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atinylittlepain · 1 year

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Easy Cowboy - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

Joel Miller masterlist

The ladies around Jackson can’t seem to keep their eyes off Joel. While he seems oblivious to their advances, she’s prickling with a feeling she knows she shouldn’t be having. What’s a gal to do when everyone wants to take a ride on with her cowboy?

warnings | 18+ SMUT, angst, alcohol consumption, jealous and possessive Joel, and reader tbh

“You know, if you’re not careful your face could get stuck like that.” Ellie slaps a hard hand on her shoulder, startling her out of her eavesdropping. She’s been standing in the back of the makeshift town hall, watching folks trickle in for the weekly community meeting. She huffs at Ellie’s knowing smirk.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.” Ellie snorts, resting her head on her shoulder as she hangs off her arm.

“Oh, you don’t? You just always look like you’re about to strangle all the little housewives of Jackson?” She tries to soften her scowl, not quite sure how Ellie can figure her out so fast. She figures it must have been because of all the time they spent together on the road. Because the truth is, she would like to strangle some of the women of Jackson, at least sometimes. Like right now, as they’re eyeballing Joel, who’s standing at the head of the crowd with his brother, like he’s a goddamn piece of meat.

She had been listening in to their conversations, a few muttered desires of wanting to “ride that salt-and-pepper cowboy all night long” as well as some shared enjoyment of his “tight little jeans” that hugged his “equally tight little ass” just right. She hadn’t realized she had started shooting daggers at them until Ellie startled her out of her rage-induced reverie.

Ellie tugs at her arm, once again shaking her out of her thoughts, “you know, a whole gaggle of them has started coming around when we get back from patrol? They like to watch him dismounting. S’fucking gross, man. Can you imagine? Having the hots for Joel.” Ellie grins, tilting her head, “well, I guess you can imagine.” “Ellie, watch it.” The girl puts her hands up, muttering “alright, alright, geez” before she shuffles off into the crowd to sit with some of the other teens of Jackson. She’s been relieved to see her finding some companions in town, thinking back on that young boy, Sam, and how hard it had been on her to lose the sweet comfort of a fast friend. She on the other hand, has had less luck, all the women her age casting sideways glances whenever she comes around.

She’s heard the murmurings around town, mostly women’s gossip, calling her Joel’s “pet,” jealous scoffs at the way she and him move around each other, with each other, like magnets constantly coming back to contact. But she knows the truth. He’s not hers, not really. It’s mere comfort in closeness, familiarity. She had been with him since the beginning of this journey, been there for him. Through the loss of Tess, the trouble in Kansas City, and the whole road since. And even though there’s an understanding, an intimacy that runs bone deep between them, the sex has always been purely physical, just two bodies coming together again and again and again. She’d never ask him for anything more, the companionship is enough. But hey, who’s she to stop him from picking up a sweet little thing in town? Someone who’d cook him dinner, give him a back rub with soft hands that had never held a gun. Someone who wasn’t a whole decade younger than him.

She’s quick to block out these thoughts, bringing her attention back to the meeting that’s beginning. She watches Joel’s gaze scan the crowd as Tommy begins to talk about new security measures they’re working out. Even though she’s pressed up against the back wall, his eyes still find hers, but she’d be hard pressed to admit that her heart gives a tight squeeze when he offers her a sliver of a smile from across the room.

…

People are filing out of the hall, a few stragglers hanging around to talk to Tommy and Joel as well as the other leaders. She sticks at the back of the room, watching Joel look pretty uncomfortable in being forced to field so much conversation. Most of the people waiting to speak with him happen to come from the female half of Jackson’s population. She can’t help rolling her eyes at the way they hang off his crossed forearms. He keeps glancing her way, something pleading in his eyes, silently begging her to come give him an excuse to get the hell out of here. She’s enjoying watching him squirm just a little too much. Ellie sidles up to her again just then.

“You better go help him out, he looks like he’s about to blow a gasket.” She glances at the girl, fighting back a grin at her words.

“Suppose I should put him out of his misery.” She nudges into Ellie, earning a light laugh from the girl.

“You gonna go hang out with your friends tonight?” Ellie nods, they’re showing a movie in one of the old ski lodges.

“Alright, kid. Be good and–”

“Be safe. Yes, mother. I should be saying the same to you and the old man honestly.” She gasps at that, getting ready to chastise her, but Ellie is already slinking out of the building. That damn smartass.

She turns her attention back to Joel, who now has one of the women, she thinks her name is Katie, hanging on his shoulder and mumbling something in his ear. She scoffs, getting ready to shuffle over and save him from her mushy-gushy ramblings, but she pauses when she gets a better look at his face. He’s smiling. It’s small, but she knows it well. He glances at her briefly, but quickly shifts his gaze down to the floor, letting Katie continue to flirt shamelessly with him. For whatever reason, it’s enough to set her blood boiling. He’s a big boy, he can handle this himself. She quickly turns heel and stomps out of the town hall, heading straight to the bar.

…

She drinks way more than she knows she should. But, quite frankly, she’s too pissed off to care. Sure, she could put up with all the women throwing themselves at Joel, so long as he kept ignoring them. But it seemed like he had finally gotten the memo that he could have his pick of any of them, and that their little partnership, or whatever the hell it was, would soon be over. Well, fucking good for him then.

“You here alone?” She actually jumps a little off her stool at the intrusion before sighing and turning to whoever just startled her. She knows his name is Will, a young man who also works patrol shifts. He’s what people would have called a pretty boy, back before. Sort of floppy, sandy blond hair and soft blue eyes, dimples that crinkle when he splits into a smile. But she knows there’s more than meets the eye to this one, she’s been on a few shifts with him, and he can hold his own for sure.

She swallows another gulp of whatever it is they keep brewing before nodding.

“I suppose I am. Why? You wanna join me?” Her tongue has certainly been loosened by the drink and hell, if Joel gets to shop around, why shouldn’t the same go for her? Will smiles before sitting on the stool next to hers, turning so their knees are brushing lightly.

“How are you settling into town?” She quirks a crooked grin at him.

“Oh, just fine. Although I don’t think any of the ladies will be inviting me to their book clubs anytime soon.” Will laughs at that and it’s a sweet sound, one she thinks she could get used to. He leans in, whispering conspiratorially to her.

“Well, I think they’re all just a little jealous of the way you yank that man of yours around on an invisible leash.” She can’t help the laugh that bubbles up at that, a boldness sweeping through her that sends her leaning into Will even more, bringing her lips up close to his ear.

“Well, let me tell you, he’s certainly not my man.” There’s a heavy pause of silence.

“He’s not?” She leans back just slightly to look into his baby blues.

“Nope,” she pops the letter p, “but if you know anyone looking to be, what’d you say? On my invisible leash? You let me know, alright?” She’s going to regret everything about this when she’s sober, but for now, she’s letting her anger roll into lust. Will swallows thickly, eyes darting from her gaze to her lips.

“I think I might know someone, yeah.”

…

They’re a stumbling entanglement of limbs and sloppy kisses as they meander down the street towards her house. Her head is swimming in Will, drowning out the incessant chants of Joel’s name. It’s dark out as they near the porch of the house she shares with Joel and Ellie, none of the lights are on inside. He must be shacking up with Katie for the night, fucking good for him.

She leads Will up the steps to the front door, and as she fumbles with her key in the lock he presses up against her, leaving a wet trail of open-mouthed smacks along her neck that makes her squeal. Will huffs a laugh, spinning her around and pressing her up against the door, licking into her mouth. She pulls away with a wet click of spit.

“Shh, we have to be quiet, someone might hear us.” They both giggle before diving in for another writhing kiss.

“Well, wouldn’t that be a shame.” She lets out a shriek that she quickly cuts off by clamping her hand over her mouth. Will jumps back from her.

They both whip around to see Joel sitting on the bench seat out on the porch. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans back, his legs kicked out and crossed in front of him. Even in the dim light of the evening she can see that he does not look very pleased with what he just saw. He stands with a sigh, slowly shuffling over until he’s standing right in Will’s space. He’s not much taller than him, but Joel still makes the other man look small with the way he’s scowling at him.

“Will, I suggest you go on home now.” Will’s eyes dart between Joel and her, hesitant to do anything.

“I said now.” Will jumps a bit at Joel’s harsh tone, taking one last look at her before shaking his head and stumbling down the porch steps and off down the street. She can’t believe what just happened.

“What the fuck, Joel?” He breezes past her, opening the door and turning around to look at her.

“The door was unlocked the whole time, by the way. Or are you really so drunk you couldn’t figure that out?” She’s dumbstruck by the venom laced through his words. He huffs before turning and going inside, her mutely following on his heels.

“Thought you’d be over at Katie’s, not lurking on the fucking porch.” It comes out as a grumble and he spins on her fast, looking totally confused.

“You must be real drunk, because you’re talking total nonsense.” She scoffs at that.

“Oh am I? So I didn’t see her practically chewing your ear off in the town hall?” Joel’s face falls, just for a moment, before he’s back to a furrowed scowl.

“Is that seriously what this is about? You’re jealous of some lady who I couldn’t give two fucks about?” They’re both up in each other’s faces now, arms crossed and pressing against each other.

“Fuck you, Joel. You seemed to be enjoying her attention just fine. And, for the record, I’m not jealous. But if you get to have yours I don’t see why I can’t have mine.” She sneers in his face but he looks like he’s about to explode, fists now clenched at his side.

“I am yours, goddamnit! And you’re mine. Not anyone else’s and especially not Will’s!” The tendons in his neck jump as he shouts at her, his eyes wild. It’s been a long time since she’s seen him like this, and suddenly she’s feeling really dizzy.

All she manages is a hoarse croak of his name before she’s keeling over at the waist and emptying the contents of her stomach all over his shoes and the floor. Through the dull ringing in her ears she hears Joel mutter a few choice curses before rather carefully toeing off his boots. He shifts over to her side and brings a warm palm between her shoulder blades, smoothing up and down the expanse of her back. She just hopes she got drunk enough that she won’t remember any of this the next morning.

…

Unfortunately, she receives no such mercy, waking up late the next morning with a throbbing headache and a very intact memory of everything that happened the night before. Joel had quietly helped her upstairs, shushing her groans as he cleaned her up, helping her out of her clothes and into one of his flannels that she had previously filched from him. He had even helped her into bed, the last thing she remembers before she passed out being him brushing her hair back from her face and muttering “get some rest, trouble.”

She’s completely mortified, and the only reason she feels brave enough to leave her room is because she knows Joel had a morning shift scheduled. When she creeps into the kitchen seeking a glass of water she finds Ellie leaning against the counter.

“Woah, so much for being good and being safe. You look like shit.” She groans, nudging Ellie to the side to grab a glass and fill it up.

“Thanks, kid. Feel worse than I look.” “Pretty sure that’s a statistical impossibility, but what the hell happened? Joel looked like he wanted to punch a hole through someone’s face this morning, like, more so than he usually does.” She glances at Ellie, choosing to take a long swig of water rather than answer her question. The girl huffs, stomping off with a muttered “no one tells me anything around here, jesus.”

Luckily, she has the day off from patrol, so she can spend it licking her wounds and avoiding Joel until he comes back tonight. She cleans herself up, taking a shower, still marveling that they get to have warm water. The rest of the day is spent simmering in a stew of her emotions. She goes to help out in the greenhouses, mostly because she knows Joel never goes over there. Unfortunately, that’s also where most of the women of Jackson work, and she can’t help but notice that their side eyes have transformed into blatant glares today.

She’s hauling sacks of soil when an overheard murmur makes her stop in her tracks. Did she just hear the word slut? She whips around, meeting the gaze of a pair of women.

“Excuse me, what did you just say?” The women share a look before both clearing their throats, the one finally speaking up.

“Oh nothing, hon. It’s just, Laura here lives across the street from you and Joel. She was telling me there was quite a scene on your porch last night.” The woman raises her eyebrows at her, a snide grin sliding across her face. She’s stunned speechless by these two birds’ boldness, but Laura seems to have something to add.

“A word of advice, sweetie. A real man like Joel needs a real woman, not some silly girl who’s messing around behind his back.” She drops the two sacks she had been carrying and they thud heavily on the ground, causing the two women to startle. She doesn’t stick around to hear any more of their advice, mostly because she knows that beating them up isn’t an option. She trudges through town, trying to hold back the tightness in her throat and the heat behind her eyes. It’s a race before the first tears fall, trying to get home before anyone sees her completely lose her mind.

Unfortunately, she runs right into Tommy, literally, smacking into him as she rounds a block. He holds onto her forearms as she stumbles back. She feels her stomach drop, because if Tommy is back, that means Joel is too. He tries to ask her if she’s alright, but she just shakes her head, shifting out of his grip and continuing her beeline home, scrubbing harshly at her eyes to keep from fully dissolving.

When she gets to the house, she sees no sign of Joel on the porch, a small mercy. She quietly slips upstairs, and can hear the shower running, choosing to shut herself into her room before promptly burying her face in the sheets on her bed. There’s no holding it back now, and she begins to silently cry. No real thought behind her tears, just a general sense that she’s royally fucked everything up. She doesn’t cry often, not in this world, and so it’s a short-lived fit, leaving her drained and curled up across her bed.

There’s a soft knock at her door, the sound of shuffling boots. When she doesn’t answer he opens the door anyways, tentatively stepping inside. She refuses to look at him, sitting at the end of her bed and drawing her knees up under her chin. She hears him let out a sigh.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live.” He huffs at that, walking further into the room and leaning up against the wall across from her.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m still pissed at you.” Her gaze jerks up to his face and she’s met with his steely expression.

“Why are you pissed at me? I was drunk, Joel, a-and really upset, ok?”

“No, it’s not ok. Christ– I– I thought what we had meant something, right? And you were just ready to throw that away? With Will? I mean– fuck– I-I don’t get that.” She raises her chin defiantly at him.

“What we had? That’s a load of horseshit. What did we have, Joel? Association by proximity? A warm body to curl up with? A half-decent fuck? No, you don’t get to keep me as your little hanger-on while you try out all the other flavors in Jackson.” He scoffs, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

“Well, that’s real rich coming from you, considering you were getting ready to spread your legs for the first boy who looked your way.” She’s on her feet in a flash, taking one long stride to get in his space and slap him across his face, jerking his head to the side. He looks stunned as he holds his hand to his cheek.

“Fuck you, Joel. I’ve already been called a slut once today. I don’t need it coming from you too.” His demeanor changes instantly, brow furrowing.

“Who called you a slut?” She sighs, turning her back to him as she holds onto her arms across her chest.

“Baby?”

“Don’t baby me, Miller. And who else but two bitchy members of your little fan club. Why don’t you go talk to them? I’m sure they’d be more than happy to give you their opinions of me.” There’s a hiccup of silence that passes between them before Joel’s gently reaching for her, turning her back to face him. She won’t lift her gaze from her feet.

“You gotta help me out here. I just– I don’t understand what happened for you to– christ– when I saw you with Will– you’re killing me here, baby.” She finally looks up at him, resisting the urge to thumb away the deep frown on his face.

“Look, Joel. I can admit that what I did was stupid. I just– fuck– I know what we are, what we were– and I had no right getting so worked up seeing you with those women. But please, don’t keep stringing me along. I’m not gonna wait for you in your back pocket until you find someone better than me. I can’t do that.” He’s looking at her like she’s grown a second head.

“What are you talking about? I’m not fucking looking for someone better. I’m looking at you, goddamnit! I want you. Thought that was clear.” She scoffs.

“I think we have two very different definitions of clear then. Joel, we’ve never talked like this.” He throws his hands up in exasperation.

“I didn’t think we needed to talk like this! You and me, we understand each other. Didn’t think we needed words for us.” Her brain can’t help the chant it starts up of us us us us.

“Well, just a little communication would have been nice.” He sighs, shaking his head as he sits down on the end of her bed. She joins him, looking at where their thighs are pressed up against each other.

“Look, I’m sorry. I guess I should have been more– clear, about how I feel about you.” She glances at him.

“And how do you feel about me?” He just shoots her a look, brow raised.

“I’m actually waiting for an apology too y’know.” She huffs at that, dragging a hand down her face.

“I’m sorry for almost fucking Will. There, are you happy now?” He lets out a deep laugh and it startles her, the baritone thrum.

“Goddamn, Ellie may be right. We really are a pair of idiots.” They glance at each other, and a laugh is shared that feels like a door opening, like something new. Joel carefully slides one of his hands to lace with hers, clearing his throat.

“Y’know you’re it for me. Only want you. Christ, these women around town drive me fucking insane, so goddamn handsy. If I didn’t think it’d bug you I’d keep you under my arm all the time, maybe then they’d get the fucking message.” What she says comes out as more of a mumble, but Joel still catches it.

“That wouldn’t necessarily bug me.” He grins, dipping his head to meet her gaze.

“Oh, it wouldn’t?” She rolls her eyes, but shakes her head no.

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind.” He slings his arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his side and landing a kiss in her hair. It feels like the biggest relief ever. He huffs out another laugh, shaking her where she’s melting into his torso.

“Pfft, fucking Will.” She groans at him, trying to pull away but he just holds onto her tighter, muscling around her until she’s halfway sitting on his lap, twisting to look him square in his very smug face.

“ I think you would’ve been sorely disappointed by that kid. He wouldn’t have a clue what you like, what you need.”

“Oh yeah? And what exactly do I need, Miller?” He’s got a cocky smirk on his face, it’s a look she doesn’t often see on him. He shifts her on his lap some more until she’s finally straddling his waist, arms wrapped around his neck and thighs framing his hips. She gasps at the heady contact.

“You need me, honey. Same as I need you.” And with that he’s drawing her in by her jaw for a harsh kiss. There’s nothing sweet about it, all clashing teeth and stubborn tongues. They’re both still cooling off from the mutual anger and it shows in how they grab onto each other, licking into each other’s mouths and swallowing each other’s groans. He presses his calloused fingers into the sliver of skin between her shirt and her jeans, dragging her hips impossibly closer until she’s grinding into his hardness. He lets out a low thrumming moan at the sensation. She grins.

“You need me, huh, Joel?” He grunts, trying to dip his head into her neck but she pulls him back by the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing a low moan from him. She presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Why don’t you lay back for me, cowboy?” She can see the flush creeping up his neck as he huffs out a low laugh, but she means business. She pushes hard on his chest, tipping him back onto the mattress with a soft “oof” as she gets to work on the buttons of his shirt while he toes his boots off. She laves her tongue over each new inch of exposed skin, and by the time she gets to the bottom of his shirt he’s letting out the sweetest little grumbles. She noses along the waist of his jeans and he huffs.

“Such a tease.” She grins up at him, finally unbuckling his belt and harshly tugging it out from under him in a way that makes him startle.

“That’s right, baby. And I can do whatever I want. Because this is all mine, right?” She rests her palm on his stomach, feeling his rapid breaths rise and fall. He swallows hard, looking down at her with his hands crossed behind his head.

“S’all yours, darlin.” She knows she’s got him when he starts talking like that, his southern drawl melting his words and dripping slow like honey. He shudders as she lays one more open-mouthed kiss below his navel before finally undoing his jeans and shucking them down his legs along with his boxers. His cock immediately springs up to his stomach, dribbling pre-cum in the tufted hair there. She lays between his spread legs and noses up the length of him, just barely letting her lips brush against the tip. He grumbles under her teasing.

“C’mon, baby. Why don’t you go ahead and take what’s yours already, huh?” She grins at his almost pained expression, the crease between his brows and the little huffs he keeps letting out.

“Always so bossy. Lucky for you I’m in a giving mood.” He goes to speak again but is quickly cut off by a broken moan when she finally licks a broad stripe up the heavy vein of his cock before taking the head into her mouth and giving an experimental bob. She finds a rhythm, taking him a bit deeper each time until she’s swallowing around him in her throat in a way that makes his toes curl.

“Fuck– s’perfect– perfect mouth taking all of me. S’good, so good for me, baby.” He reaches for her, trying to card his fingers through her hair and guide her movements, but she immediately stops, grabbing his wrists and pinning them up by his shoulders.

“Uh-uh, no touching, Miller. You’re just gonna lay there and take what I give you, got it?” He looks frustrated that she stopped, that she’s demanding so much control, but he just swallows thickly and nods. She smiles and lays a quick peck at the corner of his mouth before sinking back down and returning to work.

He’s a writhing mess under her as she sucks him off, digging his hands into his thick hair to stop himself from reaching out for her. She can feel his thighs tensing where her hands are splayed and knows he must be getting close. This time, she’s surprised when he interrupts her, yanking her back by her hair and forcing her to look up at him.

“Alright, think you’ve had your fun. S’my turn now.” His movements are fluid and startling in their quickness as he sits up and effectively flips them until she’s splayed out on the bed underneath him. She gasps as his mouth and hands wander everywhere, making quick work of the buttons of her shirt before not so gently shrugging it off her shoulders and tossing it on the floor. He mouths over the fabric of her bra in a way that makes her back arch, giving him enough space to undo the clasp and slide it off her before dipping back down and taking a peaked nipple into his hot mouth. His teeth graze over the sensitive skin and she sighs out his name at the sensation. He grins up at her in a way that makes her want to smack him.

“This all mine, right darlin?” She lets out a breathy “yes” and it’s all he needs to hear to get back to work, starting to suck and bite harshly at her skin, leaving mottled bruises in his wake as he travels further down her torso. He makes quick work of her pants and underwear, shuffling them down her legs and tossing them aside, working his way back up to her center by dragging his mouth along the inside of her leg, nuzzling into the plush of her inner thighs. She can’t help the whimpers that start to crack in her throat under his ministrations. He hovers his mouth over the heat of her cunt, each exhale sending shivers up her spine.

“You’re lucky, darlin, you know why?” She furrows her brow at him, he just grins.

“Because unlike some people, I’m not a fucking tease.” With that, he’s licking a flat stripe through her folds that sends her hips arching up into his mouth. He’s holding nothing back, a sloppy haze of slick dipping from her entrance up to her clit. The sound of him devouring her is obscene laid over her drawn out whines. Joel knows her well after so much time together. Knows how she likes it, what she needs when he eats her out, when she needs him to slide his fingers inside her and give her something to clench down around, right as she’s teetering on the edge of release.

“Come for me, baby. Just like this. Show me you’re mine.” His low murmurs send a thrum through her core that’s enough to snap whatever resolve she had left as she comes undone around his fingers, shivering as he continues to lick at her. She finally pushes his face away from her with a gasp, becoming too sensitive to let him keep working at her.

He crawls up her body, meeting her for a kiss and she groans at the taste of herself on his tongue. She draws her knee up to his hip, using the leverage to flip him under her, straddling his waist and soaking his happy trail with her dripping cunt. His hands are kneading at the meat of her ass and she lurches forward when he brings one down in a harsh smack. She scowls at the smug look on his face.

“Don’t give me that look, baby. Still pissed about seeing you with that fucking kid.” She rolls her eyes, going to say something smart but her voice dies in her throat when he lands another slap, causing her to gasp out his name and bury her face in his neck. He kisses her temple sweetly, a stark contrast to the sting as he smacks her ass again. She thinks there’s going to be marks left afterward, though maybe that’s the whole point.

He finally lets up, once again gripping her ass in a way that makes the tender skin smart. She tilts her head to hold his gaze, pressing in for another kiss. He pulls away first, his breathing a bit ragged.

“You gonna ride your cowboy, baby?” She lets out a gasp as he laughs at the look on her face.

“So you have heard what those women are saying. Goddamnit, Joel–” he cuts her off with another hard kiss.

“Don’t give a fuck about what they’re saying. Just want you, now.” She presses her palms into his chest as she shifts her hips back, lining the tip of his cock up with her entrance before slowly sinking down. They’re both a mess of sighs and whines as she settles with him fully inside her. It’s always a stretch at first. Joel traces his fingers down her arms before wrapping his broad hands around the plush of her hips. She gives a few tentative rolls into him that sets his eyes turning back in his head. She slowly finds her rhythm, sinking down on him with each bounce and twisting her hips until he’s a panting mess beneath her. She rests the flat of her palm along the base of his throat and doesn’t miss the way his eyes widen at her movements.

“Tell me how it feels, baby, s’good for you?” Joel grunts at her question, his fingers flexing where they’re squeezing at her waist.

“S’fucking perfect. You’re perfect– fuck– take me so well, darlin.” He bends his knees and plants his feet into the mattress, the shift causing her to press forward until their chests are smashed together as he starts to thrust up into her. She lets out a broken cry at the brutal pace he sets.

“Fuck, Joel– n-need more– need you– need you to–” he shushes her, already complying without needing her to say it as he flips them over so he’s caging her in. He drags a long kiss out of her before sitting up and pulling out of her, making her whine at the loss.

“Want you on your hands and knees for me.” She doesn’t need to be told twice, flipping over and getting into position as Joel palms his cock behind her. She shudders when he presses up against her, just barely dipping back into her. She whines at his teasing, trying to draw him deeper but he squeezes her hips harshly.

“Patience, darlin. I’ll give you what you want. But I gotta ask you something first.” She glances at him over her shoulder, brow furrowed.

“Need you to tell me. D’you think Will could fuck you as good as I do?” She huffs at that.

“Joel, I said I was sorry– christ– just fuck me already.” That’s not what he wants to hear and he acts like he’s getting ready to pull away from her entirely. She stammers on her words she talks so fast.

“No, no! H-he couldn’t fuck me like you do. No one f-fucks me as good as you– please, Joel.” That’s apparently enough of an answer for him as he lines himself up and thrusts into her in one long stroke, pressing his hips hard against the swell of her ass. She lets out a long preening whine as he starts to thrust into her, slow but deep movements that make the bed shuffle up against the wall. His hands are roaming over her back, her sides, down to her hips, rough calluses making her shiver.

“Fucking made for me, darlin. Nobody else, huh? S’just you and me.” She lets out a breathy “yes” to his low rumbling words, fisting the sheets below her as she feels the pleasure starting to spill over once again.

Joel seems to notice it too, snaking one of his hands down her front to bluntly swipe against her clit.

“You gonna come for me, baby? Just for me, right? Not for anyone else?” She nods frantically, pressing her hips back into his with each thrust.

“Y-yes, Joel– fuck– s’all for you– only for you– p-please don’t stop– so fucking close, baby.” He curls over her, his broad chest brushing against her back as he brings his lips to her ear.

“Give it to me, baby. Come for me, right now.” That’s all it takes for her to seize up in his hold, pulsing around his cock and tumbling over that blinding edge of pleasure, a broken cry of his name the only sound she can get out. She bows down onto her elbows, pressing her cheek into the sheets as he fucks her through it, making the pleasure simmer almost painfully as his pace starts to falter too.

