#like I am crying okay I love this little family so much

[clownprincesshq]

(FINALE) Chapter 10 Part 3: Inevitable Ends

"Born in blood, both of us, Angstrom was right. I thought I could change what I am, keep my family safe. But it doesn't matter what I do, what I choose. I'm what's wrong. This is fate."

Main!Mark Grayson x Psychic! Reader

warnings: SMUTSMUTSMUT, death, angst, mark is so supportive, mentions of childbirth, violence, blood

w/c: 14.9k

a/n: i have so many thoughts about this. i love all of you guys, thank you so much for your support <3

It takes you a second.

But then

“Oliver?”

He comes inside gingerly, one hand still grasping the edge of the door.

He’s taller now.

Older.

He looks approximately seven, give or take. But the sharpness in his gaze is evident. He’s observing everything. The machines. Your expression. Mark’s stance. Debbie’s hand on your arm. He’s taking it all in.

He looks more like Nolan than ever, but the tenderness in his expression? That’s Debbie. That’s every gentle minute she put into him while no one else was looking.

Mark turns toward the door.

“Hey, buddy.”

Oliver lights up. Not with a grin. Just wide-eyed happiness, like he’s been keeping it in so hard, and suddenly he can’t anymore.

He jumps across the room and bumps against Mark’s legs, locking his arms around them as tight as he can.

Mark brushes his hair involuntarily, his mouth quirking into something that’s not quite a grin, more like relief.“You got taller.”

“I grew,” Oliver whispers triumphantly, muffled against his brother’s pants. “And I didn’t cry this time.”

Mark crouches and pulls him in for a nice hug. “Good. That’s rough stuff.”

“I still missed you,” Oliver says, softly.

“I missed you too, little man.”

You’re watching the whole thing with your heart in your throat.

Oliver glances to you after a minute, eyes a bit apprehensive.

“Is she okay now?”

Mark follows his eyes.

You meet the kid’s eyes and smile.

“I’m okay,” you say quietly. “Still tired. But okay.”

Oliver nods, as if that’s enough, and strides up to the bed like he belongs there. He lays a hand gingerly on the side of your arm, where there are no bandages or bruises.

His palm is tiny. But warm.

“You were sleeping for ages,” he informs you. “I drew pictures and told you stories every week. Did you hear them?”

You attempt to chuckle, it comes out more like a gasp. “I think so. One of them had a robot built of pasta?”

“That one was my favorite,” he says proudly.

Debbie sits back on the chair near the bed, arms folded gently, smiling warmly at all of you. “He made them memorize your schedule. Wednesdays were storytime. Sundays he drew you something new. He said you needed something exciting to dream about.”

You swallow hard.

“Thank you,” you murmur to him.

Oliver shrugs. “You’re my family too.”

And that’s it.

The room collapses into something still. Not hefty. Not tense.

Just... full.

Like something has snapped back into place.

You’re here.

Mark is here.

Debbie. Oliver. All of you. In one room.

Alive.

Together.

You lay back against the cushions, your hand still resting over your stomach, Mark’s fingers curled softly around yours again.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you feel this timeline could be worth maintaining.

The silence doesn’t stay long.

There’s another tap at the door, this one harsher, more authoritative. You don’t flinch, but Mark glances up from where he’s sat next to you, hand still intertwined with yours beneath the blanket. He sighs.

“Bet you anything it’s Cecil,” he mutters, already straightening his back.

Sure enough, the door glides open with a faint hiss, and in steps William, looking like he’s hardly slept, followed closely by Rex, who looks like he hasn’t changed his clothing since the war, and then last, Cecil Stedman.

Cecil enters the room the way he usually does, with a presence. Not loud. Not aggressive. Just that same deliberate, calculated calm. The room moves a bit, the way it usually does when someone with too many secrets enters into a space packed with others who’ve been broken by them.

“Look who’s finally awake,” Rex says, stepping in with his typical swagger but without the passion behind it. “Took you long enough. I was starting to believe Mark here was gonna lose his mind.”

You smirk slightly. “He already did. Came back with a little bit of facial hair and new emotional depth.”

William gives out a strangled laugh. “Still got it. Jesus, it’s great to see you.” He stares at you like he’s not sure whether he’s permitted to come too close like you could disappear again if he does. “You had us scared.”

Mark stands alongside the bed, smiling at William before gazing back at you. “They’ve been hovering outside the GDA for the last week.”

“Technically I was hovering,” Rex mutters. “Will was stress-baking.”

“First of all,” William responds, “it’s called coping. Secondly, not all of us can punch skyscrapers when we’re worried.”

Cecil hasn’t spoken yet. He stands at the entrance, quiet, unreadable. His hands are in his coat pockets, his posture deceptively calm, yet you can sense the anxiety in him, the silent weight of everything he wants to say but knows he can’t say in front of the others.

That’s when he clears his throat.

“Boys. Clear the room.”

Mark turns to him, eyes narrowing. “Come on. She just woke up. Can’t this wait?”

Cecil doesn’t even blink. “Mark.”

That’s all he says.

And somehow, that’s enough.

Mark sighs through his nose. “You better not piss her off.”

“She’ll be fine.”

Rex and William gaze at each other, then back at you.

“You good?” William asks, a bit more seriously this time.

You nod. “Yeah. Go on.”

They depart without issue, Rex throwing you a two-fingered salute on his way out. Mark hesitates at the door, peering over his shoulder like he wants to remain, like he knows this is something he doesn’t want to be left out of.

But he respects you.

So he leaves.

The door hisses shut behind them.

And now it’s just you and Cecil.

The hush is longer now.

Deeper.

He approaches near the foot of your bed and stops, his gaze roving slowly across your vitals, your face, the gentle glow still remaining faintly beneath your skin like embers in ash.

He exhales.

“Good to see you upright.”

You study him.

“Didn’t think I’d make it?”

He doesn’t grin. Doesn’t flinch.

“I didn’t know what the hell to think. You’ve always been unexpected. But after what you did out there-”

He stops.

Starts again.

“I’ve seen a lot of powerful people in my life. You’re not just powerful.. You’re...”

“Uncontainable?” you offer, voice rough yet steady.

Cecil’s face changes slightly. Not a smile. Just acknowledgment.

“You terrify half of the GDA,” he acknowledges. “The other half thinks you should be running it.”

You don’t react.

He steps closer. Slowly.

“I wanted to be the one to tell you this, and I didn’t want it to be filtered through Mark. Or Debbie. Or anyone else. I wanted to say it myself.”

You blink, waiting.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

Your chest tightens.

Cecil Stedman doesn’t say sorry.

Not ever.

Not until it costs him something. “I should’ve protected you better,” he continues. “Back then. When we found you. When we studied you. We tried to label you, contain you, use you. And you were just a kid.” You say nothing.

Because you remember.

You recall the icy flooring, the faint murmurs behind glass, the voices that only called you by your subject number.

“I thought I was doing what was best,” he adds. “For the world. For the mission. But the reality is, I didn’t see you. I saw a weapon. And you proved me wrong.”

You gaze at him.

And for the first time, ever, you see it.

Not weakness.

Not guilt.

Respect.

“After everything,” he says, “you still saved that city. You could’ve walked away. You could’ve burnt it all down. But you didn’t.”

You speak, eventually.

“I didn’t do it for you.”

He nods. “I know. That’s why it mattered.”

The stillness hangs between you for a little longer.

Then Cecil clears his throat and straightens his tie.

“There’s no handbook for what you are now. No protocol. Frankly, I’m not even convinced the GDA has the right to supervise you anymore.”

You raise a brow.

“So what? You gonna cut me loose?”

He meets your gaze. Steady. Clear.

“You’re free.”

The words strike harder than they should.

“I’m not asking you to disappear,” he emphasizes. “I’m not asking you to work for us, either. If you want to go off-grid, vanish for a bit, raise that kid in solitude, you can. If you want to stay, help protect people, we’ll give you every tool you need.”

You gaze at him, shocked.

Cecil takes a slow breath.

“You don’t answer to us anymore. You never actually did. I see that now.”

He turns, going toward the door.

And just before he reaches it, he pauses.

“One more thing.”

You wait.

He glances back at you.

“Whatever you decide… don’t do it alone.”

You nod.

And for the first time in a very, very long time

You believe him.

The door hisses open.

Cecil steps out.

And the future?

The one that used to terrify you?

It finally feels like it belongs to you.

The door hisses open again not even five minutes after Cecil departs.

This time, Mark’s the first one back in.

He doesn’t say anything right away, simply strides in like he’s holding his breath, eyes searching your face as if Cecil might’ve broken something that hadn’t completed mending. His shoulders are stiff. That small wrinkle develops between his brows again, the one that only shows up when he’s overthinking and pretending not to.

But you meet his stare. And you grin.

And he exhales.

A second later, the rest follow.

Rex strolls in with a half-eaten granola bar, William following him, and Oliver jumping forward like the seven-year-old he is, trying very hard to appear like he wasn’t listening the entire time. “Still alive?” Rex says, leaning on the wall with all the grace of a brick. “That’s good. I was about to start drafting your memorial. I had ‘most terrifying badass I’ve ever met’ on the opening line.” William gives him a glance. “Jesus, Rex, it’s been a day.”

“I said she’s alive! That’s positive.”

“I’m alive,” you croak. “Not deaf.”

They all settle in around you like they’re trying not to crowd you but they’re terrible at it. Rex lies at the foot of the bed, Oliver slides up into the chair nearest to your side, and William stands awkwardly with a bouquet of very clearly last-minute flowers.

“They didn’t have a card,” he replies, presenting them meekly. “I was gonna write something, but I forgot I don’t have your last name.”

You blink. “You’ve known me for months.”

“I thought you were just Ace. Like Cher.”

“I thought it was a code name,” Rex mutters.

“It is a code name.” You laugh, before speaking your name. Your real one.

“I thought you were a dream, honestly,” Oliver adds, dangling his legs off the chair.

Mark sighs. “Her last name is hers. Let her tell you if she wants to.”

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Not that she has to,” he adds hastily. “I’m just saying, never mind.”

They’re ludicrous.

And you adore them.

The room moves again. Not hefty. Not intense.

Just full.

They converse for a while. William informs you about a new movie you apparently have to see the second you’re out of the hospital. Rex complains about Robot making him register every tiny disagreement in the Coalition’s new danger database. Oliver talks about school, how he’s too smart for the new online curriculum and Mark won’t let him skip a grade because “you still act like a six-year-old when someone eats your snacks.”

It’s so commonplace it nearly aches.

Eventually, a nurse comes in to check your vitals and suggests, gently, that you should relax. That you’ll probably be discharged in the next forty-eight hours, maybe less. The regeneration indicators are off the charts. You’re recovering quicker than any basic human should be.

She doesn’t say it explicitly, but she looks at you like she knows something changed in your DNA. That whatever you did to delete Angstrom and reconstruct a city left something new behind in you.

You don’t refute it.

She exits after another scan, and the group starts to break apart.

William embraces you gently and promises to bring something substantial to eat next time. Rex warns, “You better not disappear again or I’ll make Mark cry in public.” Oliver hugs you hard, closer than you think, and says, “I’m glad you’re here,” before running off to join up with Debbie, who’s waiting in the corridor.

When the door closes again, it’s just you and Mark.

The lights fade slowly.

You move to sit up a bit further, and he helps you, one hand braced behind your back.

“You okay?” he says quietly.

You nod. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

He nods too, staring at the blanket bunched about your waist.

“I’ve been thinking about something.”

You wait.

And for once, he doesn’t stall. Doesn’t stutter.

“I want you to move in with me.”

You blink.

Not because you’re startled he wants it but because of how he says it. Direct. No buildup. No dancing around it.

Just Mark.

“I mean,” he continues, massaging the back of his neck, “I want you with me. Not just visiting. Not just when things go to shit. I want us to live together.”

You look at him, heart thudding.

“There’s space,” he says. “It’s not much, but I’ve been working on it. It’s a bit messy. I didn’t think I’d ever be sharing it with anyone but, uh-”

“Mark.”

He stops.

You smile.

“I want that too.”

His mouth expands slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The stress pours out of him like someone switched a switch.

His shoulders slump. His breath eases.

You grip his hand.

“I want a home,” you say. “Not just a safehouse. Not a hospital. Not a bunker. Just… something we make together.”

He nods, swallowing hard.

“We can get extra stuff for the baby. Whatever you want. I’ll paint the walls. I don’t care if it’s pink or blue or, I don’t even care if we live in the city. We can move to the coast. Or space. Or-”

You tug on his hand gently.

“Mark?”

“Yeah?”

You smile.

“Let’s just start with one room.”

He laughs, actually laughs, for the first time in what feels like months.

You close your eyes, listening to it.

Letting it wrap across your chest like a blanket.

When you drift off again, it’s slower this time. Easier.

Because when you wake up next

You won’t be alone.

They dismiss you discreetly.

No cameras. No headlines. No armed GDA escort.

Just a quick talk, a computerized clipboard signed with a quivering hand, and a nurse giving you a look that says, You terrified us. She doesn’t say it out loud. She doesn’t need to. You see it in the way she checks your vitals twice, even after the monitors affirm you’re steady. You notice it in the way she avoids eye contact as she unhooks your IV and clears the equipment off your side.

She’s terrified of you.

But she’s also appreciative.

Everyone is.

And that’s a type of silence you’re still learning how to sit with.

Mark helps you get dressed. He doesn’t ask whether you want help, he simply knows. He turns around as you change into the comfortable sweater and sweatpants they supplied for you, but his eyes never travel far. His motions are subtle. Gentle. Careful. Like you’re made of something irreplaceable now.

You assume you are.

When you slide your feet into your shoes, slowly, still a touch sore, Mark crouches to knot the laces. You don’t say anything. You merely place a hand on his shoulder while he knots them, steadying yourself, resting yourself in the warmth of him.

Then he stands, holds out your coat.

You let him help you into it.

And for the first time in a month, you walk out of that hospital room alive.

Debbie and Oliver are waiting just outside.

She’s resting against the wall, arms crossed, sipping from a coffee cup she probably hasn’t replenished in hours. Her smile brightens up the second she sees you, warmth pouring across her features, sweet and honest and proud.

Oliver?

He races toward you like a bullet while calling your name loudly.

You hardly have time to brace before he collides with your legs, arms clamping tight around your waist. He clings like you could disappear again if he lets go.

You giggle gently, cringing just a bit from the abrupt touch. “Easy, buddy.”

“No!” he declares forcefully. “You were asleep forever. You’re not leaving again.”

Mark lifts an eyebrow. “Oliver, she’s literally right here.”

“She might leave! Like poof! You don’t know!”

“I mean, technically she could,” Mark mutters, half-joking. “She did bend reality once-ow, okay, okay-”

You pinch his arm.

Debbie chuckles behind her coffee cup. “He’s been wound up since we got here. He drew you four drawings this morning.”

“They’re all cats,” Oliver exclaims proudly. “Because cats never die in stories. They just come back.”

You stoop gently, resting your hand on top of his head.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “I missed you.”

He hugs tighter.

Mark bends down and delicately pries him off you, only a little, and slings a duffel bag over his shoulder. “Alright. Let’s bring her home.”

You blink.

Home.

The word still seems too huge in your mouth.

Too real.

The car trip is silent.

You sit in the rear, huddled in your coat with the window open just a bit to let in the breeze. Oliver refuses to sit in the third row. He slips himself between you and Mark, head resting against your arm, legs folded up. He’s old enough to not need to be babied anymore. But he’s still clutching, like contact is the only way to be sure this isn’t another dream.

You allowed him.

You don’t notice until halfway back that Debbie’s letting Mark drive her car.

You gaze up in the rearview mirror, catching her eyes.

She grins.

She knows.

The city outside is normal. Buses. Streetlights. People crossing at crossings. Nothing looks like it was disintegrating a month ago. Nothing looks like it was wiped and redone by someone who died and came back with something else living in their blood.

No one knows what you did.

But you remember.

And they remember for you.

Mark’s place isn’t huge.

But it seems natural.

Warm. Lived-in. A touch untidy, with a pile of clothes on a chair near the window and an unopened pack of diapers tucked into the corner next a stack of books. The couch has a ding in it. There’s a seance dog blanket hanging over the arm.

You step in and it strikes you like a wave.

This is yours now.

Not just his.

Yours.

Oliver pulls off his shoes and beelines into the living room. “I’m picking the movie!” he shouts. “She needs a comfort movie!”

Mark shrugs. “Can’t argue with that.”

Debbie remains at the door, observing the two of you softly.

You stride approach her.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you reply gently.

She nods, sliding a strand of hair behind your ear. “None of us do. But you’re not alone.”

You hug her before she can hug you first.

She clings on closely.

Then, with a kiss to your temple, she’s gone. Back to her own space. Her own recovery.

Leaving only the three of you.

Mark comes up behind you a little later, arms wrapping around your waist. You lean back into him.

“I meant what I said,” he whispers. “This place is yours too. You can put your stuff anywhere. Move the sofa. Steal the blanket. Take the bed.”

You turn your head toward him. “Where are you sleeping, then?”

He shrugs. “Wherever you are.”

You kiss him.

Not hard. Not urgent.

Just home.

Oliver shouts from the other room, “You guys better not be kissing again!”

Mark laughs against your mouth.

You pull back with a smile. “Guess that means movie time.”

And for the first time in a long time

You let yourself be small again.

Not a goddess.

Not a weapon.

Just someone nestled on a couch between the man she loves and the younger brother who refuses to quit clinging to her arm.

The living room is dim, bathed in the soothing blue glow of the television. The movie is one you’ve all seen before, Seance Dog 3: Grave Mistakes, which means no one’s actually paying attention. The volume’s a tad too low. The popcorn bowl is already half-empty. And Oliver is laying sprawled out across both you and Mark like a human blanket, his head in your lap, feet kicked up on Mark’s thighs, hogging the throw blanket like he paid rent here.

You don’t mind.

Mark doesn’t either.

You’re both too busy taking up the moment. It’s the first time in weeks, maybe months, that life feels like it may be okay. You’re not in a clean white hospital bed. You’re not fighting for your life. No one is asking you to fix the world.

You’re just here.

Soft hoodie. Warm sofa. Mark’s arm thrown over your shoulder, his fingertips drawing lazy circles on the back of your neck. Oliver partially asleep, moaning about how Seance Dog’s sidekick doesn’t get enough screen time.

It’s perfect.

Until it’s not.

Halfway through a scene when Seance Dog banishes a haunting mirror using nothing but sass and theatrical gestures, Oliver stretches and yawns, then blurts out

“So how are you having a baby if you and Mark never kissed before you were in the hospital?”

The room goes silent.

Your body stiffens.

Mark chokes so forcefully on his drink that it sprays over the blanket, his hand slamming against his chest like he’s been shot.

“WHAT?!”

Oliver raises his head slightly, frowning. “What? I’m seven, not dumb. People keep talking about it. Mom made that funny face when the nurse said she was stable and still pregnant, and William said something about miracles, and Rex said Mark ‘got lucky’ and then started laughing like a maniac.”

You gaze down at him, eyes wide.

Mark is still coughing into his elbow.

The TV plays on in the background as if your life hasn’t just erupted in the midst of your living room.

“I…uh-” Mark tries, gasping. “That’s…okay. That’s not…how could…what did Rex say?”

Oliver blinks. “That you two ‘couldn’t keep it in your pants,’ but then he said ‘oh god don’t repeat that’ and walked into a wall.”

You hide your face with both hands.

Mark moans and leans forward like he might pass out.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Okay, yeah, alright. So that’s…that’s a thing that’s happening now.”

Oliver squints at you. “So... how?”

“How what?” you say, voice barely a whisper.

“How are you having a baby? You’re not even married!”

“That's not-” Mark starts, then pauses. “That’s not a requirement.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone in the modern world!”

Oliver shrugs. “In health class they said two people have to love each other a lot and then they-”

“NOPE,” Mark shouts loudly, grabbing a pillow and flinging it over his face. “Nope nope nope-”

You’re laughing now.

You can’t help it.

It starts as a little chuckle but swells fast, flowing out of you in waves while Oliver frowns in total astonishment, and Mark is face-down on the sofa muttering something about requiring time travel and noise-canceling walls.

Eventually, you gather your breath enough to speak.

“Oliver,” you say softly, pushing his hair back, “we didn’t mean to surprise anyone. It just… happened. Sometimes people love each other, and they don’t always plan things, but they choose to stay anyway.”

Mark peeks out from behind the pillow. “Yeah. We, uh... really love each other. Like, a lot.”

You flash him a glance.

He shrugs hopelessly. “What? I’m trying.”

Oliver pauses for a bit, then slowly nods.

“Okay,” he says. “But I get to name it.”

You blink. “What?”

“The baby. I get to name it. I’ve had a list since last month.”

“Why…why would you have a list-”

He sits up, absolutely serious. “Okay so top tier options include, Mecha, Darkblade, Turbo, and... Corn.”

Mark blinks. “Corn?”

“It’s strong and unpredictable.”

You’re laughing again, tears pricking your eyes.

Mark gives you a look like ‘this is your fault.’

You shake your head. “We’re not naming the baby Corn.”

Oliver flops back down spectacularly. “Fine. But middle name?”

Mark leans closer, speaking just loud enough for you to hear “We’re definitely not naming our kid after a vegetable.”

The three of you melt into laughing again, wrapped in a mound of blanket and chaos and love.

The movie plays on. The spirits are vanquished. Seance dog rescues the world again.

And somewhere between scenes, between laughs, between breaths

Mark kisses your temple.

Soft.

Careful.

Like a vow made in the middle of a sofa, with a kid between you and a world still gathering its breath.

You lean into him.

Oliver snores quietly on your shoulder.

And for the first time in forever, you believe in after.

The movie concludes softly.

The titles play over a soothing piano tune while Seance Dog gives a final, poignant monologue about legacy and love, standing atop a haunting mountain as the sun rises behind him.

Mark snores once, loudly.

You nudge him.

“I’m awake,” he mutters, eyes still closed. “I’m just appreciating the…um, the cinematic framing.”

Oliver grins into your shoulder.

You stretch gently beneath the covers, every joint stiff yet functioning. You’re still exhausted. Your muscles still hurt. But there’s something steadier in your limbs now. A warmth that didn’t exist back in that hospital bed.

Maybe it’s the sofa.

Maybe it’s the company.

There’s a knock at the door before it creaks open, and Debbie peers in, holding her keys in one hand, already half-prepared for the protest she knows is coming.

“Alright, Oliver. Time to come home, buddy.”

Oliver moans. “Noooo.”

You watch him deflate, the dramatic droop of his limbs, the way his small face crumples at the corners.

Debbie steps in, eyebrows lifted in that mom face that screams ‘don’t start’, yet her mouth is soft. She’s trying to keep it mild. “We’ve got to get you home. School in the morning. You know the rules.”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles, digging deeper into your side. “I want to stay here.”

You touch his back softly, your voice warm and quiet. “I know, little star.”

Oliver lifts his head, his bottom lip twitching. “What if she goes away again?”

His voice cracks at the end.

Mark sits up straighter. “Hey, hey…it’s not gonna be like that.”

Oliver rubs at his eyes but he’s weeping now, full and silent, the type of tears that don’t come with wailing but simply happen, like his heart’s been waiting for the room to slow down enough for it to be honest.

“I waited forever,” he continues, voice trembling. “You were gone forever, and I kept talking to you and drawing pictures and it didn’t work, and I thought maybe you were gone like Dad, but I didn’t say it out loud because I didn’t want it to be true-”

You reach for him instinctively, arms wrapping over his shoulders and drawing him in close, burying his head beneath your chin. His small hands grip at your hoodie like it’s the only thing preventing him from plummeting through the floor.

You rock softly, your fingers stroking through his hair.

“I’m not gone,” you mumble. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He sniffles heavily. “But what if…what if something happens again? What if-”

“Then I’ll fight like hell to come back,” you reply, gently yet forceful. “Just like I did this time. Just like I’ll always do.”

Oliver cries a little harder into your chest.

Debbie stands calmly beside the entrance, one palm placed to her mouth, eyes sparkling. Mark doesn’t say anything, he simply observes, teeth tight, the muscles in his arms stiff like he wants to do something but knows this isn’t his moment.

“I’ll come see you tomorrow,” you assure Oliver softly. “Okay? I’ll come over first thing. You and me. All day.”

He sniffles again, pushing back slightly. “Really?”

“Really. Because we’ve got plans.”

He blinks. “Plans?”

“Oh yeah. Big plans. We’ve need to start looking for baby clothes. And a crib. And a tiny toy with stars and planets on it. You think I can do all that without my best helper?”

He shakes his head swiftly, eyes wide. “No. You need my expert opinion.”

“Exactly,” you say. “So tomorrow? You and me. We’ll go shopping, we’ll pick stuff out, and we’ll eat too many snacks and ignore every budget.”

Mark lifts an eyebrow. “I mean, within reason-”

You wave a hand. “Shush.”

Oliver eventually grins, little and crooked and still tear-glossed, but real. He nods, pushing his sleeve to his nose, then looks up at Debbie like ‘please don’t destroy this’.

Debbie comes over gently and crouches beside him.

She combs his bangs back. “You can bring one stuffed animal. Just one.”

He grins and wraps his arms around her neck.

They stand together, and she holds him for a long minute before gently moving him toward the door.

