#MOMS GOT A JOB AND SHES GOTTA DO HER COMMISSIONS

[coulsart]

I’ve been looking through my inbox and my God... my heart is full of warmth.

[laughingsour]

Wind’s father figures.

Okay, this is definitely one fic I gotta write when I finish my current one for One Piece:

Before meeting the Chain, Wind has had a total of three people he's considered his dad.

Everyone talks about Linebeck and how he's Wind dad even if he won't admit it, so for now I'll leave him be and focus on the other two.

-First it was his birth father that tragically died when he was 5. He was a famous cartographer from whom Wind inherited his love for the sea and navigation skills.

-Wind's father would tell him the legend of the Hero of Time himself and other stories about his journeys across the Great Sea while they would both stare longingly at the waves.

-When Wind was born, he stopped sailing for some time because he was afriad of leaving his family alone if something happened to him. But when Wind's mother got pregnant with Aryll, the family was suddenly in need of more money.

-It was then that someone offered Wind's father a huge sum for drawing a map to locate the infamous ghost ship of the Great Sea. He took the job because the money would be enough for the family, but he'd have to lie to say he wasn't happy to get back on the waves one more time.

-Wind's father was able to complete the map and even discovered what was the supposed treasure in it's cargo. But before he could tell anyone, he mysteriously died and his map dissappeared.

-Since the map was nowhere to be found, the rich man who commissioned him refused to pay his familiy. This is one of the reasons Wind started to embrace the pirate's life while sailing the Great Sea.

-Wind's mom died when she gave birth to Aryll and so her two children were left to be raised by their grandma.

-During Wind Waker, Wind bonds with the King of Red Lions/King Daphnes

-I imagine King Daphnes as an opposite to King Roahm, but just as tragic and unintentionally harmfull. While Roahm didn't make sure to let Zelda know that he was in her corner, Daphnes innocently put too much pressure in Wind by remaining supportive, but still placing all his hopes in him.

-Think of Shifu's line to Tai Lung in Kung Fu Panda, "I loved you too much to realize what I was turning you into. I'm sorry."

-King Daphnes is not only is the first to believe that Wind has the makings of a Hero, he remains his biggest supporter through their journey.

-King Daphnes is the one who teaches Wind how to navigate and sail and Wind is ecstatic to find out he inherited his father's skills as a natural navigator and cartographer.

-He also encourages Wind to explore the Great Sea as he's wanted to his entire life, on the basis that it'll help him become strong enough to face Ganondorf. More importantly though, Daphnes just wants Wind to be as much of a kid as he can be in their situation.

-It's not long before they start to see each other as father and son. Daphnes tells him that, even if the gods thought otherwise, to him he would always be as brave and heroic as any old legend and that he's proud no matter what happens.

-This does become a problem because Daphnes has such belief and pride in Wind that he fails to realize in how much danger he's dragging his boy into. A brave boy, yes. But still a boy who shouldn't have to fight a man's battle.

-Because of that, he never stops to think about persuading Wind to stop and let an adult handle it. Wind would've refused of course, but that conversation between them never happens.

-It's not until Wind's friends start to be chosen one by one to fullfill their duties as Princess and Sages that Wind starts to question Daphnes and the kingdom's importance.

-Makar becoming a Sage is the last straw for Wind and he and Daphnes have a terrible disagreement. In the end, Wind tells Daphnes that he'll keep fighting to save his friends but that he was a fool for getting attached to someone who's just using him.

-That serves as a wake-up call to Daphnes to what he's doing and he starts to wonder if this world would be better off without Hyrule.

-Wind not only discovers his father's ghost ship map but also manages to hunt the ship down and recover the treasure aboard: A piece of the Triforce. He still doesn't find out what truly happened to his father but he's glad that his final work wasn't for nothing in the end.

-His expirience aboard the ship leaves him very shaken, but he still refuses to speak or listen to Daphnes unless necessary.

-When Wind gets appointed as the new Hero Spirit before descending to Hyrule again, Wind no longer feels as excited as he thought he would be in that moment.

-When Daphnes wishes for Hyrule to be drowned, part of him wants to come with Wind to keep raising his boy, if he'll have him. But the other is too weighted down by regret over failing his kingdom before and his son in the present.

-To this day, Wind is still guilt-ridden over saying Daphnes never cared for him. He'd give anything to be able to take it back.

-Wind is very much aware that Daphnes put him and his loved ones in danger and he's conflicted on why he chose to stay to drown. But he can't find it in him to stop missing the King or loving him.

[writer-rider-flirty-thirties]

I posted 354 times in 2022

That's 354 more posts than 2021!

33 posts created (9%)

321 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@leafweaverryn

@cassarilladraws

@fragileizy

@airi-p4

@talkstoself

I tagged 68 of my posts in 2022

#lukanette - 12 posts

#lukadrinette - 12 posts

#miraculous lb - 11 posts

#lol - 10 posts

#luka couffaine - 9 posts

#i love them - 9 posts

#my ship! - 8 posts

#ot3 - 7 posts

#mlb - 6 posts

#pro lukamari - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 70 characters

#i ship troy and sharpay but sharpay and zeke would've been super cute!

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Me trying to write Lukadrien (or any one side of my OT3):

Me: Oh look at them! They're so cute! Just Luka and Adrien... Marinette? You weren't in my plans...  You can make a quick appearance but then... No, Marinette, you gotta go... No, don't blush, Adrien... Don't talk about her melody, Luka!... Yes, you have two hands but you don’t need them both... Wait... Stop holding hands!... Why are they kissing?... Don’t suggest... No... N- Crap, it’s too late: they’re a throuple. Sigh. This is Lukadrien-

The story: 

Me: I guess not.

15 notes - Posted December 5, 2022

#4

The Perfect Opportunity

An excerpt from Day 1: Road Trip for LBSC’s Lukanette Week 2022:

Marinette stopped by her room first, changing into an outfit that featured less flour and sugar and telling the kwamis to behave while she was gone, before saying goodbye to her parents.

“Have a fun time!” Tom smiled as he squeezed her.

“But not too much fun.” Sabine amended, kissing Marinette’s cheeks. “It’ll be better if you finish university before giving us grandchildren.”

A surprised cough exploded from Marinette as she found herself choking at her mom’s words. “Maman!”

Tom's eyes clouded over as he smiled. “I don’t know, Sabine. I can’t wait for the sounds of tiny footsteps to fill our home again.”

Marinette's eyes bugged. “Papa! Stop! Luka and I- We’re not-!”

“Not yet.” Tom agreed, hands clasping over his chest as his eyes got that faraway look again. “But when you do finally get together, I can’t wait to see how cute our grandbabies will be!”

At a loss for words, Marinette decided to just hug her parents one last time and escape the room before they could embarrass her any further… or plant any more ideas in her head.

Not that she needed their help when Luka did a good job of that all by himself.

Especially when he looked at her the way he was the moment she stepped out of the bakery, eyes twinkling and arms crossed over his chest to where it pulled up his shirt to reveal a small strip of beautifully toned abs.

God! Marinette really wanted to lick him!

Unaware of the less than innocent thoughts playing through her mind, Luka smiled at her as he patted the hood of the car. “Ready to go?”

“Ready!” She squeaked before slapping her cheeks- hoping to expel any lingering naughty thoughts- and moving closer.

Piling into the two-seater that Jagged was letting Luka borrow, Marinette vibrated with joy as they set off.

Feel free to follow the link and read the rest! 

15 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

#3

Forever screaming about them.

19 notes - Posted November 13, 2022

#2

Musical Casanova

A snippet from Musical Casanova:

Juleka gave her an amused look. “Everyone? Those flowers are in vases around the boat brightening up the decor.”

Marinette couldn’t hide the stupefied look on her face. “The boat?”

A look of realization hit the mother and daughter pair at the same time and she swore they wore the same amused and secretive smile.

“You thought Luka was buying those flowers for other women?”

Marinette nodded. “I just assumed he was some Casanova.”

Juleka laughed again. “Well, I can guarantee you that my brother doesn’t have a girlfriend or anything else. He's too much of an awkward dork.”

“Mhm. If anything, my boy has been walking around looking at those flowers with the most dopey look on his face. Love sick, I tell you he is.”

Amazing Commissioned Art by @sternschauer-detektiv​.tumblr.com! I love it so much!!!

67 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Musical Casanova (Part 2)

Another short snippet and art! Art commissioned from @sternschauer-detektiv​!!!! It’s so amazing!

Marinette’s brain felt as if it had slowed to a crawl. “So he’s buying my flowers for the boat?”

Juleka shook her head. “He’s been buying flowers, but I don’t think it was for the boat.” Marinette was confused until she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she was met by an embarrassed looking Luka holding a beautiful bouquet…of lily-of-the-valleys.

So that’s where those missing flowers went.

“Oh!” She smiled. “So Sabrina was holding those for you?”

Luka nodded. “I called her yesterday and asked for a favor.”

“They are a very good choice for today.” She hummed. “So are they for the boat too?”

It was hardly possible, but Luka’s face reddened more. Marinette found it absolutely adorable. “No, these are for you.”

Numbly, she accepted the bouquet. “For me?”

Taking a deep breath, he gave her his breathtaking smile that had the butterflies in her stomach doing the tango at double time. “For you.”

As he took her hand and brought it to his lips, Marinette could only think that she had indeed found the perfect man.

Lacing their fingers together, his eyes twinkled as he gave her that same smile that showed off his pearly whites. “So, I’m a Casanova, huh?”

Okay, maybe not.

86 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[moomoomooing]

mild rant? mostly thoughts :)

yk ive just not been a fan of how quickly my mood and possible depression is flipping from eberythings fine and im only a little stressed but its ok! to jesus fuck let me rot (projects and deadlines are suddenly piled up and its overwhelming, but i also feel like this when i have nothing i can do)

i try to keep on a shower schedule cause of my class times (i have night classes half of the days so i shower on my off days) but it means i gotta be nasty for a day on sunday till i shower that night. and i never have the willpower to go to the studio feeling nasty,,, even if it wouldve been great to get work done and satiate the restlessness i get from being in my dorm all day

but i didnt and now im plagued with guilt and more stress/ anxiety yippees

on another note my roommate is really REALLY good at finding ALL of my triggers for anxiety or fight or flight responses. so far they nailed using my mirror/being TOO close to my belongings without asking (they eventually asked and i gave permission out of being nice but i severely dislike it and it makes me hyperaware of everything she does when i hear her close to my dresser). they got my i will tense up and not breathe till its over response to alarm sounds (i hate them theyre incredibly anxiety inducing and i always wake up before my alarm usually out of fear. thankfully now my alarms a last resort/reminder of time if i dont wake up early). and!! they let the door slam (boo loud noises), are constantly on a call they often dont wear earbuds for and talk really loudly half the time, or is on call past 12 am (i feel intrusive and also please i cant sleep if youre on call)

theres also other general icks that are hopefully getting better? im noticing less of smth that i hate that they do (its a not cleaning after yourself type deal) but it could just be coincidence

oh also im trying to apply for jobs (remote part-times or internships) and frankly im scared. the reason it took me so long to get a job in highschool was also straight fear and anxiety lmao

i would love money tho (pssst i have commissions open :D)

OW SHARP RINGING NOISE WHERE DID YOU COME FROM????????? ALL OF THE WHITE NOISE DISSAPEARED AND ITS ONLY THAT

anyways i got another strike of hypersensitive skin??? no idea what causes it but it made the underneath of my forearm feel like i scraped it across concrete. 0/10 i didnt have a pleasant showering experience

oh on a better note being so far removed from my family and the fact we basically never call or text has been quite freeing

its like when i was actually at public highschool and had agency over myself in a way i didnt have when my mom was around (basically her presence was usually STRESS)

on a lesser note i havent been talking with my two other friends (ill call em the trio, them plus me) and its been kinda radio silence from everyone? i havent exactly been great either but my infrequent requests for vcs are usually ignored or not responded too which sucks. it makes me more paranoid than id like to be

our time difference definitely makes it way harder too tho, im ahead by a few hours. ik weve gone months without talking before then picked it right back up, but im always scared during the radio silence anyways

im always scared and curious abt other ppls opinions on me, usually the ppl i consider friends. ik one of my friends likes me? but their friends (the 4 of us will be rooming together next year, theyre also technically my friends but my usually point of contact with them is through my friend) i cant tell how much they like me? its probably my unfamiliarity with them but it makes me nervous for no reason

anyways if you actually read all of this, sorry for taking away your time? i reccomend soft gepard x sampo (hsr) fics to soothe the mind, theyre cute.

also hey haha if youre one of the two friends, literally the nickels, are reading this? erase it from your mind please and thanks

[ibjb]

#TrueStory

They slide down to the bottom of totem poles,

stripped of dignity, dig that!

that's deep they all ain't like Diamond,

a college education motive behind it,

its the lack of education mind you,

it was rough growing up, I'm reminded

of a conversation I had with a sister

that called herself Sinsation,

so she say that's what her stage name is,

and she only got in the game

after continuous foul play,

from step dad when mom was gone or asleep,

i didnt pick this lifestyle,

this perverted lifestyle picked me,

so when they judge,

judge the people that's behind my upbringing,

I ain't pointing no fingers at'em,

the devil get permission from God even and that's bible,

if the glory comes from testimony,

than there are thousands n thousands

won't touch the surface of tongues,

cause talking about it hurt too much

so their actions speak about it in a louder volume,

I just sit back and listen in 3rd eye,

than report it in poetry for those that can't tell about it,

I been around the block a few times

and around some bottom feeder folk,

I'm based on a true story...

--Finale

he be hustling

in all kinds of inclement weather

Sleep deprived dehydrated

a hungry eyed tiger

His steal ribs are a cage

to his frost bitten liver

he be propped up out there delivering packages

but not a truck in sight to deliver

Movin units quicker than FedEx

see he’s an entrepreneur

an industrialist

dedicated to the wrongs

he flips right tryna do his best

he's a street connoisseur,

he’d love to stop chasing his tail

but the addicts need more

he said

i aint choose this life

this life chose me dawg

i aint living right

but i got too much fight

not to live at all

blame it on the system

for having me marred

he opened his vest

to show rips tripplin 2pac scars

my parents HA!!,

i aint seen em in a hot minnit

pops moved in with some other kinda ratchet bitch

and moms workin two jobs

she can barely pay for the crib

Bruhhh it's all CAP

my lil sister and brother

can’t even look up ta tha kid

so what um supposed to do?

sit here and rock 3 jeans all year

whats a ninja to do huh???

the streets

calllin me like its got charisma

cant see my future

cuz i gotta a stigma

and this right here

is a hustlers dilemma ma

i wouldn’t do this right here

if i had other routes

but for a minority youth

with a record

aint no true student loan options

if i got a commission

from the coroner

i’d be brick city boxin em

i’d rather be the owner

of this bodega

as opposed to propped up

on this corner

tell em don’t judge me

til they live my life ma

Now put that in a poem

I got short arms and big hands

and a fadin life line goin fast

…. So nah

I neva judge em

I just sit back

and listen with my third eye

A poetic journalist

I camouflage

with the shadows of the scary

Brick City Driftin

with chalked sidewalks

mixed with bloody Mary’s

~~ IBJB 💋

[enby-of-the-stars]

This was my post and boy do I have an update

I finished the commission yesterday. It took two weeks (15 days to be more accurate but whatever) my mom's boss loved it.

Apparently not that much though because she's only paying me a hundred dollars.

Yup.

A hundred dollars for a fully lined, colored and rendered drawing (with a simple background) that took two weeks to do.

She says she's gonna post the drawing on her instagram and get me more clients (so basically a little bit of money and "exposure")

I feel so incredibly cheated all that work for basically pennies.

Posting this update because my parents just had a big argument about it with my dad saying I should get at least five hundred bucks for it.

My mom is angry about it too and basically told her boss that she should not tell people the price she paid and that she is the exception and I'll be charging a lot more from future clients. And then she also said that you gotta increase the price overtime and charge what other professional artists are charging (WHICH I'M PRETTY SURE IS A LOT MORE THAN ONE HUNDRED FUCKING DOLLARS!)

My mom's gonna give me an extra 30 dollars to that but it still doesnt feel worth it. I spent two weeks, six hours a day working on that stupid drawing and her stupid fucking boss cant even pay me decently? Its not like that woman is poor no she's got MONEY!

The fact that my mother's other friend, who is working two jobs can pay me DOUBLE what her much more well off boss can pay is just...just wow.

Fml apparently.

WIBTA for refusing to do any more art commissions for my mom's friends?

Ok so I (19nb) am a digital artist. If I had to honestly rate my skills I would put them somewhere in the "good enough to get a few commissions but not professional level" range and I wanted to do it professionally.

Keyword being wanted but I'll get to that

Now my mother has been showing off my art pieces to her friends (no problem with this) and it got one of my mom's friends to ask her if I could draw make icons for the website of her upcoming business back in late April (basically one big icon for the main page and five smaller ones, so six in total, all fully rendered) and paid 200 dollars for all of it (which thinking back was extremely low for the amount of time and effort that I put into that if I was going by living wage effort and time)

So I did that, got the money, spent it all and was happy.

And now yesterday (july 6th) my mom said that she asked one of her other friends (who is also her boss) if I could draw her a new logo for her side business.

SHE DIDNT EVEN ASK ME IF I WANTED TO DO THAT! SHE JUST TOLD HER FRIEND THAT I WOULD DO IT!

