#that’s when he’s insecure about that stuff

[gretagerwigsmuse]

ahhh thank you so much abby! i always love seeing which parts people pick out as their favorites 🤭 they're both so excited to just get away, just the two of them for an entire 10 days - even with all the stuff going on in her head? i think it says a lot about them as a couple that he's waiting for her to tell him what's wrong before he says something? but in the meantime he's going to make her feel so loved and cared for and be his regular sweet self 🤭 i loved adding the scene with mav and penny and amelia, it really rounded the chapter out in terms of bradley's homecoming and i just love this little family unit they have now (also including her dad and mary ofc!). and i'm glad, but also sad how realistic they are in some sense 🥺 but i think the body insecurities are something so many people go through no matter their size, so it's an appropriate challenge to work through together! thanks again and full responses below 💕

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you. IM ALREADY CRYING 😭 going through a major crisis of confidence here. like the navy isn't his center anymore, she is? but he knows it's only like that to the two of them?

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. SIRRRRRR THE SWITCH??? from needing to cuddle her to THIS? Deceased. pls he's so desperate for her like he's actually the pathetic one even tho he calls her that haha

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.” I love them so much they're too cute your honor 😭😭😭 hehe i love making them so mushy and lovey dovey like they totally deserve it

That tattoo gets me Every time my heart breaks every time it's just...it's really sad because he felt so strongly about this that he got a permanent reminder on his arm? like it's something he can see all the time? and the way she knows when to focus on it and give it attention and love exactly when he needs it absolutely gets me too? and the fact that he told her about it so soon in their relationship? sighhhh

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.” 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 hehe 🤭 older boyfriend bradley reporting for duty sir 🫡

Him making her an audiobook I'm dead. Not just because that's hot as hell, but also the fact he wants to do research into the dynamic and make it right/good for her????? Like???! Bradley Bradshaw, the man that you are!!! like it's something that's new for both of them? in the sense that it's a named thing, a named dynamic? sure, bradley's naturally dominant and in control when he's had sex, but her? she's never been like this with anyone else and bradley doesn't take that lightly, like he knows this is a big deal and it's a massive responsibility, but he likes that? and he likes that he can be that presence for her?

God, he would love missionary for how close it lets him be. A romantic at heart! I love him. Also love how he's obsessed with her tits like yes girl, get it! eye contact is huuuuuuge like he needs to see how she's coming apart under him, what effect he's having on her, he wants to see every one of her reactions and little tells

This fic is making me feel much better about gaining some weight, thank you for your service and thank you for saying this, truly. i think it's something everyone goes through no matter what size they are and no matter how loved they are? one little comment can really set you off on a spiral and i'm just trying to make what she's going through as realistic as possible, even if it hurts

She's dimming the light?! Baby girl he loves you, he loves your body!!! 😭😭 I feel for her, I feel her so hard. Also I really love that you gave her a struggle that so many of us have gone through. Like your insecurities don't just magically vanish when you're in a loving relationship, it takes time and work and I know Smart Aleck will get there! yes! the lights thing is super common too? and if you look back at the chapter, the only time she gets fully naked in front of him is when they're in the shower and the lights are low? and he realizes she's going to get there and that she has to get there herself?

Stop shaking the thought away Bradley! God, he's so close, so freaking close to figuring it out!!! And in a way I like that it takes him time because that's realistic but I still want to shake them both. he is soo close and i think part of him doesn't want to complete the thought because he just doesn't believe it? he doesn't believe that this girl he loves so much and is so smart and kind and funny and beautiful thinks she's not enough?

Her not knowing what to wear 😭😭 God this is hitting me so hard. And Bradley is just trying to be supportive!! Honestly surprised I haven't cried yet because I feel her so much and then fast forward to the next chapter when he actually verbalizes his thoughts about her beautiful clothes and how she needs to wear them and that now he's more authoritative in telling her what to wear?

You've also convinced me that yes, Maverick is Bradley's dad. I love that smart Aleck has a relationship with him as well! it's just sweet, you know? like bradley has this family and support system that invites him over for dinner and coddles him and make sure he eats and is actually doing well? and then in turn bradley's like STOP UNINTENTIONALLY FLIRTING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND

Bradley's right, if I met a 30 year old man who went by Teddy, it would be an immediate red flag. Also the way he's so protective of her and Amelia?! My heart can't take much more Jordan 😭😭 right?? like i wanted to keep it that he's still teddy? not edward, but teddy? like fucking teddy is such an asshole and bradley actually meets him over thanksgiving! but also yes his last name is after a certain supreme court justice...

THE PHONE SEX?!?!?! JORDAN ELIZABETH (idk your middle name, I'm just inserting one bc holy shit that was hot and entirely too short God, do they need a third??? Asking for a friend). hehe 🤭 i had so much fun with that and it was definitely not something i was thinking of including at first!!

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you. THE WAY HE IS SO DESPERATE AND NEEDY FOR HER JORDAN I AM FERAL. FERAL! hehe 🤭 he needs her so badly. like he is the opposite of cool throughout this entire scene. like she's barely through the door in her slightly too small work dress and he's like i need to fuck you right now or i'll die lol

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush. OH MY GOD ITS THIS SCENE THE ONE YOU TALKED ABOUT THE TIGHTS!!!! HAHAHA he's like i need to fuck this out of you and me and sink inside you and claim you right the fuck now. and you know what? she loved it

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations. Jake, that sounds like a personal problem my dude. - like sorry your girlfriend isn't rich, buddy! like that's not bradley's fault! have fun at some janky all inclusive resort, bradley will be at the four season/white lotus in the pineapple suite

rocketman: part iii - Some things Cosmic

Summary: finally back home, bradley can focus on all the things he's missed while he's been gone. there's someone there to properly welcome him home, frantic reunion sex, prepping for an amazing vacation, family dinners, and the casual intimacy he's come to love between the two of you. but there's still something up with you and he can't quite figure it out. it'll be fine, right? catch up with [part 1] and [part 2]

OR sex, s'mores, and secrets

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 18.5k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, body insecurity, suggestive dialogue, suggestive content, and sexual content (oral (f + m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, dom/sub influence, and praise, rank, and degradation kink). also on ao3!

i want to be naked, i don’t mean my body, i don’t need my body i’m floating away

Bradley startled awake sometime later. It happened sometimes. He had these dreams were it felt like he was falling. Out of his plane, out of the sky, out of your arms. Falling and falling - with no end in sight. 

That wasn’t to say that they were necessarily nightmares or anything. (Because the distinction between the two was glaringly obvious.) 

They just unnerved him a bit. Left him unsettled, untethered. 

He rolled over and stretched his arm out across the bed, until his fingers brushed against something silky. Something warm and silky. He turned his head to find you sprawled out next to him.

You had changed between now and when Bradley had last seen you - he glanced at the clock on his nightstand - seven hours ago. 

Fuck. 

He had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. 

Goddammit, he felt like an asshole. He rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. This was the last thing he had wanted to happen, especially after what you two talked about earlier that evening. 

You’d give us your wild? Of course. Of course, of course, of course he would. 

Like you knew he was thinking about you, you shifted your hips, inching closer towards him. Your body was only half under the thick duvet cover and top sheet, so even in the early morning light he could still see the navy nightie you were wearing. 

Bradley liked to think that you had stowed it away someplace and changed downstairs in order to surprise him in bed. Except now he’d never know because he had fallen asleep on you. God, he was the worst boyfriend. 

Tonight, the night three months in the making, he had missed cuddling and kissing and all the best parts of getting cozy in bed with you because he had fallen asleep before you had even gotten upstairs. And sure, he had gotten a taste of what was to come on the couch while you laid underneath him and drew imaginary shapes across his chest with your finger and he held you tight and counted your heartbeats. 

But this was supposed to have been a big deal. It was the first time you both went to bed in the same room without the fear that you’d be leaving in the morning or later in the week to go back to your highrise. You were both home. Really, truly home. 

Home - where he could finally wake up next to you and have you be right here - not an ocean apart. Bradley already dreaded the next time he’d have to leave you. 

There was a future with you. There was that little boy - or little girl - from your dream. The perfect mix of you and Bradley. 

(Don’t ever be a Rocket Man. I mean it. 

When you’re out there you want to be here, and when you’re here you want to be out there. 

Promise me you won’t be like me.)

Suddenly, there was this overwhelming urge inside him that if he didn’t touch you and have you in his arms, that he’d slip away, back to space. Untethered. 

You kept him on the ground. You kept him safe. 

Bradley scooted over towards your side of the bed and wrapped his arms around you, unable to bear another moment untethered. There, that was better. You were soft and warm and felt so precious in his arms. And with your nightie rucked up around your hips and one leg extended out and the other hiked up, your body was on full display. 

Easy access.

Your thighs were so fucking soft and curvy and he desperately wanted to slot himself right between them. Have them bracket his head, while his tongue lapped at your pretty pussy. 

Would he start there? Eat you out until you were begging for his cock? Have you grind on his lap…until you were begging for his cock? Or…just generally begging for his cock? 

They all seemed appealing, but admittedly kissing you until you were breathless and then rocking his body above yours until you were both tumbling over the edge had plenty of merit, too. Bradley wanted to treat you like you were precious first. 

But later? He’d slap your pussy so hard you’d be begging for his cock in no time - in fact, maybe he should time you? See how long it took you to break, to babble, to beg. 

But that brought him back to the present. Could he wake you up, now? Bradley knew you’d been stressed and busy ever since your mom had come to town and because of all you’d confessed earlier; so, would it be fair to wake you? You hadn’t woken him up, afterall.

After an indeterminate amount of time of just holding you and watching you breathe, you rolled your bare ass against Bradley’s crotch and let out a pleased hum. He gave your hip a squeeze and you burrowed even deeper in his arms. Your skin was softer than the silk nightie you were wearing and he could feel the heat pouring off your body.

He slipped his hand down to knead your ass and you sighed. “Hmm, da-dley? Bubba?”

“Hey, kid.” He kissed your neck. 

Once you were a little more lucid and opened your eyes, you pulled your nightie down to cover your ass, though that didn’t stop Bradley from playing with the lace hem. 

You rolled over so you were now face to face and wrapped your right leg around his left. 

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

You cupped his cheek. “Wanted you to sleep, you looked so tired. Pretty too.” 

It was dark in the room at five thirty-eight, but not completely pitch black, so Bradley could still make out your soft features. You had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the three months he had been gone. It wasn’t obvious, not at first, and not to anyone who wasn’t really paying attention. 

But it was obvious to Bradley because Bradley always paid attention.

“Well,” he kissed your forehead then your nose, “I’m still sorry, especially after what we talked about earlier, should’ve stayed up for you.” 

“But I woke up beside you, so I can’t be too angry.” You leaned in to kiss him. “It’d be impossible to be angry now, actually.” 

He hitched your right leg higher over his hip and groaned when he could feel your core through his joggers. You squirmed against him, cheeky little thing. But with his joggers and t-shirt still on, Bradley was definitely overheated and the sweat was building at the back of his neck, to say nothing about the heat your body was giving off. 

As if reading his mind, you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly dragged your fingers up his stomach, stopping at both his happy trail and then the patch of hair in the middle of his chest, before taking the t-shirt off completely. A soft thud rang out when you’d thrown it across the room and it presumably landed on the floor. 

“You gonna take these off, too?” He slipped a finger under the waistband of his joggers. 

“Been dying to all night - hips up, Bradshaw.” 

Bradley arched his back and helped you slide his joggers down his legs, taking his boxer briefs with them. Your gaze lingered on his body for a long moment, but you just gave him a coy little smile. 

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief, “How’d you let me sleep in those?” 

“How’d you fall asleep on me?”

“You got me drunk!” 

“Not my fault you’re suddenly a lightweight - Bradley!” 

He pinched your side and you wiggled away from him with a shriek. “Uh uh, not so fast.” 

Bradley pulled you close again, desperate to be nearer to you. You tangled your legs together and pointed your torso towards his, but remained perched on your elbow, while he was laying down flat.  

Suddenly somber, your eyes were drawn back to his body and he just let you look - drink him in and see what you had missed over the last few months. Every new freckle, scar, bruise, age line. 

Bradley couldn’t wait to do the same. What had he missed? What was different?

He could feel your eyes lingering on his abs. Normally, you remarked on his thighs and shoulders, but tonight it seemed you had a different focus. You appeared hesitant, biting your lip, as you dragged your finger across his stomach. 

Did you like how he looked - how he had changed in your time apart?

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, almost to yourself. 

Bradley kissed you and returned the compliment. “And you’ve gotten even more beautiful since I’ve been gone.” 

You appeared bashful at the comment, which just let Bradley know he’d have to give you more of them over the next few weeks. “Come ‘ere.” Without waiting for a response, Bradley started pressing kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your neck, your lips. If it was possible at this point, he drew your body even closer.

“Bra-adley! We have an entire bed here, you know?” You giggled when he rubbed his nose into your neck.

“Mmmm, but it’s nice and warm here.”

You scooched down on the bed on your stomach so you were looking up at him. With a smile, you began to press languid kisses across his chest, starting just above his belly-button and creeping up to his pecs, heart, and shoulders. You loved his shoulders, you always managed to notch your head there during sex and press little kisses to the scars dotting them and his neck. Bites, too - marks to prove he was yours.

But tonight, it seemed you had a different path in mind and, while you still nipped at his shoulder, you didn’t stop there and instead went straight to the small tattoo on his bicep. You traced your fingers across the roman numerals:

x x x i x

Thirty-nine. 

As in thirty-nine years old. An age neither of his parents ever got to see. 

Bradley had gotten the tattoo when he was in flight school and a bit of a shit with self destructive tendencies. People never really asked what it meant and he never really wanted to tell anyone. 

He’d told Ezra, right around the time when they first started talking about moving in together, before that spectacularly failed. He also told Nat. However, the latter was only because he was drunk and pissed and he had just made lieutenant, once again surpassing his father in something.

Maverick had seen it about a year ago. He had never asked Bradley what it meant and probably never wanted to have it confirmed what it meant. But to anyone who really knew Bradley, it was easy to put together.

Bradley had told you about it on your fourth date. 

It was the second time you’d slept together. Because while your first time had been frantic and had taken you both by surprise (you, in particular, were freaked out that you’d slept with someone on the first date without a condom), the second time was much slower - softer. 

You had planned the date this time. Bradley had picked you up at your apartment - he even had come upstairs to get you - with flowers - and the two of you had dinner at Callie, followed by a performance at the San Diego Symphony. It was actually thanks to one of Bradley’s fun facts about playing the piano that you had gotten the idea. 

Both of you had gotten dressed up (a big departure from your third date hike in Torrey Pines), the food and drinks had been plentiful and delicious, and listening to Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major and Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 was made all the more romantic by the way Bradley held your hand for the entire first piece and had his hand on your thigh for the entire second.

So, after eating you out on your kitchen counter and going two rounds in bed, Bradley had told you what the tattoo meant and about his parents and Maverick and you had told him about your mom and your accident during your junior year of high school. 

And if you had asked Bradley, it was after that date that he knew he was going to fall in love with you. 

It hadn’t felt scary to tell you any of it. It felt right and natural. Like you wouldn’t judge him or get scared when things got hard. Like he wanted to protect you at all costs. 

And because he had told you what the tattoo meant, it made the moments since when you’d really focus and hone in on it all the more sweeter. During this last deployment, Bradley had often felt like the ink was burning into his skin under his flight-suit. It kept reminding him that he had once thought he had a timeline or a stopwatch on his bicep, slowly ticking down. But with you, it was something to strive towards, to reach beyond and be there for LIX, LXXXIX, and even XCIX. 

“What’s it like flying at night?” Your question snapped him out of his thoughts and you pressed another kiss to his tattoo to calm him. “I kept thinking about it on my flight to London. And how you must see this all the time, is it still a big deal? Can you even stop and think about it? Just endless night with thousands of stars to guide you? Being in the middle of the ocean, nothing around for hundreds of miles.”

(What’s it like, out in space?

It’s the best thing in a lifetime of best things - oh, it’s really nothing at all. 

But you always go back.)

“You’d never thought about it before?” his voice came out thick, hoarse. 

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not in that way, I guess? I couldn’t sleep on the way to London, so I pulled up the shade in the middle of the night. I’ve never really thought to do it before, don’t know why - but then I saw all those stars, endless stars, thousands of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Your finger stopped tracing patterns on his arm for a moment before it started again. “And I though to myself this is what Bradley sees. This is why he loves it and for that brief blip in time I got it. I understood. Makes me love you even more in some way.” 

Bradley felt like he was going to cry, the feeling swept over him so suddenly. “I uhh - fuck.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you sounded contrite, “I just wanted you to know.”

Could he tell you? Could he tell you that flying at night with all the stars in the sky simultaneously made him feel closer to and yet farther away from his parents? It was like they were right there, but also so far out of reach. But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t say any of that, not now. The words couldn’t come.

Instead, he pulled you closer, putting your face at level with his own. “I love you.”

You smiled and he could’ve sworn there were tears in your eyes, but it was hard to make out in the darkness. “I love you, too. Now please kiss me.”