“Fuck– s’good for me, baby– you’re perfect.” His voice sounds nearly pained and she immediately knows he’s close.

“Want you to come for me, Joel. Let go for me.” He presses his forehead between her shoulder blades, rutting haphazardly into her.

“Tell me you’re mine, darlin. Wanna hear you say it.”

“I’m yours, Joel– p-please come, baby– come for me.” He curses lowly, pulling out but keeping a hand on the base of her spine as he strokes himself a few times before he’s painting her ass with his spend. The only sound as he comes is his breathless gasps of words.

“Fuck– I’m yours, darlin– I’m all yours.” It’s silent for a moment as they both catch their breath, Joel flops onto his back next to her and she splays out on her stomach, shivering at the sensation of his cooling come on her skin.

He glances at her flushed face, the twitch of a smile at his lips as he wheezes out a laugh.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, trouble.”

…

Ellie looks between the pair at dinner, seeming to be trying to figure something out.

“You two look pleased with yourselves. Something big must have happened between now and this morning when you were both so goddamn testy.” That earns her a glare from Joel. She holds her hands up in surrender.

“Hey, hey. I’m happy for you guys, seriously. It’s about time you stopped dicking around, gonna save a lot of ladies some serious trouble now that you’re officially together.” She quirks an eyebrow at the girl.

“What makes you think we’re “officially” together?” Ellie just shrugs.

“Well, usually you both make more of an effort to cover up the evidence, but from the looks of those bruises on both your necks I’d say you’re done hiding the obvious.” She swallows hard around her bite of food, glancing at Joel, sure enough spotting a trail of hickies peeking out of his shirt collar. She only feels a little guilty. Joel just huffs.

“Alright, kid, easy does it there. But, yes, just for the record. I guess, we– well, we– uh–” she stops his floundering, bringing her hand to rest over his on the table.

“You were right, Ellie. We’re together.” The kid gives them a smug look.

“I am both disgusted and happy for you.”

…

With everything finally out in the open, she feels no hesitancy in joining Joel in bed that night, curling up around each other in a tangle of limbs and settling on the brink of sleep. She glances up at him from where her cheek is resting against his chest.

“Joel?” His low murmur lets her know he’s listening.

“I wanna tell you something. And you don’t have to say anything back. But, I love you. You need to know that.” There’s a heavy pause of silence before Joel draws her into him a bit tighter, sighing over the top of her head.

“Feel the same way, darlin. Guess I’ve been in love with you for a while. Just a hard thing to say, in this world.” She breathes out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. He clears his throat.

“Hope you know I’m not letting you go now.”

“I know, cowboy.”

…

They both have a patrol shift the next morning, and as they step out onto the porch bright and early, she can see Laura across the street, sitting on her own porch and watching them pointedly. Just as Joel turns back to her after locking the door, she grabs him by the nape of his neck and spins them into an entirely too intense kiss for this early in the morning. When she pulls away with a lewd little pop, Joel’s face is painted with shock, his eyes darting from hers to her lips and back up again.

“What the hell was that for?” She just shrugs before taking his hand in hers and hopping down the steps. She waves to their neighbor with her other arm.

“Morning, Laura!” The woman doesn’t respond, primly looking away with a scowl on her face.

She doesn’t care though, not when Joel’s got his arm wrapped around her and his hand on her hip as they head off down the street for their shift. Might as well give the ladies of Jackson something to talk about.

#joel miller angst #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

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wolfmadefromash · 3 years

Text

Mega Prompt List

I have brought together a few different lists and have over 300 prompts. I love getting request, it’s great, but they don’t always flow in. So the idea is to use a random number generator and have that pick the prompt for me. I have a ton of WIPs so I really shouldn’t be looking to add anything but...Well it’s like trying not to buy a new book. I can’t do it.

Feel free to send me a request from this list if you’d like! And as always, expect a Sterek fic, because that is all I know anymore...

1. I need you.

2. You’re family.

3. I care about you.

4. Can I join you.

5. You made your choice.

6. This isn’t fair!

7. How could you do this?

8. Do you hate me?

9. I could never leave you behind.

10. Come with me.

11. That’s sweet.

12. You look great.

13. Where are you going?

14. That’s new.

15. Let me help you.

16. Drop the attitude.

17. Are you okay?

18. I’ve got you.

19. I’m worried about you.

20. You don’t seem like yourself tonight.

21. Do you like it?

22. You smell nice.

23. They didn’t deserve you.

24. I trust you, do you trust me?

25. Karma is a bitch.

26. What the hell?

27. Son of a bitch.

28. I hope your day gets better.

29. I’m here if you need to talk.

30. Are you listening to me?

31. Sorry.

32. Why are you doing this?

33. Why are you acting like this?

34. How do I look?

35. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

36. What is this about?

37. You look like hell.

38. I haven’t seen you in a few days.

39. It’s good to see you.

40. You know, you can stay if you want to.

41. I’m not pissed, I’m hurt.

42. Truth hurts, doesn’t it?

43. I almost feel bad for you.

44. What you did was stupid.

45. No. You listen to me.

46. It doesn’t matter.

47. I know you’re scared.

48. You’re a terrible liar.

49. You’re not helping.

50. It’s not safe here.

51. You should leave.

52. Everything is fine.

53. I’ll keep you safe.

54. I hope you know what you’re doing.

55. Just go away.

56. You don’t have to act like you’re okay.

57. I’m only here to help.

58. Don’t mind if I do.

59. Don’t you think you’ve done enough?

60. Thanks for nothing.

61. I’m done.

62. You think that this is easy for me?

63. I hate seeing you like this.

64. You make me so mad.

65. I brought you dinner.

66. Say what?

67. You’ll be fine.

68. You’ve got me on your side.

69. I don’t like you…. I love you.

70. I don’t want you… I need you.

71. What are you doing here?

72. It’s okay to cry.

73. I can tell you’re lying.

74. You’re in danger.

75. You deserve better.

76. You’ve changed.

77. I think I’m in trouble.

78. You always find a way to surprise me.

79. You did what you had to do.

80. You have no idea.

81. Why am I not surprised?

82. This is just great.

83. You’re here late.

84. What’s on your mind?

85. I wanted to apologize.

86. It’s just you and me.

87. I’m just looking out for you.

88. I never meant to fall in love with you, I just did.

89. Calm down.

90. Why didn’t you tell me?

91. Oh come on.

92. No one is perfect.

93. You’ve been quiet.

94. What did you just say?

95. I’ll always be there for you.

96. Fair enough.

97. When you fall, I’ll always be right there to catch you.

98. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.

99. You’re not crazy.

100. I’m not leaving.

101. I hope you’re happy.

102. You’re the only person I wanted to be with tonight.

103. Don’t worry about it.

104. I’ll be there in a few minutes.

105. You’re not going anywhere.

106. You believe me, don’t you?

107. Regardless of what they think, I know you’re an amazing person.

108. Shhh… You need to be quiet.

109. Fuck you!

110. You don’t even know me.

111. That’s starting to get annoying

112. Hey, hey, calm down They can’t hurt you anymore

113. You can’t just sit there all day

114. I’m too sober for this

115. I’m not here to make friends

116. I need a place to stay

117. Well, that’s tragic

118. You’re seriously like a man-child

119. You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!

120. The ladies love a guy who’s good with kids

121. Dear Diary, …

122. She’s hiding behind the sofa

123. I lost our baby

124. They’re so cute when they’re asleep

125. I’d kill for a coffee…literally

126. You’re getting crumbs all over my bed

127. Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion

128. What’s the matter, sweetie?

129. You’re Satan

130. I don’t want to hear your excuse You can’t just give me wet-willies

131. I’m bulletproof…but please, don’t shoot me

132. Did you just hiss at me?

133. Do you really need all that candy?

134. It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka

135. I swear, I’m not crazy!!!

136. The diamond in your engagement ring is fake

137. No Regrets

138. How drunk was I?

139. How is my wife more badass than me?

140. Be you No one else can

141. I haven’t slept in ages

142. I locked the keys in the car

143. Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?

144. You work for me You are my slave

145. Take your medicine

146. They’re monsters

147. Welcome to fatherhood

148. Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?

149. It’s your turn to make dinner

150. The kids, they ambushed me

151. Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!!!

152. Stop being so cute

153. I feel like I can’t breathe

154. You need to see a doctor

155. You’re getting a vasectomy That’s final

156. I was a joke, baby I swear

157. Dogs don’t wear clothes!

158. I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…

159. Safety first What are you? FIVE?

160. This is girl talk, so leave

161. There’s a herd of them!

162. Do you think I’m scared of a woman?

163. They’re not your kids, back the fuck off

164. You’re a nerd

165. I’m late

166. Just get home as soon as possible, okay?!

167. You smell like a wet dog

168. I could punch you right now

169. Are you going to talk to me?

170. Welcome back Now fucking help me

171. If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?

172. Flea markets don’t carry fleas, you know?

173. Here, take my blanket

174. I don’t want you to stop

175. How could I ever forget about you?

176. You’re bleeding all over my carpet

177. Run for it!

178. We need to talk

179. Not everyone is out to get you Stop thinking that It’s annoying

180. I want a pet

181. Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now

182. I’m not wearing a dress

183. I’m not wearing a tie

184. Quit beating me up!

185. Please put your penis away

186. Don’t argue Just do it

187. I hope I’m never stuck with you on a deserted island

188. Hold still

189. I just ironed these pants!

190. Enough with the sass!

191. Show me what’s behind your back

192. I’m not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor

193. Fine, don’t say anything and make me worry

194. Stay awake

195. STOP INTERRUPTING ME!

196. You’re not interested, are you?

197. I’m not buying Ikea furniture again

198. Tell me you need me

199. Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you

200. I’m telling you I’m haunted

201. I had a bad dream again

202. Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween

203. It’s Christmas, don’t be mad at me

204. You’re not going to starve yourself on Thanksgiving

205. The store ran out of Easter eggs

206. How could you forget your son’s birthday?

207. You can only suffer through my whining for so long until you get up and make me a sandwich

208. Come over here and make me

209. Have you lost your damn mind!?

210. Please, don’t leave

211. Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?

212. Wait a minute Are you jealous?

213. Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?

214. I almost lost you

215. Wanna bet?

216. Don’t you ever do that again!

217. Teach me how to play?

218. Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!

219. I think we need to talk

220. Kiss me

221. Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always

222. So, I found this waterfall…

223. It could be worse

224. Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…

225. This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had Of course I’m in

226. The paint’s supposed to go where?

227. You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you

228. We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?

229. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice

230. Just once

231. You’re the only one I trust to do this

232. I can’t believe you talked me into this

233. I got you a present

234. Marry me?

235. I thought you were dead

236. It’s not what it looks like…

237. You lied to me

238. I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified

239. Please don’t do this

240. If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed

241. You heard me. Take It Off

242. I wish I could hate you

243. Wanna dance?

244. You fainted…straight into my arms You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes

245. Hey! I was gonna eat that!

246. Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?

247. You did all of this for me?

248. I swear it was an accident

249. YOU DID WHAT?!

250. If you die, I’m gonna kill you

251. Tell me a secret

252. Hey, have you seen the? Oh

253. No one needs to know

254. Boo

255. Well this is awkward…

256. We’ll get through this, I promise

257. You make me feel You make me feel and I hate it

258. Why are you so jealous?

259. Please don’t cry I can’t stand seeing you cry

260. If I leave now, I won’t come back

261. I would honestly die before I let anything happen to you

262. Don’t fucking touch me

263. I’m sorry I’m not what you signed up for

264. I know for a fact that you’re not ‘fine’

265. You absolute fucking… I’m so angry I can’t even insult you!

266. You are the worst thing that has ever happened to me

267. I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I’m just… really tired

268. You didn’t call You didn’t text Nothing

269. I’ve never hated you, you just make me feel things I don’t understand

270. I would never do this to you if I didn’t have to You know that right?

271. You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love

272. Calm down! You’re scaring me!

273. Hey, I know you’re hurting… but, you’re not alone, okay?

274. Why do you run away from your problems all the time?

275. Please talk to me about it

276. Shh, it was just a bad dream Just a dream, okay? None of it was reality

277. It’s not bad to cry. In fact, I think it makes a person stronger

278. I’m not going to leave you You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise

279. Why are your eyes so red?

280. We’re not just friends and you fucking know it

281. I don’t know who you are anymore

282. Can you at least promise me that? - I don’t think I can, not this time

283. Do you even still love me?

284. Get out I am done with you

285. I can’t sleep when you’re not beside me

286. You hurt me

287. I don’t know how to exist in a world without you

288. You make me feel alive. For the first time ever, I feel like I can breathe

289. I don’t want to feel this way anymore

290. Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know

291. Nobody’s seen you in days

292. Don’t cry

293. You haven’t lost me

294. Why are you crying?

295. We could…take a nap together?

296. Nothing is wrong with you

297. You keep that photo of us in your wallet?

298. Sssh. Stop fussing I’m just braiding your hair

299. You’re comfy

300. Not only am I deeply in love with you, you’re my best friend

301. Sleeping with you was the best sleep I’ve gotten in years

302. You smell really nice

303. It was a joke, baby I swear

304. You’re the best part of me

305. No, like… It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes

306. Aw, you’re blushing

307. Your hair is really soft

308. I promise I will never let anything bad happen to you

309. Can we just lie here for a moment?

310. I don’t care if you’re sick, catching a cold from kissing you is worth it

311. I think you might be my soulmate

312. Can we stay like this forever?

313. I don’t want to be your partner either, but we have to get this assignment done

314. I’ve got you

315. I can’t sleep, can I stay here?

316. You’ve been pouting ever since I went out on that date, what’s up?

317. I’m not sure when it happened, but I fell in love with you, and it was the best thing I’ve ever done

318. I can’t sleep

319. Sometimes I really don’t like you

320. Can I hold your hand?

321. You look like you could use a hug

322. You make me feel safe

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mxgilray · 3 years

Text

Loki Season 1 Thoughts

Overall, I really liked this series. It has some issues without question, but I sincerely don't think it's the dumpster fire so many viewers on this site treat it as. Did it go how I expected? Not at all? Did I enjoy the heck out of it and look forward to it every Wednesday? Hell yeah!

Loki's Good Guy Personality

A big complaint many have had with it is how much Loki's demeanor has changed and how his emotional growth feels rushed or his personality is ooc. Truth is, he saw his entire future, saw what his angry, power hungry, I-work-alone persona would get him in the end, and it snapped him back to reality. He has always been shown to be quite emotional and craving attention and lacking in self assurance, it's just in the past movies he's masked it with violence and fake narcissism, and he's always been a secondary character so his perspective is rarely shown. But if you really pay attention it's obvious he isn't truly villainous; we all know that, it's largely why he has such a huge fan base.

Right after meeting Mobius, Loki got an infodump of his future, saw his parents both die, found out that free will means jack shit, and learned he's absolutely powerless in this realm. On top of that, this is 2012 Loki, fresh off of being under Thanos' control, suddenly being shown that the guy who controlled him is going to end up killing him. Frankly,, I think it all broke Loki. He was too shook up by it all and by the sheer helplessness he found himself in at the TVA that he let all his barriers down momentarily. Just long enough for him to open up to Mobius about his motivation and his lack of self confidence. And you know what I bet? Loki felt relieved after talking to Mobius. A weight was lifted, because he bore his heart to someone and wasn't rejected or laughed at or treated like a psycho. And after letting his walls down fully, Loki didn't feel the need to put all of them back up. He stayed guarded around other people, but he didn't need to pretend around Mobius. Mobius has seen under the mask, so Loki doesn't feel pressure to perform as an all knowing, all powerful God around Mobius. That freedom is life changing.

People who gravitate towards broken, pseudo-villain characters do so because we relate to their internal conflict, their mental illness, their need to fake it around everyone close to them. Their turmoil and depression and self destructive behavior are familiar and we see ourselves reflected in their actions. Now, when a person really truly let's their guard down, drops all their layers of facade, and embraces themself, they tend to change demeanor and even personality pretty drastically. It's jarring in real life, so of course when it happens to a fictional character who you usually relate to it is going to be jarring, maybe even more so because it feels like a change you yourself would never go through. I know this sounds bad and people might get at me for it, but...

I believe the issue here is that a large part of Loki's fan base doesn't want him to get better. They don't want him to move past his mental illness, to learn how to cope with anger and disappointment in healthier ways, to be happy. They like his damaged persona, they like the internal conflict. Maybe it's because they're still at that low place themself and feel like a relatable character is getting taken away from them, maybe it's because they don't understand how much being at peace with yourself can alter a person and to them it feels like he's been changed too much. To those of us mostly on the up and up from battling depression and mental illness, it's comforting to see Loki getting a chance to be genuinely happy and accepting of himself.

Sylki and Lokius

First things first, I'm not anti anything. Ship what you want, idc. Personally, I do not see the Sylki dynamic as romantic, but I get why people read it that way. I thought the series did a good job of showing unrequited love, namely Loki falling for Sylvie and Sylvie feeling zero romance towards him. This was aware of his attraction and in the end used it as a distraction so she could get the upper hand. The show played up the potential romance because we are viewing things from Loki's perspective and he's become smitten as a kitten. I do think in the long run they'll have a more sibling-like dynamic, one Loki realizes that you can feel extreme love and care for a person without it being romantic. I enjoyed how the show explored their relationship, though I do wish they hadn't had every character under the sun mention their moment on Lamentis-1 like it was some big deal to bond with someone you're about to die with.

I'm bitter towards the development of Lokius. It had a strong start in the beginning, and in ep 5 had some potential reignited, but then they had Mobius not know who Loki is at the end. I'm still hoping they're playing the long game with this ship and that it'll come to fruition partway through season 2. The chemistry is there, and Mobius knows Loki very intimately and isn't put off by his past. Loki also feels much more at ease around Mobius than he does around Sylvie. It's the comfort of a deep loving bond with Mobius verses the nervousness of a new crush that he feels for Sylvie.

I don't think Loki is quite aware of his feelings for Mobius, simply because it's based in friendship and mutual respect and isn't a hot and heavy lust. Plus, as soon as he was away from Mobius he was thrown into a near death experience with Sylvie and developed a surface crush during their heart to heart. Since Loki's still figuring out what genuine feelings are beyond anger and sadness, he sees the simplistic crush he has on Sylvie as love and the intimate bond he's been forming with Mobius as friendship. He doesn't understand his own feelings yet, but I think he'll figure it out next season. I mean, he was probably already rethinking his feelings for her after she kissed and betrayed him, mentally kicking himself for expecting her to not pull a Loki betrayal like he would've in the past.

The Time Variance Authority

I really like the concept of the TVA, the structure of it, the methods they use, the deeply fucked way they recruit employees, the cult like motto, shady Miss Minutes who is definitely playing her own long game, and the blind acceptance TVA agents have of the Time Keepers' will. It's all very well done... until your dig into the core, aka He Who Remains. They built up the idea that the Time Keepers created the TVA to prevent a multiverse war and that they created agents to enforce their will. Then the creating agents turned out to be fake, the Time Keepers were fake, I expected the reason for the TVA's existence to be fake to. It felt too simple to have it genuinely exist just to keep the multiverse in check. Why the anonymity, unless it's to keep from having agents target and prune versions of himself which.. songs like a decent solution. HWR made it sound as though the multiverse war was just a bunch of versions of himself screwing shit up, so why isn't the TVA's focus on eradicating every other variant of this guy? Sounds a lot easier and nicer than fucking with the free will of every other living being. So either Marvel made a bad call when choosing what HWR's motive was for creating the TVA, or he was lying about it all to cover up something sinister.

Overall Storyline

I'm fairly happy with the plot as a whole. There were some pacing issues and I think a few missed chances for deeper conversations between various characters. While I enjoyed the Loki variants, I honestly would've been happier seeing Tom playing most the variants (except Kid Loki and Classic Loki since they are clearly different age ranges). If there is supposed to be one sacred timeline, it seems off to me that Lokis would be allowed to vary so extremely without it causing a nexus event(an alligator, whose nexus wasn't that he's an animal who obviously can't do any magic much less command Thanos' army, but that he ate someone's cat) and not just in appearance but in life path (ie boastful Loki collected all the infinity stones but it wasn't till he had 6 that he caused a nexus event even though him gaining control of the Soul, Power, and Time stones should've each caused nexus events since on the sacred timeline he never interacts with those 3 and taking any one of them would've fucked up a lot of other timeline parts)

I love the display of Lokis raw power, and 2012 Loki coming to the realization that he's way more powerful than he ever thought. And it wasn't just Classic Loki who spent thousands of years alone honing his skills, 2012 Loki reversed time on a goddamn falling building! I also liked the small magic, the fireworks, the tablecloth blanket, Loki yanking Sylvie away from HWR with just magic.

As someone who is both bisexual and genderfluid, I would've really loved more concrete representation. The comment about there never being another female Loki hit me in the gut; it undermined the Easter egg "Sex: Fluid" on Loki's TVA file. With how big a deal Sylvie being female was made out to be throughout the season, I expected her gender to play a key role in taking down the head of the TVA, like it was foretold that only a female Loki could end it all or some shit.

I don't mind the idea of Loki finding love in a straight passing relationship. I don't even mind the selfcest all that much. It just feels so obvious to me that Sylvie is written as not having any romantic inclination towards Loki, while Mobius is clearly written as falling in love with someone he shouldn't and trying to maintain an heir of professionalism to keep from wrecking his bond with Loki. I really really hope they come through on season 2 and give Lokius the canon relationship and proper representation they deserve.

Mmkay I thinks that's all the thoughts I've got right now. If you've been feeling cheated or clowned by how things went this season, maybe my perspective of things can help ease your pain.

#loki spoilers #loki series #loki #mobius m mobius #sylvie laufeydottir #lokius #sylki #tva loki #time variance authority #marvel #mcu

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missjaystone · 3 years

Text

Familiar Faces

Summary: Sam sets out to find his soulmate after his dream life wound up being just that, a dream. He just wants to find his happy ever after. Word Count: 3,930 Pairing(s): Sam Wilson x Reader Warnings: Death (mentioned), Smut, Rough(ish) sex

(This is the sequel to ‘Old Faces’, please read that one first)

Sam didn't tell anyone what happened in his dream if you could call it that; now that he was awake and knew none of that ever happened, it felt like a nightmare or a cruel joke. He dug through old boxes for close to two hours before he found what he was looking for; a box with a handful of pictures from the time he spent with you and Riley before they shipped out. You'd sent the pictures to them not long after they left, he kept them along with the letters you wrote them in a little lockbox. He always kept the key for it on his keychain. He scrambled to look at different letters and pictures for your address, he knew it was on there somewhere.

Half an hour and a dozen groans of frustration and he finally found it! '3197 N 10th St, Washington DC', it was written clear as day and he could recognize your handwriting from a mile away; it was always a little slanted to the side and it was usually smudged in at least three places because your hand always ran across it when you wrote or went back to dot your i's and cross your t's. "FRIDAY, can you look up the owner of 3197 North 10th st in Washington, DC? And their contact information?" He called out to the AI. There was a confirmation sound before it answered in 20 seconds "it's owned by Richard and Owen Johnson." He frowned some "can you look up anyone named y/f/n y/l/n in DC?" Another sound before the AI answered him "there are two thousand four hundred thirteen people with that name." He groaned "how many of them went to the FBI academy in Quantico?" "None," the AI said almost immediately. "Open the search nationwide-no, global, then crosscheck it with anyone who served or actively serves as a special agent with the FBI or any of America's agencies," he ordered, he was getting nervous. His mind started to wander; what if something awful happened to you? The AI's voice broke him out of his thoughts "there is one person in the United States that fits that criteria."

"Where? Where is she?" Sam asked excitedly. "Records indicate she lived in New Haven, Connecticut the past year but a rental application for an apartment in Greenwich Village can be found as well, both dated within the past two weeks." Sam's hopes were quickly rising as he wrote the new address down. "Where's the closest VA office to her apartment?" Sam finally asked after debating. He couldn't just show up on your doorstep out of the blue, but showing up at the VA in the hope you'd go there like any other veteran wouldn't be so weird would it? He'd look the place up online and find a meeting schedule later, now he just wanted to go back to sleep for a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After visiting the VA for two weeks, and no sign of you, Sam was beginning to lose hope and get worried again. Steve encouraged him to go out for a drink with him and Bucky if only to distract him for a night. Bucky all but dragged him with them when Sam said he'd rather not. On the car ride to the bar, Sam figured a couple of drinks wouldn't hurt, what's the worst that could happen. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer, looking around the crowded bar curiously. He'd only been there for ten minutes when he decided to get out for some fresh air, slipping away from his friends while they were briefly distracted. He didn't know where it was taking him but he followed the part of his brain that told him to walk down the street. Maybe he followed his mind, hoping the pull would somehow lead to you. He wanted nothing more than to believe that soulmates had a special bond that pulled them together, maybe that's just what he needed to think to stay sane.

He needed to believe all the stories he heard growing up about soulmates being pulled together, about how nothing could keep them apart from one another. He may have denied it initially but he was well past that. No other woman he saw made him feel the way you did; he knew they never could. He started walking past a park but stopped, not giving it a second thought when his mind told him to go in. With it being almost 9 on a weeknight, he wasn't surprised the park was devoid of kids and adults. Then he saw the figure sitting on top of the monkey bars and he smiled to himself.

"Little late to be out isn't it?" He asked when he stopped a couple of feet behind the figure. "Says the man who's also out at this time," was the reply, accompanied by a quiet laugh. "I had a dream you were here, you know," Sam admitted sheepishly. If it wasn't so dark out and he wasn't behind you, you would've seen his blushing face "I mean, not here exactly, I had a dream you were in New York. I've been looking just about everywhere for you." "Work keeps me busy, I've technically lived here for two weeks but I've only spent about three days in town," you answered. "Understandable," he said with a quiet, nervous laugh. A silence filled the space around you both. Sam knew what he wanted to say, what he needed to say. He sighed quietly and bit his lip "I'm sorry I disappeared on you after we lost him. You needed someone to lean on and it should have been me. I shouldn't have let my own emotions consume me and leave you in the dust," he finally said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Sam, losing him was as huge for you as it was for me. I was never mad at you; your feelings were your own and you did what was best for yourself. I can't be mad at you for taking care of yourself," you told him, finally looking over at him. He started to argue but you knew what he'd say "I mean it, Sam. I don't ever want you to feel bad for taking care of yourself. You knew what you needed, I knew what I needed and that's that." "I thought you blamed me for his death though, I should've-" he started to argue. You shushed him "people always want to find someone to blame when things go wrong, even if that person is themselves, it's supposed to make it easier to accept I think, because if someone is to blame, then a bad thing didn't just happen, it had a reason behind it. There's nothing you could have done to save him, you were both doing your jobs. I know you think it's your fault but it isn't, Sam, and I never thought otherwise."