He doesn’t fight it this time.

But before they depart, he doubles back to you. One last hug. Tight.

You cling on just as passionately.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” you mumble.

He nods against your neck. “Don’t be late.”

When he lets go, he leaves a little painting on the coffee table, a doodle of you carrying a luminous baby, Mark standing alongside you in his hero outfit, Oliver flying above you with a cape.

The label written in all uppercase reads ‘TEAM FAMILY.’

Mark walks them out.

You stay on the couch, still nestled under the blanket, your chest both full and aching. The type of aching that only occurs as love starts to settle into something real.

The door clicks shut behind Debbie and Oliver, a soft metallic whisper as the latch catches. You watch Mark lock it, his fingers hesitating for a moment on the deadbolt before he turns, a shadow of something unreadable in his eyes. Tired, maybe. Or nervous. He always looks that way lately like he’s balancing too much in his hands and expecting the whole world to drop at any second. But then he looks at you.

And that flicker of worry breaks, like clouds tearing apart to make room for sun. It isn’t bright, not totally, Mark Grayson isn’t bright these days. He’s bruised and burnt out, stitched together with duty and regret. But when he looks at you, some of that darkness slips. It always does.

“You okay?” he asks, quietly, as if the room might break if he says it louder.

The apartment is quiet now, finally. Debbie has fussed over you until your bones ached in the hospital, from pretending you aren’t exhausted, and Oliver is, well, Oliver. Four months pregnant and still managing to make it through an hour of Grayson family chaos without snapping is practically heroic. But you do it. You always do.

You shift your weight on the couch, hand reflexively sliding over the soft swell of your belly. Four months. It still doesn’t feel real. Not even with the weight of it under your skin, not even with the nausea, the dreams, the shifts in your body that make you feel like a stranger in your own clothes. But the way Mark looks at you now, carefully, like you’re something he has to relearn every day, that is real. “I’m okay now,” you say, and mean it.

His eyes drift to your stomach. You catch the subtle clench in his jaw, he does that every time. Like some part of him doesn’t think he deserves this. Like he still expects to wake up and find all of it gone. You stand slowly. The soreness from your recovery is still there, but it doesn’t matter. You cross the room to him and reach up, letting your fingers graze the stubble on his cheek. Mark’s hands come up automatically, one brushing your hip, the other curling at your back. You lean into him, just enough to feel his warmth, his presence.

“You don’t have to ask if I’m okay every time you look at me,” you say, voice low.

He exhales through his nose, a wry half-laugh, like he knows he’s guilty but can’t stop himself. “Can’t help it.”

“Try.”

You close the distance between you, lips pressing to his before he can answer. Soft, at first, testing the moment, tasting the quiet. He stills for half a heartbeat, but then his mouth opens under yours, the kind of kiss that drags breath out of both of you. Mark kisses like a man afraid of losing time. Always has. Like he’s holding on for dear life, like if he kisses hard enough he can fix everything broken between you.

Your fingers tangle in his shirt, clutching it, tugging him closer. He doesn’t resist. You feel his hands slide lower, one splaying wide over your back, the other careful at your waist. Always careful now. Like he’s scared of hurting you.

You pull back just enough to whisper, “You don’t have to treat me like glass.”

His brows pull together,“You just got out of the hospital.”

You kiss him again before he can finish the thought, harder this time, until you feel his restraint crack beneath the surface. He makes a sound low in his throat, something hungry and quiet and aching. His hands tighten on your body.

“Still me,” you murmur against his lips.

Mark’s breath hitches. You see the way his pupils darken, blown wide, the blue of his eyes swallowed by want. “You’re four months pregnant,” he says, but it’s already unraveling in his voice. “And still me,” you repeat, pressing your hips into him.

His hands finally move like they used to, possessive, certain, roaming your back and your sides and pulling you against him like gravity is just a suggestion. You feel him hardening already, the heat between you both burning off the hesitations. He kisses you again, and this time there’s nothing gentle about it. His mouth devours yours, tongue sliding past your lips, hands gripping your ass through the thin fabric of your pajama pants.

You moan softly into him, and he groans in response like he’s been holding his breath for weeks and you’ve just cracked his ribs open to let the air in. His hand slides under your shirt, up the curve of your side, fingers skimming the underside of your breast before he hesitates again.

“Mark,” you say, voice raw, “touch me. Really touch me.”

He looks at you like you’ve just given him permission to breathe.

Then he picks you up. Just like that. Like you weigh nothing. He still has Viltrumite strength, after all. You yelp and laugh into his shoulder as he carries you toward the bedroom, kissing you between every few steps. Short, hungry things. As if he’s starved for this, starved for you.

The bedroom is dim, lit only by the blue spill of moonlight pushing past the blinds. Mark kicks the door shut with his heel, never pulling his mouth from yours, and you barely notice. You’re too wrapped in the heat of him, his hands firm on your back, the scent of him in your nose, the familiar weight of his body pressing into yours like a home you haven’t realized you’ve missed until you’re back in it. He kisses like he’s making up for lost time. For the hospital days, for the quiet silences when you were watching the movie, for all the ways he’s looked at you lately, gentle, too gentle, like you might break if he even breathes the wrong way. But this… this isn’t gentle.

This is Mark.

And you cling to it. Cling to him. To his warmth, the press of his chest, the scratch of his jaw along your throat as he breaks from your mouth and trails kisses down your neck.

He groans softly against your skin, hands spreading over your hips like he’s mapping familiar territory, though even you know your body isn’t the same. You’re not big yet, not even showing under clothes unless someone knows what to look for, but you know. You feel it. The tightness. The weight. The way your shirts hug differently now, the slight change in the slope of your waist, the tender spots that haven’t been there before.

And for a moment… as Mark kisses the soft skin beneath your jaw, his mouth warm and wanting, you freeze just a little inside.

He feels it. You know he does. He pulls back a fraction, just enough to meet your eyes, his brow knitting.

“What?” he asks, voice low, still breathless.

You shake your head. It’s instinct. Lie first. Explain later.

But he doesn’t let you. He leans his forehead against yours, and you feel that familiar ache behind his voice when he says, “Talk to me.”

You hesitate, fingers still curled around his muscular biceps. He’s solid under your touch, heat and muscle, all the strength he barely lets himself use anymore. You look at him, the sharp line of his jaw, the mess of dark hair falling across his forehead, the bright look of his azure eyes, and something twists tight in your chest.

“I just… I don’t look the same,” you admit. Quiet. Barely louder than a breath.

He stills.

Your hands drop from his arms. “I’m not big yet, but I can feel it. Everything’s changing. And I don’t-”

Mark kisses you hard. No warning, no pause. Just his mouth on yours again like he needs to shut you up with the truth, like words aren’t good enough anymore. He breaks the kiss just long enough to whisper, “You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

You swallow.

“Even if you don’t see it yet,” he adds, and then, God, he smiles a little, the kind of rare, crooked grin that reaches all the way to his eyes. “I do.”

And before you can say anything, before you can fall too deep into whatever spiral your brain is trying to build out of hormones and fear and post-hospital trauma, Mark drops to his knees. Right in front of you.

Your breath hitches.

His hands come to your hips again, reverent now, as he presses his cheek lightly against your stomach. He doesn’t say anything for a long second. Just closes his eyes and breathes you in. The heat of his skin soaks through your shirt.

You touch his hair, tentative at first. Your fingers thread through the dark strands automatically, and his hands slowly slide down, gripping your thighs, steadying you. When he looks up, his eyes are darker than they were a moment ago. Focused. Hungry.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs.

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. The way you stand there, half shaking, heart pounding, shirt clinging to your chest from your own heat, that’s answer enough.

Mark’s hands curl into the waistband of your pajama pants. You lift your hips for him, slow and steady, and he peels them down along with your underwear. The air hits you first, cool on skin that feels overheated, soaked in want. He moves like he’s unwrapping something sacred, something breakable but his. When the fabric hits your knees, he leans in and kisses the soft skin of your lower belly then lower still, lips trailing just above your mound, hot breath ghosting across your clit.

You twitch. You can’t help it.

Then he kisses you there, right there, his mouth closing around your clit in a slow, obscene suck that pulls a choked sound straight out of your throat. It’s not polite, not soft. It’s hungry. A low growl vibrates against your cunt as his tongue slides out and circles you, wide and deliberate.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your knees nearly buckling. Mark grabs your thighs and spreads them wider, anchoring you to the bed. His grip is firm, a little rough, fingers digging in just enough to remind you what it feels like to be wanted without apology.

He groans into you again, like the taste is doing something to him, wrecking him. His tongue licks up your slit, slow and hot, collecting slick like he’s savoring every drop. Then he flattens it against your clit and just stays there, sucking and lapping until your hips are grinding into his mouth, chasing it. No teasing. No hesitation. Just pressure and rhythm and filthy, focused worship.

“God, Mark-” you whimper, hands clutching his hair like you’re afraid he might stop.

He doesn’t. He goes deeper, tongue dipping down to fuck into you, slow at first, then faster, fucking you with his mouth like he wants you to fall apart right there on his face. His nose bumps your clit, jaw working between your thighs, and the mess of it, his spit, your slick, the obscene sounds, makes you burn with it, humiliated and high on it all at once.

You glance down, his face buried in your pussy, eyes half-lidded and drunk on you, his hands stroking your thighs like he’s taming something wild, and the pressure coils sharp and unbearable in your stomach.

“Mark…fuck, I’m gonna-”

He moans like he wants you to. Like he’s waiting for it. And when he pulls back just enough to spit on your clit and suck it back into his mouth, you break. Your orgasm slams into you with no grace, no warning, your thighs shake, your whole body clenches, and your moan rips raw from your throat as everything inside you spills over.

He holds you through it, mouth still on you, tongue dragging every aftershock out like he’s milking you for more. You sob his name. He groans in reply, licking you through every twitch, every tremble, like he needs this as much as you do.

Only when your body finally goes limp does he pull back, lips wet, chin shining with you. He looks up at you from between your legs, chest rising, eyes burning.

“Still think you’re not fucking perfect?” he rasps, voice thick with lust and something softer beneath it.

You laugh through the haze, wrecked and ruined. “Shut the fuck up.”

He grins like a man starved.

And he stands.

Not done.

Not even close.

Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt glistening, flushed and messy with slick. Mark’s between them again, kneeling at the edge of the bed, jeans pushed low on his hips, shirt long since forgotten. His chest rises and falls like he just ran a marathon, but his eyes, those wide, dark, awe-drunk blue eyes, stay locked between your legs.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, his voice rasped raw. “You’re still dripping. Still soaked.”

His fingers brush your inner thigh, smearing through the slick that’s smeared all over your skin. He stares like you’ve completely short-circuited him, jaw slack, lips parted. “Did I do that?” he murmurs, almost not even asking, more like wondering out loud if he actually gets to take credit for the mess between your legs.

You nod, breath shaky, cunt pulsing around nothing.

“Yeah,” you pant. “All you.”

And fuck, that does something to him. He bites his bottom lip like he’s trying to keep himself from shaking. But his fingers, those strong, careful hands, are already moving, sliding back up between your thighs, and this time he doesn’t hesitate. His fingertips glide over your slit, parting you gently, then dragging up to your clit in one long, slick stroke.

Your body jolts like you’ve been hit with live wire.

Mark groans deep, watching his fingers stroke you, watching your body react. “You’re fucking soaking my hand,” he says, more breath than voice. “I can feel you throbbing, fuck, I’m not even inside yet and you’re already fucking begging for it.”

He rubs your clit with slow, deliberate circles, watching your hips twitch upward, your cunt flexing, leaking more slick with every pass of his hand. Then, like he can’t take one more second, he shifts closer and pushes two fingers deep inside you without warning.

You cry out loud, gutturalc and he moans right with you, like the way your walls clamp down on him is too much, too fucking good.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” Mark pants, jaw tight, fingers buried to the knuckle. “You’re tight as fuck, fucking sucking me in.”

He starts moving his hand, fucking you slow at first, deliberate, each thrust slick and obscene, his knuckles slicked with how much you’re dripping. He watches like he’s hypnotized, like every little sound your pussy makes when he curls his fingers inside you is rewiring his brain.

Your cunt clenches around him again and he groans, eyes fluttering. “You feel that? You’re fucking pulsing, I can feel your pussy clenching around my fingers like it’s trying to milk them.”

His thumb finds your clit again and he presses down, starts rubbing tight, dirty circles as his fingers fuck deeper. The rhythm’s building now wet, messy, filthy, and the sounds are loud, your breathless gasps, your pussy squelching with every thrust, the bed creaking as your hips grind down into his palm.

“Mark…fuck-”

Your voice breaks and it wrecks him. He leans in, close, mouth hovering over your stomach, your tits, your neck but he doesn’t kiss. He’s breathing too hard, sweating, trembling like he’s barely hanging on.

“Come on, baby,” he groans, voice thick. “Let me feel you come. I need it. Fucking drown my hand, come on, show me how messy this little pussy can get.”

You feel the orgasm coil tight in your gut, every muscle pulling taut, your cunt squeezing around his fingers like it knows what’s coming. You grab at the sheets, nails clawing at the fabric, legs starting to shake.

“Mark! I’m gonna-”

He thrusts his fingers deeper, rougher, grinding his thumb down on your clit like he wants to force it out of you. And it works.

You break.

The orgasm rips through you, brutal and blinding. You scream his name as your body convulses, your pussy clamping down hard around his fingers as you come, slick squirting out around his hand, soaking his wrist, dripping onto the sheets.

Mark groans like he’s coming from it himself. “Fuck yes, fuck, look at that…God, baby, fuck-”

He keeps moving his fingers as you ride it out, slowing only when your hips jerk away from him, too sensitive, too raw. You’re twitching, legs trembling, body wrecked, and he finally eases his fingers out, soaked and glistening.

He stares at them like he’s just been baptized.

Then he brings them to his mouth.

And sucks them clean.

His eyes close. He moans deep in his chest, licking every drop off like he needs it.

And you’re still spread for him, cunt wrecked and leaking, body pulsing in the afterglow.

And then he looks down at you, completely wrecked, still breathing heavy, your legs spread for him, your body hot and ready, and whispered, “You ready for me now?”

You catch his gaze and nod.

Mark bends down again, kissing you tenderly once, then deep, tongue tracing your lower lip before he draws back, lines himself up with you again, and starts to press inside.

Mark pushes into you slow, agonizingly slow, the thick head of his cock splitting you open inch by inch. The stretch is brutal, sweet, the kind of pain that makes your toes curl and your mouth fall open in a gasp. He groans loud at the first squeeze of your cunt around him, fingers digging into the sheets like he’s trying not to lose it already.

“Fuck… fuck, you’re tight,” he chokes out, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Holy shit, you’re gripping me.”

You grab at him, shoulders, back, arms, anything solid to keep you grounded as he sinks deeper. It feels like he’s everywhere, thick and hot and hard as steel, the pressure building as your walls stretch around him, slick and pulsing. You’re soaked for him, and he feels it, he moans at the obscene wet sound of your pussy swallowing him whole.

Every inch he gives you is fire, and you take it like you’re starved, hips rolling up to meet him, greedy, desperate. Your body clenches, and he gasps again, voice cracking. He’s trembling above you, arms taut, sweat slicking his chest as he fights every instinct telling him to thrust.

“I-fuck, I can’t-” he groans. “You feel too fucking good. I’m barely in and I already wanna come.”

You turn your head, lips brushing the shell of his ear, voice a rasp. “You don’t have to hold back.”

He lifts his head, looking down at you, his hair hanging in his face, blue eyes blown wide with something close to panic. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You lock your legs around his waist, arching into him, cunt flexing around the thick base of his cock. “Then don’t. Just fuck me.”

And that breaks him.

He pulls back, just enough for the stretch to hit again, then slams forward, burying himself to the base with a sharp, wet slap. You cry out, eyes rolling back as your walls clamp down hard. He groans like he’s dying, hips jerking once, then again, harder, rougher.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, gripping your hips, slamming into you again. “You’re so fucking wet, so full, you’re taking it. God, baby, you’re taking this cock like you fucking need it-”

And you do. Your whole body is tuned to him, to the drag of his cock along your walls, the sting of every deep thrust. He pounds into you like he’s making up for lost time, weeks of wanting, of holding back, of not being able to touch you the way he needed to. It’s all crashing down now.

The bed rocks under you, frame creaking, the slap of skin-on-skin brutal and constant. Mark fucks you with everything, hips snapping, muscles straining, teeth gritted as he watches your tits bounce with every thrust. His voice is wrecked, raw.

“Look at you,” he moans, driving in deep. “You love this, don’t you? Love how deep I get? How hard I fuck you?”

You moan, high and helpless, cunt fluttering around him. “Yes, fuck, yes—don’t stop—don’t you fucking dare—”

His hands are everywhere, your waist, your throat, your thighs, holding you open, pressing you down, gripping like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. He leans in, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping from his temple as he fucks into you harder, rougher, his cock pistoning in and out of your soaked cunt with filthy, relentless rhythm.

You’re soaked, dripping, loud and messy. The air smells like sweat, sex, like him. The heat between your bodies is suffocating.

“Gonna fill you up,” Mark grits, voice shaking. “Gonna fucking breed this pussy—watch it drip out after—watch it leak down your thighs—fuck—you want that? You want my cum inside you?” “Yes—God, yes—give it to me, please—”

Your orgasm hits with no warning, just a violent, overwhelming wave. Your body seizes, back arching off the mattress as you scream, pussy clenching hard around his cock, milking him. You soak the sheets beneath you, your cunt spasming, gushing around him.

Mark snaps.

He slams in one last time, deep as he can get, and stays there, grinding his hips as he empties himself, cock twitching, thick ropes of cum spilling inside you with each pulsing throb. He gasps your name, over and over, forehead pressed to yours, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.

And he stays. Buried in your cunt, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his skin to yours. He’s still hard, still thick, his cum already starting to leak out around the base of his cock where your pussy refuses to let him go.

He kisses you. Messy. Open-mouthed. Desperate.

Then softer. Softer still.

“You okay?” he whispers, voice frayed, breath catching.

You smile, lips brushing his. “I’m so fucking perfect right now.”

And for once, Mark Grayson isn’t holding up the universe.

Mark stays inside you, still buried deep, breath ragged against your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours. His chest is slick with sweat, his heart pounding like a drum against your ribs. You feel him twitch inside you, softening slowly, but not completely, not even close. Your cunt clenches reflexively, like your body’s refusing to let him go.

There’s cum leaking out of you already, hot and thick, drooling around where he’s still stuffed full inside. You’re sore and used and aching in the best way, legs still wrapped tight around his waist, fingers dragging through the sweat on his back.

He doesn’t say anything for a long second. Just breathes. Heavy. Shaky. Holding you like the second he moves, he’s going to fall apart.

You turn your face slightly and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We’re not done yet, are we?”

He exhales, lets out this wrecked laugh that’s almost a gasp, and looks at you. His eyes are blown wide. Not scared now, just undone. You can see it in him, the way he’s gripping you like he’s still catching up to the fact that he gets to have you again.

“I… I don’t think I can be,” he says quietly. “I’ve been trying to do the right thing. Give you space. Be careful. And now that I’ve got you like this, now that I’m… in you-” He shakes his head, voice going rough. “God, I don’t want to stop.”

He buries his face in your neck and groans low when you shift beneath him. Your pussy clenches down again, and he groans, the sound muffled against your skin.

“You feel…Jesus, you still feel so good.”

He’s getting hard again. You feel it. The stretch returns gradually, your cunt welcoming the thickening length inside like it never wanted him to leave. You reach between you, wrap your hand around him where your bodies are joined, slick, warm, soaked in his cum, and you feel the way he swells against your palm.

You murmur into his ear, “We’ve got months to make up for. So go ahead, Mark. Take me again.”

He lifts his head and stares down at you. His face is flushed, eyes intense, jaw tight.

“You sure?” he asks. “I mean… I’m already kind of going again, but if you’re not okay-”

“I’m not breaking,” you tell him. “You need me? Then take me.”

That’s it.

He kisses you, hard. No hesitation. Just tongue and heat and need, like he can’t decide what part of you to grab first. His hips pull back, cock dragging out of you slow, heavy with slick, then he thrusts back in. Deeper. Harder. His breath leaves him in a shudder.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Okay. Okay.”

Mark starts to move faster, thrusting with no hesitation now, no restraint. The bed creaks under the rhythm of it, your body pushed into the mattress with every thrust. He doesn’t pull back far, he stays close, keeps you tight to his chest, one hand gripping your thigh, the other buried in your hair, holding you to his mouth like he needs every inch of you pressed to him to stay sane.

“I missed this,” he says into your skin, voice shaking. “I missed you. I missed being this close. Missed the sounds you make. Missed how your body feels wrapped around me. I just… I didn’t know how much I needed it until right now.”

You moan, loud, legs tightening around his hips. Your nails dig into his back, your cunt fluttering around him, hot and soaked and aching.

“You feel so good,” he says again, groaning as he thrusts deep. “Every part of you.”

Your body is already tensing, your clit dragging against his pelvis every time he drives in deep. Your breath catches. Your thighs shake.

“You close?” he murmurs into your neck. “You’re squeezing me. I can feel it. You gonna come again?”

You nod fast, panting, unable to even get the words out.

He kisses you, sloppy, breathless, and starts to fuck you harder, thrusts sharper, less controlled. His voice breaks again. “Come on. Let go. I wanna feel you. I wanna feel you all over me.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re falling apart under him, your orgasm slamming through you like a freight train. You gasp his name, back arching, pussy gripping his cock tight as the world narrows to nothing but Mark and the heat inside you.

Mark groans loud, hips stuttering as he buries himself to the hilt. “Oh God. Oh fuck-”

You feel him come again, cock twitching, spilling deep. His whole body shakes with it, his breath coming in sharp bursts against your cheek. He presses into you, still inside, still pulsing, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if there’s even an inch of space between you.

Neither of you speak for a while. Just breathing. Bodies tangled. Skin slick. Hearts pounding against each other.

Eventually, he lifts his head just enough to kiss your cheek, then your lips, and finally your forehead.

“I can’t believe I made myself wait this long,” he says softly. “That I convinced myself it was better to stay away from you.”

You smile, your fingers trailing down his sweat-slick back. “You were scared.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Still am.”

“Well,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your legs still hooked around his waist, “keep fucking me like that, and I’ll help you forget.”

You feel it. The slow pulse. The twitch.

Mark meets your eyes, his grin crooked, face wrecked and flushed.

Your body is still pulsing around him, slow and deep, every lazy flutter of your cunt refusing to let him go. You’re soaked, skin slick, thighs trembling, your hair plastered to your forehead with sweat. The room reeks of sex and heat and the mess of him inside you, thick and warm and still leaking out in heavy, wet drips. His cum is everywhere, smearing between your thighs, pooling beneath your ass, slicking your folds where he’s still buried to the hilt in you.

You don’t move. You’re too full, too sensitive, and honestly? You don’t want to. You’re locked in his lap, straddling his hips, your legs barely able to hold their own weight. Your pussy is aching, used, stretched open and stuffed full of him and you still feel greedy for more.

Mark leans back against the headboard, still panting. His chest rises hard under yours, and his heart’s beating wild, pounding against your ribs like it’s trying to crawl into your skin. His arms are tight around your waist, one hand still spread wide at the small of your back like he’s afraid you’ll float off if he lets go. But you’re not going anywhere.

You shift, just a little. Just enough to feel the thick slide of his cock inside you. He twitches. Both of you groan, his from the overstimulation, yours from the raw friction across swollen, overstretched walls. You gasp softly. He winces like the sound physically hits him.

He’s still inside you. Still hot. Still thick. You can feel him getting harder again, his cock swelling back to full inside your soaked, cum-stuffed cunt. Your body reacts instantly. Your walls flutter, clench, tighten around him like a reflex you don’t even control.

You pull back just enough to look at him.

His hair is a mess, wild and damp, hanging over his forehead. His face is flushed, lips parted, jaw tight like he’s barely holding himself together. His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the blue anymore. But it’s the look in his eyes that gets you.

That raw, open need. That helpless hunger. Like he wants to ask if it’s okay to touch you again but doesn’t trust himself not to just do it.

“Still with me?” you ask, breathless, voice wrecked but light.

Mark just stares at you like he’s not sure if you’re real. His voice is hoarse when it finally comes out, and it’s low, honest, unfiltered. “Yeah. I… I’m here. I just…” His breath catches. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed anything like I need you right now.”

You kiss him, slow, deep, mouths open and heavy with the taste of sweat and breath. As your hips start to grind, you feel his cock pulse hard inside you, and you both moan, him from the friction, you from the delicious pressure of him dragging along your raw inner walls. Your body welcomes the weight, the heat, the slow, building stretch.

It’s different now. No tight snap, no sting. Just the deep, aching fullness of being fucked open and used and still wanting more.

You roll your hips forward, dragging your clit against the base of his cock, and feel his whole body shudder. His head falls back against the headboard, jaw clenched, breath hissing through his teeth.

“You’re seriously gonna kill me,” he mutters, voice ragged.

“Not planning on it,” you murmur back, hot against his throat. “Lie back.”

He shifts down the bed, moving slow, careful not to slide out. You feel every inch of him stay deep as he settles. You brace your hands on his chest, solid and warm beneath your palms, heart still pounding fast, and start to move.