Bradley let out a chuckle, but leaned in to kiss you without another word. The kiss was sweet, but still had an underlying desperation attached to it that came with being away for months. But unlike every other kiss you’d shared since Bradley had gotten home, there was no need to stop or to prevent it from going further. No, now you were his. He could have you however he wanted.

Not breaking the kiss, you shifted and bracketed your thighs on either side of his hips, allowing him to slide his hands up your body. He’d never get tired of thinking it, but god, you were so fucking soft. Your hips, your thighs, your breasts, your hands, your lips - actually…

His next words were grunted against your neck. “Your lips are really soft - softer than normal,” he finished when you went to interrupt him. 

“Must be my lip mask. I put it on after I saw that you fell asleep on me…”

“Hey, hey,” he tickled your sides and you collapsed on his chest amidst your giggles, “I said you should’ve woken me up!”

“Would you have woken me up?” You had him there. “See? This way I could stare at you uninterrupted and get all moony over you. Plus, now isn’t this better? No more sleepy bubs.”

No. He was definitely awake now. And from where your core was laid on his bare stomach, he could already feel how wet your were and couldn’t wait to slip inside you. 

“‘Could kiss you for hours,” you said against his lips. You kissed him - once, twice, ten times, smiling all the while. He never wanted you to stop. “Bradley,” you whined, “Need you inside me. Gotta get used to you again. ‘m so tight.” You nipped his earlobe. 

He groaned. Fuck. He couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend who said stuff like that. It was like something out of a wet dream. “You seriously only took your fingers the entire time I was gone?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

You preened under the praise. Because it surely had to have been a bit of a challenge. “Yours are so much bigger, though.” Bradley rolled his eyes at your cheeky tone. “What’re you gonna think up for me to do next time you’re gone? Like what you talked about earlier?” You didn’t linger too much on the next time part of your question, so he didn’t either.

“Hmmm. What about tasks?”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, I’d have to do more research, but like you have to wear xyz or send me a picture of you doing something? Whatever we want.”

You nuzzled his neck. “Mmmmm, I like that. Wish we could really talk when you’re gone, though. I’m not sure I could handle every comms officer hearing what I need from you again…”

An idea suddenly struck Bradley. It was amazing he hadn’t thought of it before. “Maybe I can make you an audiobook?”

Your jaw dropped and you contorted your body to look up at him. “You’d do that? Seriously?”

His cheeks colored. “I mean, not like an actual one, but like a voice memo or something?” The idea didn’t sound nearly as good out loud as it did in his head. “If you wanted…”

“Oh my god, yes! I very much do want.”

Without another word, Bradley rolled you both over so now he was on top, knees bracketing your hips so as to not put his full weight on you. Your nightie was still covering your stomach and breasts, but that didn’t stop him from snaking his hands underneath the navy silk to play with them. They felt fuller than normal - not that he was complaining, but he hadn’t noticed earlier and now -

His cock brushed against your stomach in a way that had you bucking up against him, so desperate, so keen, so fucking good. Good girl. Your lips were eager against his as you poured every thought, every email, every Facetime call into your kiss. 

God, it had been so long. Fooling around on the couch earlier in the evening paled in comparison to how plump your lips felt and how keenly your body reacted to his. Because you felt so good. Months, weeks, days had passed and Bradley had never felt anything as good as your body beneath his. 

You sighed and squirmed up the bed so your head was laid across the pillows, all the while Bradley made his way down the bed. 

“More, bubs, please.” 

How could he refuse, especially when you had asked so nicely? He bent forward to give you a sloppy kiss on the lips before working his way down your body, from your neck and collarbones, to your breasts through your nightie, and finally to right below your belly-button. From there, you readily allowed him to bend your knees so your feet were planted firmly on the bed and your core was completely exposed to him. 

Even in the early morning light it was exquisite. You had the prettiest pussy Bradley had ever seen - and it was his, all his.

“Fucking gorgeous.” 

You startled at the first touch of his lips on your thighs, but let out the prettiest little sigh when he sucked on the skin by your birthmark. There was another as he licked along one of your lightning lines. And another as he kissed the hood of your clit. 

God, you smelled so fucking good and were groomed just the way he liked it -  like the perfect, obedient, good girl that you were. And perfect, obedient, good girls got their pussy played with until they were babbling like dumb little sluts.

“- Would have thought this would be your first stop?”

Bradley chuckled, but didn’t stop dragging his fingers across your inner thighs and lower lips. “Yeah? What, d’you think I’d do? Just dive right in? Take you on the kitchen table?”

“I would’ve let you.”

Once the words had sunk in, he stopped teasing you. His elbows gave out beneath him and he groaned with his face pressed against the sheets. Fuck. That was a conversation for another time, but just the thought of you letting Bradley basically use you had him grinding his hips into the mattress.

You were so good. 

He popped his head back up and slapped you - lightly - across your pussy. “You keep saying shit like that and next time I just might.”

In response, you arched your back and tried to close your legs around his head, but Bradley just tutted and spread them further.

“Uh-uh, need to have a look at her, I've gone three months without her.” Your hips jumped off the mattress as his fingers started playing with you, tracing circles over and dipping in and out of your cunt. “‘pretty pussy. She took such good care of you while I was gone, didn’t she? Look at you dripping for me, huh?”

His fingers scissored inside of you, dragging against your walls, while his thumb needled your clit. Your wetness spread across his fingers and he, in turn, spread it across your folds and inner thighs. He liked when you were messy. He liked to feel you all over his face.

“Bradley,” you whined. “Stop teasing.”

Neither of you really wanted that, so it didn’t even merit a response from him. Instead, he kept sliding his fingers inside you in and out, in and out and crooked them ever so slightly before he added a third. Above him, you gasped and jolted. 

“‘Atta girl, arch your back, just like that.” You whimpered at his praise and kept rocking your hips in tandem with his fingers. Fucking glorious, such a good girl for da -

“- Bradley…” He peered up to see that you had one arm over your eyes, while the other was pawing at your breasts through your nightie.

“God, you’re sucking on my fingers so tight, I would believe you’ve taken anything up this pretty pussy in months.”

“‘Want your mouth, please, please…” 

“Where?” his voice was muffled. Bradley sucked his lips around your thigh, right by your labia, but refrained from kissing you were you wanted him most. He wanted to mark you up everywhere, have your thighs and breasts and neck covered in little bites and bruises. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. 

Good. Good. Good. 

You whined. It sounded pathetic and he had barely even started. “My pussy. Please, Bradley? Please?”

Who was he to deny you? Because, god, you tasted so fucking good. It was hard not to absolutely devour you, especially after going for so long without you. Bradley slid his hands down from your hips to grab your ass and rut your cunt deeper against his face. As a reward, he got a slew of pretty little whimpers out of you.

He continued at a steady pace, alternating between probing your clit and slipping his tongue inside you. Above him, you arched your back and he pressed a firm hand on your stomach to keep you down. 

“Bradley,” you cried as you rode his face. 

God, you sounded so pretty now, he couldn’t wait to get you on his cock later. 

Pretty girl. 

Smart girl. 

Good girl. 

His girl with a body like Aphrodite. 

“Ahhh - fuc - ahhh.” You made that sound and he knew, without even looking up, that your head was tipped back in pleasure and you were close. “Bubs,” your voice came out small, “want you - inside me, now.”

“Uh-uh.” Bradley pulled his head back, but continued fingering you. “You need to come first.” 

Come on his face. 

You shook your head frantically against the pillow. “No.” You gasped when he purposely plunged his fingers deeper. “‘wanna with you - ahh inside me.”

Somehow you grabbed the hand he had pressed on your stomach and you dragged it up your body. His knuckles brushed against the silk of your nightie until you eventually pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your interlocked fingers. And all Bradley could do was say your name in censure, which ultimately came out heavy with need.

“Please? Want it to be together our first time back.” You whined pitifully. “Haven’t touched myself in days.”

All you had to do was pout and he was gone. 

“Fine,” he smacked your thigh, “but I’m gonna make you come again after I finish inside you.”

“Yes, yes, anything, Bradley.”

You would be spent and whiny by then, it wouldn’t be hard. 

After swirling his fingers once more around in your cum, Bradley held his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean them off. “That good?” You hummed around the digits before he retracted them and tapped your cheek twice. “Atta girl.”

Next, he shifted up on the bed so his knees were straddling your waist. He was achingly hard at this point and bit back a smile as you made grabby hands for his cock. It pulsed in your grasp and you swiped your thumb over the slit to rub his pre-cum over the head. Fuck, that felt divine. While you may have relished how much larger his fingers were than yours, Bradley loved how large his cock looked in your smaller hands. However, he’d already let your tender touches go on long enough - another minute and he’d come all over that silk nightie you hadn’t taken off yet.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” Your eyes were wide and you nodded. 

Trusting, needy, desperate. Such a perfect girl for him. 

“Wanna be full.”

He brushed the head of his cock against your pussy lips, making sure it was nice and wet and, god, you were fucking soaked and practically sucked him in. You whimpered and muttered something indistinguishable, but wrapped your arms around his shoulders and canted your hips up for more. Then, once Bradley slipped just the tip of his cock inside you, you gasped, but brought him closer. Your nails dug into his shoulders, hopefully pressing little crescents into the skin. He pulled back and slid in again, inch by inch, earning a breathy gasp from you every time. 

Holyfuckingshit. You were so tight. So fucking tight, even after prepping you with his tongue and fingers. 

Yours are so much bigger, though your voice echoed through his head. 

You were so fucking soft and warm and wet and felt perfect around him. With each thrust he’d grunt out your name and you in turn would give a whiny Bradley and eventually wrapped your legs around his hips. And then you were also clenching down on him like you’d spent the entire three months doing kegel exercises. 

“Fuck, you made me so hard - thinking about how much of a good girl you were while I was away, keeping this nice and tight for me,” he barely got the words out. 

“‘do anything for - for you. ‘d let you do anything to - mmhmm - me,” you finished with a whimper. 

Fuck. Your unwavering trust in Bradley always took him aback. Because you meant it. You really would let him do anything to you. If you had the slightest inclination that it would please him, you would do it. He had never had someone who trusted him that much. And that wasn’t something he took lightly. 

With that thought in mind, he snapped his hips against yours in a particularly hard thrust that had you crying out. 

“Mmm harder.”

He bent down to suck on your neck. This - the closeness - was why he liked missionary so much. It was perfect for this exact moment. There was plenty of time to take you hard and fast later.

“Oh, god. Feel so full - Bradley, Bra - Bradley!” With every utterance of his name, he drove deeper inside you. Harder inside you. You’d ride him next time, he’d make sure of it. But for now, breathing each other’s air, gasping against each other’s mouth, and feeling the sweat on each other’s brow, being so impossibly close to each other, it was hard to say where Bradley’s soul ended and yours started. 

Yours and mine are the same. 

He groaned your name and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him with an almost dazed expression. Grabbing the back of your knee, Bradley went in at a different angle, trying to get deeper. “Feel how much your little hole’s dripping? Just needed me to stretch you out again.”

“Mmmmm yes, yes, da-dley - ahhhh,” you cried out, “can I come? Please, please?”

Oh, you were such a good girl for him. Asking so nicely, so prettily. So properly. Thank god he had prepped you, he wasn’t going to last much longer, himself. It was kind of pathetic. Both of you were, to be frank. Obviously, you more than him in this instance, but -

“‘Course. There you go, sweetheart, come on my cock like a good girl.”

When you finally came a few moments later, it was with a strangled cry of his name that Bradley swore was the most beautiful sound he’d heard in months. As the shudder of pleasure swept over you and you tightened your core around him, Bradley hastened to find his own release. The slew of cries and whimpers against his lips as you tried to settle down only spurred him on further. He drove into you again and again and again. 

He had to get there with you - had to. You clung to him and notched your head by his neck, only to graze your lips along the tender skin there and bite. 

“Fuck,” he grunted. “‘You ready for me to come inside you, sweetheart? Know how much you missed it.”

You nodded against his neck. “Yes,” you whispered, “Bradley, please…”

He groaned your name. It sounded so good like that, so perfect. He had to say it again and again and again. With each stroke, your overstimulated pussy fluttered around him, pulling him towards his own orgasm. His jaw clenched and his back muscles tightened and Bradley could barely support his own weight over you for another moment - 

“‘s good, bubs, feel so full.”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was it. That did it. 

With a final moan of your name, Bradley came inside you, painting your pussy with his cum. His cocked twitched one final time as the last streams of cum filled you up. He notched his head against your shoulder and he breathed in your sweet scent. 

Goddamn. 

Once he settled down and caught his breath sometime later, he moved to pull out, knowing that when he did so, both your cum would drip down your thighs. Your gorgeous, thick thighs. He already needed to get lost in them again. And wasn’t that just the thing? Bradley was obsessed with you. He could never get enough of you.

“No, no, not yet,” you whimpered. 

He stopped and pulled you closer, but slightly changed your position. There was some perverse part of him that wanted to make a comment about keeping you on his cock for the rest of the morning so you could get used to him again, but he refrained after thinking about the tone of your voice. You sounded so fucking good and docile and submissive. Such a good girl. 

“Pretty sure you owe me another one…” You burrowed your head against his neck and moaned when he shifted. “How ‘bout I stay inside you? ‘That okay?” You nodded and your pussy tightened against him. “Good girl.”

Keeping you close, Bradley slid one hand in between your bodies to play with your throbbing clit. You arched your back up towards him, trying in vain to get closer, though that was nigh impossible - the two of you were already as close as two people could be. 

Yours and mine are the same.

He needled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth, trying to get some moans and whines out of you. God, your body felt unreal. Still so warm around him, still so wet for him. All for him. 

Mine, mine, mine. 

As your body shifted, your pebbled nipples brushed against his bare chest and Bradley was remiss for not playing more attention to them earlier. But that could’ve been because you were still wearing that goddamn nightie. You were flustered and warm and your skin was glistening with the slightest sheen of sweat. 

He bent his head down and mouthed at your breasts through the midnight blue silk. They were already hardened to peaks, desperate to be suckled on, especially after noting their new size. There would be time for that later, he had to remind himself. 

For now, he nipped at the top of your cleavage and kept playing with your clit. You were so oversensitive, you were practically shaking in his arms. And in response, you raked your hands through Bradley’s hair, pulling on the strands. Fuck him. That felt divine, especially as he felt you tighten around him. 

“Brad-ley,” you whimpered, “’s too much.”

“Shhh, easy, easy, there’s no rush.” He tipped your chin up. “You want me to stop?” You shook your head. “Take a deep breath. That's it. Good girl.”

Little whimpers kept escaping your mouth, but you burrowed your face against his neck and trusted him to take care of you. You nipped at the skin there and he hoped it would leave a mark; let everyone know that he was yours and only yours for the next few weeks. 

Mine, mine, mine.

“I’ve got to take care of you, you were such a good girl while I was gone. My best girl, huh?”

“Mmmm.”

“So beautiful, so smart. Took such good care of things for me, huh?” He could feel as well as hear your breath hitching, letting him know that you were close. “‘gorgeous girl, so proud of you, sweet g -”

And that did it. 

So proud of you.

You came with a cry and your walls fluttered around his cock once again. A sudden gush of wetness coated both yours and Bradley’s thighs. God, it was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your name kept running through his mind and Bradley realized he was actually muttering it against your lips through kisses. There were tears in your eyes and he thumbed them away before they could slide down your beautiful face.

“Hey, too much?” He kissed your cheeks, which unfortunately only made more tears spring from your eyes. “I didn’t hurt you, right?” 

“No, no,” you shook your head, “I just missed you so much, think I’m overwhelmed,” you finished sheepishly. 

The tension in Bradley’s shoulders eased and he smiled down at you. “Now you’re gonna make me cry, kid.”

“I love you.” The words came out quietly, but it was like they’d only just come out of your mouth before Bradley was saying them back. 

“Love you, too.” The smile he got out of you warmed his heart and he pecked your lips before tucking your head under his chin.

The two of you laid there for some time with Bradley still inside you. In fact, he was pretty certain you may have dozed off at one point, but he didn’t want you to be too uncomfortable when you woke up later. With that in mind, he slowly pulled out and settled you on the bed beside him. You fussed a little, but Bradley kissed your forehead, heading it off. 

He started with your name, “I’ll be right back, okay? Going to the bathroom.” You nodded at him, your eyes wide and trusting. 

It was chilly out of bed, away from you, and Bradley only paused for a brief moment to slip on a pair of his sleep shorts from the dresser, before heading off to the bathroom to get a damp towel for you. He hastened back to the bedroom, now almost fully lit in the early morning light. You made such a pretty picture all tucked under the thick, white duvet. 

“Bradley?” You stretched out underneath the covers and let out a little whimper. “‘m sore.”

“Shit, sorry,” he said with your special nickname tacked on the end. “Come ‘ere.” Despite his words, he came to you and dutifully cleaned you up with the warm cloth. 

“‘s not your fault,” you slurred, “need to get used to it again. Missed you.”