Now I got a big commission (dont know how much money Im getting paid) dropped on me with no warning. And apparently my mom and her friend are coming with even MORE ideas for me to draw. (Mind you that commission would take at least a week to two weeks at the MINIMUM and now they're coming up with more)

But the thing is I dont want to to do digital art professionally anymore. I want it to stay as a hobby, something to do for fun and my own enjoyment. The reason why? A one year digital art course I did last year that burnt me out so unbelievably bad. I couldnt make ANY art for myself for an entire YEAR because I was constantly working on that stupid useless course (and I didnt even get the final drawing done and submitted before the one year deadline was up so that didnt help. And it was the one I was the most proud of too)

I am burned out and I want to make things for ME, things that absolutely cant go on a portfolio (extreme horror art, fan art, NSFW art, etc)

The amount of times in the past months I have talked myself out of drawing something that would make me happy because everything I make should be fit to go on a professional portfolio is extremely high.

I'm obviously gonna do the new commission and whatever else those two tell me to draw (but it better be more than 200 dollars, like at least 350 minimum) but I am so tired of this and I just wished my mom had asked me first before automatically telling her friend yes.

So would I be the asshole if I told her Im not doing any future commissions from her friends and that I want to just do art as a hobby and not as a career?

What are these acronyms?

[snowmuttgetsweird]

Zero-to-Sixty

CW Kink, Sex Mention, Money problems

We're going zero-to-sixty here. You might learn things about me you don't wanna know. I might talk about stuff I don't even necessarily feel comfortable talking about, but I gotta process somehow, right? So let's get weird.

I want a pump toy so bad.

If you used to follow my old Tumblr BEFORE Twitter you already know some of my kinks/interests. I'm into ball stretching, but since I lived with my mom and step dad at the time, it wasn't really feasible to pursue those interests. Same for pumping- I really, really wanna get a cylinder or two (I'd love a LongJohnny to pump my nuts and a cylinder dedicated to my dick), but the living situation wasn't really accommodating- you know, discretion with shipping, space, privacy without interruption, etc.

Now that I AM in a living situation where I can indulge those interests, I don't have the money to afford the gear! I'm pinching pennies just to make rent, and my roommate basically pays all our utilities and food solo while I feel like a destitute, mooching loser. I'm by FAR the lowest earner among my IRL friend group- it's REALLY embarrassing, and I basically can't hang out with them at all outside of the house because anything they wanna do takes money I don't have, so I don't even really socialize with the friends I already have. Like, I'd love to go out to eat, I'd love to go to the mall, I'd love to go to a cool ritzy island for the weekend, I'd love to go to a convention, but what the fuck am I gonna do when I get there without any money to spend?

What's worse is the initial move to Washington was meant to be kinda bare bones because I was moving into my roommate's apartment for a little while, and THEN we were going to move to our new apartment together so I could help him move his stuff, and it didn't make sense for me to bring a lot to move, so I was gonna go BACK to my mom's place in like, January 2022 to pack up the rest of my stuff in a POD and have it shipped back to the new place, but it just kinda never happened cause I wanted to try to stabilize my earnings from art before I made a big purchase like that, so here I am in February 2023, and my ball weights and all the rest of my stuff is still in Arizona! At least then I had savings. Now because I didn't make any money for, like, the first year of doing art, my savings are COMPLETELY depleted, and I'm so broke that I can't afford to go back for the rest of my stuff, or even pay for my mom to ship it out for me. She would do it herself if I asked, bless her heart, but I'm not gonna saddle her with that bill. Unfortunately that also means that there's a room of her home that's dedicated to just storing all my stuff that she can't really use for anything else, so I'm a burden no matter what I do. Like, I'm not even THERE anymore and I'm still a burden- to her in AZ and to my roommate and friends in WA. I'm just plain not making enough money, and that doesn't change no matter what I do.

It's frustrating. I'm still happy that I get to do art for a living, and I'm REALLY happy I'm not doing customer service anymore, but I dunno. My mom's got an unused room just full of my junk, my roommate has to worry about whether or not I can make rent or eat that month, and I'm desperately trying to balance my needs with my wants. Like, I'm basically in survival mode, but still trying to do what I can for my mental health.

Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I shouldn't be thinking of my health or mental health or interests or decompressing or any of that. Maybe I should be doing a day job AND art? I mean, it's not like every second I work is paid- I only have so many commissions at a time, so maybe there's just a lot of unpaid deadtime in my day that should be filled in with a job, and then I just come home and get straight back to work on art. But when I think about going into customer service again (I don't know what else I would be qualified for tbh) and dealing with applications and interviews and shit, I freak out and shut down.

I dunno, life sucks. I just wanna stretch my balls, man.

[thechekhov]

Alright, alright, I caved.

After a slot opened up in me to be able to take on another show emotionally, I decided to invest in OwlHouse. I thought I would probably like it, but it won me over faster than I thought it would.

I’ve already watched a few episodes, but I realized that it might be more fun to do liveblogs, so here I am - with a liveblog...

I will be doing this episode by episode, and probably releasing them every once in a while. Everything will be under a cut, however, to save you all dash space.

If you’d like to follow, please track the #chekhov watches owlhouse tag!

(I’d also like to dedicate this post to the Tumblr Staff Rob, who did his best to restore this post for me when tumblr queue ate it.)

Without further ado...

Episode 1!!

Fair warning - this is technically not a ‘live’ blog, because I have already watched some of the show before deciding to do this, but I’ll still react to them to round things out.

Immediately, this reminds me of Little Witch Academia... Anyone? No? Only me? I feel like maybe I’m getting my wires crossed, but there HAD to have been some inspiration taken from there?

“No-- my only weakness! Dying!!“

Same, big snake monster. Same.

Oh, backup snakes? This girl is READY.

Please don’t mistreat the snakes.

Spider breath... This kid is on my wavelength. That griffin seems to be waiting to be put out of its misery though, and I don’t blame it.

My child... where did you get that pigeon head though.....

Nurse mother, do you REALLY think signing up your spider-summoning daughter for summer camp will actively make her antics slow down instead of ramp up to 60?

Awww, baby makes AMVs... But also, NO ONE TOLD YOU TO THROW AWAY THE BOOK??? I know it’s symbolic, but goodness, isn’t that a bit much???

wait a sec, is that Eda????

Love the realistic bilingual kid experience of replying in English when your mom talks to you in your native language. Universal.

Love this introduction of Eda’s character. She’s got that little green scarf on and everything. Like a tiny trash grandma.

Oooh, okay, let’s extrapolate...

Lots of bones everywhere. I kinda love the aesthetic here - it’s gross and visceral, kind of like what Luz was making with her school projects. Yet in the middle of it all we have a rather clear gothic looking structure. Is this a power imbalance in the supposed kingdom?

The five circles of stained glass seem to perhaps indicate something like Hogwarts houses? Several different types of magic?

But Luz has no reason to freak out as much as she is - she LOVES weird stuff! Haha... No, I kid, I kid. I get it.

“Am I in the bad place?“

Eyyyyy, gotta love shows referencing other shows. :)

“Oh dear child... I’m not like you.”

Wow, what a DRAMATIC reveal for some pointy ears. :) I love her.

We should all aspire to have such cool and stylistically well put together wanted posters. You can tell the commissioned artist really respects her craft.

Steven Universe fans watching this:

I’m looking too.

Okay, okay, enough shenanigans, let’s have some LORE.

I love this landscape. Teeth or bones, or whatever they are, this is one of the more unique settings we’ve gotten, though maybe I’m prejudiced because I love body horror and bones. The darker orange and red themes fit really well here.

Things I’m desperate for: Giraffe Lore 

Things I’m more desperate for: Eda lore. Why do her limbs fall off? Is she a zombie?

Things I’m not quite as desperate for: Hooty lore. He can keep that to himself.

well hello there mysterious chekhov’s glyph which will DEFINITELY not be relevant in the second chapter (or end of season? Maybe? Idk it just seems important).

Ah, yes. That would have been my reaction as well, to be fair. Somehow I didn’t expect to see this guy so early on. I figured he would be a low stress early villain that got assimilated into the Found Family. Kinda psyched that he’s just there from the start.

....I’m just gonna presume this is all true and accept it at face value.

Old Escape The Cops Lady and Tiny Little Demon King, I need your backstory. How did you meet.

I love looking at background details, because like... you can tell the BG artists had fun. I particularly love how the 3 eyed toad doesn’t actually have any reward attached to her. Though the Knife Baby does intrigue me!

“I write fanfics of food falling in love.”

Why am I being called out...

“Noo! My weak nerd arms!”

Finally, a realistic portrayal of a protagonist thrust into a fantasy setting!

.....................

Okay but. If only humans could pass through the barrier... wouldn’t that mean a human had to have deposited those things in there? Do they have a human on staff in this weird pseudo-prison??? Suspicious....

Confession - when I initially saw ads for this show, I expected Eda to be a villain, not a loveable middle aged witch aunt figure. I am shockingly even MORE drawn to her this way. I expected betrayal. I expected her to be a lowkey threat?? But no. She’s just wholesome in the way a solid raccoon is.

“Eda, are you okay?!”

“Yeah, this just happens when you get older...”

“........does it..?”

If I had to pinpoint the exact moment this show won me over...... it would probably be this one.

I know it’s probably the wrong thing to focus on, but what is that insignia? Wings??? Like.... the kind OWLS HAVE?????

COINCIDENCE??? I THINK NOT!!!

I’m really loving the landscape here. And those fireworks are... hmm... intricate?

Gotta love the old tried and true Witch Apprentice Actually A Live In Intern trope. :)

Hold up...

Is that

Is that Hooty? I thought he was just a door....

Eda: This is my room for human stuff. I will also put my human in there.

. . .

Overall rating: I think this is a cute overall beginning. The prison break went hard! I enjoyed the characters and it kind of surprised me in a lot of ways. It definitely does a great job setting up a world with a lot more to explore while giving us a small taste of cool magic stuff and witchy battles. :)

Now on to Episode 2!!

Read the liveblogs in order by clicking here!

[hannahhsolo]

High Heels, Hips, and Lace for the banned words prompt 🥺💛

oh come on…it’s gotta be fem;)

(it’s so long im so sorry)

—

It had always been Stevie’s dream to be a counter girl at the department store in the mall. Sure, her dad would have loved her to have gone to college or become a secretary at his firm or pretty much anything but this, but this had always been what she wanted to do.

Ever since the first time her mom dragged her little hand behind her across marble floors, the smell of powdery perfume in the air; jewellery twinkling under glass casing; soft lace brushing her tiny shoulder, it had all hypnotised her. The pretty lady behind the Lancôme counter had smiled at her and let her try some pink lipstick and Stevie saw who she was going to be.

When she first started, it took her a while to settle in. It was less about looking pretty, which Stevie was good at, and more about math and making sales, which Stevie was not. She worked on commission, which created a few hard months at the start, where she took home measly pay checks and worked long, hard hours.

Eventually though, she settled in. Knew all the buzzwords that would get the rich old ladies flashing cash, the right ways to flirt with frazzled husbands looking to do anything to make their wives happy. And soon enough, she was being promoted. Stevie pinned her new, shiny ‘Stephanie - Personal Shopper’ badge to the lapel of her pressed blazer and relished in the sound of her heels clicking on the polished floor on the way to her new office. The office was all plush furniture and wooden desks and two rooms off the side which posed as dressing rooms for their clients. Stevie loved it.

Her clients were mostly a steady stream of bored housewives with too much money and not enough to do. The job was far easier than selling perfume on the counter and the customers spent a lot more, with Stevie’s new higher rate of commission, it wasn’t long before the cash came rolling in.

It was a pretty nondescript Wednesday afternoon when, along with cash, a familiar face came rolling in too. It was a face she hadn’t thought about since high school and a face she certainly never expected to see here.

Billie Hargrove, Hawkins High’s resident bad girl with a ridiculous perm and constant split lip, was swaggering into her office. The 3 years since graduation hadn’t changed her all that much, she was still all acid-washed denim and studded leather, still scowling and terrifying.

Herself and Billie had run in very different circles at school. She was a cheerleader, popular, with a hot jock boyfriend and purity ring (that was swiftly removed on Friday nights at the quarry). Billie was the distant cool girl, who nobody was brave enough to be friends with but also not stupid enough to pick on. She didn’t give a fuck and Stevie steered clear.

There was no steering clear now though, Stevie looked at her agenda and sure enough ‘Wilhelmina H’ was her 3 o’clock. She plastered on her perfect customer service smile and came stiletto to boot with Billie.

“Harrington?!” Billie’s blue eyes grew in diameter and jaw dropped open, revealing chewed up bubblegum, when she realised who was about to serve her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Hargrove. Would you like some coffee?” Stevie continued with her usual schtick. Billie completely ignored it.

“Holy shit! So this is what the princess did after high school, huh?” It was kind of unsettling how much delight Billie seemed to be finding in this. Stevie brushed her pencil skirt for imaginary lint.

“Yes, Billie.” Her composure was cracking a little.

“Damn.” Billie flopped down on a chair and put her dirty boots up on Stevie’s desk. She was playing with a branded pencil from the pot.

Stevie repeated the customer is always right, the customer is always right in her head.

“What can I do for you?” Stevie had a feeling the usual pretences weren’t going to work here, so she got straight to the point.

“Daddy dearest has some fancy dinner planned with my grandparents,” She started to chew on the pencil, “and apparently none of my clothes are good enough so…if you could make me a little less…” she waved a gesturing hand to herself, “and a little more…” she waved the same hand at Stevie, “that would be peachy.”

She grinned, “He said ‘A pair of heels and a little lace can do wonders for a young lady.’” Her eyes cast over Stevie.

She said it as if it would be easy. Billie was that kind of mess that was ingrained into her bones, it definitely worked for her, but it wasn’t going to come out easy. Stevie straightened her back and remembered her Nonna’s tips on removing red wine stains from lace before she said,

“Okay, let’s see what we can do.”

—

Billie felt stupid. Her tits were all trussed up in some ridiculous contraption this store called a bra, she was in a silk blouse and pale pink slacks — at least they were pants, she thanked the Gods for small blessings. The cherry on top of the shit sundae was the pain in her feet. She’d had the pointed stilettos on for less than a minute and she already wanted to saw off her feet with a complimentary nail file.

Stevie Harrington, she was still tripping on that, knocked on the dressing room door before pushing it open. Billie wondered why she knocked if she was just going to come in anyway, 30 seconds earlier and she would have gotten a show. High school Billie stirred somewhere inside her and cursed the fact that hadn’t happened.

Stevie stood behind her, looking at her in the mirror, with that same annoying, stoic, robot face she’d had on since she got there. It was pissing Billie off.

“Lovely, it all fits well.”

That was bullshit. It didn’t ‘fit well’, it didn’t fit her at all. And it sure as shit wasn’t lovely.

“Oh thanks, sugar. I feel ready for Sunday service and tea at the country club.” Billie put on her best southern belle voice and bat her eyelashes at Stevie’s reflection.

A reflection that consequently cracked like glass.

She was laughing, goddamn howling in the department store dressing room, the door banged as she fell back against it.

“Sorry!” Tears we’re streaming down Stevie’s face, Billie was confused but perplexedly smiling, “I’m so sorry, you just look completely absurd.”

Her words disappeared into another bout of laughter. And Billie wasn’t expecting it, but she started laughing too. She did look absurd, this whole thing was absurd. The girl she was secretly obsessed with in high school was helping her pick out an outfit to impress people she didn’t even like anyway by squeezing into some debutante nightmare.

They were both laughing, Stevie’s mascara smudged and Billie doubled over grasping at her middle. As she did so, the stupid slacks finally gave up on their fight against Billie’s wide hips and split right on the seam that traced the crack of her ass. Billie couldn’t even think about it, because it just made her laugh more. Now, her frankly incredible ass, trussed up in expensive lace, was revealed to her high school crush and the absurdity was dialled up to 11. Since she was 17 years old, Billie wanted to show Stevie Harrington her underwear, she just never though it would happen like this.

Billie threw her head back, momentarily forgetting about the heel situation, and lost her balance completely. She stumbled backwards and would have gone crashing to the ground if it weren’t for Stevie’s long fingers wrapping around her hips, holding her steady. When she met Stevie’s eyes, they were close and they weren’t laughing anymore. The insane situation suddenly seemed a whole lot more serious as those fingers pushed Billie’s hips into the wall and Stevie’s lips pushed into Billie’s.

Maybe Billie’s dad had been right, heels and lace really can do wonders for a young lady.

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Eviction Update!

After 2 months, the landlady finally went through the legal channels for a court-ordered eviction notice. We got a note that it's in the mail. Mom told her off that day she came to the property and illegally brought a stranger into the house while everyone but me was at Walmart picking up an order. She claimed the stranger was a lawyer, whom she did not inform of the 3 positive Covid cases inside said house.

Well, as stated, she has refused a lease since the beginning. All the places that can help us require a written lease as proof and she has been adamantly against one from the jump. Every one of these places, including the Salvation Army(which I cannot even stand) are capable and willing to foot the entire back rent plus the electric/water bill. That's several thousand dollars in total. This woman has been nagging for money left, right, and center, and is aware that if she just gets a lease, she'll get the money. But she refuses. Suspicious.

With a lease, we'd have an easier time getting somewhere to live too. Since we're apparently too poor to quality for state housing, we have very few options. Sally's is even willing to get us a motel room for a month. It'd be 4 people to one room but damn.

A while back I mentioned that we're going to end up living in our van but that there's something leaking from it and mom panicking. I'm not good with cars, I don't understand what it means, but mom said this just now. "He's gotta fill it back up with water every time we have to turn the car on. It leaks profusely and we've been babying it for months. Suddenly today, it started pouring water and will not retain anything put in it. The van is dying. We don't even have guaranteed transportation for when we're homeless."

I don't understand anything beyond the van dying and us being fucked even more.

