pulled out the eucalyptus scent drops. Intent on putting some in the little over hot bath he was drawing for you.

When there was enough water in the tub he moved back into the bedroom to rouse you and bring you to the warm and hopefully somewhat rejuvenating bath.

"Honey, can you come hop in the tub?" he asked gently, rubbing your shoulders through his sleep warmed shirt you had obviously stolen earlier.

"mm-comfy." you whined grabbing onto your pillow and burrowing into it.

"Come on honey, it will make you feel better." he pleaded.

"No. Bed." you stated petulantly, to which Quinn sighed and reached in under the warm covers and dragged you protesting form into his arms.

Once he had wrangled you out of bed and into his grasp he soothed your aggressive mumbling and walked into the bathroom being careful not to bang your ankles on the door frame.

Placing you down on your feet he helped you strip out of your clothes and settle down into the warm tub. The sigh of relief you let out after you settled into the tub was worth having to drag you out of the bed for.

Placing a fleeting kiss on your forehead and a stern order not to fall asleep and drown he wandered out of the room leaving the door ajar so he could hear you if you called. Intent on making some tomato soup for you he pulled a saucepan out of the cupboard, found the can he required and and pulled a can opener out of the drawers. Cracking open the can and pouring the viscose red liquid into the heated saucepan, he stirred it and left it to simmer.

"How are you going honey?" he asked as he walked back into the bathroom.

"Mm, the eucalyptus helps with the headache." you mumbled, "but i'm getting pruny.

Quinn let out a hearty chuckle as you raised your hand for him to see your wrinkled skin.

"You ready to get out then?" he proposed, still leaning on the door frame.

"Yeah, I think so," you replied, opening your eyes and blearily looking at him.

"Alrighty, I'll get you some clothes." he smiled and wandered out of the room.

Unbeknownst to you he had cleaned the bedroom up, picked up the tissues, bowls and cups, changed the bed linen, placed a bed tray with fresh water, tea and the soup next to where he had pulled back the fresh sheets and stacked the pillows so you could watch the TV which he had turned on for you.

So when you waddled out, swaddled in a giant soft fluffy towel you were nearly brought to tears.

"Quinny," you sniffled wetly.

"Yeah honey?" he questioned walking from the closet with a pair of his sweat pants and a T-Shirt for you. He was startled when you walked over and wrapped him and a hug.

"Thank you." you mumbled into his shirt.

Smiling he kissed your head and said, "Your very welcome."

"What do you want to watch?" he asked, handing you the clothes to change into.

"Hmmm? OH! Gilmore Girls." you said with an evil smile settling into the bed.

"Fine, only because your sick." he conceded settling next to you smiling to himself as you started slurping on your soup, completely enamoured with the show in front of you.

-:-

I'm sorry if its bad! I myself have been sick, swamped with school and family stuff! However it's out! Please enjoy and don't be afraid to come into my inbox to have a chat!

#risen rambles :d #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #quinn hughes #trevor zegras oneshot #jack hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #vancover canucks #qh43 #luke hughes fic #luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader

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solar-wing · 1 year ago

Text

⚣ Domestic Living With Jason 🩳

⚣🩳 A/N → I'm physically incapable of writing anything under 500 words. But, this was inspired by my love of compression shirts (especially the Under Armor ones and how I would do exactly this if my boyfriend tried to walk out wearing one). May start a series off this, we'll see. Warnings: Domestic Vibes. Married Energy. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing. Petty Jason.

⚣🩳 Summary → Domestic life is something. Domestic life with Jason Todd is another thing. One moment, you're ready to fight this man. Next moment, you're ready to fight this man. *wink wink* Wait, hold up. Jason, what the hell are you wearing?!

⚣🩳 Words → 1.5K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🩳

“Jason, hurry up! I need to get back so I can finish this essay.” Y/N yelled from the living room of his and his boyfriend’s shared apartment.

If you asked him a year ago what he figured living with his boyfriend would be like, he’d more than likely answer with a lot of freaking sex. Of course, other things came with it, but that was the first thing that always came to mind.

It also came with a lot of stay-at-home dates. Jason was unsurprisingly a natural homebody and loved to spend his evenings when he could with his lovely boyfriend cuddled against his body while watching a movie or playing a game and munching down on some takeout.

Truthfully, it was nice seeing how Jason was in a domestic situation. It served as a reminder to Y/N that under all those scars, grumpiness, and tough exterior was just a boy who wanted to be loved.

On the other end, living with Jason made Y/N take a long, hard look in the mirror and reflect on all the bad habits he had when living at home with his parents and starting college. For example, time management…

Before he started dating Jason, Y/N was the kind of person who waited till twenty minutes before he had to leave to start getting dressed. Whenever someone would text him and ask for his location, he’d respond telling them he was leaving the house now.

Then, when he was actually leaving the house and they’d text him again, he’d respond saying he was on the freeway. Truly, the best example of what not to do when he wanted to be on time somewhere.

After he started dating Jason though, and especially when they moved in together, Y/N sent a long apology to his parents who had tried for years to teach him better time management. The crazy thing about that was when they asked him why he was apologizing and he explained that Jason’s time management made him look like an angel, they didn’t believe him!

In their eyes, Jason was a saint who could do no wrong. Which was ironic considering Y/N’s dad promised to castrate any man who dared even look his son’s way. And his mom, well, not sure that’s really appropriate to mention.

Yet, when it came to Mr. Jason Peter Todd, he might as well have been hand-delivered from God himself. Maybe it was because his boyfriend could and would be late to anything else in the world (Lord knows Bruce went through hell and back just to get him to be on time for family dinner), but if it was anything involving Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, he was twenty minutes early with a gift he picked up from the local Target.

It also could be that Jason was the world’s biggest kiss-ass (when he needed to be) and used that to wrap Y/N’s parents around his finger. Either or…

But now, since they were only going to the gym, Jason was of course taking his sweet time to get ready, which, every passing second was another snap of one of Y/N’s nerves. Truthfully, he would’ve just grabbed his keys and left without him, but the last time he did that, Jason went and bought a steering-wheel clutch to put on his car and hid the keys from him for two weeks.

Another thing Y/N’s parents would never believe about their son’s beloved boyfriend; the fucker was petty as hell.

“I’m coming, babe! Be out in a sec,” Jason yelled from behind their bedroom door.

“You said that five minutes ago!”

“Sorry, I don’t recall. Maybe you imagined it.”

This gaslighting motherfu–

Y/N had to take a deep breath to calm his growing impulsive need to bust down that door and slap the fuck out of his boyfriend’s neck. It didn’t help…

“You can’t hit your boyfriend. You can’t hit your boyfriend. You can’t hit your boyfriend,” Y/N mumbled to himself while tapping his foot against the floor repeatedly to distract himself from the ticking seconds passing by in his mind.