The cloth passed over your thighs once, twice, three times, before Bradley brushed it against your core once, twice, three times. You sighed and gave him a lazy smile, which he easily returned. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Be right back,” he whispered. 

You’d barely managed to get back under the covers by the time he came back from the bathroom. And then, with all the care and love you deserved at the moment, he bundled you up in his arms. You were so warm and smelled so pretty and your nightie felt so soft against his rough fingers. Everything about that moment was perfect. You were so precious. You pressed your cheek against his chest and he hoped you could tell how fast his heart was beating. 

“I missed being with you like this, missed holding you.”

You pressed lazy kisses to his chest for a moment before you eventually tipped your head up to meet his eyes. “Can we stay like this? Just for a while? Don’t wanna get up yet.”

“‘Course,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “go back to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

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

When Bradley woke hours later, he did so slowly. He was pleasantly warm, he was finally sleeping on a true mattress, and you were slotted between his legs sucking his cock. 

Surely, there were few better ways to wake up than to have your sweet lips wrapped around him. It wasn’t something you did often, at least in terms of waking Bradley up this way, but he loved whenever you took the initiative. It showed how eager you were - how desperate. Really, the only thing that could top it would be your pussy sunk deep on his cock as you rode him.

You had to have been at it for a while, for he was achingly hard by this point. His hips bucked up, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth and you let out a surprised moan, no doubt having thought he was still sleeping, before taking him further. Your tight grip on his thighs left him relatively grounded, else he would have set off a round of those gagging noises from you that he liked so much. That wet mouth that he liked so much - fuck. 

Bradley groaned your name. You peered up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you weren’t getting him off while he slept. Like your pussy wasn’t soaking. Like you hadn’t been grinding it against his bare thigh for the last however many minutes. 

And you kept at it with Bradley’s hand grabbing your hair and guiding you. You kept working him, forcing him deeper down your throat. He moaned and you responded back in kind. Such a good mouth, such a good girl, taking care of him like this. It took him a moment to realize he was doing it, but he was mumbling your name, almost nonsensically. 

But then he felt, rather than saw, you remove one of your hands from his thighs to presumably put it between your legs to play with your needy pussy. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Fuck. Get up here,” he said and then punctuated it with a growl of your name when you stayed down. The whimper you let out had him bucking his hips up off the mattress. “I’m serious.”

Almost begrudgingly, you eased him out of your mouth and the resulting, wet pop echoed throughout the bedroom. You looked far too pleased with yourself as you sucked on your finger - the one that had definitely been shoved up your pussy only moments ago - and hummed in response. 

“Get up here - now.”

You braced yourself on either side of Bradley’s hips and teasingly brushed your pussy against his aching cock a couple times, practically begging for him to sink inside you. It would be so easy for you to ride him right now, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Bossy, bossy,” you teased and crept up his body, pressing kisses to his happy trail and chest along the way. But just as you were about to kiss him on the lips, he stopped you.

“Uh uh.” He stuck his finger in the air and mimed a circle. “Turn around.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Are you…” Again, just Bradley twirled his finger around and smiled. “F-fine.” 

“But,” at this you relaxed your thighs to press more of your weight on his stomach, “you have to take this off,” he finished by thumbing the navy fabric of your nightie. 

It only took a moment for the smile to creep across your face, but you didn’t take your eyes off Bradley’s as you slid the dainty straps off your shoulders, one at a time. You didn’t take the nightie off, it still covered all of your stomach, but it let Bradley ogle your breasts unimpeded for a moment. 

“Will that be all, lieutenant commander?”

He just shook his head in disbelief. “Cheeky little slut.” 

And then you smiled, looking so proud of yourself for rattling him that he had no choice but to slap the top of your ass. Hard. You huffed.

“Now turn around.” 

You rolled your eyes, but managed to turn around with Bradley’s assistance. The brief awkwardness of limbs strewn about was easily forgotten as soon as you got into position and he was rewarded with the sight of your glistening pussy in front of his face.

Bradley didn’t bother holding back a moan and started kneading your ass and running his fingers along your lower spine. Meanwhile, you wiggled down his body, dragging your breasts against his bare skin for the first time all morning. They were so soft, but your nipples were pebbled as they brushed against his stomach. He hissed when you lingered there for a moment to tease him.

Not one to let you get the upper hand, Bradley grabbed your hips to draw you close to his face and inhaled your sweet scent. Fuck. You were so good. You let out a mewl and startled when he first made contact with his tongue and then attempted to nose at your clit. That always got you going. Same with his mustache against the tender skin at the apex of your thighs. Maybe he would abstain from shaving on vacation, if only you’d ask.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he groaned your name against your skin and then he feasted. 

Meanwhile, the way your hands were playing with his balls right now had him already teetering towards an orgasm. After only being able to fantasize about having your hands on him - your sweet, delicate hands on him - for the last three months, this felt divine. And then you put your mouth on him and he was well and truly done for.

“Fuck.” 

Neither of you lasted much longer after that.

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

After your depravity filled wake up call, the rest of the morning took on a decidedly more chaste tone. The room was filled with giggles and the sounds of kissing as Bradley told you some of the more entertaining stories from the carrier and Australia, while you revealed that you had watched his 60 Minutes segment at least nine times. When he asked you why you’d watched it nine times, you just ducked your head and bashfully said it was because you sounded really smart.

It was finally around noon when Bradley said you two needed a shower and to have breakfast before embarking on the rest of the day’s activities, which included a tour of the house, complete with all the little goodies you’d amassed for him over the last couple months that he had glossed over last night, and getting ready for drinks with Nat, Caroline, and Max at six-thirty. Granted, the latter was six hours away, but Bradley had a feeling you both would be pretty slow to the take that afternoon. Probably would get a little distracted, too.

“‘m gonna take a shower,” his lips brushed kisses up and down your arms and over your once again silk clad breasts and he was rewarded with giggles, “you wanna come with me?”

“Oh!? Uhh - yeah, we could take a shower.” You pecked him on the lips. “Can you warm it up first, please?”

The pout worked - it always did - but Bradley still groaned, totally hamming it up. “Mmmm, I suppose...”

With one final kiss, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. He flicked the lights on with a snap, going for full brightness on the dimmer, and turned around to give you a cheeky wink, only to see you worrying your lip between your teeth and staring intently down at your clasped hands on top of the duvet. He called your name and your eyes snapped up to meet his gaze.

“You good?”

You nodded and put a smile on your face. “Yeah, be right in.”

Odd. But then again, Bradley could’ve been reading too much into it. He hadn’t seen you since before Christmas, afterall. You were probably just tired. Yesterday had been a long day. And he had run you pretty ragged this morning. 

The water had warmed up while he was going to the bathroom and was the perfect temperature by the time he finally got under the spray. Just as he was about to call out to you again, he heard you enter the bathroom - and promptly dim the lights. 

“Woah, woah - hey!”

“Sorry!” you called out from behind the shower curtain. “I uhh - I just have a headache, don’t want the lights too bright too early in the morning.”

It was twelve-fifteen. 

Bradley frowned and looked at your shadow moving on the other side of the curtain. You were standing up straight - he would almost call it stiff. It was an odd request, to say the least, but it wasn’t exactly pitch black in the bathroom now, just a little darker, especially from the waist down. 

“Okay, just be careful when you get in - here,” he pulled the curtain back and held his hand out for you to step over the lip of the tub. You startled, but nevertheless took his hand. “There you go.”

The two of you stood face to face for a moment, allowing you both to get your fill of the other. It was definitely darker in the shower now, but Bradley could still make out your ample curves. Streams of water dripped down your chest as you tipped your head under the faucet and it was impossible for him to not watch as the droplets cascaded over your breasts. 

They looked fucking glorious by the way - he was slightly put out that he hadn’t gotten a chance to really play with them in bed earlier - you had only given him a glimpse of them for a few moments - but there was always later. Or now? Now was also good.

“Did these get bigger?” The words were out before he could think twice and he cupped a breast in each hand. Your nipples pebbled as his thumbs passed over them, back and forth, back and forth.  

Your eyes flew up to his face before glancing right back down at your breasts. “What? No, I don’t think - no.”

Bradley leaned back to catch your eye. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. They look great, feel even better, they’re just…”

“Oh! I guess I hadn’t noticed.” You turned your back to him. “Here, do you want to do my hair? Or I can do yours? Why don’t I do yours?”

Before he could even process what was happening, you spun back around and grabbed the shampoo bottle from behind Bradley and squirted some Ouai into your hands. He leaned forward so you could lather his hair up with the suds and appreciated your care in keeping them out of his eyes. For someone normally so dominant and in control, Bradley really did love when you fussed over him. He knew it wasn’t something you were comfortable with in every aspect of your relationship - taking charge like that - but it was nice in settings like this. Once the shampoo had set, he crouched down for you to rinse and then repeat the process with the conditioner.  

“I think we need a bench in here.”

“Yeah?” 

You hummed. “Just a little bump out, enough for someone to sit. You’re getting older, I wouldn’t want you to fall or hurt yourself during any rigorous shower activity.”

“Rigorous shower activity?” Bradley chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder before wetting your hair under the faucet. “You know, if I took all my showers with you, I wouldn’t have to worry about that, kid. Here, turn around, ‘s your turn.”

Gently, Bradley lathered up your hair and made sure to massage your scalp the same way you had done for him. You let out a pleased hum and then he repeated the process with the conditioner, though he might’ve used a bit too much. 

Once you were both back under the spray, you rested your palms on his chest and peered up at him with wide eyes. You looked like you were about to cry and he pulled you closer in comfort.

“I haven’t stayed here at the house too much while you were gone, just a night or two - like that night…with the email,” you confessed, “it didn’t feel right. I kept thinking you’d come home any minute.” Bradley pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “But I’d drop stuff off slowly, a couple boxes a week and whatnot.”

You both stood in the silence of the falling water for a few moments before you spoke again. 

“It just doesn’t feel real - all of this. I keep worrying that you’re gonna disappear again tomorrow. Or that I’m going to wake up or something. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was just the thing: Bradley didn’t know what he’d do without you either. He had never felt this way before; that there was someone else tied to him, someone else living for him, while he in turn lived for them. 

“Hey,” he tipped your chin up, “you’re not the only one worried about that. But I have you with me now and I’m always gonna do my damndest to come home to you, alright, kid?”

“Alright.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping him close, and pressed a kiss to his chest. “Love you, bubs.”

Bradley instantly tightened his arms around you. “Love you, too.” 

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Before long, your kiss on his chest turned into a kiss on the mouth and your hands roved over each other’s bodies as you shared the loofah and soap. “So broad, so strong,” you said in wonder as you roved your hands over his chest and thighs and chased away the bubbles. 

And then, after multiple passes over your breasts at Bradley’s hands - it was unfair how good your breasts looked all sudsed up - it was time for a final rinse. He hopped out of the shower first and had a towel waiting for you when you got out, before you ultimately changed into your fluffy white robe. 

The two of you completed your morning routines side by side in comfortable silence until Bradley went back to the bedroom to put on some running shorts and a t-shirt. 

“You want breakfast?” He snuck up behind you at the bathroom counter and kissed your cheek. 

You smiled at him in the mirror. “Yes, please.”

“Anything in particular.” He kissed you again. “Pancakes? French toast? Ooooo maybe hash browns and bacon, too? The works?”

You had been giggling while he had been kissing your neck, but you suddenly turned sober as he rattled off your options. “Oh, uhh - maybe some eggs?”

Bradley frowned. “Like scrambled?” 

“Or poached? I’ve been eating a lot of egg whites lately…” With the way you were bundled up in your robe and with your hair still wet from the shower, you looked small - young. Egg whites?

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, I can do some egg whites for you.” 

Egg whites? Since when did you like egg whites? You had always liked your eggs scrambled and a little runny - with ketchup. Idly, Bradley remembered Max eating egg whites and low carb toast for the entire month of May to get in shape for yacht week in Croatia. He shook the thought away.

“Anything you want, kid.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft smile and a kiss on the check. “I’ll be down in a bit, okay?”

And with that smile and a promise, Bradley headed off downstairs to make breakfast. 

Egg whites, really?

-----------

Bradley’s homecoming weekend extravaganza - your words - could only be considered truly complete with a family dinner at Maverick and Penny’s on Sunday evening. Penny wouldn’t hear of you two bringing anything to dinner, so all that was needed to do upon returning from a morning hike in Torrey Pines was shower and change. 

You didn’t have to be there until six thirty, but it was already five forty-five and at least a 20 minute drive, so you were both a little more hurried than you were after yesterday’s shower. In fact, when Bradley got out of the shower, he was surprised to see that you were still in your bathrobe and staring at your half of the closet like it contained all of life’s mysteries. Granted, your hair and makeup were done, but you just stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, absentmindedly biting your thumb nail. 

How long had you been standing there?

“If it makes it any easier,” you startled at Bradley’s voice, “I’m sure Mav will just be wearing a t-shirt and jeans.” Barely looking at the shirt he grabbed to go with his chino shorts, Bradley fell into your line of sight. “You good?”

You relaxed your shoulders. “Yeah, just…not sure what to wear.” 

The two of you stood side by side to take in the full array of clothes in the closet. While not all of your clothes - some bulkier items and more formal dresses were in the guest bedroom - there were still dozens of options in front of the two of you. You took a hesitant step forward and eventually took a pair of boyfriend jeans off a shelf and held them to your chest. Just as you were about to grab a boxy oxford, Bradley snatched up a brightly patterned, tiered, sleeveless dress that would hit at the middle of your thighs. The empty hanger rattled against the rod, but it stopped you in your tracks, the oxford momentarily forgotten. 

“This would look nice.” 

Even to Bradley’s own ears, his voice sounded lame, almost a little desperate. But there was something about you choosing an oxford to wear after staring at your closet for ten minutes that gave him pause. You had such pretty clothes, it would be a shame for you not to wear them. 

“It’s not too much?” Bradley shook his head and held the dress up to your body. “I bought it to bring on our trip, but now I’m not sure…”

“It’s perfect, trust me, you’ll look gorgeous. And you better pack it for Mexico, too, okay?”

“Okay.” You appeared a little flustered, but had lost the sad look in your eyes from moments ago, so Bradley considered it a win. 

With a kiss to the side of your head, he told you to finish getting ready and that he would be downstairs when you were done. 

After getting his wallet and car keys together, Bradley made his way to the mudroom to put on his new sneakers. Though you wouldn’t admit it, you had definitely ordered them for Bradley during one of your many Ted Lasso rewatches while he was away. He reminds me of you sometimes, you would demure when pressed. It was cute. 

With one foot propped up on the bench to tie his shoes, Bradley noticed the row of jackets in front of him. He called your name. “You want a jacket?”

“Yes, please,” your voice carried from upstairs.

So, he grabbed your jean jacket, figuring it would look good with your dress, and got himself his oversized grey Navy crewneck sweatshirt. Maverick and Penny always liked to have drinks and dessert out on the back patio, and though it had been a relatively warm day for March, Bradley knew the breeze off the ocean would make it chilly later. Maybe they’d light the firepit and have s’mores? You loved s’mores even more than Bradley did, if you could believe it. 

Just as he had gotten the jackets and threw his sweatshirt on, you appeared beside him. And just like Bradley had thought, the dress looked perfect on you.

“See? You look gorgeous.” You ducked your head and muttered thanks. “Here.” Bradley held your jean jacket open and helped you slip it on while you put on your sandals. And then you set off for Coronado in the Bronco. 

-----------

After a lovely dinner filled with much chatter and laughter, Amelia and Penny dragged you upstairs to show you her dress for the sophomore semi-formal next week. This left Bradley and Maverick to clean up the dinner plates and get things situated outside on the patio.

It was completely beyond Bradley’s comprehension how to get Penny’s fancy fire pit started, but Maverick had a flame roaring in no time. The two sat across from each other - Maverick on one of the cushioned, wicker swivel chairs with Bradley on the matching loveseat - and sipped their beers in comfortable silence for a few moments. The sun had set about fifteen minutes ago, but the sky was still a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and oranges. 

“So, how’re you really doing?” Though the question has been asked at dinner already, Bradley had just given a vague answer. But now that it was just him and Maverick, he felt he could be honest.

“Fine, I guess.” Bradley made a face. “‘s always weird doing some stuff again. We went to the store earlier; always takes me back that first time.”

“It’s the cereal. Too many choices.” 

“Yes, thank you!” Bradley exclaimed, glad he had someone who could relate. Every time he brought it up with Nat or the guys, they just looked at him like he had seven heads. They went from having few choices on the carrier, to endless when on land. “And the chips. Too many options and sizes.” Maverick chuckled. “We went on the way back from Torrey Pines to get more Diet Coke and I wandered off like three times just to stare at the oversized boxes of Lucky Charms.”

Maverick smiled wryly and took a sip of his beer. “You don’t look as tired as you did Friday afternoon, that’s for certain.” Though the way he’d said it had been completely innocent, Bradley still blushed.

“Yeah, it’s been amazing. You should’ve seen her Friday night, she was so excited to make dinner and the house just -” he broke off, “it felt nice coming home to someone like that, I guess.”