We just survived Covid. We all had it. Step-dad got the vaccine. My sister and I were supposed to get it soon but with the van I'm not sure what's happening there. She was supposed to go to the doctor today and now can't. Mom can't even get a vaccine because she has a blood clotting disorder and a pulmonary embolism. She can't risk any of the available vaccines right now. But still! We had it for a few weeks and it was downright terrible. And even with proof in paperwork our bitch of a landlady harassed us over and over for money, for us to leave, and for us to 'prove another way that we're sick'. Still wouldn't follow the law to do it though.

Once again here are the links. Sharing this post would be appreciated.

Mom qualified for food stamps but since we're about to be homeless she's going to lose them. We've been hitting up the local food banks as much as we're allowed to each week but it's not enough.

Step-dad's leg is so bad he can barely waddle and all the firms he's contacted have agreed that he has a case and deserves compensation from his old job that won't pay him despite getting injured on the floor. However, none of them will take up the case because it won't win big money for them. He can't work because he can barely move. My 14 year old sister got a job at a local pizza shop. I have a Ko-Fi now! It's bad for us.

[gofundme]

[Ko-Fi] I am accepting commissions. I'm just trying to help out. I don't know how long I'm going to have internet access for so I'm going to try my best.

I wish I could go back to posting happy things and fandom content all the time and just be a person but life really sucks right now being a part of a 4-person family that makes less than 10K annually.

[rhetoricalrogue]

Knocking off some serious rust on my writing by doing a quick 1001 words of something featuring my Sandrock builder and Owen, who I saw for like five seconds and decided that Lucy was going to befriend and eventually fall for.

Lucy had known how warm Sandrock got during the daytime, but nothing could have prepared her for the blast of hot air that hit her dead in the face the second she stepped off the train. It felt as if she were one of her mom’s famous cookies being put into an oven and it must have shown on her face, because one of her fellow travelers gave her a sympathetic nod.

“It takes some getting used to, but eventually you don’t mind.” The older man gave a little laugh before adding “It could be worse, at least it’s a dry heat!”

Nearly a month later, sweat making her scalp itch as it soaked into the sides of her favorite baseball cap, she was definitely not used to it. Growing up in Highwind meant getting a lot of sun, but nothing had prepared her poor skin for the blistering sunburn that was currently making her nose peel. Mi-an had been the best sort of new friend anyone could ask for, sharing her supply of aloe gel that made things bearable and laughing together over refreshing cups of buckwheat tea at the end of a workday.

“Gotta figure something out to save water,” she mumbled between the screwdriver clenched between her teeth as she fiddled with the second recycler she had put the finishing touches on just that morning. There was something wrong with the way the grinding blades were sitting in their grooves that she wasn’t happy with, but at least it did the job for now. “I’d move everything inside, but the workshop is so tiny.”

“Afternoon!” Lucy let out a surprised squeak at the friendly greeting shouted from behind her. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Mortified by the fact that she knew she looked like a literal hot mess: long black hair in a messy ponytail stuck through the back of her cap, sweat making her favorite shirt stick to her back like a second skin, and a ninety-five percent chance of her face bearing a streak or two of grease along her cheek or forehead, she turned around, a smile hastily slapped on her face. “Not at all! What brings you across the tracks? Need something repaired?”

 “Actually,” Owen said, leaning a hand on one of the fenceposts by her mailbox, “I was wondering if you might have a chance to come up for air and take a break.”

“A break? It’s…”

“The hottest part of the day? When people should be indoors with a cool drink and lively conversation, preferably with the owner of the local saloon?”

Lucy laughed before wiping her hands on the sides of her pants. “Something tells me you’re missing my business.”

Owen grinned. “Always like having more business, but I also miss the company. You haven’t come into the Blue Moon for a few days, and I was starting to wonder if the cooking put you off or something.”

She grabbed a rag from her tool kit and wiped at her cheek when she noticed his eyes straying towards a certain side of her face. “I’ve been busy. These commissions aren’t going to build themselves, you know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And a builder can’t build on an empty stomach. Come on, what do you say to lunch, my treat?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal. I never say no to free food.” Opening the gate, Lucy began the walk over the train tracks with Owen. “I think you’re being nice to me because I helped rebuild your stage.”

“Hey, I’m a nice guy. I’m nice to everyone.” He winked at her. “Though the quality work you did on Stage-y did win you some extra brownie points.”

“I’m just glad I could help out.” She stepped into the cool interior of the Blue Moon, quietly thanking Owen for holding the door open for her.

“Oh, hey.” He swiped his thumb across the high point of his cheekbone, right below his left eye. “You missed a spot.”

Eyes wide and the tips of her ears starting to burn, Lucy fought the urge to cover her face with her hands. “Thanks,” she mumbled, making a beeline to the booth next to the entrance. The nearby copper planter Owen had made out of one of her practice cooking pots was a little misshapen and not good enough quality to be sold as a kitchen-ready item but was buffed to a reflective shine to act as an impromptu mirror.

She was touched by the fact that he’d treated a subpar product she’d offhandedly offered him one day as a priceless gift, giving it a home that made it feel as if the planter had always been there.

“Your usual.”

Lucy thanked him for the cool glass of buckwheat tea. “I’ve only been here a month, how does this become my usual?”

He slid into the seat opposite her. “Because you’ve almost always ordered it with all your meals.” He held a menu out to her. “Feel free to surprise me though.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” There was a mischievous lilt to her voice, the company and the shelter from the blistering heat putting her in a better mood than she had been only a few minutes ago.

If she was honest with herself, it was mostly the company, but like she said, she’d only been in Sandrock for a month. She needed to focus on making a foothold for her workshop instead of sighing over certain saloon owners, no matter how pretty she thought his eyes were.

Speaking of pretty eyes, she couldn’t help how they twinkled back at her, making her heart do a quick flip. “A friendly challenge.”

 “Challenge accepted,” she told him, tipping her head and pretending to seriously consider the menu in front of her, if only to make him smile.

Maybe sighing over Owen wasn’t such a bad thing: she could do that and focus on her new start in town. She was a builder; she could multitask.

[personasintro]

how love works | myg drabble

⏤𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; your new colleague who ends up showing you around in your new job, finds his way to your broken heart

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨; yoongi x reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, nurse!yoongi, single mom!reader

⏤𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 5.5k

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: strong language, making out, mentions of sex

𝘢/𝘯: commissioned by @hyacinthgrrls​, thank you for being so patient about this one! I'm sorry if this one seems to be messy, but I really tried to squeeze everything you wanted here!

...I'd be more than happy to show you around, but unfortunately, my shift already started and I need to be there before Dr. Jung throws a fit,” His words are unclear, barely audible as he rushes through a long hallway, greeting a few patients along the way.

It feels like all hospitals look the same – white walls with a little bit of different, but still nonchalant colors popping every now and then. This one is matched with beige color, visible thanks to the intensive white lightening. The omnipresent smell of antiseptic caries through the whole hospital.

“Yoongi is going to show you around.” Namjoon, as you've learned his name just five minutes ago, says and briefly looks over the shoulder to check up on you, making sure you're catching up with him.

It's tough, his long legs move quickly and you barely get to catch up with him, ushering behind him. He finally stops in front of the white door, the same ones like all those tens you've just passed by, before he pushes it open and walks in. Following him, you close the door with a soft thud as you try to get a glimpse behind Namjoon's tall figure. He moves away, allowing you to see the whole room. It's medium sized room with two wooden tables next to the windows, a small kitchen unit on the left side with a white fridge.

It must be a break room, but before you can look around, your attention is caught by Namjoon's voice and another person in the room.

“Great, you're here!” Namjoon calls out enthusiastically, smacking his hands together as the young man with dark hair stares at him. “You're going to show Y/N around.”

His eyes widen, before he frowns with his puffed cheeks as he holds a sandwich in his hands. “I'm on my lunch break!” he exclaims with his full mouth, visibly annoyed by the sudden interruption of his chance to finally eat and take a break.

“I know, but Jung needs me and you're the only one free.”

Namjoon doesn't seem to be surprised by the man's grumpy attitude, not even when he grunts in annoyance at him. You watch the dark haired man swallow, putting down his sandwich before he opens his mouth.

“I'm not free, I'm on my lunch break.” he reminds him, dusting off his blue scrubs that nicely contrasts with his pale skin.

Understandably, you get his reaction of having to show someone around when it's his time to finally eat. You don't take it personally, but it still leaves you awkwardly standing next to Namjoon with tongue poking the inside of your cheek.

“I can wait.” you speak up, their eyes snapping to you as the man opens his mouth before he can, Namjoon already interjects.

“No, someone needs to show you around. It's your first day but you need to get to work as soon as possible.” he dismisses your idea immediately, glancing at his colleague that fumbles with his eyes before he sighs.

“Fine.” he mutters, tossing his almost untouched sandwich down onto the table.

“Great!” Namjoon exclaims in excitement and claps his hands again. “See you guys later!”

Not even waiting for you response, he's already out of the room and leaves the two of you alone. You wonder if the man hates you for not being able to finish his sandwich, which doesn't even look like a proper lunch, because of you. He sighs, leaving you standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with your handbag clutched in your hands.

“It's okay if you want to finish that,” you speak up, feeling like you need to do something rather than just staying in silence with awkward atmosphere in the air. “I can wait.”

You've heard Namjoon, so did he, but you just need to say something and you feel bad for being a burden to him. The man looks up, meeting your eyes properly this time, and you expect him to glare at you or at least show kind of irritation, but his gaze is soft.

“No, it's okay I can finish it later,” he says, speaking to you for the first time with much more relaxed tone than he spoke with to Namjoon. “It's your first day here, huh?” he chuckles, packing his sandwich and places it into the fridge.

“Yeah,” you answer with a mere smile, noticing the untouched cup of coffee on the counter which makes you feel even more bad.

“I'm Yoongi,” he tells you, stretching his arm towards you. You take it, glancing into his dark orbs as you tell him your name.

Something about him makes you want to observe him, maybe it's his interesting personality you got to see and even though you don't know him, he doesn't look as intimidating as you first thought now that you think about it.

“Very well then, let's go before Namjoon bursts through those door again,” he jokes, causing you to laugh at that, remembering how in rush he's been ever since he introduced himself to you. “Come on.” he walks up to the door and opens it, motioning for you to go first as you thank him, ushering back to the busy hallway.

If Yoongi ever felt annoyed by the sudden interruption of his lunch break, he definitely doesn't seem to be in a bad mood at all. He's very polite, showing you each floor and explains how it works there, answering your every question with friendliness and even briefly talks about himself when you ask how long he's been working here.

For some reason, you're surprised when a 'four years' as an answer resounds from his mouth, you don't even know why but it makes sense, judging how much he knows about their work ethic and other employees. He makes you chuckle couple of times, whispering about some of the older nurses, warning you to stay away from them because they're grumpy all the time. You're pleasantly surprised by his humor and thanks to him, the nerves you've been feeling the whole morning are eased up. He doesn't know it, nor you acknowledge it loudly but you're grateful for him being the one who shows you around.

When he tells you it's your time to get changed to your work attire, you can't help but feel disappointed over the fact that it's over. His presence is weirdly pleasing and nice, and you wonder if the rest of your colleagues are such nice people as him.

He leads you through the hallway which you recognize as the same where the break room is, before he stops in front of the identical door, just with the different sign next to it.

“This is the dressing room, obviously, women and men have separated rooms.” he informs you, opening the door as he lets you to walk inside first before he follows after you.

You don't expect anyone to be there, especially not a woman wearing jeans with a bra covering her breasts as she looks at the both of you. Your cheeks heat up, not at the sight of her not covered chest, but from the situation. She doesn't seem to be phased, and her smile spreads into a huge grin as she cocks her brow at Yoongi.

“If you wanted to see me naked, Yoongi, you know all you need to do is just tell me.” she speaks up, lips curving into a smirk as she pulls out a shirt out of the opened locker, putting it on.

“Well, see, I'm not here for you.” he says nonchalantly, not phased by her flirtatious attitude which makes her grin even more.

“Ah, what a shame,” she sings out, closing her locker with a loud thud as she collects her handbag. “And who's this?”

“Y/N, our new colleague.” Yoongi answers before you can even open your mouth, and somehow, you're grateful for that.

Maybe it's the way she eyes you, wiggling her brow at Yoongi which you don't miss. She's not an introvert, for sure.

“Oh, nice to meet you. I'm Mishil but you can call me Misha.” she smiles, showing you a set of her white teeth in confident and cheerful smile.

You notice the dimple in her cheek and her sharp eyeliner, wondering if you might possibly look this good after the whole shift. She's beautiful, her strawberry blonde complimenting her soft skin and even though you can't see her mascara slightly smudged under her eyes, she can still pull it off.

“It's nice meeting you.” you smile at her.

“As much as I'd love to talk to you guys, I gotta go. The whole night shift was a nightmare,” she complains, rolling her eyes in exhaustion as she makes her way to the door. “Bye, bye!” she sings out, not waiting for the two of you to react, identical to the way Namjoon did it.

“...and she's gone.” Yoongi mutters, chuckling when he sees your widened eyes.

“She's... quite something.” you comment with a similar mutter.

“Yeah, you'll get used to her, it just takes some time.” he waves off his hand, assuring you.

“She's flirty.” you voice out your thoughts, causing him to chuckle once again.

You're not sure whether you said something funny, but once he opens his mouth it causes your mouth to drop open.

“She's married.” he tells you, laughing when he sees your opened mouth and bulged out eyes.

You're mesmerized by his smile, it instantly catches your attention as the way he shows his gums and his eyes crinkle in the ends. No, no, stop! This is your colleague, you remind yourself.

Gulping, you find words to ripple out of your throat. “Her husband doesn't mind it?”

“Wife,” Yoongi says, “She has a wife.”

“Oh,” you let out, “Doesn't her wife mind it?” you ask again, chuckling at your correction as he shrugs in response.

“I think she's used to her personality,”

You're not sure if you 'd liked it if your partner would flirt with other people, most likely not.

“Love works in a weird way.” he shrugs, opening one of the drawers besides the lockers as he pulls out the same blue scrubs as the ones he's wearing.

You thank him once he hands it to you, smiling lightly. “The size should be right, if not just pull out the correct one. I'll leave you to it, I'll be waiting outside.”

“Waiting?” you ask in confusion, watching him walking towards the door.

“It looks like your first shift is with me.” he smirks, opening the door as he leaves without any other word.

You stand there for a few minutes, surprised how fast your heart beats just from the single exchange of a few words and looks. This hasn't happened for a long time, it feels almost new and never experienced. Unfortunately, you've felt this way before and it brings nothing but sadness and anger.

Looking at the fresh clothes in your hands, your smile spreads into a wide grin before you even realize.

He got the right size.

“I'm scared,” The little boy murmurs, staring with wide eyes at the needle in your hand.

His eyes averts to his mother who's standing just a few meters behind you, giving you the space to work, while her son stares at her in a hope she'll take him away before the needle can even go through his skin.

“You don't have to be,” you tell him, eyes filled with sympathy as his bottom lip trembles. “It's probably going to be a little bit uncomfortable, but you're a big guy. I'm sure you can handle it.”

You search his eyes in question, which dance between the needle in your hand and your eyes. He thinks it through, wondering what his response will be before he inhales shakily.

“I'm a big guy.” he assures you, straightening himself to prove his point.

It makes you smile, looking over your shoulder to call his mother to hold his hand. Stitches aren't comfortable, he's lucky enough to end up with only two of them instead of more. He cries out as soon as you pierce the needle through the skin of his forehead, trying to work fast but precise. It breaks your heart, even though you're helping him by sewing his wound. He whines and cries, even when you're done and he looks almost mad.

“We're done, you did so good!” you cheer him up, ruffling his curly hair as he looks up at you with a mere glare but you don't take it personally. “Now you know it's better if you listen to your mom not to run on stairs.”

His mother chuckles, ruffling his hair the same way you did as she praises him for holding still. You fish out a lollipop which you hid into the pocket of your scrubs as soon as you've heard about an emergency with a kid and bleeding forehead. Candy always helps and you just happen to carry them in your bags ever since Em was little.

The boy's eyes shine as soon as he sees the lollipop in your hands, reaching for it almost immediately as he takes it from you.

“What do you say?” His mother chimes in, caressing the dark skin of his soft skin as he mumbles a cute 'thank you'. “Thank you so much.” she turns to you, a gratitude shining in her eyes as you give her a smile in return.

When they both leave, it's just you and Yoongi in the room, who made sure you're doing your job right. Instead of breathing down your neck, he started to sanitize equipment as soon as you started to take care of the poor boy.

It's your first day working as a nurse and thanks to your colleague, it's not as stressful as you thought it would be. He seems to be very chill and laid back, yet precise and skilled. You're glad he's the one training you.

“You're good with kids.” he comments, putting the disinfection back on its place, glancing at you.

“Yeah, I have a--”

“Hey, slackers. We need you here.” Namjoon walks into the room, rushing the two of you out of it before you can even response to Yoongi.

Sighing, you both follow Namjoon who keeps telling you to hurry.

Yeah, Yoongi is definitely much more chill than Namjoon is.

Two months in and you think everyone hates you.

Maybe it's just the sixth sense inside of you, or you're completely overthinking everyone's reaction. You wouldn't expect them to understand, nor you're shocked by the glares you receive on daily basis. In other situations, you wouldn't care about it that much, even though it's uncomfortable and some part of you feels bad. But what really bothers you is none other than your colleague, one of the first people you've met on your first day and was kind enough to show you around.