Two minutes later, the door opened and revealed his tall and bulky man looking ever so fresh and handsome. Though Y/N was still irritated beyond belief, the sight of his boyfriend’s handsome face who grew a smile and twinkle in his eyes when he looked at him always managed to dissipate his temper.

Not by much though. Jason’s neck still looked like a very bright and large target just waiting for a good sting from the palm of his hands.

Maybe Tim was right, they were a match made in heaven just off violent tendencies alone.

“That was not a sec,” Y/N reprimanded in a grumble.

Jason’s smile turned into a self-satisfied grin while he walked past his boyfriend to their coat closet, grabbing his abnormally large gym shoes. Seriously, what size is this man’s foot?

“Hey, it’s not my fault you waited till the last day to finish your homework.” He replied while tying his shoe.

“Um, actually it is. Every time I tried to sit down and work on it, you’d either start complaining about how I wasn’t paying any attention to you or you’d get randomly horny and start touching me in ways that shall not be named and I’d end up with your dick inside me.”

Y/N immediately regretted his words when he saw how Jason looked up from finishing his last shoe, a lustful blown look on his face as he eyed his body up and down. Thankfully, he didn’t seem like he was about to act on his impulses as he kept tying his shoe without looking before standing back up.

Why was that hot?

“Sounds like you need to practice self-control, sir.”

Oh, no he didn’t.

“Sir, I was already tempted to smack the back of your neck before. I beg you to not increase that urge.”

“Do it. I dare you,” Jason challenged, standing right in front of him with his towering frame. The tone in his voice and the look on his face were signaling something that Y/N was very tempted to answer, but he had to keep rationality in the forefront of his mind.

“You not worth it,” He responded, side-stepping him while going to grab his jacket.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Sir, don’t get fu–”

It was at that moment Y/N took a full look at his boyfriend, specifically what he was wearing. And while the sight was something he wouldn’t mind staring at, he definitely didn’t want other people staring at him.

“Excuse me, but what in the hell are you wearing?” Y/N asked, still looking him up and down.

Jason looked confused for a moment, also looking at his outfit, not seeing what the problem was.

“Um, a shirt and sweats? Is this a trick question or,”

“Why is it so tight? Who are you trying to show off for?”

This man was wearing a black compression shirt and gray joggers like it was just a regular Sunday. The Lord is watching, how dare he?!

Jason’s smirk immediately came back when he realized what he was really about, “Oh, what? I can’t wear tight clothes now to the gym?”

“Not unless you want me to fight bitches. Because, just in case you forgot, I do fight bitches.”

“Language, or I’m telling mom. And I like it when you fight over me,” He said while grabbing at Y/N’s waist.

He immediately popped the vigilante’s hands off him, “Don’t involve my mother in and hands off mister.”

“Our mother, thank you,” Jason corrected.

“It’s giving incestuous, and last time I checked, there is no ring on this finger and my last name is not Todd.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Y/N was sat.

“I-, that was really hot and we’re gonna move on from that,” Y/N responded, and Jason once again had a cocky smirk on his face. Lord knows this man was more than likely dead serious. He’d drop everything and drive to a ring shop right now.

“Anyway, you need to go change sir. I don’t need them dirty, mud-bathing rats staring at what is for my eyes only.” Y/N responded, pointing back to their bedroom waiting for Jason to move.

“Oh, so I need to go change, but when you were wearing those tiny shorts, showing off what’s supposed to be for my eyes only, I got told to mind the business that pays me,” Jason asked with a laugh.

“Are you on my payroll?” Y/N questioned.

“No.”

“My point still stands.”

“You think you’re funny,”

“I think I’m hilarious, actually. In fact, I’m so funny, I’m going to get the extra small shorts I just got in the mail since you want to play with me.” Y/N turned around and sprinted for their bedroom.

“Oh, I’ll play all day,” Jason mumbled under his breath before throwing their gym bags down to the ground and kicking off his shoes before following his boyfriend into the room.

They did not make it to the gym, but they definitely got their workout in.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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cobrabobra · 2 years ago

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Dating Carl headcanons:

I think the most important part that people often forget about Carl is a teenager, ani insecure one. How could be not be if he literally has a hole in his face?

He surely knows that his skills are exceptional, that he knows how to handle things, that he's brave and pretty fucking cool, but every teenage boy has his insecurities and Carl is no exception.

I could imagine him being anxious after arriving in Alexandria, seeing that there are boys his age, he begins to think that maybe you'd leave him, that he was your boyfriend because he was the only choice.

He constantly tries to show you that he is in fact the best option for you, trying to protect you, provide for you, going on runs alone just to get you something. He's willing to risk his life just to make you see what he'd do for you.

And that brings another problem, Carl risking his life all of the time. Going alone to the woods, going to the Sanctuary, provoking Negan and his people. But I think that's a mix of frustration, being angry at how things are and wanting to change them and the need to show everyone that he's independent and capable of handling himself.

Another one of Carl's insecurities is not being able to express his emotions very well, he's used to bottling everything up until it explodes and he doesn't want to do that to you, but he doesn't know how to do it differently. He's scared to share, scared that you won't care or be troubled by it when you already have a lot of things on your head, he's scared that you'll get scared of him, that he'll push you away if he shares.

He never considered himself as handsome, he always was the pretty boy type, but that didn't bother him if it didn't bother you. Well, it didn't bother him until he got shot, then he wasn't pretty or handsome or anything other than a disgusting, ugly freak. He tried to hide that it bothered him, that he felt you didn't love him anymore, that you were scared of him, or grossed out. Which you probably were, everyone would be, but it quickly became normal, it wasn't gross or scary, it wasn't beautiful, it was normal, it was a part of him.

"Carl, are you here?" you knocked on the bathroom door, he was in there for quite a while and you were worried. "Can I come in?"

"No, please, don't" his voice was weak and shaky, like he was crying.

"Carl, please. At least tell me what's happening" you begged, your heart beating hard in your chest, you were scared, you needed to know what happened.

"It's just- it's my eye" he sighed, trying to calm himself, he didn't want to look weak in front of you. "I'm okay, just don't come in"

"Alright, I won't. Just- you know I love you, right? Nothing will change that" it was a promise, it didn't matter what he'd look like, what he'd become.

Carl never fully accepted his eye, but it became easier to live with it, thanks to you, he understood that this was a part of his body, that it can't be changed and that it didn't change anything between the two of you, that helped a lot.

You helped him a lot, not just with the way he looked at himself, with his emotions, but you saved him countless times, you cared for him, protected him and he wanted to do the same for you. He never was the best with expressing his feelings so that was his way of showing you his love.

You still did the usual couple things, holding hands, kissing, cuddling, fuck, Carl started to panic the second you were beyond his reach. You were his safe place and he needed you all the time.