Sam smiled, he felt like a weight he didn't even know he carried had been lifted. He'd heard it before but it only ever took away part of the blame he felt. Hearing it from you made it feel true, you saying it made him believe it. He felt like he could breathe again. "You know, I didn't want you to be my soulmate," he said, eyes widening immediately in embarrassment. That's not how he wanted it to come out. "Ouch," you mumbled but held back a laugh. You'd seen him nervous before, it was usually a little entertaining. "I mean I did! Don't get me wrong, god I wanted it but I always worried I'd be too old for you, you know. I didn't want you to get stuck with someone old enough to be your young dad, I thought maybe you'd be able to find someone closer to your age, someone who wasn't friends with the guy who basically raised you," he rambled quickly.

You rolled your eyes and let out a laugh before leaning over the edge of the monkey bars until you were hanging upside down, face to face with him "why would I do that? I didn't have a bond with anyone else the way I did with you. Age be damned, I was an adult when we met, and I was and am more than capable of making my own choices." "Maybe I was just too scared of being rejected then. Do you know how much it's supposed to hurt when your soulmate rejects you?" He asked with a small hum, his hand gently coming up to cup your cheek.

"Oh please, who in their right mind could reject you?" You asked and flashed a small smirk. "God you're a pain," he said jokingly before stepping forward and planting his lips on yours in a gentle kiss. It had a passionate, longing feel to it, like it was something you'd both been waiting for ages for it. Your hanging upside down made it a little awkward but that didn't deter either of you. You tried to pull him closer, only to struggle; you lightly shoved his chest when he laughed. "So, I'm not getting rejected right?" Was the first thing he said when your lips separated. His tone was joking but even in the dark, you could see the nervous look on his face. "I'd never reject you, Sam; I love you," you told him, looking directly into his eyes so he knew you meant it.

He beamed a bright grin, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone softly "I love you too, I wish it hadn't taken so long for this to happen, for us to finally end up together." "Me too, Sam," you were grinning from ear to ear as you looked at him. "Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow?" He asked happily. "I'd like that a lot, maybe you can tell me what you've been up to and why two men are staring at us," you stated with a grin. When he gave you a confused look, you nodded past him where two men were stood at the park's entrance, trying (and failing) to look nonchalant and acting like they weren't trying to eavesdrop. "Shoo!" Sam yelled when he looked back at them. He let out an exasperated sigh and an embarrassed chuckle "just a guy who ripped my steering wheel out of my car while I was in it and another guy who likes to show off by frequently running past me. Don't worry, they're just lonely old men, I promise they won't always be around to watch like that." You laughed and grinned "well I can't wait to hear those stories."

When the blood rushing to your head became too much, you finally got off the monkey bars and stretched. You didn't hesitate to kiss him, this time wrapping your arms around him. His own arms were around your waist in an instant, drawing you close until you were flush against his chest. This one was sweeter than before, it was calm and comforting. "How about we go grab a bite to eat right now? There's a pretty good burger place open until midnight a block and a half away," he offered. "Then what're we still doing standing here?" You asked sarcastically, a teasing smile on your face as you took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together. "That's my girl," he laughed to himself and begin walking with you. "By the way, was that Captain America watching us?" You asked after walking in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes. "Yup, unfortunately," Sam chuckled. "So you're either a superhero or some kind of terrorist now?" You teased. "Yeah, but if I tell which one I'd have to kill you," he said with a playful nudge to your side. "Right," you said sarcastically, both of you immediately bursting into laughter. Life felt right. You felt happy for the first time since your godfather's death.

The walk was quick and since it was almost 9:30 at night, almost nobody else was there so you got your food quickly. "So, we're fighting this guy in an airport, and I swear I don't think he's ever been in a fight before because he is so damn talkative. I mean it, he won't shut up. Anyway, he shoots this white substance at us, which in and of itself is unsettling and we're stuck on the ground. He's still talking and it's like a villain's monologue except it wasn't terrifying, it was annoying. I call in Redwing and he just launches this guy out the window and then Bucky says 'you couldn't have done that sooner' and I so badly wanted to smack him or at the very least send him flying through a window," Sam explains, rolling his eyes dramatically while you laughed, having to put down your burger so you didn't take a bite and choke. "And Bucky's the one who ripped your steering wheel out, right?" You asked, just to be sure. "Yup and every day with that dumbass is a test," Sam laughed and grinned. "Well, it's a good thing you have experience with dumbasses, huh?" You asked jokingly. "You know I do, baby."

You and Sam actually wound up staying at the place until they closed at midnight. Once you left, you two just began walking around, savoring each other's company and getting close again. "You wanna go back to my place? It's not that far from here," you offered with a smile. "Really? I thought you lived in Greenwich, I saw the apartment application online," he admitted before coughing and clearing his throat; he really didn't want to mention how much information he looked up online. "I applied to it but found a place here in Manhattan I liked better," you'd question him later about that little tidbit of information he had.

True to your word, the walk to your home was only fifteen minutes tops. "Sorry about all the boxes everywhere, I'm still unpacking everything," you apologized with a sheepish smile as you closed the front door behind you. "I've seen worse, baby, don't worry about it," he said with a casual shrug and a smile. Another silence fell upon you as you looked at each other. Even being together, there was still a pull and you both felt it. He gently pulled you to him and kissed you. This time, the kiss was desperate and hungry, consuming both of you. He held you by your hips, keeping you as close as physically possible. Your arm wrapped around his neck while your free hand cupped his cheeks as the kiss became more heated. It was like you suddenly couldn't get enough of each other.

When Sam finally broke away from the kiss, a small groan leaving his lips as he looked down at you with lust-darkened eyes "where's your bedroom?" "Down the hall, last door on the left," you mumbled, already dragging him down the hallway as you spoke. You'd taken two steps into the room when he picked you up and semi-gracefully tossed you onto the bed. He quickly moved to cover your body with his, caging you beneath him as he attacked your neck with kisses and a few soft bites. There was an urgency in both of your movements as you each hurried to undress the other while trying to keep as little space as possible between your bodies.

Soon, clothes were strewn across the bedroom; your bra was thrown over the lamp on your bedside table, his boxes landed in front of your dresser with his pants not far away. His fingers delved deep into your core and moved slowly, the little moans and gasps of pleasure spurring him on. The way his fingers repeatedly grazed over those spots you had trouble reaching even with your best toys had you melting underneath him. He watched with a proud, adoring smirk as he brought you right up to the edge before stopping and pulling his fingers out. He chuckled when you groaned in frustration, looking up at him pleadingly "Sam!"

"Hm?" He asked, a small teasing smirk on his face as he slowly licked them clean. You narrowed your eyes for a second before returning a teasing smirk of your own "either fuck me yourself or I'll use one of my toys while you sit in a corner." Sam tried to hide the way his eyes widened briefly "you wouldn't dare." You nodded with a smug smile on your face "well, my friend got me a new thrusting vibrator as a joke gift and I haven't had time to use it yet." You looked at each other in a silent staring contest, daring the other to do something. "God damn it, I can't tell if you're bluffing," he mumbled before crashing his lips to yours in a fervorous kiss which you were more than happy to return.

Sam haphazardly wrapped your legs around his waist and after impatiently lining his member at your entrance, he slowly thrust into you. You both let out groans of pleasure, your head falling back onto the pillow while he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He started dragging his hips slowly, just savoring the feeling of being with you in a way so intimate he thought he'd only dream it. Once he got more comfortable, he set a slow pace, savoring the feeling of each slow drag of his hips. Your soft moans were music to his ears, and knowing that he was the cause made his heart swell. "I love you so much," your voice was soft and breathy, he could tell you were right there with him on cloud 9. You looked so peaceful as he slowly fucked into you and if he could take a picture, he'd do it in a heartbeat. Your eyes closed and lips slightly parted from the pure bliss you felt. If only your eyes were open, you'd have seen the switch that flipped in his mind when you softly moaned his name.

When he got comfortable, he slowly pulled his hips back until the tip was just barely in before slamming back into the hilt, smirking at the loud moan you let out. He moved his hips fast now, making sure to reach the innermost depths of your cunt with each stroke of his cock. "F-fuck, S-sam!" You almost screamed when he started roughly playing with your clit. He smirked down at you, eyes completely dark now as he asked: "yeah, you think a toy can do this? Can a piece of plastic fuck you this way?" He pinched your clit when you took too long to answer him, making your words hitch in your throat, his hips pistoning into you brutally. You quickly shook your head while your nails dug into his shoulders, a quiet 'no' leaving your lips as you shook your head. "Louder, I want everyone to hear it, I wanna hear you tell everyone who fucks you this good," his voice was becoming husky and his thrusts came harder, punctuating every few words.

"You, Sam! No-no toy can fun me like this!" You shouted, body beginning to shake as your orgasm quickly crept closer. "Yeah? Who's girl are you, huh? Don't you dare cum until I say so," He demanded, grabbing your jaw and making you look directly into his eyes. "Yours, Sam! I'm yours!" You choked out, a low whine following your words while a few tears of pure pleasure ran down your cheeks. "Who owns your cunt, baby? Scream his name so all of New York knows and then you can cum all over my dick," he demanded again, squeezing your jaw slightly. His own hips were stuttering as he did everything he could to hold back. "Sam!" You screamed his name like a prayer before being blinded by white-hot pleasure as you came undone beneath him. A strangled groan escaped his throat as he came, his face falling to your chest as his hips rolled slowly. He could hear your heart pounding in your chest before he reluctantly pulled his softening member out of you and collapsed next to you.

He watched your panting form for a few moments before he got up and went to the bathroom. When he returned with a damp rag, he moved the covers away and gently cleaned your combined arousal from between your legs, frowning some at the way your body jolted at his touch. "I didn't hurt you did I?" He asked nervously. You shook your head, sending him a lazy smile "no, no I'm fine, Sam." "Are you sure? Because I know I got a little rough. I have no idea where that came from, I just-when you moaned my name it set something off I guess," he rambled with a nervous frown still on his face. With a quiet groan, you made yourself sit up so you could look at him. You cupped his cheeks and smiled "that was the best sex I've ever had, I'm fine, just a little sore because it's been a while." "How long?" He asked curiously before he could stop himself. You laughed some "three years, like I said work keeps me busy." He smiled and laid down, carefully pulling you with him "that makes both of us, baby."

The way he slowly rubbed your back made you melt in his embrace, sighing happily. He planted a soft kiss to your temple and yawned "I love you so much, (y/n). There's no place I'd rather be in this moment, or ever again." "I love you too, Sam, so damn much," you whispered, eyes falling shut as you snuggled close to him. A comfortable silence filled the room but only for a minute before Sam spoke again "wait, are you on anything?" You shook your head "we'll deal with that in the morning, I don't have the energy right now."

He fell silent but you could feel his eyes on you. When you opened your eyes again to look at him, you couldn't quite read the expression on his face "what?" He bit his lip in thought, debating on whether to say what was on his mind "well, what if we didn't deal with it?" "What?" You asked him, your confusion evident. "I'm just saying, what if we didn't deal with it, y'know. What if we just let whatever happens happen?" He suggested sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke. "Sam, are you suggesting that we-?" You asked, your brain unwilling to find and utter the words. "Look, (y/n), I spent all these years without you and now I feel like I have to make up for lost time. Don't worry, I'll respect if you aren't ready or don't want that. I just want you to know that's where I'm at," he said softly, absentmindedly playing with your fingers.

You'd never given much thought to family life but thinking about it with Sam, having children and raising a family together, it sounded appealing. It suddenly felt like something you couldn't live without. You pecked his lips softly before resting your head back on his chest, closing your eyes "let's just go to sleep and see what happens in the weeks to come." You could hear the fondness in his voice when he spoke "if it's a boy, can we name him Paul after my dad?" "Obviously, now turn the light off and go to sleep," you mumbled tiredly, earning a tired, quiet laugh.

#Sam Wilson Fic #Sam Wilson Smut #Sam Wilson #Falcon #Samuel Thomas Wilson #MCU #Marvel #James Barnes #Dark!Steve Rogers #Anthony Mackie #We need to give Sam Wilson more love #ByJayStone

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heartlesslywhumping · 3 years

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alright, i’m not sure if you’re the right person to ask about this, but i want to know if you have advice.

i’m a minor who’s an active member of the whump community, and i enjoy reading noncon. i don’t actually like or reblog any of the nsfw posts i consume because i’m very much aware of the repercussions that could bring. i don’t produce or write nsfw myself at all. but even when those kinds of writing pieces tell minors to keep out, a lot of the time, i still read them. i’m really not sure what to do. is it wrong of me to consume that kind of whump? should i stop? apologies if you’re uncomfortable with this, feel free to abstain from answering!

Hi! It’s totally fine to ask me these kinds of questions! Info under the cut for those who don’t want to read about this stuff.

Now all of this is my personal opinion and I welcome people to disagree with me and/or offer their own opinions. These are simply mine.

I don’t think it’s wrong for you to read noncon stuff so long as you know where the lines are.

It’s important that you are able to separate fiction from reality, know that what’s happening in the story is not at all permissible in real life, and be aware of your own comfort level/potential triggers. If you’re aware of all those things, then I don’t think there’s a problem.

(Also, I’m not going to pretend that teenagers - who are minors - aren’t having sex. If you are, it’s important to know that noncon content isn’t something that’s okay for your partner to do but you CAN and SHOULD have open discussions with your partner if you encounter certain things you’d like to explore. This isn’t that kind of blog so I’m just going to say: be honest and open with your partner, set up boundaries and stick to them religiously, and safe words are good things.)

I got into noncon stuff when I was underage too. I know a lot of people read smut before they’re 18 and in a way, both smut and noncon are similar when it comes to access on the internet.

Now I’m going to explain a common reason writers ask minors not to read or interact with their work. My hope is that a better understanding of that will help you to understand where you fit in.

Much like the real world, these kinds of things come down to consent.

Warnings and tags are ways to state what’s happening in a piece of media (art, writing, etc) and allow the consumer to make informed choices. If you see those tags/warnings and choose to proceed anyways then you are consenting to consume that piece of media. In this case, you are consenting to read those kinds of stories. It’s why many writers online are irked by people asking them not to write about certain topics. When you choose to follow them, you are consenting to be exposed to certain things.

Now this is where things get tricky because minors can’t give consent. But this is a piece of writing, not something in real life or something physical. So in this situation “consent” is more of the dictionary use and less of the modern use. It’s giving permission. Essentially a reader is telling the website “Yes. I give you permission to show me this.” Now, in this context, permission comes down to understanding.

Writers can’t control what level of education a reader has or what their comfort level is, we can only do our best with tags and warnings. Most writers warn minors away so that those with less education/understanding of certain topics stay away.

If you’re say, 16, then you’re a minor but you also have a level of education/understanding regarding mature topics. That’s very different from someone who’s say, 10, encountering those topics. ESPECIALLY regarding noncon.

Now I don’t know how old you are (and you shouldn’t disclose that information online nor am I asking you to) but I’m assuming you have a level of education/understanding where you’re not going to be confused or traumatized by consuming that kind of writing.

No one can truly police the internet so it’s up to you (and anyone on the internet) to take care of themselves.

For you personally, I think that if you know what you’re getting into, then it’s fine to read that stuff. Just be aware of your comfort level. It’s 100% okay to close out a story or step away. That’s WHY there are trigger warnings and tags.

What I’ve found is that most writers that warn minors away are just trying to keep children safe. There are a lot of little kids on the internet. I knew people who were on Instagram and Pinterest when they were 10 years old and had simply lied about their age. Now Instagram/Pinterest are a little different than say, Tumblr/DevianArt. You’re far more likely to run into mature content on tumblr, devianart, fanfiction sites, etc. Still, there are younger kids accessing sites more likely to host mature content. So creators stick up a bunch of flashing red signs telling minors to stay away because YOU WILL NOT LIKE WHAT YOU SEE. THIS IS NOT FOR YOU. No one wants a ten year old accessing their mature content.

For writers that tag “minors don’t interact”, it’s much the same. Everyone is trying their best not to traumatize ten year olds. For group chats/discords that ask minors not to interact, it’s often because adults are uncomfortable discussing mature content with minors. Even if that minor is 16/17 and well aware of mature content. It also can be dangerous to discuss these things with minors as you don’t know their age online (and again, no minor should disclose their age online) and no adult should be discussing these kinds of things with kids unless they’re a parent, teacher, counselor, etc.

My advice to you (and anyone in the whump community) is to mind the tags. Block tags you don’t want to see and consider everything to be exactly what it says it is. For example, I don’t like eye horror. If something is tagged with eye horror, I don’t read any further than that. Could it be something I could handle or skip over? Potentially. But I don’t want to take that risk.

Do you know the tag on Ao3 “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat?”. If not, it boils down to “this is exactly what it says on the label. I’m not kidding. Mind these tags. I’m not playing around here. What you see is what you get”. Treat everything as though it’s Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

If you don’t know what something is, Google is your friend.

In all, no one can stop you from reading their work and usually, they’re just trying to protect you. You’ve already accessed this stuff so you have at least a base level awareness of what you’re getting into. Help writers protect you by knowing your own boundaries and minding the tags.

Be aware, be responsible, and don’t try to engage in mature discussions online until you’re 18.

As long as you’re comfortable, you’re fine reading this stuff.

I hope that helped! Feel free to reach out again if you have more questions/concerns!

#not whump #anon #heartless answers #whump community #whump explained #tw noncon

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thetravelerwrites · 3 years

Text

Dr. Mael Halvorg (Finale) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Part-Fae/Female Part Fae Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Fae, Reader Insert, Genetics Content Warnings: Children, Pregnancy, Incubation, Birth, Babies, Surgery, Male Infertility, Mention of Cancer Words: 4233

The finale of @ivymemnoch‘s commission! The reader takes Dr. Halvorg on a weekend trip for his birthday and changes his life forever. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

The plus sign on the stick had taken you by surprise. You don’t know why, though; you knew this was probably going to happen eventually when you decided to stop your birth control. Of course, you didn’t expect it to happen so soon, since he was still recovering and potentially wouldn’t necessarily be any more fertile than he had been before, but considering how prolific your family was, it shouldn’t have been a shock.

Three months after Maël’s surgery, his test results had been not quite normal but favorable, and he was already talking to you about perhaps finding a surrogate and in-vitro fertilization, getting your opinion and making sure you’d be okay with it. You told him to wait, perhaps, and give himself more time to allow his… swimmers… to get stronger. You hadn’t told him you were already prepared to carry his child for him. You wanted it to be a surprise. A gift.

But now, after dating for six months, there it was. Right there on the ultrasound screen: a tiny little baby belly bean, no bigger than your thumb. Whatever doubts you had were always drowned out by one sentence.

He’s going to be so happy.

You went into his office after getting home from the OBGYN, having told him you were simply going in for your normal bi-yearly check-up. He was working, like always, but he looked up when you came in and smiled.

“How’d it go?” He asked you.

“Totally normal and healthy,” You replied. The both of us.

“I’m glad to hear that,” He said, putting down his pen. “No lunch with Amai? It’s Wednesday.”

“I know,” You said. “But I wanted to spend time with you.”

His smile widened and he opened his arms. You went over and sat in his lap, giving him a kiss.

“So, you’re birthday is coming up,” You said nonchalantly.

He snorted. “I haven’t celebrated my birthday in over one hundred years.”

“All the more reason to do it now!” You insisted. “I want to take you on a weekend trip. There’s somewhere special I want you to see.”

“And what would that be?” He asked, smiling at you fondly.

“A surprise,” You said, twitching his nose. “It’s in New York, though.”

His head rocked back. “That’s a ways away. Why are we going so far?”

“You’ll see. Do you want to go? Please?” You looked up through your lashes at him, being playful, hoping you weren’t being too weird and that he didn’t suspect anything.

“Well, alright. I don’t really have much work to do right now.”

You sat up and looked at him in shock, laughing. “I totally didn’t expect you to agree!”

He hugged you close and laughed too. “Well, there’s no reason not to, I suppose. And I’ll do just about anything for you if you ask nicely enough. God, it’s been ages since I actually took an actual vacation.”

“See? Perfect timing.” You bit your lip and looked at the door slyly. “Does the door lock?”

His eyes flicked to the door and back to you, narrowing them. “Yes. But the room isn’t soundproof.”

“I can be quiet. Promise.”

You thought he’d decline and say it was inappropriate to be intimate in his office, that he’d see you after he was done working and then the two of you could play back at his massive suite. Which was now your suite as well, as you’d moved in with him about a month ago.

What you didn’t expect was him to grin sinfully at you and get up, closing the blinds. He went around to lock the door and sat on the couch on the opposite side of his desk and patted his lap. Smirking, you joined him.

Climbing into his lap slowly, straddling him, you went in for a deep, probing kiss, dragging your fingernails down his chest over his shirt. He groaned against your lips and put his hands on your legs, petting under your skirt and slip, raking his fingers against the lip of your stockings. You’d taken to wearing stockings because he rather liked them. It seemed to do a lot to turn him on, especially when they were all you were wearing. He also had a corset fetish, too, but you couldn’t wear a corset all the time, especially around the children, so stockings were a happy medium.

He kneaded your buttocks under your skirt as you reached between the two of you and unbuckled his pants, unzipped the zipper, and reached in, fondling him over his underwear. His groaned deepened and he squirmed underneath you, his head falling back onto the cushions.

You started kissing his neck, pulling up his shirt and running your hands up his back. He had large, curious scales on his back, an artifact of his fae heritage. They were a lot like pangolin scales: wide, brown, and ridged. He often wore special padded shirts, because normal shirts were shredded by the end of the day. You thought they were adorable and loved grooming them for him, which he greatly enjoyed and made him almost purr, though you could cut a finger on them if you weren’t careful.

He reached under you and pulled your panties aside, lining himself up with your entrance. You sank slowly down onto him, drawing it out, and he hissed in a breath, biting his lip to keep quiet. You began to move on him, and he moved under you, thrusting up as you thrust down. He was always a very active, enthusiastic participant during sex, even if you took the lead. One hundred years of celibacy might have had something to do with that.

He flipped your skirt up and tucked it into your waistband so that he could watch himself go into and out of you, watch your thighs flex and contract, and run his thumbs up the straps of your stockings. You pulled the tie from his white-blonde hair and shook it out of it’s neat braid, letting it fall around his shoulders so that you could play with and tug on it. His pace quickened, and you matched his rhythm, the both of you beginning to pant and moan, quickly suppressed.

There was a knock on his door. “Dr. Halvorg? I need your signature on these invoices.”

He pulled you against his shoulder, muffling your sounds of pleasure, but he didn’t stop thrusting. You bit into his shoulder to keep yourself for crying out.

“What are they for?” He called through the door, his voice remarkably even-sounding.

“For the medical equipment from Broadchurch,” The assistant said.

“No, no, we never got the product, we’re not paying that,” He said, for all the world sounding like he was sitting as his desk staring at paperwork and not railing you on his couch.

“I’m going to cum,” You whispered into his ear.

“You promised to stay quiet,” He told you just as silently.

“I can’t!” You responded desperately.

“You promised.”

“So what should I do?” The assistant said, seemingly none the wiser that you were about to explode.

“Call them and ask where our equipment is. Until they locate it, they’re not getting a penny.”

You balled up his shirt in your hands and gritted your teeth as you came, gushing on him and holding your breath to stay quiet. You made a squeak, and his hand closed on your throat.

“Shh, shh,” He hushed.

“I’ll call them back, but I don’t think they’ll be very helpful,” The assistant replied. “They haven’t responded to any of the emails. The only communication is from emails.”

“Send them an email, then. I’m busy, though, so get on with it,” He said impatiently, staring at your face as your orgasm crested and ebbed, keeping a firm grip on your neck.

“Yes, sir,” The assistant said. You heard their footsteps recede.

“Oh, fuck,” You breathed.

“You did well,” He said, allowing his breathing to go fast and shallow. God, he had amazing self restraint. “Good girl. Stay still, I’m almost there.”

His pace became frenetic and bounced you high on his lap. He let go your your throat and gripped your hips, slamming you down upon him. He grunted, getting a little red in the face as he smacked his body into you.

You felt him release inside you, pulsing against your inner walls. When he was done, he flipped you over and lay you down on the couch, watching his seed well up and out of you to drip down onto the vinyl couch. He always did that, and you weren’t sure why.

You went to the en-suite bathroom to clean yourself up and brought him a wet towel so that he could do the same. When you were both done and had straightened your clothes, you spent a few minutes making out against his desk before he sighed.

“I should help my assistant contact the supply company. He’s a bit of a pushover, the poor kid.” Maël smiled down at you. “That was nice. We should do that more often.”

“We almost got caught!” You objected.

“Hey, it was your idea,” He said, grinning. “I’m looking forward to whatever you have planned for our trip. I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

“It definitely will be. I promise.” You kissed him one more time, lingering for a moment, before unlocking the door and letting yourself out.

Next week, Saturday morning, you took a plane out to Albany, New York, and drove a rental car to a house in Glenmont. When you stopped in the driveway, Maël looked at you with confusion and a little bit of apprehension.

“I don’t understand,” He said. “What are we doing here?”

“You’ll see,” You replied. “Come on.”

You walked him up to the front door and knocked. A young woman in her forties or fifties answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, are you Mrs. Winston?”

“Oh, yes, you must be the young woman I spoke to over the phone!” She said. “Come in, come in. He’s in the parlor.”

“Thank you so much.” You stepped into the house with Maël following. You could feel the curiosity and confusion radiating off of him.

You were led into a sitting room where a man in a wheelchair was reading a paper at a table. He was quite old, by human standards, in his mid-eighties perhaps. He was hooked up to an IV and had an oxygen cannula in his nostrils.

“Dad?” The woman said softly. “You’ve got visitors.”

The man looked up at the two of you. Despite his advanced age, he seemed completely within his faculties.

“Are you the woman I talk to?” He asked you.

“Yes, sir,” You responded. “Thank you for agreeing to see us.”

“It’s no problem,” He said. He was staring at Maël.

You pulled him forward. “Dr. Maël Halvorg,” You said to Maël. “I’d like you to meet Dr. Maël Halvorg. Robert’s son.”

Maël’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped in shock. He seemed unable to speak. You smiled at him encouragingly and nudged him forward.

He cleared his throat and held out his hand. “It’s a genuine pleasure to meet you, sir,” Maël said in a small voice. “May I sit down.”