From what started as a great relationship between two colleagues, turned into brief greeting where he wouldn't even meet your eyes. It affects you more than you'd like to admit, especially when you started to cook more food, just to pack it and bring it to him during your shifts together. Those sandwiches from the vending machine are unhealthy, and just as Yoongi said, there's nothing which compares to the home-cooked meal.

It became a routine, you packing him a soup and meal every time you both had shift, no matter how many times he told you, you shouldn't bother. Everything went well, after you had to run home whenever you got a call from the babysitter or school, which led to someone else taking all of your shifts.

It ended up with almost every colleague glaring at you, for not coming into the hospital and not doing your job. Little did you know, it was mostly Yoongi who ended up taking most of your shifts causing him to sport a dark bags underneath his eyes.

If you haven't been through so much, you would probably cry somewhere in the corner at the thought of everyone hating you. But you don't. However, one particular person bothers your mind more often than it should. Deciding you're over with the cold shoulder he's been giving you, you ignore everyone's stares once you walk into the break room. The chatter quiets down as soon as they notice you. Without doubt, they were talking about you behind your back but you could care less about that.

Although, one pair of particular set of eyes catches your attention in the corner of the room, munching on that distasteful sandwich. If he weren't so stubborn, declining your lunch and attempt of feeding him with a home-cooked meal, he could have eat much better food now. It was just another sign of Yoongi's friendship fading away.

Their lunch break ends as most of them just go back to work, making you stare at the floor with a frown settled on your face. Do they hate you so much?

As if Namjoon could hear your thoughts, you met his soft smile but he doesn't say anything as he walks away. You watch Yoongi tossing the plastic package into the bin as he starts to clean the mess on the table, completely ignoring you.

With a sigh, you walk up to him feeling almost awkward that you're practically standing right next to him and he doesn't even spare you a glance. Once he's done he turns around but you don't allow him to walk away, standing right in front of him with a raised brow.

“Can we talk?” you ask softly, praying he's just going to drop this act full of ignorance.

When his eyes meet yours, for the first time in weeks from such a close proximity, you hate how fast your heart starts to hummer against your ribcage. Those dark orbs glaring at you seems to soften at the pleading look you give him, and you feel some kind of weird hope before he shutters it in a second.

“I gotta work.” he murmurs, shoulder slightly bumping into yours as he tries to make a way towards the door.

You don't move, watching his back as he leaves out of the room, with a pain in your chest.

You're done.

You're done sitting around, trying to catch Yoongi's attention who somehow always manages to avoid you before you can even open your mouth.

When you see him walking through the hallway, completely oblivious to your focused gaze, staring at him as if he was your prey, you won't let him get away. Not anymore. Before he can react, or even properly meet your eyes, you're pulling him into the room which happens to be janitor's closet. It's small, but it'll do.

His stutters of confusion are ignored, as you flick the light open and stare at him.

“What the hell?” he asks, confused that you just grabbed him and pulled him into the janitor's closet.

“We need to talk.” you tell him with a persistent tone, brows furrowed in concentration.

“What? Now? You can't just pull me here--” he looks around, glancing around before he continues. “I've a lot of work to do.”

It's just another attempt of avoiding you, which makes you want to loose your mind by this man. Before he can reach towards the door, dangerously stepping closer to you, your mind works on its own and you lock it. The doorknob digs into your lower back but you don't care, you're just trying to make him stay and talk. With your back pressed against the door, he looks at you in confusion before he sighs. It's clear he has no intentions talking to you, simply staring at you with a raised brow. The same look of ignorance he's been giving you for weeks.

“What's your problem? Why are you so distant and avoiding me all of a sudden?”

He chuckles bitterly, shaking his head at you before he looks down with a cold glare. “My problem? My problem is that I've been covering your shifts, saving your ass every time you haven't had the decency to come to work and do your actual job.”

Okay, you didn't expect him to be so vocal and straight forward. His tone is cold and bitter, surprising you which is evident on your face before you frown in hurt.

“No,” he deadpans, “don't look at me like that. I'm not a bad guy in this. I'm fucking exhausted, overworking myself because of--” he stops himself, and you almost push him to finish his sentence but you just dryly gulp.

“My daughter kept getting sick, and I had to be at home with her, there's nothing I could do. Her babysitter wouldn't look after her if she's sick and she couldn't go to kindergarten either. And you know what? If I got a call from her babysitter or her kindergarten saying she's sick again, I'll drop everything and go and take care of my daughter. So hate me all you want, but I'm a mother before I'm a nurse.”

The frustration has been built inside of you for so long, that you finally snap at the one person who made your shifts always more fun and bright. He seems to be caught off guard by the new information, slowly processing it as he widens his eyes.

“You've a daughter?” he breathes out.

“Yes.” you hold yourself back from exclaiming loudly.

“You've never told me that.” he murmurs, almost expression of hurt crossing his soft features.

It's not like you kept Em as a secret, but before you could talk about your private life in more depth and how her father cowardly left you before she was even born, you barely got enough time to go back to work and talk to him. You're surprised you haven't got fired yet. You can't get fired, you've got a family you need to support and Em relies on you.

“I was going to.” you admit, looking down at your feet with a puzzled look.

Who knows what would've happened if you just told him sooner. Would he be more acceptable? Isn't he saying it right now because he's trying to put a blame on you?

You almost jump when he cups your face, holding up your head so he can stare right into your eyes with the same look you've. They're filled with apology that spark in his dark orbs, slowly caressing your cheek.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers, “I'm sorry for being so hard on you. I thought you just don't care about this job, or us.” he admits shamefully.

“It's okay.” you assure him with a soft voice, but he shakes his head in response.

“I was an asshole to you, I'm so sorry,” he says right back, still holding your face as his eyes drops down to your lips, eyeing your face. “I really want to kiss you.”

Your heart jumps, not that uncomfortable way whenever he would straight avoid you or glare at you. It's different this time and you react almost immediately.

“Then kiss me.”

Expect him to do it slow, he surprises you with his lips right on your own, not wasting a second as he starts kissing you. He deepens it, a touch of his lips full of emotions and regret and it's almost unbelievable how you can feel it just from the single kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as he hungrily kisses you, too stubborn to pull away for some oxygen. It's needy and you moan into his lips when he squeezes your ass in his palms. But you still need to pull away, lips attaching from one another but your foreheads stay leaned against each other as you both breathe heavily.

“Let me take you out.” he whispers, thumb tracing your cheekbone as he admires your make-up free face.

“A date?” you sound surprised, wondering if you've heard him right.

Is it too soon to jump with joy?

“Of course, I've been meaning to ask you since that time I saw you with that little boy, stitching him up.” he admits, causing you to giggle in shock.

“Really?”

He delivers a soft peck onto your nose, biting into his lower lip. “Uhm, you're an amazing woman. I wanna get to know you, and your daughter.”

He seems to be nervous, patiently waiting for your response but he doesn't move away from you, still wrapped in your embrace even though your frame is smaller.

He's the first man who doesn't run away knowing you've a daughter, but not just that. Yoongi is the first man who managed to make your heart flutter with the simplest acts. It's too soon to talk about him fixing your broken heart or him being the love of your life, but time with him seems nice. The thought of spending it outside of the hospital, trying to get to know him as something more makes you want to yell in excitement.

For now, you hold back your happiness and smile at him.

“I'd be more than happy to get to know you as well.” you admit, enough for him to envelope you even in a tighter hug that makes you squeak in surprise again, but you squeeze him back.

“Stop it,” you chuckle, sitting up from your bed as you watch your boyfriend trying to find his clothes that are scattered all around your room.

You thought sex would help him relax and it did, for twenty minutes that you were sucking him off and then bouncing on his cock. But now that you both reached your high, he's back to his quiet self with tensed muscles. As much as he tries to hide his nervousness and fear, he's doing an awful job with it and it's nothing than amusing to you.

“You're about to meet a four year old, not a monster that's gonna eat your head.” you joke, meeting his glare in response silently telling you he's not in the mood for joking.

“What if she doesn't like me?” he asks, setting on the edge of your bed completely naked, forgetting to find his clothes.

“She will. I told her about you so much, she's excited to meet you.” you assure him, slowly crawling to him as you hug him closer to you.

Both of your bodies are coated with sweat, and you could use a shower, but you can't let this go. He's been tensed from the moment you made plans on introducing Em to him. Of course, he wants to meet her. He was the one who kept being persistent, asking about her all the time and show him the pictures of her on your phone. The truth is, you were waiting for him to naturally set what's the right time to meet your daughter. You've been dating for the past two months, barely making any plans outside of the hospital since you've a child at home.

Your babysitter, which happens to be your neighbor, was kind enough to look after her in late nights while you went on a couple of dates with Yoongi. It's been tearing your heart apart knowing you've your little girl at home, but you still wanted to spend some time with Yoongi. It feels like the right time for them to meet.

“Now come on, let's shower before we have to pick her up,” you nudge him, kissing his cheek before you stand up. “If we're quick enough, we might have a round two.” you suggest, causing him to stand up abruptly, ushering you into your bathroom while you both start to laugh at his eagerness.  

When it's the right time to pick up your daughter, Yoongi decides to stay in the car while he tries to occupy himself by playing some games on his phone. His knee bounces even when you open the door to put Em into her car seat. She notices the stranger in your car right away, her words slowly fading away as she went off about her day.

Yoongi slowly turns around, his scared eyes meeting hers as he tries his best to muster a proper smile. You've never seen him being so nervous. This must be more important to him than it's to you. You know Em is going to love him, that's why you're not worried about it too much.

“Em, this is Yoongi. You remember him? I was telling you about him.” you tell her, putting on her seat belt as she slowly nods.

“Yoongs?” she asks, her eyes looking up at you as you nod with a smile.

When you make sure everything is secured, you go and sit in the driver's seat while Yoongi looks at you. “Yoongs?” he asks confusingly.

“Yeah, she made you a nickname.” you shrug, causing him to slowly nod and for the first time, you see one honest smile lightening up his face.

“Hey, Em, I brought you something.” Yoongi says, gaining her attention right away which causes him to chuckle.

“You did?” she asks, her eyes widening as he pulls out a pony plushie, the very one she has been begging you to buy her for a few weeks now. “Pony! Yes!” she starts to bounce in her car seat, already reaching for the toy that Yoongi gladly gives her.

“What do you say, Em?” you speak up, your eyes solely on the road, although you wish you could see their exchange better.

“Thank you, Yoongs! I love you!” she almost yells, the both of you erupting in laughter as your four year old daughter keeps happily squealing for the rest of the ride.

“See? She loves you.” you tell him quietly, a huge smile stretching on your lips as Yoongi joins you, looking back at Em to admire her and her happiness.

“So, he's just your friend, right?”

You hide your smile, slowly cutting the vegetable as you hear Em letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Yes, dad!” she whines for the hundredth time, your heart tingling at the sound of the name leaving her mouth.

It's been almost a year since Yoongi officially adopted her and became her father, filled that empty spot that her heart was craving for. She wanted to have a father for so long and now she has to put up with overprotective Yoongi almost every day.

“Okay, okay. I'll be here while the two of you play.” he reminds her, causing her to groan but she doesn't say anything in response, coloring her drawings in silence.

Yoongi walks up to you, hugging you from the back while his chin is propped on your shoulder.

“She's seven years old. Don't you think it's too soon to worry about her dating life?” you tease him, giggling when he slightly bites onto your shoulder.

“I don't want someone to break her small heart. Have you seen those heart eyes whenever she talks about him? That is not just friend.” he informs you, causing you to laugh at him as he groans in annoyance at you.

You put all the vegetables into the pot and turns the stove on, as you turn to him. He takes your hand, twisting the wedding ring in his hold as he smiles down at it.

“I love you.” he tells you, your heart warming once again as if it's the first time he said it.

“I love you.” you tell him, kissing him on his small and plump lips.

You turn around, glancing at your daughter that stares at you with disgust on her face.

“See? You don't have to worry about her dating anytime soon.” you point out, causing him to roll his eyes at you before he's kissing you again, this time accompanied with your daughter's fake coughing in the background.

Indeed, love works in a weird way.

[forlornmelody]

The Fantabulous Vacation of One Harley Quinn and Her Girlfriend Poison Ivy

Rating: T (suggestive themes, cartoon violence)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn

Linkage: Ao3

Summary:   Harley's been burning the wick at both ends and Ivy knows just the thing to help. But it takes more than just a change of scenery to get Harley to let go.

Note:  Commission for @rookie009

~*~*~*

“You’re probably wondering Mr---Watchman--”

“Tockman.” Mr. Watchman spits. “William Tockman.”

“Why I’ve brought you here today.”

Mr. Watchman rolls his eyes. “I imagine you’re going to tell me.” 

“Ah! Good. You’ve stopped struggling. Progress, Mister!” Harley boops him on the nose. Maybe she made the binding too tight? “I’m not cutting off your circulation, am I?” She leans in close. “Are you comfortable? I need you comfortable.” 

“I’m tied up in ropes, wench!”

“Ah, see! This is what I’m talking about!” Harley sits across from him and his fainting couch, pulling her pen from her bun and making a heading on her notepad. “You have a whore madonna complex.” Chewing her pen, she murmurs, “perhaps from the trauma of your wife’s death? Cystic Fibrosis, was it?”

Her new patient says nothing. “Mister?” Harley glances up. “Willy?”

“Help!” William Tockman dangles from his left ankle, suspended in air by a beefy vine.  “She’s gonna kill me!” 

“Oh please. You’re hardly worth the trouble.” Ivy steps around him and the vine, brushing the dust off her hands. “Hi Harls!” How she got the vines up this far on this abandoned apartment building, Harley has no idea. But it sure has a lot of brick to climb. 

“Ivy!” Harley doesn’t so much as hug her as ram her at full speed. 

Her target, used to such behavior by now, braces for impact and manages to hug back. Harley takes a big whiff. “Mm. Jasmine?”

“Lilacs.” Ivy peers over at Clock King. “You...uh, busy?”

“Mm yeah. A little tied up at the moment. Or he is, at least.”

“So I see.” Ivy chews her lip, staring out the window as if she had left a reminder there. She makes a face as the draft stirs some of the painting tarp discarded on the floor. “I was thinking maybe we could get out of town for a bit.”

“HELP.” 

“Are you asking for help, Billy? Or do you prefer Willy?”

“HELP ME! THESE WOMEN ARE CRAZY.” 

“Great!” Harley says brightly. “Admitting you need help is the first step towards healing!”

“Harls? Are you even listening?”

“You need help dismantling another CEO along with his company?”

“No.”

“Fundraiser for conservation efforts?”

“Harley--”

“Pride pre-game with Kitty?”

“Harleen.” That stops Harley short. Ivy never calls her that. Mostly cause she hates getting called Pamela with an undying passion. Probably childhood trauma. But Harley digresses. 

Ivy sighs. “Sorry. Look. I need a vacation. We need a vacation.”

“I need help!” 

“SHUT UP ALREADY.” Ivy and Harley say it together, and Ivy waves a hand, muffling Harley’s captive, er, patient with a particularly broad leaf. 

“Mm... I’m a little busy--”

Ivy glances at Tockman, finally. “I can see that.”

“Lemme look at my calendar. Mmm.. maybe...next year? Definitely the one after that.”

“Harls.”

“I know, I know. But there’s my derby team, missions with Task Force X, the Birds of Prey, my day job--”

“I know.” Ivy takes her hands, gently, and squeezes them. It’s the softness that stops Harley in her tracks. “It’s why you need some time off.”

“But--”

“Shh. I already have plane tickets and a hotel booked. You don’t have to plan a thing.”

Harley can’t help the blush creeping up on her cheeks. “Aww, shucks, Ives. When are we leaving?”

“Now. The plane’s departing in--shit. We gotta go.”

“MMRPH.” 

“Oh, right.” Ivy releases Clock King with a patented thud as she shoves Harley out the door. “Bye!”

-----

“So, we’re we goin’?” Harley pushes the arm rest out of the way and rests her chin on Ivy’s shoulder. She glances at Ivy’s phone as if it’ll give her some clues. She spots a sudoku puzzle. “Japan?”

“No.”

“The Amazon?”

“Nope.”

“Themyscyra?” 

Ivy gives her a look. “Really?”

“Er….my mom’s? Please say it’s not my mom’s.”

“It’s not your mom’s.”

“Thank God.”

“Also, why would we fly to your mom’s house when we could easily drive? Or take a commuter bus?”

“Good point. Mm.”

Ivy smooths Harley’s hair out of her eyes. “It’s a surprise.” She snatches a quick kiss before the flight attendant rolls by. “You’ll love it.”

In this moment, Harley’s pretty sure she’d love anywhere as long Ivy’s there with her. She’s lit up by the light of the tiny window behind her, and her crimson locks glow like an angel’s. But Harley knows well enough that neither of them are anywhere close to innocent. “Say, how’d you get us past security?”

Ivy winks at her. 

“No casualties?”

Her lover mockingly brushes her own chest like a scandalized church mouse. “I would never!” she snorts. “They’ll be fine. Just a little dazed and confused.”

Harley leans her head on Ivy’s shoulder. “I know the feelin’.” And really! Harley’s proud of her. Ivy’s never been one to follow rules or care for humans. But she tries for Harley. Why she bothers when Mistah J never seemed to care, Harley has no idea. But it means the world to her. 

-----

The taxi drops them off in front of a large revolving door. But it’s not the gold handles that capture Harley’s attention. 

It’s the lush plants growing from every nook and cranny on the place. Harley bets Ivy could spend an hour naming all of them (scientific names and personal names.) Butterflies and hummingbirds in every color of the rainbow--and the faint buzzing of bees. A solitary stream crosses their path, and a wooden bridge stretches over it. Garden terrace after garden terrace rise up from the ground to an open-air cafe at the top. 