Nice? I guess? Bradley sounded like an idiot. It had felt more than nice coming home to you. Coming home this time made him never want to leave again. But the real test would come tomorrow when you went to work. And Bradley would be alone for the first time in three months. Alone in your big, quiet, house. It hadn’t been quiet in three months. There was always something else going on around him. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he could do things on his own time and make his own food and pick his own clothes. He could have choices. Luckily, Maverick didn’t seem to notice his sudden unease.

“That was all she talked about last week.” 

It took a concerted effort on Bradley’s part not to be jealous that you’d talked to Maverick so much last week when all Bradley had gotten were emails. Beautiful, heartfelt, smutty emails, but emails nonetheless. Before Friday, Bradley hadn’t heard your voice in weeks.

“She did a really good job. The cake was unreal, I had a piece for breakfast this morning.” That got a chuckle out of them both. “It’s nice to see her comfortable doing something outside of her wheelhouse. She kept sending me pictures from her lessons and even cooked for me on Facetime once.”

Just as Maverick appeared to be gearing up for a follow up, probably about how he’d gotten the leftovers from those cooking lessons, Bradley rushed out: “But we really talked Friday night - about a lot of things. It was good, though.”

“What about?” 

“Kids,” the word slipped out before Bradley could think better of it, “family, that kind of stuff.”

Maverick pondered this and took a sip of his beer. “And you didn’t mind talking about that right when you got back? Seems like a lot.”

“No, it was good.” Not looking at Maverick while he was talking made it easier for Bradley. That way he couldn’t see his pity. He shifted in his seat. “I’d rather we talk about it now anyway, that way it isn’t hanging over our heads on vacation and whatnot.” 

The fact that Bradley thought you were keeping something else from him didn’t need to be brought up yet. He wouldn’t even be able to put it into words, it was just a gut feeling at this point. You just seemed a little off. The egg whites, the boxy oxfords, the chocolate cake.

There was hesitancy in Mav’s voice when he spoke next. “So, you looking to get engaged soon? It’s been what? A year?”

“Almost, yeah. But uhh no, no.” The denial was firm in his voice. “Probably still a year off at least. It’s gonna happen - we both want it to - but there’s no need to rush it. I’m excited for it to be just the two of us for a little while, you know in the house and everything.”

“Good, good,” he sounded pleased, “you two have a good thing going, I wouldn’t want -”

“- We’re not going to have kids until I’m out of the Navy.” Bradley said the words in a rush and he really hoped Maverick would ignore how thick his voice sounded. 

But of course he didn’t. Maverick snapped his eyes over to meet Bradley’s, but he was suddenly focused on a loose thread on the upholstery. Shit. Why had he said that?

“Oh.” It was a long time before either of them spoke again. Bradley finished half his beer. “Is that your idea or hers?”

“It’s both of ours.” Bradley winced realizing how defensive he sounded. “Well, I kind of brought it up first, but she was the one who said we’d wait.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Bradley nodded. “Jesus, Bradley, you’ll be at least forty by the time -”

“- Forty-two.” 

Maverick looked sad and Bradley hated it. Because he knew, without Bradley even having to spell it out why you were going to wait. Because Maverick had been there. Because Maverick had held Bradley’s mom as she cried on too many occasions to count. Because Maverick had taken Bradley to all the father/son events in the place of his own father. Because Bradley realized, as he had gotten older, that Maverick thought it was his fault that Bradley grew up without a father. 

“Listen, we both know that a million things can happen between now and then and maybe the timing will be all wrong, but we want to wait. If it gives either of us the slightest peace of mind, we’re going to try and wait.”

The silence was heavy this time around. 

“Well, I guess it’s good you’re talking about it now - even if I don’t entirely agree with it. You should be enjoying your life together, not waiting around…” Maverick seemed to think better of what he was saying and took a sip of his beer. A beat passed until he spoke again. “Also reminds me of some stuff I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Maverick waved him off. “It can wait until after your trip. Just some estate planning and whatnot, I know the four of us are in a really good place, so figured it was a good time.”

Estate planning? The four of us? The whole family was involved? Bradley’s curiosity was most definitely piqued. 

“Oh, err yeah, sounds good -”

“It’s nothing bad - promise!” he quickly backpedaled, “More paperwork than anything -”

“What’re you ladies gossiping about?” Amelia breezed onto the patio and messed up Bradley’s hair before she plopped down on the other end of the sofa. Naturally, he in turn had to elbow her in the side. Not hard, mind you, but hard enough for her to kick him back. 

“We were actually just talking about the dance coming up next Friday,” Maverick replied smoothly and Bradley stifled a snort. Since when had he become such a good liar? Regardless, Amelia preened. “I was just about to tell Bradley about your date…”

“What?!” Bradley exclaimed.

Amelia pouted, clearly put off that it had been brought up in front of him. He liked Amelia, he was protective of her, fucking shoot him. “Mav likes him!”

Maverick slightly cowed under Bradley and Amelia’s stares. “He’s nice, they’re on the debate team together.”

“Debate team?!” Alright, now he was putting it on a little bit, but as someone who had also been on the debate team in high school, Bradley knew that those guys were also smart, which generally meant they were way more trouble than the typical jocks.

Clearly misconstruing his comment, Amelia frowned. “Listen, I know you were rocking the middle part and puka shell necklace when you were on the debate team, but it’s cool now…”

“Puka shell necklace?” your voice chimed in from the doorway. “Pete never mentioned that when he was telling me of your high school heroics.”

Bradley’s cheeks colored. “Yeah, well, it was the late 90s and I thought Pacey Witter was cool.”

“The 1990s!” Amelia feigned hysterics and got a chuckle out of you and Maverick. “Next you’re going to be talking about where you were on 9/11 -”

“I was in kindergarten, we couldn’t go outside for recess,” you teased.

You sat yourself between Bradley and Amelia on the sofa and he threw his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer. He knew you’d get cold soon, but didn’t want you to run inside to get your jacket or a sweatshirt just yet - he just wanted you beside him. Plus, there was also the fear that you’d get one of Maverick’s sweatshirts from inside if you forwent your jean jacket and that just wouldn’t do.

Amelia groaned, but still turned her attention back on you. “Okay, but you were definitely Joey Potter, breaking hearts left and right. No debate captains for you.” She stuck her tongue out at Bradley for good measure.

“Ha, I wish. No, I was actually kind of lame in high school, very angsty.” Bradley knew why, but Maverick and the Benjamins were still in the dark.

“Really?” Amelia frowned. 

It was easy to understand her confusion since you were just about the coolest person she knew - her words. Amelia had told Bradley so the first night he’d brought you over for dinner. Can you ask her where she got her sneakers? A couple weeks later, you and Bradley had gotten Amelia the very same sneakers for her birthday. She always blushed when you wore them at the same time.

So, the next words out of your mouth clearly surprised her. “Oh, yeah, I was knee deep in Mazzy Star and Vampire Weekend. The dark preppy vibe, if that’s even a thing?”

“Jesus, I wasn’t even that bad.” Bradley squeezed your shoulder and got a smile out of you with his teasing.

Maverick and Penny were talking off on their own, so you turned your full attention towards Amelia. “I was in a car accident my junior year of high school. Kind of set me back with school and then - well, private school kids are kind of vicious so…” 

“What happened? Sorry - that was -”

“- It’s oka -,” you started to say, then seemed to think better of it. Because nothing about that night had been okay. “I was in a car with someone and we got t-boned. I got pretty banged up, broke my right arm and leg. It seemed like I had a perpetual concussion for the next six months. He just broke his arm,” you finished wryly. 

He. 

He just broke his arm.

Bradley pursed his lips at the mention of Teddy Cavanaugh. Fucking prick. To say you’d gotten pretty banged up was putting it way too mildly. Thinking about it again made him just as upset as it had that night all those months ago on your fourth date when you’d told him the entire story. 

And more recently, Bradley had had the unfortunate experience of meeting Teddy over Thanksgiving when Bradley had played golf with your dad one afternoon up in Berkeley. As a rule, Bradley tried not to hate people on sight - at least not anymore. 

But god, he really fucking hated Teddy Cavanaugh. He wanted to fucking deck him on the first tee at Claremont Country Club. He wanted to slam his nine-iron into the Porsche 911 he was driving. And Bradley was pretty sure your dad did too. 

It was such a cunty move to get the same car.

Plus, what self respecting twenty-nine year old still went by Teddy anyway?

But the truth of what happened that night wasn’t exactly appropriate for a post dinner conversation, nevermind the fact that Amelia was only a year younger than you had been that night. 

The realization made Bradley freeze. 

You had only been a year older than Amelia when it happened. Amelia, who still slept with the stuffed cow her grandparents had gotten her for her sixth birthday. Amelia, who still played with her American Girl Dolls when she didn’t get invited to a friend’s house on Friday nights. Amelia, who still made Bradley a new welcome home banner after every deployment. Amelia, who still huffed whenever Bradley ruffled her hair as a hello. Amelia, who Bradley promised he’d teach how to drive that spring.

You were Amelia. You had been that young, that sweet, that trusting and Teddy Cavanaugh had thrown it all back in your face.

Bradley could feel his chest tighten, even as he ignored the chatter around him. Maverick and Penny had joined in whatever conversation you were now having with Amelia, but all Bradley could do was sit there. 

Without a word, he pulled you closer, so you were bundled up in his arms. It was still proper enough in front of his family, but he needed to have you close. Your legs were plastered together alongside Bradley’s right side and you burrowed yourself under the arm he draped across your shoulders. 

Everything was right as it should be. Bradley was with his family, Bradley was with you, here. Not on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific or the passenger seat of Mr. Cavanaugh’s Porsche. 

Here. And nothing bad was going to happen here.  

Soon, the conversation changed to whichever HBO show Amelia and Maverick were excited to watch later that night, while Penny went inside to get the dessert: s’mores. 

“‘You need any help?”

Penny waved you off. “I’m all set, everything’s already measured out.”

Once she was gone, Bradley pressed a light kiss to your shoulder and you shivered. “‘You getting cold, kid?” You nodded. “‘You want my sweatshirt?” 

“Please?”

“I’ve got one in the mudroom if -” 

“No, it’s fine,” Bradley cut off Maverick, “she can have mine.”

Quickly taking off his own sweatshirt and putting it over your head, Bradley didn’t even have the time to linger on how pathetic he sounded. Who did Maverick think he was, offering to let Bradley’s girlfriend borrow a sweatshirt? Didn’t he realize Bradley was more than capable of taking care of you?

“Thanks.” You smiled at him, now cozy and wrapped up in the still warm sweatshirt and Bradley nearly forgot why he had gotten so huffy in the first place. Nearly. 

“So,” Penny popped back out onto the patio with a heaping tray of marshmallows, a bowl of chocolate squares, and stacks of graham crackers, “who wants s’mores?”

“Me, me!” Amelia called, pushing her way towards the tray and subsequently dishing out the marshmallow sticks. 

Little shit gave Bradley the worst one, even knowing Maverick wouldn’t have any and therefore didn’t need one. As payback, he kept putting his marshmallow wherever Amelia’s was. It meant that he didn’t roast a single good marshmallow, but the glare she kept sending him was too funny to make him stop. 

Eventually, after Bradley had to blow out yet another marshmallow - Oh, shit! Not again! - you took over s’more duties. Just as well, really; yours were the best. You turned marshmallow roasting into an art form - a perfectly golden, gooey art form. While you didn’t eat any with graham crackers, you did have one you roasted over the fire with the chocolate already stuffed in the marshmallow. You smiled at Bradley’s shocked expression and then wordlessly made him three exactly like it.

All the while, you answered Penny’s questions about how your dad and Mary were doing and when they were next coming down to San Diego and if they would want to get dinner with her and Pete, just the four of them? But when you started nodding off against Bradley’s shoulder, he knew it was time for you both to head home. 

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

Mon, March 22, 1:43pm

How was your meeting? 

it was fine, but ran over and i didn’t get to have lunch before my one o’clock ☹️

At least have a snack or something, don’t want you wasting away on me, kid. 

i won’t! what’re you up to?

Stopped by the base for a bit, saw the guys and then went to the gym.

I might get a haircut later. 

you can’t get a haircut without me! i don’t trust you not to get it too short! plus i like it a little longer 

Oh yeah? 

i like when it gets curly at the ends, it’s always really soft too. can you wait till after the trip?  please bradley please?

Fine, but only because you begged me…

i’ll make it up to you later, promise and i did not beg you…

Or you could make it up to me now?

Is the office busy today?

no  it’s pretty quiet

You wore that navy skirt, right?

yeah with my white silk blouse 

What’d you wear underneath it?

bradley! i don’t know, boring underwear? 

You wanna show me? Just to check?

you can see when i get home, i’ll even try and sneak out a little early 

Wanna see now

Show me

fine, just give me a sec. i’ll go to the bathroom 

No

At your desk

Now

bradley!

Sweetheart I’m aching

[image: Mr. 7.5 Gs]

fuck holy shit bubs what were you doing before you texted me?

Jerking off, I’m bored

charming

Wanna be inside you

fuck bradley wish i was home to take care of you god you’re so pretty hold on

Keep thinking about you in your office, acting all proper and then I’d barge in and fuck you on that fancy desk of yours

[image: miss ‘the one day i’m wearing plain underwear’]

God such a good girl for me

Are you wet

mmmm  getting there this is so hot unless i get fired

I’d bend you over

Take you from behind

You’re always tighter that way

[Sent with Siri]

bradley

Need your mouth on me

I’d make you get on your knees and suck me off in front of the window

Fuck your throat

[Sent with Siri] 

bradley you’re not playing fair

No you’re not

Need more pictures of you

[Sent with Siri]

What do you want me to do? [Sent with Siri]

Shove your fingers up your cunt

Knuckle deep

[Sent with Siri]

I’d have to use three to feel like yours [Sent with Siri]

Need a video need to hear you too

[Sent with Siri]

[for bradley’s eyes only.mov]

Fuck you’re fucking gorgeous like that 

Always do just what I ask 

Fuck I need you so bad 

[Sent with Siri]

Need you too fuck [Sent with Siri] i can’t believe you got me to do that at work

When are you coming home? 

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

There was something up with you. The thought kept running through Bradley’s head Tuesday evening while he was on his run.

Bradley would never have described you as skittish, but that’s how you had been acting over the last couple days. You were still affectionate and kind and you. And had told him countless times how much you loved him and how happy you were that he was home. 

So, it had to be a physical thing. You were guarded whenever he touched you - whether you were being sexually intimate or he had just grabbed your waist to cuddle you closer on the couch or in bed. It was always your waist or stomach area, really. That was the hot spot.

At first, Bradley thought he’d been too rough with you that first time back, but he knew you trusted him enough to tell him if that was the case, so that was out. Plus, later that morning when you were riding him, you’d asked him to grab your hips so hard he’d leave behind marks. You liked whenever he marked you - and he liked whenever you marked him. And you weren’t shying away from sex with him, not at all. In fact, you were pretty insatiable.

Then, he’d thought you might have hurt yourself while he had been gone and had a scar or something that you hadn’t wanted him to see? But your skin was free of new blemishes, baring the zit on your cheek you’d been complaining about since Saturday night. 

At one point, Bradley had even contemplated that you might be pregnant. He had been gone for three months, an entire first trimester. But something about the theory didn’t sit right with him. 

First, you would’ve fucking told him on Friday night, especially after you both talked about waiting to have kids and how you were on the same page. Because Bradley wasn’t dying in an F-18 with a family at home. 

Then, there was the fact that you had an IUD and the possibility of getting pregnant on an IUD was even less than on the pill (<1% a year - he’d looked it up). And finally, you’d be showing by now, even if only a little bump. But now that he thought about it, in all the days that he’d been home and all the times you’d had sex, Bradley had only seen you completely naked once. One or both of you were always partially clothed. And he would have noticed - right? Your boobs were definitely bigger, but it wasn’t - that wasn’t it, no, he was sure you weren’t pregnant.

It had to be something about your body, your stomach in particular. Because you were still affectionate, still wanted him, were still relatively yourself, your boobs looked great, and you loved him. So, why did you practically jump out of your skin whenever Bradley’s hand grazed your stomach? 

He would give you until Friday to tell him on your own before he asked. That would be a week from when he’d gotten home, more than enough time. Plus, maybe being on vacation would get you to open up a bit? 

Because this just wasn’t you. You didn’t really keep any secrets from Bradley. He wouldn’t be so naive to say that he knew everything about you, but in general you were honest with him. Was there a hint in one of your emails? Some little detail he had glossed over in his haste to read any scrap of news from you, in your voice? Bradley had read all of them at least three times, some even more, but maybe he had missed something?

The run he’d gone on to clear his head left the problem no more clear than when he’d set off forty-five minutes ago. He ran up the back steps to the mudroom and toed off his sneakers before heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. You’d be home soon, he needed to start dinner.

