#but the thought of real pregnancy grosses me out... 😭 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 1 year ago

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Hello, my dear!! LOVED getting your thoughts on this one. 🥰 Diving right in!

“He was very proud of his grill.” — In typical male fashion, the real test is how well he can use it though!

💯💯 LOL! And clearly, he needs some more practice. but you're right, I doubt the neighbors are gonna dare complain about a little smoke knowing Soldier Boy's next door. 😅

I love that you’ve added this little detail in, because this is something that does cross my mind when it comes to these two. He really does have to be mindful that his endurance isn’t universal.

A big fat yep. Lol on top of monitoring his strength around her, he can handle certain things that she can't. There really are a lot of complications in a supe/non-supe relationship, other than the obvious ones.

And Ben's got nothing but audacity. 😂 First outing her chocolate stash, then her vibrator. But that's a good question you posed. I think an old-fasioned guy like him would be offended if she was using it while he was around. Maybe she keeps it for his "away missions." 🤣

“Might wanna keep it away from the chocolate though. That could get messy…unless you want it to be.” — AIN’T NO WAY HE JUST SAID THAT!! 😭

What can I say, love? He's fucking gross. 🤣

“You were happy. Maybe for the first time in your life.” — That’s so fricken cute 😭💖

🥹 They're my favorite, I stg. 💕💕

“Ben shook his head. “We really need to broaden your palate.”” — Okay you prissy lil’ rich boy 😂

IKR? 😂😂 This was a callback to BMD Part 17. He really is a little yatch club rich boi.

“True,” he smirked. “You’re already a pain in the ass as it is.” — Oh shush Benjamin you know you LOVE it!

He absolutely does, and she knows it too. 😂

““Shit,” he muttered, and released you to run back to the grill.” — The imagine of him running out to the grill is so funny to me.

Lmfao for me too, hun. Ben's taters are burnin'. 🥔🥔

Shiiiiiit so she STRONG strong! Bending wrenches and shit, is that how Ben finds out? Is he just gonna find one of his wrenches and be like what the fuck happened here? 😂

💪💪 Strong indeed! Lol that would've been hilarious. But headcanon is he's definitely going to find that wrench later and will be bewildered AF. (Looking over at her like, "Was this you?" 🤨)

“You’re eleven weeks pregnant,” — Jesus, almost three months!!

In hindsight I probably did my math wrong (was going for 9 weeks of development), but ah well! What's posted is posted. 🤣

“The super strength is probably temporary. A side effect of the fetus’s genetics. But, it’s also advantageous for you,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “This makes it much more likely that you’ll survive the birth.” -- Holy shit I didn’t even think about that side of it… and it makes me wonder if she or Ben have considered that aspect of having a baby.

Yeah, guaranteed Ben hasn't. But that will be a subject to be covered in Part 2 loll.

“What’s the matter with you?” Ben asked. He was never one to beat around the bush.” — Straight to the point, I like it!

Ben A) gives no fucks about tact most times (unless he's really trying) and B) has no patience worth a damn.

“Well this time, I’m told it’s also temporary…for the next seven months or so,” you said with a playful smile.” — That’s one hell of a pregnancy reveal 🤣

Hahaha so glad you enjoyed it!! I really tried to make it fun, emotional, and uniquely "them" as a couple. And yes, he's finally getting his dream! But it's also her dream now. (Another theme to be explored in Part 2!)

“Too bad you’re already knocked up, or that could’ve been a great way to bring in our second kid,” he remarked.” — This is some delicious content, and it’s hitting all the right spots for me 😮‍💨🤌

Love it!! Thank you, lovely. I try my best. 🥹

My oh my I love love LOVE this!! The way that she broke the news to Ben was honestly really fitting for them and their relationship. And his reaction? That was so so cute! The way he even teared up about it melted my heart!! The snippet for the next part, however, now has me worried… 😅 but I’m so keen to read it!!!

Thank you so much!! Like I said, I wanted this moment to feel very much "them." Along with his reaction being true to his character, but also true to his current level of character growth since BMD.

Haha Part 2 is going to be fun! A bit of drama, a dose of their usual arguing, but plenty of heart and feels as well. 😘😘

Strong as Blood - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out?

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

AN: This two-part fic can be read as stand-alone, but it’s really a bonus sequel to Break Me Down!

Here’s the chronological reading order for the series:

Break Me Down

Love Actually

Checkerboard

Strong As Blood

Word Count: 4,500 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, fluff, and a smutty ending.

Part 1: “Probably Temporary”

Make no mistake. Ben was still a terrible cook.

He’d sort of gotten the hang of the grill though, even if he technically wasn’t supposed to be smoking meat on the apartment’s second-floor balcony.

You peeked out at your boyfriend through the sliding glass door to make sure he was still doing okay. He caught you though, and shot you a wink.

He was very proud of his grill.

We’re so gonna get in trouble with the homeowner’s association, you thought, but you couldn’t help a smile. You obliged him when he beckoned you over, and you slid the door open.

“Almost done? I think our neighbors are going to complain again,” you said with a laugh. Ben rolled his eyes.