“Please,” The man, Dr. Halvorg, said, shaking Maël’s hand and gesturing toward the chairs. You and Maël took a seat.

“Do you know who I am, sir?” Maël asked tentatively.

“I do,” Dr. Halvorg responded. “You raised my father.”

“Yes,” Maël said, smiling in relief. “I loved your father very much.”

“I know you did,” Dr. Halvorg replied. “My father spoke of a lot when I was growing up.”

“Is he… is he alive?”

“No. I’m afraid he died about eleven years ago,” Dr. Halvorg said sadly.

Maël sighed and hung his head a little. “I suspected that might be the case, but I hoped.” He looked back up at the older gentleman. “Did he grow up okay? What kind of man was he? I apologize, but I just have so many questions.”

Dr. Halvorg chuckled. “It’s no trouble. Honestly, I was hoping I might get to meet you one day.”

Maël smiled. “You were?”

“Oh, yes. May father told me so many stories about you when we kids were growing up.”

“How many children did he have?” Maël asked earnestly.

“Four sons,” Dr. Halvorg replied. “He was a great father and a brilliant man, though he said he had a rough start.”

Maël nodded. “Yes, Robert had some learning disabilities that made certain things difficult.”

“He told me that many people said he was lazy and stupid, and that you were the only one who believed he could learn. You dedicated much of your time to helping him.”

“Yes,” Maël said. “Being in school made him quite frustrated and sad, so I took him from school and taught him myself at home. He seemed to respond positively to that.”

“Indeed, he did,” Dr. Halvorg replied. “It was because of you that my dad became a teacher.”

“Robert was a teacher?” Maël asked delightedly.

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Halvorg responded. “He taught children much like himself, the ones who needed special attention and care. He was well respected in his field and much loved by his students. He didn’t want to retire, in fact. It was age and illness that forced him to stop.”

Maël held a hand to his chest. “I’m so proud to hear that. Robert was always a determined boy, so I’m so pleased to learn he kept at it.”

“He struggled, I’m afraid,” Dr. Halvorg admitted. “After his mother, my grandmother, left you for his biological father, things changed quite a bit. His father was not as understanding or as patient as you had been and set him back rather badly.”

Maël frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“As far as my memory goes, he never called that man ‘father.’ As far as he was concerned, you were his dad. But his biological father insisted on wiping you out of their lives. That’s why he had to hide that.” Dr. Halvorg pointed to a picture on the mantle. “Young lady, could you kindly retrieve that?”

“Of course,” You said, standing up and going to the mantle, where there was a black-and-white photograph in a frame. It was Maël, wearing fine early twentieth century clothes, his hair cut short and wearing a flat cap. He was standing with his hands on the shoulders of a young boy, perhaps eight, wearing similar clothes. You took it and handed it to Dr. Halvorg, who gave it to Maël.

Maël stared at the picture, his eyes bright and glittering with tears. “I never thought I’d see his face again.”

“Keep that,” Dr. Halvorg said. “He’d have wanted you to.”

“Oh, I couldn’t!” Maël said. “This is yours!”

“I have digital copies,” Dr. Halvorg said dismissively. “In any case, I won’t be needing it much longer anyway. Stage four lung cancer, you see.”

“I’m so sorry,” Maël said mournfully. “Can anything be done?”

Dr. Halvorg shook his head. “I’ve lived a good life. I have children, and grandchildren, a beautiful wife, a wonderful job. The one thing I wanted was to meet my father’s father. Not that other man who did his best to tear my father down. The man who did his best to lift my father up. You. And I’ve done that. I can go now content.”

Maël’s restraint cracked, and he wept. “I appreciate that very much,” He said in a strangled whisper.

Maël and Dr. Halvorg talked for hours, recounting stories from both Robert’s childhood and adulthood. Dr. Halvorg showed Maël pictures of his siblings and children. Maël told Dr. Halvorg about his life’s work in reviving dying races. You watched the two of them interacting, and it made your heart swell with gladness. You’d never seen Maël so happy and excitable.

Finally, nearing sundown, you realized that Dr. Halvorg was becoming tired. His daughter came in to give him his evening meal and medication, and the two of you said goodbye.

“It has been an absolute joy, Dr. Halvorg,” Maël said, shaking Dr. Halvorg’s hand. “You lovely daughter has my number and my email, so please keep in touch.”

“My pleasure,” Dr. Halvorg said. “You have a nice trip back with your lady, Grandad.”

Maël laughed and teared up again. “I will.”

Outside, before you could get back in the car, Maël pulled you into a tight, warm hug.

“Thank you,” He whispered into your hair softly. “Thank you so much. I love you. I love you. I can never repay you for this.”

“What about a diamond ring and a pretty white dress?” You asked, wiping his tears and smiling up at him.

He laughed. “It’s a deal.”

Back at the hotel, he sat on the bed and stared at the photograph, pointing out little marks on Robert’s face and telling you stories about them. You listened with your head on his shoulder.

Eventually he stopped and placed the frame carefully in his suitcase.

“Are you hungry? I’m starving. Let’s order something.”

“Before we do,” You said. “I have a birthday gift for you.”

He chuckled incredulously. “Honey, I appreciate that, but honestly, there’s no possible way you could have topped what you gave me today.”

“Are you sure about that?” You asked, going to your suitcase and pulling out a small rectangular box. “Here, open it.”

The second he saw the pregnancy test, he fell to his knees, sobbing loudly, his head pressed against the floor. You knelt next to him and rubbed his back, letting him get it all out. Years of despair, pain, and sadness being released. You’re sure he was overwhelmed, so you waited in silence and lay your head against him.

“Is this real?” He choked.

“It’s real,” You assured him. “I have an ultrasound picture.”

His head popped up, tears streaming down his face. “Can I see it?”

“Of course,” You said, pulling it from your purse.

“Oh, my God,” He wept, staring at the small bean in the picture. “Oh, my God. It’s mine?”

“Yes, honey, it’s yours,” You said. “We can do a paternity test if you want, but I promise you it’s your baby.”

He stopped being able to speak and just cried. He cried for a very long time. You picked him up and laid him in the bed and ordered some food. While waiting for it, you climbed into bed and held him.

“Are you okay?” He asked after some time.

“Me? Yeah, I’m completely fine. Are you okay? You were crying pretty hard there. I’m surprised you haven’t fallen asleep. I’d be exhausted.”

“That’s not what I mean,” He said, lifting your chin so you were looking at him. “Are you okay with having a baby? I know I’ve been talking about wanting to have a child for as long as we’ve known each other, but is this what you want?”

“Yes, it is,” You told him. “I stopped my birth control months ago.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d done that,” He said.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” You said, stroking his cheek.

“You. Are. Amazing,” He breathed. “I am so happy. Happier than I have any business being, and it’s all because of you.”

“You deserve to be happy, Maël,” You said. “Don’t ever thin’ otherwise.”

He pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you back.”

Yenuno and Amai we’re overjoyed to hear the good news, and the children also seemed to be happy to have a new playmate coming. Maël seemed unable to stop smiling. He took time off from work to take care of you during the worst of your morning sickness and was present for every doctor’s appointment, every ultrasound, every time you even texted him. If you asked, he’d drop anything he was doing to come and help you.

His little girl was born in the spring, and he named her Roberta. He took her everywhere with him, rarely putting her down for any reason, even keeping her on his shoulder when he was working. The joy that radiated from him was infectious, and everyone near him couldn’t help but smile at his brand new attitude.

You planned your wedding for fall that same year, and afterward, you and Maël were able to take Roberta up to New York to meet Dr. Halvorg. He passed away a few weeks later. You and Maël attended his funeral, and as Dr. Halvorg was buried in the same family plot as Robert, Maël got the chance to visit his son’s grave for the very first time.

“Hi, Robert,” He said softly, kneeling down in front of the headstone. You waited with Roberta asleep in your arms a few paces back.

“I’m sorry,” Maël said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more when your mother took you. I wish I had fought to keep you, but I didn’t think I had any right. I just wanted to know where you had gone and if you were safe, but she told me nothing about where you were going and disappeared. I bribed the men at the train station and the docks to look through the ledgers, to try and find your name, but I never found it.

“I will always blame myself for not doing more, for not stepping in and making sure we could keep in contact. I should have taken it to the courts and let them decide, but I… I was scared they would determine I trying to hold on to something that wasn’t mine.”

Maël sniffed and wiped his eyes.

“I just wish I had one more chance,” He continued. “I wish I could have had a phone call, at the very least, to talk to you and hear your voice and tell you what I should have said back then. That it didn’t matter whose child you were biologically or legally. I was your father. You were my son. Nothing would ever change that.” His voice cracked further. “You will always be my son.”

After a moment silent tears hitting the grass where Robert lay sleeping, Maël straightened up an took a deep breath.

“I know where you are now, and I’ll come visit again, you and my grandson,” Maël said. He laughed. “I can’t believe you named your son after me. I’m honored more than I can tell you.”

Maël turned to you and opened his arms for the sleeping form of his daughter, his face wet with tears, and you passed her over.

“You have a baby sister, Robert,” He said, smiling. “I named her after you. She’s always smiling and happy. She reminds me so much of you when you were little that it’s kind of scary. I think the two of you would have been best friends. I’ll make sure she knows all about you.”

You put a hand on his back and rubbed gently. He kissed Roberta’s forehead and tiny little ear.

“We have to go now, Robert. You’re baby sister is going to wake up soon and be hungry. But I’ll come back to see you again, I swear. This time, I promise I’ll come back.”

As winter crested into spring again, Roberta was walking and had said her first word: “Daddy.”

You were still teaching at the facility, and had taken up the job permanently. Yenuno and Amai’s little girls were Roberta’s favorite playmates, though they had been warned to be careful, as Roberta developed more slowly than they did.

“Can we have another one? Please?” Maël asked one night as he watched gleefully as Roberta used her fat baby fists to shove raviolies in her mouth.

“Give me another year, but yes,” You replied.

“A year!” Maël whined. “That’s so long!”

“Don’t sass me,” You told him. “A year and no sooner. Besides, you still have more work to do. Did you get in touch with the Celtic Fae Council?”

“Yes, finally,” He replied, picking up his fork. “I didn’t realize how much red tape was involved. Genetic testing is underway. So far, there have been three men with similar blockages as mine. There are also a few women who were born missing one or both ovaries. We’re trying to trace back when this infertility spike started, but it could have been a millennium ago.” He laughed as Roberta threw a ravioli across the room. “I think she’s done, she’s just smashing them into her tray now.” He stood up and swept her up out of her seat, not even caring about the marinara stains on his shirt. “Come on, sweet pea, let’s take a bath. Eh? Eh, princess?”

He bounced her and she squealed.

You got up from your seat and came up behind him, circling him around the waist with your arms.

“You’re a good dad, honey,” You told him. “Roberta’s lucky. We both are. And so is our future children.”

He turned in your grip and kissed you. “If luck exists, you brought it with you. None of this would have happened without you. You are a miracle.”

You kissed him again and pushed him toward the bathroom. “She’s putting ravioli in your hair.”

He belly laughed and headed for the bathroom. You followed and marveled at how much had changed, wondering how it would change again. You looked forward to it.

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blushing-starker · 3 years

Text

Anon asked for alpha Peter and omega Tony for a baby announcement. Thank you to the wonderful @vaguekiwi for motivating me and sharing her thoughts on the story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, anon.

"Tony, Tony? Are you up? It's 7:30am already, you have a meeting with Miss Potts in forty minutes. Tony?"

Soft hands curl into already silver hair, scratching at the strands in an attempt to wake him up gently. Butterfly kisses on a cold nape, a ridiculously hot nose nuzzling everywhere. Peter knows scenting the billionaire is basically the only way one can ensure a calm morning.

Not today. And not for the next few months either.

He loves his husband, appreciates the nearly romantic demeanor, he does. But "unless you have a cup of coffee for me, there is no way in hell i am gonna leave this bed. your child has kept me up with nausea the entire night. I wanna hurl my guts out more than that time Rhodes found Dad's liquor cabinet. please, tell me you have coffee."

"..." Tony is severely displeased by the fact he can read Peter like a book even with half his mind shut off because fine, he's right and dammit all.

"I want that weird drink you make. The one with milk, cinnamon and chunks of brownie. And French toast with waffles. No jam, not too much butter, as much sugar as possible. Now, go before I scream at you for having the only dick that could get a hormone fucked forty something omega pregnant. "

The kid scrambles from bed, practically face plants with all the covers tangling long legs and yup, this is the person that the universe designated as his soulmate. Because Tony Stark can never have a partner with a reasonable, normal amount of enthusiasm, stamina and a sense of balance.

That sounds like he's ungrateful, he's not. But it turns out being three months pregnant gives him plenty of perspective to peer at life in a whole new way that does not include caffeine, alcohol or sex.

Would he kill and die for this amazing human being that makes Tony's heart race no matter the day, that inspires him to be a better version of himself? Yes, no questions asked. No hesitation and no regret.

Would he clobber Peter for doing the impossible and technically causing Tony incredible discomfort on a daily basis thanks to what his doctors can only assume is a superhuman baby he already loves and adores more than life itself? Also yes.

Things aren't mutually exclusive in this household.

Pep, bless her, has yet to find out about their future mini Parker so there's been no respite on the whole 'running a multi billion dollar industry ' thing. And yeah, while it's not exactly easy, he can focus on other things and not fall into a panicky state of mind — because him? A father? Of a super baby? Tony Stark, infamous playboy with a hedonistic streak, a dad?

Just thinking along those lines makes shame and self doubt slither over a metallic plate. Working, dealing with innovative scientists, crafting the new world of tomorrow, guaranteeing the safety of their planet, shapeshifting into a role model, a mentor (for the interns and school kids he visits, not Peter, of course, thank God they left that dynamic ages ago), loyal friend, reluctant errand boy (fuck the assholes in charge of the Accords), great husband, good man, it all distracts a fearful child from thinking, what if I turn into Howard?

"I couldn't find brownies, so cookies it is! Aunt May had a few boxes sent in when I told her work was keeping you on your feet all the time. Said it'd be a good idea to snack along the day in case you—" Peter freezes, tenses with a not-so-narrow back held ramrod straight. Oh, his husband brought him breakfast in bed.

How could he ever think to clobber such a nice, wonderful—

"Your scent is odd."

"Yeah, well fuck you too then."

Five seconds of silence.

"I'm bringing you one cup of coffee and the hormone pills."

" Yup, that's a great idea. "

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

Tony’s mumbo jumbo with self loathing is firmly put on the back burner after inhaling a delicious breakfast and chugging that one glorious cup of coffee. Until they go to the bathroom and he sees himself in the mirror.

"We gotta tell them."

"You said you wanted to wait a while before saying anything."

Peter strips, ducks into the warm shower, lets out a pleased little sigh and Tony wants to rip his fingernails off. Is it bad, having sex while pregnant? No! The doctors, every single one of them, said it's a perfectly normal thing to do. It'd be bad if they didn't have sex because Tony, thanks to his crazy hormone production, needs the extra attention for his body to understand this is a happy process that shouldn't include sad pheromones or stressed out moments. Will Peter put him out of his misery and allow a quickie in the mornings? No.

"Take more than five minutes in that shower and I'm joining you."

Listen, he grew up in the 80's and 90's, Tony wasn't immune to peer pressure. Did he cave and eventually do so many squat competitions with Rhodey his butt turned into a duck's butt? There's no evidence, he's made sure, but yes. And Starks have always turned out to be beautiful, doesn't matter your gender or age. Finding a companion for the night has never been a problem for anyone in his family tree.

That, and his work as Iron Man has kept him — well, not ripped like Cap, certainly not as lean and (God help him) athletic as Peter, but fit. Sturdy. Firm. Solid. (Peter once muttered the words 'daddy-like' in regards to his body and he nearly choked on water.)

The passage of time has made him a bit slower, dusted once black hair with, as his husband says, stardust and the corners of his eyes now show how much time Tony spends laughing or frowning. All in all, he looks fucking spectacular for his age and experience as a villain-punching-bag. Thing is, he has a belly. A bump. A curve where it was once, well. Less curvy. Is it a problem for Peter? Nope, as acknowledged every time his alpha tackles him if he so much as looks oddly in the mirror. Is it a problem for him? He'll get back to you on that.

The point is, there's a belly when just a few months ago there wasn't such a pronounced belly. It's great, of course. Proof their child is growing steadily and Tony's body is adjusting to it accordingly. A small part of him, the omega part he actually lets live, is fascinated and proud. He's doing that, Tony's the one growing a human being, creating life out of nothing in his own body. That child, although not the only physical embodiment of their relationship, is a result of his love for Peter. Of how much his husband loves him. They love each other so much they're gonna start another family together. That chokes him up a bit, reminds him how grateful he is for Peter and for the other Avengers. If they hadn't been so accepting of his status, would he have ever considered going through with this?

Anyway, he's not gonna start sobbing this early in the morning when there's no alcohol involved. It's fantastic seeing his child develop, good, warm and fuzzy feelings, yada yada yada, it's also not very easy to hide. And Tony...Tony wanted to hide it from his family because.

Because Peter hasn't been the only partner in all his life that has wondered about a future with a white picket fence. Because when he was Peter's age, in his goddamn prime, a doctor, ten doctors, all the doctors told him the same thing, smashed his dream into a million pieces. Tony was nearly infertile. There was a one in a million chances of him getting pregnant. If he did, they couldn't be sure his body would be able to maintain two hearts. And then the cave happened.

So yeah. It happened to his cousins, his aunt, a few uncles, his grandmother. Tony would do a baby announcement, but only the second that baby was outside of him and safely in his arms. Now there are still several months left and nothing certain. But time is a bitch and beginning to show the world, maybe those extra pounds aren't from eating the Parker's amazing breakfasts.

"Tony, you know I don't wanna risk-" Losing control of my strength. They've been together long enough that Tony can see quite clearly between the lines.

"Hurting us, yeah, I know, I understand. I'm getting too wide, we're gonna have to tell them or Natasha will take one look at me and whoops, impromptu announcement from someone else. It's a miracle she was out on those missions when we found out." Thank God for renegade troops.

He's still looking at himself in the mirror when Peter comes out, barely dries up and slides behind him. His husband is slightly taller now, can easily hook a curved jaw on Tony's shoulder to peer at the image they make. Contrasts, he supposes, have always enthralled Tony. The study of light and shadow. Variations of the same basic components. Where his body is aging, showing signs of wear and tear, Peter's is evolving into something beautiful, majestic. Silver hair, chestnut brown. Scarred canvas, silky smooth and sunkissed skin. Soft, fragile curves, chiseled lines that deserve to be revered more than Michelangelo’s David. But their eyes, their eyes are equally tired.

“We can tell them if you want, have dinner together and just, just say it. Like that -”

“No. It's our kid, we're not gonna act like it's ripping off a band aid. This is special, unique. Dinner is good. Fantastic, actually. Wait for dessert, and announce it. “ Peter comes ever closer, wraps arms that could carry the world around him and how did he get so lucky?

They've lied to each other in the past. Mostly in the beginning, when they were too worried about hurting their new relationship to show their desires and wants. Tony didn't explain the Training Wheels Protocol. Peter tried to fight high level crime on his own. Things got hard to understand, like being in the right place at the wrong time. Puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit together, an extra inch of space prohibiting them from seeing all the possibilities that the truth could bring. They were walking the same path, just in parallel lines that never crossed.

But then he'd been rejected, thrown away and able to realize how fucking stupid it was to let Peter go when being near the kid, it felt like finally breathing after residing in the deep end of a pool for a thousand years. So Tony ran after him one day, crashed into his AP English class, half assed an excuse for the baffled teacher, yanked Peter out of the room and proceeded to have the best make out session of his life with his back against the kid's locker. And now they don't lie, ever.

Which is why it's so hard to accept Peter's, “You're beautiful, Tony. The handsomest man I've ever seen in my life. I loved you before, I love you now, I'll love you forever, Anthony Stark. You carrying our kid doesn't change that, how could it, Tony? It's going to be ok. The three of us will be ok and I won't stop thanking whoever decided I'd get to marry my wet dream.”

Scorching kisses trace his pulse point slowly, sharp nails start dragging against a too thin shirt, but it's the fact that Peter hasn't looked away from him, is confidently holding his gaze through the glass, that makes Tony shudder and stop breathing.

The bathroom is flooded with pheromones, cinnamon and honey assaulting an unprepared billionaire, and he'll die if they stay like this, can't function properly, brain switching gears, trying valiantly to remember baseball stats, past wounds, May's cooking because Peter's gonna wreck his sanity if those hands keep winding down, if those lips don't stop unraveling him like a Christmas present.

“If I'd known you'd get this handsy and romantic, I would have complained about how I look earlier." It's a gasp, half murmur, half plea as Peter grins at him shamelessly. “I know it's rude and wrong and sexist, but I like comforting my omega, acting like a stereotypical alpha. Makes me feel like I'm doing my job of making you happy. “

He quirks an eyebrow, is glad Peter can be comfortable enough to take the reins every once in a while. “You're telling me that assuring me I'm still drop dead gorgeous, “ his husband snorts, nips at Tony's shoulder for that quip, “ makes you horny because you feel like an alpha comforting, and I quote, ‘your omega’? “

Peter reverts back to the shy teenager who could barely ask a girl out to the homecoming dance, ducks his head into Tony’s neck with a blush quickly spreading over damp skin. “Well, I've got news for you, sweetheart. Your wet dream also thoroughly enjoys it so you better break tradition and have sex with me to remind me I'm the hottest man you've ever seen. "

He's actually serious about this, his self esteem hasn't exactly been, you know, the best and Tony's mood always improves significantly after playing around in bed with Peter. Besides, it's a sign of trust. Peter won't hurt him or their child, will be able to hold back his strength. He always does.

Listen, it's not exactly moral, but he has more than enough problems to go ahead and analyze his attraction and dependency on Peter while pregnant.

“So, I can distract you from your bad thoughts by acting sort of possessive and taking you to bed? " Oh, he adores when his husband is afraid of showing a new side of himself and asks for permission ever so sweetly.

“Babe, if you don't, I'll kick you out of the apartment. Give me possessive Peter Parker any day you want, like I'm gonna complain about a gorgeous, brilliant twenty something year old all over me. Now what's it gonna be, alpha dear, bathroom or bedroom? I wouldn't mind the tile but, oh God, I forgot you could pick me up." Tony clings to broad shoulders, can't help but laugh because aren't they a pair?

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

After having what he's sure was the best sex of his life, Tony stumbles out of the bedroom with torn clothes, a dazed look in his eyes and several bruises blossoming around his neck. Peter's halfway out the doorway when Tony whistles, makes sure all their family is paying attention, blurts out, “Peter and I are having a kid. I'm pregnant, woohoo, it's great, it's amazing, save your congratulations for later. We'll do a proper thing soon, if anyone interrupts and they're not dying, I'll kill you myself. See you in a few hours, " and yanks him back in while Friday activates Sock on the Doorknob Protocol.

Rhodey and Nat clink glasses while waiting on the others to pay up on their bets regarding Tony and Peter's odd behavior.

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

Later, much later, like, two days later, they have a proper dinner with their family in the tower. There are balloons and streamers, cake and ice cream, warm hugs and gentle cheek kisses, subtle tears and full on weeping (Happy had to borrow a box of Kleenex), pictures and videos and a pile of gifts taller than Tony.

The most important thing, though, is that the A.I recorded the reaction after Clint asked about baby names. He's grateful they went to the doctor before tonight. The visit revealed a treasure Tony thought he'd never have. Now it's time to reveal it to their pack.

His husband snuggles up to him, is so ecstatic the whole dining room smells like cinnamon and honey, like joyous love he'll never get enough of. Tony grins at him, curls their hands together and repeats the same thing over and over again in his head.

It'll be ok. They'll be ok. If the universe keeps giving Tony the greatest gifts he could ever want, maybe it's time he stopped looking at the horse's mouth. That's how it goes, right? Right.

He turns to look at Peter, loves him so much it aches, feels tiny feet pressing against his stomach. Guesses he's not the only one smitten with this incredible human being.

“We were thinking Marie,” Peter smiles at him, eyes lit up and lovely.

Tony is never going to forget this moment, this warmth in his chest.

“And Benjamin Parker-Stark.”

Their family loses their shit and both Friday and Karen have ample proof.

(@puppypeter look, omega tones! @tonystarkisaslut thank you so much for allowing me to use the prompt board! I am still accepting prompts! Although I can't guarantee getting them ready within a few days, I'll try to finish them on the one week mark depending on how long the fic is!)

#tony stark #peter parker #starker #peter parker x tony stark #ironspider #peter x tony #soft!starker #lovely anon #prompt fill #my writing #baby announcement #alpha!peter #omega!tony #omegaverse starker #did i love writing this?#yes i did #mpreg #a/b/o

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bourbonbees · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 6- Cemetery Boys

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34336042

Rating- G Jack POV

Jack has discovered there are a great deal of things that he loves about being human, he loves eating cake, taking his dog for walks, and swimming, but there’s nothing he loves more than his family. His family is not conventional, he’s got three dads, one of which is an angel, but all of them love him unconditionally. It’s rocky at first with Dean but after some quality time spent listening to Zep and going fishing together, the grumpy hunter warms up to him. It also doesn’t hurt that Jack’s first dad, Castiel, is also Dean’s partner and therefore holds a lot of sway over him, whether he likes it or not. Sam, his third dad was the best! He’s the one that establishes family movie night, Jack’s favorite night of the week!

Sam lets Jack pick the movies pretty much every week, much to Dean’s dismay. This week Jack chooses Ghostbusters as his pick. It’s great, he especially loves the jokes and the Stay Puffed Marshmallow man. He isn’t sure where the writers did their research for the movie though, his experiences with ghosts contain a lot less whimsy and a lot more salting and burning. The movie is just wrapping up when it hits him, they don’t have a name, every great team of heroes has a name.

“Hey, why don’t we have a name?” Jack poses the question, looking to Dean for a response.

“Kid, how much candy have you had? Are you sugar crashing? Remember, me Dean, you Jack, that annoying guy over there, Sam, this adorable ray of sunshine, Castiel.” Dean is concerned, he feels Jack’s forehead and looks him over, his parental instincts kicking in.

“No like a team name! Like there’s The Avengers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, uh The Fellowship of the Ring.” Jack lists off, Sam sending him a proud smile at the last one.

“Jack, hunters don’t really do teams. We’re kinda solitary, it’s our nature.” Sam explains, causing Jack even further confusion as he looks around at his family. They do everything together, live together, celebrate wins together, spend holidays together, work together, is that not a team?