Just a little. Just enough.

Your hips grind forward, then roll back, keeping him inside, making him feel every soaked ridge of your cunt, dragging his cock through slick and heat and the slow throb of your body. Your thighs tremble from the effort, but you like the ache. You like the stretch. The soreness. The way you can still feel his cum leaking out with every motion.

Mark’s hands slide up from your hips, slow, reverent, like he’s relearning your body all over again. He palms your waist, your ribs, thumbs brushing the swell of your breasts but not groping, just holding. His eyes don’t leave the place where your body’s taking him again, where your cunt splits open to swallow him whole.

“I missed this,” he says, voice low and rough. “Not just the sex. I missed you. Missed the way you look on top of me.”

You move faster.

You start to bounce, slow but deeper, rising until just his tip sits inside you, then dropping back down and taking him all the way, the slick sound of it echoing off the walls. You both groan, loud and raw, breathless.

The pace builds. Your thighs start to slap against his, harder with each bounce. His cock grinds deep, bottoming out in you again and again. Your clit drags against his pelvis with every thrust, sending sharp bursts of pleasure through your spine.

“Faster,” he breathes. “Please—just—ride me. I need it. I need you.”

You obey.

Your hips slap down, bouncing harder, faster, the sound of it loud and messy and perfect. Mark groans under you, head tipped back, voice gone ragged.

You lean forward again, grab his face in both hands, press your forehead to his. “Look at me,” you whisper, your breath catching. “I’m gonna come again. I want you to watch.”

His eyes snap to yours. “I’m right here,” he says. “I’ve got you. Always.”

You come.

It hits hard, your back arches, your voice breaks, your cunt clamps down around him in tight, shuddering waves. You cry out, grinding down on him, feeling your slick flood around his cock as your whole body seizes up, trembling through the crash.

And Mark falls with you.

His hands grip your waist hard, and he fucks up into you from below, wild, desperate, thrusting as deep as he can go. His voice tears out of him.

“I’m coming—fuck—I’m coming, baby, fuck—”

He slams into you one last time and holds himself there, cock pulsing inside you as he fills you again, thick and hot and endless. You feel it pour into you, the pressure building as his cum spills past his cock and runs down your thighs.

You collapse against his chest, both of you gasping. He wraps his arms around you, tighter than before, face pressed into your neck like he needs to hide in your skin.

Neither of you moves.

You’re both soaked. Still joined. His cock still hard inside your fluttering, raw cunt.

Mark’s arms lingered around you, his hold just strong enough to make you feel confined in the greatest way, like you were something delicate, something precious he couldn’t bear to let go of. His chest was still rising fast against yours, pulse hammering into your face, and you could feel the weight of all three of your orgasms, his, heavy and deep inside you, yours, pulsating and still reverberating through your limbs, settling over the room like heat trapped under the covers.

The air smells like sex. The headboard’s left small dents in the drywall. Your thighs are a mess, and so is the bed. And still, neither of you moves.

You adjust your hips just slightly and grimace at the oversensitive glide of his cock still buried deep inside you. Mark kisses your temple quickly, catching the glimmer of agony in your breath. “You okay?” he asks, gentler now. Like he’s coming back down to earth.

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning your forehead to his jaw. “Just… really full. And really sore.”

He lets out a breath of a chuckle, nuzzling into your hair. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You smile. “I wanted it.”

“I think you’re gonna be feeling it all day tomorrow,” he mutters, tracing a hand slowly down your back, fingertips just brushing your spine. You shiver. His cock has softened now, but it’s still thick and warm inside you, tethering you together. He’s not in a rush to move, and neither are you.

The calm stretches. Your cheek rests in the hollow of his throat, eyes fluttering closed. His fingers wander at your waist, up your ribs, not teasing, just present, like he needs the contact to stay grounded. Like you’re his anchor.

It feels nice. Too nice. Like the rest of the world doesn’t exist beyond the rim of the mattress.

But it still does.

“Tomorrow,” you whisper, voice low and warm in the hush.

He hums. “Yeah.”

“We’re picking up Oliver, remember? Gotta take him to the baby shop in the city.” You grin, part amused, part already exhausted. “We promised.”

Mark moans under his breath, not annoyed just resigned. “He’s gonna touch everything.”

“He’s excited,” you say, lazily tracing a circle on his chest. “It’s a big deal for him too.”

Mark nods, his hand slowing on your back. “He keeps asking if it’s gonna have powers. Like there’s a test we can do or something.”

You laugh, quiet and breathless. “What’d you tell him?”

“I said we won’t know ‘til he throws something across the room.” He grins into your hair. “Or punches through a wall.”

You breathe against his skin, and for a minute, you both just lie there, wrapped in the afterglow, tangled in the wreckage of want. The day ahead lingers at the edges. Baby things. Oliver. Appointments. Names. Exhaustion.

Mark’s hand slides down your thigh, where it’s still draped over his hip. “We need a car seat.”

“And a bassinet.”

“And diapers. And bottles. And those… what are they called, the swinging chairs that play that weird carnival music?”

You moan into his chest. “Mark. We’re gonna be in that store for hours.”

He grins, mouth grazing your neck. “You’ll have to stop me from impulse-buying everything cute I see.”

You shift just enough to look at him, his eyes half-lidded, cheeks pink, hair stuck to his forehead. He looks young. Tired. But light. Like some pressure’s finally eased off his ribs. Like you’ve given him breath again.

You lean down and kiss him, soft and slow, lips barely brushing.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you whisper.

He kisses you back, hand settling over your belly, warm, steady.

“We already are.”

The next day starts with a knock.

Just a soft, familiar rhythm on the doorframe, yet it makes both of you pause like kids caught doing something they shouldn’t. For a second, your brain blanks, no ideas, no psychic impressions, just the raw, instinctive scrambling of someone who is both emotionally and physically destroyed and not ready to see anybody.

Mark moans low into your shoulder. He doesn’t move his head from where it's been buried for the previous twenty minutes. His arms are still wrapped around your waist like they’d rather stay there for the rest of time, your naked legs tangled together under the blankets, the air thick with the silent, lingering aroma of last night.

“Do we have to get up?” His voice is hoarse. Sleep-rough and damaged and definitely Mark.

You sigh, pushing your face against his temple. “That sounded like a Debbie knock.”

Another set of taps, more persistent this time.

Mark growls softly beneath his breath and pulls away just enough to peek toward the door, eyes still hazy, hair a disarray. “I forgot we said they could come by.”

You blink up at the ceiling and sigh. “I forgot people exist.”

There’s something absurdly vulnerable about this morning. Not just the fact that you’re both still fully nude and only now realize how painful your thighs are, or how your lips are puffy from the sheer amount of kissing you performed before, during, and after. It’s the emotional hangover. The weight of having grabbed each other like lifelines last night, trying to tell yourselves that you were still real, still here, still living after everything.

After hospitals and near-deaths and muttered apologies between shared breaths.

Now you’re here. Pregnant, four months in. In Mark’s bed. In Mark’s life.

And beyond that door is the boy who’s latched onto you like a newborn duckling since the minute you returned from the hospital, and the lady who looks at you with something like cautious optimism and careful devotion, like she’s still trying to trust you’re not going to disappear again.

You pull the blanket up over your chest and nudge Mark. “You have two options. Get the door and face the music, or pretend to be dead.”

He slumps back down alongside you dramatically. “Option three. Cuddle you until they give up and leave.”

There’s another knock, followed by a voice this time.

“Mark? It’s us. We brought breakfast!”

You wince. “They brought food. We’re screwed.”

Mark groans softly like a savage animal trapped in a net, wiping his hands over his face before forcing himself upright, the sheet dropping down his stomach. You try not to look, but you fail terribly. His back muscles flex as he sits up on the side of the bed, running a hand through his wavy hair, and you realize your heart rate has not, in fact, recovered from last night.

You draw the cover tightly about yourself as he puts on a sweater and sweatpants in record time, feet still bare. Before he goes out, he turns to you, his demeanor softening as he leans down and plants a long kiss to your temple.

“Stay right here. I’ll try to stall them.”

You offer him a weary grin. “Tell Oliver I’m sleeping. Maybe he’ll panic and be quiet for the rest of the morning.”

Mark grins despite himself and slips out the door.

You can hear the muted chorus from the living room, Oliver’s high-pitched voice yelling “MARK!” with frantic delight, followed by the sound of Debbie greeting him and some shuffling that sounds like luggage being deposited on the kitchen counter. The fragrance of something warm and delicious wafts down the corridor, and your stomach rumbles automatically.

Your legs feel heavy as you swing them out from the blankets. The room is dim, bathed in gentle light pouring through the curtains, and you’re still aching in ways you didn’t know were conceivable. But it’s a nice sore. A reminder of yesterday night’s urgency. Of how Mark held you like he needed to memorize the contour of you. How frantic and sloppy and serious he was when he touched you, whispering I missed you, I missed you so much between kisses like the words were sacrosanct.

You put on one of his old shirts off the floor, soft, and slightly smelling of him, and pad your way toward the door just in time to hear Debbie’s voice, calm and softly amused.

“You both look like you got hit by a truck.”

Mark snorts. “Thanks, Mom.”

Oliver’s voice rips through: “Where is she? Did she sleep over? Is she here? Is the baby okay?”

There’s a pause. Then a smaller voice, more hesitant “She didn’t leave again, right?”

That’s enough to make you move faster.

You stroll out into the hallway, and Oliver’s face brightens up the second he sees you. He abandons whatever donut he was carrying and races across the room to slam into you at full speed. You kneel reflexively and grab him, arms closing around the small tornado of a child who’s strangely much more bonded to you after your hospital stay than before.

“I missed you,” he whispers against your shoulder. “I had a dream you turned into a ghost and flew away.”

You swallow hard, softly caressing his back. “I’m not going anywhere, little star.”

Mark looks across at you from the kitchen, eyes heated with something thick and ineffable. His voice is softer now. “She’s staying.”

Debbie watches the whole conversation with a particular gentleness. Her lips are twisted in a knowing smile, yet there’s a spark of something in her eyes, relief, maybe. Or thankfulness. Or both.

You suppose she saw straight through both of you last night when she departed. She’s known Mark since birth. She must’ve noticed the shift. The unsaid connection that settled between the two of you when you sat together on that couch, when you didn’t let go of each other’s hands even after Oliver climbed into your lap.

Now she nods toward the table. “We brought pancakes. Oliver asked if he buy the ones with the blueberries inside.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “He said they were brain food.”

“They are,” Oliver maintains. “She needs them because her brain is psychic. So it’s extra.”

You grin. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

The four of you sit down together, and for a short time, it’s surprisingly normal. Warm food. Casual discussion. Oliver asks a million questions about how the baby eats and whether it can hear him yet and if it will be able to fly.

But behind it all, there’s a delicate, flickering peace. A moment suspended in time.

Mark’s foot touches yours under the table.

You peek over at him. He looks fatigued but grounded in a manner you haven’t seen in a long time. Like last night pulled something out of him and filled it with something better.

He’s not simply surviving anymore. He’s starting to live again. With you.

You lean into his side as he puts an arm around your shoulder, and as Oliver chatters about naming the kid "Laser Arm" and Debbie conceals her giggle behind her coffee cup, you let yourself breathe.

In this small apartment that smells like sugar and second chances, you are protected.

You are adored.

You are home.

Mark insists on assisting you into the passenger seat like you’re glass.

It’s not that you can’t open your own stupid car door, you remind him of that regularly, especially now that you’re four months pregnant and not, in fact, made of porcelain, but he does it nonetheless, every time. And maybe you’re secretly starting to like it. The way his hand creeps over your lower back, delicate and steady. The way he always waits for you to settle before shutting the door, like he’s making sure you don’t vanish again when he blinks.

“Seatbelt,” he whispers as he leans into your open window, voice sweet and seductive.

“You say that like I haven’t been buckling myself in since I was five.”

He bends forward and kisses your cheek anyhow. “Old habits. And I appreciate having excuses to go this close.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile is tough to disguise.

He jogs around the front of the car and jumps into the driver’s seat, and you watch him through the glass as he runs a hand through his curls, sunshine catching in the strands. He looks like himself today. No blood. No bruises. No weight of the world on his shoulders, at least not overtly.

The rear door snaps open and slams shut with an echoing thump, followed by Oliver’s high-pitched voice.

“I get the seat behind her!”

Mark pauses halfway through adjusting the mirror. “Wait, what? I thought you said I’m your favorite.”

“No,” Oliver says matter-of-factly, as if he’s rattling out scientific realities. “She’s is my favorite. You’re noisy and you fly weird.”

Your snort is badly veiled. Mark gives you a betrayed expression.

“Excuse me?” Mark turns in his seat, brows arched. “I do not fly weird.”

“You do! You go like whoosh-” Oliver shows by thrashing his arms like a fish gasping for air mid-air, his face a concentrated chaos of sound effects and fluttering sleeves. “It’s all zig-zaggy. It makes my tummy feel funny when you carry me.”

“That’s called evasive maneuvering!” Mark protests. “It’s for safety!”

“Yeah, well, she floats. She makes the air all quiet and fluffy like a marshmallow.”

You raise your eyebrows, turning to peek at Mark. “He’s got a point.”

Mark throws his hands up. “Unbelievable. Mutiny.”

Oliver pushes forward between the chairs, rubbing his chin against your shoulder like a small dog. “Can I sit behind you?”

You gaze at Mark with mock earnestness. “Are you okay relinquishing your throne?”

Mark grumbles as he starts the car. “It’s fine. I’m just the superhero. Go ahead and steal my family.”

Oliver jumps back into the middle seat with all the assurance of a monarch in a booster seat. He clicks his belt with a triumphant grunt and kicks his small legs gleefully. “Can we play music? But not Mark’s music. He listens to old stuff.”

Mark lifts a hand like he’s swearing an oath. “It’s classic rock, thank you.”

“You’re classic. Like a fossil.”

Mark glances at you, wide-eyed. “You hear this? You hear the hatred in my own car?”

You rest your head against the cool glass of the window, smirking. “I don’t know, babe. The fossil’s got a point. We should play something fun.”

“You’re all against me,” he groans, despondent, as he taps at the console. “What do the kids want these days?”

Oliver hops in his seat and suggests a childish song.

And so you spend the next seven minutes going to the store with a cartoon boy singing about friendship and portals booming through the speakers while Mark looks like he wants to crash the car into oncoming traffic just to escape the chorus. Oliver is yelling the words at the top of his lungs, throwing in theatrical hand motions for emphasis, while you grin behind your palm and try not to allow your own pleasure grow too evident.

But you’re happy. Genuinely. Not in the way you sometimes pretend to be, not in the way you feel when you’re shoving feelings to the side to focus on surviving, no, this is different. This is warm, and lively, and whole.

Mark glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. He does that sometimes. Like he still can’t believe you’re here. Like he’s expecting to wake up and find himself alone in that apartment again, snuggled up in bed with nothing but your pillow and the ghost of your laugh ringing in the quiet.

When you catch his gaze this time, he grins. Soft. Real.

“Hey,” he says, above Oliver’s manic karaoke performance. “You good?”

You nod. “Better than good.”

And he leans over, squeezes your hand once before letting go.

When you arrive to the store, it’s quite cool. No fans, no pandemonium, no aliens invading mid-shopping expedition. Mark manages to park without accidently hitting anything, a miracle in itself, and Oliver scrambles out of the car like he’s ready to embark on the biggest quest of his life.

“Can I push the cart?” he begs, hopping in place.

Mark lifts an eyebrow. “You can’t even see over the handle.”

“I can if I stand on the little bar!”

You giggle and slip your arm around Mark’s. “Maybe we can both help. It’s your nephew’s cart now, after all.”

“Nephew,” Oliver repeats, testing the word in his tongue like it’s completely new. He glances at your stomach with strained brows. “That makes me important, right?”

“Very,” you remark, pressing your palm to your bump. “The baby’s gonna need you.”

Oliver moves closer, eyes wide with somber duty. “Hey, baby. I’m your uncle. I’m going teach you how to punch evil dudes and eat cereal.”

Mark makes a strangled noise next you, and you elbow him softly in the ribs.

Inside the shop, things are slower. Domestic. You hold the list, Mark pulls the cart (with Oliver supervising), and aisle after aisle, you pick out the parts of your future. Blankets. A nursery set you both keep going back to even though you act like you're not already in love with it.

Mark continues stealing peeks at you when you handle the baby clothing. He never says anything, but his hand always finds yours, grounded, warm. It’s as if he's terrified you'll weep, or vanish, or both. But you don't. Not today.

And maybe it's ridiculous. Maybe it's simply a usual morning. But after everything, all you've gone through, everything you're still suffering from, it feels like something sacred.

The calm delight of simply being.

Of being liked.

Of belonging.

And as Oliver hurls a pack of glow-in-the-dark pacifiers into the cart with a triumphant cry, Mark merely exhales a chuckle and throws an arm around your waist.

“This,” he breathes, chin stroking your temple, “is exactly what I wanted.”

You don’t say anything.

You simply lean in closer.

Because you want it too.

The nursery takes shape slowly. Not all at once, not in some picture-perfect montage of paint-splattered laughter and pristine Pinterest layouts, but in pieces, real, imperfect, human ones. It starts with you sitting on the floor with your legs crossed, sorting through tiny clothes while Mark struggles to assemble the crib. He’s muttering curses under his breath as wooden slats and metal screws betray him for the third time in a row, his hoodie speckled with lilac paint, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“You’re holding the instructions upside down,” you say without looking up.

He pauses. Then flips the manual in his hands with a sheepish grunt. “Still think we should’ve just hired someone.”

“I told you I could’ve done it with my powers.”

“And I told you I’d rather you not accidentally bend the crib into a pretzel and send it through a wall.”

You smirk, folding a baby onesie with a cute message in blocky letters. “Only happened once.”

“And we’re still missing that bookshelf.”

It’s slow. It’s messy. There are days when Mark has to leave mid-screwdriver twist because a monsters crawling through downtown or the Guardians need him, and he comes home with dirt on his boots and an apology in his eyes. But he always finishes what he starts. And over time, the room transforms.

Oliver helps too. Or tries to.

He draws a crude “Welcome Nephew” sign and tapes it proudly to the nursery door, complete with sparkles, questionable spelling, and what you think might be a rocket ship but could also be a toaster. You keep it anyway. You frame it. He insists on picking out stuffed animals and ends up with a collection of the weirdest things you’ve ever seen, a glow-in-the-dark octopus, a grumpy-looking bat, a sloth wearing a cape.

“Every baby needs weird stuff,” he says. “That’s how you grow strong.”

Months pass like water.

You feel your son long before you meet him. He kicks. He stirs. He shifts under your ribs like he’s dancing to music only he can hear. Mark talks to your belly every night, reading comics and giving dramatic voices to every character, even the side ones. Sometimes he’ll rest his hand over your bump and just go quiet. Not because he’s out of things to say, but because he’s overwhelmed by how much he wants to say.

And Oliver, he grows faster than you can keep up with.

Twelve years old comes too fast. He’s taller, leaner, all limbs and opinions, and his voice cracks when he talks too fast. His hair won’t stay down no matter what Debbie does, and he still manages to look both awkward and heroic at the same time when he tries to help you carry groceries or watches over you like a hawk whenever you get too quiet.

He still insists on being involved in everything.

He pokes his head into the nursery one evening, watching Mark finish putting up the mobile, little plush planets and rocket ships. “So when do I get to teach him stuff?”

Mark smirks. “Like what?”

Oliver leans against the doorframe like he’s been rehearsing this. “Like how to throw a punch and how to hide cookies under your bed without anyone noticing.”

You raise a brow. “Anything else?”

“And… how to take care of people,” Oliver says a little quieter, looking at you now. “I’ll be his uncle. That’s important.”

It lands heavier than you expect. The way he says it. Like he’s giving himself a job. Like this baby already means something sacred to him.

And it does.

The day of the birth is nothing like the movies.

There’s no soft filter over your vision, no ethereal glow or peaceful pushing. There is pain. Unrelenting, blinding pain. There is screaming. And most of it is yours.

Mark has been holding your hand since the contractions started, at home, in the car, all the way into the hospital, but now that it’s real, now that you’re mid-labor with the lights too bright and the nurse asking you to breathe, you turn your fury on him.

“I HATE YOU!”

Mark blinks, wide-eyed, caught between trying to be supportive and trying not to cry. “Okay. Yeah. Totally valid. That’s fair-”

“This is YOUR fault!” you scream through another contraction, gripping his hand with strength that could crush stone. “You did this to me, Markus Grayson!”

“I did. I one hundred percent did,” he says, nodding so fast it’s almost a blur. “And I will never stop apologizing. Ever.”

The nurse suppresses a smile and gestures to Mark. “Keep talking to her. She’s doing great.”

“Doing great?” you snarl, panting. “I’m DYING!”

“No, no, no, you're doing amazing, babe-seriously, you’re like a warrior or, OW, okay, yep, that’s my hand-”

You don’t even hear him. Not really. You’re locked in. Focused on pushing. Breathing. Surviving.

Everything burns. Everything hurts. You feel like you’re being torn in half and sewn back together in the same breath. You scream through the next push like you’re exorcising a demon.

And then

A cry.

Shrill. Piercing. Alive.

Your world narrows to that sound. That single, miraculous scream.

You collapse back onto the hospital bed, sweat-soaked, shaking, sobbing in relief. You don’t even realize you’re crying until Mark’s hands are on your face, his lips on your forehead.

“He’s here,” he whispers. His voice cracks. “He’s really here.”

You can barely breathe. “Is he-?”

“He’s perfect.” Mark laughs, breathless and wet-eyed. “God, he’s perfect.”

They place your son on your chest and the world stops.

He’s tiny. Wrinkled. Absolutely furious about being born. But he’s real. And warm. And his little fist curls against your collarbone like he’s anchoring himself to the sound of your heartbeat. Mark’s touching him like he’s afraid to break him, his thumb brushing along the edge of your son’s damp black hair.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispers. “I’m your dad. Sorry about the dramatic entrance.”

You don’t even have the strength to speak. You just look at them, your son, and Mark, kneeling beside you like he can’t believe this is real. And maybe you can’t either.

There’s a knock at the door. A familiar head peeks in.

“Can I come in?” Oliver asks, voice cracking halfway through. He’s holding a plush dinosaur under one arm and looks like he ran here at full speed. “Is he here? Is my nephew-?”

Mark waves him in with one arm still around your shoulders.

Oliver edges toward the bed, his eyes wide. “Whoa. He’s so small.”

“He’s got lungs,” you croak, voice hoarse from yelling. “And very dramatic opinions.”

Oliver smiles, a little stunned. “Can I say hi?”

You nod.

Oliver steps closer and leans down, placing the stuffed dino on the edge of the blanket.

“Hey, little guy,” he murmurs. “I’m your uncle. Which means I get to teach you all the best stuff. Like how to fake sick to get out of school, and how to pretend to sleep through your parents kissing.”

Mark shoots him a look. “You don’t even go to school anymore.”

Oliver grins. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know the hacks.”

You laugh, genuinely laugh, even though your whole body feels like it’s been hit by a truck, and you look down at your son.

Your son.

Everything that’s ever happened, every scar, every loss, every breathless night and haunted morning, led to this.

To him.

To family.

To love.

[tittysuckersworld]

vent tw, if you have depression please please just dont interact-

[piastrisun]

next in line.

pairings: lando norris + verstappen female reader.

summary: your brother announces his first baby, suddenly everyone’s eyes are on you. the teasing starts as harmless fun, but life has other plans.

faceclaim: lila moss.⠀warning: none.

request: for a smau idea, can you do verstappen!reader that just found out that her brother's gonna be a dad and is just excited maybe a reader x lando? and the grid teases her telling her she's next?

notes: so so happy for max, i’m sure he’s gonna be an amazing dad. and to make clear, i do not support kelly’s actions but i respect her as max’s partner and mother of their kid. also, i’m really sorry this took so long, i didn’t had my laptop :( but i do now!

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and others

ynverstappen i’m going to be an aunt, AGAIN!!! congratulations to the best brother in the world and my sister-in-law for blessing us with a tiny human. can’t wait to meet my future favourite little one. 🤍

tagged maxverstappen1

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username this got me thinking she was expecting as well, the GASP i let out 💀

maxverstappen1 best brother in the world? finally getting the recognition i deserve

username the fact he commented this first, so unserious 😭😭

username1 i was so moved by the caption and now i’m laughing

maxverstappen1 ik houd van je, kleine zus!!! (i love you, little sister)

ynverstappen ik hou altijd van je, you’re going to be an amazing dad!! (i love you too)

username2 FAVES

username3 my most parasocial relationship are them because i feel like they’re my cousins

kellypiquet thank you!! 🥹 baby can’t wait to meet their favourite aunt

ynverstappen stop it i’ll cry

username they’re so sweet with each other

username4 OMG congrats to your family!!! can’t wait to see the cutest baby pics

landonorris i’m next in line to become an uncle

ynverstappen i hope you’re ready for all the babysitting we’ll be doing!!

username5 wait... does this mean lando and yn are next?

username6 imagine the chaos if they had a baby too 😭😭

maxfewtrell chaos? more like pure excellence the world’s not ready

landonorris couldn’t agree more

ynverstappen you’re BANNED from my posts

username7 do you guys think i still have time to reincarnate in that baby?

username8 MOVE, it was my idea first

danielricciardo aunt for now, mum next?

ynverstappen delete this immediately

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YOUR CHATS: MAMMA’S FAVOURITE GROUP.