And behind the walls and the hotel proper? A waterpark. 

Harley’s eyes go as big as saucers. “Ivy! You shouldn’t have!” She squeezes her into a hug.

“Thanks, sweet pea, but I can’t breathe.” Ivy manages to get out.

“Oof, sorry. Here ya go.” Harley releases her, and Ivy pecks her on the cheek. 

“Best part is, they’ve a zero-carbon footprint and they’re waste free.” Harley rarely sees her grin so wide.” 

“Whoa.”

“They call it The Greenhouse.”

-----

Their first day at the resort passes in a blur. Harley shows Ivy a good time in and out of their bedroom. They go snorkeling in the ocean, ride the rides so many times Harley ends up upchucking their picnic at the beach, then make love at sunset in their honeymoon suite. Harley wonders if the management thinks they’re--well, they’re as good as, aren’t they? They don’t need rings or a wedding or a place of their own or--

“Harley?”

She blinks. Ivy only calls her that when she’s worried. Harley realizes she’s been staring at the chocolates on their pillows for God knows how long. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Of course!” she says automatically, pulling Ivy into another kiss.

Ivy kisses back, then runs a finger down her cheek. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?” The setting sun makes her hair even redder, which Harley didn’t think possible, and Harley finds herself toying with her curls. 

“Hey, I’ve been wonderin’.”

If Ivy notices the change in subject, she doesn’t mention it. “Yeah?”

“How come we haven’t seen any other guests? And how come we haven’t been arrested?”

“Oh! That.” Ivy waves a hand dismissively. “I rented out the whole resort.”

“With what money??”

Ivy shoots her a wicked look that sends shivers down Harley’s spine. “Ace Chemical’s investment fund.”

“Ooooh, you’re naughty.” 

Harley dives in for another kiss but Ivy puts a finger to her lips. And doesn’t let her suck on it. Rude. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Since we’ve got all this extra cash, wanna make a run at the casino? I hear they donate the proceeds to rainforest restoration.”

“Alright.” Ivy sighs and reaches for her dress. Harley has a sinking feeling that she’s going to bring this up later. Maybe if Harley’s lucky she’ll forget about it? Yeah. Ivy forgets things all the time. 

“Last one there buys the first round!”

-----

Ivy and Harley sit across from each other, an immaculate brunch setting between them and two mimosas. Her lover’s plate sits almost empty, and while Harley’s lies largely untouched. She keeps playing with her veggie egg white omelet, but the next bite never seems to make it to her mouth. “And then we can go for a walk on the beach later! Have you seen those beds? Right there on the water? Mm. Do you think anyone would hear us if we--”

“Harley, wait.”

“Like, the sound of the waves would cover it up, right? Mm. Maybe not. I’m loud. Not as loud as--”

“Harley, no. Stop. Stop.” Ivy presses her hands on either side of Harley’s face, drawing her to a standstill and inches away from her. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to!”

Ivy gives her a sad smile, shaking her head gently. “You don’t have to impress me, Harls. I love you.”

Harley, in typical Harley fashion, vibrates with energy. “But…I want this to be special. As special as y--”

“This vacation already is special. Cause you’re here with me.”

“But--” I’m not that special, Harley wants to say. But she knows Ivy won’t let her get away with saying that out loud. She wants to crawl underneath the tablecloth and hide until Ivy leaves. They always leave in the end. Once they get what they want. Mistah J--

“I love you, Harley Quinn.” Ivy takes her hand, gently, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And maybe. Maybe it’s that she doesn’t know what to do if Ivy stays. It’s easier to love someone who doesn’t love her back. It’s safe. Ahem. Emotionally safe, Dr. Quinzel says inside her head. For once, Harley has nothing to say. She’s too busy trying to keep the tears from falling. 

“You don’t have to do anything. I already love you.” Ivy bites her lip--the way she always does when she’s thinking hard. Like how best to resurrect a drooping petunia or a rose bush that has a pest. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “And if it’s not too much--too early--to say this: I always will.” 

“You proposin’ or somethin’?” The words tumble out of Harley’s mouth before she can stop them. Her cheeks feel like they’re blushing as bright as Ivy’s hair. 

“I…” Ivy’s eyes widen. “I-I don’t have a ring on me.”

Shit. Fuck. ShitshitshitFuuuuuuuuuck. “I’msorryIdidn’tmeanit.” “It’s way too soon.” Harley puts on her best brave face--the same one she always put on when Bats showed up and Mistah J magically was nowhere to be found. “Marriage is so outda--”

“Harley.” Ivy puts her entire hand over her face. “Quinn.” “I never said I didn’t want to marry you.”

“Mmphwr?” 

“Who wouldn’t want to marry Harley Quinn? You’re amazing.” She traces her eyebrows. “You’re the smartest person I know.” Boops her nose. “You’re impossible to kill. Holy fuck.” Runs her fingertip across her bottom lip. “You…” Ivy presses her lips together, looking down at the table. “You helped me love again when I hated everyone.”

“Pam.” Fuck, she’s getting misty eyed. 

“I mean it. I was ready to wipe humanity off the map and start over.” She laughs a little, her voice rough as she wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. “But then you came along and nominated yourself my new shrink.”

“Don’t give me all the credit.” Wow, okay. Maybe she’s more than just misty-eyed. “You saved me too. From Mistah Jay. From Bats. From what woulda been a really boring life.”

Ivy’s smile slips slightly. “You’re not gonna die on me, are you Harls?”

Harley squeezes her hand. “Nah. You’re stuck with me.” Her words come out a little thick. “For richer or poorer.” 

Her lover leans in close, capturing her lips in a warm kiss. “That’s usually pretty literal for you.”

“HEY.” 

“It’s true! Guess I’ll have to see if Ace or maybe Lexcorp has any funds they won’t miss. I need to get that ring soon. Garnet? Spinel maybe?”

“Aww, shucks. How am I gonna be surprised now?”

Ivy scoffs. “If it’s a real surprise, it’s not a good time for a proposal.”

“But what if I want to be like those girls in those Tik Toks? Like where you propose to me but like I got my own box in my pocket?”

“Harley. A ring box wouldn’t fit in your tiny ass pockets, and you know it.”

“You know what would fit in my shorts?”

“Harleen Francis Quinzel.” Her laughter dissolves in a kiss and Harley pulls her back to their suite. They got a lot of planning to do. Though Harley has a pretty good feeling they’re not gonna get a whole lot of planning done today. But Harley’s okay with that. Pam’s always been the top of her to-do list anyway.

[iliumheightnights]

We Have A Jedi [12] | Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Fandom: Marvel and Star Wars

Pairing:  Tony Stark x Son!Reader, Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Summary: (M/N) is officially back on earth, so is Sheyo. With the two stranded and the war still raging on, what comes next?

Read from the beginning

…

(M/N) opened his eyes and was confused why he didn’t hear the hum of ship engines. Sitting up he realized he wasn’t in his quarters on the ship, he was in his room on earth. He could tell by how the sun was starting to raise over the city that he had woken up pretty early. Perhaps he was still adjusted to waking up for the next campaign. He stood up and walked over to the closet, inside he found some clothes that could fit him. Once he was dressed he wandered out to the living room.

The quietness of the area told him that no one was up yet. Moving to the kitchen he looked around. Last time he was on earth he was taught a couple of things for cooking. He got to work making something for everybody to eat as they got up. He had got some of the food done by the time someone entered the kitchen. “Do I smell food?” (M/N) smiled and turned to face his intruder. “Hey Steve. I’m making breakfast, grab a plate. most of it is done.” Steve smirked and did so before sitting at the table. “I gotta say, I half expected to wake up and realize last night was a dream. But you’re here...actually here.” He looked at his plate and back to (M/N). “Where have you been kid?”

(M/N) finished his cooking and set everything aside. “I didn’t want to leave. I wanted more time here, with you guys...with dad. But there’s still a war going on and mom wanted to make sure that we realized that.” (M/N) shrugged his shoulders. “I guess she was right though. Once we got back into the fight I realized there were still so many people that needed our help. I couldn’t just stay here or come back...even if I tried at first.” (M/N) had a far away look in his eyes and Steve noticed, the younger book shook his head quickly though. “Anyways that’s the past. I’m here now...I just hope for longer.” Steve nodded his head. “Well I’m glad to have you back, I know everyone else...especially your dad is too.”

Grabbing a plate for himself, (M/N) joined Steve at the table. “So...anything interesting happen when I was gone?” Steve smirked at him. “You’ve missed a lot. Turns out there were lots of hidden Hydra agents in Shield and that was an ordeal. Also...Bucky’s alive.” (M/N) raised a brow at that. Steve had told him of his time in the war, and his best friend Bucky...but that he died. Apparently that wasn’t the case. “How?” Steve sat his fork down, no longer interested in the food. “Hydra.” (M/N) nodded and gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry Steve. We’ll get him back.” Steve genuinely smiled and with that his appetite seemed to return. “Anyways, what have YOU been doing Mr.I’ve lead armies in war?” (M/N) blushed and looked away as Steve made fun of what he last said to them. “Shut up. I’ve just been doing what I’ve always done...fighting in a seemingly endless battle. But I HAVE been learning different art and stuff from different planets.” Steve seemed to be really interested with that. “Art like drawing and painting?” The boy nodded at him. “Yeah, plus pottery, music, theater. All of that. There’s a lot out there.”

Steve was about to say something when we were joined by some others. “(M/N)!” He didn’t have a chance to say anything before Clint pulled him into a tight hug. “Welcome back kiddo. Oh hey breakfast.” Clint let him go and went to get a plate. Natasha took the chance to rub his head and mess up his head. “Welcome back kid.” She also grabbed a plate and the two of them sat down. Just like Steve had asked before, he told them about what he had been up to. It wasn’t long before Tony and Bruce arrived, his dad sitting next to him. (M/N) noticed how his dad was grinning, almost like he thought it might have been a dream. They had told him that Thor had returned to Asgard for a bit but that he should be back soonish. The group were all enjoying their breakfast and talking when (M/N) heard the sound of a crutch. “Oh hey, there’s a group of people now.” (M/N) turned and smiled at Sheyo who looked a lot better than she had the night before. The avengers were looking at her with mixed emotions, who was she and why was she here...also why was she green.

Quickly standing from his seat (M/N) pulled out his chair offering it to Sheyo who gratefully took it. “How did you sleep? You feeling better?” Sheyo smiled at him. “Very much so. I think I should be fine soon hopefully. Now, are you going to introduce me to everyone?” (M/N) nodded and looked around. “Sheyo these are the Avengers. Steve, Clint, Natasha, you already met Bruce, and...my father. Tony Stark.” Sheyo grinned as she looked from me to Tony, soon she lifted her hand out to him. “Nice to meet you Mr.Stark.” It was obvious that everyone was still confused so (M/N) helped explain everything with Sheyo filling in any gaps. It was very similar to how (M/N) was questioned after the battle of New York.

The conversations were dying down and breakfast was coming to an end. (M/N) was enjoying the time he was spending with his family again, this time with his best friend. As everyone broke from the table Sheyo leaned over to him. “(M/N) a word?” He gave her a nod and excused himself from the rest. He took Sheyo to his room and closed the door. “What’s up?” She sat down on his bed and looked around before looking back at him. “So my leg’s out of commission for at least a couple days, but what are we going to do after that? We can’t stay here forever, you know that.”

(M/N) nodded. “I know. I would stay forever if I could but we can’t. The war is still going on and we have to get back. The first problem we’ll have is to find a way off planet. We’ll need a ship with a hyperdrive to get us back. Plus, we have another problem.” (M/N) took out the two infinity stones he has. “We have these to worry about. We can’t keep them together, it makes them a bigger target. We have to separate them.” Sheyo nodded. “So what’s the plan?” (M/N) laid the stones on his desk. “When Thor get’s here I’ll give him the space stone. Let him take it back to Asgard, it should be safe here. The mind stone, I’ll give to my dad. He and the avengers are the best the earth has. They’ll keep it safe.” He looked to Sheyo who only smiled at him. “Sounds like a good plan. Alright. Guess we get to take a little vacation for a bit.” (M/N) put away the stones into a hidden place and grabbed his sabers. “Come on. You may not be able to train, but I want you to at least give me pointers.” She let out a groan then grabbed her crutch and began following him to the training area.

The tower had changed a lot since the last time he came and the training room was no exception. It was now an ACTUAL training room and not just a boxing ring. “Sir. Your father designed a training program for each of the avengers, including you.” Jarvis spoke up. That made (M/N) surprised. He didn’t think his father would have taken his combat teaching into consideration. “Really?” Jarvis’ voice spoke again. “Yes sir. He studied the videos of you fighting during the battle of new york and based the training for you on them.” He smiled at that, his father really did take care in making sure he was included. “Thanks J. Can you start the training?”  Sheyo moved to the side and Jarvis began the training exercise. “Starting simulation.”

The simulation room started to hum and the lights dimmed. A holographic image of a Chituari appeared and it began firing at (M/N). He quickly ignited his lightsabers and began deflecting the bolts back on to the oncoming waves. As the waves of holo enemies came towards him, he switched from defense to attack. He slashed through the oncoming waves, as he was doing it he realized that he had improved during his time gone. Perhaps he’d have to talk to his dad about other fighting stances and techniques to help improve the simulation. 

While (M/N) was in the simulation, the door to the viewing room opened and Tony, Steve and Clint walked in. “Heard little Stark war doing the simulation, wanted to see his moves.” Clint said. Sheyo smirked at them and nodded to the simulation. “This is easy for him compared to other things.” They all watched as he did a flip with a landing slash on an enemy. “He’s improved a lot since last time.” Steve noted. “That’s my boy. Takes after his father.” Steve laughed. “I’d say he takes after his mother.” Sheyo raised her brow. She was going to find out who his mother was. Tony scoffed and turned back to watching his son.

Steve turned to Sheyo. “So Sheyo. Since you’re a jedi do you do what he does?” He nodded towards (M/N) and she smiles and nods. “You mean being part of a galactic war? Yep. My master’s Dia. His is Janai. I’m sure you know that bit though. Like we said earlier, we were on a mission when we ended up here.” Sheyo looked at Tony, studying him. “You know. He looks like you a lot.  We, Jedi, aren’t supposed to know our parents or form attachments. I don’t believe in that. I think it’s a stupid rule...but you should know there’s still a war going on. If he stays here...they’ll come after him. The Jedi. It won’t be pretty. He might have to leave but that doesn’t mean he wants to. I can see he loves you a lot.” Tony smiled sadly at her and nodded. “I know. When he first left I was angry at everyone, myself, his mom, but never at him. I knew he still had a job to do. When it’s time for him to leave again, I just hope he says goodbye this time.”

The simulation ended and (M/N) exited the room. “Oh, hey guys. Were you all watching me practice?” They all nodded. He turned to Sheyo. “Just like the temple training room.” She laughed at that. Clint lightly punched his shoulder. “Well kid. You definitely put on a show.” (M/N) smirked at looked at Tony. “What can I say I take after my dad.” Tony laughed and pointed at Steve. “I told you! Now…” He wrapped his arm around (M/N)’s shoulder. “Let’s figure out what we’re doing today.”

A/N: I realized I haven’t shown you what Sheyo looks like so here she is!

[the-mad-starker]

Starker Smut: Helping Uncle Tony

Thank you to @petercherryparker for giving me my first commission! It means so much to me that you were willing to give it a try and for being patient with me since I haven't done this before either 😅

Summary: 

Uncle Tony somehow fucked up his hands and has them both in casts.

Peter volunteers to help then he helps.

Notes: uncle/nephew incest, handjob, frottage, come swallowing, anal sex, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, ambiguous age for Peter, first time

WC: 9139

(AO3 Link)

💗💗💗

"Boss, Mrs. Parker and your nephew are requesting entrance."

Tony pauses in his rambling speech. Dictating. He's dictating the lines of code for his next project while he lounges in the lab. On the screen, Friday completes the last line before she automatically switches to the security camera on the first floor.

His sister, Mary Parker, is waiting impatiently and there, a familiar mop of curly brown hair… His nephew. Peter.

"What time is it again?" Tony mutters but he's already getting up.

It's a bit difficult because he can't use his hands. Both hands are stuck in bright red casts and are covered from his knuckles all the way down to his elbow.

He hates them but he's not letting them stop him from working on his tech.

"Think I can beat them to the penthouse?" Tony says when he gets into his private elevator.

Peter did text earlier that day with a message saying they were coming over from Queens. He's been so caught up getting this program done that time just slipped through his fingers.

"Probability just reached 0%," Friday informs him and he finds out why when the doors ding open.

"Tony!" His sister is already waiting for him in the penthouse and judging by the look on her face, she knows exactly where Tony's been.

She rounds up on him, scarier than his assistant and his board of directors. "You're supposed to be resting," she sighs with exasperation.

"Yeah, you know that's unlikely," Tony says without missing a beat. "It's my hands that broke–" he wiggles his immobilized arms at her for emphasis, "–not my brain. You know I can't just stop."

In response, Mary softens but she tries to hide it by clearing her throat.

"I know and that's why–" she turns back towards her son and tugs him forward, "I'm lending you this one to help you."

"Hi, Uncle Tony," Peter says shyly from her side. He gives a little wave but doesn't really look Tony in the eye.

"Hey there, champ," Tony says, distracted, before he turns back to Mary. "You know I can't do that to him, Mare. It's summer break, he should be– I dunno, going to Jones beach or hanging out with his friends. All that fun stuff."

Mary's lips thin in that way which means she's about to start arguing but surprisingly, Peter interrupts.

"Actually– I'm the one that bugged mom about helping…" Peter says as he steps closer.