It's just the talking about his feelings part that was hard for him.

He wasn't the romantic type, he didn't get you flowers or jewelry, but he made breakfast for you when he woke up before you, he made sure to wrap you up in a blanket when you were taking a nap on the couch. He showed his love through doing these little things for you.

He loves spending time with you, baking together, reading together, taking care of judith together, going on walks together, showering together, everything you did, he wanted to be close, to keep an eye on you.

But that doesn't mean he's clingy, he wants to be near, not to sit in your lap and kiss you all the time (he kinda does want to, but he doesn't do it).

If anything happens to you, I pity the fool that tries to stop Carl from being with you. He'll kick and punch, threaten and beg, anything to be there for you when you need him.

And if someone did something to you, don't worry, they're already dead, we all know that Carl's a little psycho and he'll do everything for his family. He tries to be calm and rational but if somebody lays thair hand on you he simply can't control himself, plus it's not like they don't deserve it.

He'd try to be his best self for you, it was because of you that he wanted Negan to live, he lost himself for a while and you pulled him out of it, because of that he believes everyone, well maybe not everyone, most of the people deserve a second chance, people can change.

He knows you're both young, maybe too young for him to even think about it but he can imagine having a family with you. The way you take care of Judith, hold her in you arms, the way you talk to her, kiss her forehead, play with her, he wants that for his own kid.

He wouldn't settle for just any ring, if he proposes, he's doing it right. He searches for not only the prettiest ring but also the coolest looking one.

When it comes to touching, Carl isn't particularly clingy, but he likes to keep a hand on your thigh, squeeze it a little, tease you. I think there's a lot of teasing, he can be cruel sometimes.

But you teasing him? No, that's not happening, not on his watch. He's too impatient for that, too vulnerable in a way.

He likes to kiss you, a lot. Good morning kisses, goodnight kisses, you look so pretty today kisses, all of them.

"Morning" he said, his voice raspy and tired, his eyes still half closed. He hugged you from behind, his chin resting in your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck.

"Morning" you said, smiling a little, he was so cute like this. "I'm making eggs"

"Mhm" he didn't care about some eggs. He took your chin in his hand and made you look at him, he wasn't harsh or anything, his movements were slow and delicate. He placed a sweet kiss in your lips and it has you melting into his arms.

"Breakfast will be ready in a minute" you turned your head, your cheeks were slightly pink, he never failed to make you blush, not even after doing this hunderds of times. "Wash your teeth"

Carl can be rash sometimes, like when he's really excited, horny or after a fight, adrenaline buzzing in his veins, he'd pull you in for a hungry, desperate kiss, his fingers digging into your hips, his crotch pressed against yours, but he's usually delicate with you, unless you want him to be a little rough.

He's a caring lover, tending to your every need, he'd be a loving father and a great leader, but only with you by his side.

Hope you enjoyed and thank you for your kind words under my daryl headcanons.

#carl grimes x male reader #carl grimes x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #carl grimes headcanons

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val-cansalute · 1 year ago

Text

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 1

ch. 2

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 5

ch. 6

a/n: short first chapter 🫤 also BORING AS FOCK but the next few will be longer and better, just stick with me cw: implied depression/ptsd, dark themes, not too heavy but please don’t read if this might trigger you, angst, no smut in this chapter but there might be some later on, creds to cafekitsune for dividers, MDNI 😡

Six months ago today, your gaunt figure limped through Jackson for the first time, arms scarred and trembling, and face adorned with a vacant expression. You’ve been here for a while now.

You heard Maria say, with time, you’d come out of your shell - actually speak to the others. But, no, you still stay holed up in your decaying room, recalling what happened that day obsessively, and only ever leaving to go on patrol. Only when you absolutely have to.

God, you don’t even know if you can call this grief anymore. Seems as though you built a nest in the sorrow. Would it still be considered missing him if you desperately want to stop seeing his face whenever you close your eyes.

Fuck, don't say that. Never say that.

Promise I still love you, big brother. Promise I'd do anything to see you again.

Well, nobody really pays you any mind; you just sink into the shadows of the shitty little apartment you've been put in. And it doesn’t matter to you because the thought of getting close to people again makes you sick anyway.

Never wanna feel this pain. Never again. Fuck, just go away, please.

I'm so sorry, Soren.

You’ve waited it out for months but, at this point, you've given up hope. Feels like maybe it’s time to go be on your own. You know it’s dumb, but you haven’t got much to live for now that he’s gone.

Late night, you crawl into the comfort of misery, chaining yourself to each painful memory; you cannot leave a single shard behind. Not one.

You will carry this with you for the rest of your days.

Somewhere along the line, dark fades to light and your mind goes blank for the first time in an eternity as you get up to follow that same routine.

Today, same as yesterday, and yesterday's yesterday, and yesterday's yesterday's yesterday, etc., etc., your partner is Ellie.

Maria seems to think the two of you are acquaintances, especially since the extroverted people around your age hadn't been able to drag much more than a few words out of you, but you don’t really talk, you stay out of each other’s ways.

You struggle to keep the smile up against the pushback of your aching cheeks when you’re talking to other people. Can never let them see.

Not even for a good reason. God, it’s just such an effort to talk about. It’s better for it to just nestle in your mind, where it’s made it’s home, where it’s comfortable.

Maybe part of why you stay out of each other’s ways is because you'd inadvertently come off as a dick during your first encounter, which would've been enough to push the already closed off Ellie to not interact with you at all. You weren't actually being rude though; she's hopefully figured that out at this point. She probably just got used to the interactions between you; silence dusted with passive aggressive remarks.

But, she doesn’t say much when you freak the fuck out if a clicker comes at you in a way that brings back memories. You’re grateful, regardless of her reason for doing so.

Perhaps it's the thought of leaving that is the spur to prick your sudden violence and, now, even you can tell you're getting worse. The feeling - it ensnares you like a bear trap when you see a clicker, so you fire frantically at its head. Blood splatters all over your front and you pull at the hem of your shirt to get a better look, mumbling, "Shit..." when you see the white fabric soaked through with the clicker's blood; cold water to the face.

Among the chaos, you must have turned on your foot weirdly, because your ankle feels like a stake has been stabbed right through it with each movement and you don’t know if you can walk.

Ellie finally manages to trace the sound of the gunshot to you after calling your name in worry for the past couple of minutes, running over to you. She pulls you around and looks over your jittery body for anything to worry about - brushes a thumb over the wet material, jerking it away before you can notice; you’re hyper aware, so you always manage to anyway - and then furrows her brows at you.

“Can you stop fucking around?”

You nod apologetically,

"Sorry. Feeling a bit out of it today..."

She sighs, still clearly angry, and turns away, "Let's go. We’re done here.”