Last night, you’d marinated some steak tips and made some rice pilaf, while Bradley roasted some vegetables. There was plenty of leftover steak for dinner tonight, he just had to decide what to make with it. Taking a peek in the fridge, he took a quick inventory of anything you’d need to finish before leaving Thursday morning. A couple peppers laid in the crisper along with an eggplant, which stumped him as neither of you liked eggplant. He could do steak fajitas with those? There were always fresh tortillas around. Content with his plan, Bradley grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino from the side door and poured himself a glass. 

As he put the bottle back, his eyes landed on the chocolate cake, perfectly ensconced in glass snapware, on the top shelf. How the hell was there still leftover chocolate cake? In addition to what you’d had Friday night, the two of you had had some for breakfast Sunday morning - well, Bradley had had some for breakfast Sunday morning and you’d let him feed you a couple bites. He shut the fridge door with a little more force than necessary and started prepping the peppers and onions. 

You loved chocolate cake. And you’d worked so hard on it. Why the fuck weren’t you eating it? Plus, now that he really thought about it, you’d barely had a s’more at Maverick and Penny’s and instead kept yourself occupied by lovingly making Bradley’s for him. And then there were the egg whites.

It would be a lie to say that none of it had seemed off at the time, but looking at all the incidents together just showed how truly off things were. And then coupled with how off you were with other things like your clothes and stomach - oh. 

No way. No fucking way. That could not be it. 

No, no. You couldn’t be worried about how - 

Just as he was finishing up the peppers to go along with the onions he’d already prepped, Bradley heard the back door open.

“Bubs?” you called out, “I’m home!”

“Hey!” 

“How was your run?”

Bradley quickly washed his hands and went over to meet you in the mudroom. And there you were, looking polished and professional in a black tweed, sleeveless dress that he hadn’t gotten a glimpse at before you’d left for work that morning, thanks to the blazer you’d thrown over it. The bodice of the dress was decorated with what he hoped were functional gold buttons that were just begging to be ripped open. And to top it off, you were wearing semi sheer black tights and those black slingbacks he liked so much. 

Actually, you were leaning against the wall trying to unbuckle those slingbacks he liked so much. But all Bradley could focus on as you asked him about his afternoon was the curve of your hip and the fact that your breasts looked unreal in that dress.

His pretty girlfriend. His pretty girlfriend who looked so smart and absolutely fuckable right now. His. His. His. His -

You stopped trying to take off your shoes and shot him a questioning look as you approached. “Bradley?”

“Sorry, I uhh - yeah, it was fine. Saw the Thompsons finished their patio - is that a new dress?” His fingers idly brushed against the fabric and you froze. 

“Oh, uh, no. I’ve had it for a while. Since the move, I’ve been going through my clothes trying to see what I actually wear and - I know it’s a little small now, it keeps riding up my hips a bit, but I still think it looks nice on top…” You ventured out of the mudroom. “Does it look bad?”

No, it very much did not look bad on you. It was definitely tighter than anything you normally wore to work, but it looked good. And weary from the work day with your hair a little mussed and the dress a bit askew from when you tried to take off your shoes, you looked absolutely divine and Bradley had to have you immediately. 

“No! I’m just,” he goaded you further into the kitchen, “surprised you wore it to work - in a good way!” 

The shy look on your face gradually slipped away and you crowded into Bradley’s space. “In a good way, huh?”

His hands found their way to your waist and he waited for a reaction from you. Getting nothing but a smile, his thumbs rubbed circles along your hips and he brought you chest to chest. 

“I gotta ask, though?” You hummed. “Do these really work?” He dragged his fingers up and down the front of your dress, spending the slightest bit more time along the square neckline and your breasts.

“And what if they did?”

Bradley groaned your name and rested his forehead against yours. “Then I’d have to unbutton every last one of them right now.”

You kissed his neck, paying no mind to the stubble he had been growing since Friday night. If you’d asked, he would shave it in a second, but you loved the roughness against your neck and inner thighs. As your lips kept up their targeted attack on his neck and jawline, your right hand slid between your bodies to palm his cock through his athletic shorts. 

“But if you did that, then you’d have to take me right here…”

Barely a beat passed before Bradley grabbed your hips and plopped you down on the kitchen table. It shook under your weight. Your chest was heaving at the sudden action, in turn drawing his attention to your breasts and those tempting buttons. They reminded him of the ones on his old Naval dress coat from Oceana. 

“Lemme help you out there.” 

His nimble fingers made quick work of the four brass buttons that revealed your black lace bra. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell you were pleased he didn’t tear off any of the buttons. Knowing you, his spoiled, prissy girlfriend, the dress was probably expensive. Good.

Next, Bradley pushed the wide straps over your shoulders, leaving your black lace bra as his final impediment. “So pretty,” he muttered into your chest. Your head tipped back and you pulled him closer, deeper.

“You didn’t send me any texts today,” you barely got the words out as Bradley made quick work popping one of your breasts, then the other, out of your bra. It was technically a lie; he had texted you, but it had been a do you know where my Theragun is text, not a show me your pussy right now text. “I even wore pretty underwear for you.”

Bradley tutted against your left breast. “Guess I have to make it up to you now.” 

His mouth latched onto your nipple and he needled the little nub with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair and gave the ends the slightest little tug. 

“Thought about you all day, bubs,” you whispered the words against Bradley’s ear before nipping at the lobe. 

“Yeah?” Granted, if you kept rutting against each other like this, he’d probably cum in his shorts - there really wasn’t a lot of substance to the running shorts he was wearing - but god. He needed to sink inside you. 

Today was the first time since he’d gotten home that you hadn’t fucked in the morning. You had had to hustle out of the house for an early meeting and even Bradley had an eight-thirty physical at the Naval Medical Center. There had barely been time for a heated makeout against the refrigerator - to say nothing of a good fuck - before you’d left with your lip gloss slightly mussed.

“Would’ve come home sooner if I knew you were wearing these fucking shorts.” You slipped your hand under the waistband of his compression shorts that were borderline painful at this point and grabbed his cock with an expert touch. 

“Fuck…” Bradley allowed your touches to go on for a few more moments before he pulled back, knowing he’d spend in your hand if you kept this up. “Hold on.” You pulled your hand back and he yanked his t-shirt off over his head and threw it on the breakfast bench. Your hands crept across his chest before they eventually rested on his shoulders. 

But now it was Bradley’s turn to touch you. Your tights felt particularly soft beneath his hands as he inched higher and higher up your thighs. He loved when you wore stuff like this, so prim and proper. Especially when you got all squirmy beneath him. Cheeky little thing. The heat was pouring off you where Bradley was touching you between your thighs, even though your underwear and tights. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him closer and press your lips to his in a bruising kiss. God, he could kiss you for hours; he never tired of it.

“Bradley…” you sighed through his ministrations. “More, bubs.” 

He smiled, of course, anything for you. Anything to be inside you. But first, he had to ask: “These the thick ones?” You froze under him. “The tights? The thick tights? Like from Thanksgiving?” 

They had a more formal name, but he was focused on other things at the moment, namely if he could rip a hole in them to get to you faster. Over Thanksgiving, he’d found out the hard way that your tights were often rip resistant. Which really put a damper on a portion of your wine cellar escapades. 

“Oh?” The furrow between your eyebrows disappeared. “Oh! The tights! No, no, they’re cheap ones from J Crew or something.”

Good. Then he wasn’t going to apologize for what he was about to do. Because Bradley had to fuck you, he had to be inside you right now. Something about you and being off and those tights and that dress and his run and the subsequent endorphin rush. 

He had to have you.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bradley tugged at the seam of your tights and ripped a hole in them large enough for his hands - and his dick - to poke through. You sighed when he broke through the nylon and slid your panties to the side to circle your clit with his thumb.

“So good,” he muttered reverently. 

God, what a pretty picture you made. Dress rucked up around your stomach, chest bare, and pretty pussy on display just for him. 

“More, please, Bradley.” You whimpered while he teased you with one finger, then two. “Anything. Need it - you.”

“You get stressed out at work today?” You nodded and then burrowed your head against his neck, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. “Poor thing, da - I’ll take care of you, yeah. Make you forget.” 

Bradley thrusted his fingers deeper inside you, crooking them just slightly so you’d buck up against him. You bit his neck when he tweaked his fingers just right. There you go, just a little more and you’d be ready for him. God, he was aching. He couldn’t fathom teasing you anymore. He needed you, now. 

“Just need to slip inside you, sweetheart. You made it so perfect for me.” Wet. Hot. Tight. Perfect. His. “There we go, just like that, good girl.” Bradley took a moment to line his cock up and slid inside you in one motion. “Fuck,” he punctuated the word with your name, “good?”

“Yes, yes.” 

You got into a steady rhythm that kept increasing. The table creaked under your combined weight and had anything been on it, it surely would’ve toppled over by now. 

You tightened around his cock and met his hips thrust for thrust. A wave of heat swept over Bradley’s body and he could feel you slipping deeper into a lustful haze. Knowing he was also close and would be near useless in moments, he hiked your left leg higher up on his hip so your heel was digging into the back of his thigh, anchoring you to him. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Bradley said mindlessly. 

Your faces were so close, you were breathing each other’s air, stealing the word’s off the other’s lips. Yours and mine are the same. You cried out suddenly and snapped your eyes up to meet Bradley’s brown ones. God, you were beautiful. You both were beautiful. This was beautiful. Being together like this was beautiful. It was wet and loud and messy, but it was beautiful. 

Everything about it.

“‘m so close,” he finished with your name on his lips like a plea. “Wanna wait for you.”

“Don’t, ‘ll be right there.”

His thrusts eventually got sloppier and slower, but he could still feel you clenching around him as he spent himself inside you. 

“Fuck,” he panted your name. “That’s it, that’s it.”

“‘s full, bubs.” Your nails dug into his shoulder, centering him so he could turn the focus back on you.

All he needed was a few more shallow thrusts and a punch of your clit to get you there alongside him. You came with a cry, utterly spent, but sated. 

Your legs relaxed their hold against his thighs, but you didn’t totally release him. Meanwhile, he pressed kisses across your cheeks and lips, before finding himself notched along your neck. 

“There you go, good girl. Did such a good job, huh. So beautiful.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a few moments, all Bradley could hear was your breaths panting against his cheek, while your index finger moved lazily across his shoulder blade. But then you started shaking. 

And at first he thought it was from being overstimulated until he realized you were shaking from silent giggles. Bradley picked his head up from where it was buried in your neck and leveled you with a look that had you properly bursting into laughter. He wanted to make some smart comment, something cheeky, but the gorgeous smile on your face had him losing his feigned stoicism and he started laughing right alongside you. 

“So,” you said after your laughter subsided, “what’s for dinner, bubs?”

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

The following morning, Bradley poked his head into the dining room where you’d made up your office for the day. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why you weren’t using the office upstairs, but he held back. He liked that you were downstairs, he liked that you were close to him. 

Of course he’d seen you work from home before. But there was something about seeing you holding meetings and taking calls for the first time in your home that made him smile. 

And though you were taking a half day to prepare for leaving tomorrow, Bradley knew you’d be checking your email and Slack for the rest of the afternoon before officially logging off for the next 10 days. 

10 days in Punta Mita - just the two of you, no distractions, no emails, no training runs, nothing but the sun, sea, sustenance, sleep, and sex. 

Just you and me, kid.

Bradley inched further into the room and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m gonna go for a run, but should be back for lunch.”

You took out your Airpods before responding. “Sounds good, how much are you thinking?”

“Probably a quick 10k?” It had been ages since Bradley had run his usual route through Balboa Park, so these last few days had been a treat.

“‘A quick 10k,’ he says. I should be done by the time you get back?” He nodded. “We can have lunch and then I’ll head out on my errands.”

Errands? “Oh? I didn’t know you were going out?”

You sat up straighter and fully focused on him. “Yeah, I have to get my nails done and then have to pick up a couple things - like your special sunscreen...”

“Can I come?” he asked, completely ignoring the sunscreen comment. It wasn’t special per se, it was just high SPF since he burned easily. 

“Really?” You sounded surprised. “It’ll be pretty boring.”

“No, I wanna come with you.” I wanna spend time with you. 

A bashful smile appeared on your face. “Okay, I’m trying a new salon.”

“Ditching your old stomping grounds?” Bradley asked, referencing your old neighborhood near Gaslamp. 

You nodded your head. “Figured I’d try someplace around here, but the only one that looks promising is way up on 30th?”

“I think we can make due with that,” he pecked your cheek, “alright, I’ll see you in a bit, kid. Don’t work too hard.”

“Har, har, see you soon.”

Bradley shot you a wink and set off. Who knew, maybe he’d set a new PR in his haste to get back home to you?

And sure enough, after his quick 10k through Balboa Park and the surrounding neighborhood, Bradley bounded up the back steps and quickly disposed of his sneakers and his sweat stained grey t-shirt on the mudroom floor. It had been stupid to even wear one in the first place, he’d had to tuck it into his waistband before he hit the first half mile. 

“New personal record!” 

Your face lit up with a smile as Bradley came into the dining room. “See, now, how do I know you just didn’t milk a 3 mile run or something?”

He rolled his eyes and gestured down at his torso, which was gleaming with sweat, even in the soft mid-day lighting currently cloaking the dining room, and showed you his running app for good measure. “Does this look like I milked it?”

“Come ‘ere.” You held your arms out.

“I’m all sweaty, kid…”

“Nope, don’t care, please?”

Hey, if you weren’t going to complain that Bradley was too sweaty or smelled, then he wasn’t about to put you off. He wrapped his arms around you over the back of the chair and put his chin on the top of your head.

“You know, if you like the scent of someone’s sweat that means you’re soulmates…” 

“Is that right?” You sounded amused.

Bradley burrowed his face in your neck, forcing a giggle out of you even before he pressed butterfly kisses everywhere. “Mmmhhmm, yup. You always smell perfect.” 

“That’s just my perfume!” 

“Nope, just you kid.” 

Bradley could feel you relax and let out a sigh. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, content to just be with each other, until your Mac dinged with an Outlook notification. You stretched your arms out in front of you to reply to the email, but Bradley didn’t let you go. As he watched you type out a response to your coworker about if ESG investments were just virtue signaling or not, his eyes caught a glint of gold on your wrist.

“You really wear that bracelet everyday, huh?”

You turned your head to look up at him and he was pleased to note you looked incredibly flustered. “Of course I do. You got it for me.”

The matter of fact way you responded had him blushing. “Guess I’ll have to get you the necklace for your birthday…”

“You better not!” He just kissed your cheek. “Bradley, I’m serious! That’s too much - especially for just a birthday.”

“Then I’ll get it for you for our anniversary.”

“Bubs…” You were pouting now and it only made him want to get you the necklace more. “It’s too expensive for something like that; I looked it up online.”

“You’re no fun.” 

And so he would continue to be denied the pleasure of seeing you in the matching jewelry - at least until he wore you down. You did have a point, though - the necklace was almost twice as much as the bracelet. But then again, you bought Bradley little (and not so little) things all the time?

Idly, he recalled the jibe he had ignored from Hangman the other day regarding his leave: not all of us have rich girlfriends to take us on two week vacations. Bradley’s reply that it was only for ten days, not two weeks hadn’t exactly done him any favors. 

But it was a points game! It was practically free. (He knew it wasn’t, but…) And you were going dutch for all the incidentals and room charges. It was going to be perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. 

Ten glorious days of no work, no distractions, just the two of you. 

You turned around in your chair so you were properly facing him. “Do you want to get lunch out? Make an afternoon of it? We don’t really have much in the fridge, so it’s either lunch or dinner out and I know you still have to pack.”

A smile crept across his face and he kissed your nose. “I’d love to go to lunch with you. You sure you won’t get sick of me? All this one on one time?”

You just shook your head. “Nope, not that easily. Well, unless you sit next to me at the salon, I’m not very chatty while I’m getting a pedicure.”

“Woah, woah.” Bradley held his hands up and you grabbed one to examine it. “Since when am I getting my nails done?”

“You’re getting a pedicure at the very least. I don’t want to have to look at your weird feet on the beach all week.” 

“Oh-ho, now you’ve done it.” 

He bundled you up in his arms and started tickling your sides. That was your sweet spot. And hopefully if he was tickling you, you’d forget to be jumpy when he touched you there. He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“Bradley! Bradley,” you giggled. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. No pedicure.”

But Bradley did end up getting a pedicure, even if it only entailed getting his feet buffed. If pressed, he would say it was because he wanted to sit in the massage chair and the nail tech told him he could only sit in the chair if he was getting his nails done. That was the only reason why. It wasn’t because of how pretty you looked while you were smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, like you couldn’t believe he was really there.  

Absolutely not.

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

“Do you need any help packing?” 

Bradley nodded, he hoped he didn’t look too sheepish. At thirty-six years old, he absolutely could pack his own clothes, but he liked when you fussed over him and made sure your clothing was complementary to each other. It was sweet. Plus, you always packed stuff he hadn’t thought to bring or wear together.

The two of you were a well oiled machine. Bradley would roll his underwear, pajamas, and gym clothes into his packing cubes while you helped pick out his bathing suits and later his dinner and day clothes. To his great surprise, you managed to fit all his clothes - for ten days, mind you - into his Samsonite carryon. His toiletries and extra pair of shoes and other incidentals would go in his backpack.