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ynverstappen added to their story.

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landonorris just say the word babe

ynverstappen STOPPPP

landonorris i meannn, i was already planning our baby names list, but take your time

ynverstappen keep the list, i’m busy trying to decide between napping or rewatch criminal minds

maxverstappen1 we’re just preparing you for the future

ynverstappen future? i was planning on sleeping past 11 AM, thank you very much

ynverstappen but sure, let’s add kids to the list!

victoriaverstappen you’re next! the family is ready for some mini-you

ynverstappen okay that is kinda cute

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YOUR CHATS: TEAM BABY.

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liked by francolapinto, carlossainz55 and others

landonorris four years with my person, my best friend, and the love of my life. here’s to many more!! i love youuuuu

tagged ynverstappen

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lnfour nice number that one

ynverstappen beyond grateful for you every single day, love you more than anything!! <3 ♥︎ liked by author

landonorris love youUuUu

maxfewtrell you two have made it 4 years and not killed each other? impressive

ynverstappen jerk, we’re literally the best couple

username SPEAK UR TRUTH 🗣️

username2 seeing you two together makes me believe in love and what

carlossainz55 yeah, how’s that baby talk going?

ynverstappen can we just enjoy the anniversary without being bombarded about children

landonorris hey!! it’s a valid question

sophiekumpen watching you grow together has been such a joy ♥︎ liked by author

landonorris we couldn’t have done it without all your support 🩶

username3 this is the cutest thing i’ve seen all day

username4 sooo, where’s the baby update?

georgerussell63 you better be sending out wedding invites soon... you know i’ll be waiting ♥︎ liked by author

username5 lando liked this omg

username6 OH IM SO EXCITED

maxverstappen1 maybe we can get the baby a matching anniversary onesie

landonorris don’t tempt me!!

username6 you’re worse than the actual mother 😭😭

alex_albon he is and we appreciate it

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landonorris added to their story.

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maxfewtrell she has that pregnancy glow

landonorris she says: fuck off

maxfewtrell so lovely as always 🥰

charles_leclerc is the shrimp carrying a baby shrimp?

landonorris i don’t think so but stay tuned!

charles_leclerc 🫡

ynverstappen shrimp 😭😭 you’re unbelievable

landonorris you’re MY shrimp, tho

ynverstappen i know i love u

landonorris special shrimp

ynverstappen yes

landonorris mama shrimp

ynverstappen too far babe

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ynverstappen added to their story.

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danielricciardo i’m assuming shrimp is code for ‘future mum’ now?

ynverstappen lando’s been calling me shrimp since FOREVER

danielricciardo for obvious reasons, you kinda look like one

ynverstappen you’re relentless

oscarpiastri you can’t escape forever, you know

ynverstappen i can and i WILL

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

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ynverstappen we <3 new york

tagged landonorris

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alex_albon this feels like a soft launch for a baby announcement

ynverstappen in WHAT world

alex_albon i don’t know, everyone says new york is romantic

ynverstappen no one has EVER said that

carlossainz55 you two look like you’re scouting locations for a babymoon

ynverstappen STOP GIVING HIM IDEAS

landonorris i do like the sound of that ♥︎ liked by author

ynverstappen no you don’t

username she says that and yet likes all the baby related comments 😭😭

landonorris do you think we’ll get a discount if we book the babymoon now? asking for a friend

ynverstappen i’ll throw you in the ocean

username2 LMAOO he’s not even subtle about it

maxfewtrell baby’s first visit to the empire state? 👶🏻

landonorris give us nine months, mate

username3 savannah slow down

username4 y’all are a little too cute and i love it

username5 REAL like those are my parents

oscarpiastri if you name the baby after me i’ll babysit for free. think about it

landonorris oscar norris-verstappen it is!!!

ynverstappen first of all, my last name would go first

ynverstappen second, you were my favourite, oscar

ynverstappen and i remark WERE

oscarpiastri got it miss

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

YOUR CHATS: TEAM BABY.

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

liked by danielricciardo, ynverstappen and others

lando.jpg muse

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username he has called her his muse a million times and it gets me every time 🥹

ynverstappen love love love ♥︎ liked by author

lando.jpg 🖤

danielricciardo your family portraits are coming along nicely. just missing one thing…

lando.jpg i’ll admit that would make a good christmas card ♥︎ liked by ynverstappen

username2 u don’t even TRY to be subtle, huh? lmaooo

username3 someone pls tell him he’s not slick 😭😭

username4 you two are the cutest

username5 okay dad in training, we see you!!

username6 they can’t escape baby talk even online i’m CRYING

username7 husband AND dad material, i don’t make the rules ♥︎ liked by author

username8 him liking this he’s NOT real

username9 this man is ready, someone call yn

charles_leclerc dog dad today, human dad tomorrow 👀

ynverstappen tomorrow’s a bit ambitious, but thanks for the timeline

username she’s not saying no—

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ───

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 25’.

[teaboot]

Its been a rough couple days out here so I'm writing a list of things I love about my son

(who is cat)

His dumb little face

His pretty yellow eyes

Every day when I get home the FIRST thing that happens is I scoop him up into my arms like a big baby and he let's me rub his tumtum for a whole two minutes!! Before returning to Bite Mode

The SECOND thing that happens is he gets the zoomies! When his father returns from work he goes SNUGGLE! then zooooooom. Because he is excited for me to play with him!!

When I play computer games he likes to feel included so even though he isn't normally very touchy he lets me scoop him up in one arm so he can sit there like a toddler and watch the screen

He trusts me SO much like if he wants up on a shelf or down off something tall I can just walk over and kneel and he'll crawl up or down me like a ladder and I've never had a cat do that before

He'll ride around on my shoulders when I take him out for walks which van be tricky now that he's big but he's so brave even when we pass a dog

Sometimes when I go to run his chin he gets SO EXCITED he'll jam his nose into my palm and smush it hard like he's trying to burrow a hole in the ground and it's adorable

He loves water-appliances? Like sinks and toilets and baths and such. He gets SO excited every time I turn on a faucet, he'll rush over and get as close as he can to watch without getting wet.

His favourite part of the whole house is the bathtub and whenever I take a bath he'll drape himself over the side and lounge there until I get out. He's not allowed in when I'm using the toilet but once I'm done I open the door to leave and he rushes in to check if I've been taking a secret bath without him, goes straight to the tub

In trying to teach him not to bite me, he has learned that he IS allowed to bite blankets. So if he really, really wants to play and I'm ignoring him, he'll bite me blankets and whip them around like a puppy playing tug-of-war.

If I'm ignoring him because I am ALSEEP, this sometimes results in me waking up because he has successfully pulled my blankets off of me.

He likes watching trucks. He'll sit in the window and watch traffic but if he hears a loud engine he'll RUSH to check it out.

When he was a baby, my brother would visit in the afternoons to feed and play with him while I was working. As a result, he loves his uncle more than me, and will allow constant tummy rubs

Because my brothers and I do family movie night at my place, and because he loves his uncles so much, he lights up whenever the doorbell rings and MUST greet visitors at the door.

Sometimes he tries to climb up a door by hugging the edge and jumping as high as he can. It has never worked but he still keeps trying. I think he just likes sliding down like it's a firepole.

He is obsessed with the smell of McDonalds french fries. He doesn't try to eat them, he just wants the box. There us currently one under my bed that I'm not allowed to throw away. I can hear him jamming his face into it right now.

Sometimes when he's curious about something I'm doing- eating, drinking, washing up, whatever- I'll let him sniff, and I'll just hear two or three strongass HUFF. HUFF sounds before he goes back to chilling. It's the cutest shit.

He's soft like the luxurious wild mink

His littol baby FEETSIES

Sometimes he stops grooming himself and forgets his tongue is sticking out

His laser toy has a keychain attachment that jingles so whenever he hears a metallic jingle like that he thinks it's playtime

when I wash my face in the bathroom in the morning he hops on top of the toilet tank and starts grooming himself like "Oh hey I guess it's EVERYBODY'S bath time okay"

He's chatty and will meep back and forth with me

He has a round little wicker nest bed on a pedestal in my room and he likes to climb inside at night and make biscuits on the cushion while he sucks on the corner and it makes me wanna cry he's such a big baby

He will not wake me up for breakfast but as soon as I move in thevmorning he'll hop up onto my chest and stare at me. If I take too long to get up he'll meep in my face and then bounce back and forth between me and the door until I'm up.

Once I AM up, he will circle me and continue chirping until I ask him if it is time for dinner. Dinner, as far as he knows, is the only word for food. As soon as I ask, "is it dinner time?" He will zoom to the kitchen like a bat out of he'll and wait beside his bowl.

He genuinely seems to enjoy walkies and will climb into his carrier if he thinks we're going somewhere

Soketimes he'll pick up one of his toys and trot around with it like he's showing it off and I swear to God every time it makes me wanna make the most embarrassing noises

Him son ♡

[strayingawayy]

midnight melodies

...where a droopy eyed jisung lulls his crying baby girl to sleep

it was 3 am, and han jisung was starting to lose his grip on reality. in his arms, their newborn daughter was wailing at the top of her tiny lungs, and he, half-asleep, was desperate for anything to calm her down.

“okay... okay,” he muttered, bouncing her gently. “you’re just... hungry, right? yeah, that’s it.”

she screamed louder in protest.

“alright, alright,” he said, rocking back and forth. “no food. no bottle. what do you want, sweet girl?”

she stared up at him, her tiny fists clenched, as if mocking him.

jisung took a deep breath, glancing around the nursery like it held all the answers. he spotted her han quokka plushie on the shelf and grabbed it. “okay, quokka, let’s try you.”

he held it up to her, but she screamed even louder.

"aish. so you're rejecting daddy and daddy in animal form too huh?," he said with a tired laugh. "huh ...maybe something... softer."

his mind was a blur. but then, it hit him. a song. he could sing her to sleep. he was han jisung, after all. how hard could it be?

taking a deep breath, he started softly, his voice still a little hoarse from lack of sleep.

“you are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” he sang, his tone gentle and shaky and accent prominent but soft.

the baby hiccupped mid-cry and paused for a brief moment, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“you make me happy when skies are grey,” he continued, growing more confident.

her cries had slowed down, and her tiny hand reached up as if to feel the vibrations of his voice.

“you’ll never know dear, how much i love you...” jisung crooned, his voice growing softer as his exhaustion began to catch up to him.

the baby’s eyes fluttered, her little face calming.

jisung grinned, his sleepiness fading as he realized his voice was finally working. "see? told you i was a pro," he whispered to her, though he could barely keep his eyes open.

just then, you walked in, rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn. "you’re still at it?" you asked, glancing at your daughter, who was now dozing peacefully in jisung’s arms.

jisung, eyes half-closed, smiled triumphantly. “i’m a lullaby legend, love .”

you raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. you sure it wasn’t just that song?”

jisung blinked, the reality of the situation sinking in. “i mean... yeah. probably.”

you chuckled softly and, feeling the need for a quick snack, went to the kitchen. but when you returned a few minutes later, the sight you saw made you pause in the doorway.

there was jisung, curled up in the crib with their baby girl, both fast asleep. he’d somehow managed to fit himself in the small space, one arm around her, his head resting gently on the edge of the crib. his breathing was slow and peaceful, a contented smile on his face. the baby, snug in his arms, had the faintest of smiles on her face as well.

you stepped closer, careful not to wake them, and stood there for a moment, completely taken by the warmth of the scene. the man you loved, the one who had been so anxious earlier, was now completely at ease, his little girl in his arms as if they’d been doing this forever.

you couldn’t help but smile. "well, i guess you are her sunshine too, sweetheart," you whispered to yourself, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

you carefully adjusted the blanket over them and kissed both jisung and your daughter’s foreheads, your heart full of love. then, you whispered, "sleep tight, you two."

and as you left the room, the soft glow of the night and the gentle hum of peace filled the air, your little family finally at rest.

[amortxt]

⠀ㅤ⠀ ⠀𖥻⠀ㅤ⠀﹫⠀kento⠀nanami.

ㅤㅤⓘㅤㅤfluff, reader and kento are married + have a daughter, f!reader as it contains mentions of reader going through motherhood + being called mother, reader is implied to have taken nanami as a last name.

"shhh, shh, it's okay.. it's okay sweetheart.."

it was originally kento that had encouraged you to leave for this trip. you thank all your lucky stars for your husband being as supportive as he was throughout your journey of motherhood. never allowing you to have to pick your career over your family or your family over your career.

he was your balance. your hold onto the ground when you felt like you were ready to float away.

he was your everything.

but now he had begun to regret letting you leave today. your daughter was 7 months old. he had told you, that surely she was okay to spend just two nights away from her mother. but it seemed she had grown near inseparable from her mother. all understanding for just a baby, but in this moment he couldn't bare having to hear his daughter cry further. he was ready to begin breaking down himself at this point.

he tiredly reached for his phone. shamefully calling your number at 2 am, fully aware you had an important meeting early next morning. how he loathed himself at the moment. grumbling out a "dear god" as the phone rang for a few seconds.

you picked up shortly, unsurprisingly. you had made it very clear to him that he should call you no matter what, whenever he needed if he needed help. he had assured you that it wouldn't have to come to that, so you couldn't help but smile when you heard your daughters wailing in the background.

"didn't need me huh?" he didn't even need to see you. he could practically hear your insufferable smirk, that he unfortunately missed more than ever.

"never said that. now please god, sweetheart, she's not stopped crying for a good half an hour." you laughed, still on the other side of the world you were being woken up because of your daughters crying late at night. it was humorous, and strangely sweet.

you requested a facetime, and he accepted quickly. you looked straight into your daughters teary eyes, and she looked back all bug eyed, her crying slowly coming to a stop. you didn't know if she was more thrilled to see you or the metal square shine a bright light in her face.

"hi baby, you're not giving your papa a hard time, right?" your daughter responded in little babbles. your heart warmed a little, and you could see your beloved grinning in the background. you hadn't admitted it- barely even noticed it in fact, how much you truly missed your little family. you needed this too.

you and your daughter continued baby-talking for a good few minutes until you could see her yawning, to which kento had placed a bottle into her mouth. she slowly began to fall asleep, drinking the now lukewarm milk.

you looked at your husband with loving eyes. he looked back at you with just the same fervor. like you were his whole world, like you'd hung up the stars for him. even as you were halfway across the world from him. he would never hate you for caring about your career. it made you practically ill with adoration.

"stay on call with me please? i miss you."

"i miss you too, sweetheart. of course i will."

"goodnight, i love you papamin."

"goodnight mamamin. i love you too."

⠀ㅤ⠀⠀©⠀all work written by ﹫amortxt. do not repost.

[geminiwritten]

baby sister ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: hangman has a serious crush on you, it might even be love, but it's a little complicated seeing as rooster is your older brother

notes: yes, i finally watched top gun (i'm stubborn, okay), and yes, i am obsessed! i'm not too sure how i feel about this, but it's my first one so please be kind! i also tried writing it by kind of switching pov's, so sorry if its weird / confusing! but as always, i love feedback so please, please let me know what you think x

warnings: swearing, very minor physical altercation with a creepy guy, boner joke, switching pov's (kind of), protective older brother, and likely some very inaccurate us navy details

word count: 7493

- One Year Ago -

The old bar smells exactly as you remember it; wood polish, worn leather, stale beer, and a hint of ocean air. It’s a lot cleaner than it used to be – the soles of your shoes aren’t sticking to the floor – and you assume that’s thanks to the new owner. It isn’t as busy as you would expect for Friday at 4PM, which you’re somewhat thankful for as you easily find a spare barstool beside the vacant pool table.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks with a polite smile.

“Just a water, please.”

He retrieves a bottle from the fridge below the bar while you check your pockets for cash, pulling out a few dollars and handing it to him in exchange for the water. He smiles again before turning around to serve patrons on the other side of the bar, and you start drawing shapes in the condensation of the bottle while you wait.

“This seat taken?” someone asks, appearing beside you.

Startled, you turn quickly to find a pair of green eyes much closer than expected. You’d have to be stupid not to immediately notice that this guy is gorgeous, but the smirk on his lips tells you that he knows it too.

“Not yet,” you reply with a tight-lipped smile.

He sits himself on the stool and signals the bartender, ordering a schooner of pale ale draught before pulling a few notes out of his back pocket. He isn’t in uniform, but you can tell by the way he holds himself that he’s an officer.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he says, “are you visiting?”

You nod before taking a large sip of water, your eyes constantly watching the new patrons that enter through the main door. You know better than to flirt with a lieutenant (guessing by his age), your mother always told you to stay away from military men.

“Have you been to North Island before?” he asks, seemingly unphased by your lack of enthusiasm for conversation.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“Military family?”

“Sort of,” you reply.

“Okay, let me guess,” he leans both elbows on the bar and looks at you, unleashing the full power of his pretty green eyes, “your dad was military, gone for months at a time with little to no contact, which left your mom to raise you all on her own. You would hear her crying at night and watch her struggle every day, but then when your dad got home, he was the hero; forget about all her hard work. Eventually, your mom got sick of being alone and began to resent him, so they grew apart and the next thing you know, dad moves out with his new girlfriend and mum tells you every single day never to date a man in the military.”

You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips, because damn this man is pretty, and you simply can’t find it in yourself to ignore him.

“Close,” you say, “but it was her first husband who was military, and he died in action. My father was a banker, safe but boring, and it didn’t work out. But you are right about one thing; mom has always told me not to date a man in the military.”

“Oh,” he takes a long sip of his beer, stalling as he tries to think of something to say that isn’t totally insensitive.

“Not that I always listen to what she says,” you add with a smirk, making him choke on his mouthful of beer.

He looks back at you, shocked but still smiling, “Are you flirting with me?”

Your turn sideways on the stool to face him, opening your mouth to reply when a familiar sight walking toward you catches your attention. You stop and smile, looking straight past the man sitting beside you.

“Hey Baby,” Bradley says with a grin.

“Hey,” you jump off the stool, “how are you?”

“Woah, hey,” the green-eyed man stands too, a slight frown between his brows, "Rooster, c’mon man. You’re going to have to find yourself another girl; let’s not make this a competition too.”

Bradley’s brows shoot up toward his hairline, and you have to roll your lips to keep from giggling.

“Oh, here we go,” one of the men who walked in with Bradley chuckles, and you think you can remember meeting him the last time you visited.

“A competition?” Bradley repeats, his tone mildly threatening.

“Wait,” the man glances between you and Bradley, “are you two dating?”

Bradley scoffs, “Absolutely not.”

“Then why did you call her baby?”

“It’s her nickname, genius,” the same man as before says, and you suddenly remember Bradley introducing him to you last summer. You never did find out his real name, but they call him Payback.

The green-eyed man turns to you in shock, “Like, your call sign?”

You shake your head, “I don’t fly.”

“She wishes,” Bradley says as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “Hangman, this is Baby, as in my baby sister.”

The poor man chokes so hard on his beer, you’re surprised it doesn’t spray out his nose. He coughs and splutters, holding a hand on his chest while the rest of Bradley’s friends laugh from around the pool table. Bradley chuckles too, seemingly satisfied with the damage he’s caused, before turning to give you a proper hug.

“How was the flight?” he asks.

“Not terrible, but I swear my bag was the last to come out on the carousel.”

He releases you from his hold and orders two beers from the bartender, handing you one soon as its poured. “You remember my friends, don’t you?” he asks as he turns to face the game of pool, “Payback and Fanboy, and that’s Bob; I don’t think you met him last summer.”

You smile and give an awkward wave, not bothering to walk around and shake everyone’s hands in the middle of a game.

“Dude,” Fanboy says to Hangman, who is now standing on the opposite side of the pool table, “I can’t believe you were hitting on Rooster’s little sister.”

“Hey,” Hangman frowns, “she was hitting on me back.”

Bradley’s head whips toward you, his eyes wide, “You what?”

“Oh, calm down Braddy,” you say, “I can look after myself.”

Payback snickers, “Braddy?”

“Aw, Braddy,” Fanboy coos.

Bradley shoots you a glare as you slip out from under his arm to find a seat, grinning sheepishly at your brother as his friends continue to mock your nickname for him. After half an hour and two pool games – these guys are freakishly good – another two lieutenants join the group, introducing themselves as Coyote and Phoenix.

“So,” Phoenix says as she sits on the stool beside you, “what brings you to North Island, aside from missing your big brother?”

Even though Bradley’s back is to you as he takes a shot, you know he’s rolling his eyes.

“Well, I usually try and visit more than once a year, but he’s hardly been on the ground in the past twelve months,” you say, “then Uncle Pete called me a few weeks ago and said he was going on a trip with Penny. So, he asked if I could come babysit Braddy for a while.”

“Aw,” she giggles, “Braddy needs a babysitter?”

Bradley flicks your arm as he walks past, circling the pool table to find the best angle, “Would you stop telling people embarrassing shit about me.”

You shrug, “How was I supposed to know that you were pretending to be cool?”

The rest of the group laugh as Bradley completely botches his shot, sinking the white ball.

“I’m sorry, Rooster, but I definitely like her better,” Hangman says with a smirk.

You roll your lips as you look over at the lieutenant, appreciating how tight his t-shirt is as he bends forward over the pool table to take his shot.

Bradley points at him, “You better cut it out, she is off limits.”

- Present -

You decided to move to San Diego about two weeks after flying in last summer, and it had nothing to do with the beach day you went on with Bradley and his friends, where Jake tackled you in the surf, all shirtless and wet and muscly. Bradley was beyond excited to have his little sister closer to him, he even helped get you a desk job in the operations department. It wasn’t anything close to what he was doing, protecting the country and all that, but you’re liking it way better than your old job. Which again, has nothing to do with the fact that you get to take lunch breaks with a certain lieutenant. Your brother is there too, but you don’t fancy staring at him, you’ve seen enough of him over the years.

“Are you going to eat or stare?” Natasha asks, nudging your side with her elbow.

The mouthful of pasta that had been balancing on your fork falls off and plops back into your bowl. You turn to her, your eyebrows furrowed, “Huh?”

“My God, you’re practically drooling.”

“Is the pasta good?” Jake asks, clearly having overheard and misunderstood your conversation, “I knew I should have chosen that; the sloppy joes are too sloppy.”

He leans across the table and takes your fork, stabbing it into a few pieces of pasta before popping it in his mouth. Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch his lips wrap around the utensil that was previously in your mouth, and you want to be ashamed of yourself for allowing something so frivolous to get you so excited, but you simply can’t help it. With your brother the constant cock-block always hanging around, sharing a fork is the closest you’ve gotten to Jake in the year that you’ve been here.

“Mm,” he groans, “that is good.”

“You can have it,” you push the bowl toward him, “I’m not that hungry.”

“Yeah, and you just contaminated her fork,” Bradley says, smacking Jake’s shoulder.

“I don’t think she minds,” Natasha pipes in.

Oblivious, Jake looks up with a huge mouthful of pasta making his cheeks puff out, and somehow, he still looks adorable. You shoot a subtle glare at Natasha from the corner of your eye before picking up the apple from your tray and biting into it.

“So,” you turn your attention to your brother, “The Hard Deck after work?”

He nods, “Yep, I’ve got a year of free beers to win.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, “It’s cute that you think you have a chance of winning in a pool comp against me.”

“Or me,” Jake adds.

Bradley snorts, “Please, you’ve been so off your game lately, and Phoenix” – he turns to look at her – “is good, but not as good as me.”

“You are so full of yourself, do you know that?” Natasha says, her eyes narrowed at Bradley.

You quickly tune out as they launch into a petty argument about who is better at pool and who is going to win The Hard Deck’s billiards tournament, having heard it almost a hundred times over the past month. It’s an eight-week competition, every Thursday night, and this is only the fifth week but you’re pretty sure you’re going to kill your brother if he doesn’t stop bragging about being undefeated so far. Then again, he hasn’t yet had to play against half of the dagger squad, arguably the best pool players on North Island.

“Alright, we better go,” Bradley says, nudging Jake again.

Jake scrapes the last of the pasta from the bowl into his mouth before standing from his chair and leaning across the table toward you. “Thanks Baby,” he says with a wink, “I owe you one.” He drops the empty bowl on your tray and slides your tray across the table, stacking it on top of his.

When he straightens up, both trays in his hands, Bradley is glaring. “Watch it, Seresin.”

“What? I was just thanking her,” Jake says innocently, “don’t get your panties in a knot.”

You roll your eyes and stand up from your chair, “See you guys later, then?”

Jake can’t help himself, and he turns toward you wearing his most charming grin, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Dude!” Bradley exclaims, smacking him in the shoulder.

Natasha sighs, despite the amused smirk on her lips, “Come on you two, fight about it later.”

You roll your lips to keep from giggling, because you know that will only irritate Bradley more, but you’re pretty sure your cherry red cheeks are about to give something away. Before your brother can notice the way Jake’s words have affected you, you turn on your heel and head back toward your office, anticipation bubbling in your stomach for tonight.

- Jake -

Maverick ended today’s training half an hour early, dismissing everyone but Rooster since he still had sixty-two push ups to do after betting that he could catch Phoenix and Bob before Mav could. He was wrong, but Jake admires the cockiness.