You watch her figure retreat as you mount your horse with shaky footing. The ride back is a silent one. Once you reach the gates, you get off and pat the horse’s side. It has a name; you never cared to learn it. Maybe you knew you couldn’t stick around for long.

“Come on. Why are you just standing there?"

When your eyes meet hers, you feel utterly pathetic, but you don't have much of a choice.

“Can you… find, like, a stick? A big one...”

She stays quiet for a moment, seemingly thrown off by your question, so you're quick to add,

“I would do it but... I don't know, fuck, never mind...”

Ellie raises an eyebrow at you, her line of sight flicking down to your ankle as she takes note of your awkward stance and mutters with a sigh that makes you feel small, "Pain in the ass," before shaking her head.

"Yeah, it looks pretty bad," Ellie says after she crouches down and touches the wound, eliciting a pained wince (and a farewell to your last shred of dignity) from you.

She rises to her feet and brushes herself off as you wait for more of a response.

"Stick, right? You want a stick?"

You nod with a clenched jaw. She keeps looking down at you and the constant anticipation is starting to piss you off.

"No, you gonna ask for what you really need?" she says. "And drop the whole ‘tough guy’ act?"

You chuckle dryly, turning your eyes to the floor.

"You ever considered that maybe I actually am just a tough guy?"

“Ha ha,” she states in monotone, “Think you gave away the fact that you're not when you started crying over a twisted ankle," to which you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Uh, okay, nothing you just said was true, but, sure. Sure.”

“Yeah? Come over here and say that with some heart then, tough guy.”

You manage to take a few steps before falling.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought. Gonna need to be carried back," Ellie says.

“What about the big ass stick?”

“What is i-Fuck. Listen, even if that helps, which it won’t, you’d wreck your ankle even more and everyone’d be on my ass about it. So, quit talking and get over here," she says, reaching over to lift you off the floor.

You grimace jokingly, but Ellie doesn’t pick on the humorous nature of your words, “Oh. No piggyback?”

Ellie sighs, turning and crouching in front of you before you get on.

"I swear to god, you're infuriating," she sneers. "Now put your arms around my neck."

You’re acting slightly outside the confines of your silent, gloomy self again, and pretend to strangle her, “Since you asked so nicely.”

And you laugh at your own joke as you properly wrap your arms around her neck

"I'm glad you're having a good time; at least one of us is enjoying ourselves,” she grits out but you can hear the repressed smile in her voice.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

"Good. Now shut up and enjoy the ride." Ellie says before turning her gaze back to the front.

As the two of you make your way through the fairly empty paths of Jackson, Ellie remains silent, her expression unreadable.

You keep your eyes focused on her, the small puff of air that leaves her mouth with each step, and staying quiet as your chin finds itself resting casually upon her shoulder

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Ellie finally speaks up again. Her voice is so close, the warmth of her breath and heat.

“You got them girls off your ass yet?”

“Who? The ones that are trying to... befriend me?”

“Mhm, the ones that you’re kinda friends with.”

“Yeah, they quit trying.”

"Don’t blame you… I mean, I can understand, but don’t make it too obvious.”

“I’d rather not-“

“Right, it’s just- well, if you want to be alone, fine. I… can even… make sure those assholes don’t bother you, or whatever- but, not on patrol! Don’t go wandering around on your own like that ever again. It’s dumb."

“I know, I just got caught up in the moment. Sorry.”

"Good."

A heavy silence befalls the two of you as she trudges on.

"Why are you so damn heavy?" she eventually mutters.

You lift your head off her shoulder reflexively, aware of your weight pulling her down all of a sudden,

“Sorry.”

Ellie looks over her shoulder at you, her eyebrows knitted in unexpected concern,

“Hey… I was kidding.”

“Right… I knew that…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever," she says. "Hm, look at that, we made it," gently patting your thigh before pushing the doors open. "Time to get off."

You slowly slide off her back, making sure to land on your good leg as you watch her search the area curiously in a waiting, one-footed stance.

She returns after a second, picking you up to place you on top of one of the quaint, makeshift hospital beds before she begins rummaging through the supplies. You watch her muscles flex and then, the sight of a woman you'd seen around captures your focus.

"What happened to her?" the woman asks, causing Ellie to lift her head, looking down at you.

"Twisted my ankle."

"Well, obviously," her tone is laced with sarcasm. "My question was how you twisted your ankle."

"Turned weird."

Your response earns you a bemused raise of her blonde eyebrows, "Alright, whatever," she says, pulling up a chair and sitting before you.

After a short, boring while, she lets go of your leg and looks up at you again,

"So, you got a sprain. I'm gonna have to wrap your ankle up, alright?"

A lock of her hair continuously pesters her as she begins carefully tending to your ankle, pulling fresh bandages taut around the injury.

"It's gonna stay sensitive for a few days," the woman states, "And you shouldn't walk on it for at least a week."

She places a hand upon Ellie's shoulder, pulling her out of the deep-end of her thoughts, and turning her away from you. A muffled, but aggressive, hushed conversation ensues between them as you glance around the room restlessly, only making out the irritated tone of Ellie's responses. It ends with her pinching her nose bridge and mumbling a, "Fine," and they're facing you again.

The woman gives the two of you a nod before exiting the room,

"You two be safe out there."

“Alright. I’ll take you home. Now, get on," she turns, arms out, backpack on her front, as she waits for you to get onto her back again.

The route to your place is short and quiet as night blankets the world, or what’s left of it. Before you know it, she's pushing open the door and setting you down on yet another tattered bed - your own.

You hiss at the contact your ankle makes with the bed, but Ellie seems unfazed, patting your thigh in the same way she did before, the way that made your stomach twist,

“You gonna be okay?”

You nod, though her deadpan tone doesn’t leave much room for the honest truth.

“Alright, well… I’ll get going, then.”

There’s a stark contrast in life between her coming and going; the constant rustling of the fabric of her coat and the sound of her heavy winter boots against your creaky floorboards, the sound of her sniffles and low voice, and the flurry of gusts of nippy winds whistling - all shut out with the cold of the outside once she closes the door behind her. Well, most of it.

Now, you’re left with the bite of cold air and the deafening silence that haunts you as you sit still upon your mattress with darkness cast over the room, seeming to melt everything together.

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theres-a-body-here · 1 year ago

Text

Dracula!reader x Male Survivors

A relic from the past is snatched by the Entity. With no desire to starve to death, they reluctantly obey the wishes of the spider god

Adam Francis

As a bibliophille, Adam has read quite a few iterations of Vampires from folklore and fiction

From the sparkling to the mindless beasts

But you seemed...polite

Well, as far as a killer could be in the realm

"May I feed on you? Just a bit?"