Tomy's gaze switches to him and his brows scrunch in confusion. Peter's cheeks take on a pink hue when their eyes meet, a peculiar reaction that Tony's gotten used to. His nephew's always been a sweet but shy kid.

"Pete, I really appreciate it, but you don't gotta be stuck with me when you should be having fun," Tony reiterates but the boy stubbornly shakes his head.

Peter's curls bounce in that cute little way that makes Tony want to pet them. His expression mirrors Tony's, brows scrunching adorably in the middle and honey brown eyes going all soft and pleading.

"It'll be fun!" Peter says firmly and what gets to Tony is that he actually sounds genuine. "I always have fun when I'm with you, Uncle Tony… And I get to see all the cool stuff you're working on… Maybe even help you make some stuff?"

The last bit is said with those puppy eyes turned up to max efficiency and Tony's resolve crumbles. He could never say no to his one and only favorite nephew. Mary knows it, too, because there's a smug little grin on her face.

"See, there you go, Tony," she says. She pats Peter's shoulder fondly. "How long did the doctors say your cast has to stay on?"

"A couple weeks…" Tony says in defeat. "But I should be fine if Pete just wants to stay a week…"

"Mom can drop off more of my clothes on Sunday," Peter says, excitement pitching his voice higher. He bounces the duffle bag in his hand to show the older man. "I brought some clothes already. Toothbrush, too, so you don't gotta worry, Uncle Tony."

Looking at his nephew's puppy dog eyes, of course, Tony can't refuse. Besides, his nephew is right. They always have fun when they're together and ever since the Parkers moved to Queens, they just haven't had as much time. He has missed his nephew even when work keeps him busy.

"Alright, you got me, kid," Tony says, "we'll try it out for a week, okay?"

"A week," Peter agrees but somehow, Tony feels as though he's the one humoring Tony instead of the other way around.

"Brat," Tony says fondly.

Mary sticks around for a few minutes more but she eventually decides to head out. Before doing so, she pulls Peter aside for some last minute words.

Tony tries not to eavesdrop but considering he's right there, it can't be helped.

"I want you to remember what we talked about in the car," she says seriously. "I know you and Tony like to mess around in the lab and do all your sciency stuff but Uncle Tony's recovering, okay, Pete?"

"I know, mom," Peter says dutifully. "Even if we're having fun, I need to help Uncle Tony and make sure he doesn't do anything to hurt his hands."

"That's right, sweetie," Mary smiles, "and you know your Uncle Tony. He's always jumping ahead of things so I need you to really be on top of things. We want Uncle Tony to get better and that won't happen if he doesn't let it heal properly. I need you to be his hands until his gets better."

"I can do that, mom," Peter promises sincerely, "I'll watch him like a hawk and he won't even lift a finger while I'm here."

"That's really sweet but–" Tony has to interrupt.

"No buts!" Both Mary and Peter cut in. Tony ends up pouting at them but he really can't refute anything Mary says.

When she's finally gone, Tony looks at Peter and smiles awkwardly.

"Just you and me, kiddo," he says to break the silence.

"You and me," Peter smiles brightly then perks up like an eager puppy. "Wanna show me what you were working on before mom and I got here…?"

And just like that, the awkwardness vanishes.

Tony grins and makes a grand gesture towards the elevator.

"Let me show you to my lair…"

---

They settle into a routine and truthfully, Tony's having the best time of his life.

It starts off slow because even if he's the one that needs help, he feels bad asking for the simplest things. Peter takes his job seriously though and has a keen eye for when Tony's itching to do something.

Peter takes over all the things Tony would struggle to do and he does it so effortlessly with no complaint. It leaves the older man feeling a tiny bit embarrassed at his dependency but he's grateful.

It becomes easier to just let Peter handle everything and soon, Tony relaxes into their routines.

His nephew is a god-send. He has all of the Stark smarts and none of the bullshit that Howard hammered into Tony's head since he was young.

This means that Tony can ramble on and on about his work and Peter keeps up astonishingly well. He listens with wide eyes, lips parted as though Tony was speaking prophecies. Even better, the kid throws back ideas, suggestions that make Tony's mind whirl with fantastic possibilities. It's surreal, it's wonderful, it's just how they are.

Tony and Peter.

"I really should be paying you," Tony groans when the boy digs his thumbs into a stiff muscle.

Peter has some magical hands and somehow, he just seems to know where to press on Tony's back. He kneads the tension right out of the older man's shoulders and Tony has to slump on the desk so he doesn't tip over out of pure ecstasy.

"Not taking your money, Uncle Tony," Peter sounds exasperated but there's a fondness to it that softens the bite.

"You're basically babysitting me," Tony still tries to convince him. "How about $800 a day? Dunno what the going rate for babysitters is but I'll throw in a bonus cause you're my cute little nephew."

Tony knows Peter won't take it so he's just rambling for fun.

Peter, though, goes quiet and his hands pause in their motions. His arms come around from behind and his chin settles on Tony's shoulder.

Hugs are nice and it isn't the first time Peter's helped himself to one. The older man doesn't think much of it, only squirms cause Peter's breath tickles his neck.

"I'm just happy being here with you, Uncle Tony," Peter tells him honestly. "I really missed being able to just walk a couple of blocks and hang out."

Warmth blossoms in his belly and if it was anyone else, Tony would've pulled back emotionally and physically. But Peter has always been like this, always loved hugs and affection. Once again, he has Stark blood but he's better.

Tony would usually pat the boy's hand but with the casts, he's more likely to be reprimanded. So instead, he slowly turns and Peter moves with him so that they're embracing. Even then, Peter's careful with the casts and makes sure not to brush against them.

"I missed you too, kiddo," Tony admits. "I'll make sure we have more hang out days when my hands are good, okay?"

"I'd like that," Peter mumbles into his shoulder.

Peter's mom drops off more clothes. She's satisfied that Tony is doing better, even smiling more frequently. Peter glows with pride beside him.

A day shy of being together for a week and Tony wakes up tangled in his sheets, body sleep-warm and cruising from pleasant dreams.

"Morning!" Peter cheers as he walks in carrying breakfast on a tray.

Tony's mind is still all fuzzy without his morning coffee so he just lays there and hums in acknowledgment. The bed dips under Peter's weight and the silence is so unusual that Tony peaks an eye open.

The boy's bottom lip is caught between his teeth while his cheeks are flaming red.

"Kid?" Tony's voice is rough from sleep. It startles Peter and those honey brown eyes shoot back up to his face.

The blush doesn't recede though.

"Um… Do you… need help, Uncle Tony…?" Peter mumbles, edging closer so that his knee presses against Tony's blanketed thigh.

"Help…?" Tony echoed. "Help with what–"

Peter's eyes dip down and this time, Tony follows him.

"Oh," Tony groans, aghast.

He's sporting some serious morning wood. And well, it's to be expected if he really thinks about it. Before his accident, Tony was a heavy believer in self-love. One can even say he's a serial masturbator, but he just… hasn't been able to do anything about it with his hands out of commission.

Sometime during the night, his dick must've slipped through the slit in his boxers so the only thing keeping him decent is the thin blanket over his lap.

"Just– ah, fuck. Just ignore it," Tony says, embarrassed.

He can't even hide it under a pillow or turn over. Both require the use of his hands which… Not possible.

"That can't be comfortable…" Peter still mumbles, completely ignoring Tony's instructions. "It looks really… big. And uncomfortable. Does it hurt…?"

"Not as much as my pride," Tony grumbles. "Can't you just… I don't know, put a pillow on my lap? It'll go away if we both ignore it."

It's an embarrassing situation and Tony's barely holding it together. He's been caught in all sorts of scandals but never one so personal as this. If it's embarrassing for him, it's probably worse for his poor nephew.

He expects Peter to listen to him, to save himself from this awkward mess and just leave him to his breakfast.

What he doesn't expect is to feel Peter's curious hand on his cock.

Tony sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flying open in disbelief.

He's not mistaken.

Peter is leaning over him, one hand gently gripping the base of his covered cock.

"Kid… What are you doing…?"

Tony fights against the need to thrust into his nephew's hand. His cock doesn't care who it is that's helping him out, it just cares that it's getting some love.

"Uncle Tony…" Peter breathes out as he looks at Tony with wide but determined eyes. "Mom said to make sure you're comfortable… If I do it like this… I'll make it go down faster, right...?"

His hand on Tony's cock starts to move. It steals away the words Tony wants to say as his hips twitch towards the source of friction. This shouldn't be happening, he shouldn't be feeling so good from Peter touching him...

"That's–" The older man tries to stop this but his words stutter and fail. "You shouldn't, Pete...!"

"Am I doing it wrong…? Am I making it worse?" Peter's lips tremble into a frown. It looks so wrong on his nephew's sweet face that Tony shakes his head, unwilling, even then, to upset the boy.

"Feels good..." Tony tries to stifle the moan working up his throat. It comes out as breathless gasps instead while his legs shift restlessly in the bed. "But you shouldn't…"

The frown melts away to reveal a sweet, happy smile.

Peter looks so determined, eyes focused where his hand is moving up and down over Tony's hard length. He's doing it so gently that it makes Tony's body crave for more, for a firmer grip.

"I don't mind doing it, Uncle Tony," he says while stroking Tony's cock. "I know it can hurt… And you're already going through a lot. I love you, Uncle Tony, and I want you to feel good."

What can Tony say in the face of such sweet words? Even if he wanted to, he couldn't bear to stop him now.

"Let me take care of you, Uncle Tony," Peter says. "Oh– let me…"

Tony groans in defeat when Peter pulls the blanket down. There's no hiding it now.

His cock stands proudly between his legs, fully erect from Peter's ministrations. It's flushed a rosy hue, prominent veins up and down the length… A thick mushroom tip that's darker in color than the rest of the length.

"Pete…" Tony says, helpless but so turned on when Peter resumes his duties.

His hand wraps around Tony's cock again, no hesitation, and Tony tries to stifle a moan that works up his throat. This is not the right response but it feels so good… Just the sight of Peter's hand wrapped around him sends arousal skittering up and down his spine. It looks so obscene, too. His nephew's finger can't even fully encompass the girth of his cock.

"Like this, Uncle Tony…?" Peter asks as he starts to stroke again. His thumb swipes over Tony's leaking cockhead and his hips jerk from the sensation.

All rational flies out the window.

"Ah– T-tighter…" Tony gasps.

The desire for release rises to the forefront so embarrassingly quick that the older man bites down on his lip to ask for more.

Peter complies with such sweet obedience that Tony moans and then oh– it's heaven. His nephew is clumsy and a bit awkward in his attempt but it smoothes out into something beautiful when Tony's hips start chasing after his hand.

His eyes are mere slits as he throws his head back. His hips jerk desperately into the sweet grip milking his cock. He doesn't think about what he's doing even when Peter continues to make soft encouraging comments.

It should freak Tony out but he's caught off guard. The loss of the use of his hands has affected him more deeply than he anticipated. The pleasure sings through him after just a week of not being able to do this and he craves it with a ferocious hunger that scares him with its intensity.

Just a week and Tony's hips are thrusting into his nephew's touch. His cock is leaking. He swears that his cock is so hard for Peter and that he's never been as hard for anyone else. Peter, his sweet innocent nephew, is the one making him feel so good, it's sinful.

Peter… He shouldn't be doing this to Peter but the boy's so focused on his task. The pink in his cheeks is so alluring… And how has Tony never noticed the shape of his lips? Or how it looks so soft and inviting, parted the way it is. Tony could easily slip a thumb right between and what would Peter do…?

Tony could just imagine the shock in Peter's pretty brown doe eyes and then the way they'd slowly drift closed. The pleasure of a new discovery would make his nephew's features slacken. Would he suck on Tony's fingers? Would he moan for his uncle…?

The older man hisses when Peter squeezes him just right, bringing him right to the edge. Tony struggles to cling on. It's so wrong, so wrong… His precum is dripping all over the boy's fingers, but Peter's not stopping.

"Uncle Tony… Is this okay? Does it feel good?"

Peter has such good intentions even while doing such a dirty act.

"Pete– Pete, I'm gonna…" Tony groans out the words but his eyes slip shut in defeat.

"Oh!" Peter knows what's coming but his little nephew surprises him again in the most delightful way.

An even sweeter heat envelops his cock. Just the tip but this new sensation is warm and wet. Tony can recognize that type of heat anywhere and he loses it. Peter's mouth is on his cock.

His eyes fly open and he's treated to the sight of his nephew's pink lips suckling on his cockhead. Peter looks up at him with wide eyes and his hand still makes sloppy, aborted jerks in an attempt to maintain his rhythm.

Such a good boy...

Any semblance of control completely deteriorates and Tony comes with a shocked groan. His cock pulses, balls drawing in tight, as he shoots into his nephew's mouth.

It happens so quickly and his muscles tighten with the intensity of his orgasm. Peter tries to take it all, every single load that Tony sends pulsing into his mouth.

It's too much for him. Tony sees it when the rush of cum gets too much. Peter's eyes widen even more and he pulls back coughing with his uncle's cum dripping down the corner of his lips.

He goes back down like the champ he is though and tries to take the rest of Tony's cum. He gets a load shot across his face for his efforts and the image will be forever seared into Tony's mind. Peter looks so beautiful with Tony's cum on his face that the older man can't find it in himself to even feel guilty.

He does feel bad, though, when Peter's face crumples in dismay.

"Oh, God, I-I'm sorry, Uncle Tony." His bottom lip even trembles. His distress is genuine and Tony's barely catching his breath. "I was trying not to get it everywhere… I thought I could do it but I made a mess. I'm sorry– Let me go get some paper towels and I'll clean it all up."

Not having the use of his hands is such an inconvenience. He can't even stop the kid from running off but he tries.

"Peter," Tony says firmly enough that the boy pays attention. His tone softens when the boy hesitates. "Pete. Just wait a minute, okay. Just– C'mere. Lie down next to me, okay?"

Peter does as he's told. He must be feeling even worse than he says because he scoots in close and curls up against Tony's side. The reality of the situation becomes an urgent need to discuss what just happened but Tony's mouth has gone dry.

"I'm sorry…" Peter whispers in the silence and Tony's heart aches.

"Hey, hey," Tony tries to soothe him. He can't turn onto his side so instead, he says, "Look at me, kid."

Once those brown eyes are back on him, Tony takes in a deep breath. He refuses to do anything that would make his Petey cry or feel bad. God forbid he do anything like that, his nephew's too good to him.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Pete," Tony says gently. "You really helped me out, okay? And– ah… Was that your… first time doing something like that…?"

Peter flushes and his lips press into a displeased line.

"Was it obvious…?" Peter mumbles, looking away.

To Tony, it had been but he's not gonna say that.

"Only cause I've been around," Tony says offhandedly. "But there's nothing to be sorry about, Pete. If anything, I'm sorry that I wasn't in better control."

"You were fine, Uncle Tony!" Peter protests, "And besides, you shouldn't be doing anything strenuous so really, I should be the one to, um, take care of all of that."

Tony wants to argue, of course, especially given the circumstance but he knows he's unlikely to win. And maybe… maybe, he doesn't want to win in this one.

So instead, he hums in acknowledgment.

Peter's hand creeps up his chest as the boy curls against his side.

"Did it feel good though…?" he asks quietly, hopefully. "I can do it better next time."

Next time… Tony's mind latches onto the words and even worse, his traitorous body floods with excitement.

"It was amazing, kid," Tony confesses. He turns just enough to kiss the top of Peter's head. "You did good, sweetheart… So good…"

That sweet smile that Tony has come to love so much spreads across his nephew's face. Peter practically glows with pleasure, a pleased little smile on his face. Tony practically melts in the face of it.

"You know, in things like things, I'd really want to return the favor if that's something you want, too," Tony says then before Peter can protest, he adds, "I can do other stuff that won't hurt my hands."

The boy looks perplexed for a moment but then his face brightens as he considers the proposal. There's something he wants and Tony would give him anything and everything.

"Kiss…?" Peter asks softly. "Can we do that…?"

The question surprises the older man. Peter has just given him one of the most mind-blowing orgasms Tony has ever had and his sweet boy is asking for a kiss…

"Of course, angel," Tony replies easily.

When he goes to lean down for a kiss, he can't help smiling at how Peter's eyes drift closed and his lips make the slightest little pucker.

Their lips touch, a gentle and chaste kiss but when he pulls away, Peter's eyes open and there's a quiet wonder in them.

"Wow…" Peter breathes. "Again? Please, Uncle Tony?"

Tony chuckles in response but instead of answering, he just presses in for another kiss and another and another… Until they're both lost in one another.

 ---

Because of what happened, there are drastic changes but some things also stay the same.

Tony tries to be the good, responsible adult he's always worked to be but Peter won't let things go back to how they were.

"Helping" his Uncle Tony feel good becomes an imperative task to the boy.

Tony protests at first. He feels like he has to put an end to it but little by little, those objections become half-hearted attempts that fade into drawn out moans of appreciation.

Whenever he looks down at Peter between his legs, he thinks, 'fuck, I'm going to hell…' but then another thought kicks in. It may be very much worth it when he has his angel of a nephew sucking him off. Those pretty pink lips… They feel so soft and warm and perfect on his cock…

The moment his resolve broke entirely is the first time he guides Peter into getting off. He can't stand the thought of being the only person feeling good. It's even worse when the boy would squirm on his knees, shyly pressing the heel of his hand against his own little problem.

Nope, Tony isn't having it.

Peter's cute little face is flaming red and Tony knows that he badly wants to flee to the bathroom to take care of himself.

"C'mere, kid," Tony breathes.

Peter shuffles closer and then gasps when Tony slots his leg between his. Tony's knee bumps against the boy's hand, pushing it against his covered erection.