“It’s a bit of smoke, not a fucking forest fire,” he groused. “Let those uppity fucks complain. Bet’cha they won’t have the balls to say shit to my face if I go across the street for a little visit.”

You soothed him with a hand along his shoulder. It also gave you an excuse to check on his progress. You considered this episode to be a success, considering the balcony wasn’t up in flames this time. And the steaks actually looked good. Not brittle pieces of charcoal, but not raw and bleeding either.

“I think those are done,” you advised. Ben followed your gaze and nodded. He used his bare hands to turn the foil-wrapped potatoes, just because he could.

“Why don’t you take ‘em in while I finish up these potatoes,” he said. “How’s the rest coming?”

“Good. I’m about to take the casserole out of the oven,” you said with a nod. Meanwhile, he placed the steaks in a glass dish that been sitting near the open grill. He handed it to you, but you almost dropped the steaks when the hot glass burned your hands.

You hissed in pain, while Ben caught the dish with both hands. His brows furrowed, first in surprise, then in thinly veiled concern when he looked over at you. He reached out for your shoulder.

“Damn,” he said. “Didn’t seem that hot…you okay?”

You looked up from your stinging hands and sighed at him in exasperation, but you couldn’t get that mad at him. He sometimes couldn’t gauge things like this when it came to what he could handle, versus what your normal human body could.

“Yeah. I’ll just break out the aloe. First, let me get some oven mitts,” you replied, but your answering smile retained some good humor. Ben quirked an apologetic smile of his own. He decided to follow you into the kitchen, taking the steaks in himself.

You grabbed your favorite green oven mitts and carefully took out the veggie casserole. It smelled delicious, but Ben still peered at it over your shoulder when you placed it on the counter.

“Don’t you look my casserole sideways,” you quipped. “You need to eat more veggies.”

He leveled you with a dry look. “You saying I’m getting out of shape?”

“God forbid,” you gasped, playfully jabbing at his firm abs with a mitt-covered hand. “I’m just saying, your super metabolism is compensating for a lot of booze and Taco Bell.”

Ben rose a brow at your cheekiness. He drew closer behind you, trapping you against the counter with one hand braced on the edge, and the other sliding up your jean-clad hip.

“You’ve got some nerve. I don’t talk shit about the stash of Twix bars in your nightstand, do I?” he remarked. He nipped at your ear, making you flinch and giggle. His beard was also tickling your neck.

“You’re peeping in my nightstand now? How dare you,” you teased. He snorted in response.

“Please. Your purple vibrator isn’t exactly a fucking mystery to me,” he retorted. You felt his smirk growing against your neck. “Might wanna keep it away from the chocolate though. That could get messy…unless you want it to be.”

Your body shook with the effort of containing your laughter. He was so fucking gross.

“Don’t you need to check on the potatoes?” you asked. “I don’t want to have to pressure wash the balcony again.”

Ben made a sound of agreement, but was sure to swat you on the ass before he went. You jolted, but you just shook your head with a blush and a smile.

It had been over a year since you and Ben had moved in together. Already you’d had your first fight as a true couple, your first Christmas, and so many other challenges, large and small, that had all come to solidify one thing for you.

You were happy. Maybe for the first time in your life.

It just came with some…small caveats, you reflected, as you reached into the fridge to find the jar of aloe vera. Before you slathered some onto your hands, you realized they were no longer red, and they didn’t even sting anymore.

“What the hell?” you muttered. You put back the jar and rested a hand on your hip.

Well, maybe you hadn’t burned yourself as bad as you thought.

With that oddity still in your mind, you pulled on your oven mitts again and took up the casserole with the intention of bringing it to the dining table. Admittedly, you were a bit distracted. You didn’t remember about the raised ledge in the doorway to the dining room until it was too late.

You tripped, and though you managed to make it to the table, you gasped when you broke right through the wood.

The table just seemed to give up when you hit it, cracking in half, and sending you tumbling to the floor with hot casserole heaped on top. You were still stunned when Ben tore back inside. His green eyes were wide, his brows furrowed as he took in the state of you on the floor with the broken table.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, though he bent down to help you up. He checked you for injuries, but both of you found nothing.

“I’m okay,” you said, a bit shakily. “I tripped, that’s all.”

Ben’s brows raised as he looked from you to the shards of the table. He knocked on the wood surface.

“Cheap piece of shit. Where’d you get this thing?” he asked.

You flickered at a smile and admitted, “IKEA.”

Ben shook his head. “We really need to broaden your palate.”

You insisted you were all right. But he insisted, without words, on checking you over again. His hands brushed down your shoulders and arms, your hands and neck.

He held your face in his hands, and he let out a deep sigh. You just smiled up at him, though inside, you were hiding a bit of worry yourself.

That table hadn’t been cheap. It was solid pine wood.

But Ben seemed to believe you. He also seemed a bit exasperated.

“I should just layer you up in goddamn bubble wrap. The way you find ways to break yourself is beyond me,” he muttered. Your lips pursed.

“I resent that—”

“I’m sure you fucking do.”

“Besides,” you said, a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth. “What a pain in the ass would it be to unwrap me?”