He appreciates the gesture, but it's hard to feel grateful when the choice is an illusion

You'll feed on him and his friends, willingly or not

He knows the Entity is merciless to killers who don't obey, so he cuts you some slack

You return the sentiment by taking the longest path to a hook when you carry him

Eventually, you mutter under your breath about how much you miss your library

Adam immediately perks up as he hangs limpy in your hold

A fellow bibliophille?

It's not long before some sort of friendship develops

You spoke softly as Adam fidgeted with the chest's lock, "And these other vampires…sparkle?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Not my most favorite series."

You gently rubbed at your forearm, imagining yourself under the warmth of the sun.

"I also remember reading about some that suck blood through their fingers," he added as he managed to open the chest.

"Fascinating," you murmured under your breath.

Steve Harrington

For the love of God please try to act mean around him

The moment he finds out you're not as vicious and brutal as the other killers, it's over

"You vex me"

"Oh sorry, am I a pain in the neck?"

It's open season for Steve

Vampire and undead jokes incoming

Don't feel bad about tunneling him

You probably don't even want to feed on him

He takes offense to that

"Who wouldn't want a taste of all this sexy"

Not even a hook to the shoulder stops him from being annoying

"I'm not saying that," you hissed, glaring at Steve as he struggles to keep the Entity's claw from puncturing his chest.

"Come on, please?," he cried out as the pain of the hook in his shoulder began to take it's toll. "Please, please, please?"

Steve felt his grasp weaken as you glared a hole into his head.

"I'll stop with the jokes for three- no five trials if you do it," he pleaded.

You let out a long and exhausted sigh before looking around. Once you made sure no one was around, you gave in to his begging.

"Bleh bleh bleh," you spoke in a deadpan voice as you stuck your arms out.

Steve's shit eating grin never left him, even as the Entity's claw pierced right through his chest and lifted him up towards the sky.

Dwight Fairfield

You freak him the fuck out

You're so silent in your movements

You literally pop out of nowhere and spook the shit out of him

He could be working on a gen and then you appear out of thin air

"Good Evening"

He shrieks as you lift him onto your shoulder

It doesn't help that you don't seem to understand how your words affect him

"Would you be open to having your neck sucked?"

"WHA-WHAT?!"

He thinks you're doing it on purpose

In reality, the time period you're from doesn't really do innuendos

It's only when you promise to let him escape the trial after you feed that he really considers the offer

Dwight trembled as your mouth hovered above his neck. You breathed in his alluring scent deeply, savoring every bit of it.

"Mmmm…" You moaned softly against his skin, making his face erupt into a blush. "You smell so incredibly delicious."

Dwight stuttered anxiously under your tight hold. "D-Do you think it'll hurt?" His voice quavered slightly.

You were certain you would taste nervousness in his blood.

"Only if you desire it to," you purred reassuringly, opening your mouth to reveal your sharp fangs.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #dbd #killer!reader #dracula!reader #dwight fairfield #dwight fairfield x reader #dwight x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things #adam francis #adam francis x reader

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chaifootsteps · 3 months ago

Note

that tweet anon shared with the analysis clip - the guy's not entirely wrong that if Stolas said 'what can I do to prove [his love] to Blitz', Blitz wouldn't know what it would take

but here's the thing - Stolas doesn't even ask. He doesn't even make a commitment that he wants to prove it to Blitz no matter what, he doesn't promise to be better to prove it, he doesn't even give Blitz a minute to process his own feelings

Look My Way Stolas had the dramatic turning point that he was going to try to make amends for how he'd made Blitz 'a means to an end' (probably because Paranoid DJ wrote it, not Viv, and removing that moment wrecks the impetus of the whole song). Even When I See Him Stolas recognized he had behaved monstrously

but when it comes to the moment of truth Stolas wasn't interested in doing much more than ending the deal, then expecting Blitz's love immediately in return. There's such a disconnect here where in both songs Stolas is concerned he's treated Blitz badly, yet he doesn't consider maybe Blitz needs time to trust he means what he says and that he (Stolas) needs to be the one to put the effort in this time

but he just doesn't do that. It doesn't matter to Stolas that Blitz is the one who's bent over backwards to please him in bed all this time in order to keep his business going and the most effort Stolas has put in has been wishy-washy texts where he won't come out and say what he actually wants and is incapable of connecting with Blitz on any real level because he doesn't recognize the power imbalance and fails to take much real accountability for it

in Stolas' head Blitz may have been hurt but it doesn't matter that much, because ultimately the relationship he wants isn't that difference than the one he had. he wants Blitz putting in all the work to make him feel wanted and to validate his feelings. in his head Blitz's feelings are just confusing and inscrutable (and ultimately they don't matter that much) even though he's had several opportunities now where he could have conversed with him. Blitz gave him that on a silver platter in apology tour and Stolas bungled it again. like yes he was drunk but ditching to make out with another guy is really the sign of where his priorities lie

saying 'oh Blitz is too traumatized anyway to accept it if Stolas treated him well' or 'it's Blitz's fault for not indicating what he needs to hear to believe it' is shifting the blame again, because Stolas never asked about what Blitz needs or showed any signs of caring.

they have Stolas say 'we really must converse' in the duet but when the scene comes, he makes no attempt at doing that. he freaks Blitz out taking the book back, does a big grandstanding romantic gesture where he just talks at Blitz and then when Blitz doesn't immediately trust it's genuine (understandable) Stolas avoids the opening to converse with him and instead immediately shuts down because in his own words, he's got his 'answer'

that's not a conversation, that's a binary 'do you want me or not' proposition that Blitz clearly wasn't expecting or ready for

and after that Stolas just jumps right into 'I feel hurt therefore I'm the one who's been wronged', gaslights Blitz horrifically then still rejects him when there was yet another opportunity to talk

tl:dr but Stolas was never interested in proving anything to Blitz. He treats him like a slot machine where he assumes treating him with the basic respect of ending the deal entitles him to Blitz's love, immediately as he wants it and how he wants it

To sum it all up, here's a quote that Stolas and this fandom could both stand to memorize.

#Anonymous #image reply #stolitz critical #viv stuff #stolas critical #actual blog post

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

Text

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You run into the last person you wanted to see in Annapolis, which leads to you and Bradley fighting over the phone.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing and smut

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

"Oww!!" You were trying your best to keep it together as your friend Caleb gave you your first tattoo. But you weren't sure if the location was extra sensitive, or if you were just a gigantic baby, but it was hurting a lot.

"Let's take a little break," he told you, gently wiping your skin before he removed his gloves and went to get you a bottle of water.

You glanced down your body to where your leggings were pulled part way down, revealing a half finished tattoo that was clearly dedicated to Bradley.

Oh my goodness, you'd actually done it. The idea occurred to you when you were first engaged; a hidden tattoo that only he would see. Well, him and your doctors, and perhaps someone who saw you in a bathing suit. But even your bathing suits were probably not skimpy enough to show off the single-line Rooster that was going to be adorning your skin near the left side of your pelvic bone, between your pussy and hip.