Once his suitcase was zipped up and ready to go, Bradley nodded towards your Rimowa stashed by the bedroom door. “‘You need any help? You don’t normally check?”

You normally lived by the carry-on rule, so it seemed out of character for you to check a full-size bag. Which, of course, wasn’t the first thing that seemed out of character for you since Bradley had gotten home. But he promised himself he’d wait until you came to him with your problem. Or till Friday.

“Oh, uhh, yeah, I guess I just have more stuff this time.” You shook your head. “I packed earlier while you were taking a nap, but thanks.”

He clicked his tongue. “Guess it’ll be a surprise then.”

“Hmmm, I’ll let you see my shoes?”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “You’d do that? For me?”

You giggled and then mimicked his pose on the bed, except you made sure to snuggle up next to him, all earlier awkwardness gone. “I’d do anything for you actually.”

“Sap.” He kissed you. 

“Nerd.” You kissed him. 

“See, now you’re killing the vibe,” he teased. You giggled and kissed his shoulder through his t-shirt. “You ready for tomorrow?” You nodded. “You’re not gonna get sick of me, right?”

You shook your head. “Never, even if you are a nerd who gets pedicures -”

“- I was coerced! The massage chair!” You giggled. “Alright, alright, walk me through tomorrow.”

At this point, Bradley was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, while you were tucked under his arm, peering up at him. 

“We should leave by six if our flight’s at eight forty-five, especially if we want to go to the lounge beforehand. It’s spring break-ish and I’m not sure if it’ll be crazy in the terminal, so the lounge might be a good idea.”

“Got it, United lounge for breakfast, good.” 

“Flight’s like three hours.”

“Mmmmm, perfect for a nap.”

You chuckled. “I think we get in around one o’clock with the time difference and everything. The hotel’s sending a car and then it’s like an hour drive to Punta Mita.”

“So, if we play our cards right, we could be on the beach by three-o-one?”

“Oh, for sure,” you feigned seriousness, “If anyone can, it’s the two of us.”

And ain’t that the truth? Bradley held his hand up for a high five, which you heartily returned. “Nice job, kid. It’s gonna be great.”

Ten days. You and Bradley at some tony resort in Mexico. No cares, no worries for ten whole days. Fucking perfect. 

Everything was going to be perfect.

-----------

If at all possible, in the three months that he had been gone, Bradley had gotten even more handsome. 

Sure, you’d seen a grainy image of him every two or so weeks over Facetime and had noticed him mentioning going to the gym a lot on the carrier. You’d known he was going to look different. His hair was going to be longer and blonder and his skin darker. He was still your Bradley and you loved him all the same. 

But seeing him on the 16 inch screen of your Macbook compared to all six foot one inches of Bradley Bradshaw in person was an eye opener. 

Because you hadn’t been prepared for how it made you feel in comparison. Because he was so strong and fit and beautiful - and you didn’t think you were any of those things. Not anymore at least. Not after what happened.

Not after how often you’d been skipping pilates to spend some extra time in the office or all the meals you’d eaten on the go or out with clients. You should have taken your mother’s words to heart at lunch two weeks ago when she had told you to watch your figure, boys like Bradley are used to certain standards. 

That afternoon when you’d gotten back to your apartment, you’d gone straight to your walk-in closet and scrutinized every inch of your body in the full length mirror. 

Certain standards.

Why did you let her get in your head? Why did you let any of it get in your head? It wasn’t true, it wasn’t true. None of it was true. 

Certain standards. 

And then, when you finally picked Bradley up on that cloudy, late March day, you wore an oxford of his and a pair of baggy jeans. You still looked cute, you still looked like you put in an effort, but you didn’t look as dolled up as some of the other wives and girlfriends and partners and maybe you should have? Maybe you should have worn a cute little sundress and forgotten your underwear or some other ridiculous thing? Let him fuck you in the back of the car right in the middle of the parking lot? 

That wasn’t you, though. That wasn’t either of you.

But Bradley loved you. He had told you in about 159 different ways (re. emails) while he was gone. He loved you, he wanted you, he was going to live with you, build a life with you. You knew he loved you no matter what you looked like. 

Certain standards.

But when he fucked you softly and slowly that first morning back - only after originally falling asleep on you, which you tried not to be too upset about - and you told him how much you loved him and missed him, you did so with the lights completely off and with your chemise on before snuggling in his arms. 

It was stupid. The entire thing was stupid. You knew that. And you knew you’d feel this way until you confronted Bradley and he ultimately proved you wrong. But doing that wouldn’t fully stop those feelings from brewing inside you either. 

And yeah, for the first few days you’d been too caught up in the ecstasy of him finally being home - in the home that you two finally shared - to really give it much thought. But tomorrow you were going on a ten day long beach vacation to Mexico and you couldn’t help but toss and turn all night wondering if you were up to certain standards. 

-----------

a/n: oops! this was super long, sorry! but there's such an interesting story here and i'm so excited to show how it'll unfold in the next chapter when they're in mexico!

tagging a couple people: @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @cherrycola27 @notroosterbradshaw @gigisimsonmars @pisupsala @dissonannce @laracrofted @heartsofminds @briseisgone

[moonmaiden1996]

💯 Sure Sanji has a breeding kink. Deep down he wishes to have the family he never had. 🥺 This boy wants to make many babies with his wife. 👶🏻👶🏻👶🏻👶🏻👶🏻

Okay — this ^^^^^^ is 100% canon in my mind, no debate. Sanji absolutely has a breeding kink. Hear me out!

18+ and spoilers

There has to be a reason why our poor baby boy’s mind is always on romance and finding a partner. Sure, he’s a perv (we can all agree on that, no arguments here), but his desperation runs much deeper than that. Sanji doesn’t just want a partner for fleeting moments of passion—he craves family.

From a young age, Sanji was ostracised and mistreated by his own family. His deranged, power-hungry father created a twisted nightmare for him and his siblings, enhancing them for his sick dreams of domination. Sanji wasn’t like them, though. His loving heart and humanity set him apart, and for that, he endured endless cruelty. His brothers mocked him, and his father cast him aside. Worst of all, he bore the guilt of his mother’s sacrifice, despite her unwavering love. That love—pure and selfless—shaped Sanji. It’s in everything he does: the way he cooks, the way he loves, and the way he dreams.

So, let’s be honest. It’s only logical that Sanji wants children, and lots of them. Episode 217, anyone? That man was practically rocking back and forth in glee, imagining the child he could have with Nami.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Fatherhood terrifies him. But still…

Sanji wants you pregnant. And as soon as possible.

He would never admit this outright—no chance. Sanji is far too insecure and mortified to share something so deeply personal. You’re a queen, and he feels unworthy of even thinking about such things, let alone telling you. The truth only tumbles out when he feels completely safe and content… in your arms or buried deep within you.

His hips roll languidly as you writhe beneath him, his eyes fixed on your face, captivated by the pleasure written across it. "That’s… that’s it, my love… mmmhmm," he moans, his fingers finding that bundle of nerves between your legs while his thrusts expertly hit that heavenly little spot inside you.

The way you flutter around him is more powerful than any Haki, and for you, he’d do anything.

"My darling… you look so good…" The words spill out before he can stop them, unfiltered and needy. His balls are heavy, he’s desperate, and you look like an absolute goddess beneath him. The moment he realises what he’s said, his heart sinks. Your sparkling eyes meet his wide, panic-stricken gaze, and he’s already ready to tie himself to a cannonball and sink to the bottom of the sea.

"I’m sorry, my love… I would never—"

But you love him, and you’re just as kinky as he is. "Is that what you really want?"

Sanji is utterly powerless against you. With your velvety walls gripping him so tightly, he can only nod frantically, his usual composure completely gone.

"Then fill me up," you moan, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him closer.

If he wasn’t already madly in love with you, he certainly is now especially as you milk him for every drop.

Even with the condom the thrill of imagining you full of him is intoxicating. Watching himself leak from you, knowing he’s given you every drop—it’s enough to keep him coming in a state of esctasy. But it’s not just a kink for Sanji; it’s a need. He’s destined to be a dad.

That said, Sanji is practical. He knows the life of a Straw Hat is far too dangerous for you to be safe during pregnancy. So, he’ll make a quiet trip to Chopper to get you a safe and effective contraceptive, ensuring it won’t harm you in any way. Once that’s sorted? All bets are off. This man will pump you full multiple times a day, whispering sweet nothings as he carefully stuffs any stray drops back into your trembling body.

When the time finally comes, when Luffy is King of the Pirates and Sanji has set up his dream restaurant, there will be no more barriers. Before the ribbon is even cut, you’ll be pregnant. But don’t worry—Sanji will treat you like royalty, doting on you and your blossoming family he has time for you and for the restaurant.

By the time he’s done, you’ll have a crew big enough to run the entire restaurant and keep up with Uncle Luffy’s appetite.

So what do you think?

I love all the asks you send me! Please keep them coming—for Sanji or any character. But someone, please, send me something about Corazon next he is adorable. Him and Sanji omg

[femmejournal]

birds of a feather.

Kn8 + love. Self explanatory

Gender neutral!reader for the boys, fem!reader for Mina's and Rin's, I do whatever I want

Kafka Hibino is really sweet when he's in love. Not particularly flirty in any sense, but he's cute and kinda sappy. Protective. Not jealous, but insecure. He's always afraid you'll ditch him for somebody else, because he's always felt inadequate in every sense of the word and wonders if you find him disappointing (nope). Probably won't ever tell you that he loves you, you'll find out from Kikoru someone else who blurts it out without realizing that you didn't think Kafka's actions were romantically inclined.

Mina Ashiro is quiet when she's in love. Almost nobody would know except Kafka and Hoshina, and maybe Okonogi. Of course there are rumors that the commander Ashiro is into women (a lot of men out there are. Not thrilled about it tbh) but nobody knows whether it's true or not except, again, Kafka and Hoshina, and maybe Okonogi. Maybe. Anyway, she doesn't really tell anyone; if they know, it's because they figured it out. With you, she's shy and more girlish than her image suggests. Not that she's giggling and twirling her hair, but there's a pink tint on her cheeks when you're around. When you talk to her, she gets tongue tied. Would NEVER ask you out (shes nervous and doesnt know if you like women) so Kafka has to push for her to try.

Reno Ichikawa is very shy when in love. He's just a kid, sweet and kinda dumb. The first time he sees you he does a double take 😂 yeah he's not subtle, everyone knows. Unlike Mina, he IS giggling and twirling his hair. Finds out your type and tries to be more like that. When called out on this, he starts stuttering and fake laughing and then changes the subject. Hes always bringing you water during training, too, and other stuff like that. Again. He's sweet but very young and inexperienced so he's a bit of a goof.

Soshiro Hoshina is arguably the most mature in love. He's dedicated and protective, loyal to a fault. Man's gotten his heart broken many times, I think. maybe even by Mina? One sided hoshimina...food for thought. If he's in love with you, he won't necessarily share that information outright, but he won't withhold it either if anyone asks. He watches you a lot; he'll pull strings to keep you safe. When it comes down to him nearly dying all the time though, he might impulsively tell you how he feels after the fact. But he is a little shit so he's probably going to tease you when your eyes pop out of your head after he walks up and says "i love you" without it being prompted.

Iharu Furuhashi is loud as shit when he's in love. He's not direct but he says objectively sappy things all the time to your face. Would flat out say "i fucking adore you, moron" if you didn't get it. Although he doesn't make it clear that his intentions are romantic (never says "I'm in love with you"), but like Reno he is not subtle. He's not as giddy and embarrassing as his "rival" is, but he's pretty obvious and forward about his feelings.

Gen Narumi is annoying when he's in love. He's bugs you nonstop and follows you like a puppy. Its embarrassing how smitten he is, honestly. What a boyfailure. He actually tries to clean up his act a bit to impress you, and shows off at every opportunity. If youre not impressed, he's sulking. If you are, he's puffed up and macho. Despite all his bs he's actually really in love with you and willing to do crazy shit to get your attention, not to mention keep you safe. Would refuse to die just to see you again.

Rin Shinonome is a shameless flirt. She'd totally call you "babe," wink, all that stuff. Like Narumi, she's kind of a showoff, but not to the same degree. And if you don't notice her, she won't pout; on the contrary, she'll work harder to get your attention. Makes fun of you lovingly. She's kind of frivolous and develops crushes on women all the time, but when it gets to be serious feelings she commits. Horniest of the group too, ngl

[ffwriting]

Aot Characters - Nicknames

What nicknames the Aot Characters would have for you!

Also, enjoy the new banners. I like using them more than I thought I would :)

cw: canon verse, slightly ooc, Implied female reader in half of Eren's and Jean's, but the rest are gn readers, no y/n, some cringey nicknames with good reason, Fluff <3!

wc: 1.7k

Characters: Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe

Eren Yeager - Sweets, My girl

Eren is the type of person to see a couple while out as a kid and overhear them calling each other pet names, and one of them that he heard once was Sweets. He found it cringy at first, but after hearing it a couple more times, he came to like it. a lot. So naturally after finding a partner, or even once he realizes he has a crush on you, he just starts to call you it. He didn't even realize it at first, but when you gave a questioning look his way when he first said it, he explained why he did. Safe to say that even if you didn't like the nickname, you sure as heck like the story behind it and the man calling you it.

Another name Eren would give you would be my girl. He wouldn't say it in a possessive way though, he would just say it as if he was infatuated. If he was able to get you to be his partner, then maybe this life could be a little better, so he was just so happy that you two were actually dating. He would take every chance to remember it too, so he just started calling you his girl. Most of the time you wouldn't even be the one he would be talking you and he would still call you it. "Yeah, did you see how my girl did in training today? It was so cool."

(I just realized that I used the word 'would' 3x in one sentence, but I'm too tired to fix it now)

Mikasa Ackerman - Middle/last name

I do not think that Mikasa would be much for nicknames, it just doesn't seem like her. She would end up just trying to find something she could call you because she probably overthought about how you would want her to give you a cute nickname, and got a little insecure about it. However, she one day overheard someone talking about how they like to go by their middle name, and she got an idea. She decided that she would call you a shortened version of your middle name. But she decided to make some versions of your last name too because she overthought on how you might not like the ones she came up with for your middle name, so she decided she should just be safe. She has so many thoughts and she just can't seem to express them through words.

Armin Arlert - N/n, angel

Okay, Armin is definitely the type of person who is too embarrassed to call you any of the classic pet names, but he does often like to call you by a nickname he thought of one day. He figured that it was the safest option, it showed that he wanted to call you that stuff, but wasn't too much that he would cringe at himself.

Another thing he calls you is an angel. 100%. No doubt in my mind. Especially if you are kind. He would just be listening to you talk and when you would ask for advice on the situation that he was totally not listening to. He would reluctantly say something like, "I'm sorry you are like an angel, could you please repeat that?"

Technically he doesn't really call you it, he just compares you to one so often to the point where he just catches himself calling you angel in normal conversations. It would just become one of the many ways that he showed his affection for you.

Jean Kirstein - Doll, Woman

Doll is a name that Jean would only refer to you as when you two are alone. Whether you two were out training alone together after the rest went to lunch, or chatting when you both could in the Scouts, he would call you it. I don't think he means it in the current way the pet name is romanticized (currently most fics refer to the pet name as something associated with sexual acts, or mean/rude characters ex: Toji from jjk). I think he would mean it in more of a gentle way, like you are so precious to him like some people's dolls. Despite the faux tough guy act, deep down, sometimes deeper than he would like, he cherishes the people closest to him, friends, family, and you. He cherishes you all, and Doll is the easiest way he can tell you that without saying it.

Jean is the type to act entitled and call you 'woman' to seem like he is this big macho type of man. However, in his mind he just likes calling you it because you often become sassy with him. (Also it gives him a small ego boost that he is the only one who could call you that because to him you were his Woman)

Connie Springer - Your Name, joking pet names

Connie, oh Connie. This guy normally just calls you your name like a normal person. He likes your name, that is all he can really say about it.

HOWEVER, this man sometimes feels like being such an annoyance, lovingly of course. If he felt like it, he would randomly start calling you the cringiest pet names possible. Like I'm not talking sweetie or sugar, I'm talking shit like lovebug and cutie patootie. And he would have no shame in doing this either because he knows that you will break from embarrassment first.

Sometimes you would try to get him back by calling him things like sugarlips and baby boy, but it would fail most of the time because you would just end up cringing at yourself. This would often make you wonder what it would take to make the infamous Connie Springer cringe in embarrassment.

Levi Ackerman - Brat, Your Name + Bonus

The first nickname that I think Levi would call you would be brat, classic, I know. He would just call you this out of annoyance, or sometimes if you were doing something a little too reckless. It was just second nature for him to call you a brat, and even after you two got closer, he just kept calling you that. In all honesty though, sometimes he calls you that, and not in an endearing way. It would probably happen when you have a little too much energy for whatever reason, and he just called you that because you were be annoying to him at that point in time. Most of the time though it is meant in a nonserious manner.