"When my hands heal up," Tony starts to say, "I'm gonna make you feel so good, Pete. Gonna touch your pretty little cock and make you come for me."

The boy whimpers, a soft, pleading sound, but his wide eyes flutter in pleasure. His mouth trembles, a clear indication of how Tony's words affect him.

"But for now…" Tony nudges his leg closer and in response, Peter's hip jerks forward. "Move your hand, Pete… Let me feel it."

"Uncle Tony… That's…" His sweet innocent nephew has had Tony's cock in his mouth on multiple occasions but he still can't say such dirty things. It makes Tony feel so bad that he wants to dirty him up.

"It'll feel good, angel," Tony promises him, "for both of us. I'll make me feel really good to know you're getting something outta this, too."

Peter's eyelids flutter as he considers it. It doesn't take him long to decide either.his nephew is a good kid but the promise of pleasure convinces him.

"Should I take it out?" Peter asks hesitatingly. The very tips of his ears turn bright red, an adorable reaction.

The possibility crosses his mind, an image of Peter creaming his pants if he chooses not to take it out.

Tony's mouth goes dry.

"If you want to," Tony encourages instead of outright saying yes like he wants to. "Don't want you to chafe against your jeans or anything."

The boy bites down on his bottom lip before nodding thoughtfully.

"It's not as big as yours," Peter says as though warning Tony. It's cute that he even thinks that that would matter to Tony.

Regardless, Peter unbuckles his belt and tugs his jeans down though he has to wiggle a little to get them down his thighs.

Tony gets a glimpse of the tent his boxers make before he tugs those down too. His hand shyly covers his erection, glimpse of pink flesh between his fingers before he reveals himself.

"Oh, you're perfect, sweetheart," Tony promises.

Peter's cock is indeed smaller than Tony's but it fits his boy well. It's just as dainty as the rest of his body, perfectly proportionate to the more slender build he has.

His nephew blushes adorably as he circles the girth of his cock with his hand. He gives half-hearted strokes as though unsure of what to do now that they've reached this point.

Tony gladly takes the reins.

"I want you to press close to my leg," Tony instructs gently, "Just like before, Pete. Since I can't do it for you… Just listen to my voice, alright, angel?"

The blush on his cheeks may as well be a permanent fixture. Tony hopes Peter never loses this endearing quality, so shy and eager for his uncle's touch.

Peter leans closer, his hands resting on Tony's leg.

"Ah…" the soft exhale gives away the moment Peter's cock comes in contact with Tony's leg. Besides that, the older man feels it, hard and so hot even though his pants.

"Move for me, baby," Tony tells him. "Just like earlier… You can rub against me, I don't mind…"

His leg muscles flex as he nudges his leg closer.

"O-okay, I'll try…" Peter mumbles, peeking at his uncle with darkening eyes.

His hips start to move. At first, the movements are barely noticeable. Even when Tony feels that hard outline brush against him, it's still so faint. He lets Peter take his time though, just watching the boy slowly lose his inhibition.

"Mm…" that first soft moan is a victory to the older man even when Peter tries to clamp his mouth shut.

Their eyes meet and the boy shudders, dark, thick lashes threatening to cut their connection. Peter holds on though they tremble. His mouth looks soft, lips parted around an O of pleasure.

"That's it, baby…" Tony encourages the boy when his hips start to move. "Feels good rubbing against me, right? Even if I can't touch you… Can't jerk you off, you like me seeing you like this…"

"I… I do…" His nephew answers in a soft whisper as though it's a secret between them. "It feels… feels good…"

His hips start to really move and Tony can feel his nephew's cockhead grazing up and down his leg. Peter's still too shy.

"Good, sweetheart… That's good…" Tony doesn't push. "Wanna make my best boy feel so good…"

More pleasure causes the boy's expression to slacken but his grip on Tony's leg tightens. It isn't long before he starts to lean against his uncle.

Tony then takes the opportunity to press forward.

"O-Oh!" The cry of pleasure that Peter makes and the harsh jerk of his hip is worth Tony playing dirty.

He expects Peter to pull away but perhaps his nephew has been wanting this much longer than he initially knew. Once Peter feels that delicious friction against his cock, it's like his hips glue themselves to Tony's leg.

It's all there on his face, naked and exposed. Pleasure and need.

He presses in tight, his cock a firm solid line of heat against the older man.

"There you go…" Tony almost coos to the boy. "That feels better, doesn't it, Pete?"

His own cock starts to thicken in his pants again. He's amazed by how quickly he's recovered. That's the effect Peter had on him.

"Uncle Tony…" Peter whimpers softly. There's a desperate edge there as he clings to Tony's knee. The older man recognizes it well.

"Go on, baby," Tony encourages hungrily, "Keep going, keep rubbing against me… Wanna make you feel good too, Pete."

Peter can't seem to keep his eyes open so they're squeezed shut. His pretty mouth, though, is parted, letting out the breathless little moans that have Tony's ears straining for each one.

His hips jump in desperate jerks as he chases after his pleasure and Tony's voice guides him along the way.

Tony knows the moment Peter's right at the edge. His nephew's face is flushed, sweat-damp curls sticking to the sides of his face. Honey brown eyes look at him through barely there slits.

The older man just wants to eat him up, especially when Peter starts to say his name in that breathless needy tone.

"Uncle T-Tony… Uncle Tonyy… 'm gonna…" Peter mewls. His brows are scrunched up in the middle, mouth trembling.

Tony wants to sink his hands in Peter's hair and just haul him for a kiss. He can't though– such a shame.

"A-ah…" Peter comes with a soft cry, eyes squeezed shut, and body shuddering violently.

There's a rush of warmth when his cum spurts messily over Tony's leg but the older man just continues to murmur soft praises about how beautiful Peter looks, how gorgeous and good his sweet nephew is.

Peter shudders one more time, his cheek pressed against Tony's knee. Tony hears the boy's harsh breathing but ends up sucking in sharply when Peter's hand slides up and between his legs.

His fingertips bump against Tony's half-hard cock upon finding out his uncle's predicament, Peter looks up at him with pink cheeks. His eyes are at half-mast, the most enticing bedroom eyes that Tony's ever seen.

It kills him that Peter's probably unaware of just what it does to him.

"Uncle Tony…" Peter murmurs as he nuzzles against any part of his uncle he can reach. "You're hard again��"

Tony swallows, Adam's apple bobbing.

"Yeah…" he doesn't deny it, "Watching you, Pete… God, you don't even know what you do to me, do you…?"

A sweet smile pulls at Peter's lips and his touch grows firmer as he runs his fingers over Tony's swelling length.

"I'm just me, Uncle Tony…" he says like he thinks Tony's just being nice. "Want me to help you again…?"

"I'm not gonna say no…" Tony chuckles then leans back when Peter shuffles closer.

Getting hard so soon after having Peter's mouth is something that hasn't happened before. But then again, he hasn't had his sexy nephew rubbing against him before either.

Peter's mouth closes around his cock and Tony groans at the feeling of his tongue swirling around his cockhead. He leans back and watches, enjoying the sight of his nephew's pretty lips stretched around his cock.

That tiny nagging thought that this was wrong has all but disappeared. Peter's gaze locks with his own as he seeks approval and Tony gives it happily.

"Good boy… Such a good boy…" Tony sighs.

He'll find more ways to return the favor.

 ---

Week two edging into week three.

They've just returned from his doctor's and Dr. Cho has declared that his hands are healing up nicely. She says it with surprise as though she had expected Tony to come in with a sheepish grin, hands banged up and in worse condition than she left it.

Of course, Tony attributes the progress to his blushing nephew and she nods in understanding. He introduces his nephew to her as his amazing little helper. Peter blushes at the praise but Tony can tell he's happy about it. He listens even more closely to Dr. Cho's advice and tips for recovery than Tony does.

It's progress but she also says that it may take a few more weeks. Tony reassures her that he's in good hands.

When they get back to the penthouse, Peter disappears into the guest room that he's claimed his own when he first arrived. He barely uses it now, preferring to stay in Tony's bed, but most of his stuff is still there.

There's a report waiting for Tony in his email so he lets the boy be.

Around dinner time, he seeks him out to find out what Peter's craving for.

The door to Peter's room is cracked open but Tony still doesn't want to just walk in and possibly startle the boy.

"Pete?" He calls out. "I'm feeling for some burgers, what do you think…?"

He nudges the door open and his jaw almost drops.

"Uncle Tony–" Peter's face is flushed in that adorable pink shade that Tony's come to love and this time, yeah– it's appropriate.

His nephew is shirtless and bent over the side of the bed, those sinfully tight jeans of his pooled around his ankles. He's reaching back awkwardly and Tony follows the length of his arm down… down… where the boy has two fingers nudging into his little hole.

"Am I interrupting?" Tony asks dryly. He shuts the door behind him even though they're the only ones in the penthouse.

"Um, no," Peter mumbles shyly as he straightens up, "I was kinda hoping you'd come in sooner actually."

"Were you now…" Tony says as he walks towards him. It feels like there's a hook pulling him closer and he's unable to resist.

He takes in his nephew's lean form, eyes going from top to bottom and making a show of it. Peter's gotten bolder and more daring in the time they've spent together so if he's inviting his uncle to take a look at him, Tony will.

The older man has come to know Peter's body almost as well as his own. Even then, Peter still takes his breath away every time, especially when he's like this.

His nephew is just the perfect twink. He has a slender build with just enough muscle on his arms and legs that it hints at strength. Not to mention his skin, paler than Tony's, just takes on such pretty color when he's aroused.

Tony watches as the flush deepens when Peter sees him looking. It crawls down his neck, sweeps across his collar bones, and makes it midway down his chest where his pink nipples stand peaked.

His half-hard cock bobs in the air between soft thighs and Tony's mouth waters with the need to suck on it just to hear the boy cry.

"I looked up how to do this…" Peter admits coyly, calling Tony's attention, "But I was thinking that maybe you can help? Please, Uncle Tony?"

Tony's ready to jump right in but there's a hunch tickling the back of his mind.

"What brought this on?" He decides to ask.

His nephew gives him that sweet smile that Tony knows he can't resist.

"I, ah, just figured you'd like this better?" Peter says. "I know I've gotten better with my mouth… But this would be better, right?"

"Oh, sweetie," Tony murmurs. "You don't gotta do that for me."

Peter's sweet smile turns into a pout. He kicks his jeans off in a blatant disregard for them and then completely naked, he presses in close to his uncle.

"But I want to," Peter says stubbornly. "Wanted to make you feel even better, Uncle Tony. And since Dr. Cho said your hands are doing better, I thought maybe we could celebrate…?"

Those sneaky, greedy hands of his rest against Tony's chest then start to slide down. It's done in such a teasing manner that Tony wonders where his sweet, innocent nephew learned such a thing. It tugs at all of Tony's desires, his nephew's familiar touch eliciting such a keen response.

"I heard it could feel really good…" Peter murmurs. His face tips up, lips just begging to be kissed. "Can't you show me, Uncle Tony?"

"Fuck, kid…" Tony gasps when Peter starts to touch his cock. "Didn't need much convincing before, don't think I need it now either but I like it when you try."

The bright smile Peter gives him says he knows just how hard Tony finds it to say no to him. In this case, it was never even a possibility.

"Wanna show me what you were trying so far?" Tony prompts even when he lightly presses Peter's hand down harder on his cock.

Just as expected, Peter's hand slips away when Tony shows the slightest inclination to use his hands. The kid's concern for him is too much sometimes even when it has Tony feeling so warm from the inside.

"I can do that," Peter says. He leans up and presses a chaste kiss to Tony's lips before turning back to the bed.

Just like before, he positions himself so he's bent over. Tony gets the perfect view, his nephew's bare back presented to him with its adorable scatter of freckles. And further down, past his slim waist, a perfect peach just begging to be grabbed and squeezed.

He has to swallow the lump in his throat when the boy reaches back and pulls his cheeks apart to reveal a glistening pink hole.

"Christ, kid…" Tony breathes, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're trying to give me a heart attack."

"Uncle Tony…" Peter protests and wiggles in place.

Tony only groans at that and comes closer. He wants to touch his nephew so badly… He has to force himself not to reach out and just do it.

"What were you using?" he says to distract himself.

"I, uh, took some of the vegetable oil when I first tried…" Peter admits, shyly, "But, um, this time, I took one of the lubricant bottles you had in the nightstand? I hope you don't mind…"

Tony wants to shake his head at the vegetable oil comment but he's glad Peter isn't using it anymore. He only wants the best for Peter and he wants the kid to feel good too. Subpar tools, even if they work, just aren't good enough for his boy.

"Not at all," Tony says reassuringly, "it's better, isn't it?"

"Yeah, definitely better," Peter agrees breathlessly. One hand inches closer to his glistening hole. "Wanna see, Uncle Tony?"

His cock wants him to do more than just observe but Tony knows that waiting is worth it, especially if he gets to see Peter playing with himself.

He licks his lips.

"Yeah, baby, show me what you were doing…" Tony says. His voice drops to a low, intimate murmur.

His nephew, excited and so eager to please, squirms in place. Maybe even rubs his hard cock against the bedsheets.

"The stuff I read said to go slow," Peter says as he starts to nudge a finger in. "Go slow and use lots of lube."

Tony hums in agreement as his nephew starts to dip his finger in and out. He watches hungrily as that single finger pushes in smoothly. The boy's tight little rim clamps down, basically clinging to the small intrusion before Peter slips it back out. It's the worst kind of tease, watching his beautiful boy's body begging to be filled.

"One finger feels okay… Two is…" Peter cuts off with a hitched gasp as he adds another.

"Tight…?" Tony suggests.

"Mm… ah… y-yeah…" his nephew groans.

Tony comes even closer and lays a hand on Peter's trembling flank.

"Uncle Tony–"

"Shh," Tony soothes the boy, "Just touching you, kid, not gonna try to press hard or anything."

Peter's skin is warm beneath his fingertips, but he longs to feel the jump of muscles under his palms. Later, he tells himself.

The boy settles down, grudgingly accepting that Tony is being careful. Maybe part of it is that he wants his uncle to touch him as much as Tony wants to.

"Breathe, sweetheart," Tony instructs, "Breathe and relax… Bear down when you push in and it'll help."

The boy obeys beautifully, those slim fingers nudging in slowly when he inhales. A soft whimper escapes him when he does it.

"Don't rush it," Tony gently tells him. "You gotta work for it, Pete. Get your hole used to being stretched like this."

He knows what it's like being an overeager teen, knows that there's been a hunger in his nephew every time he's handled Tony's cock. How long Peter's wanted him, perhaps Tony will never know.

"That's it, kid," Tony encourages when Peter's body relaxes, melting into the bed. "You're gonna have to put another one… Gotta stretch yourself good for my cock. Your fingers are so small compared to what you want… You do want my cock in you, don't you, Pete?"

The boy shudders and whimpers, wrist flexing and fingers pumping faster at Tony's words.

"I do, Uncle Tony…" Peter groans, "Want you to put it in me…"

Tony caresses the boy's side soothingly, still light enough that Peter doesn't protest. Not only that, but the boy actually arches into his touch with a soft moan.

"I will," Tony promises, "as long as you're ready for me."

His cock throbs in his pants and he's tempted to ask Peter to help him out of them. But his nephew looks so caught up in the moment, eyes squeezed shut in concentration as he works himself loose for Tony.

Tony sneaks a hand to the band of his sweatpants and nudges it down. He hasn't bothered to wear underwear since Peter's been so greedy for his cock so his sweatpants are the only obstacle.

"One more finger, baby," Tony says soothingly, "One more then–" he presses his cock, blood warm and so hard, against the boy's ass and Peter's eyes fly open at the touch.

"Oh–!" He leans up to get a look and his eyes lock on the older man's cock.

Tony, himself, loves the view. His cock is ready, swollen to an intimidating size with prominent veins decorating the length. His cockhead, a deeper color than the rest of him, is already damp at the slit.

With Peter's eyes on him, Tony nudges his cock forward toward the boy's fingers stretching his hole apart. The cockhead bumps against them and his breath hitches in his throat.

"Oh, God…" Tony hears Peter moan.

Those slim fingers retract, leaving Peter's pink hole to close around nothing. It looks so desperate, lubed up and ready to be fucked but not quite yet.

Even so, Tony takes the opportunity to rub his cock right there, his sensitive tip brushing against Peter's equally sensitive hole. The boy shudders and he even rocks back, trying to get his uncle's cock to slip into him.

But Tony makes sure that besides teasing them both, his cock doesn't press in.

"One more, kid," Tony reminds him. He reaches over and nudges the lube towards Peter. "Add more, too. You'll need a lot more if you want my cock inside you."

A soft whine is all Tony gets but Peter hastily obeys because he knows Tony's won't continue if he doesn't. The cap is popped off and more lube is added to the boy's wet fingers. It's probably more than he actually needs but Tony isn't going to call him out on it.

"Good boy…" Tony murmurs when Peter returns to the task.

He presses three fingers to that soft little hole. The excess lube drips down and Tony catches it with the tip of his cock. While Peter starts to finger himself, Tony lightly spreads the excess lube along his length. He wants to be ready for the boy, too.

His breathing is harsh but Peter's is even more evident. The boy is moaning, eyes watching his uncle while he gets used to the stretch.

He has three fingers nudged in now. The skin around his hole is rosy and wet as he works his fingers in and out slowly. Soft, sloppy sounds combine with his moans and Tony decides to add to it.

"See, I knew you could take it, baby," Tony praises him, "Three fingers… Almost ready for me..."

"'m ready… So ready, Uncle Tony," Peter swears, cheeks red and hips rocking.