Ben huffed, even as his hands traveled down to wrap around your waist and pull you in close.

“True,” he smirked. “You’re already a pain in the ass as it is.”

You opened your mouth to mount an indignant protest, but he shut you up the only surefire way he knew how. His kiss was swift, deep, and left you humming into his mouth in surprise.

But you soon pulled back, brushing a thumb along his chin. “We’ve got to clean up this mess. And…did you get the potatoes?”

Ben thought for a moment, but then his mouth firmed into a line.

“Shit,” he muttered, and released you to run back to the grill.

That night, you stood barefooted in your nightgown and took a moment alone in the bathroom to breathe. And to think. And to test the strength in your hands, by bending one of Ben’s metal wrenches like it was a useless paper straw.

Okay, now you were panicking a bit.

What the fuck? you thought. You had only ever experienced super strength when you were on V24 (which you had not taken, let alone the permanent stuff).

But…if you thought about it, there had been one other time when you had felt this strong. And it had been when you were in the hospital, almost two years ago, after Vought Tower collapsed. You’d needed a surgery you might not have lived through. It was Ben’s actions that had saved you…after he donated his blood.

Unless he was somehow giving you transfusions without you knowing, there was only one other possibility you could think of for Ben’s DNA to somehow be in your system…

Holy shit, you thought. And you sat down on the closed toilet. Hard. Enough to dislodge a decorative dish that was perched on a shelf behind you. You gasped, but weren’t able to catch it before it hit the ground loudly. You winced and picked it up, even as you heard Ben’s steps approaching the bathroom.

“You okay?” he asked predictably, through the closed door.

“Fine!” you said, your voice too high. You cleared your throat and tried to normalize your voice. “I’m fine, just dropped something.”

“Christ. You going for a record today?” he remarked.

You rolled your eyes.

A few minutes later, you finished in the bathroom and tried to act as normal as possible as you slid into bed next to your boyfriend. He was watching TV, but he glanced over at you. You knew he was silently assessing you, seeing if you were really okay.

You gave him a smile and leaned over for a goodnight kiss. You attempted to be chaste, but he deepened it. He slid an arm around your waist and tilted his head, slipping his tongue between the seam of your lips.

You welcomed him at first…but a tremor of warning flashed in your mind, along with the persistent thought that had followed you from the bathroom.

Should I tell him?

You didn’t know why your inclination was to hold it in. There very well could be something wrong with you. But if your suspicions were true, then you wanted confirmation first.

“What’s the matter?” Ben asked. He’d pulled back, sensing your distraction. You came back to yourself.

“Nothing, just tired,” you said, stroking his chest over his shirt.

Ben looked into your eyes, his face more or less stoic. You saw the way he was trying to get a read on you though, like he didn’t quite believe you. You couldn’t blame him, but you could be very convincing when you needed to be.

He eventually nodded, letting you turn away from him to slip under the covers. Even though you felt the sting of your lie tingling unpleasantly down your spine.

You met Dr. Tonya Baker at her office in the Supe Affairs building. She’d been Vought’s top scientist, up until last year. After Stan Edgar’s death and the company’s collapse, the CIA recruited Dr. Baker.

You didn’t like her. Nor did you trust her, exactly, but she had assisted Dr. Vogelbaum when Becca Butcher came to him with a unique problem. Now, Dr. Baker was the only one left with the knowledge and resources to advise you.

And she was able to confirm your suspicions. She came back with lab results while you sat up on an examining table.

“You’re eleven weeks pregnant,” she informed you.

Even though you’d been somewhat expecting it, suspicion and knowing were very different things. You took in a shaking breath, and through your shock, you were smiling. Happy, and even relieved.

Until Dr. Baker spoke again.

Your breath ceased at that thought, not to mention her clinical delivery.

“Always with that delightful bedside manner, Doctor,” you quipped. All of a sudden, you were feeling lightheaded.

Or maybe you were just freaking the fuck out.

When you got home that evening after work, Ben watched you.

He knew something was off with you the second you walked through the door, pale and pensive. Still, you flashed him a greeting and a smile that didn’t reach your eyes on your way to the bedroom.

So he followed you. And the fact that you didn’t even notice, even flinched when he dropped a hand on your shoulder, told him that you were more than just distracted. The last straw was when you walked into the dresser while glancing back at him. You hissed and shook out your sandle-clad foot.

Now, you were injury prone at the best of times, but this was a bit much, Ben thought.

“Geez, I didn’t even hear you,” you said, trying at a chuckle. “Normally you thud around in those combat boots like an elephant. We’re lucky no one lives below us—”

“What’s the matter with you?” Ben asked. He was never one to beat around the bush.

Your eyes widened a fraction; unease crept down your spine, but you gave him a quirk of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me,” he said. His gaze was hunter green, serious, and focused down on you.

“I’m fine, Ben—”

“No,” he snapped. “There’s something off with you.”

You bit your lower lip. It seemed your boyfriend knew you better than you thought. You’d had a plan though. You had wanted to wait until you had a moment to shake off your anxiety and focus on the good when you sat him down this evening.