Levi loves to call you by your name, he does not show it that much on his face, but he absolutely loves it. It is slightly weird to get called by your full first name by Levi, and the first time definitely startled you. However, you soon got used to it. Levi, on the other hand, somehow got happier every single time he called your name. He didn't know how just saying your name could make him feel that uncomfortable feeling of happiness, but it did. He would say it any chance he could, without making any feeling he had obvious. Soon he was addicted to it like it was a drug to him. He was not a big fan of it. He loved, and hated, how it made him feel.

Bonus (platonic nickname): Kid

Levi would call you kid even if you were just a month older than him. Why you may ask? Because he found it funny to annoy you, and that nickname definitely would. You had been in the Scouts longer than him, you were taller than him, and you had almost the same amount of respect from Erwin, so why was he calling you kid? It irked you so you ended up calling him kid as well.

When you first did this, you were met with a questioning look, and you defended yourself, "You call me a kid all the time, but I'm not the one that is built like one." This may or may not have earned you extra cleaning duties for the day, but the next time you did it he just gave you an annoyed look. Soon enough, you both tried to come up with simple names to call each other to try to piss the other off. Sometimes you could swear you could see a small smile on his face after you both went back and forth with nicknames.

If you ended up dying, he would never call anyone else kid though. He would be too scared of making the same connection of love, and having them die again, again.

Hange Zoe - My love, Darling

Hange 100% will call you 'my love.' Their reasoning? You are. They would even call you this before you two started getting close because Hange already knew they had a crush on you.

'My love' will be used to refer to you more than your actual name. Hange would even refer to you as that to the other Scouts. Like they would be reporting results to Erwin, and just casually say, "Yes, and my love even recommended the idea that….." This would leave Erwin very confused the first time around until after the meeting he asked an annoyed Levi who the 'my love,' Hange was referring to was. When he learned that it was you, it all just clicked for him, and he didn't even blink an eye when you were called by that name the next time he heard it. And he heard it a lot. Hange just loved calling you 'my love.'

Another thing that Hange loves to call you is Darling (Ex: that one scene where a titan almost bit them and they say, "You almost got me there, Darling"). Hear me out.

Hange would call you this anytime you got even slightly snippy, brash, or fed up with something. It would just come out of their mouth like second nature when seeing you upset. You would have said something a little harsher than you meant to, but you were getting really annoyed with someone in the Scouts, so you were put on edge. When you went to say something to apologize for being rude, Hange cut you off with, "You alright, Darling?" with a perfect mix of concern and playfulness in their voice. That line made you entirely forget about being annoyed and made everything in the shitty world feel even just a little bit better. You would just respond with a quick shake of your head, give them a hug, and feel a little happier for the rest of the day because how could you have a bad day with Hange in your life?

Okay random ramble from me-

Okay so I hop from fandom to fandom a lot, right

Recently, the past two years, I have noticed that in every single fandom there are patterns. Like characters will have the same personality trait, and if you are not careful you might confuse a fanfic for being for one character, but it really is for another character in an entirely different series.

You will have the classic main character personality that is either overly sexualized for their own good, or not taken seriously at all, or both. Ex: Izuku in mha, Ittadori in jjk, Tanjiro in demon slayer, Naruto in naruto

Then, you will have the stoic side characters who have more fanfiction than most other characters. Ex: Shoto Todoroki and Aizawa in mha, Choso and Megumi in jjk, Mikasa and Levi in aot

Also, there is the type of character that made me realize this trend, the 'dumb' side characters that are mostly used to make the watcher laugh. Ex: Connie in aot, Denki and Sero in mha, Nishinoya and Tanaka in Haikyuu, Zenitzu and Inoske in Demon Slayer, and maybe some others that I am missing.

Please tell me that I am not alone in noticing this. Like please tell me this is a normal experience and that I am just going through this realization embarrassingly late in my fanfiction life.

Also, I feel like I only noticed this when I was fandom hoping recently and it just clicked in my head that Smau writers tend to write Nishinoya and Denki similarly. Anyway, thanks for coming to my ted talk. Enjoy this small writing while I start to, hopefully, work on some angst works so I can lure in the other half of the aot fandom bc a lot of you love yourselves some good angst. Like the show wasn't angsty enough already

[wolfertinger666]

sorry been rambling about this all day lmao, it's just so funny seeing people who try to play cool and tough about stuff instantly crumble apart when they see a purple bunny furry wearing a bikini and being fat because he's being trans "wrong"

I'm not going to sit here and let these losers project their insecurities onto me when I'm literally out here vibing, being myself.

my transsexual chest can obliterate every puritan tramsmed piece of shit yay!

[hellish-acts]

Seraphs hcs!!

Family dynamics

-Lucifer is definetly the oldest siblings and kind of a parental firgure, Michael and Raphael are twins with Michael being the older one by 3 seconds/hj. And Gabriel is very obvious, he's the youngest.

-Each of them has a field they specializes at. (Lucifer specializes in medical, Michael in astronomy, Raphael in plants and Gabriel in history)

-Michael and Gabriel spent a lot of time together, sure they may deny it because most of the time, they bicker and fight, but they remember each other's interest, favorite food, what they are picky in or hate, etc...(Sighs, siblings rivalry)

-Lucifer doesn't need a coat like other because he probably don't feel cold or unable to feel the temperature like others because God created him first so he may have some too op stuff ERLP. While the 3 others has to huddle from warmth whenever it's too cold on the winter night. Sometimes Lucifer just stares at them in confusion because he doesn't feel cold while they do.

-All the Seraphs(also Lucifer too) with their soon-to-be partners(ocs) relationships are like a fucking rom-com HAHA.

-Michael definetly got some burns when using his light beams(he sometimes uses it as an excuse to see Lucifer)

-All the Seraphs are transmasc fight me chat(Not Lucifer cuz he's not one anymore!)

-Gabriel likes strawberries or any berries in general(he doesn't told anyone about it.)

-Between the twins, Michael is definetly abit more immature than Raphael, sure he is mature at some points but Gabriel keeps ticking him off to the point he acts immature LMAO

-Michael is also kind of dependable on Lucifer so he started to feel confused after Lucifer fell because Lucifer wasn't there to guide or protect him like he used to. While Raphael matured and grew independent in his own ways, he does relies on Lucifer at times but figured it's better if he deals with problems on his own. And Gabriel tries to act mature so he could catch up to the others, he used to copy Lucifer but after he fell, Gabriel sees Lucifer as a traitor to God to he stopped.

-Sinners, they all have the same covered eye placement(PLEASE THEY'RE SO FAMILY CORE STOPPP)

-Gabriel sometimes hates his eyes and feel insecure because of 'em, but he kept them because it's a gift god gave him. Even though still, he finds them inconvenient when he wants smth but doesnt wanna say and the other side cant tell cuz of how emotionless it looks(ahem, Noveil..)

-All the angels have great memories, with what they are specialized in, the knowledge is HUGE and they need to have good memories for it.

-Raphael doesn't know how to act if his partner kisses him with genuine love, he's just very familiar with the rough kisses or makeouts that it makes him pauses and reacts slowly when they kiss him genuinely. His partner thought they did something wrong because he didn't react HAHA

-Mich quite meticulous/detailed-oriented. He doesn’t want to miss anything or to afford a mistake, this trait has been heightened by his paranoia

-Mich also puts a lot of thought into gift-giving. So the gifts he gives will have to fit into a certain criteria of how beneficial is this gift, how much the person needs it, how much the person wants it

-Mich sometimes makes dad jokes, he unfortunately learnt it from Lucifer..

-Raphael has some roots on his hair, sometimes it turns into flowers, sometimes it morphs into thorns, depends on his moods.(his love language is also flowers)

-They all have lashes the same colors as their hair.

-Gabriel is secretly dyslexic, he just don't wanna admit it.

-Lucifer has the most horrifying handwriting(HES A DOCTOR AFTERALL), Michael copies him and now almost no one can read his handwriting(except Raphael somestimes)

-Michael has difficulty with relaxing, he at some point has intrusive thoughts and hypervigilance.

-Raphael is a bit sensitive to sounds, too much loud noises makes him gets irritated and lashes out, so he mainly has headphones with white noises on.

-Michael is way too sensitive to light, too much light gets him overwhelmed.

-Gabriel doesn't like spaces that are like way too cluttered/hoarder-looking ish. Tidy spaces gives Gabriel more sense of control and he likes it, so clutteredness makes him feel like he lost all control.

That's all for now sinners!! May or may not have a part 2 because damn THEY ROT ME.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

People always say Harry and Meghan believed their own hype or they let the hype get into their heads. Do you think deep down they are aware they’re not really all that and that there’s also a significant amount of support behind the enemies they have in mind (William and Kate) or do you think they genuinely believe the insults their stans say about W&K? Like do you think they laugh at W&K for being boring, or at William being bald, or at Kate for being whatever? Do you think Meghan genuinely believed she was better at being royal or that she was so beloved in Australia it caused the palace to become jealous? I know Harry has said those words out loud at some points, but do you think Meghan also believes it? Do you think there’s awareness/self-reflection on their part about their insecurities? Idk, they’re quite weird people. I’m quite curious about how their mind works.

Do you think deep down they are aware they’re not really all that

Yes. That's why they're hustling so hard.

and that there’s also a significant amount of support behind the enemies they have in mind (William and Kate) or do you think they genuinely believe the insults their stans say about W&K?

Honestly, I don't know. It's kind of a 'chicken or the egg' question for me. Did their personal opinions sour on William and Kate first and social media became the echo chamber that supported them or did they hear the criticism/commentary first and that formed their personal opinions? Most of the time I think it's the former, but there have been some issues where I think it's the latter, as in Harry and Meghan (but mostly Harry) didn't think something was an issue until it was pointed out and he went 'hey, you're actually right.'

Like do you think they laugh at W&K for being boring, or at William being bald, or at Kate for being whatever?

Not laugh at them per se, but get some kind of smug satisfaction over William and Kate getting picked apart by the public.

Do you think Meghan genuinely believed she was better at being royal or that she was so beloved in Australia it caused the palace to become jealous? I know Harry has said those words out loud at some points, but do you think Meghan also believes it?

Yes. Meghan is genuinely, truly, really that much of a narcissist.

Back in those earlier days of their relationship/marriage, Harry compared Meghan to Diana a hell of a lot in the press. If he's saying that kind of stuff publicly, and if he's also going around telling friends and family that Meghan is just like Diana, he's absolutely saying that to Meghan in private and when Harry tells her that kind of stuff, I'm sure it's also feeding her ego and her narcissism.

Do you think there’s awareness/self-reflection on their part about their insecurities?

Nope.

[watcher7-9]

Danheng is the type to...

He’s the type to go cook your food at 3:00 in the morning just because you said you were hungry. He’ll reassure you it’s alright if you feel guilty as he gets up and goes to the kitchen to make something. He’ll even wash the dishes before going to bed and not just leave them there.

He’s the type to always give you his mittens or jacket every time it’s cold outside. He’ll also take your coat just in case because every time you say “I won’t get cold” but he knows better. You had persuaded him once to share the large scarf when you two were seated at a bench when it was snowing outside.

He’s the type to read you bedtime stories to help you sleep every time you couldn’t. Tucking you in beforehand and arranging your plushies how you liked around you. Finer running along the spines of his book collection. Picking up on the one he read you yesterday as he flipped to the bookmarked page.

He’s the type to make voices for your plushies every time you were sick just to get you to eat the cold medicine and get some rest. His face had a slight red as he tried to make a squeaky voice for one of your cuddle buddies. But these voice actings were only for when you were sick, every time you begged he would find an excuse due to how embarrassed he is.

He’s the type to creative handmade presents for you. Anything you want he’ll make for you. Paper flowers? You got them. Crochet plushies? He’s willing to learn for you. You have a small collection of CD’s of your favorite books he had recorded of his own voice reading.

He’s the type to be so patient when he helps you with stuff. Tutoring you on your homework when you don’t get it. Even if you dont get it after so many tries he won’t yell at you, he’s patient and doesn’t raise his voice. Only maybe a small sigh but won’t complain in front of your face. Also helping you with organizing notes, flash cards, making plans, etc.

He’s the type to never raise his voice at you. He doesn’t see why he should, if there’s a problem you two should communicate it out. The only times he ever yelled at you was when you got hurt when you two were together. The fear in his eyes as he scolded you louder than usual. His hands shaking as he tended to your injuries. He had apologized afterward for his sudden outburst and was stuck to your side until you were better.

He’s the type to be so insecure around you in his Vidyadhara form. His tail sticking from behind him twitching as the pair of horns sat on his head. He didn’t want you to see him like that. But after a lot and a lot of reassuring and working things out you were allowed to touch them with permission. His face would get so red when you teased him about them. Your fingers caressing the jade like texture of his horns as he tried to read, you kindly reminded him that his book was upside down.

He’s the type to wrap his tail around you possessively when he’s jealous. He’ll question about the man you were talking to so…cheerfully. Trying to keep his tone steady and casual. It didn’t make him feel good not one bit how casual you were talking with the other dude and how you had shook his hand. Though he tried to push down those feelings he couldn’t help but feel this way. Tail around your waist as you sat next to him rambling about your day. But when you tried to get up you could feel it tighten, not letting you get up.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Killer’s persona is exaggerated and over the top, with performative or extreme actions and reactions, but in reality he feels little to nothing.

A lot of this is also rooted in what I know of Killer and NM. Killer’s relationship with Nightmare mirrors the dynamic between someone with HPD and a manipulative ATP. With Nightmare, Killer constantly exaggerates his abilities and behavior to gain attention, seeking recognition and validation (through conditioning as well) . He is also easily manipulated by Nightmare, whose awareness of Killer’s emotional insecurities plays into his suggestibility.

In terms of HPD, Killer most closely aligns with the Theatrical subtype.

There’s also this weight of having HPD in which your subconscious actions to gain the attention of others and to feel something deeper than you do (which contributes to why you act performatively) don’t align with your wants or needs

Also, this reading is deeply rooted in my personal experience as a pwHPD and having a sibling with HPD so some of it I can't get into

I see major parts of myself in multiple of his presentations

I'm struggling so much to put this into words but I hope some of the point is getting there

There's also so much to talk about it's difficult lol

Ooh that’s an interesting take.

If we go with the “canon” stuff rahafwabas has drawn of killer and nightmare, I’ve always believed that killer seeks to avoid nightmares attention unless it benefits him to have it (or he can control when he has it), because he does things like sweat, grimace, and attempt to lean away somewhat when Nightmare touches him, flirts with him, or talks to him—and sweats when talking about or thinking about Nightmare, at least in Stage 2.

(Although very important to remember to that, when in Stage 2, Killer has said that he does “kinda miss that guy,” even when he’s seems somewhat aware that Nightmare uses him.)

But that’s an interesting take too. I personally don’t think Killer wants Nightmare’s attention or recognition, or even gets jealous whenever someone else has it, it’s more like he needs it to ensure that he won’t be deemed useless and discarded and replaced soon—needing the validation that he’s still useful enough to be allowed to exist.

And of course, whenever he wants to feel real—through pain, and feeling that sense of power and control if he can convince himself he has a say in when or how he is suffering.

I get what you mean about these things sometimes being hard to put into words. If you ever want to share more thoughts, my inbox is always open and im always willing to listen. 🙏

[cheeseatlantic]

price hcs! (fluff)

hi dont shoot me for not posting today… my son is being naughty after eating chocolate 😡 I SPENT FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS BECAUSE HE ATE CHOCOLATE. hes cute so it cancels out <3

- probably signs his texts off. for example!!

Dear, Y/N

Hello, love. I hope you are well at home, I have the shampoo you wanted. Which bottle is it? Have a great day. 😄👋

With love,

Captain John Price

- if you guys had kids, the kids would have the most stereotypical dad. as in the hawk tuah noises when he wakes up, cream abuse (aggressively applying lotion to the child, specifically those tubs of nivea) and the hand thing whenever their in the backseat with snacks

- the guys call him peepaw as a joke and he holds that title with pride!! gaz gave him a peepaw name tag and he wears it religiously

- went to the apple store for the ‘how to use a phone’ classes once, got the hang of it and now uses his phone like a boss! (accidentally set his keyboard to mandarin once, didn’t know how to change it back so took the phone back to the store and exchanged it)

- doesnt let anyone else touch his hair or beard, only you!! so your his barber and he pays you handsomely in praises and kisses

- has your intials sewn into his bucket hat and a polaroid of you in his tactical vest pocket, the one closest to his heart

- has reading glasses

- shows you off to the guys, extremely proud of snagging such a pretty thing

- would never let you feel insecure about yourself

- sends you flowers weekly when he’s deployed

- listens to any gossip you have, doesnt get it but nods along

- gaz taught him slang, so occasionally he says for example. “What’s good, huzz!” (doesnt know what it means)

- gets you to tie all his ties, and he helps you with your shoes, dress, suit and such.