“We’re not a team? Isn’t a family a team?” Jack frowns, worrying that he’s misread a long series of social cues. He is prone to that sometimes, his brain working a bit differently from his dads, neurodivergent, that’s what Sam had called it.

“Jack, oh, of course we’re a team. But more than that, we’re family.” Cas swoops in, reaching over and patting Jack on the shoulder. Cas is always the gentlest of his dads, he gives really good hugs, and is the one Jack goes to on the days where being a human is too much to deal with.

“Would it make you feel better if we had a team name?” Dean offers, following Cas’ lead. Jack doesn’t miss when Cas sends Dean a small nod of approval. Dean has a different parenting approach, sometimes he’s a bit harder on Jack. Jack doesn’t like that but he understands that Dean is trying.

“Yeah, I was thinking Cemetery Boys!” Jack says right away, looking around the room expectantly. Sam chokes slightly on his beer while Cas smiles approvingly, Dean laughs softly, shaking his head at Jack.

“Well we do spend a disproportionate amount of time in cemeteries, so it makes sense to me.” Jack defends, his cheeks feeling hot, blushing, that’s what Sam had told him it was. Sometimes Jack hates being human, blushing is embarrassing and makes him feel a bit like a baby.

“Shouldn’t we be cemetery men?” Dean questions, raising a quizzical brow at Jack.

“Technically speaking, Jack and myself are neither male nor female. So, no.” Cas supplies, shrugging his shoulders at Dean and earning an eye roll. Jack doesn’t understand why his dads enjoy teasing each other so much, maybe annoying someone was another human way to express love?

“So, you’re telling me, I came out as bisexual for nothing because, I’m not really dating a man?” Dean blanches, gently smacking Cas on the shoulder. Hitting people is another love language Jack has learned, but not too hard, he learned that after accidently punching Sam a little too enthusiastically on the shoulder. Play fighting is good, actual violence is bad, he had explained that to him.

“We’re non-binary! Claire taught me that.” Jack is happy to interrupt, always happy to share the latest things he’d learned. He loves Claire for that reason, she’s always full of new things to learn, she is an excellent big sister. “Claire, Me, Cas, and Dean, we’re all LGBLT? Or is it LGBTQ? Either way, Claire is a lesbian, she also taught me that. And Dean, you’re a bisexual! Cas, you’re gay, I think? So, you didn’t come out for nothing, you came out for your non-binary partner.” Ha! Jack is very proud, this is one area he feels confident he knows more about than Sam, Dean, or even Cas.

“You’re surprisingly well informed for a toddler.” Sam compliments, tipping his beer bottle at him.

“The toddler age range ends at 3, I assure you, Jack is 4. He is no longer a toddler. I read all the development books.” Cas corrects, earning a laugh from Dean and a groan from Sam.

“He did, trust me Sammy, made me read some of them as well. Babies are weird man. Glad you came out fully formed kid, it was a relief.” Dean chuckles. Jack is relieved he came out fully formed too, it’s a lot more fun hanging out with his family when he can talk to them like this.

“I’m a celestial being, age doesn’t exist for me. I am as old or as young as I want to be at any given minute. Isn’t that neat?” Jack prides himself on choosing this form, a teenage body, he likes it because he can help his family. He likes going hunting, driving cars, and helping Dean cook dinner, a baby couldn’t do any of that!

“He really is your son-uh I mean they really are your child?” Dean self corrects, Jack notices he does that a lot more lately, again he really is trying to be better. Jack admires that about Dean, it’s something he tries to emulate as best as he can, always working to be a better person and make his mistakes right.

“Oh, I’m comfortable with he/they, just like my dad! I do feel like a boy most of the time.” Jack looks to Cas who nods along with him. They’d talked about it once, Cas explained that Jack could change a number of things about himself if he wished, if it would better match his soul. But Jack is really and truly happy with who he is. So is Cas.

“Yeah that’s my son.” Cas says fondly, pulling Jack into a hug. This is a good hug, the kind that makes Jack feel safe and cared for. Cas always makes him feel like he belongs, that no matter what he has a place in his arms.

That night, Jack sets a plan into motion. He waits until everyone is asleep and gets to work on creating gifts for his family. He uses his powers to manifest a set of matching black crew neck sweatshirts with the words ‘Cemetery Boys’ embroidered on the front in white thread. He then designs a magnet, putting a little ghost and tombstone on it. Once he’s satisfied he goes through the recycling and finds a box to put the sweatshirts in.

The next part is the most dangerous. Jack, creeps down the hall to the door that leads into the garage attached to the bunker. His eyes glimmer when he finds his target, the black 67 Impala, sitting dead center in the garage. Dean had just waxed her the day before so she was extra shiny. Jack likes when Baby is shiny, it makes the sun reflect on his face, nice and warm. He takes the magnet and carefully places it on the bumper, making sure not to scuff or scratch the shiny metal. Then in a flash, he is back in his room, laying in his bed as if nothing has happened.

Dean doesn’t notice the magnet until they are packing for a hunt the next day, a simple salt and burn case in Wisconsin. The whole family is going! Dean has even promised Jack that he will take him to Wisconsin Dells if it goes well and they will go to a place called Deer Park where he could pet and feed a bunch of deer. Jack likes animals, sometimes more than people, they’re much less complicated.

“Oh my god! My Baby is a whore! You gave her a tramp stamp?” Dean gasps, pointing to the offending ‘Cemetery Boys’ magnet on the bumper.

“You like it? I made it myself!” Jack beams with pride, hoping Dean was speechless because he was blown away by his ability to create magnets.

“Also, the term you’re looking for is sex worker. You need to be more sex positive Dean, especially for someone, who from the sound I hear coming from your room at night, seems to enjoy sex a great deal.” Jack blurts out nervously when Dean doesn’t respond. Jack tends to do that, he wishes he could stop, another part of what makes him different from most people.

“Oh, for the love of Christ. Please Jack, no.” Sam is doing something Claire told Jack is a facepalm, meaning he was either embarrassed or frustrated, perhaps both?

“Do not be ashamed of our healthy sex life, Dean. But do but ashamed of your gendered slurs and generally overdramatic demeanor. The car is unharmed, it’s a magnet.” Cas steps in, doing the teasing thing again. Jack really doesn’t understand his dads, but he’s glad they seem happy together.

“I swear one day Baby and I will drive away and leave you all behind. Traitors.” Dean threatens, this is a joke, Jack measures. Dean does that a lot, uses sarcasm and empty threats, at first they used to confuse and frighten Jack but now he just accepts it’s part of his nature. Dean is grumpy. Loveable but grumpy.

“See your theatrics are quite comical. You couldn’t leave us if you tried. Who would open the pickle jars for you, darling?” Cas smirks, Jack remembers witnessing this scene, Dean saying all the “no words” at a jar of gherkins as he struggled for a good 5 minutes, until his dad took the jar and opened it within two seconds.

“It was one time! And I swear I loosened it!” Dean glowers, clearly ashamed by the great pickle debacle of last week.

“Dads, stop. I will remove the magnet.” Jack decides it’s his job to play peacemaker, he steps up and gently takes the magnet off baby’s bumper, Dean visibly sighs in relief. Jack tries to hide his disappointment, he’d meant the sticker as a gift.

Cas notices his mood shift and is by his side, pulling Jack into a side hug. “Hey, you can put it on my truck.” He offers, rubbing Jack’s back and making him instantly feel better, must be magic dad powers Jack figures.

“Thanks dad, this is why you’re my favorite.” He says without thinking, Sam and Dean giving him matching offended expressions.

“Uh-what about me, I’m the one that sneaks you candy when Cas isn’t looking.” Sam makes a good point, he is exceptionally good at sneaking. He and Jack have so much fun together, that’s how they ended up with Miracle the dog. Sam had helped Jack smuggle him into the bunker and once both Jack and Cas had bonded with the dog, Dean couldn’t kick him out. Though Jack knows that Dean loves the dog just as much, he’s caught him slipping Miracle some of the good bacon when he thinks no one is looking.

“No Dean is the one that gives me candy. You help me pull pranks!” Jack laughs as Dean, flinches, quickly busing himself with packing all their bags in the trunk along with the weapons they’d need.

“Dean!” Cas says in his low, ‘oh no you’re in trouble,’ voice. “We’ve dicussed this, Jack’s intake of high fructose corn syrup is frighteningly high. He needs to eat real food.” He adds. Nougat is a food, Jack thinks privately, nougat might be his favorite food in fact.

“He’s a kid, he’ll be fine. Dean and I lived on that shi-stuff as kids and we turned out alright.” Sam, usually the vegetable police, surprisingly comes to Jack and Dean’s rescue, earning a matching raised brow from them both.

“Did you though?” Cas challenges, hand on his hip, sometimes dad gets sassy. Jack likes when dad gets sassy because it’s funny, makes him laugh.

“Well damn, don’t sugar coat it or anything babe.” Dean says in disbelief, opening the passenger door for Cas, Sam climbing into Baby’s backseat before Dean motions for Jack to come sit behind him. “Do I even want to know?” He sighs as he spots the box Jack is carrying.

“Well you’ve all been distracting me, I almost forgot.” Jack pauses as he opens the box and holds up the Sam sized sweatshirt. “I made us all shirts! Team shirts, we’re the Cemetery Boys!” He says proudly, shoving the shirt at Sam, then two at Cas, one for him and one for Dean. Jack pulls on his own shirt right away, stretching his arms and modeling it for them all.

“Can you all wear them for me?” Jack pulls out his trump card for this one, using the ‘look’ that Sam had taught him. He made his eyes big and kept them open just long enough so they were watering slightly, then bit his lip.

“I really screwed myself when I taught you my secrets. Really, using my own puppy eyes on me. Really short sighted of me to teach you that.” Sam sighs as he pulls on the sweatshirt, Cas doing the same.

“Nope, still not doing it. I don’t do matching shirts.” Dean holds firm, shaking his head at Cas when he holds out the sweatshirt to him as they pull out of the garage.

“Dean, the couch in the library is awfully uncomfortable. It’d be a shame if you had to sleep there.” Cas is firmly on team Cemetery Boys, pulling out the big threats to get Jack his way.

“Ugh fine, but no one can ever find out about this!” Dean groans, waiting until he’s at a stop sign at the end of the road to pull it on. Jack lights up, his team is complete, all three dads are wearing his shirt!

“It’s funny how easily emasculated you are Dean. Life is a lot more fun when you stop caring about gender expectations.” Cas smirks, Dean rolling his eyes at Cas and mimicking his know it all expression.

“Dean is sensitive, dad, and he’s really good at making pies! I think he cares less than you think he does.” Jack pauses, pleased when Dean makes eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and smiles. “Besides, I saw the pink underwear he hides when I helped with that laundry that one time.” He adds, Dean’s smile quickly disappearing, his eyes wide as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

“Jesus Christ, kid, stop selling out all my secrets.” Dean grits between his teeth, now he is blushing. Jack knows Dean hates blushing just as much as he does.

“Oh that’s good! Can’t wait to tell Claire that one!” Sam barks out a laugh, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“You wouldn’t!” Dean hangs his head in shame when they stop for a train.

“Already did!” Sam sing songs, holding up his phone. Jack is sometimes thankful that Claire doesn’t live with them, living with your sibling seems exhausting sometimes, if Sam and Dean are any indication.

“Alright that’s enough Jack, don’t spill all the coffee. Your dad is allowed to have his secrets.” Cas intervenes, gently patting Dean’s thigh.

“Tea, dad, its spill the tea!” Jack sometimes can’t handle how out of touch his dad is. Guess that’s what happens when you’re millions of years old.

“Oh right, what’s the difference?” Cas sighs, laying his head back against the headrest as if he’s exhausted, Jack knows it’s just for dramatic effect because Cas doesn’t sleep.

“Cas, there’s big difference! One is the nectar of the gods and the other is glorified leaf water.” Dean defends, holding Cas’ hand, it’s meant to be a private gesture, but Jack can see it and it makes his heart happy.

“Tea is good.” Sam tries.

“I rest my case.” Dean counterpoints.

The case is a rough one, it turns out to be a bit more than a simple salt and burn. The ghost, a family annihilator was coming from beyond the grave to try to kill his son who had survived his attack. They had split into two groups, Dean and Cas at the cemetery burning the bones and Jack and Sam with the victim, trying to keep him safe.

“Do you think maybe we can take a photo together in our shirts?” Jack asks offhandedly as he and Sam roam the house looking for any objects that might still tether the ghost to the house.

“Why do you care so much about these shirts and taking a photo together?” Sam asks curiously, making Jack pause to think for a moment.

“Because, I’ve been watching a bunch of shows and movies, and all the families in them, they have all these photos together. They make all these memories together and they display them in their houses for everyone to see. I want that. The fact that we don’t have that makes me kind of scared, like this isn’t real. Like you all are prepared to run at a moment’s notice if I go nuclear.” Jack explains, using air quotes around the word nuclear.

“Oh. Oh. Jack, hey, it’s not like that. I guess, well we’ve been so busy saving people and hunting things, we’ve lost track of normal family things. You’re family Jack. Promise.” Sam says right away, pulling Jack into a crushing hug. Sam is strong, Jack hopes to be that strong someday.

“Can we take a photo then, a family portrait?” Jack asks hopefully.

“Family portrait? Family portrait. Shit! Jack, the family portrait!” Sam gasps, letting Jack go and looking around the room with wild eyes.

“Huh?” Jack is trying to catch up before he spots the family portrait hanging above the fireplace, both the victim and his evil departed dad in the photo. He rushes to grab it off the wall and tosses it into the fireplace. Sam pulls out a container of salt and lighter fluid, coating the portrait, then Jack tosses a match, lighting it on fire.

“Good work kid.” Sam grins as the ghost appears and then bursts into flames. “I think you’ve earned that portrait.”

True to his word, the first thing in the morning, Sam helps Jack use the laptop to find the closest portrait studio. It happens to be a JC Penney portrait studio, making Dean groan and complain about cheesy backgrounds and awkward poses that they’d likely endure. With much coaxing and further threats from Cas to relegate Dean to sleeping with Miracle on the dog bed, he agrees to the photoshoot.

Jack gets several copies of the photos made. He hands out wallet sized copies to Mary and Eileen who both coo over how adorable they look. Cas gets it framed and hangs it in the library, Dean never admits he likes it, but Jack catches him stopping to look at it every day, a proud smile on his face.

This is Jack’s family. His team. His Cemetery Boys.

#suptober21 #cemetery boys #supernatural #destiel #jack kline #jack kline pov #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #fan fiction

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

Note

I’d love a platonically blurb ab them applying to foster/adopt kids 🥺

i love you for this request but also it made me very soft and emo and how dare you

It ended up being a little less about them actually applying and more just them deciding they wanted to adopt or foster and discussing their options because i can't read but perhaps i could do an actual fic later about the process involved and them meeting their kid and stuff?? idk...dad ben makes me 🥺🥺🥺

Anyway, here's the second last blurb in my Platonically event!

Words: 1,683

Warnings: Nothing much really, discussions about children including pregnancy, adoption and fostering, a little mention of sex but nothing explicit.

“I wanna be a dad.” You weren’t surprised to hear Ben say it. You’d seen the signs. There was the way he’d befriended and doted on the adorable toddler who’d played his daughter on a TV project. Every day he’d come home and his face would light up as he talked about her – how she babbled little kid nonsense at him all day and how they’d played silly games sitting on the floor of the set while the cameras were set up around them. You’d almost expected him to bring up the possibility of having kids then but he’d surprised you and not mentioned it. You could tell he was thinking about it though which made you think about it too. It made sense to at least discuss it and see where you both stood now that you’d been in the QPR for a while and knew that it worked and that you made a good team. You asked about it one night while you were washing the dishes and Ben was drying them. “Do you ever think about kids? Like having one?” “Yeah, sometimes,” he said, bumping your shoulder gently with his, but the conversation didn’t go any further than that.

It wasn’t until about three months later that you heard him say it. It took one of his mates having a baby with his wife for Ben to bring it up. You’d gone over a couple of weeks after they left the hospital, gifts in hand (a cute little spotty onesie and soft toy elephant that he hopefully wouldn't grow out of as quickly as he would his clothes). It was a lovely afternoon, catching up with the new parents and meeting brand new baby Bertie who just stared at everyone who cooed over him. You each had a turn holding Bertie too, marvelling at how anything could have such tiny hands and such big brown eyes. Ben happened to be handed the bundle of blankets that Bertie was swaddled in as the baby began to fall asleep. He didn’t mind though. When the new father asked if he should take Bertie and put him in his crib Ben waved him off. He said he didn’t mind sitting there a little longer to make sure Bertie really had dropped off. The parents didn’t argue, a little relieved that they were able to take a break and just relax. Both of them excused themselves for a moment to get some more food and use the bathroom which left you and Ben and the sleeping Bertie alone together. Quietly you stepped towards the armchair Ben was in, sitting on the arm so you could run your fingers through his hair. “I wanna be a dad.” Ben glanced up at you as he said it, and you could see how much he meant it. “Let’s talk about it tonight,” you reached out to stroke Bertie’s pudgy cheek as Ben lent his head against your side, his attention turning back to the baby.

Neither of you mentioned it on the drive home. In fact you both specifically avoided mentioning it, though not from fear of what might be said but rather just wanting to make sure you had adequate time to go over it without rushing. Once you were inside, shoes kicked off and the kettle on, you opened the discussion. “So....a baby?” Ben nodded, as he settled into the couch, body angled towards you, “I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, it’s not just because of this afternoon but that did help. I really want kids and I think I’m at a place where I feel ready to. Is that...is that okay?” “It’s wonderful Ben. Honestly, I’ve kinda been waiting for this conversation for a while. I’ve seen you interact with kids and I knew it wouldn’t be long before you wanted your own.” He laughed and inclined his head in amused agreement, “So does that mean you like the idea?” “Yeah I do.” “Really? Just that I know you weren’t really sure about it when we first decided to be partners.” “I might not’ve been then, but I am now.” “What changed?” “Well...you, obviously.” “Me?” He seemed surprised. “Look, before we got together I couldn’t imagine being in a relationship that didn’t make me feel at least a little uncomfortable. I figured I’d be single forever and I was okay with that. I’d considered just having a kid on my own – sperm donor or whatever – but that seemed like a really hard thing to do and I wasn’t sure I’d ever want it bad enough to do that. But then you showed me that it was possible to be in a partnership that felt good and, I don’t know, I started thinking about the possibility of having a family with you, and the more I thought about it the more I liked the idea.” Ben smiled as if he was trying not to look as pleased with your answer as he felt, “So we’re doing this then? For real?” “Yeah I think so. Weird.” “Bit weird.” There was a pause as you both just sat with the knowledge that you were planning a future together, that you both wanted to go ahead with it. You never would have guessed you’d get to that point with anyone.

Ben was the one to break the moment, “How would you want to...I mean how should we...How do you feel about being pregnant?” You bit your lip in thought, “I’m not sure. Honestly, it still kinda freaks me out.” “That’s understandable.” “I mean, if it was a dealbreaker for you then I would. I’m not entirely against the idea of carrying our baby and it would mean we’d get to do the fun part of making it.” “We do the fun part a lot as is,” Ben laughed, “But it’s actually something I thought about a lot.” “The fun part? That doesn’t surprise me.” “No, the you being preggers part,” he said exasperatedly, “I knew you weren’t super keen on the whole thing so I got thinking about whether or not it really mattered to me and I don’t think it does. I think I could be just as happy with a kid that came from someone else. And,” he paused as if giving you time to prepare for what he was about to say, “I might have looked into our options for adopting or fostering.” “You did?” “Mmhmm. It’s kinda complicated so we shouldn’t rush into anything and we should probably contact some agencies to ask questions and stuff.” “How complicated are we talking?” “Well, basically, if we want to adopt I think we have to put our names down with an agency and then there’s an interview process and if they think we’re suitable candidates then they’ll put our names in the system and find us a kid. And I guess it depends on the age bracket you’re looking for. I think if we wanted a newborn we’d be more likely to get one through adoption but it might still take a while whereas older kids are a little easier to find, so that’s something we need to consider.” “What about fostering?” “It sounds even more complicated. Like adoption you put your name down and go through an evaluation process but then there’s a few different options. There’s short term fostering where we’d look after kids for a couple of weeks or months while plans for their futures are finalised. Then there’s long term fostering which is usually for kids who can’t go back home but don’t want to be adopted out of their birth families and they mostly stay with you until they’re adults. Emergency fostering is another option which is a few nights or weeks at most but it’s for kids who need to be moved quickly and you don’t always get a lot of warning about them coming to you. And like, there’s possibilities to end up adopting the kid or kids you foster depending on what they want and how it goes.” You puffed your cheeks up with air and slowly blew it out, head swimming with the sudden influx of information, “That does sound complicated.” “Yeah. We’ll really have to consider out options and decide what sort of family we want to have. I think reading about adoption and fostering made me want to do it more though. Cause like...” he paused as he tried to find the right words, “These kids are out there without good homes and I really believe we could give them that.” You noted Ben was getting a little misty eyed, blinking more rapidly to hold back the emotion, so you tried to make him laugh by nudging him and calling him a sap. But you loved seeing how much he cared. It worked a little as he chuckled softly and shrugged, “Look, either way – adopting or fostering – it's probably not going to be easy. There’s challenges involved in fostering for sure – kids with trauma we won’t be able to understand, kids who are grieving the loss of their birth families or who’ve had bad experiences with other foster carers and who struggle to trust anyone. And the kids who are up for adoption might not have the same problems, especially if they’re younger but, I don’t know, I think finding out you were put up for adoption would leave its own scars. Issues with abandonment and things like that. So I think we have to be really, really sure before we put our names down anywhere. But I also think we could properly help someone doing it, maybe more than one someone. So, if you’re up for it then so am I.” “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” “What are you thinking?” More pros and cons lists?” You both

laughed at that but Ben grabbed your arm, encouraging you to leave your seat and sit on his lap instead. He wrapped his arms around your waist and tilted his head up for a kiss which you gladly gave. “I’m really happy we’re talking about this,” He almost whispered, squeezing you a little tighter. “Me too. I guess we should start by going through all our options and seeing which ones would suit us best.” "I've got some websites bookmarked and a few documents downloaded so why don't I go get my laptop and you make us a drink and we'll start working through it, okay?" "Okay,"

#my writing #my blurbs #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #platonically event #catch me crying in the club #god this was such a good prompt tho #ily L

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gagmebucky · 4 years

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hiiii i wrote this awhile ago but took it down because i was 👉🏼👈🏼 embarrassed about it (because i do not have the skill to pull off peter parker) and sorta still am but everyone’s been so nice to me about it i thought the best way to repay the kindness by posting it for those who did like it 😅 (originally inspired by spider man 2 with andrew garfield but loosely set in the 2018 issue of the amazing spider-man.)

in which the guys are making fun of peter and accidentally see a video of him fucking you. (includes avenger!peter x girlfriend!you, peter’s pov, voyeur!steve and voyeur!bucky, a sex tape featuring d/s dynamics, bondage, praise kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex.)

do not repost.

—

Despite being twenty-one years old; a proper adult who lives with his high school sweetheart, a photographer doubling as a seven-year veteran vigilante in the dangers of New York, Peter Parker is still considered as a super-powered amateur to his seasoned peers.

Nonetheless, given his success in countless battles in the state, country, world and even galaxy-wide, he more than qualifies to hold the title of Avenger; it’s official now. A laid-back induction ceremony and his very own identity card: a sturdy rectangle, shiny with full clearance and all. Yet, as an official member, his teammates still treat him like he’s that same goofy, out-of-his-depths sixteen year old.

To be fair, yes, his style of heroism isn’t the most serious. He favors levity in the face of danger, a cheeky flare with smart quips and an infuriating grin. Even after taking a beating from the worst of foes, his demeanor never wavers because in the end, he wins. The villains are slayed and the people are saved, even comforted by the boyishly confident way he works.

But beyond that persona, he has grown into a skilled warrior. On that note, he wants to be regarded as such—at least, to a certain extent. The jokes and teasing, poking fun at his age or the shenanigans he gets himself into, don’t bother him. No, his playful wit handles it with relative ease, and he’s a good sport about it. The only thing that he’d want to see change is some recognition that he isn’t a naïve kid anymore and is fully capable of taking charge when needed.

With his recent acceptance into the gifted pantheon, he’s intent on making that known. The jesting can continue but he wants it to be with an understanding of his capabilities. Luckily, a perfect opportunity has presented itself to showcase his abilities: a training session.

He’s late. And yes, he knows that’s probably not a good impression to make.

In his own defense, it isn’t technically his fault. He forgot that you, his personal alarm clock (amongst other things), left early this morning because you volunteered to help his aunt move. Four years of mornings and nights, he’s gotten used to—and prefers—your languorous wake-up call.

Without your reminder, he regains consciousness fifteen minutes after the scheduled time and ends up scrambling to the compound. In a flurry, he throws on his suit—unknowingly backwards, he realizes later—trips at least three times over his own footing before he finally springs out of the balcony with webbed bursts.

When he reaches his destination, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are unimpressed; mid-simulation, it powers down. Both super-soldiers whirl around to face him, fixing raised eyebrows at his disheveled arrival.

He adjusts his now front-facing suit and shuffles forward into the space with as much confidence as an interrupter can have. “H - hey, guys,” Peter greets sheepishly and manages what he hopes is a charming smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with his phone. “Lookin’ good for a couple of geezers.”

Unfortunately, Steve Rogers is not charmed or disillusioned from the tardiness. “You’re late, Parker.” His arms fold, and he shakes his head when punctuating his disapproval with an echoing, “Again.”

Thankfully, to his right, more relaxed and cool, Bucky Barnes steps up. “C’mon, Stevie. Y’can’t be that surprised,” he chimes in matter of factly, contrasting against his friend with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “What’d you expect with Parker?” He gestures at the younger superhero. “Kid’s gonna be late to his own wedding.”

(Beside the point, but worth noting, he will not be late to meeting you at the altar. That is, of course, if you accept when he pops the question. Which is going to happen relatively soon, considering he has the ring in his nightstand drawer.)

The consult seems to relax him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right and—Peter, you—seriously, man?!” Steve sputters the last bit when he glanced over to see him blatantly check the notification that’s vibrated in his hand (on the device that is ruled to be stowed away during training). “Now the phone?!”