But you should’ve known better. Ben was remarkably impatient, even when he didn’t know what he was in for.

And he got tired of waiting for your answer.

He changed tactics, reaching for your arms. His grip was firm, but gentle in brushing his thumbs back and forth across your skin. His mouth was in a line, and you caught the concern hiding under his furrowed brows.

“What’s so bad you can’t tell me?” he asked.

You looked up into his eyes. Despite yourself, you had to smile. I’m not playing fair, you realized.

“Okay, come ‘ere,” you said. You took his hand and led him to sit with you on the bed. Pulling his hand between both of yours into your lap, you sighed and thought about how you were going to say this.

After a moment, you got a burst of inspiration. You held up a waiting finger to him and went into the closet to pull out one of your 25-pound hand weights. It might as well have weighed a pound, for how light it felt. You brought it back to the bed, and Ben stared back at you quizzically.

“So…I didn’t get that table from IKEA,” you confessed. “It was solid wood, and I really did break straight through it.”

He rose a brow. “All right…”

You then showed him your newfound strength, by breaking the hand weight in half with your bare hands. His eyes widened, making you giggle a bit. You deposited both metal heads into his hands. He considered them, then you. His brows were knitting together even tighter.

“What the hell—”

“Remember when you donated blood for me, when I was laid up in the hospital a couple years ago?” you asked. “I got your super strength for a day or two afterwards.”

Ben nodded. You had been a bit more than laid up, but semantics, he guessed. He was getting more confused by the moment.

“Well this time, I’m told it’s also temporary…for the next seven months or so,” you said with a playful smile.

Ben considered your words. He turned them back and forth in his head…

Finally, his gaze flicked from yours to the broken weights in his hands. And he tossed them to the floor with a heavy thud on the hard wood.

You giggled in earnest when he reached for your face with both hands. His eyes searched yours for any hint of a joke, his jaw tight and working.

“Are you fucking with me right now?” he asked. His voice was a hint unsteady. You smiled bright and covered his hands with your own as the beginnings of tears stung in your eyes.

“Not this time,” you said. “Ben, I’m pregnant.”

It took him a moment to register your words. You saw the moment it all finally set in, with new realization etching into his features.

Never once had you seen this man tear up. He turned his face away, but you still caught the edges of his emotion.

You reached for his bearded cheek, turning him back to you. His eyes were red and starting to shine, even though he was fighting it. A muscle in his jaw clenched, and then eased.

After a beat, his hands moved down from your face to brush down your arms, down your sides and around your frame. He pulled you into his lap, for which you went willingly into his arms. And your tears fell in earnest when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You knew what this meant to him, but you still couldn’t help but prod at him.

“Are you happy?” you teased, rubbing his back. Ben huffed and brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes.

“What do you think?” he countered.

Your hand moved down to slip under his shirt, gliding over the taut muscles in his back as they responded to your touch. You met him with a small smirk.

“Show me,” you challenged.

His lips quirked; that was all the encouragement he needed. Ben’s hands moved to tangle in your hair and squeeze the curve of your waist, bringing you flush against him when he kissed you. You inhaled deeply. Your nails dragged up his back, applying some pressure that made his shoulders twitch.

You didn’t know what your newfound strength felt like to him, but for Ben, you felt solid in a way you hadn’t before. He could let go of some of his self-control and knead your hips with a force beyond bruising.

He could veer away from your lips and raze down your neck, and give your shoulder a love bite that would’ve drawn blood. Now it didn’t even break your skin. It did, however, earn him a pleased gasp.

Maybe he’d just have to keep knocking you up, he thought. So you’d always be this strong.

You started rucking up his shirt first, and had to push him back to even get it off him. After that, all bets were off.

It was a mad scramble to shed each other’s clothes, with Ben not being able to get away with his usual manhandling. Your smile grew, as you now had the strength to literally push back and make him work a bit harder for it.

He smirked up at you when you managed to take him by surprise and push him back onto the bed. You’d successfully bared him for your gaze, but you still had your bra and panties on as you climbed over him and straddled his lap.

Ben held himself up with a hand on the bed as the other slid around your waist and hooked you in. You took his face in your hands and gave him the full force of your passion.

Your lips claimed his in a devouring kiss, teeth clicking and tongues dueling for dominance. And you ground down your clothed core against his rising length, earning his groan of appreciation into your mouth.

With a flick of his wrist, your bra strap snapped off in the back. You huffed, knowing he’d probably broken the clasp.

Ah well, I’m about to need new ones soon enough.

The thought made you smile against his lips. You let him pull the bra down your arms and wherever he decided to fling it off to. You thought he might start traveling down between your breasts, as was a favorite path of his to map out.

But then, in one smooth motion Ben had you flipped over onto your back. He grinned at your yelp of surprise, but he didn’t give you a chance to recover. He latched onto your neck again, this time on the other side as he scraped his beard and teeth across your skin.

Meanwhile, you moaned encouragements in his ear while his heavy hand squeezed one of your breasts, rolled a thumb over a pert nipple.