- every single time he senses the slightest bit of tension on you he runs you the most extravagant bath ever, and it gets better every single time

- secretly has a wig in his office, watches youtube tutorials and does hairstyles on it so he can do them on you

- snores, unfortunately.

- thinks skibidi toilet is from folklore from your culture

- sends you random stuff from stuffed animals to love letters, for no reason. at all.

[otomedomme]

A lot of the twitter Sylus girlies are only mad about Caleb because Sylus isn't brand new anymore like there's legit criticism to be had about his lack of red and purple stellacrum cards but a lot of the comments just ain't it

I'm a Sylus girlie who's had a neutral option on Caleb since I started playing but I get second hand embarrassed by the shitstorm on twitter

Cause they childish Anon. Sylus doesn't just attract "the girls who want security" or "the girls who are deep and sensual" he attracts the girls who grew up crushing on Edgelords like Sasuke and Jeff the Killer, went through a "I'm not like other girls" phase and think they're so cool and edgy now because there's a man programmed to like their try hard vapid asses who would still be too insecure for him if he was real.

He attracts the girls who unironically read "After" or read "Slave y/n x Mafia" fanfics and think those are deep love stories.

They're like the Astarion girlies who ascend him for the "dark edgy fanfic-y" side of him- They don't actually like Sylus they like what he represents for their mundane asses and the dark Wattpad fanfics they're already writing in their heads.

Legit that's what it boils down to "My baby Sylus isn't getting attention anymore!!! 😭😿" <- That's them because they're so insecure they don't think their man will be just fine. AND they're likely the ones who are ungrateful as shit for new content because they never got told no in their life and probably also project that on Sylus because they want him for his money too (it's funny actually-)

I literally agree with you on the Stellacrum thing: Sylus has A LOT of pink green and blue cards that make him fit nowhere when working with him and frankly I think there's stuff to talk about with him but tearing down Caleb ain't it.

Like you said it makes the Sylus girlies group look cringey and like they're the problematic side which shouldn't be happening since the LnDS fandom should be a fun space for everyone.

[androidboy]

relationship stuff

this is absolutely because i’m a bit drunk but idk i’m just feelin a lil insecure which is absolutely ridiculous considering the note me and my bf left off on but we haven’t done anything sexy in almost a week and i had to deal with talking to my ex today and then he brought up something that his ex-situationship said to him recently that just kinda didn’t make me feel too great about because it sounded a little bit like him poking at them having something and i don’t like that i’m uncomfortable with the guy but i am and i can’t help it and i know they’re gonna continue to hang out and be close because they’ve been friends for half a decade and i’m not gonna step on that when ive only known my bf for half a year and dating him for the only half of that but i’m human and human feelings are gonna happen and i gotta deal with the fact that he’s putting his neck out for a book where the main character that his character is in love with and moping over is inspired by the guy because that’s what dating a writer is all about and this book was in the works before he knew me but it did make me feel nice that he said i make the book hard to write now in the best way and i like that he looks at me a certain way when he tells me he loves me and i like that even when i get the twisty “am i being naive?” gut feeling my gut feeling follows that up with “i rather be naive and in love with him than paranoid and spiral over something he’s not guilty of” and letting him make me happy

[sammylkcho]

Hello ^^

Can you wright some Glisten x reader headcannons please? I love thy stupid mirror sm🥰🥰

So (I have this weird habit of starting sentences with that word lol).. I’m heading back to classes next week, so I’ll try to write as much as I can over the next two days.

btw I’m considering starting a masterlist for Dw, Pressure, and greek mythology related stuff

Other than that, my brain totally stopped working for a bit, and I couldn’t decide whether this was meant to be platonic or romantic. Honestly, it could go either way!

Hope you enjoy this!

—I must congratulate you, you’ve earned all the affection of this fabulous DIVA

—I'm 101% sure he’ll give you excellent tips on skincare, makeup, outfits, or anything beauty-related.

—He’s a firm believer in hosting a full-on fashion show in his room, modeling ALL his outfits like the true icon he is.

—Always asks you to check his makeup if there’s no mirror nearby.

—LOVES when your attention (and everyone else’s) is on him. Especially yours, his #1 fan can’t be left out.

—Complains to you about how terrible Finn’s jokes are. If you share Finn’s sense of humor, he’ll openly complain about how awful both of you are. Otherwise, he’ll just rant about wanting to break into the elevator to escape those awful puns.

—YOU’RE HIS BESTIE. There’s no arguing this, absolutely nothing and no one can change my mind.

—You basically have to stop him from breaking his mic at this point. It might be up to you to ask Vee for a replacement.

—He’s only opened up to you once, sharing how deeply insecure he truly feels.

—This guy overthinks a lot, wondering how he can become even better or surpass himself.

—Please take care of him, he needs both physical and mental rest.

—If he has to pick someone for anything, you’re the first person that comes to mind.

—Little Toddles once asked if you were dating because of how close you two seem.

—He uses fixing your clothes, makeup, or hair as an excuse just to be near you.

—He gets super flustered about physical contact—not because he dislikes it, but because he’s either shy or a little too proud.

—“Hold your hand? Of course, darling!” “Oh, it feels soft? Naturally—I used a coconut-scented cream.”

—He’s not super romantic, but on special occasions, he’ll surprise you.

—Why do I feel like he’d adore something like pineapple juice or fresh lemonade? Only the best for the best, after all!

—Just to be crystal clear: he wants your attention 100% of the time.

—He’ll wear any accessory in your favorite color, no questions asked.

—He’s one of the most confident yet insecure Toons at the same time, so please love and take care of him a lot!

[runninguplenorahills]

Just pointing out that Mike didn’t even technically join hellfire himself. Eddie straight up tells us that he saw Mike and Dustin (probably Lucas as well) sitting at an outsider table and knowing that They’ll be the future of hellfire. Eddie took them in so Mike didn’t even actively seek this. Wouldn’t be bad if he did though.

And something rather ironic is that the non-conformist club has a uniform lmao. The hellfire club members are still conforming, just not to societal standards. They’re confirming to Eddie’s standards. Mike is forcing himself to conform just as much in hellfire as he is anywhere else. Mike isn’t really finding himself again, he’s still very much trying to blend in with the crowd. Still trying to be normal and conform and overcompensating so much on that that he’s leaving his individuality behind. Mike is shapeshifting this season. He’s pretending. He is Not yet accepting himself at all. And I think his aversion to popularity is not so much about him not caring what others think of him, but actually exactly about what others already think of him and how he just tries to blend into the crowd that others have decided on being the place where he belongs (I have an unfinished post about this that’s been rotting in my drafts for months lmaoo).

One thing I see on bylertok way too much is people pointing out that even though Will told Mike it’s “not possible” that he’d ever join another party (replace Mike), Mike still went and joined Hellfire after he told Will to grow up and move on from D&D in S3 (which Will ended up doing)

It takes everything in me not to summarize the situation every single damn time I see someone mentioning it as if it’s proof that Mike ‘doesn’t deserve Will’ or something because it’s so frustrating that people just don’t understand anything about Mike and try and cling to any bit of ‘fault’ in his actions to justify why Byler wouldn’t work and why they don’t ship it

Because this whole ordeal had nothing to do with Mike and Will’s friendship, it was bought about in the first place by Mike and El’s ever incompatible relationship

Mike loves D&D, he loves writing, he loves being DM for the Party, he loves being with the Party. He never stopped loving these things, he stopped pursuing his interests because he was so over invested in being ‘normal’, which in his mind means ditching his friends for his girlfriend. El doesn’t like D&D, she doesn’t share Mike’s interests in his favourite things and because of that, Mike dropped all of it in favour of making out with El. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do in a relationship, and so that’s what he did

Of course, none of that is El’s fault either; El is learning the world and will eventually learn what she likes personally when she befriends Max whilst Mike is lost in juggling between what he should like vs. what he actually does like

All that is to say;

Mike dropped D&D because of El

(again, not El’s fault I’m not trying to blame her for anything it just is what it is)

So circling back to the “not possible” moment, I wanna point out that Mike’s insecurity in that moment specifically is Will leaving him emotionally because Will already is physically leaving and Mike blames himself. He’s mentioned himself obviously that he’s afraid of losing Will but he’s also made it clear many times. After their fight, Mike just wants to know that Will would still choose him and Will assures him that he wouldn’t be replacing Mike. Will placed no expectations on Mike when he said this, he just wanted to reassure Mike that they’re okay and that they’ll be okay which is exactly what Mike wanted

After Will and El left, Mike joined Hellfire because he could focus on doing the things he liked again without having to devote himself to being El’s boyfriend. I was happy for Mike to have D&D back when I first watched S4 and I know Will would be happy that Mike is finding himself again. And while we’re on the topic of Mike finding himself, since he’s joined Hellfire he’s started slowly accepting himself and accepting that he doesn’t care anymore if he fits into the standard or not. He doesn’t care about popularity or people liking him. He is growing and he’s been getting his character development

Anyway that’s all I just love analysing Mike it’s so interesting, but in this case I don’t think it even needs to be analysed. Mike isn’t himself around El and that’s got nothing to do with Will— that’s just Milevens relationship dynamic

[itz-pandora]

Thanks Anon, Shadamy is now something that happens in the misc AU, albeit brief.

[serpentface]

Oh, birthing & midwiferyposting, please

Ok I will Elaborate

(Content warning because this contains discussion of infanticide)

This is speaking about midwifery and childbirth in the Imperial Wardi context (this also should not be taken as ubiquitous for every facet of the Imperial Wardi cultural sphere, but this is a broadly accurate rundown).

Infant mortality rates are high, and pregnancies and births can be very dangerous for the pregnant parent. Midwives serve a vital societal function and the best form of reproductive care available.

Midwives come in many forms. In poor families, the duties are usually performed by a family member and the skillset may be passed from parent to child. Some communities have resident midwives who perform their services for free or at low cost. Professional midwives exist for hire, and are very common in the cities. An upper echelon of midwives are a kind of physician-priestess, who will have received extensive medical training and are considered sanctified and uniquely equipped to fulfill the spiritual needs of childbirth. A few will perform services for free, but they are generally hired and their services are very expensive.

Wealthy families may have their own personal midwives, and VERY wealthy families/royalty have personal physician-priestesses.

Midwives are mostly women, though whether this is an expectation or merely an average tendency is dependent on the specific context. Cases where this is an Expectation tend to be in cultural contexts where the Gaze of a man is believed to have a sexual element that is uniquely powerful and harmful to the nude bodies of women (all Imperial Wardi cultural beliefs include a concept of the spiritually empowered Gaze and disempowered vulnerability in nudity, but exact nuances vary). Physician-priestesshood is, in theory, reserved only for people designated female, though a few throughout history have been known or suspected to be eunuchs.

Physician-Priestesses serve Anmir-Ganmache (an epithet of God as the domestic sphere, close in meaning to Ox-Face of the Hearth). This is not a priesthood specifically devoted to this face of God in the same sense that Odonii are the cult of the Lion-Face and Galenii are the cult of the Lunar-Face, they are merely seen as serving Anmir-Ganmache by performing their duties and being uniquely empowered by this Face's blessing. Most begin their training and education at puberty (though it's possible to join later in life) and are expected to serve for 25 years before retirement. Their primary function is to behave as midwives, but they receive a wide spectrum of medical training and are considered uniquely equipped to tend to the overall health of women.

A midwife is usually expected to not perform their tasks while menstruating (this may not be practical for poorer families who have to take what they can get), during which time a person is considered ritually unclean. Specially dedicated physician-priestesses are usually expected to be virgins and to remain so for the duration of their service (a method to ensure an entirely ritually pure existence). This is not expected of common midwives.

Most of any midwife’s job is typical physical assistance with the pregnancy and birthing process. Births are typically done in a sitting or squatting position, often wearing a special skirt or blanket to shield both parent and child from full view (a spiritual element to reduce unwanted metaphysical vulnerability during the birthing process). Under the best conditions, a midwife has several assistants of their own (in the case of physician priestesses, these are usually priestesses in training) who will physically support the person giving birth and attend to their needs.

The infant is shielded from direct view during its emergence, and is immediately cleaned and wrapped in cloth upon the cutting of the umbilical cord.

Part of the toolset for a physician-priestess is a pair of horns from a pregnant cow sanctified via sacrifice to Anmir-Ganmache. The cow had taken God's role in its sacrifice and its remains are holy relics, and used to put the mother and child under God's full protection. One horn will have been carved into a cup and holds a sanctified oil (usually olive), which is gently daubed over the eyes, mouth, heart, and near the genitals of the child, forming a protective barrier.

The other horn is intact (usually carved with protective imagery, notably a motif of a lioness-headed woman that has protective qualities for children, and an abstract, twisting serpent that represents and encourages the incarnation of the child's soul) and is waved over the child’s body in the form of a blessing. The same is done for the mother, with the addition of anointing the breasts to encourage healthy and clean lactation. Common midwives are unlikely to have easy access to sacred sacrificial relics, but this blessing rite is considered vital and can be accomplished (to a less ideal extent) with any cow's horns, so long as they have been properly purified.

Protecting the helpless, naked infant from the gaze and immediately exposing it to purifying agents is believed to help expel any inborn dagia or other polluting agents. This is believed to support the child's spiritual and physical health and hopes to prevent congenital or otherwise lifelong health conditions.

The midwife performs a thorough inspection of the infant, and will give a recommendation upon whether the child is healthy and fit to rear. Infants deemed at high risk of premature death may be killed, as the cost of care and emotional attachment for a child deemed unlikely to survive will often be seen as too great to warrant the risk. This act (presumably with the parent’s permission) is usually performed by the midwife themself, and is ideally accomplished with a fatal sedative dose (this death is seen as peaceful and painless, while a traumatic death would risk the infant’s soul failing to reincarnate and instead becoming a vengeful wandering ghost).

This obviously may be a difficult and traumatic choice on an emotional level, but infants are not believed to have fully incarnated souls until they begin to speak (it is believed that the soul begins to enter the body upon conception, but takes significant time to fully inhabit it), and will be reincarnated if they die before this occurs. So infanticide in this context is not usually perceived as the murder of a full person or a denial of life, as the infant’s soul will have as many other chances as it takes to become fully incarnated. (There's a variant of 'old soul' beliefs, where an especially precocious child or one that learns to speak early is believed to have had many previous reincarnations)

Intentional abortion of a fetus carries no stigma whatsoever for much the same reasons (though the MOTIVATIONS for this act on the parent’s part may carry stigma, such as to hide an illegitimate pregnancy). Natural abortifiacients are available and widely used in cases of unwanted pregnancy (though these are not by any means as safe or reliable as contemporary abortion procedures).

In all cases (whether an aborted fetus, a miscarriage, a stillbirth, infanticide, or another death before full incarnation), the infant or fetus’ remains are given the standard funeral rite of cremation to ensure their soul is freed from the body and can be properly reincarnated. Basic rites are all that is expected in this situation, but some parents will undergo extensive funerals with lavish offerings to encourage a prosperous and healthy rebirth.

There's also certain rites to encourage the same soul to return to the same parents (as it would otherwise be reincarnated into a human at random), the physical element of which is anointing the body (ideally the lips) with both parent's mingled blood before the cremation, as blood physically contains a person's spirit and the sharing of it can establish a powerful metaphysical bond. This is believed to assist in leading the child's stray soul back to the same source, and may lend a tremendous sense of comfort to parents in the face of a wanted, dead infant.

A pregnant parent who dies in childbirth is given special status and are believed to enter an esteemed afterlife (located within the Lapis Moon, a paradise where they will reside among saints and other esteemed dead). Childbirth is regarded as one of many analogues to God's self-sacrifice to bring forth creation, with the mother symbolically crossing the threshold of death and spilling her blood to bring forth life from nonexistence. To die in such a state is regarded as one of the noblest deaths typically available to women. (This sentiment is also entirely reflective of the typical place ascribed to those designated women in this society, where their chiefmost value is in bearing children). It's still (obviously) ideal for most to survive the birthing process, but this belief may contribute to some choosing to undergo an (almost always fatal) caesarean procedure in a difficult birth if the infant is assumed to be otherwise healthy.

In the case of a healthy birth in which all parties survive, the child will then be presented to its father (who in some contexts is prohibited from attending the birth), who will formally accept it as his own and bestow it with the family name (the child is not given a personal name until a month from birth, and undergoes a formalized naming ceremony at either their first birthday or when they begin to speak, tradition depending). A child born out of wedlock or to an absent father does not receive a family name, though may be formally adopted if the mother marries later on, or be given the family name of the mother's father if he chooses to accept it.

The mother should ideally undergo a full blessing to recover from the metaphysical vulnerability of the birthing state (the physician-priestess can provide this, but otherwise this is done at a temple or family/village shrine).

It's also generally expected to offer sacrifice to Anmir-Ganmache in thanks and to ensure continued protection for parent and child (the best offering is a cow, but offerings of milk or at the very least some grain is acceptable). Most who can afford a physician-priestess can also afford to offer a cow, and it's also expected that the best meat (usually the liver and flank) and the horns should be removed before the rest of the sacrifice is burnt, and gifted to the priestess as a personal thanks.