Even though he shouldn’t, being on thin ice with Cap and all (pun not intended), Peter’s gaze flickers down to see your contact name appear on the screen, and he can’t resist. While Bucky guffaws a laugh at his audacity, he’s swiping up to pull up your text thread.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:37AM: spider boyyyyy you’ll never guess what i found in a box labeled ‘peter’s junk’ ;;;)

peter, 10:37AM: those magazines are NOT mine and i don’t know how they got there.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: not quite but close, naughty boy

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: for a man who depends on keeping secrets and a penchant for home movies, you might ought to keep a lock on your phone unless you want someone to see me like this...

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: (video attached)

Immediately, he recognizes the pornographic thumbnail. One glance, and he’s remembering the first couple of times you guys explored the exhibitionism side of things. It was at the end of his freshman year of college and taped on a phone he thought he had lost. But he must've forgotten it at his aunt’s house, and she tossed it in the box until you came along.

Although there’s been plenty more made, he recalls that one being a shared favorite, his especially. When long-distance duty calls, it was his go-to media. The angles, your face and body beneath the lights, the sounds it caught, you once asked if he considered switching to cinematography instead of photographer

Subconsciously, his teeth run over his bottom lip, feeling that blazing spark of desire igniting in the pit of his gut, partially at the memory and partially at what’ll happen once you guys can re-watch it together; his thumbs start typing away with that message.

“Peter!” Steve’s exasperated voice snaps, but to no avail—the real gall of the youngster, or the effect of you. His weight shifts toward his best friend, and he nudges him with his elbow. “Kids these days!” The hundred-something year old’s gaze cocks a brow back over. “Is that why you were late? Blowing off training to text your girlfriend?”

The text delivers with an audible bloop. Finally, his concentration gives, and he can look up, though his expression is clueless from the last minute. “Huh?” His brain registers what he missed, and he winces. “Sorry, Cap. My bad.”

Bucky chuckles. “Give him a break, Steve,” he faux comes to his defense, a teasing quality underlying his tone. “He’s young and in love. It’s not his fault he’s pussy-whipped.” He cracks him an antagonizing grin as Peter rolls his eyes. “He can’t go an hour without sending those little weird pictures with heart eyes, or she might not know he’s thinking about her.”

“As if you know anything about romance, old man,” he fires back and presses past them with squared shoulders, correcting him quite seriously: “And they’re called emojis, by the way. But that’s not what I was doing, if you want to know so bad.”

The brunette tilts his head thoughtfully, and small hackles arise for reasons he doesn’t understand, or pay attention to. “You know, I do want to know really badly,” Bucky decides and poses a question to his left, “Wouldn’t you, too, Steve? Aren’t you curious what his girlfriend sent that was so much more important than training?”

The blond mimics his actions and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I am.”

Peter’s eyebrows pinch while his skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up. “What—” Before his senses process it, one of the super-soldiers plucks his phone out of his hands and darts back beside his best friend. His jaw drops as he tries to follow after him. “Bucky, you asshole—”

“Some spidey senses, huh?” The Winter Soldier lifts it high over his head, utilizing his six-foot stature against his five-ten like elementary school bullies do and older siblings to their juniors. “Haven’t ‘cha heard about sharing with the class?” He laughs and practically stiff-arms him to squint up at the screen. “Aw, he can’t wait to see her. What’s it been, more than two hours since you two saw each other last?”

Conceding to the height difference, Peter stops his physical efforts and diverts it to someone reasonable. “Cap, you gonna help me out here?” he addresses the entertained onlooker in the most friendly voice he can manage.

“The kid’s got separate anxiety not just from his girlfriend but phone too, Buck,” Steve drawls with a lopsided curve of his lips. He side-steps Peter to stand next to Bucky, and for a second, he thinks he’s on his side despite the tease, but he simply adds a stern, “So be careful. You don’t want to break it, or Parker will have a fit.”

Peter crosses his arms and scowls. “Ha, ha,” he retorts dryly, only somewhat amused by their banter. He tilts his head up at them, and the duo look thoroughly pleased with themselves. “You know, you guys are kind of dicks.”

“No, we’re your mentors, kid,” Steve corrects with a wink and rests his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “This is a lesson. No phones—” He jabs his thumb back in reference to the device’s unlocked screen: “—when you’re supposed to be training.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chimes in upon glancing up from his phone. “And a little advice, women don’t like clinginess. Try being a little more stern and see how that works for you. If you’re able to manage that. But I won’t hold it against ya if you can’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter patronizes with a bob of his head, biting back a response pointing out the hundred-something year old’s inexperience. Instead, he focuses on the electronic readily loaded up with some private content. With that, he decides to do the rational and mature thing and ask nicely. “Noted. So, uh, can I have my phone back now?”

To his shock, Bucky merely flashes a smirk and his thumb scrolls half-heartedly over the thread. Thereafter, he leans toward Steve and raises his cell for him to see. “Oh, look, it’s a video,” he teases. “What could Y/N send that would take priority of training?”

There’s an unspoken let’s see then a metal finger taps the play button. Before Peter can think, much less react, Captain American and the Winter Soldier are watching how he effortlessly renders his pretty little girlfriend into a cute nonsensical yet eager mess—

In his point-of-view shot, the ratio holds in portrait view in a bid to capture every bit of you. Above you, the camera focuses on you and your beautifully debauched state beneath warm lighting where it’s unalienable that the camera was made for you.

Your eyes are dilated brightly, desperate with desire as your lashes flutter up at him. A sheen coats your features and glistens like glitter at the highest points of your face while the shape of your face is framed by your stretched arms.

Your wrists are bound over your head, splotched with expertly sprayed strong, white webs. The mesh sticks them together in a criss-cross, comfortable but nearly impossible to break out of, fixed in place atop his headboard. The tautness tugs a mild strain on your figure so your breasts are jutting out like an offering, and it’s obvious he’s taken advantage of it. Darkened marks adorn your glowing complexion, peppered across your décolletage with imprints of his teeth; including your nipples, sucked swollen and tender.

The angle trails down until it reveals the sight of him mercilessly pounding inside of you. His better-than-average girth is sliding in and out of your tight channel; slicked in shared translucent essence, creaming around the base, your inner walls visibly clinging to his cock with every backward stroke. His hand splays on your mound, using his thumb to abuse your engorged clit. He easily keeps the sensitive nub pinned under his control despite your wildly twisting hips.

Like the display, the soundtrack is equally obscene. Loud, your stuffed depths gush and squelch as skin slaps rhythmically. Your breathy, wanton moans overshadow both, drawn out whimpers, almost nonsensical other than the syllable of his name. A melody of neediness, you sound so fucking pretty, (depraved, like a whore, you once told him during your little film marathon with a sly smile), and for him specifically.

The frame pans upward and confirms you look just as good. A perfect mess, unhinged by the skilled ministrations of your boyfriend. Passion beads on your forehead like reflections off of a diamond. Panting, your lips are plumped from kissing parted with mewls of pleasure.

“P - please—I need to—can I - I please—” You’re begging like the sweet little thing you are, incoherent babbling the result of his excessive edging. Of course, you know better than to give into the sensations ravaging you; instead you ignore your visceral desire and ask him for your release. “Peter, please!”

A deep chuckle vibrates behind the camera as his big hand slides into view, trailing over your jiggling tits to the slope of your throat. “Maybe,” he says breathily and grasps the line of your jaw between his fingers. “Open your mouth first, babe.”

No more preamble necessary, you follow his direction, your pink tongue flat over your Cupid’s bow. Immediately, a long string of his saliva drips into view and onto your taste buds; the vulgar act is accepted with a swallow and a quivering moan of, “T - thank you.”

“Good girl,” he praises huskily, and the voiced approval has you visibly shivering. “Alright, then, pretty girl. Make it good for me, and c’mon—”

Before your otherworldly reckoning washes over you and his teammates can watch your bliss immortalized in film, Peter snatches his property back.

Not much force is necessary as Bucky’s grip has been stunned loose. A dark expression permeates on young hero’s face but not because of embarrassment; if he was still nineteen or eighteen, he would’ve been mortified that his titular superiors caught a depraved glimpse of his sex life, on both his and your behalf. Rather than, there’s just a flit of annoyance when he folds his arms.

“Shit,” Bucky is the first to speak, exhaling the swear raggedly. His blue pupils have widened in obvious attraction, dilated dark, blinking rapidly as if it’ll help calm him down from the clip of you, his innocent seeming girlfriend, all ruined and begging. “Parker, fuck, I - I didn’t know you got down like that.”

There’s a swell in his chest, pride beating steadily while he remains reticent-faced. He prefers you keep your bedroom activities secluded there. Yeah, he likes to be in control and you like to be controlled but it’s only in a sexual nature. Yet, their reactions—stunned, embarrassed and viscerally affected—surges smug satisfaction he’s never known before through his veins.

Even the prestigious Captain America is bothered, though he may try to hide it. He clears his throat, a flustered pink coloring his cheeks. “Peter, uh,” he says, barely maintaining the confidence to look him in the eye after witnessing his girlfriend like that. “We - we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.”

“Uh-huh,” is Peter’s response, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his lips. “Why don’t you guys call me after you’re finished with your cold showers, and we can actually train. Until then, I’m gonna go to my girl who’s more than eager to handle mine.” He pauses. “Maybe if you guys ask nice enough, I might let her show you how well I’ve trained her.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel smut imagines #spiderman x reader smut #marvel smut #heh I am going to pass out #I..#goodnight im off me ass sjdjjsxj

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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Top 10 Favorite Fictional Couples

Happy Valentines Day, people on the internet who probably won't read this! I'm an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons. And even though I'm a lonely bastard who will absolutely die alone one day, I am also a sucker for romance. If a story decides to include a cute couple in it, then you better believe I'm going to gush over them for an unhealthy amount of time for a man my age. Even more so if they answer the three most essential questions that I think applies to every romantic couple in fiction:

Why do they like each other? (Looks don't count. It can be an option, but it shouldn't be the only option.)

Would it make sense for them to be together? (Like, if this couple would exist in real life, would you expect them to last.)

Do they have chemistry? (This is the most important one as a couple can dominate just by the chemistry alone.)

So today, I am going to rank my top ten favorite couples in fiction, who just so happen to answer most, if not all, of these questions. Now, I could be cute and make a top fourteen list...but not too long ago, I just listed off the twenty best-animated series of the 2010s, so I think it's best if I stick to the basics. Also, I should make a few things clear:

A. These are couples, not ships. The pairing has to have a canon kiss, or at the very least, a canon confession to be on the list. This means sorry, Lumity fans, but Luz and Amity are not going to be on this list...even though they would absolutely be #1 if they could be!

B. The couple has to at least spend an entire episode being together, which means no last-minute hookups because the writers wanted to drag out the romantic tension. (Sorry, Catradora fans)

With that out of the way, let's get started with--

10. Laura Hollis and Carmilla Kernstien from Carmilla (Web Series)

The chemistry between these two is on point. Laura’s and Carmilla's actors Elise Bauman and Natasha Negovanlis are so convincing when acting like a couple that I am honestly shocked to find out they never actually dated. This is good because everything else about Laura and Carmilla's relationship is...kind of the worst. Don't get me wrong, as a couple, these two are fantastic, adorable, well-written, and well-performed. But the writers seem very fond of keeping them bickering and broken up rather than actually having them together. And that is where the issue lies. If the writers committed to Laura and Carmilla being together instead of doing this whole "will they or won't they" crap, on top of them being selfish idiots in season two, then you better believe they would be in the top three, at least. As they are, they at least act adorable enough to make the top ten.

9. Gregg and Angus from Night in the Woods

Ok, I'm gonna level with you: I just wanted to put an mlm relationship on this list, and this was the best I can come up with (I haven't seen Good Omens, nor have I finished Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts yet to see Benson's relationship with Troy. Leave me alone). As a male bisexual, I'm kind of disappointed. I know that male pairings exist in media, but for the life of me, I don't think they are as celebrated as much, or as frequent, as female pairings have been. This is sad because I would honestly love to see how more couples like Gregg and Angus.

These two act so much like a real couple. Gregg and Angus care and support each other so much, yet they still have big arguments as any couple would. They clearly love each other but still have issues they both need to deal with if they want to grow. Plus, I'm just a sucker for opposites attract. And you can't get more opposite than the loud and bombastic Gregg and his quiet and serious boyfriend Angus. There are probably better mlm pairings than these two (And if there are, then let me know. I'd love to check them out), but Gregg and Angus prove that any relationship, no matter the gender, can be the same as any other. Both the wholesomeness and the faults.

8. Peter Parker and Michelle Jones from the Marvel Cinematic Universe

I put these two a little low because we barely see them spend time as a couple. Peter and Michelle got together at the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home, and we only get a glimpse of how their relationship works in the last few minutes. However, I'm willing to argue that they count because they are guaranteed to be a couple in the sequels, and we'll be allowed to see them grow. How often do you get to say that for other fictional couples who get together at the end of a long story? Plus, Peter and Michelle earn extra bonus points for being the best couple in a Spider-Man movie. Michelle is a league's better character than the MJ in the Sam Rami trilogy, and the chemistry is still adorable but not overtly cutesy like it was in The Amazing Spider-Man movies. So even though Peter and Michelle just got together, they show a lot of promise, if you ask me. Their interactions are adorable, you can tell that Michelle likes Peter for Peter, and they are the most accurate depictions of young love you’ll ever see. Just look at that first kiss. It was one filled with inexperience and awkwardness and I just love it! I’m already interested in what these two have to offer and I can’t wait to see what happens next with them.

7. Andy Dwyer and April Ludgate from Parks and Recreation

The best description you'll ever hear about this couple is that they are what happens when a dog and a cat fall in love. Andy is dopey, happy, and loyal to no end. April is intimidating, cynical, and is already plotting your murder as we speak. What I'm saying is that these two shouldn't work...but they do. Somehow, by every leap of logic, Andy and April complete each other. They are both so far gone from reality, yet at the same time, both keep each other grounded in more ways than one. It's a weird paradox that never ceases to amaze, nor does it cease to be adorable. They do go through bullcrap love triangles and a "will they or won't they scenario" in seasons two and three, but once that crap is over, the writers lean into the potential these two have as a great couple. And trust me when I say that it is all lovely to watch.

6. Rapunzel and Eugene from Tangled: The Series

Huh. I guess romance really does exist after Happily Ever After.

Joking aside, I was surprised by how well these two work as a pairing. Usually, when the Disney Prince and Princess get together in the end, there is nothing more to the relationship. And even if their movie gets a spin-off series, the dynamic is as generic and forgettable as it can be. For Rapunzel and Eugene, it is different. Their chemistry is top-notch, their constant love and support for each other are admirable/adorable, and the complete trust they have for one another is absolute perfection. I was already surprised by how good Tangled: The Series was, but the fact that the main couple is somehow better here than they were in their own movie is something I would have never expected.

5. Rigby and Eileen from Regular Show

And seeing how we're talking about surprises, who saw these two being the best couple in the series? With the number of times that the writers focussed on Mordecai's romantic hang-ups and how often Muscle Man and Starla were considered the only canon couple, I was shocked when it turned out Rigby and Eileen have the best loving relationship in Regular Show. Even crazier, their relationship is built entirely in the background of the first six seasons. Since her introduction, Eileen has been head over heels for Rigby since the beginning (for reasons I'll never understand), and Rigby slowly reciprocated. Until the big reveal in the season six finale, there was nothing but implications as they were trying to hide their relationship and not rub how perfect it is in Mordecai's face (no matter how much Rigby wants to). But once we get to see them as an official couple, it all becomes clear why they work so well. Eileen loves Rigby for Rigby, and will always support him, faults and all. Rigby pays it all back in spades, wanting to be a better person, as well as a better boyfriend, for the one person who always believes there was something good inside. Not even his own best friend had that much faith in him. And on top of all of that, they're just cute. They may not have been the central hook in the series, but they are definitely much appreciated.

4. Chris and Elise from Dan Vs./Millie and Moxxie from Helluva Boss

These four are tied because they pretty much have the same dynamic. Chris and Moxxie are these pathetic losers who somehow managed to marry Elise and Millie: Badass assassins who could effortlessly marry any man they want. And what they want are their pathetic losers. It's extra wholesome for Chris and Elise, as Chris really can't do that much right, especially in comparison to the ever-perfect Elise. Yet, she still cares deeply for Chris and will promptly destroy anyone or anything that causes him harm. That being said, while Millie and Moxxie are both equally deadly, there is an odd hilarity to the fact that these literal demons from hell are so gosh darn wholesome. Seriously, their literal job is to kill people who screw over those who went to hell, and I'm always going "D'aww" when M and M always do something cute. Explain that logic to me!

There's nothing more I can say about these four, as they're adorable couples that prove love comes in the most impossible circumstances and the unlikeliest places.

3. Ruby and Sapphire from Steven Universe

I'll always remember that Ruby and Sapphire are the first couple that proved to me that there is nothing wrong with a same-sex pairing, especially in children's media. Before Steven Universe, I wasn't necessarily told that same-sex couples are wrong, but they're not meant for kids. Then I found out that these two girls, on a kids show of all places, we're madly in love and my first response was: "...Huh." And this was before I knew I was bisexual, so I wasn't even that obsessed about it at the time. But the more I saw Ruby and Sapphire, and the more I learned about how starved the LGBTQ+ was for representation, the more I really appreciated them. Ruby and Sapphire never fail to be precious, and the fact that they barely spend any longer than a few minutes apart is downright heartwarming (and incredibly literal if you've seen the show). They also broke a ton of barriers to proper representation. Not only were Ruby and Sapphire one of the first explicit lesbian couples in children's animation, but they're also the first ones to actually get married. Because of such a power move, many networks and shows make it less of a challenge for writers to include more gay characters in their stories. There is still a lot of hard work that those writers face, but it certainly seems it's less of a challenge than it would be before Steven Universe came out (Ha!). Ruby and Saphire are the first fictional gay couple I have been introduced to and have made an incredible impression ever since.

2. Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum and Marcelene Abadeer from Adventure Time

But while it's Ruby and Sapphire that introduced me to the concept of a same-sex couple, it's Princess Bubblegum and Marceline that made me root for one. In (I want to say) 2017, I started rewatching Adventure Time, knowing that queer relationships were indeed a thing. This means that not only did I finally caught the INCREDIBLY noticeable subtext in "What Was Missing," but I was legitimately chanting, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" when I got to the episode "Varmints." And when they finally did kiss in the series finale, I full-on jumped out of my chair and screamed, "YES!" That never happens. Not even for the straight couples that I've obsessed over before this. Either I coo at how adorable they are, or just smile a warm and gentle smile. But letting out a very audible cheer that my college roommates definitely heard? That shows how deeply I cared for these two. And can you really blame me?

Not only is the chemistry on point with Bubblegum and Marceline, but it's interesting getting to see their relationship evolve through the course of the series. They have a dynamic of a couple who broke up on bad terms (long before "Obsidian" confirmed this), and you slowly get to see them reconnect to that spark they lost long ago. Plus, the more you see them interact, the more of their history is revealed, and thus it becomes clear why they fell for each other in the first place. Bubblegum keeps Marceline responsible, while Marceline helps Bubblegum learn how to loosen up. They balance each other nicely, and after some much needed growing up from the both of them, that spark returns. And they're much more of a loving unit than they were years ago. It's incredible to watch, and I would honestly see an entire spin-off series about them. But, as great as Bubblegum and Marceline are, there is a reason they are not my number one.

(There’s no art for this one because they’re characters from a book and I don’t want to steal someone else’s fanart for the sake of my crappy Tumblr post)

1. Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase from Percy Jackson and the Olympians/Heroes of Olympus

And that reason is that I can't resist the first-ever pairing that I obsessed over. Percy and Annabeth might just be the example I live by for how couples should be written in media. Dynamic wise, of course. In terms of telling a story, their relationship was handled poorly in Percy Jackson and the Olympians. It was filled with agonizing love-triangles, a very long wait, and they were one of those couples who didn't get together until the end of the series. Which is a major no-no, in my opinion. But, when they finally get to be a couple in Heroes of Olympus, it is downright perfection. Percy and Annabeth are what happens if these two badass warrior heroes fell in love. They worry about each other and are willing to die for each other (if need be) but still have an intense amount of faith and trust for one another. The number of times Percy or Annabeth knew they would be alright because they have each other is incredibly high, no matter what series of books they appear in. They work well together, as well as off each other. Percy is this bumbling idiot who wins his battles through a mix of luck and skill, where Annabeth is this intelligent warrior who has trained since the age of seven. They compliment each other perfectly, and their constant playful bickering is always fun. I love these two, I love their love, and they will always be one of my favorite fictional couples in media.

(That is until Luz and Amity from The Owl House become cannon. In which case, you better believe they'll be number one.)

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And those are my favorite couples. Out of curiosity, what are yours? Or, at least, what are your top five? Don't feel afraid to let me know or even make a list of your own.

Have a happy Valentine's Day, with whoever you want to celebrate it with and however you want to do it.

Now, if you don't excuse me, I have an entire to-do list of s**t I have to do, and I gotta figure out which to work on first.

(Should I review Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles next, or do that scene breakdown for Amphibia? Oh, the possibilities are killing me...)

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ao3-sucks · 4 years

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An Archive of Someone’s Own: my experiences being groomed in fandom circles on AO3

TW: Childhood sexual abuse, grooming, mentions of incest and rape.

I used to be a big writer of fanfiction. It was the logical choice for me. I loved to write and create bold and immersive worlds, and I craved an audience who would enjoy my work as much as I did. Since my writing wasn’t actually good, I needed a community of other amateurs who wouldn’t mind that, and by tweaking my characters and settings into ones from canonical media, I got the audience I so craved.

I started writing fanfiction online when I was 14, posting initially on FanFiction.net and then moving to AO3 a few months later. As I got back into writing original fiction towards the end of high school, I lost interest in this community, and it’s been a long time since I posted anything much on AO3.

I’ve always struggled with the fact I display a lot of symptoms of CSA, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why. Throughout my teen years, I refused to get changed or bathe when anyone was even vaguely nearby, constantly paranoid about being spied on; I developed a severe touch phobia, and would have frequent panic attacks from something as small as brushing arms with a passerby; I resolutely identified as asexual and refused to get into anything resembling a relationship with others because the very concept disgusted and repulsed me.

Weird, considering I had grown up pretty normal and all of these symptoms had started around my early teens. It was only when I told my friends about my friendship with a 30 year old I had met online that the pieces started falling into place for me.

Child grooming is usually discussed in the context of one adult going out of their way to befriend a child with the goal of lowering their resistance to sexual abuse, through normalisation and friendliness. I’d like to talk about how that worked on the fanfiction website AO3. Since it’s an open website and most communication takes place between anonymous users or accounts in the comments section of a work, there is very little delineation between spaces for adults to discuss whatever dark topics they like and spaces for kids to do the same.

This frequently leads to pretty inappropriate conversations between people of widely varying ages and life experiences, which is how I ended up talking sex as a fourteen year old with people ranging from a couple of years older than me, who were generally okay, to more than twice my age. The 30 year old in question listed on her profile how many pedophilic ships she loved, and she knew my age but pushed me to keep discussing sexual topics with her. Sounds like a red flag, yeah? Well. I was 14, and very stupid.

This 30 year old woman, who I will call Aku (because it’s similar to her screen name and because it’s funny to name her after the bad guy from Samurai Jack) would start conversations with me whenever I posted anything to AO3 and would refuse to take no for an answer when I tried to back out of conversations with her, and since these conversations were public and occurring within comments, I didn’t want to be rude to her since this was taking place on content I was trying to promote.

I told her my age multiple times and she would either pretend she forgot from last time (saying her memory is super bad) or continue as though it was just trivia about me and not a sign she shouldn’t have been pushing me. My primary objection to what she would say to me (since most of it was just her being annoying) was her insistence on sexualising everything I wrote, and her determination to push me into writing pornographic content, which I eventually gave in to.

Yes, she was a terrible person. She emailed me using her personal email address, so I know her full name and place of residence, because she’s an idiot. These emails also contain sexually explicit materials. Nothing much ever happened between us except for these very creepy interactions and the fact we remained online friends for a few years. But here’s the thing: she wasn’t the only person pushing me into creating sexual content. Lots of people would comment on my writing demanding that I show explicit sexual content when I really didn’t want to.

After a while it felt like I couldn’t write a longer, romantic fanfiction without including explicit sexual content. Like my work wasn’t valid without it. Other, more popular writers were usually sexual in their content, and I wanted to be like them and bring in the views, right? So, when I look at my back catalog of works, I can see how my content moved from completely non-sexual to featuring sexual content over time, and the views usually came with. In this way, I was in an environment that was encouraging me on many levels to sexualise my own work, which impacted the way I thought about my creative process.

Here’s another example I remember. When I was a young sprout, I remember reading down someone’s list of fanfiction recommendations and seeing a work called Hug Therapy, which I promptly read. While the work is marked as explicit and containing the Loki/Thor pairing, the use of relationship and rating tags on AO3 is so poorly regulated that it didn’t really mean anything to me to see either of those. People tag hardcore material as non-explicit and tag friendships as relationships, because there’s no motivation to tag properly. Plus, someone I followed here on Tumblr had recommended it to me.

Now, you wouldn’t know from the listing, but while this piece starts out as comedy, it turns out in the end to include rape, incest, and BDSM in very explicit terms. The fact it was tagged as being explicit didn’t slow me down, because the liberal use of these tags could mean that an explicit tag was just there because sexual content was implied or mentioned, which I thought would be the case based on the rest of the listing. Out of curiosity, I recently tried to report this work to the moderators for containing no warnings about incest or rape, and I got this in response:

“Selecting “Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings” satisfies a creator’s obligation under the warnings policy. Users who wish to avoid specific elements entirely should not access fanworks marked with “Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings”. Our Terms of Service note: “You understand that using the Archive may expose you to material that is offensive, triggering, erroneous, sexually explicit, indecent, blasphemous, objectionable, grammatically incorrect, or badly spelled. ….. This decision is in accordance with our policy of maximum inclusiveness; we have therefore closed this case and will not be investigating further.”

Which, yeah, I guess. The frustration comes from how ‘Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings’ is an extremely commonly used tag, and most things that it’s used on are totally harmless.

This fanfiction, which I was recommended by a friend, is hugely popular, in the top 60 most read fanfictions in the entire fandom. You wanna hear the kicker? The author, Astolat, is one of the founders of AO3. They’re not just some random author who isn’t following the rules. They’re a creator of the whole website, and they made the rules. This is pretty telling about how seriously the website actually takes protecting their users.

My final example I want to give is one of fetish content. People in fetish communities generally (not always) say that fetishes are probably something one should work up to after the onset of sexual activity, especially potentially harmful stuff like BDSM. In the circles I was running in, if you weren’t sporting a fetish or two (no matter your age) you were a boring bitch.