You trailed your hands down his chest, soothing over golden tan skin and freckles and sculpted muscle until you reached his hard length. You earned a straining grunt from your man as you teased the sensitive flesh, a thumb circling over its weeping head.

Ben grabbed your wrist and gave you a warning look. “Can’t let me fucking concentrate, huh?”

You just grinned and took his hand instead. You dragged it down your body until you guided his fingers into your underwear, between your wet folds.

“Ben, I need you,” you said. But your need was already in your eyes. Your skin was on fire wherever he touched, and deep inside, where you burned for him most.

Ben felt it in your iron grip on his hand, now almost as strong as his own. Your legs curled up his thighs to wrap around his hips, teasing him with the soft promise between your inner thighs. So how could he do anything else but give you what you wanted?

He teased between your folds with his fingers first. Gathering some of your wetness, he circled over your clit firmly. You whimpered as your back arched in response.

“Gonna sing for me, baby doll?” he teased. Your breathing became more labored as his fingers continued to play with you, but you managed to offer a small smirk.

“You gonna make me?” you asked. “Think you need to bring out the big guns for that one.”

Ben chuckled. As usual, you were being a little shit.

So he brought you to the edge of your release, just with his fingers. You were starting to squeeze them tight with your inner walls, your moans getting more urgent. But he withdrew his digits at the last moment, leaving you panting and confused.

“What…”

He smirked down at you and wrapped his slick fingers around his cock, stroking himself a few times. You watched him with expectant, hungry eyes.

“You want the big guns, I’ll fucking give ‘em to you,” he said. It made you huff, but you had to smile as he returned to you. He hooked his fingers on the hem of your panties and slowly, torturous, he pulled them down your legs.

Those same hands then traveled back up, gliding across your skin with purpose. Your breath shallowed in anticipation.

He eventually gripped your hips, pushing your thighs up a bit farther, and you lined his cock to your entrance. Your heels dug into his ass and added a bit of force when he pushed inside you. And your moans tangled together along with your bodies.

You fairly pulsed inside, and he felt it in your inner walls wrapped so fucking tight around him. His forehead briefly fell to your shoulder. Even though you were panting for breath, you still soothed him, carding your fingers through his hair.

Normally he’d be going off at a relentless clip by now. But Ben started slow, rolling his hips back and forth into yours at a steady rhythm that managed to take your breath away and make your toes curl.

His name fell from your lips, reverent and pleased. You felt every part of him as he plunged inside you, and it was incredibly fucking hot.

He took a moment to meet your eyes. He gave you a grin that softened the hard edges that so often lined his face in times like this. And you realized then what was happening.

Ben didn’t do slow. Not for long anyway. But it seemed like he’d taken your challenge to heart. In fact, you had a feeling he was showing you what he couldn’t quite put into words.

When he reached a hand to part your folds and circle two insistent finger pads around your clit, you couldn’t help but grip his arms tight enough to bruise him. Your mouth opened on a keening moan.

Combined with his deep strokes starting to brush all the right spots inside you, it had you squeezing on him from the inside as you came hard, and made it known in his ear.

“Fuck—” Ben’s brows furrowed as your release finally triggered his own. And his voice joined yours, muffling in the pillow under your head. You shuddered as he spilled deep inside you.

Your arms came around his back and held him to you for a moment afterwards, just stroking his back, his shoulders, his neck, whatever you could reach while you both caught your breath.

Eventually, Ben’s lips found your neck. You felt the shape of his smile grow there.

“Too bad you’re already knocked up, or that could’ve been a great way to bring in our second kid,” he remarked.

This time, it took a second for his words to click together in your mind. As soon as they did, you uttered a laugh that shook both of your frames. You swatted his ass in reproach. He smirked down at you.

“I can't with you,” you said. Though you were still giggling. “You’re just gonna have to wait for the first one to come out of the oven.”

Ben’s smirk evened out into a grin, his face almost boyish in his glee.

“Well, what can I say, baby? You’re a damn good cook.”

AN: 😂 Well then. What did you think of how she broke the news? And Ben's reaction to finding out he's finally going to be a dad? 🥹

But of course, it's not going to be all sunshine and roses in Part 2. The reader and Ben reveal the good news to her family, and as we all know, he's hoping for a son...

Next Time:

“Hey,” she said. “You know how much I care about you, right?”

“And where’s this going?” you quipped. But you turned around and gave your little sister a half-smile. You knew what she was about to say.

“So what are you going to do about that?” she asked, gesturing to your man in the kitchen. “Mr. Macho wants his prized stud. What happens if he doesn’t get him?”

You sighed. “Ben’s wanted this for a long time. He’s got an idea in his head of what it’s going to be like, and…we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

#reader appreciation #comment reblog #lovely mutuals

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hotdamnhunnam · 4 years ago

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Dream Baby Dream

A/N: So Charlie’s latest movie, Jungleland, is an ABSOLUTE MUST-SEE!! It’s so fucking lovely 🥺😭🥰 Whether you’ve seen it or not, I hope you’ll enjoy this little one shot, based on the below request that I got! It’s all kinds of angsty and smutty and fluffy. (Title is a reference to the Springsteen song played at the end of the movie!) **This fic is SPOILER-FREE**

Pairing: Stanley Kaminski x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, reader gets pregnant, gifs of Charlie in his underpants 😋 Request: This lovely request + follow-up for pregnancy/smut with Charlie’s character from Jungleland!