"We're almost done," Caleb promised as you drank. "You got five more minutes in you?"

"Yes," you managed to say, watching him wash his hands and grab a new pair of gloves. "It'll be worth it for the surprise wedding gift."

With a laugh, Caleb adjusted your leggings and got to work once more. "I'm pretty sure Bradley is going to freak the fuck out when he sees it. No joke, I would lose my mind if Jess ever did anything like this."

"That's what I'm counting on," you groaned through clenched teeth. You tried to take deep breaths and pretend you were at the beach, taking Tramp for a walk as the needle made you want to cry.

"Nearly done," Caleb mumbled, and now you were biting your finger to keep yourself still. You were panting by the time he finished and wiped you clean one final time. "Here, check it out with the mirror. Looks pretty cool."

You propped yourself up on one elbow and took the mirror from him. You gasped softly as you examined yourself. "I love it! It's perfect! Tiny and cute and just perfect!"

While Caleb taped plastic wrap over the rooster to cover it while it heals, you argued with him over payment.

"It's on the house," he insisted.

"That ridiculous! How much would you normally charge?"

He just laughed and said, "It's dainty, and it was your first time, so I'd charge the shop minimum. But you're going to pay nothing and consider it a wedding gift. Congratulations."

"Thanks," you told him with a hug, only feeling slightly bad that he was insisting you skip payment. "But if I come back for another one, I'm paying full price."

"Sure, whatever you say."

---------------------------------

Bradley was sitting in your car in the driveway. He was already running late, because he missed you so much he could barely function. And because he had stayed in bed too long jerking off to the dirty videos of the two of you. And now your car wouldn't start for him.

"You fucking piece of shit!" he scolded the dashboard. He had moved the seat back as far as it would go, and he could still barely fit. His head was almost touching the roof, and the seatbelt felt like it was smothering him. "I swear this is the smallest car ever made. Can't be safe."

Then he remembered that he promised you he'd treat the car nicely. So through gritted teeth, he gently ran his palm along the steering wheel while he tried one more time to turn the key.

"For some reason she loves you, so will you please be nice to me?"

The car magically started, and he was finally on his way to work. He thought about how much better the Bronco was while he drove, but he didn't dare voice his opinions out loud. It was only Monday, and he needed this thing to be agreeable for at least a few more days.

Bradley knew you were busy. He knew you had spent the entire day Sunday with your parents, but he was still craving even just a phone call from you. He thought about calling you now, but the last thing he wanted to do was be a nuisance this week.

But his phone rang as he pulled into the parking garage, and he scrambled to answer. "Sweetheart!"

"Bradley! I only have a minute," you told him, and he could tell by the amount of background noise that you were already in the conference hall. "Just wanted to check on you and Tramp."

"We're good, Baby Girl. Just miss you."

"Listen, I've got all these dinners and cocktail hours all week, but I'll call you when I can, okay? Text me! I love you!"

Bradley made his way to the classroom and took a seat next to Nat. "How you holding up? I never thought I would see the day when you were a lovesick mess, waiting for your wife to return home."

Bradley grumbled. "Almost wife. And I fucking hate her car. She's so nearly perfect, like literally my ideal woman, but her choice of vehicle honestly makes me question her sanity."

"Of course she's fucking crazy. She's with you."

Being three hours behind you all week made things even more interesting, but when Bradley was fixing himself a bowl of cereal for dinner around 7 on Tuesday, he was surprised to see you were texting him.

I miss you, Roo. We could definitely manage to break this bed together.

Just as he was about to write back and tell you exactly how he'd take care of you and the bed, a few images appeared in the thread. In the first one, you were naked and all wrapped up in the white sheet, your hair a mess and you had that hazy look in your eyes that told him you'd had a few drinks.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned as two more images came through. You knew what that ring on your finger did to him. And you decided to tease him anyway.

The picture of you with your left arm covering your hip, slipping your middle finger inside yourself had him unzipping his shorts. The diamond ring sparkled in the light, and your manicured nails against your pussy looked so pretty.

He called you over facetime immediately, looking through the pictures while he fisted himself.

"Roo," you gasped. Your room was dimly lit, but he could tell you were masturbating. You must have just taken these photos before sending them.

"Baby Girl," he groaned, and you whined in response. God, he loved that sound. Loved it when you were a needy, spoiled princess for him.

"Get me off! Talk to me, Bradley, and get me off!" you demanded, tilting the phone so he could see your pleading face before shifting it to show off the rest of your body.

"You have the prettiest little pussy, Sweetheart. Yes, use your fingers, just like that. Nice and slow. Add a second one to fill you up."

You were moaning louder now, swiping your clit with your thumb.

"Show me your face. Look at me," he told you, gripping himself tight as you guided your phone up to your face. He scolded you whenever you let your eyes drift closed, demanding you look at him while you came.

"Bradley," you gasped, your head tipping back, but your eyes stayed on his as you made all the little noises that he would forever associate with pure sexual bliss.

"Good girl," he told you as you rode your fingers to completion. After a few more pumps of his fist, he had made a bit of a mess in the kitchen for himself to clean up.

You bit your lip and sighed softly. "I miss you. When I get home, can we make another video together where you call me your dirty little slut?"

He just grunted in agreement. "Anytime you want, Sweetheart."

Bradley let you start to doze off as he talked to you, only telling you to hang up and charge your phone before you fell asleep completely.

--------------------------------

Every lecture you attended was fascinating. Every cocktail hour was a great chance to network. And every dinner with your team brought everyone closer together. But you were getting tired of socializing. All you really wanted was to be home with Bradley, eating dinner on his lap and listening to his playlists.

"Everyone ready for tomorrow afternoon?" Bickel asked on Wednesday evening during dinner just off base. "We've got lecture hall 7 starting at 10:00, so we should have plenty of time to run equipment tests."

"Ready," you promised him as the others agreed. You weren't nervous at all, just excited to share your work. The thing you were most worried about was how itchy your tattoo felt now. It was covered up and healing, but you couldn't imagine giving an hour long lecture in your polyester uniform pants successfully at the moment.

At least you had managed to keep it covered with your arm while you and Bradley had your facetime call last night.

You smirked and excused yourself to use the restroom, running your palms over your dress as you wound your way through the restaurant. When your fingers touched your tattoo through the fabric, you actually giggled. You had decided you'd let Bradley find it on his own when you got home on Saturday afternoon. You'd be exhausted from your week by that point, but you still couldn't wait to see what he thought about it.

You were excited for tomorrow's presentation. And on Friday night you'd be out with the Admirals. The Admirals!

You finally turned the last corner, but you weren't looking where you stepped. It was too late as you felt yourself collide with a man, and then you heard a familiar voice as he said your name.

His hands came to rest on your arms, steadying you as you felt a cold, horrible feeling wash through your body.