Maybe this isn’t true of everywhere in the fanfiction community, but I used to feel that bizarre pressure until I got out. Bear in mind that my main time in this community was from ages 14 to 17. I never made my age a secret, either. I told people outright I was that age, I was in high school, I was playing hockey and studying The Great Gatsby when I wasn’t online.

Since I was in the Avengers fandom and I liked Loki and the Asgardians, I was frequently exposed to incestuous content between Loki and Thor, and a lot of it came out of nowhere or was poorly tagged. This was considered the norm, and while I at first felt completely horrified and repulsed, within a year or two I no longer gave a shit. It’s only in the last few years as I’ve begun to unpack everything that I’ve started to get that strong revulsion reaction to incestuous content.

In the circles I was in, it was relentlessly normal. Normal to the point that people who disliked it were usually shouted down. Even to this day, debate rages on in fandom spaces about whether or not content like this normalises this kind of abuse. In my own personal experience, which I don’t usually like to talk about, it absolutely does.

In real life, this normalisation started to have serious consequences for my mental health and interpersonal relationships. In fanfiction, any occasion when you are alone with someone could become sexual, any familial relationship is possibly sexual, and it doesn’t matter if you like it or not. I became incredibly anxious around male family members for fear of being sexually assaulted, and my OCD, which I had been developing since I was a child, turned from thoughts of physical violence to thoughts of graphically sexually assaulted by anyone and everyone around me.

My fear of being touched got to the point where I would have panic attacks if anyone came anywhere close to touching me. I quit sports, fucked up my romantic relationships, and didn’t hug anyone, not even members of my family, for years. All the while, I had bought my first laptop and was consuming more fanfiction than ever before. I struggled with my sexuality growing up, as I am bisexual, and while fanfiction provided LGBT content to help me, the content was frequently so disturbing that I viewed any expression of sexuality as something evil and predatory.

The community on AO3, whether you like it or not, is often sexual, and provides no barriers between the casual user looking for content and extremely intense fetish material. It’s sometimes called the Pornhub of fanfiction, but considering the wide range of people who use it, it’s more like if you opened Youtube and saw niche hardcore fetish videos just on the front page, recommended and trending.

Sure, you have to click a little button to confirm you’re 18 before you can actually read a story, but the tags and descriptions of readily available works can be extremely explicit. Fanfiction also brings you into close contact with fellow readers and the author, and encourages you to become a content creator, which in some ways makes it more dangerous.

I was affected much more strongly by what I saw than most people would be, because I was already treading shaky ground. But I’m also not the only person out there who has been hurt in this way. Most of my friends who grew up in fandom can report the impact that fanfiction culture had on them. One of my friends from high school knew a panoply of porn terms at age 14 or so due to reading fanfiction, and another of my other friends at high school almost exclusively read rape porn because it was her favourite. I didn’t have friends who watched porn; I had friends who read fanfiction. These are just as troubling to me as any other accounts of young people consuming visual porn from a very early age.

It’s frequently cited that fanfiction gives minority groups the opportunity for creative outlet. It was a great place for me to cut my teeth as a content creator, and a source of acceptance and kindness when times were tough. Fanfiction communities have historically been the domain of women and minorities, and create a space for these people to tell their own stories.

It’s largely because of this that fanfiction communities fear censorship and strict moderation, as they have been attacked in the past on homophobic or misogynistic grounds, resulting in mass deletions of works or the shutdown of websites. But there must be some middle ground between total censorship and the kind of free rein that puts vulnerable people in danger, and I strongly encourage the board of AO3 to seek this middle ground out.

But it’s the community itself that needs to shape up; AO3 is, after all, a community-led website built by fans for fans, so the fact that this website has such issues is a reflection of the issues that run deeply within the people who created it. Aku didn’t talk to me with the intention of doing me harm, or so I believe at this time, and she didn’t pursue me as a lone wolf or in isolation.

She was simply a particularly brazen member of a community that was used to having inappropriate conversations with young people and sexualising everything they did. Even people my own age were jokingly pushing me into discussing and consuming extremely sexual content. It was just normal. That’s what I want to say here. Inside the world of fandom on AO3, the grooming of children with sexual content is normal. And that’s scary.

- Mod Daft

#mod daft post #ao3 discourse #fandom wank #fanfiction discourse #fanfiction wank #csa//#rape//#grooming//#incest//

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

can we adress how toxic some of these self/harm and suicide fics are?? as someone who has struggled with these issues, treating them as just a way for the two characters to get together, or one character to be the savior who cures someone of their problems? I'm so frickin over it. continuing to put your partner in limbo by threatening this behavior when they don't give you enough attention is a symptom of something major. This is not something i like seeing romanticized. at all.

[CONTENT WARNING FOR ENTIRE POST: heavy discussions of trauma, suicide, self harm, depression, political issue mentions, and eating disorders. Please proceed with care. I am not cutting the post because I think the message is important, so scroll past until my icon disappears <3 Stay safe, My Lovelies.]

Hey Nonny

Okay, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here because you mention you DO have struggles with these issues, so I’m going to state right up front here and say I AM NOT DISREGARDING YOUR PERSONAL EXPERIENCE AT ALL. Your view of this topic is valid, and it’s not something I am ever going to say is wrong for you.

I would like to offer an olive branch, here, Nonny, and give you an alternative take on this, because I’m concerned that perhaps you are still coping with your own struggles and in return, you unwittingly and unintentionally are coming off as unsympathetic to other people’s coping mechanisms.

I KNOW how hard it is to see another view when yours is the only one that seems right, especially after a tragedy or after dealing with heavy things. But all I am asking is for you to temporarily extend some empathy as I discuss my thoughts in this post, and I apologize in advance if I come off as dickish, because, again, it’s hard to see past your own feelings, and I tend to give a “firm but understanding” approach to asks like this. It’s NOT meant to call you our personally. Just asking for an open mind.

I will tackle this ask in a similar fashion to this post here, which talks about shipping vs fetishization so CW for that, as well as like this post here, where we discuss pet peeves. My assumption here is that Nonny is unsure about what “romanticizing” actually entails, and how much this ask is basically Gatekeeping Fiction 101, a thing that’s been going on since the beginning of storytelling. The ask is perceived by me to be emotionally unaware of how unsympathetic it actually sounds, and in turn can unintentionally upset people who engage in these stories.

First thing’s first, Nonny, and I said it before, I GET IT. I understand what you’re going for here, why you feel it’s toxic, and why you think it shouldn’t exist. Here’s the thing, though: what you’re ACTUALLY calling for here is censorship and gatekeeping because YOU PERSONALLY take issue with something, want the fandom specially curated just for you, because it PERSONALLY OFFENDS YOU. And that, it itself, is what’s really toxic, here. Just because YOU are offended, does not mean that it’s not helpful to SOMEONE ELSE, and it’s selfish to make such a demand of people.

Let me explain.

As I mention in the link above re: shipping, many people read and write fics to cope with the reality of their own experiences. Nonny, your experience is NOT the same as someone else’s. Your pain is NOT universal, and you DON’T KNOW what that author has been through; for all you know, they spent 6 months in-hospital after attempting suicide, and they are now simply processing their trauma through storytelling.

Or, “continuing to put your partner in limbo by threatening this behavior when they don't give you enough attention” ? It’s a VERY REAL THING that ACTUALLY happens in real life, and perhaps it happened to that author, or they want to write an alternate ending to their pain.

Or, “one character to be the saviour who cures someone of their problems?” is something a suicide survivor WISHES someone did for them. Because they feel alone in the world and don’t want to be alone anymore.

These stories are simply escapism for people, either to learn about or share what these mental illnesses do to people, or are the “fantasies” of survivors, of their ideal outcome to their own tragedies. Coping with guilt over the loss of someone they feel they could have saved. The brutal truth about realty.

And sometimes, it is because some people need a good cry and a feel-good happy ending, because real life? Well, it rarely has those happy endings and so few opportunities to let us cry, and sometimes life is just easier when we view it through the eyes of fictional characters. Do you not want someone to save you sometimes Nonny? And I mean metaphorically here, too. Someone to just take all of your hellish burdens off those shoulders for one day. Someone who will come in to save you from yourself. I know I do.

And, well, sometimes, Nonny, it makes people feel less alone in this socially distanced world.

They’re not glorifying that issue Nonny. They’re telling their story.

Here are some thoughts:

Romanticization: Some trendy teen outlet selling a shirt with “mentally diseased” written across it.

NOT Romanticization: A character in a story coming to terms with a diagnosis of mental illness and learning ways to adapt. Their partner is involved 100% and they learn together.

Romanticization: Sherlock merchandise being sold with “I’m a high functioning sociopath” (not mention ableist as all heck)

NOT Romanticization: A character self-harms because of depression, and character B helps the character through their pain and together they get proper therapy and treatment.

Romanticization: Calling yourself “OMG I’m so bipolar!” because it’s trendy.

NOT Romanticization: A clinically depressed author, who survived a suicide attempt, wanting to tell their story through characters the world is already familiar with, and one that a touchy subject can be expressed and understood by other people, because they’re not ready to write the “real” book. Fandom is a safety net for them.

See what I mean Nonny? We don’t KNOW what kind of pain these authors have PERSONALLY been through, and to censor them from having their voices heard and their stories told is just not on for me.

And let me be clear: YES OF COURSE romanticization happens EVERYWHERE. I am not denying that. But your ask is coming off like EVERY STORY EVER WRITTEN is glorification of something. By your logic:

Disabled people shouldn’t write about their disabilities because they’re romanticising themselves.

The authors with medical degrees shouldn’t write realistic med-fics because some where in the world, ONE person MAY HAVE had a similar experience as Character A and B.

Someone broke their foot in ballet so they shouldn’t write a story about a ballet dancer who broke their hip because it may offend ONE ballerina SOMEWHERE in space and time who got sideline at the prime of their career?

Stories about LGBT+ people shouldn’t be written because homophobes think it’s icky.

We shouldn’t write about wizards because it offends high school catholic pastors (an actual thing that happened)?

How about cancer stories because kids die of cancer all the time?

Non-fiction autobiographies about holocaust survivors is not okay.

Science books offend flat earthers, so we shouldn’t write those.

Books about the Big Bang and a 4.5 billion-year-old earth offends creationists, so burn those.

A now-adult child rape victim writing their survival stories to help get their often-in-power abusers behind bars are taboo.

True crime stories from detectives on those cases shouldn’t be told because they weren’t the victim.

Non-fiction in general because someone somewhere may have had that one singular thing happen to them.

How about coping with grief over a parent’s sudden death because I personally might find offense in that since that was a horridly traumatic experience in my life?

Do you see how progressively out of touch this argument is? (the answer to all of these: authors should be allowed to write them, because stories make us human). Your argument leads down the very dangerous path to censorship of books, the internet, and history... to have people only read and learn what someone else dictates, leading to... well.

I’m not trying to be a dick here, Nonny, I’m really not. But I think you’re really missing the entire point of fiction and story telling. I feel you’re failing in the empathy game here, and failing to understand what romanticizing really actually is.

Whenever I get asks like this, I always feel like the Nonnies don’t really know much about pre-Ao3. I come from “early internet” fandom age, and I’m talking before tags existed. Back when I had to go buy a book at Coles and guess what was in it based on a cover description. No “amazon reviews”. No “harmful content warning” stickers. You just picked up that book, and sometimes you get a sweet story about a friends exploring an alien landscape, and other times WHOOOPS ACCIDENTAL ALIEN SEX I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR. And sometimes, it ended with a dark story about death, and the reality of coping with it.

Twenty years ago, books on the shelves at bookstores and libraries were the only place you could do your reading and they certainly do NOT have tags on them... Modern tagging of stories are a REALLY recent thing introduced probably no less than 15 years ago and was perfected by Ao3 (which was started in 2009).

These days, there is no excuse if you only consume fanfiction on Ao3. Fics are tagged with proper possible-trigger tags 90% of the time. They have a VERY METICULOUS filtering system. You aren’t being forced to read the fics, you don’t have to read the fics, so use those tag filters, they exist for a reason.

So, with that in mind, I genuinely DON’T GET this attitude about people wanting everything sugar coated and saccharine by default. Especially when you can LITERALLY CURATE YOUR OWN CONTENT. Life isn’t sugar coated. And fiction shouldn’t have to be either. People tag fics with triggers for a reason.

As they used to say back in my early internet days: Don’t like it? Don’t read it. Don’t comment, skip, next story.

And to put this ALL into perspective, so that you don’t think I’m talking out of my ass, I’m going to reveal something here: Do you know what fics I can’t read, Nonny, because they trigger me? Eating disorders. That’s self harm, Nonny, in a very different way. But you know what? I know that those fics DO help other ED people so I’m not going to sit her and tell people NOT to rec or write them. And some of those authors who write those stories are processing their own ED through those stories, healing in their own way. And you know what I do when I see one of those fics? I don’t read them, move on, next story.

I’m sorry if you perceive this as me being harsh with you here, Nonny, and you DON’T have to agree with me and you can block me and never talk to me again, and I’ll understand. As I stated at the beginning, I’m offering an alternative perspective, and helping you to see that some people take comfort in these types of stories.

I think what this all boils down to Nonny, after all of this, and rereading your question a final time to see if I missed covering anything, is that (and feel free to shit on me if I am wrong here) I’m getting the impression – as an unprofessional outsider looking in – that you’re still struggling with your inner demons, whether you realize it or not. The tone and brashness of your ask has me believing this... It feels like it was written after a trigger-moment and you needed to vent AT someone because you are alone, and that hurts my heart so much. I truly hope you find peace in your mind, soon, and I hope you have someone to talk to professionally, or at least a friend. (tw under link, suicidal ideation discussion and links to phone numbers that can help you). I only wish the best for you, my Nonny.

Anyway. I welcome other people to chime in here, respectfully, and let me know if I have the wrong take here. Because I genuinely don’t think I do, but I am not a professional, so my entire thing that took me 3 hours to write here is probably moot. I’m especially interested (on anon in my asks if you’re not comfy with revealing yourselves) on thoughts from other people who have survived the original topics here, as well as any therapists and authors as well.

Take care of yourself Nonny. And please curate your own content for your mental health. Ao3 has an “exclusionary tag system” as well, please use it. *hugs*

#steph replies #suicide cw #censorship #self harm cw #chatting with nonnies #Anonymous #eating disorders tw #depression cw #romanticization #my thoughts #i am not a professional #long post

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littlerockerao3 · 3 years

Note

Prompt 47, if you have time

I know I’m late but here it is!