Word Count: ~3.1k

Important Note: The first line of this fic is a line Stanley says in the movie (scene shown in the gif above and in this gifset) – yes, loves, an actual quote. So if you’ve not yet seen this film but are a fan of Charlie Hunnam, I promise you this scene is reason enough, to watch if only just to hear those words from him... 🤤

***************

“I like the way they make my dick look.”

... Is he serious? Yes, definitely is. One drink was all it took, for you to know. He walks and talks like someone straight out of an old forgotten book or an obscure off-Broadway show. As if his whole life is imagined, yet for him the fiction feels so fucking real that it’s the only thing he’ll ever understand.

“I like the way they make my dick look”? What the fuck? You’d just paid him a half-joking compliment on his ridiculous sweatpants. But this is a man who takes jokes for the truths they expose. Mama always told you to avoid men like this—cons and crooks—men who crush their own hearts in their fists, steal their strength from the shadows, to run from their weakness. She knows best, and knows that you can’t. Knows that you turn to dust in their hands. But she’s not here to witness.

No, nobody is.

You take another shot, tossing away what little self-restraint you’ve got. “Dare you to tell me just how many times you’ve used that line.”

The fucker flashes you a smile. Cheeky smirk, the only kind that suits his style. Cheap as dirt. Just like his stupid ugly shirt. “Hey, if I had a dime...”

Rolling your eyes, you suck the sour from a slice of lime. Can’t seem to chase away your thirst. “How many times did that shit work?”

“Well, let’s just say you wouldn’t be the first...” he whispers, leaning close to take the lime in his own fingers, squeezing it without reason till every little pulp ruptures and bursts. “Wanna fuck you so hard it hurts.”

***************

Is it the best sex that you’ve had? Hell fucking no—not even close. It’s pretty bad. Probably the worst.

It’s almost gross. Feels like you’re stuck in a low-budget porno. Just a mess of theatrical thrusts. Heated groans, grating deep in his throat. Grabby hands. Somehow you know that he could fuck you so much better, though, if only he stopped trying to put on some kind of show. You doubt he even knows he can.

“Ugh, just—” you grit your teeth against each thrust. “What are you even doing, Stan...”

He groans out loud again. “Screwing you like a fucking man.”

That tasteless statement almost makes you want to laugh, but you bite back the urge. “No, that’s not how it works,” you mutter as his hips spastically jerk, massive dick splitting you in half. “You can’t—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he rasps, ravaging your ass with a rough series of slaps. Pulling your hair, making you arch your back, wrapping one hand around your neck until you choke. The sex is so damn close to being epic if this man would just stop acting like a joke. Like, really close, which honestly doesn’t seem fair. “You’re not supposed to talk when you’re taking my cock. Supposed to be too drunk to care.”

Oh God—he’s even dumber than you thought. He should’ve counted that you’d only had a couple shots. “Yeah, well, I’m not.”

“As fucking if,” he huffs, taking the hint that you’ve had quite enough. Reluctantly rolls off. Finally stops fucking you over. And that’s when you realize you miss it, although it feels strange to admit. He turns aside, tucking himself in tight under the covers like some kind of scorned lover. Spurned and burned so many times it makes him sick. “That’s bullshit and we both know it. Sober, a girl like you wouldn’t have touched me with a ten-foot stick.”

That gives you pause and breaks your heart a little bit. How is this man already getting at your heart, damn it? Mama would say he’s creeping in there with his crooked claws and all that shit. You can’t let yourself fall for his theatrics. Is that even what this is? Somehow, you sense the weight of more than just his body on the mattress; your heart feels heavy now, but not nearly as heavy as his.

“A girl like me? Seriously, what does that even mean?” you ask, reaching to run your hand across the faded scars and bruises on his back. Noticing how he flinches as if your soft touch is a savage attack. No doubt he wishes that you hadn’t seen. No wonder somebody so damaged really thought you wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot stick. “Stanley, you are honest to God hot. And plus you’ve got an almost-ten-inch dick.”

He reacts with a snort, and a shake of his head. Scooting out of the bed, shrugging into his hideous shirt. All the scars on his back and his heart safely hidden inside it. “Doesn’t matter if it’s big. Apparently I can’t use it for shit.”

Without bothering to put pants back on, he settles on the couch across the room. You move to follow him, unable to resist when he looks so cute sitting there. Raking your fingers through his ruffled golden hair. “That’s not a problem we can’t fix—come back to bed with that big dick. You just have to get out of your head. Just a bit.”

That’s a notion he’s quick to dismiss, though you notice he’s no longer flinching away from your touch—which means something, you’d bet. It must. Nevertheless, Stanley snickers at what you said, struggling to keep his facade firmly set. “Out of my head? Bitch, I live in it.”

You don’t doubt it. Just want him to try stepping out of it. “Just for a minute.”