The rest of the squad have already made their way to the locker rooms, eager to shower and change and get to The Hard Deck for a well-earned drink. There’s no current mission for the dagger squad, no impending doom, so that on top of the excitement for the billiards comp has everyone in the highest of spirits. Everyone but Jake, of course.

He’s the last to enter the locker room, dragging his feet and slowly unzipping his flight suit as he weaves through the rest of the boys toward his locker. He isn’t sad by any means, just frustrated, because it seems that the longer you live in San Diego, the more protective your brother gets. His rule about you being off limits isn’t easing any time soon, and neither is Jake’s crush.

“What’s the matter with you?” Coyote asks, shoving his flight suit into his locker right beside Jake’s.

“Hm?” Jake looks up from his feet, “Oh, nothing, just distracted.”

Payback peers around from the other side of Coyote’s locker, his lips curled into a smirk, “So, how’s that hideously inappropriate and all-consuming crush on Rooster’s little sister going?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” Jake says sarcastically, “I should be ready to kill myself any day now.”

The rest of the boys dissolve into laughter, each pausing in various stages of undress to giggle about Jake’s unfortunate situation. Everyone but Rooster and Phoenix know at this point, having easily figured it out by the way Jake can’t seem to focus anytime you’re in the same room, and thankfully, none of them plan on outing his little secret anytime soon. Jake likes to think it’s because they’re afraid that Rooster might shoot the messenger, and while that might be a small part of it, he knows it’s really because they feel sorry for him. The first girl who Hangman actually wants something real with, and it’s the little sister of Bradley Bradshaw.

However, Jake is surprised that Phoenix hasn’t yet figured it out, but grateful nonetheless, since she’s way too close to you to have that kind of ammunition under her belt. There have been a few times where he thought she might be onto him, little glances at you whenever he gets too flirty and subtle comments that could have underlying meanings, but she hasn’t confronted him about it yet, so he assumes she’s just as clueless as Rooster is.

“Come on, Hangman,” Fanboy says from the opposite row of lockers, “it can’t be that bad.”

“You want to bet?” Jake asks, glancing over his shoulder. “I got half a bar at lunch today because I used the same fork as her.”

The laughter, having died down for a moment, picks up again with renewed vigour. Even Bob, who is usually quiet and refuses to comment when the boys start teasing Jake about his crush, is giggling into his open locker, shoulders shaking.

“Oh, man,” Coyote says between fits of laughter, “you’re down bad.”

“What’s so funny?” Rooster asks, standing in front of the door as it swings shut behind him.

The laughter quickly subsides and everyone turns to hide their faces in their lockers, all but Jake who is left staring at Rooster’s quizzical frown.

“Coyote was just saying that he nearly soiled himself today when Mav pulled that cobra manoeuvre in front of him,” Jake lies, at which Coyote shoots him a glare.

Rooster chuckles, “Oh, really? I didn’t catch that.”

“Too busy running your mouth, Rooster,” Fanboy chimes in.

“Yeah, how’s your stomach after those two-hundred push ups?” Payback asks as he walks toward Rooster with an evil grin, reeling his fist back to strike his friend in the abdomen.

Rooster evades the attack, eyes wide, “Don’t even think about it, my abs are on fire right now.”

Jake relaxes as casual conversation picks back up; Rooster seemingly fooled by his lie as he jokes around with the rest of the squad. They all strip out of their flight suits and shower before changing into civilian clothes, packing their gear into their lockers, and heading out the door. Those who aren’t headed to The Hard Deck bid their goodbyes, while those eager for a beer begin making their way to the bar.

“Should we wait for the girls?” Jake asks as they walk toward Rooster’s car.

“Well, at least one of us has to,” Bob replies, glancing around the group of six.

Rooster tosses his keys in the air and catches them again in the palm of his hand, “Fight it out amongst yourselves boys.”

“It’s fine, I’ll wait for them,” Jake offers quickly.

Fanboy has to stifle his laughter behind his hand, pretending to rub his nose.

“That’s unlike you to be so obliging, Hangman,” Coyote says, his narrowed eyes telling Jake that he’s still bitter about being thrown under the bus earlier.

“I actually think I left my watch in my locker, so I have to run back anyway,” Jake lies again.

“Easy done,” Rooster, oblivious as ever, says, “climb on in fellas, I’m thirsty.”

The rest of the group all move toward Rooster’s car and pile in, while Jake turns his back and pulls out his phone to text Phoenix, asking her to wait for him if the two of you exit the locker room before he’s done ‘looking for his watch’.

More and more of late, Jake has been doing things that are ‘unlike him’ in order to gain more time with you away from your brother, the ever-present cock-block. It isn’t often that he has the chance, and he knows his behaviour is becoming noticeable, but until Rooster confronts him for trying to spend time with you, he’s going to keep trying.

He runs in and out of the locker room, simply to keep up the lie, before fishing his watch out of his pocket and strapping it to his wrist as he walks back toward the car park. He could recognise you from a mile away, all perfect and effortless, leaning casually against Phoenix’s car and twirling a stray piece of hair as Phoenix talks to you. The closer he gets, the more he can see that whatever Phoenix is saying is intense, and it’s making you nervous. Your hair twirling is less idle and more anxious as Phoenix stresses her words with her hands, looking exasperated.

A part of him wants to sneak up and try to catch the conversation, but before he can think too hard about how he could become stealthier, Phoenix spots him. “Come on Bagman, hurry it up!” she calls across the lot.

You glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with him and he simply cannot stop the grin that takes over his lips. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Trace,” he says, though his eyes never leave yours.

Phoenix scoffs, “What’s your obsession with panties today?”

When he comes within a few feet of you, he frowns and turns his attention to Phoenix, “What?”

“First Rooster at lunch and now me,” she says. “Are you not getting laid or something?”

The way her eyes drift over to you as she speaks, a smirk threatening to curl her lip, has Jake’s heart racing. Does she know? How could she know?

He clears his throat and wills himself to seem unaffected by her taunt, but whatever smart-lipped quip that he would usually respond with refuses to pop into his head. He panics, sweat prickling the back of his neck. Phoenix turns her attention away from you and back to him, her playful smile slowly fading as the silence stretches and he struggles to retort. If she didn’t know before, she definitely knows now.

“Oh, leave him alone, Nat,” your voice breaks the tension, “we all know Hangman has no trouble with the ladies.”

Phoenix shakes her head, as if needing the physical queue to stop her own spiralling thoughts. “So he tells us,” she says, grabbing the handle on the driver’s side door, “but I’m yet to witness his skills in action.”

She casts Jake one last dubious glance before opening the door and taking her seat behind the wheel. You turn to him then, your gaze holding him captive as you ask, “Do you want shotgun?”

He shakes his head, swallowing on his dry throat, “You take it, I’m good in the back.”

- You -

Jake looks like he’s seen a ghost as he stares out the window of the car, watching the Naval Air Station pass by as Natasha drives toward the exit gates. You can’t help glancing at him in the rear view mirror every few seconds, only able to see a portion of his side profile with the angle of the mirror, but it’s still enough to know that he doesn’t look normal.

As a matter of fact, Natasha looks a little odd too, as if she’s trying to silently solve a math problem in her head. Her eyes are narrowed, her brows furrowed, and her hands are holding the steering wheel tightly at ten and two. She too keeps glancing in the rearview mirror, whether looking at Jake or simply checking the traffic, you can’t tell, but her shoulders stay tense and her lips pressed firmly together.

“So,” you say, swivelling in your chair to properly look at Jake, “how was flight school?”

His face breaks into a soft smile and your pulse triples its speed, your heart thundering in your chest as you stare into his pretty green eyes. “I graduated flight school a while ago, darlin’,” he says.

You love when he uses a pet name other than your nickname, because ‘baby’ just doesn’t have the same ring when its something your whole family uses.

“I know, but I heard Maverick over the comms say that he was going to send the lot of you back to flight school.”

Jake chuckles, “You were listening on the comms?”

You shrug, “Sometimes I listen in, just to be nosey.”

You really only do it so you can enjoy Jake’s voice throughout the day, because something about Jake in that cockpit doing what he does best gets you incredibly hot and bothered. What can you say? You’re a masochist.

“Well, I better start watching my language,” he says, “or I can just tell Mav that you’ve been listening in.”

Your eyes widen, “You wouldn’t do that.”

His smile turns into a smirk, “You sure about that?”

All you want to do is crawl into the back seat and crush your lips against his. He looks good enough to eat right now, fresh from a shower, his damp hair a little spikier than usual, and his green eyes sparkling with mischief and something else you can’t quite place.

“Speaking of Mav,” Natasha pipes in, “he said he was going to stop by the bar tonight.”

Great, not only a brother but a cock-blocking uncle too. Well, uncle figure.

“Oh, fun,” you say, trying not to sound so sarcastic, but Natasha isn’t stupid. She catches your displeased tone and shoots you a knowing look, her lips now curled into a smug smile. At least she seems to have figured out her math problem.

A minute later, Natasha pulls the car into the gravel parking lot of The Hard Deck bar. She finds a park right next to Rooster’s car, and the three of you climb out in silence. You can hear the jukebox playing from outside as you approach the main door, Natasha in the lead and typing a message on her phone while you and Jake follow closely behind.

“Nervous?” you ask him, referring to the pool comp.

He chuckles, “Only because you’ll be watching, darlin’.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, their wings making you sick with nerves as they flutter violently. You want to reply, but your brain is complete mush as you stare back at his gorgeous grin, so all you can do is playfully roll your eyes and bump your shoulder against his.

The three of you enter the bar and make a beeline for the familiar faces seated at the booth closest to the pool table. The cues and balls are nowhere to be found, and there’s a sign written in black marker laying on the green felt that reads ‘POOL COMP IN SESSION, DO NOT TOUCH’.

Before you can reach your brother and the rest of the squad, Natasha grabs your hand and tugs you toward the bar. “Want a drink?” she asks, moving too quickly for Jake to follow.

You glance over your shoulder and watch him watch you with a confused frown as he takes a seat at the booth with the rest of the group. Natasha pulls you a decent way away from the squad, finding an open space at the bar and leaning against it, but she doesn’t flag down Penny or Jimmy.

“I think Seresin likes you,” she says, her voice low and eyes wide.

Your stomach does a somersault, “What?”

“I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out, but” – she smacks her hands on the bar emphatically – “he really likes you.”

“Is that why you were so tense before?”

“Yes, because I-”

“Hey ladies,” Penny interrupts, an easy smile on her lips, “what are we drinking tonight?”

“Hey Penny,” you muster your best I’m Totally Not Freaking Out Right Now smile, “two schooners of the pale ale, please.”

She nods once and fills two schooner glasses, sliding them across the bar and taking the cash from Natasha’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks Penny,” Natasha says, before taking a big gulp from her glass.

You tip your own drink to your lips and drain half of it, plonking it back down and wiping the foam from the tip of your nose before turning back to your friend. “You were saying?”

“Before, when he came up to us in the parking lot,” she explains, “I made some stupid joke about him not getting laid and I looked at you, because duh, but so did he.”

You frown, “And?”

“And he looked totally panicked.”

“Maybe he was just embarrassed.”

She rolls her eyes, “That wasn’t embarrassment, he looked like I’d just outed his biggest secret, and he didn’t even comeback with some stupid, sarcastic comment.”

You sigh, “Nat, I love you, but I think you’ve gone insane. Jake doesn’t see me as anything more than Bradley’s baby sister, he’s probably just fried from work and couldn’t think of anything on the spot.”

“You’re never going to believe me, are you?”

You shrug, “Probably not.”

“Okay, fine,” she picks her drink up and steps back from the bar, “I’ll find a way.”

She starts walking back toward the booth where the rest of the squad are, and you quickly pick up your own half-empty schooner before following her with an amused smile on your lips. Natasha is anything if not determined.

- Jake -

Jake releases the breath he’s been holding from the moment Phoenix dragged you away from the group, toward the bar. He can’t remember the last time he felt this nervous, his sweaty palms pressed against his jean-clad thighs as he watches the two of you approach the booth. He has no idea what Phoenix just told you, and he has no idea if Phoenix really knows what he thinks she knows, but his nerves are firing on every cylinder regardless.

“This seat taken?” you ask him as Phoenix takes the spare spot beside Bob.

He shakes his head, “All yours, darlin’.”

“Careful, Hangman,” Fanboy chuckles, “don’t want Rooster hearing that.”

Jake rolls his eyes, forcing his demeanour to appear relaxed, “Rooster’s all talk.”

“That so?” Rooster asks, stepping up to the booth with a tray of beers.

Laughter rumbles through the group.

“I guess we’ll find out later tonight,” Phoenix chimes in, “you two are versing each other in the second game.” She slides the schedule for tonight’s games across the table toward Jake, pointing at the names beneath ‘Game #2’.

“I guess we will,” Jake says, plastering on his cockiest smirk.

Rooster rolls his eyes before turning to find a spare chair, since both sides of the booth are very full. On one side, Coyote, Bob, and Phoenix are sitting side by side, and on the other is Payback, Fanboy, Jake, and you pressed firmly against Jake’s side. He doesn’t mind, of course, because your leg is warm against his, and with his arm slung over the back of the booth, you fit almost perfectly against his side. In fact, he’s surprised Rooster hasn’t said anything yet.

After two rounds of beer and a lot of banter, it’s time for Jake and Rooster to compete. Penny calls them over to the table and sets it up, handing each of them a cue before rattling off the rules as she did before the first game. They flip a coin and Rooster calls heads, but tails lands face-up and Jake gets to break.

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he lines his cue up with the white ball, a small voice at the back of his head demanding he look cool since you were a mere three feet away, watching. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that this is an easy game, before releasing his shot and sending the balls scattering.

The game begins smoothly, each of the lieutenants lining their shots up with precision and hitting the balls with calculated force. They each sink a few, and at about halfway through, the game is tightly tied.

“Come on, Seresin,” Rooster mutters as Jake bends over for his next shot, “what does it take to make you crack?”

Like the idiot he is, Jake lets his eyes wander away from the white ball and across the green felt until they find you, still sitting at the booth on the opposite side of the pool table. Without thinking, his back hand jabs the cue forward, but without his full focus, it knocks the white ball on a short and wobbly path toward nothing in particular.

The spectators give a sad ‘ooh’ as Jake sighs, and Rooster smirks, “Now who’s all talk?”

Jake only shakes his head and moves away from the table. Since the white ball hadn’t made it all that far, Rooster positions himself almost exactly where Jake had been, bending over the table a little further and aiming his cue at the white ball. He focuses for a moment, scanning the constellation of balls across the felt before he glances up and notices you. From where he’s positioned, he is looking directly at you, exactly as Jake had been when he fumbled his shot.

Rooster’s smirk drops and his gaze moves slowly toward Jake, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the cue tightens. Jake’s heart crawls up into his throat, his palms sweating as he stares back at Rooster. Did he just figure it out?

Rooster takes the shot and sinks two balls before repositioning himself and sinking another one. His next shot puts the white ball in an awkward spot for Jake, and he fumbles again. He’s lost all focus, unable to see anything but your gorgeous face or your brother’s murderous one.

After ten more minutes, the game is over and Penny is announcing Rooster as the winner. Jake isn’t knocked out of the competition, but he doesn’t have to play again tonight, which he is more than grateful for.

“Alright, Rooster,” Penny says, “you’ve got five minutes and then it’s you and Fitz.”

Jake finishes his beer before quickly excusing himself to the men’s room, avoiding eye contact with every member of the squad as he hurries through the bar. Once in the safe confines of a bathroom stall, he covers his face with both of his hands and sighs, loudly.

After everything – all the stolen glances and subtle flirting, every excuse to see you or talk to you – did Rooster really just figure it out in the middle of a stupid pool game?

“This is ridiculous,” Jake mutters to himself as he rubs his hands down his face.

He’s never felt this way about anyone before and he has no idea how to deal with it. The nerves are different than what he’s used to, it’s not like before a mission when he can channel his anxiousness into anticipation and put all his focus into being an expert pilot. Because he knows his jet inside out, and he knows the cockpit like the back of his hand, but this? It’s all different. He doesn’t know what this feeling is because he’s only ever felt this strongly about one thing before; flying. But right now he’s pretty sure he would spend the rest of his life on the ground if it meant the rest of his life would be spent with you.

He stays in the stall for another few minutes, making sure Rooster’s second game of pool is well and truly underway by the time he exits the bathroom. The door to the men’s room has hardly swung shut behind him when Phoenix appears in front of him, startling him.

“Far out, can’t a guy catch a break?” he gasps.

“Were you in there crying about your defeat or just hiding from Rooster?” she asks, her expression deadpan.

He frowns, feigning confusion, “What? Why would I be hiding from Rooster?”

“Because you’re in love with his baby sister.”

The panic he had managed to subdue mere minutes ago returns with a vengeance, coursing through his veins like a thousand volts of electricity. He scrambles for a defence, words, anything. “W-Wha- Phoenix, I- you don’t-”

“Save it,” she interrupts him, rolling her eyes, “I’m not going to interrogate you or try to talk you into making a move.”

His tangled mind struggles to follow along, “Why would you-”

“He is,” she says, pointing at their captain who is sitting alone at the end of the bar.

Jake’s stomach flips, “He is what?”

“Going to talk to you.”

She grabs his wrist, the strength of her grip surprising him even though he knows she’s just as strong as he is. She drags him toward the bar where Maverick is sitting, sipping his beer and watching the pool competition with keen eyes.

“Evening, Captain,” Jake says, and he knows the moment it leaves his lips that he’s being unusually formal.

Phoenix rolls her eyes again, dramatically. “All yours, Mav,” she says, before turning on her heel and returning to the booth with the rest of the squad.

“Hangman,” Maverick says, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “take a seat.”

Jake swallows hard as he sits on the barstool beside his captain.

“You know,” Mav continues, “you haven’t addressed me as captain in a very long time.”

“Well,” Jake says, “it's never too late to make a good impression.”

Maverick chuckles quietly before tipping the last of his beer to his lips. When he puts the glass back down on the bar, Penny takes it, offering Jake a small, almost sympathetic smile as she does.

Mav turns on his stool to face Jake, “I’ve noticed you’ve been acting a little different lately. Want to talk about it?”

Jake clears his throat, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Cap- uh, Mav.”

“You sure about that?” Maverick asks as he looks away from Jake, casting his gaze across the bar toward the booth where the dagger squad are seated. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’ve been acting strangely ever since Y/N moved here.”

Hearing your name is the closest thing to a prayer in Jake’s ears, because he is so used to hearing your nickname, that hearing your real name feels reverent.

He sighs, admitting defeat, “Who told you?”

Mav chuckles again, “Technically, Phoenix did, but no one had to tell me. I might be old, but I’m not stupid, and I’ve lived long enough to recognise the way you look at her.”

Jake frowns, “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I was kind of enjoying the way you’ve been sucking up to Rooster,” Mav replies sheepishly, “letting him be team leader in all the mission simulations, buying him beers every weekend, and letting him win at pool of course.”

Jake can feel his cheeks burning, “I didn’t let him win, Mav, I just can’t focus when she’s around.”

Maverick claps a hand on Jake’s shoulder, leaning on him slightly as stands up. “Then stop being so scared of her big brother and do something about it, before someone else does.”

He nods toward the squad again before stepping back and walking behind Jake, around the bar toward the pool table. Jake’s eyes follow his captain as he circles the bar, stopping to watch the game of pool on the opposite side of the table to where the dagger squad are seated. When Jake’s eyes pass over the intense game between Rooster and Fitz, his breath catches in his throat.

- You -

You had gotten up to go to the bathroom when this man cornered you, stopping you on your way and trapping you against a wall on the other side of the booth. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him around work, but you can’t be sure, because the only person you do recognise in the sea of naval uniforms on base is Jake. This man is not Jake, and that is one of the main reasons why you can’t be bothered to listen to a single thing he is saying.

“Do you think you’ll stay in San Diego for long?”

You look up at him, pressing your shoulder blades into the wall in an attempt to create more distance between you and him. “Um, probably,” you reply.

You glance quickly over your shoulder, for once wishing that your police dog of a brother would do what he does best and scare this man away, but he’s too focused on his pool competition.

“That’s great,” the man leans even closer, his breath wreaking of alcohol, “maybe we can get together sometime, alone.”

You press your lips into a tight smile, neither wanting to accept nor reject the man’s proposal in the current, vulnerable position in which he has you trapped. When he opens his mouth to speak again, a cheer erupts behind you and Penny announces Rooster as the overall champion of the night. You clap your hands and smile at your brother as he does a few dramatic bows.

You turn back to the man with your excuse for escape on the tip of your tongue, “I better go-”

“We should get some fresh air,” he says, grabbing one of your wrists in a vice grip.

Panic washes over you, a cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck as he tugs on your arm. You stumble forward and glance over your shoulder, hoping that someone has noticed, but he chose the perfect time. The rest of the squad have rushed to the pool table, taking the cues from Penny to set up their own game while other pub patrons congratulate Rooster on his win.

Just as the man reaches the doors leading onto the beach, Rooster’s eyes find you. His grin vanishes and he quickly tries to step away from the crowd surrounding him, but Maverick appears at his side with a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. What the fuck?!

You watch Maverick say something to Rooster, who’s eyes then dart away from you and toward something across the bar, but before you can follow his gaze, the man tugs you out the door. The cool night air bites at your bear arms as you stumble down the wooden steps onto the sand.

“Much better,” the man says, finally releasing you.

You turn sharply to run back into the bar, but you only make it two steps before coming face to chest with someone else. You know who it is even before you look up to find a very concerned pair of pretty green eyes.

“Jake,” you breathe, your body relaxing as he wraps an arm around you.

The man steps toward you again, “Hey, what the-”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Jake exclaims. “Who the fuck do you even think you are dragging a girl out of the bar when she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you?”

“I don’t recall hearing her saying no,” the man argues, puffing out his chest.

“Because you didn’t give her a fucking chance,” Jake spits.

He takes half a step forward, guiding you behind his body as the man grounds himself as if getting ready to throw a punch. Your stomach sinks and the lump in your throat doubles in size at the thought of Jake getting hurt for you. Just as you think the man is about to wind his arm back, his scowl shifts to something behind you and his jaw goes slack. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Javy and Reuben step out of the bar and your heart aches with fondness.

Without so much as another word, the man shoots Jake one last look before turning and walking away. Javy and Reuben chuckle to each other before stepping back inside the bar, leaving you and Jake alone on the sand.

“Hey,” he turns to face you, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you drop your gaze to your shoes, “sorry about that.”

He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts your head back up, “Don’t be silly, that was not your fault and nothing to be sorry about.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, drowning out the music from the bar and the sound of waves crashing. All you can feel is Jake, close and comforting, and staring down at you as if he might want to kiss you too.

“Well,” you step toward him, as close as you can get without pressing your body against his, “then I’m sorry about what might happen to you after I do this.”

You curl your fingers into the material at the collar of his shirt and pull him forward, stretching up onto your toes to meet his lips with yours. He’s startled at first, but quickly responds, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling your body against his. He tastes like beer and spearmint gum, his lips soft as that move with yours, fitting together in the most perfect way. As you take a quick breath, his tongue slides past your lips and he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck to hold yourself up, and just as his hands begin sliding down your hips, you’re both startled by a loud wolf whistle. You both turn toward the bar and see Mickey with his head out the window and a stupidly wide grin plastered across his face. The rest of the squad are all pressed against the glass, almost completely fogging it up as they cheer and wave.

“Oh, God,” Jake sighs, “Rooster is going to kill me.”

You can’t help but giggle, “Don’t worry, Hangman, I’ll protect you this time.”

Inside the bar, your brother turns to Maverick, having to look away as you pull Jake into another kiss. “You’re seriously okay with this?” he asks, “You’re okay with Hangman sticking his tongue down the throat of my baby sister?”

Maverick chuckles, “She’s not just your baby sister Bradley, and that’s not Hangman. That’s Jake and Y/N, and it looks to me like they might be in love.”

Bradley rolls his eyes and pretends to gag, deciding to ignore the scene on the beach and return his attention to the pool table. He knows deep down that Maverick is right, so he silently gives his blessing while starting a list in his head of what he will and will not allow the two of you to do in front of him.

END.

[robogart]

I'm sure a lot of us didn't sleep, and woke up early to check results for the election. Like others have said much more eloquently, do not despair. Despair is the enemy of action. Despair freezes your mind and body, and we can't allow that.

Things have been terrible and scary before, and they will be again, but we will survive through it and still find ways to live. We will laugh and love, cry and rage. The fight is never over, and it always begins in your corner.

It begins with your friends, with your family, your neighbors, your communities, your towns and cities. So many things feel impossibly big, but the work and the change starts small and it starts local to you. There was something I read once about how we weave our own corners of work. And while the big picture is wrought and torn, we work our corners to repair and weave a stronger section, stitch by stitch, and our edges will meet each other to make a better tapestry.

Grieve a little, yes. Always allow yourself to grieve. But do NOT despair. We are still here, we are still alive, and we are loved. We do not stop, we endure. We love fiercely. We create fiercely. We uplift each other and help each other where we can and we do not forget. Continue staying beautiful and safe everyone, and work your corners. Change starts small, local and closer to home than you think! And we will make it okay for each other. Do not despair. You are still here and so am I and so are they. We care fiercely about you and each other and we will get through this. Work your corners and keep living your life, it has not stopped yet and it shall continue. ♥️

[nightingale-prompts]

Saving Batboy

First | Previous | Next

It was as though he was being led through the city. Dick seemed to know exactly where he should go next as he drove.