47. “I thought it was a one-night stand… and now we’re married”.

~~~

Robb knows Theon was expecting this the moment he rolls his eyes at the sight of Robb entering into the kitchen carrying the cake on a paper tray.

“Happy birthday babe!” Robb happily sings, resting the cake in front of Theon’s seat and pulling a lighter out his pocket to lit up the candle. It’s a pretty cake: Robb and the baker had planned on how this cake should have looked like for days. In the end, they opted for a vanilla and strawberry cake with pink and red mousse roses decorating it all over. There’s a chocolate bar in the middle of it with the words “30s are the new 20s” written in frosting. A small red and white striped candle is right behind it, and now it’s lit up.

“Blow the candle, come on” Robb says, smiling widely at how Theon is trying his best to hold back a smirk.

“Yay!” he claps his hands like a little kid when Theon’s lips finally blow over the candle and set it off and Robb considers that the perfect time to kiss his cheek and sit on his lap. “Happy birthday, hon”.

“Thanks babe”

Robb rolls his eyes at that face and tap his index finger on Theon’s lower lip, “Oh, stop pouting. You’re cuter when you smile”.

Theon just huffs in response, looking so conflicted Robb almost laughs.

“I can’t believe I just turned… thirty.” He says, “That’s old. What’s next, grey hair?”

“Oh you have no idea how hot you’d look” it’s the first thing Robb says, cause he knows that’s true: Theon would look good with grey hair. It’s naturally black so it would turn to a dark grey, maybe it would start with just a streak and Robb’s sure as hell that would be such a turn on for him.

“Oh I’ll return the favor when you’ll be the one turning this old” Theon says, his pout still not daring to leave his face.

“Still got five years left though.” Robb winks at him and kisses his nose, “I’ll keep reminding you of how older and older you’re getting in the meantime”.

Theon rolls his eyes, slips his hands inside Robb’s back pockets and kisses his nose in return.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” He says, then makes a weird face, “Why are you wearing jeans in the house?”

“I had to go and take the cake from the bakery” Robb explains.

“And you wore jeans?”

“Uhm yes?” He really wants to chuckle: Theon used to love wearing jeans. He still wears them, but not that often, only when they have to go somewhere special, otherwise he’ll just wear sweatpants everyday, says they’re comfier, which is true. A few years ago, though, he couldn’t help wearing skinny jeans cause he claimed they made his legs look good, which was true.

“Okay but why are they still on? They’re so uncomfortable, take them off” Theon’s hand try to unzip Robb’s pants but the redhead quickly swats them away. “Nope, we have all day for sexy times, let’s just enjoy this cake now”.

Theon glances at it, and finally smirks, “It’s too pretty to be eaten”.

“Oh so you don’t want it?”

“I never said that” he kisses Robb’s cheek and wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him closer and then rubbing his nose against his jaw. “Do you remember this day six years ago?”

Robb smiles, and caresses Theon’s hair: of course he remembers that day, he could never forget it, cause that’s where it all started.

“Oh yeah, we slept in and had brunch and we didn’t talk about how we had drunk sex the night before even though we’ve always been just best friends until the evening. And by the evening we had had sex like, three more times” he explains.

The memory is still vivid in his brain: he was nineteen, college was just starting to look normal, and Theon was his best friend. Five years older than him and with a job at a restaurant that had him wearing a black shirt that made him look adorable when it was all buttoned. The night before Theon’s twenty-fourth birthday he had asked Robb to come over to help him decide which alcoholic games to play at the party the following day. Then Theon asked Robb to stay for dinner and after a few beers they were kissing all of sudden. And all of sudden none of them was wearing clothes.

The following day they had ignored their respective headaches, though Robb couldn’t, at least silently, ignore the fact that Theon had made them something to eat: as far as he knew, Theon had never made his one night stands something to eat the morning after sex. Cause that was what it was right? A one night stand.

Well, it wasn’t.

“Can you believe it?” Theon says, “I thought it was a one-night stand… and now we’re married”.

He brushes Robb’s ring finger, where a small T is tattooed. It had been Theon’s idea to get matching tattoos instead of wedding bands and even though it hurt like hell, Robb has to admit he loves them.

“You were such a sexy twenty-four year old back then… not even in your mid twenties yet” Robb teases, laughing out loud when Theon rolls his eyes so hard they almost turn out completely the other way.

“Oh fuck off”.

Robb brushes some black locks out of Theon’s face, “Why are you complaining about getting older? You know I like older guys”.

Theon’s grip tightens even more around Robb’s waist, as he gently pulls him closer, chests now touching each other, “You don’t like older guys, you just like me”.

Their noses are touching, Robb’s thumbs are caressing Theon’s jaw as he presses his mouth on the corner of his husband’s lips.

“Untrue” he corrects. “I love you”.

Theon’s dimples aren’t exactly in the shape of a small circle, unlike the ones Robb has seen more often: they look more like a long line engraved in his cheeks, which looks just so good with Theon’s sharp features. They don’t make him look younger nor cuter (Sansa’s dimples are basically two little commas that make her look seven when she smiles without showing her teeth), they just make him look… sexy as hell.

And that smile is all Robb is staring at as Theon says, “I have to admit that even though I adored young Robb who still had baby fat at nineteen, I must say this older version of you in your mid twenties, is much hotter”.

Robb gently swats away the hand poking his side with a roll of his eyes, “Is it because of the beard?”

“And because you let your curls grow longer”

He smiles: if he’s obsessed with Theon’s dimples and legs, then Theon’s definitely obsessed with his hair.

“I used to be chubbier back then” Robb states at some point, and Theon nods right back, “You used to be adorable”.

Yeah, Robb knows he really thinks that: he remembers how Theon used to hold his hips, or thighs, and whispering how much he loved how soft they were.

“And you used to wear such skinny ripped jeans that made your legs look so sexy” he claims afterwards, bouncing lightly on Theon’s lap.

“My legs are still sexy”.

“I never said they weren’t anymore.”

They chuckle some more. Robb lays his chin on Theon’s shoulder, as he feels him playing with the curls on his nape.

“Actually how is it even possible that we didn’t hook up sooner?” Robb asks at some point, “I mean, I was totally into you”.

He can’t remember not being into Theon, not even when he was just a kid: Theon had always had this charming aura surrounding him, something that made it impossible for Robb to take his eyes off him.

“Cause we’re dumb and slow, babe.” The answer comes out Theon’s mouth not even after a second Robb asked his question. “Did you forget how much it took us to actually decide we were in a serious relationship after we hooked up?”

Robb loves how thinking about it now, years later, makes him laugh so hard, cause back in the days, not knowing what he and Theon really were drove him mad. He used to spend sleepless nights thinking about how he should have brought up a conversation about it, how to decide what they were, if they were something. When it was actually so easy to understand.

“We literally went on for months calling it a friendship with benefits when we just kept going on dates and cuddling all the time and talking about everything” he smiles.

Theon smiles back, “And everyone started screaming like we fucking won the World Cup for the first time in a century after we told them we were a thing”.

Oh yeah, he’s definitely never forgetting Arya running to the fridge to break out the sparkling wine as she yelled something like “it was about time!”

“Feels like ages ago” he whispers, and suddenly he realizes what Theon means when he says he’s getting old: when he was nineteen, the things he did at thirteen seemed to have happened just a few months ago to him. Now it’s a whole different story, cause he’s no longer a teen, and many things have changed.

“Yeah, back when Loras and Renly didn’t have to bring the baby on double dates cause they didn’t have a baby” Theon mumbles.

Robb nods, although it’s not a surprise that Loras and Renly were the first one becoming parents, in their crew: they’ve been together since anyone can remember, they probably lost count of how many years they’ve been together. Robb has to admit, he had always envied them for that.

“It’s funny cause every time I looked at them I knew they would’ve lasted forever, like, I just knew they would have always been together”, he says, “And I’ve always hoped it could have been the same for us too”.

Theon’s eyes are staring right into Robb’s, one hand massaging his thigh. He shrugs, “Well, look at us now babe. I am an old man and you are a hottie in his mid 20s”.

“You’re only thirty, for fuck‘s sake” Robb can’t help but lightly smack the back of Theon’s head.

“Yeah exactly!” Theon exclaims, like that can explain it all. “First I start getting old. Then I’ll grow grey hair. And then? Then what’s next?”

Robb shrugs, “Then I’ll get older too!”

“And then?”

“And then, I don’t know, then maybe we could have a baby or-“

Robb shuts up the moment he sees Theon’s eyes widening. He doesn’t know how he’s come up with something like this, they never talked about it. Well, Robb did think about it, but never too seriously. Why shouldn’t he, after all? They’re married, and Theon’s always been surprisingly good with kids, even if he says he doesn’t like them. And Robb would like to have a (or some) little munchkin to take care of.

But maybe that wasn’t the right way to bring it up.

“I’m sorry” he says, “I’ve rushed things, sorry. Let’s have some cake, shall we?”

He gets up, grab two small plates, two small forks and a knife and lets Theon cut the cake, since it’s his cake. He still sit back down on his husband’s lap, though, and Theon seems happy to welcome him back by wrapping his free arm around his waist.

“It’s delicious.” He says, after a few bites. Robb nods.

And then they stay silent. Robb’s tense and hopes his fuck up won’t make them fight. He just hope they can pretend nothing happened and eventually start talking about it some day, possibly in a better way.

But then, Theon rests the fork on the plate, cake still to be finished, and turns to Robb. “I would actually love to.”

Robb feels some weird, relieved, happy, feeling grow inside of him, making its way from his stomach to his throat.

“What?” he asks, just in case he’s all imagining this.

Theon rolls his eyes and smacks a hand lightly on Robb’s thigh, “Oh don’t play dumb. I’d love to have a baby with you”.

Robb has to blink a few times, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, “You would?”

“Yes”.

He really wants to kiss him, he really does. He actually doesn’t know how he’s managing to stay this calm cause the one they’re about to take is a huge step, probably the hugest of their lives.

“Maybe we should take it slow and… try and figure a lot of things out.” He says, “Like, are we adopting or are we going to look for a surrogate or-“

Theon grabs his hand, nodding. He’s surprisingly calm too.

“There’s time for that” he agrees. “Let’s take it slow, of course. Just know that we’re adults, we have jobs, a roof above our heads… we can afford it. We can afford to do anything”

Robb nods, “So, we’re going to be parents at some point. We agreed on this.”

When Theon nods in return, then Robb does kiss him. Fondly. He can’t believe it, he can’t believe how this feels like the proof that Theon is and will always be the only one meant for him: cause Robb wants to spend the rest of his life with him, and their kid. Or kids. And he can’t believe that they actually decided they are going to be parents at some point.

It’s so unbelievable he can hardly imagine it: Theon holding a baby, wrapped in a small blanket. Theon and Robb raising a kid, for the rest of their lives. He wants it, and he loves that Theon wants it just as much.

“We’re really getting older, aren’t we?” he says when he pull away, as Theon reaches over to wipe a tear away from Robb’s cheek.

He winks, and starts whispering, “Yeah but… we’ll never be too old for sexy times”.

And suddenly Theon stands up so quickly Robb doesn’t even realize he scooped him up at first.

“Thee! For fuck’s sake I’m usually the one who picks you up!” He yells, as Theon quickly leads them to the living room. Sometimes he still feels like they’re just kids, though. And he loves it. He’ll still be loving it when they will actually grow old, cause he knows deep inside they’ll always be those two stupid kids.

“Turning thirty made me stronger babe” Theon says, as he lays Robb down on the couch.

Robb looks up at him, smiling. Funny how life works: they hooked up once and now they just said they want kids.

It all started with some drunk birthday sex and it’s still going on, it’s still evolving. And Robb knows, it’s also never going to end.

#throbb #theon x robb #throbb one shot #anon #more to come!🙈

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tuanhood · 4 years

Text

miss goody two shoes

pairing: drug dealer!bambam x reader

genre: smut, angst?

warnings: 18+, language, drug use/mention, fingering, dirty talk, public and unprotected sex.

word count: 6k+

summary: you want to prove to everyone you’re not the good girl they all think you are. your best friend’s drug dealer? perfect choice.

a/n: hello back with that smut everyone loves. this is unedited and quickly(ish) written so please don’t judge. it took me until 3:36am and two aperol spritzes to finish this SO. YAH.

“Do we really have to do this right now?” You asked your best friend, trying to keep up with him as you follow him through the city.

He stops for a moment and turns back to look at you as if you’ve just confessed to a murder, “y/n are you kidding me? Do you really think I can deal with an interaction with Gretchen not high?” Jae shook his head at you and continued walking forward.

“It’s just brunch! I doubt you’ll even interact that much!” You hated walking with him, because of his damn long legs. His strides were honestly too much for you.

Jae huffed in disagreement, “I need it regardless. Now come on, we’re almost there.”

When you had agreed to a brunch date with a few friends from college including your best friend, you hadn’t really thought meeting up with his drug dealer right before was a part of the plan. Sure, many of the people the two of you went to college with were insufferable, but for some reason whenever they’d reach out to you to make plans you would always find yourself saying yes and ultimately drag Jae along. He constantly told you that you were too nice.

Specifically, Gretchen – a girl who had lived across from you your second year of University – was the most difficult to deal with and usually her and Jae would end up in passive aggressive arguments that made everyone at the table uncomfortable. So, you guessed that if meeting Jae’s drug dealer was a part of making that issue vanish, so be it.

By the time of you reached a small park square in the middle of the city, you felt a burning in your legs from trying to keep up with Jae and crashed onto the first bench you see. He looked down at you massaging your legs and chuckled, “we barely walked a mile, calm down!”

Rolling your eyes, you looked up at him through your lashes, “easy for you to say. You’re not the one trying to keep up with a 7-foot giant.” He doesn’t reply, but simply snorted at your comment and looked down to check his phone, “when is your guy getting here? We’re going to be late if we wait here for too long and you know how that’s gonna be a whole thing if that happens.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon,” Jae assured you.

And sure enough, after a few moments you heard a loud “Dude!” leave your best friend’s mouth and looked up to see a man enter the park square. The man returned Jae’s enthusiastic welcome with outstretched arms as he walked towards the two you, giving Jae the “guy handshake” as soon as he’s in reach.

When he’s out of the handshake with your best friend, you begin to take in his features and were surprised by how much this guy didn’t look like a drug dealer. Most of the drug dealers you had seen or heard of had a casual style to them – hoodie, somewhat presentable and maybe on the weirdly older side. This guy was not that in any way shape or form. Everything about him screamed Paris fashion week and your brain was trying to process how this guy could be a drug dealer. Maybe he made that much money? Judging on the very expensive watch he was sporting and the Cartier ring on his middle index finger, you believed that it had to be the case.

“Y/N,” Jae said snapping you out of your thoughts, “this is Bam.”

You stood up from the bench and dusted yourself off, looking at the two men suspiciously, “Bam? Is that short for something?”

The dealer shrugged, “Bambam I guess.”

You can’t help but notice the way he scans you up and down, checking you out. You tell yourself he’s looking at you in an effort to feel you out and see if you’re a snitch or nark, but the nervous flip in your stomach tells you maybe it’s for a different reason.

As though Jae noticed the strange interaction between the two of you, he claps his hands loudly, “let’s get to it then, shall we?” Bambam simply nodded his head and fiddled with the clearly nonprescription glasses on his face, “Right… how much do you want?”

“An eighth should do.” Jae confimed.

Bambam began to reach into his bag and stops, “that’s it?”

Your best friend pursed his lips in thought, “actually if you have molly that could be good too. I’m supposed to be going to my stupid racist aunt’s wedding next weekend and it would be much better on something.”

Bambam shook his head sadly and clicked his tongue, “sorry man. There’s some music festival this weekend and all those stupid frat dudes wiped me clean on acid and molly. But I should be getting some more next week if you want to meet up again.” You swear when he says the words “meet up again” you see his eyes wander to yours, but as quickly as they’re there, they’re back on Jae.

You heard a groan leave Jae’s throat in annoyance, “whatever I’ll get through it sober, I guess. I’ll just take the weed then.” Bambam nods his head and hums, “cool.”

You watch as Bambam meticulously takes a small clear baggie out of his bag and places it inside of larger black sack, “I’ll throw in a free edible too, since you’re my number two customer and all,” Bambam laughs. The noise that leaves his mouth is almost melodic, and you can’t remember a time where someone’s laugh put you at ease. You felt a smile reach your face.

“What the fuck? I’m not number one?” Jae complained.

“Nah man, Mark’s got you beat there.”

Jae shook his head, “Fucking Tuan.”

Bambam and Jae laughed at his response as you stand there clueless as to who this Mark person was or why it was funny that he was Bambam’s number one customer. It’s when your eyebrows furrow and there’s a small frown on your face that Bambam’s gaze is once again fixated on you. “Does the pretty girl want anything?”

Before you can answer or react at Bambam calling you a pretty girl, Jae answers for you, “She doesn’t do this kind of stuff.” You roll your eyes annoyed at him just deciding what you do and what you don’t do. Just as you’re again about to open your mouth to speak, you’re cut off but this time by Bambam.

“Let her speak for herself man,” At that your heart warmed and you feel your face grow hot at how a drug dealer you barely know was treating you better than your own best friend. Bambam nods at you as if to go on and you felt yourself sputter your words out, “No… I mean he’s- well I guess he’s pretty much right. I don’t really like- um well do that stuff. Not that I have anything against it! I totally don’t! You know I’m like friends with the number one stoner in the area- or I guess number two since that Mark guy is number one? But anyways it’s just not for me so I- yeah so no… No drugs for me today.”

You feel yourself want to hide in a corner as you turn to see Jae with wide eyes and looking at you as if you should be in a mental institution. Somehow, you turned to face Bambam, expecting him to also categorize you as a psycho for your rambling, but instead he has a smile on his face and chuckles. His smile was practically as bright as his overpriced watch.

“Totally understandable. I don’t do any of this stuff either,” Bambam revealed.

“What? But you’re like a…” you begin, drifting off and unsure if “drug dealer” was a polite term to use in this day and age.

“Drug dealer?” He laughed, “yeah I know… But you know not everyone tries their own merchandise.”

You frowned, not completely understanding, “but shouldn’t you try and know your merchandise so you’re better at selling?”

He shrugged, “I guess when you’re selling drugs it really doesn’t matter,” Bambam shocks you by taking a step closer to you and reaching out to push a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face, “or I’m just really good at what I do.”

Taking a step back, he smiles at you and you hear Jae clearing his throat, clearly uncomfortable at the situation, “so how about those drugs?” Bambam simply nodded, unfazed and handed Jae the bag as the latter slips him the cash.

You became confused as you watched Bambam handle the money. He was doing something so simple, but looked so attractive doing it? Absentmindedly you felt yourself bite down on your lip as you watched him count and place the cash in his money clip. You were lost in a daze of watching his hands and the money that you didn’t notice his gaze back up to you, “don’t bite down so hard baby girl, you never know what could happen.”

Jae coughed again, still awkward about your interactions with Bambam. You on the other hand felt him calling you “baby girl” go straight to your core, so much so that you pressed your legs together. Praying he didn’t notice; you found your eyes wandering to anywhere that wasn’t the drug dealer.

Bambam took your silence as a sign, “well I better get going. Have other stops to make this morning.” Jae nodded, simply thankful to not be caught in the middle of whatever this was any longer, “yeah us too.”

“See ya later Jae, you too y/n.” You still feel semi-dazed from his words that all you can do is wave him goodbye, and watch him walk out of the park, the opposite direction of where you and Jae came in from. Bambam turned around one final time before exiting the park completely, “remember! Say no to drugs!” he shouted over his shoulder, shooting you another smile.

As soon as he’s out of view, Jae turns to you, “let’s go. I want to roll this and smoke it before we get to the restaurant.” You follow Jae out of the park the way you both came until you both stop at a corner of the street that is inconspicuous and hidden enough that Jae can roll and light up his joint.

“That was weird right?” You asked Jae suddenly when he finally lights the joint.

“I think he was flirting with you?” Jae said as more of a question than a definite statement. You couldn’t tell if he was asking you or himself. Your friend’s ponderance was enough to confirm your suspicions and cause your stomach to flip. A small smile spread across your face and you see Jae look at you with a frown on his face.

“Dude chill, he’s just my drug dealer.”

His dismissal at the small amount of joy you felt for being flirted with annoyed you that you felt yourself soon go silent besides the odd cough here and there caused by the smoke induced by the joint.

When he was finally done and you began to walk to the restaurant, you felt yourself picking up your pace, walking far in front of him. When it soon became difficult for even him to keep up with you, he came to the realization that you were upset with him, but nonetheless Jae continued to try to talk and reason with you as you approached the restaurant where you were meeting your friends.

You didn’t say single word to him until you were sat at the table with everyone and asked him if he wanted to split a mimosa pitcher with you. At your words he felt thankful to know you had let go of what he had said earlier and nodded in agreement.

“Ooh a mimosa pitcher for y/n? Pinch me because I must be dreaming,” Gretchen said overhearing your conversation with Jae.

Another one of your college friends Brian laughed, “Yeah but Jae will probably finish most of it. We know y/n can’t really hold her alcohol.”

Why did everyone suddenly choose today as the day that they would make fun of you? So what maybe you weren’t as crazy as them when it came to certain things, but you weren’t a fucking nun like they were making you out to be. So what you didn’t get blackout drunk at brunch? So what if you got excited about someone flirting with you? Even if he was a drug dealer.

“That’s not true,” Jae said coming to your defense, clearly trying to make up for how he had upset you earlier, “honestly y/n can drink me under the table.”

Gretchen waved her hand in dismissal, “come on Jae we all know that’s not true. But that’s what we love about her! She’s our sweet pure friend! Every group needs one of those.”

“If she was pure would she go with me to see my drug dealer?” Jae asked.

Gretchen smiled, “Jae are you high right now?”

“Yeah I need it so I can fucking deal with you,” he practically growled. She laughed in response as if he was joking, when he was in fact not. “That’s so funny. It’s not like she would ever buy or do any though.”

You felt helpless watching this argument – about you – unfold. Moments like this made you feel like maybe you were too nice. Why couldn’t you just say something and defend yourself? Jae shouldn’t be the one doing it. You should be the one arguing with Gretchen.

“Well who cares because my drug dealer thinks she’s hot!”

At Jae’s confession you feel everyone turn to look at you as if you can offer some kind of explanation, but you’re just as clueless as everyone else on the topic of “my best friend’s drug dealer thinking I’m hot.” Jae must really be trying to make up for earlier.

“It’s true, he just messaged me like 15 minutes confirming he would bang her.”

Your mouth drops open. Turning to look at Jae you can’t tell if he’s being honest or just making things up for the sake of arguing with Gretchen.

“Okay y/n having sex with a drug dealer is probably the last thing she would ever do.”

“Um is this a brunch topic?” One of your more silent friends at the table, Mina asked clearly wanting the discussion to be over.

Finally, you feel like it’s important that you’re the one to end this weird discussion about you having sex at 11am at brunch. You rolled your eyes, “I am not some untouched Mother Theresa, Gretch.” She flinched at the nick name; you knew how much she hated being called that.

“I mean you what? Have had sex with only two people? Both who you had long term relationships with? That sounds pretty untouched to me.”

The table shifts uncomfortably and no one says anything in response, it isn’t until the waiter approaches the table to ask everyone if they’re ready to order that you feel yourself snap back into reality.

“A mimosa pitcher please,” Jae ordered and soon all eyes are on you as the waiter waits for your response, “add one more pitcher to that.”

Jae leans over to you, “we don’t need two.”

You smiled at him, “no this one’s for me.”

After the “discussion” at brunch, the atmosphere between you and everyone else clearly shifted. You predicted that they probably wouldn’t be calling you to get together for a while. For that you were thankful.

Both you and Jae headed to your apartment in silence and you tried not to be fixated on the topic of your sex life and how “pure” and “good” you were, but your mind kept lingering there. It infuriated you how much you cared, because you knew deep down it really didn’t matter. It caused you to feel off for the rest of the day. So much so that it felt as though you blinked and it was suddenly dark outside. Brunch had been hours ago, but you were still you were thinking about the words exchanged.

“Hey um… I was wondering… can I have his number?”

“Whose number?” Jae asked barely paying attention to you. He leans against your bed on the floor and had been engrossed in a game for the last 45 minutes.

“Bambam’s…” You said quietly, hoping that maybe just maybe your best friend was in a strong enough trance that he would just hand over the number without registering whose number it was exactly and not ask any questions. But of course, you weren’t so lucky.

“Really?” He asked placing his phone down in his lap to turn to you laying on the bed, “why?”

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, not wanting Jae to see just how nervous you were, “I don’t know… Maybe I want to like pick up or something.”

He snorted, “Y/N… You don’t do drugs.”

“Okay but maybe I’ll start!”

He rolls his eyes and picks his phone back up, assumedly to return to his game, “We both know that’s a lie. You’re a goody two shoes and everyone knows it. The way you coughed this morning when I lit up is evidence enough.”

There it was again. Too nice. Goody two shoes. Pushover. You were so fucking tired of hearing it all today. In fact, you were tired of hearing it all the damn time.

Instead of arguing with Jae, like you knew you should have done, you found yourself rolling over to stare at the ceiling of your bedroom, “You’re right… I’m just a good little girl,” you mumbled. Silence soon filled the room and Jae felt himself tense up; he couldn’t deal with you being upset again. Rolling his eyes, he swiped up on his phone to exit his game and searched through his contacts.

You suddenly felt something being nudged against your body and looked to your side to see Jae’s phone open with the contact “BAMBAM (PLUG)” glowing up at you.

“I don’t know why you really need it, but there it is.” You smiled at your best friend and sat up quickly to copy the contact into your own phone, “thank you Jae.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Later after Jae’s departure, you find your thumb hovering over Bambam’s number. Would it be too much to call? He probably wasn’t used to it in his line of business… Maybe it was just usually a texting thing?

To be completely honest you weren’t sure why you wanted his number… You weren’t sure if it was for drugs to prove everyone wrong, that you can in fact be bad or if it was for something… else. You thought about what Jae said at brunch… Did Bambam really text him that he would bang you? Did you want that?

The idea of having sex with Bambam certainly didn’t disgust or repulse you, instead you actually found yourself blushing at the thought and pressing your thighs together.

Holding your breath, you clicked his number and opened a new message.

y/n. hey… bambam. It’s y/n… Jae’s friend? We met in the park today…

bambam. Oh hey sup?

y/n. was just wondering… if maybe I could like idk pick up?

bambam. Ummm…. Hold on a sec.

You waited for what felt like eternity… He was putting you on hold? On hold through a text?

bambam. What do u need?

y/n. uh whatever you have on you I guess. Or like in stock ? is that how it works?

bambam. Haha something like that. I have mj, addy, coke, k, oxy lol pretty much anything u want. But like I said earlier today I’m out of acid and molly till next week.

y/n. yeah yeah yeah… okay. What’s k?

bambam. haha you’re so cute. It’s ket.

y/n. ??????

bambam. Ketamine. Horse tranquilizer.

y/n. okay… well I will not be doing that one. Can you just bring like a couple things and I’ll decide when we meet?

bambam. Um????? I guess so??

y/n. cool.

bambam. I’ll meet you at the park, I guess? In around an hour?

y/n. yeah that sounds good!

bambam. Bet.

You felt your heart beat out of your chest. Were you really just going to do this? What is it that you were going to do?

Looking at the time on your phone, you realized you needed to get ready and leave quickly if you wanted to meet Bambam on time. It was going to take you at least 40 minutes to walk to the park where you had met him earlier. Walking instead of calling an Uber would give you enough time to think, but also enough time to perhaps talk yourself out of it if you changed your mind mid-journey.

Although somehow, it hadn’t. Your mind on the walk over had been filled with Bambam, but not in a negative way that convinced you to turn around and head home… but in a way that had your core pulsing. You thought of what he had said to Jae earlier – true or not – and how he would take you if that’s what he wanted. It made your mind hazy and the lust that took over your thoughts caused you to barely notice that you had arrived at the park, Bambam already seated on the bench that you had been massaging your legs on earlier that morning.

He was sporting the same outfit he had been wearing earlier – a satin striped button up shirt tucked into tight black jeans and his clothing was enough to remind you of the reality of what you were doing here. To your dismay he was no longer wearing the glasses, in the fantasies that had fluttered into your mind on your walk, you had really grown in wanting to see Bambam’s glasses on as he fucked into you.

Approaching him, you shyly waved and he stood up to greet you, “hey…”

“Hi,” you replied feeling foolish at your choice of welcome. What were you supposed to say to seem more… cool?

“I don’t usually don’t take drop offs this late at night…”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him confused, “what? You’re a drug dealer… Isn’t night the best kind of time to do this stuff?”

“Nah night I work on my music. So, what’s up… You change your mind?” He tapped his foot impatiently and you can’t tell if he’s nervous about being in your presence or if he’s annoyed that you called him out here so late. But if he didn’t want to come… why would he? You took a deep breath in, hoping you were doing the right thing, “No… I-I lied I don’t want to pick up. I just- wanted to see you I guess?”

Even in the darkness of the park, you could see Bambam’s eyes widen in surprise, “see me? Why?”

You’re really not sure what’s supposed to happen next. You’ve never been in this situation before and although it seems like all of your friends' words drove you to text Bambam and come here, it was your own needs that were driving you to stay.

Deciding to take a risk with your questioning, you looked away from him, “Is what you sent to Jae true?” Bambam quickly blinked, unsure of how to respond to your question. He wasn’t sure if he needed to be honest or not. Were you mad at him for what he had said?

Instead, he clears his throat and decides it’s always best to tell the truth, “Um yeah what I said is true…”

You felt your stomach flip at the fact that the text Jae received was in fact true.

“Do you… still want to?” You asked shyly, still not daring to make eye contact with the beautiful man.

Bambam’s cock twitches at your question. Suddenly his jeans feel way too tight.

“Fuck yes,” Bambam replied, voice low and husky. It takes everything in him to not lunge forward and have his hands roam up and down your body, but he restrains himself, “where should we go? Mine? Yours?”

“Let’s do it here.”

Your words surprise both Bambam and you, but you ultimately decide to go with it.

“Here?” he asked, interrogating whether or not you were being serious. What if this was a joke? Before you can stop yourself, you nod, “yeah, here.”

He takes a step closer to you, until his hand moves forward to cup your face, “I knew you were bad girl when I met you.” His words go right to your core and you feel your panties grow damp. Typically, you would find that kind of talk cringe, but coming out of Bambam’s mouth all you wanted was to hear more of it.

Instinctively, Bambam groans at the thought of having his way with you, and he uses his free hand to grip your hip, hard enough to bruise and pulls you flush against his chest. He doesn’t hesitate as he leans in to press his lips to yours in a feverish kiss that leaves you breathless. His confidence surprises you, but also turns you on enough that you instantly moan against his lips.

You feel him smile and it feels as though you’re in an entirely different world than just a park square in the middle of the city. Bambam’s tongue brushes the seam of your lips before his tongue slips inside to explore your mouth. You feel him begin to pull you into the depths of the park, closer to the trees where it would be less visible if someone just so happened to decide to walk through.

The two of you stand there for what felt like forever and you feel surprised at Bambam’s clear want of wanting to take his time with you. His hands moved from your hips to your ass, his fingers kneading the flesh roughly as he makes himself familiar with your taste. He pulls himself away from the kiss, chest heaving and cheeks flushed. You whined at the loss of his lips on yours, but he simply stares at you, taking in your kiss swollen lips and the lust-filled look in your eyes. He had to admit that it was difficult to believe that the girl in front of him now was the same shy girl he had met earlier, but knowing you had this side to you made him want you even more. He drops his head to press his lips to your neck and you can feel his teeth scraping the sensitive skin on the column of your throat as his hands move to dip beneath the hem of your shirt.

After leaving a few marks, he pulls away just enough to tug the t-shirt up and over your head before his hands move to cup your bare breasts. Not wearing a bra was probably the best idea you had all week.

“Fuck… y/n your tits are so pretty,” he breathes against your skin as he returns his mouth to your neck, “I could just play with them all night.”

As he gently kneads your breasts, you feel yourself clench around nothing. You were overly sensitive from not being touched like this in so long, that you felt as though you could cum just from his hands on your breasts.

You attempt to focus on the kiss in an effort to control yourself from not letting go so easily, but soon Bambam’s hands release your breasts and seamlessly drag down your stomach to the button on your jeans. He snaps them open instantly and hooks his thumbs on either side, shoving them down, along with your panties, down your legs. Your sudden nakedness causes you to shiver as you feel the cool breeze of the summer night drift over you body. Bambam notices this and places his finger against your lips, “shh baby girl let me warm you up.”

Reattaching his lips to yours, Bambam gently pushes you against the tree behind you and you feel his fingers drift to your core and swirl around your entrance. The feeling of him where you need him the most is enough to cause you to moan and you can’t help but notice how he disconnects from your lips when he feels at how wet you are.

“Jesus y/n, you’re so wet. Are you sure you didn’t cum already?”

Wordlessly you shake your head almost violently to tell him you hadn’t.

“I don’t know if I believe you… a bad girl like you might lie,” you feel one of his digits slip into your slightly, only part of the way but not fully and you feel as though you’re about to scream at the teasing. You should have known that Bambam wouldn’t give you want you wanted that easily.

“I-I’m not lying,” you stuttered out between your attempts to hold your moans back.

He fully inserts the finger into you, curling it a bit and you can no longer stop the noises that want to leave your body, “If you’re not lying, I guess I just have to see what my baby girl looks like when she cums. How wet she gets, how tight around me, hmm?” You can’t find it in you to respond, you simply nod and he smirks at you, clearly proud at his efforts to make you so weak so quickly.

It isn’t long before, without warning, you feel him insert a second finger, pumping them inside you at a teasingly slow pace. You felt like you were going to break, because you just needed more.

“Bam p-please I-I need more.”

He played dumb, frowning at you, “need more what?”

“Faster, more,” you manage to breathe out and without a word he picks up the pace of his movement, a smirk on his face and lust in his gaze. It’s when he suddenly curls his digits, hitting just the right spot that you feel like all sanity and speech has left your body. How can something feel this good?

“Come on, cum on my fingers. I know that’s all you want. I’ll let my bad girl have what she wants, just this once.”

His words spur you on as you find your arms moving to the back of you to grip onto the tree for stability as you buck your hips further onto his fingers, wanting nothing more than in this moment to have a release. The combined effort of his finger curling and his thumb coming up to tap on your clit in an almost musical rhythm has you falling apart and releasing around his fingers. He can feel the shaking of your thighs and the tension of your body as his fingers work to let you ride the waves of your orgasm.

Bambam’s length which had been growing hard since the moment you asked if he wanted to fuck you, suddenly felt painful as he watched you fall apart from just the pure pleasure he had caused. He couldn’t wait any longer, he wanted and needed to be inside you.

“Ride me,” Bambam says without hesitation as soon as you’ve caught your breath from your orgasm. Despite your release which had only occurred moments ago, you felt yourself ready to go once again at Bambam’s words and at how quickly he worked to remove his clothes.

Instinctively, you licked your lips as you first laid eyes on his painfully hard and leaking red cock which had been desperately waiting for its turn. You wanted nothing more than to get your mouth or hands on it – preferably mouth – but as you reach forward, Bambam shook his head.

He sat himself against the tree, not caring about the fact that he was sitting on the actual ground in the middle of a public park. The only thought he had in his mind was getting inside of you and feeling how tight you would be when you sank down on him for the first time.

“Baby girl, let me feel you.”

That’s all it took for you to get into position and find yourself squatting down to sit in his lap, rubbing your slit against the head of his cock, ready to take in every single inch of him. At the feeling of you rubbing yourself against his sensitive cock, Bambam groans, “no teasing, I just need you. Please.”

His begging and more submissive request turns you on and it leads you to wonder if maybe that would be a side of yourself you would want to explore later. But for now, you just needed to feel him inside of you.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, moaning at how good it felt to finally have him around you, stretching you out completely. It had been awhile since your last sexual encounter and with the way Bambam was filling you, it almost felt like your first time again – this time there was no pain however, only pleasure. “Fuck… Bam.”

You just sat there for a moment, enjoying the feeling, until you felt him ever so slightly shift and then heard a groan. His hands instinctively landed on your hips as he attempted to get you to move, he almost couldn’t take how snug you felt around him, he wanted you bouncing up and down on him at a brutal pace. Understanding his want, you lifted your hips barely an inch before falling back down on him. Every time you did it you went a little bit higher.

“Come on I know you can do better than that,” Bambam egged you on despite his groans. At his words you leaned back, placing your hands on his thighs, giving him a much deeper angle into you. As you rode him like this, he began to thrust up meeting your hips and every time he did his cock hit a spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back into your head.

Your movement on him began to grow sloppier as a shot of pleasure made itself known throughout every part of your body. At your sudden change of pace, Bambam held your hips to continue moving you up and down on him, his own thrusting becoming faster. “You feel so fucking good. Damn maybe I should just stop working and fuck you all day,” you felt yourself clench at his words and he continued, “you’d like that huh? I can feel how tight you’re getting just at the thought of me using you and filling you with my cum every single day. Such a dirty girl.”

You could feel your walls clench, and Bambam let out a groan having to thrust harder just to keep going as deep, “I’m- gonna- fuck.”

Somehow, not out of breath, Bambam whispered into your ear, “You’re gonna what? Cum? Do it… Cum all over me in this fucking park where anyone can see. I know how much want it so just fucking do it.”

You were seeing stars and your thighs were shaking once again when Bambam reached in between your bodies, pinching your clit, finally making you fall apart. Although you had once been concerned about being loud because of the public aspect of your location, you found yourself unable to contain your screams when your orgasm hit you. You could feel your juices dripping down onto his thighs as he pulled out of you and pumped himself one final time, released his seed onto your stomach and chest. As he caught his breathe, you dipped your finger into his release which had begun to drip down to your thighs. Placing it into your mouth, you suck it gently. “Mmmm,” you moaned at the taste and Bambam stared at you wide eyed. “Um fuck… should we do a round two?”

You laugh at his response and the lustful gaze that still clouds his eyes, “maybe… not here?”

Bambam grasps his discarded shirt and begins to wipe up the mess he left on your body, as well as the mess you left on his thighs. The gesture warms your heart.

He hums in response, almost lost in a trance as he wipes you up. “I mean… I know I’m just a drug dealer,” he said laughing, “but how about I take you out for a late night dinner slash early breakfast and then we have a round two where I enter you from the oh so classy doggy style position?”

You laugh and grab his hands, stopping him from continuing to wipe you up, causing him to look into your eyes.

“Deal.”

#got7 fanfic #got7 smut #bambam smut #bambam fanfic #bambam

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