It was Josh. It was Josh, and he was touching your bare skin, and his face was next to yours.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, trying to pull out of his grip.

"Shit, it is you," he whispered, finally letting go of you as you wrenched yourself away.

You stood just staring at each other as you inched slowly away. Some remote part of your brain recognized that you were safe, you were surrounded by people walking to and from the restrooms. You didn't need Bradley or Jake or Bob. But you still felt clammy and uncomfortable.

"Didn't expect to see you in Annapolis," Josh drawled with a thoroughly disinterested look on his face. "You here to get me kicked off of another base? Get me demoted again?"

"Josh," you whispered, gathering your thoughts. "I'm here to give a presentation."

"I know. I saw your name on the keynote list. I should have been part of that project."

You scoffed. "You should have kept your hands to yourself. And I was never going to choose you, I was always going to keep Sonya."

He laughed bitterly. "Okay, now that much I do not believe. You can say what you want, but I'm not blameless here. You gonna get your huge boyfriend to hit me again, just for fun?"

You pressed your lips together before you said, "Fiancé now, actually."

Josh's gaze dipped down to your hand, but you didn't make the ring any easier for him to see. You didn't even want him looking at it. It was yours.

Then your mind wrapped around his words. "What do you mean? Hit you again?"

"Is he here?" Josh asked, glancing behind you.

"No, he's in San Diego, but if I call him, he'll be on the next flight. What do you mean by hit you again?"

Josh shook his head slowly, and you could see in his eyes how much he hated you now. A chill went through your body, but you didn't move an inch.

"You were there that night, at the bar. I assumed you sent him over to head me off. Him and that blond guy, too."

Your eyes went wider as you pictured Bradley and Jake hauling Josh out the doors of the Hard Deck. Your face must have given you away.

"So you didn't know he punched me in the face then?"

"No," you whispered. Now you were angry at Bradley and Jake, but you were even angrier at Josh for making you remember with vivid clarity the way he had touched you, all while he was standing right in front of you.

"He broke my nose and my ribs. I thought about calling the police. Getting him arrested."

A bitter laugh escaped you as someone nudged past you to get to the ladies' room. "Really? What stopped you? The fact that I would have reciprocated by turning you in for physical and sexual assault? You've got a lot of nerve even talking to me right now, so let's wrap this up. Is there anything else you'd like to say to me?"

Josh eyed you from head to toe, his gaze lingering on your chest for a few seconds before he shook his head. "Just that you weren't worth it. You seemed so fucking easy too. I'd hate to be engaged to you, the way you flirt with other guys like some kind of skank."

"Get the fuck away from me," you said, hating the way your voice shook. "Chelsea told me you did that shit all the time, and I was never even interested in you. You're a pig."

As he got himself in your personal space, you just wanted Bradley. But you forced yourself to hold your ground.

"And you're a bitch," he snapped next to your ear.

You sucked in a breath and swallowed hard as he strode away from you as you muttered, "Fuck you."

When he was out of sight you ducked into the bathroom and locked yourself in a stall. You hated the fact that he could get you so rattled. And you were steaming mad that apparently Bradley and Jake had pulled Josh aside, and everybody neglected to tell you about it.

You needed to get a cab back to your room so you could be alone and call the one person who would tell you the truth.

-------------------------------

Everyone was obsessed with his home gym. It really seemed like the silliest thing for his friends to be envious about, especially since Bradley was always inviting them over to use it. He filled up a huge jug of water and grabbed his speaker before taking Tramp out back with him and heading toward the garage where everyone was already gathered.

"Holy hell," Nat muttered. "No wonder he's out here working out all the time. Look at this one!"

Bradley found Nat, Bob and Jake all huddled around the calendar where it hung on the wall, flipping through the pages.

"That's so pretty. I love how the photographer used the negative space to make a statement," Bob said.

Jake laughed. "I think you're supposed to be noticing her legs."

Bob stuttered. "Well, I...I just would never look at her that way. So let's be respectful."

Nat shrugged. "I am respectfully saying that I can understand why Rooster is so pussy whipped. Look at this!" She was pointing to the November photo with you in black lace, garters and stocking, and Jake let out a low whistle.

"Will you please stop looking?!" Bradley scolded, and Nat let go of the calendar like it had burned her.

"We weren't being crude," she replied with a smirk, but Bradley growled and carefully unclipped the calendar from the wall.

"August is my personal favorite," Jake commented, and of course that was the one Bradley liked because your tit was out.

He eyed them all up. Nat and Jake were both still smirking, and Bob was beat red and looked like he wanted to disappear. "I know she's sexy. I know it's a marvel that I'm with her. I know I am pussy whipped. I know, okay?"

"Just as long as you know," Nat said with a laugh.

Bradley tucked his calendar carefully into a plastic tub of photos from the storage unit before turning on a playlist. "You've all seen more than enough of my future wife. Let's start this damn workout."

Without another word, everyone grabbed some weights and got to work. Bradley was lifting while Bob spotted for him when he heard Jake's phone ring.

"Angel, how are you?" Jake drawled, and Bradley quickly set his barbell in the holder and popped up.

"What's wrong? Did she try to call me?" Bradley asked, walking over to his phone. Nothing.

"Whoa, whoa! Angel, calm down! That's not even what happened!" Jake was getting louder and pacing around.

"What's going on?" Bradley demanded, and he was answered by a hand held up in his face.

Now Bob and Nat were looking concerned as well.

Jake's eyes went wide and darted toward Bradley's, panic stricken. "You saw Josh tonight? In Annapolis?"

"Give me the phone!" Bradley thundered.

Jake just held his hand up again. "Angel, you know how I always have your back? I have Rooster's back too, I promise. Everything was under control that night at the Hard Deck."

"Now!" Bradley added, ready to take it away from Jake.

"He's about to rip my phone out of my hand, so I'm going to give it to him, okay?"

Bradley reached for the phone and juggled it until he had it to his ear. "What is going on?"

"Bradley! I can't believe you punched Josh and never told me! You and Jake both!" you shouted into the phone.

"You saw him tonight?! Where are you?" he shouted back.

"Are you going to tell me what happened when you hit him?" Your voice was near hysterics now, and Bradley knew he needed to calm himself down. He paced the length of the garage while three sets of eyes watched his every movement.

He readjusted Jake's phone against his ear and took a deep breath. "Sweetheart. I need you to tell me where you are and if you're okay."

"I'm in my room! I'm fine!"

Bradley found it was easier to breathe now. "And where did you see Josh? Does he know where your room is?" Bradley was not above calling your parents and telling them what was going on, since they were only an hour away from Annapolis. In fact his free hand was twitching to text them, and buy a ticket to Maryland himself.

"I saw him at dinner. He does not know where my room is. Now tell me why you risked assault charges to punch someone who doesn't fucking matter, Bradley!"