Dick turned off his location as he closed in on Joker's location. If anyone had doubts about what would happen tonight they knew now. The clown dies tonight.

Batman never did it because he knew there would be no coming back once he crossed that line but he was not Batman.

Tim knew the moment Nightwing's symbol disappeared that he had found Joker's location. He knew he could track him still based on where he was before but he held off. The last time Dick crossed the line and killed the Joker, Tim was there to stop him. In the time since Tim had grown to regret it. Especially after Jason's return. He should be avenged after everything that happened.

Tim never put much thought into what happened when he was kidnapped just like Danny. Joker Jr was just a nightmare and everyone pretends it didn't happen. His past self doesn't exist to him and the gaps in his memory are better as they are.

If Dick was really going to finish this then Tim wasn't going to stop him. Bruce's code was his code alone. What of the Robins that suffer for it? What about his kids that he loves to the point of self-destruction if they die?

It was clear to Tim now. Batman isn't strong enough to kill Joker. If he can't handle it, someone else would.

Maybe Dick just cared more. Or maybe he had seen this happen too many times to sit by and let it happen again. The cost be damned.

Tim took a deep breath. He knew it was a bad move but he shut down the bat computer. No one could locate each other for the next 10 minutes. Enough time to give Dick the lead he really needs. All the comms are down and no information can be shared.

Tim looked up and saw Alfred putting down a cup of tea for him. Tim felt like a child caught doing something wrong under Alfred. But Alfred nodded wordlessly before turning to leave. He cast a forlorn glance at Jason's robin uniform before ascending the stairs.

****

"I was hoping Batman would come for the little bat. Oh sorry, I mean the boy." Joker mocked holding Danny by the back of the neck.

The teen's body was limp. His silver locks stained a rusty brown from dried blood. Blood covered his back and legs. If there had been any doubt if the wings were real there is none now.

"…" Nightwingwing said nothing. His fist clenched.

"You know I debated skinning him next. That fur of his would be a lovely shawl. It's so soft. But it looks like I won't have the time now." Joker provoked, running a hand through the boy's white neck fur.

"Get your hands off him." Nightwing demanded, his eyes locked on Danny for any signs of life.

"You know I am so curious what he was doing here. I was about to build a new trap here for fun when I stumbled upon this little guy here. Practically gift-wrapped. Did he run away from you? Just like you did from good ol'papa bat." Joker's smile widened sickeningly "This all feels so familiar, doesn't it little bird? Are you going to finish what you started?"

"I'm never letting you hurt my family again." No witty one-liners. No games. This bad joke ends today.

****

Batman had scoured the area. He memorize the last location Dick was before the system went down. He wasn't these kids' father for nothing he knew what they were doing.

When sound came back he had already made it to the abandoned factory. The comms rang back to life as the sounds of crying came through.

"Nononono…please no. Wake up. Please wake up." It was Dick's voice. "It's okay. I'm here now. So just wake up. We need to get home soon. Your favorite show will be on soon. WAKE UP! YOU CAN'T DIE!"

Batman bolted to their location and found Dick hovering over Danny trying to resuscitate him.

His son looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I can't hear his heart. He's not breathing." He let out a shaky breath. As distressed tears ran down his cheeks.

Bruce knelt next to them. Danny didn't react to the pressure on his chest. The pain should have at least caused an involuntary jerk if he wasn't too far gone.

Bruce signaled Dick to move back as he checked Danny's pulse again. Nothing. And he wasn't breathing. Bruce looked at his son. Deep down Dick probably knew.

"I'm sorry. He's gone." Bruce said simply as he took off his cloak.

Danny looked so peaceful. Like he was sleeping soundly. Bruce hated that his own suspension had been the thing that had prevented him from having a relationship with his own grandson. He felt foolish to not realize that of course Danny and Batboy were the same. It was a brilliant disguise. But he'd never get to say this to the boy.

Bruce wrapped the boy in his cloak.

"Come on. We'll fix this." He told Dick, carrying Danny for him.

The journey back to the manor was silent until.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said.

"Don't. Just Don't. He's my son. Its my fault." Dick rasped his voice scratchy from crying.

Bruce felt a bitter sting. That was exactly what he felt when he lost Jason and what happened with Tim. When Damian lost his life. These pains didn't go away.

When they arrived back in the Batcave Bruce laid Danny's body on the table. The others were notified about what happened and had already gathered.

Barbara looked like she had bawled her eyes out as she hugged Stephanie.

Damian had pressed himself close to Tim as the older brother told him that it was going to be okay.

The new hole in the wall was clearly Jason if his bloodied knuckles were any clues.

Cassandra paced the floor deep in thought. She was moments away from starting a new crusade.

Duke stared off into the distance. His anger boiling under the surface. All he could think about was the number of lives ruined by the Joker and even in death he took another.

Dick stood still as a statue. Thinking about if Danny could be brought back and even if he was his wings were gone. What if he was gone for good? Could he live like that?

Never had he understood Bruce more than in that moment.

Bruce braced himself for what would come next. He had a plan to bring Danny back at any cost.

But suddenly a sound broke through the tension.

A sneeze.

A fucking sneeze.

It came up from under the cloak.

Everyone snapped to look at the body hidden under the cloak. It shifted under the heavy black blanket groggily and yawned. Then Danny jumped up twisting to feel his back.

"What happened!!" He yelped.

[coco-loco-nut]

Father’s Day

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: max is dating an international star

a/n: i literally had this idea last night and had to write a short blurb, i promise i am writing other stuff tho 🫶

masterlist

————————

y/username happy father’s day, daddy. i love you and your big…

maxverstappen1 anything to share with me?

y/username not pregnant, just letting everyone know how turned on you get me

maxverstappen1 love you too, schat

user12 anyone else not getting it, like she is so hot and he is 😬

y/username you know that one barbie scene with the rock? that’s my maxie. also if you think he’s ugly, that’s fine, more of him for me 😍

user98 Y/N BARBIE FAN CONFIRMED

y/username priority 1: old barbie movies priority 2: max

user3 ON THE MAIN?

user33 PR monster got her, I really wanna know what she was about to say

recordlabel we don’t… we actually want bleach for our eyes

redbullracing we will share our bleach if you send us demos of her next album 👀

charlesleclerc Go on, finish the sentence, I dare you.

y/username his big heart, ego, ass, trophy case, therapy bill from childhood trauma, i could keep going on but i don’t want to make you feel emasculated

user62 okay, but like how did he bag her?

y/username he has incredible rizz, and look at him🤤

“Happy Father’s Day, Maxie,” you grin as Max lays on you lap, looking up at you with his beautiful blue eyes.

“You aren’t pregnant, Schat,” he laughs, your fingertips gently scratching his scalp.

“We could change that, get some practice in for after the wedding?” you watch his eyes widen as he quickly sits up.

“Practice makes perfect, why don’t we practice now?” Max suggests, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

Your wedding is small, only some close friends and family in attendance. The ceremony takes place in your backyard, no reception beyond a dinner afterwards.

Despite both your respective fame levels, you didn’t want anyone knowing of the marriage. Fans still thought you were dating, so when you got a positive pregnancy test, you were extra careful.

Max was grateful that you had a private recording studio in the house, for when you needed to drop the album. You didn’t mean to choose the surprise drop date to be at the end of your pregnancy, nor Father’s Day, but life worked in funny ways.

“Happy Father’s Day, Maxie,” you softly say, handing the little bundle off to Max.

“This is the best present, he’s beautiful,” Max hold back tears as he holds his son close to his chest.

“I’m not sure if I will be able to top this next year,” you laugh a little, your tiredness making an apparent after a long labor.

“You should take a nap, I’ll be okay with him,” Max runs a hand though your sweaty hair. To him, you’ve never looked more perfect.

“I have one thing to do first,” you yawn, pulling out your phone. Max slides into the hospital bed beside you, you immediately nestle into him, his warmth enveloping you.

instagram

y/username SURPRISE! midnight rain is out now! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it for the past four years. There is so much in my life that happened, so enjoy my journey through heartbreak, love, and growth. I want to quickly thank Max and my team for making this possible 💙

user1 AHHH this is so good, but didn’t she and Max break up? Why is she thanking him?

user3 dude, i think they are married, did you listen to everything else

user4 yeah, she had some songs about marriage, but she hasn’t been at any races since last year

user10 did y’all see the statement saying there won’t be a tour for the album?? crying in the club

user11 Okay, but Robin?? secret child??

maxverstappen1 endlessly proud of you, schatje

user5 we get it bro, she wrote Dress and The Alchemy about you

maxverstappen1 our little robin decided to hatch 💙

danielricciardo So happy for you and Y/n, mate. Big day for the Verstappen family, can’t wait to hold the little guy!

y/username he will love his Uncle Danny

y/username he’s perfect, just like his daddy

redbullracing what a gift for father’s day! sending our gift to you 💙

user42 guys, y/n’s song credits changed…

user21 OMG MAX AND Y/N ARE MARRIED AND THEY HAVE A KID???

[xetlynn]

Hello!!!, I just wanted to request a Claggor x pregnant reader (in the good timeline), if that’s possible, thank you so much <3!

I had fun with this one

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

The Favorite

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: claggor and reader are expecting a baby in a few months. Their family come over with gifts.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare.” My husband stopped me as I was about to pick up a part of our baby’s bed. I sigh, lifting myself back up while holding the bottom of my stomach. “Claggor I can pick up a piece of wood.” I walk over to him. He sat on the floor trying to figure out the directions to put the crib together. It was mine from when I was a baby that my mom surprisingly kept. 

“Not if I’m here. What if you trip and fall forwards? I would never forgive myself.” He looks up at me with a stern expression. I roll my eyes, nudging him with my knee. “I’m only 31 weeks, I don’t even have the pregnancy waddle yet. So I am very capable of picking things up without tripping.” I fold my arms, a little annoyed with this conversation that we’ve had before. 

Anytime I even lift a finger I get scolded. I can’t cook, I can’t lift anything over 5 pounds, I can’t pick things up off the ground anymore. “You’re in denial first off because you so have a waddle. And second I am here so you don’t need to be capable of picking something up. I got it.” He takes my hand, kissing it softly. I roll my eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Okay, whatever. When our princess comes out being a little diva that’s going to be on you.” I point a finger in his face, he pretends like he’s going to bite me.

“And I’ll be okay with a little diva.” He goes back to building the crib. 

I go out to our living room to sit down on the couch. I let out a bored huff. What am I supposed to do? Just sit here and read? Who does he think I am? I’m tougher than him. I used to be a professional fighter. Now I’m some sort of wife with a great husband who wants to take care of me. 

My hands land on my stomach and I think about our baby who is in my tummy. What will she look like when she’s born? I hope she has my eyebrows. Claggor’s nose. 

A bunch of knocks sound at the door and I frown knowing I have to stand up from just sitting down. I grab the back of the couch and try to push myself up. “Sit down, sit down. I got it.” Claggor rushes past me, getting the door. I blink a few times, now annoyed since I got halfway up!

Vander comes into the house holding two baskets. “I bring gifts for my grandchild!” He laughs excitedly, I grin up at him. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that!” I appreciate Vander, he’s been such a good help with setting things up for his granddaughter. “Ah, yes I did. She’s going to be such a spoiled girl.” He clasps his hands together after Claggor took the baskets from him, setting them next to me on the couch. 

“Well, we love you.” I smile, taking the first basket and opening it to see little blankets, a thing of diapers and wipes. “This is so helpful.” I start to tear up, Claggor sits next to me pulling me into his arms. “Sorry, I’m just so grateful for this. You don’t understand.” A tear falls and my body wracks in a sob. 

“She’s been crying a lot more lately.” Claggor tells his dad and I sniffle. Vander snickers, “it’s alright. No worries, I know how it goes.” He waves my behavior off. 

“Powder, Ekko and Mylo are going to be stopping by. They told me to let you know.” He exclaims, his arms over his chest as he speaks to us. “Oh man, they’re so sweet!” I cry out, hiding my face in my husband's chest. I feel him shake as he laughs at me. “Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He rubs my back up and down. “Sorry,” I sat up, wiping my tears. “Pregnancy brain.” I grab the other basket, opening it to reveal some baby clothes. “Perfect, we’ve been needing to grab some more pajamas.” I take them out of the basket, holding them up one by one to check them out. “So cute.” I squeal, leaning my head on Claggor’s shoulder. 

Not even moments later there’s a pounding at the door and Vander gets it. Mylo sneaks under his arm holding a large golden necklace. “Got this for my niece so she will know who the best Uncle ever is.” He throws it over to Claggor who picks it up in between his fingers to inspect it. “Yeah, she’s never going to wear this.” He deadpans to his brother with an irritated expression. 

“What!? I spent good money on that. She’s going to love it.” He throws his hands in the air. “Mylo, this is fake. Her mother is allergic to fake metal so I’m sure she will be too.” Claggor throws it back to the shorter guy. “Ohhh! He told you.” Powder comes in with a small box, Ekko behind her with painting supplies. “Here ya go!” She places the box down in my lap. “I made them.” She proudly states, hands behind her back. I picked up a light pink rattle. I shook it and it was soft sounding. Perfect for a baby. I look at the others and there were some teething toys along with a few building blocks. “Powder, thank you! This is amazing.” I grin up at her. “Awe, it’s nothing much. I’m excited to meet your beautiful bundle of joy!” 

Ekko wiggles the paint supplies and I point to the bedroom. “Thank you again, Ekko!” I call after him. “No problem! I’m so excited to do this.” He pokes his head out to tell me and I chuckle. “Also, could you clean this mess up? Or is the crib supposed to look like this?” He looks to Claggor who groans. “I forgot all about it. I’ll be back, babe.” He plants a kiss on my lips before heading into our daughter’s bedroom. 

Powder plops down in his spot, Vander reprimands his other son about trying to give a baby a gold chain that ended up being fake. I giggle, turning to my sister-in-law.

“You’re so talented Pow.” I lift up her artwork and her face flushes. “Thank you, I didn’t know what to get you guys for her. Ekko said something about giving you little toys. Then I thought about how I could just make the toys myself.” She explains her process and I smile. “Well this is a great gift.”

“I’m going to be her favorite uncle, trust!” Mylo tells his dad who scoffs. “You don’t even know what to get a kid.” Vander places his hands on his hips. “You’re right but I know how to make the kid look cool. She’ll be beating up bitches left and right.” He announces and I snort. 

“That’s why you’re not babysitting. Ever.” Claggor comes back into the room. He turns to look at me but then sees Powder in his spot and he frowns. “What? Why not?” Mylo asks. 

“You want my kid to be violent. She’s not going to be.” Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose, not believing this was actually a question. “Yeah, that’s why I’m going to be the favorite. Praise peace and love.” Ekko peaks out behind my husband and I snicker. “You are not going to be the favorite! You guys will eat your words when the first thing she says is Uncle Mylo.” He points at all of us. I hold my stomach from how hard I’m laughing. Powder giggling with me, her hand grabbing onto my wrist trying to contain herself as well. 

“Her first word will be dada. Not her uncle who is an idiot.” Claggor argues, I raise my eyebrow. Dada? It’s definitely going to be mama but I don’t have the energy to join this fight. "I'm not an idiot." Mylo furrows his eyebrows.

“It could be Uncle Ekko. I top all you suckers.” Ekko says and now the three are all in a very heated argument about my daughter who’s not even out of the womb yet. 

Powder turns to me, putting a hand in front of my ear. “I hope they realize the favorite is actually going to be me… Gonna be so embarrassed when they find out.” She tells me and I grin. “You’re so right.” I nod my head. 

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

Gonna try to grind more requests I do have over 25 at the moment so be patient with me!!!! I enjoy this so much. I love seeing all the love!!!! I am getting sick though so if I start to slow down on my posts that's why. I can already feel my body aching:(

N e wayzzz, love you guys!!!!!

[slytherinshua]

꩜　EMOTIONS OVER LAUNDRY　( 최연준 )

genre hurt/comfort , parent au , husband!yeonjun x fem!reader   cw they have a newborn daughter , mention of struggling to conceive , yeonjun crying , small mention of postpartum/newborn anxiety , not proofread   wc 917   request 🥟 anon for yeonjun + folded laundry for the 3k event   note still in my txt era so bad and also yeonjun :( our healing i love him so much he would be such a good dad </3 i've been listening to love sailing by cha eunwoo the entire time while writing this and i am NOT okay it's 3 am and i may cry   net @kstrucknet @moadiarynet

You didn’t expect to come home to see your husband crying while folding laundry. At first, you thought something must be seriously wrong. Yeonjun was always fairly emotional, but you hadn’t seen him cry since you gave birth to your baby girl Yejin two weeks ago. He wasn’t one to cry over little things, and the tears only started falling when he was stressed or upset or overwhelmed with emotion. Seeing his red nose and puffy eyes sitting in the middle of the living room floor took you off guard. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?” You were holding your newborn in one arm and shrugging off your jacket with the other, eyes glancing over your baby’s face once again. 

The new mother anxiety was something you had somewhat anticipated and prepared for. But just how anxious and paranoid you were over your newborn child still surprised you. It was like if you took your eyes off of her for more than ten seconds, something horrible was bound to happen to her. Your mind was put at ease to find her still sleeping soundly in your arms. The walk around the newbourhood in her stroller had tired her out, and carrying her back inside did nothing to wake her.

Your husband looked up at you with fresh tears in his eyes and a pout on his lips, sniffing quietly. You walked over to where he was sitting, gently transferring Yejin to her newborn rocker where she could continue napping safely. Then, you turned to your husband and raised an eyebrow as if to reiterate your previous question without verbally stating it again. 

“It’s nothing, just…” Yeonjun trailed off with a sigh, a light pink baby onesie on one of his hands. The garment was so small compared to him. Even the small stacks of neatly folded clothes looked tiny, although it was nearly half your daughter’s wardrobe. 

“She’s so small,” Yeonjun whispered, another tear rolling down his cheek. Immediately, you understood exactly where all the emotions were coming from. It happened to you a few times as well when Yejin was particularly cute or you remembered just how long you and Yeonjun had tried for a child, all the struggle it took to get to this point. It was all worth it for her, your perfect little bundle of joy. Even looking at her brought a smile to your face. Even though it had been hard, for her, you would do it all again in a heartbeat. 

“And—and, I was folding her clothes, and they’re all just so small, just like her. And she’s so, so cute, and she’s really ours. It doesn’t feel real that she’s finally here. Sometimes I think I’ll wake up one day and realize this was all a dream, like we’re back a few years ago still trying for her,” Yeonjun breathed, words mumbled in his choked up voice. 

You shifted closer to him, brushing a hand up and down his back as he leant into your touch. With how often Yeonjun had comforted you and wiped your tears away during pregnancy, now it was your turn to do the same for him. 

You had taken it hard back then. Every negative test, every piece of false hope, every month that went by without progress; your husband was there to comfort you through it all. He stayed firm and strong when you weren’t able to. You knew he had been holding back his own feelings on it for you, not wanting to show how much it affected him too. You’d be blind to not see how much it was hurting him as well. He had always wanted a family just as much as you had, and you knew just how happy he was to have finally been able to start one. 

It was just an emotional journey. 

Yeonjun fully rested his head on your shoulder, warm tears dripping onto your shirt. You didn’t mind. You just continued to stroke his back, reaching out to hold one of his hands and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Yeonjun couldn’t stay strong forever. Although it had been two weeks since you came home from the hospital, it felt like today was the first time you truly got to relax and breathe. Caring for a newborn was nonstop, and you were both running on sleepless nights and parenting anxiety. You worked through it like you did anything, though. As long as you had each other, you were sure things would turn out okay. 

“I’m sorry,” Yeonjun whispered after minutes of silence. “I didn’t mean to get so emotional all of a sudden.” He pulled back from the hug and sent you a small smile, assuring you silently that he was okay, that those small moments of comfort were all he needed. He carefully folded the small onesie he was still holding and placed it on top of the stack of other similar ones. 

Leaning over the baby rocker, he smiled brightly at his daughter. Still sleeping soundly without a care in the world, wrapped up in a soft yellow onesie. Her hands were balled into little tiny fists, so small that they could barely wrap around Yeonjun’s thumb. 

He brushed a few fingers over Yejin’s head and soft wispy strands of hair. It was peaceful watching her sleep, and a feeling of reassurance washed over Yeonjun. He was her dad, and he loved her more than anything in the world. He’d sacrifice everything for her— his perfect little angel. 

txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @cham3li,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,, @amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @stantxtforabetterlife,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @cupidslovearrows,, @hyukabean,, @nicholasluvbot,, @i03jae

[prosypepper]

growing old with kento nanami, pt. 2

word count: 3.5k

warnings: having kids, raising kids, naming kids after lost loved ones, descriptions of growing old, like actually growing old and having grandchildren, descriptions of body changes after birth, dad nanami, no angst in this one just living a happy life with husband nanami :3 (18+ mdni!)

notes: i love u all sm, i am giving this man the ending he deserves. now get ready bc i just went through a terrible breakup and must project it in my writing. much love!!!

part 1 | masterlist

nanami watched you with loving eyes as you laid in your hospital bed, exhausted and sleeping so peacefully after the delivery of your baby. your hair stuck to your face in messy patterns from all the sweat, your chest rose and fell on the perfect, comfortable beat. this time, he was sitting in the chair next to your bed, a book open and ready to be read, but kento’s eyes refused to skim the pages – you looked so beautiful. the room was quiet, only the soft buzzing of an air conditioner and beeping from one of the monitors stuck to you would infiltrate the silence. kento paid close mind whenever you began to stir, lightly fluttering your eyes open to look at him, oh so tired.

“good morning, beautiful,” kento cooed, closing his book to rest it on his thigh. he reached out his hand to lay it atop yours, a soft smile grazing his lips when he looked at you.

“hi,” you groaned, slightly rolling over and wincing when the sharp pain began to shoot through your body. kento’s brows furrowed whenever he saw your discomfort.

“how are you feeling?” he asked.

“tired…it hurts,” you muttered, closing your eyes again. kento’s thumb lightly grazed over the back of your hand, tracing the veins.

kento made sure the nurses that came to check on you administered some pain medicine, and after a while, you began to not be in as much torment as before. you were told you could go home in a day or two, after the pain subsides and the baby is evaluated to be in good health.

kento pushed you down the hallway in a wheelchair towards the nursery, and politely asked to see your baby. you cried so many tears of joy the moment your baby boy was settled in your arms, swaddled in a hospital blanket and sleeping gently. he was so beautiful, a spitting image of his father from the word go. even though he was tiny, and his features weren’t so defined, you could already see the resemblance.

“have you decided on a name yet?” the nurse sweetly asked, clipboard in hand with all your information. you and kento swapped looks for a moment, obviously unprepared for the question. for a minute, you thought in your mind about all the names you discussed, finally landing on one that would be thoughtful and fitting.

“what about ‘yū’ kento?” you suggested, looking up at your husband for his approval.

the gesture of naming his son after his passed best friend made kento a little sad, but he knew haibara would be proud and so happy, so he nodded his head in agreement.

“yes, yū. that’s perfect.”

taking care of such a tiny human came so naturally to kento. he was easily able to balance work on top of making sure the baby was okay. for the first few months, it seemed as if yū would always cry when he was with you, until kento finally would pick him up and settle the baby in his arms. kento had taken an adequate amount of time off from work, working only 3-4 days a week, he made sure you had enough time to rest in between taking care of the baby for days at a time.

after a while, yū began to calm down, reverting into a happy, smiley, giggly baby. you felt more comfortable taking care of him on your own without kento there. so, in return, kento began working even more, picking up his normal 40-hour work week. since you had moved cities, you hadn’t found a stable job yet, but that was okay. because kento wanted to take care of you. he wanted to be the one to take care of his family.

so, you let him. he provided as much as possible for you and your child, all the while ensuring he wasn’t overworking himself in the process. he wanted to live a happy life, after all, he was never going to revert back to the ways of his 24-year-old self; working impossible hours and remaining exhausted 24/7.

since yū had began to grow older, hitting the year-old mark in the blink of an eye, you came to realize that you only took care of him. not that you minded, of course, you loved your baby. but you were less active, and it showed on your body. more and more, you looked in the mirror to find the pregnancy weight still latched on to you, the body you once had just didn’t seem to be there. you knew your husband should be the one to talk about insecurities, sure, but with all the surgeries he went through, and all he did to improve his health; you thought he looked just as ravishing as the day you met him. he did look just as handsome, even with the scars covering half of his body. he was simply a beautiful man.

and you began to feel undeserving. ugly. lesser than the person you were married to. and for what? because of some baby weight? it was natural. so why did you feel so increasingly terrible about yourself as time went on? you worked out, you stayed as healthy as possible; but it was like nothing was going to let you get back to how you looked before the baby.

you were looking in the mirror in your bathroom, a huge one, just like you dreamed of. but the large size of the mirror only gave you more sight into your own reflection. a reflection that filled you with disgust. you frowned at the weird shape and size of your tummy, or at least the shape you thought was weird, and the way your face seemed chubbier, and your thighs had grown in size.