Lucid blue eyes look up at you now like you’re seeking to push him past some lifelong limit.

“Damn, what’s it like in there...?” you wonder aloud as you comb through his hair. He’s a poem, a portrait of someone who doesn’t believe he’s a man. Soul has never known any true home. Heart has been locked away for so long that he thought it could never be freed. Head full of dreams, broken and bursting at the seams. His silence fucking screams. “What do you really want, Stan? Really need?”

And you can tell he’s scared, to dare believe you really care. “...Nobody ever asked.”

There’s a whole world behind his words. Woefully true. Yet a whole other world now opens up before the two of you, with yours. “Well, then I’m glad to be the first.”

Of course you asked. Of fucking course. You barely even know him now, but can already tell somehow... you want to love this man so hard it hurts. Truly glad that you were the first. Already want to be the last.

***************

Fucking months have gone by in the blink of an eye. And already you love him so much you could die.

He’s never fucked someone who ever gave a shit about him, so he gets a rush from knowing that you cannot live without him. And the feeling goes both ways, needless to say. He’s always looking at you like his first glimpse of the sacred light of day. And always seems afraid you’ll run away, no matter how wholeheartedly you reassure him that you’re here to stay. That he should never doubt it.

Still he’s just crippled with this unshakeable fear of fucking up and everything falling to shit, just as it always did. Of losing love now that he’s finally fucking found it. Stanley’s past is a ripple effect of the failures and losses that constantly kept him desperate and dishonest, and it’s fucking haunted. Can’t help but dread the day it’ll rear its monstrous head and make him pay for ever dreaming he could have the kind of life he’s always wanted.

The most that you can do is hold him close and fuck the pain away, and love him more than words can say. His dreams are beautiful, you tell him. They deserve to see the light of day. With you he never has to act like he’s some character straight off the page; he doesn’t have to be afraid to feel. To fear that all the demons in his soul are real, and full of rage, and fierce enough to kill him. ‘Cause now you’re finally here to hold him and to heal him.

All of his dreams once revolved around his intense bond with his brother. For so long, his heart never had room for another. He tells you often about Walter. The fighter. ‘Lion’ as it were. The whole life that they lived for no one but each other, till one day the champion boxer abandoned his gloves to vow love at the altar.

And Stanley is happy, that Lion has found a new family. A new life as boundless and bright as the sky. Such love as an overbearing older brother could never provide. Though Stan knows that the door’s always open for him, to be part of that family and part of that life... he won’t take Lion up on the invite. Tells himself that the home that his brother has built is too precious for someone so poisoned to set foot inside.

You fuck the poison and the pain out of his veins a little bit more every night. But you know it’s a big fight; you won’t try to push it or rush it. Just guide him and stay beside him as the shadow slowly turns to light.

So what’s left to dream now? Somehow your lover tells you his deepest secrets and desires without ever breathing a damn word aloud. Like the fire’s so fragile a whisper could blow it right out.

Tells you and shows you through passionate, powerful kisses, devouring you with the heat of his mouth. Through the touch of his tough calloused hands on your skin, softly treasuring every last inch, devoting his whole broken heart to the moment in such breathless silence... then driving inside you with vigor and violence, the lion inside him awoken and roaring out loud. Slow and gentle again, at the end. Once you’re both well and truly fucked out. The soft look on his face and his tender embrace expressing just how grateful he is that you taught him to fuck, and to love, without playing pretend.

Is it the best sex of your life? Hell fucking yes. Without a doubt. Every damn day, every damn night. Far and away the fucking best. The kind of sex starry-eyed poets strive and fail to write about.

Stanley Kaminski is a living, breathing, tragic, magic little poem. But he is also very real, thanks to the love that you’ve allowed his heart to feel. Beating so beautifully now that it’s finally healed. And he’s become your fucking home.

***************

“Babe, you up?”

You weren’t until he spoke. The sun is only barely just; as he so often does, Stan beat the day before it broke. But you don’t mind being awoken by the man you’ll always love. More so than ever now because... you have some news to share today, bound to blow him the fuck away. In the best way, you hope. And trust.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, shifting in bed, lifting your head to see him seated by the window far across the room. Gaze lingering upon his gorgeous features gilded by the glow of dawn. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing at all, for once, he wordlessly responds. Smiles at you before he glances back outside, watching the sun begin to rise, as if its light promises everything he wants.

“Today’s gonna be good, baby,” he states, blue gaze so wild and bright he looks a little crazy. “I mean, I can see it. I can see our future when I close my eyes.”

It’s almost like he knows what’s coming, in the next moment. Maybe he does? Your souls are intertwined so close you wouldn’t really be surprised. “Well, looks to me like they’re wide open. Why you even gotta close ‘em?” you reply, stretching your arms out with a peaceful sigh. All set to break the news you would’ve shared with him last night, if only he hadn’t come home and fucked you so epically hard that you just went out like a light. “Stanley, I...”

“Shouldn’t have woken you up, actually,” he interrupts, somewhat unnaturally. Crosses the room toward the bed, to hold your head up, kiss you slow and deep. Then turns to leave. “Love you—sorry. Go back to sleep.”