Jake took a step closer, asking, "Do you want me to talk to her?"

Bradley sighed and ran his hand over his face. "Can I put you on speaker, Baby Girl? Nat and Bob are here as well."

"Oh my God! Nat and Bob know about it, too? Am I the only one who doesn't know about this?! Should I call Mav and Penny and ask them?"

Bradley tossed his head back and gestured toward the garage door before he disappeared out into the evening air. He paced down the driveway as he said, "There's nothing to tell, Sweetheart."

You scoffed through the phone. "He said you broke his nose and his ribs, Bradley! Why would you do that? He doesn't matter at all."

"For you!" Bradley growled. "What other reason would I have to do anything except for you?"

"He could have hurt you! He could have called the police!" you wailed. "You could have been in serious trouble."

Bradley's blood was pulsing through his body, and he really wanted to punch out a window when he walked past your car. "He doesn't get to touch you without consequences. That's the bottom line."

"But what about you? You think you're not just as important to me?"

Bradley paced back up the driveway, running his fingers through his hair. "I understand what you're saying, my love. But roughing him up outside the Hard Deck was just a warning. I wasn't going to do too much damage. Even though I really fucking wanted to."

The exasperated noise you made had him almost on his knees. "And what if you got arrested?"

Bradley leaned against your car. "Then you bail me out. I added you to all my bank accounts already. You can use it for that."

"I'm not joking right now, Bradley."

"Neither am I! I'm not joking about the fact that all my money is yours. I'm not joking about the fact that I would fund my own bail money to defend you a million times over. And I'm not joking about the fact that I would have done a lot worse to Josh if left unchecked. So if you want to be mad at someone, you can continue to be mad at me, but I promise you that Jake was there the whole time. And he would have pulled me off of him if necessary. That's the kind of shit that Jake and I would do for each other."

Now you were actively crying, and Bradley didn't know what to say. He realized there was probably nothing that would make you feel better at this moment, so he went ahead and added, "I'm not going to apologize for what I did. And I don't feel bad about it. And I fucking hate that you saw that prick tonight. This is supposed to be your special week that you worked so hard for!"

He wasn't helping anything at the moment, but he couldn't stop himself as he punched the top of your car. "Baby Girl, I love you, and it's my job to protect you. Please try to understand where I'm coming from here."

You sniffed hard before saying, "Please let me talk to Jake."

Bradley heaved a deep sigh and headed back into the garage. "Okay. Here's Jake."

Bradley watched him take back his phone and head outside. "Angel, I promise you that I was with him the whole time......."

Every cell in his body wanted to know what you and Jake were talking about, but Bradley forced himself to sit down on the weight bench instead.

"Here, use this for a bit," Bob said, handing a twenty pound dumbbell to him. "Keep your mind occupied."

"She's probably just upset that she ran into Josh, and everyone else seems to know you got physical with him except for her," Nat told Bradley, placing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "She just needs to blow off some steam to Jake, so let him take care of it. In the meantime, I'm going to order some pizzas."

Bradley let Bob count his reps while he listened to Nat order one pizza with pepperoni and one with mushrooms. He suddenly just missed you so much. He should have taken a few days off and joined you in Annapolis to attend your lecture. He'd love to see the look on Josh's face if he tried to talk to you with Bradley standing behind you.

When Jake finally came back into the garage, tucking his phone into his pocket, he just sighed and stared at Bradley for a moment.

"Well? What did you talk about?" Bradley rasped, handing the dumbbell back to Bob.

Jake just kind of shrugged. "A lot of it was personal, so I'm not going to tell you, but I explained to her very calmly that she needs to get over it. I told her that I am completely taking your side this time, and that it was important for you to assert your dominance in this particular scenario."

Bradley grunted and stood, pulling Jake into a brief hug. "She likes you. She'll listen to you."

Jake nodded. "I told her to take an hour to think about things from your point of view and calm down. Then she's allowed to call you back, but she needs to be done being upset."

Bradley gaped at Jake, and a startled laugh escaped him. "And she's going to actually do that?"

"She better, or I told her I will be very disappointed in her."

"Shit," Bradley muttered, so impressed by Jake Seresin that he wasn't sure what had become of his life.

"Pizza's here. Let's go inside," Nat said, guiding everyone toward the house.

----------------------------

Jake was probably right. You were in shock from seeing Josh again, and you needed to think through what happened at the Hard Deck before you talked to Bradley again. You had stripped off all of your clothes, too hot and uncomfortable, before flopping down on the bed.

Thankfully Jake had taken the time to walk you through everything. He told you that Josh looked like he was going to try to approach you, but there was no way Bradley, Jake or anyone else in that bar would allow that to happen. Jake also promised you that Bradley was very calm the entire time, and the only reason he hit Josh was because he started bad mouthing you.

And especially based on what Josh said to you at the restaurant, you tended to believe Jake. The man had the nerve to call you a skank! As if you had done anything to wrong Bradley!

Oh Bradley. You had yelled at him on the phone. And he'd been the one to keep this information from you for months to try to spare your feelings. He just wanted to protect you and keep you safe. And really, maybe Josh deserved that broken nose and the broken ribs.

Okay, now you were thinking about Bradley fighting for your honor, and a shot of adrenaline coursed through your body. You ran your fingers along your healing tattoo and you reached for your phone.

After one ring, you heard Bradley's voice. "Sweetheart."

You let his raspy voice wash over you. He was always going to keep you safe. "I love you, Roo. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was so flustered from tonight and then I was embarrassed. And you know you could have told me you hit him, right? I'm not fragile, Bradley."

"Oh, Baby Girl. You're not. You're so strong. I just didn't want you to have to keep dealing with this shit when I was more than happy to take over for you. You do the same thing for me sometimes. Like when you make fancy dinners for Goose and Carole just when I'm on the brink of collapse, because I don't think there's a good way to keep their memory alive."

"Okay. That makes sense." Jake was right. You just needed to take some time to think about things. "It's like sharing the burden with someone who can help in a different way."

"Yes," he replied, and you could tell he was smiling. "Exactly like that. And also, fuck you Jake," Bradley said, his voice raised so that you could tell he was yelling through the house.

You started laughing along with Bradley. "Don't get upset with Jake. He's kind of sweet, actually. He helped me process this."

"I love you, Baby Girl. But it's so late there, and you have a big day tomorrow. Are you okay?"

You took a deep breath as you sat up in the tiny bed. Your eyes dipped again to your tattoo. "Yeah, I'm okay, Roo. Thanks for always trying to protect me."

"Will you call me as soon as you can tomorrow? I want to hear everything about your presentation."

"I will."

-----------------------------

Ugh, Josh..... she needs to finish up in Annapolis and get home. At least the tattoo is complete!

PART 9

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