“hey, honey,” kento greeted you, walking around the frame of the bathroom door. his sights were immediately infiltrated with the picture of his gorgeous wife, with her sleep shorts tugged down below her stomach, endearing stretchmarks littering the skin that once carried his beloved son.

you tugged your shorts up quickly and replied to him, “hi, kento.” with a quick turn on your heel and a step forward, you planted a light peck on his lips. he smiled down at you, eyes glittering with the very glimpse of such a beautiful woman.

“what are you doing?” he asked, snaking an arm around your waist to pull you close. you sort of slumped your body against him, resting a head on his shoulder, and you sighed.

“do you think i look…different now?” you couldn’t stop yourself from asking the question, blurting it out as you rested against your husband. he pulled you away and rested his hands on your waist to look you in the eyes.

“what do you mean, hm?” kento’s thumbs grazed up and down your soft skin.

you looked back into the mirror, frowning once more at the silhouette your body created. with a pitiful tone, you began to speak, “my body. ever since i had yū, it’s just been…ugly. i feel ugly.” you described yourself with one of the most hurtful words and caused kento’s eyebrows to furrow as he looked at you.

ugly? how dare his own wife speak about his wife that way. because, in his eyes, you were the most breathtaking individual on the planet. in the universe, actually. sure, he had noticed the changes of your body – the changes that came from you growing a human being inside of you, single-handedly giving him the best gift he’s ever received. if anything, he loved the changes of your body, somehow your skin became even softer to him, contrasting his rough hands perfectly.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, noticing your husband’s glare once you looked back up at him. he shook his head.

“don’t apologize, i understand.” kento comforted you, bringing a sweet hand up to your cheek to pull you in for a soft kiss. once he pulled back, he ran a thumb over your cheek, “do you want to know what i think, sweetheart?”

brows furrowing, you looked up at him with a confused expression, “think about wh-,” he cut you off with another kiss to the lips. he skimmed his lips over different parts of your face, planting light pecks over all the skin.

“i think,” kento’s lips trailed down your neck slowly, then to each off your shoulders, beginning down one of your arms. “i have,” his kisses didn’t waver as he made his way down your arm, giving a firm kiss to the back of your hand as he held it, kneeling down. “the most,” he smiled up at you before focusing on your tummy, kissing the shirt that laid atop your soft skin, trailing all over your abdomen.

“beautiful wife in the world.”

you giggled at his gesture, the laugh soon faltering because kento’s stare on you was full of complete seriousness. the things that kento thought were always fact, never fiction, you should’ve known that. so yes, what he said was true. it would always be true in his eyes, too. always.

with all the intimacy conjured in the bathroom, that was the night you got pregnant with your second child, a daughter named mayu.

parenthood came with its own highs and lows as your children grew. your daughter loved her father til’ the earths end, always opting to stay under his arm whenever he was home. mayu had taken more of your looks this time, not quite the spitting image like yū was to your husband, but enough to tell that you were her mother. she was full of energy and happiness and took on a sassy personality from a young age. yū, however, was very emotional and laidback compared to his sister. it was quite funny how much their personalities showed, even when they were unable to talk. but as they began to grow up and adopt certain mannerisms, their personalities began to bloom even more.

as kento got older, he had gained just a tiny amount of weight, filling out his muscular form even more. his abs slowly faded with time, turning into a less-defined version of themselves. and your favorite part about kento growing older was his hair. once your children reached 3 and 5, kento had reached a good 35, turning 36 soon, little grey pieces began to pepper themselves into his hairline, shining brightly in between the blonde strands. he began to have small crow’s feet in the outsides of his eyes, and smile lines from the amount of smiling he did with you.

on yū’s first day of school, kento had to hold you as you sniffled back tears, watching your oldest boy walk through the front doors of the school. he held his arm around your shoulders and waved his son off, shushing you and saying he will only be gone until 3 p.m. little did you know, kento had to hold back his own tears, because in that moment he felt so accomplished as a father, even though that was only the beginning of yū’s journey.

not to worry, though, because on mayu’s first day – your husband cried like a baby seeing his daughter walk off into school, nervous for the first time in her life.

the first few years of your children’s school life were smooth sailing. yū and mayu alike made many friends and looked at school in a positive light. you and kento never got tired of their endless stories – about a game they played or a lesson they learned or a book they read. every little art project and 100 on a test decorated the fridge. kento made sure to teach them both about the importance of schooling and how to remain at the top of their class, along with balancing the increasing schoolwork the older they got.

it wasn’t until yū hit middle school that things began to go downhill.

neither you nor kento thought that your children would be able to see curses. only one of you was a sorcerer, and kento was the only one in his family that was able to be a sorcerer, too. but when kento took him to a bakery, yū saw the same creature as his father crawling around on the floor, eliciting an ear-shattering scream – kento felt doomed.

“what do you think we should do?” you questioned, leaning against the counter as your husband sat at the kitchen table, lips pursed beneath intertwined fingers pressed on the lower half of his face.

“i do not want him to be a sorcerer,” kento stated, a stern tone in his voice, “but he…he’s…i don’t know if we can stop it.” your husband sounded defeated at the statement.

he could only ask himself why this had to happen to him of all people; someone that had run away from jujutsu twice now. you and kento both decided to wait until your children were older to explain it all, and where all their uncles and aunts and family friends came from, but at the time, it all seemed inevitable but to give some sort of explanation.

so, of course, he called one of the people he trusted – and now respected – the most.

“nanami!” gojo squealed as soon as the front door was opened, revealing the still tall and lanky satoru. kento seemed to still be annoyed by his presence, yet inside he was thankful for his friend to show up on such short notice. gojo had been around your children some, obviously, but you and kento tried to keep your distance because of how dangerous it all was.

after giving satoru the rundown of the past days’ events, you sent mayu off to a friend’s house and sat yū in the living area with all the adults. until that point, he had no explanation as to what he saw in the bakery. but with ease, just as everything was with gojo, he gave yū the clarification needed to understand he had a special gift, and to use it wisely. kento made up his mind as to not scare your son by telling him about how he got all those scars, saving that for a later date. yū still didn’t understand everything entirely, but ended up having some sort of grasp on his abilities. that was all that was needed.

you and kento collectively decided it would be yū’s choice when he was old enough to decide to become a sorcerer, with the help of gojo, of course.

fortunately, or unfortunately, for mayu, she would end up not having the same abilities as her father. it was sort of a blessing, only having to worry about one kid being raised to fight the second they turned 14.

the years spent waiting for yū to become old enough to decide about jujutsu felt like a ticking time bomb for you and kento. many, many nights were spent in the kitchen, talking endlessly about your concerns but also the upsides to having your son learn under one of kento’s most trusted partners. but the both of you became more honest with your son about the reality of going into jujutsu, the pros and cons of becoming a sorcerer, and how it could both positively and negatively affect his life.

ultimately, though, kento was the most relieved he’d ever been when your son gave his answer about becoming a sorcerer, a few days away from the end of middle school.

“uh, no, dad. it sounds way too dangerous. i want to go to college.” yū’s words came off as that of a normal, moody teenager, but in the end made a weight lift off you and your husband’s shoulders.

they say time flies when you’re having fun, and that was the truest of statements when it came to raising your children with kento. yū’s high school years approached quickly, mayu’s seemingly approached even faster, it was all a rush of images that remained in your head. the sports teams, never missing a thursday night game to cheer on your son from the stands, as he led his soccer team to the regional levels. the first time yū brought a girl home, with you and kento seemingly even more nervous to meet the sweet young lady that attached herself to your son’s arm. prom was so much fun, seeing your husband knot the same printed tie around his son’s neck that he wore in his sorcerer days, before taking a thousand photos of yū and his girlfriend. your son had the most elated, idiotic smile on his face once he opened the door to find his girlfriend dressed to the nines in a stunning dress, the same smile on his face when he came home after a fun night with his friends. and of course, graduation topped it all off, yū standing at the top of his class just like his father. both you and kento had to stifle back tears watching him walk across the stage.

mayu’s high school days were a flash as well, a very fond memory looking back. she remained with the same snappy and sassy personality, just as when she was little. mayu remained close with her father, but began to talk to you as she got older, needing advice for any decision she made. it made you feel like a proud mother, someone she wasn’t embarrassed of because even through her mood swings and bad days, she always found refuge in you. mayu became the student council president by her second year, running every school event like a ship, making sure to always get extra t-shirts for you and kento because you would always show up. while yū was away at college, mayu became your focus as you let your son navigate his way through life.

kento thought he was going to have a heart attack the second his beloved daughter said she had a boyfriend she wanted the both of you to meet. the night that boy rolled up in his car, knocking on the door frantically, kento put on a stern and serious face as he was the one to open the door. mayu came running up behind kento, to no avail, as her boyfriend was already bowing and then shaking your husband’s hand. he politely introduced himself, practically shaking with how intimidated he was by your husband. but the night went on smoothly, you had dinner together and found out more about mayu’s boyfriend and his aspirations. at the end of the night, after he had left and mayu went to bed, kento said he was an, “alright young man,” which was the biggest compliment if you were going to date his daughter.

mayu’s graduation was the time for kento to sob again, seeing his daughter get so much recognition for all she did for the school, feeling like the proudest dad of two children. yū had driven into town, sitting next to you and kento in the stands, a bouquet of flowers for his sister. mayu moved into her dorm only a few weeks later, leaving you and kento in an empty house, riddled with the memories of raising two beautiful, accomplished, important and thriving children.

it all went by too fast.

after your birds had successfully left the nest, you and kento spent all your time together once again. the days would mix up as he began to work less and less to prepare for his retirement. time flew by, aging you and your husband both, the wrinkles becoming delicately pronounced each year, the grey hairs eventually taking over all the blonde in his head. you spent your time reading, baking, and most of all, traveling as soon as kento’s last day at work hit.

you flew all around the world, visiting the most gorgeous and diverse cities alike, emerging yourselves in all the different cultures, practices, and kento’s favorite part – the food. you visited malaysia with him again, just as you did on your honeymoon, the love you felt all those years ago still present within you both. you walked along the beaches and toured all the spots you favorited on your honeymoon again.

your life with kento nanami was beautiful.

you lay in bed with your husband at your side, his peaceful yet loud snores endearing as he sleeps so soundly. tomorrow, your 25th wedding anniversary will be here. you’ll walk out on the porch of the beautiful condo kento bought after retirement with a cup of coffee for him. you’ll read a book as your husband basks in the view of the beach he longed for all his life. your children and their spouses will drive in around afternoon, and spend the weekend with you both, letting you get time in with yū’s new baby, your grandchild. you will mingle, laugh, maybe cry and reminisce in all the memories you and your husband built up over the course of decades. your house will be loud with the sounds of kids and family and friends, all there to celebrate the life you’ve had with your husband.

even if kento were to die the next day, or in a year, or in 10 years, something would always remain true.

kento nanami had successfully spent his life with his true love.

taglist: @kundere20000000 @missakward123 @cherriee-ee @lagataprrr @ourfinalisation @ynniksslirg

let me know if you want to be added!

[contentfiend]

“Anywhere” by Medina

Pairing: Aaron Piere x Y/N

Warning(s): 18+Content, Smut, Profanity (Name Calling), BDSM (Some Tying Up),Spanking, Slight Breeding Kink

Summary: It’s been months since he’s seen your face in person. Between all of the press runs, being a family man traveling back home to London, & new potential acting opportunities. Aaron is pretty much over all the texts & FaceTimes. He has so much pressure pinned up, he’s liable to devour you onsite 😏

Word Count: 5k+

“Mr. Pierre, we have about 2 more stops today and then a quick dinner with your agent to go over a few new potential contracts.”

“Thank you Bryan! I appreciate the update”

“Oh and you also have a FaceTime scheduled with your Mum & also Miss (Y/N)”

Mmmm, just hearing your name made his heart grow a size & his lush thick member plump up a little.

You & Aaron have been a thing for about 8 months now. Ever since you two crossed paths while you were assisting your stylist cousin the day he was on the Jennifer Hudson Show. Right before he was slated to walk out, you were in the background recording and in awe of how beautiful and well put together he is. Did you also mention the man has moves? Lol

“Aaron Pierre… that’s Mufasa!”

“Aaron Pierre… that’s Mufasa!”

“Aaron Pierre… that’s Mufasa!”

Such a cutie and that smile was so contagious. You teased him for weeks chanting that song, but he didn’t mind, because he always loved the sound of your voice saying his name.

“I love when you sing my full name. Hope you keep that same energy with your legs wrapped around me”

Mmmm you couldn’t help but to bite your bottom lip and place your tongue at the roof of your mouth to suppress a moan from escaping your lips. It was getting to you two about reuniting again. With your busy entrepreneur schedule of running 2 businesses, while preparing to open a 2nd location & him being the hottest newest actor on the scene; there was literally no time. You did adore him for trying to make up for it as much as he could.

Aaron quickly took time out to FaceTime his Mum first of course. He wanted to make sure he had plenty of time to talk to you also.

“Stone sweetheart, I know it is late where you are but are you taking care of yourself? All of this moving around. I know when you are tired”

”I am a bit knackered Mum, but I’ll manage. “I am enjoying the love thus far”

”Okay, sweetheart. You know I would be on the first plane to the states if need be.”

”I know Mum. How is the old man?”

“He’s alright of course. Not much of a fuss. Your brother and sister are working as usual. I’m so proud of you, Stone. I couldn’t be more proud than I already was.”

Aaron can see the tears and cry held back through the screen

”Aww Mum, don’t cry. I know you enjoy seeing me happy and thriving. I’m your favorite, why wouldn’t you be.” He throws a wink and laughs to the camera

”Oh hush she laughs. Speaking of happy and thriving. Where is your Miss y/n?”

Like it was right on queue, your FaceTime and photo popped up on the screen. Aaron had to bite his bottom lip to keep his smile from growing any wider on his face.

“Well, I think there goes my answer. lol”

”Stop it. I love you and I will talk to you later when it’s not so early.”

”Mmhmm. Love you too!”

He ended the call with his Mum and quickly answered yours before you had any time to hang up.

”Well…Hello Mr. Pierre, I thought you were ignoring me.”

”Never love. I was on a call with my Mum. You called just in time. She was just speaking of you.”

”Hmm, I know she told you how perfect I am for you and how much she loves me. lol”

”She was getting there before my little Miss Perfect FaceTimed me. It was like you heard your name or something.” His big bright smile illuminated the screen.

You and Aaron haven’t officially said the “I love you” sentence yet, but if you could fall in love from just his smile alone, you would scream it into the phone.

”Yea, I got great timing like that! lol”

A comfortable silence fell upon you both as you just admired each other a bit through your screens

”Speaking of great timing - Are you ready to see me?” Because I for damn sure need you”

He then begins to prop up his phone and fold those thick toned arms over his chest. How did I not notice before he has his chain dangling outside of his shirt the way you like it.

A slight chuckle leaving your lips “When you say need…how bad is this need?”

He looks over his shoulder to make sure no one could hear or see what he was planning to say or do. Then proceeds to lean closer to the phone.

”That’s what we’re doing?

You acting innocent?

I see you want to be dominated. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you anyway. I can only show you.”

In that moment, he leaned back in his chair, and you could see the imprint of his thick, brick hard monster pressed against his thigh. He slowly began to stroke it and close his eyes and slightly part his lips. Head leaned back, he slowly looked down at the screen and proceeded to tilt his head slightly with those piercing eyes looking like a lion ready to pounce.

From his view, all he could see was that dumb struck look on your face, head slightly tilted to your right. Almost as if you were focused on etching the site before you in memory. Lips slightly parted. You were in a trance. Imagining everything at each minute what you planned on doing to that beast the moment you see him.

”y/n…y/n darling.” He laughs lightly.

Voice in that deep octave like he just woke up.

“You got my favorite look on your face. That’s the same look you have when I go real deep, real slow. Then I pullout even slower and you splash everywhere on me.”

You snap out of your thoughts due to the words you just heard. Feeling like you may have already wet your panties for the day, you then immediately ask…

“What time is the plane scheduled for me again?”

You both go into a quick fit of laughter at how intense the moment had gotten.

In that small cute voice that he also loves,

“Daddy, can you do me a favor?”

“Always anything for you princess.”

“Can you please let me see it? “It’s been months and I don’t think I remember what it looks like”

You had the cutest look on your face with an even cuter pout on your lips that he would love to rub his tip on and gloss your lips with his precum. Fuuuck! This woman.

”So cute lol I’ll give you just a little preview”

As he stood up, he made sure he did it painfully slow to where you were damn near panting at the screen. Slowly pulling down the band to his grey sweats, he pulled his boxers down with it. Freshly shaven and fully erect, his dick popped out like you winded up a jack in the box and the prize was specifically crafted for you. He grabbed it up and started to moan in the screen and you almost lost it. Like a little puppy in heat, you moved closer to the phone and began to pull your shirt above your ample breast and massage them into the screen so he had a good view.

“Damn y/n. I wasn’t expecting to be doing all of this right now. You make me crazy for you.”

”I know Daddy. I can’t wait to see you later so I can slurp that dick up into these thick lips. I wanna spit on it so bad. My baby has been stressed I know it. I’m your stress reliever. Take it all out on me.”

He takes a beat to think if he wants to take this further.

”Fuuck! I gotta go. You about to make me nut all on this screen”

”It won’t be long Daddy. I’ll see you soon”

y/n blew a wet kiss to the screen with her titties still in hand.

Aaron hurries to take a screen capture.

You just giggle and end the FaceTime. Now you need to get your life together before you spend the weekend with Aaron. Not a single bag has been packed and there is makeup and clothes spread everywhere. What to wear when she sees him is the real question. Something with easy access for sure. A quickie or any type of touch from her man would suffice.

After ending the call, Aaron quickly takes a picture and sends it over to you with the text…

“Look what you got me walking around with…”

you respond “stiff enough for me to sit on…perfect!”

Aaron sends back the face palm emoji 🤦🏽‍♂️.

Enough playing, he has to get himself together for a somewhat busy day of press. He straightens himself up and washes his hands before he heads back to choose an outfit for the day.

Backstage Dressing Room:

You arrived about 30 mins early to the airport. Aaron had a driver ready to bring you straight to his interview that way you could leave together directly after. 1 hour and a half minute flight wasn’t too bad.

You made sure your outfit was professional, yet sexy enough to get your babes attention. Y/N let Aaron know she was almost at his location. Sneaking into the back room, he was nowhere in site. Perfect! You wanted to really see the surprised look on his face. You refreshed your perfume, re-applied gloss, & popped some gum in your mouth. Right as you were smoothing your outfit out & giving your look a once over; he walks in. Smile big and bright and eyes roaming all over you, Aaron lifts you off of your feet into a big embrace. Nose in your neck breathing in deeply, he releases a long drawn out low grunt.

”Mr. Pierre you have about 15 mins before you go on” the show producer quickly steps in and out without missing a beat.

After a quick head nod, Aaron turns his attention back to you and starts to speak.

“Now back to you. Why did you show up looking this damn sexy knowing I can’t put my hands on you yet.”

y/n laughs in the cutest little voice. Aaron moves closer to her. Pulling her near the side where the bathroom is out of sight.

“Uhh uh, you just said you can’t put your hands on me right now!”

“Who said I was using them?”

He moves slowly closing in on her personal space. He starts at her forehead, placing soft kisses from his lush soft lips. Down to her nose with a small peck. Aaron gets to your lips and you slightly part them waiting for some type of wet collision. You both stand there breathing heavily inviting each other’s small pants. Aaron bypasses your lips after what seemed to be an eternity teasing a kiss. Now on your neck, he continues his assault on your senses. Tongue full on snaking its way from left to right with the skill of showing how well he can work his mouth.

“Damn you smell amazing. You got my dick so hard right now. Good enough to devour you where you stand.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head. You moan “oooh shit Aaron” as he proceeds to roll his wet tongue down your throat.

You look down to capture the view of this 6 '3 tower of a man kneeling down to your 5' 5 height just to get a taste of you in any way possible. He knows you all too well when your eyes meet as if you’re trapped in the sea of those heavenly blue, green, or is it grey eyes. It doesn’t matter at the moment because this man was doing all types of hypnosis to you. All of this without even using his hands as stated. Right as he was moving his way down to your heaving chest continuing to wet his path and the cool air sending chills up your spine…

“Mr. Pierre, Mr. Pierre, it’s almost time, are you ready?”

If looks could kill, this man would definitely be the suspect. The look of pure lust and want he displayed as he looked at you and quickly, but somewhat slowly showed himself from around the corner to his assistant.

“Yes Bryan, I’m ready”

Bryan had a somewhat questionable look on his face as he led Aaron out to the stage area. Still there up against the wall, still in the moment as if waiting for his return. Needing some form of release. You contemplate whether you should finish the job at hand. Like clockwork, this man.

You receive a message on your phone

“You better not finish without me!”

Uggghh how did he knowww!!!” He already knows it’s been 2 whole months I haven’t had his touch, his tongue, or his dick and he leaves me hot and horny. Hmph! you shout as the brat you are. A small smirk creeps on your face. You decide to send him a visual of what he’s started.

Feeling the vibration of his phone as the makeup artist ensures there isn’t an ounce of shine on your face, you look at your Lock Screen to see a message from y/n.

“I know she is cursing me out lol” a big smile splayed across his face.

Aaron gets through the first portion of the interview and as the commercial break comes about, he decides to check the text that y/n decided to send at the start of the interview.

Bad idea.

There with her legs spread, panties to the side, and sticky dripping fingers still up against the wall.

“But Daddy, I need it!”

The heat that slowly transcended from his chest to his lap was immense. He quickly felt his member fatten the longer he peered at the photo. He felt like he was going to combust. Thank God he was wearing black today or his erection would be too noticeable. Also gratefully he was seated in a huge chair where he had space to let his legs separate a bit because his pants are painfully uncomfortable. Interview over, Aaron said his thank you’s, posed for pictures with some fans in the audience, and photos with the host for Socials of course. He wasted no time hurriedly getting back to the backstage back room to find y/n.

Sprinter Van:

You felt like your legs were about to be snatched from under you with how fast you walked to catch up with Aaron.

“Baby, please slow down. I have on heels.”

All you got was a menacing glance over his big broad shoulders.

You felt a knot in your throat.

“I am in serious trouble”

Aaron opens the door to the back of the building to let you out and then opens the door to his sprinter van for you to step inside. You sit near the window and watch as his tall stature makes it’s way inside. His shadow sending even more chills down your spine. Turning you on more than that session in the backstage back room. Not a word was spoken as he silently looked at you from head to toe. Unblinking looks and nostrils flaring.

“Daddy, I’m sorry!” I didn’t mean to tease you like that. I just missed you so much and you know how I get when you press my buttons like that. Can you forgive me, please?”

“I’m not mad, my little brat. You like this shit. I’m just observing you. I like to watch you squirm.”

The driver then knocks on the partition to let us know security will be on watch while he has to step inside the building to relieve himself to the bathroom before we head to the hotel. He also instructed us that Aaron’s manager needed to provide him with the updated itinerary since he will be the weekend driver. As soon as the driver closes up the partition, Aaron struts his way over to your seat and proceeds to continue where he last left off. Dragging that same thick tongue down your throat to the top of your breast. He proceeds to take both of his large hands and place them on each one.

Squeezing, massaging, and pinching the nipples through your shirt. Seeing as you didn’t wear a bra with your attire, the sensation was an instant feeling that blasted you back into the state of mind you had on that wall once more.

“You enjoy having my dick as rock hard as possible while everybody watched me fight to contain my composure? That shit gets your pussy wet or are you only that bratty and bold through text? You ain’t got nothing to say now, huh?”

“Daddy…I *moans*

He was now unbuttoning your shirt so he can get better access. Just enough for your titties to sit outside of the shirt. All you could do was stare as he twirled his tongue around each nipple leaving a spit trail on each one.

“You got me salivating at how much I want you.”

Biting each nipple gently and pulling them to then suck them back up.

“Goddamn!” “You about to make me cum from nipple play. Daddy please fuck me already. I can’t take this torture”

“Nah, I want to take my time. I deserve this. “It’s been months. I’m about to savor this.”

You could’ve sworn at that moment you created a whole brand new lake between your legs that was just newly named after you. While hovering over you, Aaron proceeded to pull the lever on the side of your large recliner style chair slightly enough to get a glimpse of your red lace thong with the large circumference of a wet spot in the middle. All the times he has been mistaken for a lion, you would believe every theory from the low but boastful grunt that proceeded to travel through his body & up his throat.

“Mmm pussy phat asf. I can’t wait to slide my dick between them lips. Creamy ass pussy too. Damn near feel like I’m hitting a geyser when you get to squirting me.”

“Can you please stop talking…please” A little sprinkle of y/n’s wetness seeping through to the seats this time.

He catches you by the neck with those extremely large appendages & squeezes lightly while staring you down.

“What’s wrong baby? You don’t like when Daddy plays back? Sending me pictures of this phat pussy while I’m working, but I can’t even get you worked up without some back talk? I got something for that”

He then proceeds to keep his hand on your neck as he gets down on his knees. Grabbing at your soaked panties, he rips them off to receive a gasp borderline moan from you. He smirks while then placing both hands under your ass cheeks to angle you up higher so he can really feast.

“Pussy smells amazing.”

Licking your inner thighs on each leg, kissing your knees in the most sensual & caring way, and making his way back down to the main attraction. He places small but intentional kisses on your mound and slightly blows cool air on your clit.

