NFL Preferences & Imagines **[REQUESTS NOW CLOSED]** [Under Editing]

He's Sick/Cute Moment-(Russell Wilson)-For Maria

You walked into the house, tired from your activities of the day. A loud coughing fit erupted from upstairs. "Russell?" you called out walking up the stairs. The coughing stopped, and you heard groaning. You opened the bedroom and walked in on Russell laying in bed, wrapped up in numerous blankets, looking sick as a dog. "Hey Maria, how was you day?" he asked, his voice slightly deeper from his stuffy nose. He sounded miserable. You sat your purse down and slipped your pumps off. "Tiring, I can see how your day was."

He chuckled; then broke out into yet another coughing fit. You shook your head at the site. "I told you you should've worn long sleeves at the Super Bowl. You knew it was going to be cold." He dropped his head onto the pillow. "I didn't think I would get this sick." 'Stubborn as hell.' You sat on the bed, and placed your hand on his forehead. "You're burning up." His dark brown eyes were weary and full of fatigue. "I'll be right back" you told him, before you whizzed into the kitchen to prepare a meal. You reached into the cabinets for soup. 'Tomato, tomato, tomato, shit no chicken noodle.'

Russell hated tomato soup with a burning passion, but it would have to do.

You made the soup with a grill cheese sandwich on the side and hot cup of Sleepytime Tea. You sat the food and cup onto a bed tray and carried it back upstairs to Russell in the bedroom. His nose scrunched up when he saw the red liquid. "Russell, come on, eat up" you said. "Maria, that's tomato. I can't eat that." You guided the spoon full of hot soup towards his mouth, but he turned away. "Russ, you have to eat something, it'll help you get better." "I have something else in mind" he smirked. He reached over and traced eight figures on your upper thigh. "Not today, Mr. Germy, you're sick and I don't want to catch what you have." Russell huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, in a childish manner. You rolled you eyes at him.

"Please?" you pouted, doing your best puppy dog lip, "for me, babe?" His lips curled into a grin and he opened his mouth. You sat on his lap, blowing on the hot soup to cool it down. "Here comes the airplane!" You put the spoon near his mouth and he took the soup right off of it, shivering at the taste. "There we go!" you bubbled, putting another spoon up to his mouth. He was halfway done eating when he began to rub on your leg again. "So can we take a hot bath after this?" You put the spoon back in the bowl, so he could feed himself. "Your libido is off the charts Russ, I think you need to go get checked" you joked, leaving the sick, horny, quarterback in bed.

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