His fingers push in deeper, past the second knuckle, and his entire body shudders. He's trying so hard to show Tony that he can take it.

"I know, baby… I know," Tony murmurs softly. "Take em out, Pete. Gonna put my cock inside now."

A soft exhale then a soft moan as Peter extracts his fingers. "Ah…"

The pink little hole, worked open to accommodate his cock, slowly closes but in those few seconds, Tony can imagine what his nephew would look like with a gape. He just wants the use of his hands so that he can spread the boy apart with his thumbs and just tease him there with his cock until neither of them can take it anymore.

"God, Pete… The things you do to me…" Tony groans when he presses his cock right against that wet hungry hole. "Wanna just… do really bad things to you, Pete… Wanna fuck this tight hole of yours until you're loose and dripping with me… Wanna make you mine..."

The boy whines and rocks against him. This time, Tony doesn't pull away. He groans when he feels the inviting heat of Peter's hole slowly opening around his glans. So warm and tight…

"You can, Uncle Tony," Peter pants, "if you want to… I want it too, please…"

Tony breathes in harshly then slowly starts to sink in.

Despite Peter's efforts, the sheer size of Tony's cock is still so much to take for someone as inexperienced as his nephew. Peter gasps and his hand clenches in the sheets, hips instinctively pulling away from the penetration.

It's still just the tip but Tony pauses anyway.

"Keep going…?" Tony gives Peter the option to tap out but the boy shakes his head adamantly. Those endearing brown curls bounce as he rejects the very idea.

"N-No!" Peter's voice shakes and his entire body trembles. "I-It's a lot…"

More deep breaths but Tony could see the boy trying to relax.

Tony leans down so his chest presses lightly against Peter's back. Gently, he slips a hand around the boy's hip and between his legs.

He finds Peter's hard cock and gently rubs it, up and down, with his fingers. The cast makes the movement clumsy and it takes away from Tony feeling the warm, heavy weight but it does the job.

Peter whines and grows restless beneath him, body tight with growing pleasure but also softer and more welcoming.

"More, Uncle Tony…" Peter groans. He reaches back, tries to spread himself open with one hand for the older man.

It's too tempting to resist… Tony nips the boy's shoulder before he straightens himself. His hands aren't healed enough to carry the weight of his body and he's not chancing the possibility that they have to stop because he hurt himself again.

His cock sinks in slowly. Inch by inch, he works his erection into the boy's body with short, gentle thrusts. He has to, for his sake and Peter's.

The boy is so tight around him and everything about it is too much… It's not just the sensation either, though the heat and pressure around him are enough to leave him breathless.

It's the fact that it's Peter. It's his nephew that's making him feel good. The boy's moans are what's making Tony unravel, those soft whimpers and the eager, almost desperate way that his body silently begs for more.

When he gets that last inch inside, they're both panting with exertion. Peter's knuckles are white where they're curled in his sheets but everything else about him is full of color.

The tips of his ears are red, his lips, a trembling pink, and his shoulders… Down to where that pink little hole, stretched so tightly around his cock.. That, too, is such a rosy color and Tony's barely even put it to use...

Tony runs a hand down the boy's trembling back and Peter melts into the touch.

"Too much, sweetheart?" Tony asks. His voice is strained, his entire body is struggling not to just fall into instinct.

"'m okay," Peter whimpers, "m okay…"

Despite saying so, Tony gives him as much time to adjust as he can. It's only when the boy becomes restless once more that Tony starts to move.

When he does, he intentionally seeks out that sweet spot in Peter's body.

One of the reasons why he hates not being able to touch Peter is because he couldn't stimulate that spot inside him. He couldn't show Peter all those sensitive areas that could have pleasure bursting like fireworks.

He intends to do that now.

Every push in and every pull out threatens his control but he grits his teeth and bears it. Peter moves with him, clumsy and unrefined, just trying to fall into the rhythm that Tony sets. Tony guides him into it with a hand lightly set on his hip.

His fingers itch to press down but Tony focuses on his initial task.

Peter is just so receptive, so eager for this… He moans and cries out with every thrust but Tony knows when he finds his sweet spot. With his hips angled just right, Peter's entire body jolts when Tony's cock brushes right there where he needs it.

"Mm!" The boy cries out. His hips push back harshly, chasing after that shock of pleasure.

"There it is…" Tony groans and aims for it again and again. "Found your sweet spot, Pete."

"U-Uncle Tony…!" Peter cries out. More words try to come out but all he can manage is a jumble of moans and whimpers.

The moans that come out of the boy are on a whole other level. They're high pitched with shock and it melts into drawn out whines even as he pushes back desperately.

Tony gives it to him just like he wants, just like they both want. Their bodies fall into a perfect rhythm, Peter pushing back while Tony fucks forward.

Pleasure is shared between them in a continuous loop, strengthening with each pass. It's not sustainable though and Tony feels it the moment Peter comes from being fucked.

That tight, warm space he's made for himself in Peter's body just clenches down so viciously that Tony's thrusting aborts. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries not to blow his load right then and there.

"Oh– oh, fuck, Pete…" Tony grunts. "You coming, baby…? Fuck–"

Peter whimpers beneath him and when Tony's hand slips between his legs, he finds wetness on the sheets and dripping down his thighs.

"You, too–" Peter groans once he's regained speech, body clenching down and massaging Tony's cock. "Please, Uncle Tony… Want you to finish, too…"

Tony hissed but he starts up again with harsh thrusts that have his hips slapping against Peter's ass. He isn't going to last long, especially now that he knows Peter's already come.

Sweat drips down from his hairline and the older man grunts in exertion. Peter just lays there, his entire body willing and accepting every thrust.

And then, just like before, he reaches back and spreads his cheeks apart for his uncle. Tony gets the perfect view of his cock stretching that pink hole apart…

"Come in me, Uncle Tony," Peter begs softly. "Please, Uncle Tony, wanna feel it… Wanna feel you come inside…"

"Pete– Oh, fuck, Pete…!" It's enough to push Tony over the edge.

He buries his cock right to the root and his balls press tight as he starts to unload inside his sweet, begging nephew.

He groans in completion and it's accompanied by Peter's soft whimpers as he's being filled. The pleasure overwhelms him and it's so good that it almost hurts.

He doesn't know if it's intentional or not, but Peter's tight walls milking his cock becomes too much. He's too sensitive in the aftermath.

Tony pulls out with a hiss then groans when his cum comes spilling out and drips down in thick trails.

Immediately, Peter's fingers are there, so curious and tracing over his used hole and Tony's cum seeping out of it. The look in his eyes is full of wonder and somehow, still so hungry when he looks at Tony.

And God help him, Tony can't resist him. Doesn't even want to.

He's still panting and coming down from his high when he says, "C'mere, sweetheart."

Peter goes eagerly, arms wrapping around Tony's body and face tipped up with a pleased smile.

"Was that good, Uncle Tony?" Peter asks sweetly. There isn't even a hint of insecurity in his voice, he knows his uncle so well now.

Tony wraps his arms around Peter's waist, pulling him close and kissing those irresistible lips.

"The best, Pete, the best," Tony tells him. "You always take such good care of me…"

The boy nuzzles close, so affectionate, so perfect.

"Always will, Uncle Tony," Peter promises and Tony knows he means it.

There's no stopping what they have now.

[johnkrrasinski]

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞

Chapter 4: Leaving Out the Side Door

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers (in future chapters) x Reader

Word Count: 2,325

Summary: Steve Rogers; a Hollywood A-lister and your clandestine occasional hookup. Best friends since childhood, but people change and friendships fall out. Now you were merely strangers with benefits. What happens when one day you stopped being his doormat to be a better man’s queen? The selfish Steve Rogers would not like it. How far is he willing to go to get his favorite possession back?

Warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, dark Steve (in later chapter), angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole in this one, no redeeming qualities. (MUST BE 18+)

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @belovedcherry​​​ who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for being a friend when i truly needed it. i’m really glad that you trusted me to write this story for you. with all my heart, i sincerely hope you like it. this series will be updated every day.

You were on your knees with your hands tied behind your back as he vigorously thrust into you. Your heartbeat pounded in your rib cage and you began to feel numb from the hours he had fucked you. Steve was relentless when he was chasing his own climax, greedily used you as a tool; giving zero fucks about your pleasure or your discomfort, to dump his load in.

Steve didn’t need to see your face or hear your consent. He could go on and on for hours and still not feel satisfied. One thing that you had learned from this being in this dead-end friends with benefits thing with Steve Rogers is that his stamina was relentless. And he wouldn’t think twice about getting what he needed whenever he needed it.

Steve impaled you as your face was squeezed into the pillow, you could hear the squelching noises from the ceaseless cycle of disposing his semen in you and then pushed it back in when he was ready for the next round. Your head began to feel dizzy and your visions turned hazy. You’d tell him to stop because you couldn’t take it anymore, but you knew you didn’t have any strength left in your body to do so.

So you ascended from your body and let him take the wheel; allowing him to go as fast as he wished. He kept hammering until he felt your cunt clenching around him and his cock pulsated, then the line blurred as the coil inside you burst, withering every nerve in your body.

“Ah, fuck.” He grunted. He stayed still inside you until he felt himself softening and then he retreated.

Steve unbound your wrists and he threw himself on the other side of the bed. You knew better than turning to his side and cuddle on his chest unwarranted. He always expected you to get up and get out of his house instantly because he either had another place to attend and didn’t want to see you still here when he comes home or he was ready for another hookup.

Every now and then, you’d let him use you to fulfil his needs and you’d volunteer in cleaning his apartment afterwards. Even after those countless nights where you weren’t the one who made a mess of his sheets.

Ever since that night in your dorm; the first time you were reborn into a blossomed woman and the first time Steve paved the way of traversing to the electric piquancy of venereal act for you, you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop letting him through your door or drive to his place at three in the morning just so he could let off some steam.

Every time you try to say no, he’d always pay you a visit unannounced. He’d paralyze you with his words and freeze you with his unchaste touches. “Shh, let me make you feel good, baby. You just gotta surrender yourself to me.”

You’d try to push him away but your brittle tenacity was unavailing. Fast forward to five years later, when you finally got your degree and life vagabondized to unexpected places, your sex life was still staying still in one spot.

You were recruited by National Institute of Mental Health as their project manager. You were possibly the youngest candidate to occupy this position but they were very impressed by your resume and your interview that they didn’t have any better choice than giving you the job.

You loved it, you excelled at what you do. Helping people and tending for their mental health was the aim of your life. You had a clear vision of how you were going to initiate a concept, plan a strategy and execute the plan. You respected your colleagues and vice versa. It was a suitable environment for you to work in and you enjoyed every minute of it.

Your best friend aka your former roommate, Natasha was your rock. You still talked to her everyday and she’d always text you in case she couldn’t call. You’d exchange stories about how your days went and she’d always send you pictures or videos of her adorable cat, Liho. It always carved a smile on your face.

The same goes for Wanda, although with her busy schedule of graduate school and supervised experience made things a little difficult for you to stay in touch, she still updated every nugatory detail of her life. You loved her and you missed her excruciatingly. You had driven to New Haven during some weekends to see her and spend time with her, but when the weekend was over, you had to return to New York because your job was waiting for you.

They were your two most endeared girls and you couldn’t wait for the day you finally introduce them to each other. Natasha and Wanda had said hi to each other a few times back when you were still living in the same dorm but, you really wanted to spend time with the two of them at the same time. They would totally click.

But if anyone asks you about your love life? Well, how could you explain something that was nonexistent?

Unless “friends” with benefit counts for something…

A bell on your apartment dinged and you reached for the door. A man in black with purple nuances uniform showed up with a package in his hands. “Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Here’s your delivery. Sign here please.” He handed you a piece of paper to draw your signature on and you accepted it without question, knowing full well it was another extravagant gift from Steve. Yep, that Steve.

The Steve Rogers.

A Brooklyn-born movie star of various blockbuster films, a remarkable singer and the face of Calvin Klein’s campaign this year… and Gucci Guilty’s last year.

The notorious womanizer but it was all good because he was the man. When you had starred alongside Leonardo DiCaprio and posed next to Oprah, who would give a shit if you never stopped playing the field, right?

And because he was The Steve Rogers, he could’ve spent his money on any lavish item and he could’ve put his dick wherever he wanted it. That included you, being the object of his wealthiness and his manliness.

How many times had you tried to reason with him when he constrained you to come over after a drunken hookup with a twenty-something model to clean up the mess and take out the trash? Perhaps just a few numbers exceeding the number of times he’d play the most charming man in the world only to forget your existence until he wanted you again.

So your feet innately transported you to your car, wearing the brand-new crimson red, bodycon dress with deep V-neck that displayed your cleavage, spaghetti straps baring your arms and a backless design that made you shiver due to the crisp air and drove to a place you had grown so accustomed to.

And this was the God knows how many times you were corrupted on his bed again. You had been so busy with your upcoming project that NIMH was ready to announce but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to resist the urge to come over to his place.

You stood on your wobbly feet, cleaned yourself up and see yourself out. Wouldn’t want to keep another mistress waiting in line…

Three weeks have passed since you last slept with Steve Rogers. Whispers on the streets chirped that he had been occupied with shooting a new film, erotic thriller slash mystery genre. Seems appropriate.

You yourself had been snowed under your work. The fundraiser event that NIMH was holding had been wearing you down but it was all worth it when the show was on. Negotiating with sponsorships, seeking donations and managing ticket sales were not easy, and it was all part of your responsibility because you were the boss, but you aced it anyway.

You were also responsible to hire professional entertainers and well, knowing that you got some connections to a well-known actor, of course, he was the first name on your list. But due to schedule conflicts, he couldn’t make it. It wasn’t a problem though, you still had a long list of names; film stars, movie producers, musicians, directors, moguls, etc.

You stood in your black sequin dress at the corner of the venue, inhaling all the sedulity and gumption you had invested in this event for the past couple of months. A part of you was secretly hoping that Steve would be here to see it, but you quickly eliminated those thoughts away.

9th-grade summer break. Upon the verdant hills overlooking the tranquil lake below; the moon’s faint glow ricochets on the water.

“What do you wanna be when you grow up, y/n?” his head reclined on his the palms of his hand, arms sprawled out like a butterfly’s wings.

“I wanna… Help people. My mom is a nurse and my whole life I watched her taking care of people she’d never met and I wanna have her big heart. I wanna do something that saves people.” you beheld the twinkling stars in the crepuscular sky, privily prayed that every word would come true.  

“You wanna be a nurse like her too?” His eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know… Maybe I’ll host a charity event or something and then I’ll use all the money for those who need it. It looks cool in the movies.”

“When I make it, I’ll come to your event and help raise the money too! People would be interested in giving money to celebrities, right?” the credence glinted in his eyes.

“But the money will not be for you, doofus.”

“Yeah, I know!” he chided. “I wouldn’t take a single cent even if I could. My mom taught me that if I were given the chance to put others first before me… I should and I will respect her legacy.”

You watched the host and your project leader, Tony Stark stood behind the acrylic podium and he greeted the crowd a good evening. He opened his speech, cajoling the guests with his words to share a little bit of their wealth as many as possible and closed it with a cordial adieu.

You made your way to one of the most respected guests; Benjamin Woods was sitting on the fifth table. Two times Oscar nominee and you were jittery to talk to him, but in this line of work, you were trained to be confident and act like one of the elites. So you weren’t going to freak out like an obsessive fan, you gotta keep it cool and classy. Plus, during the briefing, you were told to fraternize with as many of the guest as possible, persuade them to help us reach the goal.

You had your eyes set on the target until you bumped on a six-foot man, spilling the martini in his hand all over your dress. It caused a few heads turning but that was the last thing you cared about right now. “Shit!” you squawked.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry miss.” a British accent was hinted.

You grabbed a napkin from the nearest table to wipe away the stain but of course, it was futile. He offered a hand by saying “here, let me help.”

“No, no it’s fine, I’ll-” you looked up to see a handsome man with a pair of grey, slightly blue and green fused at the core. His dark brown hair matched the stubble covering his entire jaw and you were captivated by the work of art that was his face. Man, what a gorgeous creature. “…Manage.”

“I’m truly sorry, I must really stop reading through my emails while walking.”

“Don’t worry about it, sir. It happens.”

“Can I at least get you a drink? I’d feel really bad if I don’t do anything to compensate for my error.”

You averted your gaze from him to the person you really wanted to talk to but that could wait. You still got a few more hours to properly introduce yourself. “Yeah, why not?”

“Splendid.” You both walked toward the bar and sat on the stools. The next thing you knew, you had spent the last one hour talking and acquainting with this man. Apparently, he was the executive director of Filmmakers Without Borders where funding films and new media projects that aligned with themes of social justice, empowerment and cultural exchange was the prime focus of his job. He believed that if he could support ideas that would make the world a better place, he’d do it without a second thought.

He was also a big traveler. He loved seeing magical places in foreign countries, he was keen on exploring new cultures and learning new languages even if he could only recollect a few basic words. He claimed that he had traveled to nine countries in Asia and he planned to travel across Europe, his so-called home, once he had conquered the omnifarious continent.

And what enthralled your heart the most about him was that he was a proud father of two adorable dogs; a greyhound and a pomeranian and a benign Siberian cat. He spoke about them so fondly. He showed you pictures of them and he said that he’d love for you to meet them. Oh man, was that a subtle invitation to come over to his place soon in the future?

He was a real gentleman, courtesy and multifaceted were the proper words to describe this man, and you had only known him for one hour. Eventually, duty calls and you still had a role to play in this event, but before you could hop off the stool, he had asked you for your number and you gladly gave it to him. You had a feeling that this wasn’t farewell but rather, an incipience. The question is… What could it be of?