Aaron has this technique where he can blow cool & hot air while lapping at the sweet spot that makes you go stupid. Darting his tongue around, licking, suckling, and enjoying even more of the mess he was creating between your legs. If it wasn’t already for the stars that sprinkled the roof of the van, you could’ve sworn he took you beyond the stars & light years into another galaxy.

“Oh my God, yesss. Eat me up Daddy. Right there. Stay right there.”

He then added his middle finger to the mix. Fingers so long and fat it felt like 2. Rubbing gently against your spot while also massaging your opening with his knuckles.

A Man of Many Talents.

Right at your wits end & on the brink of creating a tsunami in your seat, you notice the driver walking back.

“Mmmfuck the driver’s coming back.”

“So, I’m not done eating yet.”

“But Daddy, he's going to hear me. I’m going to be super loud.”

Your plea falling on deaf ears at the moment while Aaron continues the task at hand, you feel that feeling of flutters & pressure building.

“Baby, he’s coming. He’s almost at the door… ahhh shit I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Mouth agape.

The driver door opens & immediately closes. You can see the driver standing outside the door as if waiting for a cue that it's okay to enter again. At that same moment, you begin to cream & spray that seat like a fresh coconut had been cracked open. Trying to catch your breath, Aaron moves to his seat smiling like a Cheshire Cat. Licking his fingers & lips to savor your essence from all over his face.

Watching you breathless and sated was really doing things to that now extra uncomfortable bulge in his pants. He was still hungry and he definitely had his prey marked. He gently taps on the van's window near his seat to notify the driver he can enter. Sure enough, you see the driver enter again, but stay inside & crank up the vehicle. Thankfully Aaron had other shirts on the van because you soaked him to the point of seeing his ab outline from the shirt clinging to his body. The teasing this man was doing was making you delirious. You couldn’t get to the hotel fast enough.

Elevator:

Finally making it to the hotel, Aaron checks you both in & remembers he has that dinner with his agent. With a roll of your eyes, it’s almost as if you were never going to get your man alone and get your lick back the stunt he pulled in the van.

You both step into the elevator after security makes sure no one else is on it. Aaron signals for them to take the next ride up. The other half of the security team took the first ride up alone to make sure everything is clear before you step out. You both step on heading up to the penthouse suite. Knowing this, you also know that there is a lot of time to do some very naughty things. Aaron steps on first and stands in the corner near the elevator buttons and you step in, right in front to press for the suite since he always lets you press the button.

Soon as the doors close, he pulls you close with your back to him. He leans over you to squeeze your thigh and to snake his hand up your leg. Aaron then takes a moment to lick his fingers and place them right on your clit. He circles around your clit and you throw your head back to release a moan so drawn out. You knew it’s been buried deep for a while. A slow hiss leaves your lips shortly after. It felt like he was working overtime to make you cum before you made it to your floor.

*ding* 7th Floor.

He flips you around to face him as a woman with her dog steps onto the elevator. Aaron, the gentleman that he is, he at least speaks to the woman. You on the other hand, still had Aaron’s hand suction to your pussy like it was an attachment. Taking this moment to dominate him, you take a step back just to remove yourself from his hold. You turn to speak to the woman so you can turn your back to him.

“Hi, such a cute and trained dog!”

”Thank you dear. He is like my baby. I take him everywhere with me!”

”Aww, I’ve wanted this exact dog babe. Maybe for my Birthday this year?”

As you skillfully speak to the woman, you snake your hand around and on Aaron’s dick well enough to unzip his pants. With better access, you can now massage his shaft and squeeze his tip which you know drives him to insanity.

*perks of being so short to his tall stature*

His arms over your chest now and his head turned towards the wall. You could feel him squeeze down hard on your arm and shoulder letting you know he’s struggling not to cum. You continue the assault for payback as you still are able to carry on a conversation with the older woman. Aaron then begins to move closer to your ear.

”I’m going to cum so hard. You better stop before we really give this lady a show”

Giving him a little relief, but not much, you slow down but don’t halt your movements.

”Fuck y/n. I’m going to punish you so good for this. I’m going to bury my dick so deep in you. I don’t wanna hear you can’t take it either.”

*ding* 14th Floor.

The older lady begins to step off to head to some sort of outside patio area.

”You two love birds have a great night. I was young once myself.” She leans in and whispers to you “Don’t hurt him too bad!” With a quick little wink as she steps off with her dog. You begin to snicker at the lady knowing.

“That old lady was a lil freak. I should’ve just did what I needed to do!”

You shout ”Eww Aaron no!” As you both go into a fit of laughter.

He says in your ear “I meant what I said too” licking your earlobe and biting it.

*ding* What felt like an eternity we were finally in the suite

It was beautiful. Very nice furniture. Huge layout. Nice size bed and a huge tub you planned on relaxing in at some point.

“Okay babe. I wanted to make sure you got to the room safely. I still have this dinner with my agent. I promise it shouldn’t take too long. Want anything while I’m down there?”

“No baby. I’m ready hop in the shower and relax a little.”

“You better not fall asleep because I don’t mind waking you up.” He laughs

“Boy get out of here. I’ll be ready for you when you get back.”

Placing a soft longing kiss to his lips, you both moan at the unfinished business you two need to resolve. Aaron reluctantly pulls away and heads toward the elevator to make a swift return.

Bedroom:

You step out of the shower with the music still blasting. Soaking wet, you reach for one of the plush hotel towels to help assist in soaking up the beads of water pouring from your skin. Dry enough with still a sheen of mist to your body, you put on one of the soft cotton robes. Looking around for your vanilla scented body bronzer Aaron loves the smell of. Stepping out of the bathroom and near your luggage, you bend over to unzip your bag. You see the bronzer body oil and then decide you need your matching scented moisturizer to really drive him insane. Spraying some brown sugar scented gourmand parfum on your ankles, you still can’t find the moisturizer.

“How did I pack these 2 and not the most important one? Knowing my skin needs it” you chuckle slightly to yourself.

You take your arms out of the sleeves, resting the robe on your shoulders in order to apply the oil. Unaware that the man of the hour has quietly made his way back to the suite, you go to check your backpack purse. As soon as you bend over again to check for the moisturizer and find it, your robe falls perfectly around your feet. Aaron slowly walks into the room and is greeted with a sight that has him dumbfounded. You hear movement and quickly stand up out of being startled.

“Shit! Babe you scared me. I still have my music turned up and I didn’t…”

“Uhh uhh. I need you right back where you were. That amazing view I walked in on is exactly how I should be greeted into the room. Pussy looked delicious and that phat ass in the air like that.”

Loving how turned on he is, you turn back around purposely hinging slowly at the waist. Spreading your feet apart a little more, you jiggle your ass while placing your hands on your ankles.

“y/n, you ready for me baby? Because once I’m in there I’m not stopping. You looking too good and I need to stay inside you until I’m finished”

“Yes Daddy, please hurry up and fuck me”

The room definitely got even hotter than what that shower made it. Your playlist of sexy r&b songs made for the perfect tracklist to how loud you were about to get. Aaron was relentless and anytime away from that dick,it always felt like the first time.

Aaron begins to kneel down behind you. “No moving or running you hear me? Let Daddy make his princess feel amazing”

“Yes Daddy” you said as a moan

Aaron chuckles at your eagerness

You can feel him doing something near your feet. He was grabbing up your robe and removing the cotton belt.

“I’m going to place this around your wrist. Soft enough to tie it as tight as I need it.”

Eyes rolling back and pussy clenching at the thought of him holding on like the reins of a horse. He was about to do you in something serious.

Suddenly feeling cool air and wetness, Aaron had flattened his tongue and was licking from your clit to damn near your asshole. Moaning like crazy and trying your best to not sway back and forth so he can tongue fuck you. Him knowing you oh so well, he makes his tongue stiff licking his thumb. He places his thumb on your clit as he begins to use that same tongue to move in and out of your folds. You couldn’t resist the urge, so you began to rock back and forth anyway.

“Aht aht, I told you no moving. You gone be a bad lil slut or a good one” Aaron spoke in that deep vibrato that made your knees buckle.

Pulling you up by your hair. You lean back against him to catch your footing. Aaron immediately attacks your neck while walking you over to the bed. Pushing you down with enough force, but still gentle, he continues to speak

“You been kind of bratty today. You must want me to spank you too love?”

“No Daddy. I just really miss your dick that’s all”

“I told you I would take my time because I miss you too. If that’s not okay with you, I’ll give you what you want”

Without notice, Aaron then swiftly lined himself up with your opening and took the slowest stroke into you. Filling you up until the base met with your ass cheeks. You lift your head while rolling your eyes back.

“Babyyy…fuuuuckkk”

He pulled out slowly and entered just as slow again to warm you up to his length. Picking up the pace and holding on to the cotton belt with both hands now. He was definitely showing he was a skilled equestrian. Rhythmic strokes and smacking your ass without missing a beat. Rolling his hips from left, right, and in the middle, he was definitely showing out.

Feeling like you were high. You can’t even grasp the moment really. Confused. Euphoric. Lethargic and downright spent, this session was for sure as hell worth the wait.

“Ohhhh my God! Daddy, why are you fucking me like thissss?!”

He chuckles at your plea

“All of this good dick is here for you love. You gonna cum for Daddy? I need to feel this good wet tight pussy squeeze down on me. Can you do that for me princess?”

You were already halfway there before the pep talk. Aaron started to steady his strokes then he held his dick all the way in & pulled it out slowly again.

This time you couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Yesss Oh My God I’m cumming! I’m cumming”

“Mmmhmm wet Big Daddy up. Just like that. Ooooh she’s squeezing me. I don’t think she wants me to leave. You want me to keep stroking you like this? You love this dick don’t you? *Smack* Don’t you princess?

What the fuck is this man trying to do? It’s like he’s trying to ruin me. Make me what?! Fall in Lo… That’s it he’s trying to fuck me into submission to say that I love him. I gotta fight back a little bit. It ain’t gone be that easy.

“Mmmhmm Big Daddy I love this dick” you began to finally speak. Devious plot now clouding your mind. He was in for a surprise

“I know you love Big Daddy too” as he massaged your ass cheeks and steadied his pace

I knew he was up to something, but it didn't matter. He’s about to get an award worthy performance.

“Hmm I think you love me more. Why don’t you tell your princess you love her first?

Aaron laughs a deep voiced somewhat dark vibrato laugh in your ear

“Y/n, you not making demands right now. You always want your way. Let me have this one baby. You can’t win. You’re tied up.

Challenge Accepted!

Without notice you stand all the way up on your tippy toes as high as you can go (perks of wearing heels so much). Grabbing as much of your ass cheeks and spreading them apart, you began to move back and forth on that massive still hard dick.

Aaron takes in a small gasp of air as he plants his feet better to enjoy you.

Chest and chin to the bed, you were about to work him into overtime.

Panting. Some “oh shitttts. A couple of approving mmm hmms” He was bound to be singing I love you.

“Fuck baby! I know what you trying to do. Gahh damn she’s gripping me. Sheesh!” “Y/n just let Daddy have this one”

“Not a chance”

You place your right leg up on the bed. Bouncing on your left foot to make sure you were correctly in position and comfortable. You needed to be stable in order to throw all this ass back.

“Ohhhh shit! Keep working that pussy baby. I feel like I’m close. You about to make daddy buss right in you”

“Tell me you love this pussy baby”

“Fuckkk I love it!”

“What else do you love Big Daddy? Please tell me…doesn���t she deserve it?”

“She deserves anything she wants princess” Aaron moans

Thrusting at an increased pace, you feel the throbbing pulses. He was definitely close. Stilling your movements, you allow him to take over since you were for sure winning the war. Seconds later, Aaron came so hard you could feel him fill you up. Satisfied and Sated he speaks in a low tone..

“Mmm baby I love you so much. I been wanting to say that shit for a minute now”

Allowing the moment and the words to wash over you and consume you, you say in return…

“I love you too. Been loving you”

*Thank you for reading my first fic! It took me awhile to actually post this, but I’m glad I did. Definitely feel relief & a whole new respect for the amazing writers on here. Hope you enjoy ❤️*

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@uzumaki-rebellion

@wildcardmelaninfreak

I would love some feedback from you all if you don’t mind & have the time

[backwzzds]

absolutely need a plug!zoro cheating on his gf with u nsfw …

no bc y’all are on a roll w these plug!zoro requests! position is based off this video btw 😩

ೃ⁀➷ what you want, roronoa zoro

thinking about the way that man would literally hate his girlfriend fr. like, he’s sure he’s only with her because his family loves her, but he just doesn’t. and i mean he proves that when he ends up outside your door in the middle of the rainy night, somewhere around 3 AM.

everyone would always ask him—why not just break up with her? and zoro never had an answer. his girlfriend was too fragile of a person and he hated that crying shit honestly. the only person he ever cared about making cry was ironically you.

his relationship was anything but secure. zoro was chill with whatever his girlfriend did. he trusted her, at first. she wanted to go to a party, he’d let her. she got a ride from some guy friend who was maybe his level of attractive? he didn’t care. but the same rules didn’t apply to him. zoro could be getting ready to go to work and his girlfriend would be up on him with accusations.

“i feel like you’re gonna go and fuck that bitch,” his girlfriend spat with venom, referring to you as he slid on his jeans. the green head couldn’t help but roll his eyes as she rambled on about disliking you. he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself lightly when he realized how crazy she was behind closed doors.

“well now i’mma go do that just cuz’ you said it,” he muttered, just trying to get underneath her skin. his girlfriend thought he was bluffing, but not with the way blood rushed to zoro’s dick at the thought of just being in your arms to cuddle tonight.

zoro doesn’t think twice either when it comes to pulling up to your crib. he parked in front of your cute little car, something he did to express his dominance over you in the way your cars together looked like a ‘his and hers’ pair. he was weird like that, but that’s just how much he felt for you fr.

by the time he gets to your door, his heart is already thumping in his chest. not in fear of getting caught, but instead at the sight of you in your tiny nightdress, two sizes to small to barely contain your wide hips and busty breasts.

you give him a blank look as you leaned against the threshold of the door. “ian call you for no weed.”

zoro gives you his million dollar smirk. “you should know that’s not the only reason i come over anymore.”

“yeah yeah to cheat on your girl, sure zoro,” you roll your eyes.

the green head kisses his teeth, “not cheating if i don’t want her.” with a step to the side, you helplessly let him in, and he wastes no time in kissing your lips. “missed you so damn much.”

“missed you too,” you can’t help but mutter against his lips. zoro wraps his hands around your waist and pulls your smaller frame against this larger own. his hands shamelessly wanter down to the fat of your ass as he grips it, giving it a reddening smack and repeating his actions.

zoro pulls away with one last peck to your lips. “how was your day mama?” he grabs your hand and drags you to the couch.

“fine,” you muttered with a bored expression, grabbing the remote to turn on the tv.

zoro furrows his eyebrow and snatches the remote from your hand. “what’s up wit’ you? you okay? talk to me.”

you shrug your shoulders. “i’m straight,” but your tone wasn’t convincing him otherwise.

zoro gives you a suspicious hum before pulling you into his lap. “what you doing tomorrow night?”

“probably homework,” you admit. “why?”

zoro can’t help but grin at you, flashing his gold canine pieces. “got us tickets to see that standup you been wanting to go to.”

your eyes can’t help but brighten at his words. “you lying.”

“i’m so deadass,” zoro laughed.

you kiss your teeth and slap his chest. “you don’t even like comedy!”

the greenhead gives you a shy shrug with a small blush flaming his tan cheeks. “they have an open bar, free sake so,” with a playful roll of your eyes, you kiss your teeth but smile. “so you gon’ stop giving me this bratty ass silent treatment?”

“whatever. you’re a whore for sake.”

“nah,” zoro shakes his head. “you ain’t hit me all week. you know what i had to go through not talking to you.”

you give him a sarcastic frown before pecking his lips. “aw, poor baby.” you move to pull away but are shocked when zoro grips your face and forces you back into his orbit.

how you found yourself half naked on his lip with your legs spread for him—you don’t know. damn mosshead was just that good.

“i got you,” zoro’s voice is all you hear as he steadies you on top of him with your back facing the tv. his one arm is all he needs to steady your body against his lip while he uses the other to start rubbing at you clit. “just touch me baby.”

a breath escapes from your throat as you find the courage to wrap your hand about his hard cock. his tip is an angry peach color as it oozes out pre cum, already excited from your touch. “like this daddy?”

“fuck, just like that mama,” zoro’s own breath hitches in his throat as he fights not to buck up into your grasp. “love the way you touch me. just like that baby. make me feel so safe.”

you’re almost shocked by the words leaving your mouth as you continue jerking him. the two of you hold an intimate scope of eye contact as you touch each other’s body, nothing being heard but the soft moans and breaths from your arousal.

“make you feel safe?” your voice is soft and sultry as you run your thumb over his tip. zoro can’t help but groan at his sensitivity, too late to even catch himseld. “feel safe when im loving you like this papa? you like that?”

“oh fuck, yes,” zoro whined, fully submitting to you. his girlfriend had never seen this side of him. every time he had sex with her, if he ever did, it was quick and to the point. no one was able to milk out this soft and vulnerable side to him but you. oh how you had his fucking heart and dick in the comfort of your pocket.

your legs are spread in front of zoro, giving him a complete view of what you were working it. somehow wanting to see you spread more, he grabs you by your thighs and opens you up more, practically salivating at the sight of your pretty clit glistening from his touch.

“you make me feel safe too,” you breath out with a blushed smile, trying to keep your pace with jerking zoro off. it was hard to do so when he was rubbing you nice and slow, just the way he knew you liked it.

at this point? it was all more than sex. zoro meant every word he uttered out, especially how you made him feel safe during his most vulnerable moments. only you bought this side out in him.

“fuck i’m almost there, zee.” you throw your head back and grind further into his touch.

“me too baby,” zoro breathed out, watching as cum oozed from his tip by the second. “you fuck me so good, no one does it like you—shit.”

you lick your lips as you lean over and spit on zoro’s cock, adding more lubricant to your already slippery movements. “like it when i stroke your fat cock papa? like this?”

“zoro bites his lip and nods his head. a whine fights to break through from his mouth as he lets out a broken “mhm. fuck, mama. keep going and you’ll make me cum.”

you take this as a challenge and speed up your movements with hopes to overstimulate him. zoro’s mouth falls open, and the tables inevitably turn when he’s shaking beneath you, watching you milk every drop of cum out of him. you hold your tongue out as he shoots his load upwards, droplets of his semen landing on your taste buds.

a greedy smile graces your lips as you continue jerking him off, more and more cum flying out from his sore tip by the second. “fucking hell—just like that just like that, fuck!” zoro moans loudly as he feels himself get drained.

you didn’t mind the fact that he came before you this time. watching this hard man come undone before you was enough to have you creaming all over his fingers right after. you too begin to breathe heavily as zoro maintians his circular movements against your clit.

when you’re both fucked out from your intimate session, zoro slides you onto his lap, your clit begrudgingly grinding against the base of his still hard dick. with his face in your neck, he breathes out, “i’ll break up with her. your eyebrows raise at his words. “if that’s what you want.” you waste no time in giving him a stern response.

“it is what i want.”

[the-froschamethyst4]

How To Stop an Argument 101

————

Husband! Barrage Headcannon

SFW & NSFW

Quick AN: I would like to say in my first Barrage fic I placed the name Cal/Calvin in it because that is what I’ll be calling Barrage as his first name, there isn’t much info on him so I decided that his name will be Calvin or Cal for short

————

————

SFW

He knows exactly what he is doing when it comes to “distracting” from the issue at hand

Recently you were under a lot of stress with work and the holidays coming up so quickly that you just needed some help from Barrage but he wasn’t pulling his end of the deal and making some things worse

You were in front of the tree trying to wrap presents for him and some family members that were coming over for the holidays but he was being no help

Watching the game on TV, being loud, and drinking beer while you wanted to watch a Christmas movie to be in the mood

“Cal, please turn it down.”

“Hon, I can’t hear what they are saying though.”

“We have a basement you can turn the TV up as loud as you want down there, I’m too overstimulated.” You say while trying to not pull your hair out.

“There’s only a few minutes of the game then I’ll go downstairs.”

“No, Cal…please do it now, I can’t think.” You say putting your hands on the side of your head.

Barrage sees that and turns the TV off and with no other word goes downstairs. He doesn’t want you to burst and there because more then just a simple discussion

You thank him but he just hums a response back to you.

That was just one out of many possible arguments that could have happen.

There’s been many days where Barrage just doesn’t take it seriously and starts pushing buttons

“Cal! Have you seen my necklace? I’ve been looking for hours now!” You call from upstairs.

The necklace was special, it was real pearls and real gold, your grandmother gave to you before she passed and you loved that necklace wore it any chance you got and tonight was a holiday party at your work but you couldn’t find the damn thing anywhere

“No!” He calls from downstairs. The overwhelming sensation of you possibly have finally lost it hit you and now you’re starting to get a little pissed off now, because you always say it in the same spot.

In your jewelry box on a small hook that only it sat on, no other necklace

You even went and checked the bathroom drawers just in case but nothing

“CAL! PLEASE COME HELP ME FIND IT!!” You yelled getting frustrated

“Hon, it’s just a necklace.” He says coming into the bedroom.

“It is not just a necklace it’s my most prized possession, and I know I didn’t just loose it, I place it back in my jewelry box every time I’m done wearing it, so where the fuck is it?!” You start slamming drawers now.

“Well, don’t break everything just to find this damn necklace.”

“Then help me!” You turn, red to the face and eyes looking like you’re about to cry.

“Hon, don’t cry-“

“Don’t tell me not to cry cause I will!”

You fall on the bed head in your hands, Barrage knew where the necklace was. He opens his nightstand drawer and pulled out the necklace.

“Here.”

“You had it!?”

“I got it polished for you. You know how the creases had that black stuff in it?”

“Yeah?”

“I got it polished and I was going to give it to you, later, but now is fine, sorry for hiding it.”

“It’s okay,” the tears stopped and all there was sniffling in the bedroom. “C-Can you put it on me?”

“Sure, hon.”

Arguments happen but the one thing Barrage kind of likes doing when he knows he’s in the wrong is flex, flexing his big muscles he worked hard on

“No, you’re wrong!”

“How am I wrong?”

“You really wanna sit an argue or are you going to shut up and let me talk?”

“Shut up?” Barrage leans back on the couch flexing his arms that were behind his head.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He smirks

“S-Stop flexing.”

“I’m not flexing. I’m just relaxing.” He says

“…” you couldn’t look away, you love them too, the way he can just pick you up with ease, how when you two have sex you claw at them sometimes breaking skin

“Fuck off,” you say walking away knowing he won that argument but he knows he was wrong

When you start getting a big heated and you start throwing out the bro, dude, bruh words

“Dude I swear to god if you-“

“Did you just ‘dude’ me?” He says

“Yeah and?”

“We have sex…you really wanna be throwing the word dude around?”

NSFW

Having an argument in the middle of sex just turns Barrage on even more.

This man is fucking toxic

He could start an argument over nothing then ask if you’re down for sex afterwards

Honestly thinks it's funny when you rant about your rough and hard day as he goes down on you and you can't think straight because his tongue and mouth feels good on your lower half

When Barrage comes home from work, he'll sometimes be surprised you stayed up to wait for him, only for him to now take his frustrations out on you, while he rants about his day, now

Does he start random arguments? Yes. One day he started one when he came home to no dinner on the table, and express how he would like to have dinner on the table before he comes home, he was smirking the whole time knowing you hate the trad wife bullshit

So, he knows what he is doing

"Ex-fucking-cuse me?" You say, hands on your hips, fury burning in your eyes, and knuckles turning white.

"You heard me woman, I want food on this table by the time I get home," he says.

"Fuck you, now! You get to fix your own damn food for now on, I'll be fixing my food while you figure out how the stove works." As you tun your wrist gets grabbed just for you to be bent over the kitchen table, and you feel his hard dick

"I'm only kidding, hon," he teases.

You hate when Barrage leaves his clothes all over the place, but he does it only to get a good view of his wife being bent over

"Calvin, pick up your clothes, how many times am I going to tell you? We don't live in a pigsty."

"How many times are you going to keep picking up my clothes to realize I'm only doing it to get a clear view of your ass?" He says, you stop and drop his clothes. "Hey."

"Pick up your clothes," she says.

Y/n can start arguments as well, if anything, you both are toxic for each other but you both don't care, you both know you complete each other.

Y/n fixed food for Barrage bring it to him in his home office setting it down on a clear spot and gives him a kiss on the cheek, and then one on his temple, then one on his forehead, neck, cheek again, and then lips.

"Hon, what are you doing?"

"Just kissing you," you tell him as your hands start teasing him, messing with his shirt, then to his belt, getting it unbuckled and then moving your hand before walking out.

"Oh damn, I forgot, I have some chores to do around the house," you say, blue balling your husband.

"You fucking, minx," he growls.

You loved teasing him, I mean the bastard does the same shit to you, why not do it back? You're not hurting anything...maybe his pride, but he'll be okay

"Fuck baby." Barrage held your waist, you bend over his desk, the food wasn't even on his mind anymore, it was how good he was going to fuck you, how good he was going to make you feel

"C-Cal, s-slow down-"

"No, you don't get to make demands here, you teased me and now this is what you get," he says.