You pause and blink your bleary eyes. “What? Why...?”

“...��cause it’s a special day and I’m cooking up a surprise.”

Although that’s super cute... you don’t exactly like the thought of Stanley making food, to tell the truth. You almost puked, first time he tried. He has a lot of skills and virtues, but his cooking isn’t one of them, unfortunately. “Babe, I told you there’s no need to make a big deal of our second anniversary...”

“Yeah, but why’s that for you to decide?” he playfully retorts as he heads out the bedroom door. Shouting back at you down the hallway as he hastens away. “Besides, you’re gonna need something to build your strength up after getting fucked so good and hard last night. Stay put and don’t even try sneaking into the kitchen, alright?”

“Fine,” you sigh, figuring that you might as well listen. No harm letting your man do his thing in the kitchen. You just hope that he won’t be offended if you can’t hold down what he’s serving... especially now that your body’s especially prone to hurling, for reasons that he just unwittingly stopped you from sharing with him.

You can picture him trying to cook, looking so adorably domestic as fuck. So damn cute it hurts. Standing there over the counter in his fugly turtleneck shirt, glancing up every few seconds, just to make sure his girl doesn’t walk in on him while he’s busy at work.

Absentmindedly scratching at his lower back with his wandering fingers, as he shuffles over the cracked tile floor in his raggedy slippers. The ones that he stole from some random hotel years ago. Why he chooses to wear a long-sleeved shirt and slippers, when he can’t be bothered to put on a damn pair of knickers, even in the middle of winter... you don’t even know. It’s such a fucking Stanley thing to do, though.

You can picture the low-hanging hem of his shirt getting stuck in the top of his briefs as he scratches his back. While he just carries on with his business, oblivious, focused on whipping up some sad excuse for a breakfast that will most likely make you gag. Your man can’t cook for crap, and you’re certain that he’s well aware of that fact. So what gives? Where’s he going with this...? You wonder as you wait in bed, enamored with the image of him in your head.

GIFs by uuuhshiny

When he finally returns to the bedroom he’s holding a steaming white mug in his hand, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from grinning like a madman, for reasons that you can’t even begin to understand.

“Okay, listen, Y/N—before you say anything...”

You can already smell the unholy concoction he’s got in his cup, and you’re struggling so hard not to throw the fuck up. “Stan, is that what I think—”

“Hear me out,” he begs, squatting down next to the bed. For some reason he looks all at once shy and proud. “I want you to remember our first time together. The morning after.”

You nervously swallow and nod your head. He can’t really expect you to put that ‘breakfast’ in your mouth—doesn’t he know you’ll spit it right out? You just try to focus on the heartwarming words he just said. “Babe, you know I won’t ever forget. But is that...”

“Yes, it is. Kaminski’s specialty hot shit. The mess I used to make for Lion every day for breakfast. The only family that I ever had, until the day we met.”

You pause at that; is it just a coincidence now that he’s talking about you as family? Surely he knows somehow, what you’re about to tell him now. You want to just tell him already, so badly. “Stanley...”

“Just let me say this. Please,” he murmurs, shifting where he’s squatting on the floor, repositioning his knees. “Tonight I was thinking of taking you out to some nice swanky place I can’t even afford... would’ve tipped the waiter off to drop a little something in the fancy French champagne we ordered...”

Your heart stops as it hangs on his words. Why is he suddenly... down on one knee...

“But I thought maybe this would mean a little more,” he continues. “Baby, I cooked this for you, the first morning I ever woke to the most beautiful view... because a part of me already knew. I wanted you more than I’d ever wanted anything before. I was already fucking yours. I never would’ve made this crap for anyone but family—that shit’s sacred to me. And now I know, deep down, that’s what I always wanted you to be.”

“Stanley...”

“You had to dig through so much shit, inside of me, and stole my fucking heart right out of it. Still can’t believe you did. Still can’t believe you think I’m worth it. Scared I’ll wake up any second just to see that this was all some crazy dream.”

Your heart is bursting at the seams. “Believe it, baby. You’re worth everything to me. I’ll dig through all that shit again, if it means being with you in the end.”

He holds the cup out toward you like the treasure that it is. “That’s what it means. That’s what I’m asking you with this. Dig, baby, dig.”

You love this man so much more than you can believe. So much for him thinking that you would never touch him with a ten-foot stick.

Your hand dives straight into the mess to find the ring and scream out yes. Stan smiles and wipes the excess stuff off on his sleeve, then slides it carefully onto your finger as you shower him with kisses. Honestly couldn’t be happier right now that someone else is here to witness.

And he needs to know it, right this fucking minute.

After he takes your newly bejeweled hand in his, blessing it with a kiss... you take his hand in yours and press it onto the surprise that you’ve been harboring inside. Your secret little Stanley. “So... you know I had something to tell you as well, right? I’m not the only one who’s so happy about this. Happy to be part of your family.”

His eyes go wide, the brightest light you’ve ever seen. “Y/N...! Y/N, does—does this mean...”

You answer with a smile as big as his, and seal the promise with a kiss. “Dream, baby, dream.”

***************

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